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Real Life - Badass War Stories You Will Not Believe

Discussion in 'Battlefield 3' started by d0g, Apr 23, 2012.

  1. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    OK. So I decided to start a thread for badassery that actually existed in real life.
    Mainly because I enjoy reading about it, there surely must be some others that enjoy this sort of shit too.
    Most, (but not all) tales will be ripped straight from cracked.com mainly because I like their style, and as a disclaimer, yeah, I've written for them before. Sue me. Also no, I won't tell you my alias. :p
    But all these fine articles were written by others. I'll mention if something is mine.
    With the cracked articles, I'll try to include the original pics/vids as they were originally written.
    I was going to lock it and just let ratings suffice, but I'll leave comments open for the time being.
    I'll also probably post one a day, or every couple of days until I run out of material and have to write and research my own.
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  2. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    So I'll start with a sniper. Even though they're a pain in the arse in BF3, dudes like this are on the fucking awesome scale of zero to fucking awesome.

    Simo Hayha
    [​IMG]

    Who Was He?

    Simo Hayha had a fairly boring life in Finland. He served his one mandatory year in the military, and then became a farmer. But when the Soviet Union invaded his homeland in 1939, he decided he wanted to help his country.
    Since the majority of fighting took place in the forest, he figured the best way to stop the invasion was to grab his trusty rifle, a couple of cans of food and hide in a tree all day shooting Russians. In six feet of snow. And 20-40 degrees below zero.
    [​IMG]

    Can you spot Hayha? Neither could the Russians.

    Of course when the Russians heard that dozens of their men were going down and that it was all one dude with a rifle, they got fucking scared. He became known as "The White Death" because of his white camouflage outfit, and they actually mounted whole missions just to kill that one guy.
    They started by sending out a task force to find Hayha and take him out. He killed them all.
    Then they tried getting together a team of counter-snipers (which are basically snipers that kill snipers) and sent them in to eliminate Hayha. He killed all of them, too.
    [​IMG]

    Over the course of 100 days, Hayha killed 542 people with his rifle. He took out another 150 or so with his SMG, sending his credited kill-count up to 705.
    Since everyone they had was either too dead or too scared to go anywhere near him, the Russians just carpet-bombed everywhere they thought he might be. Supposedly, they had the location right, and he actually got hit by a cloud of shrapnel that tore his coat up, but didn't actually hurt him, because he's the fucking White Death, damn it.
    Finally on March 6th, 1940, some lucky bastard shot Hayha in the head with an exploding bullet. When some other soldiers found him and brought him back to base, he "had half his head missing." The White Death had finally been stopped...
    [​IMG]

    ...for about a week. In spite of having come down with a nasty case of shot-in-the-face syndrome, he was still very much alive, and regained consciousness on March 13, the very day the war ended.
    The Best Hollywood Could Come Up With:
    Bob Lee Swagger (Mark Wahlberg) from Shooter:
    [​IMG]

    In Shooter, Mark Wahlberg plays a reclusive, worn-out ex-sniper trying to escape the ghosts of his past. Bob Lee is called in by the FBI who want to know if he (hypothetically) wanted to murder, let's say, the president, how would he (hypothetically) do it? They claim that he's "the best there is" because after years of training with long-distance shooting, he successfully killed 70 men in the desert with one of these:
    [​IMG]

    Why it doesn't Compare:
    Aside from the obvious fact that Hayha killed over 10 times as many men after only the most basic military training, he did it in 40-below weather, in the middle of the forest. And he did it all with one of these:
    [​IMG]
    d0gs note: guessing the dude had no probs hunting for dinner? :p Also wins brownie points for the best sniper surname ever.
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  3. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    Bugger it. Just to kick it off, I'll offer up another sacrifice. :D This dudes an Indian. As in before they were all telemarketers. Don't care want anyone says, these muthafuckers have balls the size of good mother earth herself...
    I've read and heard first hand so many stories about ghurkas (yeah i know, not technically, but it sounds pretty badass), that you just want to call bullshit. But this is documented for real. Enjoy. These guys seriously kick ass.

    Yogendra Singh Yadav
    [​IMG]

    Who Was He?
    Yogendra Singh Yadav was a member of an Indian grenadier battalion during a conflict with Pakistan in 1999. Their mission was to climb "Tiger Hill" (actually a big-ass mountain), and neutralize the three enemy bunkers at the top. Unfortunately, this meant climbing up a sheer hundred-foot cliff-face of solid ice. Since they didn't want to all climb up one at a time with ice-axes, they decided they'd send one guy up, and he'd fasten the ropes to the cliff as he went, so everyone else could climb up the sissy way. Yadav, being awesome, volunteered.
    Half way up the icy cliff-o'-doom, enemies stationed on an adjacent mountain opened fire, shooting them with an RPG, then spraying assault-rifle fire all over the cliff. Half his squad was killed, including the commander, and the rest were scattered and disorganized. Yadav, in spite of being shot three times, kept climbing.
    [​IMG]

    When he reached the top, one of the target bunkers opened fire on him with machine guns. Yadav ran toward the hail of bullets, pitched a grenade in the window and killed everyone inside. By this point the second bunker had a clear shot and opened fire, so he ran at them, taking bullets while he did, and killed the four heavily-armed men inside with his bare hands.
    Meanwhile, the remainder of his squad was standing at the top of the cliff staring at him saying, "dude, holy shit!" They then all went and took the third bunker with little trouble.
    For his gallantry and sheer ballsiness, he was awarded the Param Vir Chakra, India's highest military award. Unlike the Medal of Honor, the Param Vir Chakra is only given for "rarest of the rare gallantry which is beyond the call of duty and which in normal life is considered impossible to do." That's right, you actually have to break the laws of reality just to be eligible.
    [​IMG]

    And we imagine the medal looks like two, brass testicles.

