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I was putting things together for a D-Day load out equipment exhibit for our town’s festival that takes place on July 4th. Running down my list I realized I don’t have a WWII entrenching tool. Just WWI and Vietnam. Something like this Then I remembered I picked up one last year that appeared to be a post war knockoff. Maybe Japanese. No markings on it and it was frozen in the open position but the wood looked good. I dug around and found it in the barn and after a liberal application of PB Blaster and torch I got it loosened up. Decided to take some crud and rust off and after sanding off several layers of paint I could see some faint stampings. Turns out it’s a US Ames made in 1944. Only cost a couple of bucks. I better go get a lottery ticket.

My match setup philosophy when I was Match Director was that targets that are generously sized and closer to the firing line are more fun for most shooters. IMO; movement and sequences are what make matches "interesting" or "memorable" - not the challenge between 3 yard and 7 yard pistol targets. The Eldorado Cowboys have an assortment of 16x16 inch targets and a smattering of 24x24 (and larger). I generally placed pistol targets at 3 - 4 paces. Shotgun at 7 - 8 paces. Rifle at 9 - 12 paces (further downrange placements were used when the same targets serve double duty as both rifle and pistol with downrange movement) The 12 paces allow for a 6 - 10 step downrange movement to shoot pistols at the expected pistol distances. This design helped our match grow year over year surpassing the shooter counts of the state matches of many much more populous states. It also lead to our match being honored by the prestigious Wooly award for match of the year.

Our smallest targets are 16 x 16, biggest 24 x 24, some in between. I just made some 8 x 8 for special scenarios. Typical pistol here are 5-7 yards, rifle 10-15 yards, shotgun 7-10 yards. It's my feeling that folks are getting tired of the in your face drag race targets and are wanting something a little more challenging.

Just make your best guess and make a survey of those who's shot the stages. When you get an equal number of complaints that the targets were too close as too far, too small vs too big, too close together vs too spread apart, than you you've hit a happy median.

My dad as a cop. Oceanside, CA, after he mustered out of the Corps. Did it for about 6 months or so in 1947. He couldn't stomach the corruption of the Chief of Police and quit. I think it was just after that that he started working for Crystal Silica, where he worked for ~ 30 years.

Yesterday the sixth annual Women’s Wild West Shootout was presented by the Southern Missouri Rangers. Thirty-five cowgirls from Kansas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Missouri competed over five demanding stages, assisted by cowboy volunteers who performed all the posse chores. This morning we shot again so the men could join their ladies in the fun. If you cowgirls are looking for a match where you can feel spoiled, sign up for next year!

One thing I have noticed in all these photos is that, in general, the fathers, and surrogates, all have a certain dignity and elegance to them. Even my dad standing there in his shorts and shower shoes. Allie, your dad looks like he stepped out of a poster for jeans, or boots, or Old Spice. A few more of my dad. Color photo, circa 1974, with my niece Alexandra. Then a couple of him in Trinidad, about 1941. And, one of my mom's dad. 1960, Nesquehoning PA. He came to the US in 1906.

My dad adopted my (half) sister before I came along. A toast to him. I hope I'm half the man he was. JHC

If people might indulge me, I'd like to recognize three different men. My father, and two others who were like father's to me in ways I can't begin to mention. I just know I wouldn't be the man I am without them. My Dad. Retired after 35 years working in a glass factory, most of it as a journeyman machine repairman. Our relationship has always been challenging at best, and it only got better when we both decided to agree to disagree on many subjects. Still, I recognize he did the best within his power to be as good a dad as he could be. My uncle, both of us born on February 14th, he went to Basic Training at Ft. Knox, about 25 years or so before I did. A professional estimator, one of the most intelligent, kind and thoughtful men I've known. I often went to him when I had problems, and he was the man who convinced me I could succeed at whatever I tried. I think of him every day, and miss him greatly. Finally, my father-in-law. Went to the University of Michigan on a baseball scholarship, and forgot more about the sport than I will ever know. Served in the Navy as a doctor after being drafted during the Vietnam era, then had a career as a radiologist. Treated me as his son from the start. His first trap gun became my first trap gun. We could go pheasant hunting and not shoot a bird and consider it an afternoon well spent. After my uncle passed away, he became my mentor, my advisor, and my friend. He died while I was getting ready to deploy in 2008. When my wife had his watch that he bought when she was born restored and gave it to me for Father's Day last year, I cried. There isn't a day I don't miss him.

