Over the past three days I’ve been shot, stabbed, beaten, wrestled, molested by drunks, thugs and muggers, stabbed some more and killed about a dozen times. Ahhh … it’s been a truly glorious few days.
On the plus side, I did manage to ward off a few dozen seriously violent bad guys using escalating combinations of voice commands, lights and UTM sim firearms. Creative problem solving was the name of the game. One determined student pummeled his attacker with an outdoor trash can when his gun went out of action.
After perforating role-playing thugs with hundreds of “bullets,” something occurred to me. I used precisely one traditional range skill.
Thanks to the professionalism of the self-defense trainers at W.O.F.T. Self Defense outside of Orlando, Fla., I’m still alive and well, albeit with welts, bruises and various aches and pains. Sometimes that’s the price of valuable life lessons and I was more than happy to pay it.
Over the past decade or so, I’ve been to a couple of dozen firearms and defensive shooting courses. I can say without reservation I learned more practical self-defense skills over the past three days than all the others combined.
Did all those others teach me how to shoot? Absolutely. However, I’ve not yet seen anyone doing deep and immersive training with real defensive scenarios most likely to be encountered in everyday life. How many shooting schools have you sitting in a coffee shop, minding your own business, when two of six role-playing instructors break out into a full-on domestic fight? Maybe a weapon comes into play. Maybe it doesn’t. Or the “drunk” appearing to be sick next to your car suddenly pops up with a knife or gun? Ever thought about what you might do?
Learnings
The make-believe notion of being the cowboy in a white hat, casually standing back and shooting to save the day, was quickly destroyed. If only criminals would cooperate and accept the easy fate.
Situational awareness, or paying attention, is great. I’m all for a switched-on lifestyle. But if you think you’re so good at master-level awareness, you’ll be able to spot and solve any problem with a gun, you’re deluding yourself. We each face dozens of moments every single day when other people, or objects and structures capable of hiding an attacker, are close enough to allow one to be in our face long before we can react and bring a gun into the fight. Other defensive tools, both physical and mental, are a must.
A light is a powerful tool, and I need a simpler one. We ran dozens of scenarios in a dark parking garage ranging from a drunk harassing us to a planned two- or three-on-one mugging. Whether there was criminal intent, the light was a useful tool to help separate the annoying from the truly dangerous. When things got ugly, the light was a valuable tool not only to identify targets, but to distract, buy precious fractions of seconds, and sometimes escape. My current model has different intensities and modes. Forget that. I want one power level — high — and one button.
Leaving doesn’t feel very macho, but is often the right solution. Remember, as much as you may want to see yourself as society’s designated protector, you have a bigger obligation to come home to your family. That’s hard to do if you’re dead or spending the next few decades in jail as a result of getting mixed up in someone else’s altercation. Think long and hard before getting involved. The real story is far too often different from what first appearances indicate.
Explosive and committed action is a powerful strategy. By acting with vigor, you have a 0.25 to 0.50-second action/reaction advantage over your adversary. This can save your life.
Don’t settle for grabbing the “little gun” and stuffing it in a pocket before you run to Walmart or out to grab some milk. Those are likely your most statistically dangerous errands. If you’re going to carry, do it right.
That Range Skill?
Oh, and the one range skill I did use throughout the force-on-force shooting incidents? Malfunction clearing. While UTM-equipped firearms are more likely to jam, most malfunctions were a result of close quarters combat. Shooting while yanking your gun back to a retention position because Joe McThuggNoggins is lunging for it tends to cause a misfeed. Pulling the trigger with your muzzle jammed into an attacker pounding you into the pavement is another winning cause of a stuck gun. The list goes on — with a common denominator. Fighting with a gun at contact distance doesn’t allow for a proper Weaver or Isosceles stance and grip, and the risk of jams skyrockets, so be darn sure you learn how to instinctively clear your gun.
