Amphibious Arrest 1983
(stories of the Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
The phone startled me awake one early morning,
"Hey! What are you doing?!" asked the voice of my partner and friend Jack.
"Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" I sleepily asked.
"Yeah, it's nighttime. It's two AM, Saturday morning, and I need your help!"
"My help?"
"Yeah, I got three warrants for three burglary suspects, and I found out where they are. They're camping at the Derby cliff beaches."
"Who is it Jim?" asked my wife Nanci.
"It's Jack, sweetie", I answered her, then back to speaking to Jack,
"So picked them up, what do you need me for?" I asked.
"I need you to help me, we been after these perps all summer, and if we get them I make sure your name is in the paper!"
"Tell Jack to get lost." Nanci said as she rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.
"Jack, Nanci says go fuck yourself." and I hung up, laid back down. No sooner did I close my eyes, the phone rang again. "Shit! Picking up the phone again,
"What!"
"I'll be there in five minutes!" Jack said and hung up.
This was 1982, no cell phones, so he had been calling me from a pay phone. I normally would have been with Jack patrolling, but there had been a scheduling problem. So I thought I had the night off,
"Nanci, I am going out to serve a warrant with Jack." I told my sleepy wife.
"That's nice, see if you can shoot Jack accidentally for me." then she rolled over, mumbling something about never marry a cop.
I should have known he'd pull this stunt and find something for us to do tonight! I got up and dressed into jeans, black T-shirt, running shoes, Sheriff's Department baseball hat, shoulder holster for my .45 caliber pistol. Just as I finished dressing, I couldn't help hearing Jack arriving, so too the neighbors! Jack pulled in my driveway sirens and lights on!
"That's my partner Jack," I said to myself. He does this to wake my neighbors up, pissed them off, later this weekend I will have to answer to them why the noise at 2 AM!
I got in the patrol car looking at Jack's broad beaming face, and the look there was like a boy that had played a trick on his parents!
"You do know you're an asshole don't you?"
"Yeah, but I also know where the perps are!" Jack laughed, "I got a tip from one of my informers on their location. These are the clowns have been burglarizing the homes and Summer cottages. We haven't been able to identify them if it wasn't for that one mansion having a camera hookup and got all three on video tape."
"You better be right. Besides Nanci wants me to accidentally shoot you for waking her up!"
As we drove down the highway at speeds of over 80 MPH, Jack further filled me in on his plans and information he had. The perps were located at the Derby Cliffs, which stood over 100 feet rising from the beach. The only way the public can reach the beach was to step down 10 flights of steel stairs. At previous times the perps would hear the cops start down the stairs and the perps would take off. On the other hand, one could approach the beach from a boat at night, be confused as fishermen.
The three burglars were brother known as the Winnerts. Richard, John and Norman. They had been spending all summer here, and committing their crimes.
"You want me to do what?" I asked incredulously.
"Listen," Jack said, "You know how to operate a row boat, and in the trunk of this very patrol car, I have a 75 horse outboard motor, and away we go, after the bad guys!
As Jack was describing his plan his voice went up a range of higher octaves!
"Jack, there is a problem," I advised, "we don't have a row boat!"
"No! Your wrong Jim, we have one of the rental boats at Sturgeon Point boat harbor."
(Sturgeon Point harbor is in Derby, New York small boat harbor where the town rents row boats and dock space for citizen's bigger boats. The harbor inlet is three sided with land on two sides, and a limestone wall on the lake (Erie) side) protecting the boats in the harbor from heavy weather and storms)
"Okay, I see, this is one of your well thought of ideas. We don't have a boat, but the public through the town does, and I'm sure the town has no idea of your plan? I'll bite what boat are we using?"
"The town rents out these boats for fishing during the summer, right?" Jack asked, still excited over his plan! "Besides your plans suck too! What about your idea on the business, professional mourning service?"
Choosing to ignore his criticism, I said,
"Those boats are chained up for the evening and locked,,," then it hit me, "oh no you're not!"
I was suddenly aware that Jack hadn't asked permission, he didn't even let the watch commander know of his plan, rules and procedures call for...
"I got a special key!" Jack said laughing, "I got bolt cutters! We get the boat, hook up the outboard motor, and off we go to arrest these smart ass Winnert brothers. And when we get back we will do a burglary report on the boat, and what the Hell weblame the Winnert brothers for that too!"
"We are going to get in trouble, I can see it coming." I said resignedly.
"I don't know why you are sitting there pounding your head against the head rest, it's a good plan." Jack said trying to convince me.
"One of these days I'm going to be in prison, looking out, because of you, and I hope Nanci shoots you in the balls for revenge."
"Don't be an old lady," Jack said laughing, "It will be a cake walk, trust me will you?"
Trust him? I trust him with my life, but this is the same police officer, who in his short career erected five police cars in 'high pursuit chases or officer in trouble' calls. This is the officer that responded to a 'noise under house', shot a skunk, not realizing that when a skunk dies against it's will it tend to let go it's sent gland one big and last time!
Trust him? This is the same officer that when bored one night at 3 AM, decided to practice his shooting in a field by shooting at a painted iron pipe that was sticking out of the ground. When I drove up I pointed out that the iron pipe was a natural gas vent pipe.
When we got to Sturgeon Point harbor, we got out of the patrol car, Jack got his motor and the bolt cutters out of the trunk. The night was black, starless, no clouds and there was no Moon. However the wind was blowing a good 15 knots, the shelter harbor was calm, but I was beginning to wonder about the lake outside the harbor.
"Well I picked out a boat and cut the lock," Jack said, "so here give me a hand hooking up the motor."
"Jack, what do you think the lake is like outside the break wall?"
"No I mean, there is a wind, do you think the swells and wave might be too high for this boat?"
"You're such a chicken, it'll be fine! Go get a a couple of life vests if you're so worried."
"Yeah I'll get TWO vests, one for me and one for YOU." I sad sarcastically.
"Well I have to cover my uniform, don't I?"
"Yeah right, you're so full of shit! Come on let's get this abortion over with!"
We loaded the motor on the boat and pushed out into the harbor. Sitting in the rear of the boat I started the motor, Jack stood in the front of the boat like the scene from the famous painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware. As we past the break wall the waves and swells were high, and the boat was bouncing a lot, proving my point.
"Just what I said Jack, you asshole! We are going to capsize in a stolen town boat, drown, and the watch commander nor our wives have any clue where we are!"
"Relax, I have a radio, if we get in trouble, I'll radio for help. Besides, it's not so bad, I'm standing here, and the waves don't have me scared."
Then a wave hit the boat from the side fully, rocking the boat severely and Jack almost loosing his balanced, hunkered down and started to put his life vest on.
We had to go west out of the harbor and sail north about a quarter mile, then west, around a point of land. Once around this point we would head south towards the Highland Beaches. Normally on a calm day, it would take fifteen minutes tops, but tonight with these rough waters, it took us forty-five minutes. After we suffered bouncing water, soaking waves, the motor overworking, smoking, wanting to stall, we finally sailed south toward the beach, the Winnerts, the waves picking up the boat and propelling us forward.
"Jack, your an asshole," I shouted, " I should have my head examined for doing this stunt!"
"Jim this stunt will be great!" Jack shouted back, besides the hard part is over. The motor is not working hard or smoking anymore. We'll be in the newspapers on this one!"
We continued bickering and shouting over the noise from the waves, the Sind and the overworked motor. We stop talking once we saw the camp fire on the beach. We could see the three perps laying in sleeping bags near their fire. Jack resumed his George Washington position at the front of the boat.
"Jim, steer more to the left!", Jack guided me, "More to the left, damn it!"
"Fuck you, the swells and waves are not making this easy!"
"Well try damn it!"
As we got as close as 50 yards to the beach we hit a huge rock that was partly under the water, and almost flipped the boat over. This caused us to laugh aloud, just because of the irony of this mission, trying to make an amphibious arrest in these dangerous conditions. Maybe it was a release for the pent up fear and apprehension we had, but it seemed to us as the right thing to do. We could hear the perps laughing at us, probably thinking we were drunk fishermen.
We gathered our composure, and continued to the beach, with the only light was from the suspects fire. When the boat hit the beach we were ten feet from the perps. Jack leap off, and hearing one of the suspects ask what our problem was? Jack opened his life vest, pulled his pistol and stated,
"Police, asshole, you’re under arrest, and not to move!"
Since all three were in their sleeping bags, they were not in any position to bolt. Taking out one suspect at a time, we handcuffed first Richard, Norman, and John. Once secured we searched for weapons, finding a 9MM pistol, numerous jewelry, and unstamped cartons of cigarettes that were stolen from a truck. The beach was full of stolen property from many local burglaries, so I knew we had the right guys.
We gave them their Miranda rights, but these clowns seemed to be chatty as they stood there hand cuffed.
"Man that was slick!" said Richard Winnert. "We thought you were a bunch of lost fishermen, too stupid to get off the lake in a small boat in this weather!"
"Shut up stupid!" I ordered, looking at Jack who was wearing his 'I told you' shit eating grin on his face! I hated it when Jack is right! I gave the perps their Miranda rights.
The three of the perps continued speaking to each other on the way we came by the lake and surprised them, never expecting cops to risk their lives or use trickery such as this to apprehend them. They even thought when we hit the rock, that we were just some drunk fishermen, because of the way we were shouting at each other.
"11 Bravo to Radio." Jack radioed dispatch.
"This is Radio, come in 11 Bravo."
"We need a pick up for three perps, location Derby beach cliffs stairwell."
"Roger, pickup perps, Derby Cliff stairwell."
Having lined the talkative Winnert brothers so we could keep and eye on them, Jack decided to break some news to me,
"Jim, I'll take this jerks up the stairs for the pickup and ride back with them to the station, meanwhile you take the boat back."
"Fuck that! Leave the boat here, and pick it up tomorrow!"
"We can't!", Jack responded, "We have to return the boat before the town finds out it was borrowed!"
"Yeah Jack, the key word is WE! And WE return the boat together, or WE bring it back tomorrow!"
"Don't be an old lady, just take the boat back, and I'll take these clowns back and book them."
Laughing aloud,
"I can't believe you expect me to take the boat back alone in this wind and high swells?"
"That's right Jim, you know I have to assist the pickup officer when you have three perps..."
"You're a fucking liar!" (He said this knowing the the patrol car has a cage between the driver and the perps, and doors that lock from the front, besides the perps were handcuffed.) " You're just afraid to go back in that fucking boat!" I said laughing.
"No I'm not! I really have to go with these clowns; It's my arrest after all." Jack said.
"I'll tell you what," I said, "the perps can go back with us on the boat back to the harbor. That way they can appreciate what we went through on that damn lake just to arrest them."
Meanwhile the Winnert brothers have been uncomfortably been listening to our conversation, their heads moving back and forth, like watching a tennis match.
"Jim, we can't do that! What if the boat capsized and the perps drown, we'll go to jail for manslaughter!"
Sensing that our perps were getting concerned, I decided to have a little fun with this argument.
"Fuck them Jack, we'll handcuff them to the seats, if we capsize they can go down with the boat! We deny they were even in our custody!"
"What the shit are you saying? Are you nuts!" Jack said.
Meanwhile Richard Winnert piped in,
"No no man, my brothers and I will ride in the police car."
"Shut up!" I said, "You have the right to remain silent, so keep you stupid mouth shut! Or I'll knock your teeth out!"
"Jim calm down!"
"Calm down shit! This is you fucking arrest, your boat motor! Remember I was peacefully sleeping and safely in my bed, until you needed my help. So I quit, you take the boat back, I'll ride with the perps in the car!"
"Let's go", I started to herd the Winnert brothers towards the steel stairs. "Move it assholes, you clowns and I are riding in the patrol car."
Jack followed us up the stairs continuing to argue his points,
"Jim, I should go with the perps, not you. And we got to return the boat or we'll be in trouble."
"You just said it. WE got to return the boat. So WE are going to hand off the perps, and go take the boat back or it sits here. So when we get in your car you can drop me off at home and then go to the station an write up your felony arrest report."
"Okay I'll clear it with the watch commander. Shit! You are a pain in the ass!"
I didn't bother to respond. When we got to the top of the stairs, it was our watch commander, Lt. Jackman waiting for us.
"I might have known Alonzo you would be involved in this cluster fuck!", as he opened the patrol car and placed the perps in the back seat.
"Sir!", I responded, "I give all the credit to Jack for this arrest. He deserves it! You should put him in for a medal! I was just sleeping and he kidnapped me against my will."
"Shut up!" Lt. Jackman shouted, as he slammed the car door shut on the perps. It is a known fact, he liked Jack but had no use for me.
"Yes sir!" I respond, "And thank you!"
"Where'd you get the boat?" Lt. Jackman asked suspiciously, looking down at the beach.
"Sir, can you transport these punks?" Jack interrupted, "so we can return the boat we borrowed."
"Who's boat is it? I know you clowns don't own one."
"Alonzo's brother," Lied Jack, "he loaned it to us just for this arrest."
"Alonzo's brother? what's his first name?"
"Paul!," I piped in, "but he doesn't want any credit, because he is afraid of retaliation."
"Okay you two clowns get the boat back." ordered Lt. jackman, "and don't take alight, I want these punks booked and arraigned in the morning!"
Lt. Jackman got in his patrol vehicle and drove off at a high rate of speed kicking up dirt, and stones in our direction.
"Gee, you'd think he's pissed about something?" I asked sarcastically.
"Why don't you tell Jackman about your idea on professional mourners? That should give him a laugh!" Jack said.
We went back down the stairs to the beach and boat, gathered up the stolen property putting the evidence in the boat.
"I'll drive the boat." Jack said, "you're too cautious, and you'll take too long!"
"Sure, no skin off my nose. Start up the motor, and I'll untie the rope."
After I heard Jack start up the motor, I heard the motor race, and he must of accidentally put it in gear, for the boat shot off like a rocket, impaling the bottom of the boat on a hidden rock, forcing the boat to spin a few revolutions on top of the rock! As the boat was spinning, I could hear the screech of metal! I knew this was not good, but Jack manage to turn off the motor.
"Why didn't you tell me there was a rock under the water!" Jack laughed. "We're cool, nothing damaged, just a big dent!"
"I thought you knew what you were doing?" I said.
"I do, nothings wrong! Just get in the fucking boat, and let's go!"
We started out on our return trip, Jack driving, and me sitting in the front. The waves and swell were as bad as before, but I was more confident we would get back since Jack was driving the boat. That was until 20 minutes later when Jack shouts out,
"Shit! We're taking water!"
I turned around, and sure enough I saw the leak right where the new dent was.
"Shit Jack! We have a leak!"
"No shit Sherlock! We got anything to bail out the water?"
"No, you better head to shore right now!"
But Jack grabbed my baseball cap and started to bail the water out once or twice, then threw my water soaked hat at me and said,
"Get to work!"
I could see he wasn't heading to shore so I bailed water at a very strong tempo. Jack clung to the shoreline. It was a rougher ride but my hat, water damaged as it was, did the job keeping back the sinking of the boat. We finally got back to the boat harbor at 5 AM, brought the "borrowed boat" on shore, removed the motor, and left before anyone would see us. Jack dropped me off at my house turning on the lights and s irene as we arrived, waking Nanci and the neighbors!
"Yep! You are an asshole!" I said.
"Jim I really appreciate you helping me on this bust. I couldn't of done it with out you. I promise to make sure your name is listed on the arrest report."
"Yeah? Blow it out your ass!"
The next day while reading the newspaper, there was a headline,
POLICE OFFICER MAKES SOLO AMPHIBIOUS ARREST OF THREE BURGLARY SUSPECTS!
******************************
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Bodyguard of Two Child Movie Stars
Bodyguard of two Child Movie Stars
(stories of the Lost Patrol)
© James J. Alonzo
“Hello,“ I said answering my phone.
“Hello, Mr. Alonzo?” The voice on the telephone asked.
“Yes, how may I help you?” I said.
“Mr. Alonzo, you don’t know me, my name is Robert Mangold from Warner Brothers productions.”
“Ok, how can I help you?”
“Well, you come highly recommended by Captain Holcomb, from the Erie County Sheriffs department.”
“I see.” I said, “Mr. Mangold, Captain Holcomb recommended me, so can you tell me for what?”
“Oh, yes,“ Mangold stuttered, “Well, well we need a body guard service. In addition, as I was saying, Captain Holcomb recommended you. Are you familiar with the child actors, Johnny Whittaker, of Family Affair, and Brandon Cruz, of Courtship of Eddie’s Father?” he said.
“I am familiar with the television shows, because my kids watch them. However Mr. Mangold, I don’t bodyguard children, call a babysitting service. Or better yet, call Captain Holcomb, and tell him to shove my phone number up his ass!” I hung up the phone.
I hate bodyguard work, especially VIP children, and their parents. It’s part of the business though, and the money was real good!
When I was a deputy I was on the detail at the Sheriffs’ office and my good friend Captain Holcomb, which only provide security for presidents, and high value VIP’s. So he would recommend me when it was some lesser VIP. The Phone immediately rang again, and I thought for a couple of seconds about not answering the phone, but money‘s money.
“Hello,” I said, answering the phone.
“Mr. Alonzo, this is Robert again, please listen to me.”
“Yeah, go a head.” I sighed.
“The boys are coming to Buffalo this weekend, on Saturday,” Mangold said, “and as in other cities, are making appearances at many of the local stores, that are outlets of their clothing line. Nevertheless, as in other cities the boys are sure to be mobbed by the teenyboppers! So we need your help, and we will pay you $5,000 for five hours work.”
“Alright, Mr. Mangold, when are you going to be arriving? “
“We will be arriving Saturday, at ten AM, in a private jet, and making a 10:30 AM appearance at the Hengerers Store at Downtown Buffalo, and then the West Seneca Mall, at twelve noon,” Mangold explained, “then we will go back to the airport, and fly on to Cleveland, Ohio. We need you to coordinate the security for these two appearance events. You and your staff will meet us at each appearance. Each time we arrive by Limo, you will then escort us to the stage and after the show then back to the limo. After the second appearance, we will fly out at 2 PM.
