In June, 1965, I was sitting at my desk in the Legal Office of Headquarters Battalion, Third Marine Division, at Camp Courtney, Okinawa, when Captain Bill Lederboer, CO of MP company came in and announced that he had a problem.

What kind of a problem, I asked.

He had been inventorying the riot locker (whatever that was) and had found that he had some material that was not supposed to be there.

I asked him what kind of material.

He told me they were brass, 12 gauge shotshells, loaded with 00 buckshot. He had a full case and a partial case.

I told him his problems were over and he happily turned them over to me.

A few weeks later, I was given orders to report to Headquarters IIIMEU (Marine Expeditionary Unit) in DaNang, Republic of Vietnam. I started thinking about personal protection.

I took some of the shells from the open case and my 12 gauge Winchester Model 12 Skeet gun ($135.00, new, at the PX) and went over to the pistol range at Camp Smedley Butler, home of the 3rd Marine Division's infamous brig.

I obtained a torso shaped target from the NCOIC of the range and fastened it to the target frame and walked back to the 25 yard line. I loaded my Model 12 with seven of the brass shells and faced the target, shotgun at my waist.

There is a little known fact about Model 12's: they have no disconncetor. If you hold the trigger back and pump, every round which is chambered will immediately fire. I held the trigger back and pumped. When the smoke had cleared, I had sawed the target in two. Satisfied, I went back to my packing.

When I got to Vietnam, however, I became the proud owner of an M1A1 Thompson, which proved to be much handier, and accompanied me for the rest of my tour. The buckshot shells are still in my possession.

Last fall, having become the proud owned of a Greifelt drilling in caliber 12/12/8X60R, I cobbled up some loads for the rifle barrel with the obligatory .318" diameter bullets and sighted the rifle in. On the first day of the season, I was up before dawn and wending my way down a logging trail to my selected hunting spot, when motion in front of me alerted me to the fact that I was not alone.

Putting the drilling to my shoulder and peering through the scope, I caught the silhouette of a large doe about 80 yards away. I clicked off the safety, squeezed the trigger and was startled by much heavier recoil than I had expected. Opening the gun to reload, I found out why.

I had loaded the gun with a rifled slug in the left shot barrel, a 00 buck in the right barrel, and the 8X60R load in the rifle barrel. Somehow, the selector had wandered over to "shot" before I pulled the trigger. A thorough search of the area revealed no sign of blood, and I continued, chastened, on my way, feeling like the proverbial pilot who had landed with his landing gear up.

This year, both shot barrels will be loaded with Brennekes.