I’ve always figured malfunctions were unlikely in a self-defense encounter because quality modern ammo and guns almost always go bang. But the best gear may not work right in the middle of a close-quarters fight. At one point I ended up pistol whipping an instructor (wearing protective gear) in the head with a jammed pistol. Clearing a malfunction would have been a great option, but my support hand was holding his knife at bay. Yet another scenario I didn’t fully appreciate until it happened to me.
If you carry a gun for self-defense, by all means, learn how to shoot. “Range” skills will help when you’re shooting at high speed from awkward positions, even if you’re not planted in your official gunfighter stance at standoff distance. But be sure to consider some real scenario training to learn tools and strategies for problem solving, with or without that gun. The past three days changed my life, and it was only a taste of what I still need to learn.
We don’t try our cases in the press” has to change. Here’s why.
There’s a Latin saying: Silentium est consensus. It translates to “silence equals consent.” When a wrongfully accused person does not answer the charge, most people read it as an admission of guilt. It’s a legal principle of our law that this is not so, but unfortunately, only attorneys and cops seem to realize that.
Those same lawyers and cops have all been told in law school and the police academy, “We don’t discuss our cases in the press; it will all come out in court.” Unfortunately, in recent years, things have changed. Greed-motivated plaintiffs’ lawyers and politically motivated prosecutors have taken to trying their cases in the press, and when the accused do not respond in the same venue, well … silentium est consensus becomes the uncontested verdict in the Court of Public Opinion.
Riots
Los Angeles, 1992. A hulking suspect became violent during a traffic stop. An early version of the TASER had no effect, and when four LAPD cops “swarmed” him each grabbing an arm or a leg, he threw them aside like a terrier flinging rats. A citizen named George Holliday turned on his new camcorder in time to catch the man, Rodney King, trying to jerk Officer Lawrence Powell’s Beretta from its holster. The batons came out, and a bit over a minute and 50-some PR-24 swings later, the man was in handcuffs. The video found its way quickly to the media.
The suspect was black, the officers white, and the “Rodney King beating” became a national outrage. The public saw, again and again, the ugliest 10 seconds of the video, though King’s gun snatch attempt was never shown until the trial and then seen by only a small percentage of the public. When the cops were acquitted, riots followed, taking more than 60 lives, injuring thousands, and wreaking economic devastation in what was already one of the most poverty-stricken parts of the city.
Kenosha, 2020. Almost three decades later, another video surfaced in a city of 100,000 in Wisconsin. It showed police officers with drawn guns following a black man, Jacob Blake, from the right rear of an automobile containing two little kids, around the front to the driver’s door, where one officer finally shot him seven times behind lateral midline. It became an instant cause célèbre: “Unarmed Black Man Shot Seven Times in Back.” The police department said not a word in defense of the officer’s action. The city burned and incurred tens of millions of dollars in damages, and three men were shot on video in demonstrable self-defense, two fatally, by a young man subsequently tried for murder.
From the beginning, a knife had been visible in Blake’s hand, and the officer fired only after he perceived the man turning on him with it within arm’s reach. In truth, the story should have been “Cops Save Black Children from Knife-Wielding Kidnapper.” Yet the “unarmed” narrative continued even after Blake himself confessed he was armed and the state Attorney General’s Office at last released the truth — weeks after the riot and the killings.
By Con
Years after the King conflagration, when Charlie Beck became chief of LAPD, he created a policy whereby after any potentially controversial OIS (Officer Involved Shooting) a press conference would be held. It would include the original 911 call, dashcam and bodycam video, scene photos and a narrative of what actually happened. It would be widely disseminated to the public, with the promise the investigation would continue, and the public kept apprised.
Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department followed, setting a high standard for thoroughness. So did a number of other police departments.
LAPD to LVMPD and beyond, except for disturbances caused nationwide by the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, every department following this policy has escaped major rioting. The reason is, they have “gotten ahead of the story” and kept false narratives from gaining traction.
We have seen the same principle in armed citizen self-defense shootings. A few years ago in Austin, Texas, John Daub had to shoot and kill a home invader who broke through the front door of his home while his wife and children were present.
