- Rifles, Chapter 7 -

Europeans dominate the field in shotguns. Americans make the best rifles. There are many reasons for this, rooted in history and the nature of the terrain. Perhaps the most important are that there are far more opportunities for the non-millionaire American to hunt with a rifle than there are for his English or German counterparts; and, second, that a good single-barreled rifle is far more amenable to mass-production and machining than a double-barreled anything. Which is why this chapter will ignore the fine European double rifle, made for the wealthy on reinforced shotgun actions and basically mechanically identical to any given firm’s shotguns.

First, let me define rifle. A rifle is a long arm in which the bore contains cut grooves or “rifling” that spiral from the chamber to the muzzle of the barrel. These grooves and “lands,” or raised portions, impart an axial spin to the metal bullet, stabilizing its flight in aiding its accuracy. Strictly speaking, rifles are not “guns” – only smoothbores such as muskets and shotguns deserve this definition. But despite the army’s rhyme (“this is my rifle, this is my gun…”) such distinctions are usually considered pedantic today.

Before we consider individual rifle makers, we must deal with the matter of caliber. Strictly speaking, caliber is merely the diameter of the bore. But though shotguns use a standardized, if archaic, measurement, the naming of rifle calibers can be maddeningly arbitrary. Calibers can be expressed in fractions of inches or in millimeters, can incorporate years of introduction, black-powder equivalents, rounded-off numbers, manufacturer’s or inventor’s names, and even nicknames.

I am not exaggerating. First consider the old standby American .30/06 – a “30” (3/10 inch) caliber introduced in 1906. Next, the 7mm Mauser, perhaps better known as the 7 x (“by”) 57, 57 being the case length in millimeters, which is how the ultra-rational Germans designate all cartridges. (Mauser was the cartridge’s first maker; .30/06s are sometimes called .30/06 Springfields for the same reason.)How about the .45/70 government (“government” because it was used in military rifles in the 19th century), a .45-caliber cartridge that once used 70 grains of black powder? Don’t attempt to load it with 70 grains of smokeless! Or a 30/30, a “thirty” (I’ll get to those quote marks) that was first loaded with 30 grains of smokeless powder? Next, consider “rounded-off numbers”: the .30/06 actually has a bullet diameter of .308 inches. But don’t call it a .308; that designation is reserved for a shorter modern cartridge. (You could call it a 7.62 x 63mm, though…) Manufacturers’ names? Try 7mm Remington. Inventors? .257 Roberts. Nicknames? .22 Hornet or .220 Swift.

Personally, I think all this business is fun; American caliber designations have more soul and history than the perfectly rational German system. But you will simply have to learn, and memorize, caliber data; there is no shortcut. Tables published in the yearly Gun Digest and by some ammunition manufacturers can help. They arrange cartridges by bullet diameter rather than by power; a small bullet can have a large brass case full of powder behind it, giving it much more energy than a larger bullet backed by less powder. The ballistic figures in these tables, which also include bullet drop at various ranges, velocity, and energy, will soon begin to make sense.

On calibers I am an extreme moderate and an ultra-traditionalist. Nowadays, an enormous range of calibers is available, with a strong trend toward fast bullets and flat trajectories; also, contrarily, toward what I would call “light” (as in “light beer”) and calibers alleged to give traditional results in shorter cartridges, which in turn are used in lighter rifles. Examples of the first are Weatherby’s “proprietary” calibers in most modern varmint cartridges; of the second, the .308 (substituting for the .30/06) and the 7mm/08 (a .308 with 7mm bullet stuck in it).

