I hate looking back. I think looking back is bad for anyones mental state, but possibly good for the wig picking business. Especially as we get older, looking back sometimes can be more depressing as we realize how much time has passed and how much closer we are to our expiration date. But I guess we can look back on good times as well, and some of the great people we've had the privilege to know. And many of those people had a great influence on our lives.
Our scout master, Mr. Van was one of those people. His influence on a bunch of 12 year old budding scouts was beyond reckoning. To many of us, Mr. Van was the very first adult that had an influence on how we set about figuring things out, what to do in an emergency situation, how to conduct ourselves in social surroundings. Mr. Van was very big on manners and respect. He even called us by our last names such as Mr. Tate, and Mr. Ryerson. Okay, maybe he had some other names for Bobby Ryerson now and then, but he was big on the Mr. thing.
The fact that Mr. Van carried a scout knife was not lost on us. Here was this tall silver haired Marine, Veteran of some places in the South Pacific war that many would be hero posers would have been busy changing BVD's. No bowie knives, commando knives, but a Remington scout knife with jigged bone handles, a great patina, and a spear point blade that put a strait razor to shame. And he knew how to use it. Watching him make a fuzz stick in a competition against other scout masters was an exibition of controlled cutting with tissue thin curls of wood that you could read through. That thin carbon steel blade made very short work of what it was put against.
So, all of us scouts carried a scout knife with pride. They were an assortment of makes, from Camillus, Imperial, Schrade, Ulster, and others. Some had real jigged bone, others had jigged delrin, but it didn't make a difference. They all had the shield with the motto "Be Prepared" on it. That was good enough for us. From age 12 to just after high school I carried that scout knife that dad had gifted me on my joining the scouts. Even in high school, I was proud to carry it, simply because of Mr. van's influence on us. Didn't even want a look at a switchblade the so called cool kids carried. They weren't a blip on the radar.
Joining the army after high school, the scout knife got left home, because I wasn't sure a pocket knife was even allowed in boot camp, and because I didn't want anything to happen to it. So off to Ft. Dix New Jersey I went, to the first knife less period in my life. No problem, they kept us so busy that we had no need of a pocket knife, and the guys with the smoky the bear hats kept us enthralled with all the new names they came up for us. There were knives, but they were on the end of the rifle we stuck dummies with and was called a bayonet. That didn't count. But as fun as boot camp was, it, like all things end and it was time for us to go to our A.I.T. assignments. I had enlisted for the army engineers, so it was off to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri for me. No time off for a leave home, right on the plane to what I learned was Ft. Lost-in-the-woods.
Once there, the great adventure continued, and I learned that I had enlisted in what was called the 'Combat Engineers'. Now, the recruitment sergeant that had signed me up hadn't exactly called it that, and I was a bit confused when we learned to handle this putty like stuff called C4. I thought I was there to learn the construction trades like carpentry, and such. But that's another story. I didn't have a knife and the staff sergeant told me to run down to supply and get one. I go there and the supply sergeant had a box of wood handle TL-29's and I said that would do, maybe without enough enthusiasm. He said if that wasn't what I wanted, maybe I'd want one of these, and he held up another box, and the light came on like a bacon. There was scout knives. nice shiny all steel scout knives. It was my first introduction what a to of people mistakenly call a demo knife, but the army called a MIL-K-818D.
It was kind of like a zen thing. There I was, far from home, learning to blow up things that were in the way, and they gave me a scout knife. The old 4 bladed American as apple pie and old Glory pattern. It even had a nice big U.S. stamp on the mark side scale. We got along together right well, and for the next few years, it was "my knife." When they packed us off to Vietnam, the scout knife was dummy corded to my belt loop. It was an indispensable tool, and I used every tool on the thing, not to mention the blade. It was only later that I learned how valued these knives were on a 3 day pass in Siagon. They had real street value. Toss in a large can of Maxwell house coffee and it was amazing what a nice time you'd have "downtown." They were a form of currency and trade goods. Enough time has passed that I can plea guilty to purloining a few 'spares' to go downtown with me. They ended up missing in action, but were much loved by their new owners.
