Newsgroups: rec.guns
Subject: Flimflam on Flimflam LONG
Hello Fellow Groupies;
Well, I finally made it home last night about 8 , or so-- I think.
These pain pills work well, so I guess I'll be pretty fuzzy for awhile.
It's around 5, or so in the morning, and I just couldn't sleep for the
pain, so I thought I'd get up and see if I can operate my wife's computer.
I feel like someone stuck me with a sword
I haven't been able to access all of the comments about my situation,
and probably won't be able to, as being stuck hasn't increased my computer
ability any. All I can say about the people on this group, is that you
guys are some of the most wonderful people I've had the priveledge of
knowing and communicating with in my long, and short 49 yrs. Course, being
shooters, we naturally are a 'cut' above. ( yeah, I know, bad pun)
Anyway, after a week, and night eternity of being able to think, and
access, and grieve, and reconstruct in my mind what happened to me, I still
don't have a lot of definitive answers. I do know a few basics, due to my
particular circumstances, though.
NO initial plan survives the first contact. MY particular situation,
was one straight from Hell, that couldn't have been thought of before, had
I been using acid. ( I think I now know the kind of person that first
used the expression-- "Whooda thunk it?")
Believe me guys, when I tell you I'm not pissed at anyone who tries to
'criticque' my actions. In retrospect, there are a lot of things that I
could have probably done a lot differently--
had I the time. However, when one has just been stuck with a 36" bladed
Ninja/Samori/whatever sword, normal thought process flies out the window.
First thing I did was to instinctively get away from the immediate
threat. For me, at the time, it amounted to kicking my feet out from under
my self, and propelling my rolling chair backwards. Had I not done this
asap, I would not be here, as the fist stab wound was to my upper chest
very near my heart. His aim was pretty fair, but the bone deflected the
blade a little, and my rearward motion stopped his forward motion. Or
something like that.
By the time I got myself back on my feet, he had come around my desk,
and proceeded to push home the attack. Here, I actually had somewhat of an
advantage, as it is real hard to bring to bear a sword in close quarters.
I was glad at that time, he wasn't armed with a good fighting knife.
Anyway, we were knocking each other pretty well, and I got stabbed
another time , so I thought I might should try to put some distance from
this loonatic by retreating to my office, which was about ten feet away. I
made it to the door, and slammed the door on him, as he as now half way
inside the office. I slammed the door on him so hard, I was told it put a
couple of holes in the door. ( it is now evidence) I had NO--ZERO-- NADA
effect on him. Before he could gather his next plan, I ran a few feet for
my desk, as I usually had a piece in the drawer ready to go.
To give you an idea how much the mind goes during something like this--
I passed up my Beretta 92 lying on my reloading bench all ready to go, with
one up the pipe. I passed up an AK all loaded up by the door. I didn't
have time to get to my 870 in the 'ready rack' ( yeah, right) all ready to
go. Couldn't make it to my AR all ready to go. There were a lot of things
around the store that I couldn't just place my hands upon.
Anyway, just as I arrived at the desk, I realized that the damn piece
wasn't in the drawer, and I better change the plan-- again. I turned to
face the attaker, and was greeted with the most serious of the blade
thrusts, as it went into my lower left abdomen, and grabbed one of the
intestines. In a fit of panic/stupidity/desperation/whatever, I grabbed
the blade with my left hand, and kept him from running me all the way
through. It was at this moment I finally remembered my Beretta in my right
pocket.
Yeah, I know, why didn't I remember it before? Hell, who knows ? The
only thing I can say, is that it was the most definitive moment of my life,
that I can remember. Up until that time, everything I'd tried really
hadn't worked in this particular situation, and it wasn't looking too good
for the good guys at this time. Here I was impaled upon a sword, and was
in a life , and death struggle to keep this wannabe Ninja from killing me
with it. I was beginning to feel light headed, as I figured I was
beginning to bleed out. ( afterwards, I was told this was true)
Everything I'd tried had not worked, and now this jerk might just make it
afterall.
Well, anyhow, I remembered the Beretta in the pocket, and at that
moment, everything changed. My position instantly went from a defensive
one, to an offensive one. I can't speak for anyone else on planet earth,
but that feeling is something that I don't believe I'll ever be able to
explain. At that point I KNEW I was going to survive. I proceeded to push
the blade out of my self towards him with my left hand, while going for my
Beretta with my right. It was right there where it always was, and out it
came. I thumbed the hammer back, and aimed as best I could for his left
eye socket. I only thought I'd fired three times, but according to the
investigating officers, it was 5. I hit him all five times. Four hits to
the head, and one in one of his hands. According to the detective, two
went into his light socket, and two close by. Anyway, it worked, and he
dropped to the floor incapacitated. I stumbled out of the office to my
store phone and called 911. The calvary arrived shortly , and took over
from there.
