When I was eleven, my Grandfather had me doing very similar drills. I was never allowed actual ammunition unless he was present, but more often than not there were live fire sessions after the dry fire sessions.
His shop was 200'x85', and packed with various machinery, mills, lathes, heat treat units, welding gear, a corner for casting, along with a bay for diesel truck repair, auto repair, etc. replete with an overhead crane that ran the length of the shop.
It was all laid out in a nice orderly fashion with a break room in the center, and two little offices in the back corner.
My uncle served several tours in Vietnam. The first was as infantry, then it was off to OCS, ranger, and special forces/green beret in SFODA, and later SFODB capacity for the latter tour. One of his preferred weapons was a modified Winchester model 12.
My Grandfather took that knowledge and with my Uncles guidance, modified two Model 12's to match the set up my uncle used. That was what I was trained with for shotguns initially. On this particular day, it was both of them running me through some drills.
At the time, I was 5'8" and 'big enough' according to him. We used the shop for close combat drills as he was a big fan of training. You can imagine the awe an eleven year old had when their grandpa and uncle took them under their wing to do such a thing. Those times were the worst for me in that I was scared to death of screwing up and disappointing them.
I don't think either of them ever realized that, or then again, maybe they did?
Getting back to point, though I was always nervous, I always gave it everything I had.
Up until this point in history, I took everything they said for gospel, including when they told me the shells were wax (He loaded compressed wax slugs for this). For this particular drill, I was not allowed to load the tube and was instead required to roll all the rounds in.
For the record, my Grandfather would always follow behind me for these exercises. He was very adamant about never pointing any firearm at something you had no intention of shooting. Which was and is a good thing.
This particular day, the break room was one of the designated hostile areas. When I came around the corner the cardboard bad guy had been set out in front of the refrigerator of which I promptly rolled one in and fired upon target recognition. Somewhere in there, my grandpa had mistakenly put a live 00 buck in my ammo belt or forgot to take it out. In retrospect, a part of my mind recognized the weight was wrong for the shell, but the other part was hell bent on a good run time for the exercise. I blasted the cardboard bad guy with 00 and behind it the refrigerator as well.
I immediately knew something was wrong as the fridge was rocking and making a gawd awful noise. After a few moments of shocked silence, my grandfather took the shotgun from me and called in my uncle. He looked at everything, opened the fridge, which revealed the pellets had went through the door and out the back of it embedding in the wall. He looks at me sternly and says "congratulations, you have your first combat kill, a refrigerator and a ham sandwich" and starts laughing. I was mortified.
After keeping me on the hook for a few minutes, they let me know it wasn't my fault which to me at the time, was like getting a reprieve from a life sentence.
There were multiple lessons learned I carried forward from that day until now.
- Always peer check the conditions of an exercise.
- Never take someone's word for what the ammunition is, or the loaded/unloaded condition of the firearm.
- Never point at anything you don't intend to kill.
- Ammunition control. Lock it up and keep the live deadly rounds away during any exercise.
- No matter how good someone is, or how experienced they are, they are human and can screw up.
- Always listen to that inner voice, it recognizes things you may not on the surface of your mind.
With all that said. I suggest anyone performing dry fire exercises only do so with a peer check of conditions.