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#3
NOV 12 |
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“Superman vs. The Spanish Civil War”
It had seemed like a dream assignment for two reporters in Cleveland, Ohio. Their newspaper, buoyed in circulation by news scoop after news scoop about Superman, was able to send them by steamer across the Atlantic to Spain as war correspondents, to cover the raging civil war there. One of the reporters, Lois Lane, had no intention of getting personally involved in the war. The other reporter, though, was secretly Superman.
March 15, 1939
Wednesday morning
A dozen Breda 65 single engine bombers whined through the sky over Madrid, dropping their payload of bombs toward the beleaguered city below.
Superman was ready for them. He had gathered dozens of large rocks, each weighing between 75 and 100 lbs, and had arranged them in a wide circle around him at the very center of the city. He picked up the first one at threw it straight up like a shot put. The rock flew like a missile up into the air to where the first of the bombs were halfway to the city, one-third of a mile overhead. The first rock missed all the targets, but Superman had the range and had already putted four more into the sky. The second one hit a bomb and exploded it. The explosion took out four more bombs around it. The fourth rock caused a second wave of explosions to rip across the sky. But more bombs were falling closer and looking larger in the sky. They were dangerously close now, but they also made larger targets. Superman threw more rocks at the bombs dropping in every direction around him. They were low enough in the sky that it was almost impossible to hit the plungers on the bottom of them now. Many rocks only succeeded in knocking the bombs off course so they would fall outside the city. A lucky hit to the southwest exploded one more bomb in mid-air and saved a neighborhood.
The explosions rumbled and echoed throughout the city and then were over. The whine of the planes was lessening as they flew away from Madrid. In the neighborhood where Superman stood, the noise of cheers could be heard over all else. They had seen what Superman had done and were thankful.
Colonel Casado left the body of awed troops behind him and walked straight up to Superman. “What are you doing?” Casado asked angrily in English. “We can't hold out against the Nationalists!”
“You can now,” Superman said.
“But hold out for what? We are the last of the Republic. Except for you, there is no one left to reinforce us.”
“When other nations see how you did not give up, they will renew their efforts to help you.”
“I hope you are right, Superman,” Casado said.
Superman looked as confident as ever, but inside he was thinking, I hope I'm right too.
March 15, 1939
Wednesday evening, Gibraltar
With the Hispano-Suiza in neutral, Superman had been able to push it at a breakneck speed of 100 MPH. The breaks on the old car were not up to the ride at that speed and whether the car or Lois inside was making more noise the whole way was a matter of internal debate that had kept a smile on Superman's face for most of the three-hour trip. When they arrived at Gibraltar, Superman emerged from behind the car not even out of breath. He let Lois out of the car and gently gripped her arm as she tried to make a break for it.
“What are you thinking?” Superman asked. “That you're going back to Madrid?”
“That's where the story is,” Lois replied stubbornly. Then she changed to a sweeter, reconciliatory tone. “Superman, let me stay! I can help.”
Superman kept his hold on Lois' arm by her elbow. He willed his voice to stay hard, for if it should soften too much with emotion he would sound more like Clark Kent. “Clark Kent is here somewhere,” Superman only half-lied. “You find him and stick by him. Lois, I want you to stay here, in Gibraltar, where the war can't touch you. I know you think it's your duty as a reporter to stay, but let others handle it. If you won't stay here, I'll put you on a boat to Africa before I head back.”
“Oh, Superman,” Lois cooed. “You do care.”
Superman forced himself not to wince. This was exactly how he wished she had spoken to him, as Clark Kent, on the boat trip to Spain. It had been a fabulous trip, on which he and Lois had really opened up to each other for the first time. And, for the first time, he realized he was not just playing games with Lois for his own amusement. He really was starting to care for her. But he steeled himself now against the softness in her voice, telling himself that this was probably the beginning of some wily trick. “This is only a personal request because I know how you operate. You try to get too close to the story, closer than any journalist with sense would do. I'd say the same thing to any other reporter in your shoes.”
