MONTANA UNLIMITED BIGHORN DISTRICT 300 SOLO

 Up where the billy goats screw the eagles.

After more than a quarter century of unsuccessfully attempting to draw a Montana Special Tag (moose, goat, sheep) and acquiring the accompanying collection of apparently useless “Bonus Points”, I broke down and did an unlimited bighorn sheep hunt this year just so I could say I at least got to hunt one.

Montana’s five “unlimited” bighorn sheep districts represent the only chance in the Continental US to simply purchase rather than draw a sheep tag. This opportunity exists only because the districts in question are in some of the roughest, steepest and most isolated grizzly-infested wilderness areas in the nation outside of Alaska. Outdoor Life once called this the toughest hunt in the country.  

I solo scouted and hunted District #300 up Tom Miner Basin which, unlike the other unlimited districts, has an early hunting season running the first ten days of September. I went northwest of the main drainage to avoid what I found out in 2016 was a bit of a circus further south along the Yellowstone National Park boundary line. I did come down out of the hills twice to take a day off, rejuvenate and eat like a starving bear. I took in a food cache with my pack goats on my last scouting trip and while hunting packed as light as humanly possible. It would have been too light if it had been colder but we were blessed with good weather that allowed me to just sleep out under the stars. I managed to waddle around up in the high country pretty well for a fat guy over fifty with a long list of injuries, but the furthest distance I went in one day was only four miles and even then the goats had to schlep all the weight. Normally I didn’t cover more than a mile or two when I did move camp. I had tried to get in condition with mountain hikes all summer but should have tried much harder. Some of the slopes kicked my butt physically but I still had a ball.

Quite a few years, pounds and miles have passed since I last spent much time above timberline. With the cool, clear air, high viewpoints and seemingly endless vistas it’s kind of magical up there. Even crusty old Elmer Keith felt it and waxed poetic about the high country.

“Have you ever seen a mature bighorn ram silhouetted on the sky line of his rugged domain? If so, then you know that no word picture can ever quite do him justice. Ranging at or above timberline, no other animal so typifies, or is so symbolic of, the rugged grandeur of the lofty snow-covered peaks, beautiful glacier-fed lakes and alpine meadows of the Rocky Mountain chain. Some of the wildest, roughest and most beautiful country that God ever made.”

I put in many hours of glassing with high quality Swarovski binos and spotting scope but still only saw four other hunters off in the distance the entire trip. I actually glassed sheep every morning and/or evening, spotting them anywhere from the thick timber way down below the cliffs to the very tops of the peaks and ridges. Of course, every last one of them was a ewe, lamb or juvenile. I never did see a mature ram the whole time despite all the intense glassing.

 Mostly below me there were tons of wapiti full in the rut everywhere I went, including a 5-point and his harem way the hell up on South Twin Peak (10,181 feet) just below the communication site one morning. One night with a good moon I slept atop a knife ridge and had bulls bugling away on either side of me most of the night. I saw some mountain goats most days as well, from loners up to one bunch of nine, but I only saw one or two stray mulies per day up that high. The only grizzly I saw was better than two miles away and at least 2,000 feet below me on Rock Creek. I never even saw any fresh grizzly sign up high; they all seemed to be down low in the main creek bottoms going after the berries and chokecherries. Other than learning some of the country much better and finding out where the rams were not, I did recall some old and/or re-learn a few new mountain hunting lessons.

1. A Forest Service road listed as a “Dirt Road Suitable For Passenger Cars” actually requires a high-clearance, armored and fully-tracked “passenger car” along the lines of an M113 Armored Personnel Carrier. I bottomed out my F-150’s work duty suspension and hit the frame on more than one occasion and I’m pretty sure I was throwing up a good bow wave with my bumper in one particular mudhole. I used the granny low side of the transmission both up and downhill just to keep my pace down to a slow enough crawl that I didn’t rattle the fillings out of my teeth. A saw and a tow chain came in handy on a couple of particularly big blow-downs.
   
2. Good boots are priceless: They were rather heavy, since they say one pound on the foot equals four pounds in the pack, but I did good with some seemingly indestructible all-leather Austrian Army surplus mountain troop (Gebirgsjaeger) boots.
   
   
   

   All my wife got out of this picture was that I hadn't worn matching socks.

   
   
3. Slow and Steady. I learned a long time ago to sidehill back and forth up steep slopes and to proceed slowly with short steps, just so long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other. And it’s often better to take the long way around the head of a drainage following the contour lines than lose and regain all that altitude dropping down to cross it. Once you gain the top of a ridge stay with it as long as you can.
   
4. Walking stick(s)/Trekking Pole(s): I don’t know how I managed to ever get along without these for the first forty years. I think they reduce fatigue a great deal simply by helping you keep your balance. And my wife used hers as a dandy bipod when she filled her ewe tag over by Anaconda about ten years back.
   
5. Never miss a chance to fill your water bottles whenever you come across any water source. They are few and far between up high and it can be a real balancing act when it comes to carrying enough water without adding too much weight. I wound up lugging a gallon in three canteens…that’s 8 pounds in case you were wondering. I carry an old folding handle USGI canteen cup, too; it comes in handy for dipping out of tiny rivulets too small to submerge a water bottle in. I brought powdered Gatorade mix and drank one quart of that for every two quarts of water. On one scouting trip I got water from a big snowbank tucked into a hollow high on a north-facing slope…ten days later while I was hunting it was all gone. On another scout I filled water bottles directly from a beautiful tiny spring in a small meadow at the edge of the whitebark pines; a week later, it was one big muddy reeking elk wallow that plugged my filter.
   
   
   
   
   

   Never miss a chance to fill up with water in the high country.

6. It’s colder than you think. On average, you lose 3-5 degrees of air temperature for every thousand feet in elevation gain. In very dry air, and we often have extremely low humidity in August and September, the temperature can drop as much as one degree for every 150 feet of elevation gain. When you get up to elevations approaching 10,000 feet, on a bright, sunny day the air temperature in the sun versus the air temperature in the shade can vary by as much as forty degrees. The clear air up high undergoes both rapid heating and cooling; as soon as the sun dips down behind a peak to the west, one immediately feels the heat loss. Winds are common in the mountains as well, adding the effect of wind chill. I always carry a Gore-Tex jacket in my fanny pack. When you stop hiking and start glassing on some high point, the wind may get to you quickly. In such cases I don the Gore-Tex mainly as a windproof layer as well as a shell to hold in body heat. In some cases, if it’s warm and you’ve worked up a good sweat hiking in, it’s worth the effort to strip down and change into a fresh, dry base layer. I usually use Under Armor as a base layer. Despite the very good weather, on some exposed points in the evenings I had to add a vest, stocking cap and wool gloves.
   
