Category: Well I thought it was neat!
![r/WarshipPorn - Graphic of the Royal Navy during WW2 with the ships in red the ones that were sunk - Truly incredible to see the scale of their force [2744 × 1398]](https://preview.redd.it/8esdcgt9lfx71.jpg?width=960&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=9eebf6d299dc3455aaf5d4c7b47df315cc837f9f)
The ones in Red were sunk during WWII
On August 1, 1980, Director Buzz Kulik premiered The Hunter starring Steve McQueen. In his heyday McQueen was the highest-paid actor in the world. His fans knew him as the King of Cool. Three months after the movie launched Steve McQueen died in Mexico of metastatic pleural mesothelioma. He was fifty years old.
McQueen starred in twenty-nine feature films and fourteen television programs. He played cowboys, sailors, soldiers, cops, and criminals. He fought alien invaders in The Blob and chased Bad Guys in Bullitt. For all of his remarkable breadth of cinematic experience, I still feel that his final role was one of his best. In The Hunter Steve McQueen plays Ralph “Papa” Thorson, a modern-day bounty hunter.
Background
Spoilers ahead. You’ve been warned. The film critic Leonard Maltin described The Hunter as, “McQueen’s last picture and probably his worst.” I’m afraid Leonard and I will just have to disagree on that. As a card-carrying gun nerd, I thought The Hunter rocked.
Papa Thorson was an actual guy. He served as a creative consultant on the film and had a small part as a bartender in the movie. His extraordinary real-life adventures inspired the screenplay.
The 1872 US Supreme Court case Taylor vs Taintor established the basis for bounty hunting in the United States. The pertinent verbiage reads: “When bail is given, the principal is regarded as delivered to the custody of his sureties …They may exercise their rights in person or by agent. They may pursue him into another State; may arrest him on the Sabbath; and if necessary, may break and enter his house for that purpose … It is likened to the rearrest by the sheriff of an escaping prisoner.”
The role of the bounty hunter dates back to the Middle Ages. Kentucky, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Oregon have outlawed the practice, while Wyoming has essentially no regulations governing it. The US and the Philippines are the only countries in the world where bounty hunting remains legal.
Papa Thorsen’s life inspired a biographical book by Christopher Kean. Ted Leighton and Peter Hyams adapted the book into a screenplay. Much of the quirkiness of McQueen’s character in the film was drawn from the real-world personality and exploits of Papa Thorson.
The Movie
The plot of The Hunter orbits around Papa Thorson’s efforts traveling the country and recovering fugitives on behalf of bail bondsmen. Papa is paid a percentage of the bond for each criminal apprehended and brought to justice. Along the way, we gain insights into Thorson’s unique personality.
Papa lives with his severely pregnant younger girlfriend. His house is a hive of activity with friends and strangers over playing cards or just hanging out at all hours. Papa makes a sincere effort to be more careful so he can support his girlfriend and pending child. Despite his best intentions, however, Papa courts chaos at every turn.
Thorson’s first two bounties set the stage. He captures a young black man played by Levar Burton and then invites the kid into his home and gives him a job. In the original screenplay, this part was to have been a dog. McQueen had been impressed with Burton as an actor and insisted on his being written into the script in this capacity. He also apprehends an enormous redneck Texan after a robust fight that destroys the interior of the big criminal’s houseboat. After the bail jumper gets the better of him physically, Thorson ends the fight with a most curious less-than-lethal beanbag gun.
One of my favorite sequences has Papa pursuing a pair of unwashed pyromaniac brothers in Nebraska. A recurring theme in the movie is Thorson’s affection for old stuff — antique cars, aged toys, and quirky household décor. When renting a car in Nebraska, he is forced to accept an absolutely gorgeous brand new black Trans Am with 78 miles on the odometer. Once he confronts the two fugitive brothers they start throwing dynamite at him, steal his car, and tear off through a mature cornfield in it.
Thorson responds by leaping into a nearby combine harvester and giving chase. The helicopter’s-eye view of the hulking harvester chasing the sports car through the cornfield punctuated by copious dynamite explosions is action movie gold. It breaks my heart to see that classic sports car blown to smithereens, but it makes for a truly epic chase sequence. As an aside, one of the primary Trans Am cars used in that scene was serendipitously discovered in an Illinois barn in 2018.
Thorson later gives chase to a gun-happy fugitive in Chicago. Thorson’s primary sidearm is a standard GI-issue M1911A1 automatic pistol. The Bad Guy initiates their exchange with a Remington 870 12-gauge equipped with a “Law Enforcement Only”-marked top-folding stock. He then leads Papa on a merry rooftop chase across Chicago and onto the El all the while shooting it out with a Walther P38 pistol. Papa prevails when he forces the fugitive to drive a stolen car off the top of a high-rise parking garage into the river below. This iconic scene was subsequently recreated some twenty-six years later for an Allstate Insurance commercial.
Throughout it all, Papa and his girlfriend are hounded by a creepy maniacal drug addict named Rocco Mason played masterfully by Tracey Walter. There is an intentionally vague backstory concerning Papa’s having taken Mason to jail at some point in the past. Mason is out for revenge and is inexplicably equipped with a full auto M16A1 rifle replete with an AN/PVS-2 starlight scope. Despite being as big as a generous loaf of French bread, the AN/PVS-2 represented the state of the art at the time.
The climactic showdown finds Thorson’s pregnant girlfriend, Dotty, kidnapped and taken to the school where she teaches. Dotty is secured to a chair and used as bait to lure Papa close so Mason can kill him with his M16. Thorson claims to be unarmed but actually has a .25 ACP pocket pistol secured to his ankle. Mason discovers this weapon and forces Papa to discard it.
Mason machineguns a security guard and then chases Thorson through the school. Papa leads the lunatic into a chemistry lab after he turns on all the gas taps. The bounty hunter then rolls a laboratory skeleton toward the unsuspecting Mason, causing him to loose a long full-auto burst from the hip. The brilliant muzzle flash from the automatic rifle ignites the gas and blows him to smithereens allowing Thorson to rescue his girlfriend just in time to take her to the hospital so she can deliver her baby. Fade to black.
The Guns
The beanbag gun shown early in the movie was an MB Associates Stun-Bag launcher. This thing looked a bit like a Japanese knee mortar, featured a rifled 36mm heavy plastic barrel, and fired via .22 Ramset blanks. A 12-gauge version was called the Prowlette. MB Associates were the same guys behind the Gyrojet rocket guns. A subsequent gas-powered version called the Trebor Prowler Fouler used high-pressure nitrogen cartridges for power. Standard 12-gram CO2 cartridges could be used for practice.
