Author: Maximilian

Everyone wants to be Recon.

It doesn’t matter what the relationship was, if someone had anything to do with Recon for even a few minutes, they will tell people they “worked with Recon,” or even they “were with Recon.” For every one actual Recon Marine I’ve met, I’ve probably met about ten Marines that took some kind of claim to fame surrounding their experience with Recon. This is of course subjective to what that person actually did with Recon, I’m sure there are attachments and augments that actually do some cool stuff (I really wouldn’t know, I never worked with Recon, ever), but please don’t try to convince people you were “Recon” when actually you just sat in the smoke pit with one for 20 minutes.

It’s only natural, I suppose. Recon is, after all, the most “badass” element of the Marine Corps as far as the infantry goes. But, please be wary of those who make this claim. These two to my right and left are real Recon Marines:

No, those aren’t small babies that Rudy is smuggling, those are his biceps. Of course, not every Recon Marine looks like these two, I’m sure, but the point remains the same.

In other news, I posted this on Facebook, but if you didn’t see it feel free to check out this new zombie time lapse sketch that I did this week:

I like to give people an idea of how my drawing process works, because I always like to see how other artists go about solving these problems. I also did a little walk through on the process of creating this strip.

The first thing I do is think. I sit and think, I often pace around my apartment like a mad man while my dog glares at me. Sometimes thinking of a joke is immediate, other times it takes an hour or two. It just depends on how hard it is for me to conceptualize it visually. After all, I do make a comic, which is a visual medium. Once I’ve more or less figured out the joke, I do a thumbnail sketch in my little sketchbook–it’s a small Moleskin book I keep in my back pocket at all times.

As you can see, clearly I stow away my art penis when making these thumbnails. No one else is meant to see them, so they don’t need to be clear to anyone but me (or well-drawn for that matter). It’s about getting the idea down and figuring out the pacing of the dialog and images.

Then I do a rough pencil layer in Photoshop, basing it off of the thumbnail sketch.

This layer is really rough, but that’s typically how I work any way. I’m not the kind of artist that meticulously pencils before inking–I suppose I just prefer a little more immediacy in my inks.

Once that layer is in, I basically just draw over it in black (in Photoshop, using my WACOM tablet), and add the text.

From here it’s just a matter of arranging and adding the speech bubbles. You’ll notice the first panel’s line, “Yeah, I’m an Assaultman. What about you?” was changed in the final strip, because it just wasn’t working as it was with the composition of the strip (or at least the first panel).

Anyway, I’m sure this is all terribly interesting. In any case, it’s a lot of work, but it’s a lot of fun.

Have a good weekend, and don’t tell any bullshit stories about how you were Recon. The End.

If Marines are good at one thing, it’s playing video games. Specifically, the military first person shooter type. It’s hard to avoid it when you’re stuck in your room with nothing else to do. As we already figured out, most Marines would rather nail their dick to a table than do MCI’s, so the alternative is usually passing the time with some good old-fashioned vidyagames. Naturally, the recent batch of military first person shooters tend to appeal to most 18-24 year old males, such as Battlefield 3 and Modern Warfare.

The misconceptions of civilians is almost always amusing. If they find out that you’re unnaturally good at first person shooters, the natural assumption is that it must be because of your brutal military tactical training being evoked. This, is of course, completely absurd. For starters, military training is basically useless in most video games. In real life, you don’t run around as fast as you can dual-weilding shotguns, oblivious to enemy gunfire, racking up killstreaks and throwing knives into people. Of course, Battlefield 3, despite its efforts at creating a realistic war environment, really isn’t any better.

In any case, I suppose you could just entertain their wild ideas and roll with it, but I suppose I’m just too honest for that. I don’t think there’s any shame in having some humility about your service, as a lot of it is kind of ridiculous.

