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#german flag helmet finally making its come back <3
imthebadguyyy · 3 years
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Hi. This is mine request
Y/n is a teammate of max verstappen, they are in a relationship, y/n crashes and max is worried about her, and he is gonna visit her in the hospital, and when she is released he takes care of her, with a lott of fluff thanks
You Scared Me To Death !
Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader
Fandom - F1
Summary - When you get hurt, Max realizes just how much you mean to him.
Warnings - mentions of injury, fire, explosion, violence, angst, crash details.
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75 laps. That's all that you had to do. Drive for 75 laps. The Bahrain Grand Prix had always been one of your favourite races of the year, and you were so excited. But that excitement had soon ebbed away, after you had missed qualifying because your car wasn't ready for the quali session. The RedBull mechanics had apologised and you had brushed them off, buy you would be lying if you said you weren't angry. It hadn't helped when your teammate and boyfriend Max qualified P1, beating the Mercedes by mere tenths of a second. You had swallowed your hurt and congratulated Max, forcing yourself to feel happy for him.
All it had done was made you determined to win the race tomorrow, even if you had to fight 19 other drivers to do so. Starting P20 on the grid sucked big time, but as Martin Brundle said, "If anyone can fight back from the back of the grid to the podium places, its Y/N L/N" and you had done it before, at the German GP the previous year, fighting back from P19 to P3, winning Driver of The Day as well.
But this race was different. There was a building intensity in the air, you felt it in the air around you. You felt tense and nervous, and you were never nervous. It scared you, but you were going to be damned if you let it show on your face. In your drivers room, you paced back and forth, trying desperately to stop your hands from shaking. Was this what anxiety felt like? you wondered, shaking your head as your heart started hammering against your chest. Far to consumed in your own panicked thoughts, you didn't see your boyfriend walk up to your door, and open it to walk inside.
Max walked into your room, expecting to see you vibing to some R&B music, or something by Rihanna. But you weren't. You were pacing, your brow furrowed and he could see the irregular rise and fall of your chest. He walked up behind you silently, before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he normally did. What he wasn't expecting was your reaction. Usually, you would giggle and let your head fall onto his shoulder, and he would kiss your neck and you two would share a moment. But not this time. This time, you jumped, and nearly fell over onto your bed. "Woah schtaje ! It's just me' he said, eyes softening in concern. "I'm sorry I didn't see you and I shouldn't have jumped, I'm sorry I'm just so klutzy today and I'm also so nervous I-" your nervous rambling was cut off by a pair of warm lip pressing onto your own, as Max's hands cupped your face, instantly calming down your nerves.
You stayed like that for a moment, before pulling away softly, and letting him press his forehead down to yours, fingers gently tracing patterns on your hip. "Why are you nervous mijn geliefde ?" he asked, as he moved his lips to your neck, pressing little kisses along the sensitive skin. "I don't know" you confessed, tilting your head back to give him more access to the expanse of skin, while he stopped at a pulse point to suck at the soft skin, earning. soft moan from you. "Then stop stressing" he mumbled against your neck, word muffling against your skin. "I can't" you replied, struggling to keep the lump in your throat fro growing. "Well," Max said, biting down onto your neck and licking the spot to soothe it, 'Let me help you calm down"
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20 seconds to lights out.
Your heart was thumping so hard against your chest. God, were your hands always so clammy? Was the car always so stuffy ? Was the space always so confined? Was your helmet always that tight?
Your thoughts were muddled. You knew your goal. It was simple. Get to the podium. Except, right now, that goal seemed somewhat impossible. Before you knew, the first red light was flashing, and then the second, and the third and the fourth and the fifth, and then it was 'lights out and away we go!' you sped off, immediately overtaking Magnussen in the car ahead of you. Then, you overtook one of the Williams, but you could feel your breath wavering, and your heart threatening just burst out of your chest. And before you knew it, you were overtaking Giovinazzi in his Alfa Romeo, and the sight of Grosjean's Haas came into view, "And it looks like L/N has already taken over 4 places, making her P16, and we are on lap 2 of 75! It looks like we're going to see her on the podium after, all, but all we can do is wait and see- and oh! that's a terrible, terrible crash!"
It happened so fast. One moment, you were going round the outside of the Haas, and the next the back of the Haas was hitting your front, sending you crashing into one of the barriers, your car spinning a full 360 in the process. The impact as you crashed into the barriers was so intense, you felt yourself blackout for a few seconds.
"That was a horrible crash, between, the RedBull of Y/N L/N and the Haas, I believe of Romain Grosjean. This race has been red flagged and -oh no!' The cry summed it up. Your car had just burst into flames.
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In P1, Max was unaware of the chaos at the back, until he looked in his rear mirrors to see something enveloping into a ball of fire. "Holy shit, whose car is that?" he asked, watching as the flames grew higher. "Um.. Max, I need you to stay calm, but its Y/N" "Are you fucking serious?!" his angry voice burst through his race engineer's headphones, making him flinch. "Is she okay?! Tell me she's okay, damn it!' "Max, I need you to come into the pit lane. We have no information on her yet. Come into the pit lane"
As the 18 other cars came into the pitman, everyone knew better than to park in the way of an anxious Max Verstappen. He jumped out of the car, running to the garage upto Christian, who was watching the screen with his eyebrow furrowed. "Is she alright? Tell me she got out?! Did she get out?!" he was practically spitting the words out, and his engineer and his trainer had to physically restrain him from going to shake Christian. "She hasn't got out yet Max, but the fire Marshalls and the medical guys are there-" "What do you mean she hasn't got out? verdomme, blijf hier niet zitten! doe iets!!"
As his race engineer manoeuvred him to his chair, he yelled at whoever was around, eyes desperately searching to screen for some sign that you were still alive. Outside the RedBull garage, the other drivers were pooling around the garage for some sign that Y/N was okay. The panic had been evident in all their radios.
Charles - "Fuck, fuck, fuck, who was that? Y/N?! Tell me she's okay!"
Carlos - "Joder, ¿quién era ese?" I just saw the car go into flames, tell me they got out okay.
Lewis - oh shit, that was a big crash, fucking hell, is she okay?
