Functional Simplicity

For years the old gun had been stuck in the corner in the closet. It had been replaced by ones with more bells and whistles, that had trigger pulls that broke like ice and were stocked in fancy grades of walnut. Its usefulness seemed to be over. The only reason it was kept was because it was the owner’s first .22. It was taken out ever so often and dusted off, oiled and placed back in the corner. It didn’t even merit a place in the gun safe next to all those high dollar fancy guns.

The gun is a Springfield Model 15 .22 single shot rifle manufactured by J. Stevens Arms Company. It has no serial number, just patent numbers stamped on the receiver. I have no idea when it was manufactured. It was my first .22.

I was nine or ten I guess when the Springfield came to be mine. It was a hand-me-down from a second cousin, or first cousin once removed as my grandmother would say. Being the first-born in my family I had no older brother by which to receive hand-me-downs, whether they were clothes, toys, guns or whatever. Hand-me-downs for me had to come from someone outside my immediate family.

Charlie Dozier was as I’ve said my second cousin from my father’s side of the family and was eight or ten years my senior. Charlie sort of took me under his wings and watched out after me, taught me to shoot and generally tutored me in boy stuff. He had the old Springfield and allowed me to shoot it but only when he was present. I can remember that I had dreams of one day having a gun just like it.

One day Charlie came by to visit and I remember thinking that something wasn’t just right. During the course of the visit Charlie informed us that he had joined the Navy and would be going to flight school to learn to be a fighter pilot. In my mind that meant he was going to war and probably not come back. Even though he tried to explain it all to me I still felt that I was seeing Charlie for the last time. As he got ready to leave he told me to come with him to the car, that he had something he wanted to leave with me until he returned. I noticed that he sort of winked at my dad as we walked out to the car. Reaching in the back seat he pulled out the old Springfield. “Here, I want you to keep this for me until I get back. I’ve checked with your dad and its ok by him and your mom”.

I couldn’t believe it. Even though Charlie had said he wanted me to keep it until he returned, I knew he was giving me the Springfield. A Kimber Super America would not have been any more welcomed. Those who have received a similar “first .22” know what I’m talking about.

I and the old Springfield spent a lot of time together. There is no way to know the number of rounds that I shot through it. Untold number of squirrels, frogs, blue jays, cats, tin cans, dirt clods and plinking targets of all kinds fell to its 40 grain slugs. Over the years I refinished its birch wood stock, staining it to a light reddish/brown color and painting the fore end tip black to look like one of those high dollar stocks with a real ebony tip. I re-blued it, I think with some cold blue. It presently is more of a brown color than blue….sort of like one of those expensive side by side double guns….sort of. At one point the firing pin died, literally broke into two pieces. A machinist friend made a new one for me. I guess in one sense it could be called a survivor.

Then, as is the general course of events, I grew up, went off to school, got a job, got married…etc. Guns of higher refinement came home with me and the old Springfield got regulated to the closet. Not having any children to give it to, it just got moved from closet to closet whenever we changed our residences.

Fast forward to the fall of 2001. We are living in a semi-rural setting with neighbors all around within shouting distance. We have a backyard garden, bird feeders….that sort of thing….a really nice arrangement except for one thing. Squirrels were taking over the garden, bird feeders and dog’s food. They were getting bold enough to start coming up to the house looking for whatever else they could eat or chew on.

I started using my Winchester 9422 to control them. It was entirely too loud and probably not too safe with standard ammo. Using shorts cut down on some of the noise but their range still was more than I felt comfortable with should one miss and reach a neighbor’s home. I had not used CB caps very much in the past but tried some in the Winchester. The noise was reduced to almost nothing more than that of a cap pistol but they were not very effective killers.

I had purchased one of the tools from Hanned that together with a file allows one to change the nose profile of the .22 long rifle round to a flat, greatly increasing its effectiveness. The change in terminal performance is amazing. I wondered what a similar flat on a CB round would produce.

Even though the Hanned tool would not work with the CB caps, I reasoned that I should be able to file a flat free hand good enough to work….shooting distances for this application were not great….sometimes only twenty to thirty feet. I prepared about a dozen rounds and loaded up the Winchester. I soon found out that these modified rounds did not feed well through the Winchester’s action….some would, some would not.

I felt that the modified CB caps had a lot of potential for the application I faced, so I really wanted to give them a good test. What I needed was a gun with a simple action that was not sensitive to the modified nose profile. What I needed was standing up in the corner of the closet. I pulled out the old Springfield, dusted it off once more and ran a patch down its bore.

Looking out at the bird feeder there he was in all his glory….Mr. squirrel making havoc with the feed and feeder. Easing around the corner of the house I got within about twenty feet of him, cocked, aimed and fired the Springfield.

The noise, like in the Winchester was about like that of a cap pistol but there was another secondary sound. It was the sound, somewhat like a slap, of the flat pointed CB slug hitting the squirrel in the chest. He dropped from the bird feeder and was dead before he hit the ground….no jerking, quivering, anything. Examination revealed that the bullet had not exited, resulting in a total transfer of energy. I had found the combination I needed for backyard varmint control for my situation.

Since that fall day the old Springfield has accounted for many backyard varmints with the modified CB caps. It fits my needs to a “T” for short range varmint control. No, it isn’t as sleek looking as the Winchester, it doesn’t have the crisp trigger pull or the gorgeous walnut stock like the Kimber nor it does it have brilliant optics mounted on its receiver. What it does have is what I call functional simplicity and a tie-in to the past. It is a simple tool that performs it’s function efficiently without requiring special ammo and each time I pick up the old gun a flood of memories comes back…...so many good times.

Oh yes, Charlie did come back after becoming a fighter pilot, but he still has not come to get the old Springfield.