Carol, this is not an attmpt to change the trend of this forum, but if the readers will grant me permission, I have a reprint of one of my posts in Misc data and adventures of a Tayopa treasure hunter regarding experiences.
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[h=3][/h][h=2]Re: Misc data and adventures of a Tayopa treasure hunter[/h]Good afternoon: I posted this from a news paper article here in Mexico -->
Armed resistance to the Zetas is forming throughout Mexio by the citizens.
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A post was promptly sent to me --> with the tongue in cheek joke, " they need
you to teach them Jose", referring to the article mentioning that most did
not know how to use their arms effectively yet..
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I, in return posted --> Morning Lxxxxx: As a matter of fact, I did train one that later turned enforcer for the local narcos, Charlito.. He knew of my reputation and asked me several times to teach him how to shoot a pistol, he was an exceptional student, I soon had to really stretch to stay with him. Hie managed to beat Billy The Kid by the time that he was the same age. His first notch was his sister.
He always claimed that it was an accident, that he was shooting at a hanging flower pot, which just happened to be aligned with the door and fired just as she stepped out . hmmmm. Incidentally, a bit of extremely jealous, incest was hinted at. hmmmm Next he was in the state police, where he became fairly wealthy and added more notches.. He would often drop by with other state police to have an informal match. He was constantly getting better.
One day while driving between Navojo and Obregon, I saw hundreds of book sized green plastic packages lying in the hiway. Naturally I stopped, and picked up an intact one for my friend in Alamos who had extremely bad arthritis. He steeped it in alcohol and after sufficient period, rubbed the concoction on his joints. He claimed that one application kept him pain free for over a week at a time. As we were leaving there, I saw a driver from California picking them up like firewood. snicker. Later I read that the state police had recovered 3 - 4 packages?? A state police car was entering the area just as I was leaving?? I often wondered if he and the Californian had any problems with each other. Later when I mentioned this to Charlito he became a bit agitated, and said " You @#$@#$, stupid, gringo, I have a good market for that, we could have made a fortune.
The next that I heard of Charlito, was that he had just shot his superior while leaving a cantina. He shot him in the back of the neck as they were leaving with his .44 maggie. Then as his chief was laying on the ground gasping, he deliberately shot him twice more. He always claimed that one should never allow for a return match. The local police were afraid to try to apprehend him, so he rode off to his nearby ranch' It turns out that they were arguing how to split the money from up another batch of narcotics.
A week or so later the federals picked him up quietly at the ranch and he eventually did 2 years in a 'comfortable' prison. As he was leaving the prison a representative of the Federal police approached him and offered him a position with them ?? Here was a guy that had just killed his bossHe turned the federal down, since the local branch of the narcos had offered him much more money to be their enforcer.
He gained many more notches and set the basics for his undoing. Among his latest victims, was the son of the jefe (chief) of the competing narco group in Navajoa. The jefe thought that this wasn't quite cricket, and sent 3 men with auto weapons to balance things out.
Charlito was just a country boy at heart and stayed at his ranch just outside of Alamos. He used his mule for transportation. The three waited for him on top of a rise, and as he topped it, they opened up with automatic fire until their ammo ran out, it turned out that they were deathly afraid of him. Charlito, his mule, and his doggie were all shot full of holes. No serious effort was made to find them.
Once while I was exploring the sierras, I made friends with an Indian. He was a true product of the sierras, he could neither read nor write. One night, many months later, I heard a loud banging on my front door. Upon opening it, I found my Indian friend, drunk . He merrily breezed past me and entered the house. I maneuvered him into the kitchen and started dumping coffee into him.. As usual with some of the hill Indians down here, he was was giggling. as he sobered up he commenced to tell me that he had escaped the federal troops that had trapped his group of would be Indian revolutionaries, that the federals had killed many of his friends and that his jefe (chief) was holed up at --, I stopped him right there and said that I didn't want to know here his jefe was, since no matter what happened I would be blamed.
He understood, then said "Don Jose, I want you to go the US and get me 100 Garand M-1 Rifles in 30-06 , 1000 rounds for each, 10 .45 19'11, and the same amount of ammo for them.. I want you to buy a Bronco to bring them back, I will let you know where in the sierras to take them. Hmmm, -- I carefully explained to him that I personally did not have that that much money. He grunted , and said " No problem Don Jose, I'll give you 10 kilos of the black Opium extract. Sell it and keep what ever is left".
I then tried to explain the problems of passing the border, that the Mexican officials would inspect the car. He appeared puzzled and said "what right do they have to search your car ? again hmmm After giving him some vague promises to help him in other ways, he left. Side thingie, the slaughter of some 100 Indians was never reported or in the news papers.
Later one day, I ran across Charlito with a group of drunken narcos playing mariachi music along side of a back road. They were practicing with submachine guns shooting across the road. Naturally I stopped. Some of them approached me very belligerently and demanded to know what was I doing there. I was explaining that I was returning from the sierras, when Charlito appeared. After hugging me, he promptly told them to back off, that I was his personal friend and that I was the best pistolero in Mexico, that I had taught him how to shoot,, Naturally I had to have few beer, being Charlito's compadre (?) and as the conversation dragged a bit, I remember my Indian friend and asked charlito " I have an Indian friend in the sierras that wants me to sell 10 kilos of the black gum, what would his group think of it"? He sobered up a bit, thought, then said don't worry Jose, I will vouch for you, have fun, but please don't make a habit of this".
Sigh, think of the many lost chances to be wealthy that I have thrown away, I guess that I have to blame the lousy, cottin pickin, Border Patrol for reinforcing my original set of morals.
The BP, Bill Toney, Jordan, keith, McGivern and Capt Wadman all had a hand in my training. Without being a bit asinine, they did a good job, I beat the Mexican national pistol champion. When I was actively exploring the remote barraca regions, evey little group of people that I met, once they saw my .357 S&W on my belt, would insist on a bit of informal competition. I did my part to successfully uphold the BP's reputation, both with the pistol and propaganda. They were always greatly impressed when I insisted on setting up a human sized target up to 400 meters, they wouldn't even try with a rifle. They were particularly impressed with my quick draw work, 3/5th of a sec to draw and hit a sil target at 10 meters..
In the back country then, they didn't judge you by your position in life, but how much of a macho you were , and pistol work was the major part of it. Later I found that this reputation opened many doors, and protected me. ©@
Don Jose de La Mancha ( el sheltered Saint that lives in his cave at the end of the road meditating his mavel.
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