Unknown Pleasures: Stan Martin’s Rapid Fire

a page from Rapid Fire

I’ve been to my parent’s place this weekend, to celebrate the birthdays of my sister and her partner who live nearby. As always a home visit is also an excuse to rescue some more of the vast collection of comics I’ve left behind there in storage. Amongst the gems I dragged away this time was an A4 sized, self published (?) comic called Rapid Fire: Terrible Sunrise Part Two, written and drawn by one Stan Martin. I known nothing more about it or its creator than what I could gleam from the comic itself when I bought it at Spacecaption 1999, a small Oxford comics convention. That’s one of the joys of going to cons, finding interesting looking small press or self published (“amateur”) comics done by people with no expectation — or even desire– to become professional cartoonists, but who draw comics just for the love of them. In this case I was drawn in by the subject matter, a battle set in the first days of World War I, as the forces of the British Expeditionary Force first come into contact with the vanguard of the German advance. Martin’s artwork, realistic, clear and with a hint of Ligne Claire in it also helped.

Rapid Fire depicts the battle between the North West Rifle regiment on the 23rd of August 1914 alongst the Mons-Condé Canal in Belgium and the advancing German forces of von Kluck. This wasn’t trench warfare, the front was still dynamic as the Germans were still pressing towards the Channel, trying to move around the defending English and French forces, who in turn were slowly retreating out of Belgium back into France. This was the last stand of the old professional British Army that had fought the colonial wars of the 19th century, opposing a modern conscription army much much bigger than them. As Martin puts it on the back cover:

The Kaiser’s army, of almost three million ferociously disciplined men, floods the farmlands of northern France. They attempt to crush the French before their Russian allies can mobilise to threaten Germany’s eastern border. The British Expeditionary Force barely figure in the Prussian plan to dominate the continent; two hundred and fifty thousand strong they are outnumbered more than five to one. The British soldier, however, is the most highly trained, best equipped in the world. In sixty seconds, armed with his short magazine bolt action Lee Engfield rifle he is capable of firing up to fifteen well-aimed rounds.

This is known as “the mad minute”.

Which also tells you that this is a war story, not an antiwar story, as we’re mostly used to when the First World War is brought up in fiction. Martin neither moralises about war nor glorifies the battle he depicts. His treatment is almost antiseptical, no sensationalist displays of gore, just men falling down with a “fup” or “thup”. This might seem old fashioned or a bit suspect, but it works well here; Martin trust his readers to know that war isn’t nice, he doesn’t have to rub it in nor has he any desire to. It’s an intellectualised view of battle, somewhat distancing you from it. The artwork helps with this. Even in action his figures look posed and stiff. The clean lines too help keep you detached from the story. He has a good eye for detail, but doesn’t go overboard with it.

I’ve never found another comic by Martin, nor much about him on the internet, save for one review of Rapid Fire, which coincidently uses the same page I scanned as well as an illustration. I’ve no idea if he has done more comics than this, but I hope so.

The saddest page on Wikipedia

Michel Vuijlsteke linked to this sad, moving article at The Awl about the last two surviving veterans of World War I:

There are two veterans of the First World War left in the world. Of all the parts of the world that move on without you, of all the borders beyond the horizon, of all the varying speeds and trajectories and characters and stories colluding together in giant waves of “now,” “yet-to-come,” “once was,” and then it boils down to two. It’s not even the whole hand.

Nine years ago, there were 700 left alive.

With the recent deaths of Frank Buckles, John Babcock and Harry Patch, we are left with Claude Choules and Florence Green. (Upon learning this, Claude remarked: “Everything comes to those who wait and wait.”) Nearly 10,000,000 men were killed in the conflict, 65 million participated, and now we are left with two. Think about that. Think about those numbers. What are you supposed to do when an era is inches away from disappearing?

Two days after this article appeared, Claude Choules died, leaving Florence Green as the last surviving veteran of World War I and Józef Kowalski, who fought in the Polish-Russian War as the last surviving WWI era veteran, but there are no more surviving witnesses of the scuttling of the German fleet in Scapa Flow. When Harry Patch died two years ago we lost the last survivor of the trench warfare at the Western Front; nobody’s left to tell us if Blackadder goes Forth got it right. Before that, when Henry Allingham died, just a week before Patch’s dead, we lost the last surviving founding member of the RAF, the last surviving RNAS veteran and the last eyewitness to the Battle of Jutland. Thus history passes out of living memory.

And hence the List of surviving veterans of World War I is the saddest page on Wikipedia, slowly shrinking in size, now with only two names left and no idea what to do with it if these last two die as well. Should the page then be deleted, its history gone as well, or kept in some way as a monument to this history? There’s still no consensus and time is ticking…