A couple years ago my grandfather passed away, and one of the things that I wound up with was his knife from when he was in the war. He didn't spend a lot of time talking about the war, other than to retell some of his favorite stories, mostly of his tent that he dubbed the "hub" in honor of his favorite watering hole back home. He didn't save a lot of mementos from the war, but this was one of the things that he did save. I need to check with my father, but I think that he carried this as part of his hunting rig, and if so, no doubt gutted a great number of deer with it. After my grandfather died, the knife sat in my dad's autobody shop for a while, but due to the dampness, it developed mold on the handle. I took the knife home, cleaned it up, and wound up letting it get buried under some of my other projects. While I was cleaning up tonight, I came across it again, and decided to sharpen it. It seemed like a fitting time to do it, since my 6 year old son was with me. My son is named after my grandfather, and they were very fortunate enough to share 3 wonderful years getting to know each other before my grandfather died. My boy is almost 6 now, and still clearly remembers "Nono Henry". So, with my boy watching, I spent a few minutes sharpening the knife for the first time in many years. It only took a few minutes and it was slicing paper like crazy. Some day, my boy will own his great grandfather's knife, and I hope he cherishes it. 
There is a stamping in the back of the sheath that I should have taken a close-up of. My grandfather spent time in the Aleutian Islands during the war, and the stamping on the back of the sheath says "Aleutian Hell" along with something else.
There is a stamping in the back of the sheath that I should have taken a close-up of. My grandfather spent time in the Aleutian Islands during the war, and the stamping on the back of the sheath says "Aleutian Hell" along with something else.
