THE man who would destroy the touching faith of
the neophyte rifleman in the probity of his beloved weapon would
also be guilty of telling a child there is no such person as
-Santa Claus. Wherefore I wish I could keep this story from the
trusting eyes of the rifle owner who knows that he has an
absolutely perfect rifle, because the star-gauge card says so.
Only the thought of the downcast person who got a rifle with a
star-gauge card reading like a table of logarithms, and different
for every inch, removes my qualms of conscience at spiking the
star-gauge yarn.
The word hath a pleasant,
mysterious sound. Every joiner of a rifle club, hearing it for the
first time, rolls it like a sweet morsel under his tongue. During
the ten long years I have been secretary of a rifle club I have
perused a number of hundred written missives requesting New
Springfields for embryo members, and have noted the invariable
stipulation that the rifle be star-gauged, only the terms varying
from “star-bored," “star-sighted,” “star-selected” to
“star-shooting.” Most of them haven’t the slightest idea of what
the term means, but the word star sounds rather altitudinous, and
implies that a rifle of that breed ought to be of ‘a higher class
than the common scrub arm.
Not long ago I got a wail from the secretary of
a rifle club to the effect that the cruel commanding officer of
the Benicia Arsenal had sent to them on their first order “cull
rifles," from which I presume this miscreant, according to the
secretary, had gone out into the rifle orchard and picked them off
the ground after a high wind.
The belief that “cull rifles’-’ are sometimes
sent is on the same plane as the belief that a rifle with a
star-gauge card tied to it is the darling child of the arsenal
making it, and one chosen from miles and miles of quite ordinary
arms. I'd like to believe this myself; I am just a poor enough
shot to need that utter confidence in my rifle that is given by
the star gauge chart to the average innocent shooter.
When you run down to its lair that mysterious
instrument or process, or whatever the beginner thinks the star
gauge is, you find that it is merely an inside gauge of a
construction that may or may not read accurately in the hands of a
hurried or careless man. At the end of a hollow steel rod are four
points, star—shaped—hence the name—-that transmit their very
slight motion in and out to fine graduations out at the handle.
Roughly, this is all the mystery.
In the first place there is no assurance that a
perfect and even barrel is a good shooting barrel, so far as the
New Springfield is concerned. Other things—the fit of the metal
parts in the stock, the even support of the bolthead, and the
straightening process applied to the barrel—also intervene. A
barrel that has been straightened in the process of manufacture
may develop that most dreadful of all habits—walking during a
string of shots. A plain, inaccurate barrel is to be preferred by
a whole lot, because it makes its faults manifest very shortly and
is “canned,” while the walking barrel insidiously sneaks over out
of the bull, while appearing to be as virtuous as the rumored wife
of old Julius Chaser Caesar.
The walking tube is one that is affected by
heat, and that goes to curling around in one direction or another
until the plot of the ten shots from a machine rest shows a
consistent string in some one direction. The trouble is that wind
and eye sight and poor holding intervene with ‘most of us and ‘the
walking is not detected for about a whole season, and maybe not
then; and so the poor victim goes on using a rifle that infallibly
sneaks out of the bull along in the string unless observation
shows that a change in the wind gauge or elevation is necessary
about such and such a shot.
Apparently this is due to the straightening
process, the slight bruising of the steel at one side or the other
by the hammering given and a tendency to resume the old crooked
form on being heated by firing. Major Casey told me at Perry in
1913 of taking a barrel that he knew “walked,” and demonstrating
its habits before an officer of our army Ordnance Department in
the hands of one of the arsenal’s paid shooters, telling this
officer beforehand in which direction the walking would occur.
Also, the able Casey, selecting rifles for our international
teams, asked for and got unstraightened barrels.
I don’t want this to start a flock of
enthusiastic rifle buyers who don’t know me any better than to
believe what I write, to pestering the badgered officers of our
arsenals, because you can’t get unstraightened barrels, and that's
all there is to it. Also, most Springfields, as -they come out of
the arsenal hopper, are plenty good for anybody, and blame sight
better shooting than most of us. This walking chatter is merely
higher mathematics for the sharks who can hold and dope. This
story is not to cast reflection on our bully rifle; it is merely
to throw a little light on this star—gauge thing on which so many
of our rifle-shooting citizens base their final judgment of the
rifle.
