Chuck’s Story

SURVEILLANCE PHOTO — THE WIRE, CIRCA 1986

SUSFUSergeant Chuck “Ten” Brubaker is the longest-serving prisoner of war in Action Man history. He has spent the last forty-four years suspended by his ankles from a washing line in a garden in Hinkley, held in place by a single wooden peg. He does not consider himself a victim.

QUARTERBACK

Chuck arrived from America in the summer of 1979 on an exchange programme, the only G.I. Joe in a unit of Action Men. He never let them forget it. Louder, tanned and equipped with a bone-crushing Kung Fu Grip, he quickly established himself as the unit’s star athlete. His jersey — number 10 — had been won, he claimed, in a legendary gridiron match against a team of BIG JIMS. Nobody could verify this. Nobody dared to. The British men found his enthusiasm exhausting but his rescue record undeniable: fourteen men pulled from the paddling pool in a single afternoon, eleven of whom had not asked to be rescued and two of whom were sunbathing.

THE POND

It was the pond that undid him. On the morning of Saturday 12th June 1982, Chuck volunteered — loudly, and before anyone had asked — for a deep reconnaissance swim to map enemy frogspawn positions. The mission was a complete success. The debrief was not. Dripping wet and trailing pondweed from his flock hair, Chuck was seized by higher powers, wrung out with a violence he later described as “character building”, and carried by one leg to the bottom of the garden.

THE PEG

What happened next took four seconds and has lasted forty-four years. Chuck was pegged to the washing line by the ankles — a standard drying procedure, he was assured — between a fitted sheet and somebody’s father’s vest. “Back in ten minutes,” were the last words he heard. He has replayed them many times since. He now believes “ten minutes” may have been code.

The sheet was taken in at dusk. The vest followed. Chuck did not. That night it rained and a lesser man might have wept, though it would have been impossible to tell.

THE WIRE

The seasons turned. His jersey faded from victory red to a defeated SALMON pink. Sparrows perched on his boots, then on his conscience. In the winter of ’87 a gale took every peg on the line except his — a fact Chuck interprets as proof of the peg’s military-grade construction, and everyone else interprets as bad luck. Twice a year until 2003 someone hung washing near him and twice a year he attempted to make eye contact. Then, after a failed attempt to start a rusting lawnmower, the house’s occupant shuffled indoors and never ventured near the drying green again. The bushes and brambles encircled Chuck and he and the drying green disappeared from view.

To pass the time, Chuck has kept himself mission-ready. He performs upside-down sit-ups (he reports “several”), recites the serial numbers of equipment he no longer has, and maintains a full mental inventory of the wild garden below: one rusted Tonka digger (friendly, immobilised), one hedgehog (allegiance unknown), and the distant memory of a Grifter (hostile, presumed scrapped). His Eagle Eyes, permanently fixed on the back door, have not blinked since Grenada.

TIP-OFF

The AMVS located Chuck in the spring of this year after a tip-off from a window cleaner who “didn’t like the way it kept looking at him”. Our field team offered immediate recovery. Chuck declined. He explained, patiently, upside down, that leaving one’s post is desertion, that the peg was “load-bearing”, and that his boys would be coming over that fence any day now, as soon as the paperwork cleared.

We visit him fortnightly. We bring news, which he calls “intel”, and a small umbrella, which he refuses. All blood long since rushed to his head, he remains in remarkably high spirits, and asks only one thing of the AMVS membership: that if anyone should meet his old unit, they tell them he is still holding the line…well…dangling from it.

The peg, at time of writing, is holding tight. The trousers, sadly, are not — and their steady disintegration may yet deliver Chuck the honourable discharge no one else will authorise.

Dispatches from the Front Line

EDITOR’S NOTE — A reader’s contribution, filed by a guest despatch-wallah whose name HQ has regrettably mislaid (but may be War Diarist Jon O’Rourke). The tone, the body count and the use of real names are entirely the author’s own. If it was you, report to the Guestbook to be properly credited.

IDENTITY HIDDEN

Name  Peter Skellen

Rank  Captain

Last known regiment  22 SAS

Age  44

Born  England

Status  Divorced. No children.

Current Mission Status  Training other U.N. friendly forces worldwide in CQB techniques, weapons and artillery, jungle warfare, and survival, on a freelance basis.

Peter Skellen is not his real name. He has refused photographs on the basis that his identity should never be known. There are still some members of the second rate military force created by Sharna that want to track him down. His life is constantly in danger.