“How many people do you expect to show up?” I asked.
“Well in Little Rock, Arkansas, 3,000 showed up. The police provided the perimeter security, and we had body guards for the personal protection.”
“OK, I will coordinate the local Police, to do the same, and I will have a staff with me, for the kid’s personal protection.” I explained, “But understand this Mr. Mangold, we don’t serve drinks, carry baggage, baby-sit, or anything else, but protection. Got it?”
“Yes, I understand,” Mangold, said, “Here is my number, 213-555-1414, and the road crew will get in touch with you in the next day or so, for the coordination of stage security.”
“One more thing Mr. Mangold, bring the payment for our services with you.” I instructed, cash only, we don‘t take checks.”
“Of course I will bring the money with me, and thank you.” Mangold said, “Goodbye Mr. Alonzo.”
“Goodbye.” I said.
Well, it looked like I could make some money, but I’d have to get the right men for the job. These were children so I didn’t see a need to use armed men; I needed men that knew crowd control. The money offered by Hollywood Mangold, was enough for me to pay $100 an hour and still show a profit. So I called my best friend and partner Jack who is 6'3"height,two hundred-eighty pounds, blonde hair, my idea of Nordic Viking
Jack was also my bodyguard, and watched my back at all times. Jack moves like a cat, and is solid muscle. He has the kind of strength that he doesn’t have to work out to have.
“Yo,” Jack said, when he answered.
“Hey brother man. We got a body guard case.” I announced, trying to make it sound exciting. Jack hated these cases, unless it meant guarding a beautiful woman, like the time we guarded Lonnie Anderson, Goldie Hawn and Burt Reynolds, when they filmed ‘Best Friends“, in Buffalo..
“Oh, yea.” He asked suspiciously, “Who are we body guarding.”
“Two kids from Hollywood, TV stars.” I said.
“No!” Jack said, then he hung up. Hmmm? Ok, I sighed, I’ll call him back later.
I next called Rocco Richolli and his two sons, Angelo, and Nicillo. I knew they’d be good at this, their presence alone was security. The three men all looked alike, right down to the one solid eyebrow above their eyes. They were short in height, five foot seven, but huge, solid muscle, no fat, and very broad shoulders.
They had that kind of strength that they thought that they could lift anything. Rocco can you pick up the refrigerator and move it over there? No problem, and he’d do it.
They had an uncharacteristic length to their arms, arms that were longer than the average man. It was that their wrists reached their mid thigh, and then there was their neck, well, in actually they had no neck.
Their heads just sat on their shoulders, they had an extreme amount of dark long body hair, front and back, and it crawled out of their sleeves, and the top of their tight shirts. It looked more like a pelt than body hair. The Richollis were furniture movers, but they also had a business of auto repossessions, and collecting for loan sharks.
“Hello,” Angelo said, answering the phone.
“Hey, is Rocco in?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s in,” said Angelo. I waited for a full minute before I realized Angelo was still breathing into the phone and not getting Rocco to the phone.
“Well, can I talk to him?” I asked.
“Oh, you want to talk to my father?” Angelo asked.
“Uh, Yeah, I do, thank you.” I said courteously.
I knew not want to insult or cross any of these men.
In the past, I have visited some of their work that wound up in hospitals, and these men were very thorough, in dishing out pain. Mess with one, and you’ve messed with all three.
I packed a gun, but not an elephant gun, and if I needed to mess with these men, I would need a big gun..
“Is this Jimmy?” Rocco came on the phone and asked. He was one of the few people that called me Jimmy.
“Yeah Rocco, how you doing today?” I asked.
“Ok. You got some work for me?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do. I have some bodyguard work for you and your two boys; it pays $500 each for five hours. You interested?” I said.
“Yeah, that’s cool; I’m interested, “he said, “when is the work to be done?”
“This Saturday, from 9:30 AM to 2:30 PM,” I said, and I filled him in on the rest of the tentative plan and scheduling. Then I called Jack back, and after an hour, finally convinced him to sign on and help me. However, it cost me more than I planned, it ate in to my profit, because I knew I had to pay Jack $1,500, the same as it cost me for three Richolli men.
~*
The Day of the bodyguard detail arrived, the road crew that was hired by Mr. Mangold, had built two temporary stages that was four feet in height, and 16’ x 16’ platforms, and they were ready at each store site. Everything was planned after meeting with each police detail leaders, and coordinating their assignments. I was meeting with Jack, Rocco, and the Richolli boys, and discussing the plans for VIP security at each store’s site of the entertainment day.
“When the kids get up here, and they are ready to go on the stage, we with the local police officers will form a corridor, so they can run up the stairs on to the stage unhindered.” I explained, “The same when the kids come down off the stage. We will take them back into the warehouse where their limo is parked. Once the kids are in the limo, the garage door will open, and the kids go away. There will be no autograph sessions, so we don’t have to deal with that shit.”
“When do we get paid?” asked Rocco.
“Today, Mr. Mangold assured me. Don’t worry, you’ll get paid.” I said.
“Right, well don’t worry Jimmy, if we don’t, we will only break your knees.” Rocco said laughing, and then his boys laughed too. I looked at Jack for support, but he was laughing too!”
(Note to self, save my knee caps, make sure to get money from Mangold as soon as possible.)
When The kids showed up at the first site, we escorted them on the stage, and they gave a thirty minute show, Brandon Cruz, and Johnny Whittaker sang, dance, and joke, driving a crowd of at least 3,000 people mostly prepubescent kids screaming. Meanwhile I met in an empty office, with Mr. Mangold, to discuss money.
“Well Mr. Alonzo,” Mangold explained sheepishly, “we don’t normally carry that kind of cash, but I will send you payment if you will give me an address to do so.”
“Listen pal, you knew that payment was to be on delivery of services, so don’t give me that shit about sending me a payment later.
"Well you’ll just have to accept it this way.” He said smugly.
“I see, wait here, I’ll be right back. I said.
When I came back, a few minutes later, I had Rocco and one of his sons, Nicillo, with me,
“Mr. Mangold, I’d like you to meet two of my colleagues, and since I have to go back to the kids and the show, you can explain to these fellows why they have to wait for their money.” I said, and then I left a very scared looking Mr. Mangold to the Richolli family.
When I got out of the office, and approached the stage area, the kids were just finishing up. So I took position with Jack and Angelo Richolli, and we successfully got the kids through the crowd and into their Limo.
“Well let’s get to the other store,” I said to Jack and Angelo.
“Where’s my father,” Angelo asked, looking around.
“Angelo, he and your brother are with Mr. Mangold to clear up a problem and get our pay.” I explained, “I’m sure they’ll meet us at the West Seneca Store. So why don‘t you ride with us?”
“Ok, I can do that.” said Angelo.
When we got to the next store, we waited for the kids to arrive. Meanwhile Rocco, and his son Nicillo arrived.
“Where’s Mangold?” I asked concerned a little.
“Relax, he’s alive,“ said Rocco, “Mangold decided to have the money wired to us, at Western Union, so I got the money. But Mr. Mangold said he didn't feel very good, and was going back to Los Angeles.”
“Good give me the money and I‘ll divvy it out,” I said as I held my hand out.
“Sure, here is the money,” Rocco said, “but minus our pay, $1500, a finders fee of $1000,and Jack's pay, which he told me was $1500, is that correct Jack?"
“Yes, it is, and thank you Rocco.” Jack said, smiling at me, as he was handed his money, and I knew by the look on Jack's face he was enjoying my sudden discomfort.
“Uh, Rocco, that wasn’t our deal,” I said, “I mean, you agreed to the pay I was offering.”
“Yes, Jimmy, but we had to persuade Mr. Mangold to pay us,” Rocco explained, “and that was before we found out you were paying Jack the same pay as the three of us. Tsk, Tsk, Jimmy, that wasn’t very fair of you, I am surprised at you.”
And he handed me the remaining money. I looked over at Jack, he was rolling around laughing his ass off!
When the kids arrived for the second show, the same thing, the kids arrived and went on the stage and did their thing. While the crowds were screaming and pushing to get closer, we took up position as we did before, holding a corridor for the kids to exit. We stood on each side of the corridor, keeping the crowds away from our corridor, by extending our arms outward from our sides making contact with each others forearms. As I stood next to Jack on my left, and Angelo on my right, I heard through all the screaming, Angelo arguing with someone behind him.
“Lady, relax, and quit pushing!“ Angelo said over his left shoulder.
“I just want to get by, you fucking jerk! I want to go into the mall, so let me by!“ The Lady ordered Angelo, as she tried to get by, only to be blocked by Angelo Richollis’ large body.
She was a big woman, five feet nine inches, and a good 250 plus pounds, and she was pissed.
“Lady, shut the fuck up, and wait,” Angelo said.
“Well, we’ll see about this!” And she kept pushing, poking, and trying to get by.
“Lady, I’m warning you, wait! Angelo said.
This was the last I heard on this conversation, because the kids were done, and we had to encircle them, and got them out of there.
After we got the kids off in their Limo, and they drove off, we sat in the back office, and had coffee, patted ourselves on the back, and a few laughs. That was till Mr. Wagner the Store’s general Manager came back, and in his high effeminate voice said,
“Mr. Alonzo, there is a woman out there, that has a big black eye!” he said, “And she says one of the security personnel punched her during the show.!
I looked at Angelo, to confirm my suspicions, he smiled back at me, and I said to Mr. Wagner, “That’s impossible, I’ll go out an talk to her.”
But as I got up from my chair, Mr. Wagner said, “Well I’ll go get her.” and he left the room. Meanwhile, Jack jumped up and opened the closet door,
“Angelo, get in here, “ Jack said. Which Angelo did. Jack shut the door on Angelo, looked at me, and said,
“You got a law suit if she identifies Angelo on this detail.”
“Yeah, I know.” I said. Just as I finished saying that, the woman, I found out her name was Stella Grabowski, and Mr. Wagner, ever so helpful, came back to the office we were in.
“Yes! There he is!,” Mrs. Grabowski with her closed black eye, pointed at me, “The man that punched me was standing next to this man.”
“Ma’am,” I said, “do you see, in this office, anyone here that was the man that punched you?”
“No, but he was standing next to you, I’m sure of it.” She said insistent.
“Well ma’am, this is the only security personnel that work for me. I’m sorry.” I said with sympathy in my voice.
“Oh dear, I can’t believe the man hit me in this nice store.” She said. That was Mr. Wagner’s que,
“Well dear, why don’t we go to my office, and maybe we can get you a gift certificate, and maybe that will help you get through this shameful ordeal.” They then left the office we were in.
“Ok,” I said, “Let’s get Angelo out of here, and we will meet at the Ground Round restaurant.”
The Richolli family made there way out through the same warehouse, and drove away.
“This is been a bad day for you?” Jack said, still laughing.
“Yeah, you got that right. I can’t believe he punched that broad, those Richolli thugs are crazy. I could get sued if the woman puts it together.”
When we got to the restaurant, the Richolli boys were celebrating their good fortune. I asked Angelo what happened with the woman.
“Shit, she kept pushing me, and I told her to stop, but then she started to poke me in the back with something hard and sharp. It turned out to be a Umbrella. So when the kids ran down the steps of the stage, and all eyes were on them, I turned around and I punched her.”
I never used the Richolli boys again for bodyguard work
~*************
(stories of the Lost Patrol)
© James J. Alonzo
“Hello,“ I said answering my phone.
“Hello, Mr. Alonzo?” The voice on the telephone asked.
“Yes, how may I help you?” I said.
“Mr. Alonzo, you don’t know me, my name is Robert Mangold from Warner Brothers productions.”
“Ok, how can I help you?”
“Well, you come highly recommended by Captain Holcomb, from the Erie County Sheriffs department.”
“I see.” I said, “Mr. Mangold, Captain Holcomb recommended me, so can you tell me for what?”
“Oh, yes,“ Mangold stuttered, “Well, well we need a body guard service. In addition, as I was saying, Captain Holcomb recommended you. Are you familiar with the child actors, Johnny Whittaker, of Family Affair, and Brandon Cruz, of Courtship of Eddie’s Father?” he said.
“I am familiar with the television shows, because my kids watch them. However Mr. Mangold, I don’t bodyguard children, call a babysitting service. Or better yet, call Captain Holcomb, and tell him to shove my phone number up his ass!” I hung up the phone.
I hate bodyguard work, especially VIP children, and their parents. It’s part of the business though, and the money was real good!
When I was a deputy I was on the detail at the Sheriffs’ office and my good friend Captain Holcomb, which only provide security for presidents, and high value VIP’s. So he would recommend me when it was some lesser VIP. The Phone immediately rang again, and I thought for a couple of seconds about not answering the phone, but money‘s money.
“Hello,” I said, answering the phone.
“Mr. Alonzo, this is Robert again, please listen to me.”
“Yeah, go a head.” I sighed.
“The boys are coming to Buffalo this weekend, on Saturday,” Mangold said, “and as in other cities, are making appearances at many of the local stores, that are outlets of their clothing line. Nevertheless, as in other cities the boys are sure to be mobbed by the teenyboppers! So we need your help, and we will pay you $5,000 for five hours work.”
“Alright, Mr. Mangold, when are you going to be arriving? “
“We will be arriving Saturday, at ten AM, in a private jet, and making a 10:30 AM appearance at the Hengerers Store at Downtown Buffalo, and then the West Seneca Mall, at twelve noon,” Mangold explained, “then we will go back to the airport, and fly on to Cleveland, Ohio. We need you to coordinate the security for these two appearance events. You and your staff will meet us at each appearance. Each time we arrive by Limo, you will then escort us to the stage and after the show then back to the limo. After the second appearance, we will fly out at 2 PM.
“How many people do you expect to show up?” I asked.
“Well in Little Rock, Arkansas, 3,000 showed up. The police provided the perimeter security, and we had body guards for the personal protection.”
“OK, I will coordinate the local Police, to do the same, and I will have a staff with me, for the kid’s personal protection.” I explained, “But understand this Mr. Mangold, we don’t serve drinks, carry baggage, baby-sit, or anything else, but protection. Got it?”
“Yes, I understand,” Mangold, said, “Here is my number, 213-555-1414, and the road crew will get in touch with you in the next day or so, for the coordination of stage security.”
“One more thing Mr. Mangold, bring the payment for our services with you.” I instructed, cash only, we don‘t take checks.”
“Of course I will bring the money with me, and thank you.” Mangold said, “Goodbye Mr. Alonzo.”
“Goodbye.” I said.
Well, it looked like I could make some money, but I’d have to get the right men for the job. These were children so I didn’t see a need to use armed men; I needed men that knew crowd control. The money offered by Hollywood Mangold, was enough for me to pay $100 an hour and still show a profit. So I called my best friend and partner Jack who is 6'3"height,two hundred-eighty pounds, blonde hair, my idea of Nordic Viking
Jack was also my bodyguard, and watched my back at all times. Jack moves like a cat, and is solid muscle. He has the kind of strength that he doesn’t have to work out to have.
“Yo,” Jack said, when he answered.
“Hey brother man. We got a body guard case.” I announced, trying to make it sound exciting. Jack hated these cases, unless it meant guarding a beautiful woman, like the time we guarded Lonnie Anderson, Goldie Hawn and Burt Reynolds, when they filmed ‘Best Friends“, in Buffalo..
“Oh, yea.” He asked suspiciously, “Who are we body guarding.”
“Two kids from Hollywood, TV stars.” I said.
“No!” Jack said, then he hung up. Hmmm? Ok, I sighed, I’ll call him back later.
I next called Rocco Richolli and his two sons, Angelo, and Nicillo. I knew they’d be good at this, their presence alone was security. The three men all looked alike, right down to the one solid eyebrow above their eyes. They were short in height, five foot seven, but huge, solid muscle, no fat, and very broad shoulders.
They had that kind of strength that they thought that they could lift anything. Rocco can you pick up the refrigerator and move it over there? No problem, and he’d do it.
They had an uncharacteristic length to their arms, arms that were longer than the average man. It was that their wrists reached their mid thigh, and then there was their neck, well, in actually they had no neck.
Their heads just sat on their shoulders, they had an extreme amount of dark long body hair, front and back, and it crawled out of their sleeves, and the top of their tight shirts. It looked more like a pelt than body hair. The Richollis were furniture movers, but they also had a business of auto repossessions, and collecting for loan sharks.
“Hello,” Angelo said, answering the phone.
“Hey, is Rocco in?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s in,” said Angelo. I waited for a full minute before I realized Angelo was still breathing into the phone and not getting Rocco to the phone.
“Well, can I talk to him?” I asked.
“Oh, you want to talk to my father?” Angelo asked.
“Uh, Yeah, I do, thank you.” I said courteously.
I knew not want to insult or cross any of these men.
In the past, I have visited some of their work that wound up in hospitals, and these men were very thorough, in dishing out pain. Mess with one, and you’ve messed with all three.
I packed a gun, but not an elephant gun, and if I needed to mess with these men, I would need a big gun..
“Is this Jimmy?” Rocco came on the phone and asked. He was one of the few people that called me Jimmy.
“Yeah Rocco, how you doing today?” I asked.
“Ok. You got some work for me?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do. I have some bodyguard work for you and your two boys; it pays $500 each for five hours. You interested?” I said.
“Yeah, that’s cool; I’m interested, “he said, “when is the work to be done?”
“This Saturday, from 9:30 AM to 2:30 PM,” I said, and I filled him in on the rest of the tentative plan and scheduling. Then I called Jack back, and after an hour, finally convinced him to sign on and help me. However, it cost me more than I planned, it ate in to my profit, because I knew I had to pay Jack $1,500, the same as it cost me for three Richolli men.
~*
The Day of the bodyguard detail arrived, the road crew that was hired by Mr. Mangold, had built two temporary stages that was four feet in height, and 16’ x 16’ platforms, and they were ready at each store site. Everything was planned after meeting with each police detail leaders, and coordinating their assignments. I was meeting with Jack, Rocco, and the Richolli boys, and discussing the plans for VIP security at each store’s site of the entertainment day.
