Teaching History with Comic Books:

A Case Study of Violence, War, and the Graphic Novel

Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

Purdue University

This article is the product of an unlikely collaboration. One

of us is a life-long fan of comic books. The other is a more recent convert.
One of us is a graduate student in American history. The other is an assistant
professor of African history. Although our research interests may appear
to be quite different, we have found substantial common ground in our
discussions about teaching. In this essay, we present a case study that
demonstrates how graphic novels can be utilized in the history classroom.
More specifically, we discuss the benefits (and challenges) of using comic
books to teach undergraduates about war and violence. While much of our
discussion focuses on the historical particularities of Uganda, our ideas
and experiences are likely to resonate with a wide variety of educators,
both within and outside the discipline of history.
We are not the first to utilize comic books in the classroom, nor are we
the only ones to write about our experiences doing so. Indeed, there is
a growing body of literature examining the ways in which scholars have
incorporated graphic novels into their lesson plans.1 Art Spiegleman’s
Pulitzer Prize winning Maus series is perhaps the most commonly utilized,
particularly within classes that focus on the Second World War and the
Holocaust.2 It is not, however, the only available option for historians.
There are a number of lesser-known, but equally compelling texts that
explore war, displacement, and genocide in a variety of different contexts.3
The History Teacher Volume 45 Number 2 February 2012 © Society for History Education
170 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

Thus far, very little has been written about these less familiar comic books.4
This essay introduces readers to one such work—Unknown Soldier, by
Joshua Dysart and Alberto Ponticelli, which we believe does an excellent
job of complicating students’ understanding of war and violence in
Africa.
Although this project has been a collective endeavor from the beginning,
we have written about our experiences from two distinct subject positions.
In the first section, Mauricio Castro discusses the development of the
Unknown Soldier series, an early predecessor to the graphic novel utilized
in this case study. He draws a number of parallels between the original
comic book series, which was set in an undisclosed location during World
War Two, and its more recent incarnation, which takes place in northern
Uganda in 2002. In the next section, Alicia Decker analyzes Unknown
Soldier: Haunted House as a classroom text.5 Here, she not only focuses
on her rationale for using the book, but also discusses its efficacy as a
pedagogical tool. She considers student reactions, as well as her own
interpretations of the text. It should be noted that although Decker was
the course instructor, Castro offered valuable feedback based on classroom
observation and subsequent discussions.

Historicizing Wartime Comics:

The Origins of Unknown Soldier (Castro)

I discovered and fell in love with comic books when I was eleven years
old and visiting the United States from my native Costa Rica. Within the
confines of the comics’ pages, I found a world of engaging characters, of
rights, of wrongs, and of excitement. Later, as a teenager, I would grow
tired of comics and leave them behind until I was in college and I was
introduced to Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman and Grant Morrison’s New
X-Men in the summer after the release of the Spider-Man film. I found
comics somewhat changed, more adult in most cases, but largely the same.
This second discovery and engagement has lasted far longer and even
drove me down the path of becoming a comic book creator, co-writing
two features which were published in a small press anthology in 2007 and
2008. Comics even had a hand in my acceptance into graduate school;
my writing sample used comics to reflect anxieties about communism and
nuclear proliferation in the United States in the early 1960s.
I considered comics a useful source in the study of American popular
culture. Like most historians, I primarily utilized comic books as a primary
source reflecting some aspect of the time and place that produced them.6
In my second year of graduate education, however, I took a women’s
studies course on militarism taught by Professor Decker. Part of the
Teaching History with Comic Books 171

course involved a militarization exercise based on the work of Cynthia

Enloe.7 We had been challenged to assess the extent to which an everyday
object had been militarized. I evaluated the militarization of an issue
of DC Comics’s Wonder Woman. This exercise opened my eyes to the
possibility of using comics in the history classroom beyond their potential
as primary sources.
As that semester was drawing to a close, I became aware of a new
comic by Joshua Dysart and Alberto Ponticelli titled Unknown Soldier.
The name was vaguely familiar, calling up indistinct references to war
comics of a period before I was even born. This version, however, was set
in Uganda and dealt with the military conflict there. Given Decker’s area
of specialization, I decided to bring this new comic to her attention. We
thus began a collaboration that led to her inclusion of the first Unknown
Soldier collection in one of her undergraduate courses and our co-authoring
this piece.8 As the half of the writing team more familiar with comics
and their history, I took it upon myself to write on Unknown Soldier as a
concept and as a commodity. In the section that follows, I illustrate the
history of the book’s publisher, discuss the series that have carried the name
Unknown Soldier in the past, and provide some analysis of the material in
the Unknown Soldier: Haunted House collection.
My intent in writing this section is not only to analyze the themes and
history of this particular graphic novel, but also to showcase the types of
issues that this medium can bring to the forefront in a historical discussion.
The comics industry has seen a flourishing of new, independent voices and
an increase in the maturity of much of its subject matter in the past four
decades. With this analysis of Unknown Soldier: Haunted House, my co-
author and I seek to present one of these voices as an example of the types of
issues that a graphic novel can help illustrate inside the history classroom.
My analysis of Dysart and Ponticelli’s work is meant to show that, far
from being an impediment to instruction, comics can serve as valuable
teaching tools both through their strengths and through their weaknesses.
This type of exploration can be replicated in classes dealing with different
time periods and geographical areas through a similar analysis of other
historically themed works of sequential storytelling, a small sampling of
which have been included in the appendix to this article. Having gained
a new appreciation of comics as an adult, I seek to combine that fondness
with academic curiosity to illustrate potential new pedagogical avenues
for the history classroom.
As with any other text, we must consider the origins of the comics that
we bring into the classroom and who is producing them. The Vertigo
imprint, publisher of Unknown Soldier: Haunted House, for example, is
a large part of the reason I came back to comics. The trade paperback
172 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

collections of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman introduced me to a different kind

