Holsters I Have Loved: BLACKHAWK! SERPA!

Why do people hate SERPAS so much?
(Full disclosure: my first SERPA was provided free by BLACKHAWK!, while my second was purchased at the gun shop. Both are gone now.)
I suspect that some of the Serpa hate is very sincere flattery being practiced as people imitate shooters and trainers they respect. But many reputable training schools actually ban the Serpa nowadays (with most willing to make exceptions for students who are issued Serpas by their employers.) But that's weird, right there, right? Why are there trainers banning Serpas in their classes while law enforcement agencies and entire military branches issue/mandate their use?

There are three basic issues that scare certain users away from the Serpa, all three documented, like all indisputably true things, on the internet:

1. If a grown man truly wants to deny you your sidearm, he can simply rip the Serpa holster off its paddle attachment. Presumably, at that point, he can draw it if he knows how, or he can throw it off in the distance. Either way, it will only end up as a funny story if you survive. Now, this is one of those things that a police officer or a soldier has to think about, and if we're being honest, I don't. When I carry a firearm openly, I'm generally on private property among friends. Notice the dichotomy? That's going to come up again.
2. If you need to use a sidearm in the mud, in the sand, or grappling with some dude on a gravel driveway, it is known that a small amount of crud that finds its way behind the retention-release lever can lock it up solid. The good news is that your pistol will not be taken and used against you. The bad news is that you will not use your pistol. I honestly don't know the odds of this happening, but they're not zero, and apparently it's not uncommon to see one lock up so badly that it literally has to be cut or broken off the pistol. Here comes that dichotomy again: I never once, in all the years I owned a Serpa holster, allowed it to get any dirtier than any of the other dusty stuff in the same drawer, so I never saw this problem for myself. But then . . .
3. The big one: I think it's hard to prove a causal link, but undeniably, several people have shot themselves while drawing from a Serpa holster. It would be even harder to prove, but if there's a holster that is statistically more dangerous to the user on the draw than on re-holstering, the Serpa is likely the only candidate. And it's possible, at least in my mind, that the Serpa is no more dangerous than other holsters in this regard. But a whole lot of people, most of them far more experienced and expert than I am, have concluded that there's something about using the trigger finger to press that lever on the draw that leads people to curl that finger inward, which leads to sheepish limping and application of direct pressure to gunshot wounds.

Now, here's where that dichotomy comes in: I never carried the Serpa with a serious worry about a gun-grab attack, so I never tested whether it could be ripped off the paddle plate. I never carried it in the dirty and gritty real world except on the range at the Gun Blogger Weekend where I saw one for the first time, and nobody was going to the ground there. And I'd like to say I never encountered a safety issue with my trigger finger going where it shouldn't on the draw, but I'm just not sure. I never had an accidental discharge with either of my Serpas, and I never noticed my trigger finger in an unsafe place. But does that mean it never happened, or that I was lucky enough not to shoot myself in the knee when it did? I honestly don't know. 

So . . . why do people love SERPAS so much?
Well, if you don't know about those three issues (and most Serpa users don't, I think) what's not to love? We're talking about an American-made, inexpensive, high-tech holster. The paddle attachment has much to recommend it, so much so that Dragon Leather Works uses it as the basis for their paddle holsters. The paddle is wide, the "claws" on the paddle just will not let go of your pants/belt, and although there are concerns about it breaking, Blackhawk's not alone there. I broke the paddle on my Comp-Tac International the very first time I tried to put it on; been running it with the belt slots ever since. I hear good things about Safariland's paddle system, but I haven't tried it for myself. If it's not a whole lot stronger, I'm tempted to try to develop a stronger, reinforced paddle attachment I can then sell off to holster makers. I think it could be worth tens of dollars, which might explain why makers haven't made that change themselves.
But I digress. Why do people love Serpas so much, aside from very low cost, availability in every gun shop across the land (right across the aisle from the FOBUS display) and the "Made in America" bonus? I can't speak for military or law enforcement procurement people, exactly, but I think the average guy with a Serpa carrying a 1911 in a Burger King or behind the counter of a gun shop is basically buying a feeling. Carrying a gun openly in public, or even on a private range or in competition if you're not used to it, can be an exposed and vulnerable feeling. Even with a concealed firearm, newly-minted CCL's are known for checking and re-checking, certain that the gun has shifted, been removed by a street urchin, or simply popped right out of the holster. It's not rational, but the feeling is real. A holster with a definite retention mechanism--one that's got a lever you have to push and everything--provides a feeling that I have Done Something About This. I have addressed the issue of my gun falling out of the holster in public or being snatched out of the holster by some robber who got the drop on me. Having Done Something About This, I can now stop worrying. I am allowed to feel better and go back to being comfortable. The fact that those worries are perhaps not all that practical (or, to be less kind, rational) doesn't really enter into this decision.

