They are not going to get my gun

[Daan]

To keep the momentum going of successful SD outcomes, as it was vividly described in the past few days here on GS, I hope to re-enforce what was said;
By nature these encounters are unexpected, sudden and chaotic, and you need to have in place every bit of advantage you can possibly stack in your favour beforehand regarding training, equipment and mind-set to survive.

This happened to me a number of years ago in Johannesburg.
I had recently got a permanent position with one of the production houses in Linden, and rented a flat nearby.
Planning to settle into city life, one sunny afternoon in January, after work I took the short walk down Fourth avenue to the Emmarentia dam, with the aim of enquiring about joining the canoeing club active there.

Before going on to the street, I took my wallet out of my shirt pocket, and put it in my jeans pockets, with my cell phone, to get it out of sight. My shirt was untucked, hanging loose over my trousers.

As I walked across the green belt either side of the Braamfontein spruit below the dam, I noticed a guy getting up and walking towards me. He was not walking purposefully, but slowly enough for me to pass him. As I neared the spruit, I was conscious of the fact that he was now about ten meters behind me.
I was going from yellow to orange mode.

There is a narrow foot bridge across the spruit, about five meters long. On the other side of the bridge was a bamboo thicket just to the left of the footpath.

The footbridge from the side I was approaching it. This was taken two days later. The bamboo thicket on the far-left side of the bridge was by then cut down.


As I crossed the bridge, with guy no.1 behind me, I saw movement in the bamboo thicket in front of me. I immediately realized I've been trapped on the bridge.

"They are not going to get my gun" was the only thought in my mind.

Code red, and everything went into slow motion that moment.

I went for my gun, carried IWB strong side. Simultaneously I saw the guy stepping out of the bamboo bush right in front of me blocking my path. His right hand was coming out from under his jacket.
Then I could see he was indeed pulling out a gun.

Remember; all this is happening in the same second.

When I saw the gun, I remember the all clear in my head; "OK, shoot"
But I was still bringing up my gun from the draw, while he was levelling his gun up to my chest.
"I'm going to feel his bullet any time now" was the next words in my mind.
And then I felt my gun rocking back in my mind, as I got off the first shot.

From there on my memory is a complete black hole.
How many years later now, all I can remember is feeling that I pull the trigger again, but nothing happens, and feeling that my gun is being twisted in my hand. But no visuals or emotions at all.

My next memory is where I'm under water, and I can feel I have nothing in my hands; my gun is gone. The attacker has got my head in the crook of his arm, keeping it under water.
"I'm going to feel what it is like to die now" was the next totally calm and emotionless words in my head.
But make no mistake, I was still struggling with all I've got to break free.

I eventually managed to break free from his grip, and got my head above water. It was about chest-level. Apart from gasping for air, I was of course squealing like a pig. The attacker was trying to press the gun against my head while I'm trying to hold on to it and keep it pointing away.

With both my hands on the gun he got his arm around my neck again and with his weight got me under the water once more. I broke free again, grasping for air, squealing. This time he shoves the gun into my mouth, breaking off teeth, before I could get a grip on it. I'm of course still expecting a bullet any moment.

Then I eventually remember my knife. I was again grappling with the gun to keep it pointed away, but with my right hand managed to get my knife (pocket clip, one hand opening), and even reverse it so that the blade point downwards before bringing it up out of the water and stabbing down with it.

I told myself "go for the neck", but despite him arching his face backwards, I caught him in the bottom of the eye socket, and ripped down. I could feel the knife going through his teeth on the way down. I stabbed again, all the time holding on to the gun with my left hand.

The next stab caught him in the throat, as his head was still arched back.
As I aimed the next stab, he let go of the gun.

I was now standing with my knife in the right hand, and the gun in my left.
It was my gun! I saw a spent case stuck in the slide. As I racked it, I could see the next round coming up from the magazine. I was already looking at the spot on the attackers head where I was going to place that shot.

But I did not pull the trigger.

He was staggering backwards, ashen grey. There was no aggression left in him. He turned his back and tried to get out of the spruit.

All this fighting in the water was maybe 20-30 seconds?

I scrambled out on the other side. Once out on the bank, I shouted at him like a possessed man to stand still or I'll blast him to pieces, or something to that effect.
But he did not have the power to climb out of the ditch. He slid back into the water, and was hanging over a fallen tree stump.

He died like that.

The pool in which the fighting took place.


The (then cut-down) bamboo bush in which the attacker was hiding. I was approaching from the opposite side.


Lots of emotions went through me as I was standing on the bank, looking down on the attacker in the water. First and foremost, even though I must have seen that he was severely weakened, I was absolutely determined that he must not get away. I literally did not want to even take my eyes off him.
And then of course an unbelievable relief when I realized it's over, and I came out of it alive.
And yes, also somewhere amongst the horror, satisfaction with the fact that I was challenged for my life, and got out on top.

But only just..

Someone shouted from the opposite of the park that they've called the police.

They arrived when it was strong dusk already, with me still obsessively guarding the attacker.
I co-operated with the SAPS to the best of my ability.
When the inspector asked for my pistol, I made it safe, and was surprised to see the magazine is empty. Only the one bullet in the barrel left.
I could remember only firing one shot.

What must have happened: I almost bumped into the attacker, as he came out of the bamboo bush.
I drew and fired immediately. He must have dropped his own pistol when he saw me drawing, and went for my gun. I was shoving him away from me with my left hand, while going backwards, as I had powder burn marks on my left forearm. I managed to get six shots off, firing from the hip. Five of which went through his lower abdomen. (FMJ's, they all went clean through)
On the sixth shot, he had his hand on my gun. The shot went through his hand and arm, and it jammed the gun.

