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How Effective Is 5.7x28mm?

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Ammo Well I thought it was funny!

Because God gave us the power to make bad choices?

 

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Ammo

The 9×57 Mauser

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Behind the Bullet: 7mm PRC by PHILIP MASSARO

BTB 7Mm PRC Lead

Laying prone at the Crusader Range at the SAAM Shooting School on the FTW Ranch in Barksdale, Texas, I was presented with the challenge of making two consecutive shots: the first at 325 yards, and the second at 500 yards, with only 10 seconds between the two. Upon report of the first, the countdown began.

While the first was steep downhill to my left, the second was much flatter, but almost 90 degrees to my right. It would require setting up for the first shot, and making not only a scope adjustment to compensate for the difference in trajectory, but completely realign my shooting position to punch the steel plate.

All this to simulate a game animal moving at varying distances, and to teach the skills needed to make the shot—or sometimes to teach you what shots are beyond the shooter’s capability.

Hornady 7mm PRC Match ammunition on shooting bench.

Having been to this facility several times, and being familiar with the ever-changing winds which flow through those canyons, I’ve found that a flat-shooting cartridge with a decent velocity and a high ballistic coefficient (BC) can make your life much easier. This particular day I was shooting the classic Remington Model 700 rifle, chambered for the brand-new Hornady 7mm PRC; this new design certainly got the job done.

Hornady has made waves with their 6.5 PRC (Precision Rifle Cartridge), which was based on the now-obscure .300 Ruger Compact Magnum, as well as the .300 PRC, based on the .375 Ruger; both parent cases were designed by Hornady in conjunction with Ruger.

While the .300 PRC has a maximum cartridge overall length of 3.700 inches and requires a magnum action for best performance, the 6.5 PRC has a 2.955-inch overall length and can fit in a short-action receiver, the new 7mm PRC sits right in the middle—clearly designed for the long-action receiver, and putting the cartridge smack in the middle of the previous two releases.

Three Hornady 7mm Precision Rifle Cartridge ammunition cartridges laying on tablecloth.

The 7mm PRC maintains the same 0.532-inch rim and base diameter as its older siblings; you cartridge hounds may recognize that number as the H&H Belted Magnum rim and belt diameter, but the PRC family and many other Hornady designs use that for the body diameter. Being a rimless design, the 7mm PRC will headspace off the shoulder, and it keeps the same 30-degree shoulder angle as its relatives. The 7mm PRC’s case length comes in at 2.280 inches, with a maximum cartridge overall length of 3.340 inches, the same as the .30-06 Springfield.

There are currently three loads available, but at the time of this writing, the only one I could get my mitts on for testing was the 180-grain ELD Match, cruising along at a muzzle velocity of 2975 fps. The also a 175-grain ELD-X Precision Hunter softpoint running at 3000 fps, and a 160-grain CX Outfitter at a muzzle velocity of 3000 fps.

Measuring the factory cartridges, I observed an average overall length of 3.2910 inches, which means there might be a bit of room to seat that long, sleek bullet out even further, but based upon the way it shot, I see no reason to do so. That long sleek bullet has a G1 BC value of 0.796, and the folks at FTW clocked it at 2955 fps—certainly in step with advertised velocities. And for starters, the 100-yard accuracy was certainly sub-MOA, with some groups running as tight as ½-MOA during our range sessions to zero the rifle.

Hornady 7mm PRC Match ammunition in box.

As per the usual FTW routine, targets are engaged at all sorts of distances, from sane hunting scenarios to next-zip-code shots, and the 7mm PRC handled them all well. Our rifles were topped with Swarovski Z8i 3.5-28x50mm scopes, with the BRX-1 reticle; while larger in both magnification and objective lens size than I would normally choose on a hunting rifle, these were good choices for reaching out past 1,200 yards. While the scope’s elevation turret was marked in mils (with a series of raised yardage markers, which I felt were absolutely perfect for hunting), I will describe the trajectory in inches of drop, just to illustrate the point.

