Ward Clark, at Red State, reminds us that today is not only about sending roses to wives and girlfriends.

On February 14th, 1911 — 114 years ago — the United States Patent Office officially published patent US984519A, titled “Mechanisms or systems operated by propellant charge energy for automatically opening the lock recoil-operated the barrel being tilted during recoil.” That patent was issued in the name of the DaVinci of firearms, John Moses Browning, and the mechanism in question was the recoil-operation mechanism for what may be the finest martial sidearm ever invented: the Colt-Browning 1911. …

It’s interesting to compare and contrast the 1911 pistol to another sidearm that entered service three years earlier: the P-08 Luger. I have one of those, too, made in Oberndorf by the famous Mauser-Werke in 1934, still carrying the original Nazi proof marks. Whatever you think of the people who carried them, the Luger nevertheless remains one of the most graceful and, yes, beautiful military sidearms ever made. It has lovely lines, the grip shape and angle are near-perfect, and if you bring the arm up in one hand and extend your arm, you find your eye drawn naturally to the sights.

But, oh, those sights! The front blade sight is fine, but the rear sight may as well not be there on the issue P-08; it’s barely a notch cut in the pivot of the gun’s toggle. The placement of the rear sight on the toggle means that the front and rear sight are on different parts of the gun, one of which moves with every shot. Worst of all, judging by my example, the Luger just isn’t very reliable. My copy and other ones I have handled and fired have a penchant for stovepipe jams; mine does it at least once with every magazine, and it’s not like the piece was cobbled together from parts. Like a lot of late 19th-century designs, the Luger is made up of many screwy little parts, those parts are all numbered, and all the numbers match.

The 1911, though, can take a licking and keep on ticking. It’s not graceful like the Luger; instead, it’s solid, slab-sided, robust, and tough. It’s a remarkable design, as are most of the Maestro’s efforts, and the fact that it remains in wide use today after 114 years speaks volumes. Almost every gun company operating today makes a version of the 1911. It’s a remarkable design from a remarkable designer, one that won’t be matched any time soon.

January 23, 1855 — November 26, 1926.

Greatest Firearm Inventor of all time.

John Moses Browning

Commie LGBTQ LithHub this week actually published a nice long excerpt from Nathan Gorenstein’s new bio: The Guns of John Moses Browning.

Browning is undoubtedly the greatest firearm designer of all time. The list of his sporting arms, lever action Winchester, pump and semiauto shotguns is long, and the useful careers of some of his military arms is even longer. The Browning .50 caliber M2 machine gun (the “Ma Deuce”), designed late during WWI, is still in use by the US Military today. His Model 1911 pistol remained our military’s primary issue sidearm right up until the 1980s, and has since gone on to whole new wave of massive enthusiasm for both target-shooting and personal defense. A hundred years after its design, the old 1911 is still pretty much America’s default handgun.

The 1865 Browning home in Ogden, Utah, was adobe brick, situated a few steps away from untrammeled land filled with grouse, a small wildfowl that made tolerable eating once it was plucked, butchered, and cooked, preferably with bacon fat to moisten the dry flesh. Utah’s five varieties of grouse could fly, but mostly the birds shuffled about on the earth. The male “greater” grouse reached seven pounds, making a decent meal and an easy target, as yellow feathers surrounded each eye and a burst of white marked the breast. A skilled hunter could sneak up on a covey picking at leaves and grasses and with one blast of birdshot get two or three for the frying pan.

Such frugality was necessary. The closest railroad stop was nearly one thousand miles east, and the largest nearby town was Salt Lake City, 35 miles to the south and home to only ten thousand people. Ogden’s settlers ate what they grew, raised, or hunted. Water for drinking and crops depended on the streams and rivers that flowed west out of the mountains into the Great Salt Lake, and irrigated wheat, corn, turnips, cabbage, and potatoes. Each settler was obliged to contribute labor or money to construct the hand-dug ditches and canals. They made their own bricks, cured hides for leather, and made molasses out of a thin, yellowish juice squeezed from sugar beets with heavy iron rollers and then boiled down to a thick, dark bittersweet liquid.

