Every Rifle has a story.....

[rjohns94]

Every Rifle has a story, some yet to be written, others written in the scars on the stock and etched in the memory of the owners. This is one such story ….
The November morning dawned frosty cold and crisp, and the silence of the predawn has yielded to the chirping of the chickadees and cardinals, scurrying in the underbrush of the forest floor. The cusp of trees, bordering the harvested fields of corn and soy beans, now planted in winter wheat, ran down a hill to a stream that defined the boundary of the farm. The rolling eastern hills were covered in frost and a heavy air of an approaching storm. He sat on the trunk of a double based tree. This trunk, a result of the harvested wood after a lightning strike felled the tree two summers ago, the wood cut and split went to fuel the kitchen stove.
He rested his back against the other trunk of the tree, the ravine in which the stream runs, to his back, the harvested fields to his front and the left, and the warming first rays of dawn were just now coming over the ridge to his right, warming his face from deep cold. Fingerless gloves, pac-boots and a wool jacket and hat provided extra warmth to his body. The coffee thermos provided the means of warming his insides, hot strong and black, liquid gold and a true blessing on such a morning. The warmth now provided through the sun’s rays, caressed his face and as he settled even further against the tree on his back, his eyes began to close. Before he allowed that, he checked his lap where THE RIFLE lay, ensuring the muzzle was pointed in a safe direction, looked to the left and right, scanning the land that comprised the farm that had been in his family three generations before him, and then gave way to the temptation to close his eyes to allow his memory to go back nearly three decades ….
The farm was his life as far as he can remember, having lived on it for all but 6 years of his life. The War to end all wars took him away from the farm for those 6 years. His father had passed away just before his 18th birthday. The Army Board said he didn’t have to join, that he had to take care of the farm and his mother and siblings. His mother’s tears joined the millions that sent their loved ones to the horrors of war when his passion for this place and his country over ruled what the board said, and when his Uncles said they would look over the place, he joined up on his birthday and soon found himself engaged in a conflict that took him to two fronts and away from this land he felt a part of for years. He returned home physically whole, but scarred from the memories and the doings of the war, returning to the land and family that sustained him and his hopes through all the darkness of war.
His homecoming was celebrated with what seemed like a whirlwind of parties and meals that lasted for days. One morning, while finishing his second cup of coffee, his mother, overjoyed that her relentless prayers and tears had been answered, brought out a long box and placed it on the kitchen table, saying this was for him. His eyes looked to the box then to his mother questioningly. She sat at the table and relayed the brief story of what was sitting before him.

His father was a hunter as was his father before him and his grandfather before him He hunted the property of this farm and the adjacent farms of his brothers for decades, providing for his family, supplementing the winter meat with his success. His mother retold how just before his passing, his father sat in his chair scribbling on a paper and deciding on features he felt important for a hunting rifle. He had saved for three years from the meager wages earned from odd jobs or sale of crops in order to pay for his ultimate rifle, his one rifle that he wanted to have for the rest of his life. She described how he pondered and how excited he was when went down to Fred Thompson’s general store and filled in the special order form for Winchester and paid for the rifle with its special features and began the waiting process. He died one night of a sudden heart attack without ever seeing his dream rifle arrive. Thoughts of the biblical giants of Hebrew chapter 11, who in faith followed without ever seeing the promise fulfilled quickly passed through his mind. His mom said that Mr Fred came by one night in the spring of ’41 with this package from Winchester. She said she never opened it but kept in under her bed all this time until she could give it to him.

With tears in his eyes and fingers trembling, he reached for the top of the brown Winchester box and removed it. Inside, in his dad’s own hand writing, was the original special order form marked “order filled” on it. Below that, with the paper folded back, the model of 1894 Winchester was laid bare in all its glory. Picking it up, he knew he was holding his dad’s dream rifle, and that it was a hunter’s rifle through and through. The model 94 was considered a perfect eastern deer rifle with its potent 30WCF cartridge in its more common form. But here was one filled with all sorts of special features. First noticed was the 2/3 mag below the round barrel. As he touched the end of the mag, his mom relayed how he mentioned that he didn’t need all those extra bullets but still liked a little mag showing.
His gaze continued over the rifle and noticed the shotgun butt with metal butt plate, designed to facilitate a fast shouldering of the rifle. And there on the butt stock, just forward of the cheek piece were scallops setting off the American walnut in a touch of class. The bluing of the receiver and the barrel was deeper than the evening sky. On the barrel, a ladder sight, for those desiring to having a better sight picture on the longer shots, gave way to a kings front sight, with a high narrow sight. Overall, the rifle, designed by a true hunter, spoke through form and function that it too was made to be a true hunter.
That thought brought a smile to his face and with it, opened his eyes and looked down to THE RIFLE. Two decades had passed and countless days afield, dozens of coyotes, deer and even a bear fell to the heavy 170 grain loads from this rifle in that time frame. The rifle was a near constant companion on the farm either on horse or tractor, or in town in his truck. It had become his rifle during this time, the scars on the stock, the fading of the blue, the memories all his now. To his left, a new memory, with four high tines on each side along with a brow tine, stepped out of the woods.

