The Comic Book War: The Comic Book War Read online

  TO ESCAPE AS HE FLEW INTO THE DENSE MIST AND DISAPPEARED.

  “Robert! I said a letter from George arrived for you. I put it on your desk.”

  His mother’s words yanked Robert back from his imagined world with a jolt. “Really? That’s great. Thanks, Mum!” What a lucky day – Captain Ice and a letter from his brother!

  He raced up the stairs, his long legs taking them two at a time. Depositing the bag with his precious comic on the bed, he picked up the letter. It was battered and marked up, with George’s unmistakable scratchy writing scrawled across the envelope.

  Robert stood in front of his desk, considering his options. Which one should he read first, Ice’s adventure or George’s letter?

  He had all his brothers’ pictures lined up for inspection and their happy faces never failed to lift his spirits. Their family was all boys. George was the oldest, then James, followed by Patrick. Then Robert had shown up. He’d always felt like a late arrival at the party.

  In his picture, George stood proudly in front of his Spitfire. His letters were filled with stories of his wild exploits in the air and the close bond he shared with the other pilots. Always a bit of a daredevil, he’d flown escort with the No. 6 Bomber Group. Now he harried the enemy out of an aerodrome in England called Tangmere. Even the name sounded exotic.

  Next was James, the playful one. He was in England too, at Portslade, Sussex with the Calgary Highlanders, training the Home Guard to protect Great Britain should the country be invaded. James joked they could only defend the place if the enemy attackers were also over sixty years old and carrying World War I guns with five rounds of ammunition.

  Of all his brothers, Robert was closest to Patrick. They were more than brothers; they were true friends. They’d always stuck up for one another against every foe, especially their mother, who kept a tight rein on her boys. Patrick was fighting in the Mediterranean and commanded his own squad of men.

  The four brothers had developed a secret code for writing to one another, in case their letters were intercepted by an enemy spy – foreign or domestic. They also avoided alarming not only those dratted censors but their dear mother, who always wanted to know what her boys were up to. Decoding was complicated and if George had used their cypher, it would take a while to figure it out, perhaps a long while. It made perfect sense to read the comic first.

  “Ice it is!” Robert declared aloud. He replaced the envelope on his desk next to George’s frame, saluted each picture, then leapt onto his bed.

  He took the meteorite out of his pocket and sat it on the bedside table where he could see it. He loved the way the light glinted off the small stone. At that moment, the warm breeze coming through the window stirred his mobile of Allied fighter planes, silently flying them around their tiny sky. He’d made the models when George had enlisted in the Royal Canadian Air Force.

  “I’ll get to your letter later!” he promised his brother, wherever he was. Eagerly, Robert reached for the paper bag and pulled out the comic.

  The cover practically glowed, the colours dazzlingly brilliant, mesmerizing. Robert took in the rugged face of that ace fighter pilot Captain Ice and was immediately transported into his realm of adventure. Ice, in his brown leather bomber jacket and flying cap with goggles, could shoot five enemy planes out of the sky, destroy three ammo factories and then go on to wine and dine some lovely, lonely French Resistance mademoiselle – and still be at the aerodrome bright and early the next morning. Talk about your one-man air force!

  The hero was pictured in his fighter plane, Invincible, fending off three Focke-Wulf FW 190s, while what looked like stars streamed by the cockpit. His teeth were bared and big beads of sweat gleamed on his brow. As Robert opened the cover and started to read, he was confident his hero would again beat the Nazi scourge. How could he not? The guy was incredible!

  Near the end, the story got wildly exciting. One large panel showed Ice about to be blown out of the sky as shooting stars – meteorites! – streaked by like cosmic rain; then, with a blinding flash, a large meteorite shot past the planes, temporarily blinding the enemy pilot. Seizing the opportunity, Ice made his escape by climbing so steeply he nearly stalled his one-of-a-kind super fighter plane. Forcing Invincible into a steep dive, the air ace skimmed the treetops before demolishing the train loaded with enemy supplies. The carnage was well drawn, and Robert traced the progress of tanks, freight cars, assorted villains and big chunks of the trestle bridge, as everything fell into a bottomless gorge. He jumped to the last panel where Ice soared home to fight another day.