The first category may have its uses; my most experienced big-game hunting friend, Tom McIntyre, is very fond of the ultra-flat shooting, ultra-long-range, ultra-noisy and hard-recoiling Weatherby cartridges. But consider your needs. If you go on twelve guided big-game hunts a year, often in far-off places, and must shoot when the guide tells you to or risk having no other shot even if the game is far away; if you are built to handle recoil; above all, if you shoot often enough that you know that you can place all your shots accurately with such a weapon, then by all means shoot a Weatherby caliber. (I still don’t like the actual rifles much.) Tom is one of the most dedicated and knowledgeable hunters I know, goes on such trips and shoots constantly between them. Very few other hunters I know shoot such rifles well.

Most “lite” cartridges are simply superfluous; they are designed to work in “lite” rifles, which are also unnecessary. I am a fan of featherweight shotguns, but a rifle can be too light. Try to hold a 6-pound rifle on target. These 18-inch-barrel, toothpick-profile jobs are a fad; they, and their associated cartridges, will fade, while the great old ones will go on forever.

Let me say something outrageous: With the possible exception of the .22, which is a separate kind of cartridge used for rather different purposes, caliber does not matter.

I’ll leave you in shock for a moment to deal with .22s. The .22 is best known in America as a “first” rifle. Because .22s are quiet and accurate and have no perceptible recoil, they are a good choice for the beginner, as well as for the target shooter. They are “rimfires – their strikers are arranged to hit the rim of the cartridge, which is crimped full of an explosive material that in turn ignites the powder that propels the bullet. The tiny, soft bullets do not achieve the velocity of those from larger rifles. (Which is not to say that they are not dangerous; they are true rifles and under the wrong circumstances they can kill humans at long distances.) Because .22s attain low velocities and use soft-lead bullets, their barrels are often made of softer metal than those of other rifles.

For hunting, .22s are mainly useful on squirrels. You cannot kill either a turkey or a woodchuck consistently with a .22, or even with its longer-cased, higher velocity, but otherwise identical cousin, the “.22 magnum” or (properly) .22 Winchester Rimfire Magnum. For such animals you need a .22 Hornet, which shoots heavier, better-constructed bullets.

- Rifles page 82 -

The great caliber debates are prefigured in the writings of two men. This century has seen many so-called outdoor writers come and go. Some have been adventurers, some “experts,” some literary, and some painfully down-home. Some are already mercifully forgotten; a few will always be read. But I doubt that any two writers (or for that matter any one writer) will ever again have the influence and following that Jack O’Connor and Elmer Keith gained in the forties and wielded through the sixties. And though we have gained more sophistication, we may have given up a little of the robust flavor of that more innocent time.

Though they were both Westerners, they couldn’t have been more different. O’Connor, born in Arizona, was an educated man, a journalism professor and a novelist who always cultivated a gentleman’s image. He wore three-piece suits in civilization, and his trademark Borsalino hats brought some of that same elegance even to the field. He was literate, sardonic, and understated, and probably the only so-called gun writer to get a New York Times obituary.

Elmer was born in Missouri and grew up as a working cowboy in the mountain West. He worked as a big game guide (O’Connor in later life mostly hired guides). Instead of O’Connor’s rakish fedoras, Elmer (one doesn’t somehow think of O’Connor as “Jack” in the same way) sported enormous ten-gallon hats out of a 1920s western. He usually added a cigar and at least one shooter to the ensemble. If O’Connor ever shot a handgun, I can’t remember his recording the fact.

As any reader of the two knows, their prejudices and differences in style did not just extend to their ideas about rifles – they were embodied in them. O’Connor favored modest, rational, flat-shooting calibers embedded in elegant, classic stocks. He popularized and defended the .270 and was also fond of the .30/06 and the 7 mm Mauser.

Elmer, on the other hand, demanded and eventually got the .44 magnum handgun cartridge, shot a 10-gauge magnum double at geese all his life, and loved anything above .338 caliber - fans and detractors alike might say, the higher above, the better. He liked .45/70s, anything with the name “magnum,” and all the elephant calibers. He might have had the most complete collection of fine English double and single rifles of any man of modest means alive in his time. He at least once strongly implied that the .30/06 wasn’t good for anything.

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