In my interview at the hospital Tues day night, I explained what I
could, and after they investigated the scene, evidently everyone agreed
that things had transpired pretty much the way I had described. That's
good for me, as I firmly believe that my mind has been playing tricks on me
for a long time.
As for the way I feel now-- I feel like crap. Due to the stab wounds
grabbing one of the intestines, the surgeon had to open me up like a gutted
fish, and check out all 20 some feet of it to make sure there are no leaks.
I've been cut from the middle of my chest down to where the sun NEVER
shines. The actual stab wounds , with the exception of the last one,
aren't all that painful. They just happened to cause a bunch of other
problems. Anyhow, I have to be alive to feel pain. So far , no
infections, and everything is healing like it is supposed to. I have a
LONG way to go before I will actually be physically ok, but the surgeon
said last night , as he was taking out the staples, that I should be up ,
and good to go , in about 6 weeks. So much for being a small business
owner
The phone calls I've received from people that I don't even know, and
the letters, cards, flowers, and the like are sentiments that I will keep
forever. I had NO idea I had as many friends as I have. If any of you
happened to call the hospital, and I might have been somewhat rude, or
callous, please forgive me. I don't do well on morphine, and with
everything that has been going on, all I can do is apologize. Thanks for
the interest in my situation, and I hope somewhere along the line what I've
written helps someone, somewhere. Dealing with taking a human life is not
an easy thing for me to do. I did what was necessary to survive, and in
doing so, killed a man. It will take me a long time to reconcile this
within my thick head, but at least I'm alive to have to do this.
Any suggestions, comments, advice, criticisms, ect, are more than
welcome. About all I can say to sum up, is that I did what I could with
the available circumstances dealt me.
Yeah, I wish all I had to do was to reach with a lightning fast draw, and
dispense with the creep instantly, after the first stab. It just didn't
work out that way. I was surprised, and it went down hill from there. A
will to survive, and just being plain ole stubborn is what probably won the
day for me.
On a much happier note: My bride was so happy I lived through all of
this, I will receive my Christmas present early this year-- a "loaded"
M1-A, with stainless barrel, and synthetic stock. What a woman.
Thanks for reading through all of this , if Magnum allows my ramblings.
I won't be on the group as much , for a while, but " I'll be back".
J. David Phillips
flimflam
Subject: Flimflam on Flimflam LONG
Hello Fellow Groupies;
Well, I finally made it home last night about 8 , or so-- I think.
These pain pills work well, so I guess I'll be pretty fuzzy for awhile.
It's around 5, or so in the morning, and I just couldn't sleep for the
pain, so I thought I'd get up and see if I can operate my wife's computer.
I feel like someone stuck me with a sword
I haven't been able to access all of the comments about my situation,
and probably won't be able to, as being stuck hasn't increased my computer
ability any. All I can say about the people on this group, is that you
guys are some of the most wonderful people I've had the priveledge of
knowing and communicating with in my long, and short 49 yrs. Course, being
shooters, we naturally are a 'cut' above. ( yeah, I know, bad pun)
Anyway, after a week, and night eternity of being able to think, and
access, and grieve, and reconstruct in my mind what happened to me, I still
don't have a lot of definitive answers. I do know a few basics, due to my
particular circumstances, though.
NO initial plan survives the first contact. MY particular situation,
was one straight from Hell, that couldn't have been thought of before, had
I been using acid. ( I think I now know the kind of person that first
used the expression-- "Whooda thunk it?")
Believe me guys, when I tell you I'm not pissed at anyone who tries to
'criticque' my actions. In retrospect, there are a lot of things that I
could have probably done a lot differently--
had I the time. However, when one has just been stuck with a 36" bladed
Ninja/Samori/whatever sword, normal thought process flies out the window.
First thing I did was to instinctively get away from the immediate
threat. For me, at the time, it amounted to kicking my feet out from under
my self, and propelling my rolling chair backwards. Had I not done this
asap, I would not be here, as the fist stab wound was to my upper chest
very near my heart. His aim was pretty fair, but the bone deflected the
blade a little, and my rearward motion stopped his forward motion. Or
something like that.
By the time I got myself back on my feet, he had come around my desk,
and proceeded to push home the attack. Here, I actually had somewhat of an
advantage, as it is real hard to bring to bear a sword in close quarters.
I was glad at that time, he wasn't armed with a good fighting knife.
Anyway, we were knocking each other pretty well, and I got stabbed
another time , so I thought I might should try to put some distance from
this loonatic by retreating to my office, which was about ten feet away. I
made it to the door, and slammed the door on him, as he as now half way
inside the office. I slammed the door on him so hard, I was told it put a
couple of holes in the door. ( it is now evidence) I had NO--ZERO-- NADA
effect on him. Before he could gather his next plan, I ran a few feet for
my desk, as I usually had a piece in the drawer ready to go.
