BY ROGER WATSON
What is the second most dangerous thing in the British Army?
Answer: an officer with a gun.
What is the most dangerous thing in the British Army?
Answer: an officer with a map.
During my short spell of military service, I never fired my gun in anger – only at a target on a firing range, but I did once prove the second maxim by leading my patrol across a firing range in the dead of night. Thankfully, the only thing being tested was a new night vision sight. I felt pretty stupid, we all had a laugh, and the incident was never reported. It certainly was not included in my own written account of the evening’s activities.
As an officer in the Royal Army Medical Corps, my personal weapon was the Browning automatic pistol. The Browning L9A1 9mm High Power to be precise. Often referred to as the Browning ‘Hi-Power’, the pistol was in continuous production across the world between 1935 to 2018.
The Browning company is American, but the Browning Hi-Power was manufactured in Belgium and, of course, when Nazi Germany invaded Belgium, production fell into their hands. But blueprints for the gun were smuggled out to Britain and the gun went into production in Canada. Thus, during the second world war many German and British soldiers carried the same sidearm.
In my garden office (where the editor of this esteemed organ has been entertained) I have a couple of military corners. In one my commissioning scroll hangs. On a nearby shelf sits an authenticated facsimile of my London Gazette record, kindly obtained by my daughter Major Lucia Phillips RAMS.
In the opposite corner hangs a framed display with replicas of my medals, my rank slides, stable belt, RAMC flash and a ‘Cellar Rat’ badge. The origin of the Cellar Rat badge was described in Country Squire passim. Also hanging is a plaque which has the same origins and the same designer – the late Major Ken Kirk RAMC(v) – the subject of the same article.
There is a new addition to that corner, a cold-cast replica Browning L9A1 9mm High Power (see main photo). I had always wanted a replica or decommissioned Browning to complete my military collection but the search for one really led me into an Alice in Wonderland of ridiculous rules and regulations around the ownership of guns – even ones that do not fire.
If you want to get your hands on a Browning pistol, or any similar military weapons, the only legal route is to purchase a decommissioned weapon – one that has been irreversibly altered such that it cannot fire or be restored to working order. The process involves: modifying the barrel by drilling, pinning and welding it to block it; machining the breech block to an angle such that the cocking slide no longer functions; removing or shortening the firing pin; and shaving or welding other internal components on the slide and frame so restoration to working order is impossible.
The legal requirement is to be aged at least 18 years and to have appropriate certification by the London or Birmingham Proof House. The gun should bear the proof marks. A licence and safe storage are not legally required. The only drawback is that such a weapon will set you back several thousand pounds which, in my case, would not have been approved by my commanding officer and financial adviser (aka wife).
Imagine my joy when I explored the world of replica weapons, some made of metal, others of rubber and, if the pictures on the internet were anything to go by, looked just like the real thing. Moreover, these were inexpensive with some of the rubber replicas costing little more than a round of drinks (in London). Imagine my disappointment when I realised that these were out of my reach because, whereas I could legally own a genuine Browning (albeit decommissioned), I was unable to own a replica.
Entering my credit card details several times on a variety of sites, my eyes turned to the small print where, it was explained, it was an offence to own a realistic replica unless I was a registered airsoft player (people who use replica firearms and tactical gear to simulate real-world combat situations), a historical re-enactor, or working in film or theatre. The only circumstance under which I could own one was if I painted it in bright, non-military colours (such as orange, red, or blue) for at least 51% of its surface.
Allow me to run that past you again: real weapons, yes; fake weapons, no. And the ludicrous nature of this situation was emphasised by my youngest son’s father-in-law. Said father-in-law is ex-military, ex-armed response and now working – armed – in nuclear and civil defence. He is a registered firearms officer, yet he too is prevented from purchasing replica weapons. He knows because he has tried.
I was recently in Missouri where I visited a fishing and outdoor shop. There was an extensive counter selling weapons of every kind from pistols to rifles. I could have walked away with a Browning Buck Mark 0.22, similar in appearance to the Hi-Power, for $350. No licence required, no questions asked.
But I see eminent good sense in restricting and licensing the ownership of weapons: real; decommissioned; or replica in this country. They could be used to intimidate or rob people who, in the heat of such moments, would not be able to tell if the weapon was working or not. But I completely fail to see the logic as explained above.
Unable to afford a decommissioned weapon and prevented by law from owning a replica – unless I painted it pink – my search continued until I found a company called Cold Cast Weapons. Part of Valour Works, a gift and engraving business, Cold Cast Weapons manufactures mounted half weapons from resin mixed with metal filings. The end product looks and feels authentic, and each weapon is made to order. The Browning pistol was made and delivered for £95. My reason for wanting to own a weapon was pure nostalgia, but I also imagined the look on a burglar’s face if I produced one while he was in the process of robbing us. I have satisfied the nostalgic streak but, if a burglar comes to visit, I may have to satisfy myself with hitting him over the head with the plaque on which my cold cast Browning is permanently mounted.
Roger Watson is a Registered Nurse and Editor-in-Chief of Nurse Education in Practice.