British Blaster: The Enfield No. 2 Mk I

And now for something completely different!



The Enfield No. 2 Mark 1 Revolver. You were expecting Monty Python, perhaps?

I've touched on the Russian, German, and US sidearms of the 40's and 50's, but I've yet to tackle anything from Old Britannia. To borrow a phrase from our friends across the pond, this month's subject is an "interesting bit of kit". The Enfield No. 2 Mk 1 began its life after World War I. The primary British sidearm at that time was the stout Webley Mk VI revolver. Weighing in at roughly two and a half pounds, the Webley was a six shot, single/double action top-break revolver chambered in .455 Webley. The .455 Webley cartridge boasted a .454", 265 grain lead round nose projectile that moved along at a leisurely 650 fps. Yes, it was a heavy, fat, slow-moving beast of a cartridge, but it was quite effective for what it needed to do: put half-inch holes into the Hun enemy, and save the Holy Grail from Nazis.


Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. with a Webley revolver chambered in .455 Webley.


Despite the weight of the Webley, firing that large, heavy bullet meant that the shooter experienced considerable felt recoil. The British believed this to be a detriment to marksmanship training, as trainees would anticipate the recoil and flinch, spoiling the shot. Of course, this simply would not do. Gentlemen shouldn't have to deal with unwieldy, beastly firearms. Nasty loud things, make you late for luncheon and whatnot. The solution: adopt a lighter, daintier, cartridge with less recoil so that it would be easier for gentlemanly officers to shoot whilst extending their pinkies as they sipped on their Earl Grey tea and ate cucumber sandwiches.



As you can see, I'm only slightly exaggerating here. Slightly.

You can probably tell I don't think much of this decision. Instead of devoting the time and energy into training their soldiers to shoot properly, the Brits copped out by adopting a pistol which fired a less effective cartridge. Lest you think I'm being too hard on the British: they weren't the first nation to replace a powerful cartridge with a less powerful one for dubious reasons, and they surely wouldn't be the last to do so, either. At any rate, the powers that be decided that a .38 caliber type cartridge could, in theory, do an adequate amount of damage but with much less recoil than the .455. After "careful" review of the plethora of decent .38 caliber cartridges available at the time, they decided on adopting a new loading of an obsolete American cartridge: the .38 Smith and Wesson.

Left: 38 S&W. Right: 38 S&W Special.

Not to be confused with the more powerful .38 Smith and Wesson Special, the .38 Smith and Wesson was developed in 1877, and had become a popular caliber for law enforcement in the States. The British took the .38 S&W and topped it with an elongated, 200 grain lead bullet. The thinking was that such a heavy bullet would be poorly stabilized, and would have the tendency to tumble (or keyhole) in the wound cavity, thus increasing lethality. Granted, some tests on animals supported this theory, so it wasn't with complete lunacy that the British Empire adopted the  "380-200 Cartridge, Revolver Mk 1" (aka the 38/200). It loped along at 625 fps and generated a measly 180 foot pounds of energy. Do those ballistics remind you of anything? Yes, the British had just adopted a cartridge with similar performance to the infamous 38 Long Colt. Rumor has it that laughter from the Philippines was heard 'round the British Empire that day.

At any rate, Webley submitted a scaled-down variant of their successful revolver in the new 38/200 cartridge for acceptance, designated the Webley Mk IV. Here's where it gets interesting: in a legendary douche move, the British authorities took Webley's design to the government run Royal Small Arms Factory at Enfield, where lo and behold, they came up with a very similar, but just different enough design of their own. Webley sued (and lost), and in 1931 the Crown officially adopted the new revolver as the Enfield Revolver No. 2, Mk 1.

Ironically, The Webley Mk IV in 38/200 was fielded as a substitute when Enfield couldn't keep up with production. Karma.

As WWII loomed, the No. 2 got some revisions. In 1938, it went from a single/double action design with wooden grips to a double-action only, spurless hammered pistol with a redesigned plastic grip which supposedly gave better control. Why the switch to double action only? Rumor had it that the British Tank Corps complained about the hammer spur on the No. 2 getting caught up on things, so it was removed. The new variation was known as the No. 2 Mk I*. The double action only pull didn't help with accuracy, but as a close quarters, last ditch weapon that didn't really matter much...especially if you were in a tank. The modification also helped speed up production (believed to be the real reason for the change), and most of the existing Mk 1s were converted to the 1* design during and after the war. This was received with unfavorable reviews from the troops, so much so that some unit armorers reportedly reinstalled the single action capability.

Pure Guts : an officer goes "over the top" with his Enfield No. 2 in North Africa.

At some point, I decided I needed one of these guns, and a year or so ago I found one in an online auction. My No. 2 shows a manufacture date of 1944, and features the bobbed hammer and plastic grips. It also is marked with a little arrow indicating that at some point in its life, it went through a FTR (Factory Thorough Repair). The bore is in excellent shape with just a bit of wear, and the numbers on the frame, barrel, and cylinder all match. When I got it, it had 100% of its finish.

The original finish on these wartime pieces was a type of tough black paint known as Suncorite. Suncorite doesn't come off easy unless you have a sand blaster. Well, my revolver must not have been refinished with Suncorite when it was FTR'd, because as I was cleaning it for the first time with good old Hoppe's No. 9, the finish started dissolving before my eyes. I suspect that a cheap, enamel paint was used during the FTR instead. Anyhow, I stripped the rest of the paint off, and under that spray paint was a very nice light gray Parkerized finish.

Normally I wouldn't think of  refinishing a military weapon; it detracts from the history in my opinion. In this case, I made an exception. Nice as that gray Parkerizing was, it just didn't look right. Unfortunately, Suncorite is nasty, toxic stuff and can't be had easily, so I searched around the web and found a suitable substitute: Brownell's Baking Lacquer. For those who haven't used it, it's a bake-on epoxy type coating that's reasonably tough and mimics the original finish fairly well. Once cured, it is impervious to solvents. I have to say, it seems pretty durable so far, with just a touch of wear on the high points from holstering and honest use. Overall, I think it came out pretty nice.




My 1944 Enfield No. 2 Mk 1* with 1942 dated pistol belt and 1943 dated holster.

