On Gangs
The 2nd amendment and the Final Solution:
Guns

Little Story written by Greg
(Greg is Cherylís brother)

The use of weapons to resolve a conflict with onesí neighbors is never an easy decision to make but, sometimes "a manís got to do what a manís got to do!"

Take my brother-in-law Barryís case for example.

Barry, as are we all, is increasingly concerned by the proliferation of gangs in our society. A quiet, peaceable, God-fearing man, he recently retired from a long career with a major aerospace firm and was looking forward to a little peace & quiet in his mountain retreat. Alas, Barry now has first-hand knowledge that gangs are not just an urban problem - indeed they never were.

A man given to works of Christian charity, Barry has now taken to devoting much time to the feeding of the local little ones-who have become much dependent upon people such as he. The local gang however, has become a major hindrance in this endeavor.

These local hoodlums, while having much in common with gangs everywhere (uneducated, insolent, no respectors of otherís rights and property, cowardly, bullying, thieving, etc.) are unique in one respect - they almost exclusively steal food , food meant for the little ones.Barry, spending only a moderate amount of time over the last 10 years in these mountains and having come from a quiet urban setting to boot, in addition to being a Christian gentleman (a true gentle man) has quite frankly come up against the wall in dealing with these feral animals.

Maude and Oozie, the Pearceís pooches, used to be a great deterrent to these devils. While not exactly Rottweilers or Pit Bulls, these canine carnivores controlled things in this neck of the woods for many a year.

Maude (a mixed breed terrier basset, with all the heart and tenacity expected of such a mix)

and Oozie (a big ole flop-eared Dobie that looked like he ate junk-yard dogs for a snack) took care of business.

Oozie looking like he's sleeping off a "junk yard dog" snack here.

No pillaging poltroon would dare come within striking range when these two worthies were on duty. Not so anymore, however. Oozie has gone to that "great chow bowl in the sky" and Maude has gotten more than a little long in the tooth. (Not seeing too well these days, and somewhat deaf in her dotage at 17 {about 119 in doggie years}).

I, his brother-in-law, have visited periodically over the past decade but itís been a year or so since my last trip. I was shocked to find the depth of frustration and despair exhibited by Barry in discussing this problem, Man and boy, Iíve been coming to these mountains for nigh onto 50 years and I can verify its an ever-escalating situation and enough to make a strong man weep.I know from personal experience itís no use going to the local authorities, theyíre not equipped to handle this ( besides, "itís not our jurisdiction, try the county people") county says "not us, see the state people" State: "taint so - try the feds." Federal govt.: "take a number, weíll get back to you"

Part of the jurisdictional dispute stems from the fact nobody seems able to locate the exact homes or base of operations of this gang. Theyíre very mobile. Latest intelligence say theyíre even spreading overseas, to England where theyíre engaged in a vicious turf war with a local gang of Reds. (Intelligence also reports that while being considered now globally mobile, locally they seem to be content with being foot soldiers - no drive-bys reported as yet.) Also from official intelligence, "we are reluctant at this time to officially identify the racial identity of this group. I can only say they are given to wearing typical colors - black and gray predominate with some white. Their ancestors are considered among Californiaís first inhabitants. They also appear to chatter back and forth in a foreign language. This is not to say, however we are looking at this in any racial or ethnic manner, especially in Mr. Pearceís particular case. After, all, the Gallegoís place, just down the road, is just as plagued by these varmints."

While I agree with most of the facts regarding this situation, I cannot agree with the conclusion it is not racially motivated. I had a personal encounter with an old "veterano" whose moniker is "nacho" (or maybe itís "notches" His ear look like he might have been one of Tyson's sparring partners.) The contempt shown by this bandid was palpable.

Anyway, desperate times call for desperate measures. these thugs have been coddled and pampered much to long in these politically correct times. On my way down to the local village for supplies I gave it much thought and came up with a possible solution. I would present Barry with an option, he could take it or leave it as he saw fit.

As I said before, Barry is a kind, gentle, man not at all prone to violence, being pretty much morally and intellectually opposed to it except, maybe, in the most dire of circumstances. I was going to buy him a gun.

If he didnít want to use it, fine, I would. (Barry, being non-violent, owns no guns but is not opposed to others doing so. he believes in the 2nd Amendment - indeed the whole Constitution, not just the parts he personally favors. No Liberal, he!!).

I went to a place I knew would have what I had in mind (and wouldnít be too fussy about waiting periods, registration and such like) for the kind of weapon I figured we need to do the job. For what I was after, one doesnít want to get bogged down in a paper trail. What I wanted was something cheap and expendable. I didnít want high tech (although looking hi tech is OK) but dependable and reliable. A throw-away, if you will. full auto capability wasnít required, semi-auto would do. As far as ammo went, I was looking for something cheap and plentiful.