Tour over, I got sometime stationed stateside, re-uped and got sent to Germany. There was two Germany's in those days, east and west. The east were the bad guys and we were supposed to be keeping the west safe from the Peoples Republik Of East Germany. All I now was, I got some great touring in. By this time I had some rank and broke the NCO territory, so I could buys car and if I had a certain number of miles on it by the time I shipped home, I could get it shipped really cheap. So I got my Volkswagon and every weekend I didn't have duty, traveled around. That's when it happened.
I was in Rothenburg, the old walled city. Having a great time, walking the old cobblestone streets and having some good Germany brew, when I saw it. It was in a shop window, and it turned out to be a knife shop. At this point in my life, I was not a knife nut. No, I had a knife in my pocket and like my dad, that was good enough. But "it" called to me, beckoned to me. "It" being a giant red Swiss Army knife with moving blades and tools in the shop window. I had never seen the like, and it drew my into the shop, like it was supposed to. There I found SAK's. Big SAK's, little SAK's, in between SAK's. SAK's with many layers, and SAK's with just one or two layers. That day in Rothenburg Germany, may have been the onset of my later 'knife accumulitis that would infect me in later years.
I don't now how long I was submerged in that little knife shop. All i know was, I came out of there with a couple of SAK's. A Huntsman, and Wenger SI. These became my 'new' knives, and the old Camillus MIL-K knife got retired. We'd covered a lot of ground together, but there was a new knife in the pocket and it was Swiss. I carried the huntsman, and I liked having a saw blade, and scissors, and corkscrew, and all that stuff, but as time went on, I noticed something. I really didn't need a saw blade on a daily basis, and the scissors fell into the same boat. Little by little, the Wenger SI kept finding it's way into my pocket for a days duty. It had what I needed, but not a bit more. It was slim and more pocketable than the 'bigger' SAK's. And there was one more big thing; it was a more refined version of the old four blade scout knife that I had been carrying since the age of 12. The Victorinox pioneer is a version of the same design. Both were real issue for the real Swiss Army. I'm sure that must count for something.
By 1970, I had added a Buck stockman to my pocket collection. The Buck was pure cutting tool, and with three blades on hand, it handled those jobs that I was sure was going to mess up a good edge. With my discharge from the army, and raising a family, life had changed a lot. Being a new homeowner, and in a stable environment, I started to accumulate more stuff, knives included. Somehow, I tried sodbusters, pen knives, barlow's, Douk-Douk's, Opinels, peanuts, and a few lock blades. The lock blades got knocked out early in the game, just too limited with one single blade. The tool thing was deeply ingrained into me by a life time since age 12 of having a few basic tools on tap. It's surprising how many things can be fixed if you can just get into it and fiddle around. Through the 1970' and 80's, and part of the 90's, the Buck 301 was a very consistent pocket companion. But in the background, in a pack, glovebox, emergency kit, other pocket, was a scout knife in the guise of the Wenger SI. I had a Vic pioneer, and a cadet along the way as well, and they all took part in my life in one way or another. I've long lost track of how many things I fixed with a SAK, and it became my go-to pocket knife for mailing to myself when flying off on vacation. The smaller models like the Victorinox recruit, make fine semi disposable gift knives or travel knives. I gifted off a lot of Opinels over the years, but the SAK's are ahead on points. No matter where I've been, the red handle with silver cross is recognized.
Growing older, and having some hand problems and arthritis, I found stiffly sprung knives a thing I had to turn away from. But the SAK's always a gold standard for fit and finish, are still good for me to operate, as are the Opinels. I wish the rest of the knife companies were as consistent in blade pull as the SAK's. Only recently, I found that the 'new' Buck 301's had very soft blade pulls, so I may get one again. Between the Buck 301, and the scout pattern SAK's like the Wenger SI and Victorinox pioneer, have been one of the favorite knives I've ever carried. If I judge just by years carried, it would be a tough call between the stockman and scout pattern. I think the scout may win out if I count the period from age 12 to 20. These days I find myself using the SAK and stockman as my go-to pocket knives. It's hard to turn from something that has soooo many years with me.