    It has only been awarded 21 times, and two thirds of the people who earned it died in the process. It was initially reported that Yadav had as well, but it turns out that they just mistook him for someone less badass. Or they just figured no real human being could survive a broken leg, shattered arm and 10-15 fresh bullet holes in one sitting.
    The best Hollywood could come up with:
    John McClane (Bruce Wilis) from Die Hard:
    [​IMG]
    Why it Doesn't Compare:
    McClane has a fairly impressive resume of badassery, climbing through elevator shafts and killing terrorists with his bare hands, much like Yadav, except Yadav took more bullets in 10 minutes than McClane did in the entire series without even slowing down. Plus, he was fucking 19-years-old! Try to imagine a high school Bruce Willis screaming, "yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!"
    [​IMG]

    Exactly.
    d0gs note: I've read another story about this dude. And the killing them with his bare hands shit? Apparently that's no embellishment. No I have no idea how. Just, holy fuck. The epitomy of awesomeness is NOT Bruce Willis...
    Also, apologies. forgot to open the thread again before. My bad! :D
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  4. ithinkibrokeit

    ithinkibrokeit There is no spoon Server Admin

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    I still can't get over some of the stuff on Cracked. I've read these before, but keep them coming anyway (y).
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  5. TranceLiberation

    TranceLiberation moist placenta yoghurt Server Admin

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  6. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    So it's ANZAC day tomorrow. Here's an Aussie one for you. Anyone that doesn't know/hasn't heard of this one is frankly un-Australian, and deserves to be locked up with a big Tongan guy called Bubba. Why don't you just go and touch Simpsons donkey in an inappropriate way huh? HUH
    *recovers composure
    Enjoy Aussies very own MacGuyvers...
    The Drip Rifle
    +
    [​IMG]
    WWI was when the planet lost its World War Virginity. As with all such experiences, it soon became clear that nobody knew exactly what they were doing, and a bad time was going to be had by all. A prime example of this confusion can be seen in the Gallipoli Campaign, which amounted to thousands of Allied troops sitting on the side of a rock for a year, not really achieving much. After months of stalemate, the Allies decided that sustaining 60 percent casualties to hold a pile of stones in the middle of nowhere wasn't really worthwhile, and decided to pull out.
    [​IMG]
    Via
    Lifeasahuman.com
    "Guys! We didn't bring any protection. We're going to have to just pull out." - The Allies

    As a general rule, when an army tries to leave the battlefield, the enemy is obliged to inflict as much damage as possible, to make sure they don't come back. This is called the Where The Good Lord Split Ya maneuver, and the Allies knew full well that it was about to be used against them. So ANZAC Troopers William Scurry and Buntie Lawrence took a break from performing the juggling Vaudeville routine their names suggest they toured with, and instead built what they called 'Ottoman Bafflers.' Using bits of string and old ration tins, Scurry and Lawrence MacGyvered up a gun that fired all by itself, using drips of water falling between two cans, or taut strings being burnt through by candles.
    [​IMG]

    They later designed a way of getting a beer from the fridge using only a spoon, two rubber bands and some hockey tickets.

    Everyone had expected appalling casualties in the withdrawal from the aforementioned kick in the ass on the way out, but due to the Drip Rifle, the whole army managed to escape with only a dozen or so killed or wounded. For context, you couldn't make a sandwich in World War I without a dozen or so killed or wounded.
    d0gs note: I'm betting these guys are the same ones that came home and invented the hills hoist and the cochlear implant. And probably the BBQ. Mostly the BBQ.​
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  7. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    I just can't pass up a chance to take the piss out of the yanks. So for your reading pleasure, one of the biggest myths of our time...
    America Won the War Single-Handedly
    [​IMG]

    Claimed By:
    Hollywood, WWII-shooters, Cold War politics and chauvinists.
    Sixty years of World War II movies, and a decade of WWII video games, have made one thing clear: If it wasn't for America, you'd all be speaking German right now, baby! U-S-A! U-S-A!
    [​IMG]
    How America fights a two-front war.

    Why it's Bullshit:
    Because it's like thinking that while many X-Men contributed in their own special way, defeating Magneto really came down to Iceman.
    [​IMG]
    Cool party!

    There are two radically different histories of WW II, the one that was actually fought, and the one where the US kicked everyone's assess. Guess which one Cold War-era classrooms were allowed to teach? Here's a hint: It's the same one Hollywood chose to film.
    World War II wasn't just a clever name. It was a global conflict that included epic acts of heroism by non-Americans like the storming of Madagascar, the Battle of Westerplatte, the Battle of Moscow, the Battle of Kursk, the epically badass Kokoda Track, the pilots of the Polish Underground State, the details of El Alamein or the HMS Bulldog. Of course, Americans never hear about any of those unless, as in the case of the classic submarine film U 571, the characters are just straight up switched to Americans. To quote George S. Patton: "Americans love a winner," which you know because you saw Patton, the film that portrayed Field Marshal Bernard "Rommel-killer" Montgomery like a buffoon simply because he was British.
    [​IMG]
    Cheerio, guv'na!