“When the kids get up here, and they are ready to go on the stage, we with the local police officers will form a corridor, so they can run up the stairs on to the stage unhindered.” I explained, “The same when the kids come down off the stage. We will take them back into the warehouse where their limo is parked. Once the kids are in the limo, the garage door will open, and the kids go away. There will be no autograph sessions, so we don’t have to deal with that shit.”
“When do we get paid?” asked Rocco.
“Today, Mr. Mangold assured me. Don’t worry, you’ll get paid.” I said.
“Right, well don’t worry Jimmy, if we don’t, we will only break your knees.” Rocco said laughing, and then his boys laughed too. I looked at Jack for support, but he was laughing too!”
(Note to self, save my knee caps, make sure to get money from Mangold as soon as possible.)
When The kids showed up at the first site, we escorted them on the stage, and they gave a thirty minute show, Brandon Cruz, and Johnny Whittaker sang, dance, and joke, driving a crowd of at least 3,000 people mostly prepubescent kids screaming. Meanwhile I met in an empty office, with Mr. Mangold, to discuss money.
“Well Mr. Alonzo,” Mangold explained sheepishly, “we don’t normally carry that kind of cash, but I will send you payment if you will give me an address to do so.”
“Listen pal, you knew that payment was to be on delivery of services, so don’t give me that shit about sending me a payment later.
"Well you’ll just have to accept it this way.” He said smugly.
“I see, wait here, I’ll be right back. I said.
When I came back, a few minutes later, I had Rocco and one of his sons, Nicillo, with me,
“Mr. Mangold, I’d like you to meet two of my colleagues, and since I have to go back to the kids and the show, you can explain to these fellows why they have to wait for their money.” I said, and then I left a very scared looking Mr. Mangold to the Richolli family.
When I got out of the office, and approached the stage area, the kids were just finishing up. So I took position with Jack and Angelo Richolli, and we successfully got the kids through the crowd and into their Limo.
“Well let’s get to the other store,” I said to Jack and Angelo.
“Where’s my father,” Angelo asked, looking around.
“Angelo, he and your brother are with Mr. Mangold to clear up a problem and get our pay.” I explained, “I’m sure they’ll meet us at the West Seneca Store. So why don‘t you ride with us?”
“Ok, I can do that.” said Angelo.
When we got to the next store, we waited for the kids to arrive. Meanwhile Rocco, and his son Nicillo arrived.
“Where’s Mangold?” I asked concerned a little.
“Relax, he’s alive,“ said Rocco, “Mangold decided to have the money wired to us, at Western Union, so I got the money. But Mr. Mangold said he didn't feel very good, and was going back to Los Angeles.”
“Good give me the money and I‘ll divvy it out,” I said as I held my hand out.
“Sure, here is the money,” Rocco said, “but minus our pay, $1500, a finders fee of $1000,and Jack's pay, which he told me was $1500, is that correct Jack?"
“Yes, it is, and thank you Rocco.” Jack said, smiling at me, as he was handed his money, and I knew by the look on Jack's face he was enjoying my sudden discomfort.
“Uh, Rocco, that wasn’t our deal,” I said, “I mean, you agreed to the pay I was offering.”
“Yes, Jimmy, but we had to persuade Mr. Mangold to pay us,” Rocco explained, “and that was before we found out you were paying Jack the same pay as the three of us. Tsk, Tsk, Jimmy, that wasn’t very fair of you, I am surprised at you.”
And he handed me the remaining money. I looked over at Jack, he was rolling around laughing his ass off!
When the kids arrived for the second show, the same thing, the kids arrived and went on the stage and did their thing. While the crowds were screaming and pushing to get closer, we took up position as we did before, holding a corridor for the kids to exit. We stood on each side of the corridor, keeping the crowds away from our corridor, by extending our arms outward from our sides making contact with each others forearms. As I stood next to Jack on my left, and Angelo on my right, I heard through all the screaming, Angelo arguing with someone behind him.
“Lady, relax, and quit pushing!“ Angelo said over his left shoulder.
“I just want to get by, you fucking jerk! I want to go into the mall, so let me by!“ The Lady ordered Angelo, as she tried to get by, only to be blocked by Angelo Richollis’ large body.
She was a big woman, five feet nine inches, and a good 250 plus pounds, and she was pissed.
“Lady, shut the fuck up, and wait,” Angelo said.
“Well, we’ll see about this!” And she kept pushing, poking, and trying to get by.
“Lady, I’m warning you, wait! Angelo said.
This was the last I heard on this conversation, because the kids were done, and we had to encircle them, and got them out of there.
After we got the kids off in their Limo, and they drove off, we sat in the back office, and had coffee, patted ourselves on the back, and a few laughs. That was till Mr. Wagner the Store’s general Manager came back, and in his high effeminate voice said,
“Mr. Alonzo, there is a woman out there, that has a big black eye!” he said, “And she says one of the security personnel punched her during the show.!
I looked at Angelo, to confirm my suspicions, he smiled back at me, and I said to Mr. Wagner, “That’s impossible, I’ll go out an talk to her.”
But as I got up from my chair, Mr. Wagner said, “Well I’ll go get her.” and he left the room. Meanwhile, Jack jumped up and opened the closet door,
“Angelo, get in here, “ Jack said. Which Angelo did. Jack shut the door on Angelo, looked at me, and said,
“You got a law suit if she identifies Angelo on this detail.”
“Yeah, I know.” I said. Just as I finished saying that, the woman, I found out her name was Stella Grabowski, and Mr. Wagner, ever so helpful, came back to the office we were in.
“Yes! There he is!,” Mrs. Grabowski with her closed black eye, pointed at me, “The man that punched me was standing next to this man.”
“Ma’am,” I said, “do you see, in this office, anyone here that was the man that punched you?”
“No, but he was standing next to you, I’m sure of it.” She said insistent.
“Well ma’am, this is the only security personnel that work for me. I’m sorry.” I said with sympathy in my voice.
“Oh dear, I can’t believe the man hit me in this nice store.” She said. That was Mr. Wagner’s que,
“Well dear, why don’t we go to my office, and maybe we can get you a gift certificate, and maybe that will help you get through this shameful ordeal.” They then left the office we were in.
“Ok,” I said, “Let’s get Angelo out of here, and we will meet at the Ground Round restaurant.”
The Richolli family made there way out through the same warehouse, and drove away.
“This is been a bad day for you?” Jack said, still laughing.
“Yeah, you got that right. I can’t believe he punched that broad, those Richolli thugs are crazy. I could get sued if the woman puts it together.”
When we got to the restaurant, the Richolli boys were celebrating their good fortune. I asked Angelo what happened with the woman.
“Shit, she kept pushing me, and I told her to stop, but then she started to poke me in the back with something hard and sharp. It turned out to be a Umbrella. So when the kids ran down the steps of the stage, and all eyes were on them, I turned around and I punched her.”
I never used the Richolli boys again for bodyguard work
~*************
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Edna Benz (store detective years)
Edna Benz
(store detective years)
(C) James J Alonzo
One of the most interesting characters that I ever worked with was Edna Benz. I had just got a job as a store detective at a company called Wm.Hengerer. This store chain was a very high end dry goods store that had one motto , "if you are going to sell it, sell it expensive".
I had got back from duty in Viet Nam, went and live in the mountains of Northern Idaho for a year sabbatical from the war. I learned nothing in Idaho except how to cut trees down, to live off the land, grow my hair long and a beard. My family wanted me to go back to Buffalo, so I needed a job, and I went down to apply at Hengerers. As I was walking through the down town store* looking for the personnel department, I spotted two young women wrestling with another rather large woman, putting handcuffs on her, telling the large woman she was under arrest!
I walked over to the clerk near by and asked,
"What's that about?"
"Oh those two women, they're store detectives, and they caught a shoplifter." **
I was immediately hooked, that's what I wanted to do, so I asked where do I apply? I was given instructions on where the security managers office was and went there. There I met Timothy Murphy, filled out an application, and was told to come back two days later.***
Two days later I was hired, and had to start a 30 day training period with the other store detectives. Murphy has explained to me that shoplifters had to be followed (since they didn't have any of the new fangled cameras that stores later would start using.) and shoplifters had to be observed stealing by the store detectives. Murphy had started a undercover operation where there were ladies dressed as secretaries, hippies, (me), minorities, all to fool the thieves to steal in front of his squad. These store detectives at time would have police officers in plain clothes working with them.
My first training session was to be with Edna Benz, and I was to meet her at the West Seneca Mall. I had heard a lot of stories of this woman, that she was 5' tall, and 63 years old, and that she average five arrests a day.
That she would wear wigs, one day she would dress like a a nun, another she would wheel around in a wheel chair, another as a blind woman with a white cane. Other times, because she is so short would hide in the clothing racks. They told me she was the best and was like a pit bull! I asked Murphy,
"What does she look like?" I asked.
"Don't worry," Murphy said laughing, "She'll find you."
The next day I went to train at the West Seneca mall. Not sure where exactly the store was located, I entered the mall's middle entrance, the mall had over 100 stores or restaurants, and at the center concourse I checked the mall map.
As I was doing this I heard someone running towards me, from my left and I spotting him, he was a tall black man. As he was running towards me, he ran with a very poor posture with his stomach out and head pulled back. But what really made it strange was he had very expensive knit Pants clutched in both hands. As he ran, his hands and arms were pumping up and down accented by the clothing in each hand.
Looking closely as he ran by me, I noted that he was a dark color African-American, 6'4", 200 lbs., but I also noted there was a set of white arms wrapped around his neck. The white arms, I was to learn later, belong to one Edna Benz, who was hanging on the perps back with her athletic shoed feet firmly planted in the small of his back. She was jerking his neck trying break his back or to make him fall!
I ran after the two of them, and when catching up, I threw my shoulder into the perps side knocking both the perp and Edna 'ass over tea kettle!' He went down and Edna like a true gymnast tucked and rolled, landing on her hands and knees facing the perp and I. As I am handcuffing the perp, she shouts,
"He's mine!" She shouts out, "He's mine!"
"Relax lady," I said to her, "I was just helping!"
"I don't need your help! I had him! Who are you?"
"I'm the new trainee." I replied. Realizing this had to be Edna Benz.
She looked me up and down, like she was buying a new vehicle, then said sarcastically,
"You might do okay. But don't ever try to steal one of my perps again!"
I knew this was going to be a cantankerous relationship.
*Wm. Hengerers at the time had five stores, one down town, and in four main suburbs.
** Women in 1970, in law enforcement was uncommon. If they did work in law enforcement, they were placed in administration type jobs.
***When Murphy hires he has a complete background check done on the applicant. Murphy had contacts with the police and FBI, since he was criminal justice teacher at Buffalo State College,
(store detective years)
(C) James J Alonzo
One of the most interesting characters that I ever worked with was Edna Benz. I had just got a job as a store detective at a company called Wm.Hengerer. This store chain was a very high end dry goods store that had one motto , "if you are going to sell it, sell it expensive".
I had got back from duty in Viet Nam, went and live in the mountains of Northern Idaho for a year sabbatical from the war. I learned nothing in Idaho except how to cut trees down, to live off the land, grow my hair long and a beard. My family wanted me to go back to Buffalo, so I needed a job, and I went down to apply at Hengerers. As I was walking through the down town store* looking for the personnel department, I spotted two young women wrestling with another rather large woman, putting handcuffs on her, telling the large woman she was under arrest!
I walked over to the clerk near by and asked,
"What's that about?"
"Oh those two women, they're store detectives, and they caught a shoplifter." **
I was immediately hooked, that's what I wanted to do, so I asked where do I apply? I was given instructions on where the security managers office was and went there. There I met Timothy Murphy, filled out an application, and was told to come back two days later.***
Two days later I was hired, and had to start a 30 day training period with the other store detectives. Murphy has explained to me that shoplifters had to be followed (since they didn't have any of the new fangled cameras that stores later would start using.) and shoplifters had to be observed stealing by the store detectives. Murphy had started a undercover operation where there were ladies dressed as secretaries, hippies, (me), minorities, all to fool the thieves to steal in front of his squad. These store detectives at time would have police officers in plain clothes working with them.
My first training session was to be with Edna Benz, and I was to meet her at the West Seneca Mall. I had heard a lot of stories of this woman, that she was 5' tall, and 63 years old, and that she average five arrests a day.
That she would wear wigs, one day she would dress like a a nun, another she would wheel around in a wheel chair, another as a blind woman with a white cane. Other times, because she is so short would hide in the clothing racks. They told me she was the best and was like a pit bull! I asked Murphy,
"What does she look like?" I asked.
"Don't worry," Murphy said laughing, "She'll find you."
The next day I went to train at the West Seneca mall. Not sure where exactly the store was located, I entered the mall's middle entrance, the mall had over 100 stores or restaurants, and at the center concourse I checked the mall map.
As I was doing this I heard someone running towards me, from my left and I spotting him, he was a tall black man. As he was running towards me, he ran with a very poor posture with his stomach out and head pulled back. But what really made it strange was he had very expensive knit Pants clutched in both hands. As he ran, his hands and arms were pumping up and down accented by the clothing in each hand.
Looking closely as he ran by me, I noted that he was a dark color African-American, 6'4", 200 lbs., but I also noted there was a set of white arms wrapped around his neck. The white arms, I was to learn later, belong to one Edna Benz, who was hanging on the perps back with her athletic shoed feet firmly planted in the small of his back. She was jerking his neck trying break his back or to make him fall!
I ran after the two of them, and when catching up, I threw my shoulder into the perps side knocking both the perp and Edna 'ass over tea kettle!' He went down and Edna like a true gymnast tucked and rolled, landing on her hands and knees facing the perp and I. As I am handcuffing the perp, she shouts,
"He's mine!" She shouts out, "He's mine!"
"Relax lady," I said to her, "I was just helping!"
"I don't need your help! I had him! Who are you?"
"I'm the new trainee." I replied. Realizing this had to be Edna Benz.
She looked me up and down, like she was buying a new vehicle, then said sarcastically,
"You might do okay. But don't ever try to steal one of my perps again!"
I knew this was going to be a cantankerous relationship.
*Wm. Hengerers at the time had five stores, one down town, and in four main suburbs.
** Women in 1970, in law enforcement was uncommon. If they did work in law enforcement, they were placed in administration type jobs.
***When Murphy hires he has a complete background check done on the applicant. Murphy had contacts with the police and FBI, since he was criminal justice teacher at Buffalo State College,
Private Investigations The case of the Confused Sisters
Private Investigations
The Case Of The Confused Sisters
Back in the 1970's i had a license for Private Investigations. Both in the State of Texas and in New York State.
What work I did backgrounds checks, missing persons, bail enforcement, undercover investigations, and divorce or cheating spouse investigations. Some cases paid well, most just enough to keep my head above water. One day i got a big payer, Finally I got one. The cheating spouse case you could usually just dream of.
I met the husband at my favorite office, a bar called the Buffalo House. The husband Mr. Priester, arrived and sat down at my table having been told my description. What I saw was a expensively dress man, gold pinky ring, short, 5'6" 140 lb., and middle age.
As he sat down, after the introductions, Mr. Priester said,
"Mr. Alonzo, let me make it perfectly clear that money is no object. I want my wife Veira followed no matter what."
He produced her photo and address and wanted me to start the next day in the morning, since he would be gone for 2 weeks on business. He further stated,
"My lovely unfaithful wife be "busy" while I am gone. I'm sure of it!"
"Listen Mr. Priester, I will do my job, if you have plans to use this info for any violent action, I will not stand for it."
"No, my lawyer William Munson, who recommended you, told me to get the info, and he will file for divorce! It's all about property distribution and money."
"It always is Mr. Priester." I said sarcastically.
1970's, this was before the internet and immediate access to data. With the information that I needed and check in hand, I got started. I went to their house early in the morning, and saw my "target" coming out almost 5 minutes after I arrived. I followed her for days logging the times and where she was. She was in her 20's, 110 lbs, long raven hair, and a body that wouldn't quit!
Finally after nearly a week, she met a man at a local restaurant. They sat together hugging and kissing as I proudly took pictures. They left the restaurant and went back to her house and spent over two hours inside together. I'm sure that I had a pretty good idea what they were up to. I got great pictures of them going in and out. They left together and went back to the restaurant when she dropped him off.
I decided that I needed to figure out who he was so I got out of the car to tail him. He went to a parking lot and got into his car. I wrote down the license plate number to give to a cop friend named Jack, that would run it for me later. Most cops hated private investigators, but Jack was a partner of mine when we patrolled as law enforcement officers, and now Jack worked for me in Private Investigations.
The loving couple met three more times in that second week and it was the same routine. I learned who the guy was and he was cheating too. He was a married man with three kids.
Anyway, my client returned and I gave him the photos and complete story. He thanked me, wrote me another check for the balance…plus a bonus for the great job that I did.
A few days later, Mr. Priester called me from the local jail,
"Mr. Alonzo," he asked, "Could you bail me out?"
"What happen? Why are you in jail?" I asked."
"I had an argument and lost my temper with my wife. It had nothing to do with her cheating, I hadn't gotten around to speaking to her about it. But I did slap her and knocked her down, she called the cops! I just had the argument with her over her spending and lost it,"
Though I can't stand women hitters, he was such a good client I went to 10 Delaware where the jail holding center was and bailed him out. As we walked to my car, his wife was walking towards us with a packet in hand. As we got closer it became apparent to me that is was her case file on her devilish ways. Without as much as a hello she yelled at her husband
"Why do you have pictures of Veronica with some guy?"
"That's not your sister that's you, you cheating whore!" Mr. Priester shouted back.
"Your an asshole, no one's cheating! That's Veronica and Bill McCourt her boyfriend!"
As they argued, i came to learn there was a big mistake! That my clients "wife" that I had been following for nearly two weeks, was actually her twin sister. She would come over to spend time with my client's wife every time Mr. Priester was away on trips. No one told him because he didn't like Veronica and he didn't approved of her life style or of her being in his house.
