The Big Thread of Historical Badasses

[TristramEvans]

History is chalk full of men and women who pushed the boundaries of what's considered"humanly possible", rejected the limitations of their society or time, and would be well at home in heroic games. I thought it would be fun to have a thread pointing out some of the lesser known of these extraordinary folks. I'll be periodically posting profiles, feel free to add some of your own favourites.


To start with, let me tell you of Charles Herbert Lightoller

Born in 1874, Charles left home at the age of 13 (like me!) and began a four year seamanship apprenticeship (unlike me) aboard barque Primrose Hill.

(a barque is sailing vessel with three or more masts having the fore- and mainmasts rigged square and only the mizzen rigged fore-and-aft)

On his second voyage, a storm in the South Atlantic, forced his ship to dock at Rio de Janeiro during a smallpox epidemic and a revolution. Another storm in the Indian Ocean, caused the ship to run aground on an uninhabited four-and-a-half-square-mile island now called Île Saint-Paul until they were rescued and taken to Australia.

On Charles's third voyage, the ship's cargo of coal caught fire, and for his successful efforts in fighting the fire and saving the ship, Lightoller was promoted to second mate.

In 1895, at age 21, Charles left sailing ships for steamships. He spent three years on a Royal mail vessel navigating the West African coast before nearly dying from a heavy bout of malaria. This caused Lightoller to abandon the sea in 1898, moving to the Yukon to participate in the Klondike Gold Rush.

Charles went on to became a cowboy in Alberta, Canada, until he felt the call of home.

In order to return to the UK, Charles became a hobo, riding the rails back across Canada. He earned his passage back to England by working as a cattle wrangler on a cattle boat.Once home, he obtained his master's certificate and returned to the sea, serving on the SS Medic during the Boer War.

In 1912, Lightroller joined the SS Titanic's crew on it's maiden voyage as first officer. He was in his cabin after serving first night's watch when the collision occurred. Dressed in pajamas with his officers coat thrown on hurriedly, he rushed to orchestrate the evacuation. Lightroller is known for strictly enforcing the "women and children first" rule, to the point that when an unwatched lifeboat was commandeered by 25 male passengers he threatened them with an unloaded revolver until they disembarked, calling them "Damn cowards!"

As the Titanic began its final plunge, Lightoller decided he could do no more and dived into the water from the roof of the officers' quarters. As water flooded down one of the forward ventilators, he was sucked under and pinned against the grating by the pressure of the incoming water, until a blast of hot air erupting out of the ventilator blew him to the water's surface. Charles there saw a lifeboat floating upside down with several swimmers hanging on to it. He swam to it and climbed atop, where he calmed and organised the survivors, teaching them to shift their weight with the swells to prevent the craft from being swamped. If not for this, they likely would have been thrown into the freezing water again. At his direction, the men kept this up for hours until they were finally rescued by another lifeboat.

Lightoller was the last survivor taken on board the RMS Carpathia, and the most senior officer to survive the disaster.

And for some reason we got a film about DiCaprio.

Interviewed about his miraculous survival, Lightoller famously quipped "with God, all things are possible."

Charles went on to serve as a commanding officer of the Royal Navy during World War I, where he was twice decorated for gallantry. First while in command of a motor torpedo boat that engaged the German Zeppelin L31 during a night time raid on Southern England, and secondly whilst in command of destroyer HMS Garry, when he rammed his ship into and sank a German U-Boat.

He came out of retirement during WWII to participate in the Dunkirk evacuation, wherein he sailed his private motor yacht across the channel and personally is credited with saving 127 British servicemen.

Charles died at the age of 78 during London's Great Smog of 1952.

 

[TristramEvans]

Ching Shih



Born Shih Yang in 1775, the woman who would come to be known as Ching Shih was a Cantonese prostitute who worked in a floating brothel under the nickname Shih Heang Koo. She became the object of fascination for the notorious pirate Cheng I, who came from a pirate dynasty stretching back to the 17th century. Shih Yang agreed to marry Cheng I in 1801 under a contract stipulating that she would control half of the pirating enterprises. Meanwhile, she would use her connections in the prostitution rings for intrigue and influence through blackmail.

Together they became a formidable Pirate force, absorbing rivalling Cantonese pirate fleets into an alliance that eventually became the most powerful pirate fleet in China, known as the Red Flag Fleet.

When Cheng I died, Shih Yang became Ching Shih (鄭氏; 'The Widow of Zheng'), and took complete control of The Red Flag Fleet. Her consolidation of power included marrying Cheng I's son, and her step-son, Cheung Po Tsai! A situation PornHub would later commemorate frequently. Once her Leadership was assured, Ching Shih further united the fleet by issuing a strict Code of Laws, with harsh punishments for digressions.

Under her command, the fleet established a hegemony over many coastal villages, to the point that they began imposing taxes. Eventually the government was forced to step in, and the Qing Dynasty officially declared war on the Red Flag Fleet. In 1808, the Chinese Navy tried to destroy her fleet. However Ching Shih managed to pillage and take over the government ships, forcing the Navy to resort to using fishing vessels for battle. The government also attempted to hire numerous British and Filipino maritime Bounty Hunters to take on the Pirates, but the Pirates remained undefeated until 1809, when the Portuguese Navy stepped in.

After a final battle in 1810, The Naval Battle of Chek Lap Kok, the Portuguese Navy were able to convince the Pirates to surrender on the condition of amnesty with the Chinese government.

Ching Shih used her considerable accumulated loot to open a gambling house and brothel, as well as becoming involved in the salt trade. In her later years, she served as a military advisor to Lin Zexu during the Opium War.

In 1844, at the age of 69, she passed away comfortably in bed, surrounded by her family.


Up next: Mad Jack

 

[Nobby-W]

[ . . . ]
Up next: Mad Jack

Are you talking about Mad Jack Churchill? He was definitely the baddest of asses. Last ever recorded kill with a long bow in British service: 1940.

If you're looking for the bad of arse, may I also suggest:

• Nancy Wake - New Zealand born fighter in the French resistance.
• Simo Häyhä - Sniper extrordinaire (although he's pretty memetic these days so a lot of folks have heard of him). See also Carlos Hathcock.
• Odo of Bayeux - Maybe not such a badass but he fought in the Battle of Hastings and is often cited as the archetype for the mace-wielding cleric character class of early D&D editions
• Manfred Von Richtofen - If you've seen Peanuts you'll know who I'm talking about. He was quite an interesting chap.
• Hiroo Onada - From the Don Quixote school of badassery, he obeyed his orders not to surrender or kill himself and refused to believe the war was over until 1974. Japanese authorities had to locate his commanding officer and bring him to the island to convince him.
• Smedley Butler - Awarded two congressional medals of honour plus a host of other gongs. He later publically denounced corruption and collusion between business interests and the government, which did not enear him to his former lords and masters. In his book, War is a Racket, he described his job as a marine officer as having been a 'High class muscle man for big business'. He was not independently wealthy.
• Sydney Reilly - Russian born emigre and spy who led a colourful life and is often cited as the inspiration for James Bond. The name is quite famous but the shenanigans he got up to are less well known.

There are loads of others, but here's a sample of a few.

 

[TristramEvans]

Are you talking about Mad Jack Churchill? He was definitely the baddest of asses.

Indeed, he was actually the inspiration for this thread, but wanted to build up to him.

If you're looking for the bad of arse, may I also suggest:

Hopefully some others will take up the inspiration to add their own, but I have my list for the foreseeable future, no spoilers

 

[A Fiery Flying Roll]

The Spartans in general.

Phillip II invades Southern Greece and subdues various city states. He then pointedly asks Sparta whether he should visit as friend or foe.

Sparta - "Neither".

Phillip II - "You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city. "

Sparta - "If".

He eventually decided it was more trouble than it was worth and looked elsewhere.

 

[AsenRG]

This thread is relevant to my interests.

 

[Ronin]

• I am all right — I am a little sore. Anybody has a right to be sore with a bullet in him. You would find that if I was in battle now I would be leading my men just the same. Just the same way I am going to make this speech.

Address at Milwaukee, Wisconsin 1912 (after being shot by a would be assassin)

Theodore Roosevelt Jr. (/ˈroʊzəvɛlt/ ROH-zə-velt;https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theodore_Roosevelt#cite_note-4 October 27, 1858 – January 6, 1919) was an American statesman, politician, conservationist, naturalist, and writer who served as the 26th president of the United States from 1901 to 1909. He previously served as the 25th vice president of the United States from March to September 1901 and as the 33rd governor of New York from 1899 to 1900. As a leader of the Republican Party during this time, he became a driving force for the Progressive Era in the United States in the early 20th century. His face is depicted on Mount Rushmore, alongside those of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln. In polls of historians and political scientists, Roosevelt is generally ranked as one of the five best presidents.[3]
Roosevelt was born a sickly child with debilitating asthma, but he overcame his physical health problems by embracing a strenuous lifestyle. He integrated his exuberant personality, vast range of interests, and world-famous achievements into a "cowboy" persona defined by robust masculinity. Home-schooled, he began a lifelong naturalist avocation before attending Harvard College. His book, The Naval War of 1812 (1882), established his reputation as both a learned historian and as a popular writer. Upon entering politics, he became the leader of the reform faction of Republicans in New York's state legislature. Following the near-simultaneous deaths of his wife and mother, he escaped to a cattle ranch in the Dakotas. Roosevelt served as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under President William McKinley, but resigned from that post to lead the Rough Riders during the Spanish–American War. Returning a war hero, he was elected Governor of New York in 1898. After the death of Vice President Garret Hobart, the New York state party leadership convinced McKinley to accept Roosevelt as his running mate in the 1900 election. Roosevelt campaigned vigorously, and the McKinley-Roosevelt ticket won a landslide victory based on a platform of peace, prosperity, and conservation.
After taking office as Vice President in March 1901, he assumed the presidency at age 42 following McKinley's assassination that September, and remains the youngest person to become President of the United States. As a leader of the Progressive movement, he championed his "Square Deal" domestic policies, promising the average citizen fairness, breaking of trusts, regulation of railroads, and pure food and drugs. Making conservation a top priority, he established many new national parks, forests, and monuments intended to preserve the nation's natural resources. In foreign policy, he focused on Central America, where he began construction of the Panama Canal. He expanded the Navy and sent the Great White Fleet on a world tour to project the United States' naval power around the globe. His successful efforts to broker the end of the Russo-Japanese War won him the 1906 Nobel Peace Prize. He avoided controversial tariff and money issues. Elected in 1904 to a full term, Roosevelt continued to promote progressive policies, many of which were passed in Congress. Roosevelt successfully groomed his close friend, William Howard Taft, and Taft won the 1908 presidential election to succeed him.
Frustrated with Taft's conservatism, Roosevelt belatedly tried to win the 1912 Republican nomination. He failed, walked out and founded a third party, the Progressive, so-called "Bull Moose" Party, which called for wide-ranging progressive reforms. He ran in the 1912 election and the split allowed the Democraticnominee Woodrow Wilson to win the election. Following his defeat, Roosevelt led a two-year expedition to the Amazon basin, where he nearly died of tropical disease. During World War I, he criticized President Wilson for keeping the country out of the war with Germany, and his offer to lead volunteers to France was rejected. Though he had considered running for president again in 1920, Roosevelt's health continued to deteriorate, and he died in 1919.