of comic, one that greatly contrasted the gaudy excesses that had driven
me from the medium in the mid-1990s and that convinced me that I could
enjoy comics as an adult. Vertigo is a subdivision of DC Comics, which
has produced classic comic book characters such as Superman, Batman,
and Wonder Woman. Vertigo is DC’s “mature readers” line—something
that sets it apart from the rest of the company’s publishing output. While
the great majority of the comic book buying market consists of adults of
college-age and above, mature readers comics tend to have greater latitude
in their handling of controversial issues. This is not to say that mainstream
superhero comics completely shy away from social consciousness or
relevant real world issues, but corporate ownership of classic characters
often leads to the prevention of possible controversy. In a world where
comic book properties provide the basis for Hollywood blockbusters, the
thought of negative publicity arising from sensitive issues being handled
in superhero comics often makes stockholders nervous. A mature readers
line allows a publisher to handle sensitive issues with greater latitude than
their main line allows. This is similar to the way in which a film studio
might produce R-rated prestige material while making most of their profit
from PG and PG-13 blockbusters. Much like the prestige work created
by studios, most Vertigo titles survive on critical acclaim and better sales
of collected editions that make up for the low monthly sales of individual
issues.
Now the home of mostly original concepts, Vertigo grew out of the
revival and reinvention of several DC Comics characters during the 1980s.
While the imprint did not come into being until 1993, the work of several
British authors assembled by DC editor Karen Berger would set the tone
for what would become Vertigo. Unlike many of the mainstream comics
published in the late 1980s and 1990s, the tone of each title was often
set by the writers instead of the art teams. It was thus that creators like
Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, and Grant Morrison took seemingly outdated
characters like Swamp Thing, the Sandman, the Doom Patrol, and Animal
Man and established the basis for a mature readers line. Many of the proto-
Vertigo and early titles under the imprint were solidly located within the
horror genre. The mature readers label on the titles allowed the writers
and artists to not only deal with particular issues, but also to present more
graphic imagery and situations. While the line’s strong horror origins in
no way prevented the development of other genres, Vertigo continues to
publish horror books to the present.
The Dysart-Ponticelli reimagining of Unknown Soldier in many ways
continues the horror and revival trends that defined the early Vertigo
titles. The original Unknown Soldier character was a sort of globetrotting
Teaching History with Comic Books 173

master of disguise who operated in different theaters of the Second World

War. The character first appeared in Star Spangled War Stories #151,
cover dated July 1970, in a story written and illustrated by Joe Kubert.
Touted as “a man who no one knows—but—is known by everyone,”
the Unknown Soldier was an American operative whose early adventures
directly related to specific historical events.9 In his first appearance, for
example, the Unknown Soldier helped lead the surviving crews that had
participated in the Doolittle Raid to safety. As the series progressed, the
audience was shown the Soldier’s origin as a nameless infantryman whose
face had been irreparably scarred in the Philippines after he and his brother
attempted to hold off a Japanese attack. The character’s iconic look, a
bandage-covered face, was explained in the story, but beyond this, it served
as a patriotic tribute to the unknown soldiers of previous American wars.
In denying the Unknown Soldier an identity, his creators thus left open
the possibility for him to be any man, or at least any Caucasian male, in
the armed forces.10
These early adventures served as a patriotic homage to the American
soldier. One of the themes it sought to illustrate was the capability and
bravery of the American G.I. as an individual. In the character’s second
appearance, he remarks on this importance while stating, “Strange…How
sometimes one man in a pivotal position…can exert an influence on
hundreds—even thousands—of others!”11 This sentiment was repeated
several times in the character’s early appearances as he single-handedly
carried out missions vital to the outcome of the war. The tone of these early
stories bolstered the idea of American power and American intervention
throughout the globe as a force for good. And yet, given the time period
in which the stories were produced, this stance seems to avoid directly
addressing the controversy over American involvement in Vietnam. The
series’ World War Two setting might have been a conscious decision on
the part of the creators and DC Comics to avoid the controversy while still
honoring the dead of any conflict.
Historian Bradford W. Wright has written on the lack of commercial
viability for comics set in the Vietnam War. Wright notes that most comic
book publishers followed the larger trend in entertainment, with the
important exception of rock ’n’ roll, of avoiding all but passing references
to the divisive conflict.12 Of the Vietnam comic books that did appear,
Wright notes that they were unable to find a lasting audience in a market
dominated by superhero comics that, at the time, were not well-matched
to grim conflict. He presents Charlton Comics’s non-superhero war comics
set in Vietnam as an example of the commercial perils that lay in dealing
with the conflict. Charlton’s comics were infused with a pro-war sentiment
that bordered on propaganda, which—if the low sales numbers are any
174 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

indication—did not resonate with the youth market they were trying to
reach.13 Given the failure of their competitors in attempting to publish
Vietnam War comics during the late 1960s, it is hardly surprising that
the bulk of DC’s war comics were set in World War Two. They could
circumvent the dangers of a controversial war by setting their stories in a
conflict that still held the popular imagination.14
This is not to say that as mainstream comic books were becoming more
socially conscious, the creative teams producing Unknown Soldier stories
completely ignored the issues of the day. Several times during the early
years of the Soldier’s feature in Star Spangled War Stories, the creators
used the book’s setting in past decades to illustrate race problems in the
United States. In “Invasion Game,” the Unknown Soldier is surprised
to discover that “Chat Noir,” the French resistance leader he is supposed
to meet during a mission, is actually an African American soldier. The
character would go on to become the faceless protagonist’s aide during the
series, but in their initial meeting, they clash over Chat Noir’s bitterness
at having been “railroaded into a court-martial…because I was a top
sergeant…and black!”15 As the series progressed, it continually dealt
with the ambiguities and tragedies of war, largely shedding its previously
jingoistic tone.
In a later story, the Unknown Soldier and Chat Noir must work together
to stop the conflict between segregated army units after several African
American soldiers are gunned down in a café. The Caucasian troops are
suspected by the African American troops and violence almost erupts until
the Unknown Soldier and Chat Noir convince them that the crime was
perpetrated by German infiltrators. This allows the units to put aside their
differences and mount a unified defense against German tanks during the
Battle of the Bulge. The story, however, ends ambiguously as the Unknown
Soldier reveals in conversation that white American soldiers had indeed
been responsible for the massacre and he had lied to the troops to unify
them. Chat Noir responds by saying he had realized this too, but felt a
need to unify the troops. The Soldier’s response conveys an ambiguous
view of the future of race relations: “And we succeeded…for now. But
nothing’s solved, nothing’s cured…the hate that almost destroyed this
town is still there! Yet if we can handle it for one battle, one war…maybe
someday we can make it forever! Maybe…”16
Star Spangled War Stories was eventually re-titled Unknown Soldier
with issue #208, and was cancelled after issue #268. The character would be
referenced and featured in a different comic book limited series throughout
the decades after the original title’s cancellation. Perhaps the most high-
profile revival prior to the current series took place in a four-issue limited
series written by Garth Ennis and illustrated by Kelly Plunkett in 1997,
Teaching History with Comic Books 175

