Fire and Shock

By the beginning of the eighteenth century there appeared to be two approaches to fire tactics for infantry; one stressed firepower, the other shock, the charge with the bayonet. The first method was a case of controlled volleying, in either battalion or company form, or by alternate ranks, three at a time, with the aim of reducing the enemy’s numbers. The purpose of the firepower tactic was to batter the opponents’ will to stand their ground or crush their attempt to attack by launching a continuous fusillade of fire by each of the three ranks firing in turn. By the nineteenth century the firing line became two ranks.

The three ranks of the British Army during the early part of the eighteenth century would ‘lock up’ the files in the ranks for firing. The front rank would kneel down, the second rank would move slightly to its right and the third rank would move half a pace to its right making each file in echelon with the firelocks of the two rear ranks levelled through the file intervals.

On the command ‘make ready’ (present your firelocks), then (give) ‘fire’ the firing would be continuous with each rank firing in turn, setting up a constant fusillade of fire. A battalion could divide its fire by firing volleys from each company or division in turn, with those who had fired having time to reload.

Battle of Mollwitz / Roechling / 1895 1st Silesian War 1740-42 / Battle of Mollwitz 10 April 1741 (Prussia led by Frederick the Great defeats the Austrians led by Neipperg).

The second method was considered the most economical: firing one volley and then, with bayonets fixed, charging the enemy in a rapid advance to put fear into them and cause them to panic and flee, thus winning the ground. Battles were in the end a case of winning ground and holding it. This second method was the basis of Frederick the Great’s tactic of ‘Fire and Shock’. Infantry shock tactics were planned to put fear into the enemy. It was intended that it should not end in a hand-to-hand, bayonet-to-bayonet melee. It was not meant to end in actual contact but to crush the defenders’ resolve to stand their ground and induce them to break their ranks and retreat in panic before the attackers got too close. But there was a case where there was fierce contact and that was at the Battle of Culloden where James Wolfe instructed his men on how they should, with bayonets, repel the fearsome clansmen as they hurled themselves in their Highland charge. The clansmen carried a targe, or shield, in their left hand covering mainly the left part of their chest. Their broadswords were held aloft in their right hands, leaving the right side of the chest exposed. So he told the men to thrust their bayonets not at the man to the front but at the man to his right, who was partly exposed.

The master exponent of warfare in Europe in the eighteenth century was Frederick the Great, King of Prussia or, as known by his troops, ‘der Alte Fritz (Old Fritz)’. In 1748 he argued that the advance was likely to stall if attacking infantry stopped to fire. This was fatal as Frederick the Great said, ‘It is not the number of enemies we kill which gives the victory but the ground which we gain. To win a battle you must advance proudly and in good order claiming ground all the time.’

Frederick II (The Great), King of Prussia, formed a small but very successful army and created the Kingdom of Prussia out of the small state of Brandenburg. He did this in a series of battles with the basic principal of winning territory economically and holding it without incurring too many casualties and without causing unnecessary damage; he did not want to take territory that was ruined. The battles were fought for the most part on the great plain of northern Europe, which at that time was less encumbered and ideal for wide sweeping manoeuvres. The Prussian tactics were successful until they confronted the Revolutionary Army of the new French Republic.

With all the musket’s faults exposed it was Frederick who created his tactics of ‘fire and shock’. The general practice in the latter part of the seventeenth century into the eighteenth was for the attacking force to start by preparing a plan of attack. Bearing in mind the limited means of communication during this period, which was left almost entirely to the services of aides de camp, once battle started it had its own momentum and it would be very difficult to change the plan during the course of the battle. However, it is known that Napoleon had with him on campaign a mobile version of semaphore apparatus.

But Frederick realized that, if he could train his troops to react quickly to new orders during a battle, he could with judicious moves outmanoeuvre the enemy. For this reason constant drill was carried out and by the introduction of cadence marching in the early eighteenth century he could parade them onto the battlefield doing the ‘lock step’, better known as the goose step.

The system of fire and shock as developed by Frederick’s infantry precluded the major use of light troops such as the Feldjäger Corps, but after Frederick’s defeat at Kolin he saw the necessity for skirmishers and raised a company of jägers. After the Battle of Mollwitz he also realized the need for light troops. By the Second Silesian War he was able to meet the Austrians with their Grenz troops. As Scharnhorst said, ‘The present war against the French Republic reminded us of the principal that one should always try to regulate one’s disposition according to the enemy’s methods.’ Jägers were of little practical use in Frederick’s tactics, so they amounted to few in number and, because they were armed with rifles that took longer to load, they could not contribute to the overall system of rapid fire. As the short rifle could not be fitted with a bayonet the jägers carried short swords for personal protection. When Ezekiel Baker designed his rifle, based on a German design, he adapted the sword, or spadroon, to be fitted as a long bayonet giving the Baker rifle the same length as a musket with a fixed bayonet. In the Rifle regiments the bayonet is still referred to as a sword, with the order to fix swords.

The key to Frederick’s system was its harsh iron discipline and drill practised on the drill fields of Potsdam to make the men totally obedient so that every soldier behaved as one man. It was to instil into his troops or, one could say, programme them, to react to orders with speed and without question to perform their complicated evolutions and bring to bear as many muskets as possible on the enemy and deliver a wall of lead shot in the form of rolling volleys, all at great speed. Their will and steadfastness would eventually crush the weaker will of the enemy. These complicated evolutions were executed automatically in the din of battle to the sound of the drum when commands were smothered by the crescendo of cannon fire and everyone disappeared in clouds of smoke. When asked if he would prefer his soldiers to be thinking soldiers, Frederick said ‘If my soldiers began to think, not one would remain in the ranks.’

So long as both sides adhered to the established formations and manoeuvres of the eighteenth century there was no practical need for arms of greater precision. The rifle was expensive to manufacture, required greater training and had the disadvantage that it took longer to load. It was for these reasons that Napoleon banned the use of rifles. He was himself a poor shot with a hunting rifle, injuring a marshal when out hunting. It was accepted that you took your chance in battle; the ritual of the system was that some considered it against the accepted tenets and rules of warfare to deliberately pick off individuals which was seen as ungentlemanly.

Most European armies were impressed by the show of powder, pomp and pipe-clay, and the successes of Frederick’s regiments; many followed his system, hoping that it would also give them victories. One firm believer in all that was Prussian was David Dundas, the Adjutant General, who made visits to Potsdam, to witness training, and to Silesia to watch the manoeuvres of Frederick’s troops. He was impressed at the Prussian troops executing their manual drills and manoeuvres, impressive in their massed ranks, resplendent in their uniforms, marching dutifully, or robotically, into position with the balance step or lock step. But behind the spectacle of parades, bands, colours and pomp was a military structure that was harsh, brutal and dehumanising. He was also very critical of the concept, and use, of light infantry as it went against all the rules of Fredrician tactics, the proof being that the army of Prussia was the most successful in Europe, or had been up to 1806.

In 1788 Dundas produced his drill manual The Principles of military Movements, a modified version reduced to eighteen movements, based on the Fredrician tactics of the Prussian General von Salden’s Elements of Tactics. Dundas emphasized the importance of the pivot man; in all the wheeling and counter wheeling, the pivot man became vital to the smoothness of the operation, and consequently Dundas had the cognomen of ‘Old Pivot’.

