On the Trail of the Ape Men: Part II

Buck Burke brought up the rear of the party as they trekked through the savannah. The native Red Panther walked in front, his eyes scanning right and left following the spoor of the quarry. Normally Buck would like to be alongside up front. Even after all his time spent in Africa, he felt he could always learn something new by those who spent their entire lives in the wilderness. However, following the trail of a gorilla army and their slaves, it wasn’t a hard trail to follow, even after several days had passed. Off to either side of the group. Eric the lion and Marga the panther-woman paced them, unseen in the tall grasses. He smiled thinking about Eric. If he hadn’t seen… heard for himself, he wouldn’t have believed it. He had heard the rumors concerning the Jungle King and his talking lion but figured it was probably a trick of some sorts. Natives tended to be very superstitious and many (witch doctors and white men included) could not resist playing on that. He had once or twice himself to get out of a jam or grease some palms. He had seen many wonders and things not easily explained, but also enough fakery that he learned to be skeptical while maintaining an open mind.

It wasn’t long before they came across a dead body along the trail that they followed. It was a native. He had a few wounds that seemed left over from whatever battle that led to his capture. Others were more recent, criss-crossing scars across his back from a whip, heavily blistered feet, and bruises about his face and torso.

“He was forced to walk until he dropped,” said Buck. “And, they didn’t slow, just kicked and beat him where fell and left him there to die.”

The Red Panther shook his head, “Kahigi was always a cruel one, even before he became this White Ape god.”

The Congo Raider said, “I fear he had good teachers. He experienced first hand the cruelty that many whites inflicted on their porters and he thinks nothing of inflicting it on others weaker than himself. It was this cruel streak and desire for power that kept him from being chosen as the Red Panther by the tribal elders. He would have led the unified tribes to acts of massacre and genocide if possible to seek more power and avenge himself on the whites.”

“And, now he seeks another way. Through conquest,” said the White Panther. He thought of Lee Granger’s goals and grand experiment. In some ways, the Jungle King and the White Ape sought the same thing, a strong Africa that the whites would have to respect. But, the White Ape sought it through conquering and placing all under his rule. Establishing peace through dictatorship and subjugation.

It wasn’t the only dead body they came across. Some were old, others were mere children. If the wounded and the weak died, it seemed not to matter to the White Ape. He had enough slaves that he could afford to lose a few along the way. Nor was it just slaves. They came across the body of one of the ape warriors as well. He had been badly wounded in battle and it appeared that he finally succumbed to those wounds. Like the others, he was left where he fell, with a war club in his hand and crude chest-plate made of leather, bones and reeds. The others continued on past the battle but Buck paused and let his gaze linger a bit. The ape had been a powerful beast when it was alive. He showed old cuts and scars, from fighting for females guessed Buck.

“So strange to see it dressed for battle,” he thought. “Gorillas are normally fairly peaceful. I guess that’s the price of intelligence. With it comes desire and greed beyond immediate wants and needs. And, the capacity for war to get them.”

Realizing he lingered too long and was getting left behind, he hurried to catch up.

It was late in the second day, near the foot of the mountains that Eric came out of the grasses in front of them and barred their way. Buck tightened his grip on his rifle at the sudden appearance of the lion but quickly recognized the almost human movements and tilt of the head that indicated the lion’s intelligent demeanor.

“They have stopped and make camp not too far ahead of us,” he said. It was then that Marga came upon the group from the other side. “The cat speaks true,” she said.

The White Panther nodded. “We are close to the Troglodytes who make their home in caves in these hills. They must prepare for the attack if the cave-dwellers do not throw in with the White Ape. You said that they have in the past, made their attacks in the early hours before dawn. So, first they’ll make their offer and then tonight, they will feast and dance and make sacrifices to their gods to prepare for that attack. So, we too must prepare.”