Even though Veronica was in her 20's, she still lived with her controlling parents. Was my client's wife cheating? Who was really with the married man? Who knows? I made a lot of money those two weeks and learned a valuable lesson. ASK ABOUT A TWIN!!!
__<*_*>__
The Case Of The Confused Sisters
Back in the 1970's i had a license for Private Investigations. Both in the State of Texas and in New York State.
What work I did backgrounds checks, missing persons, bail enforcement, undercover investigations, and divorce or cheating spouse investigations. Some cases paid well, most just enough to keep my head above water. One day i got a big payer, Finally I got one. The cheating spouse case you could usually just dream of.
I met the husband at my favorite office, a bar called the Buffalo House. The husband Mr. Priester, arrived and sat down at my table having been told my description. What I saw was a expensively dress man, gold pinky ring, short, 5'6" 140 lb., and middle age.
As he sat down, after the introductions, Mr. Priester said,
"Mr. Alonzo, let me make it perfectly clear that money is no object. I want my wife Veira followed no matter what."
He produced her photo and address and wanted me to start the next day in the morning, since he would be gone for 2 weeks on business. He further stated,
"My lovely unfaithful wife be "busy" while I am gone. I'm sure of it!"
"Listen Mr. Priester, I will do my job, if you have plans to use this info for any violent action, I will not stand for it."
"No, my lawyer William Munson, who recommended you, told me to get the info, and he will file for divorce! It's all about property distribution and money."
"It always is Mr. Priester." I said sarcastically.
1970's, this was before the internet and immediate access to data. With the information that I needed and check in hand, I got started. I went to their house early in the morning, and saw my "target" coming out almost 5 minutes after I arrived. I followed her for days logging the times and where she was. She was in her 20's, 110 lbs, long raven hair, and a body that wouldn't quit!
Finally after nearly a week, she met a man at a local restaurant. They sat together hugging and kissing as I proudly took pictures. They left the restaurant and went back to her house and spent over two hours inside together. I'm sure that I had a pretty good idea what they were up to. I got great pictures of them going in and out. They left together and went back to the restaurant when she dropped him off.
I decided that I needed to figure out who he was so I got out of the car to tail him. He went to a parking lot and got into his car. I wrote down the license plate number to give to a cop friend named Jack, that would run it for me later. Most cops hated private investigators, but Jack was a partner of mine when we patrolled as law enforcement officers, and now Jack worked for me in Private Investigations.
The loving couple met three more times in that second week and it was the same routine. I learned who the guy was and he was cheating too. He was a married man with three kids.
Anyway, my client returned and I gave him the photos and complete story. He thanked me, wrote me another check for the balance…plus a bonus for the great job that I did.
A few days later, Mr. Priester called me from the local jail,
"Mr. Alonzo," he asked, "Could you bail me out?"
"What happen? Why are you in jail?" I asked."
"I had an argument and lost my temper with my wife. It had nothing to do with her cheating, I hadn't gotten around to speaking to her about it. But I did slap her and knocked her down, she called the cops! I just had the argument with her over her spending and lost it,"
Though I can't stand women hitters, he was such a good client I went to 10 Delaware where the jail holding center was and bailed him out. As we walked to my car, his wife was walking towards us with a packet in hand. As we got closer it became apparent to me that is was her case file on her devilish ways. Without as much as a hello she yelled at her husband
"Why do you have pictures of Veronica with some guy?"
"That's not your sister that's you, you cheating whore!" Mr. Priester shouted back.
"Your an asshole, no one's cheating! That's Veronica and Bill McCourt her boyfriend!"
As they argued, i came to learn there was a big mistake! That my clients "wife" that I had been following for nearly two weeks, was actually her twin sister. She would come over to spend time with my client's wife every time Mr. Priester was away on trips. No one told him because he didn't like Veronica and he didn't approved of her life style or of her being in his house.
Even though Veronica was in her 20's, she still lived with her controlling parents. Was my client's wife cheating? Who was really with the married man? Who knows? I made a lot of money those two weeks and learned a valuable lesson. ASK ABOUT A TWIN!!!
__<*_*>__
Sunday, January 22, 2012
What's Good For The Goose
What's Good For The Goose
(Tales Of The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
Late one evening while on patrol, our dispatch center put out a call of a reckless driver South Bound on Rt 5, information from Hamburg NY police Department, heading towards our patrol area. Jack and I set up in the area. Apparently, One of the Hamburg officers clocked him on radar 90 mph in a 55 mph zone weaving in and out of traffic and passing on both sides.
But somehow after noting the description, the Hamburg officer lost him? So we were now looking for a blue El camino. So based on a hunch by Jack my partner, we took up position on an alternate route on Old Lake Shore road.
Sure enough Jack was right! As the speeding vehicle passed us, we converged on him with all the bells, and whistles! Jack happily shouts out,
"All right! I was right! We got us the speeder!"
You could see the glee on Jack's face, like a child in a candy store. Jack like racing the police car and chasing perps. He had gotten very good at it, though he went through five police cars learning this ability.**
"Sh_t!" I shouted to Jack, "You know, it never surprises me that these clowns refused to stop, they never do. i have a theory that sirens and lights only encouraged these clowns to speed up!"
"Yeah," Jack shouted back at me, " I don't want to hear about your damn ideas or theories! Your theories are crazy and bizarre! I can't even believe you came up with that 'professional mourner' service."
"Hey, it's a great idea!" I said defensively, "When the last time you went to a service and someone was crying over the deceased? Most of the time everyone is just standing around chewing the fat and laughing. They need to bring back mourning or hire professional mourners."
"You are a sick bastard " Jack replied.
As we chase the car, I noticed the reckless driver pointing and waving at us out the drivers side window attempting to get us to pull along side of him? Bad idea, since this was a good way to get rammed or shot. This idiot driver besides reckless must of thought us stupid.
We radioed dispatch that the driver is failing to yield, asking permission to use the PIT* maneuver on his vehicle. But after spotting the reckless driver had a small child standing on the seat with him, we cancelled that request.
"Shit Jack!," I said, "this as_hole has a kid in the car, and it looks like the kids not seat belted!"
"Let's follow him for a while," Jack said, "Radio ahead, let them know about the kid, maybe we can get another car to set out the spike strips."
About one mile later, while the reckless driver continued to pass on the right, weave in and out of traffic and honking his horn the spike strips were set up just south of the next intersection.
Suddenly, before the strips, he makes an abrupt right turn on a side street and pulls into an animal clinic parking lot. When he bails out the drivers seat, he is carrying the kid in one arm and a GOOSE in the other!!
We pull in behind him yelling commands over the PA system,
""STOP! Police! Freeze!" I ordered, "See Jack, he's ignoring us, why do we bother!"
However, he continues running inside with a little girl fast intow. He makes it to the door and is met by the veterinarian as we are running up behind him still yelling,
"STOP! Police!"
Still holding the goose, with his little girl at his pant leg HE yells back to us,
"NO! Wait, I'll be right with you!"
Seeing that he isn't really going anywhere, we follow him inside the animal clinic. We find out why this idiot is driving at such a risk to his kid. His excuse was the family dog had bitten the goose and it was having breathing problems. He felt it was going to die, because of the way it was breathing, so he felt he needed to get it to the animal hospital.
"Couldn't you have taken sixty seconds to momentarily stop for the police cars behind you?" I asked the perp, "Then you could of let us know what is going on and then proceed to the Vet."
"Well, I guess you got me there!," he replied.
Out of the kindness of our hearts he did not go to jail in front of his daughter. We ticketed him for driving speeds exceeding 90+mph for about 45 miles from a neighboring town just to get to the Vet., weaving in and out of traffic, passing on corners, hillsides and against oncoming traffic all the while carrying his unseat- -belted daughter and her goose.
"I still want to arrest him for child endangerment." I said to Jack
"No," Jack said being senior officer, "I love animals, animal lovers, and he was trying to save the goose!"
"Well I think we should arrest him for animal cruelty!" I said. " He must of scared the S*#t out of that goose!"
What?! Are you f%#*ing nuts?! We can't arrest him for animal cruelty and then not charge him for Child Endangerment!"
"Good grief Jack, you have a warp sense of fair play!"
********
*The PIT maneuver is a method by which one car pursuing another can force the pursued vehicle to abruptly turn sideways to the direction of travel, causing the driver to lose control and stop. The backronym "PIT" has a number of different meanings, depending on the agency using it or school teaching it. The most common meanings are Precision Immobilization Technique, Pursuit Immobilization Technique, Pursuit Intervention Technique, Push It Tough, Parallel Immobilization Technique, and Precision Intervention Tactic. In each case, the meaning is clear, no matter how the acronym is explained.
** To this day he still holds the record for the most police cars he wrecked chasing perps.
**************
(Tales Of The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
Late one evening while on patrol, our dispatch center put out a call of a reckless driver South Bound on Rt 5, information from Hamburg NY police Department, heading towards our patrol area. Jack and I set up in the area. Apparently, One of the Hamburg officers clocked him on radar 90 mph in a 55 mph zone weaving in and out of traffic and passing on both sides.
But somehow after noting the description, the Hamburg officer lost him? So we were now looking for a blue El camino. So based on a hunch by Jack my partner, we took up position on an alternate route on Old Lake Shore road.
Sure enough Jack was right! As the speeding vehicle passed us, we converged on him with all the bells, and whistles! Jack happily shouts out,
"All right! I was right! We got us the speeder!"
You could see the glee on Jack's face, like a child in a candy store. Jack like racing the police car and chasing perps. He had gotten very good at it, though he went through five police cars learning this ability.**
"Sh_t!" I shouted to Jack, "You know, it never surprises me that these clowns refused to stop, they never do. i have a theory that sirens and lights only encouraged these clowns to speed up!"
"Yeah," Jack shouted back at me, " I don't want to hear about your damn ideas or theories! Your theories are crazy and bizarre! I can't even believe you came up with that 'professional mourner' service."
"Hey, it's a great idea!" I said defensively, "When the last time you went to a service and someone was crying over the deceased? Most of the time everyone is just standing around chewing the fat and laughing. They need to bring back mourning or hire professional mourners."
"You are a sick bastard " Jack replied.
As we chase the car, I noticed the reckless driver pointing and waving at us out the drivers side window attempting to get us to pull along side of him? Bad idea, since this was a good way to get rammed or shot. This idiot driver besides reckless must of thought us stupid.
We radioed dispatch that the driver is failing to yield, asking permission to use the PIT* maneuver on his vehicle. But after spotting the reckless driver had a small child standing on the seat with him, we cancelled that request.
"Shit Jack!," I said, "this as_hole has a kid in the car, and it looks like the kids not seat belted!"
"Let's follow him for a while," Jack said, "Radio ahead, let them know about the kid, maybe we can get another car to set out the spike strips."
About one mile later, while the reckless driver continued to pass on the right, weave in and out of traffic and honking his horn the spike strips were set up just south of the next intersection.
Suddenly, before the strips, he makes an abrupt right turn on a side street and pulls into an animal clinic parking lot. When he bails out the drivers seat, he is carrying the kid in one arm and a GOOSE in the other!!
We pull in behind him yelling commands over the PA system,
""STOP! Police! Freeze!" I ordered, "See Jack, he's ignoring us, why do we bother!"
However, he continues running inside with a little girl fast intow. He makes it to the door and is met by the veterinarian as we are running up behind him still yelling,
"STOP! Police!"
Still holding the goose, with his little girl at his pant leg HE yells back to us,
"NO! Wait, I'll be right with you!"
Seeing that he isn't really going anywhere, we follow him inside the animal clinic. We find out why this idiot is driving at such a risk to his kid. His excuse was the family dog had bitten the goose and it was having breathing problems. He felt it was going to die, because of the way it was breathing, so he felt he needed to get it to the animal hospital.
"Couldn't you have taken sixty seconds to momentarily stop for the police cars behind you?" I asked the perp, "Then you could of let us know what is going on and then proceed to the Vet."
"Well, I guess you got me there!," he replied.
Out of the kindness of our hearts he did not go to jail in front of his daughter. We ticketed him for driving speeds exceeding 90+mph for about 45 miles from a neighboring town just to get to the Vet., weaving in and out of traffic, passing on corners, hillsides and against oncoming traffic all the while carrying his unseat- -belted daughter and her goose.
"I still want to arrest him for child endangerment." I said to Jack
"No," Jack said being senior officer, "I love animals, animal lovers, and he was trying to save the goose!"
"Well I think we should arrest him for animal cruelty!" I said. " He must of scared the S*#t out of that goose!"
What?! Are you f%#*ing nuts?! We can't arrest him for animal cruelty and then not charge him for Child Endangerment!"
"Good grief Jack, you have a warp sense of fair play!"
********
*The PIT maneuver is a method by which one car pursuing another can force the pursued vehicle to abruptly turn sideways to the direction of travel, causing the driver to lose control and stop. The backronym "PIT" has a number of different meanings, depending on the agency using it or school teaching it. The most common meanings are Precision Immobilization Technique, Pursuit Immobilization Technique, Pursuit Intervention Technique, Push It Tough, Parallel Immobilization Technique, and Precision Intervention Tactic. In each case, the meaning is clear, no matter how the acronym is explained.
** To this day he still holds the record for the most police cars he wrecked chasing perps.
**************
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Using Ju-Jit-Su to Arrest A Perp
Using Ju-Jit-Su to Handcuff a Perp
(Stories OF The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
1982;
It was a normal summer night in Evans, the temperature was well in the eighties and so was the humidity. Patrolling during one mid-night shift with Jack, in the Evans, NY area we had set up a radar position to clock and ticket speeders. As we sat there enjoying a couple of donuts and coffee, a vehicle shot past us at a about 100 miles per hour!
"Shit!" I shouted as Jack started the patrol vehicle and took off like a shot after the speeding vehicle!
As I was trying to relive my self from the hot coffee that spilled on my lap, Jack shouted back at me,
"We got a good one! He has no license plates on the car! He's driving erratically! I bet he's drunk!"
Later we would find out one other thing, the driver of the speeding vehicle was a native american named Stanley Running Bear. Stanley was a Seneca Indian, who was a native american traditionalist, did not like the laws of the land, hence not having license plates on his vehicle. He also stood 6'8", 300 lbs., wore his dark black hair in long braids. The thing he did love was whiskey, and he was mean when ever he was stopped by the police.
Now Stanley was not the smartest man in the world but he sure made up for his lack of intelligence with a natural powerful strength. Stanley was well known to both of us and to every other Law Enforcement Officer in Erie County, and he was known to fight almost every time he was arrested.
From a dead start to catch a vehicle that passes you at such a high rate of speed takes a few miles. When we caught up to his vehicle, Stanley was already stopped and out of his vehicle and he was standing along side the road by a little 24 hour two bit shack which sold cigarettes, beer and wine. We pulled up beside him and both got out of the patrol car.
Jack walked up to him and told him,
" Your under arrest Stanley, turn around!"
He looked down at my 5'10" height and Jack's 6'3" and our uniforms, and announced,
"No, I don't abide by white man's laws!"
He got agitated right way, and started telling us that he was native -american, a Chief, and was a citizen of the Seneca Nation, not the f!*%#ing United States. Jack told him,
"Put your hands on the patrol car now!"
But Stanley being Stanley, had other ideas, and started to resist!
"No! You are nazi's"
I grabbed one arm and my partner grabbed the other. In just a matter of a couple of seconds our arms, hands and bodies pushing and shoving, were all tied up together in a three way fight for control!
(back in the 1980's there was no such thing as a Taser)
Jack and I were getting tired fast but Stanley had not even broken out in a sweat as we punched, pushed and shoved trying to get Stanley to the ground. That was when my partner decided that it was time to quit playing around.
Ju-Jit-Su! Jack remembering he had been reading a book on hand to hand combat. He figured if he broke Stanley's thumb he would quit fighting, so my partner grabbed Stanley's thumb and started to bend it backwards as hard and as far as he could. Well, Stanley did not seem to mind at all, in fact he just fought harder.
"Shit!" I shouted out in pain, because I was getting hurt in this fight. My partner after hearing my exclamation of pain, he knew that he had to get Stanley off of me fast, so he bent the thumb even further back.
"OWW!
I was really in pain at this point and decided it was time to kill someone or something, I had to have relief. With pain induced strength I managed to push Stanley backwards onto the hood of the patrol car and Jack and I were able to hand cuff him.
As i was standing there shaking my hand with the injured thumb, trying to relieve the pain, Jack asked me,
"Are you okay?"
" I think so, but Stanley almost broke my thumb!"
Jack looked at me and then at Stanley and said,
"Yeah, well if it make you feel better, I almost broke his too!"
I looked at Stanley, and his hand did not seem to be hurting him. I asked Jack
"Who's thumb did you have?" He looked at me and then at Stanley and it dawned on him and he said,
"Oops! I wondered why this Ju-Jit-Su shit wasn't working?"
**********
(Stories OF The Lost Patrol)
(C) James J Alonzo
1982;
It was a normal summer night in Evans, the temperature was well in the eighties and so was the humidity. Patrolling during one mid-night shift with Jack, in the Evans, NY area we had set up a radar position to clock and ticket speeders. As we sat there enjoying a couple of donuts and coffee, a vehicle shot past us at a about 100 miles per hour!
"Shit!" I shouted as Jack started the patrol vehicle and took off like a shot after the speeding vehicle!
As I was trying to relive my self from the hot coffee that spilled on my lap, Jack shouted back at me,
"We got a good one! He has no license plates on the car! He's driving erratically! I bet he's drunk!"
Later we would find out one other thing, the driver of the speeding vehicle was a native american named Stanley Running Bear. Stanley was a Seneca Indian, who was a native american traditionalist, did not like the laws of the land, hence not having license plates on his vehicle. He also stood 6'8", 300 lbs., wore his dark black hair in long braids. The thing he did love was whiskey, and he was mean when ever he was stopped by the police.