He was a member of the Armed Citizens Legal Defense Network (armedcitizensnetwork.org), which had attorney Gene Anthes on the scene before the blood on the floor dried — telling reporters what had really happened. The result: a justifiable homicide ruling and public support and sympathy for John and his family.
A rule of human conflict is when one’s opponents change their attack strategy, one has to alter defense strategy accordingly. With today’s twisting of the truth by journalists and lawyers with less than honorable motives, we need police departments and attorneys who will not leave those who righteously pull the trigger undefended in the unforgiving Court of Public Opinion.
I am told by reliable sources that they have some shall we say bothersome triggers? Grumpy


We were deployed to the arctic reaches of Alaska. Winter was the primary training time for the Army in the frozen north, and we were immersed in a full-bore combat exercise. The TOC (Tactical Operations Center) was a bustling hive of frenetic activity. Under such circumstances, the radios are all slaved to speakers. That way, the free flow of information proceeds unimpeded and combat leaders have instant access to the big picture. The scene this day was one of unfettered chaos.
These were the days before cell phones, so being deployed meant being truly cut off from your families. Such isolation was one of the toughest parts of military service for me. However, in the event of a true emergency, there was one way to get a critical message to a soldier operating in the field. If it was truly epically important, a family member could contact the post headquarters and have a landline phone call tapped into the military radio net. I have no idea how they did that. It occurred only very seldomly.
The TOC was crowded with husky armed men, steely eyed killers all. We were neck-deep in war and all had our game faces on. Threat forces were active in our area, and we were running half a dozen different tactical operations simultaneously. Cutting through the chaos, the net control guy came over and said he had an emergency message for my friend Dave from his wife Lisa.
Our collective blood ran cold. A combat unit is a family, and a tight one at that. There is an implicit intimacy that really has no parallel in the civilian world. When one hurts, we all hurt. If you got a civilian on the tactical net, it invariably meant somebody had died back in the World.
Dave and Lisa were in their mid-30s and had no children. They had recently transferred up from Fort Hood in Texas and grafted onto our merry mob. They were both likable, committed and cool.
The TOC fell silent as the net control guy worked his magic. In a few moments, Lisa’s voice came over the net. It was clear she had been crying. Dave addressed his wife in this most regrettably public of circumstances and asked what was the matter. She sobbed in reply, “Dave, we got a baby!”
The Adoption Option
As a physician, I have been privileged to touch any number of profoundly moving adoption stories. Children who are outcast or unwanted are grafted into a home to create a family, arguably the most powerful of God’s many extraordinary creations. However, ask anyone who has endured the process; adoption is an intentionally grueling thing. Parenthood is the loftiest of human responsibilities, and the system ensures one does not simply wander into adoption without sober preparation.
In the military, adoption is doubly difficult. When my wife and I hit our 10th anniversary, we were at our 10th address. As adoption is typically managed by the state, it can be extremely difficult for a service family to complete the process successfully before being shipped off some place else. Such a nomadic life is just yet another daunting aspect of the military experience.
In Dave and Lisa’s case, they had initiated the process in Texas only to be transferred to Alaska before it was complete. They had essentially given up, presuming this to be yet another dry hole. Lisa’s call from the adoption agency had been wholly unexpected.
Back At The War …
You could have heard a pin drop. Dave stammered and asked his wife to clarify. She explained she had gotten a call from the agency and they had an infant ready to be picked up back in Texas. She was going to make the arrangements so they could leave as soon as we redeployed back to home station.
The entire TOC erupted in cheers. There was a lot of back slapping and congratulations, enough to smother poor Dave in his lamentably sordid state. There were also not a lot of dry eyes among all those hard-core professional warriors. It was honestly one of the most powerful moments I have ever experienced.
Dave and Lisa went from zero to 60 in an instant. They hadn’t planned on becoming parents, so they had literally none of the gear they needed to embark up this most arduous of missions. As soon as we redeployed, Dave jumped on a plane with his wife headed for Texas. Those of us left behind, then made a few phone calls.
