bad fiction - with a guest star - more chapters on pg 2

[Pathfinder]

Ah, wtr, graduated from the John Wesley, Rawles school of writing, eh? ? ? ? ? 

By that I mean too much too specific information. Things like "The belt also kept his 3" Para Warthog riding in it's Crossbreed Mini-tuck". You give us details on everything except his polo shirt (Dockers?). Makes the reading a little tough.

That said - MORE!!!!! You're getting me (and others apparently) hooked.

[DaverZ]

I'm thinking you SHOULD write a complete book because I'm liking what i read.Just saying.

[bryand71]

   Keep it going, I am digging this. Keep up the good work.

Path - Don't be too hard on his descriptions of the items and background, I have read some books where the author spends half a page on just describing the scenery the character is looking at. I think it is pretty good.

[tombogan03884]

  Keep it going, I am digging this. Keep up the good work.

Path - Don't be too hard on his descriptions of the items and background, I have read some books where the author spends half a page on just describing the scenery the character is looking at. I think it is pretty good.

Think that's bad, try Russian literature, Dosteyevski spends the first 14 pages describing the damn street.

[Timothy]

Think that's bad, try Russian literature, Dostoyevsky spends the first 14 pages describing the damn street.

I tossed it after the prologue...you're a better man than I Thomas if you managed 14 pages!

Russians......not worth the effort!

[Sponsor]

[wtr100]

Ah, wtr, graduated from the John Wesley, Rawles school of writing, eh? ? ? ? ? 

By that I mean too much too specific information. Things like "The belt also kept his 3" Para Warthog riding in it's Crossbreed Mini-tuck". You give us details on everything except his polo shirt (Dockers?). Makes the reading a little tough.

That said - MORE!!!!! You're getting me (and others apparently) hooked.

I hear you - it's hard to not get like that - I was hoping to be a little less like Double Ought

[tombogan03884]

I tossed it after the prologue...you're a better man than I Thomas if you managed 14 pages!

Russians......not worth the effort!

I didn't.
I read 3 pages and skipped ahead 
The only Russian worth reading is Solzhenitsyn, "Ivan Denisovitch" is 203 pages, of course it only covers about 20 hours.   

[wtr100]

Again - I've not gone over spelling / grammar with a lot of effort.

There is a story disconnect - I think it would be better if all the attackers in the previous chapter escaped.

Also some of the blood/dna stuff might be pure bunk, what do ya'll think?

------

The watch commander shook his head in disgust at the idiocy. In the wake of the Black Friday Synagogue attacks the Department of Homeland Security sent out a Request for Assistance. While the request was not unexpected, the subject of the request was. It asked for assistance in the activities of White Supremacist and Right Wing Christian Militias. In his 20 years of service the Police Lt had found these groups had trouble organizing a rally or a picnic much less 13 coordinated mortar attacks across 10 states causing hundreds of deaths, thousands of casualties and millions of dollars in damage. All this and two weeks later not a single arrest.

The Sayanim or 'Helper' was an unusual man, a Texas Jew with a taste for smoked beef brisket. While not exactly kosher at least it wasn't pork. One Sunday afternoon an unknown man visited his home giving the pass phrase he'd learned long ago before emigrating to the States. They went for a walk, the Texas Jews beagle dog leading the way. The unknown man was himself a Sayanim, owner of a small air charter business. He asked if it could be arranged for a sample of the blood recovered from the mortar site could be obtained.

Two days later a sleek Gulf Stream business jet was cleared into Washington National Airport. The pilot caught a cab to the Israeli Mission carrying a small fake leather, zippered bank pouch. He announced himself at a desk and shortly a bright young man took charge of the case. The bright young man offered payment which was refused. The bright young man told the pilot a room had been reserved at a rather nice hotel in the area and gave the address. The pilot thanked him, shook his hand and departed. It wasn't even 10:00 AM yet, on a whim the pilot decided to go to Fairfax VA, he'd always wanted to see the NRA Museum.

