What's was the most disconcerting thing involving a gun you ever saw?

[Dale00]

When I was 18 I had a job delivering ice. One of the businesses was a convenience store on an Air Force base. They were closed but the ice vending machine was outside. Something set off a silent alarm in that store. While I was absorbed in filling that vending machine an MP silently slipped up on me. Suddenly I'm staring straight down the barrel of a revolver and being told to drop what I'm holding. Next I'm spread-eagled leaning against a wall while the MP's partner is cursing and threatening to mess me up if I try anything. Made a major impression on me. I knew next to nothing about guns at that point in my life but the picture of that revolver was burned in my memory.

The weird thing was that much later as I got interested in guns is that I came to believe that it had to have been a 357 magnum. On another discussion board I found a thread for former Air Force MP's. I posted an inquiry about what would have been the caliber of revolver used in that period of time....yep, 357 magnum (but not a Colt Trooper like I had guessed).

 

[John6185]

The only time I had a gun that I think was pointed at me was when I was about12-13 years old and the neighbor kids and I were stealing watermelons. We had just pick a few nice ones and one of the other kids yelled, "There's the farmer." Well I heard a shot from a shotgun and dropped the melon and took off running scared. There was this barbwire fence but it presented n problem for a small wiry kid, I hit the ground running and slid on my belly under that fence and was on my feet still truckin'. I ran at least a mile and was still running when the other kids somehow had beat me and were hiding behind a bush and they hollered at me and I slowed down to a stop. We never went back to that farmer's watermelon patch again. And that's a true story.

 

[Snattlerake]

I had all but forgotten the time I actually was shot and "hit". I was quail hunting with a friend. (some friend) He was to my left and we were approaching this little gully in the pasture we were hunting. I went down into the gully first and apparently scared up a covey. Being in the gully they went straight up then every which way. I heard a "GDamn!" then a BOOM! My hat flew off my head! When my friend saw me aiming at his head about ready to return fire he threw down his shotgun and raising his hands said "SORRY! SORRY! SORRY!"

Sucker screwed up a good cowboy hat.

 

[THAT Gurl]

I had all but forgotten the time I actually was shot and "hit". I was quail hunting with a friend. (some friend) He was to my left and we were approaching this little gully in the pasture we were hunting. I went down into the gully first and apparently scared up a covey. Being in the gully they went straight up then every which way. I heard a "GDamn!" then a BOOM! My hat flew off my head! When my friend saw me aiming at his head about ready to return fire he threw down his shotgun and raising his hands said "SORRY! SORRY! SORRY!"

Sucker screwed up a good cowboy hat.

 

[bubbaturbo]

I was walking around the woods trying to locate some feral hogs that I was pretty sure were on the property. I ungraciously and very loudly descended a cut in the side of a 7 or 8 foot creek bank and was standing in the dry creek bottom, sorting myself out and practicing my vocabulary, when I saw about 25 of them running across the creek 100 yards upstream. I got off a quick shot at the last one but missed. I started to go on across the creek bed when I heard something running. I guess my shot impacting the creek bank behind the hogs turned them and they ran down the creek bank towards me and then came down the same cut in the bank I had just come down. I had pigs run by on both sides of me a foot or two away. I was a rock in a river of pork. I just stood there thinking I was dead or at the least I was gonna get cut. They crossed the creek and kept going and I gave up hunting for the rest of the day.

 

[dennishoddy]

When in High School, Terry Foster and I went quail hunting along the Salt Fork river South of Ponca City. Quail were plentiful and we shot most of a limit running out of shotshells.
Walking back to my 55 ford, we saw another vehicle parked next to ours. Two Native American brothers along with an older white guy drinking lime vodka (bottle in hand) had the back doors open(nobody locked their car doors then) and had recovered the .22 hex barrel pump rifle laying in the back seat.
We walked up and told them to put the gun down and GTF away. The older brother fired a shot into the tank of the pump jack and then turned the rifle on us, telling us to get in the car and put our guns down. It was fully loaded. (the .22 rounds were bought from a drum of loose .22 rounds at a discount store in Ponca. A truck carrying them was in an accident and the shells were covered in diesel fuel so they were sold by the pound in that store.)
Terry started cussing him, and he fired a shot from the back door of the 4 door at Terry's back but it hit a spring and ricocheted into an English Lit book I had on the floor board.
Then he pumped in a new round, stuck it to my temple and pulled the trigger. Snap.......
Dud round possibly to being contaminated by the diesel fuel.
Amazing how your entire life goes before your eyes in the second when the gun was applied and the trigger pulled.
I grabbed the barrel while he was pumping in a new round and told Terry we have to fight. I was 145 lbs at that time and Terry was just a bit bigger but we were both on the HS wrestling team. Opponents were both 200 lb plus and drunk. We got them down and Terry got the keys of their vehicle hanging out of the oldest brothers back pocket. We ruffed them up a bit, and ran back to my vehicle getting the heck out of there.
Up the road was a farmhouse so we stopped in there. Guy called the Sheriff who showed up about 30 minutes later. Driving down there, the two brothers were butt stroking the older white guy with my rifle while he laid on the ground.
Deputy pulled on them and got control of the situation.
Both brothers got 90 some years in the can and we got that rifle back a year after the trial. It's never misfired again. One time only.
I spent years waking up with nightmares watching a bullet come down a barrel, seeing the rifling as it was spinning toward me in slow motion. I would wake up right when it hit the end of the barrel in a sweat.
Went away after a couple of years. I could never talk about it to anyone.
The 90 year sentence was negated a few years later and the brothers released from big Mac when the court ruling giving native Americans sovereign nation status. Court ruled they were arrested illegally on native land.
Family was scared they would come after us, but it never happened.