Because it had a large bore, rifled barrel, and gunpowder charge the BATF classified these Law Enforcement tools as Destructive Devices requiring federal registration. The projectiles were pancake-shaped fabric bags filled with lead shot. As a darkly fascinating sidenote, these weapons were tested against baboons and pigs to assess their efficacy. They actually didn’t work terribly well. I can only imagine the poor slob whose job it was to chase angry baboons around trying to shoot them with beanbags.
The Arma 100 Bean Bag gun is essentially the same thing marketed today that runs off of compressed gas. The gas-powered versions are not considered weapons in the eyes of the BATF and are sold through the mail. They run about $200 online.
Dotty’s pocket gun appeared to be a nickel-plated Beretta Jetfire or similar clone. She never fired the gun, but Papa did pop the magazine out and then back in to show her how it works. This little pocket gun utilized a classic Beretta-style slide architecture and carried seven rounds in the magazine. Similar single-action pistols were sold under a variety of trade names such as Targa, Titan, and GT27.
Papa’s M1911A1 was the most remarkable combat pistol of its age. The product of the inimitable mind of John Moses Browning, the M1911 and the .45ACP round it fired changed the way the world used handguns. Heavy, powerful, bulky, and loud, the M1911 reflected the ethos of the nation that birthed it.
The M1911 was a single-action autoloading handgun that fed from a seven-round single-stack box magazine. The gun was recoil-operated and optimized for right-handed operation. A few minor upgrades standardized in 1924 led to the redesignation M1911A1. These pistols served US forces throughout WW2 and into the 1980s. I was issued WW2-era M1911A1 pistols when first I donned the uniform.
The Walther P38 was introduced in, you guessed it, 1938, and pioneered any number of advanced features that are considered commonplace today. The gun fed from an eight-round single-stack box magazine and featured a novel single-action/double-action trigger most commonly found on the wheelguns of the era. The slide-mounted safety dropped the hammer safely over a loaded chamber. In this configuration the gun could be carried with the safety off and fired via a long, heavy double-action trigger pull. Subsequent rounds were fired single-action.
The magazine catch was located on the heel of the grip in the European fashion, and the single-stack magazine limited the gun’s onboard capacity. However, the P38 was a trim and effective combat tool. The P38 is still found in many of your less well-funded war zones even today.
The M16 was originally developed in the late 1950s as a speculative effort by the ArmaLite Corporation. ArmaLite was a tiny little subsidiary of the Fairchild Aircraft Company. Eugene Stoner and a few others adapted state-of-the-art aerospace technology and materials science into a revolutionary combat rifle.
Before we started hanging so much bling on them, those old M16 rifles were quite trim, light, and svelte. A basic M16 only weighed about 6.5 pounds unloaded. These early guns were driven by a radical direct gas impingement system that was both simple and accurate. An M16A1 cycles at around 750 rounds per minute and in competent hands remains quite controllable on full auto.
Hollywood Ordnance
In 1980, digital graphics were not a real thing, so all of the muzzle flashes and gun effects had to be undertaken in the real world. This is done by the cinematographer “over cranking” the film speed to catch the muzzle flash in every frame. When Papa unleashes his beanbag gun we get a slow-motion shot of the beanbag projectile slamming into the belly of a big fat shirtless guy. That looks like it likely hurt. The cinematic effect is to render the perp immediately unconscious.
I am ever impressed with the screen presence of a simple unadorned M1911 pistol. Thorson carries his in the internal pocket of a GI MA-1 flight jacket. I’ve carried a gun this way before, and it invariably sags badly. For the scenes wherein he did not need a weapon McQueen’s character clearly was not packing one in his jacket.
The foley sound effects used for Papa’s M1911 are deep and throaty, projecting a great deal of authority. In one scene, Thorson kneels around a corner and empties a magazine from the hip down a hallway. McQueen then executes a textbook magazine change, dumping the empty mag and slamming in a fresh one before dropping the slide via the slide release. McQueen runs his pistol like he knows it and reloads at the right times.
The violent fugitive Anthony Bernardo burns a few rounds through his Remington 870 before abandoning it in favor of his Walther P38. The sound effects for the P38 are not as impressive as are those of the M1911, and he shoots this gun forever without reloading. In close-ups, sometimes the hammer is back and sometimes it’s not.
The real gun star of the movie is Mason’s M16A1. A previous non-firing shot involves an early SP1 AR15 with a three-prong flash suppressor. The later live-fire scenes are done with a real-deal full auto M16A1 with a birdcage flash suppressor. Normal people don’t care, but arcane stuff like that is the reason I get up in the morning.
When it is time to rock and roll Mason&rsquo’s M16 spews some simply epic muzzle flashes. The first real burst produces a single big ball of yellow fire. The final scene that touches off the gas in the chemistry lab involves the coolest multi-lobed starburst muzzle flash. Considering they shot that scene in real time I was duly impressed.
Ruminations
While not necessarily as pervasive a gun movie as some others, The Hunter nonetheless showcases some sweet firearms. McQueen was both a Marine and a gun guy (even was the owner of a transferable machinegun; an American 180 which fires .22 LR from a 177-round pan magazine), and his weapons handling skills were spot on. Rocco Mason’s muzzle flashes from his M16 fired on rock and roll warrant running the movie back and forth to appreciate them fully. If you’re looking for a great way to rewind after a hard day at the office or you need something to pass the time while you run your reloader pull it up on Amazon. The Hunter is a personal favorite.
The Remarkable Life of Papa Thorson
Ralph “Papa” Thorson was described by his biographer as, “The only man I know who can do a bastard’s job with taste and come off looking like a nice guy.” Standing 6’2″ and weighing 310 pounds, this rugged professional bounty hunter was also a champion bridge player, a church bishop, a recognized astrologer, a trained criminologist, a child nutritionist, and an inveterate consumer of classical music.
Thorson received flight training while in the Navy during World War 2 and did indeed live with a longsuffering woman named Dotty as was depicted in the movie. He took in stray people as a matter of course and officiated at weddings in his capacity as a church bishop. In 1968, he lived across the street from Jimmy Doohan, the actor who played Scotty on the original Star Trek. Over the course of his career Papa bagged some 5,000 bounties to include Squeaky Fromme, a member of the Manson Family who was later arrested for attempting to assassinate President Gerald Ford.
Of his peculiar profession Thorson had this to say, “I relied on … a condition … which happens when I confront a situation I’m not exactly sure of, a dream-like state where everything moves in slow motion. Fear is not permitted because the territory around me is my own. I control it. I expect to succeed. I’m sure of it. Not cocky, but convinced. It’s almost as if some secret force jacks up my perceptions. It’s a twilight zone. I enter it just moments before the confrontation. It might be the reason I’m still alive.”
Papa Thorsen was killed by a car bomb in 1991. The specific details were never clearly established.
