THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like November 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover in which Mr. Mayshark shows us what it might look like when they test the new Boeing Bomber!

Action Test of the Boeing Bomber

OVER the distant horizon, a speck suddenly becomes visible from the housetops of a teeming industrial city. As if by magic, the speck grows in size, finally taking on gigantic proportions. Crowds in the streets are attracted, all eyes are turned heavenward. And now the aerial monster—the new Boeing Bomber—hurtles over the city at more than 250 miles per hour! This giant, powered by four Pratt & Whitney engines, is the newest thing in the air—the latest marvel of an age which already boasts innumerable mechanical wonders.

Suddenly, the local airport is alive with activity. Three brand new Navy Northrops are speedily rolled from a hangar. Commands are curtly barked, starters whine, and the deafening roar of three powerful engines pervades the air. The single-seaters are off the ground with a leap; and once in the air, they head in Vee formation toward the circling bomber. Their job is a test attack on the immense ship before them. They must attempt, theoretically, to send it to destruction.
Will they be returned the victors? Will the Boeing Bomber, in supposition, go “down in flames?” Will the years of research and toil be written off as short of the goal?

In short, were the designers fully warranted in making this new swing in military aviation? At this writing, the answer seems to be an emphatic “Yes!” To begin with, the argument is advanced that the days of the single-seater hero pilot are gone forever. Already there are indications that present day single-seater squadrons may become somewhat outmoded before the advance of fast and powerful two- and three-seater attack jobs. This fact gives credence to the growing acceptance, in military circles, of the large capacity, long-range bomber, of which the new Boeing is the acme.

Of course, we all know of the romance and spirit of adventure which characterized the fighting of the daring war-time pilots. In those days it was generally a case of man against man. But today things are different.

There are those who declare that single-seaters have little chance against a four-engined giant with five gun platforms—a ship which cruises at better than 250 m.p.h. The present day fighters of less speed would, of course, have difficulty in getting within range. As for the faster fighters, it may be pointed out that it takes plenty of skill to hit a fast moving ship; and when you are forced to zig-zag and literally throw yourself all over the sky in order to escape burst after burst of withering fire from such a formidable flying fortress—it requires more than skill!

However, in spite of what the experts think, and in spite of what the consensus is among those who think they are experts, the new Boeing Bomber must be put to test. A violent encounter must be simulated.

And so, the Northrops appear on the scene. One of the finest single-seater types in the world, they are fast, powerful, highly maneuverable. If anything can get near the Boeing Bomber, the Northrop can.

Coming upon the bomber from behind, they spread out fan-wise as soon as the first warning burst of tracer sprays the air about them. One Northrop climbs, another maintains its position, and the other dives. Attack the ship from more than one angle! Close in on it! Throw tracer from all directions! Those are the accepted tactics.

But the Northrop pilots soon find their task difficult. The Boeing Bomber cannot safely be approached from any angle. It is protected from above by a turret along the top of the fuselage. A “bird cage” gun emplacement protects the nose of the ship. Moreover, guns bristle from “blister” turrets on both sides and belly of the bomber’s fuselage. There are no blind spots!
The gunners aboard the Boeing are wide awake to every movement of the Northrops. But even so, their task, too, is not the simplest one in the world. The shifty little Northrops are giving them the fight of their lives. But finally, the hugh bomber prevails.

AND so, the Boeing theoretically is successful in bombing the industrial center it has attacked. True, the city is also protected by anti-aircraft defences. But the speed at which the Boeing flies makes one sceptical as to the success of such fire. And this brings up an interesting question: Have anti-aircraft developments kept pace with plane developments? A city is a huge target for a bomber speeding at high altitudes—but to gunners on the ground the bomber is, of course, a very small and highly-elusive object. While we’ve heard rumors of super-effective anti-aircraft pieces, the powers that be have thus far kept such inventions well veiled.

As for our Northrops, they now land, and the pilots climb wearily from their cockpits, haggard, exhausted. They have been through an ordeal. The tight turns and steep power dives have told upon them; for the tricky maneuvering in the hurtling fighters of the present day exerts a terrific strain upon the body.

Of course, the air battle pictured on our cover is entirely fictitious. Our purpose has simply been to help you visualize the new Boeing Bomber in a real air scrap. If such a test takes place, there will be a board of judges to render a verdict as to the outcome. Blank cartridges or camera guns will be substituted for bullets.

Performance figures of the new Boeing have not been released. At this writing, its top speed is a matter of conjecture. Your guess is as good as ours.

Flying Aces, November 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
Action Test of the Boeing Bomber: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes, like May 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover which imagines what an aerial fight between France and Italy might look like!

If France and Italy Fought

DEATH in the Alps! Smashing tracer that severs control wires and snuffs out human lives with equal ease! Pursuit ships tearing across frigid skies with reckless abandon, primed for the kill! A powerful reconnaissance flying-boat winging its way belligerently towards a French objective! All this and more could happen on the mountainous Franco-Italian border.

Let us suppose that an Italian flying-boat is ordered to fly over French territory on a secret reconnaissance job. The resultant information is to be used by a fleet of bombers which are to wipe out certain industrial centers in the south of France. Munition manufacturing plants are to be the prime objective, most of which are within easy range of Italian flying fields. But everything depends upon the success of the reconnaissance expedition.

The Cant flying-boat has almost reached the border when two French single-seaters tear into view. Something has leaked out! The French are aware of the impending danger, and they are determined to avert disaster. But the three Italian airmen must carry out their orders, and they prepare for the imminent encounter.

Flying a ship in the Alps Mountains is at best no simple task. There are towering snow-capped peaks which mask themselves in the surrounding hazy atmosphere, and they are a constant menace. Treacherous air currents are also particularly dangerous, so that a pilot never knows when his ship is going to be sucked down and smashed. Then, too, the wind reaches such a high velocity at times that it is almost impossible to turn the controls against it.

Having learned of all these dangers through painful experience, the French and Italian airmen proceed warily. Circling at a safe altitude above the Italian ship, the French fighters wait for a chance to strike. But the Italians do not deviate from their course. They, too, are waiting.

