Have cravat, will wage WAR!

A man in a cravat will always go forward. Others, the cravatless, will never be so sure. Mayhem. Chaos. Pandemonium. These mean little to the confirmed cravat wearer. The man who wears the cravat, (perhaps defined as a cravatateur?) understands control and how to mould order from random lunacy. As our hero implores "...D'YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" to his cravatless quivering charge, the truth is self evident. No cravat, no thinking. No thought, no control. 

I'm not doing it! So there!

It never grows old, the old "that's what they want us to do, so we're not going to do it!" Sounds more like the lament of a tired teenager than that of a grizzled veteran.  Or is it just another obstinate male refusing to take direction?

Why ditch the drill?

There's a time for everything. But this is not one of those times. This is the time, in the limited time remaining to jettison all that was once held sacred and permanent. This is the time to throw more than just caution to the wind. When opportunities are so few why put your faith in any of them? Never have so many contradictions hit the water at the same time.

Sunderland under distress

It's always sad to see a Sunderland under some distress. A truly magnificent aircraft deserves better than to be trounced by some nasty roving Ju88. Unfortunately in this instance all that ends does not end well. Without taking too much away from the story line, this particular flying boat is about to spend more time under the waves than on top of them. However, as pocket war comic book karma would have it, that leering enemy aircraft is about to join the Sunderland on the ocean floor. 

Air Ace Picture Library 329 Contact!

Let me start by saying how much I hate Battler Britton and I need to really set aside my prejudices when I read a story with him in it.
Having said that Contact! is barely an OK story as very little time is spent in the sky over the convoys and more time is spent flouncing around French countryside with the French Resistance. Battler gets shot down or is forced to crash three times, and survives! He's at his superhero best/worst as he manages to fly an unknown German rocket plane with a propeller and  folding wings only known as the "Secret Plane", with little or no preparation. The only good thing about story is we also get to see a Sunderland flying boat, Liberator, Condor, Seafire, Spitfire, Lysander, Focke-Wulf, Walrus, and Ju 88.
Of course Battler also manages to down eight enemy aircraft, most of them from either his short flight in the "Secret Plane" or as a gunner in a Sunderland. He's so annoying!
Also it took me a little while to figure out what was happening with that cover. It has to do with that zooshing as the Spitfire leaves the catapult ramp on the cargo ship.

Slammin

Distress too strong a word? Absolute fear not an apt enough description? Permanent disfigurement from perspex splinters not worrying enough? Just missing out on being ripped apart by cannon shells not thrilling enough? Well if it's action you want, it's action you got. Some men look for action. These men are just silly.

How terrorists view us

The scruffy have always despised the neat. Is this a historical truth or anomaly? The scruffy would say it would be the other way around, that the neat have never liked them.

No doubt, neatness stands for order and discipline. Qualities that need exercise in order to be retained. Scruffiness rejects those constructs. 
Neat terrorists create an image that is difficult to reconcile and usually end as objects of ridicule as the people they are trying to replace are usually already neat. Scruffy terrorists trying to replace the scruffy in power, only perpetuate that the scruffy are unable to exercise discipline or order.

Ideals always need to manifest themselves in outward appearances, otherwise, how would they be known?

OMG another woman!

One issue, two women! Not in the same frame mind you. This woman is also  being ignored and cast in a non-participatory role, yet the woman has a right to be in this picture, she is a nurse after all, but she still isn't doing anything. The distant women are in Air Ace Picture Library, 329, Contact!
If there is an issue where women speak or are active it will be noted with a considerable degree of jubilation.

OMG a Woman!

There are women in pocket war comics, even though they rarely make an appearance, they are really only there to be ignored. They don't speak. They don't participate. They are not acknowledged. They never fight. They never speak. They are never victims or heroes. It really is quite odd. Surely there were women around when these comics were drawn. Weren't there?