If you're reading this, and that description makes you uncomfortable, keep in mind that I'm saying that I felt that way about the Serpa. In fact, I wrote that last paragraph in the general 2nd person "you," and I just went back and put it in the first person just so that would be clear: I'm talking about me . . . and a lot of people I think are doing the same thing I was doing.


Why did you throw yours in the trash?
I try not to make decisions based on being fashionable on the internet, but I'm susceptible to influence just like anyone else except for Judge Mills Lane. No doubt, peer pressure squeezed and molded me as shooters, trainers and writers I respect weighed in with their verdicts on the Serpa. As trainers and training schools banned the Serpa, it also made sense to consider what the ones I was hanging onto were for--I wasn't going to wear them to those schools, right? And I wasn't going to be shooting the pistols they fit in competition . . . nor did I need a retention holster for that purpose. In fact, I had little use for a retention holster at all. The fact that I was switching pistols factored in, too; even if I did decide at some point in the future that I needed a retention holster with a paddle mount, I would still have to purchase another one, 'cause neither of the Serpas in my possession fit Glocks.

In the end, that was the deciding factor. I didn't need the Serpas for anything at the moment, and if I did find myself in need of a retention holster, I'd need to buy a new one--at which point, the Serpa would have to beat out other designs like the widely-recommended Safariland ALS series on a level playing field. These holsters just weren't for anything that I needed done anymore. I'm still honestly not terribly worried about the trigger finger issue, and if I were issued a Serpa for some kind of job, I'd make it work. But I'm not being issued one, and if there's even some danger in that retention mechanism, there's just not anything on the other side of the scale to balance it out for me.

(But you're not going to catch me pretending like I didn't think the Serpa was super-cool a few years ago, because dammit, the Serpa was super-cool a few years ago.)

Has anyone seen a 22 laying around lately?

Just kidding.

I didn't lose a .22, I lost 22. Pounds. In a little over a month.

And while I was smugly congratulating myself, JR from A Keyboard and a .45 was realizing that he's reached his weight-loss goal on his "Take Shape for Life" program. Check this out:I'm not ready to pay someone to help me lose weight (though I do use SlimFast shakes to fill in here and there.) At my current level of obesity, it's not hard to take the weight off. I eat 2000 calories or fewer per day and I walk or bike daily if I can. I also do pushups and bodyweight squats in the mornings. As I get lower on the scale, it'll get harder and harder, and if I really plateau at some point, I may decide to try the stuff JR used. It's hard to argue with his results.

Dave Hardy: Crazy Old Pirate

I love David Hardy. There. I've said it and I'm glad.

Security Theater Bredalucion Solidarity!

Update: Here's the link to the locks I mention later in the post.

Reading about Breda's experience being felt up by TSA agents* (and finding on the way back that they might stop at 2nd base if you tell them about your prosthetic leg up front--who says the system doesn't work) made me think about my experience traveling to the Blogger Weekend at the Training Facility Formerly Known as Blackwater. But when she found that all the intrusive, humiliating pretend-security had failed to locate her knife through the use of metal detectors, I felt true kinship. You see, I too have smuggled a deadly terrorist weapon into a secure area. The main difference is that mine was a .45 caliber pistol and ammunition and it went into checked baggage rather than carry-on.

I was sure I had written about this, but I can't find any mention of it other than this short teaser I put up as part of a wrap-up post after the trip:

Guessing game: Can the TSA's Reveal Imaging CT-80 scanner detect a steel/aluminum pistol and one box of ammunition packed in an ordinary pistol case? Place your bets; I'll tell you this evening.

Only, as near as I can tell, I never did tell anyone. Since this was before I acquired the Gun Blog .45, I was using my beloved SIG P220 as a carry gun. I had read the airline's regulations on transporting firearms quite carefully. I was to put the pistol, unloaded, into a locked hard case. The ammunition was to be packed in factory boxes, and I was to declare the firearm at the ticket counter, where I would be given a "declaration" form to fill out. Then, the luggage containing the case was to be taken to the security station, where I could declare it once more and the security professionals would open the case (I bought a specialized lock designed to be opened by TSA keys after being advised that I might be separated from my luggage and the TSA would cut my lock if they couldn't open it--leaving me on my own to find another lock, if I could, or be prohibited from flying with the firearm) and then add my declaration to the case before locking it again and sending my luggage on its way.

Flying with the firearm without the "declaration" form locked inside the case, I found, was considered a serious violation and could land me in a heap of trouble. But when I flew out of St. Louis, the process was no worse than the average professional dental tooth cleaning. It wasn't until the Blackhawk bus dropped me off at the Norfolk airport for my return that the ominously yellowish clouds appeared above the trailer park that was my evening. I declared my firearm and procured my declaration form without incident, then walked my overstuffed baggage about twenty feet to the right, where a grandfatherly gentleman with a kind smile was helping another customer. As soon as he'd finished putting the young lady's bags through the Reveal Imaging CT-80 scanner, he picked mine up and tossed it onto the conveyor.

"There's a firearm in that one, sir," I told him in chipper tones, "but I've got the declaration form here."

