At a Glance:Generally we try to stay away from attacking comic book genres since they have so little credibility to begin with, but one type of comic deserves to be singled out. Action war comics are factually inept, usually outlandish, and almost painfully patriotic. They have an analog in the form of war novels, but so many of these are factual or at least question the realities of war, that I thought the comics more deserving of mockery. Get ready for a two-fisted, guns-blazing romp through the greatest battles of the second world war!
Literary Hack Sub-Genre: Action War Comics
Mission One - Thirty Seconds In TokyoNo greater hero exists than Sergeant Armstrong.The cloudy sky above Tokyo was like an extremely light blue ocean that someone had thrown a crate full of cotton swabs into. Either that or maybe a giant Santa Claus impersonator had gotten fed up with his low paying department store job and had torn his beard from his face and cast it into the sea of sky above Tokyo. Such quietude was about to become completely unquietudeness thanks to Sergeant Armstrong and his Fightin' Fireballs Paratrooper Tank Infantry unit. They had embarked on their B-52s hours earlier in Australia and were just now over Japan's capital city. A few streams of tracers lanced up like tadpoles that had caught on fire and then exploded into airbursts of black flak. The B-52 containing Sergeant Armstrong shook violently from side to side. Armstrong had been on six combat drops and was accustomed to this sort of thing, but some of the other troopers looked pretty nervous. He shouldered his BAR and approached a fresh-faced private named Greenly who looked like he was about to piss his pants.
"You okay Greenly?" Sergeant Armstrong asked with a mixture of bravado and sensitivity that would make even the most heartless commie scumbag want to say the pledge of allegiance while eating a whole apple pie.
Greenly nodded slightly, but Armstrong could see the private's hands shaking on his M-16 rifle.
"Look kid," explained Armstrong, "some of us are going to die today, some of us are going to make it out. It's not up to us if we're the guy who chops Tojo's head off with a bayonet or the guy whose chute doesn't open and he ends up a smear of red inside of a crater in downtown Tokyo. That kind of thing is up to God or whatever, fate, uh…Jewlossus or whatever, you get the idea kid. Just relax and try not to shit your pants."
The jump bay of the aircraft grew uncomfortably quiet because of the incredible patriotism of Armstrong's pep-talk. A few grown men even began to sob quietly.
Before anyone could jot down the speech in their dream journal a green light came on in the bay and Sergeant Armstrong moved to the jump door. He slid it open and was nearly sucked out by the wash of air into the jump bay. The troopers lined up for the attack on Tokyo that would shock and also awe the filthy Japs waiting below.
One by one they leapt from the belly of the B-52 with Sergeant Armstrong going last, his Thompson blazing as he plummeted through the air. He shot some fuel tanks and a barracks and there was a huge explosion. One of the flak guns firing up at them managed to blast one of his men from the sky. Armstrong sighted down the length of his Thompson, opened his parachute, and fired a stream of bullets down the barrel of the flak gun just as it was about to shoot again. The shell in the barrel totally exploded and the Japanese soldiers nearby screamed and then the explosion hit them and they died too.
"That's for Harry," noted Armstrong with a grim smile. He wasn't sure Harry was actually the name of the guy who got shot, but it was a good enough guess that he was willing to dedicate blowing up the AA gun to him.
When Sergeant Armstrong's paratrooper boots touched ground they touched the ground running, and I don't mean the ground was running I mean to say that as soon as he landed on his feet, which were on the ground, he started running. Fires were burning all over Tokyo from the grenades that the paratroopers had thrown and the blue sky was obscured by choking columns of black smoke. Armstrong grabbed one of his men as he landed and helped him out of his parachute.
"What's your name private?" He shouted, and then recognized that it was Greenly.
"G-G-Greenly, sir." Greenly replied.
