As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
We have heard of the US Border Patrol and their steadfast loyalty to the United States and to President Trump. I'm going to offer you an insight into this group in how it was founded back in the Dirty 30's.
It was an odd bunch really, of postal employees who took the exam, but having no place for them, ended up on the Booze Smuggling Mexican Border. There were no guns provided or any real uniforms. Everyone kind of showed up and had their own guns Some like Charles Askins pistol whipped Mexicans for confessions, others more squeamish frowned upon such methods.
The best of the Border Patrol were Charles Askins, Harlon Carter who later headed the NRA and the man quoted below in Bill Jordan. This was the soul of the Border Patrol. The following story sums up the Border Patrol. It will make most of you go wide eyed as we have been lectured at that this is not right.
The story speaks for itself and is what founded the US Border Patrol and why it has not yet been destroyed and is loyal to President Donald Trump.
And speaking of "wild shots" (or to use a better descriptive word, "acciden-
tal" shots), which an officer was sometimes faced with the necessity of explain-
ing, brings up the subject of "alibi guns." To the unitiated, a hypothetical case
would doubtless explain this piece of equipment more clearly than any other
method. Let us suppose that an officer is checking freight trains at night. He
receives urgent information that a man had just shot and killed two policemen
in the adjoining town and was believed to have caught and be riding the freight
our officer is about to check. The killer is described as "medium height and
weight, wearing a brown hat, khaki pants and shirt, believed to be heavily
armed and of course, obviously dangerous." As the train pulls into the yard
and stops, a man, answering that description in externals, steps from between
two box cars. Anticipating the possibility of trouble, our officer has his gun in
one hand and his flashlight in the other. Flashing the light on the suspect he
says, "I am an officer. Don't move!" Then, instead of obeying the order, the
suspect reaches for his hip pocket. What would YOU do? Well, so did our
hypothetical officer! But, supposing further, when he goes over to examine the
remains, he finds that it was all a mistake. This man wasn't armed. Instead,
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he had a bad cold and had selected a particularly unfortunate time to decide he
needed a handkerchief to blow his nose. Although completely sincere in his
conviction that his life was in danger and despite the fact that HAD this been
the man the officer believed him to be, his wife would in all probability by now
be a widow if he had waited to see what came out of that hip pocket, our officer
is in a bad spot. That's where the alibi gun came in. It was a small,
inexpensive gun of the "Owl Head" or "Saturday Night Harrison" persuasion,
was fully loaded and would shoot, had no fingerprints on it and all in all was a
very comforting thing to have around for the "suspect" to hold until the
coroner got there! If this looks like an unethical action to you, it is suggested
that you go back and again put yourself in the officer's spot. Then do a little
honest soul searching before adopting a "holier than thou" attitude.
Well, alibi guns are no longer needed and are a thing of the past, so I am
told. But to get to the story this was all leading up to. Which had to do with
a young Border Patrol officer who early one evening had shot a notorious
smuggler when they met "mano a mano" in the middle of a bridge over a
large irrigation canal. The inquest was being held, late that same evening,
at the coroner's office. If this seems strange to you, perhaps some background
explanation is in order. The coroner was newly elected, and upon taking office
had proved extremely zealous in the performance of his duties. When informed
that his predecessor had made a practice of holding inquests into all deaths
of a violent nature in the safety of his office, he stated publicly that this was
a sorry way to do business, as was only to be expected of his late opponent.
However, while HE was in office all inquests would be held, as was proper, at
the scene of the violence. This new policy lasted only one day. Upon stepping
out on the bank of the Rio Grande to view a "scene" at close hand he had been
fired on by a .30-30 from the other bank. Whereupon righteous resolutions
went by the board. Which brings us back to the inquest in point — at the
coroner's office.
In telling his story the Border Patrolman stated that he had halted the
smuggler on the bridge whereupon that worthy had immediately fired three
shots at him from a palmed pistol, but that his willingness to commit murder so
far exceeded his skill that he missed with all three shots. The officer, recover-
ing from his surprise, finally got off one shot which proved adequate, ending
the affray and the career of the subject of the inquest. At this stage it was
pointed out that no gun had been found on or near the deceased. By way of
explanation the officer said, "Well, when I shot him, his gun flew out of his
hand, hit on the bridge and bounced off into the canal." It was decided to
recess until morning and then drag for the missing weapon.
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Now, I knew this young man well, and I knew that he would not he. Not to
me, anyway, and he had told me exactly the same story that he had told the
coroner. If he said the smuggler had shot at him three times before he returned
the fire, I knew that this was true. However, I also knew that the canal over
which the fight had taken place was very large and that a pistol was a pro-
portionately small and hard to find object. Thinking of the implications I found
that I could not get to sleep. Finally, I gave up trying and slipping a small
revolver remarkably similar to the one described as a typical alibi gun into my
shirt pocket, I drove out to the scene of the affray and leaned over the bridge
railing trying to estimate where the lost gun would most likely be located. As
I gazed down at the moonlit water I saw and heard a splash which prompted
me to feel hastily at the shirt pocket where I had been carrying my gun. My
concern was justified. It had fallen out into the water below.
I can only give a second hand report of the wrap up of the case since I
somehow felt that it would be better if I took up some just remembered but
urgent business instead of attending in person. At the continuation the
following morning with the entire cast assembled at the bridge, a large,
powerful magnet which had been acquired for the occasion was lowered into
the water. As it was moved slowly back and forth across the bottom, tension
began to build. Finally, just before the suspense became unbearable, it was
pulled up and lowered to the bridge planking for inspection. There was a great
sigh of relief, for there, firmly held to the magnet, was a gun. The case was
immediately dismissed with the judgment that the officer had fired in self
defense. In fact, one of the jurymen later told me privately and in strict
confidence that it was the worst case of justifiable homicide he had ever
seen ... for in addition to the previously mentioned gun, there had been
five more picked up by the magnet — all positively identified as having belonged
to the deceased — and each with three shots fired!
You might like reading the interesting analysis by Bill Jordan concerning handling handguns and their clothing and furniture. Is a free read, and the observations are from a man who in quick draw used to shoot pills off a table accurately. Speed matters, but it is vital that you hit what you aim at. The reality is most humans can be dead on their feet, and still maintain for 20 seconds a response to kill their killer.
There are no second place winners, but there are second place avengers who send murders to hell with a well placed shot.
Nuff Said
agtG