"OK, it'll set off the scanner, but we'll get it when it comes out." That sounded fair enough, but it was at this point that my phone rang, and I made the fatal error of answering it as the friendly old man turned to another traveler. I closed the phone and turned back just in time to see another highly-trained security professional pick up my bag and chuck it with considerable panache through the plastic curtain that led to the rear, "secure" area from which it would be loaded on the plane.
"Uh, that bag had a firearm in it! I need to put this declaration with it, don't I?" I asked with my charming midwestern naivete. His shrug was surly, yet expressive and soulful, and he turned and left without a word. I can only assume it was time for a coffee break and the union would have penalized him if he'd stayed to help. I turned to my friendly old man and explained to him that the bag with the firearm had just been panache-chucked into the loading area. I admitted that I hoped no one would think I was attempting to smuggle anything on board the plane. He considered my situation for a long moment, looking from me to the Reveal Imaging CT-80 scanner to the inscrutable plastic curtain as if checking my story and decided that I was telling the truth. He considered my options, the legal and ethical issues involved, and came up with an elegant solution:

"Well," he told me, "it didn't set off the scanner, so I guess it'll be OK."

We're all friends here, so I'm going to admit to a certain skepticism bordering on cynicism. The truth is, I thought he might be kidding. He was not, and he resented the implication. Words were exchanged, gestures were made, but he made no move to retrieve the bag. Strike two for Don. Eventually, I think it dawned on him that I must be very early for my flight and therefore would not sigh and go running for the gate soon, and he offered to get his supervisor. I very carefully and politely told him that I would appreciate it if he would do that for me. The supervisor, alas, did not find my predicament compelling.

"I mean," she allowed, looking up at me earnestly, "it made it through the scanner and didn't alert security, so it'll just get off at the next stop and you can get it then. Are you going to go nonstop from here?"
"Well, no, I have a stopover in Philadelphia first."
"OK, see, the luggage will go straight from plane to plane, so it probably won't go through security again. It'll be fine."
"Uh . . . right, but . . . if it does go through security, or I get caught with an undeclared .45-caliber pistol and ammunition on an airliner some other way, I'll be in Philadelphia. What do I tell them? The TSA supervisor in Norfolk said it'd be OK?"
The next moment was probably shorter than it seemed. There was silence and staring. I blinked, but I don't think she did. In retrospect, I wonder if the synchronizers on the gearshift of her mind were not a bit worn; she seemed to be having trouble downshifting. In the end, life unexpectedly animated her features and a smile spread across her face. She'd had an idea.

"Sir, would you like me to go get the bag out of the back so you can do the declaration?"

"I . . . would . . . appreciate that very much. Thank you."



*Google returns 37,700 results for "felt up by TSA agents." Just thought you should know.

Oh, Man, I've Been Waiting For This!

I bet you RSS users thought this was going to be about Blago being impeached, right?

Suckas.

No, Gun Nuts: The Next Generation is finally available on ITunes. That means I can put the episode on my Ipod and listen to it while I do something else. I use the Ipod for podcasts more than music nowadays; I like Writing Excuses (for writing advice from writers who actually sell their work for a living) and The Ultimate Podcast (for discussion of mixed martial arts competition from every possible angle.) I have a few others I cycle in and out, but those are the mainstays, aside from The Shooting Bench.

This would have been better news before I got my audio issues worked out, because back then I was still able to download podcasts and put them on the Ipod even though I couldn't listen at the computer. But I'm not complaining.

Actually, I do wonder how many people will really take advantage of this. I don't know how many listeners the show normally has, but for most of my friends, the chat is half the point, so you might as well be in front of your computer anyway. Personally, though, I plan to download the ones I missed. Tomorrow I'll listen to those while I'm working on the plumbing; that'll mask the caterwauling of My Bride's pseudo-country music station.

Ninjas and Topless Models? Tune In and Find Out.

Set Your DVR to Awesome.

Apparently, I'm going to be on TV tonight. Check out the Outdoor Channel to see the footage Michael Bane and Downrange TV shot at Blackwater with the bloggers (and me.)

Were there really ninjas in the trees?
Spies doing awkward judo behind every closed door?
Topless gun-calendar models wandering around?
Shirtless, sweaty SEALs rappelling down from shoot towers to bring Tam magazines?

If you don't tune in, you'll always wonder. Personally, I don't have cable TV, so I won't be watching. Luckily, Para was nice enough to send a DVD with our footage. You can also see all the segments (well, I think it's all of them) at the Downrange.TV link. So, in conclusion, I'm not going to watch it, but you totally should, because that in no way implies any value judgment of the show. I'm just too lazy to call a TV company. I have three rabbit-ear, fuzzy channels, and if I'm being honest, there's a good possibility I'll have zero channels in February because I just keep putting off calling.
On the other hand, I have a LOT of books and a high-speed internet connection.