It seems like no matter how far away you get from the Marine Corps, that little voice in the back of your head that tells you to suck it the fuck up never goes away. Over the last few weeks I’ve hardly slept, trying to get my portfolio ready, doing homework, going to class and keeping up with the comic; but I can never seem to forget one thing: it has been, and can always be worse.

For better or worse, I’m able to push through lack of sleep from having dealt with it substantially while on active duty. I’m not sure if I’d consider that a viable talent or skill, but at least I get all of my work done on time; whether I’m actually conscious or not during class is another story.

I suppose I wouldn’t consider it a bad thing, but having dealt with the whole Marine thing for 4 years, I certainly notice it a lot more when other classmates aren’t pulling their weight. I dunno how many times I’ve heard, “I’m sorry I’m late, I slept through my alarm,” and thought to myself that I wanted to punch them in the throat. Of course, this isn’t the Marine Corps, and most professors generally don’t yell and degrade students in front of their peers for being 30 seconds late to class (as you would definitely see in formation).

Maybe 6 classes, a comic and everything else in my life was too much to bite into–but I’m not complaining.

Before I get a flood of angry emails from Marine wives without a sense of humor, I’m fairly sure I’ve mentioned before on numerous occasions that I’m married. I was in fact a married Marine, as well. However, these ridiculous stickers, t-shirts and slogans that you can buy from the PX have always annoyed me and my wife.

I mean, it’s kind of cute, Marines let wives have this completely asinine slogan to make them feel better about the whole predicament. However, the actual act of being a Marine wife is certainly not the toughest job in the Corps. If you have found that you’ve convinced yourself that sitting around at home catching the latest DVR’d episodes of Jersey Shore is more difficult than patrolling for 10 hours in 120 degree weather only to sleep in some occupied mud-hut for a few hours before doing it all over again for 6 months; I urge you to rethink your position.

There is no doubt in my mind that the emotional hardship of being separated from a spouse is tough, but you’re still the one at home. Then again, I doubt most wives actually believe it’s the toughest job in the Corps, I’m sure it’s really more about the sentiment anyway. Marine wives are a strange creature though, many of them are completely defined by the fact that they’re married to a Marine. I’m all for women (and husbands) taking pride in their spouses job, but to allow yourself to be absolutely consumed in the “Marine Wife” title is weak-willed, in my humble opinion. You are, after all, an individual before being a wife; get a hobby, get a job, join a club, be yourself.

Lastly, I just want to add that if you’re a person that actually owns and wears one of these “I’M NOT FAT, I’M JUST KNOCKED UP” shirts, please stop. It’s disrespectful to you and the poor child that happens to be inside of your foul uterus. Also, I fucking hate those stickers that say “His Boots, Her Flip Flops, The Perfect Pair!” WTF DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

On a completely separate note, I was recently informed that a member of 3/3 committed suicide last week due to what I assume to be PTSD-related depression. This is truly unfortunate, I hate hearing about these kinds of things. If you need help, there is no shame in seeking it. I know the Chaplain is a POG and no one wants to really talk to him, but you’d be surprised how great of a resource he actually is, and how openly you can talk about things. However, it really doesn’t need to be the Chaplain at all; just talking to your friends about it can really help take the load off your shoulders.

You’d be surprised how much just saying something out loud can change the way you think about it.

For many, the allure of full medical and dental benefits (among others) is enough to get anyone to sign a 4 year contract. I certainly didn’t even think about it when I joined, but it’s actually a pretty damn good benefit. That is, when you actually get to use it in any real way. If you’re in the infantry, odds are you avoid BAS at all costs, or are pressured into avoiding it for fear of belittlement and being considered a vagina. As well, medical treatment for the infantry usually consists of talking to the platoon corpsman, he might briefly look you over and give you some general advice you already knew–this is your “full medical” benefit.

If for whatever reason you do actually go to BAS, be it some kind of horrible infection or injury, you’ll be sent to some shady overtaken barracks building filled with corpsmen sitting around where you may or may not actually get to talk to a doctor (it may just be the Chief). Again, this is your “full medical” benefit.