Say what you want to about the effectiveness of the 38/200 round, the revolver itself is a joy to shoot. It's lightweight and points well, and of course, there's very little recoil. Modern loadings of the .38 S&W feature a 145 grain lead bullet, which in my No. 2 shoots a bit low at 10 yards. The double action trigger pull is indeed stiff, but the pull is short, and it's easily ten times better than that of the Nagant.  Along with the revolver, I was able to acquire a Pattern 37 pistol belt and holster. Both were unissued and marked with wartime years. Frankly, they were harder to find than the revolver.

Though officially obsolete after the war (and unofficially obsolete before it), the No. 2 continued to serve as Her Majesty's sidearm until it was replaced by the Browning Hi-Power in the late 1960's. Many No. 2's were surplused, or sent to other parts of the former British Empire like Hong Kong, Africa, and India. Some are still in use today by their police forces. While over a quarter million were built, they aren't commonly seen these days, so if you get a chance to get your hands on a nice one, you should do so. It really is an "interesting bit of kit".

Best enjoyed with a nice cup of tea. Tea: The Soldier's Drink! (TM)

Czech it Out: The Vz.52 Pistol

I was digging around in the safe the other day, getting ready for a trip to range on a brisk Virginia winter morning. I have most of my handguns in generic, black Plano cases for storage, and they're not labeled, so finding the gun I want can be trial and error. So, I grabbed a gun case that I thought was my Colt 1911 WWI Replica...it felt hefty enough, and it was a full sized pistol case. I opened it to verify and my Vz.52 was staring back at me. I realized that I hadn't shot it in a while. Then, I got to thinking that I've written a bit about the merits of 7.62 x 25mm Tokarev cartridge in the PPS-43, but that I never really talked about any of the pistols that were chambered for this interesting round. Long story short: I left the Colt at home, took the Vz.52 to the range, and when I came home I decided to Czech check this pistol off the list of guns I needed to blog about.



The Czechoslovakian VZ.52 Pistol, commonly known as the CZ-52.

Have I told you how much I miss the Cold War sometimes? I know it sounds strange, but things were simpler back then. You had the good guys (the free world), and the bad guys (everybody else). Oh well. At any rate, the Vz.52's story begins like so many other firearms of its era: in the post-WWII world. Czechoslovakia had a rough time of it during the unpleasantness with the Nazis, actually ceasing to exist as a country. Unfortunately, things didn't get better when the Red Army took Eastern Europe in 1945. It was inevitable that Czechoslovakia would fall under the Iron Curtain, though it took a little longer than expected: The communists seized power in 1948 in a bloodless coup. Though not directly influenced by Soviet Russia, the new communist government would not waste time consolidating its gains and allies.

Czechoslovakia falls. Be wary of any group that promises peace, land, and bread for all: even if they aren't lying, it comes at a heavy price.

The Cold War was in its infancy in 1948, a mere one year before the so-called Year of Shocks, but the Soviets weren't idle. They recognized the need to for communist nations to have standardized weaponry and ammunition in preparation for the inevitable WWIII, even prior to the creation of the Warsaw Pact. Czechoslovakia's sidearm at the time was the Vz.50. Designed by two brothers, Jan and Jaroslav Kratochvíl, the Vz.50 was chambered in .32 Auto, and was somewhat of a copy of the Walther PP series of pistols. This meant that it had all of the benefits and drawbacks of that gun: compact, but not particularly powerful. The USSR and its allies had standardized on the powerful 7.62 x 25mm Tokarev as its pistol round, but the straight blowback design of the Vz.50 was unsuitable for such a high pressure cartridge. It was obvious that a new pistol was needed.

The Vz.50. I own the later version known as the Vz.70. It's a decent pistol in its own right.

Romania, Poland, and Hungary had all solved this problem by adopting variants of the excellent Russian Tokarev TT-33 pistol, and it would have been very easy for the Czechoslovaks to do the same. But they wanted something different, something uniquely their own. Firearms manufacturing had long been a source of pride for the country: in fact, some of the finest military weapons ever made have come from Brno, Czechoslovakia. So the Kratochvíl brothers once again answered their country's call, and the Vz.52 was born.

Most American firearms enthusiasts know their gun design as the CZ-52, but this is a misnomer. The 'CZ' is an abbreviation for the manufacturer that produced the pistol, Ceska Zbrojovka, but the actual designation given it by the Czechoslovakian military is the Vz.52, or "model of 1952" pistol. The Vz.52 looks like something you'd expect to see in a 1950's science fiction movie. It's a very curvy, streamlined looking weapon, for a very curvy, streamlined time.



Also very curvy and streamlined: Anne Francis, starlet of 1956's sci-fi classic Forbidden Planet.


Anyhow, as I mentioned, the Vz.52 is a hefty slab of metal, weighing in around 34 oz. That's only a quarter of a pound less than the M1911, and equal in weight to the Beretta M9 that's standard issue to US forces today...but heavier than the Soviet TT-33. Compared to its counterparts in both Western and Eastern Europe, the Vz.52 was notably different in both form and function. Whereas the TT-33 used a variation of the tried-and-true Browning 1911 style lock up, and the Walther P1 a falling locking block, the Vz.52 was a completely different animal altogether: its locking system employed a barrel assembly that interfaced with the slide on a set of steel rollers. This provided a very strong lockup, more than enough to handle the pressures generated by the 7.62 x 25mm (in fact, this roller lock system was inspired from that of the famous German MG-42 machine gun, which was chambered in 8mm Mauser). Perhaps it was overkill for a pistol cartridge, but the system worked quite well.


This picture from www.czechpoint-usa.com illustrates the roller locking system.

The locking mechanism wasn't the only noteworthy thing about the Vz.52: it also had a safety decocker. Decockers weren't new, they'd been around for quite some time. However, unlike firearms such as the Walther PP or P1, the Vz.52 could either be decocked, or placed on safe with the hammer back, a la the 1911. The decocker allowed one to safely drop the hammer on a loaded round vs. having to "ride" the hammer down. The unusual part of this was that decockers were traditionally featured on single/double action pistols, but the Vz.52 was single action only. Still, it was a useful feature. In addition to the decocker/safety, the Vz.52 employed a firing pin safety block, meaning that the gun couldn't fire if you dropped it on its muzzle. This is a common safety mechanism today (though of questionable benefit), but it's worth pointing out as something that was a bit ahead of its time.

As opposed to the Soviet TT-33, which didn't even have a safety.

