Dedicated to America's fighting airmen, Wings magazine brought high-flying adventure and thrills to millions of readers. Coming from Wings Publishing Co., a subsidiary of Fiction House (also known for its Jungle Stories pulp), Wings made its debut in January of 1928 and featured stories from the war-torn skies of Europe during World War I. The magazine kept up with the times, and as World War II approached, the bi-planes were replaced by sleeker monoplane models, and the antagonists changed from the Kaiser's air forces to those of the Axis. Wings magazine continued to be published on a quarterly basis for an astounding twenty-five years, until the final one in the spring of 1953. During that time, 133 issues were published, each offering the derring-do of America's mighty war birds and the men who flew them. Wings returns in these vintage pulp tales, reissued for today’s readers in electronic format.
Table of Contents:
A Complete War-Air Novel
Dog Watch For The Living Dead
by George Bruce
Three eagles — bound together by ties more strong than blood or duty! Yet two were doomed to die in war-red skies — and one must watch their hell bound flight with duty-silenced guns.
A Novel of Mile-High War
Crazy Crate
by Fred McLaughlin
A wild-eyed Reb and a cotton-patch coon — the fightin’est pair that ever flew! All the hell-on-wheels heinies in Hunland couldn’t choke the mad clatter of their whirlwind Vickers.
A Complete Winged-Spy Novel
The Croix De Guerre Kid
by Arthur J. Burks
Black crossed birds of prey stalked the midnight skies. Red wasps of death buzzed! And into that suicide gauntlet Norton gunned his hay-wire crate — fighting to free a blue-eyed girl from the ruthless spy-web of the Hun.
A Novel of War Over No Man’s Land
Hell’s Pilot
by Tom O’Neill
“Man for a man — life for a life!” Over the riddled bodies of thirteen slaughtered gladiators he swore it — a sinister air-code that turned a shrinking coward into the merciless devil-ace of that shell-torn Western Front.
Tracer Targets — Battles of Our War Birds
by Derek West
Those seven Spads were only Fokker fodder to the hungry Spandaus of the Boche.
