Visitng the CZ Range in the Czech Republic

Visiting the Bzenec shooting range as the guest of CZ and shooting the CZ 805 BREN S1

CZ Journalists’ reunion 2018

At one point in my long career I would have qualified for the lable “Seasoned Traveller” but retirement and a wife with a flair for organisation had left me terrified, alone and helpless when confronted with bus timetables, airport security, boarding passes and flight announcements which I can’t decipher thanks to noise-induced hearing loss.  Or is it that standards have slipped and modern airport announcers speak rapid-fire mispronounced English?  I seem to have less difficulty with non-native speakers.  I somehow made it through to the Dublin departure gates with my person intact.  My kit was a different matter.  My belt loop had disappeared when I’d had to unfrock for security and my laptop screen was cracked and my confidence had been dented.  My fault for stuffing it into a cabin-luggage-legal British Army rucksack.  A sleeping bag took up most of the room in that so I really didn’t have much kit to keep track of.  Age is a curse – it gets harder to keep the paraphernalia of travel in one place.  Anyway I was on my way to Vienna where my contact from the Czech Republic was waiting with a lift to the military ranges near Bzenec.  The Irish Shooters Digest was eight months in the past and I had since gone a-blogging having no previous experience and concerned that no-one would read me.  Fortunately people were reading me, hence the trip to the Czech Republic compliments of CZ. I still am unsure of the value or role of blogging – I keep an eye on a few sites for shooters and  note with alarm the naiveté of some, particularly American, contributors who attempt the most ballistic foolhardy stunts with very little appreciation of the risks involved.  I was particularly appalled by the ones who experiment with shotgun slugs and their blazé attitude to pressure.  Shotguns can explode very easily.  Needless to say they run a very real risk of litigation which in the magazine publishing world is the editor’s job to detect and preempt  The BBC had reported the most tragically naive stunt of the lot; a young US couple, desperate for reasons of either financial or egotistical need to “go viral” had decided to fire a 357 magnum at a book held against the male partner’s chest.  Naturally the powerful slug had over-penetrated and in a mushroomed condition tore a huge hole in his chest, killing him.    I missed having the guiding hand of an editor while at the same time revelling in the freedom of being able to write at length on topics that interested me with no limitation on the number of photos I could publish.  I’d been to Czechia before and had condensed the experience into a couple of thousand words which simply did not do justice to a country very like our own but with the difference that shooting is thriving industry and a popular sport.  This trip would be different.  But some things are still the same – I meet some friendly person in an airport queue and strike up a conversation; discussing destinations and so on.  If by any chance I mention my trip is in connection with shooting the reaction is “but isn’t that illegal?”.  The antis have won in that sense as the average citizen of the Irish Republic has been conditioned to believe that shooting is illegal and if it isn’t illegal it should be illegal.  The notion is catching on and I understand Greek pistol shooters are now having difficulty licensing target pistols.  The guards, God bless them, now have a new Commissioner from Northern Ireland where shooting is still respectable.  I hope he doesn’t pick up any bad habits because we might just see him back in Ulster some day and in charge of the PSNI.  Perhaps he will wisely self-impose a cooling-off period?  I planned to stay on after the CZ sponsored part of the trip was over and spend three days in Prague; visit the CZ shop and the National Museum and see the sights and maybe even get to some of the Army stores of which there seemed to be three.  If I made any purchases the sleeping bag would have to be jettisoned but at £6 from Tesco that wasn’t too onerous.  The sleeping bag had been recommended by CZ as my first night would be spent in a military tent on the Bzenec range – a new experience surely.  CZ produces large amounts of police and military firearms and we would be sampling these.

 

The CZ representative met us at Vienna airport.  CZ staff tend to be young with an even gender-balance. 

 

Czech army tents are more comfortable than some of the billets I occupied in Waterford barracks fifty years ago

