Super Soldiers

by Jason Inman

  My Army basic training was one of the most intense things I’ve ever completed my life. I can definitely empathize with anyone who completes a similar gauntlet, fictional or otherwise. Imagine riding in a packed school bus to a military base. This old behemoth of a vehicle, which is well past its prime, screeches to a stop, the doors slide open, and the sternest, angriest man you have ever seen in your entire life stomps inside. He wears a wide-brimmed hat and you can barely hear his name, but from here and now on, he shall be called “drill sergeant.” His stone-cold voice announces to the bus that we have thirty seconds to empty the vehicle or there will be consequences. The drill sergeant left the bus and the chaos began. Like a group of rats on a sinking ship, everyone on that bus scrambled. We collided with each other, and I’m certain many injuries were sustained as the chaotic mass of people spilled out into a formation, of sorts, in front of this drill sergeant. These events launched us into an insane nine weeks of training to become a soldier.

  Like Hal Jordan, I had to learn how to work with people I had never met before. Their successes became my victories and their failures became my defeats. Suddenly, new weapons and methods of thinking were shoved into my brain. Here’s how you hold a live grenade, soldier! Now throw it! (Remember, the Gravedigger chapter taught us that grenades don’t solve problems!) Also, it pushed me harder than any other collective experience I had had in my life, up to that point. Like many people, I never thought I would complete basic training. It was like this impossible hill. This feat none of us could ever climb. Nonetheless, I completed it. I came out the other side successful and a whole forty-five pounds lighter. (It turns out, when you run eight miles a day, every day, it’s very easy to lose weight.) How did you find the mental fortitude to complete basic training, you might ask? The honest answer is “I don’t know.” I remember taking it day by day, looking at a calendar I had in my locker and marking off the days. That helped, but it’s not the secret. I can only deduce that my sheer force of will pushed me through. I had to pull deep from the pit of my stomach and force myself through. I didn’t have a pig-faced alien yelling at me in a language I didn’t understand, but I had a unit of scary asshole men in wide-brimmed hats yelling at me at every second. It wasn’t until I was out of it that the realization of what this training was dawned on me.

  The whole point of basic training was to create a situation so stressful, so terrible, and so impossibly hard that if you can complete it, you can do anything. Nothing will ever faze you, not even combat, and that’s the whole point. I wish I had known that going in. It wouldn’t have made it any easier, but the perspective might have helped.

  Many people in training or stressful situations think back to a mentor or a trainer who meant a lot to them. A person who helped them see the bigger picture. This person can give them the perfect advice in their time of need. For Hal Jordan, that person was Sinestro. Now, I know what you’re saying! “But he’s Green Lantern’s greatest villain!” This is true, but Sinestro was also one of the greatest Green Lanterns of his time, and his greatest student was named Hal Jordan. Sinestro was cold, fearless, and stern as a Green Lantern, and he subjected Hal Jordan to many rigorous exercises and impossible tasks which would have broken beings with a lesser will. Nevertheless, Hal Jordan bulldozed through all of them. This eventually led Sinestro, Hal’s trainer, to develop a grudging respect for the human and new Green Lantern. The two of them became best friends.

  The friendship would soon be torn apart when Hal learned some troubling secrets about Sinestro’s home planet, Korugar. Sinestro had been subjugating his home planet, setting himself, the Green Lantern, up as the ultimate ruler and keeping the population in check with fear. Hal confronted his friend about this behavior, and Sinestro defended himself by claiming his methods were merely a better way to enforce the peace and order mandated by the Green Lantern Corps. Hal reported these acts to their bosses, the Guardians of the Universe—tiny blue beings with white hair and pompous attitudes—who ordered Hal to subdue his best friend. Even though Sinestro had trained Jordan, Hal came out victorious following a tumultuous battle.

