Work Day

It's my day off so I guess I'll work. The grass needs a cut and I've ammunition to polish and pack, and I should pull out the a/c filter and give it a good bath.

Last night around 2300 while reloading my brass polisher I noticed a regiment of mosquitoes had taken residence in my garage. Two or three had packs strapped to their backs and upon closer observation those packs appeared to be transfusion units - little IV bottles and tubes.

Just think what it'll be like when I walk outside....

See you good folks later.

Stephen 

I'm Ticked Off

Because it seems I'll miss season three of The Walking Dead on AMC. Seems Dish Network, my satellite provider has its panties in a knot over AMC's add asking Dish customers to drop the Dish Network. It's nothing more than a fight over fees.

Shucks. I like zombie movies and this was a good one. Guess I'll wait and watch it on DVD. If I didn't hate cable so much I'd cancel Dish.

Stephen 

A Hard Lesson; Survivor Ammunition Storage

Yesterday was a very long and hot and sweaty day. Our group spent all of Saturday at the farm in the recovery efforts of our Boar's Nest and outbuildings. To say it was mess would be an understatement.

I did not take pictures. Didn't have the time or heart. We lost much but nothing that cannot be replaced, and best of all the building itself was not damaged. It was wet, but by the time we shut down operations had dried considerably.

When we first opened the 'Nest we found mold growth on almost every surface. Our lower kitchen cabinets were lost - particle board doesn't like water. The upper cabinets were safe. Thankfully, all my lanterns had been placed atop and survived the flood. As I type my three piece and very expensive sleeping bag is tumbling in our dryer. It came through with flying colors.

We lost the newly installed insulation and other new building materials but overall we were lucky, and have taken this flood as a great lesson for 'that day.'  

The storage trailer, an old Air Stream, well, that was a different story. We lost almost all its contents. Stored food not in sealed containers, paper products all gone. All the properly stored rice and beans within mylar bags and sealed inside five gallon buckets with proper lids were fine - dry as old bones.

I lost nine plus thousand rounds of ammunition. Well, it wasn't truly lost but I'll explain in a moment.

Much of my ammo was fine. Thank the Lord I only prepositioned, in the trailer, a fraction of my ammunition. 

The flood waters took our outhouse for a ride. It moved the one hole library from its normal location and took it for a several hundred yard ride and placed it against a fence.

 We have a huge picnic table at the Boar's Nest. It was custom built by our nearby city government for its employees and donated to us. (thanks, Duke) A very large and heavy table, mind you. We had the picnic table placed on the west side, or behind the Nest. The flood waters picked that sucker up and moved it through a small gap between two buildings and deposited that heavy object on the east side of the Nest. The table was upside against another fence. Incredible. It took six grown men and Senior's Honda four wheeler to move it back into position. Think about it....

Now, back to the ammo.

Much of my stored prep ammunition, is 7.62x51 surplus. It is sealed within battle packs, a rubberized package, and locked inside ammo cans. The ammo cans which hold this ammunition are not water tight but this is not a concern as long as the rounds stay inside the sealed battle packs. The ammunition is South African military surplus - good stuff. Stand-by and I'll find you a picture..

Its a little blurry but, no pun intended, you get the picture. The date is faded but if you look closely you are able see the date, 1980, on the bottom right corner. Its shoots like a dream. The sealed can underneath is .45 ACP. Both the South African and sealed tin of .45 came through the flood without problems. You should take notes....

By the way, all these pictures were taken this morning out in my garage.

I did not lose a single round of 7.62x51. The 7.62x39 and 9x19 were a different story, and it's my own fault. You see back when I loaded all this ammunition for prepositioning I didn't have enough ammo cans to properly store my precious cargo. I had over nine thousand rounds left homeless but for the, supposedly, sealed plastic bags in which it was shipped. I thought, what 'da heck I'll take it anyway. That was a big mistake. See for yourself.

Above - see the pile atop the can. That's one thousand two hundred rounds of nine mil. I've ripped open its plastic bag and drained the water. I also removed the top of each box to allow it to air dry inside my garage.

It's important that you know I shall not throw these thousand plus rounds away. The ammo is Russian. To reduce their cost the Russians use steel casings. Steel, as you are aware, will rust when it is submerged for hours in muddy river water. Even if two out of ten rounds fire, I'll keep it. The Russians also claim they seal their primers....don't believe them. I'll explain later.

In the above picture the pile below the ammo box is another twelve hundred rounds of 9x19 Tula loaded steel cased ammo. To the left is a battle pack of South African thirty caliber food for my M1A.

As an example of properly cased ammo here we have the only loose 7.62x51 surplus ammo that rode the flood outside its package. It's fine. These primers are sealed. Once dried it will kick butt all day.

