Page 351 - NIXBOOK

Altogether I was carrying well over 3 pounds’ worth of just extra ammunition.
After I got everything redistributed onto the vest (and added some more items)
the total weight was 5 pounds for the gunbelt and 12 pounds’ worth of tactical
gear on the vast carrier.

2017 was the year a gunman in Las Vegas fired into a concert crowd from a hotel
window, hitting over 500 people, causing a kind of a paradigm shift in law
enforcement across the county. My police chief at the time started making plans
for a mass casualty shooting event in our small town; he pointed out the rooftops
downtown and asked us “What do we do if a sniper opened up fire on our largest
crowd of the year, during the fireworks show?” And a little bit more innocence
was lost as I realized I had never once even considered that possibility. So even
though I carried probably way more ammo than I needed, I never apologized for
it or regretted doing so.
Other stuff: One time during my career we got issued some personal protective
gear, which was basically a giant one-use bio hazard suit complete with a full face mask and filter canisters. A federal grant had
paid for a few hundred of them; I think every cop in the county got one. They were great for using if a tanker truck full of
chemicals crashed on the highway and started leaking fumes and vapors everywhere. Which of course never happened. I never
saw a cop wear one outside of training. We also got issued some fancy high-speed first aid kits, which were called “trauma kits”
and cost like $300 bucks each because they had quick-clot bandages and tourniquets. The kit was in a tactical black nylon bag
complete with straps and buckles to attach to a gunbelt, for those officers who had room to add the other end of the buckle to
receive it. They were also funded with a government grant, and they would be very useful for a gunshot injury, or a mass-casualty
incident, so they were welcome. A lot of cops I knew took the tourniquets out of their kits and carried them instead on their
tactical vests to keep them handy.

Other gear I had included a pocket knife, which wasn’t an official item when I first started. The sergeants back then all had a
desk drawer or two full of seized contraband items that usually included knives and cigarette lighters that had been taken from
bad guys, and if an officer wanted a knife and the sergeant was in a good mood, maybe he’d part with one of the old knives. But
then the school district’s assistant superintendent gave us all pocket knives after his son’s life was saved by my coworkers one
night. The story is that two PPD officers and sheriff’s deputy were out in the back PD lot late one night, smoking a cigarette or
two because at that time smoking had been banned indoors, so it was only outside smoking from then on. They were standing
around just BS’ing in the dark when they heard a car engine running too hard at the nearest intersection. “I don’t think he
stopped at the stop sign there,” Bru said. The engine roaring got louder and they saw the car, a small pickup truck, go flying
south on Fjord Drive right past the PD. The driver was going close to double the speed limit and was still accelerating. “He’s not
gonna make that curve up ahead!” The three officers jumped in their cars to give chase in the dark. They didn’t get far; only a
few hundred feet past the PD they saw that the truck had indeed missed the shoreline curve and it sailed off an embankment
down toward the beach. The embankment there was close to 30 feet high. The truck slammed into the beach and flipped over.
Fortunately the tide was out so the driver, the assistant superintendent’s 19 year old son, did not drown. But he was trapped in
the mangled truck, upside down. The fact that he was severely drunk was not helping him either. The three officers looked down
to the beach and realized they’d have to work their way down through some seriously thick blackberry bushes to get to the
driver, who they presumed was injured badly. Officer Andy was the first down the embankment, and he made his way to the
crashed truck. Which was at that point on fire. And the kid was still stuck inside. Although he was drunk, he was sobering up
quickly and he was not happy about his situation. Andy tried to extricate him from the truck and saw that he’d have to cut the
seatbelt apart to get the kid out. The good news is that Andy had a knife with him. The bad news is that the knife was a very
small Swiss Army knife on his keyring; the main blade was less than two inches long and it was not very sharp. But with an
engine fire spreading, there was incentive to hack at the seatbelt webbing as frantically as possible. He succeeded, just as the
flames spread into the front seat area. Less than a minute later, the entire cab of the truck was engulfed in roaring flames. The
kid was actually uninjured and grateful to have his life saved. When his father heard about the officer’s little Swiss army knife,
he bought every officer an official police pocket knife. So from then on we all carried those knives, although for the rest of my
career there nobody had to use one to save a life like that. Eventually those knives did wear out and officers got their own knives.
And knife manufacturers started making really cool tactical police knives, that had a built-in seatbelt cutting blade on one side,
and on the end, a special point for smashing in a car window, if necessary.
As I type this, and reflect back on how much my uniform changed over the years, I realize that when I first started I had no clue
at all that my look would change. If you had asked me back then, as a fresh-faced and innocent 25 year old peace officer, what
I’d be wearing 25 years later on duty, I’m sure I would have looked puzzled and I’d answer simply ‘Um..the same thing I’m
wearing now?” Oh how times changed. I had no idea what was in store for me in the future!