I know when I was young I thought the same of my elders and it's only when you grow older that you can appreciate that most people have done some wild things at some time in their life.
In a post a couple of months back (Driving furiously) I recounted a story from my dad's youth.
Today I visited the Museum of Transport and Technology Aviation section (MOTAT) which is a great experience.
While there I bought a small book 2nd New Zealand Divisional Cavalry Regiment in the Mediterranean. I did this because dad was in this division in the second world war.
There's a story in this book of a couple of Divisional Cavalry 'larrikins' who had found a 2 inch mortar and bombs amongst some wreckage after a battle near Badia in December 1941.
Ted Andrews who kept a diary wrote:
"Chook and I decided to try out this handy little weapon one afternoon. We went out near the edge of the escarpment. Neither of us had handled a 2" mortar before but we tackled boldly. We first knocked the muzzle on the ground to get the sand out, then unwrapped the first bomb and dropped it down the barrel. It stuck a bit so we rammed itdown with a pick handle, pointed it on a low angle towards the edge of the escarpment and let her go. Away shot the bomb, higher than we thought skimmed the crest of the escarpment and disappeared, immediately a dull boom! At the same moment two dispatch riders came over the crest on their motorbikes, going like hell, right where the bomb had gone over. We looked at each other blankly. "Hell" said Chook, "I hope there weren't three of them".
The second round wouldn't go down the barrel so I tipped the mortar up and carefully shook it and Chook caught the primed bomb in his handerchief! It was followed out by the tail of the first bomb. We fired the second bomb on a high angle and up she went only to be caught in a head wind and the higher it went the further back over our heads it went. It finally burst with a terrific report about 200 yards behind us and quite close to the colonels's tent. Consternation in the camp! Men ran out of their tents and bivvies and dived into slit trenches, men standing threw themselves flat on the ground. Had Rommel come back or was it an air raid? Chook and I tossed up to see who would go back and explain and of course, I lost. I went over to the colonel's tent.
He and the major were arguing over what it was. The CO said it was a shell but the major said there was no whistle with it. Judging by the dirt on their clothes they had hit the ground pretty smartly! So I explained what had happened and did the old man fly off the handle! My military career was irretrievably ruined - he always reckoned I tried to kill him and the men gave me hell because I hadn't!"
This is the kind of stuff - total disregard for safety, gung-ho stupidity and reckless fun - that we got up to when we were young. I can just see Roger ramming down a primed bomb with a pick handle.
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