A long, long time ago, I was a passenger in a law enforcement truck on patrol in what can best be described as the middle of jack nowhere. I seem to recall that the truck was a circa 1977 Dodge 150 4x4 that had been retrofitted with a 318 from its original 360. Radio contact was bad to begin with. The LEO and I had stopped to look at something, but I forget what. We got back in, buckled up and the LEO turned the key to start the truck. The battery exploded with a resounding BOOM.
Now, the LEO was not particularly mechanical, so he jumped up to go look under the hood. I told him to wait a few minutes until the acid stopped dripping from the bottom of the hood. When we checked the battery, only the lower 3 inches remained, with the cables flung in two different directions, still gripping the severed battery posts. As we stood there, the LEO asked me, "Now, what are we gonna do?" The truck had an automatic transmission so we couldn't push start it, and his belt radio didn't get reception.
I looked around under the hood for a while and then asked if he had a tool kit. He did. A brand new kit, evidently never used. I pulled out a 1/2 inch box wrench and took the severed battery posts out of the cables. Then I removed the cables from the smaller isolated auxiliary battery that someone thoughtful had installed for the winch, and connected the main cables to it. I told the LEO to try to start the truck, and it did.
"Thank God!" he said. I replied, "It was a simple matter of cross-circuiting to B. No deity was involved." He actually got the Spock reference. We then drove into the nearest town, which was small of course, and bought a battery. I hooked it up and all was well. But for the next year, the auto parts store owner kept the exploded battery in the alley, and made a point of showing it to customers.