It had been a subject of conversation, what to do at this point. This valley between the mountains with their cliffs and caves would make a good location for a fortified base of operations. The chief problem was the Troglodytes that already resided in the caves. They were some type of early man, close to appearance and build of the apes themselves. Peaceful but untrusting of others, they would rain boulders, spears and stone axes on any trespassers that got near. It would be a bloody battle and cost the White Ape’s army many lives and leave his forces sorely depleted. But, it would cost many of the captured slaves their lives and all of the otherwise peaceful cave-dwellers that didn’t throw in with the White Ape. And, once they gained those hills, they had the high ground. The question then was whether to attack before or during their attack on the hills. After much back and forth, ‘before’ was decided. During, and part of the apes would have the high ground and they’d have to fight two enemies as the Troglodytes would see no difference between them and their assailants.

Sounds of much fan-fare came to them, horns and pipes and drums raising a din among shouts and grunts. The small group crept through the tall grasses and they saw a contingent of the army separate from the others. With tall banners they came closer to the caves. Kahigi dressed as the White Ape in the skins of the mighty white gorilla lead the procession with a large club in his hand. The procession came to a stop and the noise increased even louder as the White Ape jumped up and down and gesticulated in some grotesque mimicry of the gorilla. The cave dwellers ventured out of their caves, many carrying crude axes and spears. They started yelling and gesturing in return. An older man with skins across his shoulders cautiously ventured closer, flanked by two warriors. He barked some command to his people and they quieted down and shuffled about warily.

“Leave,” the chief cried in a local dialect. “You do not belong. Our caves. Our women. Our food.”

“Great chief,” said the White Ape in the same dialect. “I offer you the chance to join my tribe. Be one with biggest, most powerful tribe. I bring slaves, many young hunters. More women to share with you and your sons. You only need to make me chief.”

The chief looked from side to side, digesting the words and then started jumping up and down.

“I be chief,” he bellowed! “I have many sons. Many hunters. Many wives. Leave or I make you wives of my dogs!” To accentuate this last remark he picked up some rocks and began throwing them towards the White Ape’s group though the stones stood no chance to reach them. The rest of the Troglodytes followed suit and began yelling and screaming in their native tongue and picking up rocks and throwing them towards the trespassers.

The White Ape smiled cruelly and said, “You will regret this decision ugly man.” He motioned to his party and withdrew back to the main group.”

Buck nodded to himself. War it was, then. Tonight, they’d attack. Five men, a woman and a lion against an army of gorillas and natives. And, he was the only one with a gun.

On the trail of the Ape Men

The meeting with Lee Granger, the Jungle King, didn’t go as well as he hoped but not a total loss. Granger said he was too busy building a thoroughly modern city and converting the area’s native tribes into a thoroughly modern people. He had used his money to attract a few daring doctors, nurses and teachers to his new city. While he had a small one-room hospital building as well as a matching school, he had plans for expansion. Already people from further tribes were being drawn by the promise of modern medicine and education. He hoped through his works, he’d be able to show the world that Africa and its people were more than resources and labor just to be exploited. He hoped to equip them with the ability to deal with Europeans on a more equitable basis. But, his goal wasn’t one of conversion like some naive missionary. He wanted to retain as much of their culture, their identity as possible while choosing from the best that the modern world had to offer. He saw his role as a parent. His job was to raise them to the point that he would be out of a job, not to become some dictator or chief himself. And like a parent’s job, it would be one that should take the rest of his life.

The White Panther argued that if his visions came to pass, the rest of his life and his grand experiment would prove to be very short. Granger compromised in the end. Through his contacts with the rather specialized community that he and the Panther belonged to as well as his own considerable resources, here could be the base and launching point for whatever forces could be gathered. A landing strip outside of the village was already built and Granger could arrange for whatever transport was needed. Otherwise, there was too much for him to do to go soldiering. The White Panther had his visions and missions, and Lee Granger had his.