I lost my Dad 10 years ago this August. He was pre-war RCAF, (1936) We did a lot together; trips to Alaska; hunting and fishing trips; reunions at bases we lived at, where he served. Good times together. I still miss you Dad.

Nothing more exciting than a straight out stealing of home!! GO TRIBE!! https://www.mlb.com/news/leonys-martin-steals-home-for-indians

If ever you think I wouldn't be more than happy to discuss anything face to face, you don't know me. I'll make the same arguments in person as on social media. Say something silly or stoopid to me in person, I'll respond aggressively. People call out folks for being "keyboard commanders", yet many of them that are "nice" on social media are completely the opposite in person...sooooo... It goes both ways. Phantom

Generally speaking... Since the target size will have some influence... Pistols are 4-7 yards Rifle are 12-15 yards Shotgun are about 8 yards. Again, generally speaking... Target size about 18x18. Phantom

My Dad in France, receiving the Bronze Star for climbing a telephone pole to repair lines in the middle of a German artillery barrage.

Robert F. De Groff, Sr. 1925-2007 Dad was always my hero. From him I learned honesty, integrity, humor, courage, humility, and compassion. He was a man willing to sacrifice for his family and always ready to help a friend in need. He never met a man who didn't like him. The world was enriched by his presence and is a poorer place with his passing. He left us wanting to be with him just a little longer, to hear him laugh and joke once more. He left us with the same quiet dignity as he had lived and went to join his wife Helen, our beloved mother... The pain of his passing is tempered by the joy in having known him. Dad the SCout Dad and his mom Dad and Mom in the 70s A teen with a need for speed. Playing cowboy 2006 Me and Dad about 1950 Home on leave during the war In Japan after the surrender. I'd smile too. I still have his wings and ID bracelet his parents gave him.

I'm right eye dominant and find my misses are with the left gun. I have to close my left eye or I catch myself shooting left gun with left eye. When I miss with the last round/last target I believe it is because I stop concentrating on that last target and in my mind start moving to the next thing I have to do.

Barbwire and Zona just stopped by and gifted me with a very nice bottle of scotch, It's going to be a great week.

Nick The Kid and myself starting the day up at the gate.

If you run into Pistol Pete (he is an Aussie) tell him I said he is to slow to be at EOT

Hats off to all of the Peacekeapers for putting on a great State shoot. Congratulations to Timbercrick Mick and Gunslinger Grace. Top overall shooters MCJ

Having learned from Creeker, and with vocal close and big shooters, my "standard" is 5 paces for pistol, 7 for shotgun and 8 for rifle. Shotgun doesn't come any closer, although pistols and rifle have been known to be short stroked and placed a little closer. Once in a while we will have a challenging stage with pistols at 7 or 8 paces and rifles as far as 12 paces. To quote TA Chance, "they are my paces", not necessarily yards. NN

It's a bit of an emotional day for me. I lost my dad the day before Father's Day 1990. I took him a gift that day, as I was working swing shift at the hospital that weekend. I got the phone call that afternoon that he passed in his sleep taking a nap. He worked that morning, ate lunch, went home for his usual nap and..... JHC

I just use my hands.

Another benefit of working up there you get to see some pretty cool rides. This gentlemen drove in in this 38 Ford pickup today and we visited quite a bit about his truck. He did a complete frame off restoration and it is absolutely gorgeous.

Come for the shoot+++Stay for the people. GW

Happy Fathers Day JJ!!!!!

Thanks for the update. Wish you were gonna be greeting me but alas not. Waimea

I had conductivity test during couple weeks ago doesn't hurt much but weird when arm jumps around from electric pulse.