Above, here's a close-up of the nine mil. Notice the rust. I took each box and ripped off the cardboard boxes. You can see the bits and pieces of packaging mixed within the rounds. Yes, its Wolf. Great object lesson...if you store Russian ammo, place it inside nice tight clean ammo cans.  Just take care to check the gasket and make sure each can seals tight.

Again, sorry for this blurry image. Above, 7.62x39 fodder for my AK's and SKS rifles. Rusty reminders to never ever store ammunition, for survival purposes, on or near a flood zone without first taking all precautions to insure it stays nice and dry. Notice the rust only took a few hours to form. By morning the rounds were dry.

Here's the pile of discarded packaging torn from the individual boxes. This pile is the 9x19 Wolf brand. Note the plastic round separators. Even though each package came within a sealed plastic bag the flood water, once inside the storage trailer, lifted its other contents and shifted the load. This shifting, not unlike a standard washing machine ripped each bag. When I took the packages outside I had to dump a liter or more of water from each bag. It was heart breaking. Take those notes.

See the box to the left of center....its one of those silly hard plastic boxes from Cheaper Than Dirt. I believe it came with an order of ammo I made years ago. Can't remember. Anyway....they are not air or water tight. When I opened this box it held a good two liters of water. Thank the Good Lord I had sealed battle packs inside or I'd of lost any loose ammo stored within....don't use them for ammunition storage unless you plan to leave it inside out of the weather.

Above, here is an example of a properly sealed can of ammunition. This happens to be several hundred rounds of AP. Black tip 7.62x51. I once upon a time came across a few hundred rounds of surplus World War 2, 30/06 belt loaded rounds. Thanks, Dad. I pulled each bullet. The black tips were to priceless to waste and reloaded each gem for my M1A. To the side of the white boxes you'll notice two spare boxes of South African. When opened the can was as dry as a desert well. The box, I'm sure, floated.

Just another view.

By now I'm sure you've asked, "Well, Stephen, what are your plans for this ruined nine plus thousand rounds of ammunition.?" Good question. See above picture. I repeat, I will not throw this valuable resource in the trash. I shall clean each piece, and trust me, it'll take me a while, months even to clean each round.

Yesterday, after we had unloaded the mess from the trailer,  I believe it was my good friend and fellow group member, Duke,  that asked if we thought it would still fire. Since Pirate Jim had an SKS in his truck Duke asked to barrow it and loaded seven rounds. Seven very wet and rusty rounds, and pulled the trigger. Only two out of the seven fired.

Remember when I said, 'they claim to seal their primers.' Well, there is your proof. Yes, Tula may indeed seal the primers, but as in all manufacturing processes, quality control makes all the difference.

So, my answer is, the ammo, after a good cleaning, shall become trade fodder. I'm certain when the SHTF there will be many pilgrims out there in need of ammunition. It's important to understand I'd never trade a single faulty round of ammo to any person when it could possibly cost them their lives. I would instead explain to them that perhaps one or two out of ten rounds will not fire. But, when you are out of ammunition, a two in ten chance of feeding your family is better than no chance at all. 

The rusty rounds loaded for a long bath.

It's time for me to order a dozen new ammo cans. I also now have an excuse to begin the long process of restocking my ammunition supplies.

Please, learn from my mistakes.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

Some years bad-luck just settles in and takes a huge bite out of our butts - bad-luck chews and chews until she's had her feel, and we suffer for her bloated and greedy ways.

Our Boar's Nest suffered from last weeks flood. This weekend we gather to assess the damage and clean and salvage those items not ruined forever. I had left my old Army cot, a beautiful military issued sleeping bag, vintage Coleman lanterns and stove, and antique kerosene lanterns in the building. According to FEMA this was an historic flood. The highest waters ever recorded for the river where we have the Nest built. Our stilts were not sufficient, high enough, for the flood.

In our storage trailer we have stored prep items and thousands of rounds of ammunition. Most of the ammo is packed within ammunition cans, and much of mine, in sealed battle packs. I hope its all dry, and if not, we'll unpack it and allow the ammo to sun dry. Most military ammo has sealed primers. I sure won't throw it away.

The reports I've received from locals is if you were in a boat riding the flood it was possible, while sitting in said boat, to reach and touch the top of the Boar's Nest. Bad stuff.

We'd just installed new insulation. Hopefully we'll be able to salvage some of it. We're not sure if the insulation wicked the water, if so, it too is gone.

Pictured above is one of two very old American made lanterns I left stored in the Boar's Nest. I think I remember it sitting atop one of the storage cabinets. Hope my memory serves me well, I'd hate to lose it.

The building itself I'm sure is fine. We'll clean out the mud, replace and repair. Adversity shall be kicked in the butt.

*****

My Sweet Wife is depressed, badly. I'll not spell out the reasons, hell, you know the story. Anyway, I've noticed of late she has been spending hours with a laptop deep into research. I never asked why simply because it kept her busy and her eyes were free of tears.