also under the Vertigo imprint. This series dealt with the activities of the
original Unknown Soldier in the decades after the Second World War.
American foreign policy was portrayed as being often monstrous and the
Unknown Soldier was the ultimate enforcer of this policy. Ennis’s take
on the Soldier shows the reader an idealistic man who blindly believes in
the moral correctness of the United States. He is shown to be a ruthless
operator responsible for such operations as the rise to power of the Shah
of Iran, atrocities in Cambodia, and the slaughter of Nicaraguan civilians
during the training of the Contras.
In the last issue of the mini-series, the Soldier, now seventy-five years
old, has a conversation with the man he intends to have replace him,
William Clyde. He attempts to convince Clyde that “There must be a
soldier,” and that “Ultimately we are always right. And everything we
do is right.”17 The Soldier, however, has learned that the government
for which he fought had betrayed him. He tells Clyde, “You have to be
the soldier because I can’t do it anymore!”18 His intended replacement,
however, does not accept his justifications for his action and rejects his
view of the role of the American military:
You justify regimes and atrocities every bit as bad as the ones you fight
against. You want me to do your work, even though you no longer believe
in it yourself. You would have concealed your loss of faith in what you
fight for, and you expect me to carry on as if I’d never learned the truth.
Well, sir, you are not an American soldier. I deny your legacy. I will not
let you wash the blood off your hands and onto mine.19
Early on in the series, Clyde has been identified as a “boy scout,” much like
the Soldier had been in his original portrayal. But, unlike the Soldier, he
rejects the idea that the ends justify the means. It is a biting indictment of
American covert involvement in the affairs of other nations and a rejection
of the Soldier’s mantra of the good that a single individual can do in a
military conflict. In the end, Clyde chooses to end his own life and deprive
the Soldier of his replacement. The last page of the mini-series shows the
Unknown Soldier, tired and defeated, leaning against a flagpole simply
stating, “God damn me.”20
More than a decade later, in the fall of 2008, Vertigo would introduce
the current volume as reconceived by Dysart and Ponticelli. This Unknown
Soldier series would seem to have little to do with the first Vertigo
titles. There is nothing overtly fantastical about it, nor does it deal with
supernatural horror. It does, however, continue the tradition of reinventing
established concepts from DC Comics’s lore and changing them, aiming
them at a mature audience. The current volume, set in Uganda in 2002,
features a new protagonist and a very different take on the actions of
one man in a larger conflict than the original. Unlike the first nameless
176 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

protagonist, the current Unknown Soldier has a well-established identity

before taking on the role of a single faceless fighter within a conflict. Dr.
Moses Lwanga is introduced as having fled the regime of Idi Amin at the
age of seven with his parents and having been raised in the United States.
The readers learn much about the character from a speech he delivers when
honored for his pacifism and humanitarian work as a doctor back in his
native Uganda. Within the space of one issue of the comic, however, the
character becomes embroiled in the violence of the conflict and comes to
disfigure his own face in an attempt to quiet his inner demons.
This retooling of the Unknown Soldier takes many of the concepts of
the original series and turns them on their head. Where the original series
hinged on the idea of the positive impact that an individual could have
in a larger conflict, the current iteration of the Unknown Soldier shows
that individual violent action can only make things worse inside a war
zone. Where Lwanga was acclaimed for his humanitarian work and his
ability to bring attention to the conflict, the bandaged figure he becomes
increases instability in the area. During the first storyline, Lwanga attempts
to prevent the kidnapping of several young girls by rebel forces, known
as the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). He is captured himself, but later
leads the girls away from the LRA camp in a violent escape that costs one
of the girls her life. Sister Sharon, the Australian nun who runs the school
in which the girls were living, tells him that she could have gotten the girls
back her way, “Through proper channels. Violence wasn’t necessary.”21
At that moment, there appears to be room for debate over what the
greater evil was—the death of one of the girls during the escape or the
rape and sexual slavery of the entire group while their possible release
was being negotiated. Later, however, when Lwanga returns to the school
and finds it deserted, he learns that the LRA had returned, cutting off the
arms of several of the children and taking the rest for their “brides,” thus
forcing Sister Sharon back to Australia. His individual action was unable
to prevent the enslavement of the young girls. It also caused the death and
disfigurement of several of them and removed a positive presence from
the area in the form of Sister Sharon and her school. Here, the violence
of the individual only seems able to make things worse.
Dysart and Ponticelli, however, seem to be commenting on the
continuing belief that violence and individual action can affect the outcome
of a conflict. Undeterred by the death and destruction he has brought
upon those he chose to protect, Lwanga makes a pledge to personally hunt
down and kill the rebel leader, Joseph Kony. A stunned journalist who has
come to seek him out is aghast at the possibility, stating that this type of
personal crusade “means declaring war against an army of demoralized
children.”22 Even as he takes in the horror expressed in the journalist’s face,
Teaching History with Comic Books 177