We put are targets on or about: Pistol 7 yards Rifle 14 yards Shotgun 11 yards

Couldn't be there this year and look forward to follow this post Thanks for all you do. Hells Comin

Yul, Just a note to say THANK YOU!! to you and all of the Waddies for volunteering your time during EOT.I'm sure it wouldn't happen without all of your efforts. See you tomorrow!!

Great photo.

Pitcher appeared asleep at the switch, and the catcher bobbled a poor throw, so straight up question: who gets the error - catcher, pitcher or none?

It was great to say g'day Yul, see you tomorrow for warm up mate!

I refer to them as “keyboard commandos”

Looks like a man with the bark on. JHC

My Dad circa 1961 or 1962. 4th Precinct Cruiser crew.

“Gentle desert vespers”? In Ridgecrest? Who are you trying to kid?

I was looking for some in on Bisley Matches held in England after reading Cholla’s article and I found this little gem . https://www.directexpose.com/photos-old-wild-west-believe-exist/8/ Lots of interesting info and photos without the annoying ads. At least not on my phone.

This is my favorite photo of my dad. It was taken at our cabin at Bass Lake, CA, in 1961.

It’s been an interesting couple of days. Friday, Ian Desmond of the Rockies hit an inside the parker against the Padres. I told my wife how rare that is. Saturday, Fernando Tatis of the Padres hit an inside the parker against the Rockies. My wife doesn’t think it’s rare now.

Whew! That is a relief to know!

Nick The Kid and Hay Kid, his boss, heading off to work filling water jugs with water and ice.

I just over crimp and don't worry about it.

