Like riding a bike...

I am an 0311 - Marine Corps Infantryman.
I am also 40 years old and have been out of Uncle Sam's Motorcycle Club for 19 years but some things were engrained into my brain housing group and burned in to muscle memory long ago. It seems impossible that I'll ever forget what it feels like to break down and do weapons maintenance on an M16.

The volleyball team and I are on a bit of an extended stay here in Selawik this weekend. Normally by this point we would have played our four games and been back to "the Rock". But this weekend the wrestlers of the borough have highjacked the travel schedule of everyone in order to facilitate the Bush Brawl Invitational Tourney in Kotzebue. The district decides to be fiscally responsible and only charter planes to fly on Friday and Sunday and lets Bering Air, Ravn and our Activities Director juggle flight plans. So we all get an extra day in the host village.

With time on my hands, I went to my friend Ben's house for a glass of water and a visit. Ben is back in Selawik for his second year and he can be credited or blamed for planting this crazy Alaskan seed in my mind a couple of years back. It's good to see a buddy from Minnesota and talk about home. Good to talk about shared deer reports from family and friends and Christmas travel plans. It's been nice to finally see the school and the village that I've heard so much about. It has been nice to talk about work things that happen in both villages and wonder where we might end up when we both rotate back to the world.

Ben changed his residency from Minnesota to Alaska last year, making him an official subsistence hunter. At the one year mark of that decision, he became legal to take a number of large game species on the same subsistence licenses the locals use. He's not let that choice go to waste. He shot a 49 3/4" Moose this fall. He's put a couple of caribou in the freezer as well. I came to Selawik with an empty cooler. Tomorrow I will hopefully leave with it full.

Sasquatch took this nice Bull in Sept. -2015

So at about noon I walked over to his place. I wanted to compare digs. I wanted a short break from the school. Like a good ol' redneck boy, Ben obliged and brought out his weapons. I saw his Thompson Center .300 short mag. He handed me the .30-06 he shot the moose with. He even brought out a Ruger Blackhawk .357 that may have been used in a spaghetti western at some point. But the coup de gras was the AR15 that he handed me.

The AR15 is a small cousin of the rifle that Uncle Sam issued me when I earned the title US Marine. Holding this heavy iron is like riding a bike. I asked him how often he broke it down and could tell by his response that I need to give this weapon a little TLC.

I tapped the Takedown Pin and broke the little thing down shotgun style.
Pulled on the Charging Handle and dropped out the Bolt Carrier.

"Ben, you ever take it apart this far?" - Nope... I pressed on.

With the Bolt Carrier in hand I clapped on the end of the bolt and gave it a flick of my wrist expecting the bolt to slide back in to place. It didn't. Ben watched.

Firing Pin Retaining Pin out and the Firing Pin followed.
I gave a twist of the Bolt Cam Pin and another turn of my wrist and laid another piece of his rifle on the coffee table. I'm sure at this point Ben was worried that I might get up and walk out - he'd be stuck with a puzzle difficult for him to reassemble... I pressed on.

The Bolt slid out and I showed my friend some points of interest where some carbon build up was affecting the effectiveness of his thousand dollar toy. I gave him a disclaimer that a lot of gunsmiths would cringe at what I was about to show him and then I used the firing pin to scrape off flakes of carbon. The health of firing pin holds the life of the entire rifle. Gunsmiths would suggest treating it with proper respect. Marines use it as a tool.

With a little elbow grease and a little cleaning oil we both tended to parts of his rifle he had never seen before. I felt right at home - like I was 18 years old again and sitting on the flight deck of the USS Ogden - smoking and joking with the other Jarheads while knocking out some regularly scheduled primary maintenance.

I handed out a few tips. I shared a few stories. I took him on a tour of his AR from the Lower Receiver and the Trigger Mechanism and all the way to the Handguards. It was fun and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. In the end, the bolt was sliding and popping back and forth like it was meant to. Ben had learned something about his rifle and about me...old Marines never forget the feel of a service rifle they once depended their life on.

I hope the cleaning lesson will even me up on the exchange for a full cooler tomorrow.