Tuesday, May 6, 2008

playing army

Back in the day, a kid was not restrained to his yard. We could play all over the neighborhood - and beyond. We had a lot of woods in our neck of the woods. Plenty of trails and steep places to repel or fall off. My favorite pastime as a kid was playing army. When I first started out, I’d kill hundred of thousands of imaginary German soldiers. I did kill my share of Japs – but mowing down Nazi’s for some reason had more appeal.

I had watched plenty of WWII movies as a kid, To Hell & Back, Twelve O’clock High (Gregory Peck), Hell Is For Heros, Sands of Iwo Jima, They Were Expendable, Back To Bataan, Battle Cry, Sahara and more. My favorite television shows were Combat! and Twelve O’clock High (Robert Lansing). I’d watch television and then run out and recreate the scenes.

My earliest comrade in plastic arms was Dan Parrish. Dan lived a half a click up Scenic Highway, directly across the street from the old Tuckahoe Golf Course. Dan and I were pretty tight, until his father died of cancer in 1969. I walked up to his house one afternoon to find a moving van in the front yard. We played with his G.I. Joes on the patio until the grown-ups had finished loading – and off he went.


It wasn’t long until I met the new boy in the neighborhood. Mark Condra’s family moved into a house just around the corner on Red Oak Road. We’d spend almost all of our Saturdays fighting against imaginary hordes of German soldiers and often usually against each other - heading up different teams. The war games would go on for the better part of the afternoon. It was like playing hide & seek – only with guns. We were pretty strict with rules and if you were killed in action – you’d have to go home for the day – or until the next game. Mark was truly a worthy adversary. He was hard to beat and I had to get better at hiding & seeking to beat him.

Teams would usually get whittled down to one man (boy). I remember once making the mistake of venturing down a trail the other side of Cliff Road. I had lost my comrades to the enemy and was alone. I had eliminated the possibility of other wooded areas in the neighborhood and knew that Mark had to be hunkered down within a specific area. I had made a stupid move – walking along the trail rather than slowly maneuver the perimeter with my 45 and a sniper rifle. Instead, I got careless. Mark jumped out of a tree, from an over hanging branch, directly on top of me. He jabbed me multiple times with a rubber knife – leaving no doubt whatsoever that I was dead and his side had won. If one was going to take on Mark while playing army – one had to take his game seriously. Every Saturday was an adventure.

I remember having stock piles of small arms hidden in the different areas of the neighborhood. I didn’t have to go home for what I needed...a kid going home to go to the bathroom were easy targets. I’d travel light, usually a submachine gun and a 45. Condra would do the same. You could tell the rookie soldier. They’d come down the road clinking and clanking with all the gear they got for their birthday at The Little Army Store downtown. Poor guys – they were always the first ones to have to go home early.


A side note: The Little Army Store was a military surplus store that used to be located downtown Gadsden on Broad Street. Maybe our toy guns came from Grants or Murphees, but the rest was old G.I. issue. You could buy a lot of cool stuff for a couple of bucks at The Little Army Store.

My younger cousin Eric often came for visits during the Summer. When he came - he always wanted to play army. Eric rarely played in the tedious hide & seek games. He liked to kill imaginary Japs or Gerrys. Usually he’d end each conflict by acquiring a fatal wound -dying slowly and quite dramatically. He would sputter and gurgle – telling me to promise him to tell his girlfriend back in the States how much he loved her and that he was sorry for letting me and the boys down on Beef Tip Ridge. It was during those horrific moments of playing army that I would level my gun at his head and relieve him of his - and my agony. We’ve all heard that war is hell…but playing army was fun as h-e-double toothpicks.
Here's a picture of me and my little sister Cindy.

4 comments:

Greene Street Letters said...

Wow...
I'm jealous. Man you had the outfit and everything.
Best we could do was be French underground resistance.
mb

David Finlayson said...

Better than playing Buck Naked & His Streaking Commandos!

Darryl said...

We used BB guns. It was okay in the winter when we wore coveralls, but got a bit painful in the summer . . .

One of my uncles left somee concussion grenades he "acquired" when serving in the army in the sixties. Of course, the temptation was way too great for me to just let them lay around unused.

You could hear the explosion about a mile away . . .

By the way, cool helmet!

David Finlayson said...

Wow...you got to play with concussion grenades? How cool was that? Got any left?

We had an old Italian carbine (no shells) in a closet for the longest time. It was kind of heavy for a little kid, but I'd take it out and play army with it from time to time. Nobody gave it second thought back then. For a kid to do something like that would be a different matter today.

My childhood friend Mark Condra had two cousins whose father, I believe, was a gunsmith. Those kids had real guns to play with. They were rigged not to fire - but they were workable...cool as h-e-double toothpicks. I enjoyed it when they would come for a visit. I envied them.