    However, there is one Zangief-sized elephant in the room that America loved to leave out of conversation until the end of the Cold War: the Soviet Union. The "Great Patriotic War" as they called it was the single largest military operation in history, and home to perhaps the biggest turning-point of the war: the Battle of Stalingrad.
    Understand, the Russia versus Germany part of the war wasn't just a little more important than the part the USA was involved in. It was "four times the scale" of the whole Western front, larger than all other phases of the war put together. The Soviet military suffered eight million soldiers dead, more than 20 freaking times the number of U.S. casualties.
    [​IMG]
    Suck it up, Damon.

    Sounds pretty brutal for a John Wayne movie? Try figuring in another 13.7 million dead civilians.
    It's tragic how many kids in the West never heard these stories growing up. One platoon leader in the Red Army named Yakov Pavlov personally rigged a Stalingrad apartment building with enough landmines, rifles and mortars to hold off half the Nazi army. The building was under fire day and night and even had some civilians in the basement, but the fortress never fell. Pavlov himself picked off one dozen tanks from the beast.
    [​IMG]

    Our history books should not have been denied such awesomeness.
    d0gs note: U.S.A! U.S.A! Ummm, weren't they known by another name amongst the brits? What was it? Oh yeah. "Johnny come lately". That's right.
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  8. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    Which brings me to the last tale of today about the just mentioned Yakov Pavlov. You think you've had a near death experience? Pussies. What these guys pulled off was one of the single greatest accomplishments of the 2nd WW. As the amount of testicles required exceeds the actual amount of men, I am forced to assume there was much vodka involved.
    Pavlov's Platoon Holds Off the Nazis. All of Them.
    [​IMG]

    The Half-Assed Hollywood Effort:
    Here's a story implausible enough it could only have come from the fantasy genre, specifically the Battle of Helm's Deep from Lord of the Rings. A bunch of under-equipped warriors find themselves holed up in a fortress, outnumbered 30 to one. Knowing that death is all but inevitable, they decide to fend off the vastly superior army for a miraculous stretch of time as a pure exercise in ball-flexing manliness, before being rescued by a wizard.
    [​IMG]
    Also, the fat elf dies.

    Topped by Real Life When:
    Imagine if Helm's Deep had only been defended by two dozen guys and the enemy crossed the sheer overwhelming math of a zombie horde with the Empire's propensity for terrifying marshal efficiency.
    That's what one Sergeant Yakov Pavlov's platoon found themselves facing down in September of 1942. The Nazis were pushing into Russia as part of the biggest military operation in the history of the human race, and everything was about to come to a head in the city of Stalingrad with a battle over a single bombed-out apartment building.
    [​IMG]
    They called it the "Battle of Stalingrad" because "The Battle of That Building Where Sergei's Mom Used to Live" didn't sound quite as impressive.

    Pavlov and his platoon was tasked with the thankless job of retaking the building after the Nazis had seized it. To get a snapshot of what their mindset was like heading in, it's helpful to know that the assignment was considered an extremely dangerous one by the Soviet Army, and that the Soviet Army's slogan at the time was "die for Russia."
    [​IMG]
    Somehow, the slogan failed to raise morale.

    Doing the quick math, Pavlov realized his only chance was to throw his whole platoon into the meat grinder, and hope that the speed with which they passed through left at least a few alive. He lost all but four men in the assault, but eventually his plan worked and they took the building. Had they known they were dealing with a man who considered four people surviving a success, the Nazis probably would have realized that they were in for some serious shit. Having barely enough survivors to outfit a respectable zombie movie, Pavlov could only station one soldier to each floor. However, the drop-dead gorgeous line of sight it offered was enough for them to unleash a mountain of unholy hell against all Fascist comers.
    [​IMG]
    The last face many Nazis ever saw.

    The building was subjected to relentless fire--as were the civilians huddled in its basement--but Pavlov's unit held out long enough to be reinforced by a still-tiny 25 men. Not a wizard, but it was all they needed. His men were given machine guns, rifles, mortars, barbed-wire, anti-tank mines, some body armor and a PTRS-41 anti-tank rifle which Pavlov personally used to snipe a dozen tanks from the rooftop. They basically used what little equipment they had to convert the apartment into a goddamn anti-Nazi death machine that could annihilate whatever came at it from a kilometer in every direction.
    As long as everyone conserved their ammo and manned their posts, the only real danger posed to the building came from flamethrowers. Fortunately, with legendary snipers like 19-year-old Anatoly Chekhov on the top floor, this usually resulted in a Viking funeral for the Nazis.
    Wave after wave of the German army hammered the building. And died.
    Later, Pavlov's men could boast that they killed more Germans defending their one building than the French killed in the entire fall of Paris. And unfortunately for French egos, they were still alive to boast--by February 2 the next year, the Battle of Stalingrad was over. Pavlov was named a Hero of the Soviet Union, and the building he defended was made into a monument.
    d0gs note: Don't fuck with Mother Russia. Seriously. Just don't.
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  9. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    Righto. As it's ANZAC day, I got 2 stories for ya today. One Aussie, and of course one Un-Zudder.
    These stories come from badassoftheweek.com so they're a tad longer than the cracked articles, but well worth having a read of for those without ADHD. I also culled most of the random pictures to save space.
    So I present badass #1 for the ANZAC day special.

