As a retired Deputy Sheriff, the subjects of firearms safety and personal safety either at home or in the street are near and dear to my heart. I just hate to see and hear about someone who is a victim of violence, when they can “refuse to be a victim.”
Recently, there was an incident in France, where three US citizens, (two of which were US Military,) decided to be what I will describe later as sheep dogs instead of sheep. While other passengers, and even one of the train’s personnel ran the other way, these three heroes ran toward the terrorist who was armed with a Kalashnikov, the Russian equivalent of an AK-47. He also had knives as well as a hand gun. The three heroes took down the terrorist, (who claimed he was only intent upon committing armed robbery,) and he was then led away by arresting authorities.
Remember when we used to play war ball in Junior High? About 50 kids would split up and take sides in the fenced in tennis courts. About 20 soccer sized rubber balls would get dumped in the middle and the coach would blow the whistle. Some of the guys would rush in, grab a ball and start throwing. The rest would huddle in the back corner and get clobbered! The guys who rushed in FULL CHARGE in all-out attack mode would be the last ones standing.
I once read a true story about Lt. Ollie North in Viet Nam. His men called him crazy, because he would play “war ball” with his M16 and Colt 1911. Ollie would charge across a rice paddy or up a hill yelling like a crazy man, firing at the enemy. His men had to either follow or hide in a ditch!
Now, I was not much of a jock in Junior High, but I loved war ball, and the coach gave me an A the quarter that we played it. I am learning, (no, “re-learning”) the war ball tactics I used 50+ years ago. Basically, those who huddle in the corner get killed, and those who charge full blast into the fray win.
When I was a deputy Sheriff, I was shot at multiple times during one evening on patrol down in the Harlem area of South FT Myers, Florida. I temporarily forgot my “war ball” experience in Junor High. The backup deputies arrived like a cavalry charge, and boy, was I glad to see them coming! From my position crouched down behind my patrol car, I yelled, “The shots came from over there!”
One of the deputies, a Viet Nam Vet, jumped out of his patrol car, shotgun in hand, and ran straight towards the brushy area across the street where the shots had come from. Just like in war ball. Just like Ollie North in Viet Nam.
Well, the kid who shot at me was long gone by then, but If I had been playing war ball, maybe I would have gotten him. The shooter was arrested a few days later when an informant ratted him out.
Looks like to me those American heroes in France had played war ball in Junior High and remembered how well it worked!
There are sheep and then there are sheep dogs. Now don’t get me wrong, some people just are not sheep dogs. Some people need protecting, and sheep dogs protect the sheep. When I was out west in Colorado a few years ago, we drove into territory that made me feel like I was on a movie set, and John Wayne was shooting bad guys from his perch on top of a stage coach. Now, the Duke was a sheep dog! Then we saw a herd of sheep. There must have been several hundred, right out there on the open range. The sheep were all running one direction, then, they would all suddenly turn. They came running right towards where we were stopped. They started to turn again, but then turned back and crossed the road right in front of us. Then we saw him. A Native American’s sheep dog was herding the sheep towards a rustic, wood corral. The dog would run like crazy, back and forth, first one side then the other, guiding his herd of sheep to safety for the night.
My question is, are you a sheep or a sheep dog?
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See you at the range!
By: Paul Foreman