BREASTS

Peter had it all. He started out life as a Motorcycle Policeman, on a Metropolitan Police liveried Triumph. But this was too boring. To spice up his life, he became a deep sea diver, Arctic Commando, then the toughest of them all — Close Quarter Battle SAS sabre team member. He spent his days abseiling from curtains and high wardrobes. He was joined by two other members, Corporal Jason Montgomery, an ex para from Peckham, England, and Seargant Brian Forbes, a former US Marine from Texas. When Peter first joined the SAS sabre team he met Barbie. He was on a one man reconnaisance mission in a girls bedroom, and the only place he could hide was in a horsebox with two My Little Ponys and Black Beauty. As Barbie went to check on the horses she discovered him, and they fell in love. He was amazed at how firm her breasts were, and that she had no cellulite at all.

CHOPPER

Peter and the team were involved in many exercises the length and breadth of Ireland, including beach landings in Donegal, and reconnaisance missions on holiday caravan sites, buried under the sand. Peter then became involved with High Altitude Low Opening parachute drops. He would be thrown from a bedroom window and not open his chute until the last moment. It was at this point the Government recognised the team as the best in the business, and supplied Peter and the boys with the best equipment. A rocket firing chopper with winch and machine gun that could drop supply pods to the battle field, three one man rubber dinghies, a two man dinghy with a nine volt battery powered outboard motor, and an armoured jeep, with twin front mounted half inch browning machine guns. The team was invincible. It would stay out all night in all sorts of weather, hiding in bushes and trees, heavily camouflaged, waiting to strike. Watching and guarding houses. Placing explosives under Tonka toys. Sniping at field mice through their night vision sights on their high powered rifles. Peter was the leader. His life was good. But Barbie was alone.

JACK RUSSELL

Then it all started to go wrong. One quiet night while enjoying a well earned break, Peter was practising his abseiling techniques on the stairs, while Jason and Brian where cleaning their kit in the living room. Peter heard yelling from the bottom of the stairs, and watched in horror as Sass, the Jack Russell, attacked the boys while their backs were turned. The only thing Peter could do was get in the jeep and jump it off the stairs to get to the boys. The jeep crashed into the dog, who at that moment had Jasons head in its mouth. Peter was thrown clear and into a Wellington boot, so the dog could not get to him. But all he could do was listen to the screams. When the dog went away, Peter found carnage. Jason’s head lay yards away from his body. Re-attachment wasnt an option. The head had been chewed to pieces. He was unrecogniseble. Peter found Brian, lying behind a vacuum cleaner. He had lost an arm and a foot, and had chew marks on his legs arms and body. He was a mess.

NAKED

There was a burial service for Jason. Brian was invalided out of the army. Peter was alone. And the heartache didn’t stop there. After a week in the coal bunker, gathering information for the Government on suspicious fuel supplies, Peter returned home. Barbie and Ken were there. Naked. Peter saw red, pulled out his Browning High Power, and fired three shots. Two into Ken’s chest, and one into his head. Ken was dead. So was Peter’s marriage to Barbie.

JUMPSUIT

The murder was hushed. No one would miss Ken, because he only had painted hair and was quite short. He was no action man. But Peter was courtmartialed. He refused to return to his unit. So he walked away from the army. The Government sold his equipment to a rag tag band of second rate mercenaries operating from Cuba. All Peter has left is his jumpsuit from his parachute days, a semi automatic machine gun, and his prized posession, an old Space Rangers helmet, found in a bin many years before.

KAWASAKI

Peter now travels the world training friendly forces how to fight and survive. He lives in a leafy suburb while not working. But to this day, he misses his two old chums from The Regiment, and wonders if life could have been different, if he had stayed a motorcycle cop. Peter recently bought an old Revell Kawasaki 500 Mach Three to ride at the weekends. It helps take his mind of the hurt.

Bud’s Story

BUD — PRESENT DAY

Bud would be the last to complain about his predicament, but in conversation it becomes apparent that his unhappiness stems from feelings of abandonment and uncertainty over his masculinity.

FEARLESS

Trained in a variety of Special Operative skills Bud was once the epitome of a fearless warrior. “On one occasion,” said Bud, with a faint glimmer of pride, “I was left out all night on my own...” Adding, “It even rained!”, before withdrawing once more into his weary self. Undoubtedly, Bud has proven himself to be worthy of the name Action Man. Chosen frequently for the most dangerous of missions he gave himself fully to the cause. Wounded 173 times, killed 7 and dragged along behind a Grifter for nearly 200 yards, Bud was no stranger to pain.

