Getcha some 9-mike-mike

A certain acquaintance recently asked me what kind of gun I had.
"I don't own a gun."
"But, you were in the military..."
"Indeed I was."
"Well, don't you like guns then?"
"No, I've never been very comfortable around guns."
"???"
So, I told my story...
It's true that I did have to maintain shooting proficiency as a USAF pilot. This required me to qualify on the standard-issue aircrew sidearm (currently the Beretta 9mm) every 24-30 months. I loathed going to 'the range' to qualify. Each time I went, I was sure that would be the time they finally discovered that I had no business whatsoever handling a firearm...

I didn't grow up in a household with guns around, and didn't even have a BB gun as a kid. The first time I ever shot a gun in my life was in college when I did an Air Force base visit as a ROTC cadet. At that time, they were using the S&W .38 instead of the 9-mike-mike. I didn't know we were going to actually shoot that day, and I was all hella beyond nervous when I was finally standing on the line with a no-kidding loaded weapon. At that time, we weren't stopping at all during the qualification sequence to check our progress - only at the very end did you learn the results. My compatriots all had more shooting experience than I, and were all very excited to learn their scores. I, on the other hand, nervously cracked jokes and did my best to explain away what I anticipated were going to be incredibly embarrassing results. I feverishly worried that they may possibly even take away my pilot slot - "Get a load of this kid's shots! Sheesh, we can't find any evidence that he hit the target at all! Maybe we need to find him a desk job - clearly this pansy is not the 'turn 'em into hair, teeth, & eyeballs' killing machine we are looking for..." Holy shnikees, I was nervous. As it turns out, I actually qualified Expert Marksman by some complete fluke. I was even able to carry that qualification over once I entered Active Duty.

And it was a fluke - pure dumb luck at its finest. I tried to tell people that when they noticed my decoration, but they would insist that I must be a natural. Ugh. To put it mildly, I was fearful of the next time I had to go the range to qualify. When I finally did, the guy running the range looked over my record, nodded his head impressed, and remarked that he was looking forward to seeing me shoot. He even asked me to give pointers to the class during the academic portion prior to actually going to the range. "Oh, no, thank you for offering, but I don't think that would be a very good idea", I modestly declined, adding in my mind, "...And you'll find out why soon enough."

As expected, my luck from the previous experience did not carry over. While I did actually qualify, it wasn't by much at all. But, at least I had 'passed'. I was ecstatic! The range supervisor stared puzzlingly at my bottom-tier tally.
"I don't understand", he says, "Are you not feeling well today or what?"
"Errr, yeah, something like that, I suppose. Maybe just not my day, I guess"
"Well, it's good enough by the regulations", he said disapprovingly as he signed off my qualification paperwork, "So I suppose you are all set for now". The look on his face was pure disappointment.
"Thanks, see ya in a coupla years", I said, secretly doing a happy dance on the inside. Haha, I managed to fool 'em all again! And so it went each & every time I had to go to the range to qualify - I did manage to barely qualify each time, but it was never pretty.

For most of the combat missions I flew, it was not a prerequisite that the entire crew had to 'arm up', but occasionally, that was the directive. I dreaded those few times. I felt like a moron going to pick up my weapon, and then again when returning it. Instead of trying to bluff my way through the weapons-issue/turn-in processes, I would just openly admit that I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and then promise the skycop responsible for the guns that I wouldn't ever remove the thing from my holster if (s)he would help me with inspection, clearing, etc. I always got that "And you are a pilot?!?" look of disbelief, but in the name of safety, they were always willing to make sure I didn't buffoonishly shoot them, myself, or anyone else during the transfers.

So, my friend then asked:
"What if you ever needed to actually use the gun?"
"Well", I explained, "I'm sure I could handle it fine if my life depended on it."
But, the truth is that if it actually ever came down to me (as the Aircraft Commander) ever having to use my 9mm to save the day, then something has gone horribly, horribly wrong - as in 'none of us are making it out of this pickle alive anyway' wrong. I took a lot of solace in that fact, and hoped that day would never come. It didn't.

I don't expect to ever shoot a gun again in my life. And that's just peachy by me.
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Now playing: beastie boys - looking down the barrel of a gun