With accuracy like this, and the oh-so-sexy grip, it’s easy to understand the author’s fondness for the Browning Hi Power.

I've always loved the feel of the Browning Hi Power, from the moment I first held one and even after first firing one. A little more than 30 years ago I was working at a gun shop called the Gun Room (now long-closed). The owner, Mike Karbon, had just finished building a house out in the country, and we all went to his acreage to celebrate.

Of course, everyone brought guns and ammo to play with, show off and admire.

The Hi Power in question was a beauty: a brushed-blue finish with the blueing as near-new as it could be 35 years after it had left the factory. It had a tangent rear sight, marked from 50 to 500 meters. It had the shoulder-stock slot cut into the lower rear of the frame. The hammer was the standard rowel, or Commander hammer. It had been built after Germany invaded Belgium and occupied the FN plant in Liege, and it had the inspector's marks and Waffenamt to prove it. It had obviously been well treated and probably hadn't seen any hard use, as it didn't even have much holster wear. It had probably been issued to a unit right after being built, spent most of the time from 1940 to 1944 in storage and then been seized by a GI soon after having been issued to a soldier of the Wehrmacht or Waffen SS in 1944/45.

Today it is a relatively rare and desirable collector's piece. Back then it was another 9mm blaster and not even a convenient carry gun, as the tangent sight was particularly hard on shirts and jackets when carried concealed.

In due time at the party I loaded up a magazine and had at the targets. I noticed right away that the recoil sensation was sharper than that of the other 9mm and .45 handguns I'd been shooting. When I went to reload, I noticed that the magazine was a bit sticky. Ye gods, I was bleeding! The somewhat sharper pain I had noticed was the hammer chewing a hole in the web of my hand. I was bleeding profusely, with blood pouring down the frame and grips, splattered on the hammer and slide, and now on the magazine. (Don't ask about my shirt.) Mike looked over: "What are you doing?" "Uh, bleeding. I think this gun doesn't like me."