Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Find Yourself a Musket

The Brown Bess via Oleg Volk. 

Note that the gentleman explains the inherent inaccuracy of the mighty Brown Bess in terms of speed and reliability.  It reminds me of Mattie's remark in True Grit, "If I cared a thing about guns, I would have one that works."

Almost all modern firearms, unless the barrel has been damaged or something, are reasonably accurate.  Not all are reasonably reliable.  If you are around shooters much, at some point you are likely to hear an exchange like this:

"How does it shoot?"

"Better than I do."

It is true, especially in self-defense situations, that accuracy is relative, whereas reliability is absolute.  Having a gun that fails to function could be worse than having no gun at all. 

2 comments:

  1. Watching that video reminds me of how I cannot imagine what sort of courage it takes to line up on an open battlefield and shoot/get shot, or charge with battle axes and swords, or clubs and rocks. You just have to be completely prepared to die.

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  2. That's the truth, and that bayonet looks vicious, especially after it's covered in fouling.

    When I was a little kid, I was discussing with my parents whether it would be better to get shot or stabbed. (We were a bloody people.) I came down on the side of stabbing since, based on my childish logic, I might be able to dodge. My parents both opted for shooting since they would not see it coming, and they would be hit before the pain was felt.

    I have one of those ganglion cysts on my finger, and I've tried everything to get rid of it, including clamping my finger in a vise and trying to use a syringe to aspirate it.

    One day I got my knife out and was going to slice into it. I made sure the blade was good and sharp, cleaned it and my finger with alcohol, sat down to open the thing up, and lost my nerve. Even a quick stab required too much will. I cannot imagine that guy that had to amputate his own arm. I even tried to talk my wife into smacking the hilt with a hammer while I held it to the cyst. She told me I was crazy. The I'd-do-it-for-you argument did not get a positive result.

    Turns out it's not a cyst anyway but some "giant cell tumor" so I have to have a hand surgeon cut it. I'm still kind of aggravated at my wimpiness.

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