The Vz.52 was fed by an eight round detachable magazine with a heel release, like the Pistolet Makarova and P1 pistols. This is something you don't see in military firearms anymore. The rationale was that push-button magazine releases could be activated by mistake, causing a soldier to unknowingly drop his magazine. Without a magazine, the pistol was useless. The heel release system ensures this can't happen, but it considerably slows down the reload process, as it requires both hands to change a magazine. Both the Vz.50 and TT-33 had push-button magazine releases...go figure.

The Czechoslovaks issued the Vz.52 to both their police and military forces, where it served quietly until the 1980s, after which they were sold as surplus. When the Vz.52 was first imported into the United States in the late 1990's, some of them had been factory refurbished (denoted by a blued finish vs. a gray Parkerizing), but a great number of them were in excellent to unissued original condition. Like many Cold War weapons, most Vz.52s saw little use, and in fact, more than a few just sat in storage. According to what I've read, those unissued pistols that were stored were carefully inspected and checked for function every few years. My pistol, purchased a couple of years back from www.czechpoint-usa.com, was advertised as one of these unissued pistols. It came wrapped in plastic with a new holster, cleaning rod, a single magazine, and a lanyard.

My Vz.52 from www.czechpoint-usa.com, minus the lanyard. Where did I put that darn thing?

Honestly, the Vz.52 is not my favorite gun to shoot. The first thing you feel is the wide, but thin grip. It's certainly not the most ergonomic design in the world, and I find that the grip angle causes me to naturally shoot low with the pistol. The military-grade sights are serviceable, similar to those on the M1911, though the wider rear notch makes target acquisition a bit faster. The trigger takes getting used to. For a single action, it's fairly heavy and a touch gritty, mostly due to the design of the firing pin safety block. Yeah, I have a hard time shooting the Vz.52 accurately. It's one of those guns that really makes me focus on my technique, and that's not a bad thing: guns that are easy to shoot give one a false sense of confidence. Oh, and when you do pull the trigger...ha. You're rewarded with a loud boom and a large gout of flame from the muzzle. This thing is a fire-breather. GLOCK shooters to your left and right will ask you what you've got, and then they will ask if they can shoot it. Let them. Because secretly, GLOCK owners want to shoot real guns like real men do. And we should encourage that.

"My gun is all purple and stuff, and made of plastic! Like, wow. Also, I like unicorns!"

There's been a lot written about the strength (or lack thereof) of the Vz.52, and I won't go into that here. Suffice to say, if you shoot it with factory ammunition or properly reloaded ammo, you won't have any problems. There used to be quite a bit of surplus ammo on the market, with the Romanian stuff being very good in particular, but it has since dried up. Remember, this gun served for decades...you treat it right, it'll do its part. As for guys who try to blow stuff up to prove a point: may Allah bring you bedbugs and warts. If you want to blow up a gun on purpose, please email me instead: I will make you a counter-offer.

As I mentioned, I don't shoot my Vz.52 often, but it's a valued part of my Cold War gun collection, and it's one of those guns I'll never sell. Czechoslovakia produced around 250,000 of these pistols from 1952-1954. This puts the Vz.52 into the "not rare, but not really common either" category. If you have the opportunity to pick one up, I recommend doing so. They can still be had in nice shape in the $300 range, and that's a small price to pay for a piece of history.

Also, it really annoys this woman. Good side benefit.

The Prince of Pocket Pistols: Walther's PPK

M: "When you carry a 00 number, you have a license to kill, not get killed. Furthermore, since I've been head of MI7 there's been a forty percent drop in casualties, and I want to keep it that way. From now on you carry the Walther... unless you'd rather return to standard intelligence duties."

Bond: "No sir, I would not."

M: "Show him, Armourer."

Armourer: "Walther PPK, 7.65 millimeter, with a delivery like a brick through a plate-glass window. The American CIA swear by them."

-script excerpt from "Dr. No", 1962.




The PPK in action: "That's a Smith and Wesson...and you've had your six."


You've got to love Ian Fleming, and Hollywood. The CIA using a PPK? “Delivery like a brick through a plate-glass window”? Ha! Substitute the word “pebble” for brick, and “against” for through, and you get a better idea of the 7.65mm Browning round’s capabilities. Still, compared with the Beretta .25 Auto pistol that Bond was swapping for his new PPK, it was indeed a significant improvement. But before we talk too much about the cartridge, let’s explore the gun that fired it.

 

Released in 1931 by the famous Carl Walther company, the PPK was a modification of Walther’s earlier PP (the PP stands for Polizei pistole, or police pistol).  You can probably guess what the target market for the PP was based on its name. One of the first successful guns featuring what we now refer to as a traditional double/single action design, it quickly developed a reputation for being reliable, ergonomic, and easily concealable. Such features contributed to its immense popularity in Europe with both civilians and cops. The PP was first made available in 7.65mm Browning (also known as the .32 ACP and .32 Auto) and Walther soon followed with other chamberings, to include the rare .22LR and more powerful 9mm Kurz (.380 Auto). Magazine capacity varied between 8 and 10 rounds, based on the cartridge.

 

 

A near pristine, Cold War era Walther PP. Man, I miss the Cold War sometimes.

 

 

Concealable as the PP was, Walther decided it could be still smaller and lighter. The resulting design was the PPK, (the K for “Kurz”, or short or small).  The PPK’s main differences were its redesigned and shortened grip frame, and its slightly shorter slide/barrel. Basically, the PPK was about half an inch shorter than the PP in both length and height. The nipping and tucking also shaved off a couple of ounces of weight. The compromises were a slightly shorter sight radius and a decrease in magazine capacity by one round, which considering the gun’s role, were kurz small sacrifices. No pun intended.

 

 

Pun  completely intended. Sorry about that.

 

 

The PPK proved to be even more popular than the PP, because all the things that made the PP great were duplicated with the PPK, and then some. The most frequently encountered chambering was the .32 Auto, and it was well suited to the pistol’s simple blow-back recoil design. The PPK in .32 Auto had a seven round magazine, plus the ability to carry one in the chamber with the hammer down, thanks to the double action/decocker design.  As I alluded to earlier, the .32 Auto was a pipsqueak. Even other anemic rounds, like the 7.62x38r Nagant, or the 38 Long Colt, are veritable powerhouses compared to the little 32.

 

 

Left to right .32 Auto, .380 Auto, 9mm Luger. Some folks consider the 9mm Luger small.

