He was calmer now. He could be rational. But when the man again faced him, Berg felt a little twinge in his side. He slowly looked down . . . and found a combat blade sticking out. First he’d been shot. Now stabbed. His grizzly rage soared once again and, as the intruder—quickly recognizing his error—attempted to fight his way out of Berg’s grasp, desperately begging for his life, Berg grabbed each side of his attacker’s face and squeezed with both hands . . . until the man’s head popped like a zit. It was the blood and bone hitting him in the face that snapped Berg back into the moment, and
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