I guess I'll never be a one knife guy like my dad was, but with a stockman in one pocket and my old Wenger SI in the other, I'm pretty well set up. But why is the scout type my second favorite pocket knife pattern?
Well, as handy as it is for screwing screws, opening cans, popping the top off a cold one at the end of the job, and making those starter holes for wood screws, it's a little limited for the task of cutting. After serving in the army and being introduced to the mighty P-38, I found that I could get by screwing screws with the P-38, or like my dad did by using a Sear's 4-way keychain screw driver. I've used the P-38 on Phillips screws, as well as flat, and opened a few beers with it. That eliminated a whole layer of the scout knife. And my stockman gave me three very different shaped blades that covered a very wide range of mission capability. So many times I'd need just a little bit of blade to open something, or trim something. The same thing I liked about the two blade jacks was that choice of a smaller blade. And the truth is, most the time I reach for my pocket knife, it's to cut something, not screw, pry, or drill. With a few light weight tools in my wallet, I could get by with just a pocket knife, and that old Buck stockman got me used to having multiple cutting blades available. It's a very tough call, and I'd hate to have to pick between them, but the scout pattern knife was "my" knife for the first third of my life, so it must have been good. Too good to be cast aside. To this day, even with a dedicated knife on hand, I still can't turn away from a good scout knife. Imperial, Camillus, even the Kamp Kings, were useful knives that punched above their weight. They were part of the America I experienced growing up. The old four bladed scout knife is just too handy a pattern to not have on hand somewhere close by. I know that I always will!
Besides, growing up watching Gunsmoke and Rawhide, I like carrying something that some hard working cowpoke may have carried. Hard for me to look at a stockman and not think of Rowdy Yates and the boys!
Edit to add; here's 98% of my edc these days;
Our scout master, Mr. Van was one of those people. His influence on a bunch of 12 year old budding scouts was beyond reckoning. To many of us, Mr. Van was the very first adult that had an influence on how we set about figuring things out, what to do in an emergency situation, how to conduct ourselves in social surroundings. Mr. Van was very big on manners and respect. He even called us by our last names such as Mr. Tate, and Mr. Ryerson. Okay, maybe he had some other names for Bobby Ryerson now and then, but he was big on the Mr. thing.
The fact that Mr. Van carried a scout knife was not lost on us. Here was this tall silver haired Marine, Veteran of some places in the South Pacific war that many would be hero posers would have been busy changing BVD's. No bowie knives, commando knives, but a Remington scout knife with jigged bone handles, a great patina, and a spear point blade that put a strait razor to shame. And he knew how to use it. Watching him make a fuzz stick in a competition against other scout masters was an exibition of controlled cutting with tissue thin curls of wood that you could read through. That thin carbon steel blade made very short work of what it was put against.
So, all of us scouts carried a scout knife with pride. They were an assortment of makes, from Camillus, Imperial, Schrade, Ulster, and others. Some had real jigged bone, others had jigged delrin, but it didn't make a difference. They all had the shield with the motto "Be Prepared" on it. That was good enough for us. From age 12 to just after high school I carried that scout knife that dad had gifted me on my joining the scouts. Even in high school, I was proud to carry it, simply because of Mr. van's influence on us. Didn't even want a look at a switchblade the so called cool kids carried. They weren't a blip on the radar.
