Eddy Took The Belt Buckle To The Chin

Saving The Girls
Keaau Beach

I was standing next to Tim, watching the whole sordid scene unfold.
Eddy was trying hard to get the mokes to leave. The big one, around
6'2, 225 lbs, had taken off his belt and was swinging the buckle end
at Eddy. I didn't know what to do. Poor Eddy wouldn't fight; he was
doing his best to survive, though. My sense of fair play made it easy
for me to sit on the sidelines. Inside, though, I was feeling
terribly vexed. Eddy got hit a couple of times, still he wouldn't
fight. He just kept backing away. When the buckle caught him on the
chin, almost knocking him to the ground, the moke moved in for the
kill. Eddy spun around and grabbed the belt. It was a tug of war then.
Eddy kept screaming, "I won't fight you! I won't fight you!" The other
moke, now seeing his chance, attacked Eddy.

Tim and I just stood there. I had never been in a real fight before.
In that moment of truth, though, I stepped in and threw a tackle on
the big moke. Unfortunately, I threw a poor tackle. The big guy didn't
go down. I was clinging to one of his legs when he looked down at me
and said, "You want some too." "No," I replied, "but what's fair about
two against one." He shook his leg, and a moment later I found myself
fending off punches and kicks. That was the time for "my savage
animal" to break through. That was the time, but it didn't happen.
Instead, I took a kick in the crotch. I was reduced to a heap on the
ground as the moke turned his attention back to Eddy.

It was getting ugly when Gary showed up. Nobody knew Gary very well.
He, his wife, and kids, parked their homemade camper in the beach
parking lot at night. In the morning, they would drive away, and
repeat the process at night. On that particular night Gary must have
been aroused by all the commotion because just when help was most
needed, he came storming out the back of the van. He grabbed the
smaller moke and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. Gary was small
himself, but it was obvious he knew how to fight. Eddy still wouldn't
fight. I couldn't believe it. (If he had fought, he would have beaten
the moke, I was sure of it.) The fighting came to a halt, or should I
say the beating came to a stop, when Eddy pulled the belt from the
moke's hand and threw it twenty yards down the beach. Gary still had
the smaller moke pinned face down in the dirt. Tim remained a
spectator throughout, but his presence, along with Eddy, Gary, and me
(I was know standing) was too much for the mokes. They left, but not
before screaming that they would be back.

Eddy and I were still nursing our adrenalin high when the return of
the mokes surprised us. This time there were three of them and
Russell, the large one, carried a .22 caliber rifle. They walked up to
the campfire and wanted to know where Gary had gone. We told them Gary
left the beach. Actually, Gary was on his way back to his van when the
mokes approached the campfire. He saw what was happening and got in
his van and took off. The mokes ran after him. The smaller one was
able to reach the van and jump on the rear bumper. When Gary turned
onto the highway, he was thrown to the ground. Russell shot twice at
the truck before all three of them piled into their truck and took off
after the van. As soon as they left, Eddy and I went to the emergency
phone and called the police. An hour later the police showed up and
brought with them the good news that Gary and his family were safe.
Gary pulled into a gas station where there was a cop inside buying a
pack of cigarettes. The cops didn't catch the mokes, though.

That night I went to work without sleep. When I left work the next
morning I couldn't talk. The violence from the night before had scared
me so much that the lump in my throat never went away. When I arrived
back at the beach, I found that Eddy had taken his tent and the girl's
tent, down to the opposite end of the park. I stayed put. It would
have taken too much work to move anyway. Tim also stayed. Last night,
I learned something about myself. I had learned that I would fight if
I had to (my sore throat wouldn't let me forget that lesson), and, in
the name of non-violence, I would never take a beating like Eddy did.