GIRLFRIEND

But the pain he suffered in battle cannot compare with the hurt that he evidently feels now. His services no longer wanted, Bud turned to his then girlfriend Sindy for support. “But, it didn’t take long for the excitement to ebb from our relationship”, laments Bud. “In fact as soon as active service was over I noticed the change in her attitude. It was as if I lost my appeal overnight. I wasn’t flavour of the month anymore, not to her, not to any of those who had made me part of their lives. When Sindy left she didn’t even leave a note, just this American Footballer top which she’d been given by Ken.” Bud later explained that Sindy had left him for her friend Barbie’s boyfriend. He hasn’t heard from her since.

EXHIBIT B — SINDY, PHOTOGRAPHED SINCE. SHE DIDN’T EVEN LEAVE A NOTE.

SAFETY-PIN

Bud is now unemployed and claiming Disability Benefit — a missing right hand and damage to his remaining left leaving him unable to achieve the simplest of tasks. “I can’t even afford to buy new clothes” says Bud, “these trousers are handmade from a piece of old felt fastened with a safety-pin. And the top...well you know about the top...”

When asked about the future, Bud shrugs his shoulders. “I want to be out there, I want to contribute. If I could only be given the chance, a new hand and a change of clothes I’d show them just what I can do. All I need is for people to believe in me again. It’s all I ask...”

Jim’s Story

JIM LONDON — TODAY

Jim has fallen further than most. Born into wealth and status, he excelled in youth. Intelligence, physical prowess and his amazing grippy hands were qualities that singled the young Jim out from the rest and he quickly rose through the ranks of the Action Men elite. But today, he is forced to survive on meagre hand-outs and whatever he can beg from passers-by. His, is a story of success, self-destruction and dodgy ball joints — it is the story of the gentleman soldier...

SPACEHOPPER

Born James London-Smith, in Hampshire, England on October 14th 1946 he was to be raised by his father, Stretch Armstrong, after his mother, Princess Pippa, died tragically when her head was crushed under a marauding Spacehopper.

After her death, James became increasingly boisterous and his father despaired over how to help his young son. Eventually, Stretch realised that James needed an outlet for his anger, so at the age of 8, James was enrolled in military school. There, he showed an exceptional aptitude for leadership and hanging off things with his grippy hands. At 15, he became the youngest Head Boy in the history of the school. Unsurprisingly, his outstanding talents did not go unnoticed and soon he was invited to join the Action Man Force. He enthusiastically agreed and two days before his 21st birthday, joined the hallowed ranks of the Action Men fighting elite.

BIONIC

By 25, he had been promoted to the rank of Commander earning himself the nickname of “The Voice” due to the fact that he alone had one. Leading many successful campaigns, including the infamous “Battle of Coal Bunker Hill” and the bloody “Bionic War”, James garnered the respect of all those he led. He received the Silver Star for outstanding bravery after he became the first Action Man to enter low orbit strapped to “Brocks Starburster IV” on November 5th 1978. It was the first time since the death of his mother that he had felt truly happy.

DRAG QUEEN

However, on a rainy afternoon on February 26th 1979, his career came to a swift and humiliating end. Alone, without the back-up of his men, James found himself being dressed up, (against his will), in a variety of women’s clothes. Discovered later that day in a Sindy Ballerina costume his demise was quick and brutal. Forced to accept an ‘Honourable’ Discharge from his Commanders, he left the Action Man Force. Too ashamed to return to the family home, he sought a new life where his moulded vinyl face was just another in the crowd. His exemplary military record proved worthless. No-one had time for an ex-Action Man. On civvy street, fighting skills, realistic hair and grippy hands are of little use. James was ‘driven’ to work as a drag queen for the next five and a half years on the Sindy lookalike circuit. But, when the Sindy look became unfashionable, his career came to a sudden and bitter end.

FROSTBITE

Broken and disgraced, James drifted from town to town undertaking a variety of menial jobs. It wasn’t long before he turned to the bottle for solace. Further tragedy befell James when both his hands succumbed to frostbite during the winter of ’96. Eventually, the drink overwhelmed him — literally, as he could no longer hold the bottles. When no-one was looking, he dropped out of society for good.

Now known simply as Jim London he subsists from day to day a shadow of a shadow of his former self. The past has abandoned him to the future and the future looks increasingly bleak...

Jim declined an interview, but agreed for a number of photographs to be taken.