Suddenly, without warning, one of the Frenchmen drops. Like a plummet he falls, seemingly out of control. But quickly, as if he had hit something solid, he pulls out of the dive. Now the Italians are directly in the Frenchman’s line of flight, and as the pilot of the fighter turns on the heat, two murderous streams of machine-gun tracer splatter upon the wings of the flying-boat.

Now the Frenchman is forced to pull up and retreat to safety. The rear gunner in the Italian ship has entered into the picture and is returning the fire with a zest. In the meantime, the second Frenchman has projected himself into the fray. The Hisso motor screams as the single-seater lunges down, but again the Italians are successful in beating off the speedy enemy.

And so back and forth across the sky weave the three planes, the French ships possessing the greater speed, and the Italians the greater fighting power.

It is difficult to predict the outcome of such an air battle. Although the flying-boat does not possess great speed or maneuverability, its two gunnery should be able to protect it against any reasonable attack. On the other hand, the speed and the fighting fury displayed by the French single-seaters give rise to the belief that nothing could withstand the power of their vicious onslaught.

The Italian ship taking part in this air battle is a Cant 21 bis two-seater reconnaissance flying-boat. It is powered with a 500-horsepower Isotto Fraschini “Asso” engine. Gunners’ cockpits are situated in the rear and in the nose of the fuselage, the one in the nose being directly connected with the pilot’s cockpit. The ship’s speed is 134 miles per hour, and its range is ten hours.

The two French ships are Bleriot-Spad 510’s. This ship is designated as a single-seater high-altitude fighter. Its speed is 231 miles per hour, which places it among the fastest military planes in the world. Its power plant consists of one 500-horsepower Hispano-Suiza twelve-cylinder supercharged engine.

In view of the present fictitious description, it would be interesting to note the difference in the make-up of the French and Italian air forces. The Italians have a particularly difficult problem to face because of their geographical surroundings. Bounded on the south, east, and west by water as they are, the need for flying-boats and seaplanes can be readily seen.

On the other hand, an entirely different kind of aircraft is needed for work in the mountainous regions which bound the peninsula on the north. Italy leans more towards large, long-range ships than it does toward fast intercepter fighters. Very strenuous training must be undergone by all Italian military pilots, and once they have accomplished their training, their duties are varied and often hazardous. As a result, Italian military airmen rank among the best in the world. Proof of this fact was exhibited when General Balbo led the Italian Air Armada to America and back again to Italy in 1933.

When we look at the air arm of France, we see an entirely different picture. France has always been regarded as the nation which possesses greater strength than any other nation, in so far as fast pursuit jobs are concerned. Ever since the war, France has concentrated upon efficiency and speed in single-seater fighters. A great many different makes of pursuit and intercepter fighters are now in the French service, and their performance is indeed enviable. An example of this fact is to be found in the performance figures for the Bleriot-Spad. However, France is not lacking in reconnaissance and bomber types. Farman has been world-famous since the days of the war for the production of high-efficiency bombers.

The idea of anyone’s entertaining seriously the thought that the air battle pictured on our cover could actually take place is, in the light of present-day diplomatic developments, quite inconceivable. Our only aim has been to show our readers how representative ships of France and Italy would appear and what would be the advantages of each, if they were to engage in combat.

Flying Aces, May 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
If France and Italy Fought: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

Following up on Phineas Carbuncle Pinkham’s introduction to the Ninth Pursuit Squadron and The Great Guerre, this month we have Pinkham’s second escapade from the February 1931 Flying Aces. Here, the Boonetown Ace inadvertently sparks a feud between the Ninth and their new neighbors—a French Squadron at Soirry Wood 20 ships and DeHavalind bombers would help them wreck Manheim’s Flying Circus and reclaim the air! Phineas turns to history for a lesson on how to win back the French when he puts on a little show as “The Hardware Ace!”

The C.O. should have known better. It was a friendly relations dinner for the new Frog squadron in that sector—and the Skipper let Phineas Carbuncle Pinkham come to the party!

• Download “The Hardware Ace” (February 1931, Flying Aces)

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

We’re back to Pinkham’s exploits in The Great Guerre, but this time we’re going all the way back to the first appearance of Phineas Pinkham—to the day he first showed his homely mug at the Ninth Pursuit Squadron where they were being bedeviled by Baron von Kohl and his sky circus! From the November 1930 Flying Aces, it’s Joe Archibald’s “Sneeze That Off!” introducing Phineas Carbuncle Pinkham from Boonetown, Iowa!

He liked to play with rubber cigars, phony bombs, and sneeze powder—did Phineas Carbuncle Pinkham, that thorn in the flesh of the American Ninth Pursuit. Their only hope was that von Kohl, the German sky terror who never missed a man, would be a big help to them, after all!

• Download “Sneeze That Off!” (November 1930, Flying Aces)

THIS week we have a story from the pen of a prolific pulp author O.B. Myers! Myers was a pilot himself, flying with the 147th Aero Squadron and carrying two credited victories and awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.

A prank against their commanding officer turns into deadly mission of life or death when the pilots of the 66th must retrieve their Commander’s fancy Paris tailored uniform they tossed in No-Man’s-Land to keep important information in a letter in the pockets from falling into German hands! From the October 1931 issue of Flying Aces, it’s O.B. Myer’s “No Man’s Sky!”

The order was filled out and ready—to send one flyer of the 66th to Blois in disgrace.
And the only thing that could keep Lieutenant Linkener’s name from that order
was to bring back a letter that lay in the middle of No-Man’s-Land!

• Download “No Man’s Sky” (October 1931, Flying Aces)

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

We’re back to Pinkham’s exploits in The Great Guerre where G-2 calls on Pinkham to go undercover in Spain to keep the Germans from getting their hands on the secret plans for the Alhambra and a foothold in France’s backdoor.

Down in the Kingdom of Alphonso, certain cagey Castilians had cooked up a Spanish omelet for the Allies—one which had a Kraut smell to it. And when the bad eggs that figured in it evaded all the Entente spies, the Democrat Generals were frantic. But the real action didn’t begin until Don Quixote Pinkhamo homed his way into the land of bull fights—and it didn’t stop until the terrible tempered Ferdinando horned him right out again.