 

[TristramEvans]

Mad Jack Churchill



At first glance, the above picture may seem like a "typical" (albiet gorgeously framed) picture from WW@, featuring an allied landing party. That is until you look a little closer and notice that the fellow leading the charge in the lower right is wielding a sword! The natural response is of course to say "Holy crap, who is this, freaking Snake-Eyes from GI Joe circa the Greatest Generation?"

Well, no, it's actually closer to a combination of Zoolander and Robin Hood.
This is "Mad" Jack. A man who redefined the term Badass for the twentieth century.

John Malcolm Thorpe Fleming Churchill was born in 1906, moving with his family across the UK and a brief period in Hong Kong until he attended King William's College on The Isle of Man. Jack followed this up by attending the Royal Military College in Sandhurst and, after graduating in 1926, was stationed with the Manchester regiment in Burma. Jack used this first tour of duty to indulge a love of off-road motor-biking, apparently transversing pretty much the entire country on motorcycle.

In 1936 Jack left the army and pursued a career as a male model in Nairobi, Kenya, also working part time as a Newspaper editor. In his spare time, he learned to play the bagpipes and became a world-class archer. His archery and bagpipe talents led to a role in the 1924 film, The Thief of Bagdad. In 1939, Jack represented Great Britain at the World Archery Championships in Oslo.

When Germany invaded Poland, kicking off the second World War, Jack re-enlisted and was sent to France in the British Expeditionary Force. Jack gained immediate notoriety by eschewing the typical firearms assigned to infantry in the day as simply not badass enough, instead going into battle carrying a goddamn longbow and a wielding a basket-hilted Scottish broadsword.

Churchill's Broadsword
​

When asked by a fellow officer why Churchill insisted on carrying the broadsword into battle with him, he responded, "In my opinion, sir, any officer who goes into action without his sword is improperly dressed". When the German army broached the Maginot Line as Hitler set his eyes on France, while the rest of the British army was driven back towards the sea by the Blitzkreig, Jack said "Fuck that" and launched a series of guerrilla raids and surprise attacks on German positions and supply depots. Riding his trusty motorcycle and armed only with a his bow and arrow and Scottish broadsword, Jack caught the Germans completely off-guard, and went medieval on their asses.

He was dubbed "Mad Jack" not simply for his eccentric armament, but the fact that he brushed off being shot in the neck by a god-damned machine gun.

​

After fighting at Dunkirk, Jack volunteered for the Commandos. Churchill was second in command of No. 3 Commando in Operation Archery (one can only assume named after him specifically), a raid on the German garrison at Vågsøy, Norway, in 1941. As the ramps fell on the first landing craft, he leapt forward playing "March of the Cameron Men" on his bagpipes, while chucking grenades and leading the charge into battle. Two hours later, British High Command received a telegram from the front:

"Maaloy battery and island captured. Casualties slight. Demolitions in progress. Churchill."

​

Next, during the British landing at Salerno, Jack'as squad was charged with taking out an artillery battery in the town of Piegoletti that was pinning down a nearby British force, despite the fact that the Nazi garrison force was much larger than Churchill's Commandos. In the middle of the night, Jack had his men charge the town from all sides, screaming "COOOMAAANDOOOOO!" at the top of his lungs. The confused Germans were taken by surprise, and mounted a futile resistance. Jack's 50-man force ended up taking 136 prisoners.

After this, Churchill was ordered to capture a German observation post outside the Italian town of Molina , controlling a pass leading down to the Salerno beachhead. Leading the covert infiltration, Churchill single-handedly took forty-two German prisoners and captured a mortar crew using only his broadsword, after taking one patrolling guard as a human shield and proceeding from sentry post to sentry post. Mad Jack's response when asked about how he was able to capture so many soldiers so easily:

"I maintain that, as long as you tell a German loudly and clearly what to do,
if you are senior to him he will cry 'jawohl'' and get on with it enthusiastically and efficiently whatever the situation."​

Jack later returned to the town to retrieve his sword, which he'd lost in hand-to-hand combat with the German regiment. On his way, he encountered a disoriented American patrol mistakenly walking towards enemy lines. When the patrol's NCO refused to turn around, Jack told them that he was going his own way and that he wouldn't come back for a "bloody third time!"

During a raid of the German held island of Brač, Churchill's force was meant to backed by a force of 140 Partisans, but they were abandoned on the morning of the assault, leading to the greatly-outnumbered Commando being devastated by the Germans. In the end only Mad Jack and 6 others managed to reach their objective, where a mortar shell killed all except for Churchill. Taken prisoner, Jack was sent to a concentration camp, where he twice successfully escaped and was recaptured.

As the tides of war changed, the camp where Jack was held was abandoned by the SS, whereupon he promptly marched 150 kilometres until encountering an American armoured unit. As the Pacific War was still on, Mad Jack requested a return to Burma, where the largest land battles against Japan were being fought. However,y b the time Churchill reached India, Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been bombed and the war ended. Churchill was said to be unhappy with the sudden end of the war, saying:

"If it wasn't for those damn Yanks, we could have kept the war going another 10 years!"


​

After the War ended, Churchill trained as a parachutist and transferred to the Seaforth Highlanders and sent to Palestine as executive officer of the Highland Light Infantry Battalion.

In the spring of 1948, Jack and 12 of his soldiers attempted to assist the Hadassah medical convoy that came under attack by Arab forces. The first to arrive on the scene, Jack banged on a bus, offering to evacuate members of the convoy in an APC, in contradiction to orders to keep out of the fight. His offer was refused in the belief that the Jewish Haganah would come to their aid in an organized rescue.] When no relief arrived, Churchill and his men provided cover fire against the Arab forces, but the convoy trucks were caught on fire, and 77 of the 79 people inside of them were killed, an event later knownas the Hadassah medical convoy massacre. Of the experience, Jack stated:

"About 150 insurgents, armed with weapons varying from blunder-busses and old flintlocks to modern Sten and Bren guns,
took cover behind a cactus patch in the grounds of the American Colony ... I went out and faced them...About 250 rifle-men
were on the edge of our property shooting at the convoy....
I begged them to desist from using the grounds of the American Colony for such a dastardly purpose."​

After the massacre, Churchill coordinated the evacuation of 700 Jewish doctors, students and patients from the Hadassah hospital on the Hebrew University campus in Jerusalem. In his honor, the street leading to the hospital was renamed Churchill Boulevard.

In 1952, after returning home from duty, Churchill was hired by MGM to appear in the film Ivanhoe as an archer.

In later years, Jack served as an instructor at the Land-Air warfare school in Australia, where he discovered the sport of surfing, and became an avid devotee. After returning to Britain, he became the first man to surf the River Severn's five-foot tidal wave, on a board that he designed himself. He also spent his retirement sailing coal-fired ships on the Thames and building radio-controlled model warships.

Mad Jack passed away in 1996 at the age of 89.

 

[A Fiery Flying Roll]

I'm going to be really egotistical and nominate my ancestral clan, The Turnbulls. Because I genuinely think they'd be great in a historical campaign and we had several historical badasses.

Some highlights.

The mythical version of the name is that it was gained by wrestling a bull to the ground, saving King Robert Bruce from being gored.

The clan crest is a bull's head with the motto "I saved the King".

Not only were they a borders family, they were known to be the most turbulent in that area. A Scottish nobleman, sent to see if the Turnbulls would back their claim to the throne, reported back that they had no care at all for politicians but always yearned for a fight. They were the only clan badass enough that the King placed a bounty on their heads.

Before the Battle of Haldon Hill in 1333 a huge Turbull with a massive black mastiff approached the English and challenged anyone who was willing to single combat. Sir Robert Benhale, a Norfolk knight, accepted the challenge and slew him.

Major Gordon Turnbull led the vicious counterattack on the French Cavalry by the 2nd Scots Greys at Waterloo. Though outnumbered some 2-1 the Scots broke Napoleon's famed cavalry,and the Greys destroyed most of Napoleon's legendary Nogue's brigade, resulting in the capture of the eagle of the 45th Ligne. According to Wellington, they "had little tactical ability or nous"[common sense], "but fought like raging bulls". This was taken as a compliment by their Turnbull leader, whose son, brother and three cousins rode into battle: five were wounded and one died. James Hamilton, overall commander of the Greys and the other Scottish cavalry regiment (who were supposed to form a reserve), ordered a continuation of the charge to the French Grande Batterie. Though the Greys had neither the time nor means to disable the cannon or carry them off, they put many out of action as the gun crews fled the battlefield. Some historians note that this action had a very direct outcome on the battle itself.