he convinces himself that what he brings is hope: “I see now how it is.
How it must be. Someone has to sacrifice. Do horrible things. Commit to
ending this once and for all by any means necessary.”23 Lwanga puts away
the pacifist beliefs that had sustained him throughout his life in favor of
what seems to him to be a simpler, faster, and more violent solution—the
removal of Kony by any means necessary.24
The graphic novel’s creators, however, do not present a simplistic world
view in which the new Soldier’s actions have no consequences. The
violence in Unknown Soldier is blatant, not glamorized or white-washed in
service of the story’s action. The art by Ponticelli is exceedingly graphic
in its depiction of the violence and carnage of war. These images are often
hard for the reader to take in. Dysart and Ponticelli are clearly striving for
social relevance by setting their comic in a conflict that is much closer to
the contemporary reader than the Second World War was to the readers
of the stories from the 1970s. Where the art in those original stories
clearly showed the destruction created by large-scale military conflict, the
depictions of violence were almost always heroic as the Soldier battled
the overwhelming, monolithic axis forces. Though often more despicable
than the Nazis portrayed in the stories from the 1970s, the enemies this
soldier faces, particularly in the first story arc, are child soldiers, as much
victims of the conflict as anyone else in the book. Their violent deaths at
the hands of the book’s titular “hero” can produce little but horror in the
mind of the reader.
There is little doubt upon examining the first few issues of Unknown
Soldier that the book fits well into Vertigo’s tradition of horror comics.
While there are no overtly supernatural elements in the story, the horrors
of child soldiers, violence, poverty, and displacement are plainly evident in
the book. The questions we must contend with when considering the use
of a comic like Unknown Soldier in the classroom are: What message does
it convey? While carefully researched and well intentioned, is this work
still an outsider’s perspective that is more concerned with the spectacle
conveyed by the book’s horror than with an earnest exploration of the issues
surrounding the conflict? And what is the reaction that it will arouse from
the students to whom the work is exposed? Could the use of Unknown
Soldier as a text in the classroom be counterproductive?
It must be stated, however, that the authors seem to be fully aware
of the problems posed by their outsider perspectives and the dangers of
perceiving Uganda only in terms of its conflict and its horrors. Early in
the first issue, Lwanga addresses the gathered attendants of a conference
on humanitarian affairs. Although he indicates his appreciation for the
foreign aid Uganda receives and the attention of the United Nations, he
believes that “ultimately this must be our fight.”25 The theme of African
178 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

solutions for African conflicts runs strong throughout the series. Dysart
and Ponticelli challenge the assumption that Uganda is a perpetual victim
by introducing readers to the character of Margaret Wells, a Hollywood
actress involved in local humanitarian relief efforts. When Lwanga’s wife
asks him if he thinks Wells is pretty, he responds, “She looks at us and sees
only genocide, child soldiers, AIDS and famine. Her altruism borders
on fetishism. It’s hard to find that kind of attitude attractive.”26 Despite
the tremendous violence portrayed throughout the text, the authors do not
want their audience to see Uganda as just another horror show.
Dysart, in particular, describes his ambivalence about these negative
portrayals of Uganda. He suggests that in his research travels, he “witnessed
people at the lowest point of their lives, and I came back and turned it into
an action-packed war comic…We try our best not to be exploitative, but
in my heart I don’t know if this is the right way to do it.”27 Can Dysart’s
self-awareness, evident in the meta-textual musings of his characters and
in his own statements, overcome the lack of scholarly depth of research
or Ugandan perspective? Should scholars simply address these concerns
in the classroom and then utilize the work in such a way that it allows
the students a different perspective from a scholarly monograph? Can
Unknown Soldier’s intended status as popular art provide a gateway for
a deeper understanding by undergraduates because it is not a scholarly
tome? My co-author and I believe so. In the discussion that follows, she
reflects upon how she utilized this particular text in the classroom.

Pedagogies of Pain:
Teaching Unknown Soldier in the History Classroom (Decker)

One of the most pressing issues of our times is the globalization of

military values—the idea that military intervention is the most effective
and efficient means of solving international (and oftentimes domestic)
crises. We are living in a time of war, and yet, most of our students have
a hard time grasping the repercussions of this reality. Because most of
them are removed from the daily brutalities of violence, they imagine war
as an abstraction of sorts—something that exists, but that is tangential to
their daily lives. They may have friends enlisted in the military or family
members who are serving overseas, but unless they have actually been to an
active warzone, they lack a crucial frame of reference. Our responsibility
as educators is to provide that reference point, filling in the blanks and
helping them to understand the larger historical context(s).
In the fall of 2009, I had the opportunity to teach an undergraduate
course about violence, war, and militarism in modern Africa at Purdue
University, a large, land grant institution located in the heart of the Midwest.
Teaching History with Comic Books 179

Although I had previously taught a number of women’s studies courses

about war and militarism, this was the first time that I would be teaching
the subject from a historical perspective. I wanted to be creative in my
pedagogical approach, but at the same time, still be taken seriously by my
more “classically trained” colleagues.28 In the end, I selected a number
of texts that would expose students to ideas about violence and war
from many different historical vantage points. These included the more
traditional scholarly articles and monographs, as well as an array of novels,
memoirs, speeches, song lyrics, poems, and comic books. Although I have
experimented with a wide variety of primary and secondary sources in the
classroom, this would be my first attempt at teaching a graphic novel. I
worried that this particular type of literary genre might not be appropriate
for such a serious subject. Would the students think that the comic book
was supposed to be funny? Would they be able to grasp the intricacies of
war and violence within this context?29
As mentioned in the introduction, the decision to utilize a graphic
novel in a history course was unconventional, but certainly not unheard
of. For a number of years, educators have been teaching their students
about the horrors of war and genocide through the medium of comics. The
difference in my case, however, had to do with the geographic location of
this particular class—Africa. Generations of students have “learned” about
Africa through harmful stereotypes that reinforce the myth of primordial
savagery.30 What sort of message would I be sending my students if
I introduced them to a text that depicted violence in such a graphic
manner? Would the text “confirm” African violence, rather than trouble
their understanding of it? Would it be too violent, too demoralizing? Or,
would it simply encourage more students to do the reading? I knew that
the only way to figure out the answers to these difficult questions was to
go ahead and assign the text. And so I did.
I decided to introduce the text in the second half of the semester, after
students had become more conversant with the topics of the course. They
had already learned to interrogate problematic representations of Africans
as “essentially” violent and were knowledgeable about the many causes of
conflict on the continent. They had immersed themselves in Mau Mau and
were struggling to understand the system of oppression that undergirded
the Kenyan Gulags. They had been inspired by the liberation struggles in
Zimbabwe and were later disheartened by the country’s tragic collapse.
And then, after learning about the spate of military dictatorships that had
peppered the African landscape since the end of colonial rule, I introduced
them to Uganda vis-à-vis the graphic novel, Unknown Soldier. My fear
was that by this point in the semester, the students had already reached
a threshold—saturated in despair and unable to absorb any additional
180 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