In the past two or three years the process of
boring and rifling the barrels of our Springfields has reached a
state of perfection so far unknown in rifle making or in any other
industry using the same sort of .tools and taking only the same
pains, in the manufacture of its articles.
Scores of rifles have we bought in this time,
and we have been astonished as well as pleased to find that the
Springfield Arsenal has at last gotten the process of boring and
rifling down to the last ten-thousandth part of an inch, because,
forsooth, the star-gauge cards tied to said rifles allege that
from breech to muzzle they run, for instance, .3005 on the lands
for, each and every inch, and .3082 in the grooves for the said
each and every inch!!!
This is indeed surprising—-if true—to the
person somewhat familiar with the process of boring and rifling
barrels, with the habit of tools to get dull, and with the slight
difference in the different barrel stock and its response to even
perfect tools. Harry Pope is outdone, and outdone, too, by
high-speed, economical, arsenal processes of making rough military
rifles, in which there is no need for any such hair-splitting
perfection. It used to be that a star—gauge card would vary up and
down like a section of California oiled road under the rays of an
automobile headlight, and the buyer of the rifle would tear his
hair and weep and swear by the beard of his fathers that such a
fusee was no gun to turn over to a white citizen, male, of this
country. After which he'd go out and find that the rifle would do
its part when he did his, and he'd put the card away against the
time when he wanted to sell the old gun and get a new one.
The worst of it is that the rifles now coming
through with ideally perfect star gauge cards were, many of them,
made back in the days when they also made the rifles that
star-gauged a whole lot more like rifles made by human hands and
ordinary machinery, and I am wondering if they held out the good
ones on us—or what?
Unfortunately, for a person of peevish and
crabby disposition like the one writing this story, I own a set of
fine gauge plugs which I know are entirely accurate, by test
against fine micrometers in the hands of skilled mechanics. Eleven
of them there are, and they range from
.2991 up to .3006. They were intended
originally for detecting metal fouling, but I find them quite
useful to bring a smile to a care-worn countenance when I find
some chap raving over the perfection of his star-gauged rifle. I
may not tell him all I find out, but I can smile to myself,
anyhow.
I, of course, expect to find a discrepancy
between the measurements of the star-gauge and the gauge-plug, but
it ought to be a uniform discrepancy or difference. The plug
slides in with the weight of a cleaning rod, and if it won’t pass
with this weight, it is rejected for a smaller one. The star-gauge
is probably equal to a driving fit, varying with the man using it.
Ordinarily the rifle star gauging .3000 on the lands will accept a
plug of about .2996 or .2997, and the plug is merely a steel
cylinder an inch or so long which is forced in by the weight of a
steel rod. Therefore I am willing to say that my measurements are
from .0003 to .0004 inch off the star gauge figures.
Also I have, of course, various soft lead
bullets for gauging the groove diameter of barrels, and a
ten—thousandth inch Starrett micrometer, in the handling of which
some ten years have given me fair familiarity.
It is this crude outfit, but still fairly
accurate one, that has given me my pessimistic attitude toward the
star-gauge figures of the arsenals, even if I did not know quite
well that military rifle barrels that read uniformly both lands
and grooves for every inch of the barrels down to the last
ten—thousandth are quite improbable.
I suspect, but cannot prove, that the arsenals,
rather than reply to the wailing letters from the bugs who find
the horrifying difference of .0002 inch along the barrel of a
rifle, have decided to combine practical time and labor saving
with psychological kindness to green rifle owners, and so make the
cards read perfection itself.
I have before me two star—gauge cards from the
last two rifles I have bought for my own use.
Both of them are from Springfield rifles, both
of them star-gauged in that arsenal by the well-known Mr. Riley,
whose monicker appears on so many of the documents attached to the
rifles we get.
One of them is rifle No. 616,442, star gauged
October 28, 1915; the other is rifle No. 621,015, star-gauged June
9, 1916.
Both of them read monotonously .3001 from one
end to the other and .3080 likewise.