Steve McQueen
Steve McQueen’s mother was an alcoholic and his father a transient stunt pilot for a barnstorming flying circus. After being shuttled around among sundry family members McQueen became heavily involved in gang activities and petty theft. By age fourteen he was remanded to a California institution for incorrigible boys.
McQueen matured somewhat while there and returned many times after he found success to encourage the students and bring them gifts. He eventually signed on with the Merchant Marine but jumped ship in the Dominican Republic where he supported himself as a bouncer in a brothel. He subsequently drifted from job to job, working as both a carnival salesman and lumberjack in Canada. He was once arrested for vagrancy and spent thirty days on a chain gang.
McQueen enlisted in the Marine Corps at age seventeen and was demoted seven times for behavioral problems. He once went AWOL and subsequently resisted arrest, earning himself 41 days in the brig. After this experience, McQueen seemed to get his life in order, at least a bit. He saved a five-man tank crew during an arctic exercise after their tank broke through the ice and sank. He also served on the honor guard aboard Harry Truman’s Presidential yacht.
McQueen studied acting via the GI Bill after leaving the Marine Corps and supported himself as a car and motorcycle racer. He did his own stunt driving in his movies, some of which was quite audacious. Playing the lead on the popular TV Western Wanted: Dead or Alive was his breakout role.
The antique toys shown in the movie came from McQueen’s personal collection. McQueen kept the 1951 Chevrolet Skyline he drove in the movie. That car sold at auction in 2013 for $84,000.
After a lifetime spent in empty hedonism, Steve McQueen eventually found Jesus. During his final years, he came to know Billy Graham and was active in the Ventura Missionary Church. His spiritual journey was cataloged in a posthumous documentary titled, Steve McQueen — American Icon. Kenneth R. Morefield of Christianity Today said the film, “offers a timeless reminder that even those among us living the most celebrated lives often long for the peace and sense of purpose that only God can provide.”
About the Author
Movie Guns Editor Will Dabbs, MD is a mechanical engineer who flew UH1H, OH58A/C, CH47D and AH1S aircraft as an Army Aviator. He is airborne and scuba qualified and summited Mount McKinley, Alaska, six times…at the controls of an Army helicopter. After eight years in the Regular Army, Major Dabbs attended medical school. He works in his urgent care clinic, shares a business building precision rifles and sound suppressors, and has written for the gun press since 1989.
To everyone bitching about Texas Roadhouse allowing that dog who was deployed twice, to eat a steak in the restaurant on Veterans Day, I’d rather sit next to him than rowdy, bratty kids all day long. I can guarantee that dog is cleaner and more quiet. He isn’t up being allowed to run around like he (and his parents) were raised in a barn!
Petmatchmaker Rescue South supports Texas Roadhouse, Veterans and all Military Working Dogs.
Dan White was a baby boomer born in 1946 in Long Beach, California, the second of nine children. Though he was expelled in his junior year of High School for violence, he later transferred to another school and graduated as valedictorian. In 1965, White enlisted in the Army.
White was assigned to the 101st Airborne Division as an NCO and served a year in Vietnam. He left the military in 1971 and became a police officer in San Francisco. He purportedly quit the force after reporting a fellow officer for beating a handcuffed suspect. White then joined the San Francisco Fire Department. His rescue of a woman and her baby from a seventh-floor apartment during a fire was the sort of stuff of which heroes are made.
White parlayed his experience as both a cop and a fireman into a budding political career. In 1977 he was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. During his tenure, he served alongside a youthful Dianne Feinstein and Harvey Milk.
The Saga of Harvey Milk
Harvey Bernard Milk was born in New York City in 1930, the son of Lithuanian parents. Milk was known as an outgoing extrovert in school—the class clown. He played football and was an opera enthusiast. He studied mathematics in college and subsequently entered the US Navy.
Milk served as a diving officer assigned to the submarine rescue ship USS Kittiwake. After a stint portside as a diving instructor Milk was removed from the military via an “Other Than Honorable” discharge for homosexuality. Milk then hopped through several jobs and multiple gay relationships in various cities across the country.
Milk eventually settled in San Francisco. He worked for a time for an investment firm before being fired for growing his hair long in protest of US combat operations in Cambodia. After several failed local election attempts Milk was appointed to the city Board of Permit Appeals in 1976 by San Francisco Mayor George Moscone. This appointment made Harvey Milk the first openly gay city commissioner in the United States.
Mayor George Moscone
George Moscone was a San Francisco native of Italian heritage. His dad had been a prison guard at San Quentin. Moscone attended law school, got married, and also served a stint in the Navy. After a term on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, Moscone was elected to the California State Senate.
Moscone’s time in the State Senate saw him sponsor a statewide school lunch program as well as the law that legalized abortion in California. Throughout it all, he developed a reputation for championing gay rights. In 1975 he was elected Mayor of San Francisco, beating out conservative John Barbagelata as well as Dianne Feinstein.
The success of Moscone’s campaign turned on a grassroots effort funneled through a variety of local churches. Among them was the People’s Temple, the suicide cult run by charismatic charlatan Jim Jones. You can read more about Jim Jones and the Guyana Massacre here. In recognition of his support, Moscone later appointed Jones as Chairman of the San Francisco Housing Commission.
The Conflict
Dan White and Harvey Milk were initially political allies. Despite their wildly disparate backgrounds, they were both ardent Democrats and enjoyed a compatible ideology. Disagreements over business development issues and ultimately Milk’s placement of a controversial group home in White’s district eventually drove a wedge between them. Their conflict was eventually seen as a bitter proxy fight between traditional family values and gay rights.
White’s supervisor job paid $9,600 per year ($40,200 today). A local ordnance prohibited any one individual from holding two city jobs simultaneously. As a result, White was forced to resign as a firefighter. He tried to start a business selling baked potatoes from a cart, but this endeavor failed. With a wife and three children to support this created a financial burden. Frustrated with his lack of money as well as the labyrinthine machinations of San Francisco politics, Dan White submitted his resignation as Supervisor to Mayor Moscone on November 10, 1978.
The rules were such that the Mayor appointed a temporary successor after a Supervisor resigned. White’s vacancy insured that the Mayor could stack the board with a majority that was warm to his agenda and potentially hostile to local business. Under pressure from his constituents, White approached Moscone and attempted to rescind his resignation.
Mayor Moscone and Harvey Milk saw White’s departure as an opportunity. Milk pressured Moscone not to re-seat White. Moscone subsequently announced that he was appointing Don Horanzy to the position, a farther-Left local politician.
The Killings
A bit more than two weeks after his resignation White had an unsuspecting friend drive him to City Hall. In his pocket, he carried the loaded Smith and Wesson Model 36 .38 Special revolver he had used as a police officer along with ten loose rounds of hollowpoint ammunition. Given the fulminant nature of San Francisco politics, metal detectors had recently been installed at the entrances to the building.
