The Comic Book War: The Comic Book War

by Jacqueline Guest

  As usual, the Kid was modest as he accepted praise for his ingenuity. “All I did was signal with my polished plate. The Canadian troops saved the day.”

  “What did you use to make it so shiny?” asked the battle-hardened corporal.

  “Silicon carbide I found in the detectors of some old radios. I guess you could say the Nazis gave me my means of escape.”

  “You can thank your lucky stars you found the stuff,” the soldier said.

  The Maple Leaf Kid laughed. “Lucky stars are exactly what did the trick. The most common form of silicon carbide is what we call stardust!”

  Robert gasped. That was the clue – stardust! The universe was speaking and he would listen. He touched his own piece of fallen star and felt it hum.

  “I know what’s happened to Patrick,” he said firmly. “He’s been captured by the Germans and they’re holding him in a secret location somewhere near Ortona.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Charlie asked, confused.

  “Nothing on earth at all!” Robert laughed. “I know I’m right. The comic book has told me what to do. We have to get the army to send a rescue party to find Patrick.”

  Charlie’s lips went into their hard line. He knew she was ready for battle.

  “Robert, you’re not going to sit there and tell me your stupid comic book is sending you secret messages again!”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He held up the new edition of The Maple Leaf Kid. “Don’t you see? The Kid is telling me what happened to Patrick, like Ice did with George. The telegram said he is MIA, missing in action. The reason they can’t find him is because he isn’t where they expect him to be. He’s being held in a secret location, an old castle or something. The comic book story is almost identical to what happened to Patrick. The Maple Leaf Kid was caught because the Nazis wanted to get information. Patrick’s commanding officer sent him to capture a German soldier so the Canadian army could get information. Only Patrick ended up being the one taken instead.” Robert jumped off the bed. “We have to tell my parents! They’ll be thrilled!”

  Charlie’s face grew pink. “This is truly nuts!” She pointed at his dresser. “This, this shrine you have set up is not linking you to some creepy cosmos. MIA isn’t some kind of get out of jail free card. We’ve delivered enough follow-up telegrams to know what’s coming next. MIA means the soldier’s dead and they haven’t found his body because it was blown to bits or is lying in enemy-held territory!” She was livid now. “I’m sorry to be so brutal, but you need to hear the truth. You can’t go to your parents and bleat out this insane story when they are dealing with...with reality! I’m sure they know what that telegram means.”

  Robert’s temper exploded. He wouldn’t listen to this traitor. “Shut up, Charlie! I’m telling you it’s real. Patrick is not dead! He’s being held prisoner and we can’t let anyone, especially his family, give up on him.”

  He paced anxiously around the room. “I need the military to get in on this ASAP. I have to get them to organize a search party of all the castles and strongholds in the area where the Canadians were fighting.”

  He was like a runaway train – Charlie had to put the brakes on. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Tomorrow is Friday. I’ll ditch school and come over then we can try to figure something out together, only you have to promise you won’t say anything about this to your parents. Deal?”

  It was late and Robert could see the logic in this, however hard it would be to wait. The good thing was delaying would give him time to come up with a workable plan he could take to the army. “Okay, okay, deal.”

  As he picked up her damp uniform jacket, something occurred to Robert. “Are you going to ride all the way to Bowness now?” Outside the window, the snow was coming down harder.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t sound very sure.

  “Come on. You need a ride and not on Big Betsy.”

  “This is not the time to ask your father for a lift home, Rob.”

  Her lips were doing the thin-line thing again and Robert knew there’d be no budging her. “Who said anything about asking my dad?”

  They went downstairs to find his mother on the couch and his father on the phone.

  “...yes, that’s all we know. Helen is taking it very hard.” His father looked up as Robert and Charlie walked into the room. “Here’s Robert now,” he held the receiver out. “It’s Kathryn.”

  Robert took the phone. “Hi Katy.”

