Join Andy on a thrilling journey back to 1429, where the siege of Orleans marks a pivotal moment in the Hundred Years' War. The French, led by a determined teenage girl named Joan of Arc, face off against the English forces under Thomas de Montague. Despite being battered and hungry, the French defenders refuse to surrender, igniting a spirit of resistance that turns the tide of battle. With humor and historical insights, Andy explores the absurdities of medieval warfare, including the use of early gunpowder weaponry. This episode not only dives into the dramatic underdog story of Joan of Arc but also provides a playful look at the chaotic and often ridiculous nature of 15th-century combat.

The 1429 Siege of Orléans

Lets zap the pod back to 1492 for a look at the early days of field artillery and the very first handguns!  We join what's left of Tom Montague and Joan of Arc in an epic if not a little anticlimactic, yet still high-stakes gunfight that turned the tides in favor of the French near the end of the Hundred Year's War.

We'll see some huge bombards and a few smaller cannons... I'll show you how to make your very own HAND CANNON, and  I'll even show you how to make your own personalized small-batch brand of gunpowder.   The Gunfightpod podcast NEVER glorfies guns or gunfights or ANY type of

voiolence; however we do observe it closely and rate it on a scale of one to

ten.   Owing to the low quality and

quantity of guns in this episode, it only gets a six.

Weaponry to look out for include: Trebuchets, Battering Rams, Bombards, Cannons, Hand Cannons, burning livestock, and Joan’s Holy Sword of Saint Catherine de Fierbois.

 And… I lied about glorifying guns.   We do that all the time, and when we run out of guns to glorify, we glorify swords, knives, and battleaxes.

Navigating the tumultuous waters of the Hundred Years' War, this episode takes listeners back to 1429, focusing on the pivotal Siege of Orleans. The narrative, guided by the ever charismatic Andy, paints a vivid picture of medieval France, rife with tension and absurdity. We encounter the English forces, led by the ambitious Thomas de Montague, preparing to starve out the beleaguered French defenders. However, amid the chaos, an unexpected hero emerges: the young and fervent Joan of Arc. Through a blend of humor and historical insight, Andy explores Joan's remarkable yet unconventional journey from a peasant girl to a military leader, driven by divine visions. As the siege unfolds, we are treated to a colorful commentary on the farcical nature of warfare, with French soldiers hurling insults and improvised projectiles over the city walls, showcasing the psychological warfare that characterized this historical conflict. The episode ultimately highlights themes of resilience and the power of belief in the face of overwhelming odds, as Joan galvanizes her compatriots to fight back against the English encroachment, turning the tide of history in an unexpected and profound way.

Takeaways:

• The siege of Orleans in 1429 marked a pivotal moment in the Hundred Years War, showcasing the resilience of the French against English forces.
• Joan of Arc emerged as a key figure in the siege, inspiring the French troops despite her youth and inexperience.
• The use of early gunpowder weaponry, such as hand cannons, represented a significant shift in military tactics during this period.
• The English siege strategy relied heavily on psychological warfare, but the French countered with sarcasm and spirited resistance.
• The podcast humorously details the absurdities of medieval warfare, including the crude construction of hand cannons from household items.
• The historical context of the siege illustrates how pivotal moments can redefine national identity and military strategy.

Well, hello there.

I'm Andy, your curiouser and curiouser tour guide for this voyage of the gunfight pod.

I'm a history nerd, a firearms enthusiast, and a big fan of good old fashioned sieges.

Even if you don't care for them, you're gonna love this one.

It's got surly Frenchmen, gang taunting silly English, a zircon encrusted grail, and a group of exuberant young virgins.

Okay, there's no grail.

But there are Frenchmen, pinigots, and at least one young virgin with enough enthusiasm and zeal to stand in for a whole swagger of virgins, the English.

And actually, no one ever expected Joan of Arc.

And trust me, no one expects what's coming next.

It's the ultimate underdog story.

David and Goliath.

Except with fewer giants and slingshots and more plated armor and flaming arrows.

And the thing that inspired today's gunfight pod trip, A historically early dose of gunpowder.

And I already feel like I owe you an explanation.

If you didn't recognize C ngots as the fringe taunting form of knights used in the holy grail by Mr.

Python and crew.

But on this gunfight pod Rod, we will put the can in hand cannon.

We'll teach you how to make your own saltpeter, which is the secret sauce in our exclusive gunfight pod secret gunpowder recipe.

