ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: TUESDAY, June 19, 1990                   TAG: 9006190015
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV1   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY 
SOURCE: Neal Thompson New River Valley Bureau
DATELINE: BLACKSBURG                                 LENGTH: Medium


SHOOTING FOR ACCURACY

Bullets were flying on this normally quiet hillside at the edge of town.

The "cracks" and "pows" of fancy semiautomatic handguns and powerful .357-caliber Magnum Smith and Wesson revolvers filled the air with the sounds of TV's "Miami Vice."

But this was real - the biannual firearms qualification trials for the Montgomery County Sheriff's Department.

As mandated by the state, all deputies who carry guns must score above the minimum course requirement of 70 percent to be able to continue carrying their guns. About 75 county deputies, including courtroom bailiffs and correctional officers, carry weapons.

Most of the deputies scored above the minimum, except for a few who had to return to the firing range for some additional training.

The county's firing range, which is shared with the Blacksburg Police Department, is set in the hills of Blacksburg off Toms Creek Road.

On a recent Friday afternoon, four deputies each plugged more than 100 holes into a bad-guy-shaped target.

Deputy G.L. Reed had the high score of the day - 100 percent.

Reed said the firearm trials help him feel better about his ability to use his weapon when he really needs it.

"It gives you more confidence out on the road," he said.

Deputy L.W. Wooddell said, "It makes you feel more comfortable with the weapon."

And that's exactly the purpose.

"It's supposed to give them more of a feeling and ability to handle a weapon in a dangerous situation," said Deputy R.F. Fleet, one of the two required range officers monitoring the trials.

Lt. W.B. Tolley, who also oversaw the week-long trials the last week of May, said the event is a good training device for the department.

Deputies must fire at the target from three distances - seven yards, 15 yards and 25 yards.

The procedure worked like this:

Wearing protectors over their ears the shield them from the noise, the deputies lined up at the closest mark, seven feet from the target.

Evidence Technician R.J. Absher, sitting in a booth, barked commands through a loud speaker.

"Ready on the right?" Absher asked, and the two deputies on the right raised their hands. "Ready on the left?"

The deputies then stood with legs spread and guns in their holsters awaiting the first command. The mechanical targets were turned facing sideways.

"Twelve shots in 30 seconds," Absher said.

When the mechanical targets turned, the deputies yanked out their guns and started firing.

The shots pierced the thick cardboard targets and kicked up dirt on the hill behind them.

The deputies made similar timed shots from 15 yards.

At 25 yards, they shot kneeling and standing from behind wooden barricades to simulate how they would fire from a protective stance in an actual shootout.

Deputies must get a passing score twice, Tolley said.

Two types of ammunition can be used - practice ammo, which sounds like a firecracker, or hollow-nosed .357 Magnum ammo, which sounds like a small cannon.

Deputies also can use two types of gun - the department-issued .357 service revolver or a 9mm semiautomatic.

Tolley said about a dozen deputies have opted for the semiautomatics, which they must buy themselves.

He said they can hold 16 or 18 bullets, as opposed to the standard six-shooter. They also are quicker and lighter, but cost $300 to $400, he said.

Tolley uses one of the more popular Austrian-made Glock semiautomatics. His frequent 100 percent scores prompted his colleagues to jokingly call him "The Ice Man."

After the qualifications, the deputies stood around a table joking with each other while painstakingly cleaning their guns.

Because carbon from the exploding powder soils every nook and cranny of a weapon, the guns must be completely disassembled and cleaned piece by piece with cloths and wire brushes.

"This is the worst part of shooting. I enjoy shooting them, but I just don't like cleaning them," Absher said as he scrubbed his semiautomatic Smith and Wesson.

"They get dirty real quick."



 by CNB