So, the one really good thing about being unemployed is that I have free time to really sit down to transcribing and editing my grandfathers stories. I'm planning to turn these into a book of his memoirs. Here's one I thought you guys would appreciate.
This is the story of how my grandfather got the Colt 1911 .45 pistol that is still in my family today (actually, the one I'm firing in my profile picture). This happened while he was stationed in the South Pacific in WWII.
The story of how Jim ended up getting the 1911 .45 Pistol
When I went overseas, I was issued a .38 caliber revolver.
I was somewhere in the South Pacific, and some guys had been out drinking beer and they came in and my gun was hanging up, with ammunition, right by my bed. Everybody had different firearms.
Somebody said, “Oh, I need a gun.”
And someone else said, “Oh here,” and he took mine. I wasn’t there. I’d probably gone out to a movie or something.
They went out and they were shooting. I don’t think there were any Japanese around there at that time.
When they got all through shooting at things, I wasn’t there, but I figure the problem was that they were concerned for somebody being mad at them for shooting up the living spaces. Somebody may have yelled at them, or said, “report over here,” or something, and they ran, took the guns, right as they were on the waters edge at the ocean, and threw them in.
The next morning I’m there, and these guys are kind of holding there heads, and I said, “Where the hell is my gun? Who took my gun?”
“We had to loan it to Charlie.”
I said, “You loaned him my gun? On whose authority?”
“Oh… frankly, we lost it.”
They had to replace it. At first they told me that was my problem, not their’s.
I told them, “Sure, you’re correct. It is my problem.”
And I went, and I found a guy who was military police who was around. And I brought the guy over and said, “These guys want to tell you about this gun…”
He interrupted, “Were you out shooting around last night.”
And they all looked at me, and I said, “No, it wasn’t that. As a matter of fact, they were helping me fire one of these new .45’s that the Army has. They have access to the supply officers.”
He said, “Oh, that’s a good idea. If you find out how it works, let me know. I’d be interested in that.”
So the next thing you know, we’re over at the Army camp, which was a few miles from where we were. And one of these guys had a friend there, and the friend went in and came out with this .45. He didn’t say a word. And I didn’t say a word. He left it on the counter. Next thing you know, I picked it up, put in my holster, and walked away.
And that’s how I got the gun.
...
Later on, I got hurt and I was being sent back. I had my .45 on, and I had clips in my belt and in my flight jacket, of .45 ammunition. I probably had 40 or 50 rounds of ammunition on me. The guy putting me on the airplane took my .45 out and said, “You got any more ammunition?”
I said, “Well, yeah.”
He emptied all the ammunition out of it, and from the clips and everything. Emptied the gun, cleared it, and stuck it back in my holster. It came back with me, and that’s how I kept it.