Two Turnbulls were Scottish recipients of the Victoria Cross, the highest and most prestigious award for gallantry in the face of the enemy that can be awarded to British and Commonwealth forces. The most famous being James Youll Turnbull, who single-handedly held a position for 24 hours, against almost a full regiment of Germans, with a machine gun in World War I. Each time the British tried to send reinforcements, they were wiped out due to the open ground exposing them to deadly crossfire. The ground was held by Turnbull singlehandedly, and this story became renowned for the British people in the dark days of the war. He died the next day while leading a Brigade of Highlanders on a grenade attack, which eventually turned the tide of the deadly stalemate where some 50,000 soldiers on both sides became casualties.

Winston Churchill himself wrote on this defense in his book stating: On 1 July 1916 at Leipzig Salient, Authuille, France, Sergeant Turnbull's party captured a post of apparent importance to the enemy who immediately began heavy counter-attacks, which were continued throughout the day. Although his party was wiped out and replaced several times, Sergeant Turnbull never wavered in his determination to hold the post, the loss of which would have been very serious. Almost single-handed he maintained his position, displaying the highest degree of valour and skill in the performance of his duty. Later in the day he was killed while engaged in a bombing counter-attack. The Germans were said, after seeing the body of Turnbull in his uniform kilt, to call him and all Scots "The Devils in Dress" and "Ladies from Hell!"

 

[soltakss]

After fighting at Dunkirk, Jack volunteered for the Commandos. Churchill was second in command of No. 3 Commando in Operation Archery (one can only assume named after him specifically), a raid on the German garrison at Vågsøy, Norway, in 1941. As the ramps fell on the first landing craft, he leapt forward playing "March of the Cameron Men" on his bagpipes, while chucking grenades and leading the charge into battle.

I had heard that the German machine-gunners had him in their sights, but didn't shoot him because there was a longstanding taboo/tradition that it was bad luck to harm a madman.

 

[urbwar]

I'm going to go with my childhood hero, Audie Murphy, who was one of the most decorated American soldiers of WW2.

During World War II and for many years afterward, Audie Murphy personified heroism on the battlefield. His death-defying exploits were the stuff of legend, but to many Americans Murphy is a virtual unknown. As Don Graham observed in his biography of Murphy, "we prefer video fantasy-Rambo-a kind of MTV celebration of American machismo…. [But] Audie Murphy was the real thing…. And the real thing is always more interesting."

Audie Leon Murphy, the seventh of twelve children of Emmett "Pat, " a sharecropper, and Josie Murphy, was born June 20, 1924, in a Texas cotton field. Leon, as Audie was known until he went into the army, had chores to do at an early age, and when he was five years old, he was hoeing and picking cotton alongside his parents and siblings. There was no time for play and not much time for school, either. Murphy recalled years later, "It was a full-time job just existing."

Yet nearly everyone who knew Murphy during his childhood noted his intelligence and his determination to "be somebody." He loved to read and enjoyed listening to his uncles recount their experiences in World War I. To Murphy, it all seemed very glamorous and exciting.
In 1939, at the age of fifteen, Murphy dropped out of school for good and left home to seek work that would help the family. He held a series of low-paying odd jobs. Then, in 1940, his father walked out on the family, leaving them in dire straits. This turn of events took a heavy toll on Murphy's mother, and in May 1941, she died.

Murphy was devastated by his mother's death and bitterly resented his father. As he looked at his own life, however, he realized that he was headed down a similar path. His lack of education and opportunity meant that he would probably never be able to escape the poverty that had entrapped his family.

A war got Murphy out of Texas. Less than seven months after his mother died, the United States entered World War II following the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Like so many other eager young men, seventeen year old Murphy tried to enlist in the military. But at only 5'5" tall and 112 pounds, the baby-faced teenager (who looked even younger) was rejected by both the marines and the army because of his age. He tried again after he turned eighteen. The marines still weren't interested, but on June 30, 1942, he was officially inducted into the army and immediately sent to boot camp for combat infantry training. There he excelled at marksmanship and quickly developed into a well-disciplined soldier.

In late January 1943, Murphy shipped out to North Africa. Assigned to Company B, 1st Battalion, 15th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Division, he was sent to the island of Sicily on July 10. It was there that he began to compile his remarkable service record. Aggressive and audacious, yet levelheaded, Murphy proved to be the ideal soldier.

Murphy quickly discovered that war was not quite what he had expected it to be. "Ten seconds after the first shot was fired at me by an enemy soldier, combat was no longer glamorous, " he later observed. "But it was important, because all of a sudden I wanted very much to stay alive." Fear was always beside him, and he could sometimes feel his insides twist into knots. But as Murphy noted after the war, "Sometimes it takes more courage to get up and run than to stay. You either just do it or you don't. I got so scared the first day in combat I just decided to go along with it."

Murphy and his battalion headed north through Sicily. Their first enemy encounters were with Italian troops who proved to be easy to subdue. Then they came face-to-face with tougher and well-trained German soldiers. From his experiences in Sicily he gained what he termed "a healthy respect" for his German counterparts. By mid-August of 1943, however, Sicily was in Allied hands.
After a brief rest period near Naples in late November and early December of 1943, the 3rd Division received its next orders, an amphibious landing at Anzio, to be followed by a quick thrust north to Rome. Murphy missed the actual landing but he rejoined his division as they waited on the beachhead for reinforcements. The delay proved costly, however; within days, the Germans had moved some 125, 000 troops into position.

The Germans showered Allied ground troops with artillery fire, but nineteen year old Murphy distinguished himself when he stepped up to lead his men after his company commander was wounded. However, the Allies were no match for the Germans, and they were finally forced to retreat. They took refuge in cold, muddy foxholes and trenches for some five months while under constant fire. Meanwhile, Murphy was promoted to platoon leader.

Murphy earned his first medal, the Bronze Star, in March of 1944 for singlehandedly knocking out a German tank. He received two more awards in May, the Combat Infantryman Badge, which set him apart from soldiers who had not been under fire, and the 1st Oak Leaf Cluster to the Bronze Star Medal, which recognized his "exemplary conduct in ground combat against an armed enemy."

The 3rd Division's next assignment was to land on the coast of southern France to start driving north along the country's eastern border. Beginning August 15, 1944, the story of Murphy's exploits becomes "simply incredible, " to quote his biographer.
Murphy encountered a hill dotted with German machine-gun nests that were protecting a big gun aimed at the coast. He headed up the hill alone, methodically destroying several of the machine-gun nests along the way. Suddenly, his best friend in the unit appeared at his side and insisted on staying with him. Then, as Murphy and his buddy engaged enemy troops in a gun battle, the Germans indicated they were ready to surrender. Murphy was suspicious, but his friend stood up to acknowledge the gesture and was immediately gunned down. In a burst of fury, Murphy killed the Germans who had shot his friend and continued on his rampage up the hill, taking out another machine-gun nest and eventually securing the area for the Allies. For his actions, he won the Distinguished Service Cross, the second-highest U.S. Army medal for valor.

From then on, Murphy absolutely craved action and sought it out whenever and wherever possible. He astounded his fellow soldiers by volunteering for one dangerous assignment after another; he was especially adept at stalking and killing snipers. On September 15, 1944, he was wounded for the first time, but after just a few days in the hospital for treatment, he was back on the front lines. Offered a promotion to second lieutenant in the wake of his heroics, Murphy turned it down, expressing embarrassment about his lack of formal education and indicating his desire to remain with the men he had fought with for so long.

In eastern France during the fall of 1944, Murphy earned two Silver Stars. The first was for saving his commanding officer. His second was awarded for actions he took to destroy a well-camouflaged machine-gun and sniper outpost. In the end, Murphy received a promotion to second lieutenant, which he accepted on the condition that he could remain with his company.

Murphy was wounded for a second time on October 26, 1944, when a shot from a sniper glanced off a tree and struck him. Three days passed before he could be evacuated, and by the time he made it to the hospital, the wound had become gangrenous. He spent the next two months out of action, but was back on the front lines by mid-January of 1945, during the coldest and snowiest winter Europe had seen in twenty-five years.

When Murphy rejoined his regiment, it was preparing to clear the Germans out of a much-disputed territory on the border of Germany and France. The task proved to be an arduous one; American ground troops were ill-equipped to endure the harsh weather. Meanwhile, Murphy sustained his third war wound. The injury did not require medical attention, so he kept fighting. He was placed in command of Company B after its first lieutenant was badly wounded. With that, Murphy became the sole officer in a company that had once numbered over 200 men but was now down to only 18.

On January 26, 1945, Murphy's courage under fire earned him the nation's highest honor for personal bravery and self-sacrifice in combat, the Congressional Medal of Honor. Murphy and his men were ordered to take up a position and hold it. Less than two dozen Americans protected by two tank destroyers then squared off against some 200 enemy soldiers backed up by six tanks. In the opening minutes of the battle, Company B's machine-gun squad was wiped out, one of its tank destroyers slid into a ditch and had to be abandoned, and the other tank destroyer was hit by artillery fire. Murphy figured the end was near as he realized how outnumbered he and his men were.

Ordering his men to retreat, Murphy stayed and directed artillery fire into the area while emptying his gun at the advancing Germans. He then spotted the burning tank destroyer about ten yards away and noticed that its machine gun appeared to be undamaged. He ran over, jumped on the tank destroyer's turret, and started firing the machine gun as he continued to direct the ongoing artillery barrage. He kept up this attack on his own for at least thirty minutes and perhaps as long as an hour, killing or wounding some fifty enemy soldiers. Finally, the Germans were forced to withdraw. After being knocked unconscious momentarily, Murphy came to and started walking, weak, exhausted, and in a bit of a daze, but miraculously unscathed except for a slight reinjury to his legs. From a distance, he heard the tank destroyer explode.
Murphy then threw himself back into battle, hammering at the Germans as they retreated east toward the Rhine River. By February, most of the enemy forces that were still west of the Rhine had surrendered. This gave the 3rd Division some time to relax a bit, followed by another couple of weeks of rest well behind the lines. During this period, Murphy was promoted to first lieutenant. At the end of the month, training began for an invasion of Germany.

