Fun anecdote. My dad was friends with Bill’s brother (my uncle was friends with Bill). Anyhoo, my dad was home from college and when pheasant hunting with Bill’s brother. My dad went to “drive” the pheasants and told him wait until they are out of the firing line. My dad remembers the muzzle flash and then waking up a short time later. Took a boatload of birdshot in the chest and arms. My dad survived, obviously, and until the day he passed you could still feel some of the birdshot left in his arms.
They remained friends. Was a different time back then