----

A week later in Haifa Israel a graying woman looked at the report from the forensic lab. The report indicated the blood sample was too small for the complete battery of tests that could have been performed. It was 100% certain the blood was from a young male. It was over 90% certain the blood was from a man of Arab heritage. The blood was not a match to any database. However it did show the man was potentially related to three known terrorists. Two of the matches were known brother, killed in Afghanistan the match was as a cousin with an 80% probability. The other was detained at Camp X-Ray in Cuba he was a 60% probability of being an uncle. The report concluded a larger sample of blood could raise the certainty of the matches to 90%. She took another sip of tea and thought for a bit finally deciding the report was enough. She wrote a memo to transfer the data 'back channel' to the FBI liaison in Israel. The US had become more and more distant the longer the current administration stayed in power and would certainly be annoyed that some of their evidence had been pilfered but all indications were US law enforcement was looking under the wrong stones.

----

Phil was transfixed by news coverage and spent almost a full 24 hours watching Fox News. He drifted off to sleep a few times with Cat contentedly curled up in his lap. Cat finally snapped him out of his news fixation, licking his face in an attempt to get fresh food. Yuck cat breath, and I don't even like cats Phil thought. But the beast was putting a dent in the mouse population, he even like to show off by dropping headless mouse bodies on the top step. Phil decided to give him a special treat. He'd found single serve boxes of shelf stable full cream milk and bought a few. As soon as tiger saw the small carton come out of the green food tote he went into full purr and circle the feet mode. Phil fixed himself a few slabs of fried corned beef from a can, the last two eggs and a cup of coffee.

Breakfast done he took the laptop to the first floor so he could stream G Gordon Liddy as he worked. His plan was to cut the last batch of stained and varnished boards to size take them up stairs and install them. Then he'd apply spar varnish to stained new set of boards and then apply the Min-wax Mahogany stain to a fresh set of boards. He set to work as Mr Liddy and his callers discussed the horrific attacks on the Synagogues. The Liddy show wasn't carried locally so Phil didn't hear about the impending snow storm until he switched from the laptop to local radio.

It was a bit early for an Illinois snow storm but this one looked to be an epic one. Phil suspended work and decided to head into town and lay in some supplies. He put the empty gas, kerosene cans and food totes in the back of his pickup and headed down the dirt road / driveway to the county road that would lead him to town. At the end of the drive Phil got out to unlock the gate and was approached by a skinny black lab, head down and tail tucked. He had no collar so wasn't likely to be a stray from one of the few neighbors.

'Well stay out of the road silly', Phil said.

The dog approached then darted back, approached and again darted back. Phil shook his head and got into the truck as the first few snowflakes fell.

In town Phil made a run by the hardware store and bought a 6 gallon gas can and a 6 gallon kerosene can giving him a total of 4 cans of each in the back of the truck plus one mostly full can of each back at the scale house. At the gas station he took the gas cans out first and added Sta-built to each can first, probably not needed but an old habit learned from his father. He selected the 'no ethanol' pump, again a habit from his dad. Phil had no problem with running ethanol gas in his truck were it didn't sit long, he'd even run half a tank of E85 from time to time. But was willing to pay a bit extra for gas that might be stored. He heaved the full cans into the bed, moved to the Kerosene pump and filled those cans. Inside Phil grabbed a couple slices of pizza. The clerk rang up the fuel since it was over $300 he waved off the pizza.

Next stop was the grocery store, a dozen eggs a bag of apples and oranges, a bag of onions and a pound of bacon was the fresh food. On a whim Phil splurged of a Fred Flintstone sized Buffalo Porter House Steak and a box of fresh mushrooms. He threw into his cart a 20 lb bag of brown rice, a restaurant size box of bisquick , several pounds of corn meal and several bags of brown sugar. The rice and pasta section was next, Phil threw in a variety of bagged noodle mixes and a wider variety rice meals. At the can veggie aisle he got several cans of Rotel Tomatoes with habenero peppers in them - one of his personal favorites and then cans of corn, carrots and green beans. Pouches of tuna , chicken and turkey and tins of corned beef and cans of ham and beef went into the cart. He picked up a bag of cat food and several cans of caned cat food as a treat. He didn't know why - he still didn't like the cat he told himself.

He checked out and headed home and the snow was really beginning to fly. About a quarter of a mile from the drive way the black dog started to follow the truck. As Phil was driving down the driveway he could see snow blowing and drifting across the drive. He came up with a plan to drop the supplies at the house then drive the truck back to the road. It might be a while before he could clear the drive at least once the country cleared the road he could walk to truck and get into town that way.