    Albert Jacka
    [​IMG]

    Last Monday, April 25, was ANZAC Day – So, in honor of my good friends on the opposite side of the world, I've chosen to observe ANZAC Day (a full four days after everybody else has already forgotten about it) by dedicating this week's article to the most widely-revered war hero in the prestigious badass history of Dark Continent – World War I Victoria Cross recipient Albert Jacka, the first Australian to ever be awarded the United Kingdom's highest award for military asskicking in a live-fire situation.
    Being known as the biggest badass from a place that has trees that can kill you is no small accolade, and you can bet your Bloomin' Onion that Bert Jacka lives up to the hype in the sort of head-crushing, scrotum-eviscerating way you'd imagine a ferocious Aussie war hero to represent himself. This guy was a hardcore woodsman-turned-infantryman so bare-knuckled tough he was known simply as "Hard Jacka," which I personally find ridiculously awesome not only because it's a badass nickname, but also because it kind of sounds obscene, like if you said it out loud in public you'd accidentally be saying something offensive. A tough, scrappy guy who never took bullshit from anyone (especially numbnuts superior officers he had no respect for), Jacka started out his career as a laborer in the Forests Department of Victoria, a job where he basically ran around lopping Eucalyptus down with a chainsaw and then using the mangled carcass of the tree to pick homemade crocodile jerky out from between his teeth. In 1914, when word came his way that every country in the world had basically lost its fucking mind and declared war on every other country in the world, the 21-year old Australian lumberjack decided he wasn't going to miss out on the opportunity to skewer the Queen's enemies on the point of his bayonet – he sprinted down to the recruiting office and enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force. A couple days after signing up to be part of the Great War, Jacka learned that they'd lost his paperwork and he hadn't really signed his life away to the service of the Commonwealth, so he of course ran BACK down there, enlisted again, and then presumably threatened severe bodily harm on the recruiting officer if that dude didn't get his shit together and let Jacka start shooting people in the face immediately.

    After going through boot camp, linking up with his Battalion, and participating two months of intense amphibious combat training in Egypt, the British High Command figured, "Eh, that's probably enough training for these blokes", and in April 1915 they shipped Jacka and the rest of the Australian Imperial Force out to a fun little Turkish peninsula called Gallipoli.
    Now, any time you read about World War I battlefields, one phrase consistently comes up time after time, and that phrase is "meat grinder". I'm not even kidding... it's basically impossible to read a book about the Great War without somebody making the analogy in some capacity, like they were coming up with some brilliant new simile that was going to completely blow everyone's minds with the sheer concussive force of its brilliance. The reason that these guys have such a hard-on for largely-antiquated kitchenware, and the reason as to why this "meat grinder" expression has become the historians' version of football coaches at press conferences constantly babbling about "we need to execute our game plan" is basically because back in the 1910s there honestly wasn't much difference between sending a company of infantry across no-man's land at a bunch of machine guns and artillery and actually taking a hunk of beef, throwing it into a stainless steel meat grinder, and then hand-cranking it until you're left with a nice-sized pile of delicious taco-grade ground round. The Gallipoli Campaign was no exception – through obscenely brutal fighting the Aussies and New Zealanders (and probably some other people) hit the beaches of the Dardanelles hard, carved out a foothold for their landing craft, and then slogged it out for months against a heavily-armed, dug-in force of battle-hardened Turks who weren't fucking around when it came do dishing out the pain. The entire campaign claimed a half a million lives (on both sides), meaning that if you were present in the battle you had a 60% chance of being killed, crippled, or wounded. These guys were slugging the shit out of each other, brute force against brute force, and Hard Jacka was on the front lines of it all.
    Jacka's finest hour in Gallipoli came in the ass-crack-o'clock hours of 19 May 1915, when the Turks launched a massive attack on the ANZAC trench line. At roughly two in the morning (the party was still jumping), the trench in front of Jacka was infiltrated and overrun by a wave of gunslinging Turkish troops, who killed or drove off all the Aussie troops stationed there. Bert Jacka's lieutenant was killed attempting to re-take it, shot in the head the second he stepped out of his own trench – dude didn't even get a chance to shout, "Follow me!" (which nobody would have done anyway once they saw how his attempt at re-taking the trench turned out for him). With the enemy close enough that they could lob a bunch hand grenades right tJacka's dugout, the Australian Private knew that he needed to do something quickly or the entire position would be lost in a blaze of fire, smoke, shrapnel, and flying Aussie parts. First, he tried to take a section of men out on a direct assault, but it didn't work out too well – Jacka popped up, ready to rock, but when the two men with him leapt up to follow him they both took bullets to soft parts of their bodies. Jacka grabbed both of them, dragged them back to safety (both ended up surviving the war thanks to his actions), and quickly realized that he needed to work out another plan of action.
    The one he came up with was pretty fucking awesome.

