This is an early Colt SP1 AR15, similar to my first one bought
after year’s toil as a janitor in a print shop.
God designed us to work. Anything outside that paradigm is innately deleterious to the human psyche. I got a job about 10 minutes after I got my driver’s license and I’ve worked pretty much every day since.
Back in my day, you got your license at your fifteenth birthday. I wouldn’t trust today’s 15-year-old boys unsupervised with underarm deodorant, much less an automobile, but it was a different time. I actually took my first solo jaunt behind the wheel at 13-years-old, but that’s a story for a different time.
My very first job was arguably the coolest I have ever had. I was a janitor in a print shop and got to wear any raggedy clothes that might cover my gangly carcass. I learned to operate an offset press, run a Heidelberg windmill and clean the heck out of a toilet. I also came to appreciate that smoking can be very bad for you.
My partner in crime was a delightful soul named Maurice. Maurice was unimaginably cool, but he was also a heavy smoker. We maintained big drums of some kind of cleaning fluid used to clean the presses. It was kerosene, or nitroglycerine, or pure liquified plutonium or something. I, myself, was a bit afraid of the stuff. We dispensed it from those squirt bottles that restaurants use for ketchup.
This was the Mississippi Delta in summertime, so it was Africa-hot. The air was so thick you could tear off a chunk and gnaw on it. There was no air conditioning, so we kept the doors standing open. There was a fan, as I recall, but stirring around superheated air doesn’t help much, thermodynamically speaking.
Maurice hovered over a printing press fretting with something or other, the ubiquitous cigarette dangling from his lips. I was on the other side of the shop but glanced up just in time to appreciate the setting. As luck would have it, he was standing with his back to the open door.
Maurice squirted some of that vile elixir across the top of the press just as he took a quick inhale on his smoldering coffin nail. Gasoline is actually 15-times more energetic per unit gram that Trinitrotoluene (TNT). Though I don’t know exactly what this stuff was, it was something like that.
The explosion produced a palpable overpressure within the building. The force lifted Maurice up and propelled him backwards out through the open door. When I got to his side he was on his back and a bit singed, but otherwise unhurt, the cigarette still dangled from his lips. We even got the fire put out on the printing press without any lasting deleterious effects.
My experience working at that print shop taught me both the value of hard work and the dangers of smoking.
A Man On A Mission
I toiled away under such conditions as those for a full year, scraping and saving to buy my first black rifle. I bought that SP1 AR15 in 1982; my dad had to do the 4473 for me. It cost me $486, or the equivalent of $1,329 today — wow!
I stripped that rifle down to pins and springs and learned every nuance of its design. I bought ammo every time I could afford it — a box or two at a time — and shot it into the side of the old levee out near the Mississippi River. I didn’t own a set of ear plugs, so it’s a wonder I can hear at all today.
I once shot a squirrel with that thing but immediately wished I hadn’t. I am a strict adherent to the axiom that one should not kill anything one isn’t planning to eat, and afterwards this particular tree rat was no longer comestible. However, I did get to the point where I could run the weapon both quickly and well, skills that held me in good stead later when I was issued something similar.
Ruminations
I brought that rifle to school on occasion, most commonly to show off either to fellow students or faculty. As Satan had not yet invented school shootings, I even had my picture taken for the yearbook with it. Innocence once lost can never again be regained.
In a fit of insensate stupidity, I traded that rifle for a SIG SAUER P226 at a gun show. I have since replaced it with another made in 1966, the year of my birth, but it’s just not the same. That black rifle represented the fruits of an entire year’s toil replete with copious heat, sweat and filth. In retrospect, I think it was a steal.
In 1940, the Nazis issued a mixed bag of P08 Luger (right) and P38 (left) handguns, as well as a variety of lesser models.
The German MP40 was the world’s first truly modern submachine gun.
Early on and desperate for weapons the British purchased as many 1928 Thompsons as the Maguire Company could produce.
The Short-Magazine Lee-Enfield rifle paired with a Webley revolver.
Adopted in 1935 and the last in a long line of Mauser bolt-action rifles, the Kar98k was relatively lightweight and portable compared to its forebears.
