The trophy stood on top of his gun cabinet. Dad was particularly proud of it because of the high level of competition. Top shooters from several states had attended, and he’d beat them all.
Memories spun, time flew back, I was a boy again….
I heard a deep pounding from Dad’s room, I was very young and, of course, and had to investigate. He was sitting on the floor with a hammer, a bunch of strange tools and a pile of cartridge cases. He looked up as I entered with a considering eye.
“Come on in.” He said. “I might as well put you to work seeing you have nothing better to do than stand there staring at me.”
He grinned encouragingly and I rushed in, curious and eager to help as most kids are, wondering what he was doing. Dad looked around organizing his thoughts and moving those tools around so he could better explain the process as I leaned forward eagerly.
Dad was notoriously frugal, never buying anything new when second hand or, better yet, free was available. He’d come by these very basic reloading tools for a song.
Three pieces of what I thought were heavy pieces of pipe were in fact very basic reloading dies. Though very crude by today’s standards, the very simple, straight forward designs were perfect teaching tools.
The tubes of steel were knurled on the outside providing a firm grip. These fit into and sat on round, recessed bases of various thicknesses. The bases had a notches cut into the side the width of a small screwdriver blade.
Holding up a .38 pistol case Dad grabbed a bullet from a box and easily slide it in and out of the fired case. He explained firing the pistol burned the powder, the case expanded and the bullet flew out the barrel. I nodded understanding the principle.
“Now, we need to make the case smaller once more to hold the new bullet.” Dad set me to smearing lubricant on the cases and I watched as he placed the case in the steel tube, pounded the case into the die, took a rod, turned the die upside down, set it on the thickest recessed base and drove the case out.
He handed the resized case to me with a bullet and I tried to fit the bullet in the case mouth. It wouldn’t go. I looked up grinning. Ok, that’s how you resize a case, cool.
Once all the cases were resized he handed me a second base and a steel rod with a pin on the end.
“Insert the rod into the case mouth, move it around until you feel the pin drop down into the flash hole.” He demonstrated. Looked easy enough. Then he set the case on the hollow base, taped the rod lightly with the hammer and the primer popped out.
“Make double sure that pin’s in the flash hole.” He said sternly, frowning. “Don’t bend it!”
I made sure to be very careful. Soon all the cases were resized and deprimed.
“We need a new primer don’t you think?” He asked with a quizzical smile.
Made sense to me, just like my toy cap pistol, so I nodded. He seemed pleased at my astuteness.
He handed me a light hammer, a flat ended steel rod and I was entrusted to start the primer in the primer pocket and tap it lightly into place, the case base on the flat steel base. Now, I realize now this was not a safe practice at all, downright dangerous in fact, but we never had a problem, luckily. Later he purchased a hand priming tool.
Dad explained we now needed powder to propel the bullet down the barrel and pulled out a tin can with 2400 written on it. He did have a nice pair of scales and I was shown how to dip a cut down .38 case into the dish of powder, strike it off and dump the charge on the scale. The homemade measure was accurate, you saw exactly how much was used and the powder charge was then placed in the case by means of a funnel, the filled case then positioned securely in a case block.
Dad placed a second steel tube on a base. This base had a hole in the center so the primer wouldn’t touch at any time. He then set the filled case on the base, slide the tube over it and dropped the bullet down the tube. The bullet seater was an adjustable rod screwed into a steel cap. The depth of the bullet was set by screwing the rod in and out. The rod depth was pre-set for these bullets and Dad tapped the bullet gently into place.
I held that first loaded round in my hand and was instantly hooked. From that day forth Dad and I always reloaded together. His simple, but effective methods taught me exactly what was taking place and why. I have loved and reloaded countless cartridges since.
Today’s reloading equipment is totally superior and easy to use. I encourage shooters and hunters to try handloading themselves not only to save money, but to produce a superior product and enjoy the satisfaction handloading produces.
By the way, Dad went on to win a prestigious shoot with those hand loads. I’ve modestly taken credit for it ever since.