It’s not all bad though, when I went to ComCam for my last 6 months the medical treatment was actually pretty great. The Headquarters Battalion medical facility was nice, clean, professional, and every time I went it was a genuine experience with a real doctor like you’d get in the civilian world. Needless to say, POG life has the clear advantage here. If you’re in the infantry though, it’s tough-love taking advantage of that full medical.

During my final physical at the HQBN medical facility, I was asked if I had any lingering medical problems. I told the doctor so much she had to write on the back of her paper. She asked why none of this was in my record, I told her because the infantry doesn’t go to BAS.

This is one of two strips I’ve done recently inspired by my illness as of late. You can find the other in this week’s Marine Corps Times newspaper! I suppose it’s been on my mind a lot, my wife also got sick so my apartment has been a biohazard of sorts over the last couple weeks. My dog thinks we’re disgusting. In other news, I’m working on a portfolio site for professional reasons. For some reason I always feel awkward explaining to people that I’m the creator of Terminal Lance, and when they see it they get an eyeful of dicks and fucks…

I don’t blame Abe for drawing this conclusion. After all, how could it be that the MARPAT cammie pants consistently tear in the crotch on every single Marine ever in the history of MARPAT. It must be by design!

This is a very common thing amongst Marines; for some reason the crotch to the issued cammie pants never seems to stay intact for more than a few months of regular use (by regular use, I’m referring to people that do things). Perhaps it is just a weak seam in the design, or perhaps something much more sinister is involved. Whatever the case, odds are if you’re reading this you probably don’t own a single pair of cammies that has an intact crotch region. I have at last figured out this conundrum: Uncle Sam and his infamous Green Weenie have designed your cammies to do this, as it allows him to slip into your butthole unnoticed by regular bodily defenses of various fabrics.

If you could do me and your fellow Marines a favor though: please wear underwear when wearing a pair of cammies with breached defenses. I recall a moment at PTA a few years back, I was sitting at that shitty little pizza place when a friend of mine, an 0331, sat across from me in a relaxed position. At first glance, I saw just the tear in his crotch like every other Marine, but unfortunately I was unable to avoid seeing some shaft in the process. To which I asked, “Dammit, why can I see your dick?” He responded that he likes to free ball. To each his own, but please consider wearing underwear for the sake of those around you.

Green weenies and crotches aside, I almost didn’t upload a strip today because I’ve been completely overrun with work I’m having to catch up on after missing a week of school because of pneumonia. However, every day I get emails telling me how great Terminal Lance is and people actually thank me for making it. Things like that might seem stupid, but I never get tired of reading it, and it really is the reason I’ve kept doing the comic for as long as I have.

I don’t have time to respond to every email, but I just want to thank all of you for being so supportive of the comic and the site over the last couple years. A comic isn’t anything without fans to read it, and I definitely appreciate it. So hey, pass it along to your friends, share it on Facebook and Twitter and keep the people coming! Also, you can really help support the site by buying a copy of Terminal Lance: “KNIFE HANDS!!!”, the compilation of strips 1-100 with all kinds of extra shit.

As thanks, I’ll leave you with this beautiful image of a Marine embracing his loved one that’s been all over the internet lately:

Rah?!

Terps can be some shady motherfuckers. For those of you that don’t know what a “terp” is, it’s short for “interpreter”. These are the guys that go out on patrol and translate the language of the locals so that we can better communicate with them. Many terps do a great job, providing honest translation and are very helpful. Others are questionable, often times you’ll find the terp screaming at people for no apparent reason; and we’re left wondering whether it’s just a cultural thing we don’t get or if he really says what he’s supposed to say.

During my first deployment to Iraq, our terp was called “Frank”. He was a funny guy, but I heard he turned out to be a Jordanian spy or some such and we lost him. Terps are usually great to have around. I recall Frank often running into the market while we were on patrol and picking up a bunch of bread and drinks for us. I remember biting into the freshly baked bread, months into our deployment, and thinking to myself that this was the best bread I had ever eaten. It may or may not have been, but it was the first time I tasted something so delicious in what felt like a very long time.

