‘Me and Snoddy had already thought about going for a ride out to the Caringbah Inn,’ I said.
Lance stood up. ‘I reckon the Viking Tavern would be the go.’
‘That’s because it’s close to your place,’ I said. ‘And you just wanna buy some parts.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ he asked.
‘Nothin’. I just reckon the Caringbah Inn would be a better ride. More people’d see us and they’ve got some good bands on of a Sunday.’
Mouth and Bongo Snake carried on something fierce about this swap meet and how it was going to be the best thing round.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but if we’re meeting at Lance’s, that’s a ride of about three K. So where’s the ride?’
‘Oh, but, you know, it’ll be great.’
‘What bands are on?’ I asked.
‘Oh, there’ll be bands there.’
‘Who?’
They couldn’t name any, but they just pushed and pushed to go to this thing. Later, I’d look back and wonder about them and why they wanted to go so badly. But anyway, the club took a vote and the majority wanted to go to the Viking Tavern. So that was the plan.
CHAPTER 14
Friday night came and just about the whole club was at the Marrickville RSL club to watch Glovesy. Nearly everybody had rocked up in cars because we weren’t sure we’d get in wearing colours, and everyone wanted to see the fight. When Gloves’s bout came up, he smashed the state champion and won the prize for the best fight of the night, so we all went back to the clubhouse and partied on. Glovesy was yahooing around and sparring. ‘I’m gunna be champion of the world.’
The next night was club night. We were there with the old ladies and it was still all about how good Gloves had been, everyone congratulating him. We went for a ride to the Duke of Edinburgh at Pyrmont, had a few drinks in there, went for a run through the Cross to show off the colours, then headed back to the clubhouse. It was all good fun. Jock and his guerilla war was still on our minds, but if they wanted to attack us on a night when we were all together, that was going to be their problem.
I went home at one am, as per my arrangement with Shadow, who looked after the club till morning.
Next day, Father’s Day, dawned like it was going to be a great one. After doing the usual family thing, about thirteen or fourteen of the brothers turned up at my place. All the old ladies were already there helping Donna fix things up for Daniel’s party: blowing up balloons, putting lollies out for the kids, making salads. The tables were set up out the back. We got a spit going with a lamb on it, and had a pile of snags and chops ready to go on the barbie.
Unbeknown to the club, I’d bought one of the first Harley-Davidson Softails to come into the country. And I’d had the motor rebuilt to eighty-eight cubes by a mate of mine called Witch. I’d had Mac the Brush repaint it in a metallic black with a gold fleck, with red and yellow flames all over the tank and the guards. He’d done an immaculate job. While the brothers were in talking to their old ladies I went out to the garage; I thought I’d start her up and they’d all come running out when they heard the roar and get the surprise of their lives. So I pulled the cover off and softly tried kicking her over. Nothing happened. I tried again and again, kicking harder each time until after fifteen minutes I gave up. This is fuckin’ great, I thought. This was going to be my big showpiece for the day. I didn’t have time to fuck around with it all day, or worse, ask someone to try and fix it. I decided I’d fix her later then ride it over to the next meeting and surprise everyone then. As it turned out, I’d never sit on that bike again.
I rolled the Wide Glide out instead, went in and called everyone together. We told the old ladies we were going, got on our bikes and rode away from all the kids’ lollies and balloons. There were no special farewells. We were only going to be gone for a couple of hours then be back for the party. As we pulled away we could see the old ladies and the kids – from babies up to eight- or nine-year-olds – out in the backyard, clearly visible from Frederick Street, one of the busiest roads in Sydney’s innerwest. It was obvious we weren’t expecting trouble otherwise we’d never have left them there.
The next time they’d see us would be on the news.
WE GOT to Lance’s place at Pringle Street, Condell Park, and saw that Snoddy’s Falcon station wagon was there. He’d been meant to return on the Saturday from his week of hunting and getting to know the blokes in Griffith. But they’d thrown him a party and he got sozzled so he ended up staying an extra night and then driving his station wagon the 550 kilometres from Griffith that morning straight to Lance’s to meet us.
