"It's okay, Roy," Mike answered, once again appreciating the sensitivity that Roy was showing. "Did I ever tell you about the first call Gus and I handled?"

"No, Mike. But I'd like to hear about it."

Mike smiled briefly and then looked down at his beer. "I'm not talking about hauling a drunk home or getting a cat out of a tree, you know. We did our fair share of those calls. I'm talking about our first criminal call. It was down on Alabama St near 20th, the Mission district. There used to be a drug store there – Schreiber's. Old man Schreiber and his wife ran it, sweet old couple from Poland who had come here in the 20's. Mrs. Schreiber would sell baked breads and pastries in the back. They had a soda fountain, penny candy and you could get your powders and pills there too. It was a popular spot for years."

Roy smiled, "I love those old mom and pop shops. Good memories. So, you had a call there?"

"There was a 211 going down there. A couple of young punks – not old enough to have served in the war, but old enough to know better than to rob Schreiber's. It was almost evening and not long before the store would close. We were walking that part of the beat when Gus noticed that the something looked wrong. It was too dark in the shop. The late day lights hadn't been turned on. We crossed the street and made sure we stayed out of anyone's view. We looked through the side of the window and sure enough, there was Mrs. Schrieber with a knife at her throat held by this stocky guy who had his other arm around her waist. Mr. Schrieber was emptying the cash register into a bag that the other goon was holding. Not that there was much, maybe fifty dollars?"

"Back then, I guess that was a lot. But no guns?" Roy asked.

"No, those were the good old days, not nearly the weapons that you see now. But you could still cut someone up pretty good with a kitchen knife no matter," Mike smiled again and took a sip of his beer. "So, Gus figures that these two guys would bolt out the front door as soon as they were satisfied they got everything of value. He wanted to wait until the knife was away from Mrs. Schrieber's throat. I didn't have enough time to cover the back, so when Gus gave the go ahead, we barreled through the front, nightsticks in hand and told them to 'freeze'."

"I'm guessing those two weren't going to go down that easily?"

"Got it in one, Roy. Instead, they turned to tackle us, one with a knife in hand. You know, you think about this. We were beat cops and I was still in training. So here are these two guys coming at us. Gus used his stick to club the guy with the knife and the knife went flying. He was howling because Gus had broken his wrist," Mike paused for a moment proudly.

The other guy, though, he was a couple of inches taller and had probably thirty pounds on me. He could have played for the 'niners," Mike added as he seemed to be transported back in time as he relayed his story. "Anyway, he tackled me. He hit me hard – actually cracked a couple of ribs."

"The first of many cracked ribs, I believe." Roy added with a smirk.

"Yeah, I figure I'll be paying for all of those hits in my golden years. Anyway, the impact knocked my night stick away, hitting a shelf and then bouncing back outside of my reach. He punched me a couple of times, knocking my head back into the floor. I was dazed, so he decided to reach over to grab my stick to finish me off when Gus clubbed him. Knocked him cold."

"Geez, Mike. That was a close one. Then what?"

"Then so much had to happen. The perp with the broken wrist ran out the back door during the melee, so he was gone. I was still dazed, and Mr. Schrieber was doing everything he could to help calm his wife. Gus locked both the front and back doors for safety, called an ambulance and a back up unit. The goon that got me had a hairline fracture but then was sent a way for five years for robbery."

"What happened to the guy with the broken wrist?" Roy asked.

"Oh, that was funny. He was at the hospital getting it set when we showed up with our prisoner. The idiot," Mike chuckled.

But it was that call, that very first call. I knew immediately that Gus was more than just a tough guy from my neighborhood. He was a standout cop. He could sense when things were wrong. He had good judgment and he could handle a night stick like no other. And, he probably saved my life that day. You figure what that goon could have done to me had he reached my stick?"

"Mike, I had no idea," Roy commented. "And let me asked you this…."

Mike looked up at Roy as the head of Robbery chose his words carefully. "Did that first incident add to your regret that Gus didn't get a chance to really go up the ranks?"