  Hal Jordan was then forced to testify against his best friend, and the Guardians eventually expelled Sinestro from the Corps and exiled him to the Antimatter Universe. (We live in the positive matter universe, in case you didn’t know.) Sinestro swore revenge on the Guardians, the Green Lantern Corps, and his best friend, Hal Jordan. Eventually, he formed a yellow ring and would plague Hal for years to come, especially since the color yellow was one of the original weaknesses of the Green Lantern power ring. This bond between trainee and trainer, between a commanding officer and lower-ranked officer, since the Sinestro storyline, has become a permanent feature of Hal Jordan’s character. There’s not a Green Lantern story published since that does not have a direct connection to this theme. Every time Hal confronts Sinestro, he is reminded of the man who trained him, the man who once gave him orders, and the man who used to be his friend.

  While I never had a leader of mine completely betray me, I can relate to the Sinestro and Hal Jordan relationship. In close quarters, when you’re behind enemy lines, it can be very easy to have the lines of rank disappear. You’re both going through a shared traumatic experience, and, as long as the job is getting done, what rank you hold is meaningless. I used to call my squad leader “Melvin” instead of his rank. We were that friendly.

  By contrast, I have often encountered a leader with the more nefarious leanings of Sinestro. While in basic training, the barracks I stayed in were falling apart. Paint peeled off the walls, and the enormous murals in the common room were well beyond repair. Soon one of the drill sergeants found out I was a painter. I’ve always been able to paint. Not Michelangelo level, but if you need somebody to whip up a semi-nice landscape vista, I’m your man. This drill sergeant, whose name I’ve long since forgotten (let’s call him “Smith”), ordered me to repaint the common room mural. Our squad had a bulldog for a mascot, so he wanted to see what ideas I had for that motif. He didn’t care how much paint I needed or how many brushes, but he wanted it done in two days. While this might sound like a very achievable goal, let me set the scene for you a little more: the common room was made from cement bricks. Every wall, except for one, had a mural on it. He wanted every one of these murals to be redone. Each of these walls was about twelve to twenty feet long. This was no simple project, three mural walls. So, there I was, painting these murals during the night. In the dark. I could not have any lights on at night, but still had to make his deadline. Somehow, I pushed my painting hands to the brink and delivered, because I was scared of Drill Sergeant Smith. The drill instructors’ main weapon is fear. Now, they cannot hit recruits or anything unsavory like that, but they can make you run ten miles while yelling at you throughout the entire trip from the comfort of a Humvee. My wall mural was no masterpiece, but a combination of bulldogs and castles, the symbol of the Engineering Corps, my specialty in the Army.

  When Drill Sergeant Smith saw these mural walls in the morning, he was impressed. He hadn’t thought I could pull it off. However, he did not like some of the placements of the animals. Smith demanded that I start all over and finish all three walls in two days.

  I could have killed him. Right there, with my hands around his neck. It would have eased all the stress out of my body. I’d killed myself for those murals. What the hell was his problem? But I started again. Three new murals, which I completed in two days. Drill Sergeant Smith was pleased with the second batch (I swear, I would have committed murder if he hadn’t been). Thinking about it now, I wonder if that exercise was another test. Did he want to see if I could push myself to make it through? Would I balk when he refused the first ones or would I push through, accept my orders like a good soldier, and get the job done? Well, I got the job done. It took a lot of willpower, but I propelled through it, exactly like Hal through the trials and tribulations of Sinestro. He got through it. I wonder if Sinestro made Hal paint him any m
urals. Or did Hal’s arrogance refuse any of Sinestro’s silly exercises?

  Hal Jordan might not have had to complete many art projects in his career as a Green Lantern, but he would soon go through the most complicated and crazy part of his career. (Although, can you imagine the magnitude of the macaroni craft projects a Green Lantern ring could complete?) Through some comic book complications, Hal Jordan would soon go insane; his worst act was the complete obliteration of Oa and the wholesale slaughter of the entire Green Lantern Corps, with the exception of a few members. Crazy Hal would eventually die, only to return less than ten years later in a comic titled Green Lantern: Rebirth (2004).