• Download “Don Patrol” (February 1939, Flying Aces)

WITH the exception of that Bachelor of Artifice, Phineas Pinkham, Flying Aces stopped printing fiction with the September 1942 issue. Joe Archibald continued to chronicle the calamitous WWI exploit’s of Booneville’s favorite son for another year, when Flying Aces printed Pinkham’s last sojourn in the November 1943 issue. Joe Archibald had given Phineas Pinkham a good long run—surely the longest run of any of the WWI pulp pilots—running in the pages of Flying Aces from 1930 to 1943!

For a long time I thought that was it.

But then I started to see mentions here and there while reading articles about Joe Archibald of a post-war Pinkham. Now I didn’t know if there were actual stories or he just mentioned off hand what Phineas would be up to were he still going or even a flash forward in one of the later Flying Aces tales. That is, until I came upon the article below from the Port Chester, NY The Daily Item where it says categorically:

“. . . Joe recently resumed the character, only in the form of his son, “Elmer Pinkham, who is now ‘flying for wildcat airlines.’ ”

If this was true, where were these stories being printed? I checked all the sources at my disposal—the Robbins Pulp Magazine Index, the FictionMags Index website and any other reference book I could find, but none listed any further adventures past Flying Aces November 1943 tale “Sounds Vichy.” So the stories must have been published in a magazine not indexed by either of these two comprehensive sources.

Hmmm.

What if they were in Flying Aces, just later, after people had stopped indexing them. The article in The Daily Item was from May 1947, four years after Flying Aces stopped printing them. So I looked into tis and Flying Aces had a convoluted publishing history after Pinkham left their pages. Flying Aces was Flying Aces until April 1945. It changed it’s name to Flying Age (including Flying Aces) with the May 1945 issue. This change lasted less than two years! The December 1946 issue (v54n1) took on the title Flying Age Traveler! That lasted one issue. And it seemed it had possibly died with that concept change. . . .

Six months later, in June 1947, the magazine was reborn as Flying Models with a number of the old staff on board. Some of the ideas they tried to bring back with the first issue was continuing the FAC (Flying Aces Club) and Phineas Pinkham!

Ah, there he was.

His red hair may have been greying at the temples and balding on top, and he may have added a spare tire to his physique, but it was still Pinkham. The new stories were set in the present day (post WWII) where Phineas, now married—not to Babbette, is now running a airline transport company called Flying Carpet Airlines—”We Fly Anything, Anybody, Anywhere! The Sky Is The Limit!”—with his son Elmer, a real chip off the old block (unfortunately), and with his old WWI mechanic, Terence Patrick Casey, keeping the repurposed DC3s in good shape. Phineas is also running a tricks and novelty company on the side making all the items he used to use to torment the Ninth Pursuits and many a German Von with during the Great War.

History haunts the old man. There are mentions of his his wartime love Babbette, and his old C.O. at the Ninth Pursuits, Major Garrity—why his old hut mate Bump Gillis even puts in an appearance in one of the tales.

Sadly, it seems these new stories of Phineas Pinkham only ran in the first three issues of Flying Models. Brief as the run was, it was great to catch up with an old friend.

OVER the next few weeks, we’ll be posting the three post war Pinkham stories from Flying Models Magazine. In this first story, Flying Carpet Airlines is engaged to transport a pair of corpses to Cleveland. Phineas hopes to get double duty out of the flight and hop a ride to Cleveland where he’s been invited by his old hutmate Bump Gillis to entertain at his Rotarian meeting, but runs into a little trouble with some spies on the way! From the June 1947 premiere issue of Flying Models, “Phineas Pinkham Flies Again!”

Yielding to the demand of many thousands of flying model builders, Joe Archibald, personal historian of the famous Phineas Pinkham who singlehandedly almost lost the first World War for Uncle Sam, brings back Phineas in a new and hilarious series of adventures. Hail Phineas, Demon of the Blazing Skies, now chief of the Flying Carpet Airline, Inc., the biggest little trouble monopoly on wings in the USA!

• Download “Phineas Pinkham Flies Again” (June 1947, Flying Models)

As a bonus, here’s the article on author/artist Joe Archibald from the May 27th 1947 edition of Port Chester, NY’s The Daily Item that inspired the search for the post-war Pinkham stories:

6,000,000 Words Written And Sold By Joe Archibald, Town Resident

Leader In Civic Affairs Gives Facts About Varied And Interesting Career
by Alfred Feuer • The Daily Item, Port Chester, NY • 27 May 1947

“Jake Carson, lolling in a luxurious parlor chair on the Southern Limited gazed abstractedly out of the window at the scenery rushing by.“

That line is the first fictional sentence in the writing career of Joseph S. Archibald of 48 Windsor Road, Town of Rye, who now has 6,000,000 words behind him, almost all printed in pulp publications. That opener comes from Mr. Archibald’s “The Black Tornado” and appeared in Complete Stories on Dec. 15, 1928.

Today, “Joe” Archibald, a man of featherweight physical proportions, stands among the foremost writers in the pulp class. (Typical pulp magazines are Argosy, Dime Westerns and Popular Detective).

This ranking reputation, which extends beyond American boundaries, pays off in substantial cash dividends. Mr. Archibald’s name is like a “blanche carte” in the writer’s world. The pulp editors snap up everything churned out in his typewriters. In fact, his supply is always insufficient. The editors are constantly pressing him for more and more stories.

Unlike many of his yarns, success stories in which the heroes struggle to triumph, Joe struck it rich in pretty quick time when he decided in 1929 to try his luck in the pulp market. He clicked easily. He was a natural tale-teller. Besides having the writer’s gift, Joe showed imagination. The fertility of his mind to conceive endless pieces for pulp readers’ consumption will probably never grow barren. He writes fluidly and productively.

Because he earns his livelihood by writing for pulps does not mean that Joe has molded his own character after any plotted by him on paper. As quickly as he pounds out his fables he tosses those characters completely from his thoughts.