Controlled Firing

Once the battalion had been deployed into the firing line a system of close fire control was applied. It was imperative that fire discipline was observed. It was the repetitive manual drills that embedded into the men the automatic response to fire orders. The premature firing off induced by tension and fear could encourage others to follow and destroy the controlled fire pattern. There were two different systems. At the beginning of the eighteenth century it was known as ‘platoon firing’, or firing by ‘chequer’, which was much used by Marlborough’s regiments and was in common use until the 1750s. This was replaced by a system known as ‘alternate firing’, which continued until the turn of the nineteenth century and was easier to execute than ‘platoon fire’; but both required intensive training before they could function in any action. ‘Alternate fire’ consisted of fire given by companies, platoons, or other divisions going from right and left alternatively towards the centre of the battalion line; ‘platoon fire’ consisted of fire given by platoons grouped into three ‘firings’, all the platoons in each shooting together according to a prearranged sequence.

‘Alternate fire’ was officially adopted with the publication of the new Regulations in 1764, although those battalions who were well trained were already practising it. Such a regiment was the 20th Foot, whose commanding officer was Lieutenant Colonel James Wolfe.

Wolfe was a first-class officer who trained his troops well according to the current regulations, but at the same time he thought ‘alternate fire’ far more practical than the current regulation ‘platoon fire’, the ‘impracticable chequer’ as he described it and so he taught both in the 20th.

Wolfe issued a regimental order in January 1755 which stated:

As the alternative fire by platoon or devisions [sic], or by companies is the most simple, plain and easy, and used by the best disciplined troops in Europe (i.e. the Prussians), we are at all times to imitate them in that respect … (and otherwise) to conform to the established discipline, and to practise all those things that are required at the reviews, to which the knowledge of other matters be no hindrance.

Not all commanding officers were as thorough as James Wolfe. Many did not observe the contemporary practices and follow the standard drill manual, which was rarely referred to, so drill was left very much to the fancy of each commanding officer. It was not always possible to assemble three regiments together to form a brigade for a field day or a mock battle; these could not take place until the commanding officers agreed beforehand to a common form of drill, as each regiment could be practising its own version.

Wolfe pointed out that officers should inform the soldiers of their platoons, before the action begins, where they were to direct their fire; and they were to take good aim to destroy their adversaries. Furthermore, ‘There is no necessity for firing very fast; a cool well levelled fire, with pieces carefully loaded, is much more destructive and formidable than the quickest fire in confusion.’ There were some particulars in relation to firearms that soldiers should know:

One is, the quantity of powder that throws a ball out of a musket in the truest direction to the mark, and to the greatest distance; a matter of experience and practice will best discover; soldiers are apt to imagine that a great quantity of powder has the best effect, which is a capital error. The size of the cartridge with ball is another material consideration, because when the musket grows hot with repeated firing, a ball too near the calibre of the musket will not go down without great force, and the danger of firing the piece when the ball is not rammed well home is well known (i.e. the musket will blow up); the soldiers should be informed that no other force in ramming down a charge is necessary than to collect the powder and place the ball close upon it. If the ball is rammed too hard upon the powder, a great part of it will not take fire and consequently the shot will be of so much less force.

Eighteenth-century drill books illustrated the positions of the soldiers in the manual drills. None of the illustrations of the soldiers at the ‘present’ and ‘fire’ positions show them actually taking aim along the barrel; the soldier is usually shown with his head held erect. Also, none of the front rank men in the kneeling position are shown supporting the weight of the musket to steady the aim by placing the elbow on the knee. None of the Land Pattern muskets were fitted with sights except the light infantry musket. They could use the bayonet lug as a guide, but this would be obscured if the bayonet were fitted. It was probably thought that taking aim after the first discharge was unnecessary as all would be shrouded in clouds of powder smoke and would be unable to see a thing.

As the eighteenth century progressed the British Army was gaining confidence in its standing as an army built on Marlborough’s successes during the War of the Spanish Succession against the forces of Louis XIV, confident in its prowess to bear arms and face all known enemies; proud of its reputation as a master of the delivery of firepower equal to all in Europe, especially the French. But the French were once again contesting Britain’s interests, although not in Europe. In 1754 disturbing despatches from Lieutenant Governor Robert Dinwiddie of Virginia had reached King George II.


The Twenty-first Century’s Rifle

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, early 2006

The fourteen Marines, ready to dash, waited for the signal. It was a cold February morning on a firing range just inland from North Carolina’s coast. The Marines, members of Second Battalion, Eighth Marine Regiment, were preparing for a deployment in the Anbar province of Iraq, and on this day they had set aside their M-4s and M-16s. In front of them, a short jog away, were fourteen Kalashnikov assault rifles, disassembled, unloaded, resting on the ground. At the signal, the Marines were to sprint to the rifles, reassemble them, perform a function check, load a magazine, and fire into a man-shaped target, aiming for the face and chest. Their rifles were a mix of Kalashnikov variants. They came from Romania, Russia, China, and North Korea. One was an original AK-47 from Izhevsk, assembled from solid machined steel, date-stamped 1954. It was fifty-two years old—almost three times the age of some of the men about to fire it.

The Corps had a nickname for this test: Just In Case. In the tour ahead for these Marines, their officers wanted to be sure that they could pick up a Kalashnikov, in any condition, whether from an allied Iraqi soldier or from an insurgent in a close-range fight, and use the weapon immediately and well. The signal was given. The Marines were sprinting. Thirty seconds or so later, the first of them were firing. Holes began to appear in their targets’ heads.

After almost six decades, the long travels of the Kalashnikov assault rifle had achieved the inevitable state: full saturation. Decades earlier the first AK-47s had left Soviet hands, and in the years since they had become the hand weapon of choice for strongmen, criminals, terrorists, and messianic guerrilla leaders. In time the Kalashnikov had also become a preferred arm for those who fought against the Soviet Union or Russia, and those who organized genocide. And now it was institutionalized in the training of American infantrymen. It could not, with all prudence, be any other way. In the battles ahead, every one of these Marines would encounter Kalashnikovs in the hands of allies and enemies alike. To see Marines prepare themselves around these simple facts, training with the signature socialist arm on one of the most prominent American military bases, was to grasp the extent of Kalashnikov saturation in modern war.

What does saturation mean? It would be naïve to think that war would stop without these weapons. It wouldn’t. It would be just as naïve to think that many of the consequences of war as it has been waged in recent decades might not be lessened if these rifles were in fewer hands, and not so available for future conflicts. For how long will battlefields be so? The answer is straightforward—as long as the rifles exist in the outsized numbers the Cold War left behind.

Much attention is paid to accountability, security, and destruction of potential materials for weapons of mass destruction. With lesser urgency and smaller budgets, efforts to secure and destroy antipersonnel land mines have become widely accepted. In the past decade or so, similar attention has been given to efforts to eliminate stocks of shoulder-fired antiaircraft weapons, whose existence threatens the security of air transportation. The notion of regulating military firearms and destroying excess stockpiles enjoys much less support and faces considerable opposition, no matter that illicit uses of assault rifles have killed and wounded far more people than have all of these other weapons combined.