  This comic book mini-series, written by Geoff Johns, would retcon many of the egregious and evil acts performed by Hal Jordan, instead blaming most of his misdeeds on the personification of fear known as “Parallax,” who possessed Jordan and led him toward mass murder. Hal returned to the land of the living, younger and more energetic than before. Lucky for him, his old friend and mortal enemy, Sinestro, was brought back to life as well. What did Jordan do with his newfound life? He rejoined the Air Force.

  Why did he return? Did he miss the brotherhood of the military? Was he looking for a safe space after pushing past the cosmic realms of death and evil? I think so. I think Hal is a man who is always putting his head down and getting things done. He’s simple that way, easy to understand. Hal thinks he’s the best hero, the best pilot, the best man in the world. In spite of everything, the concepts and boundaries of evil and the veil of death are unknowable to him. I doubt many of us could cope with our brains being broken like that. The complete obliteration of self and worth—the corruption Parallax wrought on him. Could you deal with having the murders of millions of people on your hands? Especially if you did not knowingly commit these murders? It’s very similar to coming back from a combat zone. You don’t feel like yourself, and you’re looking for any kind of comfort. You’re looking for the familiar. That’s what Hal was seeking in a return to the Air Force. It’s a similar feeling to what James Rhodes, War Machine, was also looking for.

  Have I ever wanted to rejoin the military, you might be asking? I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t at least considered it. The idea is comforting in some respects. The safety net of the military is one of its best features. What other group will take care of all your needs in one simple go? Food, housing, and brotherhood, all in one. At this point in my life, I feel I’m well past joining up again. I’ve spent too much time as a civilian. Too much time on the non-military side of things. I’d question the orders of any commanding officer left and right. I’d come up with new tactics which were not Army-approved, that no tech manual would approve of. Basically, I’d be a terror to the US Army, and it wouldn’t be fair to the men and women I would serve with. I don’t disparage anyone who wants to rejoin like Hal. I see the appeal. However, I think your decision process might be a bit simplified when you were possessed by the living embodiment of fear like Hal was.

  Recently, in the comic books, Hal Jordan was asked to take a large step, one that you might have figured comic writers would have assigned to him long, long ago. After a disaster involving the murder of all the Guardians of the Universe (remember their blue leaders?), Hal Jordan was installed as the leader of the Green Lantern Corps. Based on what I’ve already discussed in this chapter, you can predict why this might be a disaster for our emerald-based heroes. Hal flew by the seat of his pants, not taking into account all the factors and outcomes that would result from his actions. He’s a cocky fighter pilot! Basically, Hal Jordan is no John Stewart when it comes to the leadership of the Corps, as I mentioned previously in this book.

  After an event with a massive cosmic being by the name of Relic, the Green Lantern Corps found itself hated across the galaxy. Alien beings on many planets no longer wanted the protection of the Green Lanterns, and when the emerald light graced their surface, these humanoids would riot until the Lanterns left. Hal’s solution to this was unorthodox at best. He decided to leave his ring behind and steal a secret weapon deep within the vaults of Oa. This weapon was a power gauntlet that expels beautiful emerald energy; it’s the very first Green Lantern weapon. Hal took this gauntlet, staged a fake fight with the Green Lantern Corps, and became an outlaw. A renegade of the galaxy, performing dangerous missions and feats, so the galaxy sees him as the terrible influence, not the Green Lantern Corps. The galaxy should no longer fear the Lanterns. It should fear Hal Jordan.

  Let’s dissect this very quickly: imagine that the head of Joint Chiefs of Staff, the leaders of every military branch in the United States, decided to resign. Then this former Joint Chief, the shining bastion of the US military, decides to commit acts of terrorism. His acts put the spotlight on his bad behavior instead of the US armed forces. Do you realize how crazy that plan sounds? This is precisely the plan Hal Jordan enacted. It’s bonkers. Yes, the different star systems would have suffered from Hal’s damage directly, but he’s still essentially committing these acts under the banner of the Green Lantern Corps, leading it to seem as though every action of Hal’s was sanctioned by the corps.

  Hal works better as a loose cannon. The man who, when backed into a corner, can perform an act of insanity that will get his men—his unit—out of danger. He doesn’t know how to order other men because his genius and his will to get things done come from his gut.

