In 1966, I visited Fort du Vaux on the Verdun battlefield, a fortification that fell to the Germans only after its defenders ran out of food, water and ammo. As we were leaving, we noticed that one of the visitors had a pile of 75mm shells next to his car--he had apparently dug them up. My mother checked the back seat to make sure none of us had smuggled one of the shells into our car.
Since my French is weak, we visited with a English-speaking tour guide. He mentioned that bones were still rising to the surface in many areas. When he said that, everyone gave me a look, as if I was going to drop to my hands and knees and start digging like a dog.
Made me wonder what sort of reputation I have...