Drone's eye view of the Bzenec range

The CZ representatives met us at Vienna airport and piled everyone into buses and we were taken through the autumn countryside, across the border and into the Czech Republic.  I missed the border post and there certainly were no checks.  This struck me as odd considering the Irish Guards had stopped the airport bus just south of the Northern Ireland border and demanded to see everyone’s passport.  I do sometimes wonder.  After an absolutely first class outdoor buffet we were conducted in darkness to the rifle range where we proceeded to shoot a variety of CZ pistols, assault rifles, sniper rifles with night vision and of course the Skorpion 9mm sub-machine gun at steel targets at about 30 meters.  I had never shot a handgun in darkness before and found it quite difficult as the sights were difficult to see when using a torch mounted under the barrel.  The confusion of artificial lighting, camera flashes and muzzle flashes didn’t help either.  I had more success with the red dot sight on the Skorpion and night vision was a doddle once I got used to it. The atmosphere was sort of “Schutzenfest” and the whole organisation, while fun and safely supervised by instructors, fell somewhat short of the standards of safety at a Practical Pistol match.  It was just a different world with the CZ people showcasing their products and their country.  Considering the Czech People have come through a German occupation in 1938 and Soviet invasion and occupation in the sixties and independence and separation from Slovenia in the nineties  the country has pulled itself up by its bootstraps and built a thriving economy and a vibrant if imperfect society.  

 

Shooting the CZ Skorpion at night at the Bzenec Military Ranges

CZ Pistols at night at the Bzenec Military Ranges

The following day we returned to the range to shoot in daylight.  This is no manicured Bisley or Ballykinler range and is shared with the Czech military and has the appearance of hard use with some interesting additions one doesn’t normally see on a pistol/rifle range.  There were some huge steel plates which had apparently been used for practice with rocket propelled grenades and a tower which nobody could quite figure out until we were later shown to a video of assault rifles being dropped twenty feet and then picked up and fired.  Apparently everything gets tested here, body armour is shot up and guns get mud, sand and water immersion and explosive warheads are fired into explosion-containing structures.  I winced at the sight of guns being so treated but the military is a tough place and CZ firearms are well up to it, apparently.  I couldn’t help wondering how a local Garda Superintendent back home would cope with such an establishment if one were to appear in the local bog or sandpit!  Interestingly, while using the CZ .308 sniping rifle, I remarked to the instructor that it  would do nicely for target shooting he seemed surprised and asked: “You can have this rifle in Ireland?”.  From this I assume it may be difficult to obtain a permit for this particular class of firearm in Czechia.  Everyone loved the sniper rifle which was set up at 300 yards and there was no difficulty hitting the large steel plates with the massive Meopta scope.  

The presence of Soviet-looking armoured personnel carriers lent an air of authenticity to the Bzenec range

 

Photographs like this make me feel old.  The Modern CZ 805 BREN, above, and the old British .303 BREN below are eighty years apart in time with no overlap and now I've shot both.  The older design was also Czech and manufactured under licence by the British.  The British Bren was a formidable weapon although prone to jams due to their insistence on adapting it to use the rimmed .303 cartridge.   I found the modern BREN has superb handling qualities shooting offhand at 300 meters

 

My artillery training didn't include this!  Someone seems to have been shooting up steel plates with  rocket propelled grenades!