    Jacka had his buddies go to one side of the trench and start hurling a shitload of grenades and laying down covering fire. While the Turks were distracted with this sudden onslaught of explosive destruction, Jacka pulled himself up into no-man's land (you know, that place where he'd just seen three different dudes get gunned down the second they stepped out there?), sprinted across the fucking field in a balls-out rush, and then made a flying leap feet-first into the enemy trench.
    He was already flipping the fuck out before the defenders even knew what hit them. Charging down the trench with a goddamned bolt-action rifle and a bayonet, this guy cleared out the entire trench of defenders, shooting five guys, bayoneting two more, and chasing the rest off with the sheer balls-out insanity of his attack. For the next 15 minutes, the Turks led a massive counter-attack to re-take the position, but Jacka held the trench by himself, fighting off anyone who came close to him in an unbelievable onslaught of gunfire and bayonet-y stabbing-ness. Reinforcements didn't arrive until dawn, because it wasn't until the sun came up that Jacka's buddies realize that he had actually defied the odds, single-handedly re-taken the position and driven off the enemy. When his commanding officer reached the captured trench, he found Jacka sitting there by himself amid a pile of corpses with a cigarette in his mouth. All he said was, "Well, I got the beggars, sir."
    Private Albert Jacka became the first Aussie to ever receive the Victoria Cross. The medal was personally pinned on him by the King at Windsor Castle.

    But Hard Bert Jacka still wasn't done Jacka-ing up the enemies of the King. In 1916 he was transferred to the Somme so that he could participate in yet another of the Great War's bloodiest campaigns – this time, the Aussies would lose 23,000 men dead in the span of 45 days assaulting the mega-fortified German Hindenburg Line, and once again Jacka found himself right in the middle of a fucked-up situation that could only be improved through the use of excessive violence, a little bit of luck, and a whole lot of seriously-not-giving-a-fuck-about-your-own-safety.
    One lovely French morning in mid-July 1916, after a long relaxing evening of having his position pasted with constant artillery shelling from three sides non-stop for eight hours straight, Albert Jacka awoke just in time to see some German stormtrooper casually roll a live grenade down the steps into his dugout. Jacka dropped to the dirt, covered his head, and when his ears stopped ringing from the concussive blast Jacka pulled his revolver, raced to the top step and looked out to see what the fuck was going on re: some asshole trying to pop him like an egg in a microwave. What he saw wasn't exactly heart-warming. The Germans had overrun the Australian positions during the night, and Jacka and his men were now a good 250 yards behind enemy lines. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was also a company of 60+ German soldiers leading 42 unarmed Australian infantrymen off as prisoners of war.
    Now, a rational person would have looked down into his dugout, saw the 6 battle-weary Australians sitting there, and realized that the only way they were walking out of there alive was if they came out of the dugout with their hands in the air.
    But Albert Jacka wasn't a rational person. He was a badass.
    Albert Jacka, 250 yards behind enemy lines, surrounded, outnumbered, and exhausted, led seven Australian troops screaming out of the dugout, guns blazing, charging straight-on into a group of 60 well-armed German soldiers. Within seconds of the charge, every man in the squad was shot and wounded, but they kept on rolling. Jacka himself was shot seven times (including twice in the fucking head!) but when the soon-to-be P.O.W.s took one look at this berserker rage, they turned on their guards, overpowering some of them with a barrage of bare-knuckled face punches that would have made those hilarious boxing kangaroos proud. Jacka burned through his revolver rounds, took up a rifle and a bayonet, and kept fighting, and when the smoke finally cleared 12 Germans were dead and the rest had been taken prisoner. Rather than head back home, however, the Aussies kept fighting, re-taking the line in a battle that the Australian official war historian referred to as, "The most dramatic and effective act of individual audacity in the history of the Australian Imperial Force". (Editor's note: "Audacity" is high-brow speak for "Balls-out-ed-ness".)
    Jacka received the Military Cross for his actions at the Somme (many historians argue that he would have been nominated for a much higher medal if he wasn't also so insubordinate to his superior officers), and later received a second Military Cross when he went on a solo recon mission deep behind enemy lines and ended up capturing two German officers – they had spotted him laying tape to guide the Australian infantry, so he tried to shoot them with his revolver. When the pistol misfired, he just charged them, took them down with his bare hands, and dragged them back to Allied lines.

    In the span of 18 months of constant combat, Albert Jacka was promoted from Private to Captain, hitting pretty much every rank in between. He was constantly insubordinate when he had no respect for his officers, and when his own subordinates were being disrespectful to him, he got them into line by cracking them in the jaw with a right hook... his men, being insane Australians, of course loved him for that shit, and the men of the 14th Battalion all referred to themselves as "Jacka's Mob", which is a friggin' sweet name (plus it's very Starship Troopers).
    Jacka would later receive glory again, this time for taking half a mile of land and capturing a German field gun in the process, but he was knocked out of action for good in 1918 when a sniper shot him through the throat. This didn't kill him, mind you, but by the time he got out of the hospital in 1919 the war was already over, so he returned home to a hero's welcome. Jacka got married (probably to a total Aussie babe), became the Mayor of a town called St. Kilda, and died in 1932. He was buried with full military honors, and all 8 of his pallbearers were Victoria Cross recipients.

    d0gs note: I like to think that when he was receiving his medal from the King, he shook his hand excessively hard while simaltaneously giving the queen a wink and grin. As Aussie tradition demands.
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  10. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    If that wasn't enough for you to swallow for one day, as promised, here's ol' matey from across the dutch.
    Badass #2

    Charles Upham
    [​IMG]


    "He showed fine leadership at all times and under his command his Company earned a remarkable reputation in attack. Captain Upham's complete indifference to danger and his personal bravery has become a byword in the whole of the NZEF."
    - Second Victoria Cross citation