trauma. Would they have the intellectual and emotional capacity to analyze
the particularities of yet another conflict? In order to help me gauge the
efficacy of the text, I asked my co-author to observe the class during that
week. Our experiences in the classroom and our subsequent conversations
about pedagogy more generally form the basis of the discussion which
follows.
Students were asked to read the first three issues of Unknown Soldier
before coming to class.31 Because most of them knew little if anything
about the war in northern Uganda, I wanted to assess how much they
had learned from the text. We began the class by discussing their overall
impressions of the novel. For many of the students, particularly the
women, this was their first experience reading a comic book, especially in
an academic setting. They expressed appreciation for the opportunity to
read something “different.” Many of them commented on the high levels
of violence that were depicted in the novel, not as a criticism of the text,
but instead, as a reflection of how bad things seemed to be on the ground.
They wanted to know if the author (and artist) of the book had exaggerated
the violence or whether it was “real.” The sad truth, I told them, was
that the realities of war were much worse than those reproduced through
fiction. To illustrate why this was the case, we watched the powerful
documentary, Invisible Children, an excellent film that chronicles the
tragedies of war as seen through the eyes of Ugandan children.32 Most of
the students remained in their desks as the credits rolled, even after the
class period was over.
The following class period, we began with a brief discussion of the film,
particularly as it related to the themes of Unknown Soldier.33 Most of the
students could not believe that they had never heard of the war or the plight
of the forgotten children. This opened up an interesting conversation about
the politics of media coverage—what gets attention in the news and what
does not. Following this, I provided the students with a brief overview
of the war.34 I deliberately chose to focus on the historical narrative last,
since I wanted to see what they could learn from other types of sources
first. The class ended with a “big picture” discussion about the war in
relation to what they had learned from the graphic novel, the film, and
the historical lecture. Everyone seemed to agree that the comic book was
a welcome addition to the course. They enjoyed the readability of the
text and appreciated the author’s candor. Several of the students were
inspired to learn even more about the conflict. I know that at least two
of them were looking for ways to volunteer in Uganda over the summer.
This seems to suggest that if you can get students excited about history,
they are more likely to become socially and politically engaged in the
world around them.
Teaching History with Comic Books 181

There are a number of reasons why Unknown Soldier works well in the
classroom, apart from those articulated by the students. Most significantly,
the text lends itself well to classroom discussions about larger historical
issues. For example, what does the novel teach us about gender relations
in northern Uganda? What do we learn about the politics of humanitarian
aid and intervention? In what ways are structural inequalities reflected in
the landscape of war? I also found that students who were not as likely
to read throughout the course did read this book. It was a way for me
to connect with more of my students on a deeper level. The book made
it easier for students to think critically about the content, as well as the
context in which it was presented. The class discussed the ways that
Africans and African violence were represented, and why such a subject
was important to consider. Would, for instance, a comic book about the
current “war on terror” portray violence in a similar manner? And finally,
the novel clearly demonstrated to students that history did not have to be
boring. There is not simply one correct way to “do” history, but instead
multiple points of engagement.
Of course, one of the challenges of using comic books in the classroom
is that it requires instructors to fill in more of the gaps. Given that the
principle author of Unknown Soldier spent only one month in Uganda
doing research for the series, it was inevitable that many of the historical
subtleties would be lost. It is therefore the instructor’s responsibility
to situate the text within a larger historical context. One should also
think carefully about when to introduce the subject to students. I would
recommend using the book in the second half of the semester, after students
are familiar with violence as a concept and can demonstrate a reasonable
understanding of modern African history—at least from a macro-level.
Otherwise, students may lack the analytical skills to engage in critical
discussions about the text. One way of assessing the students’ ability
to make sense of the material would be to incorporate a short writing
assignment into the lesson plan. Ask them to reflect critically upon how
the novel reinforces and/or challenges stereotypes about Africa. This
could be done as a free-writing exercise at the beginning of class or as a
more structured take-home essay.35

Conclusion

Although the graphic novel presents a variety of unique pedagogical

challenges, it has the potential to drastically enliven any classroom. We
ultimately recommend this particular text because of its affordability (just
$9.99 for the first six issues), the seriousness with which it treats its topic,
and the opportunities for classroom discussion it provides. Instructors can
182 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

easily compensate for its shortcomings through proper contextualization.

Even though the content of this particular novel is best suited for a class
on African history or militarism, other comic book series would work well
in other types of history courses. The wide breadth of styles and subject
matters within the medium provide coverage for many different areas
and time periods. It is indeed a simple, yet highly effective strategy for
enriching students’ experiences within the history classroom.

Notes

We would like to thank our colleagues and faculty mentors at Purdue University who
provided excellent feedback on earlier versions of this essay: Caroline Janney, Susan
Curtis, Whitney Walton, and Darren Dochuk. We also wish to acknowledge the insightful
comments that we received from two anonymous reviewers and the editorial board at The
History Teacher.

