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'Course, the 60 was good against light armored targets.. when it wasn't jamming.
Or misfiring.
Or having the feedtray go bizzak and jam up.
Or the advance crudding up and jamming.....

Shame on you!....to speak ill of the M60..

It's clear you've never had your position covered by M60s set up with interlocking fields of fire -- keeping the bad guy at bay all night.....with it's beautiful tracer rounds announcing and describing an unavoidable tight killing pattern...

Even the finest women in the world, require care, love and forgiveness from time to time.....but they're worth it..
The M60 was the same, in my book..
The only guys permitted to curse the M60, was the poor bastard that had to carry it!

Carping about the M60, more happily known as *the pig* among my bunch, is nothing new under the sun. And nothing new for troopies in general; nothing new at all:

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

...

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

...

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

...

When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

-Rudyard Kipling

-archy-/-