Arriving at the scale house the back dog was still behind him. He unloaded the fuel to a 4' x 4' lidded wooden box he'd cobbled together outside the door. The dog would approach then scamper back. It was going to be a rough time for the dog the next few days. Once the food was upstairs it was almost full dark, Phil drove the half mile back to the road and the dog followed. This time when Phil got out the dog allowed himself to be patted on the head even giving a few tentative tail wags. The dog walked along as Phil hiked back to the house and the snow really cut loose.

Back at the house the dog stood by as Phil started the generator and topped on the fuel can for the Kerosene heater. That done Phil opened the door and said, 'Come on, ya whanna freeze?" The black dog followed him in and upstairs. Once upstairs the dog began to sniff around. Instead of throwing a fit the cat simply paused from cleaning himself, gave the dog a sour look and went back to licking his balls.

What the heck can I feed a dog Phil wondered. For the time being he decided brown rice would do. So he put a big pot of it on the Coleman stove. Phil set to work on his own dinner, first putting some butter , mushrooms and onions on the stove then adding the massive slab of buffalo protein some salt and black pepper. Once done he gave the cat a nice can of chopped beef cat food, the dog some brown rice with some of the buffalo drippings. Phil settled in with his steak. The weather report was terrible up to 20" of snow by tomorrow evening. The temps dropping to 15 below and wind shifting out of the North 20 miles per hour with gusts of up to 35.

The wind was howling outside the scale house but all was warm inside. The cat moved to a spot near the stove and gave an evil hiss when the dog approached. Phil took and old comforter and wool blanket and made a dog bed. The dog sniffed it, pawed once, turned around three times them flopped down and went to sleep. Phil spent another night watching the news. This night the news was split between the attacks and a massive storm pounding the Midwest.

The President addressed the country and spent an hour rambling and saying nothing. Followed by political analysts some agreeing with the nothing said by the President and other beating the President to a logical pulp. That was followed by criminal, terror and military experts. The way the attacks were pulled off was masterful in a horrible sort of way. All the attackers used the same type of weapon and followed the same pattern. All of the attacks totally and utterly obliterated their primary target. [story disconnect here] All of the attackers got away except for one group in Texas where two intrepid cowboys used a Colt 1911 and a Winchester 30-30 rifle to break up the attack either killing or wounding some of the attackers.

Late in the evening something new hit the news. All of the attacks had used large parking lots of one kind or another. One of them on the east coast had used a mall parking lot. Security cameras had caught the whole thing and someone leaked it to the news. The greatly zoomed shots were grainy but gave commentators a chance to do a blow by blow with a ticking clock on the bottom. You could see the trucks pulling in. The mortar being taken from the back. The flashed as the mortar was fired and the men speeding away in a single truck.

Even later in the night cell phone video of shells hitting a Synagogue. After the first round hit in a parking lot someone began videoing. You had to give the photographer credit, to take pictures as mortar rounds fell.

'They must have had a spotter', said the fit grey haired man in a dark blue suit.

'A spotter?', asked the blond news woman.

'Yes a man able to see where the shells are impacting and send a correction to the shooting team. You see here - the first shell caused this fire in the back of the parking lot. Now we see a shell much closer to the building. Now a shell hits the building. See how the pace of the explosions gets much faster now? Classic walking the fire into the target'

Phil had had enough. He crawled into his sleeping bag on the cot, the cat settled into his now usual spot behind the knee. He gave a foul look as Phil got up again to pull the dogs blankets into the tent. While the wind was howling and the snow was flying, things were nice and warm inside the scale house.

The next day the snow kept coming and didn't stop until there was over 20 inches piled up. Just before dark the storm broke the clouds left and the temp fell like a rock. Phil went back to work on the walls. He used glue and screws to put the boards on, again way overkill. The pets went to work antagonizing each other. Before long they'd worked things out, even creating a kinda game where the cat would slap the dog in the face with closed paw and the dog would chase the cat around.

As Phil worked he thought about how little load was on the generator. Maybe he could get a smaller one. Maybe a solar panels, he's look into that tonight.