White entered the structure through an unlocked first-story window. Apparently, city officials frequently came to work by this means so as to avoid the waits at the detectors. There’s a message there, but we lack the space to explore it today.
Mayor Moscone was in a meeting with Willie Brown who would himself eventually go on to become Mayor of San Francisco. After Brown departed, White confronted Moscone, again demanding he be given his old job back. Not wishing to make a scene, Moscone invited White into a private lounge attached to the Mayor’s office. Once behind closed doors Moscone lit a cigarette and poured drinks.
Dan White was a trained soldier, a combat veteran, and an experienced police officer. He knew how to run a gun. White drew his revolver and shot Moscone twice, once in the shoulder and again in the chest, perforating the man’s lung. White then shot Moscone twice at close range through the ear, killing him. Bystanders later reported that they took the sound for a car backfiring.
As White left the office Dianne Feinstein recognized him and called his name. White responded with, “I have to do something first.” He then sought out Harvey Milk and caught him in a hallway before inviting him into a private office.
White closed the door, produced his pistol, and opened fire. His first round passed through Milk’s wrist, while the next two struck him in the chest. The fourth hit Milk in the head. As before, White then fired his final shot into Milk’s skull at close range. Feinstein entered the office as White left and discovered Milk’s body.
The Gun
The Smith and Wesson Model 36 is likely the most popular snub-nosed revolver ever produced. The name Chief’s Special spawned from a popular vote conducted at the International Association of Chiefs of Police Convention held in 1950. Barrels could be had in either two or three-inch versions, and the gun carried five rounds onboard.
Serial number 337 was engraved with J. Edgar Hoover’s name and given to him as a gift. An aluminum-framed version was called the Airweight. A variant specifically marketed for female shooters was titled the LadySmith. The gun remains in production today.
The Rest of the Story
Dan White walked out of City Hall unmolested and eventually surrendered to Frank Falzon, a fellow detective from his days with the SFPD. He acknowledged shooting Milk and Moscone but denied having planned the attack. White was charged with murder in the first degree with special circumstances, making him eligible for the death penalty.
White’s legal team claimed that he was caught in the throes of depression and therefore not responsible for his actions. They explained that White, previously a bit of a fitness fanatic, had given himself over to junk food. Subsequent myths perpetuated in the media asserted that his lawyers were alleging that the junk food caused a mental break. This led to the popular term “Twinkie Defense” in the newspapers of the day.
In reality, they were just claiming that the junk food addiction was evidence of his altered mental state, not its cause. Regardless, the jury inexplicably bought this bizarre story. If ever you should choose to assassinate your political rivals in cold blood in a public place, apparently you might want to do it in California.
Jurors purportedly wept when his confession was played in the courtroom. White was subsequently convicted of voluntary manslaughter and sentenced to seven years in prison. He was paroled after five, lost his family, and killed himself via carbon monoxide poisoning in his garage two years later.
A Point of Personal Privilege
Harvey Milk endured discrimination, served in politics, and was gunned down in cold blood by an unhinged lunatic. In 2009 President Obama awarded Milk a posthumous Presidential Medal of Freedom. On November 6, 2021, the US Navy launched the USNS Harvey Milk, the second of the John Lewis class of underway replenishment oilers. As martyrs go, I’d say he’s earned his accolades.
Most thinking folks agree that no one should undergo discrimination. However, ours is a cruel, violent species. There has never since the dawn of time been fairness or equality in a human culture to compare with what we enjoy today. The pursuit is a noble goal to be sure. However, it seems to me we should spend more time being thankful for what we’ve accomplished and less screaming at each other about how horrible things are.
I grow weary of our current unhealthy fixation with sexual practices. In my perfect world, people would be judged based upon what they accomplished or how they’ve made the world better, not with whom they slept or what kind of clothes they wore. That’s a pretty shallow way to define one’s self. Sex is a fairly straightforward primal thing, and most people can do it. The details do not reflect any extraordinary accomplishment. Would it be too much to ask if we just treat everybody nicely and focus on something more substantive for a change?
‘North To Alaska!’
Usually, a text message or voice mail first thing on a Monday morning is something to be wary of…a harbinger of doom, a portent of evil, an ‘ill wind that blows no one good,’ or the foreshadowing of something even more nefarious.
Like the principal of your son’s middle school calling at the break of dawn on a Monday to inform you that Junior was in deep *insert noun of your choice here* for something he did late in the day on the previous Friday, to wit: concealing a game camera in the girls’ locker-room before the big co-ed volleyball game.
But this was not to be the case on that fateful sunny Monday morn in early May. THIS…was a call I could sink my teeth into. My friend and Firearms News contributing writer Scot Loveland called and told me that editor Vincent DeNiro had a rifle that needed to be put through its paces. He described the weapon and I immediately knew what had to be done. Calls were made, parcel services were mobilized, and a brand-spanking new Savage MSR-10 Hunter in .338 Federal was en route to ‘The Last Frontier’ for testing and evaluation on a brown bear hunt in the wildlands of Alaska’s Kenai Peninsula.
Alaska: ‘The Great Land’
The ‘Last Frontier’ is a land of extremes. It is a special, unique place that still offers adventurous souls the opportunity to embark on epic adventures of near-mythic proportion…and that’s even before you throw in a little thing we like to call ‘embellishment!’
When one first moves to the 49th State, new friends and acquaintances spin what seem like fantastic tales of their Alaskan experiences seemingly rife with exaggeration, if not outright fabrication. But, if you remain here for a spell and venture out into the wilds (or sometimes merely your backyard), you quickly learn that these stories are not as farcical as they seem.
As with many other pursuits, pastimes, and guilty pleasures that involve an appreciable degree of personal risk, such as cigarettes, alcohol, sky-diving, or a good old-fashioned game of lawn-darts, it is important to know what you are getting in to if you plan to venture into Alaska’s back-country.
The moment you leave your home, hotel, boat, or other vestige of civilized shelter and venture into the wilds of Alaska, you are entering an entirely different world. You are traveling into a sometimes-ruthless environment that can’t be bested by mere state-of-the-art gear, clothing, or weapons. If you go it alone, you had better be equipped with what corporate America calls KSA: Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities. Or luck. Or a vial of lucky orphan tears, fairy blood, and unicorn dandruff gifted to you by an old gypsy fortune teller at the county fair. Because lacking those elements can only mean one thing: bad times.
The brutal, unforgiving weather conditions, the massive scale of its terrain and geography, and the Pleistocene/ice age-sized bears and unique game species that roam the 49th state all serve as stark reminders to one who enters Alaska’s intensely beautiful back-country that you are no longer in the minors. You are now, prepared or not, playing in the big leagues.