With a 200-yard zero, the 7mm PRC will rise 1.4 inches at the 100-yard mark, dropping 6 inches at 300 yards, 17.1 inches at 400 yards and 33.7 at 500 yards. Being completely honest, with a cartridge of this velocity and trajectory I’d prefer to use a 250-yard zero. Doing that will see a rise of 2.50 inches at 150 yards, but a 2-inch drop at 300 yards, and a 6-inch drop at 350, giving me a dead-hold on a deer’s heart to roughly 325 yards. If simplicity appeals to you, a trajectory like this will cover the vast majority of you hunting shots. With this zero, 400-yard shots will drop 13 inches, and 500-yard shots drop 27 inches.

Hornady 7mm Precision Rifle Cartridges standing upright in front of Match ammunition box.

While I personally have no business shooting at unwounded big game past 500 yards (a self-imposed limit, based on my real-world experiences), we did have fun stretching the 7mm PRC’s legs on steel targets, taking it all the way out to 1,500 yards confidently, and making several hits just past the one-mile mark. Bottom line? The 7mm PRC has the goods to make long range shots confidently, and as this is American Hunter, our concerns are targets much closer than that of the true long-range competition shooter.

Recoil? I found the 7mm PRC to be totally manageable, though some folks who don’t regularly shoot magnum cartridges proclaimed it to be a bit stiff. I have had some 7mm Remington Magnum rifles beat me up much, much worse than did the Model 700 in 7mm PRC, and putting 60 to 75 shots per day from the prone position didn’t crush my shoulder. In a hunting situation, where you’d spend a bit of time zeroing the rifle, and then firing a few shots at game, I can honestly say that you wouldn’t feel the recoil at all.

Hornady 7mm PRC cartridge head stamp.

Does the hunting and shooting world need a 7mm PRC? Well, I think the answer to that question is yes. Yes, the .300 PRC offers heavier bullet weights, yet it requires a longer action and comes at the price of much stiffer recoil. The 6.5 PRC is a great cartridge, but with bullet weights south of 145 grains, I feel it is limited in the game species for which it is applicable.

A 175-grain lead-core hunting bullet, or perhaps a 160-grain monometal, will allow the 7mm PRC to join the “all-around” club, being able to take all North American game shy of the huge coastal grizzlies, and the majority of African species with the exception of the true heavyweights. All this in a beltless case which won’t have any of the stretching issues that the belted cases have, which offers great concentricity and excellent accuracy; I can’t see any reason not to choose the 7mm PRC.

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Marlin 1894 in 218 Bee – Testing and Review

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VINTAGE WHEELGUNS FOR SELF-DEFENSE WRITTEN BY DAVE ANDERSON

These Buffalo Bore hardcasts bring new life to lower power vintage revolvers.
British Enfield and Webley top-breaks are likely strong enough to contain modern ammo.

 

Bill, a neighbor, hunting partner, and certified old-timer, dropped by for coffee the other day. I was surprised when he asked for advice on a handgun for defense.

Bill said, “I’m thinking of a carry handgun. Now our state has constitutional carry, and I don’t need to get a license.”

I managed to hold back an eye roll. I’d bet a fair sum Bill hadn’t stepped out the door without something in his pocket for 50 years.

“Get a medium size 9mm semiautomatic with synthetic frame, rust resistant finish, at least 15-round magazine capacity, accessory rail for light/laser, and maybe tritium night sights, assuming you can still see the sights.”

Bill snorted derisively. “You haven’t been in a gun store for a while. The shelves are practically bare. And they told me I have to fill out a form to buy a gun! When did that happen?”

“About 50 years ago. Now they do an FBI background check too.” I remembered Bill hadn’t bought a gun since the 1960s, and they had been used guns even then.

Bill said, “I’m thinking of a revolver my Daddy had, a little S&W Regulation Police. We still have some of daddy’s stuff stored and if I looked long enough, I could probably find it. What do you think, is it a decent defensive gun?”