   
   
   
   
   

    Pack light, freeze at night.

Sunscreen and chapstick are two other good items to have, and maybe a hat with a broad brim. I live at 5,500 feet and am out in the sun all summer and I still got some sunburn on my face and arms.

I have to put back in a drawing for a limited bighorn district next year or lose all those valuable bonus points which have yet to do me any good but I plan on doing the #300 unlimited again in 2020, the Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise. I will, however, be doing many, many more pre-season conditioning hikes prior to the next go-round. The better shape you’re in, the more you’ll enjoy it. 

CONSEQUENCES OF GLOBAL WARMING

College Millennials on 80's Action Movies

Here at das blog we are always trying to advance the social sciences. To that end we recently used our huge budget to conduct an experiment. We screened several classic 1980's action movies for some millennials at a local liberal arts college not far from the blog's Eastern Command Bunker. We then asked these sheltered young commie snowflakes for their summaries of the movies. Here's a few of their answers:

Die Hard: "A white male cop engages in police brutality against a diverse group of immigrants seeking economic opportunity in America."

Predator: "A white male neo-Nazi type beats and bullies an undocumented immigrant until it eventually kills itself."

Lethal Weapon 2: "A white male... and black... cop violently harass a group of AFRICANS... who are white supremacists?!"  (Millennial's head suddenly explodes.)

It's alright kids. Go watch "The Social Network" and "High School Musical." You'll be okay.

RIFLEMEN VS WARSHIPS REDUEX: SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND, 1982

Eight hundred miles from the Falkland Islands and roughly the same distance from the Antarctic Circle, South Georgia Island is a desolate, isolated and wind-swept spit of rock, snow and glaciers some one hundred miles in length. Even during the height of the Antarctic summer, from January to March, the average high temperatures never even manage to reach fifty degrees Fahrenheit. During the depths of the Antarctic winter in June, it receives only 12 hours of sunshine for the month. The vast majority of the island is covered with steep, rugged mountains whose peaks rise up to 2,000 meters (6,562 feet) above sea level and remain perpetually shrouded in winter beneath an eternal blanket of permanent snow fields, ice caps and glaciers. The topography is slashed and crumpled by deep, twisting stone gorges whose bottoms have never seen the light of day beneath the numerous glaciers…roughly 160 of them…that fill the mountain valleys. In summer, the snow line only retreats to around 300 meters (984 feet). No trees or even small shrubs can manage to survive in the rocky soil of this polar tundra, only a few species of grasses, rushes and sedges. The majority of the plant life consists of various mosses, lichen and liverworts that grow low and cling to the very rock itself. 

 Grytviken, the only human habitation on South Georgia Island in 1982, seemed an unlikely prize over which two world powers would go to war over.

It’s only industry, a whaling station, closed in 1966. In 1982, the resident population of penguins out-numbers the human inhabitants by a ratio of perhaps tens of thousands to one and the only real settlements were the tiny town of Grytviken, with ten year-round residents, and a British Antarctic Research Station, two handfuls of buildings huddled along the shores of King Edward Bay. It seemed a rather unlikely place to fight, let alone start, a war, but that is exactly what happened. What may or may not have been a simple misunderstanding by an Argentine salvage crew who came to dismantle some of the derelict whaling station soon escalated into the Falklands War. The salvage crew, which included some Argentine Marines dressed as civilians, landed at Leith Harbor on 19 March 1982 and promptly raised the Argentine flag. The leader of the British Antarctic Survey team, on instructions from London, demanded that the Argentine party lower their flag, depart, and check in with official British government representatives in the Falklands proper. The Argentinians did lower the flag but refused to leave.

The only Royal Navy presence in the South Atlantic at the time was the HMS Endurance, a fifteen-year-old 3,600-ton icebreaker whose bright red hull led to her being nicknamed the Red Plum. She was hardly a warship, mounting only two 20-mm Oerlikon anti-aircraft cannon, but her two small 1960’s vintage Westland Wasp helicopters proved deadly later in the conflict when they helped disable the Argentine Navy submarine ARA Santa Fe with hits from their 1950’s-vintage AS.12 anti-ship missiles.

Receiving word of the situation on South George Island, Endurance sailed from the Falklands with her contingent of 22 Royal Marines under the command of 22-year-old Lieutenant Mills. Before landing the Marines, the ship’s long serving career Captain Nick Barker cautioned Lt. Mills. “In three weeks time this place is going to be surrounded by tall gray ships, but we are not going to be able to help you if you’re dead.” In case of Argentina landing military forces, the Marines’ job was to put up “enough of a show” to make the Argentineans use force but not to get men killed needlessly. Barker opined that half an hour’s resistance should be sufficient to satisfy British honor. But as Mills went down the gangplank, he was supposedly overhead to say to one of the ship’s crewmen, “Fuck half an hour; I’m going to make their eyes water.”

 It was significant that the 22-man British Royal Marine garrison on South George Island was armed entirely with 7.62x51mm NATO rifles and machine guns.

The British Royal Marine contingent on South Falkland Island, all 20-odd of them, were armed primarily with L1A1 SLRs, the British version of the Fabrique Nationale (FN) FAL, a 7.62x51mm battle rifle used by 90 nations (including Argentina) around the world during the Cold War. Some say the Argentine troops had the advantage since their FAL rifles were capable of full automatic fire while the British SLR was semi-automatic only, but with the 7.62x51mm cartridge’s recoil, shoulder-fired full-auto fire from an FAL is of dubious value except at rock-throwing distances. One man, Command Sergeant Major Peter Leach, was a crack shot trained as a sniper and had an L42A1, a sniper version of the venerable Short Magazine Lee-Enfield bolt-action rifle, converted to 7.62 NATO and fitted with an L1A1 telescopic sight, basically the old No. 32 3.5x scope retro-fitted with a thousand meter bullet-drop compensator calibrated for the trajectory of the new caliber in 50-meter increments.

