Overcoming Your Dating Inexperience
For the first couple of days, I was literally squatting in a hallway in the second floor of the West Wing. It came in the form of a German troop train. The local member basically blasted him, blasted the White House in the press for not letting him know that we were headed to town. A bunch of under-equipped warriors find themselves holed up in a fortress, outnumbered 30 to one. Located in the Kashmir region that both India and Pakistan claim ownership of, Jammu is basically the island from Lost: We had Compaqs running Windows 98 or In the end, the British were unable to take the town, probably because their troops were too overwhelmed by their leader's testicular elephantiasis.
But try to turn me into a subordinate, it immediately puts me in fight back mode. Meanwhile, guns were hidden all over the ships, behind normal-looking hatches, inside shipping crates, under fake smokestacks, behind false walls and inside fake lifeboats. The first wave of the attack was stopped by a gaping, furiously barking maw followed by pounds of pitch-black, furry battering ram, mowing down the terrified Japanese at thigh height. Sure enough, he quickly spotted a low-flying enemy two-seater observation plane, which he promptly shot down. It was a tragic loss -- for the Japanese: If so, good for you, but that's not how things worked at Okinawa. Make your man feel that extra bit masculine by being timid and subservient, they will adore you for it.
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But then those relationships really paid off in helping us get things done in on taxes, in on taxes and some of the fiscal issues we were negotiating. Somebody may not matter today, but things change quickly in Washington. Get to know the Situation Room staff. There were a couple of other pieces of advice from the President.
He told us to read these too. Keep connected to the people that sent them. One of the beauties of the First Lady position is you make it what feels right and is authentic to you. She never felt like she had to be something other than who she was.
Do what you like. Do what you love. Spend more time outside of Washington. Not only is it helpful to inform our policies, but it also just is a great reminder of the grit and determination and resilience of the American people.
I go every year. You learn that not everything we think is right. My rule as chief of staff was, the door is always open. There are always people all, sort of, lurking in the White House. One day I was rushing to get from the pool spray on the South Lawn for the Easter Egg Roll to a meeting in the Situation Room about a foreign trip, and there was this group of people who were just walking so slowly on the colonnade. And I thought, Where am I?
I just need to get to the Situation Room for my trip call, and Justin Bieber and his entourage are slowing me down. So just always expect the unexpected. One of the interesting people I talked to over the years in this job is Caroline Kennedy. I feel similarly with President Obama. He came to fully occupy the office and get more assertive in some spaces, taking a risk or trusting his own judgment. Being willing to take a chance and to enter into an unknown and to be willing to be criticized.
That is what ultimately leads to the most rewarding outcomes. I met a guy on the campaign trail in Austin, Texas, back in the primary season, early in He was operating the elevator for us, and he asked the President if he could give him something, a patch from his military uniform.
It helps me deal with the toxicity of Washington. You can find a reason to stay at work all night, every night here. There is always going to be something to do. You are never going to clear out your inbox. You are never going to return every phone call.
You are never going to read every paper that you could. Not only will your family life suffer, but you will lose some perspective. You have to make a very conscious effort to reach out, to talk and interact with and communicate with people outside of the bubble that you are entering. The intensity is so high that you can easily go for weeks or months without real meaningful contact outside.
It is a suboptimal process where you work your ass off for two years on a campaign, are totally exhausted, and the prize you get is a much harder job that also keeps you away from your family and friends that could last anywhere from four to eight years, depending on how long you want to do it.
If I look back, I remember weddings of very close friends I had missed, not seeing my family, like my parents and my brother, for almost the entire first year. Your lives are no longer your own. I mean, if you plan a date with somebody, if you have a weekend planned, a wedding, none of that is yours anymore. Some colleagues very much focused on going home at 5 p. I tried to go home and eat dinner every night that I could.
After I had a baby, I wanted the day care to always be able to reach me. There are things like that that are not that complicated but you have to do in order to be accessible to your loved ones. Negotiating day-care drop-offs and pickups takes some precedence. I did have a number my wife could call if I needed to get to day care, or there was an emergency. There is kind of a red phone. After you have a kid, that happens.