  “Robbie, oh sweetheart, I am so sorry to hear this news. I wish I was there to help in some way.”

  He knew she was being comforting, but she didn’t understand there was no reason to worry and he couldn’t explain now. “Don’t worry, cuz. Everything is going to be fine as frog’s hair.” He must have sounded too cheery because Kathryn immediately switched to her lawyer’s voice, all business.

  “Robert, why would you say that? You do understand what this could mean? I know how close you and Patrick are.”

  He dismissed her grave tone. “Like I said, everything’s going to be okay. Gotta go.” He handed the receiver back to his father. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  There was no argument, and Robert figured that was due to the seriousness of what was going on. If only they knew what had really happened to Patrick.

  Mr. Glowinski was, as usual, working in his shop when Robert knocked at the door. “Mr. G, could I ask you a huge favour?”

  “Of course, what you need, Robcio?”

  Robert noticed the big man was wearing his talisman, which made him feel surprisingly close to his neighbour. They shared a special bond. “Charlie’s on her bike. It’s late and snowing so hard, I was hoping you could give her a ride home. The only catch is, she lives way out in Bowness.”

  Mr. Glowinski immediately put down the screwdriver he was holding. “Sure, sure. No problem. I get coat and car keys. You bring bike.”

  They met him in front of his house with the bike and he jammed it in the rumble seat of the two-door car.

  “This is my new joy,” Mr. Glowinski said proudly. “I just buy her.”

  Robert eyed the vintage car. “What is it?”

  “This 1929 Chevrolet International AC Sport Coupe, with the new in-line six cylinders,” he announced like an ad from The Star Weekly.

  Charlie didn’t seem impressed and Robert chalked it up to her being a girl and not interested in true guy stuff. “She’s a beauty.”

  They piled into the car and Robert was acutely aware of Charlie crushed up against him on the bench seat.

  “Sorry, Wonder Weed. Mr. G needs room to shift the stick.”

  “I don’t think Robcio mind much,” Mr. Glowinski said confidently.

  When they pulled up to Charlie’s house, the lights were on and Robert could see a party was in full swing. Music blared into the street as the screen door opened and two revelers lurched onto the porch.

  “Oh, great.” Charlie fumed as she clambered out of the car. ‘It’s going to be another late one.”

  Mr. Glowinski retrieved her bike. “You sure you be okay, miss?” He eyed the drunken scene spilling out of the house.

  “No problem. The cops should show up in about fifteen minutes and shut it down.”

  Robert unexpectedly felt very protective. “You could come back with us, Charlie.”

  “You don’t need any strangers bunking at your place right now, Wonder Weed. Besides, this will all be over soon. See you tomorrow.” She took the bike from Mr. Glowinski. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. G. I really didn’t want to bike home in the snow.”

  She wheeled her bicycle around the corner of the narrow shotgun house and disappeared.

  “I think she not worst enemy anymore.” Mr. Glowinski commented as he turned the car back toward home.

  “Maybe not...for now.” Robert allowed as he rolled plans around in his head.

  Charlie was, well, she was Charlie, and he was getting used to her tough attitude and moodiness. Maybe th
at’s what all girls were like; maybe he’d never understand any of them. Whatever the case, understanding females was a problem for another day.

  Right now, Patrick was his main focus. His brother needed his help! The question was, how was he going to convince his parents and the army to believe in his comic book war?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ACTION HEROES

  The next day, grief covered the Tourond house like a dark blanket. His father was a statue, standing by the kitchen sink holding a mug of tea as he stared blindly at the snowy back yard. Robert made breakfast and watched him, noticing his father never once took a drink.

  After washing his dishes, Robert was on his way to his room when there was a knock at the front door. He opened it to find Charlie standing on the porch. Her over-sized black ear muffs made her look like a little kid. She was in civvies; men’s boots that didn’t fit, denim work pants and a threadbare green cotton jacket that wouldn’t have been warm on a July day.

  “Hey, Rob. How’s things?” she asked, stepping inside.

