Rifle shooting had become a centerpiece of the relationship between myself and my twin brother; we had split a BB gun a few years ago and spent hours a day learning how to shoot, and more importantly, hit our target. Soon enough, we were shooting our first .22 with our dad, which had been left forgotten in his old closet in my grandparents' home for decades. We would go out into our extensive backyard and trade the rifle off between each other, seeing who could be the first of us to hit the can, hit the pot, or just the simple circle drawn on an old board. The competition was natural, but friendly. It was as if we both wanted to beat the other, but also both got better every time the other made a better shot. As we grew up, got jobs, got a car, and became more independent and involved in the real world, our shooting developed alongside everything else. Soon enough, we were involved together with Project Appleseed, a part of the Revolutionary War Veteran's Association which was aiming to slowly but surely make America a nation of Riflemen once again. Anyone can go shoot a milk jug or a can a few times at close range or hit the target every time on their X-Box, but rifle marksmanship, real rifle marksmanship, taking a real rifle and hitting your target with confidence at 100, 200, 300, 400 yards, sometimes ten times in less than a minute, is a real skill that builds character, a challenge. If you can hit those targets, on the clock, consistently, in multiple positions, with reloads, and with complete safety, you might be a rifleman.
My brother and I built up our skills, experience, and rifles, shooting in Appleseed shoots, weekend long classes and competitions to build up and test your skills, while learning history and meeting great friends, Soon enough my brother was an instructor for the program, and we got our father involved too. Starting in March, we began shooting in 200 yard field matches every month. These were really important to my brother and I- one day each month, we would pack up the car and head off, just the two of us, to go test ourselves in a real match. Grab a cheeseburger right after church, laughing and talking the whole way there and back... I will always appreciate the time and experiences we got to share doing that. With each match we were able to make it to, our scores would improve. The competition between the two of us was, as always, fierce but friendly. Whoever got the lower score (they were always close!) would have to buy dinner on the way home.
This brings me back to the last match of the season in September. I went home from school that weekend, dry practicing (running through it without actually firing any bullets the entire match that Saturday. On Sunday, I got up early and packed all of my gear into the car before church- rifle, magazines, mat in case the ground was wet, cleaning supplies, ear phones, ammunition, water, and an assortment of other purposeful items. Then I packed my dad's rifle, a semi-automatic clone of the rifle he had been using for twenty years in the National Guard and Army reserves since he was coming for the first time, and another rifle, for my room mate to use, since I was bringing him along as well. After church, we set out on the pleasant drive back up to my school to pick up my room mate, and then headed back down to the match in Wilmington, Ohio. I always enjoy the drive up to the shooting range, nothing but winding roads and thick forests for miles. Soon enough, we were pulling into the remote shooting range, already a familiar sight to me. I was glad to see some familiar faces already there.
It was a stunningly gorgeous day, light breeze, sunny, a touch over seventy degrees. As we stepped out of the car onto the gravel path to the firing line of the range, I was already running through my mental checklist of things I had learned in previous matches and in my practice like "don't rush your natural point of aim, even on the rapid fire stages, remember the last match..." and "don't forget to go ahead and break your position for the reloads, takes a second or two extra, but the reload itself will be faster and more secure.". We grabbed all of our equipment and headed over to the picnic tables behind the firing line, where we would store all of the gear that would not be out on the line with us when we were shooting, like our ammunition and water. I returned the welcome greetings from my friends who I had been shooting with in Project Appleseed- one of the best parts of these matches was always wondering just who I was going to run into this time. We each claimed a spot on the line by setting up our rifle there, pointed down range, magazine out, safety on, empty chamber flag in. When you weren't on the line shooting, your rifle had to be clear and empty for safety, as the shooters would be going down range to check and switch targets periodically.
After we had all of our gear set down and safely in place, the traditional small talk and comical predictions began as we waited for every shooter to arrive. I caught up with my friend, who goes by the nickname "Slim". He is one of the most good natured men I had ever met, and I was very glad to see him again. Slim was as much himself as ever that day, with his wide mohawk, boots, jokes about his weight (he was not a small guy!) and how it stabilized and improved his shooting, huge grin and friendly handshake. His usual jokes about how he was going to smoke all of us with his beat up AK-47 were a familiar and appreciated tune. The truth of it was, no one was here for competition. Everyone wanted to see everyone do well and have some good old American fun. Any boasting over scores was in a merely comical manner; the only serious talk you would hear was encouragement and helpful tips from every shooter as we checked our targets after every stage. Anyone who was bragging on their scores would do so with a twinkle in their eye and a hearty laugh, often making up jokes as to why they did well, or didn't do well. Their simply was never a moment of strife or selfishness on the range. It reminds me of how we should look at life- we should want everyone to smile, laugh, and feel appreciated, and to have a place at the table. We certainly were all welcome at the range.
