Tactical Knife

Chapter 18

The Tactical Folder

Okay, you don’t buy it. You don’t want any kind of fixed blade. Can you get by with only a folder? Maybe. Many do. Over the past decade or so, I have used and tested more than two hundred of what we now call tactical folders. Today’s tactical folder is not your grandfather’s pocketknife. In many cases tactical folders can, and do, stand in for the small fixed blade utility knife. They can even serve as lifesaving weapons. Here is one marine’s story that serves as an example of this fact.

A useful collection of tactical folders.

Kershaw, Ken Onion design tactical folders.

Death Among the Reeds

On January 29, 2005, the day that the first democratic elections were held in Iraq, a professionally trained insurgent mortar squad dispatched from Baghdad and took up position to rain fire, death, and destruction on Camp Fallujah, a military base about ten kilometers southeast of the city of Fallujah.

This mortar squad had hit the base previously. In response, a team from Marine Sergeant Heath Lanctot’s platoon had set up an observation post (OP) about two kilometers from the marine base near a point where they suspected the mortars would be placed to fire on the base again. “We wanted to catch the insurgents in the act and ambush them,” Sgt. Lanctot said. Lanctot’s team was designated as the Quick Reaction Force and held in reserve at the Marine base. The QRF’s responsibility is to respond to calls for immediate assistance.

At about noon, Sgt. Lanctot’s team received a call from the OP saying that the enemy had set up mortars right in front of the OP and that the OP team had opened fire on the enemy mortar crew before they could fire on the base. Lanctot’s QRF sped from their base in open-backed Humvees. Seven minutes later, they leaped from their vehicles at the OP and joined the fight.

The OP team had killed one of the enemy with their Squad Automatic Weapon, but three other insurgents fled using the nearby canals and surrounding berms, part of the Euphrates River system, to cover their retreat. The insurgents then took up position in one of the canals concealed by thick reeds.

Sgt. Lanctot and two of his team members charged the canal firing their M4 Carbines as they ran. “We hoped to draw their fire from a distance, but it didn’t work out that way. By the time they fired, we were on top of their position. The enemy opened up from a concealed position three meters from us. One of my teammates was hit and went down. I dumped three magazines into the reeds. Then, while my other teammate laid down covering fire, I ran down the berm and pulled my friend out of the kill zone. But it was too late. He had been killed instantly.”

There were at least two of the enemy still at large, but the firing had stopped and the enemy was not to be seen. Maybe they had fled the area. Sgt. Lanctot went into the canal to retrieve the enemy body and search for any evidence. The water was chest deep and icy cold. Lanctot retrieved the enemy body and returned to the canal when he noticed a trail through the reeds.

In the matter-of-fact manner of a professional marine, Sgt. Lanctot told me, “I followed the trail, and, having left my weapon, ammo, and web gear on the berm, I pulled out my Columbia River Knife and Tool folder. I made my way along the canal and into the reeds. Suddenly one of the enemy popped up and grabbed my right arm.”

There, cut off from any possibility of help, Sgt. Heath Lanctot fought his enemy as men have done since the beginning of the human race—with hand weapons—to the death. The water was deep, the reeds were thick, and the bottom of the canal slippery. Footing was unsure. During the course of the desperate, furious fight, Sgt. Lanctot dispatched his enemy with two knife thrusts to the neck.

Benchmade Nagara.

Lanctot was climbing out of the canal when he heard a cough from the reeds. Without thought for his own safety, he immediately went back into the canal with his knife, ready to face another enemy. As he again moved into the reeds, the thick reed wall parted. He could see the enemy’s eyes. But this time some of his buddies were on the berm above and behind him. The platoon corpsmen fired right over Lanctot’s shoulder, killing the insurgent and eliminating the need for Lanctot to engage in another hand-to-hand fight in the canal.

That was the last enemy Heath’s unit engaged that day. This insurgent mortar squad would kill no more marines. They would never again attack Camp Fallujah or any other American or Iraqi base.

A knife used as a weapon is different than a firearm in that it puts your life and the life of another person in your hands—literally in your hands. You feel the heat of your opponent’s body as he struggles to take your life. His breath mingles with yours. You smell his sweat and fear, as well as your own. When a knife has been used in terminal personal combat, that knife takes on a talismanic quality. In your mind it becomes the magic weapon that saved your life. I asked Sgt. Lanctot if that was true for him or if he regarded his CRKT folder as just another knife.

“No,” he said, “it’s not just another knife. I still use it for everyday things, but I plan to put it aside, maybe in a shadow box, when I get home. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the knife. I bought the knife in the PX (Post Exchange) when I first came to Camp Fallujah. Operation Iraqi Freedom Certified is engraved on it. But the guys in my unit will tell you that mine is the only one that is actually certified. Many of the guys in my unit have now bought one just like it.”

