Despite the Spitfire’s many manifest shortcomings, it runs like a scalded ape. (Photo Provided by Author)
April 15, 2025
By Will Dabbs, MD
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The era prior to 1968 represented the Wild West in the American gun world. There weren’t a great many rules, and those that were in effect were not aggressively enforced. Americans could order firearms through the mail, and the government sold surplus M1 carbines and M1911 pistols directly to civilians at bargain basement prices. GI-surplus military arms could be had cash and carry at Sears.
One of the reasons that machineguns are so desirable today is simply that they are forbidden fruit. When Uncle Sam tells us we aren’t responsible enough to possess something, that just ignites a fire in the typical American redneck. However, back in 1968 there was not the sort of artificial desperation we see these days.
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Machineguns have been aggressively regulated since 1934, and President Ronald Reagan signing the 1986 Firearms Owners Protection Act, with its Hughes Amendment, put a stop to machinegun manufacturing for civilians. The $200 transfer tax is a pain today. It was all but insurmountable back in 1968. As a result, there was a market for something that looked a bit Thompson-esque but was legal to sell without that ghastly transfer tax. Enter the semiauto open-bolt Spitfire.
Details There were several variations on this theme. They sold under the trade names Commando, Apache, and Eagle Carbine. However, it was the Spitfire that was the most controversial.
The Spitfire was made in Phoenix, Arizona, and looked a bit like a Thompson SMG in dim light—like very, very dim. Like the Thompson, it was heavy, awkward, and huge. However, once you turned the lights up you realized that this was arguably the ugliest firearm ever contrived by man. I mean, this was the Danny DeVito of guns. If Mick Jagger and Janet Reno had a baby and that baby was inexplicably a weapon, it would look like this. Once seen, it is hard to unsee this thing.
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The Spitfire wanted so badly to be a Thompson, but it’s just not. Aside from the chamberings and general layout of the thing, the two guns have little to nothing in common. Although Dabbs has the vertical grip mounted rather forward, typically, these were bolted on toward the rear. (Photo Provided by Author) The receiver is a large-bore steel tube, and the bolt is a big honking chunk of round steel stock. The fire control assembly and foregrip are roughly-cast aluminum. The buttstock is standard Thompson kit. The gun feeds from unmodified double-column, single-feed M3 Grease Gun magazines. There is no charging handle. To charge the gun, you hook your finger into a slot in the bolt and tug until it is caught by the sear. The safety doesn’t work unless the bolt is locked back. All that is great, except for one fascinating mechanical flaw.
The Spitfire’s Superpower Back then, there were lots of guns that were easy to convert to full auto. Open-bolt semiauto guns of this era are what first birthed the pseudo-fiction that you could just “file down the sear” to achieve full auto fire. Believe it or not, converting the Spitfire was even easier than that.
To convert a standard, bought-through-the-mail Spitfire semiauto carbine to full auto, all one had to do was pull the trigger while simultaneously pressing forward on the safety. Once the trigger depressed the sear, forward pressure on the safety pinched the sear in its retracted position and allowed the bolt to cycle automatically until the magazine was empty or the pressure on the safety was released. Uncle Sam was having none of that. [EDITOR’S NOTE: This also happened with the Franchi LF-62 carbine in the early 1960s; manipulating its safety also produced full auto fire. The LF-62 was a semi-auto carbine version of the LF-57 submachine gun.]
The Spitfire SMG is big, heavy, awkward, and ugly. These sundry negative attributes make it one of the cheapest ways to get into the quirky world of transferable full auto weapons today. (Photo Provided by Author) In 1968, the Attorney General declared that the semiauto open-bolt Spitfire was indeed a machinegun. Owners were given the option of either surrendering them to the government or registering the guns with the Treasury Department. I couldn’t determine whether this was tax-free or required the $200 transfer tax. Regardless, lots of Spitfire owners didn’t want the hassle of NFA registration and just gave their guns up. Once properly registered, it was a simple thing to do a little minor mechanical surgery on the entrails and render the gun full auto only.
There are no markings whatsoever on the receiver tube. The serial number as well as the words, “Semiauto Carbine” are embossed into the aluminum fire control group casting. The left-sided magazine catch is easy enough to use. However, the safety is total cheese. Comprised of a thin stamped bit of steel similar to the upper handguard release lever on an AK rifle, this component seems terribly insubstantial.
Trigger Time This particular example has been completely reliable. The pistol grip is too small and doesn’t fit the human hand well. Like a Thompson, the gun’s weird geometry puts the line of recoil above the buttstock and creates a wicked twisting moment that contributes to unwanted muzzle climb in the absence of solid technique.
(Photo Provided by Author) The cyclic rate is spunkier than expected. The rate of fire for the Grease Gun is a comatose 450 rpm, while that of a 1928 Thompson is closer to 650 or 700. By contrast, the cyclic rate of this Spitfire is more in the neighborhood of 800 rpm. However, my gun has a synthetic buffer behind the bolt that might be speeding things up a bit. The ample mass and front-heavy design make control manageable but you have to pay attention. Thompsons and Grease Guns are fairly forgiving. The Spitfire, not so much.
Quirks and Eccentricities Because the Spitfire is just so blasted homely, it remains one of the cheapest transferable machineguns on the market today. However, a cheap Rolls Royce yet remains just stupid expensive. I discovered a reference to a guy who bought a semiauto example new in the late 1960’s for $110. That would be about $1,038 in today’s money.
(bottom left) The safety on the Spitfire is frankly ridiculous. It only works when the bolt is locked to the rear. In the original semi-auto version, it would cause the gun to shoot full auto if pressed forward while firing. (bottom right) The entrails of the Spitfire are ridiculously simple. A very basic design flaw made the gun inadvertently selective fire right from the factory. By trimming back the tab on the right with a Dremel (or whatever tool was poplar in the 1960s), the gun was easily rendered full auto-only. (Photo Provided by Author) Asking prices these days for the transferable versions range up to about $12,000 online. One example sold at auction in December of 2023 for a bit more than $7k. Around $8,000 seems about right on GunBroker today. That’s crazy, but it’s not out of line for transferable machineguns in this artificially-inflated market.
There’s a fine line between vintage open-bolt semiautos and real-deal machineguns. The Spitfire just leapt right across that line. Ungainly, awkward, and as ugly as your grandfather in a prom dress, the Spitfire yet remains a gateway drug into the weird quirky world of transferable machineguns.
SPITFIRE SMG SPECS Caliber: .45ACPOverall Length: 37 in.Barrel Length: 16.25 in.Weight (empty): 9.6 lbs.Action: Open-bolt, Blowback Full Auto OnlyMagazine Capacity: 30 roundsSights: Post Front/Fixed Peep RearValue: $9,000+