In August, 2007, I was teaching a “Tactical Handgun Instructor: Train-the-Trainer” course hosted by Hillsboro, Oregon, Police Department.  We anticipated 17 officers from three states to be in attendance—several of them high-power, very experienced and respected trainers.  Having scheduled it in November of the previous year, it seemed like a good time of year for a week-long class.  The Portland area…Northern Oregon…mild summer weather, maybe some rain…right?  The lowest temperature that week was 98 F (37 C), and it hovered between 105  (41 C) and 108  (42 C) for much of the week. 

The range itself is a large complex, but we were training in a working gravel pit (trucks, blasting, and digging all day, every day), and each firing range was surrounded by high berms up against a hill.  Being in this bowl only served to amplify the dust and heat.  In short, perfect conditions for training!

We train the combative use of firearms to police and military personnel.  While so many teach police courses on “how to shoot,” we teach “how to fight:” in this particular class, that means when the fight is predominantly with handguns.  That means fighting in reactive situations from the holster, physically fighting with another live-human being on the line while shooting live fire, learning how NOT to shoot your partner who is downrange in a real gunfight, moving and hitting under duress, working on the ground, and taking cover away from a suspect are just some of the skills we train during the week.

We took a student’s comment in an evaluation a few years ago as the motto for the class:  “This ain’t your dad’s shooting class.”  We’re proud that it is not.  Every day begins with classroom instruction, generally for a couple of hours to ensure an intellectual basis for the training.  Safety briefings, deadly force law, weapons handling and hitting theory, tactics, Beginning and Advanced Combatives Theory, and more safety briefings are all part of the beginning of our day.  Students wondered aloud why we were in the classroom for the coolest part of the day, while also reminding me that they were following the number one rule of conduct:  No whining!  It was agreed by all that there was no harm in asking.

Safely teaching people, even armed professionals, to fight with their weapons requires a structured approach.  We begin slowly and build up to combatives.  Using training guns (inert, solid plastic) for safety, we begin where we will likely end up in a fight:  in the dirt.  For most officers it will be the first time they have ever discharged their handguns from a position other than standing.  And when they are falling.  And when someone is pushing them down.  The doubt and worry in their eyes is familiar to me—I’ve seen it in every combatives firearms class I’ve taught in thelast 25+ years.  I also know it is going to change real quick when they realize they can do this AND be safe.

Starting from a seated position, then progressing to a kneeling position before being pushed to the ground, the officers’ world is suddenly expanded—“Wow…I just fell to the ground and kept shooting!  My instructor would never allow this.”  My response?  “Uh…yeah…I know.  That’s why you’re here…to learn how to teach your guys and gals to fight.” 

After getting dirty (I’m the first, always, to demo a new skill or tactic, so I am always as dirty as everyone else on that range), we progress to moving and hitting drills, simultaneously training to get off the suspect’s line of fire, to be accustomed to another officer firing in proximity, and to not shoot your partner.  Then into hitting targets from the ground while moving, getting stuff thrown at them, and generally interfered with.  Everyone is filthy, hot, and having a good time (remember the no whining agreement?).  Their limits are really being pushed about what they “know” about shooting. 

Somewhere around the middle of the first day, I realized that I am surrounded by a bunch of guys who are wearing Danner boots.  I mentioned it, and people started noticing each other’s boots.  Sounds weird now, a bunch of cops standing around looking at each other’s boots, but it didn’t seem strange at the time.

Water played a big part in this week—at least 2 gallons per person per day.  Every break I pushed them to drink water to prevent heat injuries.  Sunscreen was a big deal, too, for us all, but especially for the fair-skinned guys.  One of the officers missed that memo on Tuesday and paid the price…he was miserable for the rest of the week, but he was tough and kept it pretty much to himself.

We progressed fairly rapidly, each “student” teaching every day, locking in the lessons learned and how to transmit that info to their own students.  By Thursday mid-morning, we have covered combatives during live-fire, weapon retention and live fire, use of cover, tactical supporting fire, and other concepts that they had never dreamed of doing on a live-fire range before Monday morning.  They have learned to shoot past each other safely, how to identify potential blue-on-blue situations and safely adjust, how to ingress and egress under fire, and other skills that officers in the past have been forced to perform with live ammunition while under fire for the first time. In fact, I have to tighten up the class, and remind them that what they are now casually taking as “normal” on this range is something they never would have considered doing before this class. 

What’s more important, they learned to teach it.  They’ve been teaching it to each other since Monday.  They are speaking the language, understanding and practicing the safety protocols and presenting the learning layers necessary for safely training in what others call “advanced” training, but we know to be common sense fighting. 

At Thursday lunch break, somebody who was “out of the club” began asking why so many guys were wearing Danners.  What resulted can only be termed as a spontaneous “Danner Love-fest.”  One guy talked about having the same pair of boots for 16 years—they have been recrafted three times.  Another guy stated that since he started wearing his Danners five years before his feet don’t hurt at the end of shift.  Being “in the club,” I had my own stories about Danner boots taking care of me. If I hadn’t called an end to it to go back to work, they might still be there testifying about their undying devotion to their Danner boots.

Friday came the big exams:  teaching any concept called upon to present, and the student-developed qualification course.  The qual-course is always tough because the new instructors are eager to put all of the lessons learned into the test.  By the time the gunsmoke (and dust) had cleared, everyone had passed, with several needing to retest once, and just one student having to retest for a final do-or-die third qual-shoot—close one, but he passed.  The teaching went well.  I cut the training short, telling the class I had a treat for them. 

SSgt. Greg Stubie, a Special Forces A-Team medic and who had been terribly wounded in Afghanistan, gave an extremely inspirational presentation on his experiences in the US Army, Special Forces, and how his training, and the high standards he demanded from his soldiers, saved his life in a tremendous battle his team fought against huge odds.  He urged us to set high standards for our learners, and to hold them to it, because those standards will save lives.  At the end of the talk, this classroom of warriors, with not a dry eye in the room, stood and gave a standing ovation to a warrior who had paid a big price for all of us.  It took a long for him to work his way out of the room.  The following Monday, he was back in the hospital for another in a series of scheduled surgeries to correct the battle damage he had suffered.  We were truly blessed to witness this man’s unflinching devotion to his country, his complete lack of self-pity, and his dedication to developing warriors who will stand tall when called to. 

Nine months after the class, I met one the “new-instructors” at another seminar I was teaching (and yes, he wears Danner boots every day on-duty).  I had to laugh as he told his experience of the week of combatives handgun training to a group of us at a break.  He said, “Look.  I was in the Air Force.  We had air conditioning.  When we qualified with our M16s, we did it under an awning.  We were clean.  I don’t get dirty.  I’ve never been dirty my whole life.  But you had me in the dirt.  I was so hot I thought I was going to die.  I was filthy.  I had dirt in my clothes—even in my underwear!  I had dirt inside my boots and inside my socks.  I had dirt up my nose and in my mouth.”  Now he really got animated, “I had a mouth full of dirt!  I’ve never had dirt in my mouth!”  Then he grinned and said, “I had a great time.  I learned a lot about staying alive in a gunfight…thanks.”  He shook my hand and added, “I hope I never get that dirty ever again.”

It made an old combatives trainer’s heart swell to hear that.  A great class with a great bunch of people training warriors to fight in our service while wearing great US made boots.  I’ll never wear anything else but Danners while teaching America’s finest in the heat, the dust, and the dirt.

George T. Williams
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