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The Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun by James Slaughter

The Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun

The triple-barreled Luftwaffe Drilling is proof that the German air force took its survival guns very seriously.

Beginning in World War I, there was a serious debate over how to arm aircrews. Many pilots carried a sidearm before planes were even armed, and the apocryphal story concerning the beginning of aerial combat is that the first “dogfight” was with pistols from passing pilots. This then quickly evolved into rifles—rifles with extended magazines, multiple pistols and then finally (and thankfully) machineguns being usefully mounted on aircraft.

As aerial warfare evolved, aircraft were armed with an array of machineguns, cannon, rockets, bombs and eventually air-to-air missiles. However, all of these armaments generally did the pilot little good if he or she was shot down. Space constraints meant, and still mean, that everything carried by aircrew must be compact, and it all has to have a use. There is no room for superfluous equipment.

Most pilots during World War II had little more than perhaps pistol, a compass and an escape map. Some U.S. naval aviators had sealed kits with trade goods in them including gold coins that would theoretically allow them to bribe their way to safety, along with life rafts and some basic survival gear.

Following World War II, there was a concerted effort to expand useful survival gear. Most pilots in most nations now have an array of survival gear to help them cope when shot down. The United States and other countries experimented with survival rifles. Soviet cosmonauts even had shotguns in their survival gear to help cope with an unforeseen threat—(ironically) bears upon landing in often primitive areas of the Soviet Union.

Perhaps the most handsome of all survival weapons ever issued to any pilot, and certainly the most expensive of those available on the U.S. market is the Luftwaffe Drilling from WWII. For those of you unfamiliar with a drilling, it is usually a German three-barreled hunting gun with two shotgun barrels and a rifle barrel. These are often found with differently choked shotgun barrels, and a rifle barrel in a caliber considered to be appropriate for the game in the area where the gun was to be used. The differently choked barrels were a necessity in an age when removable chokes were yet to be invented. It was a “one gun” solution for most hunting needs.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun

The Luftwaffe Drilling is set up in a traditional method. It has two 12-gauge shotgun barrels, with the left barrel being unchoked for use with slugs, and the right barrel being fully choked for birdshot. The rifle barrel is 9.3x74R caliber. The 9.3mm rifle round was considered more than powerful enough for medium game, and in many instances suitable for large game. The theory of this setup was simple. The unchoked shotgun barrel can accommodate slugs. The fully choked barrel is useful for hunting birds. The rifle barrel useful for larger game.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun chambers
Lockup is still tight. Note Greener-style barrel selector for the 9.3×74 rifled tube.

The Luftwaffe Drilling seems to have been issued only in the Mediterranean Theater and North Africa, but it would not be surprising to find evidence they popped up elsewhere. The reasonable theory behind their issue is that downed pilots would be able to hunt game and possibly protect themselves against dangerous wildlife (or even Allied ground troops) if downed in this admittedly hostile environment. Unlike Western Europe, in North Africa one can walk hundreds of miles and find no trace of civilization. However, the combination of calibers could seem excessive for this use in North Africa. While 12-gauge is acceptably fine for any sort of wing shooting, 9.3mm is a bit excessive for almost all of the game in the area, making one wonder whether it was added with the intent of possibly moving further afield.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun right
Makers markings are still visible after almost a century of use.

There is no denying that the Luftwaffe Drilling is an exceptionally handsome firearm. Even this example, which had been used in the field extensively after WWII, still retains its charm. Traces of case hardening remain on this gun, but from the factory, the case hardening work, created with a method little used in the modern world, produced an exceptionally vibrant finish, a product to be expected from J.P. Sauer, the sole producer of the Luftwaffe Drilling. Although Sauer made large number of small arms for the Wehrmacht during World War II, it was and remains primarily a sporting arms corporation.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun bottom
Almost all of the color case hardening has been worn off this example through years of postwar use in the field.