There are many reasons for this. Part of it is that surplus small arms are regarded as foreign-policy tools to be kept in reserve. Part of it is that to many government officials, honest and corrupt alike, surplus small arms are commodities, items to be converted to cash. Part of it is the manner in which priorities are set. Infantry arms that are loose in the field are exceedingly difficult to account for or collect. Surplus arms, locked up in armories, do not seem to cry for attention. Domestic and international politics play a role, too. The governments most responsible for the widespread distribution of military assault rifles—Russia, China, and the United States—have, for different reasons, shown little to no interest in destroying their excess weapons or those of other governments, even when they are not needed by standing military forces, and even when they endanger their own troops.

The United States has underwritten destruction programs. These have been small in ambition and scale, low in priority and funding, and undermined by official incoherence. Moreover, domestic politics in the United States have hindered any American government from trying to undo assault-rifle proliferation, at least as more than a backwater project. The climate of mutual distrust—between those who would seek to regulate and destroy more military assault rifles and those who claim that any such steps risk infringing the right of American citizens to bear arms—is of such an order that those who direct American foreign policy often steer clear of the issue. There is also a psychological hurdle. The near ubiquity of military assault rifles in conflict zones can send the subliminal signal that nothing can be done, except perhaps to arm more people against those who already have the guns. This is a typical course. Where armed groups threaten a perceived American interest, a common solution is to send in more guns to counter them. In this way, the United States military, since 2001, became one of the largest known purchasers of Kalashnikov assault rifles, which it has handed out by the tens of thousands in Afghanistan and Iraq.

The processes of arms reduction are not completely idled. Some aspects of nonproliferation have broad international support, and certain procedural and legislative elements of trafficking control are here to stay. But the efforts are patchwork and are undermined by inattentive and uninterested governments, and by governments that actively flout the rules. Local successes have occurred. More successes remain possible. Diligent researchers and nongovernment groups, along with individual officers, can stop bad practices here and there. But there is little momentum and many loopholes, and there is little reason to think that on the grand scale much will be done to keep the flow of illegal infantry arms in check. The case of Leonid Minin, the Ukrainian-Israeli arms dealer arrested near Milan, illustrated the state of affairs. Caught with documents describing the illegal shipment of nearly fourteen thousand Kalashnikovs and 9 million rounds of ammunition, Minin was released from custody after Italian courts ruled that Italy had no jurisdiction over his black-market brokering activities elsewhere. He walked. Had he been convicted and remained in jail, the trade would have continued. Where assault rifles are wanted, recent history shows, they appear. They move across borders like any other contraband, like heroin or hashish, like illegal immigrants, almost like rain. They are liquid. Demand ensures supply.

The comparison to illicit drugs has its limits. Like narcotics, assault rifles are difficult to find, secure, and remove once they have been distributed within a population. Unlike narcotics, they are not consumable. They remain in their users’ possession, sometimes for decades. From 2001 through 2009, it was possible to find Kalashnikov assault rifles in Afghanistan bearing manufacturing stamps from as far back as 1953.2 These were some of the very first AK-47s made. They had been forged, machined, and assembled nearly six decades before in Izhevsk. If they had been accompanied by log books revealing the names of those who had carried them, each would likely tell of years in the hands of Soviet conscripts, then of a period of reissue to the Soviet Union’s Afghan forces. They survived from there, in militias and caches, until they resurfaced in the hands of the current generation of Afghan police officers and soldiers, the proxies of the United States, alongside Kalashnikovs that originated in arms plants throughout the former communist bloc—Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, Yugoslavia, Russia, China, and elsewhere. The wooden stocks of these most aged AK-47s showed dents and dings. Otherwise most of these rifles appeared to be in excellent order, ready to fire for decades more.

Of all the methods to limit illegal trafficking in military arms, only one way is sure: destruction. Destruction can happen any number of ways. The most straightforward and effective method is to destroy excess rifles in government stockpiles, or those that are collected in conflict zones. Programs along these lines have faced obstacles of all sorts, ranging from practical to ideological. The urge to redistribute the arms often outweighs suggestions to destroy them. In this way, efforts to disarm Iraq and Afghanistan failed. Few arms were collected, and commanders who did obtain working rifles often reissued them to people considered, at least at the moment, supportive of the American military’s mission. In stockpiles, other pressures prevented destruction, and many of the nations that have the largest stocks of weapons—Ukraine, for example—have participated in destruction programs only on a small scale. No sustained will has emerged to cut up the guns, in part because guns and ammunition can still be converted to money. The United States sent mixed messages and created uncomfortable situations in the Eastern bloc. During the past decade, one arm of the United States government, the State Department, was encouraging ministries to destroy excess weapons. Another, the Department of Defense, was shopping for the same items in the same countries and often purchasing through some of the same black-market middlemen who have been accused of smuggling.

Is there an end? Yes. But the end of the Kalashnikov’s role as a primary tool for killing will not result, in all likelihood, from any disarmament program or policies. The final factor will be time. Kalashnikovs are sturdy, but not indestructible. They can and do break—sometimes when backed over by an armored vehicle or car, sometimes when struck by bullets or shrapnel, occasionally when warped by fire. If left exposed and unattended long enough, they can succumb to pitting, corrosion, and rust. With the passing of many years, the combined tally of these forces will bring an end to these weapons. This will not be a short time. It will not even be decades. But in another half-century, or century, the rifles will have broken, one by one, and the chance exists that they will no longer be a significant factor in war, terror, atrocity, and crime, and they will stop being a barometer of the insecurity gripping many regions of the world. Until that time, they will remain in view and in use. Mikhail Kalashnikov was right. The AK-47 is one of the great legacies of the Soviet period. Its descendants will outlast the Soviet Union for decades more, products intended to strengthen nations that have made many nations weaker and put more people at risk.


One of the first breech-loading weapons that saw military service was the Ferguson rifle. This was designed by Captain Patrick Ferguson of the 70th Regiment (Surrey Regiment). In March 1776 he took out a patent in London for a flintlock screw-plug breech-loading rifle. Ferguson acknowledged his debt to Chaumette but incorporated in his design certain modifications that were intended to overcome the fouling problem that had bedeviled the design up to that point. He introduced a smooth section cut across the threads that faced the chamber when the weapon was loaded and closed, he had vertical grooves cut into the threads, and he had a small reservoir behind the breech plug.

The system operated in a very simple, soldier-proof fashion, in that one turn of the trigger guard opened the mechanism to the full extent. The soldier then put a ball into the hole on top of the rifle and let gravity feed it to the forward part of the chamber. He then poured powder in to charge the weapon and simply rewound the trigger guard to close the weapon. He could then brush any surplus powder left on top of the breech directly into the pan or, if it was windy or there was no surplus, could charge the pan, cock, and fire.
The Ferguson rifle was a remarkable piece of engineering in that the matched screw threads of the male (the rotating plug) and the female (the breech hole) were mated exceptionally well, making the action extremely smooth to operate. The example (by Durs Egg) held in the Weapons Collection of the Small Arms School Corps (at the School of Land Warfare on the outskirts of Warminster, Wiltshire, England) is still operable, and even fireable, and the rotating lever action functions perfectly.

The weapon was a rifleman’s dream at the time, being easy to load and fire and relatively easy to clean and maintain. It also has a pleasing balance. It was a weapon that would have made the British Army, had it adopted it wholesale, the leading force in rifle use and would have served the army far better than the rag-tag of weapons that were used in its stead.