Over the next few weeks Phil finished the second story of the scale house. The ceiling had 1/4" plywood screwed to it and coated in spar varnish. He put down a sub floor and then 'The Other Phil' supplied some snap down cork flooring that was an overrun for a commercial job. As he applied some simple 1 buy lumber as molding he was a bit sad the project was coming to an end. An idea came to him. He could get back into reloading. The crew at the pits went through a lot of 30-06 ammo shooting Garand Matches and NRA High Power. He did some mental calculations and came up with 1,000 rounds per person per season. Last season had 8 guys shooting and some of the boys were becoming young men, they would soon be wanting to shoot as well. Hmmmm how long would it take to load 10,000 rounds Phil thought.

[wtr100]

Again spelling and grammer will make you engrish majors puke!

Also - use of reloading data and practices is at your own risk!


---------------

It was turning to spring, the second floor of the scale house was done and the tent put away. He still slept on the camp cot, cooked on the camp stove and relaxed in a outdoors style lawn chair. He'd built a couple heavy work benches to serve as a table and gotten a tall wooden stool.

His friend and attorney Mark brought news of a settment offer from the company who's faulty furnace killed the family. It was a substantial sum and there were few strings attached to it. Mark recommend Phil accept. Phil signed some papers, Mark made a few calls on his cell and Phil was suddenly not exactly wealthy but well off. Oddly this put Phil into another of his depressions. Some how the beasts knew all was not as it should be. The stayed close and in their own way provided comfort.

The next morning the depression had passed and Phil had an idea. He could pay off the note on the Pitts, the other families could then make payments to him. He'd never charge interest to friends so in that way save them a lot of money in interest. He called Mark and bounced the idea off him. The chatted and Mark brought up some things Phil hadn't thought about. In the end the best plan seemed to be to split off the 10 acres around the Scale House as Phil's personal property. A corporation would be formed and ownership in the remaining acreage split among the families. Mark drew up some documents and called the other families. I was agreed in short order and Mark set his assistant to work doing the legal stuff.

The other Phil , the builder, came by a few days later and admired the work on the second floor. Phil asked about turning the place into a real home power, heat, plumbing. The other Phil was happy to set things in motion.

First off a boiler contractor came by. The oil fired boiler itself was shot but the piping was still sound. The in-ground fuel oil tank was water logged but sound as well. He left a report of condition and some literature which Phil read. Phil of course got on the internet and was interested in a boiler that fired either gas or fuel oil. Calling the contractor he'd never done one but heard excellent things with them and would make a quote.

The Phil's sat down and talked about a design for the rest of the scale house. A simple kitchen with a poured concrete floor with a floor drain and concrete counter tops leading sloping down to the sink. A bedroom in the southeast corner with a closet , and bathroom with just a toilet, sink and shower. There would also be a Franklin stove upstairs. Phil wanted a good one that was rated to burn either wood or coal, since there was still some coal to be had here and there around the pits.

Phil the builder would draw up some plans and a quote. Once all was approved, Phil the Builder would be the General Contractor and the Other Phil would be the laborer and do most of the grunt work. Phil the Builder would stop by mornings for coffee or afternoons for a beer to keep the Other Phil Out of trouble.

As the weather warmed familes started coming out to the Pits for the weekend and shooting. Smokey loved wandering from camp to camp, greeting folks and getting the occasional snack. Phil offered to load a years worth of Garand Ammo.

He went out to E-bay and bought a couple RCBS single stage presses. From GunBroker.com he found an RCBS small base X-die resizing die, primer swage die and bullet seating die. Surfing over to Midway USA he picked up a brass tumbler, digital scale, calipers, Lee Perfect powder measure, Lee case trimmer and Lee Factory Crimp die.

As he waited with anticipation for the new tools to arrive Phil talked to his boss about ordering maybe a case of 8 lb kegs of H4895 powder.

'I don't do enough business in powder and primers to get you much of a deal'

After getting the new auctions up, some really nice Ruger Security 6 revolvers from an armored car service and some Spanish BKM pistols, Phil did some Google fu and found a place in St Louis selling surplus powder. The powder listed as WC846 was cross referenced to BLC-2 or WIN 748. The NRA listed 49.0 grains as appropriate for 150 grain bullets and 48 grains for 170 grain bullets. The powder was about $30 cheaper per 8 lb keg, the rub seemed to be the shipping and Hazmat fee.

