Most of the guys I used to play with were becoming more interested in playing sports on the Gateway teams, so I didn't see much of them on the weekends now. In the past, Steve Kay and I and Paul LaPann and Billy Hills and lots of others would be fighting the battles of one war or another, chasing each other through the woods and fields all over town.
It was harder for Steve and I to get any of our former classmates to join in. I can't explain our fascination for playing war, except to say that we were comfortable in our imaginations. Whether charging across the grounds of the Episcopal Church or using the garage in the Clay's yard as the Alamo, it was an exciting way to spend a Saturday or Sunday afternoon.
We delighted in making gun, aircraft and artillery sounds. Steve and I could spend hours in his basement moving German and British soldiers across the miniature desert, most likely driving his mother to distraction with all of our noise.
Steve had also introduced me to the world of Avalon Hill games, war games played out on large folding boards representing the terrain of some of the most famous battles in history. You moved little cardboard squares representing infantry, armor artillery and motorized units. Combat was resolved using dice: the outcome determined by the roll, the strength of the units, and charts that would tell you the results. The first game was called Tactics II, pitting the blue army against the red.
Once you mastered this game you were ready for the more advanced and "realistic" campaigns like Afrika Korps and Gettysburg. For military history freaks like me, this was Nirvana. Here I was commanding the actual units that fought at Tobruk and Cemetery Ridge. I could play those games all day and never tire of them.But there was to be one last battle with our old comrades, one last hurrah on the fields of honor - well, Steve's back yard.
Steve had somehow convinced Paul and his brothers Joe and Dave to join in the war with us one bright sunny day in late September or early October. There was Steve and his brothers Howe and David and me and a few others.
It didn't matter to me what battle we'd play out, Paul was with us even if it was to be one last time.
We charged and yelled and died on the steps of the Episcopal Church, our battle flags flying. Charge and counter charge and the occasional argument over whether or not you were really shot by someone and had to fall down. We screamed and died and made our best battle sounds, whirling and shouting throughout the afternoon.
The battle was drawing to a close with one side holed up in the small wooden shed behind Steve's house. The shed was assaulted time and again with each charge repulsed by its determined defenders. One last effort was made and the door was breached, and the attackers moved in, pushing the defenders into the walls of the shed. The wall moved under the stress of all those young bodies, and a large cracking noise could be heard.
It was a spontaneous move by all of us. We got caught up in some sort of hysteria and we all began to hurl ourselves at the wall of the shed, once, then again and again, until the wall had broken free and toppled onto the ground. We repeated this action over and over, bashing our bodies into the small structure, until nothing was left standing. We stood panting and sweating, surveying the results of our savagery. There was no longer a shed, just a wooden floor and a pile of boards. We laughed embarrassed laughs, amazed at the damage we had done. Some scurried away, not wanting to wait around to see what Steve's parents would have to say about all this.
Father Kay did not yell at us, which made us feel even worse about what we had done. No, he was cool and calm in his lecture to us with just enough edge in his voice to let us know how disappointed he was in our behavior. The shed would have to be put back together, and it would be some time before any battles could take place on the grounds of the Episcopal Church again.
We put the shed back together.
Steve and his brothers were grounded for quite some time.
None of us could ever explain why we did it.
Such senseless violence in the middle of our war.
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