My grand dad...

Growing up, I didn't have a Dad as he died before I was born in a car crash. So my mom raised as best as she could. During the summers, my graNd dad would take over to give my mom a break (and who could blame her?). My granddad was a WW2 Navy vet. He was a Torpedos Mate by training. Some of the stories he told made it clear that he really wasn't cut out for a military career (something about college boys in a position of authority). His favorite past time when wasn't in the brig or on extra duty was going to NYC and prowling the streets after leaving a slopchute or three, good and iqoured up. With his crackerjack hat pushed forward over one eye he would look for his favorite prey, the elusive ringknocker (Navy officer who graduated from the Naval Academy). He preferred to find his quarry in a pack and he would walk up to the biggest one and pick a fight. Usually it went like this:
Granddad: Why lookie here! Looks like the blankety-blank ers are out. Too bad you aren't real men and are afraid to get your uniforms dirty"
Ringknocker: Shove off swabbie before I have the Shore Patrol haul you off to the brig".
Grand dad: Blankety- sy blank-er (and now knocks the officers hat off) I will not only kick your bleeping arse, but your boyfriends too!".
To which said group would go down a back alley and Granddad would proceed to have 'fun'.
When he won (which according to him he did often), he would leave, light up a Lucky and go looking for more officers. The day I told him I had enlisted in the Marines, he looked me in the eye and said I'm proud of you. That meant a lot to me. I know he respected Marines (They could fight pretty good in those green uniforms).
But one of the most important things he told me were the 4 things every man should carry. First was a handkerchief. You carry it case a woman needs it, you need to clean your glasses, a bandage, a pot grip, a water filter, etc. The next thing was nail clippers because women don't like it when men have dirt under their nails and you can use them to pull out a splinter and to cut off irish pennats. Following that was a lighter because "you never know when you need to set something or someone on fire". The last thing was a knife "in case you need to cut something or someone, then set them on fire". Since then I have added to the list: a good flashlight, a reliable pistol and spare mag. So that is a little bit about one of the people who was an influential part of my life and what was basically his EDC.

 

Great post!

 

I never really new my Paternal Grand Parents, they were VERY old when I was born, and passed soon after! I was partially raised by my Maternal Grand Parents and Mom as Dad was at sea all the time ( almost 40 years, before they put him on the beach for good) and so Grand Dad became my male mentor for much of my younger life! Gramps was a WW-II vet, a Tanker who went ashore in Normandy a few days after the 6th and managed to survive the experience! He was usually a quiet man, didn't talk much unless there was something important to talk about, and he was a proud man! He went on to serve as a Sheriffs deputy in a town where there was no Sheriff, so he had to report to work 30 miles away. He retired from the Sheriff's office and got himself elected as a city counsel member, and after his hitch there, he became county building inspector! He was still working when I was born, but we got a very good roll model to look up to! Grand Dad was Extremely proud when I enlisted in the Air Force, he was there when I graduated and earned the right to wear the Red Beret, and he was there when I retired 20 years later! We spent a few evenings sharing our experiences and it was the first time I had ever heard many of those things ( the first time ANY ONE had heard them) and it was eye opening! He passed shortly after, and it was very hard on every one, as he had been such an influence on every one around him! He taught me many important life's skills and lessons and I owe him so much for the man I became!

 

My paternal Grandfather died before my birth, so I never knew him. He was a poor fisherman, farmer and handyman.
My maternal Grandfather was a farmer, and I knew him and Grandma from my first days. They both lived until I was in my early teens. Mom's Father was a bit odd, told me stories of mythical places like Mu, Lemuria and Atlantis, all of which he believed had existed. He gave me my first hunting knife/hatchet set. I loved the old man. A sad day when he died.

 

My paternal Grandfather served with General Pershing in the Rainbow Division in WWI. He was gassed and never fully recovered from it. His two sons were both Navy in the South Pacific during WWII. My Great Uncle was captured in Bataan. Another shot down over Germany. Still another fought in Europe throughout the war. My FIL was in the Battle of the Bulge. I was Navy during VN. My oldest was Navy during the ME excitement. In all due respect to the OP, your Grandfather is lucky he wasn't courtmartialed for his drunken behavior.

 

Waydah he made Torpedos Mate 1st class 4 times. And was busted down 4 times until he finally got to the Pacific. There he put in a good showing for himself, until his PT Boat was sunk. When he was asked if he eas ready to give the Japs some more he calmly replied to the CPO "Respectively Chief, I would rather drive a truck. See, floating in that water I realized that there aren't any sharks on land and when that tin can finally picked us up, we decided maybe I'm not so tough after all". After that he drove a truck and drank beer. I guess being umped by a couple of sharks will change your idea of what tough is. He wasn't a great sailor, he freely admitted that. But his country called and he stood up and volunteered. He just had a problem with authority and needed to basically grow up some. And those sharks made him grow up quick.

 

My Dad told me his father during WWII. Dad was a kid, fifth of seven kids, and things were rough in Sopchoppy, Florida in the 1930s on into WWII. Grandad worked oddjobs to support the family. One was delivering firewood to the POW camp in Wakulla County, which held German prisoners. Dad accompanied him, and saw some of the German POWs. Dad was born in 1933, so was 8 to 12 years old through WWII.
Dad later joined the Airforce as an Air Policeman, in 1955. He and Mom, also in the USAF, met and married in F.E.Warren AFB in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Mom leftvthe USAF when she was pregnant with me.