1. In January 2009, Fordham University’s Graduate School of Education hosted

an academic conference on “Graphica in Education,” which examined the serious usages
of comics in the classroom. For details, see Debra Viadero, “Scholars See Comics as No
Laughing Matter,” Education Week 28, no. 21 (February 2009): 1-11. For an excellent
discussion of how to use graphic novels in the world history classroom, see Maryanne
Rhett, “The Graphic Novel and the World History Classroom,” World History Connected
4, no. 2 (February 2007).
2. See Maus, A Survivor’s Tale I: My Father Bleeds History (New York: Pantheon
Books, 1986) and Maus, A Survivor’s Tale II: And Here My Troubles Began (New York:
Pantheon Books, 1991).
3. These titles include Gabriel Akol, Santino Athian, Mathew Mabek, and Michael
Ngor, Echoes of the Lost Boys of Sudan (Dallas, TX: Non-Fiction Reality Comics, 2004);
Joe Kubert, Fax from Sarajevo: A Story of Survival (Milwaukie, OR: Dark Horse Comics,
1996); Keiji Nakazawa, Barefoot Gen: A Cartoon Story of Hiroshima (Harmondsworth,
U.K.: Penguin, 1990); Joe Sacco, Safe Area Gorazde: The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-
1995 (Seattle, WA: Fantagraphic Books, 2000); Joe Sacco, Palestine (Seattle, WA:
Fantagraphic Books, 1993;2001); and J. P. Stassen, Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda (First
Second, 2006).
4. For a brief but notable exception, see Lila L. Christensen, “Graphic Global
Conflict: Graphic Novels in the High School Social Studies Classroom,” The Social
Studies 97, no. 6 (November-December 2006): 227-230, <http://www.historycooperative.
org/journals/whc/4.2/rhett.html>.
5. This is a collection of the first six issues of the comic book series. See
Joshua Dysart and Albert Ponticelli, Unknown Soldier, Vol. 1, Haunted House (Vertigo
Comics, 2009). “Haunted House, Chapter One” (Issue #1, December 2008) is available
in downloadable format directly from Vertigo at <http://www.dccomics.com/media/
excerpts/12182_1.pdf>.
6. For a discussion of comic books as an historical source, see Brett Bowles, “Comic
Teaching History with Comic Books 183

Books as Literature and History,” Proceedings of the Annual Meeting of the Western Society
for French History 29 (2001): 112-116. See also Hugo Frey and Benjamin Noys, “History
in the Graphic Novel,” Rethinking History 6, no. 3 (June 2002): 255-260.
7. In particular, see Cynthia Enloe, Maneuvers: The International Politics of
Militarizing Women’s Lives (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2000).
8. Concerning terminology, we use the term “comic books” to refer to graphic story
telling in general. While the term “graphic novel” has come to refer to any book-length
comic or sequential art story, this is most accurately reserved for original graphic novels
that were not first published in serial form. Even though the term graphic novel may be
used in places, Unknown Soldier is best described as a comic book series and Unknown
Soldier: Haunted House as a collection.
9. Joe Kubert, “They Came from Shangri-La” (Issue #151, June-July 1970), Star
Spangled War Stories, Vol. 1 (DC Comics, 1970): 3.
10. This anonymity served as a way to connect the character’s name to the most
common context of the term Unknown Soldier: the honor bestowed upon all those who
sacrificed their lives in military service and whose identities will never be known. It is no
accident that the Soldier’s base of operations in these stories was located within Arlington
National Cemetery. The character carried on the legacy of the dead; his nameless service
was meant as a constant reenactment of the bravery and sacrifice of the fallen.
11. Joe Kubert, “Instant Glory” (Issue #152, August-September 1970), Star Spangled
War Stories, Vol. 1 (DC Comics, 1970): 4.
12. Bradford W. Wright, Comic Book Nation: The Transformation of Youth Culture
in America (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 193.
13. Ibid., 195-199.
14. For a discussion about the popularization of war in comics, see Brian Edwards,
“The Popularisation of War in Comic Strips,” History Workshop Journal 1996, no. 2
(Autumn 1996): 180-189.
15. Bob Haney and Joe Kubert, “Invasion Game” (Issue #155, February-March
1971), Star Spangled War Stories, Vol. 1 (DC Comics, 1971): 6.
16. Frank Robbins and Jack Sparling, “A Town Called Hate!” (Issue #179, March
1974), Star Spangled War Stories, Vol. 1 (DC Comics, 1974): 13.
17. Garth Ennis and Killian Plunkett, “Unknown Soldier, Book 4” (Issue #4 of 4,
1997), Unknown Soldier (Vertigo Comics, 1997): 17.
18. Ibid., 20.
19. Ibid., 21.
20. Ibid., 24.
21. Joshua Dysart and Alberto Ponticelli, “Haunted House, Chapter Four” (Issue #4,
March 2009) Unknown Soldier, Vol. 1, Haunted House (Vertigo Comics, 2009): 21.
22. Joshua Dysart and Alberto Ponticelli, “Haunted House, Conclusion,” (Issue #6,
May 2009) Unknown Soldier, Vol. 1, Haunted House (Vertigo Comics, 2009): 21.
23. Ibid.
24. There is an in-story tie between Lwanga, his new attitude, and the original
Unknown Soldier. During several of the dream/hallucination sequences during the comic,
there are indications that Lwanga may have been programmed by the American government
with the skills he displays in his war against the Lord’s Resistance Army. In one of these
sequences, there is even a panel in which Lwanga is led into a room to have a conversation
with a very elderly man in a wheelchair whose face is covered in bandages—the
original Unknown Soldier. This might be discounted as part of the mentally ill Lwanga’s
hallucinations, but the existence of the bandaged man is corroborated elsewhere. Another
one of the characters in the book, Jack Lee Howl, a former CIA operative, has a flashback
to his early career in former Zaire in 1960, where his conversation with his direct superior
184 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