Murphy did not join his men on the front lines this time. To keep him out of combat, his superiors had assigned him to serve as a liaison officer with the 15th Infantry. (The Army did not want to see one of its Congressional Medal of Honor winners die in battle.) Murphy nevertheless managed to involve himself in some dangerous situations from time to time, including one instance in which he raced to the front lines to lead his beloved Company B out of danger.

Murphy spent the remaining weeks of the war engaging in similar operations that suited his taste for action and thrills. The end of the conflict found him on a train to the French Riviera, where he had hoped to enjoy a little rest and relaxation before resuming command of Company B at its headquarters just outside Salzburg, Austria. It was there that Murphy officially received his Congressional Medal of Honor on June 2, 1945, a few weeks shy of his twenty-first birthday. The ceremony capped a truly remarkable two years that saw him become the most decorated soldier in U.S. history. Murphy was ultimately awarded a total of thirty-seven medals, eleven of which were for valor.

After the war, he got into acting. His film career was lackluster. However, he starred a himself in "To Hell and Back". Before I saw that movie (which I've seen at least 100 times), John Wayne was my hero. After seeing that movie, Audie was my inspiration. One time I watched the film on the History channel. They did these short interviews with historians about how accurate the film was. When they interviewed the historian at the end of To Hell and Back, the historian was very clear that the movie under sold Audie's heroism. He pointed out this was intentional, as Audie (being very humble) did the film more to honor all the friends he lost during the war than glorify himself. Learning that just increased my respect for this man. Being a humble badass is pretty awesome in my book. It saddens me this hero is overlooked

and just cause, here's the trailer for To Hell and Back

 

[OHT]

Skanderbeg

That old dude carving people in half with a gigantic sword is Skanderbeg. Skanderbeg is the national hero of Albania. He's a hardcore, skull-crushing Albanian hardass who fought for 20 years on the side of the Ottoman Empire, then got bored of that, flipped his shit, and spent the next 25 years leading an Albanian revolution that kicked the Turks in the balls every time they tried to fuck with him. Now, surviving for 40 years of constant warfare in the 15th century is a big enough deal by itself, but this guy went above and beyond – his biographer credits him with personally killing 3,000 men on the battlefield during his career. That number might be a load of crap (then again, it might not) but the truth is that this dude is such an all-important hero to his people that his medieval battle standard is the present-day Albanian Flag, and all elementary school kids in Albania are required to memorize a song talking about how badass he was. It's like their pledge of allegiance. Or the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby".

But this guy didn't start his life shirtless with six-pack abs and a two-handed falchion. No, the origin story for the Dragon of Albania is much weirder. Gjergjj Kastrioti was born in 1405, the son of the Prince of a small Albanian district headquartered in the fortress city of Kruje. Gjergjj, whose name is mercifully Anglicized to George (because how in the holy living hell are you supposed to pronounce a man's name when the last three letters are g, j and j?), grew up in the shadow of the mighty Ottoman Turkish Empire – an ever-expanding Muslim world power that was brutally crushing all before it in a tremendous, unstoppable scimitar-laden stampede of blood, fire, and delicious pastries. By the time Georgejgjj (pronounced "GEORGE-guh-jay-jay") was eighteen, the armies of the mighty Sultan had crossed the Bosporus, conquered every Byzantine city except for Constantinople, and was already flooding the Christian cities of Eastern Europe with hundreds of thousands of horsemen, infantry, and artillery – all hardened by years of battle and equipped with some of the most advanced and badass weaponry in the world. Stuff like gunpowder cannons and rifles – which nobody else in the world really had at the time, and which just so happened to be pretty fucking useful in medieval combat.

So when the Turks came knocking on the gates of Kruje with a sheet of notebook paper that said, "Tribute or Death? Pls circle 1", it probably shouldn't be too surprising that George's dad ran up the white flag, handed over his four kids as hostages, and agreed to pay an annual fee to his new Ottoman overlords. What this means for our homey George is that he and his three bros were forcibly circumcised (which probably isn't much fun when you're 18 years old), converted to Islam, and shipped out to war college to train as Ottoman Janissary warriors.

Now, the Janissaries were pretty fucking awesome. I'm not going to get into it in too much detail here (it's probably a story for another time), but basically the premise was that the Ottoman Sultan would take the children of Eastern European families, force them to convert to Islam, indoctrinate them in military tactics and religious fanaticism, and then send them back out to attack their former countrymen. Here's a fun fact: Many of the troops who comprised the first wave of soldiers assaulting the walls during the fall of Constantinople were ethnic Greeks, some of whom had been born to Greek nobility that at the time of the battle were still living in Constantinople. This is amazingly diabolical and awesome – through the use of these soldiers you simultaneously build an army of fiercely loyal professional warriors, break the morale of your enemy, and win battles without sacrificing your own countrymen. Goddamn genius.

George was really only supposed to remain in the Sultan's Janissary Corps for a period of three winters, but when his dad bit the dust the Sultan cancelled his contract, and the legitimate heir to the Princedom of Kruje remained a slave-soldier of the Ottoman Empire for a little more like twenty years. Oh, and his three brothers were all poisoned to death for reasons (and by persons) nobody has really ever been able to figure out. Regardless of this giant shit buffet life had served George Kastrioti, however, this guy persevered and lived to kick ass whenever it was presented to him, and to do so with whatever objects were made available to him at the time. He quickly proved himself as one of the toughest men in the entire Corps, shredding his enemies across Asia and Europe, and when this shit-kicker wasn't eating shards of broken glass or jamming cinders in his eyes, George commanded a cavalry regiment, governed over nine provinces, and once personally beat the snot out of a Mongol and two Persians in the Throne Room of the Ottoman Court after they were being disrespectful to the Sultan. On account of his ultimate bad-motherfucker-dom, the Sultan bestowed George with an appropriately badass title – Arnavuthu Iskender Bey, meaning "Lord Alexander the Albanian". Sure, Alexander wasn't this guy's given name or anything (as you'll remember, his Albanian name had significantly more consonants), but it was a pretty bitchin' reference to Alexander the Great, so George was pretty much down with it – although he preferred to go by Scenderbeu, because that was a little more Albanian-sounding (Western historians changed that to Skanderbeg, and since that's the one version of his name that doesn't make Spell Check freak out and die, that's the one I'm rolling with for the rest of the article.)

Despite being a high-ranking Turkish official with all the wealth, women, and power he could shake a scimitar at (wow, that sounds a lot dirtier than I intended it to), the whole "Building an empire on the backs of my former countrymen" thing really started to get to Skanderbeg after a while. (Note: While his admittedly-biased biographer claims that Skanderbeg only killed Muslims in combat and never attacked Christians on the battlefield, it seems a little hard to believe that you become a Janissary Commander without skewering an infidel or two.) So, somewhat abruptly, at the age of 38, Skanderbeg made a decision that would impact his life forever – he took a company of 300 Albanian Janissaries and deserted the Turkish army in the middle of their battle against the badass Hungarian Crusader John Hunyadi. Skanderbeg marched his AWOL army through Albania, straight to the gates of Kruje (his ancestral castle, which was now under Ottoman rule), presented a forged document to the governor claiming that Skanderbeg had been appointed Turkish Governor of the region. As soon as the legitimate Turkish governor of Kruje hit the road, Skanderbeg tore down the Ottoman flag and flew his own battle-standard from the parapets. So yeah, there's more than one badass way to occupy a city, motherfuckers, and they don't all involve catapults.

Skanderbeg immediately proceeded to rally the Albanian lords and declare open rebellion against the Turkish Sultan. He re-converted back to Christianity again, declared himself the Avenger of the Albanian People, and went to work kicking the crap out of everyone around him. Reacting quickly before the Ottoman forces could mobilize, Skanderbeg's rebels captured a number of cities and towns throughout Albania – and in each fortress he took he gave the Turkish defenders two options – Baptism or Martyrdom. Neither was particularly appealing to them.

Murad II quickly figured out what was going on, got ripshit pissed, and came after Skanderbeg with 100,000 of his former friends, who at this point were eager to repay the Albanian for his loyalty. Skanderbeg, who never commanded an army larger than 15,000 at any point during his 25 year slugfest with Turkey, ordered a scorched-earth retreat – burning everything around his capital in an effort to deny the Turks food. When Murad reached the walls of Kruje and layed siege to Skanderbeg's castle, the Albanian hero personally commanded 1,500 men in the defense of the citadel while ordering the rest of his men to fan out and hammer the Turkish supply caravans with hit-and-run guerilla attacks. With Murad deprived of ammunition, reinforcements, and food, and his force suffering from widespread disease and being turned back every time they assaulted the walls, he was forced to call off the attack. Sultan Murad returned a little later with another force, but Skanderbeg was ready for that too – he hid his men in some trees, drew the Turkish army into a trap, and then launched an ambush that annihilated the invading army and captured their supply train.

For the next 23 years, Skanderbeg would personally lead his troops into battle on dozens of occasions. As one of the last Eastern European bastions of Jesus-ness, he was constantly surrounded, fighting the enemy from every direction, and outnumbered by 10-to-1 odds, but he seriously didn't give a shit that Albania was basically just a little circle completely surrounded by the Turkish Empire. The Roman Catholic Popes were obviously pretty ridiculously super-psyched about Skanderbeg's insane powers of being both alive and Christian, and they sent him a bunch of pump-up words of encouragement. For instance, Pope Nicholas V called him the "Champion of Christendom" (though this is sometimes awesomely translated into "The Athlete of Christendom"). Pope Pious II called him the "Christian Gideon", and Pope Calixtus III appointed him Captain-General of the Holy See in his ongoing Crusade against the invading infidels. I suppose that, above all, it's a testament to his longevity that he survived long enough to have three Popes give him sweet nicknames while basically being involved in a never-ending war with a significantly more-powerful adversary. To his peeps, Skanderbeg was simply the Dragon of Albania, which is kind of an interesting choice for a nickname considering that his battle-standard was a badass two-headed Eagle and didn't really involve dragons at all.

