The Gunshot

The day the shotgun fired changed our family forever.  My brothers were in our basement as it was their turn to clean up the basement, it was our inside play area.  It was fall and my dad and brothers had been hunting and my dad had left the shotguns in the basement to be cleaned.  My brothers had a couple of friends over, Raymond and another boy, who was helping them to clean up the basement.  My mother and I were upstairs in the kitchen, I was putting dishes away and she was getting supper started.  We heard a very loud noise, and I said “I wonder what they blew up?”   My mother just stood there as the other boy ran up the stairs and out the front door so fast I don’t remember seeing him just hearing him.  Then I heard my brother screaming for help and I ran down the stairs into the basement.  I found the boy, Raymond, lying on the floor with most of his face missing.  I screamed to my mother, who had not come down the stairs, to call an ambulance.  In our small town, in the early 70’s, there was no 911 and we had a volunteer fire and rescue team.  Lucky for us one of the volunteers lived next door, heard the call on the police radio and came over.  He was in shock when he saw Raymond and I had to yell at him to do something to stop the bleeding.  After this I don’t remember much, except that several days later Raymond died in the hospital, and two families were devastated.   My brother was in and out of jail for twenty years trying to be punished for “killing” his best friend.  I joined the Army so I could learn about guns.  Our family never went hunting again.  For many years, a loud noise, a certain smell from the oven, a siren, would bring back that horrible day.