We went off the bridge on the side from where I was approaching it, where the railing was broken. I could see the skid marks in the mud, and the attacker's cap was still sitting in the mud there afterwards.

What happened to the guy behind me I don't know. If he tackled me simultaneously, things could have turned out much different, but he must have scattered the moment the shooting started.

The gentleman from across the park, who called the police, was outside in his garden when he heard the shots. Right afterwards two guys came running out from the trees where the bridge is.
When they saw him, they changed direction towards Beyers Naude drive, and kept running. The inspector afterwards said that was to catch the first taxi to put distance between them and the scene.

Despite having read that it is better to make a statement through an attorney, I was clear in my head that it was a straight forward self defence case, and when the inspector asked me for a statement, I gave it to him.

One problem; the attacker's gun was nowhere. I included in the statement that I was clear that he pointed a pistol at me, and that it was a Colt 1911 type pistol; I had a clear view of the top of the slide. I remember explaining to the inspector that it was certainly not a Beretta, with a open barrel, or something with a rib, or a Browning HP with a narrow front-slide. It was a well worn 1911 type pistol. That picture was rather etched into my mind.

But the missing pistol was of course a major worry for me. Later that evening police divers arrived. They did a thorough job searching the bottom of the spruit, but nothing..

The police dropped me off at my flat at about midnight. I was relieved not to be arrested, just asking that I come in the next morning to the station (Parkview) for finger prints.

That night, I typed down every minute detail of the whole incident, took pictures of all the wounds on my body, took a shower, and walked over to my office at daybreak to make arrangements for being absent from work that day. My cell was drowned of course, so I could not phone anybody.

A good friend went with me to the doctor first thing the next morning. I had cuts on my head and face, nothing severe, and a shallow cut across the palm of my right hand, where my knife slipped back as I took the first stab. The doctor recommended I go on preventative HIV medication for a month.. as both me and the attacker was bleeding and were grappling.

That was by far the worst of the aftermath. That medication nearly killed me again, or so it felt.
My employer was very accommodating, which I will always be thankful for, even assuring me that should it come to a trail, the company would provide legal assistance. I don't think he realized what a relieve for me that was at the time.

And that was it for the next five months.

By an absolute miracle, a colleague of mine heard that a bunch of teenagers were hanging around that footbridge during the winter holiday, and picked up a pistol. It was lodged in roots on the bank of the spruit. With the water level down in winter, it was exposed. One of the boys took it home, scaring his father (rightly) into a panic. He called the police, and the officer who handled the case did a thorough job, taking the boy to show him exactly where he found the pistol as well as writing a detailed report. The pistol was found with the chamber empty, but a full mag.

I alerted the inspector on my case, giving him the name of the station and SAP13 number of the gun.

It was a Star Model B, (registered to the state) fitting my description.
I was of course very relieved.

Early the next year I was contacted to come and fetch my pistol, by that time I had a lawyer on the case requesting that my gun be returned to me.
Someone must have cleaned the blood and water off my gun that same night, as there was not a speck of rust on it. It was cleaned and oiled.
I was also informed that the file was closed by the inquest, which determined that it was self defence.

So much for the legal side.

It was not long before I realized that I need help to work through the episode on a psychological level. I developed mood swings and a short temper, snapping at colleagues.

I got help from an elderly female psychologist, a calm, humane and actually angelic woman, who through her calm acceptance got me to relive the whole episode again on a physical and emotional level, bringing everything up and out into the open where I could deal with it rationally.
What was haunting me turned out to be the few moments I realized I'm unarmed, and at the hands of someone who attaches no value to my life.

On a practical level I of course started carrying at least one extra mag with me, and a bigger knife with some sort of bolster.
I also included practising with my knife during my self defence drills, (slashing up, not down) to make the knife part of my muscle memory.

I've heard it a few times, even on this forum, that people does not carry a SD knife, as they are not "that violent" or it is "too close and personal".
It just does not make sense!
I'm not a violent person! As an adult, I have not even slapped somebody, even though there was quite a few tendering for it through the years ;-)
I'm actually quite a reserved and quiet person.
It is simply a case of giving yourself everything possible and practical to survive a lethal confrontation.

My complete EDC package at the time (not the actual knife). I carried this gun for almost 20 years.

[Kaptein L]

Wow thanks for sharing glad you got out ok.


What calibre is your firearm ?

What knife did you use that night ?


So much to learn from your experience !!!

[Kreefstert]

Bliksem well done!!!!!

[PeaceOfficer]

Thanks for sharing your story. It is a harrowing tale. Glad that you made it out on the right side of the encounter.

[Antlion]

Well done, a mind set like that we all need, not giving up! Thanks for sharing.

[Honnête]

Thank you for sharing and adding pictures. Totally agree with this, I quote "It is simply a case of giving yourself everything possible and practical to survive a lethal confrontation."

[FrankH]

Well done and thanks for sharing

[Daan]

What calibre is your firearm ?

What knife did you use that night ?

Kapt.L, it is a FEG Model R61, in 9mmS, six shot mag.
It was the original Hungarian police issue pistol that was converted from 9mm Makarof before being exported.
It is an almost PPK Walther clone.

The knife was a small no-name-brand folder with a stud on the blade for one hand opening, and a pocket clip.
It was not recovered after the incident.

Thank you everybody for your comments, much appreciated.

[Ds J]

Uff! Thanks a lot for sharing. It emphasizes yet again that one should never assume that someone else (especially a BG) thinks the way you do, neither that he values life as you does, nor that tameness and surrendering is an option.

[HadEnuf]

Jeepers, epic tale of an epic struggle for survival ! Well done and thanks for sharing. Well done too in having a secondary tool available because that allowed you to prevail.
Looks a lot like my Feg PA-63 which is 9mmK with 7+1 capacity.