They were well provided with crew-served weapons since the Royal Marines had only recently decided to supplement the single General Purpose Machine Gun in each rifle squad with an additional light machine gun. Thus Mills’ force had two L7A2 “Gimpy” GPMGs and two L4A4 Brens, bipod-mounted LMGs converted to fire 7.62x51mm ammunition fed from a top-mounted 30-round magazine. The solid and reliable belt-fed GPMG could be fired from either its own integral folding bipod or from a tripod, the latter often used in conjunction with a telescopic sight. It was essentially a license-built version of the Belgian FN MAG-58 that has been used by some 75 nations around the globe since its introduction in 1958. After a few decades of trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, even the US Army finally dumped the old M-60 “Pig” and adopted the MAG-58 in the form of the M240B. 

Although the Royal Marines apparently lacked any armor-piercing ammunition, the standard British L2A2 7.62x51mm NATO ball round proved capable of doing considerable damage to aircraft and ships.

All the British small arms fired the 7.62x51mm NATO cartridge, essentially the same as the .308 Winchester. If the British possessed any armor piercing ammunition it must have been in small quantities and I have never found any reference to any being issued or used. The standard British 7.62mm service load was the L2A2 cartridge, firing 144-grain boat-tailed full metal jacket or “ball” bullets at a muzzle velocity of 2,750 feet per second. An “Old School” recipe dating back to the 1950’s, these projectiles consist of a soft lead core surrounded by a gilding copper jacket and are intended primarily for anti-personnel use. Even so, the standard ball projectile is still capable of penetrating ¼-inch of sheet steel at 300 yards, the old “steel pot”-style army helmet at 400 yards, and a 3.45mm NATO standard steel plate at 620 meters.

         

The Marines’ only “heavy” weapon was one Swedish-designed 84-mm Carl Gustav recoilless rifle, commonly called the “Charley G” in British service. With an empty weight of over 31 pounds and each round of ammunition adding an additional 5.7 pounds of weight, the Charley G gunner’s slot was not a coveted position in the infantry. The weapon was, however, and effective bunker buster and its 1982-issue 84mm 3.75-pound shaped charge High Explosive Anti-Tank warhead was capable of punching through nearly 16 inches of main battle tank armor.

They also had a few American-designed LAWS rockets, essentially collapsible lightweight throw-away one-shot bazookas. In fact, the LAWS rocket’s 66-mm warhead was the same diameter as the WWII-vintage 2.36-inch bazooka. Capable of penetrating up to 100 mm of armor plate, the 2.36-inch bazooka was a wonder weapon in 1942, but by 1944 it was proving ineffective against the new generations of German tanks and during the opening weeks of the Korean War in 1950 it was essentially useless against the North Korean Soviet-made T-34-85 medium tanks. Emergency supplies of the new 3.5-inch “Super Bazooka”, with its 90-mm warhead and 250 mm of armor penetration, had to be flown in directly from the Continental US. Yet when the US Army adopted the LAWS, it went back to a 66-mm warhead. The weapon proved quite useful against enemy field fortifications but on the few occasions it was actually used as an anti-tank weapon it failed, even against the thinnest-skinned armored vehicles in the Soviet arsenal, the PT-76 amphibious light tanks encountered in Vietnam.

The Argentines had earlier landed a small, mixed ground force of Marines and sailors thrown together at the last moment, but the main South Georgia invasion force was Task Force 60.1 under the overall command of Captain Carlos Trombetta. It consisted of the Argentine Ice Patrol Ship ARA Bahia Paraiso, which transported a detachment of Marines and a 15-man team of special naval commandos under Lieutenant Commander Alfredo Astiz. This vessel was escorted and supported by the corvette ARA Guerrico. The two vessels also carried at least one (some sources claim two) Argentine Navy Aérospatiale Alouette III light helicopter and a larger, heavier Argentina Army Aérospatiale SA 330 Puma.

Argentine Navy Corvette ARA Guerrico; not the kind of target ordinarily engaged by infantry.

The ARA Guerrico (P-32) was a thoroughly modern warship only five years old at the time of the Falklands War. A French-built Type A69 Drummond-class corvette, she carried a crew of 84 men, was 260-feet long and displaced 1,320 tons fully loaded. Twin screws each powered by a SEMT Pielstick Diesel engine could drive her through the water at a top speed of 23.3 knots and she carried enough fuel to have a range of 4,500 nautical miles. On her foredeck she was armed with a single turret mounting a 100-mm dual purpose gun and she also carried two triple-tube torpedo launchers, depth charges, a 40-mm Bofors anti-aircraft cannon, two 20-mm Oerlikon AA guns, and a pair of Browning .50-caliber heavy machine guns. In the eyes of naval authorities around the world, however, her real firepower came in the form of her four rocket launchers, each of which contained a French-made MM38 Exocet guided anti-ship missile.

But she carried essentially no armor. Much of her superstructure, in fact, was constructed of aluminum to save weight. The Fletcher-class destroyers the US Navy entered the Second World War with carried ½ to ¾ of an inch of armor and they were still quite realistically called and considered “tin cans.” Modern warships, however, carry very little, if any, armor. This would be a crucial factor in the highly unusual “naval” battle that occurred.

The Argentine Marines were armed very much the same as the British, with FN FAL rifles and bipod-mounted heavy-barreled FN FALO versions of the same, which served as squad automatic weapons, as well as their own GPMG FN MAG-58s and they also landed a mortar crew with a light 60-mm mortar. The plan called for landing the Marines by helicopter rather than by small boat.

When the ships appeared, Lieutenant Mills had walked down to the jetty to inform the Argentineans that if they tried to land troops they would be resisted. The first lift of Argentine troops aboard the Alouette thus landed unscathed nearby as the British Marines initially hesitated to fire without direct orders what could very well be the shots that would ignite a war. Then the Argentine Marines open small arms fire on Mills, who sprinted back to his platoon’s entrenchments.

A few minutes later, the second Argentine lift arrived in the larger SA 330 Puma, carrying fifteen more Marines. As the big helicopter flared and hovered to land about twenty feet above the helipad at the Antarctic Research Station directly in front of the British field fortifications, Lieutenant Mills shouted out the command to, “FIRE!” One Royal Marine fired a LAW, but it missed. But numerous semi-automatic rifles and four machine guns poured out a hail of 7.62x51mm fire and at least 500 rounds perforated the helicopter within the first few seconds of fire being opened. Inside the Puma, the control panel blazed with red lights and warning alarms rasped in the earphones as hydraulic fluid sprayed throughout the interior, mingling with the blood of six wounded Marines, two of whom would die from wounds received within minutes.

