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Location: DownByTheRiver, Central Iowa, United States

Husband of the world's most wonderful wife, father of the world's four most brilliant children, grandfather to the world's eight most beautiful granddaughters and two handsomest grandsons

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Boys And Their Toys

It’s 0600 dear readers (6 a.m. to non-rangers) and the RRR has Mrs. off to keep obsessive compulsive lap swimmers safe from themselves at the indoor pool. She left pleased with the surprise gift from LL Bean, a large canvas carry bag with powder blue pipping and her name embroidered on it in script. She noticed and envied another lady’s at a conference in Chicago and for once the RRR actually observed and remembered.
But friends, let me tell you about last night, Sheriff’s Office training. I should first let you know that there is no such thing as a Sheriff’s department. A sheriff is an elected official, thus it is a the Sheriff’s OFFICE. A police chief is an appointed bureaucrat who heads a department, thus it is a Police DEPARTMENT.
There was a page sent out last week for any reservist interested in special training. Only the hard corps volunteered. There were eight of us who went in the prisoner transport van and a squad car on an hour long jaunt to the training site. First time I’d ridden in the back where the prisoners usually ride. No longer will I dismiss the complaints about lack of legroom as criminal whining. It’s cramped back there.
So eight middle aged volunteer cops, most of us over 50 were escorted into a laser simulator training room. One at a time we were given a .45 to carry that shot a beam of light when fired instead of bullets. We faced a 10’ by 10’ screen and were read a scenario by the narrator, then had to react properly to the situations. And they changed in detail. One time the bad guy breaking into the govt. warehouse with a crowbar throws it down when confronted, the next time he attacks and you have a split second to react. It was like walking about in a giant video game. Except there were real actors photographed for this, not computer animation. The main thing I learned, was don’t underestimate chubby old cops, especially gun hobbyists. Nobody missed. Nobody. The company who owned the training area is a big govt. contractor and they let us play with the toys our troops over in the sand pile get to use. I hadn’t held a real M-16 in my arms for years and the improvements have been exponential since I jumped out of a Huey carrying one 35 years ago. Little boxy rear sight about inch and a half square, look through it and there’s a red dot out on the target, touch the trigger and two or three bullets go into the spot. I remember a night early in 1971… never mind.

4 Comments:

Blogger Eutychus said...

? Are cumpulsive lap swimmers similar to cumpulsive lap dancers? Just wondering.

2:07 PM  
Blogger Eutychus said...

Sorry about the smart-alleck remark, sometimes the old construction worker shows his ugly face, please forgive. It serves to remind me that Romans chap. 7 is still true, oh wretched man that I am.SPP

9:05 AM  
Blogger H. Jane said...

That sounds like a blast, Dad. Perhaps the real men are chubby 50 year olds. I think I've told you about my experience with two young male cops in their early 20s, living on adrenaline and not thinking about the woman locked out of the house, after sighting a prowler in the bushes.

7:25 AM  
Blogger Hushai said...

River Rat Ranger—Recoil? I mean sure the M-16 is a poodle gun, but when the light flashed out the barrel of the .45 was there an ear deafening blast, a muzzle flash, and recoil?

5:59 PM  

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