Category: All About Guns
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What I call ugly & soulless
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The small handgun, properly carried in a pocket, is becoming a more-popular option among those who
carry concealed defensive firearms. Photo: Brent T. Wheat
There was a time when carrying “protection” in your pocket had a different meaning, at least to a randy 18-year-old guy. However, for those who are old enough to know better, the more common reference refers to keeping a small handgun concealed in your pocket as a means of protection.
Meanings
First off, before we get too wrapped up in semantics, there is no precise definition of what a “pocket gun” is or isn’t. Depending on your physical size and the style of your clothing, a pocket gun might be anything from a .22 derringer to a .45 ACP semi-automatic pistol or, really, anything. In my general estimation, most folks think of smaller guns chambered in .380 ACP or 9mm, though the term can cover a spectrum of calibers. There are even pocket .44 sixguns. Just ask John Taffin!
Just like every other “new” trend in shooting, pocket guns have been around since firearms were first invented. In the 1800s, no gentleman felt fully dressed without his pocket derringer to deal with ne’er-do-wells while some desperadoes cut down black powder cap-and-ball revolvers to keep as a literal “Ace in the Hole” in case of a bad deal at the poker table.
Pocket pistols have been around as long as handguns have been around! Photo: Alan Garbers
Though there were notable exceptions, smaller firearms of the past tended to suffer from reliability problems or were simply inferior quality, while the available ammunition had terrible terminal ballistics. With improvements in both firearm and ammunition technology, there has been a small resurgence of interest in this mode of carry.
Nowadays, it’s rare to find a really poorly-made firearm on the market, so even the smallest of guns tend to be reliable. Meanwhile, better ammunition has made smaller, less powerful cartridges perform significantly better on the receiving end. While not the first call for cops and counter-terrorism teams, having a mouse (gun) in your pocket is a reasonable choice for self-defense — within certain parameters.
Downsides
Better quality guns and ammunition have leveled the playing field somewhat but there are still major drawbacks with small pocket guns due to those pesty, non-negotiable laws of physics — less velocity (less wounding ability) due to shorter barrels, limited ammunition capacity, shorter sight radius and smaller grip and controls. These last three factors make pocket guns more difficult to shoot accurately.
In fact, here at GUNS, we often rail against the widespread misconception an airweight .38 revolver — a common pocket gun — is a great choice for novice shooters and arming spouses. Nothing could be further from the truth! Such guns are very effective in the hands of an expert but are nothing but a marvel of frustration for an inexperienced shooter.
When considering pocket carry, the question boils down to which is more important in your situation: concealability and convenience or having the ability to shoot larger bullets more accurately?
In most cases, concealability isn’t a critical factor and when it is, there are better, super-concealable ways to carry guns. The choice of a pocket gun, thus, frankly, boils down to a matter of convenience. However, unlike some uber-tactical authors, I’ll agree choosing NOT to be armed to the teeth at all times — including when in the hot tub or while undergoing surgery — is a reasonable lifestyle choice for most folks. It’s your life; live it how you want. Sometimes, this means picking a pocket gun.
And, please don’t lecture me on how I’ll be nothing but a victim carrying a little popgun when the squad of active shooters storm my local farmers market. At least I’ll have a gun, which is more than many people can say because it’s pretty obvious a large percentage of “CCW people” don’t carry a gun most of the time. To me, this is a far more critical error than the flavor of your chosen piece or caliber.
Since they’re more difficult to shoot accurately and often lack major advantages in the ammo department, I consider pocket guns mainly as a tool to expedite your escape from imminent harm. Someone else with a bigger gun can go hunting the bad guy(s). Essentially, to me, a pocket gun is better than a rock or club, but not by much.
Having said this, I also frequently carry a pocket pistol as a backup to the larger weapon concealed elsewhere or carried “off body.”
A pocket holster is simple-as-simple-gets. This Falco Black-Hawk is made from suede to anchor
it in your pocket during the draw. Photo: Falco Holsters
There are also synthetic pocket holsters. Most of these use some type of gummy surface treatment to anchor them,
such as this Falco Carey model. Photo: Falco Holsters
Don’t Drop In
When headed out the door, it’s a simple matter to drop a small gun into your pocket and go forth armed, with far fewer hassles than carrying a bigger handgun inside your waistband. However, I don’t mean literally mean “drop.” Putting any firearm, regardless of mechanical safeties, loose into a pocket is the height of folly.
The likely result is a negligent discharge and a bullet into your thigh or someplace even more sensitive. Pockets are the natural habitat of things like key rings, pocket knives, small flashlights, lip balm, money clips and all sorts of other pocket garbage, all of which will fit nicely within an unprotected trigger guard. Move the wrong way just once, and you get a real surprise in your pants. You DO … NOT want this to happen.