We went round the back of Lance’s and put the bikes in his backyard where all the other brothers were. Lance had one of the biggest backyards you’ve ever seen. I walked down towards his garage where Junior was working on his bike, then headed over to Snoddy. ‘I’m gunna go for a ride down the tavern and make sure there’s no Comos down there,’ I said.
‘No need, Caesar,’ he said. ‘I’ve already sent Sleazy and Maverick.’
‘How long ago?’
‘About two hours.’
‘Yeah, but anyone could have turned up in that time. Maverick and Sleazy wouldn’t know what they were doin’ anyway.’
‘Look, we’ll just get the bikes going and we’ll head down there now. They won’t turn up. In all the years I rode with Jock he’s never gone to a bike show. He’s too afraid someone might get friendly with another club.’
Shadow came over. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I want to go down the tavern and make sure there’s no Comos there,’ I said. ‘If there is, we’ll all ride over to the Caringbah Inn instead. I don’t wanna get into a blue in public.’
‘Fuck it,’ Shadow said. ‘If they’re there we’ll just give ’em a floggin’.’
‘Yeah,’ said Snoddy.
‘Look, I’m going down the tavern,’ I said.
‘Come on, Ceese,’ Shadow said. ‘Don’t make a big thing of it.’
‘Yeah,’ Snoddy said. ‘I’m the president and I’m telling ya we’ll be leaving in about five minutes. Just stay here.’
Ha, I thought to myself, after all these months now he wants to make the decisions. So I went down to Junior. ‘Is your bike ready?’
‘Yep.’ He tried kicking it over but it wouldn’t start. Snoddy yelled out to Junior, ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. If it don’t start you’re going in one of the cars.’
But Junior got it going and all the bikes pulled out the front of Lance’s, lined up down the street. We were just waiting for Snoddy and Lard to get into Snoddy’s station wagon – still loaded with all his camping gear – and for Bull, Shadow and Wack to get into Bull’s Holden wagon. The only members that were missing were Bongo Snake and Mouth.
All the bikes started up. I was out in front with a baseball bat strapped to my handlebars in case of trouble. The two cars were in the middle. We headed towards the Viking Tavern.
Once we reached Milperra, Snoddy and Bull’s station wagons pulled out of the pack and went to the front. Snoddy’s Falcon was first into the driveway of the sprawling ranch-style pub, followed by Bull’s Holden, then me.
They turned right into one of the car park rows shaded by skinny gum trees, but there were no spots to stop. The place was crowded with people and stalls. The smell of barbecuing meat filled the air.
Snoddy and Bull drove slowly up the parking row until a car pulled out in front of Snoddy, blocking his way. I looked back to check on the rest of the blokes and I saw that they were all in the car park. That’s when I noticed the first sign of trouble.
Jock’s sidekick, Foghorn, was driving in behind us in his ute. He stopped, blocking our way out. I watched him get out of the ute carrying an M1 carbine – the American World War II semi-automatic – and run into the crowd towards the pub.
I looked down and saw a bunch of Comancheros standing about three parking rows away. They all had shotguns on their hips. I saw Leroy, who had become their
sergeant-at-arms, among them. I looked around for Jock but couldn’t see him. I figured that, as usual, he’d sent his blokes out while he stayed back at the clubhouse.
There was no time to think. We weren’t ready for a gun battle. And we were trapped. I knew if we tried to walk or run out of the car park, we were all going to get shot in the back. I think they expected that when we turned up and saw all the guns we’d go to water, panic and throw our colours down or whatever. They’d obviously forgotten who they were dealing with.
I got off my bike and started walking straight towards them without bothering to get the bat off my handlebars. I just strode down between the rows of parked cars, yelling: ‘Put down your guns and fight like men.’ I thought that if I could just get to Leroy he’d probably put down his shotty and have a go at me, one on one. The other thing flashing through my head was that the closer I got to them, the better chance I had of grabbing a couple of them and snatching their guns. That way, if anyone started shooting I had something to shoot back with.
