David spun his sling up-to-speed overhead and loosed a stone at Goliath. It hit the giant in the head, killing him and winning the future King of Israel ever-lasting glory. The sling, the first centrifugal force weapon, was a success of Biblical proportions and the high point in its history. 

The sling remained a viable weapon and was joined by other projectile weapons: bows, spears, stone throwers and an array of mechanical launchers from handy cross-bows to trebuchets that could hurl a small car. Mankind constantly brought the latest technology to weapons. 

Gunpowder changed everything. But, gun powder is noisy, dirty, expensive, delicate, sometimes unreliable and dangerous to have around. All this just to accelerate a projectile to high speed and launch it with precision. Surely we can manage that by machine—we’re still trying. 

A not quite so high point in history as David is the Winans Steam Gun. It most likely would have faded into the history books except for several history buffs, Mark Handwerk, Joseph H. Clark and Joseph Zoller III, who constructed a full-scale copy for the 1961 Civil War Centennial. Near the sign on U.S. Route 1 proclaiming Elkridge, Maryland, the hulking beast quietly subsides into the soil and mystifies passing motorists. 

Also known as the Baltimore Steam Gun, the gun is seldom called for its designers, Charles S. Dickinson and his early partner in the project, William Joslin. 

The partners produced several manually powered examples of centrifugal weapons but parted ways when the first patent they were issued named Joslin alone as the inventor. Dickinson then polished the design and patented it himself in 1858. He had the gun built in Boston and set out to sell it. In April 1861, the sales tour took him and the gun to Baltimore, Maryland, just in time for the infamous Baltimore riot. 

Fort Sumter had surrendered to Confederate forces days before, and the alarmed government in Washington, D.C., was calling in troops to man the Capital’s defenses. Baltimore was politically divided, and many citizens were pro-slavers and Southern-sympathizing Democrats. 

No one had died in battle at Fort Sumter: The only deaths were the result of a Union gun explosion during the formal surrender ceremony. Until the Baltimore riot of April 19, no blood had been shed in this “fraternal” conflict. 

Baltimore’s decision to not allow steam engines to run through the center of town resulted in two railway stations a mile or so apart—the President St. Station and the Camden St. Station. Railway cars had to be pulled by horses from one station to another before continuing their journeys. 

When the men of the 6th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteer Militia arrived on their way to Washington, they disembarked their train and marched along Pratt Road. Trouble started when hundreds of protesting citizens turned out onto the street. Hurled shouts and vegetables gave way to gunfire, and the troops, civilians and police clashed bloodily. Four soldiers and 12 civilians died. Dozens more were injured. The battle is acknowledged as the first blood spilled in the American Civil War, and it was the point of no return. 

In the excited days before the trouble, the City of Baltimore’s leadership had tried to assure the citizens they would be defended against the ever-villainous, Washington, D.C., forces of darkness. In the display of weaponry shown to the public, were pikes made at the factory of Ross Winans, a wealthy local industrialist. Dickinson had taken the gun to the Winans plant to work on it and gladly allowed the city to show it off for him. While Dickinson’s gun did not take part in the battle, it was drafted for defiant display. 

The steam gun’s purported power sent the press on a predictable trajectory: 

“It can be constructed to discharge missiles of any capacity from an ounce ball to a 25-pound shot, with the force and range equal to the most approved gunpowder projectiles …” 

“… the musket caliber engine would mow down opposing troops as the scythe mows down standing grain …” 

“… will strike terror to the hearts of opposing forces and render its possessors impregnable …” 

Dickinson modestly added, “… its very destructiveness will prove the means and medium of peace.” His pitch is evocative of Gatling’s later claims, and similar words are still later attributed to Hiram Maxim. Whatever … whoever … they were wrong. 

It all did not translate to sales for Dickinson. For all the considerable publicity, the gun gained fortune for no one, and the brief flare of fame it garnered didn’t even illuminate Dickinson as the press erroneously dubbed his brainchild “the Winans gun.” 

Even the renowned Scientific American muddied the history; saying the gun was built by Ross Winans. The article at least acknowledged the gun was Dickinson’s design. 

In the weeks after the riot, the U. S. federal government exerted more and more pressure on the petulant city, arresting pro-Southern politicians and even police officials. Ross Winans was feeling the heat for his pro-Southern leanings. 

Dickinson decided to dispatch his gun to Harper’s Ferry and offer it to the Confederacy. Mounted men of the 6th Massachusetts Militia intercepted the gun at Ellicott Mills, Maryland, on May 11. These were some of the same men attacked during the riot. 

The gun and crew were seized and the weapon commandeered for United States’ use. Back in Baltimore, Winans was arrested, but released 2 days later after promising to build no more arms for Southern sympathizers. Dickinson, describing the moving of the gun as a dastardly rebel plot, hastily tried to make amends by offering to build the Union an improved model for $10,000. There is no record of President Lincoln responding to the offer. 

After testing, the steam gun ended up at the Thomas Viaduct, a railway bridge joining Relay and Elkridge, Maryland, over the Patapsco River. 

How It Worked 

The gun required at least two horses to move its four-wheeled mount. The steam engine occupied half the vehicle. A firebox generated steam to power the gun. In the initial excitement around the gun, some reporters mistakenly said the engine could propel the vehicle as well. This was not the case. The steam energy was harnessed to rotate the single barrel. This barrel was L-shaped and spun at about 250-rpm. A ball released from the stack in the vertical portion entered the rotating portion and was driven outward by centrifugal force. At the right moment, the muzzle passed by a gate where the round was released. As a safety measure, the barrel spun in a steel drum. This resembles a barrel of another kind, further confusing people. To protect the crew and gun from enemy fire, a funnel-shaped shield was provided. This featured a slit allowing the barrel to be aimed and discharged in the desired direction. 

All the centrifugal guns of the era were smooth-bored. Accuracy was abysmal. The stealth afforded by the lack of a loud gunshot was often offset by other factors. There was the issue of keeping the steam pressure ready. The smoke and fire also made concealment difficult, and a supply of fuel had to be carried or scavenged. But, after all this, when the gun was running, it spewed out a fearful stream of balls that were capable of painful, if not always lethal, effect. 

It was never called into action and ended up being scrapped after the War. 

Myth Busting 

The MythBusters television show constructed a steam gun based on the Dickinson design, with a pair of water heaters providing the steam. On their test run, a single round struck the gun’s steel safety shield creating a deep dent which suggested potentially lethal damage to a person. The MythBusters tested the gun at a range of 500 yards and attained a rate of fire of 400 rounds per minute. The gun performed well, firing five rounds per second to a range of 700 yards. However, the weapon lacked lethal force at that range and was not very reliable. The MythBusters concluded the steam gun, as a weapon, was too unreliable and impractical. 

Others Enter the Field 

The Dickinson/Winans gun was far from the last hurrah of the centrifugal gun. As told in Lincoln and the Tools of War by Robert V. Bruce, the McCarty gun was developed independently and demonstrated in New York. It gave such good results it was sent to the Washington Arsenal. President Lincoln himself arrived to meet the inventor and his friend, Colonel George D. Ramsey, Commandant of the Arsenal. Although an open-minded man, Ramsey was no fan of centrifugal guns. He’d seen attempts fail before and loudly disparaged the concept, the inventor and the gun itself. His contempt threw McCarty off to the point he misadjusted the gun and when the President himself fired it, several rounds bounced backwards to strike spectators’ ankles. 

But John A. Dahlgren, of Dahlgren gun fame, was also watching and not so easily put off. He tested McCarty’s device and built a larger version capable of throwing 15, 12-pound rounds a mile away in 16 seconds! Once again, accuracy was terrible and doomed the project. 

Another notable attempt was described in the Baton Rouge Advocate in 1861. Henry Cowing’s design was an adaption of a road-worthy steam locomotive equipped with a steam-air cannon. The gun was silent, smokeless and could be dismounted to restore the locomotive to other tasks. The device was arguably an early self-propelled gun, or, if equipped with armor, an advanced early tank. Unfortunately, little else has been recorded about it. 

The 1862 horse-drawn armored Land Monitor reportedly began construction in Leavenworth, Kansas. It was meant to fire 5,000 rounds at 600 rpm. It did, however, weigh 25,000 pounds. 

According to Scientific American, Dr. Draper Stone demonstrated his centrifugal steam gun at the La Cross Roundhouse in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. While the May 1861 demonstration was judged a success, his project got no further mention. 

Scientific American recorded an even earlier centrifugal gun designed by Benjamin Reynolds of Kinderhook, New York. When tested at West Point in 1837, it fired 1,000 rpm of 2-ounce balls able to penetrate 3.5 inches of hard pine! Similar results were shown to Congressmen and notaries at a demonstration in Washington. The project then faded from view. 

WWI 

The centrifugal gun came up yet again in WWI. Edward T. Moore was granted patent #1332992 for his silent electric machine gun. Moore replaced the L-shaped barrel of Dickinson’s design with a grooved rotating disc. Moore’s weapon dropped rounds onto the disc which whirled them up to speed and spewed them out with a disconcerting lack of accuracy. 

Still, the idea had such appeal, another First World War attempt was made using an aircraft engine for energy. E.L. Rice proposed it, and the idea was vigorously pursued by the American National Research Council. As in other attempts, the apparent simplicity of the idea proved deceptive, and technical problems eventually frustrated the effort. 

A further WWI patent is #1311492 from Herbert A. Bullard. His design departed from all the others by firing a disc rather than a ball. He used a rotating arm with launching points on both ends. This was driven to high speed and fed with a series of disc projectiles. 

The DREAD System 

Around the turn of the millennium, Charles W. St. George, the Australian designer of the Leader T2 MK 5, applied his talents to develop the DREAD™ system. A slick video on YouTube touts the weapon’s major advantages. The ammunition consists of balls, capable of carrying explosives, chemicals or whatever the user chooses. The feed system regulates the fire rate by timing the release of the ball-bearing projectiles. 

Because combustible propellant is not used, the ammunition is safe and easy to store. Pistol-like velocities are cited but the rate of fire is stated to reach 240,000 rpm. Where automatic rifle bullets are spaced out roughly 100 feet apart, the DREAD projectiles can be launched about one third of an inch apart! The weight delivered to the target is huge; almost a solid projectile of whatever length the user chooses. The promotional material emphasizes the stealth aspect of the weapon as the usual weapon signatures of flash and noise are all but eliminated. In addition, the negligible recoil allows for easy aim and a light mounting. The developers show the weapon in use on land, sea, air and space. 

A number of firms and partners entered the development at various times, but although at least one prototype was apparently produced, the project never came to fruition and is no longer being pursued. The promotional video remains on YouTube of the DREAD and an interview with St. George is on Forgotten Weapons. 

St. George eventually lost interest and moved on to work on the M17 bullpup 5.56mm rifle and the .50-cal version. His earlier Leader T2 MK 5 rifle saw limited production, and roughly 2,000 examples were landed in the U.S. before laws ended the importation. 

Current Projects 

At the moment, the gunpowder-powered, bullet-firing gun, has no competition. But, there is no reason to think the interest in centrifugal weapons will fade away. It is one of the few alternative ways to achieve lethal velocity in a portable device. Technology improves daily, and the problem of accuracy that bedevils centrifugal weapons may well be solved. Meanwhile, other technologies are meeting the desire for stealthy, flashless, noiseless and smokeless weapons. The U.S. Navy will soon deploy an electric ship’s “cannon” using electrically charged magnetic rails to accelerate projectiles. 

Finally, in 1963, Popular Mechanics published plans for construction of an electric miniature centrifugal gun. Materials and technical skills would seem in reach of most teens. Designer Roy L. Clough, Jr., claims the semiautomatic fires BBs at a velocity of 25 fps. 

• • • 

Thanks to James Samalea, Carol Mintoff, Popular Mechanics, John W. Lamb, author of Strange Engine of War; Chesapeake Book Company, Roy L. Clough, Jr., Charles W. St. George, Trinamic LLC, and Movie Armaments Group. 

As soon as Hiram Maxim invented automatic firearms, inventors tried to find novel means of operation to make their gun designs simpler, cheaper, lighter, more powerful and more reliable. 

But, not only was Maxim first to harness the gun’s own self-generated force to operate it, he went about imagining and patenting every method he could think of to achieve this. Gun designers hoping to dazzle the world often found Maxim’s name already attached to almost every variation of recoil and gas operation. 

Blowback is the simplest form of automatic operation. It is simple in concept and manufacture. The gun is powered by the energy of the firing cartridge “blowing back.” The case pushes the bolt back, usually against spring pressure, and energizes parts to extract and eject the spent case. The now compressed operating spring subsequently pushes the bolt forward, recharging the gun. 

But, the simplicity is deceptive. Blowback is a balancing act of ammunition, bolt weight and spring strength. There are upper limits to the power. As the limits are approached, bad things start happening. Gas pressure can bulge, split or blow the case apart. The forward part of the case, being thinner than the rear, can press so firmly into the chamber it sticks and separates while the rear part moves back, often damaging the gun and injuring the user. At best, the speed of the action will become violent, damaging internal parts and spewing out empty cases at dangerous speeds. The designer can add mass and spring resistance to counter this, but these will make the gun difficult to use. The designer must then devise some means of delaying the opening of the breech until the bullet has left the barrel and allowed pressure in the case to drop. This usually means gas operation or a complex design of recoil operation. 

As blowback operation is limited by the power of the cartridge, raising the safe limit can result in one of two desirable things: a more powerful cartridge can be used, or the gun can be made lighter. 

Giovanni Angelli had an answer. When the Italian firm FIAT was born in 1899, Giovanni Angelli was one of the founders. By 1902, he was Managing Director and by 1920, Chairman of the Board. 

FIAT-Revelli Model 1914 

In World War I, FIAT was making the 6.5mm FIAT-Revelli Model 1914 for the Italian Army. The gun had extraction problems and required the cartridges be oiled to overcome sticking. In the search to improve the gun, Angelli was issued Italian patent 8943. It covered two types of chamber modifications. One was intended to delay the opening of the breech, and the other was meant to ease it. 

Both were accomplished by adding grooves into the chamber. In order to ease extraction, grooves reach ahead of the case and channel gas backwards, between the chamber wall and the case, to push or “float” the case away from the chamber wall. These grooves, called “flutes,” are found in many firearms from pistols to grenade launchers. 

But, extraction can also be delayed by cutting grooves into the chamber walls that do not reach far enough ahead of the case to channel gas back. Instead, the brass of the case bulges into the indentations under pressure. The distorted case then has to be swaged back down during extraction. All this creates a delay by increasing “stickiness” rather than easing it. 

The expelled cases from fluted chamber guns are usually easily recognized. Some may be physically distorted by the fluting while most are simply betrayed by patterns of soot. 

Vest Pistol 

In the 1920s, Fritz Mann was a German businessman and gun designer in his family’s manufacturing firm. The “Vest Pistol” was a popular accessory, and Mann’s company was competing in the fiercely contested market. Mann needed to elevate his blowback gun above the competition. 

