Tactical Knife

Chapter 9

Knives of the Sixties, Tactical and Not So Tactical

At that time, folding knives also mattered. Almost everyone had one or two, but they were not seen as being mission critical like the fixed blade. There was an Army-issue Schrade switchblade that had been in use since World War II, but they were in short supply and no new requisitions were being made. The Schrade had the virtue of opening with one hand, which was vital for a paratrooper entangled in his lines and equally so for countless other uses, but it was not very strong and saw little use as a utility knife. Also, it was kind of fiddly to operate in that the blade would close if you didn’t at once remove your thumb from the button after pressing it, which was hardly something anyone wanted to fool around with while under pressure. But it was what we had, so we used it.

I carried mine secured by a lanyard in my left flapped and buttoned shirt pocket, where I could reach it with either hand while rigged in full jump gear. I also found the Black Cat folder, one of the first, if not the first, front-locking lockbacks. Made by Linder in Germany, the Black Cat was inexpensive (dirt cheap, really), had decent steel in the blade, and was reasonably strong and thin. With a little practice, I could open it with one hand, right or left. I had flat slip sheathes sewn into the tops of my Corcoran jump boots and carried one in each boot, reasoning that if I were to break one arm in, say, a bad tree landing, I could reach the other one with my good arm. I also had slip sheaths for the same purpose sewn into my jungle boots when we switched over to them.

A fixed blade boot knife would have been a better choice in terms of function and strength. But these folders fit flush with my boot top and were therefore not subject to getting tangled in lines during a jump, and they were so thin and light as to be unnoticeable in a boot, pocket, sock, or almost anywhere else. Besides, I had my Randall if I needed a fixed blade.

With the Schrade, I now had three small folders, none of which weighed more than a couple of ounces, and all of them were close at hand when I exited an aircraft in flight. I also had a Randall Model 1 on my belt, relatively inaccessible under a parachute harness but easily reachable after I landed and shucked off my parachute. Other guys in my military units and in nonuniformed service also used Black Cats.

Black Cats Save the Day, or at Least the Agent

One fellow I knew, I’ll call him Jake, carried two Black Cats secured by nothing more than a strip of adhesive tape in locations only the most diligent search would locate. In this instance, he was not concerned about a parachute jump gone wrong, but the possibility of needing defensive weapons in a situation where he could not have a firearm or even appear to be armed. He kept them hair-splitting sharp and did not use them for utility purposes.

Jake was assigned to penetrate a communist cell in Paris, France. The cell members were functioning as provocateurs among idealistic, naïve college students and organizing violent protests in hopes of violent reprisals, which would make both the French and US governments look bad and lead to destabilization. His cover was that of an American foreign exchange student.

Jake identified and exposed an instigator from the Eastern Block who was a communist government agent rather than the diligent student of his cover identity. This drew suspicion to Jake, who had previously been the subject of jokes and had laughingly been called an American imperialist. Now the jokes turned serious. One night Jake was cornered in a student crash pad by five guys who Jake described as “dedicated communists determined to do me great bodily harm.” They did not have firearms but were armed with knives and improvised clubs.

Jake said he went for his Black Cats and used them “aggressively and without hesitation.” With one in each hand, he cut his way through the crowd and out of the room, sustaining some wounds of his own and leaving a trail of blood and wounded men behind him. He ran down the stairs and kept going. He did not return to that group and went on to similar assignments.

In both of the previous stories, the men involved were in mortal danger. Note that neither one engaged in a knife fight or a duel. Both were threatened by a group of hostiles, and both used their knives as a force multiplier and thus escaped and evaded, something they might not have accomplished without the aid of their tactical knives. One used folders, the other a fixed blade. My guess is that these stories would have turned out about the same if they had swapped knives. Also, and I think this is an important point, neither knife presented the image of today’s tactical knives: black blade, tanto point, saw teeth, etc. Yet their knives functioned tactically by any measurement. Another point illustrated by these stories is that knives matter, but the person’s abilities and determination matter more.

Knives of the sixties, both tactical and not. From center top to bottom: Opinal, Puma Boot Knife, Henkels lockback.

Linder still makes the Black Cat, and you can buy one for about twenty bucks. They’re no match for today’s tactical folders, but they are a bargain in the world of three hundred dollar factory knives. Randalls are still being made in Orlando, Florida, and cost considerably more than twenty dollars. Both will work as well today as they did back then.