is watched over by a man with a bandaged face. Whereas the original Unknown Soldier
stories held American military power and intelligence operations as a force for good,
the new series shows the darker consequences of American involvement in the affairs
of other nations, much like the 1997 series. Later issues of the Dysart-Ponticelli series
reveal that the original Soldier sought to subvert the CIA’s attempts to replicate him by
embedding the fictional Moses Lwanga personality into the recruit. Decades of bloodshed
and atrocities had led him to seek the creation of a man of peace who could end conflicts
nonviolently. Thematically, these story developments provide a good counterpoint to the
original Unknown Soldier’s activities. Given how late these revelations come in the series,
however, educators using Haunted House as a standalone piece in the history classroom
need not concern themselves with this connection.
25. Joshua Dysart and Alberto Ponticelli, “Haunted House, Chapter One,” (Issue #1,
December 2008) Unknown Soldier, Vol. 1, Haunted House (Vertigo Comics, 2009): 3.
26. Ibid., 5.
27. Quoted in George Gene Gustines, “Civil War in Uganda, Illustrated and in
Panels,” The New York Times, 12 August 2009, < http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/12/
books/12unknown.html>.
28. Because I (Decker) have a Ph.D. in Women’s Studies, I often feel the need to
work harder to prove that I am capable of teaching courses in a history department.
29. For an interesting discussion of this issue in relation to American history
classrooms, see Paul Buhle, “History and Comics,” Reviews in American History 35, no.
35 (June 2007): 315-323. He argues that the task of making comic books appear serious
is usually more daunting for the teacher than for the students.
30. Curtis Keim does an excellent job of discussing how we “learn” about Africa and
why these lessons can be harmful. See Keim, Mistaking Africa: Curiosities and Inventions
of the American Mind (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1999).
31. The first six issues of Unknown Soldier were published as a collection in August
2009. The next six issues were released in March 2010. See Joshua Dysart and Albert
Ponticelli, Unknown Soldier, Vol. 2, Easy Kill (Vertigo Comics, 2010). Individual issues
were released on a monthly basis and are also available for purchase.
32. Jason Russell, Bobby Bailey, and Laren Poole, dirs., Invisible Children: Rough
Cut, 55 mins., (Invisible Children, 2006).
33. Students were required to read the last three issues of the comic before coming
to class.
34. For an excellent scholarly analysis of the conflict, see Ronald R. Atkinson, “From
Uganda to the Congo and Beyond: Pursuing the Lord’s Resistance Army,” International
Peace Institute Policy Paper (New York: International Peace Institute, December 2009)
and “Afterward: A Perspective on the Last Thirty Years,” in The Origins of the Acholi of
Uganda before 1800, second ed. (Kampala, Uganda: Fountain Publishers, 2009). For
additional information on the war in northern Uganda, see Sverker Finnstrom, Living with
Bad Surroundings: War, History, and Everyday Moments in Northern Uganda (Durham,
NC: Duke University Press, 2008) and Chris Dolan, Social Torture: The Case of Northern
Uganda, 1986-2006 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2009).
35. Instructors might also find it useful for students to analyze how the war has
been covered and/or represented by various activist organizations. Key websites include:
Human Rights Watch at <www.hrw.org/Africa/uganda>; Amnesty International at <www.
amnestyusa.org/all-countries/uganda/page.do?id=1011260>; Invisible Children at <www.
invisiblechildren.com>; and World Vision at <www.worldvision.org/content.nsf/learn/
globalissues-Uganda>. Students may also be interested in looking at how the International
Criminal Court covers the conflict. See <www.iccnow.org/?mod=northernuganda>.
Teaching History with Comic Books 185

Appendix: Graphic Novels for the History Classroom

What follows is a compilation of historically themed graphic novels, grouped by

geographic area. This is by no means a comprehensive list and we make no claim to
having read all of these examples. These graphic novels represent some of the possibilities
available for use in the history classroom.

Africa

Akol, Gabriel, Santino Athian, Mathew Mabek, and Michael Ngor. Echoes of the Lost
Boys of Sudan. Dallas, TX: Non-Fiction Reality Comics, 2004.
This biographical comic is based on the experiences of four Sudanese boys who fled
their nation’s second civil war (1983-2005). The publisher of the comic meant for it
to be used as an educational tool to help American students understand why there are
nearly 4,000 Sudanese “lost boys” in the United States. The comic is aimed at middle
and high school students.
Dysart, Joshua and Alberto Ponticelli. Unknown Soldier: Haunted House. New York:
Vertigo, 2009.
This graphic novel series focuses on the war between the Government of Uganda and
the Lord’s Resistance Army (1987-present). Analysis and teaching recommendations
for this graphic novel can be found in the body of the article.
Getz, Trevor and Liz Clarke. Abina and the Important Men. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2012.
This graphic history examines the life of Abina Mansah, a young woman who lived
in the Gold Coast during the late 19th century. Her story is recreated using a transcript
from an 1876 court case in which she discusses her experiences as a slave. The book
includes the original transcript, a background section providing historical context, and
detailed reading and teaching guides.
Stassen, J. P. Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda. New York: First Second, 2006.
Deogratias is a surreal tale that explores the trauma and guilt experienced by the survivors
of the Rwandan genocide (April-July 1994). Told in a series of flashbacks, this graphic
novel also deals with themes of responsibility and imperial complicity in the genocide.

The Americas

Baker, Kyle. Nat Turner. New York: Abrams, 2008.

This highly acclaimed graphic novel depicts the cruelty of American slavery and
the violence of Nat Turner’s rebellion (August 1831). Drawing heavily from The
Confessions of Nat Turner and other sources, Baker attempts to present a historically
accurate, if very graphic, version of events.
Buhle, Paul and Nicole Schulman, eds. Wobblies!: A Graphic History of the Industrial
Workers of the World. New York: Verso, 2005.
This collaboration between historians and graphic artists is intended to illustrate the
labor struggles of the early twentieth century. This collection requires at least some
knowledge of the IWW and would serve as a useful complement to class materials.
Helfer, Andrew and Randy Duburke. Malcolm X: A Graphic Biography. New York:
Hill & Wang, 2006.
This graphic novel presents Malcolm X’s philosophies, his life, and his work (1925-
1965). The creators do not hesitate to illustrate any part of their subject’s life, even
pointing out inconsistencies in his autobiography.
186 Alicia C. Decker and Mauricio Castro