The rollers were made by John’s father, Jonathan, himself a talented gunsmith who also doubled as a blacksmith. Jonathan’s shop was his son’s playground, and John’s toys were broken gun parts thrown into the corner. At age six, John was taught by his “pappy” to pick out metal bits for forging and hammering into new gun parts. Soon the boy was wielding tools under his father’s direction.

To build that first crude gun John chose a day when his father was away on an errand. From the pile of discards John retrieved the old musket barrel and dug out a few feet of wire and a length of scrap wood. He clamped the barrel into a vice and with a fine-toothed saw cut off the damaged muzzle. He set Matt to work with a file and orders to scrape a strip along the barrel’s top down to clean metal. With a hatchet John hacked out a crude stock. The boys worked intently. On the frontier a task didn’t have to be polished, but it had to be right. Basic materials were in short supply, and to make his gun parts and agricultural tools Pappy Browning scavenged iron and steel abandoned by exhausted and overloaded immigrants passing through on their way west. Once, he purchased a load of metal fittings collected from the burned-out remains of an army wagon train, and as payment he signed over a parcel of land that, years later, became the site of Ogden’s first hotel.

John used a length of wire to fasten the gun barrel to the stock, then bonded them with drops of molten solder. There was no trigger. Near the barrel’s flash hole John screwed on a tin cone. When it came time to fire, gunpowder and lead birdshot would be loaded down the muzzle and finely ground primer powder would be sprinkled into the cone. The brothers would work together as a team: John would aim, Matt would lean in and ignite the primer with the tip of a smoldering stick, and the cobbled-together shotgun would, presumably, fire.

This wasn’t without risk. There was no telling if the soldered wire was strong enough to contain the recoil, or if the barrel itself would burst. Then there was the matter of ammunition. Gunpowder and shot were expensive imports delivered by ox-drawn wagon train. And the Browning brothers’ makeshift weapon might prove ineffective, or John could miss, and anger their father by using up valuable gunpowder with no result. Despite the risks, John pilfered enough powder and lead shot (from Jonathan’s poorly hidden supply) for one shot.

In ten minutes the brothers were in open country. Ogden’s eastern side nestled against the sheer ramparts of the Wasatch Mountains, and to the west lay the waters of the Great Salt Lake. To the north the Bear and Weber rivers flowed out of the Wasatch to sustain the largest waterfowl breeding ground west of the Mississippi River. Early white explorers were staggered by seemingly endless flocks of geese and ducks. In the 1840s pioneers described the “astonishing spectacle of waterfowl multitudes” taking to the air with a sound like “distant thunder.” Mountains rose up in all four directions, with one range or another flashing reflected sunlight. It was a striking geographic combination, magnified by the bright, clear sunlight of Ogden’s near-mile-high elevation. A settler’s life was lived on a stage of uncommon spectacle.

John carried the shotgun while Matt toted a stick and a small metal can holding a few clumps of glowing coal. The idea was to take two or three birds with a single shot, thereby allaying parental anger with a show of skilled marksmanship. Barefoot, the brothers crept from place to place until they spotted a cluster of birds pecking at the ground. Two were almost touching wings and a third was inches away. John knelt and aimed. Matt pulled the glowing stick out of the embers, almost jabbed John in the ear, and then touched the stick to the tin cone to fire the shot. The recoil knocked John backward—but in front of him lay a dead bird. Two other wounded fowl flapped nearby. Matt scampered ahead and “stood, a bird in each hand, whooping and trying to wring both necks at once.”

The next morning, as Jonathan breakfasted on grouse breast and biscuits, John listened to sympathetic advice from his mother and chose that moment to tell Pappy the story of his gun, his hunt—and the pilfered powder. Jonathan sat quietly and when John was finished made no mention of the theft. He did ask to see the weapon and was unimpressed. “John Moses, you’re going on eleven; can’t you make a better gun than that?”

Matt snickered. John choked down his remaining breakfast. “Pappy has drawn first blood, no doubt about that. He hadn’t scolded about the powder and shot, and the sin of stealing. But he’d hit my pride right on the funny bone,” John told his family decades later. A moment later he followed his father into the shop. He unrolled the wire from the barrel, “whistling soft and low to show how unconcerned I was,” and then stamped on the stock, snapped it in two, and tossed the pieces into a pile of kindling. “I remember thinking, rebelliously, that for all Pappy might say, the gun had gotten three fine birds for breakfast. Then I set to work. Neither of us mentioned it again.”