A couple of nights ago she came to me and said, "I want to adopt a child. I want a little girl no one can take from us." She continued, "There are hundreds of children out there begging for a home, a family, and they need love."

I didn't bat an eye...maintained my composure. Wiped my nose, scratched my head. Then, "Okay."

She smiled. And, once again, all was right with the world. She fell asleep that evening without a tear.

So, we'll try again. The process begins today. You, I'm sure, might have noticed I haven't written as much of late. Now you understand why my blog has taken a hit on the number of blog pieces posted. For the last few nights we've been deep into web research on adoptions.

We've raised a child, a boy. He didn't turn out so well. We've asked ourselves why, where did we go wrong, and we just cannot find an answer. This time, we'll ask a little girl if she wants a loving mother and father. If she'd like to be our little girl, our daughter. There is a void in our lives and it needs to be filled, we need a child to love.

I've found six or seven little girls, on the Florida agency web-search, I want to bring home, now. To read their on-line descriptions, and see their little faces, is enough to break your heart. Those little girls need my arms around them, and I need their hugs in return. I want another little girl to raise. To protect. One of mine own.

Thus begins a very long process.

Oh, by the way, it's a secret. Don't tell anyone.

Stephen

Thanks and Welcome

To my new friend and follower, Woodsterman. My friend I promise I will always answer any and all comments you leave here at my humble blog. It might take me a few hours, and in rare cases days, but you can bet your last dollar I will reply.

To my other friends I ask, please, take a ride over and visit our new friends blog, http://woodstermangotwood.blogspot.com/. I  believe you'll find it fun and entertaining.

Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Really, Is It Just Me

Or is the Capitol Fourth the corniest show of Independence Day.

Of course we always watch. Well, at least Sweet Wife. I'm reading your blog.

Stephen

Summer

In truth I hate summer.

I hate its heat and humidity, and the almost constant glare of the sun which makes dark glasses and wide brimmed hats and soft cotton clothing with bandannas a necessary uniform of all Southern men and women.

Then again there is much I do like and enjoy about summer.  The early mornings on my deck just after sunrise, the overnight breezes cooled with the scent of the marsh and oak mast and how the Spanish moss shifts and swings with the slightest caress of the wind and how the birds sing in subdued cadence as if still adrift and lost in an early morning dream.

I like how the summer brings us the smell of fresh mowed lawns; the rich cut odor of green. The first of season farmed picked watermelon, hard and heavy, and when thumped, promises that rich and cold sweet taste of our lost youth. 

The laughter of children as they jump and play and splash in kiddie pools hidden within the back yards with their plastic beach balls and the way the little girls long hair plasters to their cheeks and the silly giggles that make me smile and remember.

And shade....shade and shadows make summer bearable especially when afloat in an old wooden jonboat with your canepole and a small can of worms and the waters are tea colored with tannin and how the cork slips gently beneath the water and you feel the strong pull of a bluegill and as you fight the fish you can smell the musty sharp scent of the swamp and how the suns warms your shoulders and you know for certain this is the best day of your life.

I like the beach on a hot summers day with a good chair, a large umbrella, a cold beverage and a book as the seagulls scream for my attention and the lovely ladies in their perfectly fitted swimsuits, all legs and smiles. The wind brisk and cool off the waves and I like the sound of the surf and how my toes feel cool as my feet sink into the wet sand. Though the best part of a day at the beach is the cold shower afterwards and then how a tall glass of cold sweet tea, drained quickly, returns my life to normal.

When I was young the best part of summer were the evenings, the quiet moments with just the song of crickets and tree frogs and fireflies; those little winks of bright green. The joy as we chased and bottled their glow for our bedroom and how we feel asleep to a gentle yellow green night light of dreams. Fireflies are the fairies of soft summer evenings.

I like too how in the deep dog days of summer, when I'm out in the yard and if I stand quietly still, I can hear the cicadas with their tree hugged screamed mating song, and if I'm lucky, I might catch an occasional long distance and forlorn whistle of the Bobwhite quail, which evokes memories of my childhood summers and long naps in a hay field just before the late afternoon thunderstorms came charging in off the coast.

Then we have Independence Day - the best part of summer. This day, the forth of July, is to me the essence of summer. The birth of our great country with its fireworks, and backyard grills with sweet brambly sharp toned odors of burgers and hotdogs. The backyard tables dressed in checkered cloth loaded with watermelons and slaw and bakedbeans and ice cold pitchers of tea and metal buckets filled with beer.

I love best the evenings after all the food has disappeared and the chairs are moved just so for the evening of fireworks and fun. I like how the children gather and each after the other light their little sticks of sparklers and how the cheery red bits shower down and how the little girls scream and the boys dance and tease each the other. I love the distance boom and heavy thunder when the main show begins out over the water. It's not unlike warfare of a long now almost forgotten nightmare of battle. A battle of remembrance for those ghost of the night responsible for our celebration. 

Really, I do so hate summer.

Stephen