Fortunately for the Argentine Marines, the man at the controls, Lieutenant Alejandro Villagra, proved to be a superb pilot with quick reflexes. He instantly dipped the Puma’s nose down and fought for speed and altitude as he limped the smoking, shuddering bird across the cove and out of range of the British guns. Even as the last of the riddled hydraulic system failed for good and the bird began to die, Lt. Villagra managed to set the crippled Puma down almost gently in a forced landing on the far side of the bay. With a lesser pilot at the helm, all eighteen men in the Puma could have been killed when the bird crashed.

Although heavily damaged by hits from some five hundred 7.62x51mm bullets, Lieutenant Alejandro Villagra managed to safely land this riddled Aérospatiale Puma out of range of British fire.

A little over a month later, Argentine troops would do much the same. When the British made their amphibious landing at San Carlos Water to re-take the Falklands on 21 May 1982, a small detachment of about forty Argentine troops, again armed entirely with 7.62x51mm small arms, in short order shot down not one but two British Gazelle helicopters that overflew their positions.

Having determined there was an apparently sizeable British ground force on South George determined to fight it out, the Argentine Marines from the first lift called for naval gunfire support from ARA Guerrico. An experienced career naval officer who had attended the Argentine Naval Academy, Captain Carlos Luís Alfonso responded immediately but as the corvette entered the bay she had to greatly reduce speed to avoid the semi-submerged and hard-to-see beds of thick kelp that grew in the restricted waters. Shallow shoals on either side of the main ship channel also restricted the vessel’s route. Even so, it was expected that the mere presence of the corvette, dominating the bay with its heavy guns, would be sufficient to secure the surrender of the British defenders ashore. After all, what lowly foot soldiers in their right minds would attempt to slug things out with small arms against a modern naval warship?

At 11:55 the first naval gun opened up on the British Marines when Guerrico’s starboard Oerlikon 20-mm automatic cannon cut loose. One of the most widely-used light anti-aircraft guns of the Second World War, the Oerlikon L85 should have been able to sweep the British shore positions with an entire 60-round drum of 20x128mm High Explosive shells. This particular weapon, however, fired only twice before it malfunctioned and ceased fire.

Almost a minute later, the twin Bofors guns mounted directly aft the bridge came to bear. These Swedish-designed L60 guns were supposed to belt out 2-pound 40-mm High Explosive shells at a rate of 120 rounds per minute from each barrel, but the Bofors crew didn’t do much better than the Oerlikon gunner. The left barrel spat out four HE shells before it jammed and the right gun got off only five shots before its extractor broke.

At 11:59, with the Guerrico approximately 550 meters off the point, Lt. Mills ordered his Marines to open fire on the ship. They did so immediately and with great enthusiasm; even half a klick away, they could clearly hear the ringing cracks and pings of their 7.62mm bullets striking the ship. On the ship’s bridge the starboard windows were shattered by bullets and the walls of the adjacent radio room were perforated. In the 40-mm gun tub amidships, Petty Officer Patricio Guanca and his gun crew were huddled around the twin Bofors guns desperately working to get the malfunctioning weapons back into action. Royal Marine machine gunner Steve Parsons opened up with his Bren gun and, once on target, emptied the top-mounted 30-round magazine into their midst. Petty Officer Guanca was killed instantly, with two more of the gun crew wounded, and everyone had to sprawl flat on the deck to avoid more fire.

Up on the bow, the turret-mounted French modèle 68 100-mm L/55 automatic multi-purpose main gun opened fire and lobbed a single 30-pound HE shell at the Brits before it packed up as well. Having ploughed through staggering waves during a storm in the notoriously rough South Atlantic seas en route to South Georgia, the complex automatic loading system for the ship’s main gun had become encrusted with sea salt deposits and the crew had not had the time to completely disassemble and clean it before the Guerrico went into action. While the crew was clearing the jammed loader, a Royal Marine fired a LAWS rocket that scored an incredibly lucky hit to the turret itself, jamming the 100-mm gun’s elevation gear in place.

The Swedish-designed Carl Gustav 84-mm recoilless rifle made its debut as an anti-ship weapon during the Falklands War.

Lastly, Royal Marine Dave Combes, in peacetime the steward aboard the Endurance, took aim through the 2x sight of his Carl Gustav recoilless rifle and fired at the corvette. The 84-mm rocket, staggering away at a velocity of only a thousand feet per second, actually skipped momentarily off the surface of the sea before slamming into the side of the ship’s hull near the waterline. The corvette’s hull plates, non-armored steel less than a half an inch thick, could do little to stop the blast of a HEAT warhead designed to penetrate 400 mm of tank armor. The Gustav blew an appreciable hole in the side of the corvette near the waterline and sprayed the interior compartment with blast, spall and shrapnel that severed cables and damaged the ship’s electrical system.

Then the Guerrico’s course took it behind the buildings of the British Antarctic Survey Station and out of the Marines’ field of fire. Once safely out of range, the corvette coasted to a full stop while damage control parties attacked and assessed the warship’s wounds and medics did the same for injured crewmen. Still unsure about the total strength of the enemy forces ashore, Captain Alfonso was faced with a difficult choice, but no naval commander wants to be trapped in restricted waters unable to maneuver; if Endurance returned with her two missile-carrying helicopters, Guerrico would be a sitting duck in the harbor. His only real course was to continue deeper into the harbor where there was room enough to turn the corvette around and then run the gauntlet again through the single, restricted ship channel to once again reach the open sea.

The Royal Marines on King Edward Point, now also trading intermittent small arms fire with the Argentine Marines who’d come ashore, readied themselves for Round Two of their match with the warship.

With only Captain Alfonso, the helmsman and the quartermaster remaining on the bridge, Guerrico began its run back down the ship channel.

Armed with his L42A1 bolt-action Lee-Enfield sniper rifle, Command Sergeant Major Peter Leach had run up to the second floor of the Shackleton House to gain a clear field of fire at the warship. With single well-aimed shots, he systematically shattered every remaining window on the corvette’s bridge, forcing the three Navy men at the helm to crouch and duck low behind the thickest parts of the ship’s superstructure as they steered the corvette through the shallows and kelp beds.

Then the Guerrico once more cleared the buildings of the research station and the rest of the Royal Marines opened up with another hail of rifle and machine gun bullets. Combes got off another well-aimed 84-mm rocket from the Charlie G that hit and destroyed one of the corvette’s blocky Exocet missile launchers topside; fortunately for the crew, the Exocet’s own warhead did not detonate too. Then the ship passed out of range and gained open water again.