Kane's OK

We put in a full day at the hospital, from about 9:00 to 3:30 or so in that bland little room, to find out that the kid's fine. Maybe a little constipated. Luckily, he had my Calvin and Hobbes collection and I had The Hunting Rifle by O'Connor. Even so, I admit it, I dozed. Extensively.

They tested for strep first, and by that time his temperature was back to normal. But it came back negative and his abdomen was still tender, along with nausea, and by that time they were telling me it just about had to be appendicitis. But the CAT scan showed nothing but, and I quote, "a lot of stool."

Lucky for the kid, none of his classmates read this stuff.

Kane was great; he drank the "contrast" concoction, got an IV inserted and blood drawn, and never complained once.

Oh, yeah, and I got an email from my FFL:

"I have it."

Very nice. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to get there and pick it up. I think dad might be ready for company this evening, and tomorrow's USPSA night. I'm not exactly sure I can get there and back on Friday, either, since I'll have to go after work but before I go on call. But it's no big deal; however long it takes, I'll just blame the FFL. :D

Don't Toy With Me, FFL-Man.

"I paid early last week. My wife said a gun arrived but I do not know which one since there are several arriving this week."

That's what my FFL sent me today in reply to my plea for news of the Gun Blog .45.

Argh.

Come to Daddy!

Just got an email from Kerby Smith at Para (GO HOME, KERBY, IT'S SUNDAY EVENING) to inform us that the the Gun Blog guns were shipped on Friday. They use overnight service, so theoretically, the gun should arrive at my FFL on Monday. Could it be?

Now I am as happy as a little girl.

Why, Shooters Are the Finest People In the . . . .

I've been thinking about this for a little while. You gunnies, have you ever been told that "Shooters are the finest people in the world. Most of 'em will share anything they've got with you and give you the shirt off their backs if you look like you need it."?

So have I, and generally, I've found it to be true. If I sat here and typed out a thanks to everyone who has helped me along the way, from my own parents and grandparents, to a good friend who took My Bride and I shooting when were in college and she wasn't My Bride yet and he wasn't really my friend yet (he set her up with scoped 10/22 shooting balloons at 10 yards. Prone. She was hooked) I could bore you to tears. Some of you know about the ParaUSA-sponsored weekend at Blackwater, and how SailorCurt and Laughingdog made it easier for a lot of us to get it into our budgets by offering free couches for the night. Yesterday, an email arrived out of the blue, entitled "Appleseed Project," from a shooter who lives near Evansville, Indiana. There's an Appleseed shoot there in November, and he's planning to go, he says, and if I'd like to go I'd be welcome to crash on his couch to make it cheaper.

Now, I hadn't thought about making it to that event, so I don't know that I'll want to go. But think about that offer for a second. This guy doesn't know me. He owes me nothing. I didn't ask him for anything. But it occurred to him that he had something I could use, so he thought he'd better make an offer. That's where the "Shooters are the best people you'll ever meet" line comes from. But I know that's not perfectly true.

Shooters are often great people, yes. But if you have fairly diverse interests, you've probably already spotted the hole in the logic. It's been my experience that most hobbies have the same saying in one form or another, and most hobbyists can back it up. Martial artists certainly say the same, and if you've ever been to a Throwdown, you'd have to believe it was true--here are a bunch of strangers from all over the country who rent a mat space, drive in on the appointed day and beat and thrash and crank and choke each other for a few hours, making each other laugh all the while. Then they take each other out to dinner and solve all the world's problems over beer. Best people in the world. Except that cyclists know that bike people are the best people you could meet. They'll share parts, tires, food, water . . . . they'll keep the new guy going on his first century . . . . they'll teach people into their clique. Local bike shop owners are more like your old friends than people from whom you buy stuff, so goes the legend, and in my experience so far it's been true. My parents are great collectors of junk antiques, and they're so far gone in their sickness that, far from content to feed their own merciless addiction to Hitler pincushions (bend Hitler over and stick pins in his ass--WWII produced a lot cooler stuff than "Nuke Osama Yo Mama" t-shirts) and sewing tape measures (shaped like everything under the sun) they've become pushers dealers themselves, traveling with a small trailer to shows on the weekends so they can feed the ravening beast within. They can tell you that "antiquers" are the best people in the world, and they can give you concrete examples.

So how does this all work? My theory is that most people are basically good. A lot of people say so; it's not exactly breaking new ground to say it. However, most of those people don't actually believe that most people are basically good; they just think it sounds nice to say it. When a bitter curmudgeon like me says something so completely, sickeningly Pollyanna as "Most people are basically good," though, you can take that to the bank if your bank has not collapsed and been converted into a coffee shop by its new management, the federal government. Anyway, if it were true that "most people are basically good," we would expect to see the results I've described--when you encounter people doing something they like to do, on their own free time, without the pressures placed on them by jobs, bosses, and other necessary evils, they generally appear to be the best people ever. They're happy, they're generous, and they're helpful. It's not the specific hobby these people happen to be engaged in at the moment; Geese-Juggling only seems like the most virtuous hobby to goose-jugglers because it's the window through which they view people at their best. If the goose-juggler branches out into Nude Tai Chi, or Chessboxing*, then he may notice that THOSE people appear to be just as happy, generous and helpful. Now, obviously, there are probably exceptions out there. I'm sure few people have ever said, "You know, snuff film actors and crew are the best folks you'll ever meet. What is it about this hobby that attracts such great people?" or "I've always found that the most generous, down-to-earth friends you'll ever make, you'll make with crystal meth." But then again . . . . .


