At the end of the street where I grew up there was a field. Each Sunday from May until October the Disabled American Veterans hosted a flea market/swap meet in an old barn it rented out for weddings, wakes, whatever.
One of the dealers sold second-hand comic books. I don't know where he found them but he had thousands. My friends and I would load up our pockets with dimes and we'd march through the field to the comic book guy. While digging through the boxes to find Gold Key Ripley's Believe It or Not Ghosts Stories, we came across Sgt. Rock. He was one bad-ass mofo.
We got to know the crew. Bulldozer. Little Sure Shot. Corporal Zack with the Bazooka Attack. The stories were exciting. Sometimes we prolonged the suspense by waiting to turn the page. When we did. Hoo boy, what a scene.
My dad was a WWII vet and the comic opened a door for us. He was in the navy so he said he had a different perspective of the war.
As we grew, Sgt. Rock aged. Then came the day of the final mission. It was said, but fitting.
STUMP STONE QUOTE OF THE DAY:
There are two kinds of stones, as everyone knows, one of which rolls. Amelia Earhart
No comments:
Post a Comment