"My Gun Failed Me"
My Gun Failed Me
Two weekends ago, I had the opportunity to shoot in a two-gun competition involving both rifle and pistol in the freezing rain, sleet, mud, and cold. It was awful, yet, extremely fun. I'd shot shooting of this style before at friend's property but beyond pushing each other to do better and timing each others runs, the competition two-gun world was new to me.
After getting signed in and attached to the squad I would be shooting with for the day, we all sloshed through the mud to our respective starting points and began listening to the Range Officer describe what the stage would entail. The stage we had been assigned to happened to be a pistol only stage, something we were told was out of the ordinary and was selected to change things up from the normal pace of things.
The stage would include shooting from three positions: standing, kneeling, and prone. Starting with our toes on a line, each shooter during their turn would proceed to two 50 gallon drums and engage two "popper" targets beginning with standing, and then working our way down to prone. After successfully engaging the targets, the shooter would proceed to a second set of 50 gallon drums and perform the same on two new targets, followed by a third set of 50 gallon drums. Once the targets had all been engaged from the drums, the shooter would proceed to a wood barricade and shoot three, six inch plates from approximately 15 yards. All in all, in order to shoot the stage clean with no penalties, the shooter would need 21 rounds.
We each patiently awaited our turns as the sleet turned to a chilling rain. It had only been close to 30 minutes since our arrival and I was beginning to become extremely grateful for the waterproof outerwear I had invested in. When it became my turn to complete the stage, I placed my toes on the line while simultaneously looking at the muddy soup that lay behind the 50 gallon drums that had been created by the previous shooters. I was about to get filthy, and I couldn't wait.
The timer's shrill beep pierced the cacophony of rain splashing the ground and distant gun shots from the other stages. I quickly proceeded to the first set of drums and engaged my targets. Upon hitting the last target from the prone, I slammed my hand into the ground and sprang to my feet. I proceeded to the second set of drums and began plugging away at the poppers. My gun's slide locked to the rear and I instinctively hit the magazine release while pulling a new magazine from a pouch on my chest rig. I slammed the magazine into place and quickly grabbed my slide allowing it to fall home on the new round. My gun however, had a different idea. As i went to re-grip the gun with my support hand I noticed my slide had not fully returned to battery. I quickly smacked the rear of my slide hoping it would go home but to no avail. I tapped my magazine and racked the slide, watching an expensive .357Sig round fall to the ground and get swallowed by the mud. My slide once again failed to go into battery. I attempted to rack the slide once again only to find that it was solidly locked in place. After trying the usual stuck case malfunction clearing drill of gripping the slide firmly with my support hand and hitting the grip forward with my firing hand, the gun still wouldn't budge. After trying to free the slide in every way I knew how, I finally proceeded to tell the Range Officer that the gun was out of commission and I would have to forfeit the stage. Devastated, I re-holstered the gun and began walking back to the car frustrated and in disbelief that my Sig P226 - a gun that I often trusted my life to on a daily basis - had failed.
At the car, I continued with the usual stuck case clearing drill and popped the round free after the second or third hit. I quickly locked my slide to the rear and began examining the gun. It didn't take long for me to figure out what had caused the issue. The gun's breach-face was CAKED in mud. I looked at it in confusion trying to figure out how what looked like a spoonful of mud had gotten into the slide. At a loss, I began talking it over with my friend who had driven me to the event. After running through the stage mentally and discuss what could have happened, we eventually came to a conclusion. When I had grabbed my slide to send it home on the mag change, the slide had effectively acted as a sort of ice cream scoop that gobbled up the mud from my gloved hand. Mud that had been picked up unintentionally while I had jumped up from the prone at the first set of drums. The gun hadn't failed me. I had failed it.
I had failed to take into account the environmental factors of the stage. Instead of looking at the muddy soup and thinking about what it could do to my equipment, I simply saw it as an added fun factor to the stage's shooting. Having successfully trained countless times in manipulating the slide by hand during a reload, I had never truly thought about potential malfunctions this practice could induce, nor had I ever had this practice fail. On the drive home after completing the rest of the stages, I sat in the passenger seat allowing my competitive nature to get the best of me. I was frustrated and annoyed that my failure had caused numerous time penalties and target "misses" from forfeiting the stage. Despite my personal affinity towards winning however, the more important and nasty reality set over me that if I ever had the misfortune of dealing with a real life self defense situation, I wasn't competing against a timer and some steel targets - I would be competing for my life. And that wasn't a competition I was interested in competing in with what in a similar situation and with the training I had completed up until this point would effectively be, a paperweight.
If you've gotten this far, you may be wondering what the point of this story is. The point is really pretty simple: go train. When you think you're done training, go train some more. FAR to often do I see individuals and customers come to the store, look at firearms, get basic training, then get their concealed pistol license, only to never be seen again. I can promise you, a plastic card in your wallet that reads "Concealed Pistol License" wont protect you if you don't know how to effectively use the tools that plastic card grants you. You can NEVER have enough training, period.
As firearm store employee's, but also shooters, we advocate for more training constantly which is why we offer multiple different class options. From beginners to more advanced shooters, we have class offerings (or private training) that will fit your needs. Its never to late to get the training that may save your life. Give us a call or stop in to learn more about these offerings.
*For those curious: the gun performed flawlessly the rest of the day after I gave it a quick dousing with a water bottle.*
Want to share a time in which you learned a valuable lesson while you were training or why you tweaked something in your training? Share in the comments section below. Be aware that comments from other articles will also be present.
