James grew up on an Ozarks farm where tools like axes and picks were still used in the daily routine and the blades of stockman's pocketknives served their original functions. Receiving his first pocketknife at age four he got it open by himself nearly a year later and spent his formative years wandering the woods with a succession of ever larger knives, a book of matches and a rifle.
A veteran of Vietnam, James also served in Alaska during a stint in the Army, receiving his first intensive culinary training by setting a record for extra KP at Ft. Richardson.
Settling in the Pacific Northwest after his discharge, James crewed on sailing yachts in local races, backpacked hundreds of miles of mountain trails in search of good trout fishing, and occasionally attended college.
His first serious job as a civilian resulted from answering a Seattle Post Intelligencer want ad requesting someone who could lift 120 pounds repeatedly and wasn't afraid of fire. James apprenticed to John Frazier -- the most knowledgeable traditional foundryman in North America at that time -- for the next six years.
Returning to the Ozarks James made his living by growing ginseng on a hand-terraced wooded hillside and selling handmade wood turnery, furniture, sculpture and architectural carvings. James harvested trees from his own land, processing logs into posts and beams and turnery billets with saws, axes, froes and planes. Since many tools he needed were no longer available, James built his own forge from a barbeque grill, a vacuum cleaner and a 55 gallon steel drum, found a chunk of railroad track for his first anvil, and taught himself blacksmithing -- creating his own knives and tools from scrap steel and sweat.
Changing economic pressures eventually forced James back to the restaurant industry in Branson, Missouri, and later to even more success as a maintenance engineer for one of Branson's largest condominium resorts. Finally escaping to Indiana, James now makes his living telling true stories as a freelance writer.
Cold Steel Light Cavalry 1796, Spring Steel Saber | Napoleonic War to WWI Replica Sword
58 sec read
Although you might think this light cavalry saber was stripped down by Cold Steel to simplify an older design, the streamlining of the 1796 Light Cavalry Sword took place during the Napoleonic Wars. Cold Steel created a modern version using 1055 high carbon spring steel but stayed with the pattern that gave this blade a reputation as too cruel for the battlefield.
The curved fullered blade of this 37-3/4-inch sword has 33 inches of cutting edge. Beyond that, every detail was lightened and simplified. The brainchild of John Gaspard Le Marchant, a captain in the British 2nd Dragoon Guards during the British invasion of France, the 1796 saber was first produced by Henry Osborn of Birmingham. Le Marchant had noticed during the British campaign that the English cavalry showed rough skills and were awkward with heavier weapons. Instead of burdening troops with swords designed for thrusting, Le Marchant revised the standard issue blade for slashing and hacking, the instinctive response that soldiers chose under pressure. The 1796 Pattern saber delivered more disabling and maiming wounds than fatal ones, becoming a weapon of terror as well as an effective sidearm. The sword was in combat use as late as the First World War.
It’s not surprising that this old saber caught the attention of Cold Steel. This well known manufacturer of self defense blades reproduced the Pattern 1796 Light Cavalry Sword in accurate detail with modern materials. The sword comes with an equally detailed metal scabbard and, like other Cold Steel products, has been thoroughly tested to prove its cutting and hacking ability.
James grew up on an Ozarks farm where tools like axes and picks were still used in the daily routine and the blades of stockman's pocketknives served their original functions. Receiving his first pocketknife at age four he got it open by himself nearly a year later and spent his formative years wandering the woods with a succession of ever larger knives, a book of matches and a rifle.
A veteran of Vietnam, James also served in Alaska during a stint in the Army, receiving his first intensive culinary training by setting a record for extra KP at Ft. Richardson.
Settling in the Pacific Northwest after his discharge, James crewed on sailing yachts in local races, backpacked hundreds of miles of mountain trails in search of good trout fishing, and occasionally attended college.
His first serious job as a civilian resulted from answering a Seattle Post Intelligencer want ad requesting someone who could lift 120 pounds repeatedly and wasn't afraid of fire. James apprenticed to John Frazier -- the most knowledgeable traditional foundryman in North America at that time -- for the next six years.
Returning to the Ozarks James made his living by growing ginseng on a hand-terraced wooded hillside and selling handmade wood turnery, furniture, sculpture and architectural carvings. James harvested trees from his own land, processing logs into posts and beams and turnery billets with saws, axes, froes and planes. Since many tools he needed were no longer available, James built his own forge from a barbeque grill, a vacuum cleaner and a 55 gallon steel drum, found a chunk of railroad track for his first anvil, and taught himself blacksmithing -- creating his own knives and tools from scrap steel and sweat.
Changing economic pressures eventually forced James back to the restaurant industry in Branson, Missouri, and later to even more success as a maintenance engineer for one of Branson's largest condominium resorts. Finally escaping to Indiana, James now makes his living telling true stories as a freelance writer.
Although you might think this light cavalry saber was stripped down by Cold Steel to simplify an older design, the streamlining of the 1796 Light Cavalry Sword took place during the Napoleonic Wars. Cold Steel created a modern version using 1055 high carbon spring steel but stayed with the pattern that gave this blade a reputation as too cruel for the battlefield.
