When my folks were back in town for Christmas, Mom told me this story about her father, The Storyteller.
As you may have read in the past, my grandpa was one of my earliest role models; a lighthearted merry prankster and premier teller of funny and often times true stories. After watching him kill yet another room full of jaded adults, I’d always think, “That’s the guy I want to be.”
This story took place during World War II. One of Grandpa’s brothers was stationed in the Pacific, building shit with the Seabees. One of the provisions, though, was “no booze.”
I always thought the alcohol prohibitions were for the Middle East, so I guess you learn something new every day.
Anyway, in letters home, his brother lamented the inability to get a good drink. Grandpa wanted to help, but obviously couldn’t ship him a big crate of liquor. So he devised a work-around. He sent them maraschino cherries instead.
The Navy passed the cherries straight through to Grandpa’s brother. One full case of maraschino cherries… could be the harm in that?
What the Navy didn't know was that Grandpa had poured out all the cherry juice from each bottle, replaced it with bourbon and packed it up again. Mom said she’d never forget the sight of her dad, surrounded by cherry bottles, draining each of the little bottles and painstakingly pouring in the bourbon.
Now that’s how you Support the Troops! Beats the hell out of just slapping a ribbon magnet on your car, doesn’t it?
The Army commanders eventually realized that their men were getting loaded, but never figured out how they did it… defeated by a good brother with a little Italian-American ingenuity.