Sometimes I have to admit to getting old, and wearing out, but not after standing on my feet for two windy cool days on Whidbey Island in the Great NorthWest.
It wasn't until the Shoot Boss asked me where to set up, I remembered I was the old hand at this range. Many of the shooters reminded me that I had worked with them before, although from their level of skill I couldn't be certain. We taught them everything, but I did notice our future rifleman thinking too much about his shot (fussing the shot we call it) but by the second day he had it together.
Over all I wanted more follow through, I wanted better trigger control, and I wanted slings that didn't slip on down to the elbow - prone with a hasty sling is tough if you don't keep the tension on. I wanted them to be a bit more serious about shooting so many fine center fire rifles and making the hits count. Sometimes they looked like a club on a social event. But then, that was what this was to them, a club social event. The instructors worked with the shooters over equipment issues. There seemed to be lots of progress, but not consistent. Like learn to do this while forgetting what was learned before that.. doesn't work.
We told the story of the strikes of the match, and the dangerous old men and dame. Ben also took his flintlock out, demonstrated the loading and shooting and then permitted those interested to fire a shot, too. About six, and one rang the steel target. At twenty-five meters it was close enough that I could hear it ring. Good time, cleaned up well, only two Rifleman scores earned, but they were better by the second day than they had been on the first. We sent them off to spread a love of Liberty throughout the land...
It was only twenty miles to Concord and Paul Revere didn't make it on his horse, someone else had to spread the word, and they did. Won't you?