As the world’s first GPMG (General Purpose Machine Gun), the MG34 (top) could be fired off of its integral bipod and used by infantry units on the assault or from fixed mounts for longer range engagements. One of the soldiers is also armed with a Kar98k (bottom).
German machine gun squad on the Eastern Front with an MG34.
A look at the trailer for Christopher Nolan’s “Dunkirk.”
A look at the trailer for Christopher Nolan’s “Dunkirk.”
Over the course of 10 days in late May and early June of 1940, British military and civilian vessels evacuated 338,226 Allied troops from the beaches of Dunkirk in Western France. The Dunkirk operation has been described as the most effective military evacuation in human history.
Had the Dunkirk evacuation failed, the entirety of Europe might yet be paying taxes to Berlin, even today. More than any other singular moment in history, during this time the fate of Western civilization teetered precipitously. Success meant survival. Failure would have plunged the world into darkness.
Heinz Guderian’s Blitzkrieg or Lightning War was the precursor to the modern concept of combined arms warfare. This synergistic combination of tanks, infantry, artillery, and air power formed a coordinated mobile force that circumvented traditional battlefield obstacles to seize terrain by means of mobility, shock effect, and violence of action. As a result, the Germans overran most of Europe in just a few short weeks.
The infantry weapons each major combatant power used during this early phase of World War II reflected the relative importance that nation put on its military readiness. The British, thoroughly wearied after seeing hundreds of thousands of its troops ground up in the fetid trenches of World War I, were equipped primarily with the weapons they used during this earlier conflict. The Germans, by contrast, sent the Wehrmacht into battle with the finest infantry arms the state of the art could provide.
With the Christopher Nolan-directed film “Dunkirk” hitting theater screens this weekend, we’ve decided to examine the guns used in the evacuation.
Submachine Guns
When the British entered World War II, they did not have an indigenous submachine gun. The Sten was still in development during the Dunkirk evacuation. Early on and desperate for weapons the British purchased as many 1928 Thompsons as the Maguire Company could produce. Russell Maguire acquired the struggling Auto-Ordnance Corporation just in time to take advantage of World War II and got rich as a result.
While the Thompson was technically obsolete by 1940, it was the only proven submachine gun available in quantity. The Thompson, while powerful and effective, was heavy, expensive, and difficult to build en masse.
By contrast, the German MP40 was the world’s first truly modern submachine gun. Produced via industrial stamping and eschewing wooden stocks completely, the MP40 ushered in a new era of utilitarian industrial gunmaking.
The MP40 is front heavy but reliable and imminently controllable in action. Its folding steel stock renders the gun compact for transport. Generations of mass-produced Infantry weapons stemmed from the sorts of industrial processes initially perfected in the manufacturing of the MP40.
Handguns
The British employed a variety of handguns produced both at home and abroad throughout World War II. However, at the time of the Dunkirk evacuation Webley and Enfield revolvers predominated. Though relatively antiquated, these robust wheelguns were optimized for combat. Their break action design made for relatively fast reloading, while their double-action triggers offered rapid target engagement.
In 1940, the Nazis issued a mixed bag of P08 Luger and P38 handguns, as well as a variety of lesser models. The P08 was an antiquated World War I-era pistol that was meticulously executed, yet overly susceptible to battlefield grime as a result. The P08 exhibited the rakish grip-to-frame angle ultimately made popular in the modern Glock handgun.
The P38 was a thoroughly advanced design that introduced the world to the single action/double action autoloading pistol. Reliable, safe, and effective, the only real shortcomings of the P38 were its eight-round single column magazine and its heel-mounted magazine release. The P38 was adequate to soldier on in Austrian service until replaced by the Glock in 1982.
Rifles
The British entered the war armed predominantly with the Short-Magazine Lee-Enfield, also left over from the previous war. Feeding from a 10-round box magazine, the SMLE bolt-action rifle cocked on closing and subsequently offered an impressive rate of fire in trained hands. The rimmed .303 cartridge that the SMLE fired was dated yet offered long range and reliable function.