 With the shoot down of the larger Puma helicopter, Argentine Marines could only be shuttled ashore six at a time in the much smaller Alouette III.

Meanwhile, the Alouette III had been shuttling Argentine Marines ashore a half a dozen at a time as quickly as it could, landing them safely out of range of British small arms on the south shore of the bay at a place known locally as “the Hummocks.” One lift included a 60-mm light mortar, which the crew set up to lob bombs at the British positions. The remaining Argentine Marines hustled along the open shoreline to Grytviken to link up with their mates and advance on the Royal Marines. The lead squads had already closed to within small arms range. When British Corporal Nigel Peters had risen up from his foxhole to fire a LAWS rocket at Guerrico on her outbound run, a sharp-shooting Argentine Marine quickly hit him twice with his FAL.

Back at sea, Guerrico’s crew had managed to quickly get the 100-mm main gun’s turret and loading system operational again. Now, from far beyond the range of any British weapon, the ship could bombard the Marines’ positions with impunity.  They quickly got the range and bracketed the Royal Marines’ field fortifications and began laying in a barrage of 30-pound High Explosive shells upon them.

For another half an hour the Royal Marines hunkered in the holes when the shells fell, in between trading small arms fire with the slowly but steadily increasing number of Argentine Marines, who were using what cover there was to flank and eventually surround the British. The medic informed Lieutenant Mills that loss of blood had made Corporal Peters’ wounds life-threatening, their ammunition had started to run low, and the Alouette continued to increase the odds against them with every lift.      

Although by all accounts, including Mills’s, the NCOs and enlisted Marines were raring to continue fighting, the young lieutenant recalled his orders to avoid unnecessary casualties and felt that the fight they had put up was enough to satisfy British honor. Waving a white flag, Lieutenant Mills got up and advanced towards the Argentine Marines. An officer met him halfway and he requested to see the Argentine commander to arrange the surrender of his command.

When the Royal Marines emerged from their trenches, the Argentine officers were momentarily stunned to find out that a mere 22 men had put up such a stout fight and inflicted so much damage, but the Brits’ plucky stand against impossible odds also appealed to the Argentine Marines’ own culture of machismo. The CO himself saluted the POWs and shook hands with many of them as he exclaimed “Magnifico!” and “Bravo!”  The Sunday Times of London later wrote that a more junior Argentine Marine officer also congratulated Lt. Mills personally for the stand, telling him, “You took on two ships, five hundred Marines, and three helicopters! There are no kamikazes left in Japan—they’re all here.”

When the shooting stopped, most of the animosity between the opposing Marines also seems to have ebbed considerably. The single British casualty, wounded Corporal Peters, reported that he was given the very best medical care and treatment aboard the Bahia Paraiso. Although not required to do so by the rules of war, the British Marines disarmed the land mines and the improvised fougasse and booby-traps they had rigged on the jetty and at the research station. In a newspaper interview after the war, Royal Marine Andrew Lee noted a feeling of mutual respect between victor and vanquished and said, “They bore us no malice. They did understand the job we did. They were Marines, like ourselves.”

Argentine casualties amounted to three men killed and nine wounded as well as the loss of the Puma helicopter and the damage done to ARA Guerrico. In addition to the damage done by the anti-tank rockets, the bridge and radio room alone had sustained approximately 200 hits from 7.62x51mm fire. The Sunday Times post-war book claimed the Argentine Navy counted a total of 1,275 hits on the entire ship from small arms fire and several other accounts speak of “more than a thousand” total hits. 

 Rear view of ARA Guerrico after the battle. The raised platform mounting the 40mm Bofors guns was where one sailor was killed and two others wounded by British machine gun fire.

All this could not have been done with the 5.56x45mm NATO round the British adopted a few years later. Even without special armor-piercing ammunition, the rather elderly 1950’s-vintage “first generation” 7.62x51mm lead-cored FMJ projectile still demonstrates fairly impressive material penetration. British Army tests in 1960 determined that, at 100 yards’ range with 90-degree strikes, the 7.62x51mm FMJ bullet could penetrate a ¼-inch thick homogeneous steel armor plate (and five sheets of ¾-inch plywood behind it) and it achieved partial penetration (bulged out the rear) of a 3/8-inch armor plate. Against urban battlefield media, more recent US Marine Corps tests revealed that the old M80 7.62-mm ball round still penetrated about twice as much concrete and wood as did the 5.56x45mm NATO cartridge, even with the latter using the improved SS-109 62-grain round with penetrator core. In Iraq, the latter round even had difficulty in penetration automobile bodies and doors.

Some have scoffed at the number of hits reported, 500 plus for the Puma and more than a thousand for the Guerrica. At the time, however, the average British soldier was required to individually hit man-sized targets out to 300 meters and to fire collectively as a unit out to 600 meters. The Royal Marines, of course, are not “average” soldiers, either. Just like the United States Marine Corps, they have a long-held tradition of and pride in their excellent marksmanship skills. And rather than a small, elusive man-sized target, a Puma represents a target 16 feet tall and almost 60 feet long, while the Guerrico was only forty feet shy of the length of a football field; either would qualify as the “broad side of a barn” category.

 Whatever the exact number of hits, they proved sufficient to destroy a 15,000 pound twin-engine medium helicopter and, after the action, ARA Guerrico had to return to the mainland naval port of Rio Grande where she spent three full days in drydock undergoing repairs to the damage she had sustained.

The entire story from the British point of view can be found in the book Too Few Too Far by Malcolm Angel, one of the 22 Royal Marines who fought in the battle. 

 

OF RIFLES AND RIFLEMEN: JACK BEAN & THE GREATEST SHOT YOU NEVER HEARD OF

 Jack Bean in the early 1880s.

Of Scotch descent, John “Jack” Barker Bean was born in 1844 in Maine. His family moved to Wisconsin and then Minnesota, where he grew up. As soon as he was big enough to keep both ends of a gun off the ground, he became an insatiable hunter, so much so that sometimes his schooling took a back seat to roaming the Northwoods. While still in his teens, this young man “went West” and never looked back. His mother expected him to be gone for a few short months, but it was 29 years before she saw him again. During his life in the West he was a trapper, buffalo hunter, meat hunter, Indian fighter, Army scout, horse packer and hunting guide.