In the late sixties and early seventies, still in civilian service, I sometimes replaced the Black Cats with stag-handled lockbacks by Hartkopf and Henckels, depending on my profile. The stag-handled folders were gentlemen’s pocketknives, and if spotted, they were acceptable in almost any company. This was also true of Laguiole folders and the twist-lock Opinel. I first discovered Laguiole and Opinel folders in a small French village and have usually had one or the other in my bag or pocket ever since.

The Opinel, a simple, inexpensive folder manufactured since the 1890s, is familiar to many. With a little practice, its twist lock can be manipulated with one hand and locks up solidly. Its plain but handsome beechwood handle is unassuming, clearly a workingman’s knife. It is, however, an ingeniously designed and executed folder. The thin carbon steel blade is an excellent all-purpose design, and it takes a fierce edge—one you really can shave with. (I’ve done it.) At about twenty bucks, they’re also one of the best bargains in knives today. The Opinel has achieved iconic status in France, as in much of Europe, and even in the United States in certain circles. Other companies now make similar knives with the twist lock, including Nontron. The Nontron knives are finished a little nicer and come with various wooden handles in a number of configurations, some with decorative carving, and at a higher price. If the day ever comes when I’m restricted to only one folding knife, I could get by just fine with an Opinel.

Three Nontrons and one Laguiole.

The Laguiole is a traditional French folder that comes in many varieties, all of which are nonthreatening in appearance. Laguioles do not have a true lock blade, rather they have a deep detent and a strong back spring that, with reasonable care, will keep the blade from folding while in use, even fairly hard use. The better ones are made from good steel and take a good edge. Many Laguioles also come with a corkscrew on the back, a feature that defines their primary purpose as a picnic knife but is a feature I consider of primary tactical importance. Sometimes, the most tactically intelligent thing to do is to pull a cork, pour a glass, and wait for the problem to resolve itself.

Three Laguioles ready for action.

Puma boot knife and sheath.

A couple of the people I knew back then carried lapel daggers similar to those first designed during World War II; they were tiny slivers of sharpened steel designed to be highly concealable and quick to hand so they could be deployed in an emergency where an operative might have to cut and run. There were also some sleeve daggers and a variety of small edged weapons in use with civilian clandestine operatives, all of which could be deemed tactical. I never carried any such signature knives while in civilian service. A staghandled folder was something anyone might have in his or her pocket and thus aroused no suspicion with border guards, foreign custom agents, or anyone else with an interest in my activities. This was also true of the Laguiole and the Opinel. If something like a lapel dagger was needed, a single edged razor blade and a scrap of tape could fulfill that function, which was a trick learned from criminals and used by more than one person employed by our government.

During this same period, when it seemed like something more robust than a folder might be needed and a Randall was out of the question, I carried a stag-handled boot knife made by Puma rather than a sleeve dagger that screamed weapon. In many places, including the Europe of that time, a stag boot knife was seen as an ordinary accoutrement for a traveler who was also a hiker or outdoorsman, especially one who always had a small rucksack and a few camping items packed in his suitcase or duffle bag.

The Buck 110 Folding Hunter was released at this time. With its sturdy construction and needle-sharp clip point, this folder broke new ground in folding knife design and introduced the concept of heavy-duty folders. About a million civilians and quite a few soldiers and sailors purchased the Folding Hunter. In the Buck 110’s favor was the fact that it was an excellent tool for daily tasks. It took a razor-sharp edge and held that edge for a long time. It did not rust in normal use, even in tropical environments, and it had an excellent warranty. The Buck company, which has always set the highest standard for customer service, backed it up.

However, the 110 never gained much of a following with Special Forces, at least not among the guys I knew or anyone I knew in civilian service. SF soldiers work their blades hard, and the 110s I tried shared the sixties’ Buck flaw of being too brittle for extreme usage. I have seen many 110s with broken tips, some no doubt from being used as screwdrivers, others from ordinary use. In all fairness, the knife was and is billed as a folding hunter, not a folding survival knife. Also, the Buck 110 was, and still is, a heavy folder; it is actually much too heavy to carry in a pants pocket, thus requiring a belt sheath, which then came into common usage across the country among military and civilians alike. The big folder in a belt sheath was convenient for daily carry and easy to access.

But the folding knife in a belt sheath got no traction in my admittedly small crowd. The reasoning was that if you’re going to have a belt sheath, you might as well have a fixed blade that offered more utility by an order of magnitude. Also, in civilian service there were many reasons not to be seen with a knife and few to be seen with one. The belt sheath with a large folder was much more obtrusive than, say, a boot knife in an inside waistband clip sheath or a lighter folder carried in a pocket. Also, for all its weight, the 110s were not any stronger than the much lighter German lockbacks.

These knives, folders and fixed blades and their uses formed the foundation for what came next.