Joining the army after high school, the scout knife got left home, because I wasn't sure a pocket knife was even allowed in boot camp, and because I didn't want anything to happen to it. So off to Ft. Dix New Jersey I went, to the first knife less period in my life. No problem, they kept us so busy that we had no need of a pocket knife, and the guys with the smoky the bear hats kept us enthralled with all the new names they came up for us. There were knives, but they were on the end of the rifle we stuck dummies with and was called a bayonet. That didn't count. But as fun as boot camp was, it, like all things end and it was time for us to go to our A.I.T. assignments. I had enlisted for the army engineers, so it was off to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri for me. No time off for a leave home, right on the plane to what I learned was Ft. Lost-in-the-woods.
Once there, the great adventure continued, and I learned that I had enlisted in what was called the 'Combat Engineers'. Now, the recruitment sergeant that had signed me up hadn't exactly called it that, and I was a bit confused when we learned to handle this putty like stuff called C4. I thought I was there to learn the construction trades like carpentry, and such. But that's another story. I didn't have a knife and the staff sergeant told me to run down to supply and get one. I go there and the supply sergeant had a box of wood handle TL-29's and I said that would do, maybe without enough enthusiasm. He said if that wasn't what I wanted, maybe I'd want one of these, and he held up another box, and the light came on like a bacon. There was scout knives. nice shiny all steel scout knives. It was my first introduction what a to of people mistakenly call a demo knife, but the army called a MIL-K-818D.
It was kind of like a zen thing. There I was, far from home, learning to blow up things that were in the way, and they gave me a scout knife. The old 4 bladed American as apple pie and old Glory pattern. It even had a nice big U.S. stamp on the mark side scale. We got along together right well, and for the next few years, it was "my knife." When they packed us off to Vietnam, the scout knife was dummy corded to my belt loop. It was an indispensable tool, and I used every tool on the thing, not to mention the blade. It was only later that I learned how valued these knives were on a 3 day pass in Siagon. They had real street value. Toss in a large can of Maxwell house coffee and it was amazing what a nice time you'd have "downtown." They were a form of currency and trade goods. Enough time has passed that I can plea guilty to purloining a few 'spares' to go downtown with me. They ended up missing in action, but were much loved by their new owners.
Tour over, I got sometime stationed stateside, re-uped and got sent to Germany. There was two Germany's in those days, east and west. The east were the bad guys and we were supposed to be keeping the west safe from the Peoples Republik Of East Germany. All I now was, I got some great touring in. By this time I had some rank and broke the NCO territory, so I could buys car and if I had a certain number of miles on it by the time I shipped home, I could get it shipped really cheap. So I got my Volkswagon and every weekend I didn't have duty, traveled around. That's when it happened.
I was in Rothenburg, the old walled city. Having a great time, walking the old cobblestone streets and having some good Germany brew, when I saw it. It was in a shop window, and it turned out to be a knife shop. At this point in my life, I was not a knife nut. No, I had a knife in my pocket and like my dad, that was good enough. But "it" called to me, beckoned to me. "It" being a giant red Swiss Army knife with moving blades and tools in the shop window. I had never seen the like, and it drew my into the shop, like it was supposed to. There I found SAK's. Big SAK's, little SAK's, in between SAK's. SAK's with many layers, and SAK's with just one or two layers. That day in Rothenburg Germany, may have been the onset of my later 'knife accumulitis that would infect me in later years.
I don't now how long I was submerged in that little knife shop. All i know was, I came out of there with a couple of SAK's. A Huntsman, and Wenger SI. These became my 'new' knives, and the old Camillus MIL-K knife got retired. We'd covered a lot of ground together, but there was a new knife in the pocket and it was Swiss. I carried the huntsman, and I liked having a saw blade, and scissors, and corkscrew, and all that stuff, but as time went on, I noticed something. I really didn't need a saw blade on a daily basis, and the scissors fell into the same boat. Little by little, the Wenger SI kept finding it's way into my pocket for a days duty. It had what I needed, but not a bit more. It was slim and more pocketable than the 'bigger' SAK's. And there was one more big thing; it was a more refined version of the old four blade scout knife that I had been carrying since the age of 12. The Victorinox pioneer is a version of the same design. Both were real issue for the real Swiss Army. I'm sure that must count for something.