When the Sultan Murad died, his son, Mehmet the Conqueror, gave the Albanians a slight reprieve – mostly because Mehmet wanted to go off and conquer Constantinople, and he didn't need Skanderbeg stabbing him in the ass the second he turned his back. Skanderbeg used this time to rebuild his fortresses, assemble his Crusaders, and get ready to once again assume the role of being the last bulwark between Ottoman Imperial expansion and European Christendom. Once Mehmet turned his attention back to those wacky Albanians, Skanderbeg was ready to cram some Catholicism into their chest cavities with a two-handed sword. Mehmet launched two more full-scale invasions of Albania, twice besieging Skanderbeg's castle, but both times the cagey warrior used guerilla attacks, mountain warfare, and hack-and-slashing to fight them back – and he did it all while wheeling and dealing with rival factions in Hungary, Serbia, and Venice, and putting down a rebellion instigated by his own nephew. He also somehow found time in his busy schedule of fighting for his life to lead 800 horse on an amphibious assault across the Adriatic Sea and break apart the Siege of Naples – a deed of heroism that would get him appointed to a Dukedom in the Neapolitan Kingdom (a position his son would inherit – even though Albania would fall, Skanderbeg's line would survive to be Dukes of Naples for the next few centuries).

Since no conventional weapons seemed to be able to kill him, Skanderbeg eventually died in 1468 of malaria while organizing the defense of Albania against yet another obnoxious horde of Turkish invaders. At the time of his death, his biographer credited him with personally killing over 3,000 men on the battlefield. While that might be something of an exaggeration, it is true that when Albania finally fell to the Turks (an event that happened a good 10 years after Skanderbeg's death), the Turks dug his body up, dismembered him, and made bracelets out of his bones. I've heard two reasons for this – they either really hated his ass and wanted to destroy his corpse beyond all recognition, or they thought his bravery would rub off on them if they wore part of his skeleton around on his wrist. Either interpretation is pretty badass.

 

[OHT]

That's cut and pasted from badass of the week btw. Not my own work.

 

[soltakss]

I'm going to go with my childhood hero, Audie Murphy, who was one of the most decorated American soldiers of WW2.

I loved watching Audie Murphy films as a kid, the fact that he was a War Hero as well just added to his mystique. Sure, he's not the best actor in the world, but he had charisma.

 

[TristramEvans]

I loved watching Audie Murphy films as a kid, the fact that he was a War Hero as well just added to his mystique. Sure, he's not the best actor in the world, but he had charisma.

Yeah, I could've done without Pluto Nash though.

 

[AsenRG]

I had been considering to write a setting around this guy. Hey, I can do research on the spot by an inter-country trip!

Probably a pipe dream, though.
Either way, without further ado, I present you...

Chakar Voevoda

Born in Prodanovtsi, Bulgaria, in the year of our Lord 1815. His name was Hristo, but earned his nickname "Chakar" due to having big, grey eyes and a stare that reportedly made people less than comfortable. The guy obviously had bonuses to Intimidate since he was born!

His father having been killed by the Ottomans when he was but a kid, he got raised by his uncle Nikola, a priest. He sent him in the Rila monastery to learn how to be a blacksmith, but the guy ran back to Samokov, reportedly because the master there was a really harsh man. That wasn't exactly unknown.

So, of course, having learned something about metals, he began work in the weapons shop of Mito Shatarenta, where the had a place for shooting the guns they repaired (you need to check how accurate they are after you work on them, after all). As a result, he learned shooting really well - a skill whose possession was frowned upon.

At the same time, he was also teaching some of his friends to fight with the yataghans (think kukri if you're not familiar...but this kind of blades have been in use on the Balkans since the time of the Thracians, until today, with basically no interruptions). The practice began with a real weapon wrapped in cloth, because they were friends. Then it progressed to real weapons without the cloth.
Obviously they were diligent, because by the records, the whole building where they were practicing was shaking.

However, despite being reportedly a very strong man, he wasn't teaching his friends to slash mightily - presumably not everyone was as strong as him. Besides, all the Turkish were doing that, and there was little doubt that should they ever need to use this kind of moves, it would be against someone accustomed to slashing.
But no. The techniques Chakar taught them were radically different, and based on stabbing the mothertoomuchlover to death, often while he was preparing to cu you in two!

What can I say about the idea of a guy making up an efficient combat system from scratch? Well, I told you that around here, we've been using this kind of blades for millennia, right? Did I mention that our northern neighbors and relatives, the Dacians, used them so efficiently that they forced a Roman legion to change the protection of the legionnaries (yes, it's an unique case in the war history of Rome AFAIK)?

So it's not confirmed, but it's quite likely that he had been taught how to use this kind of blades, himself. (Possibly at the monastery, or in Samokov itself. The weapon shop is a logical place where one can meet someone who can teach you this kind of stuff...now consider that this wasn't just a weapon shop. It was a weapon shop in a city that was known for centuries for blade-making...and is, in fact, still known for it today. I fully intend to purchase ).

Being the strongman that he was, he bested a few Turkish in stone-throwing. For this, a few armed men entered the weapon shop to kill him. However, if they thought he'd deign to use his secret technique on the likes of them, they were wrong. Instead, he took the anvil and started swinging it around. Not being prepared to meet someone wielding an improvised weapon that deals 4d6 damage and ignores armour, they scattered.

However, Chakar knew very well he couldn't keep living in his home city after doing this kind of feat. So he ran, sending the pre-planned signal to his friend, which simply meant "meet me in 10 days on the place we have discussed".

So they did. Meanwhile, he used the time for negotiations, going to talk to the Rila Monastery's Abbe, offering him a deal: his team would protect the monastery if the monastery was so kind to provide their uniforms (and possibly weapons). The abbe agreed, reasoning that there were quite a few gangs of highwaymen that would have liked robbing it. It was a rich target.

Now, you might ask, why the hell do outlaws - which is what they were - need uniforms? Because that's how it worked in my part of the world, guys! The outlaws were of two kinds: robbers, and hayduti. The latter considered themselves a guerilla revolutionary force, inheritors of the ancient Bulgarian army. So of course they had to have uniforms, flags, and a strict hierarchy and discipline. The name Voevoda actually has the etimology of "Leader of Warriors/Military Leader"... but amusingly, it can - if you're so inclined, and I am - find an etimology that would link it to the equivalent of "Warbringer".

So they had uniforms, and stuff. The first task for raising a band of outlaws was actually to provide uniforms and weapons. What proper outlaws can pass without uniforms, I mean? (Those that gathered with the goal to commit robbery could - and did - of course, but they weren't proper outlaws, just criminals).


What happened then? Well, first thing he did was to, amusingly enough, force the local Ottoman beys (nobles or notables) to implement the laws accepted in Istanbul...

Why, you might ask? Well, the government had abolished years ago their right to demand free labor from the villagers. But, following the ancient Eastern tradition, they put the orders "under the minder" (wooden couch, basically - the phrase means "away from the eyes, away from the heart") and kept going the old way. Anyone objecting was quickly introduced to an yataghan held by someone else, if the guy was lucky. The unlucky ones got introduced, face-first, to a red-hot metal trivet, which was put on their heads. And then usually their families had a hard time, too (trivet visitations were often carried in the home of the soon-to-be-dead man, and in front of the family).

So the first thing Chakar did was to inform the local notables that paying for labor is fine, if they pay fair. Not paying would cause him to pay them a visit. (Or maybe he did that after the first big win, I'm forgetting - either way, they had little doubts what the eventual demands are going to be. After all, they knew why everyone thinks they suck, and wanted to keep their image).

Did they listen? Did they think "hey, we should listen to our own government and introduce the long-overdue change"?

No, they reasoned that the governement didn't even expect them to actually follow on the law, and sent after Chakar voevoda a gang of their own enforcers (the ones used to trivets) headed by the well-known at the time "brave" Mutish aga (Lord Mutish or something like it, but we'll call him Mutish the Bravo, because it describes him better).

The hodja gave the "irregulars" who followed Mutish the Bravo (they considered themselves irregular army as well) amulets to keep them safe from bullets, and on they went, with an orchestra and the admiration of the local notables and riff-raff.

What did Chakar do? Well, he started a rumour that he's invincible while in the area of Karagyol, because the giant bull with candles on his horns, reputed to live there, would trample, gore, and othwerwise murderize anyone who approached. Or, failing that, the local nature spirits (in the form of beautiful women in state of undress) would strangle them with their hair.

Hey, both were reputed to live at Karagyol (name roughly translates to Black Marsh), and appear at night... and both kind of spirits have that reputation!

Result: the attackers approached the place not expecting to meet any resistance on the way. Instead, they walked right into a heroic ambush. Reportedly, the leader was shot on the first volley already, along with about a dozen men. The rest failed the morale check and ran back. They voevoda and his men, however, still hadn't bloodied their blades, so they had to chase them, of course.

In the end, over half the attackers lay dead. The rest hid in am ancient mine which had fortified walls.

The local notables tried to gather a bigger force. But when the supposed fighters learned about the fate of Mutish the Bravo, who obviously had a reputation among them, they refused to go and fight the Chakar. Sometimes even enforcers make the Common Sense check!

Peace lasted about a year. Then the local notables sent after Chakar voevoda Haji Damba, a man known for his strength, and his cutting technique (reportedly, he was able to cut a donkey in two with a single strike). This one had no plans to get into an ambush, though: he wanted a personal fight with Chakar voevoda, and betted on close combat to carry the day. Of course, he had twice as many men, and trained them for eight months for "cutting hayduti's heads". And Hadji Damba himself had written on his hat "Either Chakar's head, or death".

This time (1849) Chakar almost got into an ambush himself. He was saved by the poor fire discipline of the attackers: some of them started shooting from too high away. Hey, they had trained cutting, not shooting, and certainly not patience!

Then the battle was on. And the two leaders fought a personal battle, as they presumably intended. They started by shooting from the hip...and not missing. Both were hit, neither one considered it reason enough to stop. So what followed was a fencing match with kukris.
End result: Chakar defended the cuts and stabbed the enemy in such a way that he fell on the ground. When Chakar stepped on his chest and swung, the defeated started asking for mercy.
Despite the words written on his hat, Chakar granted mercy and attacked the others. Seeing their most dangerous fighter down after Chakar had been shot already, they failed their Morale check as well and scattered. Well, those that could walk.