“I'd like to see them try to get in my shoes.”
“I'm serious, Lois!” Superman said sharply, letting go of her arm for fear he might squeeze it. “Madrid is going to be a war zone when I get back and I'll be too busy to protect you.”
“I know,” Lois said. Her pride hurt a little, but she still sounded strong and defiant. “I know all that, Superman, and I can look after myself.”
Superman watched her face for anything that might give away deception, but she looked completely honest. Of course, he still expected her to turn up in Madrid again, but at least dropping her off here and making her find her own way back would keep her out of his hair for awhile. But not out of his mind.
March 16, 1939
Thursday morning
Superman pushed thoughts of Lois from his mind as he spotted familiar landmarks and knew he was closing in fast on Madrid, the besieged city. He slowed his pace so that he was only running as fast as a speeding automobile when he came within sight of the Nationalist Army between himself and his goal. As far as armies went it was not huge – 1,100 infantry, 20 armored cars and 4 Italian-made light tanks. What made Superman's blood boil was his knowing that the forces left to the Republic Army inside the city were no match for the force outside. The fascist attackers were watching the city for signs of surrender, not for Superman. Their mistake.
Before anyone knew what was about to hit them, Superman raced to the nearest armored car, reached under the chassis and snatched it over his head. Infantrymen armed with carbines and rifles looked on in astonishment as Superman tossed the car as hard as he could against the nearest tank. The heavy impact crushed the tank's armor as the armored car rolled over the top of it with the squealing and grinding of metal on metal. The infantrymen had followed the action with their disbelieving eyes, but then turned back with fear to gaze on the solitary figure of Superman standing before them, his red cape flapping in a breeze behind him.
The operators of the next nearest armored cars were not so idle. Fearing they were his next targets, they swiveled their Hotchkiss revolving cannons into line of fire with their lone assailant. But Superman was moving fast again and sprinted away from the dirt hill that was torn into pieces by the barrage of shells that burst from the revolving barrels aimed at where he had been. The howl of the machine guns seemed to shock the infantrymen back to life and they raised their weapons to join in the fight.
Superman took a fantastic leap that arced over the range of the turrets and landed on the roof of the second-closest tank faster than the riflemen could keep up. He reached down, tore off the door on the roof of the tank as if it were a bottle cap, and jumped inside the tank just as a hail of bullets bounced off the tank's roof. There was a brief eruption of gunfire from inside the tank before resistance to the intruder was silenced. The battlefield grew silent for a moment as the soldiers tried to assess the situation, but before orders could be given the commandeered tank began to move. It rolled out in the direction of troops that scattered wisely from out of the path of its treads, while bolder troops behind it were urged by their sergeants into attacking the tank with their machine pistols or trying to climb aboard the moving tank. Superman's tank slowed and turned its treads so that it would run in front of the remaining tank and then turned its turret to face the same target. The targeted tank had turned its turret too and was prepared to take out the commandeered tank before becoming the next casualty. It fired its cannon and shattered the armor of Superman's tank. A second cannon shell was also a direct hit and the top of Superman's tank exploded and took out some of the troops climbing on it with it!
Many soldiers on the field smiled to think that was the end of the American Superman, but were shocked again to see that Superman had already punched his way through the bottom of the tank and escaped the explosion! He snatched the now-flaming tank over his head, impossibly jumped into the air and threw the fiery, two-ton missile straight down onto the tank that had attacked it. The resulting fireball engulfed both tanks and sent nearby infantrymen hurling through the air from the force of the explosion or running away screaming and wreathed in flames. Superman fell back onto the battlefield, hurtling down like a meteor through the roof of a third tank. There was a short scuffle inside, a protracted burst of gunfire, and then Superman repeated the same stunt as before – lifting the tank into the air from underneath and tossing it onto the last tank. In the space of a few minutes, Superman had wiped out the attacking army's heavy guns.
