The Marines Have Landed Part 18

"Mark number three target," shouted the sailor who was keeping d.i.c.k's score, and the man at the field-telephone relayed the message to the b.u.t.ts. A second or two later "number three" was "sashed," or pulled down; then up it popped with the fatal red flag waving back and forth across it as if in derision.

d.i.c.k was surprised at this, for he was positive his first shot must have been a bull's-eye. He looked at his sight critically. What was wrong?

Perhaps the wind was blowing enough to throw him off the "bull," but never could that light breeze throw him off the target altogether. He had one more sighting shot, and unless he found the target with that one he would have no "dope" for his ten record shots that were to follow.

Already he had a quarter-point of left wind on his gauge, which meant, at this range, if he took one-half a point windage that would move the shot one-half the width of the "bull"--enough to put him in the four-ring if his aim deviated the slightest and his "dope" happened to be wrong.

He was about to make the change, even though against his better judgment, when the man at the end of the telephone called out:

"Two shot holes in the bull on Number Four target!"

d.i.c.k drew a long breath of relief. He had fired his first shot not at his own but at his right-hand neighbor's target.

"Thank your lucky star, young man, for the sighting spots, or else your score would have been spoiled in the making," quietly remarked Sergeant Battiste, who was standing back, enjoying the lad's perplexity. "Let it be a lesson to you--always take a squint through your peep sight at the number below your target before you fire. One of those fives in Four Target was right in the center--a pin wheel! How much windage did you have?"

"A quarter-point of left wind," answered d.i.c.k.

"Just right--now, go ahead and make a possible."

And that is exactly what Drummer Comstock did--every one of his following shots. .h.i.tting the bull's-eye for a perfect score, and to the present day he shows that page from his score book with great pride.

d.i.c.k's luck continued with him at 600 yards, which to many old and tried riflemen is one of the most interesting ranges. With forty-three points here and the fifty at 500 yards, d.i.c.k now had a total score of one hundred and eighty-two points.

"What's your total, Hank?" asked d.i.c.k while they rested during the noon hour.

"One hundred and sixty-three, so far; but do you know who has the highest total for the day?"

"No, I didn't get through at six hundred in time to look over the score-boards; why, who is it?"

"Oh, a fellow named Richard Comstock! Great Scott! If you keep this up they will be hailing you as the Military Champeen of the World, d.i.c.k.

That was great shooting you did at 500 yards, old man."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Leaf From d.i.c.k's Score Book]

A LEAF FROM d.i.c.k'S SCORE BOOK

1. This leaf is from d.i.c.k's Score Book, which he inked in after he left the range.

2. It will be noticed the mirage was bad and d.i.c.k's 2nd sighting shot and first four record shots were low, therefore he raised his sight 25 yards. The bull's eye of this target (B) is 20 inches in diameter. 25 yards up on sight gauge would be about 6- inches.

3. "The square rule" is, changing the elevation 100 yards at any range gives change on the target equal to the number of inches in the square of the range. Example: at 500 yards equals 25 inches.

4. On the 9th and 10th shots, d.i.c.k raised his sight again and kept in the bull. The mirage had increased, tending to "throw" his shots low.

"I am proud of it, of course, but when you read how some of these crack shots make a string of bulls as long as your arm at that range then it loses some of its l.u.s.tre as a star score."

"They didn't get those wonderful records, though, on the first real practise, as you have done, d.i.c.k; and Battiste says you have a natural gift for shooting which further practise will surely develop."

"Yes, I got along pretty well with the slow fire, Henry, but I'm rotten in rapid fire, especially at 200 yards. Somehow I can't get the knack of it."

"That is funny, for I am perfectly at home in rapid fire," said Henry.

"If I can get on my tummy and shoot 'em I am safe, therefore I don't fear the skirmish runs. How many more points can be made from now on?

Let's figure it out!"

"We could make three hundred more. Each of the two skirmish runs counts one hundred, and the scores at rapid fire at 200 and 300 yards are fifty each, but I don't reckon we will get anything like that. Besides, you shouldn't worry, and I need but one-thirty-seven to qualify as marksman, and you a hundred and eighteen."