Two more workdays till Monday. We went to Gettysburg, other battlefields. I remember one weekend, I got something on a Saturday that required using my computer. I was at one of the museums with my 2-year-old. I, like, snapped at David Axelrod in a pretty aggressive way, which I would not normally do. Nitro coffee at the mess is a true revelation. As somebody who is a regular consumer of coffee, there is a window between 2 and 3 p. I feel like I end up most days in the dead zone between 2 and 3 p.
You want to plan your day to not get caught in the dead zone. That is a strange feeling. That happens a fair amount in national security. Your wife gets used to it, and the people in your life get used to it. Because the combination of sitting basically all day, the stress, three meals a day at the White House mess is just a recipe for being super-unhealthy.
I have brunch every Sunday with the same group of friends. The ritual of seeing the same people every Sunday for brunch, and then I have dinner most Sundays with my family who lives here—I find that helps. Whenever we are all in town, that brunch and dinner are sacrosanct. People often ask me where my favorite place was that I traveled. The President travels with three planes, so it is very difficult to coordinate and for people to stay in close touch and really for everybody to have all of the information they need.
What I always tell my advance staffers is that a lot of times you are the closest someone will ever get to the President. Your behavior and what you do could wind up on the front page of the New York Times.
It reflects on him and on this Administration, at every point. You will inevitably be overheard. The reception that the First Family received virtually anywhere they went in the world was always so overwhelmingly positive. There was this feeling at some points that the First Lady was like a global superstar.
But you know what? A lot of these trips, we had Malia and Sasha and Grandma with us. You have a new normal. The level of stress and exhaustion that I lived with for six years in the White House. You need something to help you sleep. Ambien is not the way to go. It lasts eight hours. You will not get eight hours. On the trip to Moscow, I was a speechwriter at that time.
It was the middle of the day. I got hit in the right shoulder, which broke my arm all the way down into the forearm. The bullet was lodged in there for a year. I was able to get away, though, but could not hold my rifle. Unless crapping your pants and falling to the ground in a heap of blubbering womanliness somehow managed to become an escape tactic, there probably isn't a person reading this who would escape some something like that one-armed and unarmed.
And if none of that piques your interest, check this quote from Filthy Thirteen member Jack Womer regarding the time he met Winston Churchill, which we proudly present to you with absolutely no additional information to help you ascertain exactly how this came to pass:.
I don't care if he is prime minister, I don't want him urinating on me! With someone who drank like Churchill, the possibilities are endless. In , Dutch farmer Pier Donia was living a happy life with his wife and children in a small village in the Netherlands when a civil war broke out. Having no military experience to speak of, Donia came to the conclusion that he didn't give two twisted shits about the war and decided to continue farming whatever it is that Dutch people farm.
So he was kind of like Mel Gibson at the beginning of Braveheart. Tulips don't give a crap about your freedom. When his village refused to pay dues to a notorious legion of soldiers loyal to the government known as the Black Band, the soldiers rolled through and burned everything to the ground, raping and killing Donia's wife and murdering his children. When Donia returned from the fields to see the carnage, he vowed revenge against the Habsburgs and their butt-loving faces.
They may take his life, but they'll never take his ability to take their lives. Despite not knowing how a boat works or ever firing a gun in his life, he quickly formed a band of pirates and set sail for some assbeat. By the end of , he had captured 28 Dutch navy boats and become an infamous rebel, earning the truly stunning nickname Grutte Pier "Big Peter" in Dutch.
By , he had started taking over entire villages, and would ransom some of the higher class citizens before burning down their cities himself.
He may be going a bit far by now, but he does look fabulous. Later that year, the Dutch ruler Charles V decided he'd had enough of Big Peter and dispatched an entire fleet to stop him.
A man who, let us remind you, came into this with no training or experience. Although he was defeated in the initial attack, Donia struck back by taking the entire fleet of 11 ships before crushing an army of soldiers who showed up as reinforcements.
In , disillusioned that he was now becoming the very thing he'd set out to defeat, Donia retired and died of natural causes the next year. That's right -- he quit because he was kicking too much ass. Nijeholt For his valiant efforts he got a rugby club named after him and Some soldiers are just blessed with luck, regardless of species. A prime example of this is a mongrel terrier in World War I-era Paris. When Donovan was confronted by the Military Police about running away from his unit, he saw the little ball of fur as his ticket away from court martial.
