MUSKETRY
Although the musket of old time became obsolete before the memory
of living man, the term “musketry” survives yet, and probably will
always survive for laconic description of the art and practice of
military rifle-shooting. Musketry is the primary business of the
infantry soldier, and it also enters largely into the training of the
cavalryman, who is expected to be able to dismount and hold a desired
position until infantry arrive to relieve him.
So far as the recruit is concerned, by far the greater part of the
necessary instruction in musketry takes place not on the rifle range,
but on the regimental or battalion drill-ground, where the beginner is
taught the correct positions for shooting while standing, kneeling,
and lying. He is taught the various parts of his weapon and their
peculiar uses; he is taught that when a wind gauge is adjusted one
division to either side, it makes a lateral difference of a foot for
every hundred yards in the ultimate destination of the bullet. He is
taught the business of fine adjustment of sights, taught with clips of
dummy cartridges how to charge the magazine of his rifle. The extreme
effectiveness of the weapon is impressed on him, and the instructor not
only tells him that he must not point a loaded rifle at a pal, but also
explains the reason for this, and usually draws attention to accidents
that have occurred through disregard of elementary rules of caution.
For long experience has demonstrated that the unpractised man is liable
to be careless in the way in which he handles a rifle, and the recruit,
being at a careless age, and often coming from a careless class, is
especially prone to make mistakes unless the need for caution is well
hammered home.
At first glance, a rifle is an extremely simple thing. You pull back
the bolt, insert a cartridge, and close the bolt. Then you put the
rifle to your shoulder and pull the trigger--and the trick is done. But
first impressions are misleading, and the recruit has to be trained
in the use of the rifle until he understands that he has been given
charge of a very delicate and complex piece of mechanism, of which the
parts are so finely adjusted that it will send its bullet accurately
for a distance of 2800 yards--considerably over a mile and a half.
In order to maintain the accuracy of the instrument the recruit is
taught by means of a series of lessons, which seem to him insufferably
long and tedious, how to clean, care for, and handle his rifle. An
immense amount of time and care is given to the business of teaching
him exactly how to press the trigger, for on the method of pressing the
quality of the shot depends very largely. The musketry instructor gives
individual instruction to each man in this, and the man is made to
undergo “snapping practice”--that is, repeatedly pressing the trigger
of the empty rifle until he has gained sufficient experience to have
some idea of what will happen when the trigger is pressed with a live
cartridge in front of the bolt.
When the recruit has been well grounded in the theory of using a
rifle, he is taken to the rifle range for actual practice with real
ammunition. He starts off at the 200 yards’ range with a large target
before him, and, in all probability, the first shot that he fires
scores a bull’s-eye. He feels at once that he knows a good bit more
about the use of a rifle than the man who is instructing him, and
at the given word he aims and fires again. This time he is lucky if
he scores an outer; more often than not the bullet either strikes
the ground half-way up the range, or goes sailing over the back of
the butts, and the recruit, with a nasty painful feeling about his
shoulder, has an idea that rifle-shooting is a tricky business,
after all. The fact was that, with his experience of “snapping,” he
had learned to pull the trigger--or rather, to press it--without
experiencing the kick of the rifle; that kick, felt with the first real
firing, caused an instinctive recoil on his part in firing the second
time. Later on he learns to stand the kick, and to mitigate its effects
by holding the rifle firmly in to his shoulder, and from that time
onward he begins to improve in the art of rifle-shooting and to make
consistent practice.