I found it.

I found it where I knew I would. In the back, in the dark, camouflaged by some other cheap junk lying on top of it. It was cheap, less than two bills. As I had hoped, ammo would be no problem. Cheap and readily available. Just the ticket. As I examined it in the dim light, I realized I was not at all familiar with this weapon. It was hi tech looking (visualize the off-spring of Rommelís luger and Spockís phaser) and I couldnít make out the manufacturers name. I did recognized the action (it was semi-auto) but I didnít immediately see how to load it. But, no problem. I reckoned Barry and I could probably figure it out in a day or two. (He with his multiple engineering degrees, and me being a combat veteran, ex-marine and all)

I bought the gun and smuggled it into the cabin amongst the groceries. I gave it to Barry, saying "Here, this might help your problem." After due deliberation, he took it, saying "yeah, thatís a good idea." Well, we got that sucker loaded (didnít take us no one or two days either, we got Ďer broke down, loaded up and ready for bear in jig time - couldnít been moreín 10-15 minutes tops).

Being so out-numbered and all . . . (I ball-parked figured about eleventeen hunnerd-to-one) Ambush was our only option.

Best way to do this, I was thinking, was act naturally, you know, do nothing different (Take our usual positions. as if nothing had changed and just sit and wait for those little gangsters to show up and then let em have it); Bait the ambush site, wait on Ďem, bushwhack em. Barry was thinking the same, as we did this without verbal communications. (great minds, etc. you know....) Well, we got all set up, ready as we could ever be. And we waited. And waited And waited. I started getting a little antsy. These were nothing but dumb animals as far as I was concerned, but I learned a long time ago to never underestimate the enemy. These varmits are known to be clever at times. Maybe they smelled the trap.!!

At last we got our chance. One had finally snuck up on us, (although considered a huge gang, {estimates locally go into the thousands}they generally raid singly or in pairs) stopping just out-of-range to sniff the air, and eyeball the targeted areas, checking for just as we had intended - and ambush. Deciding everything was kosher, he first stepped into maximum range, hesitated a couple of seconds, then moved into maximum effective ranges. "Wait Barry, wait" I silently implored, as our target approached his fate. "Donít open fire until heís within effective range," I screamed in my mind, realizing I had forgotten to share all my hard-earned combat experience with Barry before the ambush. I had also meant to coach him on other fine points of short-range bushwhackery such as "donít even try to really aim. Just point it in the general direction, pull the trigger as fast as you can, and walk your fire into him." As it turned out, I neednít have bothered. Barry did fine. He did it all instinctively and nailed that thieving little hooligan good.

The way I reconstructed it all later, Barry fired five times missing with the first two--but getting em right between his, beady little eyes with the third one. The varmit never knew what hit em!!

Later, I got my chance. Barry had retired from our little free-fire zone when I spotted one coming into range from out of the forest. I picked up the gun, aimed, ( this was a longer distance shot, about out to maximum range) and fired. Nothing. I quickly fired again. Nothing. I quickly checked the magazine for ammo. Empty!!! How could this be? Barry fired only five times and it shouldíve been good for fifty!! I hastily checked the magazine again, looking for mechanical defects. Nothing. I now checked the weapon and found . . . nothing!! perplexed, I decided to test the postol/magazine interface. I ran back for more ammo, reloaded and . . . EUREKA!!!

Things being what they are in todayís litigious society, I will not identify the maker of this assault-pistol look-a-like/Saturday night special wanna be. State-of-the-art, hi-tech looking though it is, itís a piece of junk. Besides, ití Chinese. (We donít want to mess with the Chinese now that wicked Willie has gone - a - calling and - a - courtin!) Oh well, you get what you pay for. The problem?

Manufacturing defect.

A cracked receiver.

It leaks.

Oh. well, mission accomplished anyway. Itís been two days since our confrontation and almost no sign of that gang of thieving thugs has been seen (maybe a couple of fleeting shadows--some chattering back and forth in that foreign language) among the trees.

Now maybe Barry can go back to feeding his little feathered friends in peace. It doesnít look like that gang of thieving gray squirrels is gonna come around here for awhile. As for me? Best $2.00 I ever spent on a busted squirt gun. Glad I could help.

Greg, checking out the sights.

A couple of "Gang Members" caught by the surveillance camera

One of the Mountain Chickadees picks through sunflower seeds on Barryís hand, while another waits on the table below for it's turn.

A few chickadees check out the General store.

A Red Breasted Nuthatch checks out the contents of the General store.

Mission Acomplished!

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