He bullshitted the way back into his unit with the excuse that he'd been hunting the dog all along Somewhere along the line he named the dog Rags, using the time honored method of "its name is what it looks like. The soldier's nickname was "Ears McFlophat. The bluff worked, largely thanks to the dog, who turned out to be friendliness incarnate and quickly won over the MPs and the commanding officer of Donovan's unit, who promptly made Rags' mascot status official.
Rags enjoyed his new gig thoroughly and thanked his new human friends the only way a dog can -- with googly eyes, a wagging tail and impromptu face-licking attacks. Also, by saving everyone's lives on a daily basis and becoming one of the unit's greatest heroes. When Donovan was transferred to the frontline, he didn't want to risk Rags' life, so he left the little guy behind.
The dog, however, wasn't having any of it, and tracked Donovan to the trenches. Realizing that the pup was good at finding his way around, Donovan adapted a secondary strategy: He taught Rags how to run messages between the command and the frontline. Rags took his promotion incredibly well, regularly delivering important messages despite constant gunfire, explosions, distracting smells and other stuff custom made to lead a dog astray.
He wasn't just doing his part, either -- he constantly watched and studied the things the soldiers around him did. When the men hit the dirt upon hearing a shell, Rags would mime their actions. Then, one day, he started throwing himself to ground without any incoming noises at all. For a while, everyone around went "Awwww" and said "Look, he's trying to be human.
Throughout his mimicking antics, Rags had been employing his Pavlovian powers. He now realized that the high-pitched incoming sounds equal explosions, and knew what to do. And so it came to be that the men of his unit soon found themselves imitating Rags. They even replaced "Oh shit! His new status as a lifesaver made Rags a celebrity.
He capitalized on his fame by circling all the mess halls he could find, cashing in on his reputation for the finest wartime food available and never once returning to a hall if he felt he hadn't received a warm enough welcome there.
His freewheeling antics were only limited after he got into a fight with Theodore Roosevelt Jr. In July of , Rags was charged with delivering yet another important message. Rags was out in the open when the Germans launched a gas attack, catching him without his doggy gas mask. Undeterred, he took all that the Germans could hit him with, and delivered the message That is, passed away years later at the extremely respectable age of 20 which is like in dog years , as a happy, American family dog.
He survived the shit out of war, and when old age finally took him, he was buried with full military honors and a gravestone that reads "War Hero. The worst injury he ever took in life was a blind eye that resulted from being hit by a freaking car. Which we're pretty sure he ate immediately afterward. When someone who is not a cartoon character is called "Turbo," it is usually safe to start screaming bullshit.
In fact, he got it during the inhumanly hard SEAL training, where some of the fittest soldiers in the world drop like flies from exhaustion. Toboz, however, was hyper throughout the training period, ran incredibly fast and actually thought the whole thing was great fun. Fuck yeah I wanna do some pushups in the sand! He made it through the training, naturally, and became a full-fledged SEAL who eventually wound up fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan.
Joe while reading that sentence , one of the first large-scale battles of the war in Afghanistan. He was part of a six-man team that had flown back into an enemy stronghold atop a mountain to rescue a captured teammate. Their helicopter was shot down but managed to land safely -- only to be immediately caught up in an ambush. As the team leader ordered them to withdraw, Turbo was hit by automatic weapon fire that somehow spiraled around his left leg, shattering bones and punching a hole the size of a fist in his calf.
Turbo crawled along with the team on all fours, barely visible in three feet of snow, fighting pain, blood loss and the degree weather. Oh, and he fought the enemy, too. He actually provided cover for the rest of the unit all along, refusing to take any morphine for his near-incapacitating pain to be able to do so. Winners don't do drugs! Not even when the medical professionals tell them to. In the end, they made it out alive.
At that point Turbo had lost over three liters of blood and was only able to survive because the cold weather froze his wound shut.
In the hospital, Toboz lived up to his nickname by getting annoyed at the slow pace at which his leg was healing. So he told the doctors to saw it the hell off and give him a bionic leg instead. They obliged, and Turbo rejoined his unit only nine months later. He still took part on active SEAL combat missions but soon started feeling bad that his new leg only gave him 95 percent ability instead of his usual percent.
He is now a badass SEAL trainer , bringing a new element of embarrassment for the recruits by running circles around them with just one good leg. You might picture combat medics pulling off only the basics while on the battlefield -- applying bandages, giving CPR, the stuff you've seen in movies.