The Czech Assault Rifle is the  BREN and of course it is vastly superior to the Kalashnikov in design and accuracy and if the tower-drop test is to be trusted, it is just as rugged.  It features a precisely machined aluminium chassis as opposed to its stamped steel cousin and shoots the Soviet 7.62 x 39mm and the NATO 5.56 x 45mm.  There is much about the BREN that is interesting starting with the name which the Czechs appear to have nicked from the Brits who earlier copied the Czechoslovak ZGB 33 light machine gun manufactured in Brno to produce their own .303 version at the Enfield arsenal from the thirties to the nineties; hence the name Brno-Enfield or Bren.  It was still in use during the Falklands conflict.  I trained on the original Bren in the sixties and if it was a light machine gun and not an assault rifle which was just coming into service in the Irish Army in the form of the FN-FAL, we all loved it because it didn’t kick like the hated Lee-Enfield.  It’s hard to imagine anyone hating the venerable old man of classic rifles but we ragamuffin-boy-soldiers of the 11^th Heavy Mortar Battery (FCA) did.  The modern Bren has a gas-operated rotating bolt and a huge array of options including folding stocks, different barrel lengths,  magazine wells, sighting systems and so on.  In other words the CZ 805 BREN is a semi-automatic or select fire rifle of modular design in both sporting and military configurations in either NATO or  Soviet calibres.  Now as a rule assault rifles in any form are not quite my cup of tea.  The reason, I admit, is pure prejudice.  I don’t quite like the people who obsess about them – they are generally young, tattooed, wear pseudo-military clothing, are Google experts, pretend they are tough when they are simply uncouth and usually can’t shoot.  That is not to say these guns are in any way deficient but I rather do love my 1904 Mauser.  When I was plonked on the Bzenec shooting range by my CZ hosts and shown a BREN in a choice of Soviet 7.62 x 39mm and NATO 5.56 x 45mm I hesitated momentarily.  While I thus dithered my younger colleagues from places like Indiana, Poland and Ukraine steamed in, hogged the rifles and proceeded to fill the air with lead.  I immediately noticed that there was a lot of very rapid loud noises coming from the guns gut very few “ping” noises from the steel plates 300 meters away.  My young colleagues seemed long on “recoil therapy” and short on accuracy.  I shoot National Match and am no stranger to the difficulties of offhand shooting and decided to give it a whirl.  I adopted the classic stance of the offhand shooter and let the red dot drift down on the target in a controlled swoop and squeezed off a 7.62mm round at the man-sized steel silhouette when it reached the waist line because I know I tend to shoot high in this discipline.  I was rewarded with a cloud of pulverised lead, rust, and paint.  Dead silhouette. I repeated my success with my first round and continued to get off slow-fire aimed shots until I felt my arm muscles begin to spasm at which point I lowered the rifle, worked on oxygenating my bloodstream, rested my arms and resumed my shooting stance.  By the time I took my second rest I was vaguely aware of silence on the range followed by the sound of applause – a young Ukrainian lady had started clapping her hands.  I continued in this fashion until the 30 round magazine was empty and the handpiece was getting hot.  As I put down the rifle and thanked the instructor, a female voice shouted “well done” in accented English and I noticed a couple of Rambo types scowling at me.  I don’t know how many hits I had scored – it wasn’t a Camp Perry-perfect winning performance but I had not disgraced myself and apparently I had upset a couple of Russian Rambos which pleased me greatly and I had acquired enormous respect for the  CZ Bren 805 S1.  I had found it much easier to hit 300 meter targets offhand than if I were using either of my classic bolt-action rifles, the Mauser or the Mosin and the reason probably lay in the lighter weight, shorter length, closer centre of balance, and semi-automatic action.  I’ll never own a Bren but it’s a lot of rifle!

 

Gun Control was inevitably a much discussed topic when US and European shooters met although they understood the term differently.  Their understanding of what constitutes freedom and democracy also differed greatly with Americans tending to talk a lot more than Europeans about the use of firearms for personal protection

I worked hard at looking sinister for my photograph with the CZ Skorpion sub-machine gun.  Actually it was a lot of fun to shoot and easier to handle than the old Swedish Karl Gustav we trained on fifty years ago. 

 

A service not usually seen on shooting ranges - a 4x4 taxi  driven by a nice young lady

The CZ Sniper Rifle with its Meopta tactical sight - definitely something target shooters back home might be interested in

It was not unusual to overhear Europeans  discussing gun control in the US with Americans while the Americans were incapable of reciprocating because they don’t know anything about Europe. The Europeans have been bombarded with US pro and anti gun control propaganda on line and in print and are quite knowledgeable.  I listened to a Greek discussing assault rifle issues with an Indianan on the bus and was amused he never mentioned the fact of a ban on most firearms in his own country.  Likewise Americans talk loudly about the evils of leftism without any experience of it.  Socialism means higher taxes, Obamacare and the enemies of “our democratic way of life”.  This is not to say Americans are always wrong but their society, or sections of it are relatively affluent; they have not experienced European style oppression since the 1700’s or perhaps never have;  Gun control to them means an infringement of a basic human right or a necessary measure to curb an out of control society depending on who is talking (always loudly); they are citizens of a superpower with a colonial/expansionist outlook and their patriotism, while admirable, is rabid by European standards. (European nationalism is on the rise too as evidenced by a lurch to the right in Finland, Britain, France and Sweden).  The aforementioned Indianan expounded knowledgeably and at length as to why he as a family man and a Christian should have the right to shoot dead anybody intruding in his home.  Democracy without the most fundamental of rights – no fair trial  just a swift execution with himself as judge and executioner.  He saw no contradiction.  The next time I open someone’s back door and shout “are ye ready yet” I shall do so carefully.  On the subject of War: "We've had 15 years of war since 9/11. We didn't ask for this war, they did. I guess we'll just keep killing 'em until we get tired killin' 'em."  Such was the traumatic effect of 9/11 On the American psyche that war seems to some the only possible response.  The problem is that short of nuclear genocide the war response is doomed as more nations come to regard the US as the imperialist aggressor.  There is no solution to this impasse.  The US is at war with the east and with itself.  So a European looks at the 6.5 Grendel and sees an underpowered deer cartridge. A Texan sees a more powerful cartridge for his combat rifle.  Two generations have passed since world war two and a new generation of marines (and jihadis) have arisen that do not fear war as their grandfathers did.  We know what Americans mean when they talk about killing people to protect their democratic way of life but their wisdom and compassion seem to have been suspended.  The unpopularity of Americans was brought home to me when I travelled in Czechia wearing my favourite lightweight green cargo pants and comfortable Italian hunting shirt with lots of pockets.  For some reason my wardrobe was mistaken for a US military uniform despite the fact the modern military uniform is usually in a camouflage style.  The reaction was not friendly and I took to wearing my press and CZ ID.  Even then a Taxi driver asked me if I were Press or Military and became quite chatty (for a Czech) when I pointed out I was Irish.  The average Czech has become less than affectionate towards the US.