While his gun featured a number of innovations, Mann’s 1920 German Patent 334098 describes a chamber-ring based on Angelli’s concept. 

Mann cut a ring around the inner chamber wall, roughly 1mm deep and 3mm wide. When the gun was fired, the brass of the cartridge case was forced outward into the ring, only to be swaged back as blowback forced the case to the rear. The swelling and squeezing delayed the breech opening enough to allow the empty case to be withdrawn without a bulging head or separation. Mann’s firm produced two .25 ACP models, the Model 20 and Model 21. The ejected cases are clearly identifiable thanks to the ring. Because the .25 ACP cartridge is not overly powerful, the guns could digest a variety of ammunition. The gun was moderately successful, but Mann made a number of other products, allowed the gun department to languish and folded in 1938. 

In the years after WWI, Angelli and FIAT revisited the troubled 1914 machine gun. Their redesigned FIAT 28 used two full-length chamber flutes to float the case and replace the original’s oiler. The new gun also featured belt-feed instead of the awkward clips previously used. For all this, the Model 28 was not a good gun. Angelli’s flutes brought better results in the Breda 30 LMG in a 7mm made for Costa Rica. Instead of the two flutes of the FIAT, it used 30 full-chamber-length flutes to ease extraction. 

A New Chamber Concept 

A completely different chamber concept was devised and patented by American David “Carbine” Williams between the World Wars. Colt Firearms had wanted to offer their 1911 pistol in .22 long rifle. Their first attempt was an indifferent blowback design. The next try was designed by “Carbine” Williams and used his “floating chamber.” 

The inside of the chamber itself was not unusual, but the chamber was in a separate section that slipped into an enlarged and elongated chamber in the barrel. As the bullet fired, gases pushed into the gap between the front of the floating chamber and the barrel. The pressure exerted on the front of the moving chamber forced it back, transmitting enough force to function the gun. The design, being confined to the slide assembly, also meant a conversion slide could be sold and slipped onto existing 1911 lowers. Known as the “Ace Conversion,” this was a great success, and Williams designed a similar system for firing .22s from the .30 belt-fed Browning guns. 

The 1932 Soviet Union used chamber flutes in their ShKAS aircraft gun to handle a special high-powered 7.62×51 rimmed round. 

The Soviets next used flutes at the fronts of the chambers of their Tokarev SVT-38 and SVT- 40 gas-operated rifles. These were the first mass-produced guns with flutes and were used throughout WWII. 

Over 50 years later, the Russian PP-9 KLIN version of the KEDR submachinegun appeared. While the KEDR is a straight blowback gun chambered for the 9x18mm, the KLIN has helical grooves (picture compressed rifling) in its chamber. These are designed to delay operation by its hopped-up 9x18mm PPM Makarov cartridge. 

The Swiss embraced chamber flutes when they upgraded their arsenal after WWII to incorporate a series of roller-locked automatic rifles. The early SIG SAUER Stgw 57 used eight flutes in groups of two. The subsequent SIG AMT semiauto in 7.62 NATO used 16 evenly distributed flutes, and the later SIG 510 in 7.5mm and 7.62 NATO used eight flutes. The belt-fed MG 710 light machine guns (LMGs) all use 12 flutes. 

The recoil-operated, belt-fed French AAT Model 52 LMG was introduced in 1952. It uses 16 flutes to aid extraction of the 7.5mm or 7.62mm NATO cartridge. The French bullpup FAMAS in 5.56 NATO is also recoil-operated and uses 16 flutes to aid extraction. 

Spanish Star Z-45, Z-62, Z-70 and Z-84 SMGs all use 18 flutes, except for one Z-70 variation which uses10. The CETME Model 58 rifle, designed by former Mauser engineers, used 16 flutes. Later still, CETME SPAM LMG in 5.56mm used 16 flutes, and the 1970s Spanish AMELI 5.56mm LMG was a scaled down MG-42 with a fluted chamber. 

Germany’s Heckler & Koch (HK) developed the HK 91 from the Spanish CETME, itself an evolution of the late WWII Mauser Stg 45. After post-War France declined to go ahead with development of the Stg system, the ex-Mauser engineers moved to Spain to design the successful CETME. The Stg 45/CETME action did not actually lock. The system of semi-locked rollers remained locked under pressure and released as the pressure dropped. This worked well with the medium power German 8mm Kurz cartridge, but the full-power 7.62mm NATO was too powerful. The Spanish simply adopted a lower-powered version of the cartridge. 

Germany, being a NATO member, was committed to the standard NATO cartridge, and German engineers were determined to make the roller-lock system work. They made a development deal with CETME and added chamber flutes. This made all the difference; the resulting HK91 rifle was adopted by Germany as the G3. The various HK91 rifles and the firm’s HK93 5.56mm NATO rifles use fluted chambers with 18 flutes, and the belt-fed HKs in 7.62mm NATO all use chamber flutes. CETMEs soon featured the flutes. The function of the flutes has been occasionally misinterpreted as a method of slowing the extraction similar to a chamber ring, but this was never the case. 

Fluted Chambers for Handguns 

HK applied fluted chambers to their handguns as well. The HK 4 in .380 issued to German police and Customs has chamber cuts designed to delay the action. The HK 4 in .22 also has four flutes, but they are meant to assist extraction. 

Many roller-locked guns, whether fully locked by design or not, have a weakness known as “bolt-bounce.” If the rollers are not properly positioned at the instant of firing, the bolt can open prematurely with severe consequences. In the MG42, the bolt can close and the firing pin strikes the primer at the appropriate time, but if the inertia of the bolt slamming to battery results in the locking rollers momentarily “bouncing” back when a cartridge coincidentally hangs fire, the result can be catastrophic. The ill-timed delay in ignition can cause the cartridge to fire with the gun unlocked. This was cured by adding a device to the bolt which held the rollers outward to prevent any bounce. The same issue affected the Swiss SIG 510. In this case, the gun fires from a closed bolt, but here again the slamming of the bolt could cause it to bounce back and partially unlock. The Swiss chose to cure this by modifying the chamber. It incorporates flutes to float the cartridge case, but the chamber also has a step at the shoulder which prevents the case from fully entering the chamber until the closing bolt rams it in a fraction of an inch. This slows the final closing and keeps the bolt face from striking the back of the barrel hard enough to generate “bolt-bounce.” 

The discontinued 9mm and .40 HK P7 and the P9S 9mm use flutes to assist extraction. The 9mm HK MP5 submachine gun uses16 flutes. 

The Kimball 

A post-World War II American handgun took Mann’s design to the extreme. While Mann’s guns were small and elegant, the Kimball was pure Detroit. Born in the 1950s, it was big, brawny and loud. Made by J. Kimball Arms, it fired the .30 carbine cartridge. The carbine round may be considered sub-powered for a shoulder gun, but it is certainly at the top end of pistol ammunition. 

The Kimball is a large gun, or was, as its career was short. It was an attractive gun, finely cause dangerous conditions, particularly when powerful cartridges are used. 

The substantial recoil, large flash and enthusiastic operation made the Kimball a handful to shoot, but fear of mechanical failure doomed the enterprise. The slide relied on lugs at the rear of the frame to bring its rearward travel to a halt. Several examples showed evidence of being battered out of shape, and this led to fear of the lugs failing and letting the slide rocket back into the shooter’s face. There are no reports of this actually happening, but several reviews pointing out the perceived dangers helped bring the enterprise down in 1955. Only 238 were made, and it is a sought-after collectors’ gun today. 

The AutoMag II 

At first, the Winchester Magnum Rimfire cartridge, or WMR, was deemed too powerful for straight blowback. One of the first to challenge this limitation was the early AutoMag II designed by Harry Sanford and Larry Grossman and made by AMT (Arcadia Machine and Tool). The issue was not a premature exit of the case causing case failure but difficulty in extraction. 

The AutoMag II used a unique system. The barrel outside the chamber is machined to thin it down, and 18 holes are drilled through into the chamber. The front six are located just ahead of the case mouth. A steel sleeve is welded over the machined and drilled outer chamber area. When the gun is fired, gas fills the small chamber created by the sleeve and bleeds back into the chamber through the 12 rear holes. The gas floats the case, reducing adhesion and allowing extraction. While it presents cleaning issues, the idea worked and could be made expensively. 

Chinese Designers Take a Stab 

Communist Chinese designers also resorted to fluted chambers. Their silenced Type 64SMG has three flutes at the front of the chamber. The Model 80 7.62mm full-auto pistol (a homage to the 1932 Mauser 712 broom-handle) has six flutes; the more conventional Type 64 in 7.62mm has four helical retarding grooves; and the Type 77 7.62mm has an annular groove near the back of the chamber to retard operation. 

Grendel P30 

The Grendel P30 was designed by George Kellgren and first marketed in 1990. The 30-round handgun fires the .22 WMR. Kellgren incorporated 16 chamber flutes to aid in functioning. Production ceased in 1994. 

A range of .22 WMR cartridges suited to short barrels enabled Kellgren to refine the P30 design into the Kel-Tec PMR-30 without using a fluted chamber. When Hi-Standard re-introduced the AutoMag II, they were able to eliminate the holes in the chamber of the originals. 

Today, the legacy of Mann’s handgun lives on in L.W. Seecamp Co. guns. Seecamp was founded by Ludwig Wilhelm Seecamp, a gunsmith in pre-WWII Germany and a survivor of service in the Waffen-SS on the Eastern Front. Seecamp came to America after the War and settled in Connecticut. He began making a simple concealable double-action in .25 ACP. He had doubtless seen the Mann guns in Germany and used the chamber-ring delay to develop .32 and .380 versions. Admirers called them the “Rolex” of small handguns and demand soon out-reached supply. After the elder Seecamp passed on, the company remained a family enterprise, run by his equally talented son, Lueder “Larry” W. Seecamp. Before Larry Seecamp passed on in 2018, he sold the company. The larger caliber guns are now made in Massachusetts, no longer back-ordered and still remarkable for their quality, small size and concealability. 

Certainly the fluted chamber fills a narrow area of need, but shooters will be puzzling over oddly patterned brass on the ranges for many years to come. 

• • • 

My thanks to James Samalea, Carol Mintoff, Larry Albright and Mike Strannahan, Albright’s Gun Shop, Benedikt Rieger, Chuck Hawks, Finn Nielsen, Joseph “Jay” Bauser, Lisa Weder, Movie Armaments Group, Peter Dannecker, Sprague’s Sports, R. Blake Stevens, Rock Island Auctions, Noel Incavo, Midwest Sporting Goods, Shakeena Hearn, Adam Bucci, Rachel Hoefing, Ian Ballard at Glossover.co.uk, Stefan Klein, Wiley Clapp, Vaclav “Jack” Krcma, Journal of Forensic Science. 

Terry Edwards has done numerous articles for Soldier of Fortune, Small Arms Review and Small Arms Defense Journal. His books are available on Kindle. 

“You only have to kick in the door and the whole rotten structure will come crashing down…”
-Adolph Hitler

With this prediction, Hitler launched Operation Barbarossa, his invasion of the Soviet Union, on Sunday morning, June 22, 1941.

In four months, his army carved hundreds of miles east from Poland, through Russia, to the city of Tula. Tula straddled the roads and rails 120-miles south of Moscow and blocked the advancing Panzers’ path to victory. On October 29, 1941, Tula was now the door to Moscow.

Late in the 1500s, Tsar Fyodor I first settled gun-makers in Tula near the iron ore deposits by the Upa River. In the years that followed, Tula courted foreign gunsmiths and engineers to the city, and it became the center of Russian iron working and armaments. Peter the Great visited in 1712 and founded the state armory. By 1720, more than 1000 workers were producing 20,000 muskets a year. Tula gained a reputation for high-quality arms, often with ornate decoration, but the meat and potatoes continued to be military guns, like the Berdan rifles produced beginning in 1879. It was a city built by iron.

Arms production for the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905 and WWI swelled Tula still more. Most of the guns used in the Red Revolution and the fighting to follow came from Tula. When Hitler attacked, the City of Tula had a population of 272,000.

Hitler had confidently declared Russia would be defeated in three months. He was sure the Red Army would crumble if they lost the western industrial and agricultural heartland. An eastward retreat would be a suicide march into the wilderness. Hitler’s blazing victory would be so swift that no winter clothes for the troops, anti-freeze or low-temperature oils for engines and guns need be considered.

To Hitler the invasion of Russia was inevitable. It was Germany’s destiny and his to lead it. Communism was the mortal enemy of National Socialism and, moreover, the lands to the east were vital to a German future. There was no other choice.

There were strong voices against it at the time. Despite the German victories in Europe, England remained stubbornly unbowed, and opening a new front seemed foolhardy. Many of Hitler’s economic advisors warned the acquisition and administration of so much territory would be more a drain than an asset. And, this assumed they won!

But, the pessimists were lesser men; men without vision … Hitler knew better. Hitler knew the Reds were soft. The brief Winter War of 1939–1940 in which the Soviets failed to subdue Finland convinced him. The German high command, flushed with victory and bedecked with new medals, were aware that Stalin’s purges of Soviet officers had wiped away the Red Army leadership. They agreed. All were arrogantly unaware of the lessons Stalin had learned. In the wake of the Finnish disaster, he was already recalling thousands of fired officers and over-hauling Soviet equipment.

In the snowy forests, the Finnish Suomi KP/-31 submachine gun had taken a heavy toll on the Reds. True, the Soviets had their old-style PPD designed by Vasily Degtyaryov. It was serviceable, but there were never enough. Russia would need millions of guns.

Georgy Shpagin redesigned his friend’s PPD to produce the PPSh-41. The initials stand for “Pistolet-Pulemyot Shpagina,” or, in English, “Pistol, Machine, Shpagin.” The 41 is for the year of adoption—1941. Like the PPD, the PPSh is blow-back operated and fires the Russian 7.62mm pistol round. This was modeled after the German 7.63mm cartridge and could fire the German cartridge as well. The reverse was not true as the more powerful Russian round could damage the German guns. The PPSh wasn’t in production when the Germans stormed the Russian border, but by the time they reached Tula, the gun was being stamped out in Moscow. The PPSh incorporated a copy of the Suomi 71-round ammunition drum. Eventually over six million were made. With its 900rpm fire rate it was hugely popular and easily maintained by even ill-trained soldiers. Even German soldiers were happy to be issued captured PPShs, converted to 9mm.

Degtyaryov and Shpagin worked together as friends and protégés of Vladimir Federov for many years. The clique of Soviet arms designers were all favorites of Stalin, surviving the purges and enjoying many honors. The Degtyaryov plant at Kovrov was named in honor of Degtyaryov.