Unlike what the wounded expected to happen, they were also granted mercy. The local Pasha (gobernor/general) was also amazed by it, since it didn't fit the Ottoman tradition, and reportedly said that Chakar is a "forest knight" that should be an example for military valor.

Actually, Chakar even returned the yathaghan to Haji Damba and gave him from his own medicine for his wounds (taking his dagger and his red flag for souvenirs). Reportedly Hadji Damba never walked again, but he was still grateful to be alive...as was seen later.

After that win, the hayduti were basically considered the rulers of the region and even dared to return to the city to see their families. But Chakar voevoda didn't allow them reprieve in the training: in fact, from then on only "live" blades were allowed (and one of those training reportedly lost his ears).
The reason: Chakar expected the neighbouring notables to pay attention to his case. In fact, he had reportedly even predicted who would be sent after him - a certain Kara Bekir Pehlivan (Black Bekir the Wrestler, if my understanding of Turkish ain't way off...which is possible, I've never studied it).

He was right, but KBP adopted a losing tactic: he wanted to ambush Chakar voevoda.
Well, when you're facing the champion of the indigenous majority, you shouldn't be surprised if he has better intelligence than you. So Chakar learned about the ambush, and attacked. But this time, he chose to rely entirely on close combat, no rifle shots. His men had already learned how much of an advantage his techniques are giving them, and considered it their strongest point.

And indeed, they triumphed. Almost as usual - KBP was stabbed personally by the voyvoda, and the rest were defeated in close combat.

A notable fact was that the hayduti weren't allowed to rob the locals, whether Bulgarians or Turkish: instead, they worked as builders. And Chakar had imposed penalties for getting drunk, bar brawling, extorsions and any other abuses (rapists arguably had it worst - let's put it like this, none of them could attempt the same transgression a second time).

The subgovernor (kaymakam) tried to arrest the haiduti working as builders, and the voyvoda himself. Chakar cut, or likely, stabbed his way out, then his hayduti helped those that were captured to escape from prison.
Then they just went and captured the kaymakam and his family. After a stern talk, the kaymakam accepted that the hayduti can only be chased while they're in the forest - not at home. (And to his honour, he never broke his word on that matter).

After that, however, Chakar attracted the attention of the Pasha in Sofia, who wasn't exactly happy (and his superiors were even less happy) that some guerilla "warbringer" is calling the shots in part of the area.
So he pulled the required strings and insured that a regular army detachment (a "tabor", which according to Wikipedia is roughly a battalion), returning from Nish for Istanbul, would make a detour through Samokov. The plans were for payback with interests (including killing all the men in the Bulgarian part of the city, for example).

So Chakar ordered his men to start digging trenches at the Karagyol. The tabor was marching towards him, secure they'd triumph despite the trenches. Numbers and experience do that to people's confidence.
Well, except the voevoda, being a local, knew exactly how much distance a tabor can cover in a day, and where they're likely to stop for rest.
So, he had his men digging until late in the evening. Then he had them make a night march, and ended up in the forest next to the place where he expected the tabor to stop for a rest. The tabor did indeed arrive the next evening, after the haiduti had slept the whole day.

Then several hayduti entered the settlement, while the rest were blocking the escape routes. There, they put fire to some hay, and when the fire was going nicely, started shooting and shouting in Turkish "Oh hell, run for your lives!"
After which they followed their own advice, and ran. There was no need for more - some soldiers tried to shoot at where they were seeing/imagining danger, so the mayhem was going without them.

The soldiers, assuming they've been attacked and were losing so badly that part of their own had just failed their Morale checks, started running as well. But since both routes were barricaded, they just ran, panicked, into the waiting bullets and blades. Only a few escaped death. I wonder how the Pasha had felt upon learning that he'd just lost a battalion?

Reportedly, sultan Medjid himself started calling Chakar voyvoda "the baron of Samokov". Which probably didn't help the pasha's mood, nor his career prospects...
In 1854 the hayduti actually had a real fight: some robber called Ibryam Leka attacked the Rila Monastery. Result: Chakar paid his old debt, and those who (presumably) weren't wearing proper uniforms, lost.

The Pasha and the Kaymakam had strict orders, however: deal with Chakar voyvoda by any means necessary.
So they managed to get a contact to the wife of one of the hayduti, named Ivan. She was reportedly unhappy her husband was seldom home and mentioned it in front of a Turkish woman.
So they contacted Ivan's wife, and offered her a good sum (by her estimates) to make her husband shoot his voyvoda.

Long story short, THAT was the plan that succeeded. Reportedly, she still had to get her man drunk before he could do the deed, and she gave him a silver bullet...just to be sure, you know?
When her husband sobered up, he slew her and shot himself. Talk about miscalculating!

The locals arranged a magnificent funeral. Hadji Damba himself broke his yataghan and sent his personal servant to put it on Chakar's grave, along with his message: "Evalla (eyvalla)".

For those unfamiliar with this word: According to the Turkish Linguistic Society, "eyvallah" means "we entrust to God". It is, yes, a very, very situational-use word. But in basically all of its meanings, it denotes respect.
One of its multiple meanings is "thank you". Another is saying goodbye. In slang it can can be used to mean "that's cool, dude". In fact, I'd only heard it in that way until today (which goes to show you how formal my contacts are).
Also, it is considered a masculine word (not used when you talk to an woman, for example, and generally not used by women...well, in polite company, at least).
You can now guess which meaning Chakar Voevoda's former enemy had in mind. Possibly all of the above.

 

[urbwar]

Another American for the list. Now he isn't as badass as everyone, but he had one badass moment in his career. It's described in detail here, but here is the basics:

Owen J. Baggett was part of a bomber crew. During a raid in Burma, he and his crew were forced to abandon their B-24. The Japanese fighter pilots start to shoot at them as they were parachuting to the ground. Two of his crew were killed, and Baggett was shot in the arm. He pretended to be dead, but took out his .45, and held it down by his leg. One of the pilots flew back to make sure he was dead, and opened his canopy (and also slowed to stalling speed to be able to see better). Baggett fired 4 shots, and the plane spiralled off.

Baggett and his surviving crew were caught by Burmese who turned the over to the Japanese, and he was in a PoW camp. A higher ranking officer overheard some Japanese talking, and it turns out when the pilot crashed, he was flung from the cockpit (because the canopy was open). He body was found with a bullet in his head. That's right, Baggett, with a .45, shot a fighter pilot in the head while both parachuting to the ground and shot in the arm. If that isn't badass, I don't know what is. Sure, it's his only feat of badassdom, but you only really need to be badass once in your life to join this group imho

 

[A Fiery Flying Roll]

Honestly, you can demonstrate how badass the pirate Anne Bonney was just by quoting the circumstances of her capture.

In October 1720, Rackham and his crew were attacked by a "King's ship", a sloop captained by Jonathan Barnet under a commission from Nicholas Lawes, Governor of Jamaica. Most of Rackham's pirates put up little resistance as many of them were too drunk to fight. However, Read and Bonny fought fiercely and managed to hold off Barnet's troops for a short time. Rackham and his crew were taken to Jamaica, where they were convicted and sentenced by Governor Lawes to be hanged.[17] According to Johnson, Bonny's last words to the imprisoned Rackham were: "Had you fought like a man, you need not have been hang'd like a dog.

 

[TristramEvans]

Juliane Koepcke



Juliane Koepcke was born in 1954 in Peru, the daughter of a German biologist and Ornithologist. Whether or not this was a "Boys from Brazil" situation, one can only speculate, but it was unlikely her scientist parents realized they'd given birth to a hidden badass. The world may not have known if it wasn't for the fact that she ended up being tested by Thor early on in life.

In 1971, just after graduating high school, Juliane boarded a flight on Christmas Eve with her mother bound for Panguana. LANSA Flight 508 was above the rainforest when it was hit by a bolt of goddamn lighting. The aircraft was flying at about 21,000 ft (6,400 m) and broke up in mid-air, disintegrating 2 miles above the ground.

Of the 86 passengers and crew, Juliane was the only survivor, falling 2 miles into the middle of the rainforest, still strapped to her airplane seat. She came to an indeterminate amount of time later with a broken collarbone, a gash to her right arm, and her right eye swollen shut, alone in the wilderness.

Surrounded by corpses and debris, with no food, gear, maps, compass or means to make fire, and only one shoe, Koepcke was essentially screwed by Zues in one of the few instances that doesn't involve bestiality.

Koepcke managed to find some candy (probably best not to ask where), which became her only sustenance, as she got on with getting on and discovered a small stream. Figuring she was safer in the water than out, Juliane decided her best course was to follow the water in the hopes of coming across civilization, and waded through the knee-high water.

To really understand what she was up against, consider this quote from Ben Thompson:

"The Amazon is one of the most insane, hardcore jungles ever devised – a ghastly hellhole of unrighteous suckitude filled with horrors beyond that which most hack basement-dwelling sci-fi authors could ever dream up in their wildest LSD-inspired psychotic delusions. This place is right up there with the Congo, rural Siberia, and the Sahara Desert in terms of "terrible places you would only really want to visit if you enjoy being miserable and suffering a slow and painful death". It is home to thousands of species of venomous creatures, dozens of other non-poisonous things with large, pointy, flesh-rending teeth, revolting man-eating monsters, and giant evil gorillas that can face-punch people so hard their necks explode. It's the home of the Candiru Fish, a sick reject from God's murderous asshole that makes its living by swimming up peoples' urethras and embedding itself with a couple of horrific, groin-cringingly sharp spines. I mean, this place almost killed Teddy Roosevelt, a guy who is pretty much widely believed to be one of the most badass men to ever take a dump in the bathroom of the Oval Office, so you KNOW it's not something you should really jerk around with if you can help it. Shit, the fact that I even need to reference the TITANOBOA when talking about this place should give you a good idea of how retardedly insane this place is. You’d have better odds for survival working as a custodial technician in Ravenholm or sweeping out air ducts on LV-426."



