For those of us who respect the old .45 Auto, perhaps above all other hand guns, I post this verse. I found it 48 years ago in an old tome by Stebbins, "Pistols - A Modern Encyclopedia". It about says it all. I memorized it as an exercise for an English class...the teacher was not impressed...tho my male classmates were!! Rod
The Colt Automat … a poem
For wide open spaces, a rifle's all right,
Where there's time, space and distance, and plenty of light,
But for work on the instant, when the shooting is tight,
You can't get the slant with a rifle.
So I'll say that at times, it is all very well,
But for deviltry, death, or the raising of hell
The Colt 45 is unusually swell,
And will go where you can't with a rifle.
You can spatter a dollar at seventy feet,
With a stunning precision that's pleasing and neat,
So I'll still make the claim that the Colt can't be beat
And will do what you can't with a rifle.
So when something is crashing the alders ahead,
And it's death to the brute or you in its stead,
Let the Colt automat, the fist-filling gat, the chunky blue cat,
Chuck its competent lead!
Our Flag does not fly because the wind blows against it, it is moved instead, by the dying breath of our patriots in uniform. Our Freedom is not free, it's been paid for many times over.
USAF Forward Air Controller, 5th Spl Forces,
An Loc, lll Corps, RVN, 69-70, Vietnam Vet '69-'73