After another fifteen minutes of small talk and the safety briefing, it was time for the match to start. "Shooters, proceed downrange to post your first target!" Time for the long walk down 200 yards to the target board. We put up our first target, the largest we would be shooting at, since the first position we would be shooting from would be standing, the least accurate. Soon enough, after we had walked back and loaded one of our magazines with 10 rounds for stage one. My brother was off at the United States Merchant Marine Academy, but I brought a little piece of him with me though- I would be shooting his rifle in the match. His rifle was a Russian Saiga AK-74, chambered in 5.45x39mm, the current Russian military cartridge, and was very heavily modified from it's original iteration, the same way a standard street car can be made into a race car. He had done all the work with his own two hands, and it was very special to him, so it was special to me to be using it. I had seen his rifle shoot fantastically in his hands over the preceding years, so I knew if I didn't shoot well, it was my fault, not the rifle's! Before Stage 1 actually begins, we get a few minutes to shoot a few shots from any position to double check the sight in of our rifles. The familiar line command came- "Shooters, your sighter period begins now! The line is hot, the line is hot!" I walked over to my brother's rifle and began a running through the familiar checklist of setting it up. I pulled the bolt back and pulled out the "chamber flag" that was kept in place between stages to show the rifle was empty. Up farther forward on the rifle, I turned the red dot optic I used on on and set the brightness to where I wanted it. The rifle was zeroed for 25 yards, which gives a far zero, where the bullet crosses back through the point of aim and then begins to drop, of about 340 yards with this particular rifle. I could spend the whole match aiming a few inches low, but I made the small adjustment I had learned and remembered to move the far zero back to exactly 200 yards.
I was confident that mine was where I wanted to be, but I decided to fire a few rounds from the prone position, the most accurate, just to double check. I hadn't shot a rifle in over a month, so I figured it would be nice to shake off the cobwebs before we were shooting for score. I set up my loop sling, a precision shooting technique from 100 years ago, a lost art, and settled down into prone position behind my rifle. I inserted my magazine and loaded a round into the rifle, since we were clear to fire and the line was hot. Trigger leg hiked up to raise my chest and diaphragm off the ground to lessen the effect my heart and breathing would have on my shot. Support elbow tight into my sling, right under the rifle. Trigger hand relaxed. I tucked the buttstock tightly into the specific pocket of my shoulder that it fit just right. Tucked my face into the stock, my nose touching the receiver of the rifle. Everything was as it should be, comforting and familiar. Even though it was my brother's rifle, it was similar to mine, and I had helped him build it. I closed my eyes, and breathed deeply in and out, relaxing my position and settling into exactly where my body wanted to point the rifle, where it would be the most stable and give me the tightest group of shots.
This moment is why I truly love rifle shooting. The key to shooting well was complete and total focus. This was the one thing that cleared every single stress, worry, bad memory and doubt from my heart. As I let out my breath, feeling my brother's rifle settle with my body, I thanked God for blessings of passion and opportunity that were meeting in this moment. There was no activity where I felt closer to my Creator- nothing cleared away the world better than a good precision rifle shot, it was His gift to my brother and I, as individuals and in our relationship as twins and friends. The moment my lungs and mind were emptied, I opened my eyes. My rifle was slightly off target, but this was the position it pointed when my entire body was settled. Muscling my rifle out of its "Natural Point of Aim" and onto the target would cause my shot groupings to grow larger, and my shots would still be pulled towards my NPOA. So I kept my support elbow planted, and moved my entire body ever so gently behind the rifle, scooting my hips up to bring the NPOA up, rotating my entire body a few degrees to the left. Some other shooters were taking carefully aimed shots by now, but the noise was a familiar comfort, not a distraction. I closed my eyes, breathing all the way in and out, settling my entire body into the rifle and sling, and opened them again. Perfect. All the practice was paying off- my sight was perfectly on my target. I took one more breath, and as the last of the air was leaving my lungs, I watched all movement cease in my sight, the dot settle perfectly on the target as I began to apply pressure on the trigger. I knew this gun's trigger well- it was mechanically the same as the one on my gun. Smooth, even pull, somewhat light, crisp break- just right. As my aim got as steady as would ever be in the few seconds after my breath that my heart would slow, BANG! the shot broke the moment I wanted it too. It felt good. No, it felt great. I knew it was a good shot, and that this was going to be a good day. I breathed in and out, settling back into the rifle as I slowly let the trigger back forward. You hold it back when you fire, so as not to move your aim as the bullet leaves the barrel before you can blink. A soft and expected click let me know the trigger was forward enough to fire again, reset, just as I finished breathing in and began to breathe out. I slowly pressed the trigger as every inch of my melded body and rifle settled into perfect stillness and focus once again. BANG! I could feel the bolt cycle backwards and load another round in an instant, as I took a breath and reset the trigger, still in my NPOA. I took two more shots before the "Cease fire, cease fire!" was called out to end the sighter session. I unloaded and "made safe" my brother's rifle- bolt back, safety on, flag in- and began an eager, satisfied walk forward at the familiar commands, "The line is clear, the line is clear! Shooters, you may proceed downrange to check your targets!" from the shoot boss.