One of the most successful machine guns developed in the Soviet Union, the gas-powered 12.7mm DShK heavy machine gun, was created there. Degtyaryov originally designed it to feed from a 30-round drum. Shpagin devised a belt feed, and the “Dashka,” as it became called, was a much-loved staple in WWII and is still in broad use today. At Tula, the guns were dug in; their crews huddled behind the shields of their wheeled mounts.

Behind them, weapons were going directly from factory to the front line. The “Sveta” got its nickname from its initials “SVT.” SVT stands for “Tokarev self-loading rifle.” Working at Tula, Fedor V. Tokarev, another Stalin favorite, improved his SVT-38 into the SVT-40. It fired the rimmed 7.62mm from a detachable 10-round magazine. A million and a half SVTs were made including over 50,000 sniper versions. Many SVTs had already faced the Germans in the opening days of Barbarossa, but the ensuing Blitzkrieg saw most of these lost. Production at Tula and Izhmash was only curtailed in favor of the easier to make M91 rifle and the PPSh submachine gun.

Stalin believed Hitler would not attack Russia. Even when the biggest invasion in history tore into his lines on June 22, 1941, Stalin believed the attack was unauthorized, and Hitler would quickly rein in his renegade Generals.

At that moment, Hitler was the only power on earth that could rein in the German invasion. He had no intention of doing so. The German Blitzkrieg roared from success to success.

The German attackers swept the stunned opposition aside and plunged deep into the enemy rear areas. From there they dashed to the sides, cutting off the Russian front lines from hope of resupply and reinforcement. Then they wrapped them up into confused pockets of isolated and demoralized men, convinced, quite rightly, they had been abandoned and written off. In the first week of Barbarossa Germany captured 400,000 Soviet soldiers and the city of Minsk. Then the cities of Leningrad and Kiev came under the gun and in between another 600,000 Soviet soldiers were trapped and captured.

The majority of Soviet soldiers met Hitler’s forces with the Mosin-Nagant Model 91 “three-lined rifle.” The three lines measured the bore; each “line” being .254 of a centimeter, adding up to 7.62mm. The bore diameter would be used in most Soviet small arms, apparently in an effort to make barrel production more efficient. This bolt-action rifle, was another Tula development, an amalgam of Russian Captain Sergei Ivanovich Mosin’s rifle and Belgian Emile Nagant’s magazine. It was first issued in 1892. Almost 40 million were eventually made at Tula and other Russian arsenals. Some were even sub-contracted to Westinghouse and Remington in the U.S. The M91 served in the Russo-Japanese War, the Revolution, the Civil War and throughout WWII. A few even served in American and British hands. Most were long infantry versions, but shorter models were made and several sniper versions were produced.

Supporting the M91s were the Degtyaryov DP light machine guns. These were widely issued by the end of the 1930s. The distinctive 47-round pan magazine provided reliable feed at the cost of being awkward and hard to reload. But, the DP was reliable and easily manufactured even in improvised factories. Unlike its German counter-part, the MG-34, the DP did not have a quick-change barrel and relied on a low 600rpm fire rate to moderate over-heating.

In a series of pincer movements, the Germans elevated their encirclements to a near art form. Even the German commanders were astounded at the huge numbers of captured enemy soldiers and equipment. There was no mechanism to cope with the volume, but the cynical policy of starving the prisoners eased the pressure.

 Still, within a month, German commanders were starting to feel nervous. Their successes meant their resources were being devoured, but the Soviets seemed to have been underestimated and kept conjuring men and equipment out of nowhere. Resistance was stiffening as the Soviets learned of the savage German behavior, the flamethrowers unleashed on civilians, the massacres and the roving death squads. And, underlying everything, was a simple, noble, Russian love for their motherland.

Among the captured weapons were many Tula-made Maxim Model 1910s. Tsarist Russia first fielded the recoil-operated Maxim gun in the Russo-Japanese War and began to make their own in 1905. The Russian Model Maxim 1910 is easily recognized by its ribbed water-cooling jacket. During WWII, a distinctive tractor radiator cap was added to allow insertion of snow when liquid water was not available. The Model 1910 earned the term “heavy machine gun” with its shield and wheeled mount.

The Model 1910 fires the 7.62mm Russian rimmed cartridge from a 250-round belt at 600rpm. Although the gun was later superseded by the SG-43 Goryunov, it remained in production until after the war.

Field Marshall Gunther von Kluge led the Army Group Center in Operation Typhoon, the German operation to take Moscow. Hitler’s predicted three-month deadline for victory passed quietly, and the advance continued. Not until October 1941 did German scouts finally see Moscow through their binoculars. Twelve miles ahead, they saw a city bristling for battle and eerily empty. Stalin had sent government and industry 500-miles to the south-east and across the Volga River to the city of Kuibyshev. While Muscovites panicked and fled, Stalin looked at his private train ready to take him to safety and decided to stay in the besieged capital; a decision that likely saved the nation.

Winter came early in 1941, the cold stabbing the German soldiers through their summer uniforms. It would be the worst winter of the century. The Germans split up and raced to the flanks, hoping to surround Moscow and hit from several directions. Sweeping ahead to the south on October 7, the renowned German Colonel-General Heinz Guderian was approaching Moscow on the road from Orel with his proud 2^nd Panzer Division. Ahead, the city of Tula was already writhing under German artillery shells. Von Kluge and Guderian expected this dot on the map would quickly be a minor memory. Guderian was ordered to take Tula.

 But, the ancient Russian ally, winter, would not be ignored. A layer of snow fell and then melted, turning the road to mud. Tanks and infantry transport sank, and the morass devoured German fuel and straining machinery and exhausted the men. Additionally, numerous partisan groups badgered the German supply lines and rear areas.

Ahead, the glow of Tula’s industry could occasionally be glimpsed. As well as being the manufacturing center of many Soviet arms, Tula was also the birthplace of the Soviet TT-33 semi-automatic pistol. The two “Ts” in “TT” stand for the gun’s designer, Tokarev and the Tula arsenal. Tokarev, a Tula native, improved on John Browning’s design with an improved system of holding the recoil spring. Overall the gun is made to be easier and simpler than a Browning to clean and fix. The 7.62mm ammo is held in an 8-round magazine, and the gun could fire the German 7.62mm if any were captured.

Another Tula product was the Nagant M1895 revolver designed by and named for Emile’s brother Leon Nagant. This remarkable gun was produced at Tula from 1895 through both World Wars. It fired seven shots of a unique 7.62mm rimmed cartridge. The full-length brass cartridge surrounded the bullet. The gun pushed the cylinder forward to seal the gap between cylinder and barrel. This eliminated flash, preserved the power of the burning gases and facilitated use of a silencer if desired. The various secret police services made use of this.

 Stalin appointed General Georgy Zhukov to take over the Western Front, including Moscow’s defense, on October 10. Twelve days later, German elements neared Tula, and V.G. Zhavoronkov, the First Secretary of the city, assumed combat command of Tula and formed the 1500-strong Tula Workers Regiment.

 While the new regiment trained, everyone else fit to work was drafted to build defenses. Trenches, barbed wire, minefields and anti-ditches began to ring the city. Homes and factories were strengthened and stocked with weapons, ammunition and Molotov “cocktails;” bottles of gasoline to be thrown at tanks. Anti-tank weapons were in short supply, but Degtyaryov had also designed two models of light anti-tank rifles. The bolt-action PTRD and the semi-auto PTRS-41 both used the same 14.5mm cartridge. Unfortunately, they only penetrated the German tanks under ideal conditions. The semi-auto PTRS-41 only functioned well when it and its ammunition were well-bathed in oil.

 A layered perimeter was established. When the temperatures dipped, wood from the rubble was burned to soften the frozen ground. Belts of wire were thickened and ditches deepened.

Entire factories had been disassembled, crated and shipped east. Several production lines from the Tula arms factory went with them, but production did not stop. The remaining lines worked night and day.

The Soviet Army bolstered the Tula Workers Regiment. Throughout the fighting, women, children and the elderly would carry supplies to the front, carry messages and help the wounded. While the defenders prepared and scrambled to plug their gaps, they couldn’t know Stalin was already assembling reserves to the east.

On October 24, Guderian’s drive on Tula began. By October 28, he was less than 20 miles from Tula. The lone, muddy road remained a huge problem, and only one battalion of infantry had enough fuel to keep up with the dwindling tanks. The pace had to slow; without the infantry, the Panzers were prey for the often suicidal Soviet anti-tank squads.

On October 29, the German tanks ground over the small towns south of Tula, smashing through the thin resistance. Dusk found the Germans tired, grimy and mud-covered but only two miles from Tula.

“Take it!” Guderian was ordered. He attacked immediately in the hope of surprising the Soviets and breaking into Tula. It didn’t happen. The Soviet defenders lashed out with their M91s, SVTs, PPShs, DPs, anti-tank guns, Maxims and Dashkas. Mortars and artillery piled on to bring the shaken Germans to a standstill. Guderian’s attack was suspended until dawn. The attack had failed, but the idea was right; Tula was strengthened and reinforced under cover of darkness.

The sun rose unseen behind low, dark, clouds. The German artillery barrage lit them up at 5.30 a.m., the shells mingling with rain. When the bombardment stopped, the tanks, confined to the few roads by even more mud, made contact with Tula. The German infantry pressed forward with them. By mid-afternoon, the fighting fell to a stalemate. Then, the Soviet T-34 tanks arrived, their broad tracks able to negotiate the soft ground. Their 76mm guns pounded the 2nd Panzers and drove them back. The infantry could only follow.

A last-gasp German attack late in the afternoon fared no better. Soviet forces in a defended cemetery blunted it, and when the Germans shifted into a factory area they did no better. By nightfall, the unhappy Germans were digging their own defensive positions.

During the overcast night, still more reinforcements joined the now hopeful defenders, bringing their strength to more than two dozen tanks. A fresh rifle division deployed, and more anti-aircraft guns were wheeled into front-line service. The Germans held back Soviet infiltrators all night.

 The night brought a new horror. The Katyusha multiple rocket launchers were a terrifying surprise. These were nick-named “Stalin’s organs” because the grouped launching tubes resembled the pipes in a church organ. As the rockets howled and exploded, the thin morning light revealed ghostly Soviet fighters through the mist, smoke and drizzle.

The Luftwaffe sent planes, but the Soviet 732^nd Anti-aircraft Artillery Regiment shot down several and disrupted the attack. Their 85mm guns were then leveled to engage German ground forces. When the rare Soviet aircraft did appear they strafed the Germans with 7.62mm and 12.7mm aircraft machine guns made at Tula.

The Germans could barely hold, and attack was out of the question. On November 1, the Soviets counter-attacked from Tula again. The counter-attack stalled as the Germans, now trapped in the mud, fought with their backs to the wall, attacking tanks on foot with small arms and grenades.

Again, the front gelled. Seeing his attacks stopped, but realizing the Soviet counter-attack was also stopped, Guderian shifted north to bypass the city, continue the advance to Moscow and cut off Tula from further resupply and reinforcement.

The Panzers met rigid resistance. At the same time, another push toward Tula was stopped by the unshakable 156^th Rifle Regiment of the NKVD. By November 3, the battle lines were again locked in trenches and foxholes.

Over the next two days, the 413^th Rifle Division reinforced Tula. More importantly, a cold front pushed away the drizzled weather. The frigid air froze the mud, and the German vehicles and men could move. It also brought new suffering to the Germans. Emergency supplies of winter clothing were miles behind in the vast muddy traffic jam stretching back to Poland. The cold hit record lows.

On November 15, the Germans struggled again to push around Tula and regain the initiative. Despite several counter-attacks mounted by the Soviets, by November 17, it looked like the attack might succeed. Then the T-34 tanks arrived to catch the German infantry unsupported. Their 37mm anti-tank guns were useless against the T-34s. The German commanders watched dumbfounded as their men ran for their lives. Reinforcements stabilized the situation, but the sense of foreboding was inescapable.

On November 18, Guderian’s attack lurched north toward Moscow. German tanks detached to attack Tula from the north. Tula was nearly cut off as German forces seized the road from Moscow.

 Too little, too late—The German forces were simply exhausted of everything. By December 5, Guderian was looking for an exit.

The next day, the prepared Soviet counter-attacks by fresh Siberian troops with hundreds of new PPShs and dozens of new T-34 tanks bled out the last of German energy and material. The temperature dropped to -36F. Oil froze in German engines and guns, grease froze on artillery ammunition, optical sights frosted and fogged, and metal parts, reportedly including rifle bolt handles, became brittle and broke. The Siberians had seen worse and shrugged it off.

Soon, there were plans to withdraw and consolidate and counter-attack. These came too little in the cold and confusion. Moscow did not fall. On December 20, Guderian flew to Hitler’s headquarters to plan a withdrawal. On Christmas day Hitler fired him.

There were many battles ahead, but Moscow was safe, and the German adventure in Russia was turned. The defenders of Tula were largely responsible; Hitler was stopped at the Iron City’s door.

This article first appeared in Small Arms Review V22N9 (November 2018)

He is often called the Father of the American Sniper. Champion shot and brilliant soldier, his books are still read and loved. He is honest and even self-effacing about his role in the war, but his cover-up of the booze confuses and spawns many contradictions. To make it worse, he was the victim of a misguided official smear after the war. Following Herbert Wesley McBride is like jumping into Alice’s rabbit hole.

Both of McBride’s books are in the public domain and can be found online. The Emma Gees, published in 1918, is McBride’s story in World War I. His second and larger book, A Rifleman Went to War, appeared in 1933. Aside from great tales and advice, they reach out to grab and infect the reader with McBride’s raw spirit and leadership. As instruction for anyone going to war, they remain unsurpassed.

McBride was born October 15, 1873, in Waterloo, Indiana. His father Robert, his mother Ida, an older brother and two sisters, Robert’s war-widowed sister and her son and a maid filled the large home … an empty field today. Mac, as Herbert was later nick-named, was a sharp student. A surviving report card shows marks in the 80s and 90s. He called himself a “gun crank.” He never married, and he shares little about his personal life. He hunted with his father and greatly admired him.

Mac’s father, Robert McBride, was raised in Ohio by his widowed mother. Robert’s own father died in the Mexican War in 1847. In the Civil War, Robert rode in President Lincoln’s mounted bodyguard. After the War, he married and moved to Waterloo, Indiana, to teach school and begin a family. He became a lawyer, a circuit judge, businessman, Freemason and social leader. His lodge building houses the U.S. Marshall’s office today. He rose to Colonel in the Indiana Legion, fore-runner to the National Guard. Mac joined his father’s unit and made Sergeant.

Robert sent his teenage son to Colorado to treat his tuberculosis and maybe satisfy his thirst for adventure. It only spurred him on. Mac eagerly injected himself into cowboy life, legal struggles and range wars, met several western legends, including Bat Masterton, and learned the secret to coping under pressure … “never get excited.”

While Mac was out west, his father was elected to the Indiana Supreme Court and moved the family to Indianapolis. Mac returned and worked for his father’s law firm in several cities, became a reserve officer and a highly competitive marksman.

