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I was on an ROTC drill team that used 1903 Springfields. A great rifle for the purpose. Once in a competition, when doing the maneuver that involved slapping the rifle butt smartly on the ground, I slammed the Springfield butt down hard on my foot. Hurt like a bastard, but I didn’t make a sound and kept going through the drill.

I ate a 1903A3 one time as it came down on my chin after a high throw and a bad catch from the extreme right file of the formation.

Got called out.

“COOK! Lean forward! Look down! Stop bleeding! Hols a glove on that. Give me your rifle. Now, get to the quack shack and get stitched up. NO! Don't run. Walk to the quack shack and get fixed. “ We had a drill competition a fw days later, and I was still in stitches, but could not be substituted out. Marine inspector came, looked me over, and asked why I stitched up. Told him "Sir, Fought a rifle! Sir!" in my best "bravado style" trying to nuke it out. He came back with "Who won?" "I did, sir!" seemed the only appropriate answer. It worked - no gigs.