Charles Askins: The Quintessential Gunfighter and the Shadow He Casts
In the annals of American shooting history, few names resonate with the mystique and controversy of Charles Askins. A man forged in the crucible of the American frontier, hardened by the brutal realities of war and espionage, and tempered by a lifetime spent with a pistol in hand, Askins was more than just a shooter; he was a living embodiment of the gunfighter legend. His life, a tapestry woven with threads of heroism, ruthlessness, and an unapologetic embrace of violence, continues to fascinate and divide. He was a pioneer of modern combat shooting, an influential author, and a shadowy figure whose actions often blurred the lines between lawman, soldier, and mercenary.
Born in 1913, Askins’ early life was steeped in an environment that would profoundly shape his worldview. The son of a US Forest Service officer, he spent his youth in the rugged, untamed landscapes of the American West. This was a world where self-reliance was paramount, and the ability to handle a firearm was often a matter of survival. It was a world that prepared him for the path he would later take, one that placed him repeatedly at the sharp end of a gun.
His journey into the realm of professional gun handling began in earnest in 1936 when he joined the U.S. Border Patrol. This was not the uniformed, bureaucratic force of today, but a lean, mean organization operating in the lawless expanse of the Texas-Mexico border. Here, Askins cut his teeth in real-world gunfights, confronting smugglers, bandits, and desperate men in an environment where the law was often enforced at the barrel of a gun. It was during this period that he honed his legendary quick draw and instinctive shooting skills, recognizing that in a life-or-death confrontation, speed and immediate accuracy trumped slow, deliberate target shooting.
Askins himself reflected on this formative period with a chilling pragmatism. "The Border Patrol," he once stated, "was the last vestige of the Old West where a man could stand and fight, and often did." This experience cemented his belief in the efficacy of the large-caliber handgun and the necessity of immediate, decisive action. He famously disdained the slow, precise target shooting prevalent at the time, arguing that it bore no resemblance to the chaos and immediacy of a genuine gunfight. His philosophy was simple: hit the target fast, hit it hard, and keep shooting until the threat is neutralized.
With the outbreak of World War II, Askins’ unique skill set found a new, more clandestine application. He transitioned from law enforcement to intelligence, joining the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the precursor to the CIA. His missions during the war were varied and often dangerous, ranging from training resistance fighters in Europe to conducting covert operations behind enemy lines. This marked a significant shift in his career, moving from the open confrontations of the border to the shadowy world of espionage and sabotage, where the rules of engagement were even more fluid.
The post-war era saw Askins continue his work in the intelligence community, operating in some of the world’s most volatile hotspots. He served in Korea, where he was involved in counter-insurgency operations, and later in Indochina, specifically Laos and Vietnam, during the nascent stages of American involvement. Here, Askins operated in a moral grey zone, training indigenous forces, conducting assassinations, and engaging in the brutal, often unseen, conflicts that defined the Cold War. It was during these years that his reputation as a "soldier of fortune" and a man utterly devoid of sentimentality in the face of violence solidified. He was a pragmatic killer, a tool employed by his government to achieve objectives through any means necessary.
His writings from this period, and later reflections, reveal a man who viewed violence with a chilling detachment. He was not a sadist, but he was undeniably effective. He saw killing as a necessary function of his various roles, and he approached it with a professional, almost scientific, methodology. This cold practicality is perhaps best encapsulated by his famous instruction for engaging an armed assailant: "Shoot him twice in the chest. If he’s still standing, put one in his face." This brutal, yet highly effective, "Mozambique Drill" (or "Failure to Stop" drill, as it’s often known) has since become a cornerstone of modern defensive handgun training, a testament to Askins’ grim understanding of terminal ballistics and human physiology under du duress.
Beyond his operational career, Charles Askins left an indelible mark on the shooting world through his prolific writing. He authored numerous articles for prominent gun magazines and penned several influential books, most notably The Pistolero (1962) and Askins on Pistols & Revolvers (1975). These works were revolutionary for their time, challenging the prevailing dogma of slow, deliberate target shooting and advocating for practical, combat-oriented handgun techniques.
Askins championed the large-caliber handgun, specifically the .45 ACP, arguing for its superior stopping power in a real-world confrontation. He emphasized the importance of the quick, instinctive draw from a holster, the need for rapid target acquisition, and the critical skill of firing multiple, accurate shots under pressure. His writings were raw, honest, and often confrontational, directly challenging the established norms of the shooting community. He didn’t just teach techniques; he imparted a philosophy born of genuine combat experience, a philosophy that stressed decisiveness, aggression, and the absolute will to survive.
His influence extended to the nascent stages of what would become modern practical shooting sports. While not directly involved in the founding of IPSC (International Practical Shooting Confederation), his principles and advocacy for combat-oriented shooting laid significant groundwork for its development. Shooters like Jeff Cooper, who would go on to found Gunsite Academy and become a towering figure in defensive shooting, were undoubtedly influenced by Askins’ experiences and published works, even if their methodologies sometimes diverged. Askins’ emphasis on the practical application of handgun skills in a dynamic environment helped shift the focus of the shooting world from static bullseye targets to the fluid, reactive scenarios of real-life threats.
Yet, Askins’ legacy is not without its shadows. His willingness to discuss his involvement in killings, sometimes with a lack of overt remorse, created a controversial public persona. Critics often branded him a cold-blooded killer, a mercenary who reveled in violence. His own words sometimes fueled this perception, such as his often-quoted reflection: "I never wanted to kill a man but I was ready to. And when I had to, I did it with no regrets. It was my job."
This stark pragmatism, while unsettling to some, was a direct product of the environments he inhabited. In the unforgiving world of the Border Patrol, where he faced armed adversaries daily, and in the clandestine operations of the OSS and CIA, where lives were taken to protect national interests, sentimentality was a liability. For Askins, survival and mission accomplishment were paramount, and he developed the mental fortitude necessary to operate within those brutal parameters.
The debate surrounding Askins often boils down to a fundamental question: Can a man who performs such violent acts, even under the guise of duty, be considered a hero? Or is he merely a reflection of the darker aspects of human conflict? There are no easy answers. Askins was undeniably a master of his craft, a man whose skills with a handgun were legendary and whose contributions to the understanding of combat shooting are undeniable. He was a living bridge between the Wild West gunfighters of the 19th century and the modern tactical operator.
Charles Askins passed away in 1999, leaving behind a legacy that continues to be debated and dissected. He remains a complex, enigmatic figure: a lawman who killed in the line of duty, an intelligence operative who eliminated threats, and an author who taught generations how to fight with a handgun. He was a man who lived by the gun, a testament to a bygone era where such men were not just necessary, but often revered.
In the end, Charles Askins stands as a towering, yet controversial, figure in American history. He embodied the raw, unvarnished spirit of the frontier, a man whose life was defined by the acrid tang of gunpowder and the cold glint of steel. He forced the shooting world to confront the brutal realities of combat, forever changing how we think about defensive handgun use. His shadow, cast long and dark across the landscape of American gun culture, continues to serve as a stark reminder that some legends are not born of fairy tales, but forged in fire, blood, and the unforgiving calculus of survival.