Joe Archibald is his own rugged, vigorous self. He thinks and acts independently. He has already left an indelible mark on local history. There is no doubt that many people consider him a “character.” True, indeed, but he’s a character with good sides: he’s serious; he’s funny; he’s honest and he believes deeply in the practices of democracy. Those traits are seldom associated with guys know as “hacks” among writers.

His Ideals

His personal philosophy is gradually beginning to overrun on the pulp soil he has successfully nurtured during the past 18 years. He thinks books will relieve the flow. They will afford him a solid opportunity to break away from pat, dreamy formulas. In a book he can develop his own stored-up fundamental ideals.

Joe is already a book author. He completed his second (the first was a western tale) hard cover volume several months ago and expects to have it published in the Fall by the Westminister Press in Philadelphia. A story about football, he aimed it at youths from 12 to 20 years. Although it bears a prosaic title, “The Rebel Half Back,” its theme has enough meat and substance to push strongly its sales.

Mr. Archibald wrote the story after a study of boys’ books. He concluded that “boys’ books are not up to par and need a higher fictional standard.” He has been in touch with new writers also lapping these literary resources and learned that they are “starting a writing revolution of young people’s books.” These writers, Mr. Archibald revealed, are showing the proper respect for youngsters.

“Children today are getting more credit for their intelligence,” he asserted. “I feel that the field for writers who understand youth of today is wide open and untapped. There’s a ready market for those authors who understand and recognize the problems of youngsters.”

To Joe the problems are basic post-war ideals. He has, he said, expressed those views in “The Rebel Half Back.” He used the gridiron as a backdrop—a smart notion because football is loved by all boys—to talk about equality and liberty for all. In his opinion the boys are currently more thoughtful about relationships between all peoples. I’ve lashed out at intolerance and discrimination,” he said strongly. “Everyone should have a fair chance on every plane. There is absolutely no room in our country tor bigots and bigotry.”

“Our biggest fight today is against the evils that precipitated the last two wars. The symptoms are still here—two years after World War II—right in our very midst. I believe in judging a man by what he is, not who he is.”

These feelings guide Joe’s choice of friends. He enjoys companionship for their friendship value; quality of character is his measuring rod. He mingles with all sorts of men who meet his standards and finds that they make life thoroughly appetizing.

Not surprisingly, Joe’s fame rests on his talent of amusing people. In the pulp world he is reputedly rated as the standout humorist. He revels in writing stories with comical twists. He said he has composed “more popular humor for pulp than any other writer.”

Served Red Cross

His most famous character ever created was “a pre-war chap who turned out to be all funny-bone.” Joe tagged him “Phineas Pinkham.” The fictionalized comedian made such a hit among Joe’s thousands of young fans that Phineas grew into a national figure. Clubs were named for him, and radio stories were built around him. While Joe was in the European Theater in 1945 serving with the American Red Cross he was often questioned about Phineas Pinkham by many American Army officers. They told Joe that they could never forget Phineas who, as a World War I Army flier in the Archibald vein, was “an absolute scream.” Through these reminiscences of war-experienced veterans, Joe recently resumed the character, only in the form of his son, “Elmer Pinkham, who is now “flying for wildcat airlines.”

Joe’s in heavy demand as an entertainer in these parts. He has built up a following among local clubs anxious for diverting evenings. His fresh and funny patter please his audiences immensely. (For years in New York City he was a leading master of ceremonies at writers’ gatherings. He tired of the pace and routine of such functions).

Besides being able to make people laugh at his gags he also amuses them by his ability as a cartoonist. This versatile stroke is no new tack in his bag of tricks.

Joe’s first vocational love was cartooning. He worked in 1925 for the now-defunct Wheeler-Nicholson Syndicate in New York, drawing features that were circulated among 150 newspapers, then the firm was absorbed by the McClure Syndicate. For McClure Joe (whose early strips cover the walls in his second-floor corner-room work den) turned out sports and science panels; the latter strip he called “Outline of Science.”

In 1927 he quit the syndicate concern to join the ill-fated New York Evening Graphic. (He worked with Port Chester’s Ed Sullivan on the Bernarr MacFadden tabloid; also with Walter Winchell). He sketched the first gangster strip in America, “Story of Steve West.” His faith in cartooning disappeared when the Graphic collapsed and he turned permanently to pulp writing to earn his board and keep. Despite this switch he has not forgotten how to splash deft strokes on his easel board. Cartooning gives him an outlet to relaxation. Joe said he abandoned cartooning because few cartoonists attain independence. Pulp writing has given him that privilege and luxury.

Joe says he can’t find any hereditary link of his career. He is the only one in his family with a literary or drawing streak. He was born on his father’s dairy farm in Portsmouth, N.H., on Sept. 2, 1898. (His parents are still on the farm; his father has retired in favor of a brother of Joe).

Served In Navy

He attended for one year the University of New Hampshire (known then as New Hampshire State College). He left the school in 1917. He had begun to display skill with pen, brush and palette. He registered at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts to study art techniques and cartooning. Meanwhile, the first World War was rumbling in America. He dashed from the academy to Kelly Field, Texas, to try to become an air cartographer. But his parents, who objected to his military ambitions, scotched that plan. His mother and father ordered him home.

He didn’t stay long on the farm. Patriotism gnawed inside him and he enlisted in the Navy in August, 1918. Two years later he was discharged as a Chief Petty Officer. While in the Navy he had his first opportunity to try cartooning; he was on the staff of a Navy publication, “The Newport Recruit.” That experience sharpened his yearning for further training at the Chicago Academy in which he re-enrolled in 1921.

He stayed there long enough to get his art degree. But he didn’t get a chance to utilize his Fine Arts study in his first job. He was hired as a police reporter by the Boston Evening Telegram. Joe must have kept the editor in good spirits because he was allowed to conduct a humorous column, “Blaze Trails.” Twenty months later the Telegram folded. The Boston Post picked him up as a police reporter. He tired of this assignment after six months and repaired in 1924 to New York City where he tied in with the Wheeler-Nicholson outfit.

He hopped into fiction late in 1928 when he discovered that he could concoct and sell stories. He collected $200 for his initial product. a fight yarn. Since then he has knocked out 6.000.000 words. To get a comparative idea of that tremendous wordage output “Gone With The Wind.” regarded as one of the longest novels of all-time totals a skimpy 150,000 words.