In January of 1874, the 30-year-old Bean and a partner were trapping the foothills of South-Central Montana’s Crazy Mountains where, according to Bean, they might see as many as five thousand elk in a day. They sometimes took a pack string carrying frozen deer and elk carcasses to Bozeman, where raw meat was selling for a handsome 15 cents per pound. Bean had already earned a reputation as an expert hunter who could bring home meat even when no one else seemed able to find game.

In Bozeman that winter, a group of local businessmen were organizing an expedition they were grandly calling the Yellowstone Wagon Road & Prospecting Company. As the name implied, the purpose of this expedition was supposedly to find a shorter, easier wagon route to provide access to Bozeman from the east and do a little prospecting for new gold strikes in the name of “economic development”. With such a long and cumbersome official title, folks around Bozeman began referring to the expedition as simply “the Boys.”

A great many people, then and now, believed the real purpose of the expedition was to quite literally stir a full-blown Indian war. The land along the Yellowstone River in what is today eastern Montana was a game-rich traditional Native American hunting ground, and large portions of the area had been ceded to the Crow, Lakota Sioux and Northern Cheyenne tribes by government treaty. While the Crow were friendly to the whites, the Sioux and Cheyenne could be expected to react violently to an invasion of their territory. Quite a few citizens of Montana believed that once such a war got started, the US government would be forced to send in the Army to “pacify” the tribes via military force, after which the now depopulated Indian lands would become wide open to white settlement, development and exploitation.

With much local fanfare, the expedition departed Bozeman on February 13, 1874. It certainly looked more like a military invasion than a simple route-finding party, for it had grown in size to a total of 149 men. The Boys consisted in large part of seasoned outdoorsmen like Jack Bean; trappers, hunters, prospectors, scouts, and frontiersmen who were woods savvy, at home on a horse, and generally superior marksmen. Every man had been armed with a modern breech-loading or repeating rifle and at least one revolver.

Two hundred horses and mules wore pack saddles or, along with 28 yokes of oxen, were hitched to pull the expedition’s 22 wagons. The supplies carried included 40,000 rounds of extra small arms ammunition. The company even brought along two pieces of artillery, a US Army 12-pounder mountain howitzer “borrowed” from the troops at Fort Ellis at the insistence of the territorial governor, and an elderly locally-owned cannon known as the Big Horn Gun, with 150 rounds of explosive shells and canister ammunition.

Captain Frank Grounds, a Union veteran of the War Between the States, was elected to take overall command of the expedition. Under his leadership, the Boys traveled with the wagons in two columns so that they could more quickly form a defensive circle, with the pack stock between the wagons and experienced scouts, well armed and mounted, forging ahead, behind, and to the flanks. Each night’s camp was chosen with defensive terrain in mind. The wagons were circled tightly and joined by chains in the middle of the laager to corral and protect the horses and mules. Rifle pits or foxholes were dug around the perimeter, and the cannon were placed to cover the most likely avenues of approach.

By March 26^th, 1874 Native American scouts had detected this private army marching brazenly through the heart of their wintering grounds. As a warrior society of superb horsemen, the Sioux in particular were not intimidated by the size of the company. With canny leaders like Red Cloud, Hump, Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, the Northern Plains Tribes had already successfully fought larger parties of whites, including units of the US Army. Red Cloud’s War of 1866-1868 had forced the US government to abandon its three forts in the Powder River country and close the Bozeman Trail. Just two years earlier, a surveying party for the Northern Pacific Railroad escorted by three companies of US Army regulars had been so harried by the Sioux and Cheyenne along the Yellowstone River that they had turned back.

With budgets cut to the bare bones after the Civil War, the US Army of the era was badly under-strength and poorly trained, with a reputation for mediocre-at-best horsemanship and even worse marksmanship. It had gotten to the point where Native American warriors taunted soldiers into shooting at them so they could demonstrate their bravery by engaging in “bravo” runs. An individual warrior would ride, run, or even walk within range of the soldiers’ rifles and carbines and when he emerged unscathed from the hail of bullets his reputation and his medicine would be made. Some others waved or wore red blankets in battle to attract the soldiers’ eyes and bullets.

Some notable, almost legendary, examples occurred in 1872. In that year, a Northern Pacific railroad survey crew attempted to make its way up the Yellowstone River drainage through what is now the state of Montana to the town of Bozeman. The survey party was heavily escorted by US Army infantry companies and cavalry troops, but they were so heavily harassed by Sioux and Cheyenne attacks that the surveyors eventually insisted on turning around and going home.

The following year, another heavily escorted railroad survey team set off up the Yellowstone River… under the command of none other than George Armstrong Custer. Always prone to embellishment, upon the column’s early return Custer later claimed the Indians were better armed than the soldiers, equipped with, “…the latest improved patterns of breech-loading repeating rifles, and their supply of metallic rifle-cartridges seemed unlimited…Neither bow nor arrows were employed against us.”

A year later, the Boys’ assessment was likely more accurate. Although they noted finding a small number of cartridge cases for .50-70 Springfield breach-loaders and Spencer and Winchester repeaters, they recorded that by far the majority of Indian firearms encountered were single-shot muzzle-loaders and pistols and that most still carried bows and arrows. Even three years later at the Battle of the Little Bighorn perhaps only half of the warriors involved had firearms, and again the majority of these guns were again old and out-dated.

In spite of Custer’s claim of “unlimited” cartridges and despite some extremely creative and occasionally dangerous expedients for reloading spent cartridge cases, the Plains tribes in reality always suffered from a chronic shortage of sufficient ammunition and faced great difficulties in obtaining more.

In large part because they lacked enough ammunition of their own for more than a single battle, the Sioux and Cheyenne warriors instead harassed the soldiers escorting the 1872 survey party to get them to waste their ammunition. Crazy Horse himself reportedly made no less than twenty unhurried bravo rides back and forth in full view of the infantrymen and cavalry troopers and emerged unharmed despite the fusillades of bullets directed at him. Shortly thereafter, Hunkpapa Chief Sitting Bull had laid down his own arms and walked across the open prairie to within “about a quarter mile” (440 yards, well within range of a good rifleman) of the soldiers, where he calmly seated himself and had a leisurely smoke on his pipe while Army bullets kicked up dirt harmlessly all around him.

 Against the experienced marksmen of the Yellowstone Wagon Road & Prospecting Company, however, such bravo rides and even some conventional tactics proved unexpectedly costly. During their three-month trip, the Boys fought numerous minor skirmishes and three major full-blown battles with the Sioux and Cheyenne.

  An 1883 account of the expedition in the book The Chronicles of the Yellowstone by E. S. Topping, who interviewed several of the Boys, gave two examples of their superior marksmanship making the usual bravo rides a hazardous undertaking.