But enough with the ominous portents and cautionary hokum. It’s time for a true tale of derring-do and backcountry adventure. So stoke up the fire in your hearth, grab a tasty, refreshing beverage (or three), and harken as I spin you a brief history of Alaska, the rifles that ruled it, and a more modern tale of…the ‘Trial by Fire’ of the Savage Arms .338 Federal MSR-10 Hunter in the unforgiving wild lands of Alaska’s Kenai Peninsula!
Alaska: A Brief History Of America’s Last Frontier (And Its Rifles)
In 1867, the Russian government was strapped for cash, and Tsar Alexander II was not about turning any of his stately Crimean Black-Sea bachelor cribs into timeshares to earn some extra scratch. So, in what hip real-estate historians still refer to as “The Best Investment Property Deal EVAAAH!” the Good Ol’ USA purchased the Alaska Territory from those shifty Cossacks for 7.2 million dollars, or roughly two cents per acre.
During World War II, a Japanese naval and land offensive touched her shores, resulting in air and ground combat in the remote, inhospitable Aleutian Islands during what is now referred to as ‘The Forgotten War.’ In 1959, a new star was added to Old Glory and ‘The Last Frontier’ transitioned from a remote U.S. territory into the 49th state of our grand republic.
Alaska became the northern focal point and first defense against the Soviet Union during the Cold War. But nature had something far worse in store for the 49th state than Soviet threats or rhetoric. The 1964 Good Friday’ earthquake, a seismic event of biblical proportions, combined with monstrous tidal surges to wreak massive devastation on her cities and coastline.
But better times were in store for the great land. An economic boom and rapid modernization went into full swing when oil was discovered on Alaska’s north slope. Following this discovery, the U.S. oil industry went totally sick-house/gangbusters after construction was completed on the Trans-Alaska pipeline in 1977.
Throughout Alaska’s chaotic, rough-and-tumble history, she was first and foremost a WILD PLACE…a remote and unforgiving land where you AND your gear had to be tough to survive. Hunting, trapping, and fishing—to Alaskans, these weren’t pastimes or hobbies, they were a means of subsistence. They were skill-sets that determined if you could survive in America’s furthest northern hinterlands, or be forced into returning to the lower 48 with your tail tucked between your legs, or worse, in a pine box.
But through these turbulent years of triumph, tragedy, and transition, one truth remained a constant. The bolt-action rifle ruled over the last frontier with an iron fist.
Bolt-actions were practically MADE for the most massive state in the good ol’ U.S.A. They were rugged, reliable, relatively uncomplicated, and capable of firing massive, dangerous game-stopping rounds, such as the venerable .375 Holland and Holland Magnum, .338 Winchester Magnum, and a wide assortment of other life-taking/heartbreaking/shoulder-bruising calibers capable of harvesting moose, brown bears, and Soviet-era BMP armored infantry vehicles.
Let it be known, however, that Alaska and its denizens were not completely prone to rigidity, nor were they adherents to the ‘one-trick-pony’ school of thought when it came to long guns. A slight degree of intransigence was tolerated throughout the rugged northern hinterlands in the form of large-caliber lever-action carbines and rifles such as the venerable .45-70. But in the end, these cheeky interlopers were still bit players in the great Alaskan backcountry melodrama. It was the bolt-action rifle that reigned supreme in Alaska throughout the modern era.
But times change, and so has current-day Alaska. With daily commercial flights to the furthest reaches of America’s northland, any need for a heroic dogsled relay to Nome for the delivery of serum to nullify a deadly diphtheria outbreak is depressingly slim. Iconic Alaskan cities and towns like Anchorage, Kenai, and Fairbanks now have modern conveniences such as running water, indoor outhouses, major chain/package stores, I-Max theaters, a nationwide coffee-shop franchise noted for its generous restroom policies, and other instruments of the Devil.
In this spirit of change, the 2018 brown bear season was also about to have a spring makeover. A spring makeover aided and abetted by a black rifle in a caliber formidable enough to take any game on the North American continent.
The Rifle: Savage MSR-10 Hunter In .338 Federal
The .338 Federal cartridge is what many Alaskan bear hunters would consider a ‘tween.’ It is stouter than intermediate cartridges like the .308 Winchester, but not quite leviathan enough to cause Liam Neeson to start freaking out and releasing IT instead of a Kraken or something even more menacing, such as a .375 H&H or .458 Winchester Magnum.
But notwithstanding its bigger, more brutish bolt-action predecessors, the Savage MSR-10, in .338 Federal, fields a round that is capable of sending a lot of hurt down range, en masse, courtesy of a 10-round or 20-round AR-10-based magazine. As a bonus, it also sports the moniker ‘Caliber-Multi’ on its lower receiver that denotes it has the capacity to be re-barreled in order to fire other AR-10-class rounds like the .308 Winchester and the 6.5 Creedmoor.
The MSR-10 Hunter sports a Blackhawk! Knoxx AR Pistol Grip complimented with a multi-position Axiom Carbine stock, to which is attached a generous recoil-absorbing buttpad. The trigger is nickel-boron treated, the upper is topped with a Picatinny rail from stem to stern, and the stock is a free-floated proprietary ‘M-Lok’ design. Melonite-treated steel adds to the rifle’s rugged profile and resume. If you like a little peace and quiet (or just the quiet part), the rifle features an adjustable gas block and an 18-inch/5R rifle barrel threaded and ready for a suppressor.
The Optic: ACOG TA31
Hunting ice-age-sized predators that are capable of taking (and dishing out) massive amounts of damage is serious business, so I chose an optic I’ve used for years in law enforcement and while hunting in Alaska’s lowland/brush country: the Trijicon ACOG (Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight) TA31.
The ACOG is always there for you. Its design is rugged (for you Lord of the Rings fans, it may be manufactured from Mithril, it’s that tough), and the reticle is always lit up like the 4th of July (but greener) with the help of radioactive tritium and light-gathering fiber optics. In the event you need to stretch your rifle’s legs, some ACOG models sport a reticle pattern capable of taking the lead you throw all the way across state lines…or at least to the 1,000-yard marker.
The Rifle: Two Roles/Two Tests
During its stay in Alaska, the MSR-10 Hunter was destined for two separate trials: ‘Bar-huntin’ (that’s ‘bear hunting’ to all of my friends in the lower 48) followed by a day or two of range testing.
The first evaluation phase would involve putting the rifle through its paces in ‘Bush-Alaska’ on a close-quarter brown bear hunt. This hunt would test whether or not the .338 Federal Savage rifle could ‘Put its muzzle where its mouth was’ and live up to the ‘Hunter’ portion of its title.
Since the rifle would be employed in a danger-close environment, range day one was engineered for one purpose: gearing up for a fight. A fight that would consist of hunting and harvesting an Alaskan brown/grizzly bear at a distance of 25 yards or closer…and not from a tree-stand or hunting-blind.