To both of their surprise though, Eric the lion agreed to accompany the White Panther on his mission. While Lee said he would contact as many as he could through radio and his contacts, the heroes of Africa were often a nomadic lot and many were in nigh inaccessible places for contact by radio or telegraph. With the lion by his side, the White Panther left the next morning for the next closest territory for word on others that might join him in his upcoming battle.

A week later and after two more days of crossing grassy plains they came across the corpse and the site of a battle.

The body was tied to two cross-beams. He had been tied up while still alive, none of his bruises or cuts were life threatening and the great scavenger birds had not done much damage yet so he had not been dead for long. The crucified man proved to be the entrance to a village where some battle took place. There were only a few bodies, too few for a village this size. Mostly of old men and women past child bearing age though a seemed to be of younger men killed in defense of their homes. Two bodies of gorillas were found. One was clutching a club in his hand and the other had a spear, heavier and larger than those used by any tribes that the White Panther was aware of. He didn’t like the direction that took his thoughts. He was shocked out of his silent contemplating by Eric’s growling voice.

“Something wicked this way comes.”

Eric turned a few times in a circle with his nose in the air and his ears pricked. He nodded towards one direction and lowered himself into a crouched position. His tail began to flick from one side to the other and a low growl came from his throat. The White Panther thought about how it was the same with humans. Intelligent and reasoning beings, but it takes so little to get past that veneer of civilization and culture and call forth that primal animal self.

“Hail White Panther,” came a voice from the tall grasses. “We are friends, rein in your pet.”“I am nobody’s pet,” roared Eric. He stood and walked over to the White Panther, obviously more relaxed though.Chuckling, out of the grasses walked a notable group. One of the white men wore a green costume and alongside him walked a native in a matching red one. Both sported bows slung over shoulders. One man, a little shorter than the others wore brown slacks, shirt and the ubiquitous pith helmet. He carried a rifle and pistol in way of weapons as well as a pack on his back. Another white man was blond with tanned skin and wore nothing more than a loin cloth and leather moccasins. Accompanying them was a dark-haired woman in form-hugging dark skins in the style of a European one-piece bathing suit.

The White Panther said to the man in green, “the voice is familiar, but I don’t recognize the outfit, friend.”

“Because when we last shared a meal together I wore a different uniform and bore a different name. I called myself the Red Panther then, but now I am called the Congo Raider by those that would seek to mercilessly exploit those I protect. The man in red is the hero Red Panther now. I fear that the change in identity is what helped cause this and other massacres. My other comrades are the famous hunter and zoologist Buck Burke, the jungle lord Kalthar and the lady Marga, the Panther Woman. Let’s bury the bodies and I will give you the tale as we make camp.”
___________________________________________________

In the center of the village, the fire cackled and sparks rose into the night sky. Most of the group sat around it.

Kalthar was the only one absent, hidden in the grasses somewhere standing watch in case there was a return of the enemy. Marga sat next to the reclined Eric, scratching him behind his ears and running her fingers through his mane. His eyes were closed and he let out a rumbling purr. Buck absentmindedly poked and prodded the fire with a stick, stirring up the embers and sending sparks skyward. The man now called the Red Panther stared at the stars and moon high in the sky.

“The role of the Red Panther traditionally belonged to one of the region’s native tribes. A champion that bound them together, oversaw the various laws and disputes. He was supposed to be the mightiest fighter, the cleverest hunter. Every five years, a new Red Panther was chosen. I became the Red Panther through a fluke. I was serving as guide and hunter for an English zoologist and botanist and all round scoundrel. When I realized he was up to no good, I confronted him and started the expedition back to civilization. Only, he was more of a scoundrel than I thought and luring me away from the group on a pretense, he waylaid me and left me for dead.”

“I was found by the then Red Panther who nursed me back to health. Over the days that followed, he taught me of the lore of that area and of the legend of the Red Panther. I hanged out with him as we sought out clues to the location of the man that killed me and the secrets he was after. Through a bad turn of luck, we ran afoul of smugglers and slavers. My friend was killed and I took up his mantle to bring them to justice. I continued as the Red Panther for some time until it came time for the next competition."