  “Gloomy, which is why I need to share my master plan with the folks. I have to get the Kid first.” He hustled upstairs then returned with the comic book and a navy pea coat. “I dug this out last night after I got home,” he said, handing it to her. “It was Patrick’s, then mine, but I’ve outgrown it. It’s warm and the price is great: ten cents. Oh, wait a minute, I owe you a dime from last night at Kreller’s, so I guess we could consider it square if you wanted the jacket.” He made the bargain knowing she wouldn’t like charity.

  “The comic was your Christmas present, a couple of days early. If you insist on making it about money, I suppose you could consider it payment in full. I have to tell you though, I got the better deal,” she teased. “Thanks, Rob.”

  He knew she must have been frozen on the ride over, and felt glad she now had a much warmer coat to battle the frigid temperatures. He also kind of liked the idea of her wearing his old jacket.

  “Come on. Wait till you hear what I came up with.” Together they went into the living room where his parents were now seated together on the sofa. They desperately clung to one another, as if in a lifeboat lost at sea.

  “Mom, Dad, you remember Charlie from work?”

  Instantly, fear sprang into his mother’s face. “You don’t have another telegram for us?”

  “No, Mum, she’s not working now. Charlie’s here because she’s a friend.” Robert quickly reassured his mother. “Do you remember when George was shot down?”

  “Of course we do, son. What’s it got to do with Patrick?” His father’s tone let Robert know he was in no mood for games.

  “I told you about the comic book connection and how the story mirrored what was happening to George?”

  “And I told you it was all nonsense and nothing but coincidence.”

  “The same thing is happening again, only with Patrick. I have the new edition of The Maple Leaf Kid, he’s assigned to Patrick and the Kid was in Italy, too. Then he was captured by the Germans and held in a secret fortress called Castello Della Morta. That’s what’s happened to Patrick. He’s been captured and we need to go to the military so they can find the castle and get him back.” He laid the comic on the coffee table, open so his parents could see the fantastic last page with the incredible rescue.

  His father stood. “Do you know what Castello Della Morta means? It translates into Castle of Death. Are you telling me your brother is being held in an Italian castle called Death?”

  “No, it was the name in the comic. Who knows what the name of the one Patrick’s in is called.”

  “You actually want me to go to the army and tell them this ridiculous story. They’d lock us all up and throw away the key!”

  Robert felt his frustration building, but tried to be patient. “I know you and Mum don’t know much about what goes on behind the scenes to support the war. Me, I’ve been keeping up with all the news. Sending troops in to find one lost soldier is not crazy. It would be the story of the century for the army. The propaganda alone would be worth the rescue effort.”

  His father turned on him. “We don’t know what goes on? What do you think your mother and I do? We support our fighting boys each and every day.”

  Robert was at the end of his patience. The man just didn’t understand the big picture. “Dad, making crop fertilizer is not exactly front line war effort and Mum’s victory garden and knitting club won’t save many lives.” He didn’t want to belittle his parents help, but he couldn’t see how they thought they were really having an impact on the fighting overseas.

  His father grew very still. “Is that what you think I do, make fertilizer? Robert, I make ammonium nitrate; it’s used in explosives! It’s in aerial bombs and depth charges. I think I contribute a lot to the ‘front line war effort.’” He was building up a full head of steam now. “As for your mother – she’s a war-effort dynamo. She organizes drives from metal to paper, bringing in tons of raw materials that are turned into planes and bullets. She also supervises making ditty bags for our boys so they at least have a few comforts from home. Did you know your mother personally runs this area’s program that supplies Red Cross war relief packages? Those packages help thousands of our men who are enduring hell in prisoner-of-war camps overseas.” He took a breath. “You need to keep up with the news here at home, young man.” He sat back down next to his wife. “We’re not going to entertain any silly notions you have about comic books telling us where your brother is. He’s out there, wounded maybe, and I know he’s trying to get back to us. He’ll make it. He has to.”

