Earlier quoted context omitted.
I was once beaten senseless by a group of 3 young men when I decided to take an early-morning walk to get some smokes from the store down the way, in a sleepy small city in Ohio. There was nothing that I was doing that was wrong in any way. I was quietly minding my own business when they came up from behind me with other ideas and one of them hit me in the side of my face, from behind, with an intensity that I'd neve…
In your other comment you state that you've taken 3 different types of combat training (concealed carry, martial arts, army basic). I am curious if you did all this training after the incident with the 3 young men or before?
I got involved in martial arts for a few years after I was attacked for no particular reason by people who were much older than me when I was a little kid, twice in short succession, and my parents felt that this was a good way to help with that kind of situation. I don't know if that was the best response that they could make but I don't disagree with it.
Army training happened later, in a just-post-9/11 world where I was feeling strongly patriotic and also looking for a meaningful job. It had its ups and downs.
Concealed carry classes happened much later, after the incident with the 3 young men, wherein: Either the previous training didn't help, or I was doomed anyway, or both.
I remember everything up to the first hit very clearly. I'd seen these folks way over there doing whatever they were doing, but I didn't suspect any trouble in that little town. I just kept walking. Soon, I heard a set of footsteps right behind me -- at least one of them closed the gap quickly. Before I could formulate a plan (including "run"), I got hit hard and it gets murky. I do remember standing and facing all three of them under a street light and saying "What in the fuck do you think you're doing?" as a means of negotiation; this clearly did not work.
After that, I remember a blur of fast-walking back to my apartment. They were gone, like they'd never been there, but I was scared because I was sure that they were watching me go home anyway. I went around the back side of the building, deviating from my normal route home, watching my back as well as I could in that state.
I got home and I was satisfied that nobody had followed me as I re-locked my front door, and for a period of time (I don't know how long), I didn't think anything else happened. I forgot that I needed cigarettes. I eventually looked in the mirror and saw that it looked like I'd been hit by a car, and later noticed dirt all over my clothes. I called my ex-wife for advice, and then called the police who showed up and took a report (badly) and promised to do ~nothing else, and then called my boss for a ride to the hospital.
None of any of the training I've ever had really covered dealing with a surprise attack from three motherfuckers at once. It wasn't exactly ideal.
I still can't walk around in public with headphones on. I wasn't wearing them that night, but it was something that I occasionally enjoyed and that concept is subsequently dead to me.