War Stories: From a New York City Cop in the Seventies and Eighties

On any given hot summer night after eight hours of almost nonstop police work, it wasn’t unusual for one of the men to say, “Anyone up for a couple of cold brews?” The answer was always yes. At least a few, sometimes more than a few of our third platoon would be looking forward to spending an hour or so “unwinding from the stress” with brother officers while enjoying a cold beer.Every precinct had a “cops” bar where we could gather without concern about running into the guy we locked up last week. The bad guys knew that bar was off-limits and they were not welcome. They stayed away. After that first cold beer the conversation would usually begin with, “Let me tell you what happened to me and my partner tonight. You won’t believe it.” The storyteller would embellish his most recent policing experience and a good storyteller would always add just enough drama to keep everyone interested. Of course there was always a follow-up by someone with another story and that’s the way it would go until it was time to leave. Those stories became known as “War Stories,” as in, “Do I have a war story for you guys tonight!”

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