In 1896, gold was discovered in the Canadian Klondike. McBride went, didn’t get rich, and in 1900, joined the Canadian Army to go to the Boer War. He was welcomed in but left when he found only British subjects could go overseas.

A man soon to shape McBride’s future was also trying to get to the war. Born in rural Ontario, his name was Sam Hughes … Just “Sam” because his father wanted to avoid the pretentious “Samuel.” That didn’t work.

Sam was a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse, tall, athletic, an officer in the Militia and a rabid Orangeman and Freemason. His older brother John would become a General, and his younger brother William was decorated in Canada’s North-West Rebellion (1885). Sam later used his influence to elevate William to Inspector in the federal prison system. Sam himself helped fight off the Fenian raids of the 1860s and 1870s. True to the times, the achievements of his sisters are unrecorded.

Sam bought a newspaper in Lindsay, Ontario, to better share his beliefs with the community and soon ran for Parliament. Many despised him as a bigoted bully, yet Hughes could also be appealing and compassionate. He made everyone he met believe they were special and was voted to Ottawa.

In 1899, Hughes was working to establish himself as his party’s military expert. The war with the South African Boers highlighted a problem; guns. Canada hadn’t bought the Lee-Enfield, even at the discounted price offered by the British War Office. With the war on, the British withdrew their discounted offer and insisted on equipping their own men first. Canadians went unhappily to South Africa to face modern Mausers with obsolete smoke-poles.

Hughes landed a guest posting with a regular army unit sailing for South Africa. The night before sailing, his already exasperated commander fired the arrogant Hughes. To avoid being left on the dock, Hughes paid his own passage.

In South Africa, Hughes convinced the British to give him a command. To the disgust of his critics, Sam proved brave and dashing in action … or, so he wrote home for publication. He was particularly angry over being denied the two Victoria Crosses he demanded.

Predictably, Hughes soon turned on his British benefactors and was fired again. He went home, lionized as a hero, and carrying grudges against both the Canadian and the British regular Armies.

After the Boer War, it was assumed Canada would finally buy the Lee-Enfield. But, Canada had offered up her sons, and the British had refused them decent guns. Of course, the facts were different. The British War Office only said they couldn’t sell guns, let alone at a discount, until the British Army was equipped. Canada would have to make her own deals with the manufacturers. Their price was a lot higher, and Canada refused to pay. But, no politician ever let truth stand in the way, and Hughes nationalistically championed the Ross.

It has been reported Hughes met Sir Charles Ross in South Africa and saw the Ross Model 1897 rifle in action. There is no proof of this; although Ross was certainly there and likely had one or more of his guns.

The distinguishing characteristic of the Ross Model 1897 was its straight-pull action. It owes much to Ferdinand Ritter von Mannlicher’s Model 1895. The Austrian Mannlicher, the Swiss Schmidt Rubin and the Danish Krag, adopted by the U.S in 1892, all used straight-pull designs. By the time Hughes championed it for Canadian service, Ross had already redesigned the gun to eliminate the early hammer ignition of the 1897. His commercial Model 1900 incorporated a striker propelled by a coiled mainspring, and this appeared in the 1905 Mk I.

Ross was born in 1872 and grew up fascinated with gun design. He equipped a machine shop in the family castle as a boy. At Cambridge, he studied engineering and was such a natural he hardly needed to attend class. That left him time for his two yachts. He kept them tied up near school where he supported the arts by mentoring young actresses. Sir Charles was an avid hunter and an officer in the Seaforth Highlanders. As Britain’s wealthiest man, he could afford it all.

Ross established the Ross Rifle Co. in a Connecticut factory. Sam Hughes, although in the opposition, led the charge for Canada to buy the Ross. Soon, the train was rolling and to oppose the Ross was unpatriotic. The horrified British had already turned the gun down and tried to bring Canada to her senses.

They were too late. Sir Charles packed his plant off to Quebec. While this was catastrophic for some workers in Connecticut, most of the parts were subcontracted, and the American firms now shipped parts to Quebec.

The first Ross rifle to enter Canadian service was patented in 1903 as the Mk I. The integral Harris magazine held five .303 rounds and a “cut-off” restricted firing to single shots to conserve those in the magazine for emergency. A large thumb-operated lever depressed the magazine follower to allow easier loading. Care still had to be taken to place the rim of each cartridge in front of the one below to prevent a double-feed.

The straight-pull action has inherent disadvantages. Most high-caliber gun designs employ “primary extraction” because the cartridge case expands in the chamber on firing and tends to stick. Primary extraction moves the casing back a short distance while usually twisting it slightly. This done, the case can be easily extracted. While all this activity can be engineered into a straight-pull design, it is more simply done in the upward stroke of a turn-bolt handle. And, on the loading motion, the downward stroke of the bolt handle provides greater leverage to seat the next round and lock the action. This fundamental weakness would prove critical in the Ross. The extractor saw numerous modifications until a reinforced version was introduced in the Ross Mk II rifle.

The earliest guns may have gone to Canadian Fisheries followed by 1000 guns to the North-West Mounted Police. These ‘Carbines’ had 26-inch long barrels and lacked the bayonet attachment which might snag in a horse scabbard. The Mounties soon traded the Ross back for their Winchesters and Lee-Metfords. These are rare today because most were destroyed in an Alberta warehouse fire soon after being recalled from service. Forgeries abound.

The next group went to the Canadian Army. Numerous flaws soon showed up in design and quality control. Tales of sights and bayonets coming loose are exaggerated, while the stories of mis-assembled bolts flying out apply only to commercial rifles and the later Mk III. It is a very difficult situation to arrange, and at worst the bolt can only go back until stopped by the bolt stop.

The receiver was redesigned, and in 1905 a new version with a 28-inch barrel was patented as the Mk II. This model saw continual development from 1905 to 1911. The Mk II** had a 30.5-inch barrel specifically for target work and was disqualified at first at Bisley because the longer barrel prevented the gun from accepting a bayonet. The emergency addition of a new lug solved this on the spot. Numerous modifications were made to the standard 28-inch barrel Mk II and not reflected in model designations. When the Mk II ***** was reached, development ended. In 1917 the United States bought 20,000 Canadian Mk IIs for training. These can be identified by the flaming bomb stamps on their stocks. Any Mk II snipers encountered are not factory-made. Only the Mk III sniper (covered in the next part of the article) is considered authentic.

The Mk III military rifle was patented in 1910 with a new look and a longer 30.5-inch barrel. It was issued from 1912 on; although 1913 is the first date observed. The vertical locking lugs of the Mk I and Mk II were eliminated in favor of a series of teeth, similar to interrupted threads, which travelled horizontally in the receiver. This had first been introduced in the commercial “Deerstalker.” Cock-on-closing gave way to cock-on-opening, and the early staggered stack magazine was replaced by a single-stack box loadable by stripper clip. Better in many ways, the Mk III was also made heavier, longer and clumsier by various government demands.

Home from the Klondike, the restless McBride moved from city to city working for his father’s law practice. He served in several National Guard units and was a Captain by 1907. He was also the Indiana state rifle champion in 1905, 1906 and 1907 and an expert with the Colt 1911, Gatling gun and Colt 1895. Off the ranges, he served as the Indiana Secretary for the National Rifle Association.

McBride doubtless saw the Ross rifle in international competition. Ross Mk II rifles in .303 won many matches before World War I.

In 1907 Ross first offered his new .280 cartridge in the also new Ross “Scotch Deerstalker” sporting rifle. This was basically a heavy barrel Mk II** with the interrupted thread locking system soon to appear in the Mk III. The rimless .280 propelled a 140-grain bullet at over 3000-fps. Ross had hoped the .280 would be adopted throughout the British Commonwealth. World War I made any such change impossible.

In 1913, the Canadian team showed up at Camp Perry with .280 “Military” rifles Ross made up in Mk III military configuration. They weren’t issue, and the team wasn’t allowed to use them. One was displayed in the NRA collection. It has a flat floorplate instead of the usual visible magazine.

Politically, Sam had astutely supported Robert Borden, an up-and-comer who became Prime Minister. Sam’s reward was appointment as the Minister of Militia and Defense in 1911. But, as a Brigadier General in the militia, he was out-ranked by his own General Staff. The Minister promoted himself to Lieutenant General to outrank them all.

In 1914, McBride was scouting for the railroad in western Canada when he heard the United States was sending a force to Mexico. Mac rushed home and took command of a National Guard company. They trained all summer but were never called. Then, an Austrian Arch-Duke was killed in Sarajevo and in August 1914, Europe fumbled into war bringing Britain and her Commonwealth with her.

The General Staff of the Canadian Army had an elaborate mobilization plan. It would unfold automatically and finally make the irksome Hughes irrelevant. Hughes saw the trap. He informed the nation the regular Army would not mobilize and an Expeditionary Force of militia would go overseas instead. Regular officers rushed to transfer to the militia. All had to be personally approved by Sam, and this opened the door for McBride.

Hughes hired his officers, opened training bases, ordered equipment and seemingly organized Canada’s war effort single-handedly. His hasty contacts for equipment resulted in some poor quality goods and doubtful designs. He was accused of corruption but was only guilty of bad judgement. Canada declared war on August 4, and the 18,000-man Canadian Expeditionary Force landed in England on October 14, 1914.

McBride had to resign from the National Guard before he took the train north in January 1915. He by-passed the crowded border recruiting stations, going straight to Ottawa to present himself at the office of Lieutenant General Sam Hughes. Hughes welcomed the brash American with an Officer’s commission. Until McBride’s unit formed up, he would serve as a weapons instructor for Lt. Colonel William S.P. Hughes. Ninety miles south in Kingston, Hughes’ younger brother was training his 21st Battalion for France.

Canadian winters can be brutal, and cold days usually ended in the officers’ mess. Sam had campaigned for a dry militia but once elected, let commanders do as they chose. Most commanders, William included, let the men choose. Unfortunately, McBride chose too much.

Colonel Hughes sent a note to General Hughes. The Colonel asked Sam to recall McBride to Ottawa. It is unlikely McBride was ever aware of the note. McBride thought he was being recalled to go to the front. When he learned he was going to Bermuda, he says he kicked up enough fuss to get himself thrown out.

Months later, McBride’s puzzled father wrote Sam Hughes asking why his son was now a private … and in a machine gun section. He asked if liquor was involved.

General Hughes asked for a report. McBride’s commander in Ottawa recounts how McBride acquired a horse and, before several hundred admirers near Parliament, mustered an impressive one-man show to announce he hadn’t joined to guard some tropical island.

His new commander was part of the audience. When McBride came to morning parade, two days later, he was dismissed. Several days after that, the Colonel found McBride in a hospital and took his resignation. He confirmed Robert McBride’s suspicion that liquor was involved.

In his books, McBride writes he called Colonel Hughes and asked if he could join the 21st in the ranks. He says Colonel Hughes was happy to have him. The books don’t mention it, but the Colonel must have added … with the Minister’s approval. McBride visited Sam’s office again. A sympathetic General Hughes gave McBride another chance.

Back in Kingston, McBride was assigned to the machine gun section commanded by another American, Hugh Norton-Taylor. The early machine gun sections were traditional catch-alls for misfits, but McBride actually knew something about the guns.

Canada was an early adopter of the belt-fed Colt M1895 gun, buying it in .303. The gun was never known as user-friendly but a skilled and gentle hand was rewarded with excellent performance. Most battalions had four Colts. The 21st sailed with two extra, purchased by Colonel Hughes’ prison system colleagues.

Every man wielded an Mk III Ross rifle, with some unease. Overseas, the gun had jammed in close combat during the Second Battle of Ypres. It was claimed the rifle was too finely made to tolerate mud and rough handling. There is truth to this, but the fatal flaw was a specific and avoidable mistake. Before the war, the British re-designed the .303 cartridge, rechambering their Lee-Enfields to a slightly larger size than the Ross. Canadian experts said the chamber of the Ross was already large enough to take the new British ammunition in a pinch, and the tighter fit could only increase accuracy anyway. The chambers were not reamed out. It was all about the money. Besides, the experts said, the men would have Canadian ammunition of the right size, so it hardly mattered.

But, the British Army took all the Canadian-made .303 ammunition away from the first Canadian troops when they arrived in Britain and issued it to their machine guns at the front where it worked quite well. The poorly made British ammunition issued to Canadians in return was responsible for the tragic story of the Ross to follow.

The 21st Battalion set sail on May 6, 1915, a day before the Lusitania was torpedoed. On the news, McBride and Art Redpath were ordered to lash their Colts to the rails. The show of force apparently worked, and the Battalion landed safely at Plymouth, England.

The 21st went to West Sandling, a training camp for the Second Division close to the English Channel. Instructors fresh from the trenches brought the 21st up to speed. McBride says they sawed down the legs of their Colt tripods.

The Battalion crossed the channel on September 15, 1916. They set out for Ypres in Belgium. McBride was now a Lance Corporal in charge of Gun Number Six.

In McBride’s loader and good friend was William Emmanuel Bouchard, born 1893. Another crewman was Bruce Shangrow. He lied about his age and joined at 16. He got home. Coney McFarlin was 19 when they landed in France. He was hit by shrapnel, gained a limp and lost part of a finger a few months later. The same grenade killed Sam Comego. Charlie Wendt was shot, age 21, near Captain’s Post in 1915 and died later at Casualty Clearing Station No. 3. Arthur Toms had a run-in with an ammo limber shortly after they arrived. He rejoined the gun crew for Christmas. He would be 20 when he and Bouchard disappeared September 16, 1916. McBride’s friends Sandy McNab and Art Redpath were both wounded in October and sent home.

Ypres is 25-miles from the English Channel. In the initial German attack, it was occupied and then abandoned. When the Germans were forced back, they realized Ypres blocked them from the Channel. Ypres was suddenly vital to the Allied supply lines and soon took on symbolic value for the amounts of blood spilt. McBride’s battalion filed into the trenches stretching southwest from the village of St. Eloi.

This sector was shaped by a failed German push to the southern outskirts of St. Eloi. The stab had ended in a ponderous mass of German sandbags called “The Mound.” The front line was at its narrowest here, a bare 70 yards of blood-soaked mud.

Colonel Hughes stationed McBride’s machine gun section in the ruins on his right. The body of a French sniper in the rubble gave the place the name Sniper’s Barn. The barn and farm exist today in their rebuilt form.

The trenches ranged across and down the slope into no-man’s land. Across 200 yards of swamp, the ground rose again up to the German trenches. Wire had been strung and wrecked, trenches dug and destroyed, and many lost bodies festered in the mud.

One of first things the men at Sniper’s Barn noticed was a blue and white flag just in front of the enemy line. The outgoing British commander told Hughes it had been captured earlier by French troops and flown from the Allied trenches to taunt the Germans. But, after the British took over, the Germans recovered it. The flag was booby-trapped, and Hughes ordered no one was to attempt to get it without his written permission. To McBride it was a red flag to a bull.

