The Importance of a Practical Viewpoint on Self-Defense

 The Importance of a Practical Viewpoint on Self-Defense

During my recent training trip to Japan, my teacher, Soke (Grand Master) Masaaki Hatsumi, requested that I share this anecdote. Soke was urging all members of the training group, regardless of rank, to seek out and listen to those who had served in genuine combat roles. You can't prepare for a real-life scenario effectively unless you have a realistic idea of what a fight is like.

This story came to me when I was requested to describe my experience dealing with an attack. In spite of my extensive background in handling potentially dangerous situations, this one stands out as an example of how my ninpo-taijutsu martial arts training paid off and a lesson in self-control, rather than a case of me mentally shutting down and "hoping" for the best.

***

I was stationed in what was then West Germany when the incident happened many years ago. My military service was with the United States Army. The unit requested my colleague and me to respond after a serviceman attacked multiple individuals, including the officer-in-charge.

We were alone with the Charge of Quarters when we got to the site of the alleged event. Concerning the situation, he knew nothing. The 'trouble' was happening next door and was heading our way, but none of us realized it.

The assailant burst into the premises where my colleague and I were verifying the call with our supervisors. He was demanding satisfaction before beginning a "real war," yelling racist obscenities, and clearly drunk. His odor suggested that he had been partaking in heavy alcohol use, particularly whiskey. I couldn't tell if he was an assailant or a victim of an attack because his clothing revealed evidence of a struggle.

I made an immediate effort to reassure the person and determine the nature of the issue. Several additional soldiers, including the command duty officer, joined in as I was in the midst of this. The racist attacks and the assaults by those he believed were his allies continued as the aggressive soldier continued his tirade. His focus shifted to me, and he started making subtle references to his martial arts background and how he "didn't have to prove himself to anyone."

During this time, and after speaking with eyewitnesses, we learned that the person had gone out "celebrating" with friends earlier that day after testing for a black belt in another martial art. He began physically "showing off" to his buddies, according to witnesses, and this behavior escalated as his intoxication level rose. His pals finally had enough of his disruptive antics and tried to distance themselves from him in an effort to silence him. His companions threw him to the ground because he became even more "playful" and jumped on them. Because of this, he became so infuriated that he pursued them all the way to the barracks and started attacking nearby civilians.

Although he assured me that he didn't need to prove himself, he also implied that the reason I thought I was tougher than him was simply because I wore an MP helmet, had a nightstick, and a rifle. To alleviate the soldier's fears, I took off my helmet and gave my night stick to my companion in an effort to dispel any danger vibes we might have been sending. I told him the gun remained where it was, but that we needed to communicate like grown-ups to figure out what was wrong.

Close to my face, the soldier resumed his "I'm a black belt and don't need to prove how tough I am" diatribe before declaring, "I'm going to show you how tough you're not."

In the blink of an eye, I felt the soldier's fist rise between our bodies and aim for my jaw as I commanded him back. As he started flailing his arms wildly, aimed at my head and body, I rode off the strike that landed before I could duck and cover. In order to defend myself from the oncoming assaults, I drew up a guarding posture similar to a hoko (a ninjutsu technique that creates a protective "bubble" that is difficult for the attacker to penetrate) and had to contend with an officer who mistook me for the assailant!

Suddenly, I became aware that his right arm was encircling my left forearm and that a "musha-dori-like thing" (a technique that elevates the elbow and dislocates the shoulder) was taking place. I was about to get hold of him and set him down when, out of nowhere, he lost his footing. My accomplice picked that exact moment to try to help by ripping my attacker's legs out from under him, as I learned later on. As I brought the soldier to his knees by applying the lock, I could feel his shoulder slip. Worrying about a potential "police brutality" accusation for excessive force added to the worry and emotional pressure I was already experiencing.

Regardless, he persisted in resisting our attempts to control him, and his injuries had little effect on his aggressiveness. As his wife and small child entered the building, we managed to control him and get him onto his stomach so that he could be shackled. How they learned about it is a mystery to me, but there they were. Unfortunately, all I could muster was an expression of regret at having to do this; I felt terrible for them. The fact that I didn't want to humiliate this man in front of his family just added insult to injury.

Regrettably, the situation was made worse by their very presence. Our partner and I were held responsible by the soldier for his "embarrassment" and he resumed his resistance to confinement once he realized his wife and child were there. Considering that I am not a particularly large man, it was quite a challenge to hold this soldier because his physique was at least 150 percent larger than mine. Using my night stick as leverage against his spine, I sandwiched the handcuff chain over his back, immobilizing him in the process. If he persisted in resisting, he would only damage himself. Because he faints from his exertion, this was only required for a little period.

*************

As I reminisce about this and similar situations during my first recounting of the narrative at the Hombu Dojo ('primary training hall') in Noda-city, Japan, I can feel my legs shaking and my breathing changing. I am not frightened to be around other people or anything like that, therefore it doesn't affect how I live my life. What it did left an impression on me that goes beyond a simple recall of the events; in fact, I'm fairly certain that my memory isn't entirely accurate due to the fact that I was more emotionally invested and operating from a "budo-nerves" perspective than from a set of memorization of techniques.

Finally, I'll just remark that this experience has completely altered my views on training and, by extension, student training. What I've learned is that there's more to training than just following a set of prescribed steps, like in a kata, and that anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves. It has also shown me that training that relies just on henka, where fundamental concepts like cover and distance are not drilled until they become automatic and the pupil merely "does whatever" to mimic their master, is likewise mistaken. This is an important part of the process, but it is far from complete.

I couldn't agree with Soke more that the point is to be able to transition from the primitive instincts needed to survive an attack to a more evolved state where one can lead a happy life untarnished by fear, defensiveness, or antisocial behavior as a result of the attack.

I should add that I hold Soke and the other Shihan master professors in high regard. This is due to more than just the fact that they are Soke and Shihan. What these folks have to offer is genuine and "on the mark" with their expertise, which is why I respect them and keep training in this skill. My personal experience with dealing with danger confirms this. Reason being, I am confident that my family will be able to keep me around for a little longer if I am ever assaulted again thanks to the lessons I have learnt from them rather than my awe or respect for their talents. It is reassuring to know that there are individuals in this world who possess the strength to build a life worth living and the ability to defend that life from anything that could threaten it, in contrast to the majority of martial artists and instructors who are only interested in trophies, adoration, and looking good.

No way!

Share :