Checo- oh no, that was a big one, I hope everyone is okay!
---------------------------------
Back in the car, you felt dazed. Since when was the track this hot, and since when when was your car red ? Were you driving for Ferrari ? No, you drove for RedBull, alongside Max. Your boyfriend Max. Why wasn't he here?
And why did you feel like you were sitting in a sauna? As you begain to regain your consciousness, you felt a searing pain on your hands, and finally clearing the fogginess of your mind, you became fully aware of what was happening. This was your RedBull car. But it was on fire. Almost instantly, your body went into survival mode, ripping the half burnt straps holding your body down, and forcing your limbs to stand up. Looking down you could see your racing gloves glow before they seemed to disintegrate into black dust before your eyes, the flames licking your hands. A scream started in your chest, only to be jammed in your throat, as you opened your mouth to gasp. Big mistake.
The smoke filled your mouth and lungs, and you choked, clawing at your race suit, begging some higher power to help you. Finally, using some courage and adrenaline you didn't know you had, you pulled your body up, bare hands coming in contact with searing hot metal, as your eyes filled with tears of pain. As you jumped out of the car, you became vaguely aware of 3 or 4 people signaling and screaming at you. Too exhausted to even think, you used whatever remaining adrenaline you had to stumble to the barrier and collapse into the first pair of arms.
"Can you hear me? Are you okay? Can you tell me if you're hurt?" The questions were hurled at you from all directions, but you couldn't speak. The head marshall walked up, bracing your body, and checking for injuries. In a hurried voice he asked for the stretcher, but you shook your head. The exhaustion was setting in but you knew you had to let the others know you were okay. But he insisted, and you found yourself sitting on the stretcher instead of lying down, as a medic gently removed your helmet and peeled off the remaining burnt glove, and pressed some ice gently against your burn. Mustering up your remaining strength, you turned to one of the broadcasting cameras and flashed them a tight smile and a thumbs up.
"And as you can see, she has managed to get out of the wreckage, by God's miracle. Thank God she's walked away from that, but how, I cannot comprehend! She went barelling into the barrier and burst into flames and she walked out alive! And I can hear the cheers of the RedBull team, and I think her race engineer is in tears. I can't begin to imagine how Max Verstappen must be feeling"
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Max Verstappen wasn't sure how he was feeling either. He had felt fear, anger, anxiety, more fear, devastation and dread in the longest 15 minutes of his life. But you were alive. And he felt like breaking down, but he had to be strong for you. He watched your tired form on the screen, feeling giddy with relief, and ignoring the others around him, he ran to the medical hospitality center. No one stopped him.
As the white building came into sight, he heaved a sigh of relief as Michael Masi appeared in front of the cameras to give the anxious fans an update. "Y/N is alright. She's currently in recovery, and I can inform you that she is okay. She has minor burns on her hands, and is exhausted, but she will be okay. 2 weeks healing time for the burns, and some proper rest should be fine for her. That's all I know, and I would ask the media, press, social media fans, and others to give her the time she needs to cope and recover. What she has been through is traumatizing and I hope you will respect her privacy at this time. Thank you"
Seeing his hesitation, the nurse turned to the driver, "It's okay. She's fine now. She's on some painkillers and I've cleaned her burns and dressed them. She will be fine, and you can hug her or whatever you want, she won't be hurt. I've kept some painkillers on the table, she should take some again in 2 hours or so" All Max could do was nod, suddenly feeling a lump grow in his throat. With a smile in your direction, the nurse walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Max.
Max turned to nod at the race director, before hurrying through the brown door that led to the medical room you were in. When he walked in, his entire body relaxed. You were alive and safe. Seeing you sitting up in bed, a bottle of water by your side as a nurse wrapped your burnt hand in a white bandage. Looking, your tired eyes met his blue ones, as a tired smile made his way to your face. "Y/N",he said breathily, "Thank God you're alive" he said, practically running over to you, but he stopped himself from hugging, unsure of if it would hurt you.
"Hey baby". All it took was two words for him to rush towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your form, burying his head in the crook of your neck, as a gasping sob left his mouth, and you could have sworn you felt your heart shatter. "I'm okay baby, I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm okay" your mantra of "I'm okay" was soothing, as he sobbed into your shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you, you scared me to death!" "I know my love but I'm here and I'm okay" "I thought you were gone. When I saw the flames behind me I didn't even know it was you in the car. When they told me it was you I swear my fucking heart stopped, and all I could do was pray to whatever higher power exists to save you, because I'm nothing without you. If you hadn't made it, I wouldn't survive. You make me better, you help me love, and you let me heal. I love you, and I never, ever want to see you in a situation like that again"
"I love you too" you said, your eyes filling with tears as you listened to him speak. "I love you too" you repeated, gently lifting his chin so his eyes could meet yours, his tear stained cheeks and red eyes breaking your heart, as you tilted your lips to meet his. He returned the kiss with desperation, he needed even more proof that you were alive, and feeling your lips on his were a reminder that you were alive and weren't going anywhere. He kissed you with fervour, hands moving to your hair, one cupping your cheek as his thumb traced your cheekbone, your hands clutching his broad chest.
"Ouch" the soft cry made you two break apart, as you rubbed your stinging hands. "Did I hurt you?" He said, his eyes filling with worry. "No its just the burn. It'll be fine" you replied, shifting in your bed and patting the spot next to you. After a moments hesitation, he climbed in, raising the sterile white sheet and tucking the both of you in. You snuggled up to him, arms wrapping around him as you rested your head on his chest. He rested his chin on your head, one hand running through your hair, the other keeping you stable on his chest. Within seconds, you were asleep.
Looking down at your sleeping form, his eyes lingered on the white bandage covering your burn, his eyes filling again as it stood out against your skin. He hated it. It was a reminder that you had nearly died. He had nearly lost you. His train of thought was cut off by his phone ringing, his mum's caller ID flashing across the screen.