Fortunately, along with better ammo and gun choices, there are now many great holster options. Aside from the important matter of trigger security, the other main goal of a pocket holster is to keep the outline of the gun from being seen (“printing”) through your clothing. Therefore, heavier construction is better than lighter materials.
They even make pocket holsters for subcompact 9mm with an optic, such as this Simply Rugged Opti Grab holster.
Photo: Simply Rugged Holsters
Even if you carry inside-the-waistband, having a spare magazine secured in your pocket with this
Simply Rugged Pocket Mag Pouch makes for faster reloads. Photo: Simply Rugged Holsters
A pocket holster should also have a means to keep it from being withdrawn from the pocket when the gun is presented. Some use a non-slip surface or suede to grab the pocket lining, while others use an integral hook design to keep the holster in place. I’ve carried all the different types, and all seem to work fairly well. Fortunately, since pocket holsters are really nothing more than a fancy pouch, they’re fairly inexpensive, so the inevitable process of buy, try, buy another, try another is less painful than for belt holsters. If your current pocket holster is lacking in some way, just find another one until you hit the sweet spot for you.
If you plan to start using pocket carry, you owe it to yourself to actually try it on the shooting range. This can be off-limits for some ranges, so you might have to do dry practice at home. Regardless, if you haven’t made a significant number of practice presentations from your new rig, you’re really shortchanging yourself. Sometimes, it can be eye-opening the moment you discover your gear or technique just isn’t up to the task.
Ultimately, pocket carry is a great way to stay armed at all times without the hassle and discomfort of carrying a larger rig. While it’s not the optimal choice for a deadly confrontation, at least you have a fighting chance because you are armed. Pick a “decent” pistol of “reasonable” caliber, stoke it with high-quality ammunition, place it into a quality, tested holster, and then rest easy because you’ve got some solid protection in your pocket.
Even a teenager can understand that!
General Delivery
Horsethief, NM
(Sunday Night)
Alex Bartimo, Editor
Shooting Times
Box 1790
Peoria IL 61656
Dear Bart:
This isn’t actually from Horsethief. I’m camped in the big timber about halfway up the side of San Miguel mountain. Saint Mike, we call it. You may not be able to read my poor handwriting because of the the watermarks on the paper. I know I should be weeping about missing the deadline on this month’s gun review, but I’m sorry to say these splotches weren’t made by tears.
Rain and snow did that.
I’m trapped here, and it’s my own fault. Down at the house in Horsethief, I contracted cabin fever. No pals had visited in more than a month. I don’t take a newspaper (you can get bad news anywhere). I’d read every book on the place at least twice, and Horsethief has no library or newsstand. We get one television station from Albuquerque via a repeater in the mountains, and it runs Bozo the Clown, As The World Flips, intriguing situation comedies about the family problems of New York taxi drivers, and wilderness stories about mountain men who feed themselves and their pet mountain lions with mushrooms and rosehips gathered in the dew.
My set is still like new-it never gets turned on.
The fact of the matter is, I was bored stiff when I got this foreign .380 you wanted shot and decided to make it my excuse to come up to this big stretch of forest belonging to a friend of mine. I was going to stay a couple of days, shoot, and drowse in the sunshine.
Didn’t work out that way.
I like to carry extras, so I packed my old pickup with sleeping bag and big tarp, groceries for two or three days-including canned corned beef hash, chili con carne, coffee, bacon, eggs, and a sack of fresh biscuits. And one jug of Henry McKenna redeye to ward off the weeps around the evening fire. Luckily, I also brought a Coleman camp stove and lantern because I planned on cooking on an open fire.
I stowed the camera equipment, figuring on getting pictures of .380 on tree stump and (using a selftimer) heroic poses of my classic profile looking off into the horizon.
The trip up was nice. Plenty of sunshine. Few melting snowbanks left from winter. Jeep road a little tough on pickup, but made it to campsite okay. Strung lariat rope between two trees and wired end of tarp to it. Made lean-to. Took rocks from clear, cold stream and built fireplace. Gathered enough dead wood to last two days. Unrolled sleeping bag, laid holstered Ruger .44 beside it. Was home.
Built fire, had hash and biscuits, raunchy coffee. Took tot of McKenna while looking at stars. Wondered what city folks were doing. Turned in early.
Up before first light. Drizzling rain. Get GI poncho from truck’s toolbox. Trouble getting fire going with wet wood. Pour on Coleman fuel. Burn fingers…..Biscuits, bacon and coffee.
Sitting in lean-to, I examine new .380. Most unusual. Called the Mama Mia. Made in Costa Rica by Hijos de Basura, S.A. and imported by Larson E. Rippoff Inc. Homossa Springs, Florida. Price: $469.98. About five inches long. Ten-shot staggered magazine extends one-half inch below butt. Double action with pull of approximately 20 pounds; single-action pull about 25 pounds.
