This is an opinion column
Eight years ago, on June 14, 2017, the morning started off like many other hot, humid summer Washington, DC days. My alarm blared at 5 am. I dressed in shorts and grabbed a Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew from the refrigerator.
I took my bike outside, turned on its lights, and began my 45-minute, eight-mile bike ride through southwest Washington’s housing projects, across the Potomac River, downriver past Reagan National Airport, and then right to meet with 20-30 GOP congressmen and senators for baseball practice. I sipped the Dr. Pepper as I rode.
GOP baseball practices were serious stuff and prepared us for the century-old Congressional Baseball Game between Republicans and Democrats.
The rivalry is partisan and intense. The game is played in the Washington Nationals major league stadium before 20,000-30,000 fans and a nationally televised audience.
The game generates $1 million plus annually for children’s charities.
Although 63 years old, I was a starter based on skill remnants from my All-City outfielder days at Grissom High School in Huntsville.
I promised the team and coaches if I could reach the ball I would catch it. And I did. I had zero fielding errors during my twelve years in Congress.
The baseball practice was warm up, stretch, take infield grounders, take outfield liners and flies, then do batting practice.
During batting practice, I usually batted last and shagged outfield balls to get more practice in.
On June 14, 2017, for some inexplicable reason, I broke my pattern. While in left field I felt prompted to bat much earlier than I normally do. That prompting may have saved my life.
I grabbed two bats and a helmet, went to the third base dugout’s on-deck circle, and swung the two bats to warm up. My back to the third base dugout. Suddenly there was a LOUD BLAM!
My first thought was car backfire. Then people started yelling “Shooter! Shooter!” Bedlam broke loose. As I twirled around, I saw congressmen sprinting toward the first base dugout or the only open exit gate along the right field line. When I turned further, I saw the assassin’s rifle barrel poke through the 10-foot-high chain link fence.
I then saw the shooter. Blam! Blam! Blam!
It quickly dawned on me that I was standing still and the closest person to the shooter. If I could see him, he could see me. If he shifted his aim a little to the right, I was a sitting duck.
I dropped my bats and spun back toward the batting cage and home plate. I heard Steve Scalise yell out and saw him drop to the ground. He was shot!
When I reached the far side of the batting cage, I dove and faceplanted in the dirt next to three others.
All the while, the assassin’s rifle blasted away.
Two realizations soon struck us.
First, the batting cage had colored plastic surrounding its bottom so the shooter couldn’t see us lying together. But that plastic wouldn’t stop bullets.
Second, if the shooter moved to the home plate backstop, we would be easy targets, lying on the ground and only 15 feet away. He could hit us with eyes closed.
So, as bullets flew, we got up, sprinted, and dove on top of bodies lying on the first base dugout floor. I was the last sprinter. Not a good place to be.
Since the only escape was the right field line open gate, and thinking the assassin might shoot the lock off the left field line gate, I crawled over bodies to get as close to the open gate as possible, and to sprint through it if the assassin got onto the field.
When I reached the upward dugout stairs, I stopped, flattened as low as I could, and waited for developments to unfold.
As gunfire continued, I glanced up and saw the coach’s young son standing on the top step, frozen. He seemed hesitant to jump on top of prone men. I yelled at him to get down, get into the dugout bottom, and fast. Fortunately, he did.
I resumed hugging the dugout floor until I heard a very close “Blam! Blam! Blam!” I immediately thought, “Second shooter!”
I glanced up the stairs to discern the situation and develop a plan. Four feet above my head was a pistol firing away. But not at us. At the assassin!
I have rarely been so elated and relieved in my life as when I saw the new shooter was a Capitol Police officer! My immediate thought was a joyful “The cavalry has arrived!”
The officer yelled to keep our heads down. I resumed hugging dirt.
A minute or so later, a body flew into the dugout, landing on me, U.S. Sen. Jeff Flake, R-Ariz., and U.S. Rep. Roger Williams, R-Texas. The man kept muttering “I’m OK! I’m OK!”
I noticed blood on me and on him. I yelled, “Dude, you are not OK! You have a bullet hole in your leg.” While doing my best to stay prone, I quickly removed my belt for use as a tourniquet on Congressional staffer Zack Barth’s calf wound.
During all of this, we sometimes heard from and were always mindful of our wounded colleague, Steve Scalise.
Finally, a cry of “Shooter down!” As feared, the assassin had reached the home plate backstop to shoot at us along the length of the first base dugout. A “can’t miss” shot. That’s where law enforcement shot him dead.
Some of us then ran to Scalise, who had left a long blood trail from the dirt infield into the right field grass. Scalise was alert but weakening.
Rep. Brad Wenstrup, R-Ohio, a former Army combat medic, took over and instructed me to apply pressure to Scalise’s hip bullet wound. I did. Others got Scalise liquids or gave comfort. We stayed with Scalise until relief medics arrived.
Capitol Police Officer David Bailey limped over to Scalise. He was visibly upset that his protectee, Scalise, had been hit. Bailey showed no interest in his own wounds.
Epilogues.
- The FBI determined about 170 bullets were fired during a roughly seven-minute gun battle. It seemed longer. That’s an average of 25 bullets fired per minute.
- Five “good guys” were shot: Scalise, Barth, Matt Mika (charity fundraiser), and Capitol Police Officers Bailey and Crystal Griner. Scalise and Mika suffered near-fatal wounds and would have died but for excellent and immediate medical care.
- After Scalise left, my family was first and foremost on my mind, so I immediately texted them that there was a big shootout, I was not hit, and not to worry.
- Martha, my wife, gave a White House tour to constituents that morning. She is forever grateful to the Secret Service officers who kept asking her if she was okay.
- The FBI later met with six congressmen who were informed the assassin had a hand-written note (target list) in his pocket with each of our names, office locations, physical descriptions, and ages. I was “White Hair, 63.” The note is shown in the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence assassination report.
I was the only congressman who was listed as a target and also at the field when the shooting started. I was lucky to have jogged from left field to home plate for batting practice and to be wearing a batting helmet that hid my appearance. Otherwise, I might not be alive today.
- A year later, the GOP symbolically started Steve Scalise at second base. Scalise was to play for the Democrats’ first hitter and then be helped off the field because he could not walk unaided. His hip and internal injuries were just too bad. As fate would have it, the Democrats’ lead-off hitter belted a hard grounder about two feet to Scalise’s right. Scalise half-fell to his right (he had zero lateral movement), stopped the ball, and, while still down, threw the ball to me at first base.
I literally prayed I would not muff his throw. I caught it. The batter was OUT!
20,000 plus fans in the Washington National’s stadium erupted with screaming and applause.
Players from both teams rushed the field and mobbed Scalise. One batter later, Scalise was helped off the field by Wenstrup (combat medic and Congressman) and Capitol Police Officer David Bailey (whose gallantry in the face of superior fire power saved countless lives).
Scalise wrote about the assassination attempt and his medical recovery. The book is entitled “Back in the Game.” He gave me an autographed copy. I cherish it.
Mo Brooks served on the House Armed Services Committee for 12 years and the Foreign Affairs Committee for 6 years. Brooks graduated from Duke University in 3 years with a double major in political science and economics (highest honors in economics).