Howdy First off, if you are going to be weighing your powder, you need to know that not all Black Powder weighs the same. Here is a chart I made up a bunch of years ago specifying the weight of the common powder charges I use for Black Powder cartridges. The column on the left is for the different dipper sizes in the Lee Dipper set. You can tell this is an old chart because Elephant powder is not made anymore. These are just approximations, the data may have changed slightly over the years. I do find this chart to be more accurate than the sliding chart that comes with the Lee dipper set. These days I use FFg Schuetzen for everything. The 2.2CC charge is what I use in 44-40 under a 200 grain bullet and for 45 Colt under a 250 grain bullet. I do not try to stuff 40 grains into my cartridges, the amounts I show are what will fit into modern solid head cases and be compressed about 1/16" to 1/8" when the bullet is seated. That is plenty of powder and smoke for me. The 4.3 CC charge is what I use in 12 gauge shotgun. Sorry, I don't load 38 Special with BP, so I cannot help you there. Here are the most common dippers I have used over the years, plus a couple of custom dippers made from empty brass cases. Years ago I did all my loading on this old Lyman Spartan press. I still use it for my 45-70 BP loads, but these days I load all my BP cartridges on a Hornady Lock & Load AP progressive press. Primers: Contrary to the opinion of some, Black Powder is easier to ignite than Smokeless powder. You can use any brand of primers for Black Powder cartridges and you do not need Magnum primers. I usually use Federal Large Pistol primers for 45 Colt, 45 Schofield, 44-40, 44 Russian, and 38-40. You can use any brand of primer for BP shotgun shells too. I usually use Winchester 209, but any brand will do. Back in the days when I was using dippers, this is how I poured my powder into my cases. The proper way to use a dipper is to scoop the powder into it just like you were scooping ice cream out of a container. Use a consistent motion to keep your charges consistent. If you want accuracy, do not shake or jiggle the powder. Instead, scoop up a heaping dipper full and level it off with a stiff piece of card stock. You can use any brand of press to load Black Powder cartridges, all you have to do different than loading Smokeless is allow for some method of adding the BP. I do not recommend using a regular Smokeless powder measure with Black Powder. Here is one of my Hornady presses all set up for loading some ammo. That is not the standard Hornady powder measure, that is a Black Powder measure from Lyman. Notice I am quite anal about this. My cases have been set out in loading blocks of 50 rounds each. You can't see it but my bullets are also arranged in groups of 50, so I can keep track if I have a hiccup of exactly how many bullets I have seated vs how many primers I have used, vs how many pieces of brass I have used. This can come in handy if you get confused at some point. I don't use dippers for most of my BP loading anymore, I buy old Lyman powder measures whenever I can find them and I remove the powder measure drums. I preset the drum for specific powder charges for the various cartridges I load and pop them into my Lyman BP measure as needed. Here is a batch of 45 Colt being loaded on my Hornady press. Notice how brand-spanky new shiny the brass is. After being fired once my brass never gets this shiny again. A close up of a bunch of 45 Colt rounds being loaded. I load all my BP shotgun ammo on a simple little MEC Jr. Yes, I do dip the powder into my hulls when loading BP shotgun ammo. This method is much slower than loading BP on a progressive machine, I can only crank out about 4 boxes per hour this way, but that is the way I like to do it. Most guys like the convenience of using modern plastic wads with BP shotgun ammo. I prefer to go the old fashioned route with separate wads that I buy from Circle Fly. You can buy the same wads from Track of the Wolf. This photo shows my 4.3CC charge of FFg Schuetzen, a 1/8" thick over powder card, a 1/2" compression wad, 1 1/8 ounces of #8 shot, and a 1/16" over shot card. I put in the over shot card because with this charge my crimps are a little bit concave, and a few pieces of shot can escape if I don't add the over shot card. Not pictured are the standard Winchester 109 primers I use. It is best to soak your fired brass in water fairly soon after firing it. You don't have to drag a jug of water around the match with you, back at the car is plenty soon enough. If you wait 24 hours before soaking it your brass will start to turn green from verdigris. I fill a jug with water and a squirt of dish soap at home before I load up my car for a match. The sooner you remove your brass from the jug the better. Leave it a few weeks and it will be stained pretty black. I try to rinse off my brass within a few days of a match. I use a standard kitchen sieve to rinse my brass. I dump the brass into the strainer, pour off the water, dump the brass back into the jug and refill the jug with fresh water. Put the lid on and shake vigorously. Repeat four or five times. By that time you will have dissolved and rinsed away 90% of the fouling. Notice I did not say neutralize as some guys do. You ain't neutralizing (changing the pH) of anything, you are dissolving and rinsing away the fouling. I set my brass out to air dry on cookie sheets lined with paper towels. I used to heat them in a warm over, but I don't bother any more, I simply let the brass air dry for a couple of days before I throw it in the tumbler. After it has been fired once and reloaded, my brass never gets new-shiny again. it stays pretty stained. Here is a batch of 44 Russian being loaded in brass that has been fired a few times. I always say shiny brass does not shoot any better than stained brass, it is just easier to find in the grass. I could rinse out my shotgun hulls and reuse them, but I don't I just throw them away after being shot once with BP. Forget about a drop tube, you don't need it for revolver ammo and pistol caliber rifle ammo. I only use a drop tube when loading 45-70. Pan Lubing. The guy in a video above demonstrated Pan Lubing. I used to pan lube regular Smokeless bullets years ago. The problem was the skimpy lube groove on most hardcast Smokeless bullets usually does not carry enough lube to keep the barrel of a rifle coated with soft lube for its entire length, the bullets usually run out of lube the last six inches or so of a rifle barrel. Which means swabbing the barrel a few times during the match, or adding stuff like lube cookies under the bullet. When I discovered Big Lube bullets I completely stopped messing with pan lubing and lube cookies and all that stuff. Big Lube bullets are designed with a huge lube groove to carry enough lube to keep the longest rifle barrel lubed with soft lube its entire length for an entire match. Here is a big batch of 44 Mav-Dutchman bullets I cast up a bunch of years ago. And here is my Star lube sizer I used to lube size my bullets with SPG bullet lube. These days though, I don't cast my own bullets anymore because my supply of pure lead dried up. I buy all my Big Lube bullets already sized these days from Springfield Slim. http://www.whyteleatherworks.com/BigLube.html As for a book, I found the series of books put out by Mike Venturino a bunch of years ago to be very helpful when getting started with Black Powder loading. Mike gives a very good description of loading cartridges with Black Powder in all his books; Shooting Sixguns of the Old West, Shooting Colt Single Actions, and Shooting Lever Guns of the Old West. Mike's book Shooting Buffalo Guns of the Old West is more specific to the big single shot buffalo rifles. Some of these books were out of print for a while, but it appears they are all available again on Amazon now. Any questions?

