At an Holiday time 1975 in Corpus Christi, I had to go back to my office to check-up on two children who were scheduled for tonsillectomies on the "Monday after." As there were no other office appointments, I left shortly, for home. Decided to stop by the Texas Gun Shop" to pick up my Colt Gold Cup which had some new target sights being installed and sighted.
For some reason I could never fathom, I picked up a full magazine from the center console, loaded the .45, chambered a round, ejected the mag and inserted another full mag. Now, this was way back when, long before most of us felt the need to "carry."
As I approached the entry, I saw that my door was open. Not realizing what was taking place, my first thought was that the A/C guys had come by to service my unit and change the filter, as they regularly did.
Going through the doorway, two things hit me at once; the doorframe was cracked and my gun cabinet was open.
Suddenly realizing that I had walked into my home being robbed, I raised the .45, went over to my sofa, pulled my Python out of the cushions, and searched the home. It was empty.
As I walked around, I noticed that a $20 bill my GF had left for our maid was sitting on the counter and a brand new color TV was sitting there, tags still attached. A pair of Zeiss binoculars were on the coffee table.
I had one of those phones with the long, long cord. I went into the kitchen, got a glass of water, sat on the inside kitchen steps, put both handguns on the step next to me, and called the police.
Up until that point, I had been cool as the proverbial cucumber.
But, sitting on those steps, I soon realized how close I had come to being killed and started to shake. I was certain they were armed, as they had 14 of my guns and Lord knows how much ammo.
As I was sort of hidden behind the kitchen dinette, I was not visible from the door. Hearing footsteps, I figured it was the police.
Lo, it was the burglars, back for a second haul. I picked up both pistols and waited until they were in the middle of the room and said loudly: "Hands up, don't move, I am about to kill all of you!"
This scared them more than me. I added, "I have both triggers, and I'm about to blow your head off!" Now, I was still shaking, but figured I wouldn't miss at about five or six feet, point blank.
As we waited like that, I had them take one hand, open their wallets, and put their ID's on the coffee table.
When the police did arrive, I had them sitting on the floor, hands behind heads.
The young officer walked into the room, looked around and figured it out immediately. He told me to put my pistols down, checked the ID's and told the burglars to get out of there. This confused me and I protested. He said, "These are known police characters and I can pick them up anytime I want."
About ten days later, I got a call from a Sargent Garza of the burglary division, asking him to meet me at the property room, to identify my guns.
My concern was my J.P.Sauer grouse gun. It was there and undamaged. All but one of my 14 missing guns were there. The still-missing was a Beretta AL-2 12 Ga.
He showed me a Beretta SO-3 with gold inlays and asked if I was sure that it weren't mine. As the SO-3 was worth about $25K even way back then, I was tempted, but said no.
I later learned that my AL-2 had been cut down, "sawed-off" for use as a criminal weapon and was held for evidence. I never saw it again.
Garza told me that they had solved over 20 residential gun burglaries from my "bust."
They were dopers, who had a white van truck and white coveralls. They would carry a carpet roll to a home's door, pull a big crowbar out, break the door open, unroll the carpet and load the stolen guns into it, roll it back up and put it back in the van. Neighbors seeing them would think that they were carpet service personnel.
Lesson learned, I bought a gun safe !
Although this is only an old story now, I was quite shaken-up for weeks afterward.
leVieux
For some reason I could never fathom, I picked up a full magazine from the center console, loaded the .45, chambered a round, ejected the mag and inserted another full mag. Now, this was way back when, long before most of us felt the need to "carry."
As I approached the entry, I saw that my door was open. Not realizing what was taking place, my first thought was that the A/C guys had come by to service my unit and change the filter, as they regularly did.
Going through the doorway, two things hit me at once; the doorframe was cracked and my gun cabinet was open.
Suddenly realizing that I had walked into my home being robbed, I raised the .45, went over to my sofa, pulled my Python out of the cushions, and searched the home. It was empty.
As I walked around, I noticed that a $20 bill my GF had left for our maid was sitting on the counter and a brand new color TV was sitting there, tags still attached. A pair of Zeiss binoculars were on the coffee table.
I had one of those phones with the long, long cord. I went into the kitchen, got a glass of water, sat on the inside kitchen steps, put both handguns on the step next to me, and called the police.
Up until that point, I had been cool as the proverbial cucumber.
But, sitting on those steps, I soon realized how close I had come to being killed and started to shake. I was certain they were armed, as they had 14 of my guns and Lord knows how much ammo.
As I was sort of hidden behind the kitchen dinette, I was not visible from the door. Hearing footsteps, I figured it was the police.
Lo, it was the burglars, back for a second haul. I picked up both pistols and waited until they were in the middle of the room and said loudly: "Hands up, don't move, I am about to kill all of you!"
This scared them more than me. I added, "I have both triggers, and I'm about to blow your head off!" Now, I was still shaking, but figured I wouldn't miss at about five or six feet, point blank.
As we waited like that, I had them take one hand, open their wallets, and put their ID's on the coffee table.
When the police did arrive, I had them sitting on the floor, hands behind heads.
The young officer walked into the room, looked around and figured it out immediately. He told me to put my pistols down, checked the ID's and told the burglars to get out of there. This confused me and I protested. He said, "These are known police characters and I can pick them up anytime I want."
About ten days later, I got a call from a Sargent Garza of the burglary division, asking him to meet me at the property room, to identify my guns.
My concern was my J.P.Sauer grouse gun. It was there and undamaged. All but one of my 14 missing guns were there. The still-missing was a Beretta AL-2 12 Ga.
He showed me a Beretta SO-3 with gold inlays and asked if I was sure that it weren't mine. As the SO-3 was worth about $25K even way back then, I was tempted, but said no.
I later learned that my AL-2 had been cut down, "sawed-off" for use as a criminal weapon and was held for evidence. I never saw it again.
Garza told me that they had solved over 20 residential gun burglaries from my "bust."
They were dopers, who had a white van truck and white coveralls. They would carry a carpet roll to a home's door, pull a big crowbar out, break the door open, unroll the carpet and load the stolen guns into it, roll it back up and put it back in the van. Neighbors seeing them would think that they were carpet service personnel.
Lesson learned, I bought a gun safe !
Although this is only an old story now, I was quite shaken-up for weeks afterward.
leVieux