I was about one car away from Leroy when I challenged him directly.
‘You really want to go one on one?’ he said.
‘Yeah, put down your gun and let’s do it. If you win, we’ll drop our colours. If I win, youse drop your colours and that’s the end of the war.’
‘You’re on.’
Leroy was a big boy, and super strong. A real hard bloke. He put his shotgun down against the car and shaped up.
I thought I was alone, but then I looked back over my right shoulder and there were my brothers, Shadow, Chop, Bull, Snake and Wack, along with Davo, Gloves, Roach, Lance and Zorba, all spread in a line just behind me. Bear was running towards us. They’d all come down to back me up and I felt this intense pride. None of us had a gun. This was what it was all about: punching on when the odds were against you.
Then I realised that they were the only ones there. The rest of the club had either stayed back with the cars or run out into the street.
I looked back at Leroy. Standing just behind him was a Como by the name of Hennessey, shaking like a leaf, his gun still at his hip. I thought, This bloke’s gunna be a real worry. He was staring at my brother Snake, and Snake was calling him all the names under the sun. I knew this Hennessey didn’t want to start shooting, but that he just might because he was so scared of Snake.
Snake said something like, ‘Put the gun down if you’re not gunna use it. If you’re gunna use it, use it.’
The next thing I knew, there was a bang and Snake went down. He’d been hit in the gut. Snake sat there with his hands over the wound, blood spurting out of his stomach.
I went cold.
I heard Snoddy, still up at his station wagon, calling Chop and Shadow to come back up and join him. Snoddy had to get round the back of his car and throw all his camping gear out to get to the only two guns we had – his two pig-shooting guns, a .357 carbine and a shotgun – and the ammunition.
Back down where I was, Leroy picked up his gun and ran behind a car. Straight in front of me in a tight little group were Sparra, Tonka and Snowy, all with shotguns hanging by their sides. They started to raise them, so I charged. I got my left arm wrapped around the barrels of their guns and had them pointed at the ground while I barged the three of them back onto the front of a car, pinning them down with my body. I was really giving it to Tonka while holding the other two down. Tonka hit the deck and I stomped on his chest and head with my Johnny Reb boots, crushing one side of his skull. I did everything I could to get him out of it until he went limp. Then, still holding Sparra down, I started belting in on Snowy with my elbow. He fell to the ground, soft as, unconscious.
That left just me and Sparra. With my left hand still pinning down the shotty in his right hand, he started throwing punches with his left. I used my spare hand to grab him by the throat. I tried to go for the vagus nerve on the side of his neck. If you know the right spot you can knock a man out or kill him by hitting the vagus nerve.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Snake sitting there holding his guts in, blood pouring through his hands. Leroy was standing over the top of him, his shotgun pointing down at Snake’s head like he was about to finish him off.
I zoned out. The world went red. I gripped harder into Sparra’s neck. I felt the shotty drop out of his hand and I squeezed harder. I felt my fingers ripping his skin. I saw blood coming out, and felt my fingers go still deeper into his flesh. I felt the side of his neck rip away as he hit the ground screaming.
I looked up and saw sneaky little Glen Eaves, Jock’s brother-in-law, a tiny bloke with a real big mouth when he had a lot of blokes around him. He’d been in the army and he was lying on the ground in a firing position, pointing the shotty at me. For some reason, I think to get a better shot at me, he tried to get up onto his knees. But as he tried getting off the ground, he stumbled and the shotgun discharged into the ground near Sparra. I saw Sparra jerk, so I figured something had hit him. When they later took him away and did the autopsies, they found the wadding from a shotgun cartridge in his neck and concluded he’d been killed by the shotgun – but only after half his neck had been ripped out.
Once the shooting started it came from everywhere. All I could hear was gunshots but with all the rows of parked cars it was impossible to see where they were coming from. I looked around: there were Como colours climbing the back fence out of the car park, a bunch of them jumping into a green XY Falcon and heading for the bottle shop entrance. They took the door off the bottle-o they were trying to get out of the car park that quick. Most of the Bandidos who’d come down with me had got back to Snoddy and Bull’s station wagons by this stage.
