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.