SLEEPING ROUGH

BEGGING FOR HAND-OUTS

IN BETTER DAYS — 1978

Tom’s Story

15 JULY 1977 — THE TORTURE

When the words ‘hero’ and ‘Action Man’ appear in the same sentence, you can safely bet that the name Lieutenant Tom Ward will be somewhere nearby. His courage in the face of danger and triumph over terrible adversity has undeniably earned him a place in Action Man history. However, few will be able to tell you of the events that shaped his life after leaving active service and left him one of our nation’s forgotten heroes.

TONKA PATROL

His story begins on the morning of Saturday 15th July 1977, a day which culminated in a gruesome frenzy of torture, mutilation and melted plastic and has became infamously known as “The Day After The 14th of July.”

The day began quietly, with T-Squad doing routine patrols of the garden in a converted Tonka Tipper truck. Everyone was in high spirits as they dispersed around the shrubbery and assumed a number of dramatic poses. Except Lieutenant Tom Ward, who disappointedly remained in the truck cursing his choice of full Mountain and Arctic Ski Uniform on such a fine summers day.

FULL MOUNTAIN AND ARCTIC SKI UNIFORM. ON A FINE SUMMERS DAY.

EVEL KNIEVEL

A high pitched whirring was the first they knew of the attack. Seconds later, their arch enemy, the chillingly named Evel Knievel wobbled into view at high speed. Attempting something akin to a wheelie he careered across the crazy paving on his supercharged motorcycle before tumbling to a halt and lying motionless on the grass. T-Squad looked at each other in stunned silence as Knievel’s shiny, flared jumpsuit flapped despondently in the breeze. It was the distraction that Evel’s gang from next door needed and within moments the carnage had begun.

THE ENEMY — EVEL KNIEVEL. SHINY, FLARED AND CHILLINGLY NAMED.

Ten horrific minutes later, four members of T-Squad had been brutally slain. Captain ‘always keeps his head in a crisis’ Smith lived up to his name — sadly his body was never found. Bob, the French Foreign Legionnaire, had his arms ripped from their sockets by a series of point blank shots from a customised Crossfire gun. Stormtrooper Jurgen, the unfortunate shuttlecock in an improvised game of badminton, dangled lifelessly by his trenchcoat from the guttering of a neighbouring house. While Jack, T-Squad’s highly trained Deep Sea Diver, was pulled from the garden pond two days later, his water-filled body lashed to a blue tricycle.

BOB — FRENCH FOREIGN LEGION. LATER RELIEVED OF BOTH ARMS.

However, the toll would have been much worse if it had not been for Tom. Under relentless fire, he made a number of courageous rescue missions, pulling five men and a group of Weebles from the battlefield. Even though he sustained a number of terrible injuries — he kept returning.

ONE OF THE RESCUED. THEY WOBBLE, BUT THEY NEVER FALL DOWN.

SECATEURS

But, it was during his attempt to save Captain Smith that things went wrong for Tom. In the dazzling morning sun, Tom’s bright white suit had caught the eye of Evel Knievel. The malevolent daredevil leapt onto his motorcycle and sped off in the general direction of Tom. Hampered by his skis, Tom was unable to avoid the fast approaching Knievel who had now clambered onto his seat and formed a cross with his arms. Flipping over onto his side he crashed into the helpless Lieutenant, interrupting his frenzied shuffling.

Taken hostage, Tom found himself yards away from home in strange territory. It was there, in his captors HQ, that the torture began.

(Those of a nervous disposition or any history of heart problems are advised to turn away now).

As Evel Knievel stood on and watched, his henchmen selected a large pair of secateurs from a row of hideous implements that hung on hooks next to where Tom was tied. Slowly, one by one they snipped the curly fingers from his hands. Next they took a blunt axe from one of the hooks and began working on his legs. Tom’s Eagle Eyes could only stare from side to side in terror as he watched them rain blow after blow upon his limbs. But not once did he make a sound. It was only when his flock hair was doused in petrol and set alight did he finally pass out.

When he came to, Tom was outside, lying chest down on the grass looking up at the sky. Normally, having his head turned 180 degrees would have filled him with panic, but it was the sound he could hear that struck fear into his heart. It was a terrible, metallic whirring noise that would fuel his nightmares for years to come. Before everything went black, Tom could have sworn he heard the maniacal laugh of Evel Knievel over the horrendous din.

RECONSTRUCTION

When Tom was discovered later that day, his injuries seemed irreparable. His charred head had been separated from his body, his Eagle Eyes no longer were. Only his upper left arm remained attached to his torso, which in turn had been attached to the front of a go-kart with high impact adhesive. For many there would have been no hope, but Tom Ward was made of stronger stuff.