Aside from his market antics, Frank was always a lot of fun to talk to. I remember my section leader and some of the other senior Marines at the time would always give him shit back and forth. It became an entertaining game before every mission listening to them converse. Probably my favorite bit of dialog was:

“Hey Frank, what were the first English words you ever learned?”

“My first words? My first English words were FUCK YOU.”

In other news, it looks like I probably won’t make it to ImageCon. If I do go, I won’t have a booth and may just attend for the fun of it. Keep up with my Twitter, Tumblr and Facebook fan page for updates if I do attend. The whole week of pneumonia really set me back on my work of every level, so I’m finding myself struggling to catch up this weekend. I will, however, let you all know if I end up dropping by ImageCon.

You can never go wrong with a good rock. The Marine Corps is definitely the only time in my life I have ever looked at a rock with an intention of longing. To put it in perspective, it’s the only time I’ve been in such a shitty situation that I’ve looked at a rock and went, “Oh man, that looks like a comfy rock.”

If there’s one thing I miss about the military, it’s the somewhat mystic ability to fall asleep anywhere. As a civilian now, I have to fight for some shuteye when I’m tired as hell. While on active duty, I was generally worn out enough every day that simply leaning up against a wall was not only a suitable place to sleep, but a damn good one. One could easily call it narcolepsy by any medical standard. Whatever happens when we step on those yellow footprints, you can be sure that as long as you have cammies on you will never have trouble falling asleep. There were Marines that would even fall asleep standing up without a single fuck given in the slightest.

One could spend an entire day talking about the various ways and techniques for sleeping they’ve acquired over the years of fieldwork and deployments. Every Marine packs their own special combination of bivvy-sacks and sleeping bags; every Marine has some ritual for their slumber in field. Some prefer not to bring any sleeping bags, others can’t leave the barracks without the black one. Some need a pillow, others just need to find a good rock.

For the strip, I’ve become more and more attracted to ideas without dialog. I suppose I’ve also been thinking more in terms of panel design lately since I’ve been in a graphic novel study class, where we literally read and make comics every time. Don’t worry, this kind of strip won’t happen every time, but I do enjoy them more.

In other news, I apologize for my absence last week. I took the week to myself… well… really my illness took my week from me. What started as a high fever and a cough quickly turned into a pretty bad case of pneumonia. I’ve since gotten treatment, and after a 103 degree fever that lasted 5 days straight I’m happy to say that I’m feeling much better. It would have been impossible to actually produce a strip, I could barely stop shaking from the chills, and when I took meds to lower my fever I would sweat uncontrollably. Overall, it was a horrible week.

Lastly, it’s possible I’ll be at ImageCon this weekend in Oakland, CA. I’ll keep the FB and Twitter updated with whether or not that’s happening, it will depend greatly on how much work I have to do (which has stacked up, since I missed all of last week). If I do go, it will most likely be for just one day.

Anyway, with that said, I hope you all have a great week and don’t forget to get your flu shot, nasty.

Sorry but there’s no new strip today, as consolation please accept this past Marine Corps Times strip as compensation. Why is there no new strip you ask? What travesty hath Max brought upon the land?! Honestly, I’m just sick as hell. After a trip to the ER on Sunday and the last couple of days rotting in bed, I just haven’t been able to muster up enough of anything to actually produce a new strip.

But hey, don’t forget, you can read new and original Terminal Lance strips in the Marine Corps TImes newspaper every week! Feel free to check out their site as well for constant updates on Marine Corps issues.

Also, you can keep up to date with me via my Twitter feed and Tumblr, if you’re into those sorts of things.

This strip was a response to the discovered photo of Marine Scout Snipers and their SS flag, which co-opted the Nazi SS unit symbol.

You can read about the story here.