Tale of Two Walthers

Sure, you come here on BAG Day hoping to see some sweet, sweet Gun Pr0n...and all I've got is a box of parts. To ameliorate your disappointment (wow--first time I've ever used that word in a sentence!), I present The Tale of Two Walthers*.

Back in the late 80s, my friend Chief and I were members of the Gun of the Month Club. San Angelo hosted gun shows at least every other month, and in those off-months, we cruised the gun/pawn shops, WalMart, and even the grocery stores where you could buy guns and butter at the same place. At one pawn shop where we'd both bought Mausers, he a '39 war relic, and me a cheaper Yugoslav clone, Chief scored a moderate finish, 1943 Mauser (pyf) P-38 (shown, top left) with a worn "gyf 1944" softshell holster for a very reasonable price.

The whole point of collecting these relics was to be able to shoot a piece of history (or a reasonable facsimile), so we took the pistol out to Devil's Mountain with some of our other acquisitions and fired a few magazines through it. Neither of us could hit squat. Still, it was a verified war relic--no one was counting on it to save their lives--so everything was cool. It stayed in a honored niche in his gun cabinet...until he got married and PCS orders for England. He offered the pistol to me for the price he'd paid for it; I accepted, not only for a war relic I'd probably not shoot again, but for a memento of my best friend (I was Best Man at his wedding).

Chief put the rest of his guns in storage, but "handcarried" the bolts to discourage theft. Well, that strategy didn't work--"slicky boys" raided his entire collection, including the Mauser rifle (Gretchen), a 1903 Springfield (Becky), and an Aussie SMLE (Matilda). You can imagine the feelings of a man who lovingly names his favorite guns at this development--but at least they didn't get the P-38 (don't know if he ever named it--I think if he did, he might not have parted with it). Chief has rebuilt his collection since then, to include a P-08 Luger gifted to him by a German friend (it helps to be extremely outgoing and speak fluent German).

Fast-forward to the mid-90s. I was stationed in Maryland and had to slow down my acquisitions--Gun of the Every-Other-Month Club. My office was Blue and Navy Blue, so occasionally some of the Swabbie and fellow Zoomie hoplophiles would check out the occasional gun show together.

Aside: I kept a pic of my pistol collection under the clear plastic blotter on my desk. My Ops Officer saw it once and remarked, "Hey, if you ever feel so stressed out that you feel like going on a shooting rampage...you'll let me know, right?"

"You'll be the first to know, Captain," was my smiling response.

The token Marine in my section was going through a messy divorce (geez, who could blame her, if you knew him) and he offered me a 1961 Wather P-38 with an Interarms stamp--for what seemed to be a retail price. "No way, Dude, I've already got one. I paid almost half of what you're asking, and it's a WWII piece." (The same guy tried selling his ratty ALICE pack to our Senior Chief, until I pointed out that Fort Meade Clothing Sales was selling them new for less.) Eventually, the Staff Sergeant saw the writing on the wall (or got desparate) and offered it for the same price I'd quoted for the byf. Score! I picked up a shooter to accompany my museum piece! I was quite a bit disappointed when it shot to the same point as the 1943 pistol (6 o'clock waaay low). Live and learn, I thought.

Jump ahead to the late 90s, in Arizona, after my first M-9 qualification: Jon and I were at our favorite hard-to-get-to desert berm and brought out an assortment of fun guns, including my '61 Walther, which Jon had never fired before. I don't remember who figured it out first (Jon, probably), but we started tearing the 10-ring out out of the paper with the P-38! Apparently, I'd been squeezing the trigger wrong...or something, and my session with the M-9 had cleared that up. A guy had pulled up next to us and was shooting his own assortment, when he noticed the Walther and remarked that he had one, but couldn't shoot doodie with it. I offered him the '61 and a full magazine and he proceeded to spray dirt all over one of the Coke cans he'd set up for targets. I loaded another magazine and rolled the can out of sight in three shots; then we imparted our USAF Combat Arms wisdom on the grip and firing of a double-action pistol.

Gee, I wish I'd met myself 10 years earlier.

* For you pedants out there, sure it's made by Mauser, but it's a Walther design, which is why I call my Yugo clone a Mauser and not a Zhnsntyksk, or whatever they call it.