Lockpez, Inverna and Dean Haspiel. Cuba: My Revolution. New York: Vertigo,
2010.
This is a semi-autobiographical graphic novel based on the experiences of Inverna
Lockpez. The narrative traces the protagonist, Sonya, through the course of the 1959
Cuban revolution and beyond. She is shown moving from an idealistic supporter of
the revolution to a disillusioned exile.
Ottaviani, Jim. Fallout: J. Robert Oppenheimer, Leo Szilard, and the Political Science
of the Atomic Bomb. Ann Arbor, MI: G.T. Labs, 2001.
Ottaviani and a series of artists draw on the life and times of Oppenheimer and Szilard
to illustrate how each man developed reservations in regards to nuclear weapons.
Drawing on primary sources, the creators attempt to tell a story that is both personal
and historically relevant.
Pekar, Harvey, Paul Buhle, Gary Dumm et al. Students for a Democratic Society: A
Graphic History. New York: Hill & Wang, 2008.
This graphic novel explores the revolutionary history of the SDS movement (1960s),
cleverly alternating between Pekar’s narration and that of actual participants.
Pekar, Harvey, Nancy J. Peters, Ed Piskor et al. The Beats: A Graphic History. New
York: Hill & Wang, 2009.
Pekar and his collaborators incorporate bits of the beats’ own writings as they explore
the beat identity and the achievements of each individual member.
Rodriguez, Spain. Che: A Graphic Biography. New York: Verso, 2008.
Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s beliefs are front and center in this biography of the
revolutionary leader (1928-1967). Critics attribute a keen grasp of the socio-political
context of the Cuban Revolution to Rodriguez, but also a largely uncritical eye when
it comes to Guevara.

Asia

Delisle, Guy. Burma Chronicles. Montreal, Canada: Drawn & Quarterly, 2008.
Delisle observed Burmese life while his wife was working with Medecins Sans
Frontières (MSF or Doctors Without Borders). He uses non-fiction vignettes to illustrate
life under the country’s military junta.
Kouno, Fumiyo. Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms. San Francisco,
CA: Last Gasp, 2007.
Set in 1955, Kouno’s narrative explores the effects of the Second World War and the
dropping of the Atomic bomb on Japan and its people.
Mizuki, Shigeru. Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths. Montreal, Canada: Drawn &
Quarterly, 2011.
Mizuki uses his own experiences as a Japanese soldier to tell the semi-autobiographical
tale of Japanese soldiers ordered to die in battle or face execution if they returned
alive.
Nakazawa, Keiji. Barefoot Gen: A Cartoon Story of Hiroshima. Harmondsworth,
U.K.: Penguin, 1990.
This classic manga illustrates not only the horror of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima,
but also deals with the devastation and deprivations of long-term armed conflict.
O’Reilly, Sean and Khoi Pham. Khan. Rockford, IL: Arcana Studio, 2010.
This brief graphic biography of Genghis Khan focuses on his military achievements in
the 12th and 13th centuries.
Teaching History with Comic Books 187

Europe

Eisner, Will. The Plot: The Secret Story of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. New
York: W. W. Norton, 2005.
Eisner uses new archival evidence uncovered in the post-Soviet age in an attempt to
reveal the origins of the insidious anti-Semitic document.
Ellis, Warren and Raulo Caceres. Crécy. Rantoul, IL: Avatar Press, 2007.
Told from the perspective of a soldier at the battle of Crécy, in 1346, this brief graphic
novel illustrates the role of military technology in the Hundred Years’ War.
Kubert, Joe. Fax From Sarajevo: A Story of Survival. Milwaukie, OR: Dark Horse
Comics, 1996.
Joe Kubert based this graphic novel on the faxes he received from his European comics’
agent and friend Ervin Rustemagic throughout the latter’s 1992 migration between
Dobrinja and Sarajevo during the war in the former Yugoslavia.
Pak, Greg, Carmine Di Giandomenico et al. X-Men: Magneto Testament. New York:
Marvel Publishing, 2009.
Despite its association with the popular superhero franchise, there are no supernatural
powers in this graphic novel. Instead, Pak and Di Giandomenico tell the story of one young
boy’s experience during the Holocaust. This collection includes a teaching guide.
Sacco, Joe. Safe Area Gorazde: The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-1995. Seattle, WA:
Fantagraphic Books, 2000.
Sacco spent four weeks in the Muslim enclave of Gorazde while it was under siege by
Bosnian Serbs. He uses this experience to illustrate stories of the war that go beyond
traditional news coverage.
Spiegelman, Art. The Complete Maus: A Survivor’s Tale. New York: Pantheon Books,
1986.
Spiegelman’s Maus is the gold standard in historical biography graphic novels. It is
based on the experiences of Spiegelman’s father Vladek during the Holocaust and is
one of the most widely used graphic novels in the history classroom.

Middle East

Folman, Ari and David Polonsky. Waltz with Bashir: A Lebanon War Story. New York:
Metropolitan Books, 2009.
This graphic novel reconstructs the experiences of a soldier during Israel’s occupation
of Lebanon. It is unique in that it is not an original graphic novel or comic, but instead
a direct film-to-book translation of the film by the same name.
Sacco, Joe. Footnotes in Gaza: A Graphic Novel. New York: Metropolitan Books,
2010.
Sacco ties the past to the present in his exploration of the history of Rafah, a town in
the Gaza strip. Based on a bloody incident in 1956, this graphic novel explores the
nature of the Arab-Israeli conflict.
Sacco, Joe. Palestine. Seattle, WA: Fantagraphic Books, 1993/2001.
Palestine predates Footnotes in Gaza and was Sacco’s first major work. He uses material
gathered in over 100 interviews with Palestinians and Jews to illustrate the conflict.
The new edition includes an introduction by Edward Said.
Satrapi, Marjane. The Complete Persepolis. New York: Pantheon Books, 2004.
Satrapi recounts her coming of age during the 1979 Iranian Revolution. At once personal
and illustrative of the changes in her nation, Persepolis is a powerful historical memoir.
It was adapted into an animated film in 2007.
“Carter G. Woodson—Teacher, Historian, Publisher,” Charles Henry Alston, 1943, NARA.

“Charles Henry Fletcher—Soldier of Production,” Charles Henry Alston, 1943, NARA.