For the recruits’ course, the targets are naturally larger and the
conditions easier than when the trained man fires. At the conclusion of
the recruits’ course, the men are graded into “marksmen,” who are the
best shots of all, first-class, second-class, and third-class shots,
and they have to qualify in each annual “duty-man’s” course of firing
in order to retain or improve their positions as shots. Before the new
regulations, which made pay dependent on proficiency on the range, came
into force, there was a good deal of juggling with scores in the butts;
one company or squadron of a unit would provide “markers” for another,
and since the men at the firing point shot in regular order, it was a
comparatively easy matter to “square the marker” and get him to mark
up a better score than was actually obtained. Under the present rules
governing proficiency pay, however, a man’s rate of pay is dependent on
his musketry, and third-class shots suffer to the extent of twopence
per day for failing to make the requisite number of points for second
class. In consequence of this, supervision in the butts is much more
severe, and there is little opportunity of putting on a score that is
not actually obtained. A case occurred two or three years ago, the
5th Dragoon Guards being the regiment concerned, in which the men of
a whole squadron made such an abnormally good score as a whole that,
when the returns came to be inspected, it was suspected that the
markers had had a hand in compiling what was practically a record. The
squadron in question was ordered to fire its course over again, and the
markers were carefully chosen with a view to the prevention of fraud
in the butts. After two or three days of firing, however, the repeat
course was stopped, for the men of the squadron were making even better
scores than before. The incident goes to show that there is little
likelihood of frauds occurring at the butts under the present system of
supervision, and incidentally demonstrates the shooting capabilities
of that particular squadron of men.
Bad shots are the trial of instructors, who are held more or less
responsible for the musketry standard of their units--certainly more,
if there are too many bad shots in any particular unit. The bad shot
is usually a nervous man, who cannot keep himself and his rifle steady
at the moment of firing, though drink--too much of it--plays a large
part in the reduction of musketry scores. At any rifle range used by
regular troops, during the carrying out of the annual course, one may
see the musketry instructor lying beside some man at the firing point,
instructing him where to aim, pointing out the error of the last shot,
and telling the soldier how to correct his aim for the next--generally
helping to keep up the average of the regiment or battalion. As a rule,
there is no man more keen on his work than the musketry instructor,
who is usually a very good shot himself, as well as being capable of
imparting the art of shooting to others.
The great musketry school of the British Army, so far as home service
goes, is at Hythe, where all instructors have to attend a class to
qualify for instructorship. Here the theory and practice of shooting
are fully taught; a man at Hythe thinks shooting, dreams shooting,
talks shooting, and shoots, all the time of his course. He is initiated
into the mysteries of trajectory and wind pressure, taught all about
muzzle velocity and danger zone, while the depth of grooving in a rifle
barrel is mere child’s play to him. He is taught the minutiæ of the
rifle, and comes back to his unit knowing exactly why men shoot well
and why they shoot badly. He is then expected to impart his knowledge,
or some of it, to the recruits of the unit, and to supervise the
shooting of the trained men as well. In course of time, constantly
living in an atmosphere of rifle-shooting, and spending more time and
ammunition on the range than any other man of his unit, he becomes one
of the best shots, though seldom the very best. For rifle-shooting
is largely a matter of aptitude, and some men, after their recruits’
training and a duty-man’s course on the range, can very nearly equal
the scores compiled by the musketry instructor.
Since shooting is a matter of aptitude to a great extent, it follows
that the present system, punishing men for bad shooting by deprivation
of pay and in other ways, is not a good one. It has not increased the
standard of shooting to any appreciable extent; men do not shoot better
because they know their rate of pay depends on it, for they were
shooting as well as they could before. Certainly the man who can shoot
well is of greater value in the firing line than the one who shoots
badly, but, apart from this, all men are called on to do the same duty,
and the third-class shot, if normally treated, has as much to do, does
it just as well, and is entitled to as much pay for it as the marksman.
There can be no objection to a system which rewards good shooting, but
that is an entirely different matter from penalising bad shooting, as
is done at present.
The penalties do not always stop at deprivation of pay. In some
infantry units a third-class shot is regarded as little better than a
defaulter; he has extra drill piled on him--drill which has nothing
at all to do with the business of learning to shoot; he is liable for
fatigues from which other men are excused, and altogether is regarded
to a certain extent as incompetent in other things beside marksmanship.