By 1970, I had added a Buck stockman to my pocket collection. The Buck was pure cutting tool, and with three blades on hand, it handled those jobs that I was sure was going to mess up a good edge. With my discharge from the army, and raising a family, life had changed a lot. Being a new homeowner, and in a stable environment, I started to accumulate more stuff, knives included. Somehow, I tried sodbusters, pen knives, barlow's, Douk-Douk's, Opinels, peanuts, and a few lock blades. The lock blades got knocked out early in the game, just too limited with one single blade. The tool thing was deeply ingrained into me by a life time since age 12 of having a few basic tools on tap. It's surprising how many things can be fixed if you can just get into it and fiddle around. Through the 1970' and 80's, and part of the 90's, the Buck 301 was a very consistent pocket companion. But in the background, in a pack, glovebox, emergency kit, other pocket, was a scout knife in the guise of the Wenger SI. I had a Vic pioneer, and a cadet along the way as well, and they all took part in my life in one way or another. I've long lost track of how many things I fixed with a SAK, and it became my go-to pocket knife for mailing to myself when flying off on vacation. The smaller models like the Victorinox recruit, make fine semi disposable gift knives or travel knives. I gifted off a lot of Opinels over the years, but the SAK's are ahead on points. No matter where I've been, the red handle with silver cross is recognized.
Growing older, and having some hand problems and arthritis, I found stiffly sprung knives a thing I had to turn away from. But the SAK's always a gold standard for fit and finish, are still good for me to operate, as are the Opinels. I wish the rest of the knife companies were as consistent in blade pull as the SAK's. Only recently, I found that the 'new' Buck 301's had very soft blade pulls, so I may get one again. Between the Buck 301, and the scout pattern SAK's like the Wenger SI and Victorinox pioneer, have been one of the favorite knives I've ever carried. If I judge just by years carried, it would be a tough call between the stockman and scout pattern. I think the scout may win out if I count the period from age 12 to 20. These days I find myself using the SAK and stockman as my go-to pocket knives. It's hard to turn from something that has soooo many years with me.
I guess I'll never be a one knife guy like my dad was, but with a stockman in one pocket and my old Wenger SI in the other, I'm pretty well set up. But why is the scout type my second favorite pocket knife pattern?
Well, as handy as it is for screwing screws, opening cans, popping the top off a cold one at the end of the job, and making those starter holes for wood screws, it's a little limited for the task of cutting. After serving in the army and being introduced to the mighty P-38, I found that I could get by screwing screws with the P-38, or like my dad did by using a Sear's 4-way keychain screw driver. I've used the P-38 on Phillips screws, as well as flat, and opened a few beers with it. That eliminated a whole layer of the scout knife. And my stockman gave me three very different shaped blades that covered a very wide range of mission capability. So many times I'd need just a little bit of blade to open something, or trim something. The same thing I liked about the two blade jacks was that choice of a smaller blade. And the truth is, most the time I reach for my pocket knife, it's to cut something, not screw, pry, or drill. With a few light weight tools in my wallet, I could get by with just a pocket knife, and that old Buck stockman got me used to having multiple cutting blades available. It's a very tough call, and I'd hate to have to pick between them, but the scout pattern knife was "my" knife for the first third of my life, so it must have been good. Too good to be cast aside. To this day, even with a dedicated knife on hand, I still can't turn away from a good scout knife. Imperial, Camillus, even the Kamp Kings, were useful knives that punched above their weight. They were part of the America I experienced growing up. The old four bladed scout knife is just too handy a pattern to not have on hand somewhere close by. I know that I always will!
Besides, growing up watching Gunsmoke and Rawhide, I like carrying something that some hard working cowpoke may have carried. Hard for me to look at a stockman and not think of Rowdy Yates and the boys!
Edit to add; here's 98% of my edc these days;
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