Because that’s what sissies do. And also anyone that orders a coffee that has more than two parts to its name (ie: Coffee-Black vs. Chi-Soy-Latte-Machiatto-Hello Kitty-Pumpkin Spice-Dolce).
Range Day 1 / Bear Hunting Prep
I arrived at the range ready to shoot. Before I could fully assume my ‘steely-eyed, consummate shooting professional’ persona and send the first round down-range, however, I was approached by an on-duty range officer and a shooter from another table with questions about the freshly unboxed MSR-10 Hunter. They noticed it was an AR-10-based rifle, but their curiosity was even more piqued by the .338 Federal boxes accompanying the rifle on the shooting bench. I’m pretty sure if there was an 11th commandment in the bible that read, “Thou shalt not covet and/or greedily eyeball the gun of the guy next to you,” these fellas would be found in gross violation. Aside from the aforementioned rifle-envy, we had a nice talk, and they both agreed the rifle, combined with the .338 Federal cartridge, seemed extremely capable.
After they departed, I set up my gear and it was time.I sighted the rifle in with the round I planned to use for the brown bear hunt, the 200-grain Federal Premium ‘Trophy Copper’ round. These rounds take to the air from the muzzle at approximately 2,700 fps (mileage may vary by barrel length, etc.) and deliver a whopping 3,237 foot pounds of energy from right out of the gate/barrel.
Although I would be doing battle with my toothy nemesis at 30 yards and in, I zeroed the rifle at 100 yards. From the 100-yard line, the rifle put a big dopey grin on your author’s mug. It only took a mere three sighter rounds to walk my way into a portion of the target I call the “close enough for Alaska work” area. This happy occasion was followed by the delivery of a 1¼-inch group at 100 yards. The weapon’s trigger was smooth and the break over reminiscent of some of the higher-end AR-based platforms I’ve shot or utilized for my work over the years.
I then fired the weapon at 25 yards and 50 Yards. The hold-over for these distances was negligible…approximately 1.5 inches at 50 yards and three inches at 25 yards. *AUTHOR’S NOTE ON ‘HOLD-OVER’: Since your author is a simpleton in all things math or with words and phrases like ‘coefficient’ or ‘minute of angle,’ the way I visualized ‘hold-over’ for this hunt was as follows: In the event I found myself in the unhappy position of being 25 yards away from an extremely agitated bear staring at me like I was made of ham and Reese’s Cups, my chances of becoming a not-so-happy meal could be abated if I placed my reticle at the top of his ample-sized melon, thusly putting the bullet impact squarely in my adversary’s schnoz/nose area.
The felt recoil for the .338 Federal MSR-10 was remarkably light and akin to its more diminutive .308 Caliber semi-automatic AR-10 cousins. Of more importance to your author was an instant familiarity with the rifle’s trigger, operation, and ergonomics. I’ve utilized an M-16 /AR-variant platform for 33 years during a combined career as a member of the U.S. Armed Forces and as a state and federal law enforcement officer. From the Colt M-16 A-1 to the Colt Submachine Gun and M-4, I’ve “had one with” throughout almost my entire public-service career.
And I’m here to tell you, familiarity does not breed contempt when it comes to being able to operate a weapon system under less-than-ideal conditions. Like engaging in a confined-space gunfight with multiple assailants, or when being charged down by a furry, toothy, claw-equipped, possibly hungry, and definitely up-armored, 800-pound land shark.
When the bear hunting range session was over, I felt upbeat about the MSR-10. The rifle was accurate, reliable, powerful, and capable. And this was a good thing, because in a few days, it would be time to gear up and head to Alaska’s rugged Kenai Peninsula and put the MSR-10 Hunter in harm’s way.
CQB (Close Quarter Bear) Hunting With The MSR-10 Hunter On The Kenai Peninsula
Jay, my trusted hunting brother who resides on the Kenai Peninsula, had plans for me and the Savage MSR-10. Earlier this spring, he registered and set up a bait station in anticipation of a spring brown bear hunt.
Due to work considerations, I had a two-day window of opportunity to harvest a bear. But this is what Alaskans do on their weekends, so I snagged my gear, trailered up an ATV, and moseyed on down to the Kenai Peninsula from Anchorage (not a chore, as the scenery on this route makes one feel like he is in his own Nat-Geo documentary).
Upon arrival in the Soldotna/Kenai area, I met with Jay and consolidated our gear onto the ATVs. We then bounced, traversed, and winched across two hours worth of mudholes, unimproved trails, and bogs to the bait-station. We arrived in the late afternoon and found it to be completely devoid of any ‘Scooby,’ or more precisely, ‘Yogi-Snacks.’ Sadly, the once goody-laden site had been thoroughly and ravenously pilfered by our quarry. But we were prepared for this eventuality, and within an hour, our ursine kitchen was up, running, and ready for business. Thanks to Jay’s foresight, when prepping-up, we loaded our ATVs with the equivalent of a commercial trash dumpster-full of expired foodstuffs graciously donated by local stores and restaurants.
And let me tell you something. While Jay and I have never attended culinary school, we transformed a decapitated beer keg and a fifty-gallon drum into a sugary cornucopia of stale doughnuts and other pastries. For the second course, we added a savory heap of bear-booty comprised of three 50-lb. bags of dog food. While the doughnuts were of the day-old variety, the dog food could accurately be classified as slightly more than day old (in fact, what year did the Battle of San Juan Hill take place?).
We then confirmed the steel drum and beer keg were secured to a stout tree with a length of King-Kong-gauge logging chain and we were ready for business.
Jay and I hunted until the light began to fade, then tip-toed out of the area and holed up in a remote cabin several miles from the bait station to get some shut-eye. And we enjoyed all four hours of it, because during springtime in Alaska, darkness falls at 11:30 p.m. and then it’s all sunshine/wakey-wakey-eggs and bakey again at 3:30 a.m.
We arrived back at the bait station just after dawn. We stashed our ATVs a good distance from the day-old-doughnuts-and-dog-food bistro and cautiously made our way into our “hide.” This “hide” was simply a respectable depression formed behind a large spruce tree that had fallen away from the bait station. We were afforded protection from the rear by its sizeable root-ball and a perfect view to the bait station directly in front of us.
As Jay and I sat on our deluxe five-gallon paint buckets approximately 25 yards from the bait station, it occurred to me that while Yogi Bear may have been smarter than the average bear, he was rather ham-handed (or salami, or smoked turkey, or pastrami, or other delicious lunchmeat-handedness of your choosing) when it came to lifting picnic baskets (pronounced ‘pick-a-nick’ by outdoor enthusiasts who want to sound ‘street’) from unsuspecting campers. But from a tactical standpoint, Yogi had an even greater flaw: the inability to be stealthy.
