Nagant M1895 Officer Carbine

NAGANT M1895 OFFICER CARBINE. (See also, NAGANT M1895 OFFICER, FIELD MODIFICATIONS). From their inception, the concept of revolving cylinder rifles had the potential to revolutionize the firearms industry. The original mechanism, developed for pistols, was applied to rifles in order to increase the rate of fire. The earliest models were engineered before the Civil War, before the widespread adoption of bullet cartridges. However, the concept was flawed.

When firing a revolver, there's a gap left between the cylinder and the forcing cone. The gasses which propel a projectile with incredible velocity are also traveling at that speed, some of which escape through this gap, known colloquially as "blow-by."While proper handling technique mitigates this problem in a revolver, the use of itin a rifle or carbine necessitates the rifle be supported fore of the cylinder, forcing the user to position their forearm vulnerable to the blow-by.

The unique cylinder mechanism of the Nagant M1895 seals the gap between the cylinder and the forcing cone. This mitigates the danger posed by blow-by to the user's forearm, therefore making them well suited to carbine conversion.

Letter to Frank Chambers
Author: Russell "Snakeskin "Chambers
Single loose sheet, 8.5 x 11 in.
9/9

Pa,

Summer's finally coming to an end. The wound in my arm has worsened. With the cold coming on, I feel it more and more. Too weak to hold a rifle. Trevors had a solution though. Took my Nagant away for two days. I felt naked without it, I was stuck in working on the books.

I didn't recognize it when it was returned to me. Fashioned into something resembling a carbine. Apparently, a lot of Hunter's are doing such a thing, other firearms are too pricey. Makes me think, what others do out of desperation, I do out of a sense of sentimentality and necessity. Made me realize how far I'd come since squatting out in that ranch in the desert.

Tused it for the first time today. The Bear had gone feral, finally living up to his name. We locked him up. He just stood staring at his ceiling like he could still see the moon. Starved himself thin. Last night, we found his cell empty, the bars bent and bloody. We tracked him out. The moon was full in the sky. We knew where he was looking, if not where he was.

We stumbled down to the bayou, following the glimmer, till we found him. Standing out in the middle of a still lake. The white shadow of the moon settled on the water. The Bear turned his head, looking straight at us. For a second, I was happy. I thought the sorcery binding him had broken, he was again aware of us. His face was scratched and tore, from where he'd squeezed through the bars. It turned to a grimace, he snarled, and he started wading to us. The moon broke apart in the ripples

Hardin nodded, and I only shot once. He bucked and fell into the water, face down. The two of us just stood there, as the crickets and the bugs started up again their nightly song. We stood there till the moon settled again on the water, then we waded in for the corpse.

Enclosed is fifty dollars.

Russel