'Hey do you know this guy?', Phil hollared.

'Shit yes, helluva nice guy. Works a lot of the same shows.'

'Think he'd let me do a face to face sale?'

'Oh I spoze he might, you's looking at $800 in powder. He's got CCI 34 primers in stock you ought to get a pile of those to. They keep them Garands from slam firing. I bet you could be out the door for an even $1000. Want me to make a call?'

Phil replied, 'Thanks that would help.' He went back to surfing the net and found another guy who had pulled 152 grain flat base fmj - the exact right bullet. Hmmm this guy was out of Kentucky and did do face to face business. Phil called and he did have them but 10,000 would pretty much clean him out but he had some 173 grain match bullets could Phil do 5,000 and 5,000. They dickered and settled on 7,000 152 grain bullets and 3,000 of the more expensive 173 grain match bullets. The seller then offered Lake City Match brass - unused but it had been left in the tumbler too long and the case mouths were a bit belled by it but should reload just fine.

With two deals set up Phil went to Google Maps and planned a route. If he left at a:00 am he'd be able to pick up bullets and maybe the brass at 9 am. If he then left the brass guy by 10 am he'd be to the powder and primer guy by 2 pm. Leaving Primer and powder guy by 3 pm he'd miss the St Louis rush hour and be home by 7 pm. Long day but Phil did like road trips.

On the way back to the Pitts Phil stopped at the Library and checked out Tom Clancy's 'Red Storm Rising' on CD. He swung by the store and picked up a pint of heavy cream to bribe the cat with. He also bought box of his favorite road snack ,crack'n oat bran and box of extra large dog biscuits.

The day of the trip arrived with a bleeping alarm that puzzled both the critters. Phil put on an extra strong pot of coffee and set Smokey out. The cat sensing something was up glared until Phil opened a can of salmon to put in the cat dish and put heavy cream in another.

Phil had on Dickies Khaki 847's and a navy blue t-shirt under an plain navy blue zip sweat shirt. On his feet he had wool socks and 8" Chippewa boots. He stepped out into the chilly dark to be accosted by a bounding black lab mix. Smokey started to head into the scale house when Phil told him, 'To the truck!'

The big black dog spun on his heels and bounded to the Ford F150 and sat waiting for the door to be opened. Door was opened he hopped in, made three circles of the shotgun seat and flopped down. Phil put the cooler with drinks and snacks behind the seat, put the coffee mug in it's place, fired up the engine and headed out. Once on the hard road he hit play on the CD and Mr Tom Clancy's "Red Storm Rising" began. Phil took a swig of coffee savoring the blend of 8 o'clock bean cut with a healthy dose of chicory. He reached back and fished out a extra large dog biscuit for the Smokey and settled in for the ride to KY.

All in all it was a good trip. Down in KY he found out just how heavy 10,000 bullets was, well over 200 lbs! The brass was in really nice shape so he bought 7,000 of those. The shop owner threw in a big pile of various ammo cans. Not in the greatest shape but not ready for the scrap pile there were 30 cal, 50 cal and couple huge 20 mm and some odd German 30 cal. On the way to St Louis and the powder and primers they stopped at a rest area where Smokey got a nature break. Lunch was an unhealthy Hardies one.  Phil learned Smokey really liked french fries.

Picking up the powder the owner said to bring Smokey inside. The dog loved romping through a large, dusty warehouse! A grand poorer and 80 lbs of powder and 10,000 CCI mil-spec #34 primers heavier they were headed north again. Smokey happily munched yet another dog biscuit.

Arriving back at the scale house Phil hoped Smokey might help unload but the black dog had places to go and things to pee on. Hard to get good help these days! Hauling the bullets, powder, primers, brass up stairs was a bit of a chore but inside of 45 minutes it was done. The cat was ever so helpful - doing little figure 8's around Phil's legs.

Deciding to have a healthy dinner, Phil put on a box of mac and cheese and flipped on the TV, Fox news of course.

------

Eddie took a deep drag and passed the joint to Hyme who took a drag and passed it down the line. They were in a panel van with bench seats running down the sides. Eight men with AK47's and vests full of magazines. Some of the men had pistols as well, but these were personal weapons not gang property. Eddie had his 44 mag with him - just like dirty effing Harry! Then there were the two 'Truenderos' - a corruption of the word thunder these men were different. They weren't covered in scars and tattoo like the other street soldiers. They had Beretta 92 pistols just like the Mexican Army. In fact they we're stolen from the Mexican Army, along with the explosives and detonators when the 'Truenderos' deserted the Army.