"You are wrong, Hank. It's true you require but three hundred points to make you a marksman, but you need as many points as you can get. I'm not satisfied just to sc.r.a.pe through in a matter of this kind, and because the thing appears easy is all the more reason we should try for the highest score we possibly can get. Then there is another reason; your marksman's score is added to what you make in the sharpshooter's course, and you've got to make a total of four hundred and fifteen points to get the qualification, which then gives you the right to shoot the expert test."

"You are right again, d.i.c.k, and thank you for the tip, or I might have missed my badge and the extra pay."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Marksman badge. This is the badge of the lowest qualification. Below this men are rated as "1st cla.s.s," but receive no badge.]

That night when the different divisions of the _Denver's_ complement returned, tired and hungry, to their s.h.i.+p, Sergeant Battiste worked till late arranging the scores of those who had fired, and out of twenty aspirants for the honor all had qualified as marksmen and would shoot the following day. Of the twenty, the top notch shot was none other than d.i.c.k, and fighting for last place were Trumpeter Cabell and Private Jones, both with 323 points to their credit. d.i.c.k had made the excellent score of 449 out of a possible 500 points.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Badge Awarded to Henry Cabell]

The following evening when the shooting cohorts returned on board having finished the Sharpshooter's[#] Course, he was still leading the detachment with a total score of 586 points.

[#] This course consisted of ten shots slow fire at 800 yards, same at 1,000 yards, and ten shots rapid fire at 500 yards; a possible score being 150 points.

"The 1,000-yard range was my Waterloo to-day," he explained to First Sergeant Dougla.s.s, who did not have to fire, being already an expert rifleman; "a fellow needs a lot more practise than I've had to be able to find and hold the bull at that distance, especially if there is a 'fish tail'[#] wind blowing, as happened to-day. Anyway, I'm sure of my Maltese Cross; but I want to pull down that expert's badge to-morrow, for it's the finest of the lot."

[#] A wind coming from a direction nearly parallel with the flight of the bullet:--the course the bullet travels through the air is called its trajectory.

The expert rifleman's test consisted in first firing ten shots slow fire from 600 yards over an embankment at the silhouette of a kneeling figure of a man with his arm raised as in shooting. Then came five shots at 500 yards and five at 400 yards at the same figure, only in this shooting it bobbed up above the b.u.t.ts for five seconds and might show up at any point, with five-second intervals between appearances. Next, two strings of five shots each at the "ducks," or Target F, the silhouette of a man lying, are fired at 500 yards. These "ducks" are supposed to fall over when hit, and at 300 and 200 yards the target first fired at, Target E, is pulled across the range on a track fifty yards long, in thirty seconds, while ten shots are being fired. Every hit counts one point, and the firer must make twenty-five hits out of fifty shots to qualify.

Expert Rifleman badge.

1. This badge is of silver metal. For every three years of re-qualification a bar is awarded with years engraved thereon and suspended between the crossed rifles and the top bar. This is the badge won by d.i.c.k at Guantanamo Bay Rifle Range.

It is a true test of the individual's ability, where steady hand, quick eye and excellent judgment are prime qualities for its successful accomplishment, yet, in spite of his fine showing on the two previous days, d.i.c.k barely sc.r.a.ped through with the exact number of hits to win out. But he had won, and two months later when the little silver emblems were received from Headquarters, it was with mingled pride and thankfulness he saw his own name neatly engraved on the reverse of the pin which Sergeant Dougla.s.s handed over to his keeping.

Five new experts, eleven sharpshooters and four marksmen was the final result of Sergeant Battiste's course of training.

"Well, I don't believe," d.i.c.k remarked as he strained his eyes to see the bright new badge he had pinned to his khaki coat preparatory to Sat.u.r.day morning inspection, "that I'll ever have as much pleasure in winning anything as I had in winning this, my first real medal."

"You may be right, d.i.c.k," said Henry, looking a little regretfully at the new sharpshooter's badge he held in his hand, "but what appeals more to me is that extra pay these little silver gadgets bring in each month."