To be continued…

Thanks to Al Lloyd, Barry Delong, Carol Mintoff, Dan Shea, G. N. Ted Dentay, Gary Flanagan, George McBride Hoster, James Samalea, Lisa Weder, Michael Leonard, (reprints of “The Ross Rifle Story” see ross.rifle.story@sympatico.ca), the late R. Blake Stevens, late Geoff Winnington-Ball and late Michael D. Edwards, Library and Archives Canada, the Canadian War Museum and Movie Armaments Group.

The author has written numerous articles for Soldier of Fortune, Small Arms Review and Small Arms Defense Journal. His books are available on Kindle.

“Live dangerously; as carefully as possible.” –Colonel “Mad Mike” Hoare

Colonel Michael “Mad Mike” Hoare died peacefully in his sleep while I worked on this article. His eldest son, Chris, emailed me the news from Durban, South Africa.

Outside, a wind levelled the snow, evoking a winter long ago when escape called from the cork board near my grade six desk. Under “Current Events” a newspaper photo featured mercenaries and machine guns in the “Congo Crisis.” Led by a charismatic Colonel Hoare, they battled insane odds to rescue thousands of innocents from the evil “Simbas.” For myself, and countless others, the coverage was, as Colonel Hoare might understate, formative.

The 1960s Congo Crisis was largely a struggle between the “Capitalist West” and the Communist East. At stake were strategic uranium and cobalt mines. The vast majority of victims in the fight were Black Congolese, but the desperate situation of foreigners stranded in bloody mayhem captured the attention of the western press. That’s the political and human side.

On the cultural side, something unexpected happened. If it wasn’t born in the Congo, the popular paramilitary culture was legitimized there, and Colonel Hoare was its polished, middle-aged poster child. Hoare projected morality and manners, made military adventure heroic and stoked an appetite for all things military. Richard Burton portrayed Colonel Hoare in the British blockbuster feature, “The Wild Geese.”

In 1960s Congo, Hoare’s men labelled their unit newsletter “The Volunteer.” In a fitting incarnation, Soldier of Fortune (SOF) magazine was introduced in the U.S. in 1975. SOF has triumphed over lawsuits and hate campaigns for 45 years. Machine Gun News, another pioneer magazine born in the time, grew into the distinguished Small Arms Review.

In May 2019, Colonel Hoare turned 100. Chris Hoare, an accomplished writer and author many readers are familiar with, commemorated this with a superlative biography of his father, “Mad Mike” Hoare: The Legend.

I was fortunate to meet Colonel Hoare in the 1970s. Regardless of the nickname, there was nothing “Mad” about “Mad Mike.” A compact, good-humored and engaging gentleman, Colonel Hoare was a man at ease with himself and easy to be with. I flatter myself that we hit it off… I would never presume to call him Mike.

He smiled when I handed him my scoped FN FAL rifle. It settled into his hands like a part of him. He knew it well. Touted as “the free world’s right arm,” the FAL (Fusil Automatique Léger/Light Automatic Rifle) was carried by much of NATO and by Hoare’s men in all his Congo adventures. It is a symbol of the Cold War and the Congo. There was a lot of competition in the Congo. Between the guns of the combatants and the peacekeepers just about every well-known 20^th century military small arm saw use there.

No specific gun determined or changed the course of the conflict, but some weapons rose to engineered art. Conceived and made in the red brick Fabrique Nationale d’Armes de Guerre factory in the Liège suburb of Herstal, Belgium, the FAL was a machined expression of national and personal pride … a design and master work in steel and wood. At the factory, FAL is often pronounced as a single word to rhyme with pal. The heavy barrel variant is called a “FAL-O.”

Long before Fabrique Nationale came into being, dozens of Liège gun factories made muzzle-loading trade guns. Powerful tribes in the Congo River Basin had slaves and gold to trade. In the 1890s, Katanga Chief Msiri commanded 10,000 warriors, most carrying cartridge rifles.

Belgian King Leopold II staked out much of central Africa as his personal property in 1885 with trading posts, mines and plantations. The Congo Free State, as he named his private African country, was about one quarter the size of the United States. Leopold borrowed money from the Belgian government to finance it all and created the “Force Publique” to enforce his control.

White, mostly Belgian, officers commanded ranks of Black Africans. Many of Leopold’s enforcers carried single-shot, 11mm Albini-Braendlin and Comblain No. 2 rifles. The Albini-Braendlin breech was similar to the trapdoor Springfield, while the Comblain No. 2 had a vertically sliding breech block much like the American Sharps. Both used black powder to fire slow, heavy bullets.

In the forefront of the smokeless powder era, Belgium adopted the Model 1889 rifle, a modern Mauser bolt-action. Belgium wanted the German–Belgian hybrid made in Belgium. To fill the huge national contract, several gun makers in Liège joined with the German firm Ludwig Loewe to become the renowned firm Fabrique Nationale.

The Model 1889 had a built-in, five-shot, single-stack magazine. Its new small-caliber, high-speed bullet launched from a rimless, bottle-neck cartridge. The bolt-action design was similar to the 71/84 Mauser black-powder rifle, but the Model 1889 could be loaded by a single round or with a five-round stripper-clip. The Mannlicher competition also used “clips,” but those were inserted as loaded units into the gun; the en-bloc system was later used in the M1 Garand. The rifle was also adopted as the Argentine 1891 and the Turkish 1890. The blued-steel barrel jacket is often mistaken for the barrel itself. Carbine and short rifle versions were produced.

The Model 1889 rifle was made for Belgium and the Free State of the Congo. During WWI, when the FN plant was occupied by German invaders, Belgium had the Model 1889 made at Hopkins & Allen in the U.S. and W.W. Greener in Britain. Between the World Wars, many Belgian Model 1889s were rebuilt into shorter, lighter 1889/36 rifles. Shed of the Model 1889s barrel jackets, they served alongside belt-fed Maxims and magazine-fed Madsen Light Machine Guns (LMGs).

Belgium was slow to issue the more effective modern guns to the often surly Force Publique. Leopold’s was a ruthless reign. Rubber was the crop, and if a harvest worker was slow, the penalty of losing a hand inspired those remaining. It was all quite profitable, and Congo towns grew into Belgian-like cities. The veneer of Christian missions and tidy schools crumbled quickly after the British press first exposed a catalog of atrocities. World opinion shamed Leopold into giving the Congo Free State to Belgium. It became the Belgian Congo in 1908.

In the wave of 1950s anti-colonialism, the Black Congolese demanded independence from Belgium. An early leader was Patrice Lumumba, born in 1925. His unpromising, and much longer, full name meant, “Heir of the Cursed.” Smart, educated and highly political, Lumumba was a postal worker until 1956 when he was jailed for embezzling while training in Belgium. He returned to the Congo expounding a vision of racial harmony, justice and equality. He was branded an anti-Catholic and anti-white Marxist and jailed for sedition.

During 1960, at least 17 colonies in Africa, mostly French, were freed in colonialism’s long-running train wreck. In 1959, bloody riots forced Belgium to announce free elections. Lumumba was released from jail and elected prime minister. His ally, Joseph Kasa-Vubu, was elected president. The Congo had two Black doctors, less than a dozen Black college graduates and two new Black Army Lieutenants.

The Independence Ceremonies

On June 30, 1960, the Independence ceremonies of the Republic of the Congo unfolded in Leopoldville. The joyful parade route was packed. Belgian King Baudouin took the salute of the Force Publique.

Select troops and police presented arms with the FN SAFN (FN-49). The SAFN is a 10-shot, long-wood semiautomatic rifle with a short-stroke tappet piston. It was internationally popular in several calibers, but the greatest part of SAFN production was in 30-06 caliber for Belgium and the Force Publique. Some Belgian-issued guns, called the ABL, had selective fire.

The pre-WWII SAFN design was a late bloomer and already obsolete as the guns were made. The basic operating design was soon reworked with a two-piece, straight line stock, pistol grip and high-capacity magazine to become the FAL.

During the parade, as the king’s open limo glided down Leopoldville Avenue, a dancing celebrant jogged alongside and grabbed the king’s sword. Luckily for his unamused majesty, the man, soon to be a local celebrity, only waved it harmlessly while continuing to dance in the parade.

From the podium, the ruffled king reminded the grumbling rabble of the blessings King Leopold II had showered upon them. Lumumba, who hadn’t been scheduled to speak, rose in outrage to decry Leopold’s cruelties and hail the bloody victory of rebellion. Reluctantly, the fuming king stayed for dinner before heading for the airport.

The celebrations were still going on when the former Force Publique, now the Armee Nationale Congolese (ANC,) mutinied, beating up and killing many of their white officers and civilians. Transition plans, naive and shaky to begin with, collapsed in lawlessness. Carloads of anxious whites formed a convoy south toward Rhodesia while thousands more overloaded the airports and ferries out.

Belgian troops flew back to the chaos to manage the evacuation. News photos showed Belgian paratroops with folding stock FALs, MAG 58 belt-fed machine guns (M240 in American) and select-fire 9mm Vigneron M2 submachine guns (SMGs). Colonel Georges Vigneron’s well-liked gun combined proven features of the M3 Grease Gun, the Sten, the MP 40 and even the Tommy gun.

Lumumba and Kasa-Vubu denounced the evacuation effort as an “imperialist invasion,” and demanded UN intervention.

As the rest of the Congo sank into violence and crime, the mining areas in the Katanga and nearby Kasaï province continued business as usual. Katanga was often derided as a glorified mining camp, but business was good, and no one of any color wanted to rock their happy boat. Katanga’s honestly elected Black leader, Moïse Kapenda Tshombe, was genuinely popular, and like his voters, a company man. The company was Union Minière du Haut Katangar (UMHK), a marriage between Belgian and British companies. Katanga ran on Union Minière wages and, with nearby Kasaï province, produced 60% of the world’s uranium, much of its cobalt and a buffet of rare minerals and gems.

Eleven days after independence, Katanga and Kasaï declared independence from the Republic of the Congo. Tshombe invited Belgian administrators, civilian workers, ex-officers and NCOs to stay in Katanga. Another 200 Belgian soldiers “transferred” to the Katanga Gendarmerie (police and armed forces). Tshombe closed the border.

Lumumba’s End, the Conflict’s Beginning

Lumumba visited America to get military support in retaking Katanga. The Congo needed the mines to survive; he pleaded to deaf ears. The U.S. already believed Lumumba was anti-American and a Communist. When he arrived in New York, his much-publicized demand for a blonde, white escort didn’t help.

Lumumba returned home and announced if Belgian forces were still there in two days, he would invite the Soviet Union to throw them out. The alarmed U.N. immediately landed Irish and Swedish peacekeeping troops. Period photos often show the Swedes with their M45 Carl Gustav submachine guns. The 9mm gun owes much of its excellent reputation to its toed-in, double-stack, double-feed magazine. In support, Sweden had license-built versions of the Browning 1919. The Irish carried FALs, Bren and Sten guns and Vickers water-cooled guns.

Lumumba welcomed the arrivals with anticipation. He expected the peacekeepers to restore Katanga to the Congo. But, Belgium, the United States and Britain, despite UN policy, supported the breakaway state. Suppression of Katanga was not a priority.

A few weeks after independence, the increasingly pro-Soviet Lumumba and Kasa-Vuba fell out. The Army Chief of Staff, Joseph-Désiré Mobutu stepped into the fray, and he and Kasa-Vuba handed Lumumba over to Tshombe. Tshombe was surprised to have Lumumba in his hands and wanted mostly to unload him back on Mobutu. Instead Lumumba was killed. Various versions of his execution accuse Belgians, CIA operatives and Lumumba’s drunken guards. He became a Communist martyr and the Soviet Union named the Patrice Lumumba University in Moscow for him. The name was changed to Peoples’ Friendship University in 1992.

With the agreement of the U.S. and the U.K., Tshombe soon had two British ex-officers, Alistair Wick and Richard Brown, hiring white “volunteer” soldiers in South Africa and Rhodesia. Military experience was not essential. Today, the pay would be about $1,000 USD a week.

France, too, dispatched “volunteers” to Tshombe’s aid. Many were French Foreign Legionnaires. The officers were all French Army. The legion ranks included WWII Axis veterans, many also now veterans of the Algerian War and First Indochina War (French Indochina). They arrived with bolt-action MAS-36/52 and semiauto MAS-49 rifles, AAT-52 recoil-driven LMGs, MAT-49 SMGs and their Model 1935 pistols.

Katanga was largely surrounded by enemies. Tshombe’s historic tribal rivals, the Baluba, threatened from the north, and the ANC and the United Nations from the west. Kasaï province, isolated to the west of Katanga, was cut off and overrun by the ANC. Over 4 weeks, thousands died badly for being born into the same tribe as Tshombe. The United Nations troops did nothing to stop the slaughter.

“Volunteer” Hoare found himself at a Shinkolobwe Army base with the rank of captain and a command within “4 Commando.”

More on “Mad Mike”

Hoare was born on St. Patrick’s Day while his Irish parents lived in India. This made him British-born, and his English schooling instilled the ideals of duty, loyalty, honour and chivalry. He loved soldiering and wanted to attend Sandhurst, the British counterpart of West Point. It was more than he could afford, so Hoare joined the “Territorial Force,” as the British once called their part-time reserves, and settled reluctantly into accounting. When WWII started, his Territorial membership enabled Hoare to join the regular Army instantly. He aced the small arms school, was fast-tracked to officer training and was commissioned a second lieutenant. In the Far East, he fought under the aristocratic Brigadier Bernard Fergusson, who became his military role model. At the War’s end, Hoare was a major. He returned to Britain, having married Elizabeth Stott in India in 1945, and retired from national service. Chris Hoare was the first of their two boys, and they had a girl. In 1948, they moved to Durban, South Africa. Hoare was a professional accountant who preferred dealing in used cars and scrap. He motorcycled the length of Africa, sailed and guided several safaris and expeditions. On one adventure he became friends with a CIA agent. In 1961, Hoare, now divorced, married Phyllis Sims. They had two boys.

In Katanga, Hoare maintained his standards of appearance and demanded his men do so as well. For former Rhodesian and South African soldiers, a daily shave and British Army traditions were already the norm.

With much foot-dragging, U.N. forces and the equally unmotivated ANC made some probes against Katanga. Those operations failed, but provocatively, an Irish U.N. force established itself in control of Jadotville.

In September 1961, Tshombe surrounded Jadotville with his Katangese Gendarmes and Belgian and French mercenaries. Over several days of fighting, about 300 Black Katangese Gendarmes, and a very few white mercenaries, fell in failed attacks. The Irish surrendered when their supplies and ammunition ran out. They had not lost a man. Tshombe had kicked the U.N. out and avoided a “white bloodbath” that would have soured his Western allies. The movie “Jadotville” tells their story.

