title: Kalashnikov: The Arms and the Man
author: Edward Clinton Ezell
description: The name of Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov has become well known the world over because of the Avtomat Kalashnikova, the eponymous assault rifle which he designed and perfected.
  
  Today, Kalashnikov designs have become the most widely manufactured and best known military small arms in history. Since the introduction of the AK design in 1947, between fifty and seventy million Kalashnikov-type rifles and LMGs have been manufactured, in the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact nations, in the Communist East, and in such "western" countries as Egypt, Finland, India, Israel, and South Africa.
  
  The original edition of The AK47 Story was published in 1986, and the events of the intervening fifteen years have provided much fresh new material. Beginning with an introduction by Dr. Kalashnikov himself, we present a most comprehensive study of the "life and times" of the AK, starting with the early history of small arms manufacture in Czarist Russia and then the Soviet Union. We follow the development of the AK (originally designed in caliber 7.62x41mm) and all the offshoots and clones which make up the Kalashnikov "family" of small arms, including an important new summary of technical information on the numerous loadings of "intermediate" ammunition, right up to the "AK for the 21st Century" - the AK100 series, now being manufactured by the Joint Stock Company "Kalashnikov" in Izhevsk, Russia in three calibers: 7.62x39mm, 5.45x39mm, and 5.56x45mm NATO.
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  ![A picture containing man, sitting, table, dog  Description automatically
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  Trapped
  
  
  By
  
  
  Rebecca York
  
  
  NYT & USA Today Best-selling author
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 Ruth Glick
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter One
  
  
  Cash Baker heard the chatter of a Kalashnikov, then another weapon returning
  fire. The sound was familiar in the craggy brown hills of a country where
  warlords ran rampant over the land, fighting each other for prestige and
  territory.
  
  
  The sun played over the top of his helmet, and sweat crawled down his back
  under his flak jacket. For a man who’d grown up in . . . Grown up in . . .
  
  
  He struggled to remember the place where he’d spent his childhood. He had to
  have come from somewhere. But he couldn’t bring it into focus. Not the name.
  Not his house. Not his neighborhood. And panic tightened his chest. Then he
  reminded himself that the past wasn’t important right now. He had to focus on
  this village. These people.