F
Field Ethos
Guest
By Will Dabbs, MD
The young woman was in her late twenties and pretty. She was also just bone tired. Hers was the sort of chronic exhaustion known only to Navy SEALs four days into Hell Week and single moms working to keep a tiny family fed. I saw her in my clinic for some forgotten malady and innocently inquired how life was treating her. It turns out she had endured a pretty rough week.
It had been a Saturday morning, and her 3-year-old was being uncharacteristically merciful. The kid slept in and allowed this young lady some rare quiet time with a little hot tea and a book. They lived in the sort of cracker box apartment complex you might find in any college town. There were perennial problems with noise and rowdy neighbors, but the price was right. Her reverie was interrupted by a violent banging on her door.
The woman stole a glance through the peephole. Outside, she spied some unhinged lunatic she did not recognize. In moments, he escalated from knocking loudly on the door to kicking it. It was obvious that the flimsy lowest-bidder apartment door was not going to last long.
She did not know this guy, but her 3-year-old was sleeping in the next room. Without much conscious thought, she punched up 911 on her cell phone and snatched her gun from a nearby pistol safe. The cops were coming, but they’d never make it in time.
This was not a proper combat implement. Not by a long shot. This young woman’s gat was some uber-cheap Crapmaster .380 stoked with the least expensive ball ammo the local pawn shop offered. The gun had been a gift from her father, a well-meaning man who was also not blessed with a great many resources. The door frame suddenly failed, and the deranged psychopath filled the space. That’s when she shot him.
There was no training to fall back on. This was something primal. She just pointed the pathetic little gun in the lunatic’s general direction and squeezed. As has been demonstrated literally countless times since the invention of gunpowder, this single simple act quite effectively transformed the attacker’s behavior. He was gone in an instant.
The cops did indeed arrive expeditiously. They secured the scene and took down the details of her story. The comparably youthful lawman did his best to console the hysterical young woman. The cop assured her that they would do everything possible to find whoever did this.
Criminals are seldom the sharpest tools in the shed. Soon thereafter, a disheveled intoxicated man presented to the local police station to file a complaint. The officer on duty motioned him to a chair to create a report. That’s when the cop noticed blood running down the man’s leg. He connected the otherwise disconjugate stories, placed the man under arrest, and transported him to the ER with a small-caliber gunshot wound to the thigh. I never caught what his problem was beyond a terminal case of being drunk and stupid.
The landlord was not going to be able to repair the door until the following day. The young woman was rightfully terrified and had no other place to go. Word went out and a squad car circled through the apartment complex about every 15 minutes all night long. When the cops needed a break for a snack or a spot to do paperwork, they parked in front of the young woman’s apartment.
The following day, the responding officer dropped by to check on the woman. While there, he asked to see her firearm. He broke the gun down on her coffee table, cleaned and oiled it thoroughly, and then charged it with some top-quality hollowpoints he had bought himself. He left the rest of the box of ammunition with the woman. Before returning to his duties, the conscientious lawman gave her a quick block of instruction in gun handling, sight picture, and tactics.
Much of America has a curiously bipolar love-hate relationship with law enforcement these days. Folks will scream to high heaven about the actions of a precious few and then instantly dial 911 when they themselves feel threatened. It’s not much like that down here in the Deep South. We do love us some cops. Our law enforcement officers willingly place themselves in harm’s way on our behalf, and we revere them for it.
If ever you were wondering what effective community-oriented policing looks like, might I direct you to that interaction between my single mom friend and her responding law officer. I doubt that’s taught in any Law Enforcement academy in the country. However, I think he pretty much nailed it.
The post Free Cop Ammo appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
The young woman was in her late twenties and pretty. She was also just bone tired. Hers was the sort of chronic exhaustion known only to Navy SEALs four days into Hell Week and single moms working to keep a tiny family fed. I saw her in my clinic for some forgotten malady and innocently inquired how life was treating her. It turns out she had endured a pretty rough week.
It had been a Saturday morning, and her 3-year-old was being uncharacteristically merciful. The kid slept in and allowed this young lady some rare quiet time with a little hot tea and a book. They lived in the sort of cracker box apartment complex you might find in any college town. There were perennial problems with noise and rowdy neighbors, but the price was right. Her reverie was interrupted by a violent banging on her door.
The woman stole a glance through the peephole. Outside, she spied some unhinged lunatic she did not recognize. In moments, he escalated from knocking loudly on the door to kicking it. It was obvious that the flimsy lowest-bidder apartment door was not going to last long.
She did not know this guy, but her 3-year-old was sleeping in the next room. Without much conscious thought, she punched up 911 on her cell phone and snatched her gun from a nearby pistol safe. The cops were coming, but they’d never make it in time.
Get the Gat
This was not a proper combat implement. Not by a long shot. This young woman’s gat was some uber-cheap Crapmaster .380 stoked with the least expensive ball ammo the local pawn shop offered. The gun had been a gift from her father, a well-meaning man who was also not blessed with a great many resources. The door frame suddenly failed, and the deranged psychopath filled the space. That’s when she shot him.
There was no training to fall back on. This was something primal. She just pointed the pathetic little gun in the lunatic’s general direction and squeezed. As has been demonstrated literally countless times since the invention of gunpowder, this single simple act quite effectively transformed the attacker’s behavior. He was gone in an instant.
The cops did indeed arrive expeditiously. They secured the scene and took down the details of her story. The comparably youthful lawman did his best to console the hysterical young woman. The cop assured her that they would do everything possible to find whoever did this.
Criminals are seldom the sharpest tools in the shed. Soon thereafter, a disheveled intoxicated man presented to the local police station to file a complaint. The officer on duty motioned him to a chair to create a report. That’s when the cop noticed blood running down the man’s leg. He connected the otherwise disconjugate stories, placed the man under arrest, and transported him to the ER with a small-caliber gunshot wound to the thigh. I never caught what his problem was beyond a terminal case of being drunk and stupid.
Protect & Serve
The landlord was not going to be able to repair the door until the following day. The young woman was rightfully terrified and had no other place to go. Word went out and a squad car circled through the apartment complex about every 15 minutes all night long. When the cops needed a break for a snack or a spot to do paperwork, they parked in front of the young woman’s apartment.
The following day, the responding officer dropped by to check on the woman. While there, he asked to see her firearm. He broke the gun down on her coffee table, cleaned and oiled it thoroughly, and then charged it with some top-quality hollowpoints he had bought himself. He left the rest of the box of ammunition with the woman. Before returning to his duties, the conscientious lawman gave her a quick block of instruction in gun handling, sight picture, and tactics.
Much of America has a curiously bipolar love-hate relationship with law enforcement these days. Folks will scream to high heaven about the actions of a precious few and then instantly dial 911 when they themselves feel threatened. It’s not much like that down here in the Deep South. We do love us some cops. Our law enforcement officers willingly place themselves in harm’s way on our behalf, and we revere them for it.
If ever you were wondering what effective community-oriented policing looks like, might I direct you to that interaction between my single mom friend and her responding law officer. I doubt that’s taught in any Law Enforcement academy in the country. However, I think he pretty much nailed it.
The post Free Cop Ammo appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