But way back in , year-old medic Robert Bush wasn't just giving basic care at the Battle of Okinawa, he was doing the tough stuff -- like administering blood transfusions on the battlefield.
If you have a hard time imagining what a blood transfusion looks like outside a sterile hospital setting, start with this picture of another World War II medic delivering plasma to a wounded private:. But instead of barefoot Sicilian peasants, imagine the medic is surrounded by screaming Marines fighting off Japanese combatants. And picture a gaping chest and shoulder wound in the victim, one that required an immediate plasma delivery to aid in blood coagulation.
Go ahead and just picture the fiery pits of the deepest hell while you're at it, because that's the scene we're trying to paint Bush in here. Now, if you were a Japanese soldier fighting for the empire, maybe you'd give pause when coming upon a guy so almost-dead that he's getting a blood transfusion.
Maybe you'd step over him and move on to the next American. If so, good for you, but that's not how things worked at Okinawa. US Navy Rarely do things ever work out for soldiers who fight for any "empire.
Bush maintained his position, emptying his pistol into the horde before scooping up the wounded officer's rifle to continue fighting against the onslaught.
He continued protecting his "patient" even after a grenade blew up near him, destroying his right eye with shrapnel. The first grenade took my eye out, and I put my arm up to hold it off, and got some fragments in the other eye. Got a lot in my eye and shoulders. They hit me with three hand grenades in a matter of seconds. I was firing on them with [the lieutenant's] carbine.
Every time I saw a Japanese head pop up, I could see the star on their helmets, I'd fire one round a foot below where I saw that head come up, because I knew I couldn't miss, I'd get 'em on the way down.
In the most badass display of bedside manner ever, Bush stayed right at the wounded man's side until the man was finally evacuated. Then he calmly made his way back to the battle aid station, where he promptly passed out. What these next two guys did in no way turned the tide of the war, and as far as we know it didn't even result in any German casualties. Still, it has to go down as one of the most balls-out crazy things ever attempted in modern warfare.
This is the story of the two guys who decided to single-handedly invade Nazi-occupied France. First, we want you to imagine the most unintentionally hilarious job anyone could have, for any nation, in any war.
Peter King and Pvt. Leslie Cuthbertson have you beat: After trying several times to transfer to fighting units, they decided to take matters into their own hands. In an effort to prevent accusations of desertion, they wrote letters to Prime Minister Winston Churchill explaining the purpose behind their actions. Then these two dentists, who had no particular espionage or other special training to speak of, stole weapons and grenades from their camp, deciding they'd get proactive on that shit.
They stole a motorboat and set out across the English Channel to France in what was to be the very first invasion of occupied territory of the war, unauthorized though it was. Once there, King and Cuthbertson, who were inspired by stories of raids conducted by the English Special Services, sought out something to raid. It came in the form of a German troop train.
Armed with all their considerable dentist training, they waited for any German onlookers to go past them, then placed a grenade under one of the tracks and pulled the pin. The train successfully disrupted, the two men made the tactically sound decision to get the hell out of the area before they were cut down by enemy soldiers. King and Cuthbertson stayed in Nazi-occupied France for a total of three days before deciding to return to England, somehow not getting killed in the process.
They stole another motorboat and made their way across the English Channel. They miscalculated the amount of fuel the boat would need, though, and it wasn't long before they were stranded on the water , where they stayed for more than two weeks before being rescued by the Royal Navy. They were immediately court-martialed, because it turns out most armies frown on this kind of thing. An intervention by Churchill prevented them from being tried for desertion, but they did end up losing rank.
They were, however, allowed to leave the dental corps and transfer to the light infantry So, yeah, we're thinking the guy was kind of wasted as dentist.
The star of It's a Wonderful Life garnered a reputation as a loveable scamp who always tried to do the right thing. Though many of his later roles were darker in tone he did several Hitchcock films and played a troubled trial lawyer in Anatomy of a Murder , the public's perception of him remained that of a swell guy who wouldn't have harmed a fly, mainly because he didn't have the strength to do so.
Except he did; Jimmy Stewart was an extremely decorated war hero, with a military career spanning three goddamned decades, from to That's right -- before Pearl Harbor made fighting Japan the cool thing to do, Stewart had made history as the first major American actor to join the war effort.
