'HOLD MY BEER AND WATCH THIS!'

  • Published
  • By Tech. Sgt. Chris Haisten
  • 42nd Air Base Wing safety
MAXWELL AIR FORCE BASE, Ala. --  Handling firearms is a rite of passage where I come from in central Alabama. I practically grew up with a firearm of some type in my hands thanks to my dad, who collected handguns. Honestly, I started firing handguns when I was merely a toddler. My dad would sit me on his knee, hold the weapon and allow me to pull the trigger. He still has the very weapon I learned to shoot with almost 40 years ago -- a pearl handled
.22 caliber pistol with a crimson stain on the left grip (my blood to be exact; I cut myself on a broken bottle and subsequently bled on the pistol grip while target shooting with my dad).

My dad and two older brothers taught me to respect and safely handle weapons at an early age. Those teachings were reinforced when I became a security policeman in the Air Force. Nevertheless, for one night, some 20 years after I'd fired my first gun and several years into my Air Force career,  I threw those teachings out the window ... a mistake that could have cost me my life.

I was at home on leave hanging out with my oldest brother doing a little camping, fishing, and "joy riding" through central Alabama's back woods. One evening, we stopped on a bridge over a rumbling creek to take in the spectacular sunset.

After drinking a few beers and admiring the transition from spectacular sunset to a dark sky filled with stars, I made a bad decision.

I retrieved my Taurus .9mm pistol from my brother's truck and uttered the words that precede many a mishap: "Hold my beer and watch this!"

I bet my brother that I could hit a metal sign positioned about 30 yards away at the end of the bridge.

To recap, it's dark, I've been drinking,    I have a gun in my hand, and I'm about to shoot at metal.

I took a defensive position on the rear of my brother's truck, aimed at the moonlit sign and squeezed off a round.

I missed the target.

Not to be made a fool of by some stupid metal sign, I took aim and squeezed off another round.

Pling! I hit it!

At the very same second I heard the "pling," I also heard another not so loud sound just in front of me and felt a slight thump in my knee area. A sharp pain shot through my knee, and I also felt the warm sensation of blood trickling down my leg into my shoe.

"Aw man, I just shot myself!" I said, blurting out the obvious.

Upon further examination by flashlight, I did indeed discover I was bleeding and found a small chunk of lead lying on the ground near my feet. As if that wasn't bad enough, my brother was none too thrilled when he discovered the fragment had ricocheted off the sign and struck the side of his truck before glancing off my leg.

Not surprisingly, he gave me no sympathy for my wound.

That night I got a rude and embarrassing reminder of the basic weapon safety techniques I learned growing up and as a young security policeman. When it comes to weapons, you must practice safe handling techniques at all times. And never fire a gun under the influence of alcohol.

Some lessons are learned the hard way. I was very lucky the repercussions weren't far worse. Now, in addition to all my childhood and Air Force weapons training, I have another permanent reminder to treat weapons with respect ... a scar just below my knee.