When you click on links to various merchants on this site and make a purchase, this can result in this site earning a commission. Affiliate programs and affiliations include, but are not limited to, the eBay Partner Network.
In retrospect, I could have taken the submunition to a nearby cliff, tossed it over, stood back, and gone by whether there was an earth-shattering kaboom or not.
All these stories I've read where people have found mice in their heater boxes ... I will no longer be impressed.
Back about 1960, at about 17 I was sorta the assistant manager of a small, local supermarket. I opened up one summer morning, and an hour or so later glanced out one of the large plate glass windows. Laying in plain sight about eight feet from me was a grenade, with the handle laying beside it...
I stepped aside, and waited a minute or two. Nothing happened, so I walked out to inspect it. Yep - hand grenade. Yep - pin pulled, handle off, igniter cap flipped. No smoke.
After a few seconds of consideration, I left it alone, and put a wooden crate over it to conceal it. Called the county police - they didn't have a clue what to do. I suggested the nearby military base, so the cops passed the hot potato to them.
In about thirty minutes, a couple of AP's showed up in a Jeep. I gave them the story. They looked at each other, shrugged, and one picked up the crate. After a few seconds, the other picked up the grenade and sniffed it - no recent powder smell.
After a few minutes discussion, we agreed that it was probably a souvenir that someone was playing with, and they panicked and dropped it when they pulled the pin.
To my amazement, the AP's cheerfully agreed that I could keep it. I'm not sure where it is in my junk at the moment. Things would be handled differently now...
Good call on getting help, I'd have done the same. After I changed my shorts, of course.
The grenades may have been inert training grenades, but so far as I know, they don't make training bomblets. Odds are it was real and live.
Those bomblets are nothing to f* with. You're lucky it didn't go off when you hit a bump. That's sort of how they're supposed to work. We're actually not generally allowed to use that sort of stuff any more because of the large number of duds it produces. The bomblets have a habit of laying around until a farmer hits them and blows himself up, or a kid picks it up and blows himself up.
My wife's cousin happened to see the commotion - three trooper cars at the end of the driveway, who knows how many more up at the house. Called my wife's other cousin. They must think we've been murdered or something. Second cousin (in Maine) sees story about it in online version of local paper, and calls me, happy to learn that 1) I have a Bugeye Sprite, and 2) we're alive.
Good call on getting help, I'd have done the same. After I changed my shorts, of course.
The grenades may have been inert training grenades, but so far as I know, they don't make training bomblets. Odds are it was real and live.
Those bomblets are nothing to f* with. You're lucky it didn't go off when you hit a bump. That's sort of how they're supposed to work. We're actually not generally allowed to use that sort of stuff any more because of the large number of duds it produces. The bomblets have a habit of laying around until a farmer hits them and blows himself up, or a kid picks it up and blows himself up.
I know a bit about what you do for a living and am hesitant to dispute what you say, but I'm going to just a bit.
As far as I know, every live device has an inert training analog.
If for no other reason that to have an instructor hold it up during a training lecture and say something like "This is a CBU bomblet. If you see one on the ground, DO NOT touch it."
I know the anti-mine folks have displays that include the stuff they want to see gone. That includes CBUs.
If it was really live, the chances of it detonating while bouncing around in there during the times the car was transported are pretty good.
BUT...
I agree that calling for help was the only smart choice.
My wife's cousin happened to see the commotion - three trooper cars at the end of the driveway, who knows how many more up at the house. Called my wife's other cousin. They must think we've been murdered or something. Second cousin (in Maine) sees story about it in online version of local paper, and calls me, happy to learn that 1) I have a Bugeye Sprite, and 2) we're alive.
02-04-2016, 03:34 PM