At present he supplies stories to several monthly magazines, including American Eagle, Popular Detective and Western Trails.

Salaries for good “name” pulpers range from $7,000 to $20,000 a year. In this game, where magazine owners pay off by the word, volume and production count most, he said. However, from year to year an annual stipend is not guaranteed, of course. He had his best year in 1931. Occasionally he has illustrated some of his own yarns, but he does not care for this combination. He never reads his published stories; he says he hasn’t got the patience for this indulgence. Mr. Archibald has had several stories printed in Collier’s magazine, but has not yet passed the acceptance line of the Saturday Evening Post.

Has Many Avocations

He reports that during his span he has written for at least 300 publications, all fictional. His byline has always been “Joe Archibald.” He stopped saving his voluminous published products years ago, otherwise he “would have been forced to move out of the house.”

He does most of his writing in daylight hours, from 9 A.M. to 4 P.M. He holds pretty fast to this schedule. All writers must have a time system to enable them to develop the daily writing habit. A hobby, he advises novices should also be part of the daily diet. His avocations are painting, gardening, entertaining and civic affairs.

Tries Politics

He took a shot on May 6 at a semi-political office—trustee of the town’s Board of Education—and was licked. He has vowed never to attempt it again. Right now he is indirectly involved in national politics. He drew up the brochure for the Young Republican National Federation to be held in Milwaukee on June 6, 7 and 8. (Ralph Becker of Port Chester is chairman of the national group).

In 1928, Mr. Archibald and Miss Dorothy Fenton of Port Chester were married. He lived in the Village for years until he erected his own dwelling on Windsor Road, ten years ago. Although he resides in the Town of Rye, he still prefers Port Chester. “The advantages are there,” he said. “We use all the Village’s facilities.”

He dabbled as a radio writer but abandoned the networks because of the comparatively low remuneration and the disagreeable working conditions. “Radio writing will drive the average man out of his mind if he stays at it too long,” he believes.

One of the main fortes of a writer, he contends, is to be a good judge of character and to be able to study and diagnose people. Joe Archibald likened the writer to a newsman, in the sense that their respective minds are always absorbed in stories.

He urged men and women who are anxious to hit the pulp market but can’t produce 3,000 words of finished copy daily to find another groove. “You can’t make a living at it otherwise, he counseled.

He made an interesting contrast between writers for pulp magazines and for “slick” publications (examples are Colliers and the Post). Pulpers concentrate on plot and action, and slick writers rely on characters and mood, he says.

When reading fiction he tends to stories loaded with color and action; when he selects non-fiction he chooses philosophy and psychology. He detests crime tales. “I can’t read who-done-its. They’re all alike, and so farfetched. All of the who-done-its today are long-winded and contain junky dialogue; far too superfluous.”

His writing commitments prevent him from taking vacations of any length. “I have too many deadlines to meet and I have to keep close to the market,” he commented. “And don’t forget that ideas don’t often come in a hurry.”

Banging out 6,000,000 words has taken its toll of his typewriters. Mr. Archibald has already had to replace four machines. He always keeps two typewriters in his home. Another standby in his den is an easel on which he does his sketching and painting. He goes in for still life in water colors. He has had his canvasses on display at an exhibition conducted by the Port Chester Fine Arts Society. Many of them are mounted and adorn the walls in the Archibald residence.

In the town and the Village his friends consider him an inveterate cigar smoker. Cigar-smoking has not contributed to his writing technique, and he would not recommend cigars “to authors or anyone else.”

• Download “6,000,000 Words Written And Sold By Joe Archibald, Town Resident” (27 May 1947, The Daily Item, Port Chester, NY)

Be sure to come back next Friday for another Post War Pinkham story!

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

In 1918, Lieutenant Phineas “Carbuncle” Pinkham took a long hop, figuratively speaking, in an astral plane and came down to earth with the Zodiac in his lap. And as if that weren’t enough, a spiritualist of note—one Madame Mazola, who had taken a powder out of the Tyrol in 1915—put out her shingle in Bar-le-Duc, announcing to whomever it might concern that she would give an applicant a clear wire to his relatives who had long since departed this vale of tears. Ectoplasm was her specialty, and it would be produced for the most skeptical—for the insignificant sum of five francs—payable in advance!

After Madame Mazola hit town with her astrology, it didn’t take Phineas “Taurus” Pinkham long to prove that Garrity was a crab, Gillis was a sucker, Goomer was two other guys, and Casey was the goat. But it wasn’t until Babette hit Phineas with her skillet that the transplanted star gazer from Boonetown really got his astral plane into the ascendancy. And then he hit into something himself—a double-talk play!

• Download “A Hunting We Will Go” (January 1939, Flying Aces)

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

American military moguls were miserable! For along the Western Front, the Krauts were doing a Russian business which threatened to give the Potsdam Potentate a corner on the Frog real estate market. But meanwhile there was one thing that neither Chaumont nor the Wilhelmstrasse had figured on. This was Phineas Pinkham’s skin game—a redskin game that was a cinch to corner a flock of squarehead scalps!

• Download “Happy Hunning Ground” (December 1938, Flying Aces)

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

The Boonetown miracle man, Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham, and his unwitting hut mate Bump Gillis find themselves down behind Boche lines only to run into a fellow Boonetownian, but one who’s fighting for the Germans!

You can’t blame a fellow for wanting to make his mark. But over on the Heinie side of the Big-Fuss fence, marks were scarce. Yes, and when Phineas staged that “Bank Night of Germany” and hit the jack plot—they were even scarcer!

• Download “Skyway Robbery” (November 1938, Flying Aces)

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back to vex not only the Germans, but the Americans—the Ninth Pursuit Squadron in particular—as well. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

Berlin’s big guy—Kaiser Bill, by name—had suddenly taken a decided interest in a postage-stamp Balkan state named Pandemonia. That was because a wizard named Mymugiz Grotescu kept shop there—an hombre said to be 10½ times smarter than an inventor named Edison. Only that high Heinie named Bill counted a little too heavily on a dope named Carol Fzog. What’s more, he completely forgot about a gazabo named Phineas Pinkham!