    New Zealand is kind of like the Canada of Australia. Sure, everyone is aware of its existence and all, but the place never really seems to get the same kind of badass cred as its closest neighbor, especially when it comes to cultural aspects like being awesome, flipping out, and/or smashing anyone who crosses them into a non-dissipating miasma of floating blood globules. This is kind of bullcrap, because, much like our Canadian friends, New Zealand has a rich and glorious history of intensely busting their enemies about the head with a tire iron until they die from it, high-fiving their buddies, and then kicking back on the couch with a refreshing alcoholic beverage of some sort. New Zealand is the traditional land of bone-crushing Maori tribesmen who tattoo their own faces and annihilate skulls by whacking jerks in the dome with a hefty polished chunk of jade, it's served as the backdrop for pretty much every epic sword-swinging film and screen production from The Lord of the Rings, to Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, and it's also the native home of a man named Charles Upham – a high-octane, neck-breaking maniac who holds the insanely-badass distinction of being the only infantryman to receive the Victoria Cross twice, and the somewhat-less-prestigious honor of being the first person on this website with a last name that starts with the letter U.
    Born in Christchurch in 1908, Upham got a degree in Agriculture and spent his early days working as a sheep herder and farm valuer, making him one of the more unsuspecting badasses I've ever written about. Realizing that raising adorable sheeps isn't exactly the first step in the path towards slaughtering all who oppose you and then driving over their hearts with a motorcycle, Upham enlisted in the New Zealand Territorial Army, where he served in the home guard for five years. When World War the Second looked like it was going to be some serious business, Upham joined the 2nd New Zealand Expeditionary Force (NZEF), and was sent to Greece to help the Greek people fight off an invasion of Hitler's minions.

    By 1941 things had gone a little South in Greece, what with the killing and the stabbing and the Panzers and all, so Lieutenant Upham and his men went, well, South of Greece, withdrawing to the island of Crete. Well, if you know anything about the Nazis, you know that they aren't really going to sit around when there are enemy soldiers that they could be shooting in the face, so of course the Germans' next step was to launch a full-out invasion of Crete. In a daring, balls-out attack – the first real all-airborne invasion in military history – the Nazis landed 10,000 paratroopers near the Cretan (not to be confused with Cretin) city of Meleme, fragged everything into bouncing giblets, and captured the airfield so they could fly in reinforcements.
    Upham was commanding a platoon near the outskirts of Maleme, and was ordered to send his thirty-odd men to retake the airfield from an unrelenting horde of maschinenpistole-slinging Nazi cows. Upham responded with his best B.J. Blazkowicz impression, single-handedly charging an enemy machine gun nest armed only with a pistol and grenades and somehow taking it out by himself. Then, to prove it wasn't a fluke, he crawled up to a house with two MG-34s in it, dropped a grenade in the window, and blew the gunners into giant clouds of meat shrapnel before they even had a chance to scream "Mein Leiben!". Finally, still operating lone-wolf style, this psycho-freak killer Kiwi crawled within fifteen feet of a third machine gun position and lobbed his last grenade right into the gunner's coat pocket, sending him up like Hitler at the end of Bionic Commando.

    Well, seeing as how real-life doesn't allow for Debug Mode, Upham somehow fell short in his mission to single-handedly kill ten thousand elite German paratroopers, destroy a few metric shit-tons of war material, and re-capture the airfield all by his lonesome, and before long the New Zealanders were getting pushed back by a steady stream of reinforcements coming in through the air base at Maleme. During the fighting withdrawal across the Cretan countryside, Upham once again proved himself to be a fearless war hero who was harder than a battleship hull - once he carried a wounded man to safety in the middle of a firefight, another time he organized a detail to go into a heavy crossfire to save wounded men another time, and on a third occasion he personally went out on a daring night attack, killed two Germans, tracked down a previously-cut-off company of New Zealand infantry, and lead them to safety. All in a day's work for Captain New Zealand.
    The next day, the Steve Rogers from Down Under organized a defensive perimeter against a powerful German assault, holding the line against a massive assault of tanks, men, and giant robo Nazi mechs. During the fighting he was knocked over by a mortar, hit in the shoulder with shrapnel, and shot in the foot by a machine gun, but this crazy unstoppable lightning bolt of carnage somehow managed to shrug all of that damage off and repel a couple of counter-attacks, including one in which he needed to scramble up a huge cliff face without any climbing gear and fortify a position on the edge of a ravine. At one point during the fighting he was attacked by two German soldiers, and was shot by a Mauser rifle. He fell down, pretending to be killed, but surreptitiously positioned his rifle in the crook of the tree next to where he was laying. When the Germans approached him, he popped caps in both of enemy troops at close-range – one-handed like Ash, and in such rapid succession that they didn't get a shot off. That's some stone-cold Wild West shit right there, but for this dude it was like the tenth coolest thing he did in a single campaign.

    So remember how I said Charles Upham won two Victoria Crosses? All of this shit I just described combined for one-half of that total. The second VC didn't come until a year later, when he was fighting Rommel and the Afrikakorps in the Battle of El Alamein – an insane clusterhump of blood and twisted metal that would be the decisive turning point in the battle for North Africa.
    Upham was a Captain by this point, having received a much-deserved promotion for the ridiculous carnage he left in his wake back in Crete, and was commanding a company that had been tasked with capturing a German-controlled ridge. He went out by himself to recon some intel on the qt, but when a truckload of German infantrymen drove up and blocked his path, he obviously didn't have a problem tossing a grenade in the back and detonating a dozen Nazis with some high explosives. Seriously, this guy must have been awesome at horseshoes or some shit, because he was completely nuts when it came to chucking grenades with laser-like precision. Fragging a couple squads of Germans gets a man noticed, however, and while trying to escape back to Allied lines Upham was wounded twice by gunfire. This, of course, didn't stop him from personally leading the assault on the ridge, taking 100 men up against four machine gun nests, a squadron of tanks, and a few hundred Nazi riflemen. Charging out in front of his men, Upham destroyed a couple Panzers and gun positions with grenades, which would be run-of-the-mill stuff for this guy except that he had been shot through the elbow and was winging these things around with a shattered throwing arm (this is kind of like the military equivalent of Kirk Gibson coming out of the dugout on the busted wheel and hitting a walk-off home run in the World Series). Upham somehow let his men to capture the ridge against these insane odds.

