A hail of gunfire

by JayP
(Washington State)

Back in 1972, I was 13 years old. My brother, Myron, was 11 and tagged along no matter were I went. This was the summer I was finally able to go on a camping trip by myself! Well, by myself as long as I took my little brother along. My Dad was willing to take us where ever we liked and would drop us off and then pick us up on a designated day at an agreed to time.

With our backpacks loaded down with the essentials, fishing poles, hooks, sinkers, tinfoil, flour, baking soda, salt, pepper, blankets, an extra pair of socks, pants and shirt along with a hunting knife and axe, we were set. Our Dad drove us up to the end of a new logging road that had been punched in across a local river and then dead ended in huge old growth fir that they would spent the next 20 years logging. After saying our goodbyes we took off hiking up the North Fork of the river. We hiked in 4 or 5 miles, not knowing that across the river another road came in from a different direction and dead ended up above us.

We were in hog heaven. We set our camp up under the huge timber in the moss right above the river. There was enough of a breeze that the bugs weren't too bad and within a few minutes we gathered up enough dead wood that we quickly built a little fire and went fishing. I will never forget as long as I live the first fish I hooked in to. It was about a 2lb rainbow that thought it was an acrobat. After I set that hook the fish went airborne. It didn't take more than a couple minutes to land it but that fish and the fight were burned into my memory for all time.

I caught two fish that afternoon, the second wasn't near the acrobat but was a bit bigger. Myron didn't catch anything, but he was more than willing to help me eat these two! A bit of salt and pepper on the cleaned fish, then wrapped in tinfoil and tossed into the coals had 2 boys sitting around with watering mouths. After scarfing them down we spent some time gathering wood for the fire to last the night. A little talking and we wrapped up into our blankets and were instantly asleep.

The next few days were spent about the same way. Fishing up the river and then down the river. As we brought no real food, fish were about the only source of food other than some fry bread we would mix up. Life was perfect! Hiking and exploring when not fishing or napping or tending fire kept us busy. The hillsides were straight up and down, the peaks towering nearly a mile over our heads. But there was game to be seen, deer, grouse, bear and rabbits, plans and stories to be told about the upcoming years and the great white hunters we would become.

Then on the 4th day, disaster struck. I was in camp taking a nap after a hard morning of fishing and was sleeping very soundly. I awoke to the sounds of screaming and gunfire! Rubbing the sleep from my eyes trying to make sense of what was happening, I quickly realized it was my brothers screams that woke me. Off in the distance I could hear gunfire followed by my brother screaming. I ran up the hill toward where he was, it was a small opening on a hillside in the timber. Once he saw me he screamed to me to stay down. Being the 'big brother' I paid no attention and started toward him. Shots started hitting the ground all around him where he was hunkered down behind a windfall. As soon as I was in the opening I heard something zip by me followed by a gunshot and rocks splattered in my face. I hit the ground rolling back down the way I had just came up. My brother was screaming nearly out of control that people were shooting at him, now both of us! Like I needed him to remind me!

Looking around I could kind of get an idea of where the shots were coming from. It was from the end of a long ridge that ended across the river from us about 600 yards away. Unbeknownst to us, that was the end of a road and 2, possibly 3 people were firing at us with high powered rifles judging from the reports. Everytime my little brother would try and work his way toward me, as soon as he started to get in the open the gunfire would erupt again with bullets impacting all around. I'm guessing the people finally ran out of shells before he was able to make his way from behind the windfall and sprint down the hill to me where we both raced back to camp. Later, when talking it over and going through the whole episode in our minds we were sure that over 100 rounds of high powered rifle ammunition had been fired at us. Perhaps many more than 100 rounds.

To say we were frightened would be the understatement of the decade. We were terrified. Within 5 minutes we had all of our gear packed, the fire put out and we were high tailing it down the river staying in the safety of the timber. After the initial 5 miles to get back to the end of the road, we were terrified they would be there waiting for us to finish the job, which thankfully they weren't, but we decided to cut overland to hit a paved road that would lead us back to our home. That was another 3 miles (that saved 20 miles the way we drove in) and then 5 more miles on the pavement before we made it home.

After telling the story to our Father, the way his face clouded up we both saw something rarely ever seen in our Dads face. He was on the hunt. As a Korean War Vet that saw heavy action and terrible things, he was going back to war and there was no doubt to us even at our young ages. We explained where the gunfire was coming from so after he loaded up on a couple pistols and a rifle we headed up to where he thought the road may have went in from. Sure enough he was right and we were able to drive right to the spot they had been firing from. You could see the little open hillside they pinned my younger brother down on and within seconds Dad found piles of empty brass. There was over 80 rounds of 30-06, almost 40 rounds of 30-30 and a few boxes of .243. But no people to be found. We drove around on the backroads that accessed the area looking for ANYONE but no one was to be found. And good thing as if we had found anyone with those 3 rifle calibers with them there was no doubt as to the outcome.

We then drove to the County Police station and reported what happened. Fortunately a friend of my Fathers was on duty and after taking all the information from us did as much of an investigation as was possible. No one was ever apprehended unfortunately.

That was a turning point in my life. I swore to myself and I swore to my father that I would never hike or camp unarmed again. And I never did. The rest of that summer I carried the family .22 rifle that I was competing with in NRA smallbore rifle. My Dad installed a sling and I rarely ever left the house even to go fishing down at the river below our house without that rifle slung across my back. I guess my Dad must have told the story to other family members. The next Spring I turned 14 years old. My Uncle made a surprise visit to celebrate it with us though he had to drive quite some distance. You can't imagine my excitement when I opened the long box my Uncle handed to me to find a Winchester Model 64 with a handmade Fiddleback Maple stock. In another box that was VERY heavy were 40 boxes of factory 25-35 ammuntion! The rest of my family started handing me gift boxes that as I opened them found boxes of bullets, brass, primers, powder and dies to reload for it. Also included with the rifle was a 105gr RCBS bullet mould and sizing die. This boy was SET!! I still have 6 of those original factory boxes of shells.

My Uncle had already installed a William receiver sight. We took it out to the family rifle range where I found they had already got the bench ready with sandbags and targets on the target stand. After the initial sighting in I started shooting 100 yard groups. As already a competing NRA target shooter I was well versed in poking lots of holes in targets. It didn't take long to get it sighted in 1 1/2" high at 100 yards and I shot a few groups as small as 3" at 200 yards. The rifle was superbly accurate then and just as accurate now though my eyes don't let me now shoot the tiny groups that I did back then.

From that day on, I rarely if ever left the house for the woods without that little rifle. For the first decade after I was married and had children I still carried that rifle with me religiously. Though it has now been semi retired 35 years later and resides mostly in the gun safe, I still take it out to target shoot and occasionally hunt with. I still cast bullets for it and it still shoots tiny little groups.

And yes, I did end up having to use it to defend myself with when shot at a few years later. But that is ANOTHER story!