It’s nine in the morning on a cool summers day in West Wales. The wind blows over the tops of the hills and down the winding valleys. We pull into a pub car park and a man steps out of his crew cab pick up.
“Gentlemen good morning” he says and shakes our hand. Bob is our instructor today. Shooting is a needlessly touchy subject in the Uk and this is the public domain, so out of respect for Bob’s privacy, we’ll call him “Bob.” He glances at his watch and looks around.
“Well no one else made the RV, so let’s go”. We pile into our shared car while he leads us off down the road. We drive along the narrow road until we arrive at a gate. We then set off up an off-road track and through a series of gates, some of which fly a red flag. We seem to keep climbing and climbing until we come to a piece of flat dead ground atop a valley. There is a cowshed on our right and a Shackleton hut in front of it. Two sea containers sit in the middle of the dead ground at an angle. We pile into the hut. Someone produces coffee and we are sat around a large table. We fill out some paperwork and listen to a short but very sensible safety briefing from a director. After some more chat about the state of the world, we are taken out to the weird looking containers containers- which turn out to be very comfortable, very warm firing points. We are offered benches or lay flat runner mats, Paul and I choose the mats and Sammy goes for the bench firing piont. He unpacks his green monster. A single shot 308 with a barrel that is measured in feet not inches,
Sam’s green monster!
After much rummaging around for kit, and the opening of ammunition boxes ;