It’s perhaps not surprising that the Luftwaffe Drilling found its way into Luftwaffe aircraft. It was not a bad solution to a complicated problem before the advent of better search, rescue, and location methods. However, Göring’s tastes show through in this firearm. Göring was a dedicated hunter who even went so far as to carve out sections of Nazi occupied territory to turn into his personal hunting preserves. He was well-known for giving firearms as gifts to people he admired or found worthy, and the Luftwaffe Drilling seems to fit his M.O. even though it was an issue piece.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun muzzle 2
You can just about see the difference in muzzle thickness between the full choke birdshot barrel and cylinder slug tube. Muzzle checkering is entirely superfluous, but why not?

As issued, the Luftwaffe Drilling came with a case that contained the firearm, ammunition, a sling and a cleaning kit. This example is missing the contents of the kit, and finding one intact is far rarer than finding a drilling, which is arguably the rarest of all issued German arms from WWII that was not experimental or part of the ad hoc attempt to maintain logistics at the end of the war. There is little record of these being used during wartime beyond recreational use by the pilots and aircrew for wing shooting and perhaps clays.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun storage box contents
Weapon storage container, listing contents.

Luftwaffe Drillings have been faked, and for such a valuable gun, it shouldn’t be surprising. All of the Luftwaffe Drillings were produced by J.P. Sauer, and they were all case hardened on the receiver. Forged markings tend to be irregular and uneven when applied later on. Also, watch for differences in the patina around the markings. Keep in mind the sole caliber combination and the choke setup of the shotgun bores as well.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun lock

Note there are more registered German-produced WWII machineguns, and even K98 sniper rifles and Krieghoff Lugers than there are Luftwaffe Drillings in the U.S. market. Prices will vary greatly depending on condition and completeness of kit. A complete Luftwaffe Drilling with the case and the contents is an extremely expensive find indeed and rare enough to not make the market with any frequency.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun stock
Despite the high-end nature of the rest of the gun, most Luftwaffe drillings had plain, serviceable stocks.

The obscurity and the fact that it was not a combat weapon keeps its value a bit in check. A very nice example without the kit in the 90 percent range will easily exceed $5,000. With the kit, the value is probably best determined by following the auction market when they appear—which is rarely. Because of the utility, many like this one will have been used as field guns after the war. Utility is the great killer of military collectibles. If it was useful after a conflict, it was used—just ask a U.S. Civil War collector how difficult it is to find an original haversack. This example was rescued by Jay Cobb who had to clean the dirt out of the pad on the stock and from under the foregrip where it was used as a both a game gun, a walking stick, and climbing aid in rural West Virginia.

Luftwaffe Drilling Survival Gun left
Each barrel has its own extractor. Lockup is by means of a sliding bolt through the barrel extension.
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The Spider Written By Will Dabbs, MD

Eventually, these guys wear out and come home. However, they
still retain a few marketable skills. Images: Department of Defense

 

My editors here at FMG let me indulge in a bit of fiction from time to time so long as I don’t grow overly accustomed to the space…

After all he had been through, after all he had seen and done, Matt Eastman never imagined that going to college could be so intimidating. Matt was the archetypal non-traditional student. He found himself utterly alone in an unfamiliar town, living off his GI bill, about to embark on Life 2.0.

Matt had discovered the crummy apartment online and dropped his deposit sight unseen. It turned out that the pictures on the website had been taken during the Clinton administration. This place was a dump, but the price was right. The actual unit he rented had peeling paint and smelled vaguely of cats. The carpet looked like some teenager’s High School science experiment. As Matt had moved his few possessions in, he humored himself. He had seen worse.

That first evening, around nine, there came a knock upon the door. Matt didn’t know a soul. He had literally no idea who this could be.

Matt was fit and lived alone. He also had very few material possessions. He had always been conservative with money. What he saved on this dump was going into his savings account to facilitate something better later, ideally something he might share with somebody a bit softer and less hairy than he. However, that was down the road a ways. For now, with literally nothing to fear, he just padded over to the door and swung it wide.