"Hi mum" "Is she okay?" His greeting was pushed aside, his mom far too concerned about Y/N. "Yes she's alright now. She's sleeping now, Yeah I'm with her now" "Y/N's mom is with me too, I'll let her know she's okay" "Thanks mum" "Don't forget to rest as well Max" his mum said, knowing full well that her son would forget about taking care of himself when it came to his love. "I will"
And he cut the line. He looked down at you one more time, pressing his lips to your forehead, and swearing to himself that he would protect you for all his life. He let his eyes close, the exhaustion finally getting to him, all his adrenaline and energy draining out his body, and finally content that you were going to be okay, he let his eyes close.
You were going to be okay.
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agirlinjapan · 6 years
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Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School (Week 17)
Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation
Miss the last piece? Read it here!
Check out the RDG Translation twitter!
Sorry about the unintentional RDG break last week! Somehow, I convinced myself that it had only been a week since the last post so it wasn’t time to post another yet. From there, posting completely slipped my mind. (I did get a good 10 or so pages translated throughout the week though.) Regardless, here we are today, a week later. This whoopsie won’t affect the usual RDG schedule. I’ll be posting next Sunday as well so that things get back on the normal track and I make up for the missing week.
Translation notes:
I’m not quite sure why this is a thing, but there is a belief in Japan that people in France really, really like anime and manga--possibly more so than in other countries outside of Japan. I don’t know where or why this belief started. I mean, I know anime and manga are big in France, but they’re also big in the US and scores of other countries.
Sugoroku is an ancient Japanese game that is comparable (in one of its two forms) to backgammon. 
Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 3: Off Course Part 1 (2 of 2)
“Are you okay?”
Izumiko looked up in surprise to see two deep blue eyes peering into her face. The face looking at her was excessively flushed and its chin seemed to jut out further than it should have, but the eyes were entirely focused on Izumiko. The boy was dressed as a Catholic priest, but his gaze was firm.
“Do you feel bad? Are you anemic?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Izumiko blinked repeatedly, wondering in shock if she had lost consciousness for a moment.  
What was I doing just now?... Oh, right. I was on the phone telling Miyuki he didn’t have to come…
She mentally checked herself over but found nothing wrong. Not one thing was off. She remembered falling under a spell, but now that seemed like it had just been in her imagination.
“Are you really alright? You always get so distressed when you see Claus,” Takayanagi/Shirou Amakusa said.
“Ah, um…”
Claus, who looked as big as a bear standing there next to Takayanagi, nodded, his expression remaining serious.
“That’s right. I think I scare you. We’ve never talked once.”
“I’m sorry…” Izumiko’s shoulders drooped. She was embarrassed of the prejudice she had been carrying. “I was raised in the mountains, so I’m not used to foreigners. I don’t really know how to talk with you…”
Claus offered a short response but the words were casually spoken in German so Izumiko couldn’t catch their meaning.
Takayanagi smiled and said, “Izumiko, you’re breaking out of your small world right now. If you get to know him better, I’m sure you’ll realize Claus is a good guy.”
“I’m Christian, but a modern Christian,” Claus said meaningfully. He put his rosary in his pocket. “There really aren’t any people in Europe who think non-Christians are devils. We’re not hundreds of years in the past. I can be good friends with people who identify as Shinto.”
“I’m not Shinto. I grew up at a shrine but my grandfather never told me I had to be serious about the religion or anything.”
Claus nodded happily at her hurried correction.
“Ah, in that case it’ll be even easier for us to be friends. Prejudice shows up when we don’t understand things. When I first came to Japan, I thought all Germans were Protestants. I was worried about that. But as individuals, people should be themselves.    
Claus seems to be a caring person. I wonder why I thought he was scary… Izumiko thought in surprise.
She had always been afraid of large, strong looking boys. The situation now fell somewhat into that catagory. Claus certainly looked like a rugby player, but his gentle nature was revealing itself. She could feel her nervousness falling away.
“I think so, too. People should be themselves.”
“You should smile more,” Takayanagi said, good-naturedly. “It’s so much better to be happy.”
As he said this, Izumiko couldn’t help but realize how stiff her face must have looked to him. She probably always looked that way around the exchange students seeing as she didn’t know what to do with them. She felt differently now though.
I built a wall around myself. I shouldn’t do that though…
Her father, Daisei, had hoped that she would get a better understanding of the world away from the mountains. Even though there were plenty of foreign students for her to meet at the school, she hadn’t remembered her father’s words until now. Perhaps that had been due to her own views being too narrow.          
“There are a lot of samurai and international characters in the offensive team’s army. There’s a girl participating too,” Takayanagi said, “Angelica’s image of what the Warring States era was like is a little too much like a manga or anime but I guess that’s because she’s French.”
“There are just as many fans of Japanese manga in Germany as there are in France,” Claus said firmly in response to his friend’s opinion.
“Ah, we have to go. If we chat through the judging, it’ll look like we were making some sort of deal over here. But Izumiko, come over and talk to me after the game is over,” Takayanagi said as he walked away. “Angelica’s a very interesting person, too.”
Izumiko relaxed her hold on the fence and headed towards the tent as well.
“…Okay,” Izumiko answered a bit shyly. There was no animosity in her voice. Surprisingly, she even felt a little better about the situation. “If there’s time.”
Who would have thought that it’s so easy to stop disliking someone when you didn’t even know you disliked them in the first place…
Up until now, Izumiko had accepted Mayura’s thoughts and beliefs without question no matter what. In other words, she had never come up with her own views about what Mayura told her.
…I’ve never thought about how narrow my viewpoint really is…
Izumiko already knew why Mayura Souda wanted to be the World Heritage Candidate. She worried about Manatsu who had the same heart defect as their brother Masumi who had died young. If it became possible that Manatsu might need a heart transplant, Mayura wanted to be in the best position imaginable to make sure he got one.
Izumiko respected her as a fiercely moral person whose concern for her sibling was touching. However, her intentions were undoubtedly for personal gain. Even Izumiko couldn’t argue that.
Mayura was a part of this now, but if Izumiko had been given a chance to do everything over, she wished she would have thought a little harder about it all.    
What happens if Mayura loses?... Izumiko thought for the first time.
If Mayura lost, Izumiko would be heartbroken, but she would comfort her friend, she thought. Her views on the situation would only be somewhat changed and she would be able to talk to Mayura about the other girl’s feelings.  