Snake was still sitting there with the blood spurting out between his fingers. My only thought was to get to him, and anyone who got in my way was a dead man. I took a step towards him. I saw Bull had this really huge Como down at the front of his car, kicking the shit out of him while the bloke tried to crawl under the car.
A Como came towards me and I grabbed him by the hair and started laying in. Davo was standing alongside me fighting another Como I’d never seen before. He was a real good bluer, Davo. He’d just finished this bloke off when I saw another Como coming up behind him with a bowie knife. I had my hands full so all I could do was yell out to Davo. He turned around just in time. Instead of getting it in the middle of the back, he got it up under his arm. Didn’t that get him started. He beat the shit out of the bloke.
I finished with the bloke who’d just come at me and took another step towards Snake when for some reason I turned to my left. Bang. I felt it in the right shoulder. I staggered back a metre and it felt like I’d been hit by a baseball bat. I didn’t know what it was at that point, I was stunned. It was a funny feeling. I always figured that if you got shot with a serious weapon, you’d get this burning, hot feeling, all the stuff you see in the movies. But it wasn’t like that, it was just like getting hit with a baseball bat. I’d been hit with a .22 before but that was more like a little pin prick; .22s aren’t much use to you unless you’re actually standing up alongside the bloke and you got the barrel pointed just in under the ear. That’s the best spot to put it.
I realised I’d been hit by a shotgun when I saw blood spurting out of lots of holes. My arm went numb.
Then I felt another thud – this time to my chest. It was like I’d been hit with another baseball bat but this time I knew straightaway that I’d been shot. Blood spurted out of my arm and my chest and into my face. It was suddenly hard to breathe. I coughed and blood came out.
I think I went down on one knee because I was bent over when a Como by the name of Alan came at me with a baseball bat or an iron bar and – whack – he hit me on the side of the head, which I didn’t like.
I just went whooshka, swung my hand out and caught him right in the nuts. He hit the ground alongside me and I grabbed him by the throat. I tried to rip his throat out, and I don’t know if it was from being shot or what, because my wounds were on my right side, but I j
ust couldn’t get enough power into my left hand to do it.
I got to my feet, took the iron bar off him and hit him with it, then put the heel of my boot into his mouth. His teeth went everywhere and I started stomping on his head.
I could hear Chop and Shadow, about twenty feet off to my right, yelling, ‘Bandidos! Bandidos!’ It’s a sound I’ll always remember. They just seemed to keep yelling out, and even though I’d been shot twice, hearing my brothers yelling gave me strength.
LANCE AND Zorba were over bashing some Comos, Glovesy was still giving it to someone. I looked up and I was hoping to see the rest of the club come screaming towards us because I knew if the lot of us had gone these blokes we’d have run over the top of them. But it didn’t happen.
I saw the Como JJ and his old lady down between two cars looking up at me pointing a handgun. To tell the truth, I can’t remember whether it was JJ or his old lady with the gun because I had blood spurting into my eyes and I was feeling real dizzy, but knowing JJ it was probably his old lady. She had more balls than he did. I was looking down there through this haze and then all of a sudden whack, I was hit in the forehead. I didn’t think I’d been shot; I just felt this thud and then this burning sensation and blood was in my eyes. I was staggering around blind, but I heard a voice. It was Bull. ‘Get out of here, Ceese!’ I wiped my eyes and saw Bull and Wack heading towards Snake.
I started finding it really hard to breathe. I’m gunna pass out, I thought. I didn’t want to pass out down where the Comos were so I turned round and started to walk up the gentle slope to the street where the other half of the club were.
I looked up to Snoddy’s Falcon about ten metres away and saw him leaning out of it, shooting towards the Comos who were about ten metres behind me. There was Chop and Shadow standing out in the open back where I’d been, just a couple of metres from the Comos, firing away and screaming to the other Bandits to get up to the street.
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