Blood in the Streets

by Skip Coryell

  “Owning a handgun doesn’t make you armed, anymore than owning a guitar makes you a musician.”

  – Jeff Cooper, Author “Principles of Personal Defense” –

  Quite often, I’ll be driving down the road, and my wife will see a very concerned look on my face. She’ll say, “Honey, what are you thinking about? Is something wrong?” Usually, I’ll respond something like this. “No, everything’s fine. I was just imagining that we stopped to help someone hurt on the side of the road and they pulled a gun on me. It’s okay. I killed them.” She’s a good woman, and she always reaches over and gives my arm a reassuring squeeze before saying “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  So, let there be no misunderstanding. When a man sticks a gun in my face, his life is forfeit. He has taken his own life. When a man tries to hurt my children, he’d better be wrapped in Kevlar, because I’m going to come after him with everything I’ve got. If a man tries to rape my wife, his testicles will be hanging in my trophy room as soon as they return from the taxidermist. Now there’s a vivid image.

  Most often, when violent attacks occur, they happen quickly, without warning, and are extremely violent. FBI statistics tell us that the average firefight lasts 3 seconds, takes 3 shots, and occurs at a distance of 3 yards. That information tells us a lot, and helps us to properly train and prepare for survival of a violent attack

  Retired Special Forces Colonel David Hackworth had a saying, which I always quote to my students: “Stay alert, stay alive.” It’s a code I live by. You would be well advised to do the same. I’m not saying that you should walk around paranoid and turn yourself into a nervous wreck. Let’s be honest here. No one can be on full alert all the time. We would suffer from battle fatigue if we tried that. There’s just too much stress involved in chronic, full-alert status.

  But you can arrange your life in such a way as to enhance your chances of survival without adding stress to your life. I just read a very good article yesterday titled “What Really Happens in a Gunfight” written by Dave Spaulding. In the article, he talks about the almost 200 survivors of gunfights he has interviewed over the past 25 years. One common thing he discovered among those who won their gun battle was this: they were not caught off guard. They were able to quickly master and control their startle response. Many of them even recalled being angry instead of afraid and were able to channel the anger into useful energy.

  But fear will push you to freeze. That’s what startle response is, that initial 1 or 2 seconds at the beginning of a gunfight where the victim’s body surges with adrenaline and he gets that “Oh my god I’m going to die” feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was also reported that those with less startle response were aware of their surroundings, and some had even practiced the technique of visualization.

  There is a verse in the Bible which says that it is appointed unto a man once to live, and once to die. We all have that in common, and no man knows the day or season of his own death. I’m always amazed at the mindset of some people who try to tell me that I don’t need a gun. Their lame argument goes something like this:

  “You’ve never been attacked before, so you don’t need a gun now. You’re only going to get yourself into trouble. Just let the police protect you. That’s what they’re for.”

  Depending on my mood and my patience level, I’ll respond in one of several ways. If I think they’re trying to jerk my chain, then I’ll just say “Opinions vary” and walk away, thereby diffusing the situation. But if I think they’re serious and open to change, then I may say something like this:

  “I heard your house burned down last week. Is that true?”

  The look of surprise on their face is always priceless.

  “No! Of course not! Who told you that?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. So when was it that your house burned down?”

  “What are you talking about? My house has never burned down. Who told you that?”

  “But you have fire insurance don’t you?”

  By now the man is getting impatient with me.

  “Of course I do. What idiot would go without fire insurance?”

  I respond calmly and matter of factly.

  “The same idiot who walks around without the means to protect himself. My gun is my life insurance policy. I carry the policy because more people are victims of violent crimes than are victims of arson. I find it amazing that you spend thousands of dollars over your lifetime to insure something that can be replaced, but give no thought to your own life or the lives of your family who are priceless and irreplaceable.”

  Then I walk away. My point is made, and they have opportunity for rational thought. Ted Nugent once explained it to me this way in an email message:

  “To be unarmed and therefore helpless in the face of evil is irresponsible and in fact complicit to said evil. If you knowingly and intentionally go forward incapable of stopping evil, you assist in its progress. A government that by law forces good people to be defenseless is in itself complicit to the recidivistic evil it helps create through plea bargaining, parole and early release policies! Only a person free to choose to protect himself is truly respecting God’s gift of life.

  — Ted Nugent —

  I stay alert in every aspect of my life. I train, I prepare, I survive.

  Yesterday, in the Advanced CCW class that I teach, one of my students was staring at me, hanging on every word. I thought it odd, because I was only a few minutes into the class. I was still trying to loosen things up and set people at ease. I looked at him and said: “You have a very serious look on your face. What are you thinking about?”

  The floodgates opened and he spoke for ten minutes, telling the story of how his son-in-law had been brutally murdered the month before. The killing occurred in his own home, with a knife, and the murderer was the victim’s own brother.