This, naturally, does not improve his shooting capabilities; he gets
disgusted with things as they are, knows that, since his commanding
officer has determined things shall be no better for him, it is no use
hoping for a change, and with a feeling of disgust resolves that, since
in his next annual course he cannot possibly put up a better score, he
will put up a worse. It is the way in which the soldier reasons, and
there is no altering it; the way in which men are disciplined makes
them reason so, and the determination to make a worse score since a
better is impossible is on a par with the action of a cavalry squadron
in cutting its saddlery to pieces because the men are disgusted with
the ways of an officer or non-commissioned officer. Thus, in the case
of unduly severe action on the part of commanding officers, the pay
regulations, which make musketry a factor in the rate of pay, have done
little good to shooting among the men.
When actually at the firing point, a soldier is taught that he must
“keep his rifle pointing up the range,” for accidents happen easily,
and, in spite of the extreme caution of officers and instructors,
hardly a year goes by without some accidental shooting to record. The
wonder is not that this sort of thing happens, but that it does not
happen more often, for, until a soldier has undergone active service
and seen how easily fatal results are produced with a rifle, it seems
impossible to make him understand the danger attaching to careless use
of the weapon. One may find a man, so long as he is not being watched,
calmly loading a rifle and closing the bolt with the muzzle pointed at
the ear of a comrade; it is not a frequent occurrence, but it happens,
all the same. And, in consequence, accidents happen.
The range and the annual course are productive of a good deal of
amusement, at times. There is a story of an officer who pointed out
to a man that every shot he was firing was going three feet to the
right of the target, and who, after having pointed this out several
times, at last ordered the man to stop firing while he telephoned up
to the butts and ordered that that particular target should be moved
three feet to the right. Whether the result justified the change is
not recorded. Cases are not uncommon in which a man fires on the wrong
target by mistake, especially at the long ranges, and there is at least
one well-authenticated case of a man who put all his seven shots on to
the next man’s target, and of course scored nothing for himself. For
the law of the range is that if a man plants a shot on another man’s
target, the other man gets the benefit of the points scored by that
shot. The markers in the butts must mark up what they see, for if they
were compelled to go by instructions from the firing point and had to
disregard the evidence of the targets, a musketry course would be an
extremely complicated business, and would last for ever.
One oft-told story is that of the recruit who sent shot after shot
over the back of the butts, in spite of the repeated instructions of
the musketry instructor to take a lower aim. At last, probably being
tired of being told to aim low, the recruit dropped his rifle muzzle to
such an extent that the bullet struck the ground about half-way up the
range and went on its course as a whizzing ricochet. “Missed again!”
said the instructor in disgust.
“Yes,” said the recruit, “but I reckon the target felt a draught that
time, anyhow.”
The recruits’ course of musketry ends on the short ranges, but when
the duty-man comes to fire for the year he is taken back, a hundred
yards at a time, until he is distant 1000 yards from the target. This
distance, 1000 yards, is considered the limit of effective rifle fire,
though a good shot can do a considerable amount of damage at 2000
yards, and the limit of range of the Lee-Enfield magazine rifle, the
one in use in the British Army, extends to 2800 yards. The weight of
the bullet is so small, however, that at the long distances atmospheric
conditions, and especially wind, have a great influence on the course
of its flight, while the power of human sight is also a factor in
limiting the effective range. Even at 1000 yards a man looks a very
small thing, while at 2000 yards he is a mere dot, and it is impossible
to take more than a general aim. More might be accomplished with more
delicately adjusted sights and wind-gauges, but those at present in
use are quite sufficiently delicate for purposes of campaigning, and
telescopic sights, or appliances of a delicate nature for bettering
shooting, are quite out of the question for use by the rank and file.
Most of the shooting of the Army is done at ranges between 500 and 1000
yards, and, whatever weapon science may produce for the use of the
soldier, it is unlikely that these distances will be greatly increased,
since even science cannot overcome the limitations to which humanity is
subject.