“The man you see before you actually came in second. But, while the other man was physically the champion, he was judged to be unfit to serve as a judge over all tribes, in the employ of evil white men. This sparked a war between the tribe that championed him and the other tribes for the role of the Red Panther brings a tribe wealth, power, choicest hunting grounds, and many wives.”

“Since then, he has managed to set himself up as the embodiment of some ape-god the natives call the White Ape. He’s killed a white gorilla and wears its skin as a totem to his power and authority. Through some means, he has increased his strength and speed to equal and possibly pass a great ape’s. You saw the dead gorilla bodies. He has taken command of one of the tribes of intelligent gorillas and is uniting them under his rule. They are taking humans as slaves, the prettiest women his wives to serve as testament of his power and god-given authority.”

“Our first warning was the attack on Blanda’s kingdom and the nearby tribe of friendly gorillas. He managed to entice them to rebel against her and her people. Blanda’s people were wiped out, but her consort managed to get her out. She’s recovering under the care of a white doctor but her lover died from the wounds he sustained. But, not before he told his story to his friend Buck. He put together an expedition and headed into the wilderness. Each of us were investigating other rumored attacks and uprisings and found our paths converging, just as it has now joined up with yours.”

“We think he’s amassed his army and now seeks to set up his capital and solidify his control over the area. Somewhere in those mountains on the horizon, we’ll find the White Ape’s lair.”

NOTES:
The GA Red Panther and Congo Raider seemed to be the same character judging from the costume similarities, the major change being in coloring. He originally had no origin story, so this doesn't contradict any known info and giving an in-story explanation for their similarity. I am not normally a fan of changing the race of characters. But, there is such a plethora of white jungle heroes and heroines and most virtually interchangeable, a few more native ones seemed to be in order. Originally, I thought that the Red Panther in his red costume could easily have been a native character that just got "colored incorrectly" in our comics... until I discovered he had another costume earlier which made that a little harder to pull off. As he had no origin, I hoped to come up with a way to transition the character that made sense. Especially as the original isn't really replaced, he just takes on a different identity. Lee Granger and Eric the talking Lion are from Fawcett Comics, Red Panther and White Panther Fiction House, Congo Raider Howard, Marga Fox, Kalthar MLJ, Buck Burke Tem/Holyoke

Dreams Part II:

The White Panther raced through the jungle. In addition to the power of prophecy, the White Panther had been gifted with great speed and endurance. For a normal person foolhardy enough to make the journey alone, it would take several days to make it to the temple. The terrain was tough, the jungles almost impassable at places. He knew these jungles. He knew where the trees thinned and opened up onto a great savannah. His pace quickened. It was still morning when he sighted the temple. He slowed his pace to a reverent walk, where he could easily be seen and judged as one who comes as a friend and ally.

The temple was unlike most African structures. It was a stone pyramid with the entrance near the top and very ancient looking. It spoke of old days when an advanced civilization once stretched across the lands. Now, only a few places like this stood as reminders of those times. He saw a white woman with blonde hair come out of the entrance and looked down at him. He raised his hand in a friendly greeting.

“Hail Fantomah,” he cried. “Keeper of the Old Ways. Beautiful Destroyer. She Whose Gaze is Death.”

He couldn’t see it, but he was sure she smiled. She turned her back to him and went inside, an invitation that was free to approach and enter. If he had been unwelcome, she would have come down and met him at the foot of the pyramid.

He jogged up the steps and entered the temple.

“Hello Fleet Footed Cat,” she greeted. “You have come to see the Lady of the Cats?”

The White Panther nodded. “If it is at all possible.”

“I was told you’d be coming. I’ll be leaving you to your prayers.”

With that she exited the temple.