“Did you have a KA-BAR?” I asked Heath, trying to understand how he came to use that CRKT in combat. “Most Marines I know do. And if you had one, why didn’t you use it instead of your folder?”

“Yeah, I have a KA-BAR. But my folder was right there and quicker to get to,” Heath said.

Sgt. Lanctot’s response is all the reason anyone who has been in harm’s way needs to understand. Experience shows that a last ditch weapon close at hand can save your life. Time compresses in combat and speed can determine who lives and who dies.

Men have fought with swords, knives, and other hand weapons in the Euphrates Valley for all of recorded history, and conflict continues there today. The outcome of Heath’s fight might have been different there in that ancient land, that day in cold water among the reeds, if Heath had not had his folder clipped to his pocket when he went into the canal. It was a fateful decision to buy a personal knife at the PX. But what most occupies Heath’s mind is grief for his fallen friend and the sorrow that the family and friends of his buddy feel at their loss.

“I like to believe it helps, knowing those responsible will never harm another American serviceman or-woman. The mortar team we took out turned out to be the major players in our area of operation. Locals identified the team as being the most feared in the area. It was an honor and privilege to get them off the streets.”

Although Sgt. Lanctot bought his knife at the PX, Doug Flagg, a vice president at CRKT, donated a number of knives to a soldiers’ knives program that we initiated. Those knives are now in the hands of service people in Iraq. Hopefully, none of them will need to be used in mortal combat. But it’s good to know that they can be relied upon when fate rolls the dice and your number comes up.

Many armchair experts tell us that there is little need for knives in today’s military because supply lines are more efficient and troops are less likely to run out of ammunition. Therefore, these experts say, the notion of a knife as a weapon is as outdated as swords on today’s high-tech battlefields. But few of those so-called experts have ever heard a shot fired or felt the fear that rises in your chest when you are alone, unarmed, and facing an armed enemy.

Desert tacticals from CRKT. © CRKT.

The troops in the field disagree with the experts; they buy personal knives. One of them, Marine Sergeant Heath Lanctot, of First Platoon Bravo Company, Second Recon Battalion, Second Marine Division, is alive today because he disregarded the experts’ point of view. More importantly, he’s alive because he embodies the finest traditions of the American fighting man and the Marine Corps: Semper Fi.

Tactical folders are good for more than fighting to the death; they can help to save your life in other ways. For some years I provided survival training free of change to many young people who pursue outdoor recreation. Most of them were city kids who have no idea how quickly things can go wrong in the wilderness. These kids have seen the value of tactical folders. Influenced by fashion and social pressures as much as practicality, these kids totally refuse to carry a fixed blade while skiing, snowboarding, backpacking, white-water rafting, hunting, fishing, or a dozen other outdoor activities that have the potential for disaster. They will carry a folder. With proper technique and training and good folders, these kids have built one hour shelters good enough to protect them, and me, from a winter storm in the Northwest. They’ve made rabbit sticks and fish traps and started fires with their folders and sparking rods. They have learned to survive, and their tactical folders worked for them. Here’s a short story about one such group.

Chris Reeve Sebenza.

Home Away from Home

Three students from one of my previous classes asked me if they could take the next step in the process and apply what they had learned in a real world setting. I agreed. They would have to construct a shelter that would keep us all safe, if not comfortable, through a wet, cold Pacific Northwest winter night. They would have only a folder and the contents of their pockets or purses; no backpacks, tarps, tents, sleeping bags, stoves, or chainsaws were allowed. Ashley, who had previously taken a number of my classes, had the foresight to carry his ready bag. This was within the rules of the exercise, since the bag was his everyday carry bag, essentially a small shoulder bag no larger than a woman’s purse.

Each of them borrowed a knife from me for the exercise. Ashley, the most experienced of the group, chose a Chris Reeve Sebenza. Nika chose the Al Mar SERE for its comfort in the hand. Kory, the youngest of the group, liked the Benchmade McHenry Williams.

My three volunteers followed me a few miles into an area of mixed second growth and underbrush that is typical of Pacific Northwest coastal forests. The distance and the nature of the undergrowth and terrain was enough to make the two more inexperienced members of the group feel they were in true wilderness. Then I gave them the following scenario:

The four of us were out gathering mushrooms. We got a little bit turned around. (I do not get lost.) Then I klutzed out, fell, and broke my ankle. With only two hours before nightfall, it was too late for any of them to walk out and get help. My size and weight was too much for them to carry. Being good-hearted kids, they were not going to leave my sorry, ancient self to freeze during the fast-approaching night. We would have to spend the night in the forest, and then the two strongest would go for help in the morning. The temperature was falling fast. Standing water was already freezing over. It was going to be a cold night. We would probably get snow or sleet. The three of them would have to build a secure shelter for the four of us and get firewood for the fire pit they would make inside the shelter.