• Download “Heir-o-Bats” (October 1938, Flying Aces)

THIS week we present another of Paul Bissell’s covers for Flying Aces! Bissell is mainly known for doing the covers of Flying Aces from 1931 through 1934 when C.B. Mayshark took over duties. For the October 1933 cover Bissell put us right in the action as a …

Yank Rookie Gets German Ace

IN THE early summer of ’18 the 95th Yank Squadron was having a busy time of it on the Front near Verdun. The long-promised Spads had not yet arrived, and they were still flying their old Nieuports to combat the new Albatrosses and Fokkers with which the Germans were filling the skies.

The squadron losses had not been unusual, but quite heavy enough so that replacements were constantly coming up. Often these were lads who had previously been with the French or English, and so had some actual combat experience. But sometimes there would be one who came fresh from the training centers, with only what experience he had received in “aerial combat” at those fields, and not enough of that.

As a general thing, these lads could be broken in gradually, the usual procedure being for the experienced pilots to take them over in formation, avoiding, if possible, a serious scrap, but allowing them to get accustomed to archie and the feel of being out—assisted to be sure, but on their own, where the stakes were life and death.

If a scrap was unavoidable, the new lads were told to stick close in their formation, or if the formation was broken, to pull out of the scrap entirely if the opportunity presented itself. However, things didn’t always work out 15,000 feet up as they were planned on the ground.

So it was with Lieutenant Walter Avery, who came up entirely without experience to join the 95th. He, like all other rookie aviators, without underestimating his job or the danger in it, was impatient to get at the enemy, and restlessly waited for his time to be taken over.

While waiting, he heard tales of the activities of the Boche squadrons in this sector, especially of an ace named Menckeff, who flew a red Albatross with the tips of its lower wings painted black.

This ace had thirty-eight official victories to his credit, and he and his men had been in many a spectacular dogfight with the Allied birdmen of this sector. Possibly at night Avery dreamed of that red ship with the black lower wing tips. Anyway, those markings must have stuck in his memory for—but that’s part of the story of Avery’s big day.

WITH the sun shining down blindingly from the vast blue dome above, seven German ships sped along over the big white clouds below them. High up there, everything was so quiet, so beautiful and peaceful, that it was almost incredible that the veil of smoke seen drifting across the landscape far below was really the shroud of hundreds who at that instant were dying—a sacrifice to the gods of war.

So, indeed, it was impossible to believe that these ships flying swiftly and easily, beautiful in the sunlight, their red wings flashing, were in reality a squadron of death, mercilessly searching for their victims.

Far below, coming from behind a cloud, five tiny specks had appeared, almost invisible against the shell-torn earth still miles beneath them. The quick eyes of the Boche leader had observed them, however, and already his wings were wagging their signal to his comrades. The red, blue and white circles on the lower planes showed them to be Americans. It was the 95th, and Lieutenant Avery was being taken over for the first time.

He had already come through his first tryout with archie, and had marveled at the apparent unconcern of the older pilots when puffs of smoke had appeared all around them as if by magic, and their ships had been bumped around as if by the hand of the magician himself. The flight had shifted course suddenly, and at certain definite intervals, but that was all, and soon the smoke puffs had ceased.

But now it was different. The flight leader had banked up sharply, at the same time giving a quick signal. Avery, looking over his shoulder, saw seemingly countless red ships, their guns blazing, diving straight down on him, and he knew that this was one scrap not as per ground instructions.

Just what happened during the next few moments will always remain a confused mass of memories to the young airman. He tried to remember his warning to stay in formation, but there seemed to be no formation left. He had escaped the first driving onslaught and was now just one of twelve twisting and dodging planes. So far he had not even used his machine gun. There had seemed nothing to shoot at—just flashes of color that passed him before he had opportunity even to determine what they were.

Then some bullets, spattering close to his cockpit, brought him abruptly out of his confusion. His senses cleared. All his training came back suddenly. He threw his ship into a screaming vrille and came out with a red ship square in front of him. Automatically his fingers squeezed the trips, and for the first time he felt the thrill of actual combat. His aim was high. He saw his tracers pass over the top wing of the other ship.

The German was busy on the tail of one of the other Americans and had not noticed Avery. A yank of Avery’s stick brought the whole enemy ship more into line. Then for the first time his eyes caught something that sent his heart into his mouth. The red Albatross had black lower wing tips.

Carefully he sighted, aiming at the nose of the Albatross so that the German would have to pass through the line of fire. Once again his guns throbbed, and this time his aim was true. The German plane shot up in a tight loop like an animal stung unawares, but at the top, his motor sputtered and he dropped off to one side. Right behind him went Avery, his guns blazing, the bullets ripping the sides of the diving Albatross.

It was soon over. They had drifted too far over the Allied lines for the Boche to make the German side; so, with motor gone, unable to fight, and himself wounded, he threw up his hands in surrender. The scrap was over, and Avery headed back for the airdrome.

His squadron mates had seen the newcomer get his German, but it was not until the prisoner had been brought in that Avery was sure his eyes had not deceived him. And not until then did his comrades realize that the young American lieutenant had on his first flight over the lines brought down the famous German ace, Menckoff—a record we believe unique in the annals of the war.

“Yank Rookie Gets German Ace”
Flying Aces, October 1933 by Paul J. Bissell

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes. April 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover features an Attack on San Fancisco!

Attack on San Francisco

FROM across the Pacific a harmless-looking tramp steamer is churning its way to a point within five hundred miles of San Francisco. There is nothing about her appearance to arouse the slightest suspicions on the part of anyone. She is just like a thousand other tramp steamers—black and smoky and clumsy-looking.

As the ship nears the California coast line, it heads into the wind and drops anchor. Activity on deck is apparent as huge hatches are removed and the swinging arm of a derrick is brought into play. Terse orders are barked out, and obeyed with smart promptness. Military procedure appears to be the keynote of all operations—a thing unusual in a tramp steamer’s crew.