Designed by none other than John Moses Browning himself at the turn of the 20^th century, the .32 Auto is a straight-walled, semi-rimmed cartridge. In its original loading, it sports a mighty .311", 71 grain FMJ bullet that on a good day gets up to 900 feet per second. Before I sound like I’m too critical of the cartridge, it’s worth noting that Mr. Browning designed it specifically for use in pocket pistols, such as the classic Colt Model 1903 Pocket Hammerless. For what it’s supposed to do, it’s a very capable round. It’s light in weight, has low recoil, produces little if any flash, can be easily suppressed, and with proper shot placement in the hands of a decent marksman, is adequately lethal. In fact, two of the most famous deaths in history are attributed to the .32 Auto. As I mentioned in my article here, the cartridge started WWI *edit: the actual caliber was .380 Auto. My mistake*. What many people don't know is that it ended WWII, at least in Europe: Hitler committed suicide with a Walther PPK chambered in .32 Auto.
 

And there was much rejoicing. Thanks, John M. Browning!

Speaking of WWII, the PPK served in other ways besides sending Der Fuerher to Hell. The German police and military were equipped with them, with PPKs being mostly reserved for higher ranking and/or elite officials in the military. The P.38, of course, was the mainstay German sidearm of the war, supplemented by the older (but still quite capable) Luger P.08.

After the war, Walther picked up the pieces as best it could. Having survived intact as a company, it faced the new reality that was a divided Germany. Walther was forced to leave their old headquarters, as it had the unfortunate chance of being located in the region that had become East Germany. They soon set up shop in Ulm, West Germany, but it would be some time before Walther resumed production due to prohibitions on domestic weapons manufacture by the victorious Allied Powers. As a result, the first new PP series pistols rolled off the assembly line in 1952: in France. Yes, France. Walther licensed licenced production of the PP series of pistols to Manufacture de Machines du Haut-Rhin, also known as Manhurin.  Even though these pistols were made in the heartland of Germany's former enemy and territory, they bore the mark of the new Ulm headquarters. Still, it was a bit of a kick in the balls.
 

Of course, the French weren't smug about it. Not in the least.

The post-war PPK was functionally identical to its pre-war siblings. Manhurin maintained the rights to produce the PPK all the way up to 1986, and exported it freely around the world. The new PPKs enjoyed the same good reputation as the old ones, and in 1962, Hollywood introduced it to the United States as the sidearm of none other than James Bond, 007, the consummate British Cold War spy.

I'd be a loud liar if I was to say that my interest in the PPK had nothing to do with the fact that 007 carried it (albeit reluctantly, at first). There's something interesting about a German designed gun, made in France, carried by a Brit, and used in America...even if it's complete fiction. At any rate, Connery's portrayal of 007 is timeless, and has made the PPK more famous than anything history has recorded. That's okay. Some guns are just cool to have, because of what they are. The PPK is one of those guns.




007's PPK is alive and well in Skyfall, pictured here in .380 Auto.

I've wanted a PPK for a long time, but there was always something else that seemed to be ahead on the list. Besides, wartime PPKs are strictly in the collector realm, with collector prices and availability, and even post-war French and German made PPKs are quite expensive. In 2002, Smith and Wesson acquired the licence to produce and distribute the PPK in the United States. They made some minor tweaks, to include improving the double-action trigger and extending the beavertail to protect larger hands from slide bite, and they also produced it in stainless steel, but the end result is a PPK at heart. Not long ago I saw a S&W made PPK at the local gun shop. The price was right, the caliber was .32 Auto, and my will power was weak, so 15 minutes later I walked out with a 21st century PPK.

My S&Walther PPK in stainless steel, with the flat base magazine.

I really enjoy shooting the PPK. Though S&W has a somewhat checkered reputation with this gun, and some purists will turn their noses up at one, I'm very happy with mine. The fit and finish are excellent, and the fixed barrel and low recoil contribute to exceptional accuracy. It came with two magazines: a flat base, which leaves your pinky hanging, and one with a finger rest. I prefer the flat base myself, but those with the .380 Auto version might feel differently. I already had some experience with the diminutive .32 Auto cartridge in my CZ-70, which I'll probably get around to writing about someday. It's a downright pleasant cartridge to shoot, even if it does take some dexterity handling and reloading the little rounds. Take down with the PPK is simplicity itself: pull down on the trigger guard, pull the slide to rear and up, and your pistol is field-stripped.

I've read rumors that S&W has either lost or given up its rights to produce the PPK, and that Walther will either be making it themselves in their US factory, or selling the rights once again to another company. There may be some truth in this: my PPK had just arrived at the gun shop two days before I bought it this month, but the test-fired cartridge that came with it was in an envelope dated 9/12. The PPK has long since been eclipsed as the perfect carry gun by lighter, cheaper, and more powerful pocket pistols, but in my opinion there's none that have yet been able to match its class and pedigree. I know I say this alot, but no serious collection is complete without one. And last I checked, 007 doesn't carry a polymer gun.



Because Oddjob eats polymer guns for breakfast.

More to come....

Just wanted to drop a quick note in to let everyone know the blog isn't dead! I haven't had much time to do blogging as of late but there's still plenty of guns left in the safe that I'd like to say a few words about. Look for a new entry in March, and thanks for reading and sharing your comments!



And you just know it's a M1911, too.

A Warrior for the Ages: The Colt Model 1911

"In the middle of the fight a German officer and five men done jumped out of a trench and charged me with fixed bayonets. They had about twenty-five yards to me and they were coming right smart. I had only about half a clip left in my rifle; but I had my pistol ready. I done flipped it out fast and teched them off, too. I teched off the sixth man first; then the fifth; then the fourth; then the third; and so on. That’s the way we shoot wild turkeys at home. You see we don’t want the front ones to know that we’re getting the back ones, and then they keep on coming until we get them all. Of course, I hadn’t time to think if that. I guess I jes naturally did it. I knowed, too, that if the front ones wavered, or if I stopped them the rear ones would drop down and pump a volley into me and get me. Then I returned to the rifle, and kept right on after those machine guns."  -Corporal Alvin C. York, excerpt from "His Own Life Story and War Diary"




Sergeant Alvin York, the most decorated American Soldier of WWI, and a true hero.

As a firearms enthusiast, a history enthusiast, and a former military man, I've not seen, heard, or read of a better example of the pistol's role in combat than the one penned above by the legendary SGT York. The pistol that he used with such blistering effectiveness was, of course, the Colt Model 1911, and is this month's subject.

