For the past two days it has rained its’ ass off here at glorious Camp Shelby, MS.  Which somehow seemed natural because I’ve spent the past two days on the firing ranges.  I don’t think I’ve ever been on an Army firing range in decent weather.  Hell, I’m not sure I know how to fire a weapon on a clear day.

And after six years of hanging out in the five sided play ground it seems I still gots it.  Of the 50+ or so of us that were firing our M-4 rifles Monday I was was one of three to actually qualify.  I’m pretty sure it was sheer luck since my optical sights fogged up and I missed half a dozen targets trying to get the lenses clear again.  Firing with a protective mask still is a royal pain, but I knocked enough of those down to pass.  Yesterday I qualified with the M-9 pistol.  It’s not the hand gun that my old .45 Colt was, but it’ll do in a pinch.  It felt like I was John Fucking Wayne watching the targets fall almost as fast as they popped up. 

Maybe all I needed to feel like a Soldier again was to be soaked to the bone, cold and have my nostrils filled with gun powder.  Like the man said, “The chow is hot and my morale is high.”  Now if I could just get my mail. . .