By Dave Carr
When I was in the army all those years ago, I carried an M-16 rifle. And I'm amazed my old M-16 is still around today, better than ever. It has a different name, though. Today, it's an AR-15, and it's the gun, and the .223 calibre is the bullet that killed 17 and wounded 14 more last week in Parkland, Florida. A 19 year old allegedly needed just one rifle and a bunch of 30-round clips to create that carnage. So let me tell you about that .223 calibre round. Nominally, it's only larger than the old .22 rim-fire that's been around forever by the thickness of a single human hair. But this bullet sits atop a much larger shell with a bigger bang and leaves the barrel of an AR-15 at an incredibly high speed. When it hits a high school student, the entry wound is pretty much the same size as getting shot with a .22, and lots of farm kids have survived that. But with its rate of speed and instability, once it enters a Grade 10 body, the bullet starts to both tumble and disintegrate. Its speed guarantees it will go through, but while the entry wound might be small and pristine, a neat little hole like you see on TV, the exit wound might be the size of an American cigarette package. Now switch that information onto the tiny Grade 1 and 2's of Sandy Hook in 2012. In both cases, and I suspect all those in between, there' have been a lot of closed coffins out of horrific cosmetic necessity. The AR-15 is made by Colt for one purpose -- to kill human beings: not for hunting, or skeet, or target practice. It kills humans, period. I could make the next logical conclusion here, but hey -- apparently "now is not the time". So I'm left with thoughts and prayers, and memories of my old M-16 and what it does.