Dag Hammarskjöld, the Secretary-General of the United Nations, died during a “shuttle diplomacy” attempt to bring peace. He was shot down by the Katangese Air Force, or his pilots ran into an uncharted hill in Rhodesia. The crash is still a fury of conflicting, concealed, lost and manufactured evidence.

After Mobutu threw out the infuriated Communists, America and Western Europe were comfortable with reintegrating Katanga with the Congo. At the end of 1962, Katanga rejoined the Congo and Tshombe left Katanga to exile in Madrid. He took the checkbook with him, and stranded foreign mercenaries were happy to have the UN fly them home.

Lumumba’s ghost and his thousands of former supporters did not rest in peace. Pierre Mulele took over the surging rebel movement, and his chanted name became the rebel battle cry. The rebels called themselves “Simbas,” Swahili for “Lions.” Many had never held a firearm. Bows, spears, muzzle loaders and hand-made guns surrounded prized Mausers and SAFNs.

Soviet and Chinese aid upgraded the Simba arsenal with bolt-action M1891/30 and 1944 Moisin–Nagants, semiauto SVT rifles, PPSh 41 and PPS 43 SMGs, SKS carbines, AK-47s and DP-27 LMGs and RPD LMGs.

The Congo includes most of the jungle in Africa. The chrome bores of the handy SKSs and AK-47s were a God-send in the jungle humidity and unskilled hands. The Soviet 7.62X39mm intermediate cartridge was often preferred to the loud and heavy full-power rounds.

This was important to the “Jeunesse” as the youngest Simbas were called. These child soldiers set out to exterminate all literate Congolese. With help from magic, the “Mulele” battle chant was promised to turn enemy bullets to water. Part of the magic was “dagga,” a drink of alcohol, marijuana and pureed enemy genitalia.

The rebellion spread, and by mid-1964, the Simbas held much of the Congo. Mobutu was in sole charge of the government. There was no peace to keep and the U.N., having lost 200 men in mostly grisly fashion, pulled out. The Simba tide engulfed Stanleyville, and thousands of foreigners and Congolese were taken hostage by the rebels.

Hoare Returns

The day the U.N. departed, Mobutu invited Tshombe home to command the fight against the Simbas. Tshombe immediately rehired Mike Hoare and his volunteers from Katanga days.

Hoare landed to find the once magnificent Belgian base at Kamina derelict and stripped for scrap. There were no uniforms, no weapons, no money, and no beer. His new recruits included an unhealthy percentage of alcoholics, drug addicts, deviants, and criminals.

Scenes throughout the Congo repeated the panic after Independence. Again, American-Belgian rescue efforts were labelled an imperialist invasion, and the Union Nations assured the world the Simba atrocity stories were nonsense. Tshombe was reviled as an imperialist lackey throughout Black Africa.

Belgium supplied small arms for 1,000 mercenaries and 200 more advisors. The United States airlifted in trucks, jeeps, radios and supplies. Critical to the upcoming campaign was the compact and powerful air-force piloted by expert Cuban exiles.

The volunteer ranks thinned as the unsuited were weeded out. Major Hoare practiced military leadership: Lead from the front; be seen to share the hardships, yet keep a dignified distance; always have a back-up plan; and always appear calm. Morale rose with uniforms, pep talks and military decorum. Always a romantic, Hoare deemed his force “The Wild Geese” in tribute to the Irish mercenaries of earlier centuries. Hoare’s adventurist teenage son Chris flew in to join them, train with the FAL and serve as his father’s driver.

Hoare’s men replaced an initial issue of Spanish CETME rifles with new selective-fire FALs. Most of the men were comfortable with the FAL they had trained with in their home armies. While the recoil-operated CETME was reliable, it was less familiar, and the adjustable gas system of the FAL gives a degree of operator influence. The force of the gas striking the piston is controlled by regulating the size of a gas venting hole in the cylinder. If the gun should get sluggish; the rifleman can turn up the gas.

It wasn’t a matter of choice anyway. The Congo was a Belgian show. With the FALs, came M2 Browning .50s, MAG 58s and FN copies of the .30 BMG and Israeli Uzi.

Colonel Hoare has been pictured in the Congo wearing an FN Browning P-35 Hi-Power. Hoare also carried a 1911 .45. We know this from his words, and after a mercenary raped and publicly executed a captured female Simba, Hoare court martialed him and shot off the man’s big toes with his .45.

The Congo Crisis was becoming world news, and most of it was bad. Simbas held Albertville and hundreds of hostages, white and Black, faced torture and death. An unpredictable 12-year-old Simba “Sergeant Major” was a key figure in the bloodthirsty command.

Despite Albertville’s poor defense, the ANC’s advance was slow and failing. Speed was life for the hostages, but the road to Albertville would be dangerous and give away any chance of surprise. Albertville, like Kamina, is on the shore of Lake Tanganyika. Sixteen small outboards were available. Hoare was an experienced sailor, but a vocal dissident predicted they would all drown in the heavy waves. Hoare contradicted this with a sharp clout of his pistol and took two dozen volunteers north up the lake to attack Albertville in coordination with the ANC ground forces and CIA air cover.

After rough water, engine break-downs and a lethal and aborted landing under the enemies’ sights, they reached shore. They marched north by road. The morning sun lit fields and tribal villages. Women in colorful robes tended cooking fires. From the distant bush, a backdrop of haunting calls and throbbing drums announced the mercenaries’ approach. A Simba mob, wild-eyed on dagga and chanting, suddenly appeared and charged from ahead. All were teenagers. A few had bolt-action Mausers while most carried machetes, spears, bows and arrows and worn trade guns. Hoare’s men opened fire with 22 FALs and killed 28 Simbas.

The rebel defense of Albertville dissolved before the mercenaries, the reinvigorated ANC and the thundering aircraft overhead. Sadly, the rescuers were too late for many. Dozens of missionaries had been killed with unprintable cruelty. On seeing their tortured bodies, Hoare said that all their efforts had made “not an inch of progress.” Prayers were no doubt said at the next mandatory Church Parade.

Attack at Stanleyville

Leaving the horrors of Albertville, “5 Commando’s” Ferret armored cars spearheaded the march on Stanleyville where the stakes were even higher. Under the overall command of Belgian Colonel Frederic Vandewalle, 5 Commando, Cuban exiles, Belgians and the ANC planned to attack Stanleyville at the same moment as American planes dropped Belgian paratroopers.

The plight of the hostages and the hair-raising charge to Stanleyville overshadowed all other news. Everyone understood the terrorized white captives in Stanleyville had only been spared as human shields. Black Congolese had no such value, and public trials and executions went on for days in the town square. The Black elected mayor died watching the crowd eat his liver. The international media descended, and journalists in bush jackets struggled to write in the backs of trucks and jostled for radio time. The coverage was relentless.

Ambushes slowed the column. The standard counter-ambush drill was a barrage of rifle-launched grenades and automatic firepower. Belt-fed guns struggled in jungle foliage, but the column’s vehicle-mounted guns, mostly Brownings, smoothly produced overwhelming suppressive firepower. The first two ambushes were answered without loss of momentum. In the third ambush, a Cuban was hit in the stomach. After a pause the column rolled on.

The Simbas, often brave and fearless, were usually bad shots and tactically unaware. In the next village, however, wiser Simbas let the armored cars pass and raked the trucks following. Hoare’s men leapt out into the roadside grass, and several ended up fighting Simba warriors literally hand-to-hand.

Breathless reporting elevated  Hoare and the mercenaries to celebrity status. The press shared the heroic aura when CBS reporter George Clay, was shot through the head. Five Commando burned down the village in retaliation. Hoare described the night push toward Stanleyville as the most frightening night of his life. Darkness and sanity stopped the advance. Hoare and his men slept uncomfortably in the rain.

At dawn, 5 Commando moved on. The air support arrived, and the radial engines of the T-28s and B-26s shook the ground as the planes punished the Simbas with rockets and .50-caliber machine guns.

At 6 a.m. on November 24, 1964, 5 Commando was still driving toward Stanleyville when the Belgian paratroopers landed with armored jeeps and Land Rovers. They advanced on the town square.

The white hostages now had no value, and Simbas herded 300 into the street with spears and rifles. The gunfire of the charging paratroopers was barely a block away when a witch doctor frantically ordered the wavering Simba guards to kill the prisoners. They started shooting and spearing the women and children first. The paratroopers arrived 4 minutes later. Dozens of hostages were already wounded and more than two dozen killed.

The Belgian paras, Belgian mercenaries, the ANC and 5 Commando cleared the city, rescuing dozens and ultimately thousands of people. More priests and missionaries were found tortured and killed. Black teachers and intellectuals typically had their tongues cut out before torture and death. The ANC took merciless revenge on captured Simbas.

Dozens of rescue missions scoured the bush for stranded, mostly missionary and mostly white families. Clothes and footprints in the mud of a river bank revealed British adults and children had been forced to strip, before being killed and thrown into the river. The outraged patrol tracked and killed the surprised Simbas and rescued 14 women. Another rescue patrol found the frantic parents of a 4-year-old girl who had run in terror into the jungle. Grimly, the patrol went out to search. In one of the Congo’s few happy endings, they found her alive.

Such heroic stories uplifted the world. Overnight, mercenaries were adulated by much of the media. The delighted Greatest Generation applauded one of its own for showing the world how-to again. It was never better. The western world sighed in relief, and the paparazzi moved on, but the Congo Crisis wasn’t over with the retaking of Stanleyville. Every day, Algeria, Ghana and Burundi pushed 30 tons of Russian and Chinese guns and munitions to the Simbas through southern Sudan and Uganda, and the killings went on.

Major Hoare was tired, but Mobutu promoted him to Lt. Colonel and convinced him to stay on. Hoare convoyed 5 Commando and the ANC to the northeast borders by road. When the ANC’s loudspeakers blared, “Scotland the Brave,” masses of people rose cheering. They were well received, and the dispirited Simbas deserted their positions leaving piles of arms and ammunition. Five Commando wrecked all the vital bridges and closed the northern border.

Hoare and his men returned to Albertville to stop more Communist supplies being smuggled across Lake Tanganyika. The enemy was drawn from a fierce tribe of warriors. Cuban advisors, led by Ernesto “Che” Guevara, trained them in weapons and tactics, and 5 Commando faced an improved enemy.

The threat didn’t last. A captured Cuban war journalist fumed in frustration with the rebels. When Guevara left after a few months, the witch doctors and the suicidal charges returned. Five Commando completed their last 1963 mission by retaking the towns of Baraka and Fizi. The unit was disbanded in 1967.

Hoare and his men returned to their homes. Through it all, Hoare met, knew and served many of the Congo’s leaders and generals. He spoke highly of several. He was not a racist. At one point, he had faith enough in the Congo to move his family there. Hoare even hoped his Commandos could remain and become a force for peace and justice in all of Africa. He admitted his impossible dream faded, but the world’s fascination never did; movies, TV shows, books and articles often portray the noble anti-hero as a mercenary on the right side. A whiff of Camelot still hangs in the air. While some cynics ask if the glorification is justified; few deny it.

Chris Hoare summed up Tshombe’s reward: “Tshombe, his job done, fell from grace; soon, he was kidnapped, and he died in prison in Algeria in 1969.” Among the many lives saved by 5 Commando and Hoare personally were several Canadians living today. Canada denied Hoare’s later bid to immigrate.

Mobutu renamed the Congo “Zaire” and ruled from 1965 until he was deposed in 1997. He left with an estimated $4 billion (with a “B”) U.S. dollars in offshore banks and died shortly afterwards. Zaire became the Democratic Republic of the Congo again. Peace, freedom and justice remain elusive.

Colonel Hoare was famous. In the British 1978 hit movie, “The Wild Geese,” Hoare was portrayed by Richard Burton supported by Roger Moore, Hardy Kruger and Richard Harris. Hoare was an advisor and appeared to have retired gracefully … but he hadn’t. On November 25, 1981, Hoare led several ex-5 Commando members and more than 40 men, recently of the South African and Rhodesian forces, onto a commercial aircraft. The flight took them to the Seychelles islands in the Indian Ocean east of Africa. They were there to overthrow the leftist regime of France-Albert René and reinstate President James Mancham. Their suitcases were packed with children’s toys and concealed assault rifles. When a Kalashnikov was discovered at airport customs, a Seychelles security officer and one of Hoare’s men were killed in the following fire-fight. The invaders negotiated a ceasefire and hijacked a 707 to take them back to South Africa. All of them served time. Hoare served almost 3 years of a 20-year prison sentence before being pardoned.

Hoare emerged and lived with his wife Phyllis in France for 20 years. He devoted himself to writing several more books and deeply explored the Cathars’ and their region. His books are available from madmikehoare.com and from audible.com with Colonel Hoare, himself, reading.

Hoare returned to South Africa in 2009. He enjoyed a Ballantine’s whiskey and water, or two, in the evening, curry (“the fiercer, the better”) and the Brit-com, “Dad’s Army.” Born in India, British to the marrow, he died in South Africa in 2020 after 100 extraordinary years.

The author gratefully thanks the late Colonel Mad Mike Hoare and his son Chris Hoare, James Samalea, Jay Bauser, G.N. Dentay, James and Melody Curtis Carol Mintoff, Gary Flanagan, Al J. Venter (all bookstores), David Logan, Lt. Colonel R.K. Brown, John W. Burns, Movie Armaments Group, Rachel Hoefing, Lisa Weder, Adam Bucci, the late Connie Mungall and the late R. Blake Stevens.

Chris Hoare’s “Mad Mike” Hoare: The Legend book is available in soft cover and in a numbered leather-bound edition signed by Mike Hoare, from www.madmikehoare.com.

Terry Edwards has published numerous articles with Soldier of Fortune, Small Arms Review and Small Arms Defense Journal. His books are available on Kindle, and his video “The Rifleman Who Went to War” is free on YouTube.

Parlor shooting was the after-dinner rage in the later 1800s because of one inventor. In 1845, Louis-Nicolas Flobert introduced his indoor target guns. The ammunition he invented for them was the self-contained metallic cartridge; the single greatest advance in guns since the invention of gunpowder.

While Flobert’s cartridge was handled with caution, its offspring, the full-power .22 Long Rifle (LR), is lethal. Even so, the .22LR is also undeniably nowhere near as damaging as just about any other modern round. This led to it being deemed “less than lethal” for a short time by the Israeli Defense Forces; an unfortunate description that brought on a hail of derision despite its relative truth. It was a unique case of the .22 being officially issued for battle by a professional army.

Flobert’s self-contained, metallic cartridge was brilliant. The case swelled in the chamber when the gun fired, sealing the conflagration in the barrel and finally making the breech-loader clean and safe to fire. By design, the round could only be loaded correctly. Not only was the cartridge foolproof from rain, the easily handled ammo let a novice load and fire a Flobert 10 times faster than a muzzleloader.

Flobert’s Bulleted Breech Cap, led to it being called the “BB Cap.” A stubby, straight-sided brass tube had one end capped with a lead ball. At the opposite end, a protruding rim resembled the rim of a gentleman’s hat.

