When I was a kid, back in 1964 and '65, I used to take a city bus to the downtown "Y" for a swimming lessons. I think I went three times a week, after school.
The "Y" had a shooting range in the basement. It was arranged so that it was actually under the street; there was just dirt behind the far wall, where the targets were.
Anyway, most days when I took the bus, there would be two or three boys in the back of the bus with rifles. They were going to the "Y" too, to practice in the shooting range; they were a little older than me, but not much. Probably in high school. I didn't know them; I was in fourth or fifth grade.
I wouldn't even have noticed them except that they were often holding their rifles with the barrels pointed up, sitting with the rifle stock held against the top of one leg.
At first I thought it was a little creepy, but after a few weeks I didn't even notice them anymore. No one paid them any attention, including the bus driver. When we got to the "Y", they got off with me and went inside like everyone else. No one said boo.
Sometimes I would go into the shooting range after swimming and watch them shoot. There was an older kid who ran it. He let me watch but I had to stand behind a red line on the floor. Sometimes I would steal a glance at his homework as he did it; I realized later that it was calculus, because of all the Greek letters and little dots and primes and integral signs. This was in a medium-size city in Upstate New York.
BTW I think I got a B+