Now Stanley was not the smartest man in the world but he sure made up for his lack of intelligence with a natural powerful strength. Stanley was well known to both of us and to every other Law Enforcement Officer in Erie County, and he was known to fight almost every time he was arrested.
From a dead start to catch a vehicle that passes you at such a high rate of speed takes a few miles. When we caught up to his vehicle, Stanley was already stopped and out of his vehicle and he was standing along side the road by a little 24 hour two bit shack which sold cigarettes, beer and wine. We pulled up beside him and both got out of the patrol car.
Jack walked up to him and told him,
" Your under arrest Stanley, turn around!"
He looked down at my 5'10" height and Jack's 6'3" and our uniforms, and announced,
"No, I don't abide by white man's laws!"
He got agitated right way, and started telling us that he was native -american, a Chief, and was a citizen of the Seneca Nation, not the f!*%#ing United States. Jack told him,
"Put your hands on the patrol car now!"
But Stanley being Stanley, had other ideas, and started to resist!
"No! You are nazi's"
I grabbed one arm and my partner grabbed the other. In just a matter of a couple of seconds our arms, hands and bodies pushing and shoving, were all tied up together in a three way fight for control!
(back in the 1980's there was no such thing as a Taser)
Jack and I were getting tired fast but Stanley had not even broken out in a sweat as we punched, pushed and shoved trying to get Stanley to the ground. That was when my partner decided that it was time to quit playing around.
Ju-Jit-Su! Jack remembering he had been reading a book on hand to hand combat. He figured if he broke Stanley's thumb he would quit fighting, so my partner grabbed Stanley's thumb and started to bend it backwards as hard and as far as he could. Well, Stanley did not seem to mind at all, in fact he just fought harder.
"Shit!" I shouted out in pain, because I was getting hurt in this fight. My partner after hearing my exclamation of pain, he knew that he had to get Stanley off of me fast, so he bent the thumb even further back.
"OWW!
I was really in pain at this point and decided it was time to kill someone or something, I had to have relief. With pain induced strength I managed to push Stanley backwards onto the hood of the patrol car and Jack and I were able to hand cuff him.
As i was standing there shaking my hand with the injured thumb, trying to relieve the pain, Jack asked me,
"Are you okay?"
" I think so, but Stanley almost broke my thumb!"
Jack looked at me and then at Stanley and said,
"Yeah, well if it make you feel better, I almost broke his too!"
I looked at Stanley, and his hand did not seem to be hurting him. I asked Jack
"Who's thumb did you have?" He looked at me and then at Stanley and it dawned on him and he said,
"Oops! I wondered why this Ju-Jit-Su shit wasn't working?"
**********
Friday, January 20, 2012
A Deflated Arrest
Deflated Arrest
(C) James J Alonzo
In my patrol area with the Sheriffs office, there had been a rape in North Collins, NY, that happen at an apartment complex. The victim was a young mother and she was attacked during the day while her children were in school.
I came on shift in the afternoon that day, and based on her description our department later caught the rape suspect several hours after the rape occurred. We went by to transport the victim for an ID lineup, but she had two children and couldn't leave for fear of what had happen, and She had a babysitter, but was afraid that there might be retaliation. Apparently the man that raped her was a well like personality.
Since we were one officer patrol cars, I volunteered to watch her place, the babysitter, and the kids while my partner Phill Taylor transported the victim to the station.
As i sat in the patrol car I scanned all the apartments besides the victim's, and I had no trouble looking in the apartment's large first floor windows. Across the street was a Motel, also with large front windows.
Looking in one motel window I was drawn to flickering candles, and low light. Taking my binoculars out of my glove compartment, I tried to focus a better view. Through some mini blinds I could see a man caressing a naked lady on a king size bed. The view was hazy but clear enough to see what was taking place.
As I watched as he climbed on top and began making love to her, she didn't move, as though she was unconscious! When it looked like he was finished he got up, covering the lady. He covered the body completely, head to toe, tucking the covers under like he was wrapping a dead body!
( I said to myself,"good grief! This clown has a dead woman! And he is having sex with her!!"
"15 south, radio." I called dispatch and radioed for my partner for back up.
It appeared to me as if I was watching an actual case of necrophilia, compounded by all the burning candles as sort of a shrine. (Necrophilla is having sex with a dead person.)
As I observed the perp, he then laid next to the body and began rubbing her body through the covers. She never moved or showed any signs of response.
When my partner arrived I said
" Brother man, this clown has a dead body in there, and he's having sex with it!)
Watching Phill's eyes go wide, he said,
"Are you shitting me! Judus Priest! You white people will f%!* anything!"
Being sure I was witnessing a case of necrophilia, this gave us probable cause. Upon my partners return, we agreed it needed checking. I knocked on the door and the man asked,
"Who is it?"
"POLICE!"
The perp killed the light and we could hear rummaging around in the room! Through the partially closed blinds I could see him moving the body from the bed out of my sight.
We banged louder and ordered him to open the door. Just as I was getting ready to kick the door, it opened and we pushed in.
"Where is she!?" i shouted at the perp. As Phill handcuffed the perp. Phill didn't have to search him much, since all he had on was his jockey under ware.
"Who?" he replied, " I don't know what you're talking about!"
"The dead woman. Where is she?"
He didn't say a word, just looked down at his feet. We didn't see a body, but this was a motel room, so he couldn't have hid the body that quickly.
I went to the bathroom, but nothing. The shower curtain was closed and I was sure she had to be in there. Pulling back the curtain, nothing! As I turned back into the hall I saw a large pile of clothes that might conceal a body. Fearing the worst I pulled some clothes aside and there she was with a big gash in her side!
"I found her!" I shouted to Phill, "come here and see."
"What the f!*%# !" Phill said in frustration. That's a G__ Damn inflatable doll! The guy is doing plastic?"
Apparently the perp had panicked when we knocked, couldn't get the air out quick enough so he "killed" her, hiding her body. Over years and I still laugh about that.
********
(C) James J Alonzo
In my patrol area with the Sheriffs office, there had been a rape in North Collins, NY, that happen at an apartment complex. The victim was a young mother and she was attacked during the day while her children were in school.
I came on shift in the afternoon that day, and based on her description our department later caught the rape suspect several hours after the rape occurred. We went by to transport the victim for an ID lineup, but she had two children and couldn't leave for fear of what had happen, and She had a babysitter, but was afraid that there might be retaliation. Apparently the man that raped her was a well like personality.
Since we were one officer patrol cars, I volunteered to watch her place, the babysitter, and the kids while my partner Phill Taylor transported the victim to the station.
As i sat in the patrol car I scanned all the apartments besides the victim's, and I had no trouble looking in the apartment's large first floor windows. Across the street was a Motel, also with large front windows.
Looking in one motel window I was drawn to flickering candles, and low light. Taking my binoculars out of my glove compartment, I tried to focus a better view. Through some mini blinds I could see a man caressing a naked lady on a king size bed. The view was hazy but clear enough to see what was taking place.
As I watched as he climbed on top and began making love to her, she didn't move, as though she was unconscious! When it looked like he was finished he got up, covering the lady. He covered the body completely, head to toe, tucking the covers under like he was wrapping a dead body!
( I said to myself,"good grief! This clown has a dead woman! And he is having sex with her!!"
"15 south, radio." I called dispatch and radioed for my partner for back up.
It appeared to me as if I was watching an actual case of necrophilia, compounded by all the burning candles as sort of a shrine. (Necrophilla is having sex with a dead person.)
As I observed the perp, he then laid next to the body and began rubbing her body through the covers. She never moved or showed any signs of response.
When my partner arrived I said
" Brother man, this clown has a dead body in there, and he's having sex with it!)
Watching Phill's eyes go wide, he said,
"Are you shitting me! Judus Priest! You white people will f%!* anything!"
Being sure I was witnessing a case of necrophilia, this gave us probable cause. Upon my partners return, we agreed it needed checking. I knocked on the door and the man asked,
"Who is it?"
"POLICE!"
The perp killed the light and we could hear rummaging around in the room! Through the partially closed blinds I could see him moving the body from the bed out of my sight.
We banged louder and ordered him to open the door. Just as I was getting ready to kick the door, it opened and we pushed in.
"Where is she!?" i shouted at the perp. As Phill handcuffed the perp. Phill didn't have to search him much, since all he had on was his jockey under ware.
"Who?" he replied, " I don't know what you're talking about!"
"The dead woman. Where is she?"
He didn't say a word, just looked down at his feet. We didn't see a body, but this was a motel room, so he couldn't have hid the body that quickly.
I went to the bathroom, but nothing. The shower curtain was closed and I was sure she had to be in there. Pulling back the curtain, nothing! As I turned back into the hall I saw a large pile of clothes that might conceal a body. Fearing the worst I pulled some clothes aside and there she was with a big gash in her side!
"I found her!" I shouted to Phill, "come here and see."
"What the f!*%# !" Phill said in frustration. That's a G__ Damn inflatable doll! The guy is doing plastic?"
Apparently the perp had panicked when we knocked, couldn't get the air out quick enough so he "killed" her, hiding her body. Over years and I still laugh about that.
********
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Man Arrested For Being Stupid
Man Arrested For Being Stupid
(C) James J Alonzo
When I was a member of the Erie County Sheriffs Dept, Reserve Division, there were times that my friend Jack, an Evans, NY police officer, would allow me to ride with him when he was on single police officer patrol at the mid night shift on weekends. This was a busy time, since this shift usually covered the weekend drinkers and drivers, bar fights, etc. My status a a New York peace officer allowed me legally to assist him.
One warm summer evening Jack and I went to Angola village to serve an burglary arrest warrant. We arrived at a small dumpy house. When we went up to the entrance the door was open and we observed three subjects asleep in the front room. We announced ourselves,
"Police Officers where is Tom Kelleher?"
I wasn't surprised that there was no response, common tactic by the criminal element. One man was lying on the couch near the entrance and he would not respond, so Jack hit him on the bottom of his foot with a night stick! He woke up screaming,
"What the hell's going on!"
"Hey sleeping beauty," Jack said, "where's Kelleher?"
He stated, "I don't know man! Why the f%#! did you hit me? "
"Shut up stupid!" Jack ordered, "you want to act stupid, you get smacked, so shut up!"
The other two men in room were either still asleep, or also faking. I heard some snoring coming from a loft like area above the room. I climbed a makeshift ladder to get to the loft shined my Kel - light, seeing a body that the snores were emiting from, I poked and told the snorer,
"Hey asshole wake up, where's Kelleher?"
To my surprise, a naked woman sat up from her sleep She loudly said,
"F%#!k him! Come to bed honey. I'll give you a good time!"
I quickly came down the ladder looked at Jack laughing at me.
"Shut up!" I said to Jack.
Meanwhile one of the other men finally awakened. It was the overly friendly lady's husband, and our perp Tom Kelleher.
He jumped up and shouted,
"Hey what are you doing? What are you doing up there with my wife.?!"
"Yeah punk," Jack said to the Kelleher, "You better watch him with your wife! That officer may marry your wife!"
"What! You can't do that! We're already married! kelleher shouted at me as Jack handcuffed him. " why are you arresting me?"
"What? You didn't know?" Jack said taking him out of the house to the patrol vehicle.
"Know what?" Kelleher asked as Jack placed him in the patrol car.
"Your being arrested for being stupid! It's a new law."
"I never heard that law?"
The next day in court, on arraignment, the perp Kelleher, got into an argument with the judge about the new charge. Kelleher told the clueless judge that he didn't think it was right that he was arrested for being stupid, beside the burglary charge.
***********
(C) James J Alonzo
When I was a member of the Erie County Sheriffs Dept, Reserve Division, there were times that my friend Jack, an Evans, NY police officer, would allow me to ride with him when he was on single police officer patrol at the mid night shift on weekends. This was a busy time, since this shift usually covered the weekend drinkers and drivers, bar fights, etc. My status a a New York peace officer allowed me legally to assist him.
One warm summer evening Jack and I went to Angola village to serve an burglary arrest warrant. We arrived at a small dumpy house. When we went up to the entrance the door was open and we observed three subjects asleep in the front room. We announced ourselves,
"Police Officers where is Tom Kelleher?"
I wasn't surprised that there was no response, common tactic by the criminal element. One man was lying on the couch near the entrance and he would not respond, so Jack hit him on the bottom of his foot with a night stick! He woke up screaming,
"What the hell's going on!"
"Hey sleeping beauty," Jack said, "where's Kelleher?"
He stated, "I don't know man! Why the f%#! did you hit me? "
"Shut up stupid!" Jack ordered, "you want to act stupid, you get smacked, so shut up!"
The other two men in room were either still asleep, or also faking. I heard some snoring coming from a loft like area above the room. I climbed a makeshift ladder to get to the loft shined my Kel - light, seeing a body that the snores were emiting from, I poked and told the snorer,
"Hey asshole wake up, where's Kelleher?"
To my surprise, a naked woman sat up from her sleep She loudly said,
"F%#!k him! Come to bed honey. I'll give you a good time!"
I quickly came down the ladder looked at Jack laughing at me.
"Shut up!" I said to Jack.
Meanwhile one of the other men finally awakened. It was the overly friendly lady's husband, and our perp Tom Kelleher.
He jumped up and shouted,
"Hey what are you doing? What are you doing up there with my wife.?!"
"Yeah punk," Jack said to the Kelleher, "You better watch him with your wife! That officer may marry your wife!"
"What! You can't do that! We're already married! kelleher shouted at me as Jack handcuffed him. " why are you arresting me?"
"What? You didn't know?" Jack said taking him out of the house to the patrol vehicle.
"Know what?" Kelleher asked as Jack placed him in the patrol car.
"Your being arrested for being stupid! It's a new law."
"I never heard that law?"
The next day in court, on arraignment, the perp Kelleher, got into an argument with the judge about the new charge. Kelleher told the clueless judge that he didn't think it was right that he was arrested for being stupid, beside the burglary charge.
***********
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Mr. Whiskey VN
Mr. Whiskey VN
(C) James J Alonzo
Today, Our point man was a skinny, wiry individual from some hill top in Tennessee named Jimmy Davis, he was one of the best trained and toughest soldiers that I ever had the pleasure to serve with.
However he had one strange behavior, he had an imaginary friend named "Mr. Whiskey". He would talk to Mr. Whiskey, talk through Mr Whiskey, and tell you what he said. If I asked him if he spotted the enemy, he would respond,
" No sarge I didn't but Mr Whiskeys says to tell you he did and it was about 10 viet cong."
One time, we were at a bar, Jimmy Davis would order two drinks, one for himself, and one for Mr Whiskey. Then he would sit there and chat with Mr Whiskey. Jimmy would drink his drink, then say aloud to his friend,
"You want me to drink your drink? Okay."
Then when the drinks were gone, Jimmy ordered two more drinks. I was told that he did this when he went to a brothel, ordering two ladies, one for Mr Whiskey and one for him. No body dared question him on this too deeply in fear Jimmy might snap.
Most of the guys stay away from him socially, but in combat they like him to be near, Mr Whiskey or not. I, as his squad leader I was used to Jimmy and recognized his ability so I ignored his friend.
This morning we are moving slowly in a single column through a growth of elephant grass that is knee to chest high. jimmy Davis moved slowly for a few meters, stopped, squatted down, scans everything ahead, looks back at me, gives a "thumbs up" and moves again. We all hold our breath each time he does this.
I follow approximately forty meters behind Jimmy with the rest of the platoon behind me. This area known as the 'iron triangle' has been a hotbed of enemy movement and we are ever aware of their possible ambushes. Also, our nerves are on edge, as we have had numerous scares over the past few days from encountering wild boars, deer, snakes and even a tiger that had walked down a road just 100 meters from one of our ambushes. The difference here is that crying out in surprise can cost you your life.
Suddenly Jimmy freezes - I hand signal a freeze to the rest of the unit and they automatically disappear down into the grass into prone defensive positions. I am now ready to fire my M-16 to cover our point man. Eerily, he starts walking backwards toward me, not moving his gaze off of his immediate front.
As he gets to me, I ask him in a whisper,
"What is it"?
Jimmy answers in a loud shaken voice,
"Mr Whiskey says there is a snake, big snake!"
Since he is obviously unnerved by this situation, I said,
"Go back to the squad, I'll check it out."
Having dealt with human snakes most of my life while growing up in the ghetto of Buffalo, NY. I felt this was nothing I couldn't handle and moved slowly forward checking out the grass ahead of me. Meanwhile Hearing Jimmy Davis behind me, saving,
"I glad you are going to check it out, but Mr. Whiskey says to tell you, your f%#*Ed!"
When I have moved about forty meters, the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up as a hooded cobra rises angrily out of the grass 8 feet in front of me. With a sound like a high-pressure air hose leaking and its head at the top of the two-foot high grass, the cobra quickly let me know that I am on his turf. To shoot the snake would give our position away.
The rattlesnakes and copperheads back in The woods of upstate New York, have not quite prepared me for this fearsome display, so I retreated. Moments later I have a quick conference with the platoon Sergeant and we decide to move out in a different direction, giving the cobra a very wide berth.
*********
Another time on patrol, we were going into a hamlet. It was a search and destroy mission, so the plan was enter the hamlet, from different directions, round up the citizens. Meanwhile looking for VC soldiers, weapons, and large amounts of supplies, and destroy them.
As we approached the hamlet on the north side, we drew fire from a hidden machine gun position. Jimmy Davis was at point and immediately charge the position firing his M-16. meanwhile other laid down cover fire for Jimmy.
As Jimmy worked his way closer, he threw a hand grenade into the position killing two Viet Cong. After we finished securing the rest of the hamlet, Lt Best approached me,
"Who was that that charged the machine gun position?"
"It was Jimmy Davis sir," I responded,
"I am recommending Davis for a Bronze Star. Do you want to tell him?"
"No sir," I replied, "It would be better if it came from you sir."
"Well call him over." Lt Best ordered.
