Shooting Story rites of passage shooting the Lee Enfield for the first time

In our lives there are a number of what I would term as pivotal moments, rights of passage if you will and from a shooter’s point of view one of these must be the first time you fired a gun or hunted an animal. For me there are many – full-auto M16, the AK47, my Swedish moose, I could go on at length. But my most vivid was the first full-bore rifle I ever used. This tale of a fledging shooter was sparked by Chris Parkin’s review of the Lee Enfield No 4 Mk 1 we printed in the April issue. Chris is a hi-tech kinda’ guy so I was keen to see how he adapted to what is a much lower tec system. Well he has joined the brotherhood now!

POPPING THE CHERRY

Back then, it must have been 1965; I was 12 ½ and had just joined my local Army Cadet Force Unit (ACF)… Croydon Para. A confusing name as we had nothing to do with the local TA Para unit apart from sharing their drill hall and cap badge. I’d been in the Scouts before that but that seemed mighty tame when compared to getting to play with real guns. Even at this age I knew what I wanted to do and that was join the Army, so the cadets seemed a logical precursor to the main event.

I recall getting issued my Khaki battle dress jacket and trousers, soup plate beret and the rest of the kit, though we had to buy our own boots! Then it was drill and other skills and of course weapons training. This was my first introduction to the Lee Enfield No 4 Mk II and back then they seemed massive and the smell of oiled metal and beech stocks will always stay with me. And with the silver drill rounds with the red stripes on the sides in steel chargers we practiced load/unload drills and dry shooting.

Our unit had a 22 Rimfire range in the roof and with a motley assortment of ancient bolt-action rifles we learned to shoot. This was good fun, but nothing special, as I’d shot 22s before. What we wanted was to test our metal against the No 4s and maybe even the Bren gun to earn the coveted marksman’s badge for our sleeves, but the Bren’s another story. And also to get one of the brown 303 ammunition outer boxes with steel handles and yellow writing on it. This packaging was another unofficial mark of experience, as only those that had fired the Lee Enfield could be privy to acquiring one. Today it’s all Oakley shades, fashion and cool trainers, but the concept is no different.

BOTTLE JOB…

The rifles were our constant companions on exercise and we used them with blank ammunition in our mock battles. Back then the attitude towards firearms in the UK was almost Swiss in its view. I can recall more than once coming back from a weekend camp and being dropped off at home and being told to – ‘just bring the rifle in on Monday night’. No security, no FAC, just lean it behind the door and the next day walk through town with it to the barracks slung on your shoulder. A friend of mine even took his into a bank and no one batted an eyelid.

But as much fun as all this was, the moment was drawing ever closer when we would get to shoot the No 4s. I liken this to my first ever parachute jump – all that practice can never truly prepare you for the real thing and it’s a case of wondering if you have the balls for the job.

STEP UP

Well my turn came in 1967. Our commander - Captain Bishop - decided that he wanted a shooting team, so he picked those most proficient at weapon handling and on the larger side to obviously help soak up the recoil. We drove down to Bisley Camp one early summer day for the first time in our ACF minibus. Back then the zero range was a bit different, though it had wind-back targets and here was where we would get our chance to see if we had the right stuff.

It seemed strange back then knowing exactly what we were going to do in terms of weapon handling, yet with no inkling of the end result of all our labours. And all the time the spectre of bottling out hung heavy… could we, and more importantly would we?

The ammunition arrived in the dark brown plywood boxes with yellow writing - CARTRIDGE SMALLARMS BALL 303 MK VII and I could already visualise strutting around with mine to show I was a rifleman. First of all - kick off the clips that hold the lid on, within - a sealed tin container with a soldered lid. Gripping the handle you rip it off a bit like a tin of sardines to expose the 50-round canvas bandoleers packed tightly inside.

Next prise open the copper clips and tip the ammunition, packed in 5-round chargers out. Then check the rim sequence to make sure it was one up one down, so that cartridges would feed into and out of the magazine properly. There’s also a lasting memory of the ammunition itself, the case showing signs of heat treatment around the neck and shoulder fl owing out to the straw yellow brass of the main body. The huge copper primer at the rear and bullet at the front end. This was the real thing, no Rimfires or drill rounds and no mercy!

SEAT OF THE PANTS

In the mid 60s things like ear defenders were unheard of and I recall we ripped strips off a handkerchief (clean I think) and chewed them to get them wet and stuffed them in our ears. There was also some debate about whether we should stick our berets inside our shirts to try and absorb some of the recoil. The consensus of opinion was; though it was a good idea, only a cissy would do such a thing… real men shot with their hats on. God we were stupid and so full of BS back then.

“So who wants to go first” Captain Bishop asked? He’d done it a 1000 times and probably for real too, as the war wasn’t that far behind us in terms of history, as he must have been 50-years old at the time. I stepped up to the plate, something I have always done, not so much due to bravery, but with a need to get it over with. As there’s nothing worse than being last in the line and watching your mates suffer knowing you are going to get it soon. What’s that expression- ‘a coward dies a thousand times’?

LOAD!

Going prone I flicked open the bolt and with hopefully steady hands placed the charger in the guide and pushed down with my thumb on the top cartridge. That distinctive clicking/sliding noise told me that the first five had gone in. Flick out the empty with your thumb and load the second clip, close the bolt and set the safety catch. The range was 25 yards so just peer through the battle sight and roll the safety forward. Heart pounding, mouth dry, sweat starting to form, this is it, ready or not here I go. Taking up the first pressure just left the release, concentrate on the sights and BANG! The rifle leaped back into my shoulder and that big old brass plate really hurt. But then again today the No 4 with Service ammo is no pussy cat to shoot either and I’m considerably larger, but probably just as daft. Automatically I worked the action and was coming up for my second shot and then in no time the mag was empty and I was showing clear.

Amazing and just so much fun. All of us that day shot the rifles and no one bottled out, though some of the lads left the unit not long after, obviously it wasn’t for them, but if it doesn’t turn your crank find something that does! Hot and with already bruising shoulders and budding headaches we had the mandatory declaration: “I HAVE NO LIVE ROUNDS OR EMPTY CASES IN MY POSSESION SIR!” A litany I must have chanted hundreds of times in my service career. Adjourning to the Surrey Hut we drank cider to finish the job. I got my rifleman badge and ammo box and shot whenever possible and in early 1968 joined the Army as a Junior Soldier. Over the years I’ve shot some exotic kit, which includes 175mm artillery, anti tank guns and all sorts of full-auto stuff. A lot of it was decidedly more fun than the old No 4 but none can hold a candle to my first time!

Sadly we never took any pictures on the day and I doubt if they would have lasted, so I apologise and have put in a few generic pictures to illustrate this story.