I saw a post on Facebook about hand grenades and that got me to thinking of my Dad and a story he told me. When Dad got out of the Navy after World War II, he took a few souvenirs home like most everybody else who could get away with it. He had no trouble getting home with a few guns and Japanese knives but the Navy nixed his idea of taking home a half dozen hand grenades.
Dad had watched some of his kin folks fishing with dynamite in his younger days and he was fascinated with the idea of throwing a grenade in a stock pond and scooping up the stunned fish. Of course he knew he couldn’t transport live grenades all the way from the South Pacific back to Texas so he carefully disassembled those 6 grenades and put all of the parts in a box. He even saved the powder in a separate container so he would have live grenades when he got home.
The Navy found his little stash and sent him home without the grenades. He wasn’t very happy that he had gone to all that trouble and danger of unarming those grenades and then he had to go home without them.