My Father told us a story that stick in my mind now that you relate the powder mills blowing up:
One day on the farm as he and his father were picking peaches in their orchard two "powder monkeys" came by on their way to work blasting out rock cuts for the construction of 39 highway in southwest Missouri. The two explosives handlers wanted a bushel each of the peaches, and advised when they went by on the way back home that evening they would pick them up and pay for them. They never made it back. Of course my dad heard a large explosion down the road, but that was not unusual as blasting went on every day. But apparently something had happened in the course of their work during the day, and the two men were now in small fragments. The life of a "powder monkey" was not an easy or safe one.