 Pvt. “Stump” Wilkerson
Scrawny, with ears too big for his helmet and a uniform too large, perpetually smudged with mud he didn’t get anywhere near the front. A potato farmer’s son from Twin Falls, Idaho, drafted three weeks before he learned to use a bayonet properly. Sweet, earnest, and hopelessly out of his depth — he confidently applies the wrong ASL rule at the worst possible moment and writes disconnected letters home nightly, mid-firefight. Grognard’s exasperated but quietly protective of him.
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 Sgt. “Grognard” Kowalski
Built like a fire hydrant, three-day stubble, cigar that never seems to get shorter or go out. Sarge keeps an ASL rulebook inexplicably hidden behind his back, pulling it out at a moment’s notice — and he knows those rules cold. Not out of love, but because it’s the only thing keeping his squad alive — delivering deadpan citations mid-explosion. Keenly critical yet protective of Stump, he secretly keeps a notebook of Stump’s dumbest quotes and gives Quarters a thousand-yard stare every time he opens his mouth. |
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 Drill Sgt. “Stewie” Stewart
Drill sergeant hat pulled low, veins bulging, spit flying mid-sentence — somehow always still standing in a boot camp even when the story’s clearly moved to the front. Never actually seen combat — yet is a man on a mission. Lives to rant about exactly one topic: in the entire history of the war, nobody has ever routed correctly. But by god, he’s going to show ’em how! Turns up in flashback panels whenever a character routs badly in the present, and is the one man alive who doesn’t seem to notice Gen. Quarters outranks him. |
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 PFC “Chad” Sterling
Jaw like a granite outcrop, uniform somehow always pressed, hair unaffected by wind, mud, or explosions. Effortlessly — almost obnoxiously — competent. Nobody knows where he came from — he just appears mid-disaster, delivers one perfect heroic line, and vanishes before anyone can thank him. His competence, demeanor, and perfect soldiering have no place in Stump’s world. Chad is the hero Stump wishes he could be, and somehow that makes his every appearance both a relief and a painful reminder. |
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 Gen. “Snacks” Quarters
Chest a wall of medals of dubious origin, riding crop tucked under one arm like a scepter, boots so shiny they reflect his own reflection. Never once correctly read a hex map and issues orders based on hubris and whichever angle looks best for the ever-present photographer. Bombastic, overbearing, and incompetent to the point of annoyance. Nicknamed “Snacks” behind his back for having his own private chef and baker at the front. Takes credit for Grognard’s tactics and is secretly terrified of Sgt. Stewie. |
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 Cpl. “Bulldog” Mulligan
Gung-ho Marine, .45 on the hip like a gunslinger, BAR balanced on one shoulder like it weighs nothing, grin permanently welded on, “SEMPER FI!” is his reflex response to literally anything. Earned “Bulldog” on Paris Island for headbutting a problem he could’ve just walked around — and, ironic given his surname, is constantly begging for “just one mulligan” on a botched attack. Instant chest-thumping camaraderie with Chad; good-natured contempt for how soft he thinks the Army is.