 

The CZ manufacturing plant at Uhersky Brod resembles a modern engineering factory - unsurprisingly since that's what it is

The lost wax process is used to cast pistol frames.  These wax templates are awaiting coating to make moulds

 

here the moulds are ready to be heated which drains off the wax and the cavity is then filled with molten metal

Racks of pistol frames awaiting final fitting and polishing

The Ceska Zbrojovka Uhersky Brod factory dominates the village of Uhersky Brod and employs around 2,000 people. In some ways it resembles any metal engineering operation, casting, forging. Milling and machining pieces of metal into precise shapes. The workforce are ordinary men and women who glance a little uncomprehendingly at the visitors in high viz jackets being escorted around the plant.  Most visitors are in publishing and advertising but a significant number are also shapers of opinion - people who influence how the public and legislators think about the arms industry and gun making.  The company management recognises this and courts these visitors. There is a certain cosiness in the relationship.  We make them.  You help sell them and keep the public aware of what crafty antis are up to.  The Americans understand this well.  It is speaking to the converted.  There are other people there too who have links to police and military organisations.

 

Rifle barrel blanks ready for forging

The Uhersky Brod plant is modern and the staff quite young with an even gender mix.  I imagine a job with CZ is a coup for a young Czech.  Photography was not allowed although the guide promised we would receive “approved” pictures.  The manufacturing processes are essentially fairly standard engineering procedures with refinements.  Pistol receivers are cast using the lost wax system and then polished.  Rifles receivers are machined from aluminium and steel.  We didn’t see Barrel-making, only stacks of partly finished barrels and this may be an area of production the company wishes to keep confidential.  The CNC lathes looked familiar from visits to other plants.  There was the expected emphasis on health and safety and the canteen facilities were excellent.  At the presentation and discussion after the guided tour there were some very pointed questions from very knowledgeable people with perfect European-accented English about production figures, new products and future company plans and there almost seemed a whiff of industrial espionage in the air as the CZ representative deftly fielded awkward questions to which he avoided giving specific answers in a slightly American accent.  CZ has successfully penetrated the lucrative American market and are very discreet about it.  One journalist asked about rocket propelled grenades and the ensuing non-discussion resembled a Bolshoi Ballet performance.  Fools don’t last long in the international arms business and I sat in amazement at the performance – “I’m your best friend in the arms business but I’ll tell you feck-all about sensitive topics”.  The young tattooed Rambo types from Eastern Europe slouched in their comfortable seats eating Czech pastries in stunned somnolence but the gentleman with the cut-glass British accent had the alert appearance of a Peregrine on a Scottish treetop. Someone farted luxuriously and odoriferously.  The previous night’s boozing by the Rambo boys during the complimentary distillery tour with lots of free samples was taking its toll.  Time to go.  I made the acquaintance of the British gentleman- a former officer with a wicked sense of humour and as Bertie Wooster would have said; “an all-round good egg”.

 

Another first was testing body armour with pistol ammunition - very therapeutic!

 

CZ laid on an outdoor buffet for the visitors to Bzenec ranges.  Incredibly there was even a young lady dispensing BEER - non alcoholic of course.