The walk downrange was another moment I loved in the match. It was a long walk to the moment of truth. I knew my shots had felt really good, and I was simply excited to see what they looked like on paper two football fields away. You couldn't see the tiny 5.45mm holes in the paper until you got within feet. Never soon enough, I could see the holes in my target. Right where I wanted them, all in the black bullseye. It was a good 6" group, 3 MOA. For me, that was good shooting, above military standard. This was going to be a good match. I taped over my holes so my target would be clean for the first stage of the match. On the breezy walk back to the firing line, compliments and jokes flowed every direction. I was excited to shoot the first stage, already running through all the reminders I had made for myself in past matches.
The first of the four stages was "Offhand", the only one you shot standing up, a different ballgame from the other stages. Almost a contradiction in terms, this stage was also a slowfire stage, in which you had plenty of time to shoot with an intense focus on accuracy. It was an appreciated challenge, a particular favorite of my brother as well. "Shooters, your two minute preparation period begins now!" This meant we could go forward to the firing line and prepare ourselves and our rifles to shoot the stage. I checked my magazine loaded with 10 rounds one last time, and then adjusted my sling for standing position, attaching it at the buttstock again. I slipped my support arm into the sling at the buttstock, weaved my hand around it and then onto the rifle's forearm, and slid the rifle down to pull it tight. "Shooters, your preparation period has ended! With ten rounds, load!" I rocked my magazine into the gun and continued to focus. "Line ready on the right? Line ready on the left? All ready on the firing line, fire!" I raised my brother's rifle into the pocket of my left shoulder, and took aim through the sight. I settled into standing position, trigger elbow jutted out of the way, support arm tightly jammed under the rifle and against the side of my chest, sling holding the sandwich tightly together. I breathed in and out with my eyes closed, settling into the rifle, and then moved my back foot forward slightly to move my Natural Point of Aim down a touch, and pivoted my body ever so lightly around my front foot to shift my aim to the right. Breathe in, breathe out, eyes open, looks good. I took another deep breath in and prepared to take my first shot. The rifle rose along with my chest as I breathed in, focusing on slowing my heart and mind, and slowly settled downwards as I let my breath out. As my empty lungs slowed my heart and my dot settled on target, I pressed the trigger back slowly and deliberately. Bang! I knew my shot broke a touch low and right. I made a quick correction to my position and took a short mental note not to do that again as I breathed in and out for my next shot. Slowly and deliberately, I took the rest of my nine shots. They felt good, and the walk down range after the cease fire would confirm how the shots had felt- my best score on stage one yet! We took down are large stage one targets and put up the much smaller target that we would use in stage two and three. It wasn't the highest score of the match, but it was a new high score for me, and I was a happy boy as I loaded my magazines for stage two.