*One of those hobbies is totally real, one is from a movie, and one I just made up as far as I know. Which is which?

The Jarrett Took 2nd at Nationals in Limited . . . .

Pretty cool. And Tomasie apparently won the USPSA Nationals in Limited at his first Nats appearance ever? How does a guy do something like that? If I made the Nationals I'd be puking my guts out in the starting box. It would not be part of an elaborate strategem.

I can't help but think of two things The Jarrett said at the blogger weekend:

1. "Remember this: 3rd place NEVER gets 2nd place money!" and . . .

2. "I was IPSC world champion once, I've won the nationals nine times, and I won't bother boring you with how many times I've come in second since nobody cares about that stuff but me anyway."

All those guys have every right to be proud. I mean, it's not like they placed first in a classifier at the Thursday Night League with the Springfield Tactical Shooters, but it's still a pretty big match and all. Nothin' to be ashamed of.

Blackwater Blog Weekend: Ain't Nothin' Wrong With the Ra-di-o

The weirdest thing about the trucks they gave us to get around in at Blackwater was that no matter how many windows were shot out, how much the front end was smashed up, or how full of broken glass, brass (Simunitions or otherwise) used flash-bang grenades and bullet holes the rig might be, you could count on one thing:

She ain't a Cadillac, and she ain't a Rolls
But there ain't nothin' wrong with the ra-di-o!*

Think I'm kidding? Check it out:
Yes, that's a flash-bang in the change-holder in the back of the Suburban. I was kneeling on the broken glass in the very back of the Road Warrior Model at the time. I only did that once. The glass was no big deal, but there's no interior release on those back doors, so unless your friends let you out (mine did) there's not much for it but an undignified (yet extremely tactical) scrambling dive over the back seat to get to the real doors.
Thanks again for letting me out of the truck, guys.

Oh, and yes, that's a bullet hole or two above the flash-bang. It had been used, and I actually thought I'd bring it home and give it to my kids, who collect old used brass every time we go to a range. But in the end I figured it would probably cause me more hassle in the airport than I would care to explain, so I didn't bother. Now that I know that the TSA in Norfolk wasn't actually looking at the display of their mega-expensive CT scanner, I realize I probably could have brought whatever I wanted. They certainly didn't notice the steel-and-aluminum full-sized .45 handgun and three magazines in my luggage. Ah, well.

This is our other chariot. I didn't get to ride in this one, but I understand that radio reception was excellent. The only issue was that it apparently tuned in a lot of music that Robb liked, which meant that it tuned in a lot of music that the rest of the cohort found . . . . less entertaining.

Than pure, rusty boredom.

So to speak.

*Used with permission of Aaron Tippin. Don't believe me? Call him.

Blackwater Chamber Music

A Keyboard and a .45: Chow Hall Music...

Picture it: It's Sunday morning. It's 7:30. You are very nearly hopping from foot to foot as you stand in line for scrambled eggs and plastic forks; it's been a great weekend, and today is looking good. Tamara is looking for a place to lie down. Hardy is starting to look like he's going to make it after all; he must have slept last night. Through the other outside door, a group of men in uniform stride into the hall like Beowulf's band arriving at Heorot.

Some of them are large, bearish men measuring out long strides. Others are tiny bantam roosters sizing up the room as they swagger in. All are wearing the green "tactical" pants and tan "tactical" shirts that mark them as instructors, but the last man through the door--the only one who smiles and laughs--is also wearing a bunch of scars and a big, black eyepatch. I'd show you a photo, but I was afraid to take one. This artist's rendering gives the general idea:

Anyway, Duke, Major Bludd and the rest of the Blackwater instructors get their food and sit down (far away from the low-speed-high-drag internet geeks, who must be a startling sight here this early in the morning.) One heads over to the jukebox and turns it on. It doesn't seem to matter which song he selects; the machine has only played one song since we arrived, no matter who played it or when. The weirdly empty space is suddenly full of sound:

"I PUSH MY FINGERS INTO MY . . . . EEYYEEEEEEES . . . . ."

Must be Sunday Breakfast at Blackwater.

********************

Blackwater Blog Weekend: It's . . . it's beautiful!

Joe Huffman has created a slideshow. It depicts our time at Blackwater; the laughter, the tears, the recoil, the alcohol-induced fog.

I don't want to sound biased, but Eisenstein, Welles, and Ford would throw battery acid in their own faces in despair at their inability to equal it if they were alive, so it's just as well that they're not.


