On the evening of Tuesday September 25th, 2001,
which was exactly two weeks after the terrorist attacks on our country,
I was walking back from a Denny's Restaurant near LAX International
Airport at about 8:10 in the evening. A young man who appeared to
be a gang-banger, judging by the baggy clothes and stupid hand gestures
he was making, approached me and asked, "Are you a die hard?"
I didn't know what he meant by that so I ignored him and continued to
walk back to my place. He started to walk alongside me and asked, "Hey
man, is there anything you're willing to die for?" while still
gesturing with his hands the way gang-bangers do. I continued to ignore
him.
"What would happen to you if you died
tonight?" He asked.
"Go to heaven and be with Jesus."
A smug look came on his face as he said, "I
have a gun in my pocket, which I am going to show you in a minute."
And he slapped his right pocket area. I heard a metallic thud, which
indicated to me he really had a gun in his pocket. Then he asked me,
"But what I want to know is, are you willing to die for your wallet?"
Now I was beginning to get a little scared and started to walk faster,
but he only kept up with me and kept repeating the same question tauntingly.
I started to pray silently wondering whether this is how it was all
going to end for me. I tried to remain calm to hear what God had to
say. He said that I was going to come through this all right. However,
I knew I would not get through this without a fight, so I started to
look for an opening to launch a preemptive strike, but not in a way
he would notice.
When we reached a dark street corner, he sternly
gave me this ultimatum, "Look, either you hand over your wallet
to me right now, or else I kill you!" I assumed a neutral stance
and looked at him to see what he was going to do next, and neither of
us spoke. After a few moments he perceived that I was not going to comply
with his demand. He sighed deeply, rolled his eyes around, and shook
his head in mock disgust as if to say, "Well, I guess that means
I am going to have to kill you." He put his hand into his right
pocket with a smirk as if to say, "Now I'm gonna get you, sucka!"
As soon as his hand was deep in his right pocket, I shuffled toward
him and delivered a blow to his throat rendering him unable to breathe
temporarily, immediately following up with a smashing blow to his face,
and then my left knee came up like a battering ram into his abdomen.
He fell to the ground and then I followed up with blows and kicks to
his body depending on what was the most accessible target. He was totally
discomfited and didn't know left from right, or which way was up. He
managed to get away from me and I pursued him with kicks to his body
until he got out of kicking range, then he took off in full retreat.
I continued to chase after him, but then remembered that he had a gun
and ran back to the street corner. He was half way down the block when
he stopped to look at me. I defiantly assumed a fighting stance. Sheer
terror filled his eyes as he threw up his hands in front of him and
shook them vigorously indicating he had had enough. I then ran back
toward the Denny's where I called the police. Sometime later they arrived--a
male and female officer from the LAPD and they took my report. While
taking my report, the male officer asked me whether I was a martial
arts expert. I told him, "I am better. I am a Vietnam vet."
Smiles slowly came across their faces when I said that and they nodded
in agreement and admiration. The male cop said, "Well, it looks
like he messed with the wrong man, and you obviously still have it after
all these years." I can't deny that. The war has stayed with me
on some level of consciousness after all these years. Besides, I don't
think God allowed me to survive Vietnam just to be taken out by some
punk!
When I got back to my room, it dawned on me
that this country is pulling together. Americans are volunteering their
money, time, talents, and prayers, and support to the victims of the
terrorists' attacks. There is a wave of patriotism unparalleled since
World War 2, and with it, an appreciation of our brave men and women
in uniform who have been sent over to fight.
When I reflected on all this, it really angered
me to think that there is an element of scumbags in our society, like
that punk, taking advantage of the fear experienced by so many Americans
since September 11. Nevertheless, I was glad God allowed me to defend
myself, and this country, against a domestic terrorist. I also realized
that the fear and terror he tried to impose on me backfired on him big
time. Now I was the one with the smug look on my face! Hopefully, he
will never pull a stunt like that again and realize that God gave him
a second chance.
In the days following this incident, I told
all my friends and fellow Vietnam veterans what happened to me. They
were glad I was safe and delighted with the outcome.
I will conclude by saying that we Vietnam
veterans are still a force to reckon with and we will continue to defend
our country against all enemies whether foreign or domestic. The last
part of the following poem expresses my sentiments. A fellow Screaming
Eagle wrote it back in 1968 that served with the 101st Airborne Division.
Although he had the 101st Airborne in mind when he wrote this, I include
anyone else who served in combat over there. He was expressing his contempt
for antiwar protesters but it applies to criminals as well.
