The sun was beating down on me from its zenith position in the sky. I wiped away a bead of sweat from my brow, who’s slow descent was threatening to temporarily blind me.
I was crouched down behind the cement pedestal that surrounded the hand water pump. It had protected me well. The battle had started earlier this morning and lasted thru to the afternoon. The distinct smell of black powder filled the air and streams of red paper lay at my feet.
My adversary was behind the old barn about 100 yards in front of me. I could see by his shadow he was getting ready to make his move. The steel of the gun felt warm in my hands as I loaded the last roll of ammo. As the sound of gun fire reached my ears, I raised my pistol and began to return fire.
Bang Caps were practically a Saturday ritual for my brother and I. They came in a white, red and blue box that contained five rolls of caps. I do not remember the name of the gun I had. It was silver with white grips and loaded from the side. The cap chamber (where you would put bullets in a real gun) lifted like a gull wing door. I had played with the gun so much that eventually the grips fell off as well as the sliding chamber. I always loved the smell of those guns after firing a bunch of caps.
It was on that same cement pedestal that we discovered the magic of what happens when you hit a whole roll of caps with a hammer. I kid you not, I think my ears rang for about ten minutes after that incident. We would also use a rock with a sharp end and scratch at the raised bubble which would cause a flash and puff of smoke.
Amazing how such a simple toy could provide hours of fun.