I’m capable of changing and adapting, Izumiko thought lightheartedly. I’m already changing and I’ll keep changing from here on. I can use a laptop and a cellphone now. Not as many things frighten me as there used to be. If things keep going this way, I’ll definitely be able to live life like a normal girl one day. I’ll be able to interact with everyone normally and I’ll be able to find a boyfriend just like anyone else.
Suddenly, Izumiko got the feeling that she was forgetting something important.
Huh?...
Her mind circled through possibilities but she couldn’t think of what it could be.
Well, she supposed it was alright.
The students, dressed in their Warring States era costumes, were starting to walk up the hill and find their teams. The competition grounds by the stables where the field games would be held were also going through their final preparations. Izumiko put her veil over her face and hurried back to Okouchi.
The beginning of the games arrived. The collective western and frontal forces, along with the collective eastern and defensive forces marched solemnly across the hill. They arrived at the stable’s competition grounds, creating a Y shape—the two sets of combined forces plus the game staff and observers who had gathered around the fence, waiting for them there. The impressive looking armies were greeted with applause.
With the multicolored flags, placards, and banners the soldiers on the hill were carrying, it was an impressive sight to be seen.
There was no unified feeling between the forces who had just come together, but all four of the armies’ enthusiasm was entertaining. Class 1-C was a part of the frontal attack team and they were carrying their “Winds of Change” banner. Izumiko clapped for them.
The generals came after the flag bearers. Seeing as it had been decided that the horses would not be brought out that day, everyone was walking. Still, the shine of the generals’ helmets with their tall decorations and the bright colors of all the armor drew a lot of attention.
“Wow…” Okouchi, who was standing next to Izumiko as they watched the procession, murmured all of a sudden.
When Izumiko turned to look at him, she saw that his gaze was fixed on the frontal attack team’s general.
“Amazing, wouldn’t you say?” Okouchi asked.
“Yeah, amazing,” Izumiko said, sounding much like Hayakawa when he was pretending to have heard something. She turned her eyes in the same direction as Okouchi’s.
The general was a blonde young woman.
…That’s Angelica.
She recalled how Karin had said Angelica looked like a china doll. Perhaps because of this, Izumiko had been imagining the blonde as doll-like and delicate. This wasn’t the case at all though.
Angelica was nothing like a doll. Izumiko got the impression that she was overflowing with energy. She was cat-like—a lioness perhaps.
The armor she was wearing was probably supposed to be from the Warring States era but it was covered in decorations. Izumiko felt like she could finally picture what Mayura had meant by a game design costume.
It wasn’t that Angelica was scantily clad. Not much of her skin was exposed. However, the truth was that her figure was quite evident beneath her outfit.
The difference between a Japanese build and the build of other nationalities was clear to be seen. Angelica had wide hips and while her face was small, her facial features were still sharply defined. She had an ample chest for a high schooler. Izumiko found herself staring unintentionally as well.
“I’m sorry to do this,” Okouchi said suddenly.
Izumiko turned back to look at him.
“Izumiko, let’s switch which part of the games we’re in charge of. Can you judge the board game for me? I think you’ll be fair about it.”
“Okay…”
Izumiko didn’t immediately protest, but it was obvious to guess the real reason why Okouchi had made the decision he had. At some point in time, Angelica had probably chewed him out for something he had done or said. It was very much like Okouchi to find a reason to be far away from where she was.
The battle, which a large amount of students would be participating in on the field, was made up of sports day events that everyone knew. There would be three legged races, egg-spoon relays, bread eating contests, and so on. There was no one participating who didn’t know the rules.
Due to this, Izumiko felt comfortable judging the games. However, the generals’ game of wit was a different story. She transferred her clipboard from one hand to the other and flusteredly flipped through the papers there.
“I’ve never seen the game played before now though. Um… it’s backgammon, right?”
“The rules are easy to understand so you’ll be fine judging it the first time you see it. You use two dice. You can only move the piece as much as you roll, so all you have to do is count the players’ moves with them. There’s not much deception in backgammon. It’s basically sugoroku.”
Izumiko watched as Okouchi showed her how to place the pieces at the beginning of the game but the round, black and white pieces lined up on the board with its long, narrow triangular shapes meant nothing to her.
“There used to be pictures on the sugoroku boards but these days there aren’t.” Okouchi let out a short laugh. “It’s hard to believe, but backgammon’s actually the older game. We chose it because the students are less familiar with it, but it’s well-known all over the world, and it’s got a long history to it. They even played it in ancient Egypt. It came to Japan during the Asuka or Nara era. It turned into a gambling game and the government cracked down on it. It was popular with the noblemen of the Heian era, too. In a way, sugoroku as we know it now with a game board came from backgammon. The version of sugoroku that you play with picture cards is a version that people play just for fun, not for gambling purposes.”
The explanation made Izumiko blink.
“Now that I think of it, there was a scene in The Pillow Book with sugoroku in it, too. The noblemen were obsessed with the dice game. I wondered why they were all so weirdly preoccupied with it.”
Okouchi nodded solemnly.
“Gambling is a serious matter, I suppose. When you get doubles in sugoroku, you can move more than one of your pieces. Everything changes in an instant if you can get your pieces into the last six board spaces, though. It’s a game that requires both luck and skill.”
“But I wouldn’t think a gambling game would make sense as a game for Warring States era generals,” Izumiko said in interest.
“Chess and shogi take up too much time. And playing current card games may have been unfair to the players who usually don’t get into things like that. The present day backgammon was reintroduced to Japan during the Warring States era. It was the game that made the most sense.”
Izumiko’s interest had been peaked. She wanted to see Angelica as well as the backgammon game up close.
I’ll do what I’ve been told to do. After all, I’m one of the kuroko in black who are supposed to be supporting the games from the shadows…
Izumiko walked away from the tent in the field and towards the area where the commanders—the so called military officers under the generals and the two teams’ generals themselves—would be playing their games.
Despite the way the team commanders were dressed and the fact that they were not participating in any of the active sports day events, they were quite similar to cheerleaders. They stood in front of their teams, leading cheers. The place where the commanders would be facing off against each other had been prepared in an open space beyond the fences where the spectators would easily see them.  