An observer, if he had the good fortune to watch the activity unseen, would by this time begin to doubt the steamer’s appearance. As a matter of fact, he could not help suspecting a warlike objective. Tramp steamers do not stop five hundred miles off San Francisco for the fun of it.

In San Francisco Bay, a batch of United States destroyers and cruisers are weighing anchor, preparatory to steaming out of the harbor and joining the rest of the fleet for operations off Catalina Island. The smooth lines of the fighting craft are set off in sharp relief against the blue hills of the Tamalpais range. Unlike other mechanical devices, they add immeasurably to the natural beauty of the surroundings, and as they slowly get under way, they remind one of a giant cat carefully threading its way through leaves and branches, only to bound into action with a roar as its prey is hopelessly pinned beneath it.

One by one, Uncle Sam’s ships steam up the bay, through the Golden Gate and out into the broad Pacific. As they pass the hundreds of workers busily employed on the construction of the new Golden Gate Bridge, a spontaneous cheer floats across the still air from riveters and engineers alike. With a sense of proud security, the bridge workers drop their tools to gaze intently on each vessel as it passes beneath them. There is something awe-inspiring about the United States Navy, and it makes the men on the steel towers reflect upon the possibility of foreign invasion. Each Navy ship seems like such a mountain of strength and durability that an offensive move against our coastline by anyone would most assuredly lose. However, torpedoes that find their mark are seldom ineffective.

By this time, the tramp steamer has completed its work. Two Kawasaki two-seater torpedo planes are well on their way to San Francisco, and as they flash up over the horizon, their pilots see that they must hurry. Almost half of the destroyers and cruisers are already clear of the Golden Gate channel. The rest must remain inside.

As the two airplanes draw near, a cry of fear rings out. The bridge workers realize that this is not a friendly air visit. The torpedoes hung between the wheels of each plane give cause for grave doubt, and all operations on the Golden Gate span stop as the men scramble to places of safety.

But what is this roaring out from the mainland? Two Navy planes to the rescue! The approach of the two foreign torpedo ships has been observed from a land station and, taking no chances, the C.O. has sent a couple of Vought landplanes into the air.

The pilots of the Navy planes, of course, figure the move a useless one. Nobody would torpedo United States cruisers or destroyers out of a clear blue sky, when there is no apparent motive, they think. Doubtless, the Navy pilots are unaware of a recent diplomatic breach between the United States and a certain Eastern power. They are unaware of the fact that a certain power considers itself Uncle Sam’s equal and is out to prove it. Most of all, they don’t know that a whole fleet is at that very moment charging across the Pacific, intent upon taking swift advantage of the preliminary work to be done by the torpedo planes.

The object being pursued by the invading power is simply this. As the fleet, or part of it, is departing from San Francisco Bay, one or more ships are to be torpedoed and sunk directly in the Golden Gate Channel, thereby making it impossible for the remainder of the craft to accomplish their scheduled departure. In this way, the attacking warships would be left more or less free to proceed with the bombardment of San Francisco and the near-by coast-line cities, thereby paving the way for the actual landing of troops. Of course, failure to bottle up the fleet in the bay would mean failure at the very start of the enterprise.

In the particular instance, some of the Navy fighting craft have already made their safe departure through the Golden Gate, but there are still numbers of ships which theoretically could be locked inside. Besides the ships that are in the clear, the rest of the fleet is still somewhere off the coast of southern California. These combined forces might possibly fight off the attacking navy, but that is doubtful.

The only course left open, then, is defense by air. Naturally, the attacking forces are well equipped with aircraft carriers and launching apparatus on all battleships. Quite possibly the combined strength of the Pacific Coast Army and Navy Air Forces might turn the tables completely and force the invaders into confused retreat. The whole affair would be a huge air battle, with both sides sending hundreds of planes into the air. If the invaders should win, California would be doomed. If Uncle Sam’s ships came out victorious, the outcome even then would be problematical.

But to get back to the two torpedo planes bearing down on the Golden Gate. Will they accomplish their purpose and block off San Francisco Bay? Or will the Corsairs send them charging into the water?

No one can say what would be the outcome of such a venture, but this much we do know. Judging from the recent better understanding which has been accomplished between most of the nations of the world, and from the bitter lessons which we all learned in the last great war, we have good reason to assume the belief that no nation would care to or have reason to attempt a wholesale invasion such as the one fictitiously described here. We earnestly hope this to be the case, and we pin our hopes on the strength of the United States Army and Navy Air Forces.

Flying Aces, April 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
Attack on San Francisco: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover

“HAW-W-W-W-W!” You heard right! That sound can only mean one thing—that Bachelor of Artifice, Knight of Calamity and an alumnus of Doctor Merlin’s Camelot College for Conjurors is back. Yes it’s the marvel from Boonetown, Iowa himself—Lieutenant Phineas Pinkham!

Looks like the Boomtown Miracle Man is public enemy No.1. Everyone wants Phineas Pinkham dead! The Germans are looking for him and bombing the 9th unmercifully in hopes of hitting their mark. As a result, everyone at the 9th Pursuits would like Pinkham to expire. Even his girl, Babbette wants that fiery-headed Yankee Peeg dead. What’s a Pinkham to do? Find out in Joe Archibald’s latest, larrupin’ laff fest—from the September 1938 Flying Aces, Phineas Pinkham puts the “poke” in poker in “Cocarde Sharpers!”

“Get das Pingham!” war-cried the flocks of squarehead flyers facing Bar-le-Duc. And when they proceeded to pour seven months’ output of Krupp poison onto the drome of the fighting Ninth in seven days, the battered and bomb-sprayed Major Rufus Garrity had to admit he was licked. “Pinkham,” he said, “for the safety of the rest of the service, go out—and get yourself killed!” And wasn’t Phineas always a man to obey orders?

• Download “Cocarde Sharpers” (September 1938, Flying Aces)

And lest you think the legend that is Phineas Pinkham resides only in crumbling old magazines from 80 years ago, the modern day Flying Aces Club keeps his spirit alive! The field where they hold their competitions is named “Pinkham Field” after the great, grinning, jug-headed buffoon. In fact, he’s even been known to put in an appearance!