Show you one easy trick that you can use to make up for all 4,000 people that are going to die in this episode.

We'll see some bombards, which are these huge multi ton cannons that are used to replace trebuchets and add a burning fiery element to flinging livestock at people.

Cannons, which are just big hand cannons with wheels, and hand cannons, which are little cannons on sticks with no wheels.

Give you a brief word about the glossary for this episode.

I didn't make up any special words this time, but you might want to look up cloisonne.

Oh, and swagger is actually the collective noun for a group of virgins.

Who knew?

Today though, we'll be traveling to the heart of medieval France for one of the most significant battles of 100 Years War.

The siege of Orleans.

Say, oh, the ocean blue.

But this is about 63 years before that, when medieval France is a great hot stinky mess.

That's Gotten messier and stinkier over the past few months.

The English control most of northern France, but our destination is Orleans.

It's about 100 kilometers south by southwest of Paris, or about 70 miles if you're using freedom units.

If the English capture Orleans, it will be game over for the French.

Well, at least until the French Revolution.

That's coming up in about 360 years.

But that story would be a whole other episode.

And since this isn't the Guillotine fight podcast, well, that's kind of out of scope.

The plan is to lay siege to the city, starve out the French and take control of key strategic waterway, the Lorry river, which unlike Columbus, ocean is not blue but muddy river brown.

Just across the river, inside the walls of Orleans.

The French, despite being battered, exhausted and really, really hungry, have no intention of giving up.

And they have a secret weapon more destructive than a battery of howitzers.

It's a 17 year old girl in fact.

Let's hop back and have a look at the lead up.

Tom Montague and the English, that's our band name, have set up along the shore of the river opposite the high stone walls of Orleans.

The English politely ask the French to open the gates so they can come in and take over the place.

In the name of God, the Crown, His Royal Majesty King Henry VI and yada yada, yada, yada and so on and so on.

But Henry 6 is only like about 9 months old right now and the so called crown is being passed around by highly avaricious pack of dukes and earls and viscounts, barons and such.

What?

I'm guessing Tom Monu is counting on the French not knowing that Henry six is literally just a big fat baby or else why even bring it up?

We arrive to see that Tom has sent out a messenger who's like, open your gates in the name of God, the English crown and his royal yada yada yada, and we shall show mercy upon thee.

But the Frenchmen are all like Z English pig dogs.

Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

Just before they start trebucheting huge buckets of shit and chickens and cows over the walls at them.

Of course, the English stiff upper lipping it and trying desperately to keep things professional with something like, right, well, very well then.

But keep in mind this siege isn't just a physical battle.

It's a mental one too.

And in that regard the French are winning hands down, at least in the sarcasm department.

Our modern day English type persons may be masters of sarcasm, but they learned it from the French during all 116 years of the Hundred Years War we are currently enjoying.

Oh, look there.

One of our English contestants has scurried up a makeshift ladder to reach an opening in the fortified wall around Orleans.

He's hoping to get a look inside, but instead he gets his head blown clean off.

And by clean off I mean, well, messy off.

An enterprising young Frenchman with a hand cannon has relieved him of his head and said latter transport said Englishman spy's headless body back into the Lurie river while it intermittently spurts little jets of bright crimson life juice from his neck hole.

Meanwhile, said Frenchman is so busy laughing that he's hardly even noticed that his prototypical gun on a stick has detonated in a cloud of shrapnel and blown his hand messy off.

What hand can cannons lack in sex appeal?

They make up for with being firstness, arguably, but only on the Internet where people like to argue about points of fact.

Hand cannons are the first handgun.

The first ones of these were forged probably in China about probably 300 years ago.

To get an idea of what we're looking at here, take a Pringles can and drill a small hole near the bottom for a fuse hole.

Now take off the top and dump out the Pringles into a medical waste receptacle because those things are pure poison.

Friends don't let friends eat Pringles.

Now bury the empty can in some sand and poke your finger down through the sand until you touch the Pringles can.

Next, just melt some bronze and pour it into the finger hole so it burns up the Pringles can and replaces it with metal.

Let all that cool for a bit and then fish your brand new hand cannon out of the sand.

You can make your own hand cannon cannonballs using the same sand casting thing with tennis balls, which will coincidentally enough fit perfectly.

Or if you are larping French, you might want to substitute a decorative ball of brass tastefully decorated with a floral cloisonade art deco pattern.

