“Geeve a look,” he chirped. “I’m here, already. Abe Ginsberg’s de name.”

A HUNDRED years ago this month, the United States declared war on the Austro-Hungarian Empire. To mark the occasion, we’re posting Robert J. Hogan’s series of Abe Ginsberg stories that ran in the pages or War Birds magazine from 1932-1933.

It’s a Ginsberg double-header to end the year. First up, Ginsberg finds himself running low on fuel behind enemy lines trying to get back to safety while being pursued by a deadly trio of Fokkers! forced down in No-Man’s-Land, he seeks safety in a shell hole until he has the protection of darkness to guide him safely back to the Allied lines with information on the location of the trio of Fokker Aces’ base.

When Ginsberg bet, he bet to win, but he didn’t know that winning would take him to the hidden drome, nor how he would get back.

• Download “Ginsberg’s War: Ginsberg Flys Alone” (October 1933, War Birds)

As a bonus this week, we have an additional tale of Abe Ginsberg from the pen of Robert J. Hogan. We had posted this back in 2010, but for those who missed it or would like to read it again or just have all five tales in a similar format, here is Abe Ginsberg’s final adventure from November 1933—”The Spy in the Ointment!”

When They Asked for Volunteers to Fly That Spy Mission, Abe Answered Because He Couldn’t Sit Down. It Took Another Spy to Convince Him That Medals Were Not Always Granted for Bravery.

• Download “Ginsberg’s War: The Spy in the Ointment” (November 1933, War Birds)

    “Geeve a look,” he chirped. “I’m here, already. Abe Ginsberg’s de name.”

A HUNDRED years ago this month, the United States declared war on the Austro-Hungarian Empire. To mark the occasion, we’re posting Robert J. Hogan’s series of Abe Ginsberg stories that ran in the pages or War Birds magazine from 1932-1933. Although Ginsberg’s always first to stand up and volunteer, he’s often overlooked due to his short stature. This time he’s excluded from the mission as the French want to pin a medal on his chest. A muddy ride, a drunken celebration, and a dark hanger all lead to Ginsberg finding himself behind enemy lines attacking the Boche defenses from the inside!

Abe Ginsberg knew a bargain when he saw one. When it turned out to be a Pfalz alarm, he had to ask them “Catch On?”

• Download “Ginsberg’s War: Pfalz Alarm” (August 1933, War Birds)

    “Geeve a look,” he chirped. “I’m here, already. Abe Ginsberg’s de name.”

A HUNDRED years ago, the United States declared war on the Austro-Hungarian Empire. To mark the occasion, we’re posting Robert J. Hogan’s series of Abe Ginsberg stories that ran in the pages or War Birds magazine from 1932-1933.

Lieutenant Abe Ginsberg was very proud. He wasn’t very tall, but he made the most of his stature as he squared his narrow shoulders. His small feet and spindling legs were encased in the best pair of cut-rate boots careful money could buy. The new whipcord officer’s uniform hung loosely about him, not a perfect fit, but what of it? Hadn’t Abe saved almost a hundred francs on that suit after an hour’s haggling?

They told Abe to brag of the might of his wings and it would win him the C.O.’s job. Abe bragged. But what it won him was something else again.

• Download “Ginsberg’s War: Excess Braggage” (March 1933, War Birds)

A HUNDRED years ago today, the United States declared war on the Austro-Hungarian Empire. To mark the occasion, we will be posting Robert J. Hogan’s Abe Ginsberg stories that ran in the pages or War Birds magazine from 1932-1933.

    “Geeve a look,” he chirped. “I’m here, already. Abe Ginsberg’s de name.”

Lieutenant Abraham Ginsberg was small and slim-shouldered. His eyes twinkled over a Roman nose and from under heavy, black brows. His head was crowned with curly hair of the same hue. His face was like leather, tanned by wind and sun and blasting prop wash of many flights. His uniform, ill-fitting and sagging at the knees, was in striking contrast to the finely tailored outfits of the favored sons of the Seventy-sixth. A long, leathery coat, smeared with grease and oil and stained about a hole at the shoulder, where a Spandau slug had necessitated a vacation for a time, hung perilously from his slim shoulders; it was held together at the front with a huge safety pin, that once had graced the blanket of a horse in a wind storm.

Abe had medals on his chest and a yen in his heart to fly with a high-hat outfit. When he found they didn’t want him he invented the slogan “Crash on Delivery.”

• Download “Ginsberg’s War: Crash on Delivery” (October 1932, War Birds)