Vagus Nerve
Bear Hug
Inside Car
Throat
Throat Slap
Slap From Behind
Finger-Bone Strike
Back Of The Neck
Tight Bear Hug
Chapter 5: Carotid Artery Constriction
Approach From Behind
Ground
Chapter 6: Head And Neck Combinations
Double Ear Slap
Head Butt, Hammer Fist
Strike The Back Of His Head
A Window Opens
Three Double-Hand Strikes
Chapter 7: Torso
The Somatic Reflex Arc
Solar Plexus
Kick To Solar Plexus
Punch To Solar Plexus
Kidneys
Hook, Hook, Slam
Hook Kick, Chin Push
Evade, Hit, Pull
Liver
The Best Impact Point
The Second Best Impact Point
Hit And Pull Him Down
Clothing Grab, Liver Hit
Chapter 8: Biceps, Forearms And Fingers
Quick Shot
Stomp His Biceps
Hit Both Arms
Forearms
Forearm Stomp
Forearm Strike
Takedown Assist
Fingers: Acute Pain Techniques
Two Types Of Pain
Pinkie Jam
The Splits
Finger Bend
Chapter 9: Legs: Femoral Nerve, Knees & Peroneal Nerve
Femoral Nerve
Foot Push
Hand Press
Knees
An Inch Or So Above The Kneecap
Damage The Knee
Smash Braced Knee
Peroneal Nerve
Clinch
Against A Push
Punch It
Stomp It
Chapter 10: Takedowns
Why Take ‘Em Down?
Balance And Unbalancing Made Simple
Tripod Concept
Easy Takedowns
Hair Pull
The Stumbling Attacker
Forehead Push
Face Grab And Push
Philtrum Push
Neck Hook
Twist, Hit And Pull
Bend Him Backwards
Shoulder Twist
Forehead Pull
Lock Knees And Push
Leg Pop Takedown
Body Takedown
Leg Takedowns
Face Smother And Leg Sweep
Back Grip And Leg Sweep
Warning: “Ground-And-Pound”
Conclusion
About The Author
I gripped the sides of my seat as Dan zigzagged our Military Police jeep through choked traffic on our way to check out a large disturbance call involving dozens of people in one of the many bar and brothel sections of Saigon, Vietnam. Such calls were as common as the damnable humidity in a city of millions where American GIs overindulged in alcohol and drugs and fought over pretty girls, where racial tensions split the military, and the threat of snipers, bombings, and rockets was a constant. But there was nothing common about the disturbance call Dan and I were about to confront.
We didn’t find a bunch of drunken servicemen tearing up a bar, as was the usual disturbance call, but rather one man, an extraordinarily large, black American soldier, standing in an intersection in the middle of total mayhem. It wasn’t a racial incident, as was so common in late 1960s Vietnam, but rather a bloodbath without prejudice. It was a moving image of that Biblical painting where Samson is smashing a thousand Phillistines with the jawbone of an ass. Only this Samson, who was as big as a FedEx truck, was armed with a ball peen hammer; his “Philistines” were people of every color.
Dan and I moved toward Sampson, our hands on our holstered guns, shouting at him to drop his hammer. He ignored us, either because our commands didn’t register in his disturbed brain or because he didn’t hear us with all the screaming going on. He did look toward us, though his glassy, unfocused eyes seemed to be looking into another galaxy where he had been proclaimed judge and executioner.
Not wanting to draw our weapons because of the crowd, Dan lunged for Sampson’s hammer as I simultaneously moved around behind the monster. I stand six feet in Army boots but my head barely reached the mountain range he had for shoulders. He flung Dan off his arm as if the MP were an annoying fly and commenced swinging his hammer at people, oblivious that I was dangling from his back like a guy hanging from the ledge of a building. I tried to take him down backwards with a strong jerk on his shoulders, but he didn’t notice.
I was 23 years old the night I found myself hanging from Sampson. I weighed 195 pounds, I’d been lifting weights since I was 13, and I’d trained in the martial arts for several years. If I may boast, I had developed a powerful cross punch that would send even the heaviest hanging bag bucking and twisting. Nonetheless, my punches into Sampson’s back muscles didn’t slow his hammer action, nor did he even glance in my direction.
My partner again latched onto the giant arm in an effort to slow his jawbone-of-an-ass techniques, but once more he was sent flying. In desperation, I began punching the big man’s spine, wailing away with at least a dozen hits, trying desperately to dislodge a few of his vertebrae. He ignored me, and trudged deeper into the panicked crowd with his avenging hammer.
Just