When this new family returned, all the car seats, highchairs, changing tables, diaper genies and nitnoid baby crap they needed was waiting for them. A combat unit is a family. We did what families do.
It is frequently easier to get dehydrated in the arctic than it is in the desert. I’ve spent a lot of time in both, and each has its own unique miseries. Drinking water is invariably cold in the frozen wastes. It takes a bit of personal discipline to force yourself to drink ice water when it is forty below zero out.
In this case our NBC (Nuclear Biological and Chemical) team had used the Humvee assigned to my ops section to do their NBC survey of our proposed area of operations in Alaska. They had been in the vehicle several hours during the convoy to the field site. These four swine deployed in our truck, did their mission and then headed off to wreak mayhem elsewhere, dropping off the vehicle as they departed. In the process they failed to clean their dunnage out of our Humvee. That meant several paper sacks filled with empty candy wrappers, discarded Gatorade bottles, MRE scraps and the like. As I said, swine.
My Ops NCO, SSG Munoz, was now using this same truck to lay commo wire along with his assistant, SPC Smith. This thankless backbreaking toil can frequently take hours dependent upon the distance to higher headquarters and intervening inhospitable terrain. These two guys had been out working long enough to drink up all of their water. They were thirsty.
Munoz called a brief halt so they could catch their breath. Desperate for something to drink, SPC Smith began poking around the detritus left over from the NBC team. Amidst the discarded packaging and empty bottles he found one that had apparently gone overlooked.
This bottle of Snapple was indeed fresh and unopened. Amidst the arid snowscape this was ambrosia, a gift from the gods. As SPC Smith gleefully announced his find, SSG Munoz snatched it out of his hand with a terse, “Rank has its privileges. Gimme that.”
SSG Munoz’ assistant was disappointed, but the guy had a point. It was his call to make.
Munoz opened the lid and it gave a satisfying “pop” as the seal was broken. Without hesitation he upended the bottle and took a long deep draught. According to the story as related to me by SPC Smith later that evening, SSG Munoz then got an odd look on his face. He handed the bottle back to his buddy with a curious, “What do you think of this?”
Smith studied the bottle intently for a moment. The liquid was indeed golden like Snapple, but it had an odd aroma. The surface of the elixir also sported a little characteristic foam. That’s when the light came on.
“That’s not Snapple!” he exclaimed. “That’s pee!”
It seems the NBC team, cooped up as they were in the back of the cold truck for the long deployment, had actually recycled the Snapple bottle. After they drank everything up they had used this receptacle as an ad hoc urinal. As the warm liquid cooled it had resealed the container. SSG Munoz had just taken a mighty gulp of chilled NBC guy urine.
SSG Munoz was, to say the least, unsettled by this revelation. Smith related later that Munoz shoved a finger down his throat and retched mightily. Desperate for something with which to cleanse his palate, you recall a lack of drinking water is what got them into this predicament in the first place, he broke open an MRE and started chewing dry cocoa beverage powder. This desiccated stuff indeed took the edge off, but it didn’t do much to slake the poor guy’s underlying thirst.
Dazed by the whole sordid ordeal, SSG Munoz ultimately pulled himself together and, with Smith giggling in the background, eventually successfully completed the mission. They made their way back to the company area and Munoz got some proper hydration. On the way back, SSG Munoz swore Smith to secrecy over the episode on pain of death. Smith kept Munoz’ secret right up until they got to the company TOC (Tactical Operations Center). Then he told anybody who would listen.
There are several lessons to be learned here. A good leader gives his guys the first fruits of everything. A proper commander is last in line to the chow hall and first to do the hard things. Everything good is because of your guys. Everything bad is because of you. Apply those sacred dicta religiously and you’ll likely never inadvertently drink NBC guy pee.































