quote:

Originally posted by shovelhead:
Most entertaining was a restaurant fight, summer 1969.

My friend, a few years older than me called and said he was picking me up, his father needed to move some cars that night. His dad was in the salvage and used car business. Gordy shows up with five others, we are riding in his mother's 68 Electra coupe. Went to Canton Township, a truck stop at Michigan Avenue and Belleville Road.

Gordy pulls up in front of the double entrance doors, yellow striped no parking, his famous line was "specially reserved for me", I'm sitting in the right front seat. Just as he puts the car into park, out flies this big guy backwards and lands on the hood of the Electra. In a instant out comes Gordy's dad running, probably mid 50's, short fat balding guy with wire rim glasses. To look at him he was nothing, looked like a meek old guy, I had heard that he was a force not to be messed with by a couple of my ex bosses in gas stations.

He then grabs this guy by the collar and starts pounding on him, bouncing his head off the hood of the car. Now after four or five punches, this guy is bleeding on the hood of this white car while Gordy's dad is yelling "you're bleeding on my car" while he punches the guy a couple of more times. Guy then falls to the ground, Gordy's dad then says "follow me, let's move cars". Seems this guy had worked for him and was stealing batteries and radiators out of some of the cars that were stored at his friend's lot. He had been looking for him had the guy had just happened into the restaurant at the wrong time. He wanted to move the cars before they were further stripped or now vandalized after the whooping this guy took.

Gordy's dad died about eight or nine months later of a heart attack. That guy, as long as you were straight with him, you were ok, but if you tried to pull one over on him you did not have a second chance as well evidenced.

There used to be a truck stop at Michigan ave and Belleville? It's suburbia now. All restaurants and shopping centers. I frequent the Home Depot there.

1974 Columbus Georgia, Victory Drive. Out with the neighbor's wife, drinks and pool. Neighbor was my best friend, was working downtown at Little Joe's package store and knew all about it.

Ranger class had graduated earlier that afternoon. At some point, said Rangers decided to play king of the parking lot. All buddies, no body mad at no body but I was uneasy. I was a little guy with long hair, non-military (at the time) worked as a draftsman at Golden's Foundry & Machine Co.

I told Debbie I thought we should leave. She laughed and laughed. She was born and raised Columbus Georgia and said it was normal. Everyone working the bar thought nothing of it.

Rangers would fight a while, drink a while ... rinse and repeat.

After several rounds of fighting and drinking, drinking and fighting, guy walks back in a little bloody and taps me on the shoulder ... "Your turn". I politely explained to him that I haven't had the training he's had and would quickly get my ass beat. Debbie laughed and laughed. A little disappointed, the guy walk away to find one of his buddies to invite out ... again.

Over the years in untold numbers of bars at home and abroad while in the military I've seen a few fights and brawls but only been in one fight but it wasn't really a fight. Sitting at the bar with the bar owners nephew next to me. I didn't know him but knew the owner well enough as this bar was my hangout at the time. Cimarron Club Old Shell and Cody Road, Mobile Alabama.

Both of us drunk, nephew finishes his beer. Reaches over, snatches my beer and draws a gulp without a word. I snatch it back and and as I lower the can after taking a drink, I'm stood up from the stool by a hard blow under my left eye. The force of the blow throws the nephew off balance. He falls across my stool and onto the floor at my feet. I'm about to make sure he stays there when I realized there is a gun against the back of my head. The bar owner advised that I should do nothing. Nephew left the bar. Owner set me up with a free beer.

Saw but was not involved in an all out melee that started between two women, one of which was profoundly pregnant. Spilled into the street and it was a good three minutes (forever and then some in a fight) before cops arrived to find a few perfectly good people all bloody and sound asleep on sidewalks, curbs and in the street. Those still walking had just already left by then.

Worst I ever saw was an aftermath. Drunk dude got whacked in the side of the head with scrap lumber by another drunk dude. Hit the dude just right I guess. Dude was trying to sit up and had his eyeball dangling out of it's socket and in the palm of his hand.

Almost. In around 1991 I was a rookie cop, skinny and inexperienced, and was dispatched to a known biker bar for a disturbance. I get there and the joint is packed, everyone is cool but the one knucklehead non-biker talking smack, knocking over furniture and breaking glasses. He squares off with me and tells me he is going to kick my ass. I believed him.

Just as I am trying to figure out how I am going to extricate myself, 3 or 4 of the biggest, tattoo'd biker freaks I've ever seen step up and start walking over to us. I've got about 2 months on the road and think I'm about to get my ass kicked or worse, when one of the biker guys approaches me and says in the most polite tone "Don't worry officer, we've got your back" and the guys line up behind me.

Being the enterprising young man I was, I told the knucklehead that he could let me cuff him there or I was going to go out to the parking lot and cuff him when these guys brought him out. He went quietly.