To be honest, I've been hesitant to write about the 1911, because there's been so much written about it already. On top of that, last year when I started my blog, the 1911 turned 100 years old, and every gun magazine out there celebrated the centennial with scores of articles. And with good reason: the Colt Model 1911 occupies a special place in the hearts of American gun enthusiasts. Even the few shooters who don't like it have great respect for it. It has the distinction of being the world's longest serving military firearm, and one whose design has been essentially unchanged since its adoption a century ago.



A battle-tested, early example of the Colt M1911

The history leading up to the adoption of the 1911 is just as fascinating as the 1911 itself. The turn of the 20th Century saw the United States becoming more powerful, and the real beginning of its influence on world events. The late 19th century was the twilight of the Age of Imperialism, with the great European powers jockeying with each other for control over land and resources. The United States, itself a former colony, wanted in on the grab. Europe had a huge head start, naturally, so there was little time to lose.  America had dabbled in "local" imperialism for years, fighting with Mexico and the Indians, and ultimately extending its borders from sea to shining sea, but there was more out there. In 1898, the United States, pressured by influential types such as Theodore Roosevelt, involved itself in the Cuban War for Independence against Spain, which eventually resulted in the "mysterious" sinking of the battleship U.S.S Maine, and ultimately the Spanish American War (or as I like to call it, "SpAm").




Teddy called it a "splendid little war". I like my name better.

Regardless of what you call it, the Spanish American War was a brilliantly executed piece of political maneuvering that used the American people's public sentiment and support for the Cuban rebels to advance the U.S. government's agenda. On that note, some conspiracy theorists even accused the U.S. of sinking the Maine intentionally to start the war (they were the 9/11 Truthers of their day). Anyway, the U.S. won the war, and acquired territories previously held by Spain to include Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Phillipines (the latter of which was "purchased" for the princely sum of $20 million, or about $700 trillion in Obamabucks). In my article about the Mauser Modelo 1895, I mentioned that the Americans' Krag-Jorgensen rifles were outclassed by the Spaniards' superior Mausers. Well, it wasn't just American rifles that were lacking during this period.

The U.S.'s current sidearm at the time was the Colt New Army Model 1892. The New Army was a beautiful revolver, and it had some nifty features for its day. It was the U.S.'s first truly reliable double action revolver, and it sported a swing out cylinder which facilitated rapid unloading and reloading. It had officially replaced the older Colt Single Action Army and its weak and unreliable double action derivatives.



The Colt Model 1892 "New Army" Revolver in .38 Long Colt. It would later be chambered for other calibers, to include the .45 Colt.

Along with the new sidearm came a new cartridge: whereas previous American pistols were chambered in the manly .45 Colt, the New Army was chambered for the .38 Long Colt. The new cartridge fired a 150 grain, .357" bullet that moved at about 770 fps. Compared to the older .45 Colt, which fired a much larger and heavier 255 grain bullet moving at over 900 fps, the .38 Long Colt just didn't measure up. And not just on paper, either: during the Philippine-American War of 1899-1902, The U.S. Army received multiple complaints regarding the cartridge's inability to stop charging Moro guerrillas  even at very close range. One such report after the war stated the following:

"Antonio Caspi, a prisoner on the island of Samar, P.I. attempted escape on Oct. 26, 1905. He was shot four times at close range in a hand-to-hand encounter by a .38 Colt's revolver loaded with U.S. Army regulation ammunition. He was finally stunned by a blow on the forehead from the butt end of a Springfield carbine." - Col. Louis A. LaGarde

Not a glowing endorsement of the .38 Long Colt, for sure. In fact, it was so bad (how bad was it?) that troops in the Philippines were re-issued the older .45 Colt revolvers to provide a little more "knock-down" power. 




Weebles Moros wobble, but they don't fall down. Maybe it's the large feet?

The U.S. Army, surprising soldiers everywhere by actually listening to the troops on the ground, decided that a completely new pistol and cartridge were needed. In 1904, the the Army's Ordnance Department conducted the controversial Thompson-LaGarde tests, in which numerous cartridges and firearms were tested on livestock. The results of the test concluded that the minimum effective pistol combat caliber was .45", preferably fired from a semi-automatic handgun. The first reliable semi-automatic pistols were just starting to come into their own at this time, for both civilian and military use. The Germans had designed and fielded the the Mauser Model 1896, and later the P-08 Luger. The Austrians were fielding the interesting Steyr M1894 pistol. The U.S. had previously tested these most of these designs and found them lacking in one form or another. Now, given the concerns with the 1892 New Army, the Chief of Ordnance authorized a new round of semi-automatic pistol trials. No fewer than six companies submitted designs. These six were quickly whittled down to three: Savage, Germany's Deutsche Waffen und Munitionsfabriken (DWM), and Colt.




Savage's design was interesting, but due to reliability issues it never really had a shot. Ha!

Long story short: Colt won, which is a good thing, because there's something just not right about a Luger P-08 firing the 45 Auto cartridge. Colt's design was the brainchild of the greatest firearms designer ever to walk the face of planet Earth: John Moses Browning. Mr. Browning was the Amadeus Mozart of firearms engineering. At the age of 13, he built his first firearm, at 24 he was issued his first patent, and upon his death, he had designed more than 128 firearms. His influence on firearms design was far reaching and long lived: rifles, shotguns, pistols, machine guns, etc., his designs are still being used in the manufacture of new guns the better part of a century after his death. His genius was limited only by the manufacturing processes and technology of his day. One wonders what he would develop were he alive in the 21st century. GLOCKs might not be so boring, for starters. But I digress.



John Moses Browning, the Father of Modern Firearms, and an all around stand-up guy.

