About 1990 , Not to long after I got out of the Army, I had my BRAND NEW conceal carry , a Beretta 92FS, and was sitting on my parents porch visiting. I had been practicing ALOT with my new 92. I was really working on my rapid fire and had got pretty good at it. I could empty a 15 round mag in extreme rapid fire mode and keep them all in a paper plate @ about 20 yards. I thought that new 92 was the cats meow.
While we were sitting there visiting, a HUGE monster of a woodchuck came out of their little barn and was eating in their yard about 25 yards away.
Their pet Beagle was standing there about 10 yards from the chuck, just looking at him. The chuck looks at the dog and goes back to eating. I know what they were both thinking. The dog was thinking, " he is bigger than me, I aint messing with him." And the chuck was thinking, " he messes with me, I'll kick his beagle butt. "
I remember making the comment about " that's some hunting dog you got there Dad".

My mom ask if I could get rid of it before it chewed the radiator out of her new car. ( it happened before). I says " sure Mom, NO PROBLEM" And I proceed to pull my 9mm out, stepped off the porch, which put me about 20 yards from the woodchuck, PERFECT ! I'm gonna show him " what for". And as they always said on the range in the Army, I flipped the selector switch from safe to rock and roll, and commenced fire.
I started blasting away. Everytime a bullet hit him, he would roll over a turn, and I just keep pluggin away. And he keeps rolling up through the yard. And of course, the grass and dirt is flying everywhere. After putting about 10 rounds through the woodchuck, I quit firing, thinking he had so many holes in him, HE JUST HAD TO BE DEAD. The minute I quit firing, he gathers himself up and ran back underneath the barn.

I'm standing there with a stupid look on my face thinking,

" what the hell ? ? ?'"
My Mom says something like, " Well that new gun of your's aint worth a hoot. "
My Dad said something like, " Jesus boy, do you want me to get the 30-06? "
I said something about " He musta had a flak jacket on ".
Then we all laughed until we were teary eyed.
Dad said he did die ,,,, eventually,,, OF LEAD POISONING.

.
And I did take some flak myself over that one. FOR A LONG TIME.
I guess 115 grain FMJ's aint the best bullet for killing woodchucks.