  I’ve never been in a situation like Hal. I got to command small convoys to and from Baghdad, but never an entire military force, or even a battalion, like Hal. My leadership style was always “Do your job, and we’ll have no problems.” Hal and I do have one similarity in this respect: we both hate to give orders. Probably because we both hate to receive them. I always feel everyone knows the job that needs to be done. We’re all adults. Why do I need to order you around? You’ll only hear from me when the job goes badly, and Hal Jordan operates basically the same way.

  Hal Jordan is a bulldozer. If you throw an obstacle or opponent in his way, he will push through them. He will find a way to beat them. You may not like his solution. You may not even approve of his solution, but he will win. This makes him a great example of a service member. Every leader wants that type of soldier under their command. The person who will stop at nothing to achieve the mission. Surprisingly, for all his unorthodox methods, I actually think Hal Jordan is a great example of a service member in comics. His will to win is indomitable.

  I have a theory about where that will comes from. I think in some ways Hal Jordan is still a little boy. A boy who stands on the airfield, watching his father paint the sky with his acrobatic movements in a plane. Every move, every decision Hal makes in his life is to prove his worth to his father and, hopefully, surpass him. The only way he can accomplish that goal is to surround himself in an armored layer of bravado. He figures he can never measure up to his father, so he blusters, boasts, and bushwhacks his way through crazy plans in an attempt to push past his fear.

  The sad fact about Hal Jordan’s character is that, no matter how many intergalactic armies he stops, how many disasters he prevents, or how many times he puts the reality of the multiverse back together, Hal will think he doesn’t measure up. The truth is, he does. He’s flown past his father many years ago, and isn’t that the goal of every son?

  Chapter 8

  Flash Thompson

  A Life of Service

  The wise men and sages would all say that joining the military will change you. There’s no better example of that in comic books than Flash Thompson. He’s the poster boy for how the military will kick you in the ass and transform you. Eugene “Flash” Thompson attended Midtown High School. This high school may not be familiar to you, but to fans of the Amazing Spider-Man, it’s the school that bookworm Peter Parker attends. You see, Peter and Flash have a relationship. Not that kind of a relationship—their bond is that of bully and victim. Flash was the star football quarterback and very popular among the students at their school.
However, while his school life was a breeze, his home life was in shambles. Flash’s father, Harry, was an alcoholic police officer who beat Flash regularly. (It’s interesting to note that the Spider-Man universe loves the name Harry. It’s also the name of the second Green Goblin and best friend of Peter Parker. I’m referring to Harry Osborn.) Flash’s father, Harry, would scold the boy and make light of his many first-place athletic accomplishments. This led Flash to transfer all of his anger to one person, the boy he called “Puny” Peter Parker.

  I am by no means giving Flash Thompson a pass on the terrible bullying that he committed. This torture definitely informed Spider-Man’s early career, as seen in the issues created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. Nonetheless, for every story, it’s good to learn the root cause of any pain or triumph, so that we all have a better understanding of the character.

  Once Peter had been radioactively gifted with the powers of a spider and donned the skin-tight suit of Spider-Man, he also began to show signs of confidence in his day-to-day life. He stopped wearing his glasses and, more importantly, he started talking to girls like a normal person. (C’mon, men, just admit it. We all stumbled as we attempted to put two words together the first time we talked to a woman.) This newly revitalized Peter Parker began to catch the attention of Liz Allen, Flash Thompson’s best gal, which sent Flash off in a fury. He became jealous.

  There was only one person who was safe from Flash’s rage. A person that Flash soon became the biggest fan of: Spider-Man. It’s an interesting counterbalance to see Flash Thompson hate one man so much while he loves the opposite side of the same man. One could say Flash was attracted to Spider-Man’s independence, his cavalier attitude, and ability to swing from building to building with no responsibilities. (Of course, unknown to Flash was the “With great power comes great responsibility” mantra that would always weigh heavy on Peter.) To this little boy from Queens, Spider-Man was an escape from his terrible father and all the anger he had misdirected at Peter.