  His mother had been sitting stoically on the couch, but she rose now and walked to Robert. He waited for a blast from her too. Unexpectedly, she reached out and gently touched his cheek. “I know how hard it’s been on you to have all your brothers gone overseas. You must have felt deserted, like they left you behind while they went off to have fabulous adventures. Maybe your dad and I have been busy with our war work and we, too, have left you out. For that, I’m sorry, son. I’ve seen how much you’ve grown up these past months. We’ll get through this and then we’ll talk, but for now, we have to face reality, no matter how hard, and we’ll face it together.” She gave him a quick kiss, then went to sit next to his father

  Robert was speechless. His mother had never said anything like this before nor had she ever said she was sorry about anything. It made him feel unexpectedly close to her.

  And she was being very reasonable, so why couldn’t she see what was so obvious? The Kid had shown them what was coming. All they had to do was believe.

  Arguing was useless. “I know I’m right. Come on, Charlie.”

  He grabbed the Kid and stormed upstairs to his room with Charlie close behind. Once they were inside, he closed the door. “I have a plan, but I have to warn you, it involves a little subterfuge. Are you coming with me?”

  “If I don’t watch out for you, you’ll end up in the hoosegow for sure.”

  “Hoosegow?”

  “You know, the big house, the slammer, the calaboose!” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I’ve got two brothers up the river right now.”

  “You could be joining them if things don’t go right.” Robert started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Holy smokes! What is it with you and undressing, Wonder Weed?” She turned her back to him.

  “Let’s go.” When she turned around, Robert was in full uniform, including his cap, which was set at a rakish angle. He’d smudged something over his lip giving the appearance of an eleven o’clock shadow, like he’d forgotten to shave his mustache.

  “What’s with the fake fuzz?” she asked.

  He tucked the Kid into his satchel as they left the room. “It’s part of my disguise, so I appear older and more responsible. Like someone who should be listened to.” He pulled on his boots and gloves while Charlie slipped into her pea coat. He appraised her in his old jacket. “Say, that suits you way better than it did me.”

  “Not freezin
g my butt suits me, Wonder Weed. Where are we going?”

  “David’s taking on Goliath.”

  They sped off on their bikes with Robert leading the way. A Chinook was blowing in and the temperatures were sky rocketing. Soon, it would be downright balmy.

  They stopped in front of a pair of impressive gates with Currie Barracks artfully scrolled across the top. “Follow my lead,” Robert instructed as they pedaled up to the guard house.

  “State your business.” The private at the gate obviously excelled at doing his job.

  “Telegram delivery.” Robert pointed at the company crest on his cap and tried to make his voice sound businesslike and mature.

  “Let’s see it,” the guard demanded.

  Robert took an envelope out of his satchel.

  “Give it here,” the soldier ordered.

  Robert snatched the envelope back. “I can’t relinquish the document without proper clearance.” This sounded suitably official. “It would help if you could tell me where to find the addressee.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Robert pretended to read the name on the telegram. “Squadron Leader Aberdeen.”

  “Oh, yeah, he’ll be one of those fly boys with the Number 3 Service Flying Training School.” He explained how to get to the office through the maze of buildings comprising the base. “Who’s the civilian?” The private pointed at Charlie.

  “Trainee. Sanctioned by the Head Telegrapher to accompany me.” Here Robert leaned in over his handlebars and spoke under his breath. “I’m trying to teach her the ropes, but she’s a little slow and needs all the practice she can get.” His tone was conspiratorial.

  The soldier nodded knowingly. “Yeah. My sister is helpless without a man to show her how it’s done.” He raised the wooden barricade. “Good luck.”

  “A little slow?” Charlie growled as they pedaled away.

  “I got us in, didn’t I?” Robert grinned as he sped ahead of her.

  _____

  They waited while the clerk went to speak to Squadron Leader Aberdeen, who looked surprised when they were ushered into his office.