Learning To Walk - A Soldier's Story by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 10

It was also at this point that we were issued a key piece of equipment. At another time, I would have simply called it a gun. But the Army, never settling for casual terminology, insisted that we call it a ‘rifle’. More than that, it was ‘my’ rifle. It would become a part of me, never leaving my sight. This was the beginning of weapons training and its introduction was the M-16 rifle and we would learn the name and function of every single part of this weapon. We would spend a great deal of time on the firing range learning how to fire it, how to sight it in, how to carry it and how to hold it. There were many nights when we would be ordered to sleep with it lying next to us. In my earlier life, I had been quite uncomfortable about the idea that there were guns at all. I felt that if the founding fathers had possessed two centuries of foresight, the second amendment would have written very differently and that the possession of any firearm was nothing short of a formula for self-destruction. I still feel that way, but now I think that weapons belong in the hands of those who keep the peace and withheld from those who would go to war against society. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that war should ever be considered as a workable option for peace, but should only be considered when diplomacy has failed and confrontation becomes inevitable. Then, there is the response to an attack. The response should be swift -- the objective uncomplicated and free of any political agenda.

Maintenance was a huge part of weapons training. Without cleaning, an M16 would last about three weeks before jamming. After that, it was nothing more than an eight-pound paperweight. I became so proficient at dismantling and reassembling the weapon that I could do it in almost complete darkness. We received a manual of technical information for every weapon we would learn. It wasn’t Boolean logic, but there was still a lot of information to learn and memorizing it came easily to me. The M16 for example, is 39.63 inches long and when fully loaded weighs eight pounds and thirteen ounces. It has a bore diameter of .223 inches with a maximum range of thirty-six hundred meters. The magazine capacity is thirty rounds and a muzzle velocity of thirty-one hundred feet per second. Also, on the list were the Colt M1911 pistol and the grenade launcher. When I fired the M16 for the first time I anticipated a bone-jarring recoil. To my surprise, there was very little and as I squeezed off the next few rounds my body was suddenly jolted by a surge of adrenaline. My mind achieved a degree of clarity I had never known. It was an addictive experience that would never be in short supply. Power comes in many forms, but there is a unique feeling of power in firing a grenade launcher. When fired, its forty-millimeter barrel makes a low, hollow popping sound. And it has more than a little kick. If God were to begin intervening in human affairs, I have no doubt that He’d use one of these to make His point. We fired at a stationary tank during practice. I couldn’t help but wonder what might be the result of firing it at a person.

Learning to throw a grenade was a uniquely terrifying experience. We started by using dummy grenades as it was important to become accustomed to the feel and weight of something that, if used carelessly, could very graphically end one’s life. I had never been so terrified of anything as when I held a live grenade for the first time. Remembering the steps for throwing it was easy when you're guaranteed not to die. But when it came to the real thing, I had to fight my instinct to just get rid of it. After all, it’s not exactly normal to want to hold an explosive device for any period of time and it took a great deal of effort to remain calm while consciously going through the steps. “Don’t forget,” I thought. “Don’t screw it up; know where you’re throwing it; squeeze down on the trigger lever; pull the pin; hold it back behind your ear; release the trigger lever; throw it straight towards the target. And never panic."

In my previous life, the thought of blowing something up would have caused me to question my sanity. However, there is something to be said for the experience of creating that kind of damage and my first throw was right on target. I know it sounds strange, but jokingly, I think I found a hobby.