A different grade of surplus
My next visit to a war surplus store might not be as interesting as in the “good old days”. Turns out that a certain (undisclosed) number of containers, returned from our bases in Afghanistan, have been loaded with rocks and sand.
Oh, the ignominy! Instead of the next generation of surplus radios, surplus jackets, surplus everything, the government may have to sell rocks. As if we don’t have any of those in Canada. I’m heartbroken at the news. Twofold. I paid for the original stuff, and now I won’t get a chance to buy the stuff a second time. There’s something wrong with the whole picture.
The spokesman from the government reassured the questionmakers over at CBC. No uniforms were lost in shipment. Probably. Ditto for munitions and “good” junk. The miscreants likely got some tires and tools. I feel better, knowing that my next wardrobe addition (desert camouflage sweater?) might make it through the supply chain after all.
Let’s face it; war surplus has gone down hill since my youth. No more opportunity to get an anti-aircraft cannon, like that one available on the outskirts of Moncton back in the late 70’s. No more “Wireless Set No. 19“. Sure, wrong war. But it was the idea that you could discover almost anything in the back of the local surplus store. I still have memories, albeit shaded in escaped feathers, of that sleeping bag I bought on Yonge Street between trains. Kept me warm for a couple of winters, before disintegrating. Morse keys, before that market was diverted to eBay. Other cool stuff that bore an acquisition number and an air of mystery.
Rocks, huh? Is there any gold in those hills?