A shortcoming that was not shared by the 500-lb. adult brown bear now sliding by Jay and me as smoothly and silently as a wraith 15 yards to our right. This bear’s silence was an anomaly, because in many instances, when characterizing a large brown or grizzly bear’s movement into an area where there is a potential food source or threat, “sliding” is an extremely uncharacteristic descriptor.
Unlike its smaller cousin, the black bear, brownies and grizzlies are notoriously crass and brutish critters with no respect for noise ordinances or the most common rules of etiquette. Whereas black bears tend to be frighteningly silent, with stalking skills akin to members of the big-cat family such as the leopard and mountain lion, browns and grizz are more like cast members from the movie Animal House. (Looking at you, Bluto.)
In my experience, when a bear of the ‘brown’ variety (no offense to any cinnamon-phase black bears out there) moves into an area with a potential food source or adversary, they quite often do so with serious panache…they snort, they huff, they grunt, and sometimes they even break things. Quite simply, black bears are the ninjas of the ursine world, almost always following their own proprietary Bushido Code of stealth and silent professionalism, whereas brown and grizzly bears, well, let’s just say it like it is: They wouldn’t make the Dean’s List at Emily Post’s School of Etiquette and Daintiness.
I held the MSR-10 at low ready, nudged Jay (he was monitoring another path of ingress into our clearing and did not initially observe the approach of our sneaky new neighbor), and we both became an attentive audience as the bear stopped just shy of the bait station and began to turn in circles. As the bear completed several 360-degree turns, it sniffed the air excitedly and scanned its surrounds for potential usurpers to its new-found day-old-doughnut oasis.
Although the bear exhibited physical traits and aggressive tendencies indicative of a boar (appearance, posture, and the manner in which it stormed into the area without pause or a care in the world before taking up station directly on a major cache of sweets and other ursine delights), we stayed our hand. Jay and I thoroughly scanned the area around us and maintained a vigil on the bruin to ensure it wasn’t a sow with cubs. When we were satisfied our bear was solo, Jay looked at me and indicated he was ready for go-time. He held his compound bow at the ready (Jay was originally going to back me up with a butterfly knife and a rolled-up copy of Cosmo magazine until I told him I’d make him the cover art for this article), and I went into a combat crouch. I ensured I had a sufficient amount of holdover to clear a log and brambles separating the short 20-yard distance to the bear, and settled the reticle of my ACOG on the bear’s chest. The shot was not ideal, as the bear was facing directly towards us. After I settled in for a potential shot, the bruin may have scented us a bit, as it began to display a smidgen of agitated behavior.
This restlessness proved to be its undoing. The bear iconically stood to its full height on on its hind legs, snorted, then dropped to all fours and abruptly turned to stare slightly to our left. This afforded me a respectable quartering shot. I pushed the trigger on the Savage and sent a round, at a slight angle, directly between the bruin’s front quarters and through its right lung. The bear immediately spun in several complete circles and did what angry apex predators commonly do when injured: it perused the area for something or somebody to fang and claw into a gooey pile of pulled-pork/shredded beef.
But before we get to what happens to Jay, your author, the bear, or some combination thereof, it’s probably a good time to discuss the importance of follow-up shots on dangerous game. Please ‘bear’ with me (cue the Three Stooges “Wa-Waa-Waaaah” sound effect for that one) while I try to explain. I’ve always had a penchant for flying in, rappelling from, or hanging (usually right-side up) under rotary-wing aircraft. I am equally passionate about spending quality time with some of my best, lifelong friends, who, coincidentally, are healthcare professionals. But, if I must carry my own spleen and/or liver several miles to the closest suitable life-flight helicopter landing zone to make either one of the aforementioned happen, I believe I’ll choose the opt-out selection on THAT blood and/or other body-fluid-coated drop-down menu.
The hard fact is that grizzly/brown bears rarely go down on your first shot, no matter how devastating or precise the impact, and are capable of inflicting severe, even fatal punishment upon their transgressors. So when it comes to follow-up shots on big bears, my advice is, “What are you waiting for, Christmas?!”
I placed the ACOG reticle center-mass on the enraged, gyrating bear and prepared to make an immediate follow-up shot.
I didn’t have to wait long. After the brown bear’s second or third spin, it stopped for just a moment and showcased a perfect broadside profile. I took that shot, the 200-grain copper-solid round connected with a solid “THWOP” (I could swear I heard Jay say something that sounded like “ouch”), and the bear immediately started to evac the area in long, shambling strides. I sent a third shot down-range and again connected with a “THWOP!” This time I didn’t hear Jay say anything, but I did look for a cartoon graphic sound-effect bubble above the bear reminiscent of the ones in the 1960s Batman television series. This shot also hit in the chest/lung area of the bear. The brown bear stammered away and disappeared into a stand of ground cover and over a slight grade approximately 20 yards from where it was struck.
As with any bear Jay and I have been granted the privilege of harvesting during our time in Alaska, we waited for approximately one hour before tracking it. We err on the side of caution, because bears of all species can be formidable opponents. These remarkable predators can soak up massive amounts of damage and incur devastating wounds while still retaining the ability to give an over-anxious/under-patient hunter an unfortunate lesson in why trauma surgeons require a decade of training to ply their trade.
An older, experienced (but more importantly scar-free/appendages intact) bear-hunting guide and friend regaled me years ago with several stories regarding tough bears and close calls. Suffice it to say, I always heed his most important piece of advice: “Give it time.”
After the hour ticked by, we checked our equipment, then slowly and quietly began following the bear’s track. In our experience, many wounded bears don’t leave a significant blood trail at first (or sometimes ever), due to their voluminous body fat. In some instances, even in spring bears, this fat is so thick it resembles blubber. This thick, rubbery tissue virtually emulates a run-flat tire when it comes to stopping leakage from a wound. But this bear’s lungs were on the receiving end of potentially three 200-grain .338 Federal rounds.
Our initial observation of arterial blood coating the ground willow around our newly created crime scene was an encouraging indication that the harvest of this brown bear would likely prove to be swift and humane.
We didn’t have to track the bear far. Our bruin expired almost the minute we lost sight of it on the backside of the slight terrain divot. If the bear was, in fact, dead, the total time of the engagement, from the first shot until the bear succumbed to the three MSR-10 Hunter rounds was approximately 10 seconds.
But first we had to ensure that the brownie was, indeed, dead, because many bear hunters who have gone before us learned the hard way that sometimes, just like an ex-sweetheart, your nemesis is faking it.
