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Le Zombie, v. 4, issue 10, whole no. 45, January 1942
Page 10
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10 A THE FANTASY FAN BRIGADE -pong It is late in 1942, the Japanese War is nearly a year old. Our entire west coast is barricaded, expectant, awaiting a threatened Japanese invasion. Far down near the very tip of the Lower California peninsula is located the Fantasy Fan Brigade; altho it really isn't a brigade since it numbers less than 400 men. The Brigade's patrol area is the Bay of Romaquarla, and the men are strategically placed along its shores and back in the underbrush, their line nearly a mile from tip to tip. Kernal Heck Koenig, a fearless fighter of the 1146th Regulars is in command. He is charged with the duty of keeping the peninsula clear of invaders, and maintains his headquarters on the shores of the Bay. It is night. Deep, dank, dark, silent night, filled with a sense of impending action. The enemy is somewhere offshore in the darkness. The HQ tent is brilliantly lighted, two officers sit playing poker. It ( the tent ) is camoflauged of course, from prying enemy eyes. Deep, electric silence reigns everywhere, untill . . . . . Of a sudden there comes a blinding flash of light, a terrific detonation, as if an entire ammunition dump went up. Lt. Lowndes batted one eye and spread his five aces on the table, unconcerned. Kernal Koenig jumped, upsetting his inkwell all over his breeches, and rushed to the door. There his orderly, Pvt. Speer, clicked his heels and saluted. "What was that explosion?" Kernal Koenig shouted at the orderly. "What explosion, sir?" Pvt. Speer answered. "There's ink on your breeches, sir. Accident?" Impatiently the Kernal brushed the callow youth aside and leaped for the tent flap. Outside, the night was filled with thunderous reverberations as the detonation echoed itself among the rocks. His ears hurt . Darkness fell again, narrowly missing him. The Kernal shouted aloud into the darkness: "I say there! What was that noise?" "Shhhhhh!" a hiss stung his ear drums, it was so near and violent . "Shut up, you darn fool! Do you want the Japs to hear you?"... A figure loomed up beside him, shaking a half-seen finger in his face. Kernal Koenig sputtered indignantly. "Young man, do you know who I am??" "Nope. you can't be Don Thompson, you're too fat and flighty, and he is the only nosey guy I know of around here. So who are you chum?" "Dammit sir, I'm Kernal Koenig, commanding this outfit. Where is your proper respect for a ranking officer? Answer, man!" "Oh," said the voice, and poured a barrel of meaning into the sound. "Kernal Koenig, eh? I remember you back in New York. Boy, how you used to crack down on the hissers in those days! You know, hiss, like this : ssssssssssss!" "Don't do that!" the Kernal screamed. "It unnerves me. young man, I demand to know your name and outfit! Who are you?" But the stranger had prudently vanished into the night. From behind a large rock a few feet away a sleep voice drifted out onto the night air. "Hey!" it complained, "Why don't you two love birds dry up and let a decent man sleep? Gab-gab-gab. Cripes!" (over)
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10 A THE FANTASY FAN BRIGADE -pong It is late in 1942, the Japanese War is nearly a year old. Our entire west coast is barricaded, expectant, awaiting a threatened Japanese invasion. Far down near the very tip of the Lower California peninsula is located the Fantasy Fan Brigade; altho it really isn't a brigade since it numbers less than 400 men. The Brigade's patrol area is the Bay of Romaquarla, and the men are strategically placed along its shores and back in the underbrush, their line nearly a mile from tip to tip. Kernal Heck Koenig, a fearless fighter of the 1146th Regulars is in command. He is charged with the duty of keeping the peninsula clear of invaders, and maintains his headquarters on the shores of the Bay. It is night. Deep, dank, dark, silent night, filled with a sense of impending action. The enemy is somewhere offshore in the darkness. The HQ tent is brilliantly lighted, two officers sit playing poker. It ( the tent ) is camoflauged of course, from prying enemy eyes. Deep, electric silence reigns everywhere, untill . . . . . Of a sudden there comes a blinding flash of light, a terrific detonation, as if an entire ammunition dump went up. Lt. Lowndes batted one eye and spread his five aces on the table, unconcerned. Kernal Koenig jumped, upsetting his inkwell all over his breeches, and rushed to the door. There his orderly, Pvt. Speer, clicked his heels and saluted. "What was that explosion?" Kernal Koenig shouted at the orderly. "What explosion, sir?" Pvt. Speer answered. "There's ink on your breeches, sir. Accident?" Impatiently the Kernal brushed the callow youth aside and leaped for the tent flap. Outside, the night was filled with thunderous reverberations as the detonation echoed itself among the rocks. His ears hurt . Darkness fell again, narrowly missing him. The Kernal shouted aloud into the darkness: "I say there! What was that noise?" "Shhhhhh!" a hiss stung his ear drums, it was so near and violent . "Shut up, you darn fool! Do you want the Japs to hear you?"... A figure loomed up beside him, shaking a half-seen finger in his face. Kernal Koenig sputtered indignantly. "Young man, do you know who I am??" "Nope. you can't be Don Thompson, you're too fat and flighty, and he is the only nosey guy I know of around here. So who are you chum?" "Dammit sir, I'm Kernal Koenig, commanding this outfit. Where is your proper respect for a ranking officer? Answer, man!" "Oh," said the voice, and poured a barrel of meaning into the sound. "Kernal Koenig, eh? I remember you back in New York. Boy, how you used to crack down on the hissers in those days! You know, hiss, like this : ssssssssssss!" "Don't do that!" the Kernal screamed. "It unnerves me. young man, I demand to know your name and outfit! Who are you?" But the stranger had prudently vanished into the night. From behind a large rock a few feet away a sleep voice drifted out onto the night air. "Hey!" it complained, "Why don't you two love birds dry up and let a decent man sleep? Gab-gab-gab. Cripes!" (over)
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