It was true that Takayanagi was heading the frontal attack team, but his shikigami were nowhere to be seen. Izumiko turned her head left and right, looking for them as she walked around the horse enclosure.
None of her classmates from 1-C had been chosen to become commanders in today’s games. Unsurprisingly, most of the generals who had been selected were second years. The boys and girls holding “Overthrow the Upper Class” banners were all gathered together in the rear attack team, laughing and seemingly enjoying themselves. Izumiko, who wasn’t good with competitions, didn’t think she wanted to participate as well, but she was a little envious of their tightknit team spirit.
As she watched her classmates, her vision suddenly blurred and the activities surrounding the horse enclosure moved out of focus.  
Izumiko blinked quickly, trying to regain her sight. The blurred spectacle immediately corrected itself, but she had the unsettling feeling that it might happen again.    
What’s going on?...
She had a very bad feeling about whatever it was. However, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was wrong. Instead, it was a strangely troubling sensation.
… Maybe it’s because I haven’t gotten much sleep in the past two nights. Izumiko considered, thinking it over.
All the same, she had to keep moving today. It was an important day, after all.
Huh?...
She looked around the horse enclosure again. Izumiko felt like there was something in the area that required her attention, but she couldn’t recall what it was. That had to be the origin of the strange feeling she was having.
Izumiko stopped walking, but then she reconsidered and began again.
She had promised that she would get through the morning without doing anything unnecessary or drawing attention to herself.
However, she couldn’t remember who she had made that promise to.
The large, rectangular backgammon board had been set out on a table with two stools on either side, facing each other.
The stools, which the armored players would sit on, were old. They certainly matched their surroundings, but they didn’t look particularly comfortable.
Eventually, the commanders finished their cheers and shuffled in. The generals of the front and side forces moved forward and sat down on the uncomfortable looking stools. The remaining commanders lined up around the board as if surrounding the players.
Shibata, one of the second years from the student government, arrived to act as a referee. He would take responsibility for the game while Izumiko moved to the side and kept score on a whiteboard. Tamura, another one of the first years, would then act as a liaison between her and Okouchi.
Shibata cleared his throat.
“Alright,” he said, using a wireless microphone to project his voice around the group. “Until the field battle is over, we will be having a backgammon competition. The points you score for your team will go into the final decision that determines which team will proceed on to attack the castle.”
Shibata then announced the game rules and other pertinent information that the players would need. After that, the game began.
There were quite a number of onlookers surrounding the generals and their commanders. Rather than being interested in backgammon, there were many more people interested in the costumes the players were wearing. It was clear to see that a large reason for this was Angelica’s presence. There were quite a few cameras pointed in her direction.
Angelica smiled towards the people with the cameras. It would have been strange for her to ignore them, seeing as she appeared to be enjoying her costume.
When Izumiko took a closer look at the girl, she saw that Angelica’s brown, crescent moon shaped eyebrows looked like something that belonged on an antique doll. Karin had not been lying. Angelica’s blue eyes were also large and deep set. Unlike Claus’s deep blue shade though, hers were a paler blue.
Angelica was certainly an attractive girl. However, Izumiko could not decide if that made her beautiful. She got the feeling that there was something treacherous about Angelica.
Angelica was standing next to Takayanagi behind the stool. She frequently turned to say things to him. Until then, Izumiko hadn’t noticed how tall she was. Standing next to Takayanagi though, it was clear to see that Angelica was taller than him. The armor she was wearing made her shoulders look broad as well. Seeing the two of them act so friendly with their heads bent so close to one another’s made them stand out, especially with Takayanagi’s aristocratic looks.
They look like they’re really close… Izumiko thought as she snuck a glance at them.
Obviously, Takayanagi had had a reason for bringing up Angelica’s name during their earlier conversation.
I wonder if she’d ever be that friendly with me…
She doubted Takayanagi would stop talking to Angelica, even if the game ended.
… I liked Claus right though. Strange…
Izumiko felt the need to shake her head clear. Up until now, she had barely spoken to boys at all. If she was being entirely frank, she had only ever felt comfortable speaking to her own gender. However, she felt like she would never be able to get along with Angelica.
It’s because she’s friends with Takayanagi… Maybe?
To her surprise, she found herself questioning her own thoughts.
She was in denial.
Keep reading!
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autoauctions · 7 years
Text
5 Racing Legends of all!
Driving as fast as you can doesn’t really mean to drive successfully. It takes athleticism, fast reflection, endurance and as usual disregards to own safety. Those who do that may become future race legend. However today AutoAuction.Jp want to have a look at those who have already become a racing hero! We won't make top list from first to the last like we did previously, because all this people are truly racing icons.
Mario Andretti
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If legend means mastering nearly all forms of auto racing, then Andretti easily qualifies. While most race car drivers have a hard enough time winning in one type of vehicle, Andretti raced in both closed- and open-wheeled cars, winning the Indianapolis 500, the Daytona 500 and the Formula One World Championship. He is only one of three drivers to win on dirt tracks, road courses and paved oval tracks all in the same year. He even took second place in the 1995 24 Hours of Le Mans, which is a feat in and of itself. Perhaps most impressive is his never-ending quest to be the best for the longest; he was the first driver to win an IndyCar race in four separate decades. That type of longevity can only come from good genes — just look at his hair. We just wonder how he always managed to get that mop top under his helmet.
Juan Manuel Fangio
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Fangio is a legend among legends. The Argentinian master swept five Formula One championships, a record that stood for 46 years, and he won 24 of the 52 F1 races he entered, the highest lifetime winning percentage in the sport at a whopping 46.15 percent. If you thought that was impressive, consider that Fangio started his F1 career at the ripe old age of 37 in 1948 in the French Grand Prix in Reims. He’d do anything to win, keeping a brutal workout regimen to keep up with his young competitors; he oftentimes jumped from team to team without a second thought, especially if he thought he had a better chance of taking the checkered flag in another car. And then there were the feats of pure racing prowess. In 1957, racing with Maserati at the Nürburgring circuit, Fangio was back in third place, nearly a minute behind the lead Ferraris. He whipped around the 20th lap a full 11 seconds faster than the leaders, eventually passing both of them and winning by 3 seconds. Fangio’s career only lasted eight seasons, after which he retired forever from auto racing. If he’d pushed on, who knows if his championship record would have ever been broken.