The German Karabiner 98k was itself an evolutionary development of the earlier Gewehr 98. Its 7.92x57mm rimless round was a generation advanced from the British .303 and offered comparable range. Adopted in 1935 and the last in a long line of Mauser bolt-action rifles, the Kar98k was relatively lightweight and portable compared to its forebears. By the standards of the day it was a state-of-the-art bolt action infantry rifle.
Machine Guns
The British Vickers belt-fed machine gun was based upon the same action that drove the MG08 Maxim gun the Germans used to such great effect in the trenches of World War I. Designed by American inventor Hiram Stevens Maxim, this basic action spilled blood by the vat on both sides of no-man’s land during the Great War.
The Vickers, a water-cooled design, offered unparalleled durability and massive volumes of sustainable fire at the expense of portability and excessive weight. The Vickers gun was fired from either a tripod or fixed mount.
The Lewis gun was designed by an American Army officer named Isaac Newton Lewis in 1911 and by 1940 was hopelessly obsolete. Fed from a top-mounted drum magazine carrying either 47 or 97 rounds and driven by an unusual clockwork spring, the Lewis gun is easily recognized by its large tubular barrel shroud. Though difficult to maintain in the filth of combat, the Lewis did offer a portability not previously available from heavier water-cooled belt-fed designs.
The BREN gun was arguably the finest light machine gun of the war. A license-produced copy of the Czech ZGB-33, the Bren chugged along at a sedate rate of fire of around 500 rpm. Firing from the open bolt and feeding from top-mounted 30-round box magazines, the BREN gave the dismounted infantry squad a portable base of automatic fire that could maneuver with dismounted ground forces.
Though heavy by today’s standards, the BREN was rugged and dependable. Individual British soldiers typically carried spare BREN magazines that could be consolidated with the BREN gunner as needed.
The German MG34 was a seminal firearm. As the world’s first GPMG (General Purpose Machine Gun), the MG34 could be fired off of its integral bipod and used by infantry units on the assault or from fixed mounts for longer range engagements. The MG34 also served as a standard vehicular-mounted machine gun, as well as an effective close range antiaircraft gun.
The MG34 was air cooled with a quick-change barrel that could be readily exchanged by the gunner. It fired from the open bolt via non-disintegrating linked belts of ammunition. Multiple belts could be hooked together as needed, though a small drum carried a standard 50-round belt on the gun when used in the dismounted role. The MG34 cycled quickly at around 900 rounds per minute, though that paled alongside the 1,200-rpm MG42 that eventually supplemented it.
The MG34 was a meticulously well-built weapon that was as a result expensive and a bit finicky in action. However, the MG34 was the first infantry machine gun to serve in multiple roles via a single versatile chassis. This same basic concept drives the GPMGs of every major military in the world today.
Dunkirk Ruminations
The British Expeditionary Force escaped the Dunkirk beaches largely intact but without most of their weapons. As a result, the British nation was desperate to re-equip its force quickly. This desperation led to the Sten submachine gun and simplified Lee-Enfield No. 4 Mk 1. The industrial might of the United States eventually intervened, tipping the scales with the Lend-Lease program. This massive undertaking put British troops into American Sherman tanks and jeeps for their push back across the channel into Europe and eventually to Germany itself.
The Nazis, for all their moral depravity, produced both superb engineers and soldiers. The engineering advances spawned by the Germans during World War II brought us the assault rifle, the GPMG, the modern combat submarine, and the jet-powered fighter plane. Their small arms at the time of the Dunkirk evacuation were, for the most part, a generation ahead of those of the Allies.
Dunkirk saved the British Army. The subsequent deterrent effect of the intact British Army along with the RAF’s victory over the Luftwaffe during the Battle of Britain combined to cancel Operation Sea Lion, the planned German amphibious invasion of England. This hard-won victory preserved Great Britain as the Unsinkable Aircraft Carrier from which Allied forces staged to retake the European continent from the Nazis four years later.
For 10 days in 1940 the fate of the planet turned on the grit and fortitude of British soldiers, sailors, airmen, and civilians. Under conditions of unimaginable deprivation, these Englishmen faced the full fury of the Nazis, snatching the remnants of the Allied forces back from the brink of annihilation. In so doing, these brave men, often wielding weapons built a generation before, literally saved the world.
