I promised JC I would send him the story about a real fight with two-handed swords. But it is such a good story that I thought I would post it here for the benefit of the members. Although it is from the Meiji period in Japan and involves combat with the katana, it has lessons for all warriors. I’ve also included some stories about knife combat, too.
E.J. Harrison, The Fighting Spirit of Japan, pp. 71-73:
This is a reminiscence of Sakujiro Yokoyama, a Kodokan official who originally began his training in Tenjin Yoshin-ryu jujutsu.
“‘I can carry my memory back to the days when all samurai wore the two swords and used them as well when necessity arose. When quite a boy I accidentally witnessed an exciting duel to the death between a ronin (an unattached samurai) and three samurai. The struggle took place in the Kojimachi ward in the neighbourhood of Kudan where the Shokonsha now stands. Before proceeding with my narrative I ought to explain for the benefit of my foreign listeners the usage of the old feudal days in order that he incident I am about to describe may be better understood. The sword of the samurai, as you know, was a possession valued higher than life itself, and if you touched a samurai’s sword you touched his dignity. It was deemed an act of unpardonable rudeness in those days for one samurai to allow the tip of his scabbard to come in contact with the scabbard of another samurai as the men passed each other in the street; such an act was styled saya-ate (saya = scabbard, ate= to strike against), and in the absence of a prompt apology from the offender a fight almost always ensued. The samurai carried two swords, the long and the short, which were thrust into the obi, or sash, on the left hand side in such a manner that the sheath of the longer weapon stuck out behind the owner’s back. This being the case it frequently happened, especially in a crowd, that two scabbards would touch each other without deliberate intent on either side, although samurai who were not looked for trouble of this kind always took the precaution to hold the swords with the point downwards and close to their sides as possible. [Yokoyama goes on to describe an accidental sword touching. A ronin’s sword tapped the scabbard of another samurai who refused to accept the ronin’s apology.] The ronin was rather shabbily dressed and was evidently very porr. The sheath of his long sword was covered with cracks where the lacquer had worn away through long use. He was a man of middle age. The three samurai were all stalwart men and appeared to be under the influence of sake. They were the challengers. At first the ronin apologized, but the samurai insisted on a duel and the ronin eventually accepted the challenge.
“‘By this time a large crowd had gathered, among which were many samurai none of whom, however, ventured to interfere. In accordance with custom, the combatants exchanged names and swords were unsheathed, the three samurai on one side facing the solitary opponent with whom the sympathies of the onlookers evidently lay. The keen blades of the duellists glittered in the sun. The ronin, as calm as though engaged merely in a friendly fencing bout, advanced steadily with the point of his weapon directed against the samurai in the center of the trio, and apparently indifferent to an attack on either flank. The samurai in the middle gave ground inch by inch, and the ronin as surely stepped forward. Then the right-hand samurai, who thought he saw an opening, rushed to the attack, the ronin, who had clearly anticipated this move, parried and with lightning rapidity cut his enemy down with a mortal blow. The left-hand samurai came on in his turn but was treated in similar fashion, a single stroke felling him to the ground bathed in blood. All this took almost less time than it takes to tell. The samurai in the center, seeing the fate of his comrades, thought better of his first intention and took to his heels. The victorious ronin wiped his blood-stained sword in the coolest manner imaginable and returned it to its sheath.’”
On how the thrust is not always immediately effective, from Hochheim, Military Knife Combat, p. 24:
“‘. . . hunkered down in a foxhole . . . Huestis was suddently set upon by a Japanese soldier. The Japanese bayoneted Huestis in the right shoulder, right arm and neck. As his assailant drew back for another thrust, Huestis kicked him in the stomach, then leaped on him, clamped on the Japanese’s neck in the crook of his arm and squeezed until the man finally died.’” Quoted from Hallas, The Battle of Sugar Loaf Hill.
Also from Hochheim, p. 59:
“‘The two stood off, Rai with his kukri and the Chinese with his knife. The Chinese started moving his hands in circles like a boxer, his front hand empty and open, his knife back near his chest. Rai leapt off and hit right on the front arm with that big curved blade. It [the arm] almost fell off near the elbow! But before blood could even spew, in an instant, Rai swung hard at the man’s head. The end of his kukri tore into the Chinese’s neck, and he fell into a human pile on the ground. I swear it was that fast. Two seconds. Two swings. Arm gone. Neck gone.’”
And Hochheim, p. 61, describing a combat in India:
“‘Gurung walked through the huts assured of their clearance, with his rifle slung snugly over his shoulder . . . [then] he saw the Indian. Gurung drew the kukri from his belt. The solder saw this and pulled his dagger, but Gurung had the start. Gurung swung at the man’s arm as it came up with the knife, and he hacked into it below the elbow. The hand became lifeless. Gurung swung back and slashed open the throat with the curved tip, and the Indian fell. Gurung brought his rifle to bear upon the tribesman, but he was dead, the arm under the jacket, hanging on by muscle threads.’”
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