Tazio Nuvolari
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Tazio Nuvolari raced back when danger and death were prevalent in auto racing, beginning his career as a motorcycle racer in 1920 before dedicating himself to auto racing in 1930. His reckless style wasn’t limited to four wheels. Only six days after lacerating his back in a car accident, Nuvolari competed in a motorcycle race by taping his legs to the bike and asking for a push start. His greatest win, and one that’s referred to as “The Impossible Victory”, came at the 1935 German Grand Prix. Nuvolari was driving an underpowered Alfa Romeo P3 against nine high-powered German cars in front of 300,000 spectators and high-ranking officials from the Third Reich. As if those odds weren’t bad enough, torrential rain made for challenging and dangerous conditions. He went on to beat them all, finishing two minutes ahead of the second-place driver. No wonder Dr. Ferdinand Porsche called him “the greatest driver of the past, the present and the future”.
Ayrton Senna
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Whenever racing fanatics try to name the best driver in history, the Brazilian phenom Ayrton Senna da Silva invariably comes to mind. During his ten-year career, tragically cut short by his fatal crash during the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix, he amassed a whopping 41 victories in Grand Prix racing and nabbed three Championships. He even held the record for the most pole positions from 1989 to 2006. He was known for his ability to push a car beyond its limits, even throwing caution to the wind by driving hard in wet weather conditions while most other drivers pulled back. His driving style was nothing short of brazen, inciting the ire of his competitors, namely Alain Prost. Senna’s personality matched his style: he once claimed, “I am not designed to come second or third. I am designed to win.”
Michael Schumacher
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With his sixth and seventh F1 championship wins, Schumacher passed Fangio’s legendary record of five championships, which had remained unbroken for 46 years. Schumacher is widely considered to be the best F1 driver in history, and even his harshest critics must agree this is statistically true. However, he wasn’t known for making friends or playing nice. In fact, in the square-jawed German’s quest to be the best, he probably pissed off more people than just about any other driver. He was a stoic victor known to strive for victory at any cost, even drawing strong criticism for (supposedly) intentionally causing collisions with competitors Damon Hill and Jacques Villenueve. But none of this on-track brashness prevented him from bringing glory to Ferrari, the company he drove during his five final victories, a streak from 2000 to 2004.
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adambstingus · 7 years
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The 6 Greatest Moments In Wartime Smack Talk
If we were to suddenly find ourselves in the middle of an honest-to-God firefight, the only sick burns we’d be composing would be the ones in our underpants. But as we’ve shown you before, real-life soldiers caught in the quagmire of war seemingly have no problem coming up with badass one-liners that would make an ’80s action movie screenwriter drop to his knees in awe. For example …
#6. “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Situation:
At five feet, six inches tall and 132 pounds, Sergeant Major Dan Daly was like a real-life Steve Rogers, if Steve Rogers had pooh-poohed the super soldier project because his balls pumped out all the super soldier serum he could possibly need. A former Commandant in the Marine Corps once called him “the most outstanding Marine of all time,” and he’s one of only two Marines to ever earn the Medal of Honor twice for separate actions — the other of whom, Major General Smedley Butler, called him “the fightin’est Marine I ever knew.”
His first Medal of Honor came during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, when he singlehandedly defended a bastion wall swarming with Chinese snipers using only a bayoneted rifle. His second came 15 years later in Haiti, when he retrieved a lost machine gun (which weighed more than he did) from the bottom of a river and proceeded to use it to rain hellfire on the 400 Haitian insurgents who’d ambushed his patrol. That’s right: At an age at which most people start to seriously think about switching to wheat bread, Dan Daly was renewing the nation’s highest award for extraordinary heroism as if that sucker expires.
“I needed a new medal anyway. The ribbon on the old one kept breaking off during sex.”
This brings us up to Daly’s role in World War I and the Battle of Belleau Wood, where the then-First Sergeant risked his life to extinguish an ammo dump that had been struck by enemy fire. Two days later, with his unit pinned down and outgunned by the Germans, Daly walked up and down the line, cheering on each of his machine gun positions and straight-up daring any German bullets to hit him. When he judged it time to launch a counterattack, Daly leapt toward the enemy and shouted, “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Aftermath:
Surprisingly, his men didn’t answer back, “Yeah, that actually sounds great!”
“I didn’t even know that was an option!”
The taunt rallied his fellow soldiers, and Daly led an attack during which he (true to form) singlehandedly eliminated a German machine gun section with a .45 and some grenades. He was recommended for a third Medal of Honor, but someone up the chain downgraded it to a Distinguished Service Cross, maybe figuring that Daly was getting bored with the things by now.
#5. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Situation:
Jerry “Mad Dog” Shriver was a U.S. Army Special Forces Green Beret who served in the MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam — Special Operations Group). He slept with a rifle, and packed as many as six revolvers during combat (plus a shotgun and his regular machine gun). You know that action flick trope where the bad guys tell him to disarm, and the badass hero just keeps removing weapons until it gets ridiculous? Shriver invented that. Sometimes referred to as the Real Rambo, Mad Dog survived twice as many missions as the average member of his unit — a unit which exceeded a 100 percent casualty rate because everybody in it was wounded (usually more than once) and fully half of them were killed.
It’s not entirely clear when Shriver earned the “Mad Dog” moniker, but it’s possible that it was in relation to Klaus, a German Shepherd that he’d brought back from Taiwan and which was his closest companion. Once, Klaus yorked on the floor of the Mess after some recon men gave him beer as a gag, and they rubbed his nose in it and threw him outside. When Shriver got wind of this, he went in, drank a beer, set a revolver on the table, and dropped a deuce on the floor. He said, “If you want to rub my nose in this, come on over.” No one did.
And Klaus was promoted to squad leader.