To give you an idea how much the mind goes during something like this--
I passed up my Beretta 92 lying on my reloading bench all ready to go, with
one up the pipe. I passed up an AK all loaded up by the door. I didn't
have time to get to my 870 in the 'ready rack' ( yeah, right) all ready to
go. Couldn't make it to my AR all ready to go. There were a lot of things
around the store that I couldn't just place my hands upon.
Anyway, just as I arrived at the desk, I realized that the damn piece
wasn't in the drawer, and I better change the plan-- again. I turned to
face the attaker, and was greeted with the most serious of the blade
thrusts, as it went into my lower left abdomen, and grabbed one of the
intestines. In a fit of panic/stupidity/desperation/whatever, I grabbed
the blade with my left hand, and kept him from running me all the way
through. It was at this moment I finally remembered my Beretta in my right
pocket.
Yeah, I know, why didn't I remember it before? Hell, who knows ? The
only thing I can say, is that it was the most definitive moment of my life,
that I can remember. Up until that time, everything I'd tried really
hadn't worked in this particular situation, and it wasn't looking too good
for the good guys at this time. Here I was impaled upon a sword, and was
in a life , and death struggle to keep this wannabe Ninja from killing me
with it. I was beginning to feel light headed, as I figured I was
beginning to bleed out. ( afterwards, I was told this was true)
Everything I'd tried had not worked, and now this jerk might just make it
afterall.
Well, anyhow, I remembered the Beretta in the pocket, and at that
moment, everything changed. My position instantly went from a defensive
one, to an offensive one. I can't speak for anyone else on planet earth,
but that feeling is something that I don't believe I'll ever be able to
explain. At that point I KNEW I was going to survive. I proceeded to push
the blade out of my self towards him with my left hand, while going for my
Beretta with my right. It was right there where it always was, and out it
came. I thumbed the hammer back, and aimed as best I could for his left
eye socket. I only thought I'd fired three times, but according to the
investigating officers, it was 5. I hit him all five times. Four hits to
the head, and one in one of his hands. According to the detective, two
went into his light socket, and two close by. Anyway, it worked, and he
dropped to the floor incapacitated. I stumbled out of the office to my
store phone and called 911. The calvary arrived shortly , and took over
from there.
In my interview at the hospital Tues day night, I explained what I
could, and after they investigated the scene, evidently everyone agreed
that things had transpired pretty much the way I had described. That's
good for me, as I firmly believe that my mind has been playing tricks on me
for a long time.
As for the way I feel now-- I feel like crap. Due to the stab wounds
grabbing one of the intestines, the surgeon had to open me up like a gutted
fish, and check out all 20 some feet of it to make sure there are no leaks.
I've been cut from the middle of my chest down to where the sun NEVER
shines. The actual stab wounds , with the exception of the last one,
aren't all that painful. They just happened to cause a bunch of other
problems. Anyhow, I have to be alive to feel pain. So far , no
infections, and everything is healing like it is supposed to. I have a
LONG way to go before I will actually be physically ok, but the surgeon
said last night , as he was taking out the staples, that I should be up ,
and good to go , in about 6 weeks. So much for being a small business
owner
The phone calls I've received from people that I don't even know, and
the letters, cards, flowers, and the like are sentiments that I will keep
forever. I had NO idea I had as many friends as I have. If any of you
happened to call the hospital, and I might have been somewhat rude, or
callous, please forgive me. I don't do well on morphine, and with
everything that has been going on, all I can do is apologize. Thanks for
the interest in my situation, and I hope somewhere along the line what I've
written helps someone, somewhere. Dealing with taking a human life is not
an easy thing for me to do. I did what was necessary to survive, and in
doing so, killed a man. It will take me a long time to reconcile this
within my thick head, but at least I'm alive to have to do this.
Any suggestions, comments, advice, criticisms, ect, are more than
welcome. About all I can say to sum up, is that I did what I could with
the available circumstances dealt me.
Yeah, I wish all I had to do was to reach with a lightning fast draw, and
dispense with the creep instantly, after the first stab. It just didn't
work out that way. I was surprised, and it went down hill from there. A
will to survive, and just being plain ole stubborn is what probably won the
day for me.
On a much happier note: My bride was so happy I lived through all of
this, I will receive my Christmas present early this year-- a "loaded"
M1-A, with stainless barrel, and synthetic stock. What a woman.
Thanks for reading through all of this , if Magnum allows my ramblings.
I won't be on the group as much , for a while, but " I'll be back".
J. David Phillips
flimflam