 

[dennishoddy]

The second big gun event was when pheasant hunting with a group. Half the group went to the other end of the field to act as blockers while those of us with dogs acted as pushers.
Right at the end of the field with a tree row at the end of it the birds started coming up. I swung on a bird and right at pulling the trigger the front bead was on the head of my best buddy's dad who was the only one not wearing fluorescent orange and was in camo.
The thought that I could have shot him was freighting. Since that day, I don't hunt upland without everybody wearing orange of some sort. Hat, vest or what ever.

 

[FrankNmac]

Wow, that is a hell of a story!

When in High School, Terry Foster and I went quail hunting along the Salt Fork river South of Ponca City. Quail were plentiful and we shot most of a limit running out of shotshells.
Walking back to my 55 ford, we saw another vehicle parked next to ours. Two Native American brothers along with an older white guy drinking lime vodka (bottle in hand) had the back doors open(nobody locked their car doors then) and had recovered the .22 hex barrel pump rifle laying in the back seat.
We walked up and told them to put the gun down and GTF away. The older brother fired a shot into the tank of the pump jack and then turned the rifle on us, telling us to get in the car and put our guns down. It was fully loaded. (the .22 rounds were bought from a drum of loose .22 rounds at a discount store in Ponca. A truck carrying them was in an accident and the shells were covered in diesel fuel so they were sold by the pound in that store.)
Terry started cussing him, and he fired a shot from the back door of the 4 door at Terry's back but it hit a spring and ricocheted into an English Lit book I had on the floor board.
Then he pumped in a new round, stuck it to my temple and pulled the trigger. Snap.......
Dud round possibly to being contaminated by the diesel fuel.
Amazing how your entire life goes before your eyes in the second when the gun was applied and the trigger pulled.
I grabbed the barrel while he was pumping in a new round and told Terry we have to fight. I was 145 lbs at that time and Terry was just a bit bigger but we were both on the HS wrestling team. Opponents were both 200 lb plus and drunk. We got them down and Terry got the keys of their vehicle hanging out of the oldest brothers back pocket. We ruffed them up a bit, and ran back to my vehicle getting the heck out of there.
Up the road was a farmhouse so we stopped in there. Guy called the Sheriff who showed up about 30 minutes later. Driving down there, the two brothers were butt stroking the older white guy with my rifle while he laid on the ground.
Deputy pulled on them and got control of the situation.
Both brothers got 90 some years in the can and we got that rifle back a year after the trial. It's never misfired again. One time only.
I spent years waking up with nightmares watching a bullet come down a barrel, seeing the rifling as it was spinning toward me in slow motion. I would wake up right when it hit the end of the barrel in a sweat.
Went away after a couple of years. I could never talk about it to anyone.
The 90 year sentence was negated a few years later and the brothers released from big Mac when the court ruling giving native Americans sovereign nation status. Court ruled they were arrested illegally on native land.
Family was scared they would come after us, but it never happened.

 

[dennishoddy]

Wow, that is a hell of a story!

I still remember it like it was yesterday.

 

[KurtM]

Worked in Bolivia in the early 90,s doing mining. We were late on pay roll and the miners were getting a bit mad. One evening i was talking to a bunch of them and one guy up and says i think we will just take you hostage untill we are paid and pointed an M2 carbine at me. He had been standing around with it for a while and i already had made my mind up that if he got jiggy he would be the first one i shot. When he up and pointed it at me i drew my 45.... That was the day they found out the gringo carried a pistola..... As the front sight settled on his nose, he was almost at contact distance, something in his eyes said i didn't need to shoot. I had already planed to shoot, but just something said not to. They had all been drinking and i found out the next day they had no ammo at all and he even tried to sell me the Carbine, but I was a broke as they were. A week latter a guy drove down from La Paz with cash to pay everyone off and we had a huge party! Glad i didn't shoot him, but after that they all knew i had a 1911. Tipuanni Bolivia was a happening place in the 90,s what with the drug trade and mining! Cocain y oro!