Why you NEED the right mindset.
Here is a true story from the guest author. I ask you, if this can happen to a professional, can it surely not happen to the rest of us? Once again I want to thank CalicoJack for graciously contributing his expertise and writing.
1996, Elyria OH, Aprox. 2100.
I had just gotten out of the Army after serving as an MP, and was working on the first of what would be many posts as a Federal contractor. I was dating the pastor’s daughter who also happened to have a very bad internal warning system in her younger years and as such, married a juicehead powerlifter who sometimes doubled as a professional psycho. Their divorce was final shortly after I started seeing her casually and long before anything got serious. They had a couple of kids together so I had met the guy several times and on more than one occasion he had threatened me just trying to provoke a response. She had also taken to meeting him for the occasional lunch or dinner to placate him if he was in a cranky mood.
One night at her place I had excused myself to use the phone and answer a page. The call dragged on a bit but I tried to get through it as quickly as I could. At the front door another scene played out.
There was a knock at the door which my girlfriend answered. It was her ex. He wanted her to go to dinner with him because he had been having a bad day and wanted to see her. She told him no and being polite she spent a few minutes talking to him as I was still tied up on the phone. He pressured her throughout the conversation to go out with him, all the while his anxiety level was growing out of control. Eventually he asked if I was there, she told him I was. He began to get agitated and demand that she leave the kids with me and leave with him immediately. When she had refused enough she finally said goodnight and closed the door turning the lock as she did. She paused there with her hand on the back of the door thinking about how she had just dodged a bullet. Then the door came crashing in, trapping her behind it and slamming her head into the wall, confusing her for a moment as he stormed into the house and out of sight.
In the other room I heard heavy footsteps falling across the kitchen floor as I continued my conversation, my back to the kitchen door. One second later, he was on me. He had jumped on my back and began punching me in the head and neck, biting my shoulder. Now, when not in a professional setting I am a notorious slow starter, meaning it takes an army to make me lose my temper. I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on and this guy was beating the crap out of me. So I said into the phone, “I gotta go” and hung up the phone. A second later I picked it back up, dialed 911, and dropped it on the floor turning my attention to the psycho on my back. I tried several of the standard throws, hip tosses, and wrist locks they teach in Army close combat training but this guy was simply too big and too well placed behind me for these to work. My bag was only about 10 feet away in the kitchen, inside were a change of clothes, a stick of deodorant, a knife, multitool, 2 granola bars, 2 liters of water, and an H&K USP in .40 with 2 magazines full of 180gr Hydrashoks. I fought hard for the kitchen using everything my surroundings would provide to gain the advantage and he did the same. On top of having about 60lbs on me he was also fast and shorter than me, making him very hard to throw off balance. I had finally lost my temper and was fighting wildly now, not knowing if I was fighting for my life. We put holes in the walls, broke the furniture, knocked blinds off of the windows and smashed through a door finally landing in the kitchen. I turned and lunged for my bag misjudging the distance in my rage and underestimating his speed. His reaction put him directly on my back with an arm around my throat. Wrapping his legs around my waist he squeezed for all he was worth cutting my air off completely. After a second of pulling at his arms I collected my thoughts and relaxed. I then reached around behind me, snaking my arm between our bodies and grabbed his nuts. He squeezed even tighter and I saw my girlfriend run into the room screaming for him to let me go. As my vision went blurry I saw her pick the phone up off of the floor in the hallway and shut it off. That’s the last thing I can remember for a bit. My mistake had cost me my life as far as I knew, and my mind slipped into darkness.
Suddenly my vision rushed back, and I could hear people yelling in the distance. I was standing in the hallway facing him and my hand was bleeding. She was talking on the phone but sounded like she was quite a distance outside. Her voice began to get closer and I could hear her saying, “….Yes my ex husband broke into my house and he’s trying to kill my boyfriend!” This set him off anew and he attacked again with a scream. This time my body reacted without me at the wheel. The training put him into the wall with my hand at his throat. My boot went directly to his knee, and my elbow followed to his nose sending him to the carpet groaning and clutching his face. My girlfriend looked at me, and said, “Are you okay?” I answered to the affirmative and she told her ex to leave and that the police were on the way. He was on his feet by now and even as wobbly as he was from that knee shot was ready to attack again. She jumped between us and screamed at him to leave and that the police were on the way. He turned and ran out the front door.
Many unexpected things happened here. My bag, as prepared for anything as I tried to be, was useless to me. Also he attacked me from behind, and being short and heavy was difficult to throw. My military training may have saved my life, and here is how I see it.
1. I kept my cool and initially made an assessment that this was and emergency and I needed help.
2. I called 911 and dropped the phone on the floor, sending the sounds of the struggle to the police.
3. Although I made the grievous mistake of turning my back on him and going for my gun allowing him to choke me, something else happened. My then girlfriend told me that my body briefly went limp. As it did she tugged on his arms trying unsuccessfully to get him off of me. That is when she said I began to fight, and so hard that he could not hold me. Once he fell off my swinging continued and I punched a door jamb, splitting my hand open above the 3rd metatarsal, a boxers fracture.
4. When he resumed his attack I reacted without thought just as I was trained and averted another injury.
I made bad errors in judgment, including losing my temper, but my training saw me through. I had a concussion, broken hand, bleeding in my eye, a nearly crushed larynx, and a multitude of cuts and bruises. But I was alive and standing on my feet. As prepared as I was with all of those items in my bag, my brain and my training proved to be my best survival tools.
He got 3 days in county jail.
:hb:
Read more: http://www.shtfmovement.com/users-shtf-stories/topic8023.html#ixzz1mf7oAvD2
Hope this makes you think about your own skill level. Have a nice day, Gary
Date: February 17, 2012

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