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.

Peace Takes Some Hits

[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.]

I was elected both the leader and the spokesman of the Anglos, while the spokesman for the "Puerto Ricans" was different from their leader. Their leader was a boy that I guessed was 11 or 12, who had a two-inch scar on one side of his face. I was told he got cut by a knife in a fight. It reminded me of the scar on my forehead. It added to the feeling I had that there was no reason for hostility between us.

Scarface didn't talk to me. He had his own right-hand man do it. My guy Jim stood at my side and whispered ideas to me.

The negotiations for peace were a total disaster. I tried to sell the idea that we weren't that different, and peace would be to our mutual advantage. We could move safely in their neighborhood, they could move safely in ours. The notion that we were more alike than different was met with ridicule. As for a promise of safe passage through our neighborhood, the spokesman's answer was simply, "Why would we want to walk among you people? You stink."

Hearing that filled my followers with anger. Some fool said something on the order of "Oh yeah, well so's your mother!" and within seconds a shouting match broke out around me. While I tried to get things back under control, someone else said, "Let's settle things once and for all." The Hispanic spokesman said, "Fine. Not here. Behind the sports arena." They wanted a place out of sight from passing traffic.

So the next thing I know I'm following behind as 130 kids migrate to the back of the sports arena. A circle is formed and Jim squares off with Scarface's spokesman and they have a one-on-one fist fight.

That was the start of what ended up being somewhere around 2 hours of one-on-one fighting. At all times there was one Hispanic and one Anglo inside the circle punching each other. When either one couldn't take it anymore, he was replaced by another from his side. It was like a giant tag-team boxing match.

Gradually kids who got worn out left on both sides. For every Anglo that left, a "Puerto Rican" left, and vice versa, until there were 25 "Puerto Ricans" to 5 Anglos. At that point the "Puerto Ricans" started to act like they'd won, so 3 or 4 began to leave for each one of ours.

All this time I tried to stop the thing, telling everyone they were being crazy. Nobody listened. (A lot like when I write my columns now. How many times have I said the Iraq war was a mistake? I've lost count.)

Jim was the first Anglo to fight and the last to quit, before me. When he finally gave up I was left facing Scarface and 4 of his buddies.

I tried again to negotiate. They called me a coward, and while Scarface stepped back one of the other 4 charged me. I surprised him by throwing him to the ground rather than boxing him. I wanted to use self-defense only. I didn't want to punch anyone.

I just wore the kid out, giving him nothing to do. Then I wore out another one. It looked like I would wear them all out one by one, when Scarface stepped in and shouted some orders to the others. he told them to hold me.

At first two of them held my arms while Scarface tried to hit me, but he couldn't get close enough because I kept kicking at him. So He ordered the other two to hang on to my legs.

With four guys holding my extremities, it was safe for Scarface to get close enough to beat me up.