My Uncle Ed died on the first of this month. His funeral was last Tuesday, near where I grew up in the Little Belt Mountains in Montana. It was my first time being a pall bearer.
Of course there were many stories after, and before the funeral.
One was about the time he shot at the Air Force.
Growing up in Montana we had a huge Air Force presence. Might not seem like a likely scenario, but with thousands of Nukes, there needed to be somewhere to put them (that didn't matter to the rest of the country), and the northern border was closer to the USSR than anywhere. We had one of the motherfuckers three miles from where I lived.
There was a natural animosity between the ranchers/farmers and the Air Force. For one, the Air Force pilots had to log a certain number of hours each month. So they would be out all over Montana, "practicing". They developed a fondness for sneaking up on the agriculturists, and frightening them. This was when they were still allowed to go beyond the speed of sound. The pilots would fly low over farmers or ranchers on tractors, or cowboys on horses. Because they were going over the speed of sound, one could not hear them coming, and would of course be very scared when the sonic boom went off right over them. Then they would watch the planes fly off.
My uncle was having problems with a coyote in his sheep, and was carrying his 30-06 on his tractor to try and see if he could come across him while running the harrow in his field.
(This never works. The coyotes can smell a gun, and will be long gone.)
So, of course the Air Force picked this time to startle my Uncle. He was so pissed off. Usually he was very good about gun safety, but his emotions were so tweeked he pulled out the gun after getting over the initial shock and shot at the plane. (He was also a quite good marksman, so he was lucky that it was an elusive target and he apparently missed.)
When telling this at the dog park today, my friend thought that the plane would outrun the bullet. This seems counter-intuitive to me.
Most of you seem to know more about both subjects than myself. Couldn't he have hit the plane?
Regards, Jack
Of course there were many stories after, and before the funeral.
One was about the time he shot at the Air Force.
Growing up in Montana we had a huge Air Force presence. Might not seem like a likely scenario, but with thousands of Nukes, there needed to be somewhere to put them (that didn't matter to the rest of the country), and the northern border was closer to the USSR than anywhere. We had one of the motherfuckers three miles from where I lived.
There was a natural animosity between the ranchers/farmers and the Air Force. For one, the Air Force pilots had to log a certain number of hours each month. So they would be out all over Montana, "practicing". They developed a fondness for sneaking up on the agriculturists, and frightening them. This was when they were still allowed to go beyond the speed of sound. The pilots would fly low over farmers or ranchers on tractors, or cowboys on horses. Because they were going over the speed of sound, one could not hear them coming, and would of course be very scared when the sonic boom went off right over them. Then they would watch the planes fly off.
My uncle was having problems with a coyote in his sheep, and was carrying his 30-06 on his tractor to try and see if he could come across him while running the harrow in his field.
(This never works. The coyotes can smell a gun, and will be long gone.)
So, of course the Air Force picked this time to startle my Uncle. He was so pissed off. Usually he was very good about gun safety, but his emotions were so tweeked he pulled out the gun after getting over the initial shock and shot at the plane. (He was also a quite good marksman, so he was lucky that it was an elusive target and he apparently missed.)
When telling this at the dog park today, my friend thought that the plane would outrun the bullet. This seems counter-intuitive to me.
Most of you seem to know more about both subjects than myself. Couldn't he have hit the plane?
Regards, Jack