I was thinking, I bet you could find it all right. I could probably find it right now just by reaching into the pocket of the old hunting jacket you’re wearing. But he was asking for a lecture, and I dearly love to lecture. This is the gist of what I told Bill.

S&W Regulation Police in .38 S&W made on the Improved I-Frame.

The Overlooked .38

The old .38 S&W (also called the .38 Colt New Police) is a cartridge I’ve overlooked for years. I could never see much point in it when .38 Special revolvers and ammunition were readily available.

The .38 S&W has the same limitations as other old timers, such as the .45 Colt, .44 Special and others. Many firearms chambered for these cartridges were made when designs and materials were not nearly as strong as later firearms. When the Sporting Arms and Ammunition Manufacturers’ Institute (SAAMI) sets industry pressure limits, it has to keep these old designs in mind.

The SAAMI pressure limit for the 1870s-era .38 S&W is 14,500 psi. Many of the handguns made for it were top break revolvers, some of high quality such as those from S&W, others not so much. Personally, I wouldn’t fire a pre-1900 top break except with black powder loads.

There are many fine Colt, Ruger, and S&W small and medium frame handguns chambered for the .38 S&W. Colt offered the Official Police, Police Positive and Banker’s Special in .38 S&W (pardon, .38 Colt New Police). S&W chambered the compact I-Frame with 2″ barrel (Terrier) and 4″ barrel (Regulation Police).

From left, .38 S&W; 9mm Luger; .38 Special. Similar in size,
the 9mm offers significantly more energy.

Bill’s Daddy’s Gun

 

I happen to have a Regulation Police in my modest S&W collection, so I got it out of the safe. “Yep,” said Bill, “My daddy’s gun looked just like yours. As best I can remember, of course.”

“Of course. This one was made shortly before S&W began stamping their guns with model numbers in 1957. Those old boys surely did know how to fit parts and polish steel. Trouble is the most common factory load is a 145-grain lead round nose bullet at about 650 fps. It would be foolish to use such ammo for self-defense.”

Bill seemed a bit uncomfortable. “Right, no one would be so foolish. What should I do, assuming I find daddy’s old gun?”

“I’d say you have two choices. Sell it to an S&W collector and use the money to buy something modern. Or if you are determined to carry it, get some Buffalo Bore ammunition. They load a hard cast, flat point 125-grain bullet at about 1,000 fps and it’s under SAAMI pressure limits. It’s great ammunition, in my view, essential in bringing some fine vintage handguns back to life.”

“There’s a third option,” Bill mused. “You could load me up a box or two of hot .38 S&W cartridges.”

“Hmmm, let me think it over. Nope. Not happening.”

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.22 hornet(RUGER) V.S Impala head and lung shot. Is this even possible

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22 Hornet and Distance

https://youtu.be/0Op4kbgyXi4

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FUNNYBONE FRACTURES AND CRACKED CONCENTRATION WRITTEN BY JOHN CONNOR

 

I’ve warned you guys. Weird things happen in gunfights. You should expect an Elbonian satellite to fall on your head, or a gopher the size of a grizzly to erupt from the ground at your feet. I’ve encouraged you to believe your eyes, shrug off bizarre twists, and stay focused on the threat. Some of you shared your own stories of bizarre “moments ’midst mayhem,” and a whole bunch of you asked for real-world examples. A few readers were even dubious about the possibility of such strange happenings happenin’. So, for you doubting Thomases, here are some examples from my private stock.

 

NUCLEAR .38 SPECIAL ROUNDS?

 

I was a rookie patrolman when my senior partner and I were called to back up a pair of robbery detectives. They planned to kick in a door at a felon-filled flophouse hotel, crunch some cockroaches and yank a sleepy stickup-shooting suspect outta his grimy sheets. His room was on the second floor of this converted century-old residence, and a rickety stairway led directly from his crib down to a garbage-littered lot. That’s where Davey and I were posted — just in case Plan A went South when the “dicks” kicked the front door. It did.

