The Rifle Under My Pillow
 
I thought I forgot, but I remember. I remember now the distinct sound of the spring recoil of an M16, how, with that sound, the metal and plastic, it almost felt like a toy. How, when I gripped it for the first time it felt heavy, but soon became part of my body, and unnoticeable. I remember how it was my own, with its unique serial number, and unique discoloring from wear in the metal that created its own fingerprint. There was tension in the trigger, inherent to mine, a love we both understood. I remember the smell of cordite after firing and how I loved that smell. How .556 casings from the Marine next to me seemed to always find my skin and burn. How the barrel guard O rings always seemed difficult to push, no matter whose rifle it was. I remember the smell of CLP oil, how the rifle and that smell are one and the same. How the cleaning rod always fell through the base of the barrel butt first. I remember how my 16 was always on my body, or within arms reach, near me as I slept, and how I gave it a girl’s name. How I always loaded twenty eight rounds instead of thirty into the magazine clips, so the weapon wouldn’t jam on first fire.  That we ‘Conditioned 1’ our weapons.  I remember how one night I loaded all tracer rounds, so I could create a fan of lights in the dark. I remember how I had no value in the field without it. I remember now how I used to be as hot, or as cold as the metal in my hands.
 

Hey, this is nice. Good flowing narrative you got here.

I didn't fire an M16 during the times I handled a gun, but it still reminded me of my own experiences. I hope you'll continue this. :)

I've no experience, but this writing gave a great perception of the gun and much more....

red_lace, I'm glad you enjoyed the narrative, and that it brought about your similar experiences. Thank you for dropping by and for your kind words.

pkd1220, thank you thank you


Duck!

This is my rifle. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy, who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God I swear this creed: my rifle and myself are defenders of my country, we are the masters of our enemy, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen.

esebulldog, Semper Fi devil! Thank you for posting that, the only prayer I know. To the only religion I know. And carry on.

Duck!

very good

manOfewwords, I appreciate your kind words. Thank you for dropping by,

Duck!