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OK. One more, I think. Old memories come in kind of slow now a days.

Back 1980 or 81 while stationed at Ft. Hood, TX, in the 2nd Armored Devision, I was at a tank gunnery sight in table as a tank turret repair mechanic (45Kilo) supporting one of the three tank battalions are company serviced. I was sitting in the shade of my service truck reading when something plopped about five feet in front of me into the loose churned up dirt from all the tanks traversing the parking lot. What ever it was had a round flat top protruding from the small crater it produced which made me get up to investigate. I lifted out a still warm 45 caliber bullet. Needless to say I was somewhat surprised, but then remember that on the other side of the limestone mountain that separated are gunnery range was a pistol range. Some moron on the other side either had a accidental discharge or was playing artillery with their 1911. I showed it to my shop officer and platoon sergeant who told me to go show it to the gunnery table range officer. The range officer looked in amusement at it and told me I should probably ware my steel pot helmet. I don’t know how many more were shot over the mountain, but I searched and couldn’t find any more.

I’ve had it all those years in my cartridge collection and took a picture of it just now with my cellphone to prove it, because of those of you who say “No picture or it didn’t happen”. I had to edit it to enhance the rifling engraving.
251426
 

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Seen a Mythbusters episode years ago were they fired a gun and measured the distance it went before it hit the ground , then raised a bullet up in the air in a balloon I think that same distance . They fired the gun and dropped the bullet from the balloon at same time . Both bullets hit the ground at same time . Just always thought that was pretty cool .
 

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Does being shot with rock salt count? In PA we used to "sleep out" in the woods about 6 of us (that wouldn't happen today). Sleep never came into the picture, we'd go to the Drive-In movies and Steal sweet corn for our food. Farmers somehow knew when we slept out, probably because we were so quite. LOL
 

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Sort of..was a range safety officer..customer was having a problem with his pistol. As I stood next to him he fired and I felt an impact to my shoulder. His firearm was igniting the cartridge before it locked up and the brass was breaking up. I had been hit by some of the brass. The next morning in the shower I was rubbing the spot I had been hit and a piece of brass squeezed out. Never told my spouse...she would have freaked out. LOL
 

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On another outing we were shooting at golf balls. My buddy shot one, it bounced and hit a steel plate and came right back and hit me with enough force I had thought I had been shot. Another story I did not share with my spouse.
 

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When I was 18 my Uncle (Sam) asked me to join a bunch of other young guys and go to a very inhospitable land called Korea. Seems they wanted us to shoot at the guys up north and they in turn were told to shoot at us. I thought it very unreasonable when the Generals and politicians were the angry ones and should be doing all the shooting and ducking while the rest of us went swimming in the ocean and drinking beer.
 

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Unfortunately more than once,
The first time was during Jr. High (7th/8th grade), we used to follow a creek to school when we didn't want to ride the bus and it went across the back of an old man's property, his fence ran all the way to the edge of the creek where he had a retaining wall built, so we hopped the fence,ran the back fence then hopped the fence again. He had signs,we were young & stupid and of course he "shot" our way, never heard of anyone actually being hit, but after a few times of that we stayed on the other side of the creek until we got past his place. Back of house was a good 150 ft. from fence.

The next memory of being in the wrong place at the wrong time was freshman year in highschool, got my first 'real' job bagging groceries and rode a bicycle back and forth. Store closed at 9 p.m. week days & 10 p.m. weekends, one night I am leaving (5 mile ride home) and a pick up follows me out of the parking lot and up the street, it didn't take long to figure out what was going to happen. They pull up beside me and ask if I need a lift home, I say 'no', they drive off a little ways then slam on their brakes and back up. A guy leans over the top of the truck from the passenger side and starts popping off rounds at me (some kind of revolver), I start cutting thru yards, trees anything to get away. Luckily I was in a neighborhood by my highschool and knew the area quite well, because the 'chase' was on and I could here them laughing and cussing trying to catch me. I was able to take my bike in & out of places they couldn't with their truck and made it home quicker than ever before. I don't know how many shots were taken (to busy trying to get away to count) and I never told my parents because I was working to save up for a car and didn't want to quit.

We had 'incidents' of gun play in school, several people I knew were already 'carrying' in high school and 'pot shots' taken at any of the local buildings.

That was the joys of growing up in a lovely place called Pleasant Grove.

Of course been pelted with bird shot more than once while hunting. Usually led to stern warning or an all out yelling match followed by returned bird shot when verbal warnings weren't sufficient.
Had one 'incident' about 15 years ago when my best friend and I were plinking with .22's in some bottom land by the river and we heard the round cutting thru the trees and hit about 20 feet in front of us, didn't hear a report of any kind, so we knew it was far off. Found out later we were a little further south than normal and close the the county sheriff's shooting range. That is a 'special' sound you don't forget easily. just one man's opinion...
 

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When I was 18 my Uncle (Sam) asked me to join a bunch of other young guys and go to a very inhospitable land called Korea. Seems they wanted us to shoot at the guys up north and they in turn were told to shoot at us. I thought it very unreasonable when the Generals and politicians were the angry ones and should be doing all the shooting and ducking while the rest of us went swimming in the ocean and drinking beer.
I have no trouble imagining how you arrived at your assessment of the politicians and the Generals (while I have a fair-to great deal of admiration for most professional fighting men, my opinion of most politicians is not repeatable here). I nonetheless thank you for your service in protecting my country, even if the motivation and mission were not clearly understood at the time, nor perhaps even now.
 

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I spent time in Afghanistan and have been shot at and hit. Aside from combat, I can just remember 1 time.
"ASIDE from combat"?!?!? When the statute of limitations lapses on THAT event and if we're still in contact, I would be interested in hearing more of THAT "just 1 time".
 

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When we moved to a new town I immediately joined the local Boy Scout troop. Shortly thereafter we went on a day hike to a wooded area where the older boys and the younger boys were separated into teams to play "Foxes and hounds". I was in the younger group and was caught right away and sent back to camp. The assistant scout master was a "sicko" named George King, He was carrying his Mossberg .22 semi-auto rifle. Those of us who had been caught were sitting in the camp which was in wooded area found ourselves hearing shots whizzing around us. Fortunately there were several large fallen trees in the camp and we were able to huddle down until the "game" was ended. My scouting days ended very quickly~! I knew that the sounds were rifle shots because I owned a hand-me-down Model 1890 non-take-down which I shot on a pretty regular basis. I had been taught by my dad how to handle a firearm safely and never to discharge my rifle if I thought there was a possibility of any persons being in the direction of my shots~!!!
 

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Yes, Once when I was a kid someone shot at me with a .22rifle Missed
Another time some old geezer shot at me with a pellet gun. Also missed
A third time while in the Army, driving down Tobacco Road in Augusta Georgia some jackwagon blew out the rear window of my rented Ford
 
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