Spitfires are not very good

It is a well known fact that the Spitfire was not very good at staying above water. Yet this fact and many others have been kept from us. It was a hopeless subaqueous  deathtrap that made it more dangerous to the men who were forced to fly it than to the enemy.  The Germans had a popular and taunting nickname for the Spitfire and regularly called them Das Flugzeug, das nicht schwimmen kann. Soggy Spitfire pilots who were rescued by the enemy from their sinking planes were often taunted by their captors with these cruel words. Yet this is not taught in history books.
Don't let the lies continue. The truth is out there if you are brave enough to look for it.

Captain Obvious

Captain Obvious and Mr Know it All make a fine pair. Imagine being stranded at sea in a very small life raft with them. Somebody would be over the side and be finding the water real soon. It's surprising that between the two of them that they're not already quoting model numbers, serial numbers, the pilot's name, his tailor's name, the squadron's home airfield, the Pantone colour of the Condor, how many kilometres that particular plane has flown, how many miles it has already made, the next date for the engines' grease and oil change, and so on and so on.
We all know men like this, and we may indeed be these men.

Last Charge

Now is not the time to get picky about Light Horse and Matildas. Even though it wouldn't be too hard to draw some ill thought conclusions. Having said that the cover for Last Charge could pass muster as a recruiting poster with a minimum of editing.

Don't shoot shoot shoot that thing at me.

When does mad and courage get replaced by blind fanaticism? Are they the same, or does it depend if you're in the process of overwhelming or being overwhelmed? Waxing lyrical on the morality of such matters is morally problematic in itself so time to dispense with the bar room  philosophy and have a good look at the artwork.
So much activity and not a face to be seen. That officer looks like he's been edited in, the panel would work just as well without him. But then, of course, we wouldn't know about the courage of those mad types.

Somewhere between baleful and steely.

Time for some pen and ink appreciation. Look at the wonderful shadowing and stern jaw of our man in the foreground. His expression is somewhere between baleful and steely. Everything in this story has been leading to this moment and it shows.

The Biplane of Life.

You can kick your rudder bar as much as you like, but when stress takes over your life and your entire focus is lost, you now only have yourself to blame. Which of course only leads to more stress. Going down in flames? Stress! Nothing is going right, despite your superb skills in lining everything up? Stress! She won't answer? Stress! Calling on your deity only in times of need? Stress!

Before you do anything rash don't forget from the wrong height water can be as hard as concrete.

Bae! Don't tell everyone!

Sometimes it's not easy to talk about important emotional matters.  However men, real men, suffer from from an inability to display in public. In avian terms this could be termed as antipeacockian. Yet a public display of admonishment is seen by these fellows as "letting to much on". Should you encounter one of these in the wild, beware.

The Oberst wasn't always this happy.

After a long hard day in the desert there are only a few things that can make you happy. Oddly bewilderment is not the first thing that springs to mind. But when it does come to you, in the right way of course, it's enough to make you forget about the sand sandwiches and hot coffee you've been enduring.

Oh! I'm happy too, this is post 550! 

Knees Knees Knees

When it comes to knees the British are usually pretty good. This might be surprising to some. Perhaps the cold weather  might add or create a knee suppression or repression of some kind. Naturally the Mediterranean or tropics allow for release for all that pent up bother.

Fire in my pants.

When a tubby man in shorts wants the fire party there's only one direction they can head. When he wants them on the double it must be because he started the fire. With shorts like those it's surprising that it didn't happen sooner.
This is the type of fellow who would know more than his fair share of crashing barriers and shredding.

It's a horse of course...

What a pretty horse! Even though thousands and thousands of the poor things didn't make it through the big one they seldom make an appearance in pocket war comics. I get the impression the artist enjoyed drawing this horse. It must have been a pleasant change from drawing  tanks, explosions, and blokes going 'Aaarghh!' Also having this beauty breaking the fourth wall makes it more captivating.

Legends of the lost AAAAAAH!

Be the first or lost it's always guaranteed to be the last. Irrespective of the spelling, whether there are 'r's, 'g's, or one 'a' or an abundance. It is seldom whispered and often vocalised with involuntary vigour. It is the inarticulate cry.

Meanwhile over at Kickstarter...

