David E asked for some stories about some chore performed with an EDC. Here is mine.
The Camillus Stockman in the middle of the picture was given to me by my father in 1950 for my 13th birthday. I've carried it ever since and have used it for thousands of chores. Perhaps the most unusual one was when I was in the Army long ago. (So long ago my issue weapon was the late, great, M1 Garand rifle.)
When I was stationed at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, my platoon sergeant, a career soldier, was a former combat vet. He had the CIB from WW II, European Theatre, and Korea. He had three Purple Hearts.
At that time we were not forbidden -- at least in my company -- to carry pocket knives. A number of guys in my squad carried them. (I don't know how it is now but I've heard stories....) Sgt. Moore knew I had that very sharp Stockman pocket knife. Unmarried, he lived in the Sergeant's rooms in the barracks. Two or three times before Taps he'd come to my bunk, where I was sitting polishing boots or brass, etc. He would be wearing his tee shirt and shorts, holding a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some Band Aids, and some cotton swabs.
He'd say "Leanwolf, get out that pigsticker you carry and hit these two little pieces of shrapnel on the back of my thigh. Damn stuff keeps working their way up to the skin and I can't reach them." He did not want to go to the infirmary for such a "minor need."
I would open that clip point blade and just lightly touch the dark gray bumps on the rear of his thigh with that very sharp point and a tiny piece of steel shrapnel would pop out. He'd rub some alcohol on it and I'd put a Band Aid on the tiny cut. He'd say, "You want 'em?" I'd say, "No Sarge, you keep 'em. You earned 'em."
That happened several times as he had a lot of old shrapnel in him.
I've also used that same tip of the blade to drill several holes in my thumbnail when I mashed it in elk camp several years ago. Did a great job and relieved the pressure and pain.
So that's my unusual story about my EDC old Camillus Stockman. It is in my pocket as I type this. It will be with me until I die.
L.W.
The Camillus Stockman in the middle of the picture was given to me by my father in 1950 for my 13th birthday. I've carried it ever since and have used it for thousands of chores. Perhaps the most unusual one was when I was in the Army long ago. (So long ago my issue weapon was the late, great, M1 Garand rifle.)
When I was stationed at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, my platoon sergeant, a career soldier, was a former combat vet. He had the CIB from WW II, European Theatre, and Korea. He had three Purple Hearts.
At that time we were not forbidden -- at least in my company -- to carry pocket knives. A number of guys in my squad carried them. (I don't know how it is now but I've heard stories....) Sgt. Moore knew I had that very sharp Stockman pocket knife. Unmarried, he lived in the Sergeant's rooms in the barracks. Two or three times before Taps he'd come to my bunk, where I was sitting polishing boots or brass, etc. He would be wearing his tee shirt and shorts, holding a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some Band Aids, and some cotton swabs.
He'd say "Leanwolf, get out that pigsticker you carry and hit these two little pieces of shrapnel on the back of my thigh. Damn stuff keeps working their way up to the skin and I can't reach them." He did not want to go to the infirmary for such a "minor need."
I would open that clip point blade and just lightly touch the dark gray bumps on the rear of his thigh with that very sharp point and a tiny piece of steel shrapnel would pop out. He'd rub some alcohol on it and I'd put a Band Aid on the tiny cut. He'd say, "You want 'em?" I'd say, "No Sarge, you keep 'em. You earned 'em."
That happened several times as he had a lot of old shrapnel in him.
I've also used that same tip of the blade to drill several holes in my thumbnail when I mashed it in elk camp several years ago. Did a great job and relieved the pressure and pain.
So that's my unusual story about my EDC old Camillus Stockman. It is in my pocket as I type this. It will be with me until I die.
L.W.