Mr. Browning's design was approved and adopted in the year 1911, and in proper U.S. military fashion was christened the Automatic Pistol, Caliber .45, Model of 1911. The 1911 was in part based on earlier Browning designs, to include his 1903 pistol, but with improvements and refinements to handle the beefier .45 Auto cartridge, which was also a Browning design. On that note, the .45 Auto and the .45 ACP are the same cartridge. Purists will tell you that the .45 Auto moniker is the correct term for the cartridge, as the "ACP" stands for "Automatic Colt Pistol", and is therefore a description of the gun, not the cartridge. Anyway, Browning's pistol featured a short recoil design and was fed by a 7 round detachable magazine. The barrel had locking grooves that interfaced with identical grooves in the top of the slide, a simple design that provided a strong lock-up. The .45 Auto it fired had appreciably better ballistics than the old .38 Long Colt, sporting a 230 grain bullet moving at about 830 fps from the M1911's five inch barrel. Not quite up to .45 Colt level ballistics, but close enough, and in a modern semi-automatic, single-action platform to boot. And the pistol just plain worked. The test bed allegedly fired over 6,000 rounds, and when it got hot it was immersed in water to cool it down, after which it was fired again. There were zero malfunctions. The result was that Colt received another lucrative military contract. The U.S. Army immediately placed orders for the new pistol, and the Navy and USMC weren't far behind.




A Browning pistol used in the 1907 field trials. With modifications, it would later become the M1911.

A mere three years after the M1911 was adopted, a Serbian terrorist (or freedom fighter, depending on your point of view) by the name of Gavrilo Princip shot the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria. Mr. Princip killed both the Archduke and his wife, and before Europe knew what was happening, the seeds of its entangling alliances bore fruit, and the entire continent declared war on itself. The Great War, the War to End All Wars, World War I, or as I like to call it, The Stupidest War Ever Fought and What A Damned Waste of Good Men and Machinery it Was, Too eventually ensnared the United States as well, despite the public's and our government's intentions to stay out of it. Regardless, in 1918, after a few years in service, the M1911 was going to war.



Archduke Franz Ferdinand was killed by a FN Model 1910 (designed by John Browning) and chambered in the anemic 7.65mm Browning cartridge. I told you that Browning was influential.

It was during WWI that Sergeant York earned the Congressional Medal of Honor, in part for his judicious use of the M1911 against a squad of Germans, of which he wrote about and I quoted in the beginning of this article. Alvin C. York wasn't the only one to use the M1911 in such a fashion. Word of its effectiveness as a manstopper spread quickly, and the M1911, quite unlike the 1892 New Army, was widely praised by those who used it. About the only problem the U.S. military had with the M1911 is that there just weren't enough of them. The shortage was bad enough that the War Department commissioned a run of New Army type revolvers chambered in - wait for it - the .45 Auto. Since the .45 Auto was rimless, these revolvers were loaded using a stamped sheet metal device known as a moon clip. The moon clip, as its name suggested, was a round piece of metal that clipped onto the base of .45 Auto cartridge, allowing it to be used in a revolver. The "new" revolver was christened the M1917 and was produced by both Smith & Wesson and Colt, each being a slightly different design. Later variations of the the M1917 had a "lip" machined into the cylinders so the .45 Auto cartridge could headspace on the case mouth as John Browning had intended. This eliminated the need for moon clips, but made extraction of spent cases somewhat time consuming, as they were still rimless. Indeed, after the war as these revolvers were surplussed  ammo companies introduced the .45 Auto Rim, which was functionally identical to the .45 Auto except for the addition of a rim which both rendered moon clips unnecessary and allowed for an expeditious extraction.



A Smith & Wesson M1917. Note the cartridges inserted into the moon clips to allow proper headspacing. A side benefit to the moon clip is that it offered speedy reloads.

Back to the M1911. As great as Browning's design was, there was some small room for improvement. Using feedback from combat veterans who used the M1911, these improvements materialized in the form of the M1911A1. The main differences were a shorter trigger with a grooved/stippled surface, relief cuts on the frame to make squeezing the trigger more ergonomic, an extended grip safety which better protected large hands from being cut by the slide while in recoil, and an arched mainspring housing on the rear of the grip strap. These changes were rolled out in 1927. Since the changes were relatively minor, the M1911A1 didn't replace the M1911; it merely supplemented it. But, it didn't really matter. What use were pistols anyway, because everyone knew that after WWI, the War to End All Wars, that there would never again be such a large scale global conflict. I mean, it was inconceivable that anyone would have the stomach for war after what happened in WWI, right?



Wrong.

In 1939, Germany, under the leadership of the semi-democratically elected Adolf Hitler, declared war on Poland and simultaneously gave birth to the Blitzkrieg. This particularly irritated the rest of Europe, because they'd been capitulating to Hilter's demands (perhaps partly because they knew they screwed Germany in the Treaty of Versailles), but the invasion of Poland was the last straw. Feeling like fools (and deservedly so) once again Europe declared war upon itself, a mere two decades after the end of the War to End All Wars. And once again, the United States found itself drawn into a conflict across the pond. We all know what happened in the intervening years, and those that followed. Our boys went to war, and the M1911A1 went with them. Once the Italians, Germans and the Japanese were licked, the M1911A1 had a brief respite before it was called into action again on the Korean peninsula  Not too terribly long after that, it went to war in a place few Americans had even heard of: Vietnam. When the Vietnam War finally ended, the M1911 was old enough to collect Social Security. It had served admirably in every conflict the US was involved in for the better part of a half century. Most of the pistols in the inventory had been rebuilt and re-arsenaled at least once, and the guns were starting to wear out. I read an article in American Rifleman that in the 1980s, the Army enacted specific safety restrictions on chambering the pistol as worn sears had caused a few pistols to go full-auto on the firing line.



A WWII era M1911A1. Note the changes to the frame, trigger, and mainspring housing vs. the M1911.


Going into the Reagan years, the old war horse was tired, and some murmured that it needed to be put out to pasture. So after the better part of a century with the M1911 strapped to the hips of military men, the call went out for a replacement. You would think that the solution would be to make more new 1911A1s, or perhaps develop a 1911A2, right?  Alas, such things were not meant to be. A new round of pistol trials was authorized instead. The U.S. was under great pressure from NATO to standardize on the 9mm Parabellum cartridge for its sidearms. Additionally, from a logistics standpoint, standardizing on the 9mm made sense: the round was about half the weight of the .45 Auto, and since it was smaller and lighter a soldier could carry about twice as many rounds. The problem was that more doesn't always equal better. Dozens of gun rag writers have written countless words about the .45 Auto vs. the 9mm Parabellum, and I have no desire to repeat that here. Suffice to say, that after the pistol trials were over, the US military had a new sidearm. To add insult to injury, not only was the new pistol chambered in 9mm Parabellum, it was a foreign design...a design from a country that the 1911 had whooped into submission 40 years earlier! Italy's Beretta Model 92 was officially selected as the replacement for the 1911, and was christened the M9. Seismic activity was reported that night as John Browning did somersaults in his grave.