I know you don't have any gunpowder, but relax.

We're going to teach you how to make your own gunpowder from scratch.

That's right.

Welcome to the gunfight pod's first ever gunpowder kitchen.

It's easy all we really need is some sulfur, some charcoal and something called saltpeter.

We brought along a bag of elemental sulfur and some charcoal we picked up at Builders hut.

But they were fresh out of stump remover, which is just potassium nitrate, which is just saltpeter.

But keep relaxing because we can make our own saltpeter.

You're doing great with that relaxing thing by the way.

All we need is a barrel full of manure with a drain valve affixed to the bottom.

Over the next seven months or so, you and I'll supply the urine by just peeing into the barrel.

A few days before the siege of Orleans starts in May, we will dress up like meth cooks and then drain the potassium nitrate rich urine manure juice into some trays and let that aromatically dry into a fine white powder which will be almost 100% saltpeter.

This gives us plenty of time to grind the charcoal into a fine powder of similar consistency.

After that we'll put out our cigars and carefully mix volumetrically to the following standard composition.

Write this down, it's important.

It'll be 74.8% saltpeter, 13.3% finely ground charcoal and 11.9% sulfur.

With the magic of math and any luck at all, we'll wind up with 100% gunpowder.

We have a few months before the siege.

So while we're peeing in the manure barrel and waiting for the saltpeter to cook, we can walk around the castle and maybe meet some interesting 15th century folks and ask them for some potable water that won't kill us because we want to stay hydrated.

Time is short and we are going to want to pee in that barrel as much as we can can.

And that special thing I mentioned earlier about saving lives to make up for all the people that are going to die.

Well, here's a really altruistic thing we could do to pass the time.

Let's watch for any field surgeons or doctors hacking off mangled limbs in their efforts to keep wounded soldiers in service for as long as possible.

And let's tell them that if they wash their hands and hacksaws between patients, some of the patients will actually survive long enough to reproduce enough to replace all 4,000 people that are going to die as a result of this battle.

We can watch little Tommy Montague and the Grunts, that's our band name, arrive along the Lorry river and start setting up bombards to soften the castle gates.

These are going to be great big versions of our hand cannons that are tied to sleds instead of sticks and drug through the mud by horses that like most of the English army, would rather be doing almost anything else anywhere else besides Orleans France.

See, gunpowder and guns aren't really much of a thing yet both sides have it, but it's really special purpose only at this point the English army has been decimated by good old fashioned arrows that the French archers have rained down on them from top the castle walls.

If you look around you'll see a few former English connigets with so many arrows sticking through them that their bodies were impaled a few inches above the ground.

So some time has passed and since our salt Peter is about as petery and salty as it's gonna get, we need to get busy and finish up the hand cannons.

As we pass through the 27th of October and you watch the siege tower where Tom Montague is hanging out, you'll see a French stone cannonball carry away part of his face.

Of course you're not the type of person that wants to hang around for a week and watch Tom suffer with happiness, face missing before shucking off the mortal coil.

So oh look at the time.

The English bombards have made impressive dents in the castle walls and gates.

In between regular episodes of those bombards just blowing up during in situ detonations that have ushered not a few of the English bombard operators into the choir eternal.

These things are basically just huge versions of our hand cannons that weigh several tons and are big enough to climb into.

And you can think of our hand cannons if you think these are going to be dodgy.

Well, just look around the scene for the huge craters left in the mud where a bombard went kaboom.

And forgive me while I tangent yet again a second time.

While there is no such thing as gun culture yet, it will emerge as we get closer to the 19th century and we will reach a boiling point in early 21st century with the advent of the Internet and guntube, Twitter x my Reddit face.

At which point it will recognize the term kaboom to mean a situation wherein a firearm suffers a catastrophic failure.

A catastrophic failure is the kind of failure that's called for when ordinary failure just won't foot the bill.

Now this occurs when the shell or cartridge detonates anywhere outside of a closed and locked chamber.

If it even seems remotely possible that a shell or cartridge is not in battery that is totally inserted in the chamber with the breech closed and locked behind it.

Do not pull the trigger or light the fuse or engage the weapon at all.

It's not ready.

If you can't easily resolve this condition, you may remove the offending projectile and take the whole mess to a qualified gunsmith.

Or just maybe dig a big hole and bury the whole thing under a flag that says do not dig.