Our approach protocol on any downed bear is conducted in the same measured, practiced method. A method which is going to sound to the reader like a slightly breathier version of a 1950s duck-and-cover-type PSA (Public Service Announcement):
- Observe (the dead bear, or the possibly not-so-dead-but-really-super-vexed-and-faking-it-bear)
- Stop (that’s it…just stop)
- Point (your actual weapon, not a finger-gun while making pew-pew sounds in an effort to ensure to your hunting buddy that you are absolutely fearless in the face of mortal danger)
- Think (about whether your will is current and up-to-date and also how silly marking the ‘yes’ box on that organ donor section of your driver’s license application will seem if your bear is playing dead so he can employ those razor-sharp claws and play a game of tee-ball with one of your kidneys)
- Remain (pointed in, because just like the Rolling Stones so aptly put it, “T-i-i-ime, Is On Your Side”)
- Point (your weapon some more, because seriously, it was probably expensive and this is your one chance to pose with it in a location other than in front of the bathroom mirror, in your undies, while reciting ‘tough-guy’ movie lines from the 80s)
- Throw (something at it—a rock, a tree branch, a protein bar, but only if you have adequate backup).
- Confirm (that the bear didn’t side-eye you when you bounced something off its melon)
- Approach (with weapon shouldered like you are the lead element of the team stalking up to UBL’s Abbottabad compound in the movie Zero-Dark-Thirty)
- Confirm (with absolute certainty that the animal is now a target audience for the self-help book “Handbook for the Recently Deceased” from the Beetlejuice franchise)
- Obey (the final component of the Jay/Rikk dangerous game approach protocol: Upon confirmation the bear is dead, DO NOT high-five, let out a rebel yell, and prance about like a boob, reminiscent of some of the overly celebratory doofuses you see on television hunting shows, or a hysterical contestant on The Price is Right who just won a 1978 Gremlin and a shower curtain. Just show a little respect for the animal you have been afforded the privilege to pursue and harvest and ask yourself one question: What Would Chuck Norris Do?)
If you follow the Jay/Rikk “Potentially Wounded but Hopefully Dead Dangerous Game Approach Protocol,” we personally guarantee you will have an 80 percent chance of walking away from your bear hunt with the same number of limbs and appendages you set out with.
Jay and I followed the protocol and confirmed our adversary was as dead as Julius Caesar. Our brown bear was a barren sow, and later measurements confirmed the bear squared out at seven feet, three inches in length. The MSR-10 Hunter proved to be a highly accurate, capable weapon for this hunt. The .338 Federal cartridge performance was also to be lauded. The first round (quartering) devastated the bear’s right lung longitudinally, and the two follow-up shots (broadside) double-lunged the bear and definitively sealed the deal.
This wasn’t our first rodeo, and with Jay’s expertise and my stunning good looks, we had the bear skinned and dressed in 58 minutes (I know this because Jay has this Ralphy’s dad from the movie A Christmas Story thing about timing the skinning-out process).
We repeated our muddy/soggy ATV trip back to our rig and completed the necessary paperwork for the fine folks at the Alaska Department of Fish and Game and I was wheels-up and headed home.
Home. The place where those who love you are waiting to give you a hug, squeeze, or generous portion of tail-wagging to let you know how much they missed you.
The place you return to from danger when your tactics are sound, friends reliable, and weapon capable.
Final Test: Could I Get That To Go (To The 300-Yard Line) With An Order Of Extra-Dirty, Please?
Before the MSR-10 Hunter began the long trek back to the lower 48, it was put through one more round of range work. This time, I attached a 1-6.5x24mm Elite Tactical optic sent to me by the kind folks at Bushnell and ranged the rifle out to the 300-yard line. Now, I have no idea what the 5R rifling hype is all about (mainly because it has to do with math and physics and stuff), but it obviously came into play at the 100- to 300-yard lines, because the rifle performed exceedingly well, given sporadic wind gusts and your author’s caffeine level.
At 100 yards, the rifle printed back-to-back ¾- and 1-inch groups (affectionately referred to as “The Twins”) using the Federal Premium Grade Copper rounds. At 200 yards, it opened up and scored a 2-inch shot string, and at 300 yards, printed a respectable 3¼-inch trio. These groups were fired using the Federal Premium 200-grain Copper rounds used earlier on the bear hunt. Several other rounds were fired during this phase, of which the 185-grain Fusion MSR also performed admirably. The Fusion MSR three-hole punched the target with a 1¼-inch group at 100 yards.
After the serious range work was done, I shot an additional 100 rounds at steel from the 300-yard line like a man possessed (and also late for dinner), and I did it dirty. No cleaning, no lube, not even a kind word, and the rifle ran, and ran, until my ammo supply was depleted and the 300-yard gong was in serious need of a face lift.
That’s A Wrap!
And with that, it was time for goodbye. As I boxed up the rifle, I mentally reviewed the good, the bad, and the ugly. The good column was infinitely longer than the latter two. During my time with the MSR-10 Hunter, your author experienced only one bump in the road. That bump occurred during the first 30 rounds to go down range from the newly unboxed rifle.
The Mag-Pul 10-round magazine included with the rifle performed flawlessly, but I had three consecutive failures to feed with a newly purchased Mag-Pul P-Mag 20-round magazine. I found this to be an anomaly, however. After experiencing the failures to feed, I left the magazine fully loaded for several weeks and continued to break the rifle in with the Mag-Pul 10-round magazine. During the final range session, I fired nearly 120 rounds (with a purposefully, even sinfully, uncleaned rifle) without a single act of intransigence by the now-broken-in 20-round magazine or buffer spring. My take on this hiccup was that the fresh, out-of-the-box rifle needed to go through a shooting evolution or two in order to season the super-beefy buffer spring on the rifle, as did the tight new Mag-Pul 20-round magazine.
In the final analysis, the Savage MSR-10 Hunter performed exceptionally well and illustrated it was capable of taking large, dangerous game effectively and humanely. I’ll admit, as a somewhat traditional rifle/handgun/muzzleloader hunter, I experienced a few reservations about hunting an Alaskan brown bear with an AR-based rifle. But now? Well, remember the old adage, “It’s not what they think about you when you enter a room—it’s what they think when you walk out.”
Exactly.
And that is the story of the Savage MSR-10 Hunter’s Alaskan adventure. A fully capable North American big-game rifle combining reliability, accuracy, and to those who have served, a familiarity in the field (or back-country) that almost makes you feel like…well…like you are cheating.
Savage Arms MSR-10 Hunter Rifle Specs
- SKU Number: 22919
- MSRP: $1,481.00
- Action: Semi-Auto
- Barrel Length: 18″
- Caliber: .338 Federal
- Magazine Capacity: 20 Rounds (detachable box)
- Overall Length: 35″–39″
- Weight: 7.8 lbs.
- Receiver Color: Black
- Receiver Finish: Matte
- Receiver Material: Aluminum 7075
- Stock Color: Black
- Stock Finish: Matte
- Length of Pull: Adjustable
- Stock Material: Synthetic
- For more information: www.SavageArms.com
