I attended the academic section of the concealed weapons course a couple of weeks ago and I would like to share some of my thoughts.

      With the exception of my ex-wife, I slept with my M203 more nights then anyone or anything else. In the infantry, your weapon is an extension of your hand, you carry it, you sleep with, and when called on, you fire it.

      The 82d are among the best trained troops in the world. During my service, the 2/504th PIR held the distinction as the only Expert Infantryman Battalion in the entire United States Army.

      Yet, even among these experts of experts I witnessed accidental discharges of weapons; one resulted in serious injury and one resulting in death.

     The lesson is clear, crystal clear there is no such thing as a ‘safe’ weapon. Accidents happen and few personal items are more dangerous then a firearm.

      My accidental discharge occurred at the tender age of three. My father returned from a hunting trip and occupied himself talking to my mother. I pulled at his leg, asking what he had shot he ignored me. I went to check for myself. Not finding any dead animals, I discovered my father’s cowboy pistol and proceed to fire.

      One shot was enough; I missed the gas tank by about an inch. We kept the vehicle for a couple of years after that and I remember putting my finger in the hole I shot in my father’s Studebaker.

      I can only imagine the conversation between my parents that followed my attempt to play John Wayne. The weapons did not leave the house but weapon safety proved a critical part of my growing up.

      Patricia claimed no experience with weapons when we married.  The incident with her use of a rifle during a confrontation with some neighbor is recorded in the first chapter of my book.

      I personally prefer revolvers, but when the children entered into the home I replaced the revolver with a semi-automatic. A Walther PPKs with a stronger spring installed on the slide. I am not sure even Patricia could work the slide, more less a child. In addition to the slide, I stored the weapon in a gun safe. To my knowledge, our two youngest have never touched a firearm.

      I voluntarily surrendered my weapons during the divorce at the request of Patricia. Patricia knew there were no weapons in the house when she sent the hit man to kill me in the family residence.

      After her arrest I went to Court and received an order allowing me to recover my firearms and I did.

      I am not a gun nut and attending the concealed weapon course brought this to my mind in a strong manner.

      I focused on my perceived need for the concealed weapon permit and did not even think about whom else might be attending the class and the material covered.

      Patricia use to claim that I had more crap happen to me before I was thirty then most people experience in several lifetimes, between being raised in the city with the number one crime rate, the military, and the stupidity that seems to attract me. Of course Patricia made my forties as ‘exciting’.

      The room was full of people wanting to carry a concealed weapon and hopeful for the opportunity to use it some day. None of them had ever fired a weapon with the intent to kill or even pointed one at someone. Additionally, it seemed clear that none of them had ever been in a dangerous violent situation.

      This hit me like ice cold water, draining the life out of me. They wanted to carry a concealed weapon while I was trying to decide if I needed to carry one. They hoped for the opportunity to pull a weapon while the idea of pulling a weapon is my greatest fear. Damn it, I am just getting over the nightmares from twenty years ago!!!

      The material added to the chill. Time and time again the instructor described situations one might encounter. Time and time again, I realized I had faced about half of them and never pulled or used my weapon. I got out of it ninety percent of the time without violence and the rest with my hands.

      But I looked around and watched my classmates eat it up, while I struggled with the idea of leaving the class.

      I finished the class, I told the instructor as he fingerprinted me that I felt as I had been through therapy.

      I will apply for the permit, but I am not sure if I will carry the weapon. If it was just me, I think I would be willing to die before having to take a life. But I have to think of my children………..