Tremblin’ Trepidation?

If I had been reading and accepting the writings of many handgunning gurus of the time, I might have gone into those encounters trembling with trepidation, thinking I was seriously ill-equipped. Old, clunky, issue pistols? Plain-Jane round-nose ball ammo? Horrors! Instead, in my ignorance, I thought I was a well-trained warrior with reasonably reliable roscoes. Keep in mind I was painfully young, and didn’t know any better. I only learned what worked for me. Yes, I’m being sarcastic.

Lessons learned? A working gun in the hand is worth more than two premium pistols in holsters, four rifles slung, or 40 fine firearms stored, stacked, or leaning against trees.

Caliber and ammo ain’t as important as being first, and hitting. If you can get better guns and more effective ammo, fine. If not, you dance with him who brung you, in the outfit you got on. If that means your footwear is brogans instead of tap shoes, just dance better and faster.

I had been religiously practicing the combat rule, “shoot ’em where they’re biggest, and do it more than once.” That wisdom was reinforced. Combatants, crooks, cops and crazies all make fatal mistakes, and most of ’em involve HESITATION; disbelieving your own ears and eyes, and failing to trust your own survival instinct.

Disciplines are fine, but they have to be Gumby-flexible. If I had skidded to a halt, assumed a two-hand hold and gone for a sight picture, I’d have been half-past dead.

Okay, that’s kinda “chapter one.” Think it over, and if you’ve got the patience, meet me here soon for The Greyhound Rules.

Connor OUT