Our business complete in Uhersky Brod, Hana, our CZ guide and minder somehow worked a seat on the bus for me which would take me the 300 or so kilometres to Prague where Audrey had booked me into a hotel.  The driver, who seemed a bit disorientated in the big city got lost and navigation was taken over by a British journalist with the help of that miracle of modern cyber technology – the mobile phone equipped with GPS.  he ensured I was dropped at the door.  I ate well if not in style out of a Lidl store across the road and the following morning boarded a tram and was whisked through grim soviet-era working class districts to the wondrous Old City with its Baroque architecture, cobbled streets and the best street food in the world.  My destination was the famous CZ Shop on Opletova Street.  I wandered in after an embarrassing (for a former geography teacher) circular tour of the city occasioned by my confusing east with west.  I expected the usual gun shop reaction to visiting journalists which is usually amused tolerance followed by the realisation that a good write up can help business.  Such was not the case, however and I was promptly banned from taking photographs despite displaying my CZ accreditation and ID and left to my own devices.  If I was to be completely honest I’d have to say I was deeply hurt after the warmth of my reception in Uhersky Brod but this is Czechia and the people are not Irish, English or American.  Even the punctiliously correct English staff in places like Holland & Holland and Boss in London with their upperclass cut-glass accents had been happy to indulge my enthusiasm for beautiful hunting guns.  The more proletarian ambiance in Mr Krank’s shop in Pudsey, Yorkshire had been even more welcoming to the extent that the staff knew the names of my shooting buddies in Northern Ireland from long usage of the famous Krank mail order system and enquired after their well being!  However just as one swallow maketh not an Irish Summer so one or two scowling, unhelpful Praguers invalidate not the otherwise warmth of my Ceska Zbrojovka hosts.  I wandered around and took in the superb displays of firearms and spoke to the youthful staff whose attitude I was relieved to find contrasted with that of the grumpy boss and boss-lady.  The prices are, as one would expect in a top sporting shop, steepish but the quality of the clothing was superb.  I contented myself with a photograph of the facade and the massive statue of Woodrow Wilson across the road in the park.  Wilson even has a main thoroughfare named after him - “Wilsonova”.  Apparently he gave the Czechs a leg-up when they were setting up their new state after the First World War and the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  The Yanks are still fairly popular in Czechia but their recent shenanigans in the Middle East and elsewhere have tarnished their democratic credentials with the Czechs and just about everybody else except the Russians who still just hate them.   

 

The Army store was a treasurehouse of kit including Pickelhauber helmets, bayonets and a shoulder holster I'd been looking for

Having exhausted all possibilities at the CZ store I nipped around the corner to a different establishment – The Military Shop which sells an assortment of army surplus and militaria and where the owner-manager recognised me for something he liked – a tourist-customer with a wallet.  I established my credentials immediately by taking off a peg something I had long coveted - a genuine Soviet Era leather shoulder holster for a large handgun.  The bossman helpfully assured me it was “Skorpion!”  It fitted perfectly and the price was a mere 250 kroner or €10.  I dropped it on the counter and went a rummaging along the narrow passes between racks of baggy army fatigues and Pickelhauber helmets and Mauser bayonets and trenching tools – a magical place.  Eventually I found another long coveted item a modern bandolier type mini-rucksack which I wanted for my hillwalking in the Sperrins.  There were lots of Items I would have liked but I was limited to what I could stuff in my rucksack and since I had travelled without baggage I could not take through security anything resembling a knife.  I paid for my purchases and asked for a photograph – he had shrewdly spotted the press ID I was still wearing and beamed his assent.  Before I took the photograph he nipped behind a display; obviously camera-shy.  Nothing would persuade him to emerge from behind the Russian longjohns which was a pity but the experience had been a pleasant one and I went off to the old town market where I got a Czech Garnet pendant for Audrey from a charming lady in a booth and a massive and delicious Czech pork sausage for myself.  I have always said that if you want to go shopping, the best places always have an owner-manager as opposed to a retail marketing graduate at the counter.  You might have to dickey over the price but you take away a memory of a personal contact.

My purchases wouldn't fit in my rucksack so as planned I offered the sleeping bag to a homeless man in the Old City.  He accepted graciously and in perfect English - he was obviously educated.  He asked me if I could spare "a small amount of money" and I obliged.  It is sad that in our headlong rush for affluence we have left so many behind.

Prague is a charming city, even in the rain.

Sadly homelessness is common in Prague and indeed in most capital cities these days.

 

A bemused Prague resident looks on heplessly during the joint invasion of Czechoslovakia by five Warsaw Pact countries – the Soviet Union, Bulgaria, Hungary, East Germany and Poland – on the night of 20–21 August 1968