  Robert closed the cover feeling very satisfied, then opened it again and reread the part about the meteorite storm. What a coincidence that this story had come out so close to him finding his own fallen star.

  Grabbing his meteorite, he went downstairs to help with supper.

  Later that night, after his torturous homework was done, Robert sat at his desk, placed his meteorite on the worn wooden surface and unfolded George’s letter. Sure enough, there was decoding to do, though thankfully not much. Robert finished quickly.

  George and his little Spitfire were like a thorn in the side of the Luftwaffe, flying over France, protecting Allied planes and shooting down enemy fighters. In disjointed code, since George wasn’t as adept as James and Patrick, he relayed how he’d had a near miss when avoiding an enemy fighter. He’d used a dicey maneuver, requiring a precipitously steep climb, and then a dive back down so fast the G-force nearly made him black out.

  He signed off with “Give my love to Mother and don’t make her worry.” This was a subtle reminder to Robert not to tell their mum anything about the dangerous stuff. The part about avoiding the enemy plane had been exciting...and oddly familiar.

  Robert checked his bedside table, where the latest installment of Captain Ice waited for rereading. He retrieved the comic book and skimmed the last part of the story where Ice had to climb steeply and then force the plane into a dangerous dive. Another coincidence! George and Ice, Robert’s two favourite pilots, both had to execute a crazy maneuver to escape a close call.

  He examined the cover, the way it depicted the meteorite storm streaming past Invincible as Ice fought his enemies. Reaching for his own little star, Robert held the fragment in his palm, once again feeling the odd sensation of warmth. He closed his fist protectively around his treasure.

  Weird or what?

  CHAPTER THREE

  LUCKY NEIGHBOURS

  Over the weekend, Robert spent his free time reading comic books and inspecting his meteorite. The small wonder fascinated him. What luck to have been out exploring at exactly the right spot at exactly the right moment his special delivery arrived – for that was how he thought of it, as a present from the universe, a prize for braving the night alone. It was dull grey and metallic, like molten metal frozen into a perfect little planet he could hold. Sitting in his room, he memorized every fold and crevasse on the pebble. He traced the smooth surfaces and probed the tiny canyons.

  Monday after school, Robert again stopped by the drugstore and was rewarded with the latest copy of Sedna of the Sea, the second of his favourites. Sedna, like that Canadian icon, Nelvana of the Northern Lights, was from the frozen Arctic. Both these fighting females were worthy of the title Comic Book Queen. Nelvana’s gifts were extraordinary. She could ride on a giant beam of aurora borealis light, and make herself invisible. Still, it was Sedna of the Sea, in her ocean-blue and sea foam-green suit with a flowing cape, who had the absolute best super powers. Sedna, with her iconic symbol of narwhales with crossed tusks emblazoned on her chest, commanded all the animals in the sea and could travel along pathways of ice she created in ocean currents. Plus she could make time slow or speed up. Robert thought being able to speed up time would be very useful, especially when he was sitting in a particularly boring class.

  Mr. Kreller slid the paper bag with the comic in it across the counter. Robert took it, feeling like a secret agent taking a hand-off from a foreign spy.


  “I have a copy of Johnny Canuck if you’re interested,” Mr. Kreller offered.

  Robert shook his head. “No thanks. I’m hoping the Maple Leaf Kid will come in tomorrow, and my set will be complete for this month.” He relinquished a dime for the comic. He had one nickel left to his name, not enough to buy the Kid if he did come in. It was a good thing tomorrow was allowance day. With only a single copy of his absolute favourite hero’s adventure due to arrive, he had to be the one to scoop it up.

  The Kid was a hero anyone could relate to – only sixteen, incredibly smart, truly brave and a patriotic Canadian. Whatever he wore – school blazer, sweater or jacket – there was always a red maple leaf symbol on the breast pocket. He travelled with his father who worked for military intelligence, and solved mysteries, foiled plots and saved the free world through his brilliant use of observation and deduction. The Kid had no super powers. To Robert, this made him seem real, like a next-door neighbour or something. And the way he looked...well, according to the letters printed in the fan section, people thought the Kid was clean cut and boyishly handsome, a great example of an ideal Canadian teenager. Robert liked that a lot because the cartoonist had drawn the Kid with dark hair and brown eyes, a rather prominent nose, a lanky build and an uncanny resemblance to...a certain Robert Tourond!

