My first was shot with my Dad's 300 Savage with a 180 grain factory load when I was very young. We stopped in Eureka Nevada to buy some "elk ammo" on the drive to the place we'd all hunt . My dad used to buy 150 grain ammo all the time, which we killed deer with as well as anything else that needed to get shot on the ranch, but on that trip we were going for elk, so he bought 1 box of the 180 grain ammo and said the heavier bullet would do better.

Seemed to work just fine. One shot, iron sights from the rear of the lungs to the opposite side in the front of the chest with an exit.
That was a rite of passage for me because I was the only boy on that hunt. All the rest of the hunters were grown men, my dad and uncle among them. I and one other hunter got elk.

My Uncle also shot the same one I shot, so I can't say it was 100% my kill, but my bullet was a raking shot through the chest and his hit the neck below the bones. The elk moved about 35 yards after I shot and a bit farther after he shot, but he and the other men all said it probably my round that did the job. I was treated like one of the men after that, which for a very young boy was a milestone.
I can't say for certain if I killed that elk or if my Uncle did and they all were building my pride up, but I did make a good shot for sure, and I was proud because of that. Being "one of the men" with those guys, all 5 of them being vets from WW2, was an honor that I'll never forget. That was in 1964 or 65.'

My Dad and my Uncle both were in the Pacific, and both were in some horrendous battles. My Uncle was a torpedo man on PT boats from 1942 and 1943 and in 1944-1945 on a destroyer which was hit in the Battle of Okinawa..
My dad was a Sea-Bee who went in behind the Marines on 3 invasions and helped land tanks at Okinawa for the Army.
Mr Terry was gunner on a B24 and was wounded by flak.
Mr Lloyd flew A20s and B25s against the Germans in the Mediterranean, and Mr Murray fought in Army infantry against the Germans in France, where he was wounded badly in his legs, but he never let it stop him. He walked and hunted like anyone else, but I remember the horror I felt when I saw his scars.

I was in awe of these men, and to be treated with respect by them all, for me was like being in heaven.