I designated Ashley as team leader, and he instructed Nika in how to gather and trim the evergreen boughs for the classic bough bed that we would sleep on that night. Kory, being larger and stronger, was assigned to gather the saplings that would be used for the framework of the shelter. Ashley decided to cut saplings for the framework until they had enough of them to start construction. Then he would start the actual construction of our home for the night while the others fed him materials. I gave them about ten minutes additional instruction on how to use their knives most efficiently to accomplish these jobs without cutting themselves and while working against a deadline.

Since I was “injured” and unable to help, I sat on a log and watched as these young folks went to work. Ashley went through a stand of birch like a beaver on espresso. He would place the Sebenza at a diagonal, strike it carefully and accurately with his baton, and be onto the next tree before the first one hit the ground. Nika used her SERE to strip branches from large limbs with surprising proficiency for a city girl who had never done any of this before. Kory used his Benchmade to baton his way through pine, birch, and alder. They also learned that an easy way to cut down saplings was to bend them to one side and cut into them on the outside of the bend. They used downed wood as available.

After the framework was solid, they thatched a roof about two feet thick with pine branches. Then they gathered some kindling by reaching into the lower branches of pines and snapping off the dead branches. There were not nearly enough of these branches to get the fire hot enough to burn damp wood, so some larger wood had to be split to get to the dry wood inside. They split logs by batoning their folders first into the edges, stripping off sections about an inch thick, and then working their way to the center. There was a bit of friction between the kids, as is normal when people are thrown together and stressed, but they worked out their minor problems and continued. One hour and five minutes after they started, we stopped for a short break. The temperature had now fallen well below freezing. The shutter of my camera froze and stopped working at this point, and I was unable to take any photos of the completed structure with fire pit.

In another ten minutes, we had a floor of pine boughs about two feet thick, a small fire pit inside the shelter, and a supply of firewood—all in all, a secure place to spend what was shaping up to be a harsh night. Three people, two of them with no experience with folding knives or the outdoors but with proper instruction, accomplished this in about an hour and fifteen minutes.

We were a little chilled as the sleet started to sting our faces, and we crawled inside the shelter. But thirty minutes later we were sitting around the fire laughing about how Kory got a load of ice water down his neck when he pulled down a sodden branch. It was so warm inside we all had our jackets off. For dinner we shared the only food in the group. Nika had brought nothing. Ash had a can of sardines, some sea crackers, and a bag of trail mix in his ready bag. Ashley also had in his bag a small survival kit that I had designed. The Global Survival Kit weighs about twelve ounces, will fit in a large pocket, and food can be cooked in the container. Ash brewed some tea, and we all had a warm drink. Kory had a squished Snickers bar in his pocket, so that was desert. I had deliberately brought nothing and was prepared to go hungry with the kids to help teach these lessons. It was clear to the kids that we could safely, even comfortably, spend the rest of the night there in our warm shelter. I would have been okay if I had really broken my ankle. The lessons had been learned.

Using the Chris Reeve Sebenza to build a shelter in the woods.

Ashley also has some sugar packets that could be used to bait traps, as could the sardine oil and some other items in his ready bag. But this was not an extended exercise, just a quick lesson on how to use a tactical folder to build a shelter. Along the way, we all also learned some other things. Kory learned how to cope if he got lost snowboarding. Nika, who was soon returning to college, learned that a city girl could get by in the woods if she needed to. Ashley refined his knowledge about taking care of others. I learned that today’s kids are just as resourceful and willing to learn about the outdoors and personal responsibility as were the kids of my generation. You just have to give them a chance. So a little after midnight, we dowsed the fire and crawled outside.

Nika and Kory were surprised at how cold it was away from our little fire and outside of our forest home. They all checked to make sure their folders were secure in their pockets. We pulled on our jackets and started the long walk home under a full moon. We made our way through the trees and around ice-covered bushes gleaming in the moonlight and walked back to the old truck, crunching through frozen puddles and across a frost tipped field under a million icy stars.

Can you get by with a tactical folder instead of a small fixed blade? Well, as we have seen, you can fight for your life with one. You can build a shelter and save yourself from freezing with one. Obviously, you can slice bread and spread peanut butter with one. Thousands of people have substituted tactical folders for fixed blades, including many in active military. So my answer would be yes, with one caveat: no folder can be as strong as a fixed blade. If you need a really tough knife, go with a fixed blade. That said, odds are a tactical folder will do the job—if you don’t have to do anything that would cause it to fold.