Picked up a crate of 7.62x39 Pic inside
- Thread starter kevin13
- Start date
#1bcshooter
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- North Of The DMZ (US border)
Depends on date manufactured and factory.
The late '60's Chinese that is currently on the market is most certainly corrosive.
Absolutely. Let's say some chinese then.
Really stoked to go shooting tomorrow!
so its a semi auto centrefire, with a ten shot strip clip, is that legal? Just asking.
hometownhero
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- Toon Town, Sk
You can have a 100 round stripper clip but in canada you can only have 5 rounds in the magazine
are the magazines on those restricted to 5 rounds? Ive never used one but have seen a few.
Awesome pic !
I always wondered what ammunition looked like
Hey, be nice, we were all there once.
I remember my first crate like it was yesterday. There we were, in the room together, there was no need for words. I gazed at the words written in squigley with wonder, it could say anything, I didn't care. It was mysterious and indeciferable, that was enough for me. I flung myself at the latch, it lifted with no resistance, only to reveal a chastity belt of metal beneath the alluring green wooden crate. I wasted no time, and put my large mamalian brain to work on deciding how to proceed. The ring in the corner looked intriguing, and I pulled at it tentatively. It didn't budge. I pulled harder, breaking a sweat, and it gave ever so slightly, offering a tantalizing glimpse at the contents within. I cursed under my breath, and really put some effort into it, and the ring broke off in my hand, flinging me across the room. Here, I snapped, unleashing a torrent of verbal filth the likes of which would make sailors blush, at the crate. The crate seemed unaffected, and it's gleaming armour seemed to mock me. Running to the garage, I returned with a pair of pliers, and spent the next 5 minutes sweating and wrestling with the rectagular beast, adjusting my grip constantly, and wiping the blood that seemed to come from one of us on the top of the wooden crate. Finally it was done, and we both lay there exhausted, bloody, sweaty and spent. A strange odor, like a smell capsule from 1974 emmited from it's depths, as I flung the metal cover aside and gazed within. Little green boxes, like stacks of money gazed back. On the top was a piece of paper. What could it be? A note from the past? A cry for help from some gulag slave, state secrets, a map to hidden military treasures? My trembling fingers un-folded it. Some squigley, and the number 532. A criptic code from the past. I have saved all the notes I have found since then, in the hopes that put together, it will one day make sense...
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