I went and found Davis and told him that Lt Best wanted to see him, and Davis followed me back to the Lieutenant But I could hear Davis talking to his friend Mr. Whiskey,
"How do I know what the lieutenant wants!"
"What? I know you don't like The sarge but he says the Lieutenant wants to see us, we go."
With a shake of my head, I chose to ignore those comments, as I always have. When we got to Lt Best, I stated,
"Alonzo and Davis reporting as ordered."
"Yes, Davis," said Lt best, "nice work on that machine gun emplacement. I am putting you in for a Bronze Star."
"You putting me in for a medal? What about Mr. Whiskey?
The Lieutenant not knowing who Davis was talking about chose to ignore Davis's question and said,
"No, just you."
"Well sir, I don't want it sir." replied Davis
"What do you mean you don't want it?", shouted Lt Best.
"Sir, he helped me, if you are not going to recommend Mr. Whiskey for the medal, I don't want one!"
Knowing that the Lieutenant had no clue who Mr. Whiskey was, I said,
"Ah sir," I said, "May I have a word with you privately?"
I took Lt Best aside and explained who Mr Whiskey was. I expected that he would understand, but Lt Best flipped out!
" Are you saying this Davis is nuts?"
"No sir, he just has a friend that helps him cope. Davis is a good soldier."
Lt Best started to walk a way, stopped, turned back to me and shouted,
"I'm not doing it! I'll put him in for the Bronze, but not HIS f%!?*ing friend. This guy is dangerous, he is a section 8. (crazy) Do you understand!?"
"Yes sir!" I said and walked away.
Months later our troop was called into formation for a medal ceremony. Commanding officer-Captain Chole and Lt Best called Jimmy Davis to front and center, reading from a citation they present the medal and attempted to pin it on Davis. Putting his hand up to block it, he said something to the two officers, saluted, did an about face, and walked away. Both officers stood there with their mouths open. Meanwhile the first sergeant having heard Davis refusal, unless they gave Mr. Whiskey a a medal, called the troop to attention and dismiss us.
********
(C) James J Alonzo
Today, Our point man was a skinny, wiry individual from some hill top in Tennessee named Jimmy Davis, he was one of the best trained and toughest soldiers that I ever had the pleasure to serve with.
However he had one strange behavior, he had an imaginary friend named "Mr. Whiskey". He would talk to Mr. Whiskey, talk through Mr Whiskey, and tell you what he said. If I asked him if he spotted the enemy, he would respond,
" No sarge I didn't but Mr Whiskeys says to tell you he did and it was about 10 viet cong."
One time, we were at a bar, Jimmy Davis would order two drinks, one for himself, and one for Mr Whiskey. Then he would sit there and chat with Mr Whiskey. Jimmy would drink his drink, then say aloud to his friend,
"You want me to drink your drink? Okay."
Then when the drinks were gone, Jimmy ordered two more drinks. I was told that he did this when he went to a brothel, ordering two ladies, one for Mr Whiskey and one for him. No body dared question him on this too deeply in fear Jimmy might snap.
Most of the guys stay away from him socially, but in combat they like him to be near, Mr Whiskey or not. I, as his squad leader I was used to Jimmy and recognized his ability so I ignored his friend.
This morning we are moving slowly in a single column through a growth of elephant grass that is knee to chest high. jimmy Davis moved slowly for a few meters, stopped, squatted down, scans everything ahead, looks back at me, gives a "thumbs up" and moves again. We all hold our breath each time he does this.
I follow approximately forty meters behind Jimmy with the rest of the platoon behind me. This area known as the 'iron triangle' has been a hotbed of enemy movement and we are ever aware of their possible ambushes. Also, our nerves are on edge, as we have had numerous scares over the past few days from encountering wild boars, deer, snakes and even a tiger that had walked down a road just 100 meters from one of our ambushes. The difference here is that crying out in surprise can cost you your life.
Suddenly Jimmy freezes - I hand signal a freeze to the rest of the unit and they automatically disappear down into the grass into prone defensive positions. I am now ready to fire my M-16 to cover our point man. Eerily, he starts walking backwards toward me, not moving his gaze off of his immediate front.
As he gets to me, I ask him in a whisper,
"What is it"?
Jimmy answers in a loud shaken voice,
"Mr Whiskey says there is a snake, big snake!"
Since he is obviously unnerved by this situation, I said,
"Go back to the squad, I'll check it out."
Having dealt with human snakes most of my life while growing up in the ghetto of Buffalo, NY. I felt this was nothing I couldn't handle and moved slowly forward checking out the grass ahead of me. Meanwhile Hearing Jimmy Davis behind me, saving,
"I glad you are going to check it out, but Mr. Whiskey says to tell you, your f%#*Ed!"
When I have moved about forty meters, the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up as a hooded cobra rises angrily out of the grass 8 feet in front of me. With a sound like a high-pressure air hose leaking and its head at the top of the two-foot high grass, the cobra quickly let me know that I am on his turf. To shoot the snake would give our position away.
The rattlesnakes and copperheads back in The woods of upstate New York, have not quite prepared me for this fearsome display, so I retreated. Moments later I have a quick conference with the platoon Sergeant and we decide to move out in a different direction, giving the cobra a very wide berth.
*********
Another time on patrol, we were going into a hamlet. It was a search and destroy mission, so the plan was enter the hamlet, from different directions, round up the citizens. Meanwhile looking for VC soldiers, weapons, and large amounts of supplies, and destroy them.
As we approached the hamlet on the north side, we drew fire from a hidden machine gun position. Jimmy Davis was at point and immediately charge the position firing his M-16. meanwhile other laid down cover fire for Jimmy.
As Jimmy worked his way closer, he threw a hand grenade into the position killing two Viet Cong. After we finished securing the rest of the hamlet, Lt Best approached me,
"Who was that that charged the machine gun position?"
"It was Jimmy Davis sir," I responded,
"I am recommending Davis for a Bronze Star. Do you want to tell him?"
"No sir," I replied, "It would be better if it came from you sir."
"Well call him over." Lt Best ordered.
I went and found Davis and told him that Lt Best wanted to see him, and Davis followed me back to the Lieutenant But I could hear Davis talking to his friend Mr. Whiskey,
"How do I know what the lieutenant wants!"
"What? I know you don't like The sarge but he says the Lieutenant wants to see us, we go."
With a shake of my head, I chose to ignore those comments, as I always have. When we got to Lt Best, I stated,
"Alonzo and Davis reporting as ordered."
"Yes, Davis," said Lt best, "nice work on that machine gun emplacement. I am putting you in for a Bronze Star."
"You putting me in for a medal? What about Mr. Whiskey?
The Lieutenant not knowing who Davis was talking about chose to ignore Davis's question and said,
"No, just you."
"Well sir, I don't want it sir." replied Davis
"What do you mean you don't want it?", shouted Lt Best.
"Sir, he helped me, if you are not going to recommend Mr. Whiskey for the medal, I don't want one!"
Knowing that the Lieutenant had no clue who Mr. Whiskey was, I said,
"Ah sir," I said, "May I have a word with you privately?"
I took Lt Best aside and explained who Mr Whiskey was. I expected that he would understand, but Lt Best flipped out!
" Are you saying this Davis is nuts?"
"No sir, he just has a friend that helps him cope. Davis is a good soldier."
Lt Best started to walk a way, stopped, turned back to me and shouted,
"I'm not doing it! I'll put him in for the Bronze, but not HIS f%!?*ing friend. This guy is dangerous, he is a section 8. (crazy) Do you understand!?"
"Yes sir!" I said and walked away.
Months later our troop was called into formation for a medal ceremony. Commanding officer-Captain Chole and Lt Best called Jimmy Davis to front and center, reading from a citation they present the medal and attempted to pin it on Davis. Putting his hand up to block it, he said something to the two officers, saluted, did an about face, and walked away. Both officers stood there with their mouths open. Meanwhile the first sergeant having heard Davis refusal, unless they gave Mr. Whiskey a a medal, called the troop to attention and dismiss us.
********
The Cruelty of War
The Cruelty Of War
(C) James J Alonzo
(This is a sad and cruel story that happened in Viet Nam. If you can't handled printed cruelty don't read this. If you can't handle young men in the range of 19 years old, dying and others seeking revenge on anything they can, don't read this.)
While on a long range patrol through the Iron Triangle, we had crossed a tributary of the Mekong river and marched west into the mountains. On the third day, we got to relaxed, and careless, one of my men Dennis Turton, stepped on a 'bouncing betty' mine.
(This was a name given to a particular type of mine. The mine is a small cylindrical device that was buried in the ground, with a set of wires sticking up. When the wires were tripped, the mine exploded and shot up a charge about 4 feet into the air that exploded. The charge was not very large and contained small steel balls or metal that would inflict injuries to soldiers. Since it jumped up into the air, this allowed the secondary explosion to cause more damage.)
"Boom!!"
One minute he was laughing, and then he was dead, completely cut in half! We bag Dennis Turton, the jungle was thick, so it it took nearly an hour to get to an LZ and called in a dust off.
After Dennis Turton's body was choppered out, we resumed our patrol. My men were pissed and stated so in so many ways, with threats, and profanity. Their anger was soon becoming dangerous and I had to kick a couple of the men to shut up.
"What the fuck is wrong with you assholes! Shut the fuck up, or you will wind up dead like Dennis!"
Robert Feeney shouted back,
"Hey fuck you, Dennis was my buddy, and we have a right to be pissed!"
"Be pissed, just shut the fuck up!" I replied. "We got careless!"
Later, higher in the mountains, we came across a water buffalo calf. What it was doing there I don't know, no mother water Buffalo, but we chased it down and, got a rope around it and led it along to a deserted village where we set up for the night. Meanwhile I went with J J to patrol the rest of the village.
After supper Robert Feeney went over and stroked its nose. He opened up a can of C rations, pork and beans, but the buffalo calf wasn't interested.
"Eat it! " Feeney demanded.
But the young water Buffalo ignored Feeney's attempt to feed it. Feeney shrugged, stepped back and shot the calf through the right front knee! The animal did not make a sound. It went down hard, then got up again, and Feeney took careful aim and shot off an ear.
The other men were laughing and encouraged Feeney. Meanwhile, J J and I heard the sporadic shots, so we started heading over to where the men were camped out.
"Fuck, now what?" I asked J J.
"These fucking idiots are pissed over Turton getting wasted." replied J J.
Meanwhile Robert Feeney shot the calf in the hindquarters and in then in the little hump at its back. He shot it twice in the flanks. This sadistic bastard's intention wasn't to kill, it was to hurt. He put the rifle muzzle up against the mouth and shot the mouth away.
Nobody said much. The whole platoon stood there watching, feeling all kinds of things, but there wasn't a great deal of pity for the baby water buffalo. Dennis Turton was dead. Feeney had lost his best friend in the world.
Later in the week Feeney would write a long personal letter to the Turton's sister, who would not write back, but for now, it was simply a question of pain. Feeney's pain, the calf's pain, and Feeney's sick sense of revenge.
He shot off the tail. He shot away -chunks of meat below the ribs. All around us there was the smell of smoke and filth and greenery, and the evening was humid and very hot. Feeney went to automatic. He shot randomly, almost casually, quick little spurts in the belly. Then he reloaded, squatted down, and shot it in the left front knee. Again the animal fell hard and tried to get up, but this time it couldn't quite make it. It wobbled and went down sideways. Feeney shot it in the nose. He bent forward and whispered something, as if talking to a pet, then he shot it in the throat. All the while the water buffalo calf was silent, or almost silent, just a little bubbling sound where the nose had been. It lay very still. Nothing moved except the eyes, which were enormous, the pupils shiny black and dumb.
When i arrived i walked up with my 45 pistol and shot the animal in it forehead to put the calf out of it's misery.
"You sorry son of bitch!" I spat out as I pistol whip Feeney, who was crying. Getting up on his feet, he tried to say something, but then instead picked up his weapon, cradled his rifle and went off by himself.
The rest of men stood in a circle around the buffalo calf. For a long time no one spoke. They had witnessed some- thing surreal, something brand-new and profound, a piece of the world so startling there was not yet a word for it.
Somebody kicked the baby buffalo. It was still dead though.
"Amazing," J J said. "My whole life, I never seen anything like it." as we walked away from these sorry assholes.
Some of the men dragged the buffalo calf across the open square, hoisted it up, and dumped it in the village well.
Afterward, they sat waiting for Feeney to get himself together.
"Amazing," J J kept saying. "This is a fucked up war, I never seen anything like this before."
"Well, that's Nam,' I said. "Garden of Evil. Over here, man, every sin's real fresh and original."
*******************
(C) James J Alonzo
(This is a sad and cruel story that happened in Viet Nam. If you can't handled printed cruelty don't read this. If you can't handle young men in the range of 19 years old, dying and others seeking revenge on anything they can, don't read this.)
While on a long range patrol through the Iron Triangle, we had crossed a tributary of the Mekong river and marched west into the mountains. On the third day, we got to relaxed, and careless, one of my men Dennis Turton, stepped on a 'bouncing betty' mine.
(This was a name given to a particular type of mine. The mine is a small cylindrical device that was buried in the ground, with a set of wires sticking up. When the wires were tripped, the mine exploded and shot up a charge about 4 feet into the air that exploded. The charge was not very large and contained small steel balls or metal that would inflict injuries to soldiers. Since it jumped up into the air, this allowed the secondary explosion to cause more damage.)
"Boom!!"
One minute he was laughing, and then he was dead, completely cut in half! We bag Dennis Turton, the jungle was thick, so it it took nearly an hour to get to an LZ and called in a dust off.
After Dennis Turton's body was choppered out, we resumed our patrol. My men were pissed and stated so in so many ways, with threats, and profanity. Their anger was soon becoming dangerous and I had to kick a couple of the men to shut up.
"What the fuck is wrong with you assholes! Shut the fuck up, or you will wind up dead like Dennis!"
Robert Feeney shouted back,
"Hey fuck you, Dennis was my buddy, and we have a right to be pissed!"
"Be pissed, just shut the fuck up!" I replied. "We got careless!"
Later, higher in the mountains, we came across a water buffalo calf. What it was doing there I don't know, no mother water Buffalo, but we chased it down and, got a rope around it and led it along to a deserted village where we set up for the night. Meanwhile I went with J J to patrol the rest of the village.
After supper Robert Feeney went over and stroked its nose. He opened up a can of C rations, pork and beans, but the buffalo calf wasn't interested.
"Eat it! " Feeney demanded.
But the young water Buffalo ignored Feeney's attempt to feed it. Feeney shrugged, stepped back and shot the calf through the right front knee! The animal did not make a sound. It went down hard, then got up again, and Feeney took careful aim and shot off an ear.
The other men were laughing and encouraged Feeney. Meanwhile, J J and I heard the sporadic shots, so we started heading over to where the men were camped out.
"Fuck, now what?" I asked J J.
"These fucking idiots are pissed over Turton getting wasted." replied J J.
Meanwhile Robert Feeney shot the calf in the hindquarters and in then in the little hump at its back. He shot it twice in the flanks. This sadistic bastard's intention wasn't to kill, it was to hurt. He put the rifle muzzle up against the mouth and shot the mouth away.
Nobody said much. The whole platoon stood there watching, feeling all kinds of things, but there wasn't a great deal of pity for the baby water buffalo. Dennis Turton was dead. Feeney had lost his best friend in the world.
Later in the week Feeney would write a long personal letter to the Turton's sister, who would not write back, but for now, it was simply a question of pain. Feeney's pain, the calf's pain, and Feeney's sick sense of revenge.
He shot off the tail. He shot away -chunks of meat below the ribs. All around us there was the smell of smoke and filth and greenery, and the evening was humid and very hot. Feeney went to automatic. He shot randomly, almost casually, quick little spurts in the belly. Then he reloaded, squatted down, and shot it in the left front knee. Again the animal fell hard and tried to get up, but this time it couldn't quite make it. It wobbled and went down sideways. Feeney shot it in the nose. He bent forward and whispered something, as if talking to a pet, then he shot it in the throat. All the while the water buffalo calf was silent, or almost silent, just a little bubbling sound where the nose had been. It lay very still. Nothing moved except the eyes, which were enormous, the pupils shiny black and dumb.
When i arrived i walked up with my 45 pistol and shot the animal in it forehead to put the calf out of it's misery.
"You sorry son of bitch!" I spat out as I pistol whip Feeney, who was crying. Getting up on his feet, he tried to say something, but then instead picked up his weapon, cradled his rifle and went off by himself.
The rest of men stood in a circle around the buffalo calf. For a long time no one spoke. They had witnessed some- thing surreal, something brand-new and profound, a piece of the world so startling there was not yet a word for it.
Somebody kicked the baby buffalo. It was still dead though.
"Amazing," J J said. "My whole life, I never seen anything like it." as we walked away from these sorry assholes.
Some of the men dragged the buffalo calf across the open square, hoisted it up, and dumped it in the village well.
Afterward, they sat waiting for Feeney to get himself together.
"Amazing," J J kept saying. "This is a fucked up war, I never seen anything like this before."
"Well, that's Nam,' I said. "Garden of Evil. Over here, man, every sin's real fresh and original."
*******************
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Saving Sarah
Saving Sarah
(C) James J Alonzo
Jack rubbed his eyes which stung from prolonged exposure to heat and smoke. His face was black and gray with soot and sweat and blood, which had formed deep lines into his furrowed brow, a running down his grey police uniform. His exposed forearms had first and second degree burns.
Jack shook his head trying to get some of the debris and dust from the fire out of his hair. As he sat at the side of his patrol vehicle, he slowly ran his fingers through his blonde hair, and noticed some of his hair was burned. He was weary, breathless, having difficulty to get air into his lungs. But happy because, although the fire department couldn't save the apartment building, he had at least saved little Sarah Smith.
Sarah was a small blond child who had lived in the Derby Apartments building. Before the fire had started she had been playing in the basement next to the common use laundry room. It was her secret place to have her dolls tea party, while her mother watched the television, eating chips and dip, not even noticing that Sarah was missing.
