This pic was taken after I had been fondling our Gew43 and adding a few bits it had lost over the years – barrel nut, dust cover, cleaning rod, and putting in new (shooter) springs because the originals are, well, tired. It has a matching bolt and receiver, but some anomalies. I’m pretty sure it is a parts gun (and was presented and sold as such) but it’s interesting all the same. A August 1944 Berlin-Lubecker-Maschinenfabrik rifle (DUV ’44) with a ’43 dated stock and barrel. I was skeptical of the stock, as it has been roughly handled by bubba in a fashion typical of people counterfeiting new-made stocks, but found proper marks under the buttplate. Oddly, it has a relatively rare “set trigger” usually reserved for sniper/sharpshooter rifles, yet had the mounting rail for the scope ground off – believed to be a factory-done mod when the rifle didn’t shoot well enough to be a sniper, but was still suitable for issue. Things were getting crazy there that last year of the war, so who knows?
She shoots well enough for me in terms of accuracy, and with new springs probably more reliably, now.
That’s our Springfield Armory BM-59 in the background. Built as a “Parachutist” model with a folding stock, she’s unwieldy and uncomfortable to shoot with her folding stock. Since I no longer jump out of airplanes, I put her in a wood stock for bangsticking, and put her back in her fancy furniture for display.
Grandson Miles enjoyed this before homeschooling became pandemic chic.
No, srsly. I mean it. He did.
[This is a slightly edited old post from the old blog – the edits removed some time-based references. While not this house and flag, I did drop off a flag today, coming back from the Grumpy Old Men Breakfast Club.]
This isn’t trolling for you guys to say nice things to me – it’s to inspire you to do what I do, now and again.
This is a house along the route I used to drive a couple of times a week. It’s not as obvious in the picture, but that flag is tattered, tired, and ratty. The hem is gone and the stripes are starting to separate.
The home is not in great shape. I took a risk going up those stairs, if only because of the size of the shadow I cast.
Based on the evidence going up to the door, a former Marine lives there.
I just left the flag and the note. To my lights, there’s less chance of embarrassing someone – because the intent is not to shame someone. It’s to brighten their day a tiny bit, in a way that I can. I’ve done this about a dozen times. Flags are cheap.
Just paying my respects to my brothers and sisters in arms.
You drive by these homes, too. Every day.
The 4th of July is coming up, Flag Day was this past week…
Cut a brother a huss, to reach back to a nearly forgotten war. You can afford it, and they probably can’t.