Para-USA Gun Blogger Summer Camp 2008 from Joe Huffman on Vimeo.

I Am Shill of Blackhawk. You Will Be Assimilated.

I just ordered a SERPA holster for my P220. That might sound a little . . . whorish, but I'm buying mine through www.tactical.com with my own money.

Why? Well, several reasons. I'm buying from Tactical.com because I assume the name alone gives me added tacticality points. Also, they're based out of St. Louis, so I'm hoping I can have my holster by Thursday so I can use it in my next IPSC match.
I'm buying the SERPA because I used my old FOBUS last week and it's just not cutting it anymore. The SERPA version makes reholstering far too easy and positive to go back.

Once the Gun Blog .45 arrives, I'll probably start using it more--but that will be awhile. I don't know when they'll ship the things, but even when they do, I still have to serve a three-day waiting period from the time I pay my FFL--and nowadays, it's apparently three business days. So for the next couple of weeks I'll be using the SIG, and even when the GB.45 arrives, I don't foresee that the SIG will never see use. The P220 has gotten me through the tough times. It's been there for me when I needed an accurate, reliable friend. It deserves a good holster.

Blackwater Blog Weekend: Daily Motivation II

The camera man above, looming above the safe-backstop steel walls of the shoot house, is the guy Todd Jarrett lovingly refers to as "Convict Mark." He's got a few piercings and a few tattoos, and he played the part of Bad Guy Who Gets Blasted By Todd Jarrett in a recent Crimson Trace promotional video. But this guy is a serious shooter and an all-around fun guy who did everything we did that weekend, often better, while also doing his job. He'd shoot us shooting, shoot whatever he needed for Downrange TV, and then put the camera down and go shoot steel. Rough life, huh? He also told the best stories; he and I traded tales of talking our wives into gun purchases one night in the lodge, but I couldn't keep up with his tales of trying to spin $7,000 trap guns from Olympic shooters as "bargains."

Don't worry; he didn't stay above those walls while we were shooting, as that would be unsafe.
He followed each of us through the shoot house instead. That scared the hell out of me, and I was the one with the gun. Now, I was moving so slowly that it was probably more like following the Titanic, so if I turned "suddenly" there was a lot of time to figure out where he was going to go. Not everyone was taking things at such a leisurely pace, though, and after one shooter who will remain nameless, Mark came out of the shoot house with wide, frightened-bunny eyes to declare "I saw Jesus!"

And here's what he did that I might not have: that was only the third or fourth shooter of the morning, so he went right in behind the next guy not five minutes later.

My favorite Mark the Convict story was the tale of the stuffed suit at an NRA convention who actually told him to leave and threatened to have him thrown out. At the time, Mark told us, he'd had purple hair, and I'm sure he had all his tattoos and piercings. He also had credentials and was actually doing his work at the convo, but that didn't impress Suit Guy, who stated with authority that "You don't represent what the NRA is about and we don't want you here."
(Remember, this is a guy who shoots with Todd Jarrett and Olympic shotgun athletes and Michael Bane . . . .)
The situation was resolved, apparently, when cooler heads told Suit Guy that he was risking The Displeasure of Sandy Froman. This apparently has the effect of raising the room's temperature to approximately the melting point of bluster, because he calmed right down.

I couldn't stop thinking how much Oleg would like to get this guy in front of a camera, but he was a little shy. Actually, he told me that if I put this one on the internet, he'd hunt me down and put an end to my internet foolishness. But mediocrity is its own reward; no one at Para or Blackwater seems to realize I even have a blog, so I doubt he'll see it, and if truth be told, I'm a little proud of it as portrait work.

Blackwater Blog Weekend: Daily Motivation I

In the interest of full disclosure, this poor soul didn't actually get zapped with simunitions; we didn't get to play with those. We just had a good idea who'd been leaning on the walls.

Blackwater Blog Weekend: Woohoo!

Two excellent pieces of news have just arrived:

1. The other two boxes of pistols have reached ParaUSA in Tennessee. They will now be prepped for sale. They're going to give us four magazines for each gun, too, which Kerby did tell us about beforehand in a feeble attempt to keep Robb from smuggle magazines out of the Blackwater compound in his luggage.

2. The Crimson Trace Lasergrips we used are being included with the guns. The price of the guns is confidential, which is fine with me; Para's rules are Para's rules. But suffice it to say that I did not expect the Lasergrips to be included for that price. I was actually thinking about this tonight on the way home from school; I was thinking it was too bad that I couldn't afford the grips, but maybe in awhile I'd save up. Now I'm excited. BIG THANKS once again to the guys at Crimson Trace, who shot with us and gave us awesome grips. Seriously, if you found yourself transported back in time to a chow hall in 1917, and Sgt. Alvin York asked you to pass the hash, and you said, "You know, one day, people will carry a version of that gun with a trigger like a double-action revolver, only not, and it will have totally sweet grip panels that shoot lasers at your enemies," well, he'd look at you as if you were nuts, and not just because you'd failed to pass the hash. And yet it has come to pass.
I guess that means I can buy Lasergrips for the SIG instead.