Truly this is startling, to find two rifles
reading so perfectly and so much alike, and having not a variance
of .0001 inch either on the lands or in the grooves!! So, after
admiring for a time these most ideal barrel figures, we’ll turn to
the dope book on the rifles as shown by the gauge-plugs and the
lead—plug and the micrometer.
The first one, 616,442, according to the plugs,
ran .3000 pretty evenly all the way, with the usual slight
variations of one or two ten-thousandths inch, that didn’t cut any
figure at the time, when I merely desired to check on the evenness
of the tube. The plugs here varied but .0001 from the star—gauge
reading. The grooves read .3075 on the lead plug—-several lead
plugs—which is a variation of .0005 from the arsenal figure. Also,
the grooves failed to register the ideally perfect measurements
shown on the card. But let that go; it was nearer to
specifications than the second one.
Barrel 621,015, reading a perfect . 3001 all
the way, and, .3080 likewise. Accepted .3002 plug to the lower
band, from the breech end; barely accepted the .3000 under the
front sight base; accepted .3002 a half inch at the muzzle. This,
however, is a very good barrel as they run.
A third, recently calibrated, and the number
not given, because it would only worry the blissful owner, was
listed as an even .3005 all the way, with the usual perfect groove
measurements. Tried with the plugs before firing, it barely
accepted the .2999 plug under the front sight base, out accepted
for three quarters of an inch the .3004 plug at the muzzle. Also,
it accepted the .3006 plug almost to the lower band, at which
point it declined anything larger than a .3000, measuring now from
the breech end. This is a bad barrel——One of the few In which I'd
hate to put my trust—— because the groove measurements for
evenness showed as much variance, with a tight spot under the
front—sight band, and a slightly larger muzzle.
Two others just in and put through the
processes of the "hole-y inquisition" read like this:
Rife No. 623,548, Springfield Arsenal; alleged
by the card to be .3001 on the lands and .3081 on the grooves, all
the plugs report that this accepted the .2997 all the way and
accepted the .2999 plug three inches beyond the chamber. This,
however, is a peach of a barrel, so far as even lands run.
Rifle No. 623,543, alleged by the card to be a
gem of the gun-making industry, as follows: .3005 all the way on
the lands, .3081 all the way in the grooves. The plugs report that
it took the .2999 all the way, that it took the .3002 a half inch
in the muzzle, and three inches beyond the chamber, plugging from
the breech. This is not exactly a go—getter barrel if the grooves
follow the same plan, because a loose spot at the muzzle is not
good medicine, and my plugs state that the lands at the last half
inch are .0003 inch larger than under the front sight base. Of
course, this is worse than splitting hairs, because split hairs
measure more than .0003 inch; but the point is that the rifle is
not as specified on the tag. It might, and probably will, shoot
like a house afire; but, if so, then the star-gauge racket is much
overdone, because this barrel does not agree with the readings on
the card.
Always the barrels are tight under the
front-sight base, and as the firing progresses during the life of
the gun, this becomes more noticeable. My long 30 inch match
barrel, plugged just recently, accepted .3003 all the way, a .3006
two thirds of the way up the barrel from the chamber, and the
.3004 all the way to the front-sight base, while it accepted the
.3006 one-fourth inch in the muzzle. This is after firing some
3,000 shots through it, all slow fire.
It may be taken as gospel that few rifles ever‘
come from the machines with not even one ten-thousandth inch
variance along the bore, either in grooves or in lands, and that
these ideally perfect star-gauge cards are fakes. Not that it cuts
the slightest figure, because a variance of four or five
ten-thousandths inch doesn't cut much figure in the accuracy of a
rifle firing metal-patched bullets, if it does not come near the
muzzle. Particularly is this a matter of small moment if the
variation is on the lands, not in the grooves.
George Mortimer, the famous Canadian rifle
shot, winner of the Hopton Aggregate at Bisley in 1912 and member
of various Palma teams, told me one time of having what was to be
an ideal rifle made up at the factory at which the Canadian rifle
was made. The astute George wanted a match rifle for the British
long-range work that would put its ten shots into, say, a teacup
at 1,000 yards, and that would let him run possibles at 1,200
until they got tired putting the spotters in the black. So he
watched the manufacture of the rifle, from the selection of the
bar of steel to the final fitting of the peculiar stock they use
for match rifles. They babied that rifle from start to finish and
cut it with tools as sharp as a razor and culled over hundreds of
stock blanks for the right sort of walnut, and finally turned out
an arm that measured up in a way that would make the rifle-lover
sit down and weep for pure joy and the thoughts of the trimming he
was going to give the rest of the gang at the big shoot.
