My favorite gun

Guns Magazine, June, 2004 by Charles E. Petty

I'm forever being asked what is my favorite gun, but since I have more than a few that's an almost impossible question. I've heard some answer this query with, "the one I'm shooting at the time," but that's mostly a cop-out. A friend recently challenged me with this same old question and wouldn't let me squirm out of it.

"Your arm is twisted behind your back and you must make a decision," he laughed. Arrrgh! Finally I was able to get him to agree to limit the subject to handguns which helps a lot, as I have a few favorite rifles and shotguns too. After a little introspection, I finally narrowed the field to one.

Humble Beginning

It's a GI 1911A1 that was originally assembled from mostly scrap or discarded parts. The frame is a 1943 vintage made by Ithaca that, in the early sixties could be bought for no more than $25. The slide is a Remington Rand; a so called "soft" slide that we routinely discarded when building match guns with the new Colt "hard" slides. The barrel was a welded-up GI national match.

I was one of a very fortunate few to be trained as a gunsmith at the USAF Marksmanship School. I turned out to be a decent gunsmith and, maybe, a better pistol shooter. I owe that, and ever so much more, to my teacher--the late Bob Day who built the guns used by the guys on the big team.

In 1962 I was getting out of the Air Force soon and I asked Bob to help me build a gun I could carry and shoot as a civilian. I wanted two things that required his level of machining skills: A set of S&W sights which were just coming into vogue on the 1911, and an ambidextrous safety which simply didn't exist, but would greatly simplify my left-handed life.

I can still see him as he studied the parts and turned them this way and that. You could watch the idea form and with a nod of his head--but no word to Charlie--he set to work.

Talented Hands

He began with some precise welding to build up the pin of an original thumb safety. He added enough metal so the pin would extend well through to the right side of the frame. Then he took a scrap safety with the intent or grinding off the button and pin but realized that, inverted, the thumb portion would be too low. So he found scrap metal and ground it to shape, made a new lever, welded it into the proper position and studied some more.

Then he filed the built up pin where it protruded from the frame to form a square drive surface, broached a corresponding hole in the right side part, drilled and tapped a tiny hole in the pin and made a screw to hold the whole thing together. It wasn't pretty but it worked and did so for many, many years. Long after commercial parts were available.

To do the sights Bob simply copied the S&W milling job but he tan the cut right through the original rear sight. This actually provided a little protection should the sight get bumped. Of course we couldn't go to the store and buy front sights either and the GI sight would be much too low, so while Bob worked on the safety I beavered out something that looked like a front sight and silver soldered it on.

I was cleaning up the mess from that little operation when Bob took it, clamped it in the milling machine and tan an end mill down both sides to make it look nice. A few quick shots and strokes with a fire got the height right. Then a gentle bead blast and trip to the bluing tank finished the job.

I cannot begin to count the number of rounds that went through the gun. The barrel was badly worn, and I didn't want anything to happen to it. Honorable retirement seemed my only choice.

Chance Visit

Decades go by and a 1990 trip to Thunder Ranch was extended a couple of days to permit a visit to Day's San Antonio gun shop. "The Powderhorn." Out of nostalgia the old .45 went along and somewhere along the way the rear sight and the pistol parted company. The little screw that held the S&W sight in place finally sheared off. So when I got to Day's shop I asked him to drill and tap for a larger screw.

"Damn Charlie, this barrel is shot," he said, Actually lots of his comments to me began with. "Damn Charlie ..." So, without further ado he took a new barrel out of his stock and went to work. He snugged up the side a little and began to fit the barrel. I just watched. A job that takes me hours was nothing for him and when he handed the pistol back something magic had happened.

I simply can't describe how perfect feels but this was it. I don't want to get maudlin here but I can live that moment right now and have the same eye trouble I had to fight so hard to hide back then. No more than two hours had passed but the gun was done we went to get a Lone Star.

By then I was doing pretty well in this gunwriting thing and though he never came out and said it I knew Bob was proud of me. It was especially neat for him to introduce me to a friend with some comment like. "he's the writer." But the coolest moments of all would be when we would see someone who had been at the USAF Marksmanship School at the same time and Day would make some comment to suggest that, maybe, I had turned out okay after all.