  “Yes, another delivery day tomorrow. I’ll have the copy waiting – as long as you think you’ll still be interested...” The pharmacist waited.

  “No fear there, Mr. Kreller. I’m the Kid’s biggest fan and I know he’d be disappointed if I didn’t tag along to keep him company on his adventures.” He grabbed the bag containing his precious copy of Sedna of the Sea and left the store.

  _____

  It was a spectacular fall day and the air glowed with that warm golden light you only get in the autumn. Knowing his mother would find work for him the minute he got home, Robert opted to sit in the shade of a poplar with brilliant yellow leaves and read his newest acquisition.

  As soon as Robert pulled the comic out, he was riveted by the brightly coloured scene on the cover. Sedna and her ocean creatures were dragging seaweed nets through an icy fjord where the Nazis had hidden a submarine. Moonlight shone on their nets, which were filled with deadly mines.

  He flipped the comic open and began to read. The powerful sub could fire self-guided rockets underwater to destroy Allied ships many miles away. Sedna had to stop the sub or hundreds, perhaps thousands, of our boys would be killed. As the submarine readied for launch, Sedna and her swimming commandoes stealthily tangled the mine-filled nets around the propellers. When the Nazis started the engines, the sub – and the scientists who designed it – would be blown to shrapnel. Simple and effective.

  Sedna was about to send a special signal to warn her sea creatures to clear the area. Eager to find out what would happen next, Robert turned the page. His breath caught. The signal Sedna was using was a falling star hitting the ocean. A meteorite!

  He thought of the latest Captain Ice adventure. In all the years he’d been reading comics, he’d never seen shooting stars used in the story. Now here were two. He touched the pebble in his shirt pocket and felt its warmth pulsing. What were the odds of that happening?

  _____

  When he arrived home there was a bag of trash waiting by the kitchen door, his mother’s not-so-subtle way of reminding him he’d forgotten to take it out. He missed having his brothers to share the load. That and to toss a ball around with. His father worked at a fertilizer factory and had to go on shift at five in the morning. He often had to work overtime too, making him so tired all the time that he never played hockey or football with Robert.

  Robert dumped his school satchel, then hefted the bag and walked out back to the burn barrel. He tossed the garbage into the old oil drum, then set it afire. Across the alley his neighbour was working in his small appliance repair shop, which used to be his garage. He was a heavyset man with iron-grey hair and he kept to himself mostly, grunting greetings in Polish. His English was sometimes hard to understand, but he and Robert managed all right.

  “Hey, Mr. G!” Robert wiped his fingers on his pants and walked over. “What’s new in the land of toasters?”

  The G was short for Glowinski, a name difficult for Robert to pronounce correctly. His neighbour was a genius with anything electric – there wasn’t a radio or Mixmaster on the planet he couldn’t fix. Mr. G was an electrical engineer by trade and worked in an office downtown, but he also fixed small appliances in his spare time. Robert suspected he liked being a repairman best.

  “I think nothing new under sun, Robcio, not this pressing machine, that is for sure.” He picked up the newly repaired clothes iron and plugged it in. “Now, we see if done correctly.”

  They both waited expectantly. After a couple of minutes, they were rewarded with a noisy whoosh of steam.

  “Powodzenia!” Robert cheered. It meant “good luck” and was his favourite Polish word of the few he’d learned. He particularly liked the “pow” part.

  “Tak, tak, yes, yes, we have sukces!” Mr. G saw the confusion on Robert’s face and clarified. “Same as English, success. Good job.” He unplugged the iron to let it cool. “So what young man like you up to?”

  “School’s back in and, from what I can tell, it hasn’t improved since last year.”

  “That good. Stay in school. Make best future for you. Now, you tell me what news.”

  Robert thought of his extraordinary find, then rummaged in his pocket. “Actually, something pretty strange did happen. I was on Nose Hill and saw this fall from the sky.” Excitedly, he showed his neighbour the treasure. “It’s an honest-to-goodness meteorite. I think this is killer-diller.”

