Victory

[Reminder: Some of my posts, including this one, are memoirs of my abusive childhood. In this post I'm relating events that happened in the spring of 1956, when I was 6 "going on 7". The links to the right can be used to follow backward through the memoirs, or to restrict viewing to other kinds of posts.]

Scarface kicked me repeatedly in the stomach while his four friends held my arms and legs. Finally the two that had been holding my legs let go and walked away, and I slumped to the ground. While I lay there, Scarface examined the scar on my right forehead, smiled, and picked up a large rock almost the size of a canteloupe and brought it down on my forehead.

I passed out for a second or two. When I woke up I was seeing double. Scarface was standing with his back to me laughing with his remaining two buddies, I stood up with difficulty. The others didn't say anything to Scarface, just stared with looks of amazement. The first Scarface knew that I was back on my feet was when I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look and I punched him in the face as hard as I could.

He'd made me mad when he hit me with the rock. I didn't appreciate that. So I used my fist for the first and only time.

He screamed, clutching his nose. Blood was gushing out between his fingers. He started bawling and ran off. I waited for the other two to move in on me but they just looked at each other in stunned amazement. I told them I wanted to walk safely through their neighborhood. One said he'd join me, while the other would go and spread the news that I had beaten Scarface.

Jim, who had been watching from a safe distance, came over and told me I had to go to the infirmary. I refused. I had a march to do yet.

Jim and the two Hispanics and I began walking through the "Puerto Rican" neighborhood. It was the housing area closest to the southwest gate that led to the town of Shirley. In my condition the march probably took half an hour. For most of the way Jim supported me. Every few hundred yards I had to stop to vomit up blood. Jim told me I looked as white as a sheet.

All along the way kids who had gotten the news about how the fight ended watched form their yards as I passed by. Some congratulated me, but some others crossed themselves and said things like 'Mira! Nagual!" or "Nagual Blanco!"

Finally I reached a rise in sight of the Shirley gate. At that point the others left me to make the last 100 yards my self, for fear they would have to explain my condition to the MPs guarding the gate. I walked slowly toward the MPs, trying to remain erect and act normal, but when I was about 20 feet from them I collapsed.