The White Panther lit the braziers and sat cross-legged on colorful rug. He closed his eyes and opened his other senses to the world around him. He could hear the birds calling outside as well as the crackle of the flames. Smell of smoke tickled his nostrils, tinged with the manure that fueled the flames. A slight breeze drifted in from the eastern doorway. The sun rose to mid-day and slowly drifted to the horizon as a half-moon rose and stars came out and progressed across the sky. And the sun rose again, dawn breaking. And, the White Panther sat with his eyes closed, his breathing regular.

“Greetings young one,” purred a feminine voice. The White Panther opened his eyes and saw that a tiger had entered temple. The cat, which belonged in another country entirely, slowly morphed into a lioness and then it stood on its hind legs, taking on a more human form until what faced him was a slender tan beauty though with the head of a cat.

“Your countenance is troubling,” she said.

“I dream of war, of death, of destruction. Of this land, of these peoples. Of myself.”

“I know. It has been foretold. Dark days have long been coming though we had hoped they’d pass us by. What would you have me do?”

“An army will be coming to this land and destroy everything we know. Unless you and the gods do something to stop them before they reach these shores.”

“Ahh, but we have done something my child. Who do you think gave you your dreams? Gave you your powers and others like you? An army of death comes that will take an army to stop them. And, we have given you the means to gain that army if you are willing to raise it.”

“What about Fantomah? Is she part of your army?”

The cat goddess looked at him and looked as if she was smiling slightly.

“My army, yes. Yours, no. Her power is vast but only because she is tied to this land itself. She can only leave here if she so chooses to give up the ties that bind her here. But, there are others, plenty of others, some on different realities than the one you see. It is they that will be your army if you can convince them.”

“Why must I convince them? You have given them their power, can you not command them to serve?”

“Foolish child. You cannot command devotion, loyalty, courage, or faith. I can inspire and show the path, but it is up to each to choose it.”

The White Panther nodded, sensing the truth of her words. “So be it,” he said and bowed his head. When he looked up, the cat-goddess was gone. He knew his next stop. To visit the so-called Jungle King who was building a very modern city on the coast. He’d have ways to contact others. He got up and walked outside, seeing Fantomah walking up the steps of the pyramid.

She smiled. “Did you find the answers you seek?”

“Yes, though not the answers I wanted.”

“A gift is a gift,” she said.

He nodded. “Farewell and live in peace.”

Prophetic Dreams

Early 1941, the nightmares started. Bob Paxton who billed himself as the Oracle in his private detective business was used to strange dreams. He had come to rely on seemingly prophetic dreams to help in his cases. He told himself they were just his subconscious picking up clues and signs that he wasn’t aware of. This was different. It wasn’t anything he was working on but with the clarity his prophetic dreams usually had, full of color, sensations and smells. There was a radio playing Christmas music, houses decked out in holiday ornaments and he heard the sound of airplanes flying overhead. The dream shifted. He could hear gunfire and bombs exploding. People were yelling. The acrid of smoke stung his eyes. He saw ships, several of them. A battleship in the harbor was on its sinking, a column of smoke rising like a dark snake into the sky. He saw flying men, flying men who were afire. He was under water but not drowning. Bodies of dead sailors, many in their underwear drifted by. Hundreds of dead faces flitted by, floating in the water. His stomach lurched and he woke with the taste of bile in his mouth. He thought of the mystery men he saw in the dream. He might be able to contact the Flame through his police contacts.