Juliane Koepcke travelled for ten god-damned days like this, pushing through injury, exhaustion, and near-starvation until she discovered a small fishing boat moored near a shelter. Juliane poured the gasoline from the boat's fuel tank on her wounds, "an action which succeeded in removing the maggots from her arm"! However, she decided against taking the boat, because she didn't want to steal it, which if anything is the purest evidence of how badass she was ethically, if not the most practically. Instead, she slept in the small shelter, where she was discovered unconscious by a group of local fishermen a day later. She was taken to their village until a local pilot was able to fly her to a hospital in Pucallpa.

After she recovered from her injuries, Juliane helped search parties locate the crash site, where she finally found the body of her mother.

Koepcke is still alive today, a prominent scientist whose life since the incident has thankfully been much more mundane. However, she did return to the crash site in 1997, accompanying acclaimed director Werner Herzog who made a film about her ordeal (Wings of Hope). By an almost insane coincidence, Herzog had been at the same airport as her in 1971, while working on his film Aguirre, the Wrath of God, and was scheduled to be on the same doomed flight but for a last-minute change of itinerary.

 

[Gringnr]

Eugene Bullard. The first black fighter pilot. Boxer, musician, and American expat who flew for France in WWI. After the war, he started a nightclub. Spied for the allies prior to WWII, and then joined the infantry when war broke out. He died in New York in relative obscurity, although he had often been honored in France. There is a lot more to his fascinating story. If you get the chance, read Eugene Bullard: Black Expatriate In Jazz Age Paris, by Craig Lloyd. They broke the mold when they made Eugene Bullard.

 

[TristramEvans]

Simona Kossak (1943-2007)



Polish biologist, ecologist, author, PhD in forestry, and conservation activist

They called her a witch, because she chatted with animals and owned a terrorist-crow, who stole gold and attacked bicycle riders.

She spent more than 30 years in a wooden hut in the Białowieża Forest, without electricity or access to running water. A lynx slept in her bed, and a tamed boar lived under the same roof with her. She was a scientist, ecologist and the author of award-winning films, as well as radio broadcasts. She was also an activist who fought for the protection of Europe’s oldest forest. Simona believed that one ought to live simply, and close to nature. Among animals she found that which she never found with humans.

 

[TristramEvans]

 

[Sean W]

Tolkien's inspiration for Aragorn - Oswald Iding aka Whiteblade, the King in the North, dark ages Northumbrian expert warrior exiled as a kid then returned to England to BRING THE RUCKUS ! with devastating swordplay and tactical nous - king of Northumbria by the age of 30, also allowed the monastery to be built on Lindisfarne (the base for The Venerable Bede, who sent out black ops monks to 'reclaim' relics, and also literally rewrote history)

 

[BedrockBrendan]

Lady Eighty Seven of the Guan Family lead a small crime empire during the song dynasty. She had to work through her sons and grandsons, and also made connections with key people of influence. Under her leadership her family (according to a judge from the time) basically created a shadow government through organized crime:

....they had been fierce and brutal for dozens of years. They broke the law unscrupulously, and poisoned civilians throughout the county as well as outside merchants and travelers[...]they were all evil, and supported each other.....they monopolize the whole county's administrative power. The Guan Family built two salt storehouses, stored and smuggled salt, encroached on the state's tax income, harmed shunchang county for over two decades, paralyzed local administration, and caused successive local magistrates to be dismissed.

She basically used her dowry and paid for her son to become a public official to come to power. She had her own prisons, collected taxes, smuggled salt, and even adjudicated local conflicts. The only source in English I am aware of that discusses her is Crossing the Gate: Everyday Life of Women in Song Fujian by Man Xu. I am actually just finishing a game book that is centered around Lady Eighty Seven.

 

[Bourbonjack]

Interesting reads!

 

[E-Rocker]

Lady Eighty Seven of the Guan Family lead a small crime empire during the song dynasty.

How did she get the name Lady Eighty Seven?

 

[BedrockBrendan]

How did she get the name Lady Eighty Seven?

I interviewed the historian who wrote about her in Crossing the Gate (here: http://thebedrockblog.blogspot.com/2017/09/crossing-gate-interview-with-man-xu.html). The interview doesn't get into it (but linking because it has some additional details). But by email she explained to me that her name in chinese sources was usually rendered "Guan Baqi Sao". Guan is the family name, Sao indicates a married woman and Baqi is 87. The number most likely indicates her rank in the lineage. Apparently there is not a lot of information about her though. I also recall that in crossing the gate, there is a source (believe it was a local magistrate) who mentions her and states that she was called Lady Eighty Seven since she married to the Guan family (her real surname was Liu).

 

[AsenRG]

I am actually just finishing a game book that is centered around Lady Eighty Seven.

Which game is it for?

 

[BedrockBrendan]

Which game is it for?

Wandering Heroes of Ogre Gate (Edit: to elaborate it is the Lady Eighty Seven campaign book. This will include a full description of Fan Xu prefecture in the Qi Xien setting---I ported Lady 87 into the WHOG world but didn't file off the numbers because I wanted people to know about her---it will also include a crime focused campaign. It is done, but I added to sects, one was a profound sect I realized needed inclusion because of the geography---orginally wasn't going to include it---and the other is one I added at the last minute because I had an idea I wanted worked into the book. Basically once I finalize those two entries it goes to the editor. I have all the maps. We just started on the art----about four or five images in).

 

[Nobby-W]

William Fairbairn, of the Sykes-Fairbairn dagger fame.

Amongst other things, one of the first westerners to gain a second-degree black belt from a Japanese martial arts school in 1931, retired as assistant commissioner from the Shanghai Municipal police in 1940 and then went on to work as a consultant to the Special Operations Executive during WWII.

I think Gun Jesus covers this far better than I ever could.

 

[Brock Savage]

Smedley Butler is an American badass and hero. The dude earned two Medals of Honors, which establishes his stret cred as a capable bad ass beyond all doubt. I admire him most for his work after retiring from the Corps, having the sheer balls to stand up to the evils of war profiteering at a time when that kind of talk could label someone a dangerous radical. He wrote a book War is a Racket that is now in the public domain if you want to check it out.

 

[Nobby-W]

Smedley Butler is an American badass and hero. The dude earned two Medals of Honors, which establishes his stret cred as a capable bad ass beyond all doubt. I admire him most for his work after retiring from the Corps, having the sheer balls to stand up to the evils of war profiteering at a time when that kind of talk could label someone a dangerous radical. He wrote a book War is a Racket that is now in the public domain if you want to check it out.

I used to have a copy of it (I think I lent it to somebody). It's quite short and well worth reading. It's basically this guy giving a big middle finger to his former lords and masters and calling them out on their shady practices. He did his duty as a soldier but was pretty disgusted with them by the time he retired. After retiring he did a lot of public speaking on the topic.

 

[Brock Savage]

@ Nobby-W I think the following quote from the book just about says it all. I don't think anyone else would have been in a position to make those accusation with a shred of credibility and it took incredible guts to speak up.

I spent 33 years and four months in active military service and during that period I spent most of my time as a high class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street and the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer; a gangster for capitalism. I helped make Mexico and especially Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefit of Wall Street. I helped purify Nicaragua for the International Banking House of Brown Brothers in 1902–1912. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for the American sugar interests in 1916. I helped make Honduras right for the American fruit companies in 1903. In China in 1927 I helped see to it that Standard Oil went on its way unmolested. Looking back on it, I might have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three districts. I operated on three continents.

Edit: I imagine someone may construe the quote as political or contentious even though this was almost a century ago. I leave it up to mod decision

 

[Nobby-W]

@ Nobby-W I think the following quote from the book just about says it all. I don't think anyone else would have been in a position to make those accusation with a shred of credibility and it took incredible guts to speak up.

[ . . . ]

"High class muscle man for Big Business, Wall Street and the bankers ..." is perhaps his most quotable line. It was the one that come to mind for me as well.

 

[johnmarron]

Smedley Butler is an American badass and hero. The dude earned two Medals of Honors, which establishes his stret cred as a capable bad ass beyond all doubt. I admire him most for his work after retiring from the Corps, having the sheer balls to stand up to the evils of war profiteering at a time when that kind of talk could label someone a dangerous radical. He wrote a book War is a Racket that is now in the public domain if you want to check it out.

He also helped foil a plot to oust FDR.

John

 

[Savage Schemer]

Charles Herbert Lightoller

With just a bit more murder, he'd be right at home in a Conan story!

 

[Chris Brady]

I loved watching Audie Murphy films as a kid, the fact that he was a War Hero as well just added to his mystique. Sure, he's not the best actor in the world, but he had charisma.

Fun fact, the movie that was based on his exploits (Starring him) To Hell And Back, toned down some of his exploits, on his account that they were too fantastical for the average person to believe.

 

[CRKrueger]

From Badass of the Week, one of my personal favorites, Congressman & Senator Daniel Inouye.

"My father just looked straight ahead, and I looked straight ahead, and then he cleared his throat and said, 'America has been good to us. It has given me two jobs. It has given you and your sisters and brothers education. We all love this country. Whatever you do, do not dishonor your country. Remember – never dishonor your family. And if you must give your life, do so with honor.' I knew exactly what he meant. I said, 'Yes, sir. Good-bye."