But Superman had also wiped out his best cover and the machine gunners in the army had taken time to aim. While Superman was briefly out in the open, dozens of bullets pounded on him from a swarm of hundreds that raced past him. Superman's costume and cape were shredded by the impact in over a dozen spots. Superman, not braced for the impact, was hurled back by the force of it and nearly lost his footing. His near-invulnerable skin held firm, though it bruised at nearly every point of impact. All that occurred in an instant and then Superman was on the move again. He moved like quicksilver through the army, using its own ranks for cover. Panicking gunners swiveled their guns after him and struck scores of their own soldiers instead. A few stray bullets did manage to hit Superman, though, and their cumulative effect was starting to slow him down. By the time he had picked up another armored car to use as a shield and a weapon, he was struck at close range in the temple and the jarring impact made him drop the car.
The tide of the battle was turning and the Spanish soldiers could feel it. Superman was on the defensive, dodging instead of attacking. Like sharks smelling blood in the water, the Spaniards forgot all about Madrid and turned their attention wholly on Superman. As Superman made his way to the rear of the battlefield, half of the remaining armored cars were ordered to pursue. In truth, Superman had wanted this to happen; to lure the army away from Madrid, but not all of his weakness was pretended. He had taken at least 30 bullet hits so far, including two to the head, and they were making him woozy. But still he pressed on. He was coming up on a copse of trees, which was what he needed. He leapt to the edge of the copse with a bound and tore a tall, old tree out of the ground. He tossed it into the path of the armored cars, and then another, and another. Then he began pitching trees farther, behind the armored cars, to box them in. The cars rumbled to a halt while their drivers tried to figure out how to deal with these superhuman challenges.
The answer came quickly in the form of grenades lobbed from the passengers, grenades that shattered the wooden barrier. The debris left from the explosions, which would have been no challenge for tank treads, was almost too much for the car chassis to handle and the lead cars bobbed up and down spastically as they rolled over the debris. Superman took advantage of this, knowing the gunners would not be able to aim while being so shaken, and rushed the double row of lead cars. There was a roar of gunfire, but it all went over Superman's head as he bent down, picked up each car by its front fender, and flipped them over into the cars behind them. Superman ran up the upturned undercarriage of one car like a ramp, or a springboard, dove off the back end, and soared through the air over the trapped vehicles. At the rear of the line of cars, grenades were being tossed at the logs blocking their retreat. Superman plucked two grenades right out of the air and tossed them into the enclosure and the closely-packed cars. One grenade landed right inside the gunner turret on top of a car and exploded. When that car exploded, cars around it began to explode like self-destructing dominoes.
Superman grimaced and turned away, increasingly uncomfortable with his own role in all this death and destruction. It was the wrong time to relax his guard, as he had turned right into an exploding grenade. The explosive force and the surprise of it were enough to knock Superman off his feet and he landed flat-out on the ground. And while all this had been going on, foot soldiers had amassed closer to investigate the flying trees. They lifted their rifles and fired a volley of shots at the fallen Superman. The bullets tore through his costume and landed hard on Superman's bruised flesh. Superman rose to his feet, despite the hail of bullets on his backside, and he ran. He vaulted far over the mass of burning vehicles in one incredible running long jump and landed on the ground running a half-mile away. Just a breather, he told himself, was all he needed. Once he had a moment's rest, well out of range of attack, he would go back and do more.
Superman did not remember passing out but when he woke up, he was laying down in a bed, indoors. The bedroom was spartanly furnished, but the lack of bars on the windows suggested he was no prisoner, and the cross on the wall suggested his hosts were religious. Superman threw the covers off and noticed he was wearing a simple, man's nightgown. There was no sign of his costume. He quietly climbed out of bed and noticed the aches and pains were all gone and he felt no bruising when he touched his back through the shirt. He listened carefully and heard one guard resting outside the door, and at least one or two other people moving within his earshot. The echoes of soft shoes shuffling on stone floors suggested the building was spacious, under-staffed, and unusually quiet. He decides to let his hosts know he was awake by opening the door to his room.
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