The rifled arm as a military weapon did not truly come into use until the eighteenth century. However, the Landgraf of Hesse had a troop of riflemen in 1631, and ten years later Maximilian of Bavaria had several troops armed with rifled arquebuses. Louis XIII armed his bodyguard with rifles, and later ordered that two men from every light cavalry regiment should be so armed. These men were later formed into a regiment of carbineers, but the first issue carbine did not appear until 1793. The English learned the value of the rifle when it was used against them in the American War of Independence; they hired Continental Jäger to take on the American backwoodsmen, whose accuracy was streets ahead of the musket armed infantry of the line.

There are other examples of small rifle armed units in the eighteenth century, such as the Austrian chasseurs, sharpshooters, and skirmishers who were issued with a rifle in 1759. Austrian border guard sharpshooters were issued with special over-and-under rifles in 1768, with a smoothbore lower barrel and a rifled upper barrel for firing patched ball. The rifle was fired resting on the hook of a long pike, which served as a protection if the riflemen were attacked. The Russians issued a similar weapon between 1776 and 1796.
As far as the British Army was concerned, it received its first firearms in 1471, when the hand cannon was introduced. This was followed by the matchlock, which remained in use (only a few wheel locks were ever issued on the grounds of cost and complication) until the reign of James I (1603–1626), when some flintlocks were issued to the leading regiments. Muskets came into general use in the reign of William III; from these muskets developed the “Brown Bess” weapon, which served the British Army for over 100 years.
Brown Bess fired a ball two sizes smaller than its caliber, to allow for easy loading, but range and accuracy were laughable. Greener commented that “the immense escape of explosive matter past the ball prevented the possibility of any velocity worthy of the name being given to the ball, and the range is the most contemptible of any gun I know: 120 yards is the average distance at which the balls strike the ground when fired horizontally at five feet above the level.”

Rifles were issued to the British Army as early as 1800, but in such small numbers as to be ineffective. The 95th Foot, the Rifle Brigade, was the first regiment to have this new weapon, which it used, it seems, without being officially noticed by the British War Office, until the Brunswick rifle was introduced in 1835.

Pistola Automatica Beretta modello 1934

Beretta automatics were amongst the most sought after of war trophies. Although of excellent design, they were really too light to be effective service pistols, but as personal weapons to officers they were highly prized.

The little Pistola Automatica Beretta modello 1934 is one of the joys of the pistol collector’s world, for it is one of those pistols that has its own built-in attraction. It was adopted as the standard Italian army service pistol in 1934, but it was then only the latest step in a long series of automatic pistols that could be traced back as far as 1915. In that year numbers of a new pistol design were produced to meet the requirements of the expanding Italian army, and although the Pistola Automatica Beretta modello 1915 was widely used it was never officially accepted as a service model, These original Beretta had a calibre of 7.65mm, although a few were made in 9 mm short, the cartridge that was to be the ammunition for the later modello 1934.

After 1919 other Beretta pistols appeared, all of them following the basic Beretta design. By the time the modello 1934 appeared the ‘classic’ appearance had been well established with the snub outline and the front of the cutaway receiver wrapped around the forward part of the barrel to carry the fixed foresight. The short pistol grip held only seven rounds and thus to ensure a better grip the characteristic ‘spur’ was carried over from a design introduced back in 1919. The operation used by the mechanisms was a conventional blowback without frills or anything unusual, but although the receiver was held open once the magazine was empty it moved forward again as soon as the magazine was removed for reloading (most pistols of this type keep the receiver slide open until the magazine has been replaced). The modello 1934 did have an exposed hammer which was not affected by the safety once applied, so although the trigger was locked when the safety was applied the hammer could be cocked either by hand or by accident, an unfortunate feature in an otherwise sound design.

In honor of Benito Mussolini’s assumption of power, fascist-era Model 1934s are not only stamped with their date of production in Arabic letters but also the year of Il Duce’s rule in Roman numerals.

It is light and compact, weighing just 1.25 pounds, and measures 6 inches in overall length. Its simple blowback mechanism functions smoothly, and its exposed hammer allows it to be lowered on a loaded chamber for safer carrying. A catch on the bottom of the grip secures the seven-round magazine that is equipped with a finger extension to aid steadier aiming. The Model 1934 is also chambered for a much more efficient cartridge than most earlier Italian service pistols. Known in Italy as the caliber 9mm corto (short) cartridge, the Model 1934’s loading is also known as the 9mm Kurz in Germany and the caliber .380 ACP in the United States. Although not as powerful as the 9mm Parabellum, it is ideal for such a compact weapon and much more powerful in its ballistics than such cartridges as the popular caliber 7.65mm (.32 ACP). The Model 1934 was also used by Romanian and Finnish troops during World War II. Actual usage of the Model 1934 by Italian troops during World War II did little to prove its value as a combat weapon.

The modello 1934 was almost always produced to an excellent standard of manufacture and finish, and the type became a sought-after trophy of war. Virtually the entire production run was taken for use by the Italian army, but there was a modello 1935 in 7.65 mm which was issued to the Italian air force and navy. Apart from its calibre this variant was identical to the modello 1934, The Germans used the type as the Pistole P671(i). Despite its overall success the modello 1934 was technically underpowered, but it is still one of the most famous of all pistols used during World War II.


Beretta modello 1934

Caliber: 9mm Corto (.380 ACP)

Operation: blowback

Length overall: 152mm (6″)

Barrel length: 94mm (3.7″)

Weight empty: 680g (24 oz)

Magazine capacity: 7

Muzzle velocity: c. 251 mps (825 fps)

Firearms in Japan

By the start of the 13th century Japan was already on a descending path from aristocratic-emperor rule to fragmented provincialism under warlord clans, to protracted civil war and anarchy. The Mongols twice tried to invade Japan but were repulsed at Hakata Bay in 1274 and 1281. The Kamakura shogunate ended in violence in 1333. The Ashikaga shogunate (1333–1603) was born into chaos and bloody strife as rival military houses backed rival imperial lines, and as turmoil in China spilled over into destabilization and civil war in Japan. This ‘‘War Between the Courts’’ lasted from 1336 to 1392. As central power collapsed Japan’s coasts and outer islands were preyed upon by wakō(pirates). In the mid-15th century more decades of civil war climaxed in a shogunal succession dispute, leading to the Ōnin War (1467–1477). Thus began a period known as the Sengoku jidai or ‘‘Warring States,’’ during which power shifted to the ‘‘Sengoku daimyo,’’ or military houses of the regions, and Ashikaga shoguns ruled only on paper. Several emperors despaired and fled ruined Kyoto; others were assassinated. This era of so-called gekokujōsaw general anarchy, widespread arson (a favorite weapon of the ashigaru), a plague of ronin, and ubiquitous civil warfare marked by endless small battles. One defense against this anarchy was the growth of jōkamachi (‘‘castle towns’’). A better defense would have been unification and pacification, but before 1560 no one among the daimyo could provide this.

The arrival of firearms in Japan changed all warfare and politics. Samurai faced gunpowder weapons (small rockets) at Hakata Bay, but not guns. Korea acquired firearms from China around 1300 but kept the technology secret from the Japanese for over 200 years. Some primitive Chinese firing tubes were used during the Ōnin War, but did not catch on. Japan acquired its first true guns not from China but from Europe, when several Portuguese merchants shipwrecked at Tanegashima. Portuguese records set the date as 1542; Japanese histories say 1543. What is important is that they brought with them two matchlock arquebuses. These merchants, the first Europeans to visit Japan, were followed by Jesuits, experts in forging guns and peddling Catholicism. Spanish traders arrived in 1581 with more guns and cannon, by which time some Japanese daimyo were manufacturing their own firearms and were already using them to overwhelm more traditional neighbors (in battle, perhaps as early as 1549). This is when large infantry formations first appeared in daimyo armies, partly in response to the breakdown of samurai loyalty during Sengoku, but also due to the introduction of peasant levies armed with arquebuses.