And if you think this was just some PR stunt so he could get some easy street cred with middle America, think again. Every time a bell rings, Jimmy kills another Nazi. See, Stewart would have had an easy excuse to avoid any actual danger -- he actually failed the Army's height and weight requirements when he tried to enlist.
But he was determined to fight for his country and decided to do so as a combat pilot. He swiftly gained 10 pounds, joined the Army Air Corps, and logged more than hours of flight training, just to prove he could do it. Even then, he had to constantly fight to get anything but an instructor or desk job, both due to his age he was in his 30s and his superiors not wanting to risk a beloved celebrity getting blown to bits on their watch. But he kept pushing and eventually was deployed to active duty over England.
He quickly established himself as his squadron's leader, due to equal parts bravado, expertise, and conveniently having more Oscars than anyone in the room. Stewart led many bombing runs on Nazi factories and military production centers and led a squadron of bombers in the Battle of Berlin, which would later be referred to as "Black Thursday," due to the excessive number of American casualties suffered.
All of this led to an impressive chest of medals by the time he was mustered out of active duty in , due to the war ending and him being damn near But Stewart didn't just win a war and then go home to play pretend for the rest of his life.
No, he remained in the Air Force Reserve for an additional 22 years, worked on a military base during the Korean War, and even flew a non-combat mission in Vietnam. By the time Stewart finally retired, he had reached the rank of Brigadier one-star General.
Ironically, he only appeared in a couple of war movies The Mountain Road and Malaya as he claimed they were "almost never realistic. After conquering the military for real, merely pretending to do so would've been too damn boring. The British noticed that the subs stayed far away from any ships that could actually shoot back, so it made sense to disguise the warships as small merchant ships.
They also noticed that the subs surfaced when they attacked, so the idea was that they could lure the Germans to what looked like an easy target, then blow them to smithereens when they broke the surface.
This was not by itself a particularly crazy idea. But this disguise had to be convincing, by golly! Historians have written entire books about the British "genius for deception. The sailors donned costumes, so they wouldn't look like military when viewed through a periscope. Some of them dressed as women and walked around on deck snuggling with other dudes. Some dressed with fake parrots, or in blackface. No way this offends literally everyone in the future.
They even choreographed elaborate displays where once a U-boat was spotted, they would act like panicked civilians and begin to abandon ship while making a show of running into each other and tripping and falling.
Some crews would even jump into the lifeboats and pretend to accidentally leave someone behind, and he would stand on the railing screaming for them to come back and get him. Meanwhile, guns were hidden all over the ships, behind normal-looking hatches, inside shipping crates, under fake smokestacks, behind false walls and inside fake lifeboats.
Once the unsuspecting U-boat surfaced for the easy kill, the captain pulled a lever, all the trapdoors would open and guns would point out the sides and blow the baffled Germans to hell. Or that's how they tell the story anyway. You know how war stories are. Oh, and apparently at least 70 German submarines actually fell for this, and 14 of them were sunk, making cross-dressing sailors the seventh leading cause of death for World War I German submariners. And the second leading cause of questioned sexuality.
Richard "Demo Dick" Marcinko started his career just as badass as he left it. So he used the "Br'er Rabbit" method and simply punched someone in the face, for which he was naturally punished -- by being sent to UDT. He looks like he could stop trains with his face. During Marcinko's time with UDT and later as a Navy SEAL in Vietnam, he and his band of marauders became such a problem for the Vietcong in his area of operation that a 50, piaster reward was offered for his head.
In a career that eerily resembles the Rambo franchise, he was highly decorated in Vietnam and then went looking for other conflicts to sort out in places like Cambodia. There is even a story about him body-surfing behind a military patrol boat while under enemy fire. Seriously, he really did that shit. Marcinko became so elite in the Navy SEALs that they started having to invent new, more elite teams just to find somewhere to put him.
Eventually, he wound up commanding something called Red Cell -- his job was to fly around the world, attacking and infiltrating the U. Ironically, Red Cell was so good at what it was being paid to do that it embarrassed the shit out of a military that, as it turns out, couldn't cope at all against it.
And Marcinko took his job dead seriously, kidnapping high-ranking personnel and even their families, "mildly torturing" them to get nuclear codes and wound up kidnapping one admiral twice. It wasn't long before a bunch of bruised, disgruntled commanders decided to have Marcinko railroaded out of the military, if only so they could sleep a full night again without him swinging through their windows like Batman.