    “Soon after this, an Indian, mounted on a handsome horse, and wearing a fine war bonnet, came out to make a bravo ride. His course lay across the bench and he was about five hundred yards away when thirteen of the boys fired a volley at him. The horse dropped dead and the warrior staggered to a coulie and out of sight. When examined later the horse was found to have been struck by nine bullets.”

    On another occasion: “As the party fled, one brave tarried a little behind his party, and was making his horse caracole and show off. Jack Bean took a good aim and fired. In three jumps the horse went into a sag. Just as the Indian went out of sight, he threw one hand high over his head, and in a moment more the horse came out riderless, and turning, came straight to the band.” A different account of this incident said the estimated range was, “about six hundred yards away.”

Bearing in mind that white sources of the era tend to inflate both the strength as well as the casualties of the Indians, an 1876 account by one of the participants claimed the boys had killed “about” fifty Indians and wounded nearly one hundred, while an 1883 source says “nearly a hundred” warriors were killed. The Boys suffered only one man killed and two men wounded by enemy fire. While we will never know the actual numbers involved, two major battles and numerous small skirmishes occurred between the opposing parties, and during these the range and accuracy of the boys’ rifle fire did come as a rude surprise to warriors used to facing the Army’s ineffectual musketry. One white account reported that Sitting Bull later declared that he “… had never seen such men …” and that the Lakota could “get nowhere near” the Boys without losing warriors and horses to their accurate and long-ranged shooting.

  Even in the company of quite a few other crack shots, Jack Bean is mentioned often in accounts of the expedition for his particularly well-honed sharp shooting skills. On one occasion, one of the boys on picket duty had been, quite literally, caught with his pants down. He was squatted down in the sagebrush taking a shit when surprised by approaching Indians and had departed so hastily for the shelter of the wagon laager…holding his britches up with one hand as he ran…that he left his pistol belt and holstered revolver lying on the ground.

    To keep the Indians from finding the valuable weapon and ammunition, Frank Grounds tasked Jack Bean to defend it from afar with his Sharps. The picket pointed out his former location and Bean attempted to pick off any warriors who came close enough to the area that they might find the pistol. He was successful in this endeavor.

     At one of the expedition’s lagers, they had posted mounted picket guards to stand lookout on nearby ridgetops to give advance warning of approaching war parties. Posted on the opposite end of the same ridge Jack Bean was on, a man named Bostwich saw a lone Indian signaling for a parley and foolishly rode down towards him, at which point eight more mounted warriors came racing out of the cover of a draw. Bostwich wheeled his horse around and fled for camp at top speed, but the fleet Indian ponies ridden by some of the world’s best horsemen easily overtook him. Despite wounds from four pistol bullets, Bostwich managed to stay on his mount as the warriors closed in to “count coup” by striking him with their riding quirts, their traditions making it a testament to a warrior’s skill and bravery to physically touch an enemy in battle before killing him.

    Seeing all this transpire from down the ridge, Jack Bean had galloped his horse up the spine of the ridge, trying to come to Bostwich’s aid. When one of the pursuing braves nocked an arrow in his bow to finish Bostwich off, Jack Bean yanked his horse to a halt and rolled off, raising his Sharps rifle and taking aim. A hurried shot at fairly long range at a fast-moving target, Jack’s first heavy lead bullet shattered one of the bowman’s arms and, by some accounts, unhorsed him. His continued fire made the remainder of the party to turn back and seek cover; examining their route the next morning, the white men discovered where two wounded warriors had been dragged to a lingering snowdrift in a gully to have their wounds treated with packed snow. Thanks to Bean’s covering fire, Bostwich was able to make it to the camp, where he fell from his horse gravely wounded. Amazingly, after a long struggle, the man recovered and went on to live a long life even though two pistol balls remained buried in his body for the rest of his days.

     The Sioux and Cheyenne surrounded the white intruders’ camp that night. Jack Bean later wrote, “As daylight commenced to come it give us fellows who were pretty good shots a show to do some long shooting.  There was a point up the stream about 400 yards & indians kept popping up there frequently when there was any excitement in camp…A little clay bank on the top of this ridge was covered with black sage brush & I trained my gun on this brush so I could knock the dust up at every shot.  Then I waited for more indians to appear.  Only waited a short time, fired about eight or ten shots at appearing objects and when we broke camp & moved we taken a look at this camp it was a mighty bloody looking place – all the dead & wounded having been packed away.”

     Jack Bean also fired the last and longest hostile shot of the expedition, and it was his most remarkable one. The two battles and sheer numbers of warriors had convinced Frank Grounds it was past time for the expedition to return to the safety of Bozeman. On April 16^th, as the Boys departed from their campsite on Lodge Grass Creek in their usual pair of columns, movement was seen on a bald point that gave an unimpeded view of the valley floor the white men were traveling on.

     Atop the hill were two Lakota warriors, one named Shell Necklace and another warrior whose name has been lost to history, the latter armed with a big-bore Sharps buffalo rifle of his own. The unknown rifleman dismounted from his pony and lay down prone, took aim at the expedition below and fired a long-range Parthian shot at the departing intruders. Afterward, he apparently stood up again to observe the effects of his shot. The big chunk of lead from his Sharps landed within the wagon column, admittedly a large target, and kicked up a geyser of dirt just under one of the white men’s horses. Jack Bean was the only sharpshooter amongst the Boys who believed he could return the favor.

     One account of what occurred next comes from Topping: “Jack Bean returned the compliment, and when it was time for the bullet to get there, [depending on the actual range, the bullet may have been in the air as long as six seconds] the Indian who had fired the shot dropped. Several who were looking at the Indian with glasses, declared that the ball had hit him. The distance between the parties must have been nearly a mile. Jack used a long range rifle (one hundred and twenty grain, Sharp's), and had made several very effective shots during the trip.”

     In Jack Bean’s own words, recorded many years later, “…I made the remark that if they could shoot here I could shoot there.  So I gave the peep sight of my old sharps a pull – took a rest off of a wagon wheel and used my best judgement (sic) in allowing the wind to drift the ball & shot.  As fate would have it the indian fell.  There was no one in our party who judged the distance less than (1700) yards.”

     On the receiving end, Shell Necklace believed the range to be too long for return fire to be dangerous. Still mounted himself, Shell Necklace saw the puff of black powder smoke from the wagon train as Bean fired and, at about the same time he heard the report of the shot, his friend “jerked violently” and fell to the ground, mortally wounded. 