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 Lt. “Ghost” Goto
Immaculate discipline in his posture, a family-heirloom samurai sword on his back even in the deepest jungle, eyes that miss nothing. A master of PTO concealment and sniping who treats the craft almost like meditation. The Americans started calling him “Ghost” after the third time he vanished from a position they’d have sworn was empty. Keeps an understated tally of the Allies’ tactical mistakes and is a respectful, worthy rival to “Bulldog” Mulligan specifically. |
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 Lt. “Biscuits” Davies
Pressed and correct even in a foxhole, mustache trimmed, a folded newspaper tucked under one arm. A North Africa veteran who insists the war stop for tea and biscuits, procedure be damned, and references the Battle of El Alamein at every opportunity. “Biscuits” was meant as a jab; he’s worn it as a badge of honor ever since. Corrects rules mistakes with a raised eyebrow rather than a raised voice, and is an infinitely patient mentor to Higgins. Has never lifted a weapon. His calm leadership is his weapon. |
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 Pvt. “Soldierboy” Higgins
Uniform a bit too tight, always crouched shyly over something — usually a shoebox diorama of toy soldiers he uses to work out ASL tactics before he has to do it for real. Davies caught him at it once, and the nickname stuck. Whispers his lines, gains quiet confidence across the strip’s run, and shares an unspoken kinship with Schreck across enemy lines. Mates with Lance Corporal Thomas, who is in the same squad. |
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 LCpl. “Gaffer” Thomas
A decade older than his squad, silver already working through his hair under the helmet, hands more used to a factory floor than a rifle. Earned the nick “Gaffer” — Brummie shorthand for the foreman. He’s not fighting for king or country, just making sure the war stays far away from his wife and two kids back in Birmingham. Calm and pragmatic to a fault — nothing rattles him. Watches over Higgins without ever making a production of it. Finds Davies’ tea rituals ridiculous — but secretly tolerates the taste of home. |
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 Partisan “Matisse” Girard
Beret at a rakish angle, cigarette perpetually dangling from his lips, even on night missions. Tommy gun (“Rita”) slung like a favorite dance partner. Stylish French Resistance fighter who converses with “Rita” more than he does most people. “Matisse” is his code name, a nod to his painting days, and he won’t answer to anything else. Appears from nowhere with the right piece of intel, then vanishes; nobody’s quite sure which army he’s helping, but everyone knows it’s not the Axis. And he prefers it that way. |
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 Pvt. “Spooky” Schreck
Helmet perpetually askew from shaking, eyes wide, rifle held like it might go off on its own (it has, many times). Timid, terrified of absolutely everything, and saddled with a surname that’s little different from his nickname — an irony he’s painfully aware of. Likely to fail every morale check before the dice even finish rolling, perpetually subject to Desperation Morale, flinches at harmless noises while standing frozen through real danger, and is secretly the most cautious — and often most correct — tactician in his squad. |
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 Cpt. “Inspector” Havok
Uniform pressed to a knife’s edge, boots gleaming, a monocle he doesn’t need but wears anyway. A North Africa and Eastern Front veteran who works Stalingrad into nearly any conversation. Treats the ASL rulebook as scripture and will halt a firefight to adjudicate a disputed rule; his own men call him “Inspector” for running Line of Sight checks like war-crimes tribunals. Visibly pained by Schreck’s uniform and Enzo’s entire personality — and an unlikely rules-lawyer rival to Grognard, though they’ve never met. Yet. |
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 Cpl. “Chef” Rossi
Alpini feather cocked jauntily in his cap, with a grin that rivals Mulligan’s. Treats the whole war as an inconvenience between good jokes and better meals. Genuinely brave under fire but narrates it all like a comedy bit, turns rules disputes into punchlines. Though Italian, studied at the Le Cordon Bleu in Paris before hostilities broke out, and produces surprisingly good food from nowhere mid-siege. The one soldier Schreck can never take seriously — and an unlikely friend to him anyway. |
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 Cpt. “Iceberg” Molotov
Granite expression, grimy coveralls, greatcoat that never seems to move in the wind, always framed by the silhouette of his T-34. Grim Soviet tank captain, commands his squadron with joyless precision. Nicknamed “Iceberg” — ninety percent of him stays submerged and stoic, and you only find the rest when you’re already too close and too late. Delivers devastating one-liners with zero change in expression, and is the one man Commissar Kurgan can’t seem to rattle. |
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 Commissar “Eyes” Kurgan
Long coat, cold eyes, sidearm worn like a threat rather than a tool. A stern Soviet political officer who’ll bend or break any rule — game or otherwise — if it serves the Motherland, which is his sole purpose in life. Nobody says “Eyes” where he might hear it, which of course he always does anyway. His political information network is second to none, and he sees everything. Delivers Motherland pep talks that are equal parts inspiring and vaguely threatening. |
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 Pvt. “Belladona” Petrov
Striking and composed, rifle held with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this many times before. A deadly Soviet sharpshooter with a genuine heart of gold — checks on the wounded, remembers everyone’s name, and hums lullabies right after taking a shot most soldiers couldn’t make cold sober. Earned “Belladona” for exactly what it implies — beautiful but deadly. The rare soul Kurgan can’t intimidate, a warm foil to his coldness. Yet don’t get on her bad side, or it might be a short war for you. |
Welcome to “ASL Training With Stump,” a comic strip where the real adversary is the rulebook.