Fubs or firing out of batteries were pretty common until locking breech mechanisms were invented.

The second would be case failure, which is more modern.

It's just when a shell or cartridge, the casing gets damaged, it can rupture and allow high velocity explosive gases to go places other than the ones in which they were designed to go.

This is a condition where the high velocity explosive gases rip the firearm itself apart and turn it into something like a fragmentary grenade.

Case failures are also a thing of the future and will really only happen when using expired ammo or when morons, dolts, and cretins convince themselves that reloading ammunition is easier than it really is.

At this point, however, it could be that the case or the shell is actually the chamber that the gunpowder is in.

So kaboom of the shell or case would be the same thing as a kaboom of the whole firearm.

So the next one to talk about is a squib jam.

I love that one.

It's got a cute and funny sound of names.

It's good squib jam.

It's maybe the leading cause of catastrophic failure and the one that has caused more disfiguration, dismemberment, and untimely demise of firearm operators than any of the others.

These happen when there is insufficient propellant in the cartridge or too much burned gunpowder residue in the barrel or mud or whatever.

Something prevents Mr.

Bullet from getting out the muzzle.

And so now it's just sticking in there, and it's not really a problem now.

It's not really a problem until the shot taken subsequent to the squib jam interacts with that initial bullet and causes the kaboom.

Now you have some time.

If you've got a squib jam before that second shot, and the telltale sign of a squib is that there will be a kind of muffled version of the normal bang noise, coupled with almost entire absence of recoil, the force of the jam and the barrel totally canceled out the rearward force of the recoil.

And in this situation, you don't pull the trigger after unloading the gun and checking it about four or five times to make sure that it's unloaded, you could maybe use a ramrod to clear this quib, providing your gun is equipped with one.

If not, let's just follow the instructions for the remediation I gave you for the foobs above.

Just take it to a gunsmith or bury it.

Now, there are nearly endless other variations on the themes above, generally related to the operator suffering an episode of dumbass or resufficient to do something like leaving the ramrod in the barrel or trying to clear a jam by banging the firearm on a rock.

The only known remediation for stupidity is humility.

Humility is just the general ability to recognize that you too are eligible to suffer an episode of stupidity at any given moment.

Bringing us sharply back around to 15th century gunfights.

So back when Tom took that big ball to the noodle, you probably noticed that the French also have some early cannon gun like weapons inside the fortress that they are also using to launch burning tarballs over the walls onto the unsuspecting heads of suddenly surprised Englishmen that you now see burning, hear screaming, rushing into the river in a feudal attempt to pick themselves out.

But never mind that, for now it's time to assemble our hand cannons into their ready state.

We mixed our charcoal and sulfur with our personal brand batch of saltpeter.

So all we have to do is fill up a couple of goose quills with some gunpowder and stuff them in the fuse holes.

We'll toss a couple of fistfuls of gunpowder into the muzzle ends and then put in our stone balls.

And trust me, you need balls of stone for this part.

Now let's pack it all in, backing it down like very, very carefully.

Now, for the final assembly, we need to find some planks or sticks around here, something about as long as your forearm.

There.

Yeah, that's perfect.

And we'll use some freshly obtained animal sinew cut from any one of the abundant horse carcasses piling up along the river banks.

And we'll use those to wrap our bronze Pringle cans to the ends of the sticks, with the open end facing away from us, of course.

Yeah, that's it.

Well, that's good.

Okay, so now once the sinew dries enough to at least kind of hold the cannons on the sticks, all we'll have to do is to touch our cigars to the gunpowder quill fuses and let the fireworks begin.

Now you're going to need a match or a punk.

It's not like a match like you're thinking really a punk is just something that you can use to light the fuse.

I found cigars to be exquisitely suited for the job.

While you are welcome to select any cigar in the gunfight pod humidor, I highly recommend the Nicaraguan Oliva Siri G.

It's a medium bodied handmade number with a warm cedar flavor, bright coffee notes and a subtle nuttiness imparted by the authentic African Cameroon tobacco leaf wrapping.

All of which make this dogie an unrivaled smoke with a powerful room note that may almost be strong enough to mask the stench and putridity of the air around 15th century Orland oh, look who's awake.

It's finally the last day of the siege.

The French have all but exhausted their supply of arrows, archers, gunpowder and random crap to fling over the walls.

The English are tightening their grip, but little known to them there is a genuine revival going on.