 The Shiloh Sharps Company of Big Timber, MT continues to manufacture modern replicas of the famous Model 1874 Sharps.

     Jack’s Sharps appears to have been a Model 1874, which, despite its nomenclature, the Sharps Rifle Manufacturing Company had actually begun producing in January of 1871. This single-shot breech-loader had a falling block action with an exposed hammer and had become a favorite among buffalo hunters since it was offered in a variety of powerful calibers ranging from .40-70 to .50-100; the first number indicated the caliber of the bore and the second listed the grains of black powder in the cartridge. Individual rifles could vary greatly from one another since the buyer could choose from many options to include octagon, round or half-round barrels ranging in length from 21-1/2 to 36 inches, double set triggers, and various sights and stocks. Buffalo hunters and frontiersmen came to call the Model 1874 Sharps “Old Reliable” and, keen to the marketing value of this, the Sharps Company stamped that moniker onto the barrels beginning in 1876. As famous as the Sharps was, less than 13,000 Model 1874s were made from 1871 to 1880.

We do not even know for sure the caliber of Jack’s “old sharps” since Jack himself failed to mention it in his memoirs and family members later could not recall what he had told them. Topping claimed “120-grain”, but the .45-120 Sharps cartridge did not become available until late 1878 or early 1879. Other sources say it was a .44-90. Sharps’ records say that this cartridge was not introduced until June of 1873 so it would have been highly unlikely for one to have found its way to Bozeman, Montana before Jack and his trapping partner Stewart Buchanan departed from that locale for their trapline in the isolated Crazy Mountains in “late summer” of 1873.

The .44-77 Sharps is one likely candidate. Introduced in 1869, factory loads included bullets up to 405-grains, although one of the most widely produced loads used was a 365-grain projectile with a muzzle velocity of 1,460 feet per second. It was Sharps’ most popular caliber until 1877, and was used by the American rifle team that bested the British and Irish teams in the early Creedmore Matches.

It could also have been a “Big Fifty”. The .50-90 was a mainstay of buffalo hunters since it could hurl a 473-grain bullet with a muzzle velocity of 1,350 fps. Lighter bullets backed by larger powder charges in this same caliber were known as the .50-100 and .50-110.

    Lastly there was the .50-70 Government cartridge, which had been developed for and used in the early models of the Trapdoor Springfield prior to the introduction of the .45-70 in 1873. The standard military load produced by Frankford Arsenal used 70 grains of black powder to launch a 450-grain bullet at 1,275 fps. The US Army having switched over to the newer Model 1873 Trapdoor in .45-70, the older surplus .50-70 Springfields were sold or given away outright to both settlers and reservation Indians. The vast majority of “the Boys” were in fact toting these older Springfields. Since they were actually muzzle-loaders that had been converted to breech-loaders, a long firing pin was required, leading the weapons to be commonly referred to in the American West as “Needle Guns”. This caused some confusion to later historians since the Prussian Model 1841 Dreyse light percussion rifle, the first military bolt-action breach-loader, was also nicknamed in Europe as the Zündnadelgewehr or needle-gun. The 40,000 rounds of small arms ammo provided to the expedition by Governor Potts was government-issue .50-70 ammunition.

    Whatever the diameter of the bullet Jack Bean fired, it was one hell of a shot. All of the old black powder cartridges, with their relatively low muzzle velocities and heavy, blunt lead bullets that were poorly stream-lined for their journey through the air, had a trajectory like a rainbow. This made accurate range estimation crucial in order to achieve hits at long range. Considering a .50-70 Springfield Needle Gun with its sights set for their maximum range of 1,050 yards, the bullet’s trajectory would take it 87 feet above line of sight at 700 yards, and the projectile required approximately 3-1/2 seconds to travel that far. Put another way, with the sights set for 300 yards, if a man with a Needle Gun had to take a shot at 150 yards instead, the bullet would impact just a hair away from 36 inches or three feet high at the shorter distance, more than enough error to shoot over a man’s head.

 Sharps rifle long-range aperture tang sight.

    Although a few accounts inferred that Bean’s Sharps had a long brass telescopic sight, from Jack’s own description a tang sight seems more likely. Its base attached to a mount screwed into the small of the stock wrist, a tang sight folded down flush to the stock when not in use. When used, it was raised to the vertical position and could be adjusted precisely for windage and elevation. A coin-sized metal disc with a small hole in the center made it an aperture or “peep” sight. When aiming through such an aperture, the human eye automatically centers itself to look through the middle of the peep, where the most light is available. Thus, the rifleman’s eye needs only focus in two planes, on the front sight and the target. At the time, however, most long-range tang sights were only graduated to 1,200 yards or 1,500 at the longest, meaning that Bean may have had to use some “hold-over”.

Topping, who had interviewed some of the Boys, claims the range to have been “nearly a mile”, a mile converting to 1,760 yards. Bean’s account says, “…no one in our party who judged the distance less than (1700) yards.” Two other accounts of the expedition give ranges of 1,350 yards and “about” 1500 yards. At any of the ranges mentioned, it was still an extraordinary shot.

In the annals of the West, nothing stands out like Billy Dixon’s legendary One Mile Shot. Dixon was one of just 29 hunters and traders besieged by hundreds of warriors from the Southern Plains tribes at an adobe-walled trading post in the Texas Panhandle. Their three-day siege in June of 1874 was known as the Second Battle of Adobe Walls. On what became the final day, June 28th, Dixon spotted several chiefs conferring on horseback on a ridge about a mile away. With a borrowed Model 1874 Sharps “Big Fifty” buffalo rifle, Dixon managed to knock one of the war leaders off his horse at a range Army surveyors claimed to have later measured as 1,538 yards or 9/10ths of a mile. His feat became legendary as the Shot of the Century.

Dixon’s shot was also a remarkable feat. It should be noted, however, that Dixon fired his famous shot at a mounted group of perhaps fifteen men and hit one of them. Jack Bean, on the other hand, singled out one man and hit him.

For whatever vagrancies of history, Billy Dixon’s shot has long been celebrated far and wide while Jack Bean’s equally if not more impressive feat only a few weeks earlier remains virtually unknown to this day.

          The best and most comprehensive account of the 1874 Yellowstone Wagon Road and Prospecting Expedition can be found in the 2016 book SittingBull, Crazy Horse, Gold and Guns by Col. French L Maclean.