    After passing out from a loss of blood, he was evacuated to the hospital, but as soon as his wounds were healed he went back out and continued being completely insane. He led his men in yet another defense against a ferocious Fascist counter-attack, but was blown up by an artillery shell. Badly wounded, unable to move, and only one of six survivors from his unit, he was overrun and captured by the Germans. Of course, this couldn't even stop this madman, and he escaped from POW camps a number of times, including once when he jumped out the back of a moving truck, broke his ankle, and still kept running (awesome). He was branded "dangerous" and moved to Colditz camp, the toughest POW camp the Nazis had, but nothing could stand in the way of Charles Upham and his seething, unrelenting rage. After Colditz was liberated by the Allies, while most of the now-freed prisoners took a much-deserved ride back home, Charles Upham broke into the camp's armory, grabbed a submachine gun, and went out into the woods to continue his one-man war against Hitler and his robot Gatling gun arms.
    After the war, Upham went home, married his long-time girlfriend, and had a statue built in his honor. His community raised enough money for him to buy a huge farm to retire on, but being a true selfless badass, Upham refused, and instead donated the money to set up a scholarship so ex-servicemen could go to college. He bought a small farm, lived a quiet life, and was known for his steadfast refusal to allow any Germans or German-made machines on his property. It only took one guy driving his VW off Upham Farm at high speeds while being chased by a crazy old man with an Enfield rifle to drive that point across.

    d0gs note: It's a wonder that anybody else bothered to turn up to the war at all with blokes like this running around.
  11. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    Because I just can't get enough of sniper stories, I couldn't choose between these 2 I read recently, so I'm going to overdo it AGAIN, and post them both. :p Enjoy, for this is some truly amazing shit.
    Thought you could shoot? Pffft. Tell me you can shoot when you can do THIS shit.

    Numero Uno:

    Matt Hughes Curves the Bullet

    [​IMG]


    Welsh Royal Marine sniper Matt Hughes was participating in the 2003 invasion of Iraq, looking for a perfect occasion to shoot some dudes from really far away. He found it in two Iraqi troops who were holding up the offensive. Hughes was ordered to take them out. And not out to dinner, unless they both ordered a lead steak. A tiny one, shaped like a bullet.
    The Shot:
    The problem was that the wind was blowing tremendously. See, this is something that doesn't come up in the movies -- when you're trying to shoot from far away with any kind of wind, you have almost no goddamned idea where the bullet will end up. Sniping isn't just holding the cross hairs steady on the tiny soldier in the scope; it's trying to predict gusts of wind that could push the bullet into some innocent tree trunk 50 feet away. And yes, that's how much of a difference wind can make. You can not only miss the guy, but miss the whole house he's standing in.
    Oh, and as if his fate were being written by the vengeful spirit of a vaudeville comedian, Hughes discovered that his targets were a little over a half mile away, which, powerful wind notwithstanding, was beyond the range of the rifle he was using. To make matters worse (and yes, there apparently was still room for them to get worse), the enemy soldier he was targeting was covered in a fortified position, with only a small portion of his head and torso exposed. Hughes would have only one chance, because if he took a shot and missed, the Iraqi would simply duck completely behind cover and never come back up. It'd be like if Luke Skywalker had been commanded to park his X-Wing at the beginning of the trench, and to lean out of the cockpit with a grenade wedged in his ass and try to power-shit it into the Death Star's exhaust port.
    Cackling in the face of insurmountable odds, Hughes did his best to judge, based on the haze from the heat, how to aim the rifle to hit his target. His judgment led him to aim the shot 56 feet to the left and 38 feet high, which is another way of saying "Hughes pointed his gun in a totally unrelated goddamn direction."
    [​IMG]
    Photos.com
    "If I can take out the sun, we'll kill the whole Iraqi army."

    Either way, Hughes presumably prayed to the sniper gods and let off his first and only possible shot, not even remotely pointed toward his target, and watched as the arc of the bullet formed the shape of a giant banana and struck the enemy soldier directly in the chest. Needless to say, the Iraqi was killed, though we're fairly certain his last words were the equivalent of "Oh, no fucking way."
    d0gs note: My tiny brain cannot even begin to fathom just how fucking difficult that shot would be. And I'm a pretty regular shooter. Holy fucking shit just doesn't even begin to explain it.
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  12. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    This 2nd awesome episode today is really just to show off the power of a .50cal round at range. Oh, and also to prove that all snipers are psychic...
    As a sidenote, watch the vid at the bottom from the history channel (re-enacted), and SEE HOW MUCH TIME IS SPENT SPOTTING BEFORE HE STARTS SHOOTING! That shit should be compulsory viewing for all BF3 recon players.