The hero known as the White Panther was also plagued by prophetic dreams. In his dream, he saw strange jungles not like his native Africa. He saw American soldiers fighting Asian soldiers. Among the Asian forces, there were monster men of varying sizes and deformities. Some stood twelve feet tall, others covered the ground quickly hunched over on almost all fours. They had clawed hands and foaming fanged mouths. They seemed to be led by a man in colorful armor, holding a sword. They swept over the American forces, brutally slaughtering them to a man where the monster-men showed cannibalistic tendencies. The jungles changed, he saw them swarming through African jungles, wiping out whole native tribes, killing the men and children and stealing the women. The various jungle lords banned together, some he knew but more he didn’t, but it was too late, the Asian armies too strong with the monster-men to be stopped by men armed with spears and arrows. Plus, the enemy had allied themselves with various witch-doctors and shamans whose authorities that the heroes had challenged for so long. The evil tribes followed them, the jungles burned. The temple of the cat-goddess was thrown down. With the shamans banded together, they called upon ancient blood and death magic and legions of the dead crawled from old graves challenging even Fantomah’s great powers. Scores fell but even she was eventually overcome.

The White Panther woke. He had been gifted with the power of prophecy, he knew how to read dreams and recognize a prophetic dream from a simple nightmare. He first went to the river to bathe and purify himself beneath the light of the moon. He sat on a grass mat facing the rising sun and meditated on what he saw. He rose, knowing what he needed to do. His dreams were of what would come to pass if he didn’t take action, but the future was not set in stone, just the path the world was already on. He would visit the cat-goddess, she could help.

Apology and Nighthawk vs Green Skull

As it has been brought to my attention that my time lines made heavy use of copyrighted material, they are being taken down. To do them properly for publication in a true scholarly fashion would require revising them from the start. Maybe someday. When I started working on them, it was meant to be more of a tool than anything else, putting various stories, characters and legends into context with some actual history, something many of the time lines don't really do. I thought the end result was kind of cool and that others might get a kick from it. The prevalence and variety of the Wold Newton Time Lines with overlapping and duplicate information with little documentation led me to seeing it as being a bigger game among fans than anyone claiming specific ownership. I was wrong and I apologize. And, so these are coming down and back into my files as a personal tool.

In their place, I am going to put up various text stories taken from public domain comics, a couple of them of some very obscure characters. I think people will get a kick from them.

This one is the first adventure of the Nighthawk vs. the Green Skull. It's from Dynamic Comics #3, 1942 published by Chesler. The two characters would later appear in an actual comic story published by Harvey. Scans of Dynamic Comics #3 can be found at http://www.goldenagecomics.co.uk. The scans of this particular comic came from fiche so for readability's sake, I re-typed it. Enjoy.

Nighthawk

“Oh,” yawned Jane as she stared at the planes that lined the airfield of the Curry Airplane Company. “Dad,” she asked, “how much longer must we stay here?”

“Another hour,” replied her father. “The British officials will soon arrive to take the planes.”

Suddenly Jane laughed. “Dad,” she said, “will you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” he replied.

Jane gulped, and then a silly grin gathered at the corner of her lips. “Let me write good luck on the motors of the planes?”

“Alright,” laughed her father.

Jane, her Father, and Jack Filan, in reality the Nighthawk, the most feared enemy of crime, walked over to the plane.

Jack watched Jane as she began to write on the hoods of the motors. Suddenly he chuckled to himself. “What a silly kid. SHE’S USING LIPSTICK!”

As Jane was busy writing, other hands were working near the northgate. A heavy club crashed down on the watchman’s head, and a silent band of men entered the airfield. Silently they made their way to the hangar nearest the plane.

“What the!” exclaimed the Green Skull, leader of the intruders as he saw Jane writing on the planes. “We got to work fast! The Nazis are waiting for the planes.”

“Okay baby,” he yelled, “school is closed. Put down that pencil.”

Jack turned and saw the Green Skull and his gang. One of the thugs tried to hit him with a club, but Jack ducked and sent a terrific blow to the gangster’s jaw, sending him spinning into the others.

For a moment, Jack’s sudden attack startled the thugs and in that second Jack swiftly raced past them. “Don’t worry Jane,” he yelled, “I’m going fort the police.”

Jack dashed into a hangar, and quickly changed into his Nighthawk uniform.

As the thugs were about to board the planes and take off, there in front of them stood a husky, masked figure.

