Concealed Carry Report

From: Patrick Kilchermann, USCCA Team Member

For the past two days, I set the stage for this: The FINAL part in the ‘Marine Recon’ adventure: the story of how I almost died when I was 13.

In case you missed the last two emails, please go HERE to read the first one from Monday, and HERE to read the second one from Tuesday to get caught up.

Okay… here goes. I want to apologize for two cliff-hangers in a row. I would have felt kind of bad sending you a 3/4 mile long email on a Monday morning.

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

We walked through the woods for most of the morning. Every once in a while, Cody would look down at his father’s antique compass to make sure we were on a South-West course.

At first, we tried to act like Marine Recons- we used hand signals, and we frequently “checked the trees for Charlie”.

After an hour of walking through the woods though, we were just conversing as normal.

The scenery was beautiful. There were no roads or houses in sight. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and the humidity had lifted completely. It actually felt like a rainstorm might be coming, but it didn’t matter. We were FREE.

Finally, at about mid-day, we came to the river.

At this point, I was already growing physically tired. My huge LaCross Burley boots weighed a ton and were hard to walk in- especially in the early-summer heat. Plus, the backpack I was carrying weighed at least 20 pounds.

I’m not going to lie- I thought about telling Cody and Seth right then and there that we MAY want to just call it a day. I honestly felt like even turning around and walking the mile back to his house would be tough- I couldn’t fathom going another five or six miles along the river, all the way to town.

BUT- Cody and Seth were tough, and I was already coming from a ‘wussy’ background, in that I cared deeply about my grades, I was tall and thin (they were shorter and stocky), and I wasn’t a big fan of some of the more rebellious stuff they did- and I let them know it.

So… I kept my mouth shut.

Seth decided to go for a quick swim, and he started walking out into the river- tennis-shoes and all.

“Hey,” he called from the middle of the river. “It’s only up to my waste- let’s just walked down the river- it won’t be so hot, and we can go a lot faster!”

I didn’t like the idea of going in over my boots, but again- I didn’t want to wimp out in front of my friends.

…So, even though it didn’t feel right at all letting the water pour in over the tops of my knee-high boots, I followed them in.

……..

The first… I’d guess four miles were amazing. I forgot about being wet, and I was incredibly comfortable half-walking and half-floating down the river.

Before I had got in, all I could think of was nasty craw-fish, leeches, and mud. But you quickly bond with the water, and before too long, I actually felt dirtier getting OUT of the river.

The current was fast, and it was easy to take big steps and travel an extra three or four feet each time- almost as if on the moon.

We goofed around, trying to see who could stand still in the current the longest, and we saw a LOT of nature.

There were huge sand-hill cranes, fish, and tons of great rolling hills up and down either side of the river.

We even saw an old moldy-looking cabin at the top of one of the hills, and we promised ourselves that we would go explore the cabin sometime, and maybe even make it our own secret hiding place.

At some point, it had started thunder-storming, but I either forgot about the whole “don’t wade in a river beneath tree during a lightning storm” thing, or I didn’t care. The rain pouring into the river created an almost magical effect.

Best of all, we talked. Cody, Seth and I were pretty good friends already, but unlike my other circle of friends, our relationship never included talking about our feelings or our fears.

Out there on that river though, there was nothing to hide, and we talked freely.

……..

We walked/waded all afternoon, and by 5pm, with the looming storm clouds, it seemed to be getting dark. We knew we had a few hours of light left, but we decided that we had better pick up the pace if we wanted to avoid spending the night in the woods.

We had been in the river for hours, and by this time, being completely soaked totally totally normal. We were as natural in the river as we were out of it.

Still, I was VERY tired- more than I realized. When I would climb out onto the bank for one reason or another, it would hit me hard.

My soaked jeans, shirt, jacket, and backpack weighed a ton. Not to mention my waterproof, rubber LaCross Burley knee-boots which were continuously full of water.

Cody and Seth had both opted for tennis-shoes instead of boots, and had lighter jackets on. Because of this, they could ball themselves up and float, whereas I had to walk along the river bed. If I tried balling up, I would just end up with my butt dragging on the river bed and my head barely out of the water.

So after we picked up the pace, they both became a solid 40 or 50 yards ahead of me.

We were so focused on getting home at this point that I wasn’t worried about missing out on any conversation- we were all too tired to talk anyway.

Remember the whole “me almost dying” aspect of this story? Well, here it comes.

After another hour or so, I was almost in a trance-like state. It was all I could do to shut my mind off and just keep walking/floating in the waist deep, muddy water. I was SO tired.

I knew we’d get to town sooner or later- I just had to keep going.

That was when I got one of the most terrifying feelings I’ve ever had.

As I was walking along in the fast current…. suddenly the river deepened… and my footing gave out.

I was taking such big steps that in one stride, the water was at my belt buckle, and the next it was at my chest.