...Skies of Fire by Rick Chou is looking for support. This is a very good looking project. It's a diesel punk airship story about a captain and her crew. Click here to find out more.

I wonder if anybody says, "aaargh..."?

The British are keeping it real.

There are many ways of keeping it real. There are also men of many nations who strive to keep it real but none of them are worth a damn when compared to the British and their innate ability to discern between keeping it real or only alluding to a construct that has very little to do with anything whether real or not.

Gosh! The Major is a top bloke.

Majors all over the world will be nodding in agreement with that statement. They'll be saying, "see I've been saying it all along", or,"I told you so", and even "the truth is what it is". So if you know a Major who is more deserving than the little appreciation he or she gets then give them a hug and tell them "I know...I know..."

Snatched the young private's

When the senior man resorts to such behaviour there is not much to do but stand agog. Trust is difficult enough to build, but it can all be thrown away in an instant by one person. Strange actions and outbursts do not the leader make.

Good Lord you're stupid!

The selection process for 2IC was remarkably unimaginative. 'Must have pulse' was the only criteria. Yet surprisingly the Major had difficulty in filling the position. His eventual choice was less than perfect and that bothered him greatly. So even as the effects of late onset lead poisoning take their toll on the Major's health his dismay concerning his decision can be heard above his pain.

Hey big nose! Which way to the war?

Some guys get the job because they're well connected. Others do well because they display a natural aptitude. This guy, because he is Nazi vulture, got the job because he's a creep who can sniff out good guys from miles and miles away. The other boys at Nazi school used to tease him about his hooter until he discovered his talent. They even made up a song about him, however that got sanitized for post-war use.

Chiefy gets frantic

The ugly great sardine that gets around dwells deep in the fear of men. Some say it is only a myth, a mere story to scare young sailors in their Aran knit onesies. But beneath the turtlenecks the fear is real. The ugly great sardine knows no mercy. The ugly great sardine does not grant or asks for forgiveness. Chief knows this only too well.

Chiefy gets worried.

Below decks things can get tight. Pause for thought...isn't it all below decks on a submarine?...thought over, continue. And when considering ordeals are there any pleasant ones? So when it comes to ordeals Chief Grimshaw must be facing something pretty tough. If only his name was Happyshaw or Estaticshaw things wouldn't be so bad.

Oh my! It's dark out there.

At sea, at night, it can get pretty dark. Usually there is a lot of nothing. It is what comes out of that nothing that can be beyond frightening. You don't need to go looking for it as it always find you. Always.
That aside...isn't this just the greatest picture!

Sailors and lewd songs.

Our three friends appear to be very much enjoying their ever so mildly lewd ditty. One, which no doubt, has been repeated with equal enthusiasm with each recital. Though it borders on lewd, it is not vulgar, ribald, crude, lusty, rude, belligerent, or nasty. Even though it would not take much to imagine that their colleagues from the vessels they are extolling would take umbrage concerning at the subject matter.

I love me some sailor talk..

...even though technically it's coming from submariners. All that 'full ahead full steam, back three quarters is always exciting' even though it makes little sense to those of us with our boots on dry earth. Shame they're trying to get that deck gun into action otherwise they could be calling 'dive, dive, dive' into action.
Oh the life above (or below) the ocean blue.
Don't think much of that beer can conning tower though...

I'm sexy and I know it...

Sure they were a bunch of right wing chuckleheads with appalling and despicable world views...but every now and again one of them could have a moment of clarity. This aircraft, Heinkel He 219 Uhu, is so good looking it's good enough to steal.

Flying Tigers a mini review.

Despite the misleading title and inevitable plotline coincidence, this is a story with depth, concluding with an open ended final panel. As always, those who are not from the Empire are rightfully considered with some derision. Flying Tigers is no different with both Japanese and Americans cast in the appropriate dim light. The Flying Tigers of the title are seen as nothing more than mercenaries and treated as such by the Squadron Leader, who by the way has a past that haunts him. Who would have thought that he and an American mercenary would share a past and a (possibly short) future?
Air Ace Picture Library 344 Flying Tigers well worth tracking down.

