Maybe it's the Way I Was Raised...

I wonder why so many of our young men today appear so, ummm, well, soft and squishy and doughy and weak-looking.  And acting.  And immensely overprivileged.  And have lived so long in the Free America their forefathers fought and died for, they've come to expect it.

For themselves, but not necessarily for others.  

And they seem to wander around aimlessly.  Their baseball caps on backwards.  While they shield their eyes from the sun with their hands.  Looking like fools. 

Even our "poor" folks have two flat screen TV's!  And save for a few surfers, and body builders, and yoga practitioners (I have one in the family!), most of our youth of today seem to spend more time staring at video games then they do out in the woods.    

Camping and fishing and hunting and learning how to live off the land seems soooo passe these days!  Nobody does that anymore, I guess.  Or at least nobody around me here in "Soft-afornia."  I cannot recall seeing an ad for the Boy Scouts in years.  Decades!  Young folks today seem to get their exercise only from "the gym."   If they're one of the only 11% of them who actually have gym memberships.  

And that's one of the reasons the U. S. Army had to dumb down its physical entrance exams recently, or else far too many of our young men and women would simply fail to make the cut.  

And not just physically, mentally as well.

And that's assuming they're actually interested in joining our military services.  Which it appears they are not.  ALL of our military services are down on their recruiting, posing a substantial risk to our national defense.  My alma mater U. S. Army was down 12%!  It had to eliminate two full divisions because it could no longer staff them, fergodssake!  Do we attribute that to a decided lack of patriotism (quite possibly), or simply because they're a bunch of ignorant, lazy slugs (most likely)?  

So why am I, The Chuckmeister, bitching about the sad situation unfolding around me?  And the scary future it portends for my kids, and their kids?  I've thought about that quite a bit lately.  And I think I have an answer.  

         Maybe it's the way I was raised...          

For starters, I was given a .22 rifle for my 8th birthday.

A single-shot Stevens .22 rifle it was, with which I learned gun safety.  And how to handle and use a firearm.  Rules which have stayed with me all of my life.  And rules I've taught to thousands of fellow soldiers, and dozens of friends and neighbors, and everyone in my family. 

My Dad was a famed, award-winning target shooter, and a great hunter, so I came by my love of guns and hunting early on.  And his love of the outdoors and the shooting sports was not unique, BTW.  

It was shared by everyone I knew.  In fact, our local school district gave us the day off every year on November 11th.  That's the day deer season opens. 

And since my Dad was also friends with the owner of our local gun store, I was happily apprenticed to him as a gunsmith.  

At the age of 12.

And this wasn't a case of "indentured servitude."  I fell in love with guns and hunting early on, and leapt at the chance to become a gunsmith.

By the age of 14 I was building custom sporting and varmint rifles for my mentor's customers.  I doubt they knew a kid was doing the building of their $Multi-Hundred dollar rifles in my mentor's back room.  And that was big money back then.  

My mentor paid me mostly in gun parts and ammunition.  Lots and lots of ammunition.  Barrels, rifled actions, telescopic sights, triggers and scope mounts.  And my 1st cousin just happened to be Reinhardt Fajen, the foremost stock maker in all of America at the time.  He was located on the Lake of the Ozarks, just a short drive from my home.  So I'd visit him often and bring back stock blanks.  Those are the rough-cut pieces of rare wood from which gun stocks are formed.  Birdseye Maple, Kentucky Black Oak and Circassian Fiddleback Walnut were a few of my favorites.

I used these parts to build several custom rifles for myself along the line.  My personal favorite was a .270 Winchester (7mm) varmint and medium-sized game rifle.  It used a Timken Bearing Steel bull barrel, and a model 98 Mauser Magnum action.  

I used a Jaeger adjustable Trigger and an Ace Trigger Shoe.  Plus, a Lyman Wolverine 10x scope and Redfield Jr. quick-detachable, helium-filled mounts.   Oh, and a beautiful Circassian fiddleback walnut Stock, featuring a fiberglass-bedded action and a free-floating barrel channel to insure accuracy.  Plus quick-detachable sling mounts, of course. I produced a full-Beavertail fore end with full scoop cheekpiece to enhance accuracy.  And boy, did it shine!  Like a diamond in a goat's a*s, it did!  I spent more than 100 hours finishing that stock, and it looked like it!  

That rifle weighed in at 13 and 1/2 pounds and featured a 30" bull barrel.  The diameter of your thumb.  It was so accurate I placed five shots into a playing card at...600 yards.  Yeah.

And that was at the age of 14.

I should also add that I'd been a Cub Scout since the age of 8, and a Boy Scout ever since.  I was tapped into the Tribe Mic-o-Say, a Scouting fraternity honoring our Native American brothers and sisters.  It requires its new inductees to spend several nights in the forest, alone, with nothing more than 3 matches, a pocket knife and their Boy Scout training.    