"That's your preacher?" Calamity's ear drew back as if tugged by an invisible thumb and forefinger: it was a woman's voice, but a stranger's voice, and she didn't remember any strangers coming into town. She turned and saw a worn-looking woman that was probably quite pretty, at least when she was young; her hair was dry and shot with grey, her eyes were tired, but her complexion was clear, even if she did look under fed. "I'm Anna Hill. I rode in with a rancher." She grimaced a little, looked away -- almost guiltily, Calamity thought -- then she looked back. "At least until he wished to be ... improper." "That would explain your shoulder," Calamity murmured sympathetically, stifling an urge to reach up and swipe at the ground that apparently rose up to meet her shoulder as she left the rancher's conveyance. "Do you wish to speak with the Sheriff?" Anna shook her head and Calamity did not miss the pained look that crossed her face. Bad memories, she thought. I've seen those before. "You were riding ...?" Calamity prompted, tilting her head curiously. "In a wagon, yes, but ... I jumped." "Your things?" "Who knows." Anna's voice was as washed-out as the color in her dress. "I didn't have much, anyway. Nothing of any value." "Not even a change of clothes?" Loreli swung around, her sudden appearance and stern voice bringing a squeak and a start from Anna, who fell back a half-step, at least until she bumped into one of the menfolk: she swallowed and turned a truly remarkable shade of red as the anonymous townsman lifted his hat and murmured "I beg your pardon" -- typical courtesy of the West, Loreli thought with an almost-hidden smile: she fell into him, and he begged her pardon! Loreli looked at Calamity, and Calamity looked at Loreli, and they both looked at their preacher as he turned and headed back toward the parsonage, and then they looked at Anna as she, too, followed the black-suited sky pilot with almost-hopeful eyes. "I think," the two women said, then laughed, and Calamity nodded her go-ahead. "I think we can fix you up with your needfuls." The Parson bent over the laundry table, the filthied shirt sleeve wet and soapy, laid out flat: he held it with spread thumb and fingers, and the other hand plied a small bristle brush he kept for such tasks: he persisted, he dunked, he sloshed, he scrubbed: he frowned, threw out the dishpan of dirty, soapy water, dipped a tin cup in the hot water kettle, poured clean into the dish pan, reached for the soap. His eyes snapped up and he turned a little, then froze, honestly surprised. "Ladies," he said courteously, dropping the freshly-soaped shirtsleeve and drawing back a step: he toweled his hands quickly, reached for his coat, grateful he'd kept his vest on: it would not do to be seen in just his shirt -- horrors! -- he might as well be viewed in his red-flannel Union suit! "We've seen more than you've got," Miz Loreli declared, then changed the subject just as abruptly as she'd spoken. "We need your help." "Of course." The preacher considered reaching for his hat, hesitated, decided against it. "How may I be of service?" "No, I don't want to be any bother," Anna whispered, twisting a little: a glare fixed her in place as if she'd been pinned like an insect to a display board. "You made quite a generous offer," Calamity said, emboldened that she was helping a fellow sufferer rather than her own self: "if your charity is still good, Anna here lost everything she had." The preacher stopped and considered, then picked up the shirt, hung it carefully with the rest of his laundry, turned back to the three. "Ladies," he said, "let us counsel together." His smile was quick, almost sad, his expression ... He looks just like she did, Calamity thought with a little surprise. The fare was simple, but well spiced: the ladies ate with appreciation for a meal they did not have to prepare. Before the preacher could ask them to be seated, they looked around, half in admiration, half in surprise: they knew he lived alone, but they'd never known bachelor's quarters to be so ... ... so absolutely ... "You live here?" Anna asked, and the preacher nodded. "It doesn't smell like it." The preacher placed the tableware precisely, carefully, almost soundlessly: "I try to keep it clean," he said, and Loreli caught the barest catch at the back of his voice as he said