My Dad passed away in 1994. I bring this up because my wife, who had never met him was asking me about him. She is always interested in the stories my sister, and my best friend tell about "The Colonel". The following account was one recently brought to mind.
Dad was a pilot. He served in The Air Force for 30 years, from 1950 to 1980. He served in Korea, and Vietnam. He retired a Bird Colonel. He was old school, and lived as hard as he flew. Smoked unfiltered Luckys, and downed Jim Beam.
In 1989, My Dad, Maternal Grandfather, Uncle Jim, my Brother, and I were in Glennie Michigan deer hunting at Dad's cabin. I was 21, and was a police officer (in Arizona, not MI).
It was the end of the day, and getting dusky...Dad was waiting at the spot where we all met up to walk back to the cabin together.
He was smoking one of his Luckys, waiting when a Bronco full of younger guys pulled up and made a smarta$$ comment. Dad being Dad, made one back.
The guy in the passenger seat jumped out and sucker punched Dad. Dad slipped on some mud, and went down on his back. The guy jumped on him and hit him a couple mroe times.
Just then, I walked out of the trees about 30 yards away. I started running up to the scuffle, and saw Dad toss this guy off him, and roll the 30-30 Marlin he was carrying off his shoulder.
Dad got to his feet and whapped the guy right across the cheekbone, and rack the lever, and jam the muzzle into the guy's bellybutton.
I had stopped carrying a rifle, and was armed with my Smith & Wesson Model 657 .41Mag. I drew it, and covered the remaining three men in the Bronco.
The guy on the ground, cussed and sputtered, and yelled for the guys in the Bronco to..."Give me my f*****g gun!"
Dad said "Go ahead and grab a gun, and this is gonna be a shooting instead of a fistfight!...I'll blow your buddy's guts all over the ground!"
I ordered the three in The Bronco to exit the vehicle. One of them said "There's three of us motherf****r!"
"Yeah? There's FIVE of us *******!"
They never saw My Brother, Uncle Jim, amd Grandpa all pointing rifles at the Bronco!
I ordered the trio out of the Bronco again, this time they complied. I took their ID's...they were ALL Air Force enlisted personel! The old Wurtsmith AFB was 12 miles north of our location. I kept their ID's, and we sent them on their way.
I was acting as a private citizen at this point, and was seriouly hoping for some professional courtesy when I spoke to the local cops. We went back to the cabin, and drove into town, and called the State Police.
We met a trooper at a diner, and told our story. All pertinent information was taken down, and a report number given.
Then, Dad being Dad... he piled everyone into his Suburban, and we drove to the Air Base. The sticker on his bumper got us through the gate with a snappy salute.
Before too long, four sorry looking airmen were in the Base Commander's office, and soon after that...at the local State Police Barracks.
Moral of the story...don't mess with a 61 year old man! You don't know who you're about to tangle with...especially if you don't get his .30-30 away from him!
Dad was a pilot. He served in The Air Force for 30 years, from 1950 to 1980. He served in Korea, and Vietnam. He retired a Bird Colonel. He was old school, and lived as hard as he flew. Smoked unfiltered Luckys, and downed Jim Beam.
In 1989, My Dad, Maternal Grandfather, Uncle Jim, my Brother, and I were in Glennie Michigan deer hunting at Dad's cabin. I was 21, and was a police officer (in Arizona, not MI).
It was the end of the day, and getting dusky...Dad was waiting at the spot where we all met up to walk back to the cabin together.
He was smoking one of his Luckys, waiting when a Bronco full of younger guys pulled up and made a smarta$$ comment. Dad being Dad, made one back.
The guy in the passenger seat jumped out and sucker punched Dad. Dad slipped on some mud, and went down on his back. The guy jumped on him and hit him a couple mroe times.
Just then, I walked out of the trees about 30 yards away. I started running up to the scuffle, and saw Dad toss this guy off him, and roll the 30-30 Marlin he was carrying off his shoulder.
Dad got to his feet and whapped the guy right across the cheekbone, and rack the lever, and jam the muzzle into the guy's bellybutton.
I had stopped carrying a rifle, and was armed with my Smith & Wesson Model 657 .41Mag. I drew it, and covered the remaining three men in the Bronco.
The guy on the ground, cussed and sputtered, and yelled for the guys in the Bronco to..."Give me my f*****g gun!"
Dad said "Go ahead and grab a gun, and this is gonna be a shooting instead of a fistfight!...I'll blow your buddy's guts all over the ground!"
I ordered the three in The Bronco to exit the vehicle. One of them said "There's three of us motherf****r!"
"Yeah? There's FIVE of us *******!"
They never saw My Brother, Uncle Jim, amd Grandpa all pointing rifles at the Bronco!
I ordered the trio out of the Bronco again, this time they complied. I took their ID's...they were ALL Air Force enlisted personel! The old Wurtsmith AFB was 12 miles north of our location. I kept their ID's, and we sent them on their way.
I was acting as a private citizen at this point, and was seriouly hoping for some professional courtesy when I spoke to the local cops. We went back to the cabin, and drove into town, and called the State Police.
We met a trooper at a diner, and told our story. All pertinent information was taken down, and a report number given.
Then, Dad being Dad... he piled everyone into his Suburban, and we drove to the Air Base. The sticker on his bumper got us through the gate with a snappy salute.
Before too long, four sorry looking airmen were in the Base Commander's office, and soon after that...at the local State Police Barracks.
Moral of the story...don't mess with a 61 year old man! You don't know who you're about to tangle with...especially if you don't get his .30-30 away from him!
Reminds me of the old Uncle Ted joke. PM me if you haven't heard it.