Went to the range today.
I've fired 550 rounds through my MP40, the slide having locked back on me three times, only because I think I was riding my thumb too high.
Anyway, I was loading magazines; and setting up to fire 15 +1. I was sliding my mag into the well when I heard a pop and something hitting me in the face. I thought I crapped myself. I drop the mag out, work the slide and see that the round ejects, fully intact and unfired.
What happened was that the range had a thin spot in the shredded rubber of the berm, and pieces of jacket from HP rifles were bouncing back up the range. A quick call to the range master, and the problem was solved. The ammunition that the rifle shooter was using was high-powered hunting ammo; i. e. FMJ and set to make a lot of shrapnel. The range master tells him that he can't shoot that on the range; and that the sign in front of the lane specifies that you can't use anything other than plinking ammo on the range.
Now, it's funny and all, but I'm kind-of mad at the rifleman. That little piece of shrapnel could have been in my eye, or my throat, or not a little piece at all.
But, the range master made amends; instead of paying 140 bucks total, I only paid 60. Sweet deal.
I've fired 550 rounds through my MP40, the slide having locked back on me three times, only because I think I was riding my thumb too high.
Anyway, I was loading magazines; and setting up to fire 15 +1. I was sliding my mag into the well when I heard a pop and something hitting me in the face. I thought I crapped myself. I drop the mag out, work the slide and see that the round ejects, fully intact and unfired.
What happened was that the range had a thin spot in the shredded rubber of the berm, and pieces of jacket from HP rifles were bouncing back up the range. A quick call to the range master, and the problem was solved. The ammunition that the rifle shooter was using was high-powered hunting ammo; i. e. FMJ and set to make a lot of shrapnel. The range master tells him that he can't shoot that on the range; and that the sign in front of the lane specifies that you can't use anything other than plinking ammo on the range.
Now, it's funny and all, but I'm kind-of mad at the rifleman. That little piece of shrapnel could have been in my eye, or my throat, or not a little piece at all.
But, the range master made amends; instead of paying 140 bucks total, I only paid 60. Sweet deal.