At station nine under the roof of the 50-yard pistol range, I held the gun steady, making minor adjustments to my grip until the center white dot was in between the two outer white dots. With the center of my right index fingertip, I pulled the trigger slowly, remembering Dad’s instructions, You almost want to be surprised when it goes off. The moment of explosion is sudden and disorienting. After each shot, I lowered the gun to look at the target. I was hitting the target below the orange circle in the center. I raised the gun again and aimed a little higher. To the left and right of me, at stations eight and eleven, two other guns were going off. The noise each time a gun would go off was so loud that I could feel the pressure of the bang moving through the air.