He who hunts the Dominie, beware!

We all know what happens next. It is almost screamingly obvious. Soon that age old equation will prove itself yet again, De Havilland Dominie + Focke Wulf = one dead Nazi. Did the bad guys just drop this from the syllabus at Nazi School? Were they so caught up in master race master classes that they thought they could ditch the basics. Makes you wonder how they ever made it to the front door.

Shared understanding! Let's move forward!

Much better to move foward with, rather than without. The truth is, however, that understanding is not needed at all to do either. And given there can be two groups who share neither it all becomes so confusing. So where do you stand?

De Havilland Dominie

Look on and enjoy! These don't often get drawn. Isn't design a wonderful thing? Of all the combinations of shapes of wings and tails and fuselages, the designers settled on this. Bless them.

Americans can do this, you can't do this.

When it comes to looking good, some people are good at it. Don't fret if you are one of the many and not one of few. As a group American's would have you believe they invented sunglasses, which they may have very well done. One thing they do very well is sensibly wear them when pursuing aerial activities. However they are susceptible to wearing their caps in a manner that chaps involved in the main activity and pursuits in velodrome are apt to adopt. Thankfully that practice is not being engaged here.

Japanese as people?

This is pretty much a rarity for a war comic to portray Japanese as human beings. Even though World War Two had been over for close to 20 years racist ideas were still pretty hard to put aside. Of course judging or forgiving the past is an easy enough way to not thinking, and in its self provides an easy way to be entertained. Stories need bad guys. In this instance it's just odd seeing them not being bad.

Book Exchange Stamps

The provenace. The journey. It's here. From book exchange to book exchange. What was it traded for? Was it or this a better read? Moved through so many hands. Now caught in hands of a collector. Will there ever be a release to that grip?

Bloody elephants.

If it isn't hard enough trying to fight a war in the jungle imagine how difficult it is having to deal with a pack of angry jungle elephants. Everyone has the right to be upset, these elephants perhaps more than most.

Are two Stinsons better than one?

This question has been bothering real men for a long time. It is spoken quietly about in bars and argued at the finest universities. Men at bus stops often seek each others' views concerning the appropriate number of Stinson Sentinels. This is something real men discuss in real time. Other men who cannot talk about this are betraying other men.

Are your flaps full down?

Perhaps our friend's flaps are a little too far down and he should stop pulling so hard. Or perhaps it is time to ease up. Idioms aside. Once you've crashed through the canopy, produced a landing of sorts, blatantly discarded the wings, and cut the fuel lines it's time for a stop don't you think? So time to leave those flaps alone and have a little lie down.

How do we know they are not Australians?

They have the right hats (sort of) and they have the right square jaws. The one thing wrong is that they still have their shirts on. Sure they look like Australians but they are  not. They are Chindits. Tough angry older poms.

I imagine otherwise...

...I think Sam would have preferred to live a rich and full or pious and devout or long and wicked life or listless and wasted life (pick the one you prefer) rather than devote his last remaining moments to the thoughts of a disheveled and grim Englishman. Machismo is no substitute for empathy.

One of my favourites.

How could you not love this title? Jungle Snatch! So evocative. So vivid. So much fun. The school boy tittering (there it is again) just goes on and on. No need to draw any inevitable and puerile conclusions where this title sits in the minds of those who should know better.

When things go wrong...

...it's usually the 'little people' who are to blame. Great people don't make mistakes, that's why they are great. If the underlings were any good they wouldn't be underlings. They would be leaders not followers. In other words they would be in front or on top and not behind or underneath.
So when things go wrong the attribution of blame cannot be put down to circumstance alone. The difference between the great and not even great is that the great do not like those beneath them.

Cover of the Week.

Cover perfection comes to us again this time from, Sniper! War Picture Library 160, published 3 September 1962. Fantastic artwork that throws a story your way complete with drama, backstory, and resolution in a few square inches. Bold and direct you know what you're in for from the beginning and it's exactly where you want to go.