The fire was caused by unfortunate circumstances, as most fires are. The landlord's low priced plumber had come to fix a gas leak in the building the day before and hadn't been careful. Now a small amount of gas was leaking out into the sub-basement and building up where people were unlikely to notice it until it was a real problem.
But no one ever did notice it, as Ken Blachura wandered past the building, in his new Air Jordans and newly ironed shirt. He was on his way to a hot date and he flicked his cigarette to the side of the apartment complex. The cigarette had gone straight through an old ventilation point that had no cover and ended up with the gas. What happened next is history now.
Ken carried on to his date unaware that he had had anything to do with the large explosion and fire that followed on behind him.
Flames tore through the building and the smoke rose, but also lingered on a lower level where Sarah was hiding under a table with her dolls. She watched as her childrens tea set began to become stained with the blackening air and tried to wipe a cup with the bottom of her sweatshirt.
Sarah's mother was frantic and screaming by the time that Jack had arrived with police siren and lights. She had to be carried out of the place as she wailed about Sarah. Jack had bravely dashed into the blazing building fearlessly, after hearing about Sarah. He had reacted this way on many occasions before and each time, as his adrenalin pumped around his body, he had forgotten about his own safety and had achieved tunnel vision to accomplish his mission of helping others.
This time was no exception, although he didn't know where to start. The apartment where her mother had come out of was empty of people, but Jack re-checked anyway. The sitting room curtains were on fire and the heat burnt Jacks face as he struggled forward to check in cupboards and behind doors, under beds, common places for children to hide from fires.
Using his 6'2", 290 lb muscular frame, Jack would kick doors in, as he ran in and out of the apartments, calling her name and battling with the heat and smoke which made it hard to see.
Eventually he came to the basement laundry room which was already almost a burnt out shell. But Jack hadn't given up and had discovered a little side room where, miraculously, Sarah was still alive although she had passed out.
He had cradled her in his strong arms and fought his way to try and get out of the building. He had a close shave as a support beam had fallen onto him, striking his head and shoulder. But somehow he had lifted it right off of himself, checked Sarah and then he carried Sarah out of the building.
The scene that had greeted him outside was chaos as people rushed to and fro and ambulances screamed out their sirens to move site seeing crowds, so that they could get through. Jack had put Sarah in the arms of a para medic while other people who were waiting to be seen by the paramedics and had tugged on the para mecic's sleeve and demanded,
"Her first!"
He had then turned his back on all of the noise and sought somewhere where he could sit, and try to catch his breath. When he got to his patrol vehicle that was away from the action, he stood there, leaned his back against the side and collapsed to a sitting position, trying to breath and clear his lungs of the choking toxic smoke he had inhaled.
He glanced back at the building, black and crumbling on the skyline and suddenly realized that everyone else had disappeared. There was a smoky fog like mist, and there was now a calm quiet about the place. Nothing stirred, no breeze, no longer loud noise.
Jack then noticed clearly piercing the mist, a light spiraling down from the sky. What was this? An explosion of some sort, thought Jack in his confusion. Then out of the light stepped his deceased Grandfather, whom he hadn't seen since childhood, when they used to go fishing. He assured Jack that all was fine and gently smiled at him, taking his hand and leading him into the light.
(C) James J Alonzo
Jack rubbed his eyes which stung from prolonged exposure to heat and smoke. His face was black and gray with soot and sweat and blood, which had formed deep lines into his furrowed brow, a running down his grey police uniform. His exposed forearms had first and second degree burns.
Jack shook his head trying to get some of the debris and dust from the fire out of his hair. As he sat at the side of his patrol vehicle, he slowly ran his fingers through his blonde hair, and noticed some of his hair was burned. He was weary, breathless, having difficulty to get air into his lungs. But happy because, although the fire department couldn't save the apartment building, he had at least saved little Sarah Smith.
Sarah was a small blond child who had lived in the Derby Apartments building. Before the fire had started she had been playing in the basement next to the common use laundry room. It was her secret place to have her dolls tea party, while her mother watched the television, eating chips and dip, not even noticing that Sarah was missing.
The fire was caused by unfortunate circumstances, as most fires are. The landlord's low priced plumber had come to fix a gas leak in the building the day before and hadn't been careful. Now a small amount of gas was leaking out into the sub-basement and building up where people were unlikely to notice it until it was a real problem.
But no one ever did notice it, as Ken Blachura wandered past the building, in his new Air Jordans and newly ironed shirt. He was on his way to a hot date and he flicked his cigarette to the side of the apartment complex. The cigarette had gone straight through an old ventilation point that had no cover and ended up with the gas. What happened next is history now.
Ken carried on to his date unaware that he had had anything to do with the large explosion and fire that followed on behind him.
Flames tore through the building and the smoke rose, but also lingered on a lower level where Sarah was hiding under a table with her dolls. She watched as her childrens tea set began to become stained with the blackening air and tried to wipe a cup with the bottom of her sweatshirt.
Sarah's mother was frantic and screaming by the time that Jack had arrived with police siren and lights. She had to be carried out of the place as she wailed about Sarah. Jack had bravely dashed into the blazing building fearlessly, after hearing about Sarah. He had reacted this way on many occasions before and each time, as his adrenalin pumped around his body, he had forgotten about his own safety and had achieved tunnel vision to accomplish his mission of helping others.
This time was no exception, although he didn't know where to start. The apartment where her mother had come out of was empty of people, but Jack re-checked anyway. The sitting room curtains were on fire and the heat burnt Jacks face as he struggled forward to check in cupboards and behind doors, under beds, common places for children to hide from fires.
Using his 6'2", 290 lb muscular frame, Jack would kick doors in, as he ran in and out of the apartments, calling her name and battling with the heat and smoke which made it hard to see.
Eventually he came to the basement laundry room which was already almost a burnt out shell. But Jack hadn't given up and had discovered a little side room where, miraculously, Sarah was still alive although she had passed out.
He had cradled her in his strong arms and fought his way to try and get out of the building. He had a close shave as a support beam had fallen onto him, striking his head and shoulder. But somehow he had lifted it right off of himself, checked Sarah and then he carried Sarah out of the building.
The scene that had greeted him outside was chaos as people rushed to and fro and ambulances screamed out their sirens to move site seeing crowds, so that they could get through. Jack had put Sarah in the arms of a para medic while other people who were waiting to be seen by the paramedics and had tugged on the para mecic's sleeve and demanded,
"Her first!"
He had then turned his back on all of the noise and sought somewhere where he could sit, and try to catch his breath. When he got to his patrol vehicle that was away from the action, he stood there, leaned his back against the side and collapsed to a sitting position, trying to breath and clear his lungs of the choking toxic smoke he had inhaled.
He glanced back at the building, black and crumbling on the skyline and suddenly realized that everyone else had disappeared. There was a smoky fog like mist, and there was now a calm quiet about the place. Nothing stirred, no breeze, no longer loud noise.
Jack then noticed clearly piercing the mist, a light spiraling down from the sky. What was this? An explosion of some sort, thought Jack in his confusion. Then out of the light stepped his deceased Grandfather, whom he hadn't seen since childhood, when they used to go fishing. He assured Jack that all was fine and gently smiled at him, taking his hand and leading him into the light.
Frank Elmore's War VN
Frank Elmore's War VN
(C) James J Alonzo
It was June, 1967 the monsoon season in the Delta, which produced a hot, humid, rainy night in the rainforest of this particular place in Vietnam. Viet Nam would be the ideal gig for a lazy weatherman reporting the weather, since there were only two seasons in the delta, Monsoon and Dry, and the temperature today, the low is 98 degrees, with the high 100 degrees hot!!
Today's weather; hot, humid, and rain. Tomorrow's forecast, more rain, more humidity, and hot! This rain didn't slow the seemingly endless firefights Frank could see in the distance.
Frank was 19; drafted out of a Flint, Michigan. He just started employment at the local Pontiac manufacturing plant out of high school, where he was a star running back, with a GTO Pontiac convertible and lots of friends, most women.
Here, he was just another soldier who should have listened to his mom, gone to college and stayed far away from this God-forsaken country. The nearest beautiful and exotic girls were miles away in Saigon.
These were his thoughts as he stood his two hour guard at night watch. His platoon was asleep, while he stood there with rain dripping off his helmet, his thoughts were of home, parents, girlfriends, even his younger sister and brother. He thought about life, as he wiped the water off his M-16 for the twentieth time in almost as many minutes. His life, mostly: the past, present, and the future.
Was there going to be a future for him, he wondered? War seemed so senseless, however the rich and shameless and their cronies, old men in suits who were country leaders thought these wars up, and sent our nations youth. But not their sons and daughters to fight them.
Suddenly, something brought him back to the present, a noise, intuition maybe? He stood erect.
"Who goes there?" (nhung người đi đó?) he called out into the pitch black night.
He wasn't surprised there was no response, but Frank remained cautious, as he had his M-16 trained on the jungle. He gave the alert to his platoon, falling into a prone position, and opened fire on the bush.
Frank heard some (NVA) North Vietnamese soldiers fall out screaming, riddled with machine gun fire. Another VC jumped up and threw a grenade at Frank! The M-16 barked again and he joined the other NVA shot. The whole platoon was in position now and firing, for the enemy had a large force over there in the rain.
The grenade had landed between Frank and his sergeant. As Frank reached to get it, a bullet caught Sgt. Pavlovich in the chest. Frank threw the hand grenade back towards the bushes, but the shrapnel from it hit him in the left arm. Frank bleeding, still managed to field dress his sergeant's wound and carried him back behind the line of fire. The platoon was able to drive the enemy back into the jungle but the cost was high. There was blood everywhere. Bodies lay scattered, some still alive, some dead, some dismembered.
Dawn was breaking - the rescue choppers were landing in pairs with a third gunship spraying the jungle with gunfire to hold the enemy back. The paramedic who treated Sgt. Pavlovich credited Frank with saving Pavlovich's life. Frank was put on a stretcher also and sent to the Medivac hospital.
Upon arrival, the doctors thought at first, that he would lose his arm but the doctors managed to save it. However, as Frank convalesced he found out he would permanently have limited use of it. So he was sent home with a Purple Heart, and the Bronze Star Medal of Valor for saving his segeant's life.
He never heard from SGT Pavlovich and wish he could locate him to see how he has been. The soldiers who had died in this battle were sent home and given proper military funerals. Frank went to the funeral of one of his buddies from Detroit, Michigan, and as he stood there, listening to the playing of taps and then witnessed the twenty-one gun salute at the funeral's end, would also signaled that Frank's war was over.
***********************************************************
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Insertion Into A Hot Landing Zone VN
Insertion In a Hot Landing Zone VN
(C) James J Alonzo
The 2/17 Calvary Unit of the 101 rst Airborne Division, our squadron was to be inserted about ten klicks (kilometers) north of Tay Ninh near the Cambodian border, not far from the well known Ho Chi Minh trail. It was to be a dusk or early night insertion.
Days earlier, there was a bombing mission we called 'Rolling Thunder'. Rolling Thunder earned it name because the bombers dropped bombs from an altitude of 30,000, and most of the time one couldn't see the planes, just hear what sounded like rolling thunder. These are B-52 bombers, huge Strato-fortresses, with huge payloads of bombs used in mass or carpet bombing. They had bombed the area of operations, the VC used to transport ammunition and supplies to their forward troops and the Viet Cong guerillas.
A, B, HQ troops were being inserted by C Troop, which was the aviation helicopter unit, that had both Huey choppers, and a few Chinooks. We were also accompanied by Huey gun ships, which are heavily armed with rockets and mini machine guns.
Being a squad leader, the chopper crew chief, with radio headphone, and helmet, leaned over and shouted in my ear,
"The fucking LZ is hot!""
I signaled that I understood by giving a thumbs up. I looked over at my buddy, J J Jackson who was also our squad M-60 machine gunner, and could see his look of curiosity,'what's up?' I shook my head, and signaled the LZ was hot! That meant that we would be drawing enemy small arms fire immediately upon the enemy seeing us landing.
As I sat in the chopper that was taking us to our drop zone, besides the fear, I could feel the soothing vibration the helicopter jet motor, and of the wind turbulence as the echos of the blades hammered the dense humidified air.
All the members of the chopper crew were radio equipped. Now hearing about the hot LZ, the Huey chopper's left door gunner, named Domenic, motioned us to stay well behind him as he maneuvered the gun from side to side to check his firing radius.
Though the LZ is miles away it would take the chopper less than fifteen minutes of air time to reach the LZ, and Domenic wanted to be ready. For a hot LZ was the most dangerous to the choppers and the crew, since they were the biggest target.
My squad members were checking their weapons and ammo one last time when we saw tracers coming from the jungle below. You could hear the sound of bullet impacts and penetration against the Huey's fiber glass skin. It was shear terror being shot at while in the air, no where to hide! The chopper took evasive maneuver, whale the door gunners laid grazing fire to keep the enemy down! The gun ships followed riddling the LZ with massive amounts of rocket and bullet fire!
Lucky for us it was AK-47 rifle fire and we were quickly out of range from the bullets that riddled the Huey. Being dropped in to a hot LZ at dark is even more frightening. Weapons fire comes from all directions and it causes much confusion. It is only when your feet hit the ground that you realize what hell must be like and it is thrust on you from the start.
These missions are planned by mental midgets! The planners for this insertion decided they wanted a good size LZ, so these geniuses decided to make it larger. The planners ordered the LZ to be enlarged and cleared by a 750 lb. Bomb called a 'daisy cutter' days before the mission.
So it was no surprise that the communists were waiting for us. As we came down in the landing zone there was very little in protection from ground fire coming from the jungles covered edges. Domenic as he was firing grazing fire (suppression) while we landed, was hit and killed before we could get out the Huey! The crew chief jumped in on the with the dead Domenic at his feet and shouted,
"Get the fuck out!" and continued laying grazing fire at the jungle tree line!
As each chopper landed the soldiers bailed out with their equipment. As our chopper skids touched down, we bailed out into the mud dragging the ammo boxes that would be needed to hold the position.
Other soldiers fanned out setting up a parameter and grazing fire, to cover us from enemy fire while we raced to the nearest cover. Green Tracer bullets could be seen coming from the jungle and we had a good idea where the enemy was. Tracer bullets can give your position away and we were going to use it to our benefit. Luckily we had set up in a 1,000 bomb blast hole that provided us with adequate cover and we started radioing to get fire support.
Under the cover of night, rolling around in the mud, you could hear the enemy screams and explosions as the artillery and gun ship fire took some of the life of the enemy. We had dropped right in to the middle of a battalion size unit of VC. They were coming from the bombed trail routes in the mountains.
Someone shouted out, above the heavy gun fire, to the platoon Sargent,
" We should have brought more ammo!"
"It won't matter," replied the platoon Sargent Scott, "we're outnumbered!"
I laid back against the mud wall of the blast hole and tried to take a deep breath. I had found it difficult to catch my breath with all the chaos going on around us.
('Come on Alonzo, concentrate our lives depend on our ability to hold this piece of shit hell hole!')
Our soldiers were fanned out in all directions, some had patrolled out to set claymore (anti personell) mines on our weak sides to shield us from the Viet Cong trying to flank our position.
(Claymores are chaos when they are set off. The explosions are similar to a small bomb going off sending out hundreds of ball bearings in a fanned out direction. If there are survivors you will know it because of their screams, and because they are usually maimed beyond repair. I still wake up at night from nightmares of the gore I witnessed.)
The VC mortar fire was sporadic and hit all around us during the night. Mud clods fell from the sky down on to us from the blast but luckily we escaped injury. Some of the others were not as lucky. We lost two guys to enemy mortar fire that night.
J J had taken a piece of shrapnel through his meaty part of his shoulder, trying to retrieve Frank Malloy. It wasn't too hard to lift Frank because he had his legs blown off. However Frank died shortly after J J made it back in to the hole with him. I bandaged J J's flesh wound, smiling at him, I asked,
"You trying to get a Purple Heart with this self inflicted wound?"
"I already have a self inflicted wound," J J laughed, "It's on my ass from hanging with you."
The RTO (radio operator) had called in fire missions for artillery support all during the night. You could hear the rounds whistling over head as they hit their mark. There was one M-60, 7.65 cal machine gun placement about a hundred yards to our forward position had held the enemy off for the rest of the night. J J took position with his M-60 facing the rear.
At base camp before we were lifted to this LZ, we had been ordered to take the tracer rounds out of the M-60 machine feed belts. The Viet Cong could still see the muzzle flash in the distance but it was harder for the VC to pin point from the jungle.
By the time day light was breaking it was all quiet, and the rust smell of blood, the smell of cordite smoke and death all around us I crawled to the top of the hole to pear out. The surroundings littered with dead VC and half destroyed trees.
A few of the guys were standing around in the blast holes pointing to different directions of the most heaviest fire that happened that night. No shots were fired any more that day and the dead count was heavy for the enemy. Sixty three VIet Cong (KIA's) killed in the fire fight that night and beside our wounded, we had lost six soldiers.
We gathered our dead, putting them in body bags, placing them respectfully to the rear of our position. When the relief choppers arrive the dead would be lifted out first, then our wounded for Medevac and then us. Another senseless battle for land we give back the next day never did make sense.
The lieutenant and first Sargent had placed one of the dead soldier's two dog tags in their pockets and tied the spare into to the dead soldier's boot lace. There were times like this I wished I could take the time to cry. Allow my tears to fall for my fallen comrades.
In the far off distance you could hear the Huey helicopters coming in at tree top level. Choppers coming to carry us from this Hellhole. You could see a feeling of relief seemingly to cover the faces of our surviving soldiers as the first Chopper landed.
How does a soldier in combat describe the horrors of battle to one who was not in combat? It cuts and scars you, and plants emotions, stress, and visions, you'll carry with you all the days of your life. These you carry for being both the hunter and the hunted, and stays in to your soul.
To experience the hazards of being a combat soldier, I will never forget. If there is a heaven, I will have to account for my sins against humanity. God forgive me for the lives I have taken over there.
