Lesson: Train before you pack a gun
Across Ohio, thousands of men and women are eager to be armed
March 28, 2004
by Patricia Meade
BOARDMAN — "Hold up your trigger finger, look at it and tell yourself: This is my gun's safety."
Firearms instructor Bob Magnuson's words echoed in my head as I stood in front of the bedroom mirror and practiced drawing my .357-caliber Magnum Ruger from its brand-new holster. The natural inclination was to put my right index finger on the trigger (instead of alongside it) as I pulled out the gun.
Practice included keeping my finger away from the trigger as I slid the gun back into the holster on my hip without looking at it. Visions of Billy the Kid popped into my head, though he was wearing leather chaps, not Tweety pajamas like me.
"Concealed carry means you have to draw from a holster, kind of like the Old West gunfights," I could hear Magnuson saying inside my head. "You can't ask the bad guy to wait."
My six-shot revolver wasn't loaded that night, but it would be the next day when I, along with 24 others, had to demonstrate for Magnuson that we could safely handle and shoot our firearms.
If I didn't keep my finger off the trigger until ready to fire at a target and ended up shooting my right foot or Magnuson ("No. 1 rule on the firing range: Don't shoot Bob"), I'd flunk the 12-hour concealed-carry training course.
Across Ohio, thousands of men and women are training with a firearms instructor certified by either the National Rifle Association or Ohio Peace Officer Training Commission. Magnuson, a sergeant with the Canfield Police Department and commander of the Mahoning Valley Law Enforcement Task Force, is OPOTC certified.
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What's behind this
The concealed-carry law takes effect April 8, when those seeking a license can apply at their local sheriff's department. Sheriffs will announce what days and hours they'll process license applications.
In the meantime, the rush is on to obtain training, the first step in the process.
Those taking the mandated 12-hour course, split over two days, come from all walks of life with one goal: They want to carry a gun for self-defense.
My class at the Shooting Gallery on Southern Boulevard had 21 men and four women. Among us was a bail-bondsman, package delivery driver, surveyor, state employee, antiques dealer, contractor, two pipe fitters, machinist, taxi driver, saleswoman, public works employee and more. All of us had fired a gun before.
On my right sat Phyllis Chapel of Boardman with her .40-caliber Smith & Wesson semiautomatic. The class was a family affair that included her husband, Mike, and their 26-year-old son, Matt.
"I'm on the road all day and go into a lot of offices in Youngstown," said Phyllis, a 52-year-old saleswoman for DeBald, an office supply company on Wick Avenue. "I'm thinking of getting one of those purses that has a special section for a gun."
Phyllis and I traded weapons in an exercise Magnuson termed "You show me yours, I'll show you mine." The idea was for the class to learn how to safely handle both a revolver and a semiautomatic.
I prefer a revolver, which is good, because I realized mastering the slide action on a semiautomatic would take a lot of practice.
Like a disposable camera, there's not much that goes into mastering a revolver — just point and shoot.
Many shooters prefer a semiautomatic because the magazine (clip, in slang) can hold more cartridges. Magnuson said it wouldn't be a good thing if we needed more than six shots to stop an aggressor.
He said cheap ammunition was OK for practice but suggested we buy quality (read that expensive) "defensive ammunition," preferably hollow point, to avoid a malfunction at an inopportune time. The ammo used in defense of life "needs to stop the threat," he said.
Be ready to kill
He asked each of us to consider if we could take the life of another human being and if we couldn't, the advice was to not carry a firearm. Hesitating in a combat situation could put our gun in the bad guy's hands.
He said there have been police officers who were unwilling to shoot when the time came and lost their lives because they hesitated. He showed a series of real-life police videos, taken from dash-mounted cameras, to graphically illustrate his point.
Our course, as required, was 10 hours of safety and the fundamentals of pistolcraft then two hours of live-fire training. Magnuson used a lot of humor to teach us the basics.
Holding his plastic gun close to his left temple, he crept near the classroom door — imitating the incorrect way most TV and movie cops move. Think about what would happen, he said, if the door opened, you got bumped and the gun fired into your head.
The correct gun choreography, we were told, was displayed in "Miami Vice," the 1980s TV cop show that starred Don Johnson. Remember how Sonny Crockett (Johnson) moved with the gun away from his body and how his arms locked straight when he fired?
Aside from learning to keep our finger off the trigger until ready to shoot, we were taught to treat all firearms as if they are loaded, to never aim at anything we were not willing to shoot and to be sure of our target and what's beyond it. Bullets that may travel beyond our target could hit innocent bystanders.
"When it comes to firearms, there's no second chance," Magnuson said. "You can't take the bullet back."
Magnuson, a sky diver, used sky diving as an analogy. Once out of the plane, a sky diver doesn't get a second chance to check his chute.
A handgun "can be a valuable tool in saving your life, but you must be proficient with it," Magnuson said. "If you're not, leave it at home."
He said a gunbattle, under obvious stress, lasts no more than two to three seconds. He told us to remember to grip our gun high and tight on the handle and then tighten our support hand (thumbs touching) for accuracy.
Magnuson talked about how practice would build muscle memory, which made a lot of sense to me. I thought about how, when I first began driving stick shift, I had to look down at the gear shift each time I wanted to switch gears. The more I drove, the less I looked until finally, it became second nature and I didn't look at all.
Pretty interesting stuff, muscle memory.
The uglier, the better
Before we headed to the firing range to qualify, Magnuson reviewed shooting stances such as isosceles and Weaver (named after the guy who invented it). The uglier the stance, the better, we were told.
To demonstrate ugly, Magnuson spread his feet apart, bent over, pushed his butt up and out, thrust his gun forward and locked his arms straight ahead.
He looked like an arthritic farmer milking a very tall cow.
On the range, we had to draw from our holsters and fire 38 rounds at silhouette targets that were first seven, then 12 and finally 21 feet away. To pass, shooters had to land 30 rounds inside the silhouette lines — head, chest or groin area.
None of us tried any quick draws because Magnuson had passed on legendary gunfighter Bat Masterson's advice: "Learn to be slow in a hurry." The object was to be smooth in a hurry, not fast and jerky.
Magnuson told us to stay away from head shots and aim for the central mass area — bigger targets are easier to hit. He explained that aiming two shots, one right after the other, would create the desired shock waves.
One shot causes an explosion inside the human body, which is mostly water, and sets off concentric ripples, Magnuson said. The second shot, hitting right after the first, sets off a violent "wave" of ripples and damages vital organs.
Phyllis, with her .40-caliber semiautomatic, had a perfect score, all 38 shots landing inside the silhouette lines. She grinned with obvious pride.
I scored a 36 with my six-shot revolver. I grinned with amazement.
I was happy that the two shots that hit outside the lines (barely out, really) still hit my imaginary bad guy and not the range ceiling, my right foot or Magnuson.
As a souvenir, we all got to keep our targets.
Phyllis hung her target up behind her desk at work.
So did I.
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