At the age of 13.

I was also a member of two quick-draw clubs by the age of 15.  Cowboy-style Colt .45 revolvers at five paces, judged by how quickly and how accurately one responds when the light blinks on.  If you miss the target, the shot doesn't count.  My best effort was 0.279 seconds.  The standard reaction time is about 0.250 seconds, BTW.

I was additionally a member of an NRA club in which we shot WW1 issue, 1903-A3 Springfield .30-06 bolt action rifles at man-sized targets.  At 1,000 yards.  Open sights, no scopes.  One-fifth of a mile.  Think about that.       

And also I shot both trap and skeet, the most popular shotgun sports.  Loved them both.  Won many competitions, also.  

By the age of 16.

I then I became an Explorer Scout.  And then an Eagle Scout, with two Oak Leaf Clusters.  And the coveted God and Country Award.  I also earned 33 merit badges, indicating mastery over numerous specialties.  

All by the age of 17.

I amassed an armory of some 50 firearms by the time I was "invited" to attend our Viet Nam "Police Action."  (We don't have wars anymore, nor do we win them).  And then I set the all-time Rifle Range Course Record at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, during my Basic Training.  998 out of 1,000.  A record that still stands today, BTW.  

And while in the Army I was the Rifle Range Officer at two military posts.  And also CBR (Chemical, Biological and Radiological) Officer at both bases.  

I was also my battalion drill sergeant, BTW.

Of interest, I also came in 4th at the "SchwartzWaldenFest" pistol competition in 1968.  It was the regional qualifier for the 1968 Olympics.  Had I placed 3rd or better, I would have qualified for the German Pistol Team...as an American soldier. Think about that.  I'm still thinking about it... 

I also completed the U. S. Army Ranger Short Course at Ft. Benning, GA.  It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life.      

Since then I've continued to "keep and bear" firearms in defense of my freedom and the freedom of those around me.  I try never to be more than 6 feet from something with "magnum" in its name.  And I stopped buying ammo when I couldn't see over or around it.  It's my assumption that everyone within 30 yards of me in any direction is safer having me around.  And I'd recommend everyone else do the same.

I recall the above and choose to retell it for you not to brag about any personal accomplishments.  Most of it came as a consequence of where I was born and where I was raised.  And nearly everyone I knew had a background similar to mine.  

So I offer it to provide a stark comparison between my Midwestern upbringing and the lifestyle afforded to our youth of today.  I remember my job one summer "bucking" 80 pound bales of hay in 100 degree heat.  At $ten cents a bale.  Yep, be born and raised in California and expect nothing more injurious or discomforting then the occasional hangnail.  No sweating, no straining, no risks, and no rewards.

               Just a "Plain Vanilla" life.

And also no receptor sites to possibly understand what it's like to be born and raised where they actually work for a living.  Where they ride tractors from dusk 'til dawn growing our food.  And sweat and strain making our cars, and building our homes, and drilling for our oil.  The same oil our Gen Z fools despise and so wish would simply disappear. 

Global Warming, doncha' know... 

Oh, and, hunting deer, and rabbits, and squirrels and wild hogs to put meat in the freezer.  Or else their families would go hungry.  Just like they did 400 years ago.  And 4,000 years ago.  And they're doing right now, as this is written.  I remind my readers that more than 600,000 hunters filed for deer tags in Missouri last year.  

I took a deer every year from the age of 12 until 18, BTW.  I stopped when I grew tired of dodging errant bullets from big city "hunters," all juiced up with "aiming fluid."  

The stories I could tell...

Remember the movie "Red Dawn?"  The one where a few dozen of our Redneck youth tried to fend off the invading Red Army?  I'm pretty sure our current crop of Gen-Z'ers might just bargain away America's freedom for a warm bed, some vitamin water and a nice cup of kale soup...

Those of us who've been to war can hear the war drums beating.  Those who haven't, can't.  And those who can't...are unfortunately the ones in charge.  God help us.

Through it all, these experiences have made me self-reliant.  I've learned to depend upon no one but myself.  For anything.  And I'm always prepared.  For anything.  As an example, of the thousands and thousands of appointments of all kinds I've made and kept throughout my career, I can honestly say I don't recall ever being late for a single one.

Like my Dad always said, "Ya' got to do what you need to do to get to where you want to be."  Good advice, Dad.  It's helped me excel and compete.  And win. 

Are you prepared?  Are you ready for what life throws at you?  If your family doesn't fit the above narrative, good.  But if it does, there still may be time to get right with reality.  Start realizing that YOU are in charge of the safety and security of your family.  The cops aren't.  The politicians aren't.  Never were, never will be.  

And the sooner "Soft-afornia" and the rest of America learns that, the better off we'll all be...