In 1966, Shriver’s recon team was surrounded by North Vietnamese Army soldiers in Cambodia. AK-47 fire rained down on them from all around. As a Forward Air Controller watched the enemy close in on the team from overhead, he radioed down to Shriver with perhaps the biggest understatement of the war: “It sounds pretty bad.”
“No. No,” Shriver responded. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Aftermath:
Clinking through life as a goddamned walking arsenal comes in handy once in a while. Perhaps not shockingly, turns out it really helps during wartime. Shriver and his team shredded the jungle like they were in the minigun scene from Predator, putting a tear in Mother Nature’s eye and countless bullets and grenade fragments in their NVA aggressors. The attackers were driven back, and with some overhead help from the FAC, the team was safely extracted.
Mad Dog chose to hitchhike back to base.
Eventually, Shriver succumbed to an overdose of toxic masculinity. On April 24, 1969, on approach to the Central Office for South Vietnam as part of the Hatchet Force, his team was pinned down by a machine gun bunker. Shriver rushed the bunker and … went MIA. He was 27 years old — or 189 in Mad Dog years.
#4. “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Situation:
Way back in 1066, while anxiously awaiting the impending Norman invasion from modern-day France, King Harold Godwinson of England was taken unawares by scads of Norsemen landing from (surprise!) the north. Led by the Viking King Harald III Sigurdsson, the invasion force was allied with Tostig Godwinson — the newly-crowned Harold’s pissed-off younger brother. Possessing the element of surprise, the invaders took the city of York and camped out at Stamford Bridge, where they patiently awaited their reward of hostages and cattle.
By then, the Norse soldiers were tired of piss-filled shark meat.
Instead of spoils, however, the Norsemen were greeted by the surprise arrival of King Harold’s army, which had marched 185 miles in four days. In an effort to stave off aggressions, Harold met with Tostig and offered him a third of his kingdom if only he’d take off the silly horned helmet and abandon the Norsemen. When Tostig in turn asked what Harold would offer Sigurdsson as appeasement, he replied, “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Aftermath:
Before Harold’s attendants could finish saying, “Aw, snap!” the battle horns sounded. In a true parallel to the story of David and Goliath, a lone Viking defender advanced onto Stamford Bridge and used an obscenely large battle ax to chop down countless English attackers like saplings. In a not-so-biblical moment, the English defeated this Viking Goliath by floating beneath the bridge in a swill tub and spearing him straight in the dick.
To which even Harold said, “Really, bro? No. Not cool.”
The bridge thus seriously, seriously uncoolly cleared, the English army swarmed across and gave the Vikings such a spanking that the Norse never invaded Britain — their traditional punching bag — again.
#3. “Are you afraid to stand when I am on horseback?”
The Situation:
The year was 1898, and the war was of the Spanish-American variety. At the famous Battle of San Juan Hill — part of a decisive initiative to drive the Spanish Army into the Cuban city of Santiago, where they could be laid siege to until they surrendered — Cracked resident badass Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders fought alongside the African American 9th and 10th Cavalry and 24th and 25th Infantry (aka the Buffalo Soldiers). The regiments were bogged down in an exposed position on the banks of the San Juan River, awaiting word to proceed with their assault on the hill.
“Stop, drop, shut ’em down, open up shop.”
When said word finally came, Roosevelt mounted up and rode down the line to urge the men forward, even as bullets zipped all around him — because by God, he didn’t ride a horse all the way to Cuba to not use it. When one soldier was reluctant to stand and stare Death straight in the eye, Roosevelt singled him out and bellowed, “Are you afraid to stand, when I am on horseback?”
The Aftermath:
The cowering soldier stood right up … and was immediately shot dead, definitively demonstrating that not all men are magically goddamn invincible like Teddy.
This includes his horse, which is why Teddy would later find a sturdier mount.
#2. “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
The Situation:
The Mexican-American War didn’t go all that splendidly for Mexico. Still, each side had its heroes, and on the side south of the border, there was General Pedro Maria de Anaya.
Go ahead, make fun of his middle name. He double dares you.
On August 20, 1847, Santa Ana’s army holed up at Churubusco in their continual retreat toward Mexico City. Churubusco was home to the Convent of San Mateo, which offered an ideal defensive position thanks to its enormous stone walls, an abundance of parapets in which to stuff cannons, and hopefully some backup in the form of heavenly blessings. And indeed, the Mexicans did a standup job of repelling the Americans … right until their ammunition supply went kaput.
General Anaya, second in command to General Manuel Rincon and nigh-superhuman holder of the left flank, ordered his men to fight on regardless, barehanded if goddamned necessary. But if Battlefront has taught us anything, it’s that battles aren’t won with melee attacks. Inevitably, a white flag was raised over the convent, and U.S. Brigadier General David Twiggs entered to accept the Mexican generals’ official surrender. When Twiggs confronted Anaya, he asked the good general to surrender his ammunition stores.
Anaya historically replied, “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
“And if I had a mic, I would drop it.”
The Aftermath:
Had the Mexican army’s prayers for more ammunition been answered, it would have delayed the inevitable, but ultimately, the Battle of Churubusco (not to mention the greater war) was a hopeless endeavor for Mexico, and the USA has “Texas, California, Nevada, Utah, most of New Mexico and Arizona, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming” to prove it.
Hey, you know what, Mexico? We’d be willing to let you have some of that back.
#1. “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Situation:
Anders Lassen was a guy who was only good at war. Having left secondary school boasting the lowest examination scores of the year, he was drawn into soldiering in 1940 when Germany occupied his home country of Denmark. In 1941, he landed in the Special Operations Executive, which was recruiting Danes to work as spies. It was here that Lassen’s superiors noticed a few key qualities about the man. Namely, his volatile temper, complete lack of discretion, and utter contempt for the rules — all of which made for a rather shitty spy. Hell, it made for a rather shitty regular soldier, too. However, it perfectly suited him for unconventional, guerilla-style warfare, so Lassen was transferred to the Small Scale Raiding Force and tasked with throwing as many wrenches as possible into the gears of the German war machine.
“You’re being transferred to Lt. Raine’s unit.”
