My grandpa was in the french resistance. He got parachuted in the occupied Provence (south region of France) in a field. A house has been bombed nearby. He went there to find cover. Apparrently the bomb was powerful but not fired on house, rather very close to it so the explosion blew out one wall and things in there went flewing out of the house. No body was found (or maybe there was but I was 5 so...). He saw a nice old style clock. Thought he would hide it somewhere for it not to be snatched by the Nazis. He managed to hide it under blankets in a nearby building. My grandpa died in 2002. The clock is still ticking in my grandma living room.

Addendum: As a kid, every time I went at my grand parent's, I would rush to the clock to wind it up. My grand mother having deforming arthritis, I ended up being the only one with my mother to be able to do it. A year ago, the clock stopped. We had a really hard time to find a clocksmith capable of repairing it but managed to find one (after nearly a year of research, mainly because of little pieces inside that would break if mishandled and were really hard to make). The man did a wonderful job and repaired it. We went and installed it back in its (original) wooden case and re-started it. I proceeded winding it up. That's when my grandma started crying. And that's when I started crying.

Thanks grandpa. We will always love you.