In my review of the first issue of Fury: My War Gone By, I said it was setting the stage for "
which is a celebration of testosterone without going ridiculously overboard about it to make it popcorn-style ludicrous. It's war, sex and knuckle sandwiches and liberal use of the word 'fuck.' And Nazi punching. We can't forget the Nazi punching, even though it's 1954 Indochina.
We open with coitus, we cut to Fury telling Congressman Pug McCuskey that the French trying to hold onto their colony in southeast Asia is a fool's game, poking holes in the classic Commie Domino Theory that if one falls to the Reds, they'll all fall to the Reds, and then he has to take off after his attache George Hatherly, who ran into an unrepentant Nazi named Steinhoff being used as an adviser to the French fort at Son Chau, couldn't believe it, and has apparently gone off to kick the guy's ass for being a Nazi, despite not being that much of a fighter. Ostensibly, Fury's got to tell Hatherly to not get hot-headed, but there's something about a giant Nazi asshole that brings out the hot in people's heads, and Fury winds up going a few rounds with the big burly bastard, too, with an anger that dies hard – getting a big meaty finger in his eyehole for his trouble.
That is, until the fort is attacked by the enemy and a firefight ensues. Like I said, war, sex and Nazi-punching. And Ennis infuses it with all sorts of moral ambiguity and hard-nosed reality – Fury's stock in trade.
Artist Goran Parlov works well with Ennis' machismo, and the fact that Fury's one eye never seems to be open beyond a squint give him that Clint Eastwood swagger that works so well in stories like this. Marcus Johnson Fury is for the kids and casual fans, but the star of Fury: My War Gone By #2 is the Nick Fury for adults. Honestly, we like him that way.