I wear a Superman shirt underneath my surgical scrubs at
work every day. When my day is extra sucky, at least underneath
I am the “Man of Steel.” I have found that the easiest way to get
chiseled abs is to buy a compression shirt from Amazon that has
them airbrushed on.
Never underestimate the limitless capacity of the human male for stupidity in his timeless efforts to impress the fairer sex. Many a trek across the River Styx began with a simple, “Hey, baby, watch this…” No matter our means, age or station, none of us are immune.
When the weather is nice, my wife and I walk for about an hour several times a week. Sometimes that’s on a road. Other times it’s through the woods on our rural farm. I call it RMT, short for relationship maintenance time.
RMT is the time when I’m not working, writing, or, ideally, even distracted. It’s an opportunity my wife and I use to solve problems. We plan, scheme and dream. Countless vacations, home improvement chores, and major purchases have been ironed out during our RMT. Then one day, I gradually noticed that it was more of a struggle to keep up than had previously been the case.
I’m 57, fit and healthy. However, my dad had a cardiac event at 58. After finally resigning myself to the fact that I might not technically be bulletproof and immortal, I referred myself for a stress test.
It’s weird undergoing a medical test as a physician. I live and work behind that curtain and kind of know what to expect. That can be either good or bad. However, the awkward bit is that everybody is extra special and nice, which can leave me inexplicably feeling a bit discomfited.
I never knew these young ladies moonlighted as stress test
machine operators, but apparently that is indeed the case.
Public domain.
I showed up in shorts and a t-shirt to find that the test was administered by one of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. You think I’m kidding. She was one of those preternaturally gorgeous young Southern women of whom we are so rightfully proud. I’m happily married, and she was literally half my age. Regardless, I still naturally wanted to leave a favorable impression. As guys, that is our nature. That is also our curse.
She hooked me up to this intimidating mass of wires and arranged me on the treadmill. The temperature was comfortable, and I was well-rested. She asked if I had any questions before we began.
I pondered for a moment and innocently queried when I should quit. I couldn’t offhand recall when this test was supposed to terminate. She perkily responded that I should quit whenever I couldn’t go anymore.
Now that was a problem. I’m not really a quitting sort of guy. That attitude has successfully taken me through five careers thus far. Airborne school, countless PT tests, and ruck marches beyond number stand in glorious testament to my insensate aversion to moderation. I asked what was the longest she had ever seen anyone go on her machine. I don’t recall what she told me — 10 minutes, maybe. With a self-confident smile, I informed her that was, therefore, my goal.
The test began pleasantly enough. The pace was reasonable, and the young lady was good company. Then, something insidious began to happen.
It’s tough to look cool while hooked up to this
machine and gasping like a desiccated catfish.
The treadmill gradually increased its incline. What had been a pleasant stroll was now resembling a mountaineering exercise. Throughout it all, the cheerleader just smiled adorably. Eventually, I just couldn’t care about making a positive impression anymore. Simple, unvarnished survival became my objective.
Anyway, a bit short of her record with that stupid machine nearly vertical, I had had enough. I collapsed into a decidedly unmanly heap, gasping like a beached carp. I was truly spent. Any thought of looking cool now irretrievably lost.
She congratulated me for doing such a good job. However, I rather suspect she tells everybody that, even the fat old guy who dies horribly on her diabolical device. I have this mental picture of her helping wrestle his massive cooling corpse out of the lab on a gurney with a sweet, “You did a great job, sir!”
I obviously didn’t technically die. Once I recovered sufficiently, I was joined by my wife to await the results. The cardiologist studied the sundry graphs and charts and informed me that I was 57 years old and needed to better act my age. On her drive home, I’m sure the cheerleader rightfully thought of me as yet another pathetic old man who refused to age gracefully. I cannot imagine that she was impressed at all.
The take-home point is this — it really is physically impossible for a 50-something-year-old guy to look cool exercising to exhaustion in front of a young hot girl. Aging gracefully is a noble goal, to be sure. However, that’s not something anyone will ever see inscribed on my tombstone.
I have seen folks die of old age and natural causes who were legitimately surprised. In this case, it seems I’ll keep on puttering along for a bit longer, at least. Apparently, I just need to act my age.