Eddie only really knew his part of the plan, he and Hyme were to follow the 'Truenderos' and shoot anyone who got in the way.

'Hoods' the leader said.

Everyone in the van pulled on a black ski mask. They were hot as hell but made everyone look BADDDDDDD ASSSSSSSSSS. The van stopped in front of Cook County Lockup and the back doors opened. Before Hyme and Eddie even got out the door the first bursts of AK fire started. It wasn't Hyme's day. Just as he stepped out a 55 gr .223 Hornaday TAP round from a Cook County Correction Officer's Mini-14 hit him in the forehead. A mist of gore covered Eddie and the Truenderos. Eddie blazed away full auto at the guard tower as the two explosives men put a charge on the jail house door. Backed away and blew it open.

---

Phil spooned the steaming, glorious, yellow glop into a bowl. He was about to put two shakes of Tabasco on it when the dog caught his eye. 'You already had dinner and some french fries!' But he slung a spoon full in the dog's dish. Then the cat caught his eye. 'Cats don't eat mac 'n Cheese' The cat got a small spoonful in his dish too, rotten beasts. Phil added two shakes of Tabasco then one more for good measure. Grabbed a fork and a Linnenkugals Summer Shandy beer and headed for the TV and reclining lounge chair. He flipped on Fox News, the scene was security video. Holy crap that's a firefight!.

The news dude, in a really nice suit and tie, went on about an attack on the Cook County Jail. Several video clips were shown from various security camera's. One showed two men expertly blowing a door. After a while a fit looking older man in an equally nice suit and tie was going on about how it appeared to be some sort of rescue mission. A spokes babe from the Chicago PD could not speculate.

Later in the evening a report of a Cook County Prosecutor brutally killed along with her family came in. Followed half an hour later by and then another. By 11:30 pm there were 12 killings reported and one attack. One prosecutor used a slightly illegal handgun to drive off an attack.

An expert in street gangs was being interviewed with an old police detective when the cop said, 'Now this might be crazy but twelve murders plus one that should have been a murder gives us thirteen. The prisoners broken out seem to have been associated with MS13. Do you think a message is being sent?'

'That is a very astute ...' started the gang expert when he was cut off by the Anchor.

'We have breaking news of disturbances in Chicago. We go to our reporter on the scene.'

A reporter came on the screen, back lit by orange flames. 'David it looks like elements of the Chicago Police Department attempted to come into this neighbor hood chasing suspects who's either attacked the Cook County Lockup or had escaped from it. The police were met by a large crown and driven out of the neighborhood. I'm told several officers were injured and what looks like a police vehicle is in flames behind me.'

The anchor spoke to the fields reporter, 'I understand that neighborhood is considered MS13 'turf' can you confirm that.

'Yes, it's well known in Chicago that MS13 considers this area theirs.'

-------


Phil drifted off to sleep in the lounge chair, cat in his lap and dog curled up on the floor nearby. Smokey used a cold, wet nose to wake him in the morning. 'You know I really wanted a bird!' But he got up and went for what was the usual run from the scale house to the road and back, a little over a mile with the black dog.

Back at the house the cat and dog got fed. Phil had a healthy breakfast of fried eggs and tinned corned beef. He didn't need to go into the gun store so he decided to load some 30-06 and see what else had gone on in Chicago.

There was a mountain of fired brass from the other families to work on. So he selected an RCBS small base X-die in 30-06 and screwed it into the loading press and checked the adjustment of the die. He spritzed the fired cases with a lanolin and alcohol based case lube and began passing cases through the die. After an hour he had a gallon bucket of deprimed and resized cases. These cases were all stamped WCC so they had crimped in primers that needed removed.

The RCBS Primer pocket swage was screwed into the press and Phil began 'squishing' out the pesky primer crimps from the USGI brass. He heard on Fox News the 'disturbances' of the night before had become full blown riots before the police regained control. Numerous gang fights between other rival gangs had broken out inside the Cook County Lockup in the wake of the MS13 breakout. Several dead and lots of injured. These seemed to be triggering incidents all over Chicago. The mayor of Chicago was going to speak at noon.