 

My maternal grandfather had been an accomplished professional heavyweight boxer in his heyday (1920's-30's). He was a mild mannered, peaceable and very civil person, who saw no need to fight anyone outside of the ring. He was a powerful, imposing looking man, even in his older age...few people felt inclined to take him on or cause him any aggravation. I learned a number of useful life lessons from him, not the least of which was that undisciplined aggression, generally only brought trouble to the aggressor.

My paternal grandfather was a snr NCO during WW1, and the struggle for the independence of his homeland against the Germans, and the Russians just after the Great War ended. During the post war peace, he worked as an industrial chemist, but got caught up in the Russian occupation of his country during WW2, and spent much of his life from the time of the Soviet occupation, until his death in the early 1970s, in various Soviet gulag camps as a political prisoner. He was a survivor, as was my father who endured the horrors of WW2 in Europe. I think that more than a little has rubbed off on me too, when on a few occasions, the difference between life and death had been pretty much a coin toss, but for good luck and dogged perseverance.

 

My Grandfather was the last working blacksmith in Tyler County, Texas. He was a man’s man and although I was 26 when he died I don’t remember having many conversations with him. He did not know how to relate to children and few women although he raised six daughters. Born in1890 he died in 1976 at 86. He worked 1/2 day at his shop the day he died. He never had a Social Security card and never filed a income tax return. He died a millionaire and no one knew it. His estate paid 450k in back taxes and penalties before it was settled.

 

Both my Grandfathers were hard working men one a carpenter and machine operator for the Illinois Central Railroad. The other a farmer. Both sent their sons to war in the Pacific and Europe some how by the grace of God they all survived. They both died before I was eight years old but I still love and have fond memories of them both

 

*laugh*, I suspect he was busted a few times! Sounds like a tough codger none the less. Also sounds like the brass was happy he had an enemy to fight other than them! I had several on my ship that would fit that same mold. They would gain rank followed by being busted back for some misadventure or bad decision. It happens over and over. But the Chain of Command actually protected them in a way because they were so good at their jobs.

 

Lets see,Dad's dad was a farmer but loved horses all his life.

Loved them so much and THAT was good enough for the Army in WW 1

He was a saddler for a machine-gun group in France

I only met him once,He caught a stroke while on a tractor plowing a field,Fell off and laid out there for hours until he caught Pneumonia and died in the hospital.

On moms side,Her dad was a ships navigator and so happened to be in Pearl Harbor the day the Japs bombed the place.

He and the ships crew launched skiffs and proceeded to pick up sailors in burning waters,He was awarded several civilian medals for their actions that day.

He was found dead several years later on some railroad tracks in Texas,He was walking hitching and hoboing a ride home to Louisiana,Never had the honor of meeting him as he died before I was born.
Mom Dad and Grandmaw went to Texas in a pick-up truck,Loaded him up and returned to home and he's buried in Beauregard parish.

Dad being a farmboy was a shoe-in to drive a tank,He drove a Sherman across Europe in the 8th Armored div.of the 3rd Army.

 

My grandpa on my mothers side was a mans man. Born poor. Did what he had to do to make a living,, mostly honestly. Early in life,, did a little moonshine’ing. Joined the Army at 17 , around 1935, discharged from Pearl Harbor in 1939. Told the recruiter when he joined he wanted to go so far from home that it would cost 5 dollars to send a penny post card home. The recruiter asked him what kind of trouble he was in ? Married my grandma when he got out. My mom was born in 1940. He was recalled into the army ,, so he sold everything they had to support his wife and my mom till his checks started coming in. Then the night before he was supposed to ship out , the war ended and he said he didn’t have a pot to piss in and barely had enough money to buy one. Then traveled up and down the east coast working construction and sending money home for his family. Then settled for a while in Newport News Va, as an electrician building ships in the shipyard. Grandpa died a few years back at 93. Taught me how to hunt fish and utilize the game we caught and shot , amongst many other useful things in life. Things that aren’t really special, but just honest hard work and the way to just live on the necessities of life, versus the frilly stuff. I think of him and miss him and my Dad, daily.

 

Papaw was a farmer, taught school, and built cabinets. My Dad and his mother had him locked in a nut-house when he gave some money to an abandoned woman with kids that needed help. When he got released from his "treatment" for a "nevous break-down", grandma had sold their farm and bought a big house in Lexington. He left his bed in the morning to shave, eat a bite of breakfast and walk to the store to buy a can of Prince Albert for his pipe that he would spend the rest of his day lying there in his bedroom smoking.He did that for five years before he died and I don't believe he spoke more than a dozen words to anyone on any given day. He was pissed off and had already been shown what they could do to him.
Didn't know my maternal grandpa, he died the day I was born. Always been told that I took after him though. He played music and carved grave stone for a living until he died from silicosis.
It would have been my maternal Uncles that were the mentors to me. Odel, the oldest, lost one lung to a German rifle at Normandy, Thomas died in a POW camp in North Korea so I never knew him, Billy made it home from Korea and to this day, has never spoken about it to anyone.