  My student told the story of how he’d knocked on the front door of his son-in-law’s house, hearing noises inside, but had been unable to enter through the locked door to investigate. Several hours later, he and his daughter, found the bloody remains of their loved one in the basement, brutally and savagely cut with a knife. The murdering brother turned himself in the next day, but that was no consolation to the wife and three children who were left behind. The murderer was a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic who had stopped taking his medication.

  The world is smaller than it used to be. We all live closer together, brushing elbows more often, getting on each other’s nerves, causing confrontation to happen more and more. It is inevitable. When the pool gets crowded, people bump elbows.

  Sometimes I wonder what has become of America. When I grew up, we didn’t even lock our doors at night. Only a fool would do that now. I suspect that the breakdown of society was caused by a combination of many things. Our families are no longer healthy and intact. Blood, murder and violence on television has desensitized us to killing in general. The proliferation of online pornography has taught us that women are not people, but simply objects to be used for our own pleasure. The criminal justice system has become largely impotent and ineffective, allowing people to commit murder, almost with impunity. And last, but not least, moral relativism has permeated our society, telling us that there is no right and wrong, no good or bad, that each person must decide what is right in his own mind. (Of course, in the mind of a paranoid schizophrenic, the right thing to do is to kill your brother with a knife.) God, the ultimate authority on right and wrong, is being systematically removed from our schools, the courts, and from the legislative process.

  As always, “cause and effect” reign supreme. Without God, there is no accountability and no ultimate punishment after death. The deterrence that once held the wolves at bay has been removed and it’s “Katie bar the door”.

  Things aren’t right with America or the world, and that’s why I carry a gun; that’s why I train; that’s why I train others. The post-nine-eleven society of our beloved country is different than the land of our fathers. Sometimes it seems like the
world has gone crazy. How shall we then live? How shall we then survive?

  Some self defense instructors teach their students to think this way: “If you are attacked, then do this.”

  I teach my students: “When you are attacked, do this.”

  The difference is subtle, but very powerful. The word “if” implies that it may never happen, which is true. But the level of threat is so high, that you can’t afford to take that attitude. The word “when” is more definite, and it puts you in a higher state of readiness. “When I am attacked, I will move to cover, draw my firearm and kill my attacker.” That is definite. That is predictable. That is something you can train and be prepared for.

  We can take America back, one life, one family, one community at a time. Start in your own house. The wolf is at the door. When he comes in, blow his head off. He’ll never hurt another little lamb.

  Stay alert. Stay alive. Protect your family.

  “I remember the first time I used a public toilet while carrying concealed. I loosened my pants and the weight of my pistol sent them careening to the ceramic tile floor with a loud crack.”

  Packing Heat is a Pain!

  I remember the day I picked up my concealed pistol license

  from the County Clerk’s office. It was more exciting than shooting an 8-point buck! I had worked hard, standing shoulder to shoulder alongside thousands of other citizen activists to obtain the legal status to that God-given right to keep and bear arms. So as soon as I got my permit, I drove home to get my pistol. It was then that I realized that I didn’t own a holster. After all, I’d never needed one before. Not to be deterred, I shoved it into the waistband in the small of my back, put on a long shirt and went downtown. I must have walked up and down the sidewalk for an hour, going from store to store, reveling inside at my newfound right. I was 43 years old, but never in my lifetime had I been allowed by the government to carry a firearm for my own protection. I have always resented that about government.

  But in retrospect, what is most interesting to me was the overwhelming feeling of guilt and fear I experienced. It stayed with me for several months until I realized that it was real, that the government wasn’t going to arrest me for carrying a firearm. I look back on that time with a bit of sadness now. The very thought that I should be afraid of my elected officials and of law enforcement is sobering. But you’ll read more about that in the next chapter.

  That newfound excitement of carrying concealed lasted about 6 months, then it began to get old, as all routine things inevitably do. I quickly discovered that carrying concealed was a real pain in the butt. I opted to carry strong side with a belt slide holster on my right hip. It was comfortable and made my firearm quickly accessible. However, the drawback was that every once in a while someone would get a glimpse of my holster, either when the wind blew my jacket up or when I bent at the waist. It only happened a few times, but I quickly learned that it was not in my best interest for anyone to see me carrying a firearm.

  So the quest for the perfect carry rig was on! I tried shoulder holsters, but my full framed .40 caliber wouldn’t hide very well under my arm. The vertical rig dug into my armpit, and the horizontal holster jutted out so far to the front that I looked like I had a giant tumor growing on my chest.

  I tried inside the waistband holsters, but quickly learned that I needed to buy all new pants, 4 inches bigger in the waist, in order to leave room for the pistol. For me, it was harder to draw the pistol, and it seemed uncomfortable as well.