Pictured above: the general consensus in the military and firearms community when the US adopted the M9.

Many folks were unhappy with the new development. Some of this unhappiness centered around the performance of the 9mm Parabellum in its FMJ military loading vs. that of the .45 Auto, some of the discontent centered around the political reasons for the Beretta's adoption, and some of it was due to early reports of catastrophic failures with M9's subjected to heavy use (these later turned out to be a bit unfair, actually). While the rank-and-file troops had to accept a foreign pistol in a foreign caliber, the special operations community was, well, special. They decided that the 1911's tour of duty was far from over. The Marines in particular, being well known for doing things their way, were not pleased. Though no new 1911A1 frames had been manufactured for forty years, the Marines began to salvage as many serviceable pistols as possible. They took off-the-shelf commercial parts and began an extensive rebuild program. In 1985 the Marines fielded what they called the M-45 MEUSOC pistol. It became the official sidearm of USMC Force Recon elements.


Marines armed with the M45 pistol. Note the differences between the two guns, indicating they were built at different times.

So the 1911 got a new lease on life, of sorts. It continued to serve with Special Operations units through the remainder of the 20th Century. Since no new frames had been made since the end of WWII, it was entirely possible that a Marine could enlist and be issued essentially the same sidearm that his father or uncle had carried before him. This also posed a problem, because the pistols, reworked as they were, were still damned old. As the 1911 turned 100 years old, the USMC did the only sensible thing it could do: it adopted the M9 Beretta it ordered new 1911s.

In August 2012, 101 years after its initial adoption, and 27 years after the M9 officially replaced the 1911A1, Colt was awarded a $22.5 million contract to produce up to 12,000 new 1911 pistols for the United States Marine Corps. The new M45 included many updates that had long been standard fare for civilian 1911s: an extended beaver tail protect the hand, Novak sights, a skeletonized "commander" style round hammer, a more ergonomic thumb safety, forward and rear cocking serrations on the slide, and an integrated Picatinny rail on the frame brought the 1911 into the 21st century. The new pistol is finished with a modern coating that's highly resistant to corrosion, scratches, and abuse. Despite all the changes, the pistol still is very much a 1911 at heart: it functions exactly the same as John Browning's original design.



Pictured above: the Colt M45 Close Quarter Battle Pistol. I want one.

I am fortunate enough to own two fine examples of the 1911. Both of mine are replicas, not GI Issue. Which is fine by me, because I can shoot the heck out of both of them without fear of breaking a collectible gun. Collectible 1911s and 1911A1s go for $1,700 - $3,000 on average, which is a lot of scratch.

My replicas cost considerably less. The Colt you see on top is a quite faithful copy of a WWI issue 1911, a real version of which is pictured at the top of this page. Colt made them to celebrate the 1911's centennial. Many collectors bought these and never shot them. I bought one for $900 and have put close to a thousand rounds through it. The finish shows a little wear (the black oxide used faithfully duplicates the original finish, which was not known for durability), but I find this adds a little character and makes me want to shoot it more. The Auto-Ordnance 1911A1 below it is a mostly cosmetically correct copy of a WWII era 1911A1. It's probably as close a replica as you can get, and the price was right at only $500. It's rock solid reliable and I enjoy the heck out of it.



Top: My Colt 1911 "Black Army" Replica. Bottom: My Auto-Ordnance 1911A1 Replica.

Shooting the 1911 can be a bit daunting for those without handgun experience. I wouldn't recommend it as a first gun for anyone. It does take a little practice to get used to it. With full power GI loads, it can be somewhat of a handful. Recoil is brisk but not sharp or painful. The best way I can describe it is that you know you're shooting a gun when you fire a 1911. However, the natural heft and pointability of the design makes shooting quite enjoyable. John Browning really got the ergonomics right with this gun: it simply feels good in the hand. Even with the tiny GI sights, a decent marksman can shoot quite accurately with the 1911. I generally prefer the 1911A1 over the 1911, but it's almost too close to call. My hand fits the arched main spring housing of the A1 just a bit more.

If I had to pick one word to describe how I feel about the 1911, that word would be "timeless". In this day and age of polymer-framed, striker-fired black handguns, the 1911 does more than hold its own. Nearly every American firearms manufacturer makes a variant of John Browning's pistol; indeed, many foreign companies do as well. In fact, there's a good deal of quality, inexpensive 1911 guns coming from the Philippines right now, which seems fitting since the 1911 was carried by the Americans who liberated that nation from the Japanese. Those black plastic guns have their charms, for sure, but I don't know if they'll stand the test of time like the 1911 has. If I was a betting man, I'd bet that in another hundred years the 1911 will still be around. It truly is a warrior for the ages.

The Franken-Mauser: Spain's FR-8

Recently, I blogged about the last production Mauser rifle made, the Yugoslavian M48. When I wrote that article, I was a bit torn about the title, for a couple of reasons. First, the last "true" Mauser made was the German K98k, made in Germany, by Germans. Secondly, the M48 wasn't the last Mauser-type rifle fielded to military and police forces. Yes, it was the last newly manufactured military Mauser-type rifle, but if you want to get technical (and I do), there was at least one other Mauser design that was fielded after the M48: the Spanish FR-8.



Our subject at hand: the Spanish FR-8

The FR-8 has an interesting history. As I mentioned in my blog about the M48, after WWII there were literally thousands and thousands of Mauser and Mauser-type rifles scattered about Europe. During the war, all the major powers had fielded semi-automatic rifles with varying degrees of success, and after the war bolt-action rifles were old news. Spain had emerged from a bloody civil war in 1939, with a new fascist government under Generalissimo Francisco Franco. Franco and his fascists were brutal, but not stupid. He managed to keep Spain "neutral" during WWII, which was a smart move because there was no way Spain could have held off either the Axis or the Allies when Franco took power. As a result, his was the only fascist government to survive WWII. The Generalissimo went about rebuilding his country, one step at a time, while also taking steps to "normalize" things. Well, as normal as a fascist dictator can get, anyway.


Our top story tonight: Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead.