The revival was started by one Jeanne D'Art or Joan to you.

She's a 17 year old girl that's either led by the voices of saints and angels she's hearing in her head or or suffering from a blistering case of schizophrenia.

Either way, she's about to illustrate why there are few, if any wild beasts of nature more to be feared than a teenage girl on a mission from God.

In a weird sort of cosmic coincidence, I knew a girl named Jean whose dad bought her a used postal delivery truck, which she then painted with a cool jungle camouflage motif before stenciling I'm on a mission from God in huge letters across the back.

But anyway, Joan here is a peasant girl from Domreme that claims to hear the voices of saints and angels urging her to lead France to victory.

Despite her youth and lack of military experience, she's convinced Charles vii, who's probably desperate enough to listen to anyone at this point, to let her lead a relief force.

She got to Orleans back in early April and she's been rousing French religious rabble to the brim.

Say what the Willist Joan is a brilliant strategist that's actually convinced the French military commanders to stop Seaman when they oughta been a changin.

Up to now, the French have been sort of following the standard military rules of engagement, but thanks to Joan, they are now making quick, pinpointed and very aggro surprise attacks on the English fortifications around Orly.

This is an eerie foreshadowing of the amphetamine fueled German blitzkrieg machenschnellen thing that's gonna show up about 400 years from now.

Joan herself isn't actually fighting today, though.

She's been badly afflicted by an arrow wound that she picked up on the way.

But she's decked out in a full suit of literally white, literally gleaming armor that she's painted literally white.

She sent it off to the shop to have ultra gleamed.

It has a huge visored helmet called the bassinet that makes her look something like a terrifying tiny anime robot on a mission from God.

She would have been carrying the holy sword of Saint Catherine de Ferribos that she found at church.

And I never find cool swords at my church.

She would have been carrying that sword, but for reasons unknown to us, she's elected to carry her copy of the gleaming white banner of Jesus Maria to inspire the other soldiers into doing the actual killing and let everyone know that she's on a mission from God.

Watching this tiny white robot ride out with a white flag, I wonder if the English were tempted, think the French were finally going to surrender.

But nope.

Now what happens next is the biggest surprise of the whole thing.

Here the English ask about the surrender thing, but Joan tells them that's not happening, so they'll just have to go away peacefully.

Unless they want to be killed.

And the English do.

My guess is that most of the connects in attendance had enjoyed a moment of clarity wherein they made a personal decision to bravely turn tail and flee.

So they just turn around and go home.

I have to apologize for the pathetic anticlimax to this gunfight, but that's what happens sometimes.

Everybody's tired, out of ammo, and at some point, one side or the other says, like, okay, nah, I'm out.

And that about wraps up our visit here.

But, hey, wanna try our hand cannons?

Okay, good.

Yeah, me either.

Let's just enjoy the rest of our cigars and watch as the few remaining English totally succumb to a level of pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization and just kind of stand there gawing like they've never seen the hand of God before, suddenly realizing that they'd rather be the pictures or at home with a wife and kids, one by one, turning and stumbling off with their heads bowed in a rare but totally appropriate posture of total defeat.

What's that smell?

Is that me?

Oh, my.

No, it's a horse got wrapped around our hand cannons that started to turn.

Y.

Yeah, that's.

No, let's just place these stinking things into a medical waste bag and jettison them into the river.

I guess we should wash our hands, shave our heads, burn our clothes, get back.

Okay, all done.

Let's go.

Let's step into the conference room for a quick debrief on what's happened since our visit and have a moment of gratitude for or some potable water we can just get out of the faucet over the sink there.

First, a bit of bad news.

So it seems we were spotted and our hand cannons caused a historical paradox, but we placed a cover story, so we should be okay.

The story we placed is that Joan was led by some angels to retrieve what the church now calls the holy hand grenades of Saint Joan d'Arc from a bag in the Lorry river, which she then deployed just up the river during the Bow hall of Jargue in the process of recapturing that city from the English.

Our.

I mean, Joan's holy hand grenades didn't change much in the way of outcomes, but they have led to the widespread belief that in addition to swords, God sometimes passes out hand grenades when necessary.

On the good news front, we did make significant contributions to French heraldry and religious iconography.

But if anyone identifies you as one of the angels that helped St.

Joan when the siege of Orleans, just can just recite the confession of St.

Bart.

I didn't do it.

