Firearms Training, Flies, Zulus and Star Trek

Today is my birthday but that’s not what makes this day special. The 22nd of January was also Jack O’Connor’s birthday. I joke that by sharing birthdays with the Cactus I was destined to do what I do. Ironically, I never cared much for his writing and figured his greatest contribution was the support he gave the .270 Winchester.

But O’Connor’s birthday is not what makes today special either.

135 years ago today, not far from the eastern coast of South Africa, there was a battle. A mere 150 British soldiers defended the mission station at Rorke’s Drift from a intensely wicked assault by more than 3000 of the most fierce warriors to ever walk the earth. (Eleven Victoria Crosses were awarded as a result of this battle.)

Interestingly, I was reminded of this by Remington’s new R -51 pistol. I know this might seem odd but there is a personal connection. When I was young we had a large, screened in patio. Actually, it was nothing more than a carport Dad and I had enclosed with screen wire. I remember helping him rip strips of 2 x 4’s, to trim out the joints in the screen wire, with a table saw my grandfather hand built using a motor from a washing machine. During the summer this screen enclosure was a favorite place for flies. They’d gather there looking for the scraps of our cookouts.

I know, I’m still a long ways from connecting Remington’s R-51 and Rorke’s Drift.

Stay with me.

In 1964 the movie Zulu that detailed this battle was released. I remember watching it a few years later and the wickedness of the event and the fact that it had occurred on my birthday stuck with me. Young an impressionable, I dreamed of being there and fighting in that battle. With a kid’s imagination and the right toys, dreams like this can become almost real.

At about that same time the original Star Trek series had played out but reruns were easy to come by and, like most impressionable youngsters, the final frontier and the exploits of Captain Kirk played on the futuristic as opposed to the historic end of my imagination.

When I first picked up Remington’s R-51 about three weeks ago, I knew I had, at one time, held a pistol which felt the same. I wracked my brain trying to recall what gun that might have been and then, with my birthday approaching and thoughts of Rorke’s Drift in my head, I remembered.

Back then, just like today, toys represented the silver screen and the Rayline Company manufactured a Star Trek pistol that fired small disks. There were several of those in my closet in my pre-teen years and one day I carried one out to our screened in patio. That’s when it hit me. Standing there alone in a swarm of flies as thick as Zulu warriors, I realized I had the battle I’d always wanted.

Hours were spent in that patio shooting flies with my Star Trek pistol as they landed on the screen. Mom didn’t think much of it because with a good hit the disk would implant fly guts into the wire. Still, she tolerated my play and around lunchtime she’d come out and bring me a snack. Soldiers gotta eat!

I got pretty good with those little pistols; even keeping a running tally each day to see how many flies I could kill. Though I cannot remember the exact number I do recall that on more than one occasion it was higher than 100. I guess you could say the time I spent fighting flies on my patio was the beginning of my firearms training with handguns. Its probably also the reason the Remington R-51 seemed to be such a natural pointing and easy to shoot pistol in my hands.

So that’s the connection between firearms training, flies, Zulus and Captain Kirk. Funny how the brain works, huh?

With this realization I conducted a search on-line trying to find one of those Star Trek pistols. Shockingly, forty dollars later, I had two of them along with a pack of disk ammo headed my way. I’d never have thought any were still in existence.

When they arrived, I unpacked the box with the same excitement of a 10-year-old boy. I stuffed the magazine with disks and walked through the house shooting things; it was like I’d found a time machine. (Luckily, Drema was at work and the kids were at school or they would have thought I’d lost my mind.)

As you can expect, the thrill wore off reasonably quick and I was left holding a toy that had originally sold for about $ 2.00. What to do with it was the question. My son Bat’s birthday is just a few days away and even though he is not a toy kind of kid – all he really cares about is basketball, girls, shooting guns and video games – I figured he would get a kick out of a toy as old as his Dad; a toy that gave his father hours and hours of enjoyment when he was a kid.

So, I’ll hand those two little Star Trek pistols off to Bat and his sisters. There’s no school today (snowy and cold) and I can think of no better fun than a gun battle here in the house. It will be a real, first person shooter game as opposed to one on the TV with imaginary bad guys. We’ll call it firearms training 101 and maybe someday, they’ll be able to shoot a pistol as well as their daddy. (I’ll have no worry that the experience will turn them into cold blooded killers or mass murderers.)

Yes, the world is changing but not so much here at Shadowland. I may be getting older but I have no intention of growing up. The kids are yelling and running like mad through the house, e-mails are stacking up and snow needs shoveled off the porch. But, I think its time I go fight the Zulus.

Happy birthday to me!