The last half of the 16th century saw the unification of Japan by three great warlords, each effectively using guns in combination with older arms to wage and win the Unification Wars. The first was Oda Nobunaga, who put an end to the Ashikaga shogunate and the old daimyo order. He conquered the most advanced and heavily populated third of Japan, crushing daimyo and Buddhist opposition by 1582. The second unifier was Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who rose from modest origins to rule much of Japan from behind the imperial throne. Hideyoshi twice sent massive armies into Korea. He planned this as the start of an empire to include Indochina, Siam, the Philippines, and China, but was not able to conquer even Korea. In 1587 he ordered Christian missionaries to leave Japan. Ten years later he oversaw mass executions of Japanese Christians, whom he feared as a fifth column and as adherents of a subversive cult. In 1600, Dutch traders arrived and Western trade interests and influence looked set to make headway. The last of the unifiers, Tokugawa Ieyasu, triumphed at Sekigahara in 1600 and became shogun in 1603. His successors, the Tokugawa shoguns, chose a path of isolation from the West trod by Japan for 250 years. Having overcome endless civil wars and the arrival of strange and perhaps threatening foreigners, the Tokugawa steadfastly resisted externally induced change. This policy was undertaken at a time when China was overrun by the Manchus and penetrated by Europeans, India was conquered by the Mughals, and Europe itself was wracked by sectarian wars. However, the price of the Tokugawa ‘‘great peace’’ was suppression of creative social forces and a self-imposed technological and military inferiority to the West. The Tokugawa shoguns gave Japan political stability and domestic peace, albeit harshly enforced, along with seclusion from Western and Christian influence. Isolation was not as extreme toward Korea and China, however. Ieyasu restored relations with Korea in 1609 and during the Tokugawa shogunate Korea sent twelve major missions (tsūshinshi) to Japan. Westerners, on the other hand, met harassment and were forbidden to take up permanent residence. Thus English traders who arrived in 1612 left in frustration in 1623, while the French established no trade links with Japan in this period.

After 1613, Buddhism—its martial monks now disarmed and so mostly harmless—was reestablished as the state religion, while ‘‘Kirishitan’’ (Japanese Christians) were sharply persecuted. In 1614 all Catholic clergy were expelled. In 1618 other Christian missionaries were killed or forced to leave. A ferocious persecution of Christianity followed, including a series of ‘‘seclusion decrees’’ passed from 1633 to 1641. These aimed at tightening control over the daimyo, among whom a handful were ‘‘Kirishitan,’’ and ending all Christian subversion of Japan’s putatively homogenous religious and social order. Under pressure from enforcement of anti-Christian edicts by the Tokugawa inquisition, the Kirishitan Shumon Aratame Yaku, in 1637–1638 the Kirishitan of Shimabara rebelled. Mostly converted peasants supported by a few samurai, and with some aid from Europeans in the area, they were brutally crushed: some 35,000 were butchered in their last stronghold at Hara Castle. With the rebellion ended, survivors went underground as Kakure Kirishitan (‘‘Hidden Christians’’). Western trade also fell away: England’s East India Company left in 1623, the Spanish were expelled in 1624, and the Portuguese were thrown out in 1639. That left only the Dutch Vereenigde Oostindische Compaagnie (VOC), and it was confined to the single entrepôt of Deshima. Chinese merchants were more welcome, but they too were controlled in their movements and trade. Additional ‘‘seclusion decrees’’ by Shogun Tokugawa Iyemitsu forbade any Japanese from leaving the home islands and enforced execution of all who returned from abroad, even shipwreck survivors. Shipbuilders were ordered not to construct vessels capable of ocean travel, trade with Europe was limited to regulated and authorized goods through Deshima, and all Korean and Chinese junks were directed to the confined port of Nagasaki. Korea retaliated by limiting Japanese traders to Pusan while China banned official trade with Japan, though an extensive private trade (smuggling) flourished that was permitted by the shoguns as a valued source of intelligence on the wider world.

There has been a fierce argument among military historians as to whether or not the Japanese ‘‘gave up the gun’’ during the long Tokugawa shogunate. At one level, they clearly did not: firearms were still produced in Japan and gun militia were maintained under strict shogunate and bakufu control. Yet, prohibitions on anyone other than samurai owning firearms (but also any other deadly weapon, including bows and swords) were enforced by occasional gun and ‘‘sword hunts’’ in the spirit of Hideyoshi’s 1588 decree banning ownership of military weapons by commoners. The main argument in favor of the ‘‘Japan gave up the gun’’ thesis is that after the isolated rebellion of 1637–1638 it saw no more battles for 200 years, not until 1837. But it would be more accurate to say that Japan gave up civil war rather than guns. Once Japanese made war again in the second half of the 19th century they took guns out of storage, bought modern models from the West, and took to battle again with real gusto.

Suggested Reading: W. G. Beasley, The Japanese Experience: A Short History of Japan (2000); J. Hall et al., eds., Japan before Tokugawa (1981); George Sansom, A History of Japan, 1334–1615 (1961); R. Toby, State and Diplomacy in Early Modern Japan (1984); Conrad Totman, Early Modern Japan (1993).

WWI Sniping I

Trench warfare and machine guns characterized World War I and stagnant positional warfare allowed sniping to flourish. This allowed for the periscope rifle, a modernization of the American Civil War concept, to flourish.

Australian Ion Idriess fought in Gallipoli as well as in the Middle East and this gave him an opportunity to use a periscope rifle, which he describes:

The opposing trenches are so close that the loopholes are useless to either side. Any loophole opened in daylight means an instant stream of bullets. So Jacko [slang for Turk soldier] uses his periscope rifle and we reply with ours. A periscope is an invention of ingenious simplicity, painstakingly thought out by man so that he can shoot the otherwise invisible fellow while remaining safely invisible himself. Attached to the rifle-butt is a short framework in which two small looking-glasses are inserted, one glass at such a height that it is looking above the sandbags while your head, as you peer into the lower glass, is a foot below the sandbags. The top glass reflects to the lower glass a view of the enemy trenches out over the top of the parapet. It is a cunning idea, simple and deadly…

The German firm Leitz received an order for 10,000 periscope rifle rests from the Prussian War Ministry. These were detachable units that could be used with the ordinary service rifle. They had a separate stock that held the periscope and was clamped onto the rifle stock. The periscope stock also had a trigger that was attached to a cable that ran up and through the framework and hooked onto the rifle’s trigger. Like its British and American counterparts, this invention allowed the soldier to safely aim and fire his rifle without exposing himself. Seeking to similarly equip its army but with domestically manufactured products, the Bavarian War Ministry ordered 2,500 rests from Bogen-Lampen und Apparate-Fabrik GmbH in Nuremburg. Initially mirrors were employed by Bogen-Lampen but as they tended to fog up, sealed periscopes were used in later models. Delivery was slow and by October 1917 only 432 had been received. U-boat periscopes were a higher priority for the firm. What ended the periscope rifle were unfavorable evaluations as well as troops’ complaints about the weight and unwieldiness. No further orders were made.