Their investigation fell flat, making fools of them yet again, so even after Marcinko retired, they kept going after him in an effort to find anything that would stick. The FBI eventually did convict him on trumped-up charges and sentenced him to a year in some minimum-security prison, but he used that time to write a No.
Demo Dick is currently forbidden by law from writing any more about the military, so he now exclusively writes popular "fiction" about the adventures of an elite badass who is totally not him embarrassing a bunch of pussies who are totally not the U. Judy was born in a Shanghai dog kennel in and presented to the British Royal Navy. She was assigned to the HMS Grasshopper for some good and proper naval life, which was cruelly interrupted by enemy torpedo fire and the ensuing sinking, increasingly wet feeling.
The crew barely managed to save themselves by making their way to an uninhabited island. They found Judy clinging to a piece of the broken ship, alive but exhausted. Despite the fact that they had little food and no water at all, they decided to nurse the dog back to health. This proved to be a good move, as Judy thanked her saviors by finding them a water source and saving the lives of every single survivor. The refreshed soldiers attempted to reach an Allied-controlled area, only to be almost immediately taken prisoner.
This was a crappy scenario for Judy, who the men managed to smuggle in the POW camp with them, as animals possess no wartime rights whatsoever. The camp provided everyone a whole lot of troubles of their own, so she was left to her own devices and would probably have perished Williams took a liking to the starving dog, shared his meager rations with her and looked after her.
He also managed to get the enemy camp commandant to give her official POW status in order to protect her. We like to think that the officer took a long, hard look at Judy, who was nonchalantly eyeing the sky and doing her level best to whistle innocuously, and thought: I'm coming to get you.
Judy went on to abuse the shit out of her new legal status. She saved the lives of numerous prisoners by actively attacking any and all guards attempting to deliver beatings. She nearly received retribution more than once, but each time Williams managed to talk the guards out of harming her. In exchange, Judy rarely left Williams' side, protecting him with all her might and warning him from impending danger, be it guards, snakes or scorpions. But this time, Judy was ready.
She swam back and forth among the wrecked ship, helping survivors reach pieces of wreckage to hang on to, just like she had done. When everyone was suitably rescued, she disappeared -- only to emerge in the new camp, just in time to tackle the flabbergasted Williams, who had also survived and just arrived there. With the confidence gained from beating the sea once again, Judy became a veritable wild animal in the new camp. Aside from her usual guard-terrorizing antics, she hunted local fauna, teasing tigers and fighting alligators until the camp was liberated in Here, she saves Williams from the lethal jaws of marriage.
Judy and Williams remained inseparable for the rest of her long life, indulging in various adventures -- and you can bet your ass that no wild animal bothered them, nor did any ship dare to sink on them ever again.
During the Battle of the Bulge, Company I of the th Infantry was moving through Petit Coo, Belgium, on December 23, , when they were suddenly pinned down by fire from a house bristling with Nazi guns. It was a bad situation that became balls-out terrible when they started getting pounded by mortar and tank fire as well.
Presumably worried that the cost of an airstrike on the house would come directly out of their own paychecks, Bolden and Snoad volunteered to take care of the pesky Nazi problem themselves. Their superiors apparently decided "Screw it, whatever" before giving them the green light, and the two men began crawling the length of two football fields through the hellstorm of enemy fire. It was two men against what would turn out to be 35 heavily armed Nazis.
The two men carried on, motivated by bravery, duty, and not wanting to look like pussies in front of their buddies. When they reached the house, they took positions to prepare for their grossly ill-conceived assault. Bolden, after presumably losing a round of Rock Paper Scissors, set himself up directly underneath a window near the door of the house, while Snoad went across the street so he could provide covering fire. Bolden threw a frag grenade through the window, followed by a white phosphorus grenade.
The duo was able to take out 20 of the 35 Nazis before the enemy was able to return a burst of fire, killing Snoad and severely wounding Bolden in the shoulder, chest, and stomach. He withdrew to a cover position and waited for the 15 surviving Nazi soldiers to come out and surrender.
That last sentence was not a typo. And that's not us embellishing, either. All reports say that Bolden waited to see if the enemy would surrender. While his one and only ally lay dead. The Nazis didn't, and we can totally understand why. After all, even after having nearly two-thirds of their force wiped out in an instant by these two Americans, they did end up killing one and seriously jacking up the other, and the odds were still a cozy Bolden presumably then glanced at his watch, shrugged his shoulders, and raised his Tommy gun as he calmly walked back into the house to finish the job.
