While the colorful scenes of destruction wrought by giant monsters were the highlight of the films, I always wondered about the people on the ground. Not the heroes - there were always some people running around, filling up time with b-stories between cities being laid waste. I wondered what the pilots of the fighters thought as they were being swatted out of the sky or the tank crews picking through the ruins of Tokyo only to be incinerated by the a blast of radioactive breath.
In Godzilla: The Half-Century War, we find out. James Stokoe writes and illustrates the comic, crafting the gripping tale of Ota Murakami. Beginning in 1954 with Godzilla’s first raid on Japan, Stokoe’s follows this soldier through fifty years of fighting kaiju. After a harrowing experience as a young tank commander - one of the few survivors of the military units confronting Godzilla among the toppling towers of Tokyo - Murakami is recruited by a multinational organization - the Anti-Megalosaurus Force - to fight against the rising tide of giant monsters.
 Apocalypse-Zilla |
 The kaiju enjoying lovely downtown Accra. |
Issue 4, is set in 1987, in Bombay, where Godzilla is on a rampage. Murakami is still fighting the good fight; but, 30 years of fighting against an unstoppable force is taking its toll on him. After the defeat in Ghana, the AMF has been reduced to monitoring the monsters with the field combat teams disbanded. In Bombay, however, the AMF deploys Mechagodzilla, a giant, heavily armed war machine. Murakami is left wishing he was piloting the massive mecha as it goes toe-to-toe with Godzilla. While watching the fight, Murakami spots Deverich and chases after him. Murakami apprehends him and finds that Deverich has perfected his device, making it far more effective. Effective enough to summon Space Godzilla. Yes, everyone’s favorite space-lizard/crystal hybrid descends from orbit. As Godzilla and Space Godzilla duke it out, Murakami takes over Mechagodzilla and assists Godzilla in destroying his nemesis from the stars.
 Gigan and Gidorah hanging ten. |
In addition to an engaging story, one in which Murakami progresses from someone trying to destroy Godzilla, to a man who has a more conflicted relationship with his destructive nemesis, the art is amazing. Highly detailed with a manga influence, Stokoe’s art creates the needed “big budget, wide-screen” images needed for Godzilla. Replete with bold colors, splash panels and scenes of impressive destruction - as well as the details needed to capture the human interest parts of the story, this is a book that is feast for the eyes.
If you like a Godzilla story with lots of action and a good “human” story, as well as great art, Godzilla: The Half-Century War is for you.
And, as a bonus here's my own Godzilla story from a few years ago, Captain Takashi's Big Day
Captain Jiro Takashi, Japanese Self Defense Force, was a career soldier in a country that, officially, didn’t even have a military. He felt comfortable only in uniform, loved the company of his men, and experienced an almost unseemly thrill when he would take his position as commander of a Type 61 main battle tank.
His father had served in the Imperial Army during the war. He had fought the Americans across the Pacific and ended the war in a prison camp in the Philippines. When his father had left home to serve the Emperor, Jiro was eleven and he remembered his father as a strong, quiet man. After the war, his father was still quiet; but the strength was gone, drained by his experiences.
Until he saw his son in uniform. Jiro distinctly remembered his father smiling when he completed basic training. And then, that night, while Jiro celebrated with his fellow soldiers, his father went home and hung himself.
Captain Takashi only remembered the smile. The war had destroyed his father; Jiro felt that he had given his father back the strength to do what he felt was necessary. That was enough.
Jiro felt his own life was limited by the various conditions the Americans had imposed on Japan after the surrender. He would comfort himself with the thought that, perhaps, one day the Cold War of the Americans and the Soviets would turn ‘hot’ and he could finally fulfill his destiny as a soldier.
So, while it was still a bit of a surprise, when the mobilization alert had come to his armored unit one Sunday morning, he was mostly relieved. This was what he had wanted for so long.
He sent his crew to the tank to prepare it for battle, while he met with Colonel Saito and the rest of the tank commanders.
“Men,” Saito barked,” we are being sent to Tokyo. I have no details of the nature of the engagement, but we are to consider ourselves at war.”
There was a murmur in the briefing room. Most of the men expressed some dismay. Jiro did not. He maintained his normal stoicism on the outside; but inside he was bursting with joy. He would show his mettle while defending the capital of his country.
He rushed back to his tank, informed the crew of the mission and ordered them to join the rest of the battalion as it moved down Route 17 towards the capital. As the column of clanking war machines neared the city, Jiro could see numerous columns of smoke rising from the Shinjuku area. He briefly wondered if the city had been by attacked with a nuclear weapon; however, he quickly pushed such speculation aside. He had to focus on the task at hand; finding and defeating the enemy.
The battalion split into companies and drove into the city along parallel routes. Other units were converging on the scene of battle, a mass movement of men, vehicles and the other accoutrements of war. From Jiro’s perspective, however, the “war” thus far was limited to thickening clouds of black smoke, cramped city streets and little else. He could make out the two tanks in front of him, the lead vehicle of the company commander and that of Lieutenant Soto. Behind Jiro’s vehicle were six others, vague shapes, lost in the smoke.
The company commander’s voice crackled over jiro’s headset.
“All men, prepare to engage, prepare to…AAAAAGGGHHH!!!”
Jiro saw a stream of what looked like intense blue flame come from the sky and hit the commander’s tank, which exploded almost instantly. Jiro looked up. A vast, dark shape loomed through the smoke. Buildings ahead crumbled from some great force. Jiro could hear Soto repeating “dragon, dragon, dragon” when an immense reptilian foot crushed the 35-ton tank like a cardboard box.
Jiro could now see the “enemy” clearly. It looked to him like a bipedal reptile, a hundred meters tall, with plates running down its back. Jiro could make out a long, thick tail, smashing buildings with each sweep. It took another step forward, the impact lifting Jiro’s tank of the ground.
“Fire,” Jiro whispered, his mind reeling from the impossibility of what he was seeing.
Akagi, his gunner, was screaming.
“Fire,” Jiro shouted.
Akagi triggered the main gun. The 90mm shell bounced off the thick hide of the advancing colossus.
“No effect!!!”
Jiro could see the scarred sole of the creature’s 10-meter-long foot as it lifted high over his tank.
“Not this way,” was Jiro’s final thought, as the monstrosity took another step.
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