Captain Herbert McBride disliked the periscope rifle and complained, “The use of various skeleton mounts for rifles, by which the firer aims through a periscope and manipulates the rifle through a system of levers, never appealed to me. True, I sometimes used them, but never had much confidence as to my ability to hit anything …”

Other nations, including the French, Dutch, British and Americans, had their own variations. All shared in common the characteristic of being top heavy and awkward to use. The final German innovation was detachable radioactive glow-in-the-dark night sights that function like modern night sights. The rear sight unit had two horizontal bars between a V-notched peephole and the front sight a large luminous globe. Either unit could be attached or detached by turning a knob.


With the failure of Germany’s Schlieffen Plan and France’s Plan 17, the war on the Western Front degenerated into trench warfare. Appreciating the lessons of the Boer War and in response to good marksmanship exhibited by some British and French soldiers, the German Army wanted scoped rifles. It was assisted by the General German Hunting Association President, the Duke of Ratibor, who in January 1915 appealed for scoped rifles:

German hunters! You hunters in the homeland can and must help to defeat the enemy. The special conditions of trench warfare, which must be waged by our brave soldiers at short range on the western theatre, demand special weapons! A sure and quick effect against small, well covered individual targets must be heightened by particularly suitable weapons! These weapons, effective rifles with telescopic sights, are in your hands. On the request of the HIGH COMMAND and with consent of the WAR MINISTRY the FATHERLAND makes the following REQUEST: Increase your sacrifices! Give up your beloved weapons! Make your telescopic rifles available to our soldiers! Make the sacrifice that is not small for a true German hunter.

Over 20,000 hunting rifles were collected but after inspection many were unsuitable for the newer ethyl-alcohol-based propellant and spitzer bullet “S-Patrone” cartridge. The suitable rifles were marked with a “Z” on the butt and the unsuitable with a “M.” The “M” stood for the older ethyl-acetate propellant and roundnose bullet cartridge. Even the rifles that accepted the S-Patrone cartridge were not ideal since their shorter barrels recoiled more and had a larger muzzle blast that betrayed the shooter’s location. Until replacement rifles could be provided, they would have to do.

Starting in 1916 the hunting rifles were withdrawn from service and replaced with newly manufactured sniper rifles, the development of which began in 1914 under the Rifle Inspection Commission. With the exception of rifles made by Goerz, the Bavarian rifles generally had their scopes centerline with the bore whereas the Prussian-issued scopes were offset to the left to allow for loading via stripper clips. Bavarian scopes were 4×, had a vertical post and crosshair reticle and were adjustable from 200, 400 and 600 meters and the Prussian ones had a cross-hair reticle, 3× magnification with its wider field of view and adjustable in 100-meter increments from 100 to 1,000 meters. Each scope mounting system had its advantage and disadvantages. The rifles with offset scopes were difficult to aim through the small loophole of a shield. The centerline mounting system’s disadvantage was that the rifle could not be reloaded rapidly, the sniper had to dismount his scope in order to reload. As the war endured, the distinction diminished and the Prussians adopted the Bavarians centerline-bore-mounting system and the Bavarians for their part the Prussian cross-hair reticle.

Initially each company was issued three scoped rifles (four in the Bavarian Army). By February 1918 the Prussian War Ministry raised it to five per company. It was generally left to the company commander to determine who received them. Unfortunately, the rifles were issued to the soldiers with little training nor were there guidelines to the company officers who distributed them. Some soldiers had superior field craft because of their hunting background. Additionally the Bavarians had greater familiarity with scoped rifles, cared for them better and used them more effectively than the Prussians who lacked hunting experience. Captain Herbert McBride shared some insights into the German snipers’ skill:

And right here I want to say that, at the short ranges—up to three hundred, possibly four hundred, yards—those German snipers could shoot. I do not think they were much good at long range; in fact I doubt whether they often attempted any of what we would call long-range shooting. I know we showed ourselves, with impunity, at anything beyond six or seven hundred yards. Sometimes they would snipe at us with a 77 mm wiz bang, especially if there were more than two or three in the party, but, with the rifle, never. The greatest range at which I ever knew a German sniper to fire at any individual was about five hundred yards. This fellow did get Charlie Wendt; but, as he fired some fifteen or twenty shots at me while I was administering first aid to Charlie and trying to get him under cover, and never hit me …

British Empire

The onset of static trench warfare was followed by German snipers asserting their dominance. Reported losses of “five killed per week per battalion” were initially greeted with disbelief and later frustration. Major Frederick Crum, now of the 8/60, described their plight:

My first visit to the trenches left a lasting impression on me. … We went all round the trenches, noting the hundred and one points requiring attention; but the thing which haunted me steadily after my visit was that the Bosche was undoubtedly “top dog” in the matter of rifle-shooting. … At one point we crawled to an isolated trench, sniped at as we went, wherever the communication trench was exposed to view. Arrived there, we found the sniping particularly active. Bullets were ringing on an iron loophole plate our men had inserted in the parapet, and the tops of the sandbags were constantly being ripped open. The Colonel put his periscope up. It was shot at once, and he got a knock in the face. Covered with mud, he turned to his men and said: “We mustn’t let them have it all their own way.” But neither he nor I had any idea how the thing was to be stopped.

Initially the British gathered scoped rifles and, like the Germans, distributed them among the men who received neither instructions on sniping nor the care and use of scoped rifles. Major Hesketh-Prichard met one “sniper” who asserted being a dead shot at 600 yards. At Hesketh-Prichard’s suggestion, he fired at a German loophole and his bullet was seen to strike six feet to the left of it. “I questioned the sniper as to how much he knew about his weapon. It is no exaggeration to say that his knowledge was limited.” He added, “The men have no idea of concealment, and many of them are easy targets to the Hun sniper.”

While the British officers were pondering their next move, the 4th Gordon Highlanders had Sergeant John Keith Forbes training its sniping section. As a child, Forbes carried a telescope during his long hikes in the Scottish hills. He became adept in its use and was a keen observer. Forbes earned his M.A. at Aberdeen University and after becoming a teacher, enrolled into divinity school. War interrupted his studies and Forbes enlisted as a private with the 4th Gordon Highlanders. Sent to France in February 1915, his battalion served four months before being pulled back for a rest. During the rest Forbes was authorized to raise a sniper section of sixteen men. Drawing from the battalion’s best shots and most active men, he trained them in marksmanship, use of the telescope¸ observation, recognizing and describing targets. Forbes also exercised them to develop their eye for the land and in camouflaging their posts. Range estimation and stalking over open ground in snakelike fashion were honed to perfection and when the battalion returned to the front, Forbes’ men first neutralized and then dominated their German counterparts.

Being only a sergeant, Forbes’ activity was limited to his immediate battalion. At the corps level, I Corps’ Colonel Langford Lloyd began instructing snipers and he was soon joined by Hesketh-Prichard. Crum and some colleagues spent a day with 4th Gordon Highlanders’ Sergeant Forbes and Crum wrote, “from that time onward I was sniping mad.” In May 1916, Crum started his sniping school in the French town Acq. For field craft instructions, Crum drew from Sir Baden-Powell’s Boy Scouts Handbook and in the course of operating the school, published a manual, Scouting and Sniping in Trench Warfare. After a month, his school was closed (19 June) and one month later General Skinner invited Crum to Arras to be on his staff as officer in charge of the brigade’s snipers and Intelligence Section.