  Mr. G’s face darkened. “Killer-diller not good English. You should not say killer anything. Diller, okay.” Taking the fragment from Robert, he examined it. “Very interesting. I think this one mostly iron.”

  “It’s part of a star that blew up millions of years ago. I’m sure of it.”

  “Perhaps,” Mr. G rolled the pebble around. “You should take care of this, Robcio. Do research at library. Find out about your fallen star.”

  A crazy idea popped into Robert’s head and he knew without a doubt it was the right thing. “Say, is there any way you could make it into something...something I could wear around my neck, you know, for like, powodzenia? Please?”

  The big man shrugged. “Anything is possible. Now it is quiet time for fix-it shop. I see what I can do.”

  “Gosh, that would be big-time swell!” Robert felt his face flush. He sounded like a little kid. “I mean, thanks Mr. G.” Lucky thing Mr. G had the time right now, and a really lucky thing he was willing to help out. The idea of leaving the meteorite behind gave Robert a momentary flash of panic but he knew it would be worth it if he could always have the fantastic stone next to his heart.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  END OF LIFE AS HE KNEW IT

  The next morning, Robert awoke eagerly. With luck, today would be Maple Leaf Kid Day, the most exciting day of the month. And with only a nickel left from his previous comic book shopping, he was glad today was also allowance day. His mother paid him on Tuesdays because she said she didn’t have time on the weekend, her busiest volunteering days. She needed Monday to figure out if he should have any of his precious twenty-five cents docked for some sin he’d committed. After school he’d shoot by the drugstore and pick up his friend.

  He was enjoying breakfast when, without warning, the lucky streak Robert had been enjoying screeched to a halt. His mother stormed into the kitchen, holding his torn pants in front of her like a dead animal. The oatmeal spoon halted halfway to Robert’s mouth.

  When the last of his brothers had left to fight overseas, Robert began to notice he’d catch Holy Hannah from his mother over the littlest things. He’d decided it was either because she was worried about her soldier sons or she needed someone to blast on a regular basis and he was the only target within range. He felt like he had a bullseye
on the back of every shirt. So he’d buried the pants in his closet after that wondrous night he’d found the meteorite and then forgotten about them. He was in for it now. Robert returned the spoon to the bowl and waited, wishing he could run for the nearest foxhole.

  “Robert! It’s 1943 and there’s a war on! You know perfectly well every extra cent we have goes to buying Victory Bonds to help your brothers fight that Hitler. Your father and I try very hard to make a good home for you during these terrible times. You have no idea how difficult this is, what with the rationing and all. There is certainly no money left over to keep you in new clothes every week...”

  CAUGHT OFF GUARD, OUR BRAVE HERO HEARD THE ENEMY PLANE REV UP ITS ENGINES AND KNEW HE WAS IN MORTAL DANGER. HE SHOULD RUN! HE SHOULD HIDE! BUT ESCAPE WAS IMPOSSIBLE!

  “...Robert. Robert!” Robert flinched as he was abruptly yanked back to the real world. His mother was shaking the pants at him now. “I said, what on earth happened to these trousers?”

  “Not so much what on earth, Mum, as what hit the earth,” he hastily explained. “I was on Nose Hill and saw a shooting star. It fell close to where I was, and you’re not going to believe this...I found it! I found a real meteorite! I guess my pants got a little snagged in the hunt.”

  “You went to Nose Hill...alone...at night?”

  Too late, he realized his error.

  HE WATCHED HELPLESSLY AS HIS FOE’S PLANE SCREAMED INTO THE AIR LIKE A SHARK DRAWN BY THE SCENT OF BLOOD. DEFENCES LIMITED, OUR HERO BRAVELY SCRAMBLED TO SAVE HIMSELF AND HIS LITTLE FIGHTER.

  “Uh, it wasn’t really night, more late, late afternoon, really,”

  “Robert, what if something had happened to you? No one would know until they found your bones! And what a worry it would be for your father and me. Every day, wondering where our boy was, hoping you hadn’t been taken like that poor little Lindberg baby, fearing the worst...”