I ended up eating burgers there with those guys for a few weeks. They were all pretty cool and turned out only to look the part, not true 1%'ers. Pretty funny now that I think about it.

quote:

Originally posted by Rotndad:

quote:

Originally posted by BigSwede:

quote:

Originally posted by greco:
I managed the worse skid row bar in Flint, Michigan in 1972 and 1973 to pay my school expenses. Every bum, low life Son of a Bitch, loser, hustler, pimp, and jail birds who just got released from the county jail hung out there. I averaged 2 fights a night on weekdays and 4 or 5 on weekend nights. My cousin just came home from 'Nam, and I hired him to share the fun. I have a whole lot of stories to tell, including shootings, stabbings, fights with motorcycle guys, and even guys armed with cycle chains. To this day, when it's cold out the scars on my hands and arms stand out in living color.

You might know my dad, Cowboy, Swede or Sisco. Flint Police

Been in a few, Schweinfurt, Darmstadt , GE. Salinas,CA and surrounding areas

What unit, which Kaserne, and when were you there? I was in C Co, 44th Sig Bn (NOT 440th :-)), Cambrai Fritsch Kaserne from 04 Aug 1985- 10 Jan 1990.

Was at CFK 92-95 in the 509th maint. I hated that unit. That and a monetary push from slick willy sent me packing

quote:

Originally posted by ArtieS:
^^^^^Haha, throw in the 3/4 Cav, the 10th Engineers, 5/41 FA and the 308th FSB and you have a typical Saturday night at the Lower Cavern Club, Conn Barracks, Schweinfurt. I worked with both of those units in Schweinfurt '92-'95. The rest of the ones I mentioned simply made the fights more well rounded.

When I got there (88-90) it was the 3/7 Cav and shortly became the 3/4. Mule skinners ball was always fun. Gave and received a few ass whoopins, mostly at The Green Goose

yup, was in a bar fight between some fisherman and us Coasties in a bar in Cedar Key Fla in around 1989..ish....(coulda been 1990-memory is bad.)

But some of the locals were pissed we were in town correcting the locals in their wayward fishing ways and we got into it...

I was playing pool (too young to drink) and wound up smacking some local upside the head with a pool cue...after the rest of the crew finished off the locals. we drank a hearty toast and unassed the AOR to our boats and left post haste...

cops never showed up and we heard from the local county sheriff's that they never got any calls about it

quote:

Originally posted by ubelongoutside:

There used to be a truck stop at Michigan ave and Belleville? It's suburbia now. All restaurants and shopping centers. I frequent the Home Depot there.

Yes, southeast corner.

Probably the closest I ever got to a barfight was when I was on a Detroit suburb fire department. We were called out to a illegal burn, a pile of construction debris between the street and a lake, on a lake access lot.

Two man crew, my Lieutenant served as engineer, I was the nozzleman. Stretched line, I started spraying it down. Two guys came to shore from their boat, these guys were nowhere around when we pulled up. Three young kids in the boat also. First guy yells at me "That's our fire, what are you doing?"

I extinguished it, the first guy gets agitated with me. I told him to speak to my officer as we were instructed to put it out. As he is questioning me on why, I inform him that he was in violation of city ordinance by burning construction materials, no hose in proximity to the fire and an unsupervised situation as nobody was on site. To more of his protests I then directed him to my officer for the second time.

Now come the fun. Both guys had been drinking on their boat. First guy confronts my officer. I continue to spray water on the now smouldering pile of scrap wood shifting my position to watch the fire, the engine, and the boat with the other adult. Guy jumps off the boat with a long neck bottle held by the neck. Saying nothing, I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye. I let him hit the shore maybe fifty feet away angling toward my side/back. I turn toward him, change the nozzle from fog to straight stream and shut it down,pivot in his direction, point it at him and yell "stop right there, no closer!"

He froze, figuring that getting hit with about 120-130 psi straight stream would be no fun. He then went back to the boat. Could have been completely innocent but I was not going to find out the reason for his approaching me in that manner.

Officer in charge then told the first guy that if he continued to protest he would have P.D. issue a burn violation. First guy decided that it was probably in his best interest to leave immediately.

The Napoleon syndrome guys would always decide that they'd try to make a name for themselves at my expense. I could fight well enough, but there was never anything to prove against those guys. I was always very good about locking in a full nelson before they knew what was happening. I'd hold them until the appropriate respondents would arrive, then I'd toss them to them. It wouldn't have worked for multiples engaging, but I was always fortunate enough to hold the guy between me and his friends. They were generally unsure enough, or surprised, or finding it humorous enough that it didn't escalate.

I flew on United Airlines once.

quote:

Originally posted by BigSwede:

quote:

Originally posted by ArtieS:
^^^^^Haha, throw in the 3/4 Cav, the 10th Engineers, 5/41 FA and the 308th FSB and you have a typical Saturday night at the Lower Cavern Club, Conn Barracks, Schweinfurt. I worked with both of those units in Schweinfurt '92-'95. The rest of the ones I mentioned simply made the fights more well rounded.