    Steve Reichert Shoots Through a Wall

    [​IMG]
    Now here is one that you're not even allowed to do in most video games.
    It happened when Marine Corps sniper Steve Reichert was taking part in a routine mission in Iraq, providing cover for a squad of fellow Marines from atop an oil tank, when the squad fell under attack by insurgents. Steadying himself and taking careful aim at the enemy onslaught, Reichert noticed something: three enemy soldiers sneaking around the back of a nearby building in an attempt to ambush his comrades with a very large machine gun.
    [​IMG]
    A rare shot of the actual event.

    The Shot:
    Not about to let this happen, Reichert aimed his rifle at them just as they disappeared behind one of the building's brick walls. Refusing to let this seemingly minor vision handicap stop him, Reichert made his best guess and shot the goddamned wall from his position on the oil tank a little over a mile away.
    [​IMG]
    At that distance, you'd never hear the shot. One second you'd have a head, and the next, you wouldn't.
    The single round took out all three of the insurgents.
    One of them had been hit by the bullet and was killed outright, while the other two were struck down by brick and bullet fragments blasted out by Reichert's shot. He had neutralized three targets that were behind a wall with a single shot made a mile out. For his actions, he was awarded the Bronze Star and a full scholarship to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

    d0gs note: This is a retort to a convo on symthic a while back where people were trying to say there is no possible way a .50cal round could remove a limb or most of a guys guts etc. Well listen motherfuckers, they can, and DO on a regular basis. There are stories out there from serving soldiers confirming bodies being all but cut in 1/2 with one round.
    These are fucking ANTI-ARMOURED VEHICLE rounds for chrissakes.
    So to those uneducated idiots insisting that you're right and everyone else was wrong, I call your bullshit, and raise it with a hearty serving of reality.
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  13. TranceLiberation

    TranceLiberation moist placenta yoghurt Server Admin

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    I was reading a article on reddit about a british sniper who shot two taliban soilders from over two kilometers away, apparently if his shot was one degree off he would have missed by somewhere around 40 meters, I can't find the thread I was reading it from though. I'll post it if I find it.
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  14. TranceLiberation

    TranceLiberation moist placenta yoghurt Server Admin

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  15. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    Yeah, I've read that before somewhere else.
    mainly because I remember the picture.

    [​IMG]

    Certainly looks like a dude you wouldn't want to fuck with.
  16. KinG3o0o

    KinG3o0o Member

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    1st thing that came to my mind... Like A BoSS
  17. drewgoo

    drewgoo hotchipsanga

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    Really digging these dog, keep em comin (y)
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  18. Frostyvegi

    Frostyvegi Member

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    I can't remember what it was really about or for.. but I saw a video of a guy shooting with.. heck.. may have been a musketball rifle from the US Civil War.. the type that have the range of a standard-sized hankie and are as accurate as a raging Stuberio similie. This guy shot a silver dime target at something stupid like about 1000 yards. He had to point the rifle at about a 40 degree angle for it to make the range.
  19. d0g

    d0g AuG Manager Administrator

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    Righto. Today we'll go back to those serious hardcore Indians in WWII. A true "how the fuck did he do that"? story.
    Who said you need limbs to win a war? Sheesh. Pussies.
    I present to you the curried goodness of.....

    Lachhiman Garung Fights Off 200 Soldiers With One Arm

    [​IMG]

    Who?

    A member of the British-Indian Army, during WWII.

    Devastating Wound(s):

    Two hundred Japanese soldiers attacked the trench Lachhiman Garung was defending and, for their opening act, tossed in a few grenades. Seeing the grenades rolling in, one by one, Lachhiman had the bright idea of throwing them back before they exploded--an incredible idea provided you have three hands to throw with.

    [​IMG]
    Non-refundable.

    Garung, unfortunately, only had two hands, so that third grenade did what grenades do in those situations and exploded while he was holding it. His fingers were obliterated, his arm peeled like a banana, and his right leg, face and body in general were all badly injured.
    The two soldiers with him at the time were also hit and killed. Lachhiman was alone, one armed and bleeding profusely, and there were still 200 Japanese out there, getting ready to resume the attack. Awkward!

    [​IMG]
    We at Cracked call this getting "Murphy'd."

    The Awesomeness That Followed:

    Realizing he wasn't quite dead yet, Lachhiman drew his gurkha knife and stuck it in the ground in front of him. "No one will pass here today!" he called out before loading his rifle. The enemy soldiers approached, and Lachhiman calmly dealt with the majority of oncoming enemies at point blank range, just waiting for them to arrive.
    He did this for four fucking hours. With only his left arm.

    [​IMG]
    The only other example of this is fictional, and this fucker still has both arms.

    That's pretty amazing and all, but Christ, did none his foes have a gun? How about approaching two at a time? Dude only had one arm, somebody would have to be able to get a decent shot off, right?
    Nevertheless, attack after attack was mounted by the Japanese in an attempt to advance, but none were successful. How Lacchiman managed to endure and survive his wounds is anyone's guess, but by the end of the day, when someone finally came to check and see how he was doing, 31 Japanese soldiers lay dead in front of his trench. He is said to have complained then about the flies bothering his stump. That's right. Flies. Not the fact that he had a brand new stump. Flies.

    d0gs note: Yeah so I don't have an arm. But the fucking flies are horrendous! Remember this story the next time you stub your toe.
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  20. Frostyvegi

    Frostyvegi Member

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    Did he by any chance have a chainsaw lashed to his stump and was wielding a double-ought?
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