By the time Bolden ran out of ammo, all 15 of the Nazi soldiers were dead, and the way was paved for his unit to continue on and eventually succeed in its mission. Bolden, balls pictured separately in a much larger portrait. He immediately picked up escaping as a hobby and at his second prison camp, Stalag XX-A, he escaped with a friend and nearly made it into Russian territory in Poland before being picked up and turned over to the Gestapo, better known as the biggest assholes of the war.
For his transgression, Neave was sent to where all problematic POWs go: Oflag IV-C , the castle of Colditz. This place was so badass, it got its own TV show , TV movies , regular movies , board game, and computer game. Oh, and some books too. Hermann Goering , the second biggest douche in Germany in the s, declared Colditz "escape proof. One prisoner was sewn into a mattress in order to be smuggled out.
Two others built an entire glider out of scavenged wood. Tunnels were also popular, but like each of these attempts , ultimately big fat failures to be fair, the glider just didn't get finished in time. Neave, perhaps wisely, settled on a subtler concept of escape.
Finagling a Polish army tunic and cap, he painted them to look more like the Germans' uniforms. Then he proceeded to walk out the front door. Unfortunately, search lights reacted with the paint he'd used, making it shine a bright green. Failure did not deter him. He tried the exact same plan five months later, this time using cardboard, cloth, and some more paint to make a more authentic-looking uniform. He and another prisoner, Anthony Luteyn, who had his own costume, just needed an opportunity.
That opportunity came in the form of an all-inmate stage show that was being put on at the prison no, really.
The two slipped under the stage, into a room that connected to a corridor which lead, not to freedom, but to the one place no prisoner wants to wind up: Wearing British uniforms over fake German uniforms over civilian clothing, the two lowered themselves into the room, ditched the British uniforms, entered the guardhouse, and pretended like they owned the place.
Having rehearsed their exit, they paused at the door leading out of the prison, exchanged a few remarks in German, and even put on their gloves before calmly leaving. The guards were completely fooled into thinking Neave and Luteyn were visiting officers.
After passing through the courtyard and through the moat, they ditched their "German" uniforms and became two Dutch workers with papers, which were also fakes that gave them permission to travel from Leipzig to Ulm. When they tried to buy train tickets for somewhere else, the police arrested them, later bringing Neaves and Luteyn to the foreign workers office because they really thought they were Dutch workers who had gotten confused; the duo split the moment the nice policemen weren't looking.
Even when the Hitler Youth stopped them, Neaves and Luteyn remained composed and told another lie: They were Germans, from the north, of course. After this, Neaves and Luteyn kept to the country and travelled on foot. Hungry and a little frostbitten, they made it into Switzerland.
Neaves would eventually get back to Britain, where he would work to reinforce escape lines in Europe for other POWs. Later, he joined the International Military Tribunal at Nuremberg, where, in a freaking sweet turn of events, Neaves would personally serve Hermann Goering his indictment for being an absolute and total asshole.
Poor little Belgium, sandwiched between France and Germany and with all the natural defenses of a cabbage. Belgium did, however, manage to produce at least one genuine ass-kicking hero in World War I. Willy Coppens, despite being fobbed off with obsolete aircraft and inadequate supplies of ammunition, became the undisputed champion balloon buster of the war, with 34 kills to his credit. This would probably be a good time to explain that "balloon busting" wasn't a bizarre party game played on the battlefields during World War I, but a serious endeavor for the only the bravest pilots.
In the days before satellites and unmanned reconnaissance planes, armies would station observers in moored hot air balloons with wireless radios to report back on enemy action. And even though you'd think that taking pot shots at a giant bag of explosive gas would be child's play, it totally wasn't.
Balloons were guarded by anti-aircraft batteries pumping wads of hot lead into the air, and they often had their own squadrons of fighter planes swirling around the area to protect them. Get past all that, and you run into the mid-air booby traps the Germans set, which included surrounding the balloons with silk-covered kites attached to steel cables that were all but invisible to pilots until they noticed their airplanes being torn in two.