[Griff]

Wonderful. I got something in my eye!

[yooper2]

That was a great read, thank you.

Eric

[TedH]

Wonderful story, thank you.

[AJMD429]

Good writing, and it probably sums up lots of untold stories all over the world where family and tradition and providing-for-your-own still are valued.

[buckeyeshooter]

Thank you! Wonderful story.

[alnitak]

Very nice, Mike! I can see that the rifle of which you speak having come about just like that, designed to be the perfect tool for a specific purpose. Great read!

[GoatGuy]

What a wonderful tale. Thanks for allowing us to share it with you. Wouldn't it be something if each us had experienced being the recipient of a "true hunter" rifle, bequeathed to us from a beloved family member, much like the one in your story.

[AJMD429]

What a wonderful tale. Thanks for allowing us to share it with you. Wouldn't it be something if each us had experienced being the recipient of a "true hunter" rifle, bequeathed to us from a beloved family member, much like the one in your story.

Mine doesn't have a 'special-order' story that I know of, and the great-grandfather who owned it died before I was born, as did my grandfather (and my own father died when I was a toddler), so I don't have much of any hand-me-down information about it - so I just have to use my imagination. It still is a special gun though...

[Sixgun]

Nice story Mike. I often wonder 'bout some of my shootin' irons.

Doc,
Very cool indeed! ----------Sixgun

[FWiedner]

I like the story.

Wanted to make a suggestion about how much a picture would add, but decided not to.

Sadly, I find myself wondering if such memories will be something held in value, or even passed on, in coming generations.

-----

Doc AJ, Not trying to be dense or to dilute the sentiment from your post, but I have to ask...

Is the rifle in the photo the same one that you show in the later color photo below it?

Are the people in the photo your (G)Grandparents?

If so, that's something!

[cshold]

Wow
Awsome read Mike.

[DixieBoy]

That is one fine story. I like it when you can close your eyes after reading something like this and almost feel like you're there. - DixieBoy

[2ndovc]

Very nice story Mike!

Reminds me of my Grandfather's '03.

My Grandfather was an avid hunter and often made trips out west for elk, deer antelope, etc.
He'd gone to Canada many times fishing and hunting but had always wanted a moose.

He had in mind a special rifle for the trip. He took a stock 1903 Springfield ( these were about $5.00 at the time).
Had the barrel shortened and polished, custom trigger, magazine housing and detachable floor plate. Every ounce of metal that could be removed was done along with a custom stock with a fairly short LOP for heavy clothing.

Grandpa's heart was beginning to give him problems. He did get to shoot and sight in his new lightweight .30-'06 but then it went into the rack where it was to stay until he died in 1975. My Dad ended up with the Springfield and several others. My uncle got the other half that were later stolen from his home. The Springfield sat in my Dad's collection for many years without being used as he has many rifles of his own and doesn't hunt much.

On my thirtieth birthday Dad handed me a long box and said " Take care of it, I know you you've always liked this one".
It was the first time in my life that a gift brought tears to my eyes.

Since then that rifle and I have gone on many adventures and has taken a pile of whitetail, woodchucks, etc.
We've traveled many trails together and will forever be my favorite rifle. It's one of just a couple rifles I own, that I know if I can see it I can hit it. It's not as perfect as the day I got it. It's still a deep blue but has a little wear on the floor plate and a couple scratches on the stock. The dark walnut stock has a funny finish on it that starts to turn white when we've been hunting in the rain all day. Once it's been cleaned and dried out the finish turns clear again. I've been tempted to refinish it but have decided to leave it alone.

It's a one hole shooter with everything from 125 Gr Sierra Spitzers to their 165 Game Kings. Never had to shoot an animal twice, though it did take me a couple hours to find a whitetail in MI that I thought went one way but broke left inside the brush and died in fairly large creek.

I think I'm going go get that rifle out now and plan my next adventure!



jb

[Blaine]

[rjohns94]

very nice Jason. Great story. thanks for sharing

[RIHMFIRE]

GOOD STORY...
got me to thinking about my great uncles 94.....in 30-30...
it sits in the safe waiting for another trip to the woods....
my daughter even has his old wool hunting shirt....
i even have a huge rack taken with that 94....that hung on our porch

[Pete44ru]

Them durn rifles must have blowback - I got something in my eye, too.

FWIW, I always put something under the buttplate of every gun I own (and ergo look under the BP of every used gun I buy) - usually an old hunting license, or somesuch.


.

[rjohns94]

Neat idea

[cshold]

I've done that to just one very special to me model 99.
Original sales recipt with a personal handwritten
note on the back.

[gamekeeper]

A wonderful story and some great replies too!....

[Blaine]

In my family, I'm the only gun nut Daughter is pro-gun. Maybe I'll have a grandchild someday to pass stuff down to.

[FWiedner]

In my family, I'm the only gun nut Daughter is pro-gun. Maybe I'll have a grandchild someday to pass stuff down to.

Likewise.

Maybe I'll wait until I need a walker and open a table as a gun show to recover a percentage of the funds expended enjoying my hobby.

[rjohns94]

Doc, that picture and the rifle are priceless!

[Birdman]

Great stories.