Shiny plastic grips. Shiny plastic trigger guard (combat style). Shiny plastic sight rib and sights. Rear sight adjustable for windage. One click equals 12 inches at 25 yards.
Extra 48-shot magazine is curved. Might not do much for feeding but looks jazzy, making pistol five inches long and 1 ¼ feet deep. Optional flash hider and grenade launcher supplied with my review gun. Extras cost only $189.98.
Many cast parts in pistol. Nothing wrong with well-cast parts, but these of somewhat lesser quality than lead soldiers I made as a boy.
Can’t shoot, must wait out rain. Wait all day. Except for small supply under tarp, wood is soaked. Crank up Coleman stove. Chili and biscuits. Wish had brought tortillas and refried beans. Hit sack early. Sleeping bag feels damp.
Third day now. Raining harder. Decide to go home. Dismantle camp, pack truck. Trouble starting engine. Drive 10 feet from camp on muddy trail, skid, nose into boulder. Rear wheels spin. No four-wheel drive. No tire chains. Stuck. Rebuild camp. All wood wet. Hunker around Coleman stove. Things have to get better. Feast on bacon, eggs, soggy biscuits. Long pull at Henry McKenna, then dream in wet sleeping bag. Fourth day. Bear sign around truck. Glad I hadn’t woke up. Might have made mistake and shot bear with .380. Wish I was in Horsethief, watching taxi driver program. Still no interest in mountain man and lion.
Go to stream for coffee water and wash. Bank full, running fast, water chocolate brown. Wash in muddy water and get gallon jug of emergency water from truck. Use sparingly. Going nuts.
Sun peeps through in afternoon. Rain stops, but pickup still stuck. Grab opportunity to shoot the Mama Mia. Staple dry targets from toolbox to big conifer pine. Have W.W. R-P, and Federal factory loads. Load 10 round magazine. Brace against tree now. Squeeze off first round at target. Low/left in 7 ring. Empty case smokestacks. Feed next round into chamber manually. Not on paper. Now shooting low/right 6s. Go through 20 shots, all hand operated. Group is high, right, low, left, 16 inches (diameter of tree).
Forty-eight-round magazine loaded and put in place. Will not feed first round. Note for first time that loading ramp is very steep-about 45 degree-and narrow. Get screwdriver kit from toolbox and dismantle pistol.
Many tool marks inside shiny exterior. Horseshoe rasp, maybe. Springs all piano wire type. Apparently from very small piano. After some difficulty, reassemble and try 48-round magazine again. No dice. Big magazine apparently meant to be handy place to carry ammunition.
Shoot single shot for a while. Groups don’t improve. Curious square holes cut by bullets. Perhaps due to quadrangular rifling in bore. Try all brands of ammunition. Results the same.
See squirrel munching acorn in nearby tree. Very fat. Squirrel out of season, but I get an evil idea. Rations low. Squirrel rolled in biscuit crumbs and fried in bacon drippings would be great morale builder.
Sight seven inches high and left on squirrel with Mama Mia. And miss. Squirrel munches acorn. Hold upper right quadrant or rodent. Does not disturb dining squirrel. Working slide by hand, fire five quick shots. Squirrel looks on with interest. Think of going for .44 Magnum, but don’t believe squirrel tail and ears would make good supper.
Fifth day. Grub low. Biscuits turning green. Hunting squirrels, porcupines, and even bears with .44 Magnum. Mighty hunter in magazine articles; dripping dud in wet forest.
Sixth day. Definitely in deep trouble. Old bones won’t stand up to 40-mile walkout. Wife home from Flower Arrangers Convention in Santa Fe by now. Will find me gone and cats unfed. Will be mildly irritated. Probably throw things. But she will call friends in State Police and Forest Service. They will check out jails, hospitals, then Kelly Canyon, Desert Saloon, El Paso. Then they will settle down to look for me. Shouldn’t be longer than one more day….
Down to dregs of coffee by seventh morning. Broken clouds. Mama Mia WD-fortied and put away. Reading labels on empty hash cans. Stomach growling.
Suddenly hear chopper working way up canyon. Use Coleman fuel. Make smoky fire. Helicopter hovers, lands in mud near pickup. Pilot is Dick Shaw, a State Police friend.
Embarrassing situation. Shaw disgusted. Dismounts from machine, walks toward pot of weak coffee, gets dirty cup, and drinks. Sees I’m cold, wet. Gives me a cigarette.
“How’d you get yourself in this fix, Skeeter?”
Mutter something about big job I had to do-caught by weather. Shaw not at all sympathetic. Says he will radio for four-wheeler with chains and winch to come get me. Will probably cost at least $100. I say okay.
Shaw blasts off. I start breaking camp again. Must go home and face music. Will mail this letter tomorrow.
Might be just as well if this was one gun review that didn’t get printed.
Su amigo,
Skeeter