In other words, balloon busting was as foolhardy as setting up a mosh pit in a minefield. And Coppens was really good at it. In fact, Coppens' electric blue Hanriot airplane became such a pain in the ass for the Germans that they hatched a cunning plan to dispose of him. Basically, they took an ordinary observation balloon and jammed it so full of explosives that a single bullet would be enough to atomize anything within feet of it.
With Coppens regularly swooping in to attack from as close as 50 feet, he didn't stand a chance. The Germans were so proud of their little plot that word of the scheme eventually got back to Coppens himself, who decided that after they went to all that expense and effort, it would be rude not to go have a look at this balloon. In fairness, balloons kick ass. When he got there, he discovered that the Germans had really made a day of it, with dozens of soldiers and staff officers standing around to watch the fireworks.
The balloon itself was still being winched up and was, crucially, only at half its intended height. It was then that Coppens, demonstrating that fine line between bravery and just plain bat-shit insanity, said "Fuck it" and dove in shooting. The resulting explosion sent his plane rocking through the sky like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, yet it remained intact.
If the low height had saved Coppens, it proved disastrous for those below, with the resulting fireball killing and maiming dozens of the watchers on the ground. See, that's what you get for standing around watching a war. He also made this film, which some would argue was just as great an achievement. Melvin Kaminsky, the war hero. The man behind Spaceballs: Brooks enlisted in the U.
Army at 17 to fight in World War II. Combat engineer, which meant it was his duty to defuse landmines for the fucking coalition army behind him in a hurry to liberate Europe.
Starring Mel Brooks as himself. As a Jewish guy battling the Nazis, Brooks found that taunting his enemies was just as cathartic as defusing their bombs.
For example, after the Battle of the Bulge, the Germans set up loudspeakers to pump Nazi propaganda out to Allied soldiers. Brooks responded by setting up his own loudspeakers and performing Jewish singer Al Jolson's music for his enemies. Even though it may not have had the same punch as "Springtime for Hitler," coming from Mel Brooks The year was Dirk Vlug and his men were manning a roadblock when shit got serious, with Vlug's unit encountering a group of Japanese armored death machines known in layman's terms as tanks.
Immediately, Vlug dashed into the open, scooped up a rocket launcher and went to work. Alone, and under the metal hellstorm of machine gun fire, he loaded and aimed the launcher, snapped off an awesome one-liner hopefully , and blew up the first tank and everyone inside it with one shot.
The crew of the second tank saw Vlug holding his newly emptied weapon and came to the hilariously inaccurate assumption that he was now helpless.
Apparently forgetting that they were in a goddamn tank, they opened the hatch and started dismounting to attack him. Vlug drew his pistol and blasted the first guy away, sending the rest back into the supposed safety of their heavily armored vehicle. This also turned out to be a poor decision, which became deadly apparent once Vlug loaded his second rocket and destroyed the tank. He then did it again, and again, and again , continuing to blast away enemy tanks as if they were ducks at a carnival shooting gallery.
With his last rocket, Vlug even managed to blast the fifth tank down a steep embankment, just to give the crew inside it some extra seconds of sheer panic as they plummeted to their deaths in a gigantic steel coffin, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade -style.
And Vlug didn't even have a horse. What Zinaida Portnova's story lacks in scope it makes up for in its perfect, almost cliche resemblance to an action movie. In , about the same time that guy above was blowing up his first Nazi in Greece, Germany decided to invade the Soviet Union.
Zinaida Portnova , a year-old girl away at Soviet summer camp which was probably even less fun than it sounds , was caught by surprise and tried to get home to Leningrad, only to find the Nazis blocking her way and preparing to siege the city.
With nowhere else to go, she joined the Belarus underground as part of a unit nicknamed the Young Avengers. They did a lot of good before Iron Man confiscated their weapons and told their parents.
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He died as he lived: So just always expect the unexpected.
They even choreographed elaborate displays where once a U-boat was spotted, they would act like panicked civilians and begin to abandon ship while making a show of running into each other and tripping and falling.
Yes, just like Captain America. Even more embarrassing, while the survival guide to dating your boss were stuck on the world's most aggressive Slip 'n' Best dating sites in south florida, kids would smear their windows with jelly. He kept right on chopping until the blood loss from the hemorrhaging stump got the better of him and he collapsed and died. Now Southwest Airlines comes Oh, and he fought the enemy, too. At the top of the rocky escarpment, he jumped into a machine-gun nest and bayoneted all the occupants.
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