The rim is hollow. The priming compound, at the time mercury fulminate, was dropped into the case, and the case was spun; centrifugal force flinging the compound into the rim. A blow anywhere on the rim crushed the soft metal and ignited the pressure-sensitive compound within.

The BB Cap was capable of felling a medium-size insect. The Flobert and its imitators are still often called “garden” guns, “parlor” guns and “gallery” guns.

The American Civil War first popularized the .22—the .22 short Smith and Wesson® No. 1 revolver. It never tipped the scales of a battle, but its presence in pocket or pack comforted many soldiers.

Serious calibers followed up to .58. The rimfire .44 “flat” made the Henry lever-action possible, but the necessarily weak rim restricted the rimfire design to low-pressure loads. Putting the primer in the center of the base allowed for greater pressures, and large rimfire cartridges faded from use.

Not so with the .22 rimfire. Progressively longer cases, powder charges and bigger bullets marked the evolution of the .22 short, long and extra-long. The CB round was introduced in 1888 to supplant the BB Cap. CB stands for “Conical Bullet.” It never replaced the BB Cap and interchangeable BB Caps, but CB Caps are still made today.

Variants

In 1887, the J. Stevens Arms & Tool Co. introduced the Long Rifle cartridge, essentially an uploaded long. The LR .22 rimfire, in the form of the long rifle, remains the most popular cartridge in the world.

After the Civil War, a gentleman could find himself prey to ruffians or the unwanted attentions of stray dogs. If he left his trusty No. 1 at home, and the miscreants could not be deterred by a sharp blow, his “cane” gun, usually discharging a .22 rimfire, might be deployed. This was one of several guns designed for self-defense. Others were called “automobile” and “bicycle” guns and could be found fixed to bicycle frames or tucked in amongst the auto’s tire changing equipment. Millions have places in today’s survival kits and survivalist arsenals.

The wonderfully, politically incorrect “boy’s rifle” was not a result of the .22 rimfire. Since the invention of firearms, those who could afford it equipped their offspring with downsized versions of Dad’s guns. The industrial revolution put child-sized .22 rifles within the commoners’ reach, and the “boy’s rifle” became the ultimate Christmas or birthday prize. Most manufacturers produced rifles scaled for younger shooters, and many a .22 was reborn under Dad’s wood saw and hacksaw. The breed survives in the gender-inclusive “youth” rifles still made by unintimidated manufacturers.

Those unfortunates who could not beg themselves into a rifle could earn one by selling “salve” or some other unlikely product to neighbors and family. The prize rifles offered were not the pinnacle of the gun-maker’s art, but most were serviceable, hard-earned and well-loved. Their manufacture usually featured a mandrel-formed barrel. A flat piece of steel, the length of the barrel, was first hammered into a long U-shape then hammer-forged and welded around the mandrel. The machined steel mandrel imparted rifling to the inside of the resulting tube. The addition of a primitive action and wood completed the ensemble.

A more gregarious and harder-working cousin of the parlor gun was the gallery gun, so-named for its use in the shooting galleries that were a fixture of travelling fairs from the late 1800s. For many, the pump-action Remington Model 12B and the Winchester Model 62, typical of the type, were their first taste of gunpowder; though the .22 rimfire still dominates target shooting competition.

However, military glories are sparse. For training, practice and fun, .22s see a lot of use but little combat. Russian police and Special Forces use a suppressed counter-sniper version of the nation’s .22LR biathlon rifle. Inconvenient lights and barking dogs still fall, officially, to handguns like the blow-back High Standard HDMS and the Colt Woodsman. The small size of the .22 cartridge allows it to be fired from devices disguised as pens and even key fobs.

Lethality

The lethality of the .22 rimfire is beyond question. Those who do the math agree the 1891 Russian 7.62x54mm, used through two World Wars, the 1917 Revolution and Cold War unpleasantness, holds the military body count record. The .22 rimfire is world leader in domestic violence, accidents, crime and suicide, killing more Americans than any other cartridge.

It has long been an assassin’s favorite. Robert Kennedy was running for the U.S. presidency in 1968. Sirhan Sirhan used an eight-shot .22LR Iver Johnson Cadet 55-A revolver to shoot Kennedy while he transited a hotel kitchen. Kennedy died on the hard floor. Sirhan Sirhan remains in prison.

A Röhm RG-14 in .22LR was John Hinckley Jr’s. weapon to wound then President Regan and three others.

An American Special Forces veteran, David Beckerman, introduced the Israeli sky marshals, Mossad, Shin Bet and the Sayeret Matkal Special Forces to the potential of the .22LR Beretta 71. Such a Mossad .22 allegedly brought the abrupt termination of Gerald Bull in March 1990.

Bull was engineering a long-range gun to enable Iraq to bombard Israel and/or Iran. Bull’s Belgian apartment had been trashed in warning, but Bull continued work on his “super-gun.” On his last day, Bull answered the door. His assassin likely aimed his modified .22 Beretta low and let the gun climb on full-auto to empty the eight-shot magazine in a single burst. It was the end of the super-gun project. Century Arms recently offered a semi-auto “Mossad replica” Beretta 71 with integral faux suppressor.

The Intifada protests first began at the Gaza strip in December 1987. For weeks thereafter, thousands of Palestinian protestors targeted the security fence erected by Israel on the northern border of the Gaza strip. The protests became a rite of passage to many, a disability pension for some and the path to martyrdom for others.

Israeli snipers shot selected protesters, usually in the knee, with silenced .22 rimfire rifles. Targeting the enemy’s knee predates the Bible. It was often the most vulnerable part of an armored warrior’s anatomy. For the modern Israel, the lack of political “martyrs” was doubtless the main motive. The toll exacted in treating and often supporting the crippled veterans was not unwelcome. According to UN observers, 7,996 protesters were shot during the Intifada and 215 killed by gunfire. By 1993, Israel had counted 60 soldiers and police dead along the battle lines.

Each shot had to be authorized, usually up several layers of command. The sniper or his spotter first radioed in proposing a target. Targets had to be employing some type of weapon or actively directing others. They also had to be adults, or close to the age, and training included age estimation from build, clothing, etc. Other observers would frequently follow the proposed target to confirm or question the sniper/spotter’s judgment. To shorten the authorization time, a sniper might find himself surrounded by his entire chain of command.

There were still dead bodies. Israel feared that the “less-than-lethal” description encouraged less careful use and aim. Others saw a sinister attempt to white-wash an assassin’s weapon as being “kinder and gentler.”

A hit above the knee could cut an artery and bring rapid blood loss and death, so at one time the ordered point of aim was changed briefly from the knee to the ankle, a tougher target. There were still accidents and mistakes, but intentionally lethal shots were uncommon and, with the layers of oversight, difficult to conceal. One sniper served jail time for an ill-considered shot.

After an inquiry, the less-than-lethal terminology was dropped, and the .22 rimfire rifles were re-categorized as regular firearms subject to applicable rules of engagement.

The gun chosen by the Israelis was the Ruger 10/22®. Founded in 1949 by Alexander McCormick Sturm and William B. Ruger, Ruger is the largest American arms maker. Much of Ruger’s success is thanks to its first product, the Ruger MK2 .22 semi-auto pistol and the later 10/22 rifle.

In 1961, Ruger introduced the “Deerstalker” carbine. It was a five-shot, .44 Magnum, semi-automatic with the lines and look of an M1 carbine. It remained in production until 1985.

In 1964, a .22 rimfire carbine stole the looks and thunder of the .44. The 10/22, standing for 10 shots of .22 rimfire, has remained in production ever since. Upwards of six million have been built on Ruger’s investment cast aluminum receiver and a stainless steel version. Most are the classic carbine configuration with its signature barrel band, but there have been Mannlicher-style stocks, sporter and synthetic stocks, target, compact, a takedown model and a pistol. There are standard, bull and lightweight barrels of various lengths; some with muzzles threaded for flash hiders and other accessories. The standard .22LR version had to share space with .22 Winchester Magnum Rimfire and .17-caliber siblings. The 10-shot rotary magazine is fail-safe and indestructible, and if 10-shots aren’t enough, many high-capacity replacements are available.

Few guns have been as fiercely wooed with accessories. The 10/22’s simple, rugged design is inviting and forgiving to those who just have to mess with it. After-market components and stocks are offered in a bewildering array, and barrels, optics, bipods and trigger packages are limited only by the shooter’s budget. Ruger now sells both .22 handguns and rifles with integral suppressors. The SR-1 strays from the traditional can or tube look, and the barrel resembles a long pistol slide. Inside the device, a series of machined baffles are linked together in a tube under the barrel itself. These baffles slide out the front for cleaning.

Snipers on the Gaza strip worked in pairs. One man did the shooting while his partner, usually another sniper, spotted targets and coached the shooter on range and wind.

The .22 was intended to fill the “middle ground,” the area too far away to use a rubber baton round, and where use of a 7.62×51 M24 or Barak HTR-2000 sniper rifle could easily result in a kill from loss of blood.

The first Israeli “combat” .22s were Ruger 10/22s, customized by Sabatti, a well-known Italian arms maker. The gun’s bull barrel was surrounded by a full-length silencer. These rifles retained the original, albeit cut-away, stocks, and most were topped with four-power scopes on Weaver mounts and equipped with Harris-style bipods. Over time, extended magazines, modular stock systems and new optics have been added.

There are two major .22 models used by the Israeli Defense Forces; although individual weapons may vary in accessories. Both versions are built on the Sturm Ruger 10/22 semi-automatic .22 action. In Israeli service they are known simply as “Rugers.”

The newer SR-22 is preferred by many, as its tactical look does not visually set the sniper apart from other soldiers. Not all are silenced.

Many conversion kits have been developed to enable larger caliber guns to fire the .22 rimfire. Much of this remains the result of government parsimony and the need to practice with less noise and uproar. Kits were developed to fire .22-rimfires from .30 Browning machine guns and numerous others including the AR-15 family. Today, .22 rimfire versions of many full-powered guns from handguns and submachine guns to assault rifles are on the market.

In Other Realms

The criminal world is equally aware of the .22’s stealthy advantages. While GLOCKS and black-rifle exotics dominate TV and movie screens, the deadly reality is often the .22. The low recoil and blast won’t overwhelm the trembling novice as a larger caliber might, and even without a suppressor, a .22’s report can be mistaken for a backfire or firecracker. In time of need, an acceptable silencer can even be improvised with a plastic pop bottle.

The low pressure of the .22 rimfire can be contained by many improvised devices: drilled-out toys and starter pistols, flare guns and pipes from the hardware store. Single-shot, hand-made “zip guns” are still popular in some circles. The great advantage for society is the probability of these doing greater injury to the user than the intended victim.

Thanks to isayeret, Daniel Cohen, Richard Cornblum, Jim Samalea, Carol Mintoff, G. N. Dentay, Jay Dressler, Lisa Weder, Rachel A. Hoefing, Adam Bucci, Movie Armaments Group, the late Hubert Page and late Blake Stevens.

The author has covered wars in the Middle East and Central America and written for Soldier of Fortune, Small Arms Review, Small Arms Defense Journaland others. His earlier books are available on Kindle.

Long before “Gatling Gun” Parker’s guns made him famous by demolishing the Spanish on top of San Juan Hill, there was Lieutenant Arthur L. “Gat” Howard of the Connecticut National Guard. Born 1846 in New Hampshire and raised in Chicopee, Massachusetts, he helped make the Gatling gun famous, founded Canada’s national ammunition industry and largely determined Canada’s adoption of the machine gun.

Gat grew up in the cradle of American guns … Chicopee adjoined Springfield, home of the fabled Springfield Armory, gun makers Massachusetts Arms, Stevens and Savage and several other manufacturers and foundries.

Throughout the Civil War, firearms for the Union armies poured in from factories near Gat’s home, and the Confederacy already carried Maynard carbines made there. But Arthur L. Howard rankled under Miss Valentine inside the Chicopee Grammar School and missed the adventure. There was an A.L. Howard wounded in the 25th Connecticut. He was Alonzo, no relation to Arthur.

When the war ended in 1865 Howard was a schooled and trained machinist and still determined to be a soldier. In April 1867, he joined the First Cavalry and rode for five of the Cavalry’s most active years as the First opened the west and fought in several Indian wars.

The conflicts spilled across the border to Canada, where Gat would later make his mark. The fighting was not as bloody as in the United States. Two “rebellions,” in what would soon be Manitoba were led by the enigmatic Metis leader, Louis Riel and his friend Gabriel Dumont.

The Metis were descendants of French-Canadian fur trappers and their First Nation wives. Angry at Canada’s neglect and political abuse, the Metis declared their own Provisional Government in late 1869. The conflict remained a war of words until Christmas 1869 when the rebels executed a particularly provocative white hostage. Riel was blamed, and he fled to Montana.

Nonetheless, Canada negotiated with the provisional government and created the province of Manitoba in 1870 to settle the Metis claims. But settlers and con artists kept coming as Canada eagerly moved the Metis and First Nations out of the railway’s path. Promises were made and, once the tracks passed through, forgotten.

South of the border, Howard dusted out as a sergeant and returned east. He joined Winchester and shared patents for refrigeration, cartridge manufacture and carriage equipment.

He left Winchester and formed his own firm to manufacture shotgun shells. These were sold under his name and also N.Y. Club, Fowler, H.A. Co., Standard brands and Keystone Ammunition. His home factory burned down around 1881. Undaunted, Howard replaced it and, with U.S. Cartridge Co., produced the highly regarded “Black Climax” competition trap shell.

Howard still had time to join the Connecticut Army National Guard. The Gatling gun for the 2nd machine gun platoon arrived in late August 1884, and Lieutenant A.L. Howard was named to command its eight-man crew. Already an admired leader and veteran, he soon established himself as an expert with Gatling’s gun.

The gun was no longer novel. Dr. Richard Jordan Gatling had prototyped it in 1861 and first sold it in 1862. Union General Benjamin F. Butler brought it to battle, buying 12 guns for $1000 each, with his own money.

Gatling’s gun was a circle of barrels and actions clustered in a bundle. A hand crank rotated them around a central axis. Loading, firing and extraction took place at various stages in the rotation.

The first six-barrel Gatling fired 150 rounds a minute. As each barrel only fired 25 times a minute, the leisurely rate was gentle on ammunition and avoided overheating the barrels. Later guns used 10 barrels allowing higher fire rates.

A simple gravity-fed ammunition hopper was followed by a 40-round box with a single stack of cartridges. This was propped in the hopper so the rounds could fall by gravity.

In the 1871 Gatling, the rounds were held in the box by a spring stopper that moved aside when the box was inserted. The box hung out at 45-degrees on the left side of the gun so the line of sight was not blocked. After 1874, the sights were moved slightly to the right, and the magazine was mounted upright. This model was sent to Canada.