This Wednesday, November 1st, the surviving members of the American 442nd Regimental Combat Team traveled to Washington, DC, where they were awarded Presidential Gold Medals to honor their dedication to the timeless art of crotch-kicking the flaming shitfire out of Nazi Deutschbags across Italy and France during the Second World War. Now, while everyone who served in the war can absolutely be considered a badass, this elite fighting unit is particularly noteworthy in that it consisted entirely of Japanese-American soldiers – men who were fighting for their country (a country where they were viewed with suspicion as possible spies or enemy agents) in a no-holds-barred worldwide asskicking competition against the land of their forefathers – and not only did these guys go out and do their duty, but they all volunteered for the job. These were guys with a chip on their collective shoulder and a penchant for bayoneting Fascist fucks, and in two years of near-constant combat with tough-as-nails opponents the 12,000 men of the Four-Four-Two racked up 9,400 Purple Hearts, 53 Distinguished Service Crosses (19 of which were later upgraded to Medals of Honor) and seven Presidential Unit Citations, easily making them one of the most decorated combat units of World War II. This is some serious shit, and, with all due respect to fictional badass Mister Miyagi of Karate Kid fame, the most hardcore member of this celebrated unit is easy to identify – he's a face-crushing asskicker named Daniel K. Inouye, and his story is so over-the-top insane that if you saw it in a movie you'd think the screenwriter was totally full of shit.

Daniel Inouye was a second-generation Japanese-American living in Honolulu, Hawaii, when the Japanese fighter-bombers started hammering the fucking bejeezus out of the naval base at Pearl Harbor. The seventeen-year-old Inouye had been on his way to church when the shit hit the fan, and as Zeroes buzzed over the roof of his house he could clearly see the plumes of smoke from the burning American battleships in the harbor. Inouye was an aspiring physician and taught first aid at the local Red Cross station, so naturally he hauled ass down there and spend the next five sleepless days patching up wounded military personnel. Immediately after his marathon bout of tourniquet application, Inouye went down to enlist in the army and kick the shit out of the people who had just dropped bombs on his hometown. Unfortunately, even though this guy was a U.S. citizen, as a person of Japanese descent he was classified 4-C, meaning "Enemy Alien". Undraftable. Unable to serve. The Enemy. Possibly a Cylon.
But Daniel Effin Inouye wasn't going to take that bullshit excuse for an answer. This guy was no Enemy Alien – he was an American, and goddamn it he was going to fight. So, even while something like 120,000 Japanese-Americans were being moved to internment camps across the United States, destined to live out the war in government barracks, Inouye kept signing petitions and desperately trying to assist the war effort in any possible capacity. In 1943, when FDR decided, "Fuck it, let's see what these dudes can do" (and I believe that's a direct quote) and ordered the creation of two all-Japanese-American units (the 100th Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team) Inouye was at the enlistment office the next day. When the recruiter told Danny he couldn't join up because he was employed as an EMT at a government aid station, Inouye went home, quit his job, came right back, and took the oath. Balla shit.
The 442nd RCT deployed in Italy towards the end of 1943. As I said, these were motherfuckers who had something to prove (mainly, "We're all on the same side here, guys"), and Inouye was no exception. This tornado of American Asskicking was personally engaged in six major campaigns, and was such a fucking badass that even when he stepped on a tripwire and got a shotgun-blast of grenade shrapnel in his leg he just "walked it off" and kept on wasting Fascists with a relentless series of rifle butts and bazooka blasts to the dome. By his fourth battle he was already a Sergeant, which is just as much a testament to his leadership and balls-out-ed-ness as it is to the fact that officers and NCOs in the Four-Four-Two were expected to survive about fifteen seconds of live-fire combat.
The 442nd got its first major operational test in the Fall of 1944, when a company of Texas National Guardsmen were trapped, surrounded, and pinned down in the Vosges Mountains by nearly a full division of German troops. A couple of attempts had been made to break the Texans out, but every effort had been thwarted by ferocious German resistance. So, in a last-ditch effort to save the cut-off Americans, the 442nd was sent on what basically amounted to a suicide mission.
They didn't disappoint. The 4,200 men of the "Go for Broke" Regiment dove face-first into a fortified position where they were outnumbered roughly 5-to-1 by crack, battle-tested German infantry, but they couldn't have given a fuck about it if you'd paid them to do so. After five days of hand-to-hand, bayonet-to-face combat that cost the 442nd roughly a third of their men, Inouye and his unit busted through the lines in an explosion of blood, found the Texans, and shot their way out of the trap like Ellen Ripley tearing ass through the colony on LV-426 in an APC. For kicking asses and leading his platoon through a battle they had absolutely no business winning, Inouye was issued a Bronze star and a commission to Second Lieutenant. According to Inouye, the best part of this commission was that he now got to tote a Thompson submachine gun into combat – and even though that thing was wildly fucking inaccurate, it was loud, nasty, and it was so goddamned powerful that one time he shot a dude in the ankle and blew the guy's entire foot off.

"When you go into a battle and they put on the bayonet, you know they mean business. And we meant business... this was a Shoot the Works battle. That means you put on the bayonet. You're going to get them no matter what the cost."

After this side quest in France, Inouye went back to Italy, where he performed what is now his most famous act of totally badass shit. Inouye's platoon had been ordered to capture a German strong point along the Colle Musatello Ridge, so naturally this guy decided to go in guns blazing. He led his team through intense fire to capture an observation post, a mortar team, and an artillery position (no bigs), and then moved his troops within 40 yards of a heavily-fortified defensive line, where they immediately came under heavy suppressing fire from three different heavy machine gun positions. Inouye didn't give a fuck. He started chucking grenades like a madman, trying to blast the bunkers apart. This was fun for a while, but as he stood up to lob yet another explosive he was suddenly shot through the abdomen by a German MG bullet that passed all the way through his torso and came mere inches from severing his spine.

Naturally, this only pissed him off.

So, with the rest of his men pinned down by heavy weapons, the wounded Lieutenant grabbed a backpack of frags and started army-crawling up the ridge towards the enemy guns. As soon as he was close enough, he assaulted the first machine gun nest on his own, taking it out with a grenade from just five yards away and then clearing the rest of it out Al Capone-style with a spray of .45-caliber ammunition from his badass Tommy gun. When that one was taken care of, Inouye sprinted to a second position, dual-chucking two grenades that redecorated the walls of the bunker with Fascist parts.

Unfortunately, the time Inouye was headed for the third position, the Germans were ready for him – the dudes in this nest had just watched this insane-as-fuck little Japanese dude flying around bombing the shit out of their buddies, and these motherfuckers weren't about to sit back and let Inouye just hand-deliver a fragmentation explosive into their rectums without a fight. So when Inouye was sprinting across open ground a mere 10 yards the machine gun nest, suddenly he saw a German dude pop up from behind a sandbag, aim a rifle-mounted grenade at him, and blast him at point-blank range with the WWII version of an RPG.

The blast covered Inouye with shrapnel and shredded his right arm to the point where it was barely still attached. This, however, failed to stop him. Inouye simply looked down at his useless arm (which was still clutching a hand grenade), pried the grenade out of it with his left hand, and lobbed it underhand right into the dumbfounded German's face from about 15 feet away. The results weren't pretty.

From this point on in the battle, Lieutenant Daniel Inouye of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team went into Total Fucking Berserker Meltdown Mode. He doesn't even remember what happened next – but his awestruck platoon members sure as fuck do.

While still bleeding profusely from the mangled stump that used to be his right arm, Daniel Inouye ditched the grenades, unslung the Tommy Gun, and started firing it one-handed while running all over the goddamned battlefield like a fucking maniac, blasting the holy living shit out of anything with a gray helmet. He cleared out the third machine gun position with the Tommy Gun, changed the magazine, and then started running towards the main body of the enemy position, by himself, shooting the machine gun with his off-hand, wasting Nazis left and right in a hail of gigantic bullets. Finally, after rampaging like a madman, Inouye was shot in the leg, lost his footing, and fell down a hill. Unable to move, but unwilling to back down, Inouye propped himself up against the nearest tree, kept firing, and refused to be evauated until his Sergeants had moved the unit into position and prepared defenses for the inevitable German counterattack. All told, he had killed 25 Germans and wounded 8 more, and he'd literally done it all single-handedly. When the men in his unit came to the hospital and recounted the events to Inouye, his exact words were, "No, that can't be... you'd have to be insane to do all that."

No shit.

Daniel Inouye received the Distinguished Service Cross, which was later upgraded to the Medal of Honor. He lost the arm and had it replaced with a badass hook, and after 20 months of surgery and recovery in various military hospitals, he went home, got a law degree, and worked as a prosecuting attorney. In 1962 he was almost unanimously elected to the Senate (thus making him the first Japanese-American in Congress) -- he's won the post nine times since then, making him the longest-serving current member of the Senate and the second-longest serving Senator in the history of the United States.

Note: He died in 2012.

 

[AsenRG]

With just a bit more murder, he'd be right at home in a Conan story!

Actually, he would be right at home in REH's sailor stories as he was.

 

[Nobby-W]

James Cook

One of the last great explorers of the Age of Sail, James Cook was a naval captain who gained a reputation as a skilled surveyor from work in Canada and other locations. On the merits of this work he was given a mission to explore the South Pacific looking for a theorised Southern continent ('Terra Australis') and to carry a scientific expedition to Tahiti in order to observe the predicted transit of Mercury across the Sun.

James Cook - Wikipedia

en.wikipedia.org

Captain Cook is a prominent figure in New Zealand history as he made the first detailed survey of the country and many places still bear the names he gave them in that survey. Sometimes he is mis-credited with discovering New Zealand but the first records of NZ from a European explorer were from a Dutch captain called Abel Tasman around a century earlier. New Zealand retains the name originally given to it by Tasman, named after an island off the coast of Holland.

The expedition also carried out a lot of exploration around Australia and other parts of the pacific. Cook was also a pioneer in fighting scurvy, after having observed that German sailors never got it and starting to pack sauerkraut in ships stores; he also started the practice of carrying limes, from which the colloquial term Limeys ultimately arose. His work on scurvy was a major boon for the Navy and navigation in general, and ultimately led to him being awarded a major gong by the Royal Society.

Sadly, he was killed in a fight with the locals in Hawaii on a subsequent expedition. His maps of New Zealand were of such quality that they were still being used up to the first half of the twentieth century.

James Cook's ship on the first South Pacific expedition was called the Endeavour and one can't help but notice that the name of the captain and ship bear a resemblance to those in a certain well-known sci-fi franchise. Coincidence? I've never seen anybody write or comment about it, but who knows?