**********
(C) James J Alonzo
The 2/17 Calvary Unit of the 101 rst Airborne Division, our squadron was to be inserted about ten klicks (kilometers) north of Tay Ninh near the Cambodian border, not far from the well known Ho Chi Minh trail. It was to be a dusk or early night insertion.
Days earlier, there was a bombing mission we called 'Rolling Thunder'. Rolling Thunder earned it name because the bombers dropped bombs from an altitude of 30,000, and most of the time one couldn't see the planes, just hear what sounded like rolling thunder. These are B-52 bombers, huge Strato-fortresses, with huge payloads of bombs used in mass or carpet bombing. They had bombed the area of operations, the VC used to transport ammunition and supplies to their forward troops and the Viet Cong guerillas.
A, B, HQ troops were being inserted by C Troop, which was the aviation helicopter unit, that had both Huey choppers, and a few Chinooks. We were also accompanied by Huey gun ships, which are heavily armed with rockets and mini machine guns.
Being a squad leader, the chopper crew chief, with radio headphone, and helmet, leaned over and shouted in my ear,
"The fucking LZ is hot!""
I signaled that I understood by giving a thumbs up. I looked over at my buddy, J J Jackson who was also our squad M-60 machine gunner, and could see his look of curiosity,'what's up?' I shook my head, and signaled the LZ was hot! That meant that we would be drawing enemy small arms fire immediately upon the enemy seeing us landing.
As I sat in the chopper that was taking us to our drop zone, besides the fear, I could feel the soothing vibration the helicopter jet motor, and of the wind turbulence as the echos of the blades hammered the dense humidified air.
All the members of the chopper crew were radio equipped. Now hearing about the hot LZ, the Huey chopper's left door gunner, named Domenic, motioned us to stay well behind him as he maneuvered the gun from side to side to check his firing radius.
Though the LZ is miles away it would take the chopper less than fifteen minutes of air time to reach the LZ, and Domenic wanted to be ready. For a hot LZ was the most dangerous to the choppers and the crew, since they were the biggest target.
My squad members were checking their weapons and ammo one last time when we saw tracers coming from the jungle below. You could hear the sound of bullet impacts and penetration against the Huey's fiber glass skin. It was shear terror being shot at while in the air, no where to hide! The chopper took evasive maneuver, whale the door gunners laid grazing fire to keep the enemy down! The gun ships followed riddling the LZ with massive amounts of rocket and bullet fire!
Lucky for us it was AK-47 rifle fire and we were quickly out of range from the bullets that riddled the Huey. Being dropped in to a hot LZ at dark is even more frightening. Weapons fire comes from all directions and it causes much confusion. It is only when your feet hit the ground that you realize what hell must be like and it is thrust on you from the start.
These missions are planned by mental midgets! The planners for this insertion decided they wanted a good size LZ, so these geniuses decided to make it larger. The planners ordered the LZ to be enlarged and cleared by a 750 lb. Bomb called a 'daisy cutter' days before the mission.
So it was no surprise that the communists were waiting for us. As we came down in the landing zone there was very little in protection from ground fire coming from the jungles covered edges. Domenic as he was firing grazing fire (suppression) while we landed, was hit and killed before we could get out the Huey! The crew chief jumped in on the with the dead Domenic at his feet and shouted,
"Get the fuck out!" and continued laying grazing fire at the jungle tree line!
As each chopper landed the soldiers bailed out with their equipment. As our chopper skids touched down, we bailed out into the mud dragging the ammo boxes that would be needed to hold the position.
Other soldiers fanned out setting up a parameter and grazing fire, to cover us from enemy fire while we raced to the nearest cover. Green Tracer bullets could be seen coming from the jungle and we had a good idea where the enemy was. Tracer bullets can give your position away and we were going to use it to our benefit. Luckily we had set up in a 1,000 bomb blast hole that provided us with adequate cover and we started radioing to get fire support.
Under the cover of night, rolling around in the mud, you could hear the enemy screams and explosions as the artillery and gun ship fire took some of the life of the enemy. We had dropped right in to the middle of a battalion size unit of VC. They were coming from the bombed trail routes in the mountains.
Someone shouted out, above the heavy gun fire, to the platoon Sargent,
" We should have brought more ammo!"
"It won't matter," replied the platoon Sargent Scott, "we're outnumbered!"
I laid back against the mud wall of the blast hole and tried to take a deep breath. I had found it difficult to catch my breath with all the chaos going on around us.
('Come on Alonzo, concentrate our lives depend on our ability to hold this piece of shit hell hole!')
Our soldiers were fanned out in all directions, some had patrolled out to set claymore (anti personell) mines on our weak sides to shield us from the Viet Cong trying to flank our position.
(Claymores are chaos when they are set off. The explosions are similar to a small bomb going off sending out hundreds of ball bearings in a fanned out direction. If there are survivors you will know it because of their screams, and because they are usually maimed beyond repair. I still wake up at night from nightmares of the gore I witnessed.)
The VC mortar fire was sporadic and hit all around us during the night. Mud clods fell from the sky down on to us from the blast but luckily we escaped injury. Some of the others were not as lucky. We lost two guys to enemy mortar fire that night.
J J had taken a piece of shrapnel through his meaty part of his shoulder, trying to retrieve Frank Malloy. It wasn't too hard to lift Frank because he had his legs blown off. However Frank died shortly after J J made it back in to the hole with him. I bandaged J J's flesh wound, smiling at him, I asked,
"You trying to get a Purple Heart with this self inflicted wound?"
"I already have a self inflicted wound," J J laughed, "It's on my ass from hanging with you."
The RTO (radio operator) had called in fire missions for artillery support all during the night. You could hear the rounds whistling over head as they hit their mark. There was one M-60, 7.65 cal machine gun placement about a hundred yards to our forward position had held the enemy off for the rest of the night. J J took position with his M-60 facing the rear.
At base camp before we were lifted to this LZ, we had been ordered to take the tracer rounds out of the M-60 machine feed belts. The Viet Cong could still see the muzzle flash in the distance but it was harder for the VC to pin point from the jungle.
By the time day light was breaking it was all quiet, and the rust smell of blood, the smell of cordite smoke and death all around us I crawled to the top of the hole to pear out. The surroundings littered with dead VC and half destroyed trees.
A few of the guys were standing around in the blast holes pointing to different directions of the most heaviest fire that happened that night. No shots were fired any more that day and the dead count was heavy for the enemy. Sixty three VIet Cong (KIA's) killed in the fire fight that night and beside our wounded, we had lost six soldiers.
We gathered our dead, putting them in body bags, placing them respectfully to the rear of our position. When the relief choppers arrive the dead would be lifted out first, then our wounded for Medevac and then us. Another senseless battle for land we give back the next day never did make sense.
The lieutenant and first Sargent had placed one of the dead soldier's two dog tags in their pockets and tied the spare into to the dead soldier's boot lace. There were times like this I wished I could take the time to cry. Allow my tears to fall for my fallen comrades.
In the far off distance you could hear the Huey helicopters coming in at tree top level. Choppers coming to carry us from this Hellhole. You could see a feeling of relief seemingly to cover the faces of our surviving soldiers as the first Chopper landed.
How does a soldier in combat describe the horrors of battle to one who was not in combat? It cuts and scars you, and plants emotions, stress, and visions, you'll carry with you all the days of your life. These you carry for being both the hunter and the hunted, and stays in to your soul.
To experience the hazards of being a combat soldier, I will never forget. If there is a heaven, I will have to account for my sins against humanity. God forgive me for the lives I have taken over there.
**********
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Palidan
Paladin
(C) James J Alonzo
(Fiction)
Preface
This story is a fiction, so any similarities to anyone living or dead is strictly coincidental.
There was a man that grew up in an orphanage, then reclaimed by his mother when he was five years old, to join her new husband, and instead of living happily ever after, he had to live his life in a living hell. for the man his mother married was a brute , and shared his violent ways on his new wife and her child for the next eleven years!
By the time the child had grown to sixteen years old, he had experienced the step-fathers brutality, witness his mother being slapped around, living in the slums ( now called the ghetto). He had participated in street gangs, crime, gang fights of the late 1950's to early 1960's. All training for his future and his willingness to react violently, he soon ended the step-father's violent ways.
Paladin had learned well, for one day at sixteen years old, his step-father's violence had started as the usual way. His step-father arrived home and complaining about something trivial had slapped Paladin's mother across the mouth! Paladin now 5'11", 200 pounds, witnessing another Act of violence, reacted in the same way of defending his mother, but yet this time differently, stood up, not saying a word and began beating his step-father with his fists and feet. Thus ending a long abusive relationship, and saving his mother from any future beatings at the hands of this cruel man. Paladin,by telling his bloody and beaten step-father, that if his mothers suffers an other attack or even an accident, that the old man would be killed.
At eighteen years old Paladin joined the Army during the Viet Nam War, where he was trained, as an infantry soldier, became gung ho volunteered to become an Airborne soldier, attended Infantry school and parachute school, and later Ranger training at Fort Benning Georgia. attended Jungle Training at the Panama Canal Zone. So in all Paladin got his violent skills honed even sharper, learning to read people, environments, opponents, weapons including hand to hand combat training, and learning to pick his times and not to react to soon.
When he got to Viet Nam Paladin eventually was assigned to a special unit, called the Phoenix program.
This is Paladin's story.
The First One
(C) James J Alonzo
In Viet Nam I was a squad leader of a combat team, and we had many interesting characters, some were Heros, other cowards, other thugs, but there were a few that were just criminals. Of these criminals there were a few of the lowest form of the human evolution. While on patrol in the Third Corp of Viet Nam, an area known as the Iron Triangle, we were patrolling through a village or hamlet, that was known to be sympathetic to the Viet Cong. I was learning that my squad had a man that was a rapist!
His name was Johnny Doan, a blonde 6' tall, 180 pounds, from Brooklyn, New York. He was a new man, so he had yet to have been battle experienced, so I was reserving judgment of his combat abilities. In a team each man is counted on to protect the others. And when a new man arrives, no one trusts the new man until he proves himself in the heat of combat. For allegedly when a man gets through Ranger training, it is usually a good man that comes to the war, however I was to find out that this man was a low life!
I started to hear rumors that when we went through villages, that Doan tended to prowl around by himself, prowling for young girls and force himself on them. Sometimes at gun point.
I wasn't happy to hear this, for if it got out, I would be held responsible. Besides, if this was true I would have to report him, testify at his court martial. if I found out and didn'T report him, I would be court martialed.
So on patrol, I was exceptionally vigilant on Doan's movements, and activities when we were in hamlets or villages. This particular patrol, was a search and destroy mission, which is search and find the enemy and destroy him or his support system, or both.
It was common on a search that the men would have different areas of search patterns, some going in different directions to cover more of an area. Doan wandered off as we were going though this hamlet, so at first I didn't have time to look for him, however J J came up to me and said,
"Check out Doan, three hooches west of here."
"Why?" I asked, "What's he up too?"
"Well, you said keep a look out for this asshole, and what he was up too! looks like what the others are saying is the real deal."
"Shit!"
I was not going to tolerate this horse shit, if this was true, it was going to end quickly, and maybe bloody!
I walked around the three hooches J J spoke of, but heard cryings and low screams before I got there! When I got there, I spotted Doan's white naked ass, trousers down to his ankles receiving a blow job from some little Vietnamese girl.
"That's enough!" I ordered, " Pull up your pants, you fucking asshole!"
As he did, the little girl took off running to one of the hooches.
"What the fuck Sarge! It an't shit to skull fuck one of these gooks!"
I didn't respond, I just shot him with my M -16 rifle center mass, yelling at the same time,
"Incoming!!!!"
As the remainder of the squad arrived, I was shooting into the nearby jungle, yelling directions of the field of fire. After about 30 seconds, I yelled,
"Cease fire!"
When we heard no more shooting from the imaginary enemy in the nearby jungle, I ordered,
"Bag that shit bird! " Then to my radio operator, I ordered a medic For Johnny Doan's body.
I knew it wouldn't be a problem for a man to have been shot with an M-16 rifle, for the Viet Cong were known to carry seized weapons from our American soldiers killed in action or the South Vietnamese troops.
As they were bagging Doan, I looked over to J J, and said,
"It had to be done."
"You got that right! " J J said, "The fucker had it coming."
This was my first killing outside of combat, and for some reason it didn't t seem to bother me. I wondered about that, and if I was rationalizing that this was different from the killing of the VIet Cong soldiers. but I knew one thing it was getting easier and easier.
~
The Second Time
A Rightest Kill
(C) James J Alonzo
Looking back in life, I can hardly understand the horror of it all. How could I do some of the things I did? This guilt, it tears at me every day.
As a squad leader in Viet Nam, I was responsible for my men and their actions. If we were in the jungle with other units, it was easy to get caught up with the mood of others. I broke my ass to keep my men in line, and they knew there were iron clad rules that I would not tolerate being broken. When I spoke of the war, to friends that were not in war, I generally told them the funny stories of the war, and skipped the blood and gore.
I never liked to speak of the real War, combat events, or what happened that awful morning in February. It was the tail end of the 1967-68 TET offensive. A lot of American soldiers were killed during this massive battle period. A lot of Vietnamese died too. Some were the enemy, some were innocent, and some we weren't sure, but, still taking no chances, they died too. However, I will speak about the Americans and how some died. Yes, they weren't Viet Cong, but people won't understand what we went through over there, except it was hell, absolute hell.
Still, that doesn't really excuse what happened. Two of my men had to be punished. Maybe it is not a fair price to pay for saving young VIetnamese girls. The American soldiers in my unit had been forewarned, rape would not be tolerated!
"So if I catch you raping any women," I told them, "justice will be swift!"
I should have said something like J J suggested, and just reported these men to higher ups. However if I had reported them, it would have placed a target on my back and I would of been "Fragged!"
Instead, that day, I took it on myself to be judge, jury and executioner. What I've reduced myself too for killing people in war is one thing, but killing Americans was another thing. I thought at the time, that I was justified, therefore guiltless. I was wrong. I never thought there would be a penance to pay for my actions. It cuts through my heart just to write those words Yet, I must tell what I saw, and did there, it's the only way I will have peace when I leave this wretched earth.
I was just twenty years old, a short temper, and there was a fire in me, a drive to lash out at authority. I was mad, I had heard, on January 31, 1968, at the beginning of the TET offensive, that my Vietnamese girlfriend and her family had been killed by the Viet Cong!
I was also mad for I got a letter from my wife Nanci that her cousin Ken was critically wound at Khe Sanh, and they didn't know if he would survive. Added to that was the fact we lost many Americans in our Division, even though that was to be expected for we were the 101rst Airborne Division.
Regardless, I have always had my own code of conduct, right from wrong, good from bad, fair and unfair. Besides having these rules, I had a gun and the right to do whatever the hell I felt like. At least, that was the attitude my military training had given me.
When TET hit we learned that every city in the country was attacked at the same time by the communists. Communists that hid and worked among the general populace. Some even worked at American base camps through out the country.
The Vietnamese were not to be trusted, we were told. The Viet Cong were blending in with the populace so no one was truly "innocent". And throughout the many battles and firefights of TET, all of our American troopers were exhausted and wanted revenge.
This day came and it would be the day I could use all this power and anger. My squad was on a company mission, and was called up on a search and destroy mission at this village near Cu Chi in the iron Triangle.
Another mission, another firefight and a chance to get revenge for the people we lost in this war.
The Captain wanted a search & destroy mission on this particular village and we were going to answer this assignment. (Search & Destroy is the mission of search out the enemy and their supporters, then destroy their supporters, their food caches, and any weapons.)
We were ready to follow his orders. We had already been told that the villagers would be gone to market and any remaining people were NLF and VC sympathizers. With that information, we went into the Village area, guns ready. Suddenly we received small arms fire for we drew AK-47 rifle fire!
All I recall is a pulled trigger and the sound of M16 rifle fire, and the shouting of commands. We were ordered to fire and fire we did. The chaos around me happened in an instant, and the bulk of firefight was over in a 20 minutes.
As the fire fight was ending into sporadic fire, i noticed two of my platoon members sneaking off with some women to group of huts to do God knows what. While my actions are unforgivable, I swear to you I have never tolerated rape of anyone. However I would murder anyone who tried to rape.
After the noise died there was only the stench of cordite, cartridge shells and blood-soaked mud. It was awfully clear that there were no more alive NVA soldiers, Viet Cong or VC operatives.
The remainder of the Vietnamese were women and children, elderly all huddle in one area, knowing we were going to destroy and burn their village, and transport them to a relocation camp. Knowing what was going to happen, we could see that they had looks of anger on their faces.
We gathered up the weapons and checked the enemy bodies for written intelligence, their bloody bodies crumpled, now silenced. Once again we had sacrificed our humanity. Someone once told me there is no innocence in war I guess he was right.
i tracked down the two American soldiers, by locating them from the young cries and screams coming from one of the huts. I had found them raping these young girls. As I entreated the hut, I pointed my M-16 at them and ordered them off the tearful girls.
After the crying girls got up off the ground, clutching their torn clothing, they stood holding each other.
"You stupid mother fuckers!", I started to chew the soldiers out, but they chose to stand there together, grinning, and cut me off with some smart mouth talk.
"Hey fuck you sarge," said Jimmy Doyle proudly, " we're just getting ours!"
At that point my patience was over and I pulled the trigger, firing two bursts of three shots into each of their chests! As the the girls witness this action I knew they had their innocence taken when we exposed them to this brutality, and now these men's deaths.
I cannot go back in time. I cannot undo the actions I unleashed that day. If only I had been stronger. Maybe something could have been done Maybe I could have been like J J and saved some Americans lives by reporting them, but I didn't though. I just mowed down these animals like they were one and the same as the enemy.
In war, we used our anger, our fear and our tensions as a blank check to wantonly take life and death into our own hands. I only hope in time we can be forgiven. I hope that God will at least let me see Heaven before He casts me down to Hell, where I belong.
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