Not merely an instructor, Hesketh-Prichard was a practiced sniper:

There were no loopholes in our parapet, and a little watching showed that there was a Bosche sniper quite close. He had a little door he opened and shut, and the plate above was a decoy, and the only way to get him was over the parapet. So I gave him a cap and a stick, and he had a go at that and missed it, I think. I may be wrong, but I think they expected me to shoot over the parapet, but this I refused to do. Instead of having a false loophole put in, I pierced our parapet low down just at his angle of fire. Some day when his little door opens he will get a bullet through it. Patience, I must preach, and again patience. I am determined that no risks shall be taken that are avoidable; it is the only way. Then I found a goodish loophole further down, and, therefore, put [a shot] through a German shield without getting any reply. This was quite a safe shot.

Patience paid off and the next day Hesketh-Prichard bagged his man:

I killed that sniper at 11.25 today—very exciting. To continue from my last letter. They put in the loophole, and when I arrived the sniper Fritz had found it, and had blown it about. He had a telescopic sight, I am sure. He very nearly killed a sergeant who was looking through; another two inches would have done it. Well, it was impossible to shoot through the loophole, so I directed them to show a periscope near our loophole, while I went to the right, past the tree, and go up, and pressing my head against a sandbag, got a stick and shoved No.2 [plate] round till, with my head covered by No. 1 [plate], I got on to Fritz’s plate. The first shot hit it, and I fired two more. Then as it was raining, and for other reasons, I went to smoke a cigarette in a dugout. While doing this the sergeant reported that the Bosches were mounting the shield with a white sandbag. This was splendid. Meantime Fritz had shot twice more at the loophole, so I went to the same place as before, and when Fritz, who thought I thought he was behind the plate, shot, I shot also. The shot went right into his loophole, and after it no more reflection could be seen, nor did he shoot again.

WWI Sniping II

Sergeant Jack Winston, Canadian 19th Battalion, witnessed his lieutenant stalk and capture a German sniper:

Our lieutenant was looking hard across No Man’s Land through the trench periscope, and I wondered what was keeping him so long looking at a spot I thought we all knew by heart. He stood there perfectly immovable for at least fifteen minutes, while several star-shells, fired both from our own lines and the German trenches, flared and died. Finally he turned to me and whispered, “Jack, I do not remember that dead horse out there yesterday. Take a look and tell me if you remember seeing it before.” I looked at the spot indicated and sure enough there was a dead horse lying at the side of a shell-hole where I could have sworn there was nothing the day before.

I told the lieutenant I was sure that nothing had been there on the previous day and waited for further orders. German snipers had annoyed us considerably and as they took great pains in concealing their nests we had little success in stopping them. Several casualties had resulted from their activities. The lieutenant had evidently been thinking, while taking his long observation, for he said almost at once: “I believe that nag is a neat bit of camouflage. One of those Huns is probably hidden in that carcass to get a better shot at us.” He then told me to have the men at the portholes fire at the carcass, at five seconds intervals, to keep “Fritz,” if he were there, under cover—and taking advantage of the dark interval between the glare of the star-shells, he slipped “Over the top,” having told me he was going to get the Hun.

Imagine my suspense for the next half hour. I kept looking through the periscope but for the fully fifteen minutes but could not find my officer. Finally I spotted him sprawled out, apparently dead, as a star-shell lit up the ground within the range of my periscope. As no shot had been fired, except from our own portholes, I knew he was not as dead as he seemed. And sure enough when next I could make him out he was several yards ahead, and to the left, of the spot where I had last seen him. Then I knew what he was after. He was making a detour to approach the carcass from the rear, and as he could only move in the dark intervals between star-shells his progress was, of necessity, slow. At the end of another fifteen minutes I located him in a position, as nearly as I could judge, about ten yards in the rear and just a step to the left of the carcass.

Sergeant Winston assembled a patrol to help the lieutenant:

[W]e ran straight into the lieutenant who was driving the Hun before him at the muzzle of his automatic. We wasted no time on the return journey but hustled “Fritzie” along at a brisk pace… When we were all safe in the trench, the lieutenant called off the barrage and the enemy in our front was doubtless wondering what it was all about, until the sniper who, as the lieutenant surmised, was hidden in the camouflaged carcass, returned no more. The Lieutenant had arrived at a point about five paces behind the Hun before the sniper discovered him, and then had him covered with his automatic. Like most of his breed there was a wide “yellow streak” in this baby-killer and he cried “Kamerad” instantly. By the time the Lieutenant had secured his prisoner’s rifle our barrage was falling, and under its protection, he began his march back with the prisoner, and met us before he had gone twenty-five yards… The prisoner expected to be killed at once and begged piteously for his life, saying “he had a wife and three children.” One of the men replied that if he had his way he would make it a “widow and three orphans.” Needless to say he did not have his own way….

Another Canadian sniper matched wits with a Bavarian:

There was an old Bavarian sniper along this part of the front who had become famous for his killings. He had accounted for several officers in our brigade and the week before he came into this sector he killed a couple of our snipers of the 7th battalion. The post where they were killed had been given away by a new draft officer who did not understand what it meant to send his green men into a post of this kind, and having them banging and shooting at the landscape through it. I questioned this officer about it and he said the snipers did not use the post enough so he thought he was being efficient in sending men in there to shoot… The bullets that killed the two 7th Snipers came directly in through the loop hole[,] hit the timber and iron sheeting in the roof and glanced downward. This had been a good post and had been in use for a long time before the bright officer advertised it to the old Bavarian. This grizzled old Bavarian had been glimpsed on several occasions. He wore a beard appearing to be a man at least 50 years of age.

After the incident of the two 7th battalion snipers I quieted myself to the task of hunting for the old timer… I started out from our right flank into a maze of disused trenches that had changed hands several times and now were between the opening lines. They were filled with wire blockades or entanglements to prevent their use by either side in surprise attacks. … I worked my way forward cautiously till I thought I must be close to the enemy outpost positions. … When it was quite dark I caught a glimpse of a movement among that mess of wire. I did not make anything definite out of it that night. The following night I was back there again and set to watching that sag with its mess of wire coils. Dusk crept toward darkness and I was thinking about going in and calling it a day when there was a distant flare light. It lit up the skyline beyond that sag full of wire. There was the unmistakable outline of the head and shoulders of the old Bavarian. He had not taken the distant flares into account and he was outlined in a light that just enabled me to pick up the cross hair in the old Winchester A5 Scope. I fired before the light flickered and died out, then shifted my position off to one side[,] a bit of waiting for awhile to try to catch another glimpse of the spot by the aid of another distant flare. … I did get another glimpse across that sag full of wire. There was clear sky behind and I could not make out anything by the contour of the earth below. We never saw the old Bavarian sniper again, nor did I ever hear any more of him in the time we remained in the front.

To open the Dardanelles, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) landed at Gallipoli on April 25, 1915. Instead of advancing inland rapidly, they entrenched themselves in anticipation of a Turkish counterattack. The Turks also dug trenches and not having forgotten the lessons of centuries ago, began sniping at unwary ANZAC soldiers. As casualties mounted, reinforcements were needed and the Australian 5th Light Horse was called up and sent to Gallipoli where they fought as infantry.