In a panic, I tried to stop and walk backwards- or at last hold my ground, but in an instant the strong current pushed me over the brink.

…..

My friends had been floating to conserve energy, and had never noticed that the river had gone from 2-3 feet deep to ten feet deep.

…..

As I felt the ground disappear beneath my feet, I screamed. “HEEEELP!”

Except I don’t even think I got that much out.

My knee boots full of water, and my water-logged clothes, coat, and backpack were so heavy that I immediately sank to the bottom- my boots were touching the river bed, but I was completely underwater.

My first instinct was to try to swim to the top. I tried this for a split second before I realized that it was doing no good- my feet would rise off the bottom an inch or two with each stroke, but they would quickly return to the river bed.

My next instinct was to take off my backpack, but as I clawed for my jacket’s zipper, I began panicking in a serious way:

Having sunk so suddenly and off-guard, I didn’t have time to get a good breath of air, and I used what air was in my lungs to try to shout for help.

And now, I was screwed.

Taking my boots off was not an option- these boots were designed to seal around your feet, and taking them off even in a warm hunting room was hard enough.

Swimming was not an option, and my only chance was to get rid of my backpack and try to swim again. But I couldn’t find my coat zipper, and in the pitch-black world beneath the surface of the river, my panicking, clammy hands couldn’t find the straps of the pack within the folds of my field jacket sleeves.

Thoughts raced through my head. My friends- IF they had even heard me over the rain and river sounds- were 40 yards ahead of me in a SWIFT current.

They probably hadn’t heard me, and they would simply realize later that I was no longer behind them, and assume I was playing a trick.

I literally remember thinking how mad at me my parents would be when he found out I had lied about everything, and then wound up dead at the bottom of a river.

I have no idea how much time passed from the time I went under until all these thoughts rushed through my head… it was probably less than 20 seconds.

All I remember is that colors started flashing in my eyes, and my lungs felt like they were going to explosde… when all of a sudden…

Suddenly, something was grabbing me around the shins. Then, it was pushing me up!

My head broke water, and I gasped for air. I mean, I GASPED for air. I couldn’t believe I was breathing fresh air!

I was looking down the river to see Cody rushing upstream toward me, and I realized that Seth had heard my cry for help, swam back to me, and had somehow found me under water, and was now standing on the bottom of the river, holding me up.

I felt myself sinking again, and then Seth appeared above the surface next to me, now holding me up with one arm around my chest, and the other arm paddling water as hard as he could.

“SWIM HARD!” He yelled, and together we made it to shore.

Seth had saved my life.

…..

I never re-entered the river that day. Cody and Seth floated the next to me, while I used my machete to cut my way down the bank parallel to them.

After only a half hour or so, we reached the old rotten bridge which signified the north edge of town.

Cody and Seth told me they were going to float further down and go spend the night at another friend’s house.

I remember saying to Seth, grinning of course, “Hey, thanks again man.”

“Well, your dad would probably have killed me if I didn’t save you… so….”

I just laughed, and I walked the last half mile or so from the rotten bridge to my dad’s house.

…..

I kicked my boots off on the back porch, and took my socks off. My jeans and jacket had largely dried out, as it had stopped raining at some point earlier.

When I walked in, my dad and his girlfriend were making dinner.

“I thought you were going to stay the night at Cody’s?” he asked me.

“Well, we actually got bored and followed the river all the way to town, and I decided to come home afterwards.”

“You did?? Holy cow, that’s awesome! Man, I used to do stuff like that all the time as a kid.”

And, that was it.

It would be almost ten years before I would ever tell my parents how close I was to not making it back that night, and by then, even the story I have just shared with you was just something to shake our heads and smile about.

……..

Well, that’s it… I hope you enjoyed the story. If not, don’t worry, we’ll be back to our

I’d like to invite you to leave a comment about this story, or better yet- post your own story- on the Armed American Report Blog.

In case you’re not sure on how to leave a comment on our blog, here’s a short video:

http://deltamediallc.com/videos/comment.html

–

Patrick Kilchermann
USCCA Team Member
New Member Info

P.S. - Do you know anybody who would JUDGE you for carrying a concealed weapon?

I do… nearly the entire world.

When I first began carrying, I heard a story about someone who had the cops called on him because his gun showed.

I’ve come to learn that this is pretty rare, but it’s such a shame that we have to live in fear of being judged instantly this way.

Here’s what got me thinking about this:

On the USCCA forum today, I saw a thread where someone asked “How many spare magazines is it normal to carry”.

When I read this (and all the kind replies) , I realized that there is no “normal” here, and we don’t judge.

We don’t think you’re weird for carrying one, two, or three guns, and you can carry as many spare magazines as you want.

We understand the armed mentality.

Our community would be a better place with you in it, friend. I hope you’ll join as a full USCCA member today!

Please use the link below to find out more about how to become a member of this family:

=> Become a Member of our Community…

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