Ah, grenades! It was the thing I most excelled at during Army basic
training at Ft. Jackson, SC, in 1968. For some reason known only to
God I was some kind of grenade chucker. (For any old vets on the list
who recall when the PT test at the end of basic included 'nade
chucking, I hit the helmet on the stake four out of five tries, and
the fifth missed only by inches.) That's why the Army then sent me to
code school, and during my tours in Vietnam and East Africa I
deployed headsets, R-390 receivers and antenna fields the size of
Delaware, and Underwood typewriters that typed in all-cap letters.
Never threw a grenade in anger. Just as well, I guess. Victor Charlie
doubtless would have contested my prowess with the grenade by
chucking back a few of his own.
Unlike Walt, I haven't been heeled in many a decade, though I do
appreciate that line from The Shootist and was glad to see it quoted.
Definitely on my short list of favorite movies. That said, once in
western North Carolina I toted a Model 1913 Colt .45 for a few months
while a reporter, because a couple of drug-related murders I was
writing about seemed to stir up the local druggie population who made
noises about "taking care of that reporter." But then again I also
learned that them what talks about it seldom are them was does
anything. It all blew over, the guilty were sent to prison, and I
finally traded the .45 for an antique Leica M-3, which I enjoyed far
more than any firearm.
--Bob
On Feb 22, 2007, at 4:38 AM, Chris Barker wrote:
> Grenades are small bits of explosive with fragmentation cases, used
> to hurt or maim people; but no one was allowed within 50m, there were
> safety people up the kazoo and the preparation for each grenade throw
> took about 10 minutes. Then the chap threw from behind a bank and
> hit the ground ...
>
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