My father taught rifle marksmanship at Fort Benning, GA before and during WWII, before being sent over to Europe in 1944. As a staff seargant he was wounded at the Battle of the Bulge, receiving the purple heart, and was discharged a second lieutenant in 1945.
He only owned one firearm during my lifetime, which was a Mossberg 16 ga. bolt action with a PolyChoke. When I was eight years old, my dad took my older brother and I down to a creek bed at my grandfather's farm in central Illinois to shoot the shotgun. My older brother fired it once, with a pained look on his face handed it back to my dad, and walked the 200 yards back to the farm house without saying a word. He never fired another firearm in his life, that I know of.
It was then my turn. I fired at an old discarded 5-gallon can of some sort, rocking back hard at the recoil, and couldn't get enough! "Dad, can I shoot it again?" Fifty years later, shooting, reloading and hunting have been a very special part of my life. Thanks, Dad, for all you taught me!