Up to a few years ago, the old-fashioned “bull’s-eye” targets were
employed at all ranges and for all purposes, but they have been
practically discarded now in favour of targets which reproduce, as
accurately as possible, the actual targets at which men have to aim
in war. The modern target is made up of a white portion representing
the sky, and a shot on this portion counts for nothing at all; the
lower part of the target is dull mud-coloured, and in the middle,
projecting a little way into the white portion, is a black area
corresponding roughly in shape and size to the head and shoulders of
a man. Shots on this black portion, which may be considered as a man
looking over a bank of earth, count as “bull’s-eyes,” and shots on the
mud-coloured portion of the target have also a certain value, for it is
considered that if a shot goes sufficiently near the figure of the man
to penetrate the earth that the target represents, such a shot under
actual conditions would possibly ricochet and kill the man, and in any
case would fling up such a cloud of dust or shower of mud and stones
as to wound him in some way, or at least put him out of action for a
few minutes. Further, rapid individual fire plays a far greater part in
modern rifle-shooting than it did a few years ago. The “volleys,” which
used to be so tremendously effective in the days of muzzle loading
and slow fire at short ranges, are little considered under present
conditions; with the development of initiative, and the introduction of
open order in the firing line, men are taught to fire rapidly by means
of exposing the targets for a second or two at a time, two shots or
more to be got on the target at each exposure. In the musketry course
of ten years ago there was very little rapid firing, but now it takes
up more than half of the total of exercises on the range.
Apart from the annual course of musketry which men are compelled to
undergo, they are encouraged to practise shooting throughout the
year by means of competitions, financed out of regimental funds,
and offering prizes to be won in open competition. Competitors are
graded into the respective classes in which their last course left
them, and prizes are offered in each class, though why silver spoons
should be offered to such an extent as they are is one of the mysteries
that no man can explain. Certain it is that in nearly every shooting
competition held, silver spoons are offered as prizes--and a soldier
has little use for an ordinary teaspoon, silver or otherwise.
The scores put on by men of the Army, taken in the average, go to
prove that British soldiers have little to learn from those of other
nations in the matter of shooting. The “marksman,” in order to win
the right to wear crossed guns on his sleeve, has to put up a score
which even a Bisley crack shot would not despise, and yet the number
of men to be seen walking out with crossed guns on their sleeves is no
inconsiderable one, while first-class shots are plentiful in all units
of the cavalry and infantry. Artillerymen, of course, know little about
the rifle and its use; their weapon both of offence and defence is the
big gun, and in the matter of rifle-shooting they trust to their escort
of cavalry or infantry--usually the latter, except in the case of Horse
Artillery. Taken in the mass, the British soldier has every reason to
congratulate himself on the way in which he uses his rifle, and the
present Continental war has proved that he is every whit as good at
using the rifle in the field as he is on the range, though, in shooting
on active service, the range of the object has to be found, while in
all shooting practice in time of peace it is known and the sights
correctly adjusted before the man begins to fire.
An adjunct to the course of musketry is that of judging distance, in
which men are taken out and asked to estimate distances of various
objects. Even for this there is a system of training, and men are
instructed to consider how many times a hundred yards will fit into the
space between them and the given object. They are taught how conditions
of light and shade affect the apparent distance; how, with the sun
shining from behind the observer on to the object, the distance appears
less than when the sun is shining from behind the object on to the
observer. They are taught at first to estimate short distances, and the
range of objects chosen for experiment is gradually increased. In this,
again, aptitude plays a considerable part; some men can judge distance
from observation only with marvellous accuracy, while others never get
the habit of making correct estimates.
An interesting method practised in order to ascertain distance consists
in taking the estimates of a number of men, and then striking an
average. With any number of men over ten from whom to obtain the
average, a correct estimate of the distance is usually obtained.
Another method consists in observing how much of an object of known
dimensions can be seen when looking through a rifle barrel, after the
bolt of the rifle has been withdrawn for the purpose. Since, however,
the object of training in judging distance is to enable a man to make
an individual estimate, neither of these methods is permitted to be
used in the judging when points are awarded. The award of points,
by the way, counts toward the total number of points in the annual
musketry course.