The FAC’s Information Technology Guru, Rick Pendzick was awarded the FAC Blue Max at the September Outdoor Contest at Pinkham Field in Connecticut. That’s Rick on the right with Phineas Pinkham.

THIS May we are once again celebrating the genius that is C.B. Mayshark! Mayshark took over the covers duties on Flying Aces from Paul Bissell with the December 1934 issue and would continue to provide covers for the next year and a half until the June 1936 issue. While Bissell’s covers were frequently depictions of great moments in combat aviation from the Great War, Mayshark’s covers were often depictions of future aviation battles and planes. March 1935’s thrilling story behind its cover features Martin Bombers vs. Armed Transports!

Martin Bombers vs. Armed Transports

NEW YORK, the metropolis of the nation, threatened with complete ruin! An unknown foe striking from the mist-shrouded deeps of the North Atlantic on wings of treachery, with all the speed of light and the blasting power of lightning! High-speed bombers converted in a few hours from peaceful commercial craft, loaded with high explosive and bristling with machine guns!

A wild fantasy? Impossible? But not so! Already it has been proved that several well-known commercial types used by many countries are so constructed that within a few hours they may be turned into grim war craft.

Any day, the great city of New York might be shining in the sunlight of a Spring morning to realize suddenly that within an hour the sunshine was to be blotted out by clouds of poison gas, billowing waves of screen smoke and the acrid fumes of high-explosive flame. Great buildings might be blasted from their bases, to topple with the thunder of Thor down into the cavernous streets of the city, wiping out hundreds of lives and spreading destruction in their crunching wake. Death and disease would stalk through the ruins and blot out thousands. Famine, waste and thirst would follow the concussion as these aerial monsters screened behind peaceful commercial insignia swooped down and struck the first blow of an unexpected war.

But their mission might be detected by the roving Coast Guardsmen, and great Martin bombers would sweep into the sky to intercept them. The Junkers Ju. 60 depicted on this month’s cover is a typical ship on which this conversion job could be attempted. And remember, Germany is not the only foreign power that uses this type of commercial craft. The Junkers ships are manufactured under license all over the world, so the Ju. 60 could be the vanguard of attack from any one of several foreign countries.

The Ju. 60 is classified as an express monoplane. It will accommodate eight persons, a more than adequate number for a bombing crew. The only visible changes in the ship are the gunner’s door in the roof, the bomb equipment, including racks and bombs under the wings, and the machine guns protruding from the side windows. Of course, other minor changes would be necessary within the fuselage.

Perhaps the most interesting feature of this ship is its power plant. The engine is a B.M.W. Hornet, and it is built in Germany under license from the Pratt & Whitney Co. of Hartford, Conn. Its design is absolutely identical with the Hornet series A of the licensor. The Hornet is a nine-cylinder, air-cooled radial engine on detachable engine mounting, and it is capable of 600 horsepower. A three-bladed metal air screw is used.

The ship can attain a speed of 175 miles per hour and has a range of 683 miles. Undoubtedly, however, this range would be greatly increased when the bomber conversion job was completed.

The Martin bomber has received a great deal of publicity, which it has rightfully deserved. The performance of the Martins that made the Alaska trip last summer was indeed enviable. It is the general consensus of opinion that the Martin bombers of the YB series are the fastest and the most efficient ships of their type in the world. These ships do better than 200 miles per hour, and they are so maneuverable that they can be used as pursuit or attack planes in case of emergency.

Presuming that the United States is attacked by an unknown foreign power with an air arm that incorporates a number of these converted commercial ships, let us see what would be the result of an air battle between a Junkers and a modern Martin. We must, of course, take the fictional attitude that a fleet of these Junkers has been catapulted from a giant launching gear, or from the hurriedly converted flight deck of a long tanker, for a secret raid on some important military point on the mainland.

In the matter of a ship-to-ship conflict—that is to say, an equal number of Martins against a formation of Junkers—we must consider the duties of each ship. The Martins are on the defensive, purely and simply, while the raiding Junkers have the problem of making their bombing attack and defending themselves at the same time. After all that is over, they must get back to their surface base.

So far, so good. The Junkers have almost reached the mainland when their move has been spotted and the defending squadrons are sent aloft. If, for instance, as is the case, they have decided on a raid on New York City, they would first have to brave the anti-aircraft fire from any of the several forts in the mouth of the Hudson. This, in itself, is no easy task, and several would probably, on the law of war averages, go down or fail to gain their objective.

The rest would have to make their way through a winged wall of 200-mile-an-hour Martins armed with high speed and high-calibre guns. The Junkers, gorged with heavy bombs, would not get up to their best speed, and all battle tactics would have to be thrown aside in their dash for their targets. The Martins, on the other hand, unhampered by pre-arranged plans, would have the benefit of freedom of action under a general leadership of a squadron leader in a flag-plane. While the Junkers ships plunged on, dead for their objective, depending mainly on their gunners, the Martins would be able to form angle attacks to harass the visitors.

Now, it is not exactly true that the fastest ship always wins a fight, especially where defensive ships try to intercept bombing machines. The last year of the World War proved that, and we shall have to accept the fact that in this great defense, many Martins would be destroyed. However, with the gunnery of the modern bomber-fighter, the air battle would become something of a mid-air battle-cruiser engagement in which speed, careful maneuvering and gunnery would win.

In this case, then, the slower Junkers bombers, confined to a direct line of flight—at least, until they have reached and bombed their objective—would be on the short end of the battle, for the speedy Martins would be able to use all their, fighting tactics. The gunnery must be considered on modern figures. No country in the world today is believed to have the aerial weapons that the United States boasts.

Therefore, the Junkers would come under another bitter blow. While the enemy got in the first thrust by surprise in the use of a converted transport ship, the side with equipment especially designed for defensive work would win in the end. The attacking party always loses more than the defending—an old war axiom—but in doing so, it actually accomplishes its end or goal.

Thus, on facts and figures, the Martin bomber should always be able to outdo the converted commercial ship.

Flying Aces, March 1935 by C.B. Mayshark
Martin Bombers vs. Armed Transports: Thrilling Story Behind This Month’s Cover