RTWT

Military Times: Colt’s prototypes for the Corps have a desert-color Cercoat finish, eliminating glare on the weapon and making it less identifiable at a distance…. [T]his model has a section of 1913 Picatinny rail under the barrel to mount accessories such as a light or laser aiming device. They also have more stainless steel internal components to reduce corrosion. They’re equipped with a tritium night sight made by Novak of Parkersburg, W.Va.

30 years after the US Armed Forces went to a 9mm Parabellum Beretta, the United States Marine Corps Special Operations Command (MARSOC) has re-adopted John Moses Browning’s original single-action, semi-automatic, magazine-fed, recoil-operated Model 1911 pistol chambered for the .45 ACP cartridge as its issue sidearm, to be produced (in what amounts to a typically-customized contemporary version) by the original manufacturer: Colt Manufacturing LLC of Hartford, Connecticut.

Stars and Stripes story

Why?

As “Col. Colt” puts it on the 1911 Forum:

Everything you need, nothing you don’t. The Colt 1911 has been stopping fights and saving it’s owners lives for 100 years now. And during most of that time it did it just fine dead, issue, box stock with 230gr. roundnosed jacketed Ball ammo! It built it’s “street rep” on it’s as issued form – think about that for a minute.

The American Soldier, Sailor or Airman never had any doubts that his issue handgun would work – or that it woud put his adversary on his back immediately if he did his part. It made it’s reputation from doing, not talk. From chasing Pancho Villa in the nineteen “teens, to the deadly trenches of WWI, to shooting down the Japanese Banzai charge in the dark on Edson’s Ridge on Guadalcanal, the American Fighting Man could count on his 1911 – and we still can. Korea, Vietnam, all the way up to the present day, nobody ever felt undergunned in the handgun department who carried the 1911.

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Steve the skeptic discusses the politics behind the choice:

The news that the USMC had adopted the Colt 1911 Rail Gun as the new M45 pistol generated a lot of controversy. People could not understand why the Marines would adopt a very generic 1911 pistol when more modern, lighter and higher capacity pistols were readily available. Fuel was added to the fire when Solider Systems broke the news that in military tests the Colt 1911 Rail Gun exhibited cracking after 12,000 rounds.

Note the difference in size.

One of the US military’s major historic mistakes is being rectified. Strategy Page reports that the Department of Defense has announced that the United States is going back to the hallowed .45 ACP cartridge as the chambering for US issue sidearms.

January 27, 2006: After two decades of use, the U.S. Department of Defense is getting rid of its Beretta M9 9mm pistol, and going back to the 11.4mm (.45 caliber) weapon. There have been constant complaints about the lesser (compared to the .45) hitting power of the 9mm. And in the last few years, SOCOM (Special Operations Command) and the marines have officially adopted .45 caliber pistols as “official alternatives” to the M9 Beretta. But now SOCOM has been given the task of finding a design that will be suitable as the JCP (Joint Combat Pistol). Various designs are being evaluated, but all must be .45 caliber and have a eight round magazine (at least), and high capacity mags holding up to 15. The new .45 will also have a rail up top for attachments, and be able to take a silencer. Length must be no more than 9.65 inches, and width no more than 1.53 inches.

The M1911 .45 caliber pistol that the 9mm Beretta replaced in 1985, was, as its nomenclature implied, an old design. There are several modern designs out there for .45 caliber pistols that are lighter, carry more ammo and are easier to maintain than the pre-World War I M1911 (which is actually about a century old, as a design). The Department of Defense plans to buy 645,000 JCPs.

SOCOM will, with input from other branches, handle the evaluation and final selection. This will take place this year, and if the military moves with unaccustomed alacrity, troops could start getting their JCPs next year. But don’t hold your breath.

The US military switched from a .38 issue cartridge to the .45 with the adoption of John Moses Browning’s renowned Model 1911, as the result of unhappy experiences with the lack of stopping power of the smaller round against earlier Islamic opponents: the Moro pirates of the Philippine Insurrection.

.45 ACP cartridge history