When I got there (88-90) it was the 3/7 Cav and shortly became the 3/4. Mule skinners ball was always fun. Gave and received a few ass whoopins, mostly at The Green Goose

I was in Illesheim, about what? 45 min to an hour south? 1/6th Inf, 1st AD. We had the "Step In" club there, but called it the "Stab n' Jab". LOTS of scraps in that place....

My best friend from the time I was a toddler was the kind of guy who liked to stir things up. All the way through childhood and into high school, he managed to get into with another guy, sometimes a group of guys. When it was a group of guys, that meant I had to jump in to help him out.

Living on the south side of Chicago, there were plenty of places that didn't check IDs. And, once we started going to bars, my friend would start trouble there too. One day, he mixed it up with the wrong guys and suddenly we were up against guys who had gone and gotten baseball bats.

Luckily, we got out of there without getting our heads bashed, but it (finally) dawned on me that my friend was an asshole, and sooner or later he was going to get himself into some serious trouble. We went our separate ways not long after.

Yes and yes. Still get in them sometimes.
Last one was about 2 months ago at closing time at my favorite bar that's in my township.
I know the owner, his wife, son and all the barmaids. Me and the head barmaid were talking and I affectionately call her, "pretty bitch". This one guy heard me and started on me. He was way past drunk and I told him to mind his own business. He walked over and I didn't hesitate. I knew exactly what he was looking for.
He got dragged out of the bar and deposited outside afterwards.
I've seen some doozies also because most of the people I run around with like to fight.
I should probably stop as I'm almost 50 but truth be told, I kinda enjoy it.

Many years ago, I was hanging out having a few drinks and listening to the band at a local dive when a fight broke out. Nothing new, I just stayed out of the way since I didn't have a dog in the fight.

All of a sudden, a couple shots went off and one of the guys hit the ground. Place emptied, myself included. No one died, but the guy that got shot spent a while in the hospital. No one was arrested, because "Nobody saw nuttin."

I didn't go back there for years, until they quit playing live music and closed the honky tonk. Now it's just a grill that serves some of the best cheeseburgers in the area.

Hanging out, drinking, patronizing rowdy bars is quite dangerous these days, just saying.

A few in Germany, nothing really epic. The one that stands out the most was a small fracas between some soldiers. Not sure what caused it, but the Polizei were called and they waded in swinging.

I was sitting at the bar watching the festivities with a buddy when we noticed one of the cops was a rather cute woman. My buddy, Alexy, decided he'd cop a feel (or feel a cop, either way) and grabbed her ass. That did not go well for him.

1957, 1958, I was USN. My missile squadron was based at Roosevelt Roads, the Naval Air Station on the eastern tip of Puerto Rico.

This was a pretty big base and in addition to the "residents" there were a lot of various military groups, all branches, that moved in and out for training.

The "Acey Duecy" (first and second class Petty officers) club / bar, La Mariposa, was un top of a hill, overlooking the bay. Very nice place. Four of us used to go up there to relax, have a few drinks, sit at a table in the corner out of the way, and play bridge.

Our corner table kept us out of the "action" but did give us a good view.

Between some of the NAS resident folks, the marines who were based there, and all of the transients that were there for training, each group seemed to feel the need to prove that they were tougher than the other groups, so there were many fights. Our corner table gave us a good view but kept us out of the action.

It was funny though, when the UDT guys were there for training, four or five of them could walk in, just looking for a couple of beers, and the dozens of "tough guys," marines, CBs, whoever, would get very quiet. A path would open up for the UDT guys, and empty seats at the bar would suddenly appear. I never saw a punch thrown when the UDT guys were in there. They were quiet, minded their own business, but their presence had a big influence.

You'll appreciate this one, Ronin. I was at a bar in Lejuene many years ago, and a pretty large brawl broke out. The owner jumps on the bar hoses down the crowd with a big ole can of OC Spray. The fight stops, and everyone erupts into laughter. I'm not sure that was the reaction the owner expected, but the fight stopped. I guess all that PT in the CS gas chamber had the desired effect.

quote:

Originally posted by ravens1775:
You'll appreciate this one, Ronin. I was at a bar in Lejuene many years ago, and a pretty large brawl broke out. The owner jumps on the bar hoses down the crowd with a big ole can of OC Spray. The fight stops, and everyone erupts into laughter. I'm not sure that was the reaction the owner expected, but the fight stopped. I guess all that PT in the CS gas chamber had the desired effect.

That is so awesome! By the time I got out of the Corps, I could pretty much tolerate annual gas chamber certification and during one of them, the instructors did not even bother with a mask!

Early-mid '90's, Colo Springs. A buddy from NJ insisted we go to a faux country bar. The Police & Fire Olympics happened to be in town. Some of them decided to mix it up. The bouncers rushed in and were summarily ejected from the fight. The participants then got themselves under control pretty quickly.