THE INJURIES

EXHIBIT — THE HAND

Over the following weeks, Tom was carefully reconstructed. With incredible bravery he endured long and painful sessions of plastic surgery. A new right arm was donated by Steve Austin, while Austin’s girlfriend Jamie Sommers reluctantly gave up her legs and extra large feet. His damaged left arm was deemed fit for combat and re-attached. His head however, was proving impossible to reconstruct. Eventually the difficult decision was made to call off the search for Captain Smith’s body and donate his head to Tom.

STEVE AUSTIN — DONATED THE NEW RIGHT ARM. JAMIE’S FEET CAME TOO.

On August 21st 1977, Lt. Tom Ward was decorated with a Silver Star for Acts of Gallantry Beyond the Call of Duty. A representative of the Weebles presented Tom with a specially created “He Wobbles But Never Falls Down” Honorary Weeble Certificate. A week later, he married the diminutive Pippa, the nurse who had cared for him along his long road to recovery.

PIPPA

Sadly, for Tom, he found it difficult to return to full military service. Although the physical scars had healed, the mental pain remained. The final straw came when it was ordered that Jamie Sommers should be given back her legs (but strangely not her feet). Unable to walk, he decided to leave the Action Man Force for good.

It was indicative of Tom’s fighting spirit that he chose not to give up. With the support of Pippa he began to build a new career as a Doctor at her doll’s hospital. Over the next few months he was to use his strength and courage to inspire others who had been hit by tragedy or something harder. In a remarkable twist of fate, he was even to tend his one-time foe Evel Knievel. Knievel had been found broken and battered after failing to replicate a stunt he had performed perfectly for a TV ad earlier in his career. Instead of malice, Tom displayed only compassion toward his old enemy. A reconciliatory attitude which led them to become close friends until Knievel’s tragic demise during an attempt to leap a river of fire while doused in lighter fluid.

Tom and Pippa retired from the medical profession in 1980. Their dream was to convert an old cardboard box into a riding school for Pippa and her horse, with Tom taking care of the day-to-day running. Acquiring a new pair of legs and a proper right arm from an old comrade, it was the beginning of a bright new future.

The riding school was a great success, in 1981 the stable received a second horse from the Lone Ranger and Pippa persuaded Tom to help with the lessons. For them, the next few years were the happiest of times.

DAMAGED — ONLY £1.50

On the afternoon of Saturday, March 22nd 1984, Tom’s life was once again thrown into turmoil. Without warning, Tom was separated from Pippa and taken from his home. After an unbearable amount of time sealed in a large box, he was finally released. Pippa was nowhere to be seen — his surroundings were completely unfamiliar. He was stripped, roughly dressed in an Action Pilot jumpsuit and placed next to an old man called Obi Wan Kenobi in a shop window. As a final act of indignity a sign was hung around his neck saying “Damaged — only £1.50”.

OBI WAN KENOBI — GOOD COMPANY, UNTIL THE LIGHT SABRE MELTED.

For weeks, he sat in the window. Obi Wan was good company, and they often discussed ways of escaping. Unfortunately Obi’s repeated attempts to use “The Force” ended dismally. Mainly due to the fact that his light sabre had been replaced with a strawberry stick in 1983.

Often someone resembling Tom’s beloved Pippa would join them for a while in the window — which only made things harder to bear. He wondered if Pippa was OK and if she was managing to tend the horses on her own. He longed to be back home with those that he loved.

On sunny days, the window was like an oven and the relentless direct sunshine began to take its toll, especially on Obi’s light sabre. Day by day Tom’s rubber hands became steadily drier, until eventually they turned deep yellow and his curly fingers split from the knuckles. Inside Tom’s body, things weren’t too good either. His elastic began to shear in the heat, slowly causing his arms and legs to slip from their sockets. Days seemed like years — poor Obi Wan eventually succumbed to lunacy. It pained Tom to listen to Obi’s demented babbling about how Darth Vader had somehow used the Dark Side to melt his light sabre and how Luke would be arriving any day to replace it with a new one — hopefully an orange flavoured one.

REUNITED

We at the AMVS came across Tom during a series of routine visits to known Action Figure markets. Although attempts have been made to outlaw these shameful places, they still remain. There, Action Men are valued only by their condition, while their contribution to society is inevitably ignored.

For Tom it was touch and go for a while, but fortunately, we were able to restore him. And on July 10th 1997, with the help of the AMVS Missing in Action message board, we were able to reunite Tom and Pippa at her riding school in Somerset.