Those who have followed my writing will remember when I first joined the Superversive Livestream chat. This was to discuss the Sol Anthology, in which I had my first superhero story published. You can listen to the livestream here and purchase the anthology through the Affiliate link here.
My original premise for the story that became “Let the Dead Bury Their Dead” was the code of honor by which men lived and fought during World War II. Though it is oft-forgotten now, during the second Great War it was not uncommon for men on both sides to offer some aid to their enemies. Thanks to Sabaton, Franz Steigler’s escort of the B-17 bomber known as Ye Olde Pub has to be one of the more famous incidents. Steigler flew for the Luftwaffe but refused to shoot down the Pub, which was badly damaged and yet managed to remain flying. Charlie Brown, the pilot and commander of the Pub, was told not to reveal the story during the War but had no issue recounting the event later in life.
Both men found each other in their old age and became good friends, considering one another brothers. I wanted to capture that spirit in my story, but my initial plan to make an alternate history adventure would not flow from my keyboard. The conceits were too complex and the theme wasn’t strong enough.
So I went back to the drawing board and hit upon a new idea – or, rather, an old one. Why not make my protagonists superheroes? The genre basically took off in World War II, and it wouldn’t take much adjustment to my initial plot to make it work. In fact, it might tie in to some future plans I had quite well.
You doubtless recall the discussion yesterday about Nightcrawler and his faith. It may surprise you, then, to learn that he was not an inspiration for any of the characters in “Let the Dead Bury Their Dead.” Although Todesritter, the Catholic German soldier in the story, bears some resemblance to him it is not there on purpose. It just happened.
When I wrote “Let the Dead Bury Their Dead” I had two main characters in mind. These became Vulcan/Brian Tanner and Todesritter, whose true name I will challenge you to find in the original story. I wanted both these men to meet and learn from one another at the same time they were challenged in their beliefs. However, I did not want to do this in a cliché manner, with the German seeing the error of his ways and the American learning not to hate him. That is a tired old story and, in many ways, it is inaccurate to history.
There is a difference between Nazis and Germans in World War II that I wanted to capture; many of the German soldiers in the latter stages of the War fought without relief. They had little to no time on leave because their country couldn’t afford to give them respite if it hoped to survive, and many of them fought with heroic courage and stamina. That can never excuse what the Nazis did, but it isn’t meant to do so. It is meant only to recognize and acknowledge the Germans who fought with honor.
For Todesritter, that meant I wanted someone who wasn’t a Nazi. He may have worn the uniform and the insignia but he had no love for Hitler and his regime. After a time, many regular soldiers in the German army were quite disenchanted with the Fuhrer, and they were not at all sad to see him die. Todesritter had never been enamored of him in the first place, so that solved that issue.
Now for the American. He had to be someone older and with an eye on things beyond this world. Someone with more knowledge of the greater currents swirling through the War than the merely man vs. man conflict. He had to know that there were powers and principalities at work in this enormous contest, not just the whims and vanities of human beings.
That ruled out making Brian an atheist or a jaded soldier. War-weary was fine, but jaded wasn’t something I wanted. A little to my own surprise, Brian came up with the answer: He was a Methodist and, before the War, he was studying to become a minister.
Don’t laugh, readers, it really wasn’t my idea!
So I had my two main players. I had them both battered, bruised, and beaten by a world gone mad. (Boy, does that sound familiar now….) They’d both been tested somewhat recently, and they were both tired. Now circumstance and fate have thrown them together, and Brian is left wondering what to do.
The War is over but Tanner’s superhero team has lost people. Some of those who remain want revenge, and they are not the only people on his side with that desire. The Nuremberg Trials are on the horizon and the vicious, inhuman crimes of the Nazis have been or are about to be uncovered. What can a special operator with superpowers expect those in charge of the Trials to consider a fitting punishment for him? He was an unwilling symbol of the National Socialist Party, but can he expect his underground animosity to Hitler will save him from the Allies’ wrath?
Brian wants to believe he can, but the worn out Catholic makes a good point: Among men, there can be no forgiveness for what he and his country have done. The law of man is imperfect; it cannot be applied justly in all cases. Only God can administer justice perfectly, and in the confusion following the War – which was unleashed by wounded pride and has wounded others’ pride in turn – “mistakes” can and will happen.
I think you can see that this is my response to the vacuum of faith in Marvel Comics. Rather than rant and rave over what they did to Nightcrawler, Daredevil, and other characters, I wrote my own superhero story where faith mattered. Where it was part of the two leads’ lives and their characters; where it informed their views of the world, and gave them a framework in which to make decisions they deemed proper.
Of interest to me, even in hindsight, is the fact that their faith doesn’t make anything easier for them. Todesritter is worn down by a war he didn’t want, in addition to fighting an evil force he couldn’t defeat himself, and which he had very little support resisting. Combined with the Homeric efforts he had to make to survive and help his countrymen, he’s exhausted. He’s also depressed because he did not – could not – do as much as he wanted to thwart the Nazis. From his position, it looks like all he can hope for is either a merciful death or the strength to do penance in prison for his and his country’s sins.
Meanwhile, Brian is dealing with loss and a rowdy crew. Their original leader is dead, and because he is the most senior officer in the unit, command has fallen to him. But his unwillingness to hate the enemy has led some of his subordinates to question his leadership. He says he shares their grief, but they do not believe him because his emotions are different, informed as they are by his training to become a minister.
Now Brian is faced with a dilemma that tests his command capabilities as well as the depth of his faith. Can there be forgiveness found among men, and can honor be preserved in the aftermath of such a hellish war? Or will Vulcan have to stand by and watch a good man face death of spirit, if not of body?
It’s a richer story than I thought I could write, to be perfectly honest, readers. And even if I do say so myself, it is certainly a deeper story than many told by Marvel in the present. The difference doesn’t lie in anything except faith and a respect for the faith of others. Brian, after all, is the POV character and a Methodist. I’m as Catholic as Todesritter. That doesn’t mean I cannot write from a different POV so long as I respect the faith of others as much as my own.
But I learned from some truly impressive writers – several of whom worked for the original Marvel Comics. Len Wein, creator of Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner, was raised Jewish but he wrote one of the most Catholic characters in modern fiction. Stan Lee was raised Jewish but helped bring Daredevil, another great Catholic superhero, to the multi-verse of fiction. Thousands of Catholics love these characters precisely because the authors and artists who brought them to life respected a faith which they did not share.
They didn’t have the share it. They just had to respect it, not to mention respect and love the people who did have that faith.
Let us, then, turn the other cheek. Shame rests on Marvel’s present leadership for their treatment of Nightcrawler and their other superheroes. But that does not mean the world has ended or that all hope has been lost.
Maybe, rather, it means that a new door is opening. And that new characters and new stories are about to appear in the many-splendored land of fiction. 😉