CHAPTER 11
Penetration and Expansion
The Need for a Better Bullet
 

The restlessness led to a resurgence of interest in hunting and shooting. Rifle and shotgun makers were re-tooling, turning out sporting guns instead of military arms. Ammunition suppliers were manufacturing hunting bullets.

American was infused with a can-do attitude. The Great Depression was over, World War II was behind us, and Americans were going and doing like never before.

In 1946, I was shooting a Model 70 Winchester, chambered for a 300 H&H Magnum, using 180-grain bullets. I loved the way this rifle would shoot at long range. It was accurate and it killed, well, most of the time The problem was the the bullets expanded too much on heavy game. Bullets, shot at such high velocity, sometimes flattened out like a pancake and seldom penetrated to the vitals. I learned not to shoot moose in the shoulder with the bullets available. They would overexpand and not penetrate.

Moose was out to feed in the water and then come out and roll in the dirt. This leaves a heavy coat of clay stuck to them. I soon learned to pass up shots at moose wearing this clay armor.

Life was different in the 1940s. In many places at that time, a hunter could legally shoot an animal for another hunter. I think party hunting is still legal in some areas. A hunter was allowed one moose for the year. As long as the moose was tagged, it was legal. That season I shot three moose: one for me, one for Johnny Henderson, and one for the Post Office. Walt and Marion each killed one.

Near the end of the trip, Johnny and I walked up on a big bull in a willow swale. When I saw him, I was too damn close. Behind a screen of willows, the big moose stood broadside. His polished antlers gleamed and his body was black with caked mud. I heard the rasp of his breath and smelled the marsh and sweat caked on his body. I'd be gored on his antlers if he decided to charge. I snicked the safety for "fire" on my Winchester Model 70 300 H&H Magnum and snugged the butt against my shoulder

I reloaded as I followed in his tracks. I knew my bullets had hit him, but it would take several more shots to do the job. The bull was quartering away when I fired again. I stood and fired, worked the bold and fired. When the bull was finally on the ground, I stepped close, approaching from behind, ready to shoot again if need be.

My friend and guide, Johnny Henderson, helped me with the skinning and we counted the holes, finding that my bullets and struck hard, but splattered on the mud-caked shoulder. My 300 H&H had sent its bullet as such high speed that the thin copper jacket couldn't contain the soft lead core. Though I was shooting from close range, most of my shots didn't even penetrate to the vitals. My new, high-powered rifle was too powerful to kill a moose with the bullets available to hunters in the 1940s.

I knew it was a good shot. I had a drawer full of shooting medals back home to prove it. But for a few minutes in that willow swale, standing close enough to the moose to smell his breath, I had to wonder why my shots didn't produce the desired effect. But when we skinned him out, I found that every one of my shots had hit where I had aimed.

My gun was the latest in high-velocity rifles and I was using the best bullets available, but most of them had disintegrated just under the hide. It became clear to me that the bullet hadn't been invented that was good enough to use in a high-velocity rifle.

But over-expansion was only one of the problems. Some bullets penetrated but didn't kill cleanly. On one hunt in British Columbia, I came upon a bull and a cow feeding together. The cow was between the bull and me, so I came in from a different angle, so I could shoot the bull without hitting the cow. A stick cracked under my boot and bull turned to face me, giving me a ...