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[Editor]

Remember to Pull the Trigger -- During a long stay in Guatemala, Jack Davis met many characters, but a man named Wolf stood apart.

[Jack Davis]

Once I found myself in downtown Guatemala City in a hotel inhabited by ex-patriots -- not just from the U. S., but from all over the world. I was able to get a monthly rate for a three-room suite that was unbelievably cheap. This explains why I decided to stay awhile and also why there were so many other ex-patriots.

There was a neat little bar on the mezzanine floor, again with unbelievably cheap drinks, where many of us old men congregated in the evening. Evening started about three o'clock in the afternoon. Sometimes it started right after lunch.

The owner and part-time bartender was a young man named Wolf. There was more to his name than that, but I couldn't pronounce it. So I called him Wolf, and that's all I remember.

I soon found there was a penny-ante poker game at the bar after closing time on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I turned on my full charm and got Wolf to invite me to the game. I figured these worldly types might be too tough for me, but I decided it would be worth a few bucks to find out.

As it turned out, these guys were no match for a maverick, West Texas-schooled poker player. I found out rapidly that I could almost pay for a week's stay each time I played.

After one poker game, Wolf invited me up to his apartment for a nightcap. The apartment turned out to be a luxurious six-room suite. What first caught my eye were dozens of pictures of Wolf riding motorbikes -- not just any motorbikes, but moto-cross cycles. There also were dozens of trophies from his wins at various European events.

I have two sons who were moto-cross racers, and they rode the same brand of Japanese bike. With that experience, I knew that motocross is one of the most physically demanding sports in existence, and I was taken aback that this seemingly shy, laid-back young guy could be in that league. He kind of looked like one of the kids at the grocery store who might help you carry your bags out to the car.

We had a drink together and talked. I found out he was born in Switzerland and was in the Swiss Army. He said after his army experience he looked for something more exciting and decided to join the French Foreign Legion.

The Legion only takes the toughest men -- one out of 12 who apply -- and Wolf made the cut. The next step up was the Legion's airborne unit, where only one of 50 applicants are taken. Wolf made this cut also.

How did he get to Guatemala? He told me that after his five-year hitch in the Legion, he was hired by the president of Guatemala as his personal bodyguard. He did a six-year hitch in that job and was rewarded with his own bar and apartment after the next presidential election.

To say I was awed by this person is putting it mildly. It was almost like finding these things out about the kid next door.

A couple of weeks later I was on the way to the bar for drinks and an evening of poker when I saw everyone whispering. Something was going on, and it only took a few minutes to find out what. Wolf had killed a man the night before.

I went on into the bar, bought Wolf and me a drink, and sat down with him. I told him I heard he'd had some excitement.

"Yeah," he said, "last night after I closed the bar, I started over to another hotel where I heard there were some American girls. As I turned the corner of the next block a guy stepped out of the shadows and stuck a gun in my face and told me to give him my money.

"You know, it's amazing -- when you cut a guy's throat, he always forgets to pull the trigger."

I agreed that was amazing. And the more I thought about it, the more amazing it became. A guy has a pistol cocked and pointed at your head, with his finger on the trigger. But he doesn't think fast enough to pull the trigger when his throat gets cut.

In Guatemala City, finding a dead body on the street doesn't entail a police investigation, unless, of course, the dead body is an important politic. So nothing ever came of this episode.

I participated in many more poker games with Wolf and his ex-pat friends, and I really regretted finally having to leave. Amazing people.

This should be an important lesson for anyone bent on a life of crime. Be careful that the mild-looking guy you are going to rob doesn't make you forget to pull the trigger.


P.S. I saw a recent interview with retired General Stormin' Norman, who said he was made an honorary Legionnaire after Desert Storm.

In the interview he said these guys are the most efficient killing machines in existence. He said when a Legionnaire has finished his hitch, he is issued a white card with a telephone number on it. Legionnaires know that regardless of where they are, if they get in trouble, they can call that number and help will be on the way.

It's hard to imagine what kind of trouble one of these guys could get into that he couldn't handle himself.

[Joe McQuade]

( In reply to Jack Davis )

One helluva story, Jack, as usual. Wolf, your Guatemalan friend, sounds like quite a man. But I can't shake some nagging questions.

If Wolf is skilled enough to pull his knife and cut a robber's throat before that man can pull a trigger, isn't he skilled enough to disarm him in a non-lethal manner?

As a general rule, I think people are within their rights to protect themselves from a gun barrel in any way possible -- even if it means killing the guy on the other side of the weapon. But don't people with special skills have special responsibilities?

If Joe Blow lashes out and cracks an armed mugger's skull in self-defense, most sensible people would agree that's a justifiable act of self-defense. But if the mugging victim is a black belt karate stud who is trained to defuse the situation by breaking any of 17 lesser bones, it seems to me we should hold him to a higher standard of conduct. For him to kill in that situation is unnecessary -- and an awful lot like pre-meditated murder, no?

By the way, please do me a favor and don't forward my concerns to Sr. Wolf.