Nobody saw me do it.

And you can't prove anything.

That siege, though, in retrospect, the English were on the very verge of capturing Orleans and the whole Lorry Valley, which would have then led them to gain total control over the entire kingdom of France in the name of their version of God, the Crown and his royal blah blah blah.

What you just witnessed led Joan and the Armagnacs.

That's our band name.

Draw the closing curtain on the English conquest of France, or as it's known today, the Hundred Years War, probably because the Hundred and Sixteen Years War sounds too specific.

Besides, the whole thing was really three smaller wars.

The Edwardian, the Caroline, and finally the Lancasterian War, which is the one that saw the siege of Orleans here.

And also a dramatic escalation in the use of metal tubes that used explosives to spit armor piercing projectiles or just lob multi ton rock balls.

That's our band name at people.

It well could have been called the cluster of three short wars that lasted 116 years altogether and consisted of intermittent battles and skirmishes which were punctuated by periods of relative peace during truces that never lasted very long before the French finally kicked the English to hell.

Out of France and or the English just got tired, gave up.

The problem with calling it that is obvious.

So historian types just go with 100 years born.

I will apologize for the low quality and quantity of guns and gunfights and gunfighters on this trip.

Guns were kind of new at this stage and not many folks had them.

The fights were more like point blank range cannon fights and sometimes grenade fights.

But we wanted to visit the point where gunfights first took off.

From here on out in human history, when large groups of people get together for gunfights, they're gonna be packing heat.

And when large groups of people are packing, pretty soon everybody's packing.

And when everybody's special, nobody's special, just the way we like it.

Pax arma.

Well, okay, but it was only about 500 years.

And when you think about it, that's like a blink of an eye in technological evolutionary history terms.

If you ever think about technological evolutionary history terms, the Holy Roman church never recognized St.

Browning's sainthood, owing partly, I think, to him being a Mormon.

But I'm going to recognize him because I'm a Protestant and we can Saint eyes anybody that claims to be a Christian.

Who am I to judge the Catholic Church Saint eyes Joan only as a kind of apology for burning her at the stake after being unable to get her on heresy charges and settling for the apparently equally burnable sin of cross dressing, which she did.

But in her defense, I'd like to point out that this was probably just a wise way to avoid being raped or stabbed by the Frenchmen and the Englishmen of the 15th century, which were extraordinarily rapey.

And forensic evidence indicates that they were also murdery.

Rapey?

No.

In 15th century Europe, dying a virgin may have been Joan's biggest miracle.

Also, since then there have been numerous books about Joan and the siege of Orleans.

See the notes for a good one also.

Also a few crappy movies and one really good one.

I say it's good mostly because it stars a creepy AF looking Faye Dunaway and both of my favorite John Malka as the French King Chuck 7 and Mila Jovo as Joan.

I watched Holy Grail again and all of the other movies about this just to get in the mindset for this trip.

It's not all that accurate, but if you think you might like counting silly hats, I lost count at about 75.

Or watching Milla Jovovich talking to Jesus and finding yourself wondering if maybe she just got into a strong patch of mushrooms.

Well, Andy says go for it.

Just be prepared to have more questions than answers.

Hey, thanks for adventure pointing along with me on the Gunfight Pod podcast.

But before we go, let's talk about what's coming next.

In our upcoming episode, we'll shift gears and head to the colonies during the battles of Lexington and Concord to hang out with my favorite dangerous old man, Samuel Whitmore, a man who, at 78 years old, took on British soldiers with a musket, a couple of pistols, and an antique saber.

It might be the greatest underdog gunfight story of all times, and it's definitely the best true zombie story of all time.

So please pull the subscribe trigger and blow up that like button.

Leave us a review or just say hi in the comments.

And please tell your friends about the show.

Really, nobody wants to miss this next episode, we're going to explore Samuel Whitmore's epic stand against the treacherous malignancy known as the Redcoats.

Hang on, guys.

Am I going too hard on the English here?

Okay, nah.

If you have a historic gunfight you'd like to visit or you've been personally involved in armed conflict, shoot me an email at gunfightpod@PM.

Me, that's gunfightpod@ symbol PM as in post Meridian.

And me as in me.

I'm Andy Jackson, the chief cook and bottle washer of the Gunfight Pod Pod podcast.

Pod Pod.

Gunpipe pod.

All rights reserved.

Or else.

That's our band name.