Later models introduced the highly efficient Bruce loading system and the Broadwell magazine. Finally, the Accles drum is the familiar iconic Gatling magazine. One hundred and four rounds ride in a circular drum. The empty center gives the donut look.

Northwest Rebellion of 1885

By 1874 many disillusioned Metis had left Manitoba for Saskatchewan. But, in June 1884, the situation resembled the bad old days in Manitoba and drove Riel’s old friend Gabriel Dumont, representing a new rebel leadership, to Montana. Riel was persuaded to return to Canada in July with his wife and two children.

His supporters expected Riel to lead their negotiations. He shocked them by raising a small army.

In March 1885, desperation grew. A punishing winter drained cellars, larders and storerooms. Northwest Mounted Police Inspector Leif Crozier sent men from Fort Carlton to commandeer the supplies at the Duck Lake Hudson Bay Company store.

The Metis had already moved first, looting the stores and blocking the road. The surprised NWMP turned back to Fort Carlton.

Crozier quickly assembled and led 53 police and 47 armed civilians to confront the Metis. When Riel heard that a contingent of Northwest Mounted Police was coming, he called reinforcements, and near Duck Lake they made contact.

The police used their dog sleds as shields. A cautious parlay began. An unexpected shot was fired, likely in misunderstanding, and Gabriel Dumont’s brother fell dead. Crozier and his men charged the Metis several times, losing bloodily each time.

A single cannonball brought it to an end. The loaders got out of sync, and a ball was jammed on an empty chamber. With the 7-pounder useless, Crozier retreated, leaving 12 civilian volunteers and five rebels dead. Five more of Crozier’s men died later of wounds, and a captured volunteer was saved from being scalped by Riel’s personal intervention.

Crozier returned to Fort Carlton and decided to abandon the fort. Intentionally or accidentally, it burned to the ground as Crozier retreated to Prince Albert.

Telegraph wires carried the news to Canada’s capital Ottawa, and the fury of a disrespected government rose. The militia was called out.

The Metis victory at Duck Lake inspired the Cree to move on Battleford, 116 miles to the west, late in March. The Cree had earlier moved agreeably to their reserve but found there were few buffalo, little game and the supplies promised were not forthcoming. The local “Indian Agent,” Thomas Quinn, seemed determined to starve the tribe.

On their way to join the Cree, angry Assiniboines killed several whites. Immediately the people of Battleford swarmed the police fort for safety as the tribes erected a huge camp. The police suddenly had 500 civilian guests when the hungry Cree approached for food. The Indian agent, Mr. Rae, refused to leave the fort or meet them. Would-be rescuers to the south are cut off by high spring water.

Frog Lake Massacre

On the night of April 1, 139 miles northwest of Battleford, at Frog Lake, Cree warriors raided the government stores, the HBC post and the general store owned by George Dill. The next morning, a Sunday, the Cree ordered the white civilians to leave church and go to the nearby Cree camp. The infuriated Quinn refused. The equally infuriated war chief Wandering Spirit shot Quinn in the head. Chief Big Bear intervened too late, and two priests, their lay assistant and several male settlers, including George Dill, were killed. The Frog Lake Massacre turned a problem into a war.

On the same day, the New York Times reported Chief Poundmaker’s “Indians entered Battleford, plundering deserted houses” as their owners watched from the fort. Two cannon shells chased the looters out.

Back east, British Major-General Frederick Middleton, commander of the Canadian Militia organized preparations. The Minister of Militia ordered 10,000 Martini-Henry rifles from England to arm the gathering forces. The rifles arrived 10 days later. Noting Custer went to Little Big Horn leaving his Gatling guns behind, Middleton suggested his expedition take two Gatling guns.

Canada asked Colt for the Gating guns, with traditional parsimony, without charge. Gatling himself, now the next door neighbor of Colt’s widow, encouraged the loan.

As there were no qualified gunners in Canada, Gatling sought out and asked Lieutenant Howard to accompany the expedition as a “friend of the guns.” Howard eagerly agreed. In Hartford, Gatling and Howard saw the Gatling guns and 5000 rounds of ammunition loaded on a train for Winnipeg. Howard boarded with them.

In Canada, Riel and the Provisional Government of Metis moved into the town of Batoche and declared it their capital. The rebels surrounded the town with rifle pits.

Canadian troops were converging from the east and west. Middleton had about 5500 troops available, including 3000 regulars, 2000 volunteers and 500 NWMP. About 900 would see use.

Howard had little time to train the Gatling gunners before the army arrived at Qu’Appelle. General Middleton and 800 of his men, including Captain Howard and one of the Gatling guns, got off the train to head north for Batoche. Middleton sent Lt. Colonel William Otter with 750 men and the second Gatling gun further west by train to then march north and relieve Battleford.

Gabriel Dumont ambushed Middleton’s column and approached Fish Creek on April 24. Despite Middleton’s cautious advance and reconnaissance, Gabriel Dumont’s field craft caught the soldiers in a ferocious ambush. There was no chance to deploy the Gatling. Both sides took losses. Middleton camped and tended the wounded for two weeks.

The same day that Middleton was ambushed, Otter and men reached Battleford. Since no one ventured from the fort, they didn’t know that the Metis and the tribes had left. The locals demanded revenge, and Otter’s officers and men cursed missing their big chance. Disregarding his orders to stay in Battleford, Otter takes 325 soldiers and policemen, two cannons and his Gatling gun in pursuit of the rebels.

A week later, Otter finds Chief Poundmaker’s teepee village sited between flanking ravines. The rear is protected by a hill and the front by a marsh and creek. Prepared rifle pits faced Otter’s advance.

Otter’s artillery officer, Major Charles John Short, sited his Gatling alongside the 7-pound cannons. Otter opened fire with all guns. Families burst from the teepees and scattered to the ravines.

A few dozen warriors charged Otter but quickly fell back. Otter sent his men forward. The rebel warriors numbered between 50 to 250 men and boys guided by Poundmaker’s War Chief from his vantage point on a flanking hill. He watched Otter’s moves and calmly directed counter-attacks from the ravines, thwarting Otter repeatedly.

War Chief Fine Day led a group through a ravine to attack the guns. Major Short and several men killed two warriors and wounded a third. Short lost one man shot dead in the head, and three more were seriously wounded. Another soldier died from a bullet in the mouth while covering the Major’s retreat.

After six hours, Otter ordered his demoralized men to withdraw. Warriors mounted their horses to give chase through the marsh. The Gatling came to the rescue and prevented a remake of the Little Big Horn. Eight soldiers and six Cree were dead. Otter arrived back in Battleford and declared the action a successful “reconnaissance in force.”

To the east, Middleton finally neared Batoche. The fortifications consisted of rifle pits with log shields. The defenders were not well-armed. Earlier, many had bought Winchester 1866s, 1873s and 1876s or traded for older Sharps, Springfields and Henry rifles. But when the tribal wars ceased and the buffalo herds vanished, so did the need for those guns.

By 1885, most Metis had sold the guns to buy food. They replaced them with cheap trade shotguns—mainly percussion muzzle-loaders. The common Hollis & Sons and Parker-Fields were mostly 24-gauge smooth-bores with 2- to 3-foot barrels. There were a few flintlocks, and the boys who accompanied their fathers carried bows and arrows which did no recorded harm.

On May 9, 1885, Middleton’s combined operation to encircle Batoche would open with a ground assault. Howard was ready to show what the Gatling could do. This would distract the defenders from the steamboat Northcote powering upriver behind them to land a force of 50 men.

But, the Northcote, cloaked in improvised armor, arrived early and sailed straight into a ferry cable the defenders had lowered across the river. Her stacks crashed down in clouds of smoke and steam, and the crippled vessel drifted downstream to historic oblivion.

Middleton ordered his artillery and Howard’s Gatling gun to open fire on two houses near the church.

As one house began to burn, Howard swung his Gatling to shoot up the church. A white flag quickly waved. Howard stopped, and several priests, nuns, women and children run across the lines to safety.

Suddenly, disaster threatened. Just yards from the cannon, Gabriel Dumont led a rebel rush from the bush. Middleton anxiously ordered the guns to pull back. For long minutes the battle hung in the balance. Then, resplendent in his U.S uniform, Howard pushed his Gatling forward and turned it to the threat. Cranking rounds into the rebels, he killed and wounded several, breaking the charge. Seeing that Howard averted calamity, Middleton sent the cannons up again and regained the initiative. The Toronto newspapers christened Howard as “Gat.” It stuck.

Middleton ordered a few tentative probes, and at the end of the day ordered his men to a safe camp for the night.

He returned the next morning, May 10, and again directed his artillery and Howard’s Gatling to batter the town. His half-hearted advances were blunted.

On May 11, Middleton realized the Metis were running out of ammunition, and their line had thinned. Barely one in four Metis remained in the rifle pits, all reduced to reloading with rocks, cutlery and spent bullets found in the dirt. The next day, Middleton ordered a two-pronged assault to take Batoche, but the signal for the second prong to attack went unheard in the wind.

Bitterly unhappy with his amateur soldiers, Middleton again pulled back his men and retired fuming for lunch. His frustrated men charged the rifle pits and chased out the few remaining rebels. Middleton rushed to the scene. Each side lost about 25 men. Gat Howard personally seized the rebel flag from atop the church.

The rebellion was broken. On May 15, Louis Riel surrendered. After much indecision, he was hung on November 16.

Arthur L. Gat Howard, now a Canadian hero, was hastily listed as a Lieutenant in the Canadian Mounted Rifles and awarded the Northwest Canada 1885 Medal.

Efforts by Canadian government researchers have been unsuccessful in determining the fate of the two Gatling guns, despite various claims.

Howard’s Next Steps

Howard did not return immediately to Connecticut. He convinced the Canadian government to create its own ammunition industry and hire him to do it.

It was a huge and successful undertaking. Gat designed, founded and built the Dominion Cartridge Company (DCC) in 1886 in Brownsville, Quebec. He became a very wealthy man. After several amalgamations, DCC became Canadian Industries Limited (CIL). CIL was a cornerstone of the Canadian arms industry and later provided most of the ammunition and explosives for the Canadian Army in both world wars.

But Gat’s success was marred when his wife, Sarah, refused to bring their five children to the wilds of Quebec. Howard returned home unexpectedly and found her in the company of another man. They reconciled, but he returned alone to work in Canada and await her arrival.

But Sarah resumed her affair, and again Howard returned home unannounced. Fleeing from being “summarily punished,” Sarah stumbled in her slippers and night coat through a snow-covered partially assembled circus. Howard’s lawyer served the divorce to Mrs. Howard at her boyfriend’s. Howard took the children to Brownsburg.

Gat remarried but his young wife, Margaret Green, died in childbirth a few days before Christmas 1897.

Two weeks later, Gat’s son Horace drove him to the railway station to leave for the Boer War in South Africa. Howard had earlier offered to provide Canada with a machine gun section at his own expense, but instead was made the machine gun officer in the Canadian Dragoons. For the next year, Howard commanded a Maxim and one of the new 1895 Colt machine guns.

When Howard’s unit went home in December 1900, Howard stayed on to create and command the 50-man Canadian Scouts. He equipped the Scouts with six of the new air-cooled Colt 1895 machine guns. The Scouts’ experiences with the guns led to Canada’s adoption of the Colt and its eventual use in WWI.

February 17, 1901, was the day after his 57th birthday. Typically, Howard led from the front, and help was a mile behind when several dozen Boers surrounded Howard and his orderly. They gunned them down. Howard was buried in South Africa.

The commander, Lord Kitchener, noted Major Howard had been repeatedly brought to his attention for acts of gallantry. Gat was awarded the South Africa Medal with service bars for Johannesburg, Diamond Hill, Belfast, Cape Colony and Orange Free State and posthumously awarded the Distinguished Service Order.

GATLING 1874 SPECS AND INFO

Price–A newly made Gatling from Colt runs in the $50,000 range while a nice original 1874 would be a bargain at $100,000. The first models sold during the Civil War went for $1000 each at the time. Replicas in various sizes, calibers and quality listed for everything in between.

Model–The gun used by Gat Howard at Batoche appears to have been the “Long” 1874 Model. There was also a shorter version known as the “Camel” gun.

Caliber–The 1874, as used by Gat, fired the brass cartridge 45-70-500 cartridge. Foreign buyers could order their guns in any caliber desired.

Crew–Only one man was needed to aim and fire the gun, but the crew would typically also include a commander and men to carry, change and load magazines, handle the carriage and manage the horses.

Range–The 45-70-500 (.45 caliber-70 grains black powder-500 grain bullet) cartridge could hit a man-sized target out to 300 yards and deliver a lethal blow at over 3000 yards. An oscillator was used to guide fire horizontally when fired from the heavy carriage.

Rate of fire–400 rpm. Earlier models utilized pre-loaded chambers and paper cartridges; these kept the fire rate under 200rpm. As design and feed systems evolved, the rate increased until experimental electric models around 1900 reached over 1000rpm. Ultimately, modern “Gating”-type guns typically reach well over 6000prm.

Feed type–Gravity-fed, top-mounted, single-stack magazine. The 1874 marked the departure of the slanted magazine in favor of the vertical stack and offset sights. This vertical feed design also lent itself to the Broadwell drum.

Number of barrels–The Long model 1874 had ten 32-inch, “musket-length,” rifled steel barrels clustered in a circle. These were round at the breech and morphed into octagonal at the muzzles. Each had its own breech mechanism creating a self-contained firearm. The Camel model had 18-inch barrels.

Length–49 inches for the Long model 1874.

Weight–The Long 1874 guns weighed about 200 pounds unloaded. The carriage as used by Gat weighed another 700-plus pounds. The Camel model had 18-inch barrels and parts reduced in size and made from brass to save weight.

Mode of fire–Mechanical. The gun is fired by rotating the crank handle. The handle was located on the right (from the gunner’s perspective) and rotated clockwise when viewed from the right side. The barrels (viewed from the rear) rotated clockwise. Each barrel fired on reaching six-clock.

Evolution–The 1874 mechanism is lighter than previous models and incorporates a raceway cam that engages the individual bolts to facilitate loading, firing, extraction and ejection. Earlier models utilized built-in cams and ramps to accomplish the same things. The improved raceway and lighter bolts resulted in a lighter mechanism.

Manufacturer–The guns sent to Canada left directly from Colt where they were made. Reputedly, Gatling and Gat Howard selected the individual guns themselves.

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Gat Howard is remembered in the Canadian war museum and history books. His descendent Gina Sammis has generously assembled a wealth of material about her famed ancestor. I am also indebted to Jim and Lynn Samalea, Scott Whiting, Doug Light, Carol Mintoff, Lisa Weder, Adam Bucci, Shakeena Hearn, Movie Armaments Group, G.N. Dentay and the late R. Blake Stevens.

The author has written numerous articles for Soldier of Fortune, Small Arms Review and Small Arms Defense Journal. His earlier books are available on Kindle.