Franco was keen to modernize Spain's military, and that meant semi-automatic rifles like the rest of the world. In the 1950's, his goverment commissioned the development and fielding of the famous CETME battle rifle. The CETME was actually designed by a German (most good things in the '50s were), and as such it became the basis of sorts for the even more famous Fabrique Nationale FAL, also known as "the right hand of free world". The CETME, after all the bugs were worked out, was chambered in the "new" 7.62 x 51mm NATO cartridge. It went into production in 1957 and remained Spain's main battle rifle (in various forms) until 1999.



The CETME "C" model, considered the definitive version, chambered in 7.62 x 51mm NATO, was fielded in 1964

It took Spain a while to perfect and field the CETME in significant numbers. This posed somewhat of a problem, as the most modern rifle in Spain's inventory was the M43. The M43 was essentially a clone of the German K98k Mauser that Spain had produced under license. Like the K98k, it was chambered in 8 x 57mm Mauser, which didn't match up with the new 7.62mm NATO chambering of the CETME. Now, the M43 was a fine rifle in its own right, but this was the 1950s, dang it. Nineteenth century firearms technology just wasn't going to cut it anymore. That being said, Spain did have thousands of M43s, and it would have been a crying shame just to throw them all away. So what to do?

Pragmatism prevailed. Spain selected the best of its M43 rifles and began a rebuilding and refurbishment program that would make efficiency experts smile. The old 8mm Mauser barrels were removed, and new 18.5" CETME barrels chambered in 7.62mm NATO were installed. These were actual CETME barrels, complete with flash hider and front sight post. The magazine follower was modified to facilitate chambering the shorter7.62mm NATO cartridge, stocks were cut down and modified, and a new aperture style rear sight was welded to the old M43 receiver. Provisions were made for CETME bayonets, and all metal parts were freshly Parkerized. A nip here, a tuck there, a few thousand volts of electricity, (not really) and when it was all said and done, Spain breathed new life into the M43. It was reborn as the FR-8.




Top: FR-8. Bottom: M43. I like to think the "FR" is an abbreviation for "Frankenstein".

The looks of the FR-8 can perhaps best be described as "ugly, but in a cool sort of way". It's kind of like it doesn't know what era it belongs in. It's bolt-action, but it has a peep site, a flash hider, an abbreviated stock, and a funny looking tube under the barrel that resembles a gas tube for a semi-auto rifle. Some have called it "a bolt-action assault rifle", which considering its CETME parts, is probably another fairly decent description.



The "gas tube" pops out with a spring button, and the front cap (which doubles as the bayonet lug) unscrews.

The "new" FR-8s were primarily issued to the Spanish Guardia Civil, which is the equivalent of a federal police force, and some made their way to reserve military units as well. Obviously, the FR-8 was far from a new rifle. There was alot of Mauser left in the old girl: the five round internal magazine, the bolt, and the trigger system were essentially straight out of 1898. Still, the FR-8 had some interesting characteristics due to its CETME heritage. The sights were one of them. The rear sight had three apertures, for 200, 300, and 400 meters. It also had a more traditional Mauser style notch sight for 100 meters. These four options allowed a rifleman to adjust for elevation by simply rotating the rear sight to the correct pre-set aperture for the desired range. The front sight, also a CETME part, was also simultaneously adjustable for both elevation and windage, but this required a special tool. The tube under the barrel actually served as a mount for the CETME bayonet. This tube could also be used to store small cleaning supplies for maintaining the rifle. Lastly, the flash hider had notches to accept 22mm NATO rifle grenades, further extending the versatility of the weapon. The FR-8 saw light peacetime duty into the 1970s, at which point the old Mausers were finally put out to pasture.



Left: 100 meter notch sight. Right: 200 meter aperture sight. Apertures were changed by rotating the sight.

Alongside the FR-8, Spain also manufactured the FR-7*. Functionally identical the FR-8, the FR-7 was built from older, weaker Model 93 Mauser actions. Because of this, there's a bit controversy and debate in shooting circles about whether or not the FR-7 is safe to shoot. If you remember, the 1893 Mauser was originally chambered in 7 x 57mm, which generatated pressures of about 46,000 psi. The 7.62mm NATO round generates at least 50,000 psi of pressure, and depending on what you read, possibly more. I *personally* believe that the Spanish would not field a rifle that would immediately blow up in your face, but that it's entirely possible that lug setback and resultant headspace issues could occur from sustained firing, which could eventually cause a catastrophic failure. Considering the role of this rifle, they wouldn't see much use, so they were probably "safe enough". There's few, if any such concerns with the FR-8, as it was based on the stronger, more modern 1898 Mauser action.



Top of my FR-8's receiver, complete with crest.

I was fortunate enough to acquire a FR-8 from a local gun shop about a year and a half ago. Based on the overall condition of the piece, I don't believe it had been fired since being re-built in 1957. It had a sharp, pristine mirror bore, matching numbers, and it came with a nice CETME bayonet.. I took one look at the $350 price tag on it and snapped it up immediately. Shooting the FR-8 is familiar and different at the same time. The action works like any other Mauser, but the light weight, short barrel, and chopped stock give it a different balance and recoil. One point of note: it's easy to cut up your pinky on the rear sight when cycling the bolt, so pay attention to your technique.

My FR-8 shoots very well. Though it's a strong weapon, it's also old, so I feed it mild reloads. It seems to really like 150 grain FMJBT rounds moving at about 2,200 fps. This is a nice, accurate loading that is plenty good for punching holes in paper, and it saves wear and tear on both the rifle and my shoulder. FR-8s have become somewhat more collectible as of late. Like all mil-surp firearms, there's initially what seems like a huge supply, and then they disappear and the price goes up. If you're fortunate to come across one, keep it!



My FR-8 with bayonet. The green canvas bag is an action cover I found at a gun show that fits FR-8s and CETMEs

The FR-8 is unique weapon that efficiently filled a gap in Spain's military. By re-using old Mauser rifles and retrofitting them with new CETME parts, the Spaniards were able to field a cost-effective second line battle rifle that was similar enough to the CETME so as to make as smooth a transition as possible. In a sense, the FR-8 is the Frankenstien of Mauser rifles: it's a dead thing that was chopped up and rebuilt with new parts, and ultimately reborn as something both familar and new. Personally, I get a kick out of the fact that Paul Mauser's design just refused to die quietly.



The original designer of the FR-8

*For additional information about the FR-7 and FR-8, check out this excellent webpage::
http://zoneballistic.com/colinsballistics/fr-8.html