(With apologies to Dr. Seuss)

This is a cautionary tale. While it ended with no personal injuries or real property damage, it most certainly could have. While I’m (kind of) quoting people, it’s not a “do as I say, not as I do” story. It’s more along the lines of a “good judgment comes from experience; experience comes from bad judgment” kind of story.

It was, far as I can remember, early 1980, when I saw I could get a Smith & Wesson Model 29 for anything close to retail. It was at a law enforcement equipment supplier in Texas. They required a department letter and some money. A young cop at that time, I arranged for both and then began the search for ammunition and duty leather.

I was happy to find a lighter bullet load – the 44 Magnum was most often loaded with 240 grain bullets in those days and it generated considerable recoil – to say nothing of a possibility of a “perforation,” a round passing through an attacking felon, with potentially dangerous consequences to others standing by.

Federal offered a 180-grain load and it was in stock at the local “sport center.” When the gun arrived, I made the typical “new guy” stupid move – after the safety/function check, I loaded it with the factory ammo, holstered it, and went to roll call.

During that very shift, a plainclothes officer from another agency reported a violent domestic on my beat. He was flagged down at the case address as he was driving by.

The officer was a large man, considerably taller than I, and he was attired in a suit. I found myself wondering how many seasons worth of wool the sheep had to produce to cover this guy; he had to duck and roll his shoulders in to get inside the front door.

Okay, it’s exaggeration, but he was huge.

When we got inside, the little guy we faced was drunk, animated, aggressive. He closed with us and backed off a few times before going into the kitchen, a room his bruised spouse had just left.

Even then, “kitchen = knives” flashed into my head. I quickly followed. He didn’t grab a knife but did snatch up a loaded beer bottle, as he shouted profanely at us.

A beer bottle – starting as a bludgeon – can become an edged weapon after the first impact. With trepidation, I pulled the S&W 44 Magnum from the Bianchi M27 holster, showing him the front of it.

(Note: this was early in my history; no gunpoint unless you’re shooting, please.)

He seemed unimpressed. Resigned and knowing a little about hydraulics and the non-compressibility of fluids, I turned my head slightly so I’d be able to see after the blast. What I saw was this extremely large gent fumbling to get a tiny 25 Auto from his vest pocket.

His pocket wasn’t a holster and I watched him fumble trying to cock the exposed hammer without muzzling his Oscar-Meyer-sized fingers. It was so silly, I chuckled.

Likely misunderstanding my humor, the loud-mouthed offender let the bottle drop with a clatter. I reholstered, went hands-on, and – after he found a way to decock the 25 Auto (I hope) – my fellow officer snatched the offender away from me.

Down the stairs they went and through the front storm door, glass flying. That’s a story for another day.

I was bugged by the fact I’d nearly had to use this gun before ever having fired it on a range – to ensure it worked and to see where the bullets struck relative to the sights. Feeling stupid because I’d been stupid, the next day I grabbed the range key from the station and took my gear out to see if the load would hit to the sights.

I’m not sure why, but someone actually used our old range as a dump – at least as far as putting a few pumpkins out there. That was a likely target, so I grabbed one and balanced it on the bottom target plank next to a post.

I stepped back about 30 feet, plugged my ears and fired a carefully aimed double action shot.

The heavens opened, I was struck by lightning, surrounded by turbulence. Dust swirled around my feet, my shoelaces busted and I acquired a quick tan.

The “cultivated winter squash” was quite dehydrated; there was an entry and exit hole. The most damage was done by its fall from the target board, likely caused by considerable wake turbulence. Shocked, I stumbled back to the car and got out the cartridge box. The marking indicated that the 180-grain jacketed hollow point was factory rated for “1600 fps from a 4-inch vented test barrel.”

Hydraulic “back spatter” indeed …

So much for “lighter projectiles equal less recoil.” You still have to consider the velocity.

For the short time I carried that cannon, I used the more sedate – and very recently released -- Remington “Medium Loads,” featuring a 240 grain slug at about 1,000 fps in a 4” tube.

After zeroing the gun for that load …

Since then, the gang around here got to shoot a few T&E guns over the decades – including a Model 29 Mountain Gun (skinny barrel), a snub Model 629 that was ported and the M629 Classic five-inch with lugged barrel I took on a hog-strafing safari down in Childress Texas.

The Federal loads, stout though they were, were eminently manageable in those guns – as they were in the five-inch Ruger Redhawk.

I didn’t carry that cannon long, though one of our guys carried an older 6 ½” M29 with six rounds of Remington 240 grain SJHP in the gun and six more on the cartridge slide on the belt attachment of his swivel holster.

Me? I went back to more docile guns like the 357 Magnum and 45 Auto.

— Rich Grassi