Then, it wouldn't shoot, and they never did
make it shoot. There wasn't a thing wrong as far as they could
tell; it just wouldn’t deliver, and George in disgust went out and
grabbed one blind and shot that through the Bisley long range
matches, and won the grand aggregate called the Hopton.
While a barrel that measures up perfectly may
not shoot at all, still I have confidence enough in the
measurement thing as applied to accuracy to not want a barrel that
was loose at the muzzle and tight just behind. Also, I'd much
prefer the barrel that ran evenly for its full length, while I
know that one slightly choked—three or four ten-thousandths
smaller at the muzzle than at the breech —will shoot like a house
afire. The trouble, of course, is that the barrel choke-bores
itself plenty fast enough anyhow, from erosion, and so the
straight cylinder is the one to pick.
Only, put not your trust in the star gauge
card; be neither elevated to the heights of rapture by a perfect
card nor cast down into the slough of black despond because of one
reading a little of everything. I fear that the star gauging
gentlemen are oft times moved more by a desire to tickle the
shooter than to tell him all the truth and nothing but the truth.
The test is to shoot the rifle, preferably at 1,000 on a
dead-still day; or, if you can't hold, to get some body who can,
and then to watch the rifle in its early performances, to see if
it has the habit of altering its zero and elevation along in the
string—which means to watch for a walking barrel.
Another delusion the shooter hugs to his breast
is that the newer the rifle and ammunition, the better it is. To a
certain extent this is true—but few of the clan ever pause to
think that since the outbreak of war the Springfield Arsenal has
been losing its skilled mechanics and replacing them with men less
skilled, because of the high prices and demand for skilled men at
the private plants. While both Springfield and Rock Island
improved their processes and their work, and added little
improvements here and there as they went along, still I would just
as so0n—possibly a little rather— have a Springfield made in 1914
or 1913 as the one made in I915 and I916. That would depend much
on the rifle; but assuredly, knowing what I do of the arsenal
situation, I’d be very little prejudiced in favor of a rifle by
the fact that it was made since the war got fairly started.
Much the same thing applies to ammunition.
Ammunition is not like lettuce; absolute freshness is not a
necessity for accuracy. It keeps very nicely, thank you, with our
present powder. The only way I know of by which an intelligent
selection can be made from the ammunition of the vintages of 1913,
’14, '15 or '16 is by machine-rest test, and then the gauge-plugs
for metal fouling. I have an idea that the nickel situation is
quite likely to make the bullets of the date of I917 no better
than the bullets of 1914, which is putting the matter
conservatively. Brass cases are likely to suffer likewise. '
As I started to say when I got into the story,
the sole test of the virtue of a rifle is shooting, not the strip
of pleasant fiction that accompanies it. I would pay 69 cents for
star-gauging only for my amusement and because in the past, at
least, the star-gauged rifle was likely to have checked butt and
trigger and the non-star-gauged was not; but that was in the days
when the two sorts were about even up in the stores at the
arsenal. The stock is likely to be better-looking in the
“selected” rifle, possibly the good—hearted chap at the arsenal
feeling that if you’re crank enough to pay for a couple of dozen
raps of the rubber stamp on a strip of cardboard, you ought to get
at least a fair-looking piece of wood.
The word hath a pleasant,
mysterious sound. Every joiner of a rifle club, hearing it for the
first time, rolls it like a sweet morsel under his tongue. During
the ten long years I have been secretary of a rifle club I have
perused a number of hundred written missives requesting New
Springfields for embryo members, and have noted the invariable
stipulation that the rifle be star-gauged, only the terms varying
from “star-bored," “star-sighted,” “star-selected” to
“star-shooting.” Most of them haven’t the slightest idea of what
the term means, but the word star sounds rather altitudinous, and
implies that a rifle of that breed ought to be of ‘a higher class
than the common scrub arm.