rhmc24
Absent Comrade
A Memoir excerpt & a little intro info -- We were married in France in 1950 & sent to Africa for about a year in several places, this in Belgian Congo where we spent seven months -----
I had bought a.44 S&W in Nice about the time we were married.
I those days, old guns could often be found in used furniture
stores, apparently the result of their buying furniture from
estates. I stopped in one of those stores and found they had
the pistol which I bought for the equivalent of about $18, in
very fine condition. It was (and is, we still have it) a
collector item, made in the 1880s. It is the S&W answer, more
or less, to the Colt Single Action Army pistol of the same period.
It is a single action six shooter that opens to load by lifting a
latch above the hammer and breaking the barrel forward and down.
I was glad we had it, for a pretty good reason. One night after
returning home from a party, we were in bed when Suzanne roused
me to say someone was in the kitchen. From the bed I could see
a flashlight under the kitchen door from time to time. We
hadn't lived in the house long enough for me to be able to find
the light switch in the dark. My flashlight was standing on the
bedside table but so were several bottles of cosmetics, etc. I
thought if I started feeling for the flashlight I would knock
down some of the bottles and make noise that would warn the
intruder.
Beneath the bed in an airline bag was the pistol which I found
readily enough. By that time the intruder had tried the door
from the kitchen into the bedroom. This was an old house and
the lock was so worn that the door knob had to be turned to one
extreme and then the other to release the catch. I assume he
decided it was locked because it did not open.
In the dark I made my way to the kitchen door across the large
bedroom. I remember pausing and listening at the door, deciding
I would shoot if he made a move toward me. I carefully opened
the door, raising and cocking the pistol at the same time. I
could see his form outlined against the kitchen window. At that
moment he turned and climbed over a table and went head first
through the screen and out the window. I raised the pistol and
I remember thinking it would be hard to explain an entry wound in
the derriere and an exit wound under the chin, also it was a more
or less human life form that had done no real harm.. So, I
raised the pistol higher and fired about two feet above him. In
the flash of the gun I got a mental picture, which I still hold,
of him framed mid-air against the surrounding darkness. It is
surprising how the mind works. In times of great emotion or
stress, time slows down for me. Everything seems to go into slow
motion. This is a condition known as tachypsychia (if I spelled
it right) that many people have reported. I remember, before I
fired, making a mental note of where the bullet would go. Our
house was situated a few hundred yards from the Congo river,
which was miles wide at that point and I was sure it would fall
in the river.
The next morning we called the police but made no mention of the
gun play. They came out and looked around and took our
statement. They didn't notice the bullet hole in the screen.
The officer made the comment that burglars had never harmed
anyone but were trying to steal food or clothing. I measured
the distance from the window sill to the ground which was 7' 1",
and he had dived out head first. On the way down he hit the
clothes line, which was very heavy, more like a rod of more than
1/8" diameter. It was bent into a very definite V where he
had struck it. Later in his hasty exit he ran into a parked
motor scooter and upset it. Even with all this, he apparently
had the presence of mind to exchange shirts with the houseboy
next door. That houseboy came over the next day with a very
ragged shirt that he said had been left on the clothes line in
place of his new shirt he left hanging there. Typical of
African logic, he wanted us to pay for the shirt since it was our
burglar.
I had bought a.44 S&W in Nice about the time we were married.
I those days, old guns could often be found in used furniture
stores, apparently the result of their buying furniture from
estates. I stopped in one of those stores and found they had
the pistol which I bought for the equivalent of about $18, in
very fine condition. It was (and is, we still have it) a
collector item, made in the 1880s. It is the S&W answer, more
or less, to the Colt Single Action Army pistol of the same period.
It is a single action six shooter that opens to load by lifting a
latch above the hammer and breaking the barrel forward and down.
I was glad we had it, for a pretty good reason. One night after
returning home from a party, we were in bed when Suzanne roused
me to say someone was in the kitchen. From the bed I could see
a flashlight under the kitchen door from time to time. We
hadn't lived in the house long enough for me to be able to find
the light switch in the dark. My flashlight was standing on the
bedside table but so were several bottles of cosmetics, etc. I
thought if I started feeling for the flashlight I would knock
down some of the bottles and make noise that would warn the
intruder.
Beneath the bed in an airline bag was the pistol which I found
readily enough. By that time the intruder had tried the door
from the kitchen into the bedroom. This was an old house and
the lock was so worn that the door knob had to be turned to one
extreme and then the other to release the catch. I assume he
decided it was locked because it did not open.
In the dark I made my way to the kitchen door across the large
bedroom. I remember pausing and listening at the door, deciding
I would shoot if he made a move toward me. I carefully opened
the door, raising and cocking the pistol at the same time. I
could see his form outlined against the kitchen window. At that
moment he turned and climbed over a table and went head first
through the screen and out the window. I raised the pistol and
I remember thinking it would be hard to explain an entry wound in
the derriere and an exit wound under the chin, also it was a more
or less human life form that had done no real harm.. So, I
raised the pistol higher and fired about two feet above him. In
the flash of the gun I got a mental picture, which I still hold,
of him framed mid-air against the surrounding darkness. It is
surprising how the mind works. In times of great emotion or
stress, time slows down for me. Everything seems to go into slow
motion. This is a condition known as tachypsychia (if I spelled
it right) that many people have reported. I remember, before I
fired, making a mental note of where the bullet would go. Our
house was situated a few hundred yards from the Congo river,
which was miles wide at that point and I was sure it would fall
in the river.
The next morning we called the police but made no mention of the
gun play. They came out and looked around and took our
statement. They didn't notice the bullet hole in the screen.
The officer made the comment that burglars had never harmed
anyone but were trying to steal food or clothing. I measured
the distance from the window sill to the ground which was 7' 1",
and he had dived out head first. On the way down he hit the
clothes line, which was very heavy, more like a rod of more than
1/8" diameter. It was bent into a very definite V where he
had struck it. Later in his hasty exit he ran into a parked
motor scooter and upset it. Even with all this, he apparently
had the presence of mind to exchange shirts with the houseboy
next door. That houseboy came over the next day with a very
ragged shirt that he said had been left on the clothes line in
place of his new shirt he left hanging there. Typical of
African logic, he wanted us to pay for the shirt since it was our
burglar.
