dennis anderson
Thursday at Oakdale Gun Gun Club, scores of hunters were punching holes in targets, some with rifles, others with shotguns, a few with muzzleloaders. This was two days ahead of the firearms deer season opener, and the idea was to draw a bead on a bull's-eye and hit it.
Shooting my .270, I was more or less where I wanted to be. Pulling a trigger always generates excitement, and a hunter by this time of year, in his mind's eye, or hers, compounds the exhilaration by imagining a deer strolling nearby, preferably something with antlers.
Next to me on the range was Faico Xiong, 56, of St. Paul. Faico, who is Hmong, hunts in southern Minnesota, where shotguns only are allowed for whitetails, and so he was jacking slugs into, first, a 12-gauge, and then a 20-gauge, the latter belonging to his son, Vong.
"He's working today, so I'm sighting in his gun for him," Faico said.
Comfortable with guns, Faico can recall readily the first one he handled, a carbine given to him in Laos by the U.S. Army. He was 12 years old, young by most standards but old enough to fight the Viet Cong on behalf of the U.S.
"I was the oldest boy in our family, so I fought along with my father and my uncle," Faico said. "Every guy had to fight."
Before the war, Faico and his family lived in a Laotian village called Sama. Faico's father hunted deer and other wildlife to feed his family, and also fished. "But with cast nets," Faico said. "Not hook and line."
Faico fought alongside other Hmong soldiers, not Americans. But U.S. helicopters shuttled him and the other fighters from place to place. And when Faico caught a Viet Cong bullet in his arm, it was an Army medic who patched him up.