"Well Greenly," began Armstrong, "looks like you get to team up with me when we take down Tojo!"Sergeant Armstrong is a real American hero.Greenly nodded and finished dropping his parachute. The pair began running down the street towards the massive palace of the Japanese Emperor Hirohito. They encountered a patrol of Jap soldiers but with a few bursts of fire from his M-60 machinegun Armstrong cut them to pieces. Not literally to pieces, although small pieces of them might have technically been cut off as bullets passed through them. They reached a ten foot high metal gate that surrounded the palace complex.
Greenly reached for it to begin climbing it but Armstrong slapped his hands away just in time.
"You rookie! That fence is probably electrified with Tesla coils, we'll have to blow a hole through it with a tank."
"But Sarge," protested Greenly, "the plane carrying our paratrooper Shermans got blown up on the way here by those Jap fighters."
Just then there was a rumbling and a Japanese Tiger tank turned the corner with the angry red sun flag of evil flying above it.
"There's our way in Greenly!" Armstrong pointed to the tank and they both ducked behind some conveniently placed sandbags.
"But Sarge," complained Greenly, "I used my last hand grenade on that Jap Zero that tried to strafe us."
Armstrong slapped him in the mouth to get some sense back into him. He explained to the private how they would capture the Japanese tank and then shoved Greenly out into the street directly in the path of the approaching Tiger. The crew inside the Japanese vehicle mercilessly cut him down with a machinegun and then fired the tank gun too and hit him with a giant tank bullet that blasted him to pieces.
Armstrong felt rage boil inside the cauldron of his patriotic heart and he leapt over the sandbags and jumped on top of the Japanese tank before the commander at the hatch even knew what was going on. Armstrong punched him square in his head and then tossed him off the tank and onto the metal fence that I neglected to mention was topped with spikes that just happened to impale the tank commander. Before any of the other crew guys could do anything Armstrong jumped inside the tank and shot them all in the heads. One of them slumped forward on his controls and tank lurched forward, plowing straight through the fence and into the presidential fortress.
"Thanks for the lift!" Armstrong quipped as he climbed back out of the tank and lit his cigar.
A few Viet Cong tried to stop him from fighting his way into the Japanese Emperor's throne room, but a few shots from his Schmeisser either killed or wounded them all. A few tried to surrender but Armstrong didn't have time to take prisoners so he just punched them and knocked them completely out cold.
"We meet at last Sergeant Armstrong," the Emperor was seated in a massive golden throne covered with the skulls of fallen soldiers. He wore armor made from bone and carried at his side a huge spear of immense power.
"This is the last conversation you're ever going to have you crumb bum. I'm going to knock this one out of the park for America."
"Ah yes Armtrong-san, the famous Armstrong right hook, it is how you defeated my carrier fleet near midway and how you fought off my attack at Pearl Harbor." The Emperor suddenly drew a dart gun and shot Armstrong right in the neck. "I think with your dulled senses from this stun dart you will find it most difficult to hit me."
The Emperor attacked with his spear really fast but Armstrong dodged it and pulled the dart out and threw it on the ground and laughed.
"There's an old Marine Corps saying that says 'strike while the iron is hot'. The Iron's hot Tojo, so I'm going to strike. I spent years swallowing stun pills so that I would be immune to them, your stupid plan didn't work on me."
Armstrong smiled and Emperor Hirohito frowned.
"That doesn't make any sense…"
Hirohito began, but Daring Armstrong totally interrupted him.
"Maybe this will knock some sense into your head!"
Then he punched the Emperor right in the face and knocked him down a flight of steps and onto the lid for his shark tank that he used to execute American POWs. Armstrong reached over and pulled the lever for the shark tank lid and with a scream the Emperor fell in and gave the sharks a taste sensation.
"Clobber Bee One, this is Grandma Whiskey Hats, do you copy?" Daring said into his satellite uplink headset.
"Roger that Grandma Whiskey Hats, Clobber Bee One, what's your fire mission?"
"One nuke, destination Tokyo, postage paid."
Now all he had to do was steal a Jap jet fighter before the nuke got dropped.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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