it. There's another painful memory, she thought. I'll ask Calamity if she knows what it is. Anna stared at the shimmering amber, steaming in the teacup set before her: it had been years since she'd had tea -- oh, she couldn't remember when she'd had tea last! -- she looked nervously at her two feminine benefactors, waited until the preacher set out meat and green beans he'd had on the stove, apparently long enough to take full advantage of the bacon, fried and diced and well mixed with ... Onion? He has onion? "You'll spoil us, you know!" "You ladies deserve to be spoiled." It was a statement, not a question, but none missed the flat certainty of his words: such a thing would normally be said with a smile, but the man was most definitely not smiling. He was dead serious. It wasn't until they'd eaten their fill that talk turned to the needed relief. Anna was clearly less than comfortable at being the recipient of such unexpected largesse: she'd honestly expected to go hungry, to have to wash her only garments in a stream and wear them wet -- and now arrangements were made to put her up, and to have new clothes sewn -- "But I can't pay," she protested, and the preacher raised a finger. "I seem to recall something in Scripture about clothing the naked and feeding the hungry," he said. "I don't often get a chance to do that." He leaned forward, his forearms pressing into the edge of the table. "Let me do this, at least. After today I need to beat the dents out of my corroded soul." "You watch your back, Preacher," Calamity said quietly. "Their kind blame everyone else for their own sins." "I know." He wiped his lips, wadded up the napkin, placed it beside his plate, stared at it for a long moment, then rose. "I'll be right back." He managed to press more gold on Calamity than she'd intended to take. "I don't know what-all a woman needs," he'd admitted quietly, so only she could hear: "she might have family and need a train ticket, she might need everything from the hide out and things like hair brushes and I don't know what-all." He'd looked a little lost as he said it, as he admitted he was out of his element. "You don't know a thing about her," Calamity cautioned. "She could be a no-good golddigger trying to weasel you out of --" She stopped, surprised at the lost look she saw on the man's face. "Preacher?" "I'm worried, Miz Calamity," he admitted. "You're worried? After the way you handled those --" "That's part of my worry," he admitted. "One of two things is going to happen. Either they'll figure everyone in town is as mean as the preacher and even the chipmunks will fight, and nobody will ever come around to cause trouble again, or someone will find gold and the place goes straight to hell." He took a long breath, leaned against the door frame. "I've seen what happens to a nice little town with a gold strike." "Pretty bad?" He nodded, slowly. "Mud streets, everyone empties their chamberpots out in the road, prices --" She saw the man shiver. "Eggs ... a dollar apiece, then two, then three dollars apiece. I've seen eggs priced at five dollars apiece!" Calamity's mouth opened but not sound came out. "Common everyday everything .. priced for gold, and if you can't afford it, there's no ..." He shook his head, straightened. "No. No, please God, not here!" "Is that why you pulled those shenanigans with fool's gold in church?" This time his grin was quick, boylike. "You liked that?" "I thought you were going to cut your fool fingers off!" He shrugged. "Nobody slept through my sermon." Calamity folded her arms, glared at him over a nonexistent set of spectacles. "I wanted to discourage any rumors of gold. I've shown the pyrites around, struck sparks with them, laughed with men who've been fooled by the fool's gold. I don't want anyone to think there's gold here!" Calamity looked at the preacher with unreadable eyes. Whatever her response, she kept it to herself.

Little video of my second match shooting Frontiersman with the Red River Valley Cowpokes.

I haven't been on the wire long enough to know if Hondo was ever on it, but I posseed up with him at Cajon last week and what a great pard to have on your posse. He's a real low SASS # also and he shoots 1st generation SAA's and original Winchester 73 all in 38-40 along with a hammered Remington SxS. Very interesting fellow to visit with.