“It’s Nighthawk!” yelled the Green Skull. “Get him!”

Instantly, Nighthawk charged into the gangsters sending a steady stream of blows into them. When suddenly, a heavy club crashed on his head.

It was about an hour later, that Jack came to. The planes and all were gone. “They’ve kidnapped Jane,” he cried. “I’VE GOT TO FIND THEM!” Jack was worried. It was almost impossible to decide which way the thieves had gone when suddenly he spied small red spots on the concrete runway. More and more of them, all heading north.

He began to run in that direction. Every once in a while he stopped on a concrete roadway, saw what he wanted on the roadway and raced on.

Suddenly Nighthawk stopped. Below him was a valley. He looked carefully and saw a well camouflaged hangar in the valley. Slowly, he crept toward it.

Inside the hangar stood the planes. Near them a Nazi officer was talking to Jane and her father. “Mr. Curry, you and your daughter will soon leave for Germany where you will manufacture planes. Refuse and your daughter dies!” The commander turned to the only orderly in the hangar and said, “Get the flyers!”

The orderly walked out and made his way toward a cave nearby. As he entered, Nighthawk slipped up the entrance and looked inside. “What luck,” he exclaimed, “the whole Nazi gang is here.” Quickly he looked around and saw a huge boulder. He rolled it over to the entrance of the cave and sealed the Nazis inside.

Nighthawk turned and raced to the hangar. A well aimed blow easily took care of the commander.

As soon as Jane could catch her breath, she asked, “How were you able to follow us?”

“Well,” grinned Nighthawk, “when you wrote ‘Good Luck’ you used lipstick. When the planes took off, the motor got hot and slowly melted the lipstick which left a trail for me to follow.”

“Well, I must go after the Green Skull,” and with that he raced into the woods.

THE END.

Speed Comics #34

Centaur and Harvey Comics liked doing text stories in their comics, often featuring characters that starred in strips. So, most of the text stories are coming from these companies. Speed Comics was an anthology title, originally starring Shock Gibson in a slightly different form. Eventually, he was joined by Captain Freedom (who edged him out of the cover spot) and the Black Cat. The covers would often be by Simon & Kirby or Alex Schomburg and as often the case were often more interesting looking than the actual stories inside. Especially Schomburg who specialized in providing all-star jam-packed action on the cover, showing the heroes all together in climactic battle with the enemy. At other companies, readers usually just had to wonder exactly what was the adventure behind the cover, making it up in their heads. Not so at Harvey! In the text stories, they started providing a little feature called "the Story behind the Cover".

Here's one such from Speed Comics #34, 1944. The whole comic can be read at http://www.goldenagecomics.co.uk. Enjoy.

Captain Freedom takes Berlin!

Captain Freedom debuted in Speed Comics #13, May of 1941 (an oddity, most of the patriotic Axis-smashing heroes debuted before America's involvement in WWII). In issue 16, he'd take over the cover spot and remain there until the end of his run although some of the covers teamed him up with the other major stars of the title.

Despite this and some wonderful covers by Simon & Kirby and Alex Schomburg, he never really caught on enough to carry his own book nor leave a legacy. So far, attempts at bringing back some of the GA heroes of Harvey comics have focused mainly on the Black Cat with Shock Gibson making an appearance or two. Probably two good reasons for this. One, his costume changed almost with each issue, there was really no good iconic look for him. Two, nothing really stood out about him, he was made up of various elements from other characters. He was given the generic job of newspaper publisher and then saddled with a kid gang who generally served as impetus for his adventures and suspected his real identity.

This little story may be one of the more unique and interesting things ever done with him. Speed Comics #26 was published in 1943 and depicts him in one of his better costumes. In the text story, it reveals that he has a super-fast aircraft of his own design which he uses to quickly fly to Germany to help soldiers take Berlin! Hitler's own final fate depicted here is eerily prescient.