There were three rough-looking young men standing outside. Matt sized them up without conscious thought. He couldn’t help that. It was simply residual fallout from his former life. All three sported shaved heads, wife-beater t-shirts, and an excess of tats. They seemed vaguely surprised that Matt had actually opened his door without any extra cajoling.

The apparent alpha of this motley trio spoke first. He didn’t bother giving his name, “I am the leader of the local neighborhood watch, amigo. We come around every month to collect the neighborhood watch dues. They are fifty dollars due on the first.”

Matt did some quick mental math, multiplying his estimate of the number of apartments in this complex times fifty bucks each month. He was impressed. This was a pretty lucrative racket.

“What does that fifty bucks buy me, guys?” Matt asked amiably.

The leader spoke up again, “Fifty dollars a month guarantees you protection against the less savory members of the local community. My men and I patrol 24/7, making sure nobody messes with you or your stuff. However, fail to pay on time and bad stuff will happen to you. That’s predictable. Participation is not voluntary.”

The other two men just stood with their arms crossed and smiled.

Matt pondered for a moment before proceeding, “Well, I certainly appreciate your keeping our cozy little neighborhood safe, but I don’t have cash.
Something tells me you likely can’t process plastic. I don’t see how I can pay you for your service. That and today is the fifth of the month. I don’t have to pay for five days when I wasn’t here, do I?”

The leader continued, “Whatever, jefe. As today is the fifth, we’ll prorate it. That means you still owe us fifty bucks. We’ll give you until tomorrow to find an ATM. Don’t be late going forward. This is a dangerous neighborhood. We would hate for something bad to happen.”

“Why can’t I just call the cops?” Matt mused. “If this place is so rugged, surely the police could come up with some handy tips.”

“Listen, buddy,” the spokesman said. “Cops don’t come here. We own those that do. It’s just us in this place. Nobody else is coming to help you. Just dig up fifty bucks by the first of every month, and you’ll be fine.”

Matt answered, “I’m a brand new student, so I’ll be gone most of tomorrow. However, I will be back in time for supper. I’ll make a point to be ready then. I appreciate the selfless work that you neighborhood watch volunteers do on my behalf. Fifty dollars seems like a bargain.”

The three men stole a quick glance at each other. The only one who had spoken carefully lifted the edge of his shirt to expose the butt of a heavy magnum revolver stuffed into his low-slung britches. Matt seemed suitably impressed, and the three men departed.

Matt pored over the exchange much of the evening and into the following morning. The next day was a blur of offices and administrative minutiae. In some ways, that wasn’t altogether different from his old job. Before he knew it, the day’s school registration chores were done, he had a class schedule, and it was time to head home. He didn’t bother with the ATM.

Matt slipped into his austere apartment and bolted the flimsy door. In his entire world, he owned one single item of value. He spun the combination lock off of his heavy plastic case and swung the lid wide. Resting atop his hand-built rifle was his tan beret, carefully folded. This he set aside. He then hefted his Mk 18 and worked the action by rote, its familiar dimensions falling into his hands like a piece of his anatomy.

He had built the weapon up himself to reflect the gun he had used during his time in special operations. He gave the suppressor a quick twist to ensure that it was still locked tight and then replaced the batteries in both the Holosight as well as the tactical light. Scooping up four full P-Mags, he then placed everything on his rickety coffee table.

Matt judged the space with a discerning eye. He then dragged his battered recliner over until it faced the apartment’s only door squarely. Satisfied that the geometry was right, he flipped on the outside light before extinguishing everything inside. He then unlocked the door and cracked it open about two inches. Sickly yellow illumination streamed through the opening from the isolated bulb on the landing.

Satisfied, Matt dropped himself back into his chair, quietly charged his rifle, and rested the weapon across his lap. The only adornment in the apartment was a professionally framed scroll from his time in the 2-75 Rangers hanging lonely and alone on his living room wall. This he could just barely make out in the dim glow from outside. Glancing at the luminescent hands of his expensive dive watch, Matt allowed his vision to acclimate, steadied his breathing, and waited.

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