We weren’t quite “positioned” when multiple muffled gunshots preceded Hairball Harry’s rapid exit out onto the landing. There was a flash of light as the door banged hard against the rail, and both Davey and I thought it was a muzzle flash and gunshot. Davey was standing in front of me with his trusty 6″ S&W Model 10 aimed at Harry. He squeezed (or jerked) the trigger — and the stairway landing seemed to explode, with a hurricane of splinters and dust billowing out toward us as simultaneously, the entire stairway screeched, groaned, and collapsed to the deck.

I pushed past Davey when a second after that, a ground-floor back door flew open and two skivvie-clad bed-headed dudes with pistols in their mitts staggered outside, blinded by the clouds of dust, shouting stuff like “COPS! They’re usin’ grenades!” and searching for targets. Using some ungentlemanly language, I convinced ’em of the inferiority of their tactical situation. Good thing they didn’t fight — my partner was still standing there, frozen, with his revolver a hand’s-breadth from his nose, staring incredulously at the muzzle. He was lost in his own world, wondering how a lead 158 gr. SWC could blow up a stairway and two landings. Finally, I had to grab the gun and gently awaken him.

The gunshots were Hairball Harry’s response to his door gettin’ kicked. The dicks had sidestepped, and were occupied with straightening out a pair of pucker-factor-induced “wedgies.” That flash was the bulb of an outside light’s last gasp as its fuse blew out. The once-heavy wooden beams and planks of that stairway were virtually hollow shells filled with a century’s worth of termites and wood-powder. It simply imploded under Harry’s weight. He was unconscious, suffering multiple injuries, snoozin’ in the wreckage.

The Big Diff between me an’ Davey was that previous combat experience had taught me stuff blows up and weird things happen in gunfights, and you have to keep your head in the game.

ALLEYWAY ANTICS

A patrolman pal of mine had an armed dope dealer cornered in an inky-black blind alley. They were casually trading occasional shots, waitin’ for backup to arrive, when suddenly a huge supernova light came on, a door swung open, and the alley was instantly filled with laughing, leaping, twirling cheerleaders, complete with pompoms, ponytails, big bells on their shoes and those cute little kick-skirts. Dudes! Wanna talk weird here? The entire pep-an’-cheer outfit from a local college had just finished a late photo-session on a theatre stage. The best part? As the cheerleaders danced an’ advanced down the alley past my pal, the dope-dealer tried to sneak out with ’em!

“Unbelievable,” my buddy told me; “Here’s this dreadlocked dude wearing a Rastafarian cap and a filthy M-65 (field jacket), skipping along between cheerleaders, still holding a Beretta 92 in one hand. Skipping!” Rasta-man didn’t get away, and nobody got hurt, but my pal said it was an ugly scene. “The shrieking and screaming hurt my ears worse than the gunshots did,” he said. “Never jump out from behind a dumpster and point a pistol anywhere near a buncha cheerleaders.”

 

DON’T SHOOT WHITEY: HE’S MINE!

 

“Tommy D,” another badge-wearing brother, is well known for his morbid fear of dogs. They tend to bite him, fiercely and frequently. He had chased a biker bad guy into the back yard and the two were faced off pointing pistols at each other, when outta the shadows waddled an irritated overweight Welsh Corgi, who commenced chewing Tommy’s ankle.

Distracted but undaunted, Tommy and Biker Bill continued discussing whom oughtta throw down whose howitzer when suddenly, a little white Pit Bull pup ran between Biker Bill’s legs and skidded to a snarling stop in front of Tommy. That’s when I arrived — just in time to slap leather and watch in horror as T.D.’s eyes saucered and his shaking gun dropped to point at the Pit Bull!

I was a half-second short of blasting Biker Bill when he flung his gun to the grass and screamed, “Don’t shoot Whitey! He’s mine!” I’ll leave the detailed analysis to you guys. Just watch out for grizzly-gophers and Elbonian satellites, okay?

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I’m a 44 Special man myself