Aurora Colorado. What would Patton Do?

The short answer? George would have killed the pansy bastard and spat on the corpse.

The Long Answer? George would have employed the same tactics he learned in Mexico and the trenches of WWI as a young officer. George would have coolly applied as an individual the same solution to the problem of a vicious surprise attack on a soft target as he did with his armies in WWII France.

The Prepared: Foremost, George would be mentally and logistically prepared. He wouldn’t expect to be attacked in that theater, but he would have the tools needed if he were. George would have stayed calm and not panicked. He would have appraised the situation and undoubtedly given ground to superior firepower. George would trade space for time.

George would know that unless he was incredibly lucky, he could not save everyone. But his job, his duty before man and God was to save as many as he could. That meant George had to stay alive and not waste himself in a hasty frontal attack. He had seen those fail too many times in The Great War: A glorious, but senseless death. George is not into dying to save lives. George is into killing to save lives.

George would use whatever time he had to find a place he could defend, or better yet hide, until the time was right. That time would be when the enemy overextended himself; when the enemy paused to re-provision; when the enemy became distracted by his own success; when the enemy made a mistake.

The Attack. As in any attack, the enemy is interested in gaining ground and inflicting the maximum damage he can during his attack. If there were dozens of targets in front of the enemy still running, still screaming, still struggling to escape, he would be focused on those. From time to time some brave unarmed soul would launch an individual futile rush as a last desperate chance to save their lives or those of their loved ones.

Even though the victims were unarmed, the enemy had to address these frontal hasty assaults quickly and decisively. He had to defeat each one in turn with a well placed round or risk being mobbed. The situation dictated he move forward always in attack, bunching his targets, herding them together and ever onward before him leaving no time for a group to form a cohesive front.

The enemy is forced by those still in front of him and his own excitement and animal reflexes to leave the debris, the wounded, the dying, and the few whimpering survivors for clean up later. Right now he had to secure his kill zone. He had no choice really and George knows that. George is counting on it.

In the chaos and confusion, George has calculated that his room for maneuver is zero. His retreat is closed off by the same terror crazed screaming crowds clogging the aisle ways and the exits that have fixated the enemy. George sees the bulky form of the attacker encased in armor, Kevlar helmet, ballistic face shield, ballistic cuisses and greaves on his legs, and gorget at his neck. The enemy moves up the aisle toward George shooting as he goes.

The Response. Lightly armed with only his Model 1903 Colt 380 officer’s model, George knew he couldn’t take the enemy from the front. He wished he had his Smith Model 27 in .357 Magnum, or even his Colt Single Action .45 to give him more range and killing power, but he left those in the car. The theater banned guns. He only had his mouse gun tucked secretly in the waistband. Even a head shot with the 380 Colt would not penetrate the helmet and a precision shot thru a possible deflecting face shield at any distance in the dark was too risky. Nope. George is unarmored and under gunned, but he is still George. Just as he drilled his Sherman tankers in WWII, the only way to kill a more heavily gunned Tiger……whose frontal armor a Sherman could not penetrate…….was from the side or the back. Punch it in the side. Kick it is the ass. He would say.

It was a tactic that came naturally to George. He was cavalry like his grandfather before him in the Civil War. Almost by instinct, George withdrew into what shadows he could find. George, concealed himself in the darker corner of the row where he sat pulling whatever additional concealment he could over him, making maximum use of the terrain in which he crouched. Jackets, purses, popcorn tubs, the dropped debris of a scattering crowd…maybe even a victim killed by chance shot while the enemy was still yards away…..in short George hid and played dead at the same time. George did what he could to make his little spot of earth seem…pacified.

The enemy lumbered forward, deafened by his own muzzle blasts. He was blinded by the flash of his rifle or shotgun in the darkened room. His vision is restricted by his gear. His adrenal fueled attention fixated solely on his herd of prey. The enemy walked past George as he lay low, partly hidden under debris in the shadowy row.

George started involuntarily as he thought about a side attack against the weakest part of the enemy’s armor. But he knew his 380 cartridge would not be a one shot man stopper at that angle. The enemy could spin and kill him while his own rounds might have little and certainly not a disabling effect.

Get at his back.….get in the enemy’s rear. George didn’t think it. He didn’t say it in his mind…..he just knew it. Wait. Wait for it. A few more steps. A few more. Make sure. Let the enemy move further down the aisle as he advanced upon and continued to fire into the helpless crowd.