Among the 5th Light Horse was Private William Edward Sing, better known as Billy. Being of both Chinese and English ancestry, he was ineligible for enlistment, as only men of European descent were qualified to enlist, but his origins were overlooked by the recruiting officer. Sing, after all, was an excellent horseman and the best shot in the Proserpine Rifle Club. Predictably Sing would be called upon to neutralize the Turkish snipers. Described as “a little chap, very dark, with jet-black moustache and a goatee beard,” Sing’s tally grew such that the Turks wanted him very badly. Ion Idriess recounted spotting for Sing:

He has a splendid telescope and through it I peered across at a distant loophole, just in time to see a Turkish face framed behind the loophole. He disappeared. A few minutes later, and part of his face appeared. That vanished. Five minutes later he would cautiously gaze from a side angle through the loophole. I could see his moustache, his eyebrows, and part of his forehead. He disappeared. Then he showed all his face and disappeared. He didn’t reappear again, though I kept turning the telescope back to his possy. At last, farther along the line, I spotted a man’s face framed enquiringly in a loophole. He stayed there. Billy fired. The Turk vanished instantly, but with the telescope I could partly see the motions of men inside the trench picking him up. So it was one more man to Billy’s tally.

As Sing’s fame spread, the Turks sent their best sniper, nicknamed Abdullah the Terrible by the Australians, to kill Sing. Sing got him first and went on to have over 160 confirmed kills as well as another 150 probables. After Gallipoli was evacuated, Sing transferred to the 31st Infantry Battalion and was sent to France. Wounded several times, Sing earned the Belgian Croix de Guerre. Postwar, Sing returned to Proserpine and died in 1943. Sing is interred at Lutwyche Cemetery, Brisbane and honored by Australia with a bronze statue of a sniper behind a sandbagged loophole in Hood’s Lagoon, Clermont.

An Ojibwa from Ontario, Canada, Francis Pegahmagabow was not formally trained as a sniper but his boyhood hunting and trapping experience was sufficient and he was near invisible as a sniper. Serving with Canada’s 23rd Northern Pioneers—which later merged with other units to become the 1st Battalion, Western Ontario Regiment—Pegahmagabow was the most accomplished sniper of World War I with 378 kills and over 300 captured. While he aspired to pen his memoirs, Pegahmagabow never did and we have but one statement that attests to his skill: “The best shot I ever made, about nine hundred yards away, long distance sniping. Man on horseback. Yes I got him.” He was one of only thirty-nine Canadian soldiers to receive the Military Medal with two bars.

United States

When the United States Army adopted the Warner & Swasey prismatic “Telescopic Musket Sight Model of 1908,” it was the first army in the world to adopt a scope sight. Having a short eye relief of only 1½ inches, this 6× scope had a rubber eyepiece; later eyepieces had airholes punched into them to prevent suction against the eye socket when the shooter lowered the rifle. The scope base was soldered onto the rifle and added 2¼ pounds to the total weight of the gun. It was succeeded in 1913 by the Model 1913 which reduced the magnification to 5.2×. The locking nut was changed for the elevation knob and a clamping screw was added to the eyepiece adjustment knob. The Model 1913 was adopted by Canada and one mounted on a Ross rifle is displayed at Quebec’s Museé Royal 22nd Regiment.

America’s late entry into the war meant it could benefit from Canadian and British experience and the first American sniping manual was directly copied from Crum’s manual. Besides the Warner & Swasey scope, equipment included the Winchester A-5 5× scope that was unique in having a tube bored from round stock. It had a simple crosshair reticle but others were available. It was unique in its time in having a groove milled on the underside of the tube. A spring-loaded plunger engaged the groove and prevented any rotation of the scope body while simultaneously allowing the scope body to move laterally. Not having internally adjustable reticle, the rear scope mount had micrometer dials for windage and elevation adjustment. Installation of the scope bases required drilling two holes in the receiver as well as two in the barrel. Criticisms against the Winchester A-5 included its high magnification with its small field of view, making target acquisition slow. The 6-inch space between the mounts meant the scope was not well supported and the scope had to be pushed forward of its firing position before the bolt could be operated. Afterward it had to be pulled back so it could be used. The narrowness of the ocular lens made it useless in poor light. Originally rejected in 1915, it was adopted in 1918 as an emergency measure. In Marine hands, the Winchesters A-5 scopes served as late as the campaign on Guadalcanal in World War II. It was also adopted in 1918 by the British and Canadians, who were desperate to catch up with the Germans and installed them on the Ross rifle and the Short Magazine Lee Enfield Mark III (abbreviated as SMLE Mark III).

Not all Americans were trained by British or Canadian instructors and Private Al Barker, 5th Marines, became a sniper without any training:

I was selected as a sniper with a few others. … I climbed a tall tree near as possible to the German trenches and stationed myself there very comfortably. We could see the Germans setting machine guns in position to be used against our forces. We both had our rifles and plenty of ammunition, so we began to pick off the men who were operating the machine guns. … We succeeded in putting four of these guns out of commission when we were discovered by German snipers. I received a bullet wound in my knee and fell twenty feet to the ground. …

The most notable American sniper fought under Canadian colors. Eager to get into the fight, Herbert McBride resigned his captaincy in the Indiana National Guard and crossed the border where he was gazetted to the 38th Battalion as a captain. As the 38th was not yet mobilized, McBride was assigned to instruct musketry to the 21st Battalion. While there, he learned that the 38th was being sent to France first and resigned his commission to become a private in the Machine Gun Section. McBride attended a sniping school near LaClytte and was issued a Ross rifle with a Warner & Swasey scope.

After sighting it in, McBride selected an observer who was not only a good companion but had keen eyesight:

Early one morning Bou and I were stretched out in our little hole, he with the big telescope and I with my binoculars, scrutinizing the German line, about five hundred yards away. Suddenly the Kid says, “There he is, Mac, right in front of that big tree just to the right of No. 4 post, see him?” I shifted my glasses a little and, sure enough; there was a man, evidently an officer, at the point he mentioned, standing upright, with a big tree behind him, and looking out over our lines through his glasses. Only the kid’s keen eyesight discovered that fellow. I had passed him over several times, but, when my attention was called to it, I saw him quite plainly— through my glasses. When I tried to pick him up through the sight, however, I had considerable difficulty in locating him, but, finally, by noting certain prominent features of the surrounding background, I managed to find the right tree and got him centered in sight and cut loose. I got him.

On Christmas Eve an officer believed the Germans would not fire on stretcher parties and that it was safe to move in the open. As they crossed, an unseen German shot down one stretcher bearer, then another and finally the officer who was rendering aid to a stretcher bearer. McBride observed the shot and determined it came from a tree top in the woods behind the German line. Unsure which tree concealed the sniper, McBride opened with his machine gun. Other machine guns joined in as did an artillery battery. It is unclear who was responsible for dropping the German, but that he was killed was all that mattered.

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By war’s end, all major powers practiced sniping and the British sniping effort reduced British losses to “only forty-four in three months for sixty battalions; that means in three months … [a saving of] 3,500 lives.” The Germans lost their initial advantage and Crum described the success of British sniping: “It was sometimes enough to kill a single really troublesome Hun sniper to secure complete moral superiority. In one sector, I remember, on our arrival, it was unsafe to show your little finger. When we came away, three weeks later, I saw one of our men coolly lathering his face in full view as he did his morning shave.” Postwar, sniping was forgotten and overshadowed by emerging technology like aeroplanes, submarines and tanks.