Crimson Trace had already stepped up once at the Blogger Weekend. See, they put up a pair of grips (winner's choice) to the person with the best overall score through the shoot house scenario we ran Sunday morning. That's pretty nice and everything, all well and good. But as lunchtime approached, it seemed like we were moving through pretty fast, and maybe more shooting could be fit in, so we put the question to Todd: "Please, sir, we want . . . . some . . . more?"
It does not take a lot of peer pressure to get Todd Jarrett to chuck the schedule and shoot more bullets. He called the camera over, asked us loudly if we'd like to shoot it again after lunch, and got a "HELL YES" chorus in return. And so we did.


When we went back, Todd disappeared into the shoot house for awhile and came out chuckling. As a professional educator, I understand that when designing an assessment instrument causes one to chuckle, there's something tricky going on. Anyway, it was quickly announced that this time, there would be three prizes:

1. First Prize winner would get a set of Lasergrips for any pistol. Remember, this contest wasn't in the schedule, so at most, the Crimson Trace guys had had lunchtime to talk it over and decide to give away more of their product--and it wasn't like they were giving away hats and keychains here. These are pistol grips with fricking laser beams shooting out. They ain't cheap.
2. Second prize would win 500 rounds of the excellent frangible ammo we were using. This was a coveted prize, because that stuff is AWESOME. It'll get its own writeup soon. Imagine putting your muzzle an inch from steel plate and emptying the magazine--safely--and then backing out to 25 yards and shooting a personal best group.
   
3. Third prize would win 500 rounds of the excellent frangible ammo we were using. At this point, Todd Jarrett objected; the 3rd place finisher would get 499 rounds, he said, because he personally would take one. Robb won the third place prize, and at the end of the day when Dan the ammo guy gave him his half-case of .45, he removed one round and tracked down Todd to put it in his hand. Jarrett shared a good laugh with us for a moment, then got serious: "Let me tell you something," he intoned gravely, looking Robb in the eyes, "Third place don't NEVER get second-place money!"

Blackwater Blog Weekend: What Hath Para Wrought?

OK, it's Meet the Staff night here at Overachiever Middle School, so I don't have a lot of time until parents stream in. Let me just get this off my chest.

Tonight was IPSC night. Everyone was nice enough to let me go first so I could make it back here, because when The Principal asks why you didn't show up to meet the parents, "I wasn't out of ammo" only makes things worse. I shot it with my SIG and my FOBUS paddle.

The SIG did what it always does; the front sight settled on steel, I pulled the trigger, the steel fell down. Unexciting, but gratifying in a deeply personal way. The FOBUS holster, however, had changed. It used to be a perfectly adequate holster. Nothing to write home about, sure, but it worked.

Now it feels almost dangerous. The amount of effort that goes into re-holstering with that thing never bothered me before; I thought that was the way holsters worked. Now it feels like I'm fumbling. With a loaded gun with no safety. I don't like it.

Blackwater Blog Weekend: The Gun Blog .45

I know my reader has been anxiously waiting for me to write about The Gun, right? OK, here goes.

First of all, let's establish who I am and who I'm not. I am not a 1911 expert. I think Tamara almost severed a longstanding friendship when she found out that, prior to this weekend, my entire 1911 experience consisted of seven rounds through our old friend Son Tao's custom gun, and that was almost 8 years ago now. I like guns, and I like pistols, but I shoot a SIG and a Glock.

With that said, let's move on to the two big questions people were trying to answer this weekend:

1. What's this 1911 thing really like, anyway? Is any of the hype for real?

2. What's this LDA trigger really like, anyway? Is any of the hype for real?

If you were a 1911 guy, you were probably trying to answer number 2. If you were more familiar with the Glock/XD/M&P or some of the double-action guns out there, then you were probably spending your time on number 1.

Personally, I spent more time on number 1. The gun itself is a Commander-sized pistol, which I found a convenient size, but I can't really compare it to the full-sized 1911. Thanos, the President of Para-USA, spent a lot of time asking whether they'd brought the right size--he seemed concerned that the bloggers would write snarky things about the accuracy of the 4.25" guns, but he knew that most of us were most interested in concealed carry, so they thought that size made the most sense. I don't think anyone had a problem with the accuracy of the guns. After all, Todd Jarrett was shooting little bitty groups with any gun he picked up, and I don't care how good he is, he can't do that with a gun that isn't capable of that accuracy. Now, the consistency of the shooters is another matter and was certainly cause for consternation, but you can't blame the gun for that.

