Parker Gun Collectors Association Forums

The day had been a damp one with a misty on and off rain and as dusk gave way to night there was an eerie silence as if nature had been switched off.
Luke had been on the hunt of his life for six weeks. He knew his prey intimately, where he bedded, travel routes, his track, what he ate and where he ate it. He was playing the supreme chess game with an apex predator. His diligent reconnaissance told him that his target would come through a narrow gap in the forest with in the next few days.

This wasn't Luke's native Arkansas he was on hill 143 in Long Khanh province and he was hunting a NVA sniper who was credited with the loss of 50 US soldiers. Nguyen Dinh Giap was a cruel and ruthless enemy who would shoot not to kill but to wound and then torture to the point where death was a welcome relief to his victim.

It was the second night when out of the darkness like a ghostly wraith 300 meters out the enemy appeared through the mist and rain. Luke had taken a well camouflaged position on a knoll with a good vantage point. He had excavated the top of the knoll so he could lie prone but not be above the small ridge he lying on. The enemy moved quietly one step at a time then stop looking for danger. He wasn't using the trail but was some 30 meters off it. Using trails would get you killed. Luke had a rock solid rest and the Winchester M70 Bull Gun in 300 H&H was topped with an 8X Unertel scope. He let his target advance 50 meters and settled the cross hairs center mass. He took a deep breath and let half out and between heart beats squeezed the trigger. The still air was ripped apart by the sharp crack of the rifle and the muzzle flash temporarily robbed Luke of his night vision but the sound of a 180 grain soft point meeting flesh was a satisfying one.

Luke remained silent and still as the shot might have been heard by roving patrols. As daylight fought it's way into the eastern sky Luke went to his kill and took the left ear as proof. This was a rather macabre practice he started when a second lieutenant fresh from West Point and in country less than a month denied credit for a kill because "he" thought the shot described was to improbable.

Luke was 10 months into his second tour when this incident occurred and it really got him to thinking how it could have very well gone the other way and the horror he would have endured if it did. He had a decision to make as his reenlistment was coming up. He liked his job , he liked it a lot....maybe to much.

Luke took his discharge and the GI Bill and headed to college. His military service taught him a lot about himself and he knew he wasn't cut out for a desk job, he needed to be free. At an early age his father taught him how to trap rabbits, track a deer and set a trot line. These skills had served him well in the Army and he loved the outdoors. He enrolled in the Forestry program and emerced himself in his studies. He was older than most of the students due to his military service and he let his hair grow more to fit in than anything else, just another form of camouflage. He paid no attention to the hippie protesters who ran off at the mouth about things they knew nothing of. He was quiet and unassuming keeping to himself.

After college the search for a job was an arduous one. He applied to paper companies, the U.S. Forrest Service, state governments anywhere and everywhere that a forester would be needed. The rejection slips were a common occurrence each day in the mail. One day a letter came from the state of Michigan. There was an opening in the Upper Peninsula in a town called Iron River. It took a while to find Iron River on the map, a small dot in the western portion of the Upper Peninsula. An appointment was set for the interview.

It took three days for him to drive there from his Arkansas home. The trip across the Mackinaw bridge was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. There is a magic about the U.P. , time seems to slow down and maybe even go a little backwards. As Luke took in the sights he marveled at the vastness of the country. Once past Escanaba and he headed north west things got more remote by the mile. The people were friendly and he would stop and chat when he got gas or a meal. His southern drawl and the Finnish accent of the Yoopers caused some misunderstanding but it all seemed to work out.

Luke got the job and settled into his new surroundings. One of his duties was meeting with the local loggers and being a liaison between them and the state. One of these loggers was Jerry Champion. Champion Forrest products was the largest operation in three counties and barely a stick of wood moved from Iron County that they didn't cut, skid or truck. Jerry was a real outdorsman and they became good friends.

Luke bumped into Jerry at the Holiday station one afternoon and inquired if he was looking at the log job at the 9 mile marker on The Grade. Jerry was puzzled because he didn't see anyone while he was cruising the job. " I was up there a couple of days ago but I didn't see you". "Oh I was there yesterday" replied Luke. Jerry was confused as how Luke knew he was there when Luke told him "I saw your tracks, you favor your left leg and drag your right heel a bit". This was a fact the result of a car accident when Jerry was a small child and things didn't heal just right.

It was three days before Thanksgiving and Luke was beginning breakfast when there was a knock on the door. It was Jerry. "I shot a nice buck last night but lost the track can you please help me"? Luke turned off the stove, put on his boots and they headed to the woods. Jerry wanted to go to where he had lost the track the night before but Luke had him take him to where he first shot the deer. Luke got as detailed description of the events as he could from Jerry and took up the track. When they got to the place Jerry had lost the track Jerry headed up the trail looking for sign but Luke called him back. "He didn't go that way, he's hurt and won't go uphill". "He will stay at the bottom and work around the edge of this beaver dam". It took over an hour to cover 100 yards when Luke said "There's your deer". Jerry couldn't see it at all. "He's 40 yards away behind that deadfall" but Jerry still couldn't see it. "Don't look for the deer" replied Luke. "See the dead branches there gray but there is a white one sticking out see it?" "Thats an antler tine not a branch". They made a cautious approach but the buck had succumbed to the shot which was just a little to far back but managed to nick a lung.

The buck was a dandy 8 point and Jerry was extremely grateful for the help in its recovery. He invited Luke to Thanksgiving dinner as after all without his help there would be no roast venison.

At dinner Jerry was introduced to two things that would change him forever. One was the kennel of German Shorthair Pointers. Jerry was a devoted Grouse hunter and although Luke had given up hunting after the military he was fascinated by the tales of hunting with the dogs Jerry told. When he was a kid growing up he never had a dog. They were poor and his dad wasn't about to feed an animal they weren't going to eat. The other change came in the form of Martha, Jerry's daughter. Luke had never seen more beauty in his life and was in love at first sight. She was 5ft 8 inches of perfection and he had a hard time taking his eyes off her. She was divorced with two young boys ages 4 and 6.

Luke and Martha struck up a relationship that blossomed like the spring flowers. The following fall Jerry introduced Luke to bird hunting. He let him use an old Parker Trojan 12ga. It originally had 30 inch barrels but Jerry cut then to 25 when after the first bird he shot was pulverized by the tight chokes.

For the second time in his life Luke was in love this time with the dogs and the Parker. He marveled at how they worked into the wind and found Grouse and Woodcock and how Jerry and the dogs worked as a team one dependent on the other.

A year or so passed and Luke and Martha were married and bought a small house over looking Hemlock creek. Luke would sit on the porch during the evenings and enjoy a good cigar and a whiskey. Martha was pregnant with their first child and the boys were happy and content. His mind would wonder to that shot he took so long ago and what could have been. He harbored no regrets, no guilt he had a job to do and he saved lives but it came at a price.

He was blessed with the way his life turned out and well aware of how it might have been.