  I tried fanny packs, and they were fairly comfortable, allowing me to carry my cell phone and a spare magazine. I liked it, but people always thought I was gay. I don’t like the idea of strapping a purse around my waist.

  I tried a cross draw holster, ankle holster, even carrying in my pocket. However, at the end of the day, I was convinced that no single carry method is right for everyone. Eventually, I opted for a system of carry that incorporated several methods and holsters.

  When I jog, I use a fanny pack. (I have a very masculine gait, so I guess it’s okay.) When I want deep concealment, I’ll go with an inside the waistband holster, no matter how uncomfortable it is or how tight my pants are.

  For short distances, e.g., going from the car to the house, I may just tuck it into my waistband in the small of my back. I am amazed at how secure and comfortable that can be with a full-sized pistol. It’s very easy to conceal, to draw, and never falls out on me. (Don’t forget to wear a good belt.)

  It seems that everything about concealed carry always ends up being a compromise. A larger caliber pistol is heavier, bulkier, harder to conceal, so you end up carrying a .40 caliber instead of that Desert Eagle you have so much confidence in. In the hot, summer months, concealability becomes an even greater concern. How can I stay cool and still carry the gun that gives me confidence. Well, sometimes I don’t. Compromise is a way of life it seems. There are a lot of things about concealed carry that surprise you when it first happens. I remember the first time I used a public toilet while carrying concealed. I loosened my pants and the weight of my pistol sent them careening to the ceramic tile floor with a loud crack. Fortunately, my pistol was undamaged, but I learned to slowly lower my pants down and gently lay them on the floor.

  Since then, I’ve heard horror stories from people who lay their pistol behind them on the toilet tank before sitting down. Eventually, they walk off without their pistol. I imagine more than one person has watched helplessly as their five hundred dollar pistol slowly slid down into the toilet bowl. For a while, I took to laying my pistol on top of the toilet paper dispenser until one time the entire dispenser fell off the wall and my gun crashed to the floor.

  Another problem is “huggers”. No, that’s not a typo. I said “huggers” not “muggers”. This is always a problem at church. Some people are always coming up and giving me hugs, putting their arm around my waist and finding their hand touching something very large and hard. When I see the surprised look on their face, I just smile. One of these days I’m going to say “It’s not a banana, I’m just very happy to see you.” I think the older ladies, in particular, will appreciate that.

  There are other problems too. My kids, while they like the idea that I carry a pistol and can protect them, they sometimes bump their head up against the grip of my pistol. I have learned to turn slightly when they approach for a hug so as not to hurt them. And, of course, whenever we wrestle and play I have to take it off and store it somewhere safe.

  Sitting down is a pain. Getting in and out of the car is a pain. Going to the bathroom is a pain. So if carrying a pistol is such a pain, then why do I even bother? Sometimes I find myself tempted to leave the house without my pistol just to gain freedom from the bulk and weight. But I always resist that temptation. Carrying my pistol is tantamount to buckling my seat belt. I do both religiously, because someday they will save my life or the lives of someone I love.

  In short, it’s an inconvenience and it’s a pain, but it’s worth it. Besides, after all these years with a pistol strapped to my side, I would feel naked without it. It’s a reassuring bulk that I never want to be without.

  It’s my life insurance policy, but it’s only in force when I have it

  with me. It will take some doing, but if you work at it, you will find

  a carry system that works for you. It’s an inconvenience that you can live with.

  “I just don’t feel safe walking around anymore, especially when I’m in a big city. If they can take down the Twin Towers, then no one is safe.”

  CCW and Nine-eleven

  There are certain days in your life that you will always remember, whether it be good, bad, pleasant or painful. Nine-eleven will always be one of those days for me. I remember that I was in Grand Rapids when I first learned of the Twin Towers tragedy. I had just pulled into work at Smiths Aerospace, and I was listening to B-93. Reese Rickards came over the air and told all of West Michigan about it, so I listened for a few minutes and then ran into work and looked on
the internet for more information. My company set up televisions and most of us watched the news coverage all morning long. I remember vividly, watching real-time as the mammoth buildings crashed to the New York City pavement. That moment changed the world forever, and nothing will ever be the same.

  It was very difficult for me to sit at my desk all that day, totally unarmed. Because of company policy, my pistol was locked in my car as it was every day at work. But on nine-eleven, it bothered me more than usual. Our country was under attack, and I was defenseless. I remember feeling especially vulnerable and impotent for months to come. Something deep inside me had changed and it took a long time for me to realize it, and then to get a handle on exactly what it was.

  But one thing happened right away: attendance at my CCW classes skyrocketed. It was a bittersweet reality for me for several reasons. On the one hand, I was helping to train parents to defend their children, and that always made me feel good. On the other hand, I didn’t like prospering monetarily because of an event that had cost so many innocent America lives.