I liked the grip on the Para gun a lot. I'd always thought a 1911 clone would feel more or less like my P220 (they're both single-stack .45's, right?) but it's a much flatter, much thinner grip. I have large hands, but they're mostly palm with short, stubby coal-miner fingers, so there was a noticeable difference in the way the gun handled. I still couldn't reach the magazine release with my strong thumb without shifting my grip, but I've never found the .45 that will allow such a trick. Getting hits was easy if I did my part, and in a Jarrett class it's easy to know when you're not doing your part because he'll call it out to the whole class. "SQUEEZE THAT THING HARDER WITH YOUR WEAK HAND, DOUG!" he'll call, and you'll cinch down your grip and watch your group close up like magic. By that time, you don't even care that he called you Doug.

The sights were beautiful; a red fiber optic in front and big, black, serrated BoMar-style on the rear (what Tamara calls "Faux-Mars.") I did not experience the snagging and tearing others reported from the sight, but I could see on examination how it could be an issue. I'm not terribly worried about it because of my unique situation. When I compete with the gun, it shouldn't be a big deal. When I carry it, because of the Draconian gun laws of this state, I have to carry it inside a case; it won't have the chance to snag on clothing or tear skin in there. I found that the red fiber optic dot really sped up my shooting; I just followed the bouncing ball. Jarrett made a point of telling us up front that his specialty was not pulling a trigger fast, but acquiring targets fast. Unfortunately, I've never been good at either, but at least with the fiber optic I rarely lost sight of my front sight.

Reliability, in my gun, was great. We put between 800-1000 rounds through each gun, I would guess, under hot and dusty conditions. The ammo was much cleaner stuff than I load at home, but that's a lot of crud. I experienced zero failures to fire or eject, although the gun did fail to lock open on an empty magazine once on a slow string from 25 yards. I'm still not sure what happened there; maybe just a typical tight gun, but it never happened again. Late on Saturday, with the guns not having been cleaned or oiled beyond the factory lube, the gun began to balk at going forward into battery. At about the same time, it got harder to seat a magazine--the mag would seem to be fully seated, then pop out partway. I visited the sidelines, where Kerby Smith of Para added Lucas Gun Oil to the frame rails and the gun came back to life. We cleaned the guns at the end of that session, and I experienced no other malfunctions. I did twice manage to put the safety on during a string of fire as I tried to get my grip right, which was bothersome--but can you blame the gun for that kind of operator error? I wish I could, but I suppose not. Others did experience some malfunctions, notably Tamara and John Farquhar. Neither could be attributed to user error. Tamara's biggest problem was a consistent failure to lock the slide when empty in her first gun; her replacement piece didn't have that problem. "Probably a .45 slide stop in a 9mm gun," she opined to our Para rep. "That'll do it every time."
I nodded sagely and continued to load my magazine, although of course she could have blamed it on the Ferkelator and I'd have had the same reaction.

So what about question number 2? The answer, as Tattoo said when the Pend family visited Fantasy Island, is "It depends." If you're not familiar with the LDA, it stands for "Light Double Action" and is supposed to be like a double-action-only trigger with a light pull and a completely surprise break. Para-USA insists that this is not an attempt to make a DA 1911 clone, exactly, because the trigger is so revolutionary that it would make a big difference in most other platforms, too. Well, I liked the trigger, because it met my one and only criterion--I tried it and I got hits. Therefore it is Good. It's not true double -action as I think of it; for one thing, there's no second strike capability. For a guy like me, who shoots a DA/SA SIG in competition and wonders what all the fuss over the DA/SA transition is really about, the LDA is no big deal, just a really good double-action-style trigger. I will say I think it was a little smoother and certainly lighter than my P220, and that's saying something. Is it better than a single-action trigger on a 1911? Maybe. Do you work for a department that demands you carry a double-action? Do you work for a department that won't let you have a cocked-and-locked single action? Do you happen to like double-action triggers better? Are you trying to transition from the Glock or a simlar design? Then the LDA trigger might be a big deal for you. For me, it's just something else to try. After the weekend, I know it can shoot and do it well. Now I want to monkey with it for awhile and see if I come to prefer it. If you, like some of the other bloggers, are a 1911 guy who has good history with the single-action trigger on the 1911, I don't believe I would change that unless someone can show you a good reason. I don't see the LDA as the revolution that will sweep the single-action pistol aside. But I liked shooting it, I got hits with it, and it was safe. That's about all it takes to sell me.

So what didn't I like? Well, a lot of the bloggers griped that there was no need for the safety. I should probably be one of them; I carry guns with similar triggers in holsters with no safeties, and it works fine. Besides, I just told you that I put the safety on and killed my own shooting at least twice that weekend, right? Right, but here's the thing--I kind of like the safety. I'll even train myself to keep my thumb on top of it. You see, I hate re-holstering my weapon. It always seems to involve a little wiggling and experimentation, and the whole time, I'm trying to make sure all my clothing is tucked in and nothing can catch the trigger, causing me to shoot a tunnel throug my leg. With the manual safety, I can put the safety on and holster the weapon without worrying as much, and I like that peace of mind. All in all, I'd probably keep the safety, but if Para made a run with "slick sides" I believe they'd sell some.