This is a 1903 that belonged to my grandfather. It was built by Remington in 1942 using the Rock Island Arsenal tooling from WWI. It has the four-groove barrel, and everything is original.
When we were kids, we knew this simply as "the thirty-ought-six". It was sporterized with a monte carlo stock, and grandpa used it to hunt bear in Canada. We were all pre-teens when he died in 1962, and didn't really attempt to shoot it until the seventies. When we did, we couldn't get on paper with it, and had no idea where the bullets were going. It ended up in one of my brothers' closets, and there it sat for about thirty years.
One time at a reunion, I asked to take a look at it, and being possessed of a little more knowledge about guns at this point, recognized it for what it was. I took it home, disassembled it down to the last screw, cleaned it, and reassembled it into a new "C" stock, doing my best to return it to its original condition. I learned about the battle sight vs. the ladder sight, and realized that, properly zeroed, the old girl was a formidable shooter.
Late in December of 2009, my parents arrived to spend Christmas with their granddaughters, and I showed Dad the "thirty-ought-six" in it's restored condition. As he held it and marveled at its restored beauty, he told me a story I'd never heard before:
When he decided he wanted to marry my Mom after WWII, my grandpa and his brother decided that he'd have to "try out" for the part by passing a shooting test. Since they were pheasant and goose hunters, the test was shooting clay birds with a shotgun. It did not go well. Dad protested that he had never been much of a bird hunter, and asked if he could try to demonstrate proficiency with a rifle. Out came the 1903. Now, it just so happened that Dad was a range officer at Fort Riley at this time, and he was able to impress my grandpa sufficiently with the 1903 to win my mother's hand.
The morning after telling me this story, on Christmas Eve, my Dad had a stroke in my home from which he did not recover. I will always treasure the turn of fate that allowed him to tell me that story just hours before he was taken from us.