As part of our “training” as CO’s (Candidate Officers) we had to take over the guard duty at the School of Engineers. We would act as the officer on duty, while the real officer on duty went down to the pub for a beer or two. Well at least we didn't have to sit in a cage between two rows of barbed wire any more...
Besides the normal tasks of making sure the guards were properly dressed, sorting out the duty roster and handing out the shrink-wrapped rounds, we aslo had to answer the phone and deal with any emergencies the police of fire brigade might have to deal with.
Just before midnight I get a phone call from a very Afrikaans aunty from the police station. Someone handed in a hand grenade and she wanted to know what to do with it. Jeez, how was I supposed to know what the police did with hand grenades they picked up.
After a couple of question and answer sessions (she I think fell out of the stupid tree when she was small), we finally figured it wasn’t South African so it must be communist (her description, not mine).
Next question (were were on 1st name terms by this time). “Elsa, just a quick check, is the pin still in?” After a brief pause I get a “No man, there’s no pin”……. fuckity fuck.
“OK Elsa, is the handle still on this grenade?” By now she was getting the gist of the conversation. “Jissis, there no handle either. Fokkit, what now man?”..... double fuckity fuck.
“Listen Elsa, you may have a problem. Without the pin or the handle, it means the grenade was armed, but didn’t go off. I don’t know how stable it is, so be careful. Don’t bump it.”
Thunk. I could hear her drop it on the desk at the polisiekantoor. And thunk again as it rolled off the desk on to the floor. And amongst it all very rapid footsteps and lots of screaming…..
We did a follow up phone call in the morning but were told that “it’s all under control…”