Stage two was, once again, an entirely different beast from stage one, and solidly my favorite stage of the match, as well as the one most pressed for time. You had sixty seconds from the "fire" command to drop from standing to sitting position, load your rifle, fire two shots, reload your rifle, and fire eight more shots, all at an circle the size of a melon at 200 yards. I loved it- the speed and adrenaline sharpened my focus. "Shooters, your two minute preparation period begin now! Prep magazines with 2 and 8 rounds." The key to stage two was to use your preparation period to find your natural point of aim in the sitting position and make a mental note to spring into that exact position at the "fire" command. I set up and tightened my loop sling, and got into sitting position with my brother's unloaded rifle. Sitting position sounds purely strange, but is actually practical, effective, and very fun. You assume a "criss-cross-applesauce" position with your body indexed roughly forty five degrees to the target, with your trigger side being farther from the target. You lean across your body and anchor your elbows on the fronts of your knees,It's a very stable and fast shooting position. To adjust your natural point of aim, you simply rotate your entire body like the turret of a tank, affectionately called the "two cheek sneak". To move up and down, you move your feet in or out. I found my natural point of aim, took a mental note of it, and stood, my two magazines placed carefully on the ground to my left.
"With safeties on, stand! Line ready on the left? Line ready on the right? All ready on the firing line, fire!" I sprang down to sitting position as I swept the safety lever to the "fire", my body in the exact position I had snapshot minutes before, and grabbed my first magazine, loaded with two rounds, and rocked it into my rifle and then chambered a round. Effortlessly, I had the gun locked in my shoulder and I found my natural point of aim and adjusted my body to move it right onto my small target in a matter of seconds. Breathe. Squeeze. BANG. "1". Breathe in while resetting the trigger, breath out while my rifle and body settle right into my NPOA on target. Press the trigger while I breathe out. My heart and body grow still. BANG. "2". I broke the rifle from my shoulder, and ripped the empty magazine out and tossed it to the ground while reaching for the next magazine, rocked into the rifle, and racked the bolt to chamber the new round. Perfect reload. I snapped the gun back to my shoulder as I breathed out, having already began my breathing to regain my NPOA. I had never been so clear and focused before. My scooted my NPOA over to the left slightly as I breathed for the next shot. Perfect. BANG. Inhale, reset, exhale, press, BANG. Inhale, reset, exhale, BANG. The 8 shots of that magazine were the best I had ever taken in my life, and I knew it. It was an incredible feeling after I broke my rifle from my shoulder, having only used half of my 60 seconds. When the line was clear, I began my walk to my target, tape ready to paste it over to use it in stage three, When I got to the line and saw my shots, I couldn't hide my grin. An 81, all of my shots in a 3 MOA group, a decent group for slowfire prone, let alone rapid fire sitting. I couldn't believe my ears after the shoot boss took everyone's scores- "It looks like we have a new match record for stage two! Noah Sams shot an 81, beating Bob's untouched 79 from March." I was so happy in that moment- I had worked hard and shot better than I had ever thought I could.
I shot stage three rapid fire prone, which is extremely similar to stage two, except it is prone and you have an extra ten seconds. You start standing, dive to your stomach, load your rifle with two rounds, get your NPOA, fire those two, reload, and take eight more shots with a seventy second time limit. This has never been my best stage, though my brother loves it. I was so busy thinking about stage two that I didn't shoot stage three quite as well as I could have, but I didn't shoot poorly by any means. Still, it was my second best stage three score of the year. I am looking forward to taking a whack at it again next season.
Stage four is the centerpiece of the match- slowfire prone, where absolute accuracy was key. Your score for this stage is doubled when your match total was counted. I love moving from the rush of stages two and three back to this precise and slow stage to finish the match. It is a chance to unwind and cement everything you have learned throughout the match. Stage four's target is the smallest, tiny compared to stage one's target, and like every other stage, it is its own challenge. I settled behind my brother's rife and got my Natural Point of Aim tweaked to perfection before I took my first of ten shots. I took my time, letting go of all of my stress from the last few months and spending great time in prayer as I took my time making every shot perfect, since, unlike stages two and three, I had time to do so. Stage four was a test if the very best you could do. I did some more great shooting, setting a new personal record in the process, and getting the second best score of the season. After my not-so-great stage three, it felt great to shoot another very good stage. Maybe the best and most ironic part of the day: My final score was 382, and my brother's all time high score was 381- he owes me a burger! I have to cash in on that before he smokes me at the next match he can attend!
The trip back to school was quiet and highlighted by some traditional burgers and ice cream. It was a great way to wrap up a perfect day. I was really encouraged and refreshed for my studies, although I still missed my brother, he felt a little less far away. I really love rifle shooting, and thank God for the passion and opportunity I have been blessed with. I hope you enjoyed this read, and have been inspired to try your hand at the shooting range as well. It is there that I make memories and friends I will always appreciate.
Slim in the middle, me on the left, and my room mate Dan on the right, saying farewell to a great day. God Bless and shoot straight!
Noah Sams