The Kill. With his enemy at greatest disadvantage and his own advantage at its greatest, George launched his attack. He gave no threat or warning. No battle cry or clever phrase was uttered. George rose from the shadows. He moved smoothly, well behind the peripheral vision of the enemy. He took care with each step not to stumble. Accuracy and continued stealth counted more than anything now.

George raised his Colt 380 as he moved toward the aisle way. He took immediate aim on where the back armor ended. This was the most accessible, vulnerable point….the enemy’s lower back. Center mass a hand’s width above the tailbone…that was the best shot he had. Break the spine? Maybe nick a kidney for a shock kill? He checked the seat of his magazine. Checked for safety off. He always had one in the chamber. George took all the travel out of the Colt’s trigger. He was ready if he had to at anytime, but still he closed the distance. “Whites of their eyes…..in this case…..hairs on his head.” He thinks.

Closer and closer. The closer the better. The enemy sensed something just then, started to turn back right shoulder first like any animal would. Time’s up. FIRE! George fired center at the spine. BANG! Left towards the kidney he hoped. BANG! These two caused the enemy to twist forward and to his left in a spasm….George was almost on him now. BANG! an angled shot down and to the left thru what George hoped was the lower edge of the right kidney. Simultaneously, George gripped the enemy’s left shoulder and body slammed him from behind using his own knees to buckle those of the gunman. WHAM! Face first on the floor went the enemy with George right on top. WHOOF! The sound of compressed lungs dumping air.

The enemy struggled in a pain filled rage to push himself up, to roll George off. The three hits, though non-fatal had hurt him. George’s body weight had knocked his breath away. Like an army formation taken in the rear, the enemy’s struggles were uncoordinated, panicked and ineffective.

Without pause, George shoved the rear of the helmet up with his left hand while he jammed the Colt’s muzzle against the skull. BANG! The struggles ceased.

George regained his feet in a crouch and looked around. No further enemy appeared. The battle was his. He had done well and had saved many.

When the cops finally arrived, George had his hands on his head and stated loudly. “Bad guy is dead. I shot the pansy bastard. My pistol is in my waistband. What are your orders?”

Sam Colt: Colt Mfg.“When danger threatens, no matter the size, call on me and I will equalize.”

Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God. 1st Sam: 17:36

Another post from my second favorite site.

This is self defense training as a story and I thought unusual for a prepper website.

What would happen if Patton were at a rampage shooting like the Batman movie in Colorado.

Long article and I posted the whole thing. It makes more sense if you go to the site and see the pictures. I love the Colt quote....he should have put John Mose Browning's picture in as well since there is a 1903 Colt Pocket model in the story. Is it Mose or Moses?

http://www.opensourcesurvival.com/

When the cops finally arrived, George had his hands on his head and stated loudly. “Bad guy is dead. I shot the pansy bastard. My pistol is in my waistband. What are your orders?”

Charlie Mike...

In Patton’s time, people would not have dared this crap.

They knew that, if caught, they would not even have made it alive to the police station.

Patton learned guerrilla tactics from probably the best one ever, John Singleton Mosby. Mosby was a frequent house guest of the Pattons when they were in California. Mosby was a lawyer for the railroad.

Patton proved he could stand and fight during the Pershing expedition into Mexico. Patton using his single action revolver killed two of the Mexican bandit’s leaders. This was a classic old west shoot out, both men were armed.

Patton then strapped their bodies to his car’s fenders and drove to General Pershing’s headquarters with them sort of like what some deer hunters do.

So yes the probability that Patton would have shot it out with him is high. Patton competed in the Olympics in the Pentathlon which includes pistol shooting. He would have won except two of his bullets went through the same hole and one was not counted.

Very well written! Many have been lead by revisionist writers to think that Patton was a martinet who was all bluster. In fact he had seen combat and acted bravely. He also would not have missed. He was an olympic pistol shooter.

Whenever I think of Patton or "What Would Patton Do?", my mind goes back to the Senate hearing when Barbara Boxer told that General, who kept calling her 'Ma'am', something like "General, please call me Senator. I worked hard to get that title." The general said "Yes, Senator".

I picture Patton sitting slouched back in his chair with his legs crossed and slowly answering her, with a smiling grin, "AS YOU WISH,...... BITCH".

I concur with the premise of the story.
I affirm, that it is the responsibility of every American,
to obtain a firearm that they can shoot well, know what
makes it tick, and understand their responsibilities,
as an owner of a firearm.

It is not the duty, nor the divine right, of politicians to
deny you any action of self preservation.

“General, please call me Senator. I worked hard to get that title.”

General Patton: “You don’t know anymore about fighting than you do about fornication.” Then bitch slapped her.

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