He’d started shooting at 12, when his dad bought him a .22-caliber Mossberg to shoot rats around the family home, and once that got a little too easy for him Walsh got really good at shooting clothespins off the laundry line in his backyard.At 16 he lied about his age to join the New Jersey National Guard, and within just a few years the eagle-eyed lefty was winning national competitions for rifle and pistol marksmanship.It was a sunny, cool New England morning on October 12, 1937, when notable bastard and all-around evil scumbag Clarence Lee Shaffer Jr.
Walsh’s only description of the gunfight was this: “He shot high.
I didn’t.” In his decade of service to the FBI, Walsh is credited with killing between 11 and 17 gangsters in shootouts. Law graduate Walter Walsh of Hoboken, New Jersey, was a championship Olympic marksman, the FBI agent who single-handedly brought Public Enemy Number One to gunfire-infused justice in an epic shootout, a U. Marine who saved his entire squad from murderous snipers at Okinawa, a Vietnam Sniper School marksmanship instructor, and the 92-year-old coach of the United States Olympic Shooting Team.
Pulling his coat about him and adjusting his sweet gangster-style pre-hipster fedora hat, Shaffer calmly informed the ordinary-looking store clerk that he’d placed an order for three Thompson submachine guns a few weeks earlier, and that he was here to pick them up.
Clarence Lee Shaffer was a member of the notorious Brady Gang – a hellacious, murder-tastic gang of convicted felons who had spent the previous two years wreaking havoc on the law-abiding citizens of Indiana in an epic crime spree that makes even the most mayhem-infused multiplayergames look like a couple of idiot teenagers pulling the mattress tag off a fucking Sealy Posturepedic at the goddamn mall.
Dalhover, a Capone-era hardened killer, drew his piece as well, opening fire with a spray of .45s.
Walsh took one in the hand and one in the shoulder, blood shooting from his wounds, but his bullets found their mark – Dalhover was riddled with slugs and dead before he hit the pavement.Brady leaned over the car , firing his pistol, driving another round into Walsh’s chest.The FBI man staggered back, regained his footing, and drilled Brady with a couple ultra-accurate shots straight to the dome. When the smoke cleared, Walter Walsh was still standing tall, and every member of the FBI’s Most Wanted gang was either dead by his hand or being hauled off to prison. Walter Walsh was born in 1907 in Hoboken, New Jersey.Quickly rising to the ranks of the top agents, Walsh was responsible for tracking down bank robbers, cold-blooded murders, Mafiosi, and other horrible people that were far more likely to whip out a BAR and start smoking Feds than they were to walk backwards slowly with their hands behind their heads.Luckily for the FBI, Walter Walsh was damn good at his job.Dude was so fucking good that some of his co-workers at the Bureau used to joke that they’d trust him to shoot a cigarette out of their mouths like a badass influenza-hating William Tell.