With the crimps removed from the brass it was time to polish it in the tumbler. Phil first did an unusual step of dunking the brass in 'Ed's White', a mix of equal parts kerosene, mineral spirits and acetone. This instantly removed all case lube and a lot of the carbon from the inside case necks and primer pockets. The brass now wet and smelly brass went into a basic case tumbler. Instead of the high dollar case cleaning media - the tumbler was filled with crushed walnut hull reptile litter. After a few hours in this the cases wouldn't be mirror polished like brand new, they'd have a clean and shiny but rather matte finished to them.

Phil had some lunch, ramen noodle soup cooked on the camp stove with a big handful of smoked almonds thrown in. He listed to Rush until WLS interrupted for Hizzhonors speech. Hizzhonor lived up to the Windy City reputation. The speech was long and meandering and even managed to stray into need for more gun control.

Lunch done and this mornings cases still in the tumbler Phil thought about loading some rounds with the Lake City Match brass. Phil measured a couple cases and the length was fine. The case mouths were a bit out of round from the cleaning process. Phil thought about resizing them but then he'd have to lube them. He had an idea, he had a Lyman 'M' die that was normally used to open the case mouth a bit for loading cast lead bullets without shaving lead off the bullets. Phil choose ten cases and ran them though. Once done they looked perfect. Next the were primed using CCI mil-spec primers using the nutcracker looking Lyman 310 tool. Phil made absolutely sure each primer was fully seated into the case. A primer sticking up could case an out of battery discharge, very bad ju-ju.

Next came one of the most critical steps - charging the case. Surplus WC846 powder was cross referenced to BLC-2 or WIN 748. Phil found NRA recommended loads of 49.0 grains of BLC-2 with a 1.5 grain reduction to compensate for the reduced capacity of the mil-spec case so he decided to load 47.5 gr. He set the powder measure and confirmed the drop on a scale. The 10 charged cases sat in the loading block case mouth down. A case was picked up, charged the put back into the block mouth up. This way a double charge of powder was avoided. Every 5th case had the powder dumped into the scale pan to confirm the charge.

All ten cases charged, Phil screwed the bullet seating die into the press and then selected ten of the 152 grain bullets. The first round was slowly loaded to the desired depth into the case and the set screw on the case was tightened to lock the setting in place. Phil checked the length with calipers on the 5th and 10th round. Once all 10 bullets were seated the seating die was removed and a Lee Factory crimp die was put into the press. Lee Factory Crimp Dies were somewhat controversial in reloading circles but Phil had found them to be helpful especially with the Lyman M Die used to bell the case mouth a bit.

When the last cartridge had been through the FCD. Phil took a moment to look at the 10 perfect cartridges and then loaded eight of them into an en-block Garand clip, pocketing the other two. He slipped on a sweat shirt and went to the gun safe spinning the dials. Seeing this Smokey hopped off his dog bed and began wagging his tail. The cat lifted his head and scowled. Phil slung an M1 Garand and headed out side.

He rode an old Polaris 4 wheeler to the 'Pitts' rifle range with Smokey loping along beside. Stopping at the 200 yard line. Phil slipped the web sling around his left arm and settled into an open leg seated position on the ground. Down range was a 12" steel gong on heavy chains. Phil squirmed around a bit finding his natural point of aim. He confirmed it by closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. When he opened them the front sight was sit at the 6 o'clock of the target. He slipped one of the loose rounds into the rifle and let the bolt slide closed. Focus on the front sight, inhale, exhale, squeeze, crack, ping, follow though. Nice Phil thought getting up to find the ejected case. It was 8' forward and to the right with no signs of over pressure.

Moving back Phil once again too a seated position and found his natural point of aim. This time he slid the 8 round en-block clip in and let the bolt fly closed. Boom! Ping! Boom! Ping! Boom! Ping! Boom! Ping! Boom! Ping! Boom! Ping! Boom! Boom! Ping! Drat 7 out of 8 Phil thought - but that 12" plate is a bit smaller than the 9 ring - that'll do. He collected the cases and headed back to the scale house. He felt like a deer steak, he figured the critters would enjoy it too.