Despite his reckless nature, Lassen distinguished himself with his ability to win battles while taking few casualties. He had a complete lack of regard for danger, and was often noted for his ability to read the terrain and then reach and destroy his objective with lightning speed. This was a man who was at his best when surrounded by chaos. He was brutal, he was violent, and his hatred for Germans was legendary.
And you know what else he hated? Goddamned paperwork.
You see, after a battle, officers are expected to file an operational report — a rundown of events that the bigwigs can analyze to help improve future operations. And Lassen was having absolutely none of that shit. His reports consisted of a mere five words: “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Aftermath:
As you can imagine, this aggravated his superiors. However, as we’ve already mentioned, Lassen didn’t give a shit, and when pressed to give more details, he would only respond, “It’s done. What else is there to say?”
“You know who else does paperwork? HITLER.”
And he continued to get it done until April 1945. After landing in northeast Italy, Lassen (now a member of the Special Boat Service) and his commandos encountered German sentries. Lassen led an attack on a German machine gun nest and took it out using only a pistol and grenades. Then he did it again. When he made ready to dick-slap a third, the Germans signaled their surrender.
Unfortunately, Lassen made a fatal mistake: He trusted Nazis. When he approached, the “surrendering” Germans opened fire. Lassen was mortally wounded in the belly and midsection, effectively ending the initiative, and when his men tried to get him to safety, he demanded to be left behind to avoid slowing them down. We sincerely hope that, in his honor, they refused to file paperwork on the incident.
Which is why, 71 years later, we have chosen to file a final after-action report even he would approve of. Hopefully.
Having trouble zinging people? Then it’s time you learned from the best. Check out The 23 Most Crushing Insults From All Of History and The 10 Most Devastating Insults Of All Time.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/21/the-6-greatest-moments-in-wartime-smack-talk/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/163237442582
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jimdsmith34 · 7 years
Text
The 6 Greatest Moments In Wartime Smack Talk
If we were to suddenly find ourselves in the middle of an honest-to-God firefight, the only sick burns we’d be composing would be the ones in our underpants. But as we’ve shown you before, real-life soldiers caught in the quagmire of war seemingly have no problem coming up with badass one-liners that would make an ’80s action movie screenwriter drop to his knees in awe. For example …
#6. “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Situation:
At five feet, six inches tall and 132 pounds, Sergeant Major Dan Daly was like a real-life Steve Rogers, if Steve Rogers had pooh-poohed the super soldier project because his balls pumped out all the super soldier serum he could possibly need. A former Commandant in the Marine Corps once called him “the most outstanding Marine of all time,” and he’s one of only two Marines to ever earn the Medal of Honor twice for separate actions — the other of whom, Major General Smedley Butler, called him “the fightin’est Marine I ever knew.”
His first Medal of Honor came during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, when he singlehandedly defended a bastion wall swarming with Chinese snipers using only a bayoneted rifle. His second came 15 years later in Haiti, when he retrieved a lost machine gun (which weighed more than he did) from the bottom of a river and proceeded to use it to rain hellfire on the 400 Haitian insurgents who’d ambushed his patrol. That’s right: At an age at which most people start to seriously think about switching to wheat bread, Dan Daly was renewing the nation’s highest award for extraordinary heroism as if that sucker expires.
“I needed a new medal anyway. The ribbon on the old one kept breaking off during sex.”
This brings us up to Daly’s role in World War I and the Battle of Belleau Wood, where the then-First Sergeant risked his life to extinguish an ammo dump that had been struck by enemy fire. Two days later, with his unit pinned down and outgunned by the Germans, Daly walked up and down the line, cheering on each of his machine gun positions and straight-up daring any German bullets to hit him. When he judged it time to launch a counterattack, Daly leapt toward the enemy and shouted, “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Aftermath:
Surprisingly, his men didn’t answer back, “Yeah, that actually sounds great!”
“I didn’t even know that was an option!”
The taunt rallied his fellow soldiers, and Daly led an attack during which he (true to form) singlehandedly eliminated a German machine gun section with a .45 and some grenades. He was recommended for a third Medal of Honor, but someone up the chain downgraded it to a Distinguished Service Cross, maybe figuring that Daly was getting bored with the things by now.
#5. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Situation:
Jerry “Mad Dog” Shriver was a U.S. Army Special Forces Green Beret who served in the MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam — Special Operations Group). He slept with a rifle, and packed as many as six revolvers during combat (plus a shotgun and his regular machine gun). You know that action flick trope where the bad guys tell him to disarm, and the badass hero just keeps removing weapons until it gets ridiculous? Shriver invented that. Sometimes referred to as the Real Rambo, Mad Dog survived twice as many missions as the average member of his unit — a unit which exceeded a 100 percent casualty rate because everybody in it was wounded (usually more than once) and fully half of them were killed.
It’s not entirely clear when Shriver earned the “Mad Dog” moniker, but it’s possible that it was in relation to Klaus, a German Shepherd that he’d brought back from Taiwan and which was his closest companion. Once, Klaus yorked on the floor of the Mess after some recon men gave him beer as a gag, and they rubbed his nose in it and threw him outside. When Shriver got wind of this, he went in, drank a beer, set a revolver on the table, and dropped a deuce on the floor. He said, “If you want to rub my nose in this, come on over.” No one did.
And Klaus was promoted to squad leader.
In 1966, Shriver’s recon team was surrounded by North Vietnamese Army soldiers in Cambodia. AK-47 fire rained down on them from all around. As a Forward Air Controller watched the enemy close in on the team from overhead, he radioed down to Shriver with perhaps the biggest understatement of the war: “It sounds pretty bad.”
“No. No,” Shriver responded. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Aftermath:
Clinking through life as a goddamned walking arsenal comes in handy once in a while. Perhaps not shockingly, turns out it really helps during wartime. Shriver and his team shredded the jungle like they were in the minigun scene from Predator, putting a tear in Mother Nature’s eye and countless bullets and grenade fragments in their NVA aggressors. The attackers were driven back, and with some overhead help from the FAC, the team was safely extracted.
Mad Dog chose to hitchhike back to base.
Eventually, Shriver succumbed to an overdose of toxic masculinity. On April 24, 1969, on approach to the Central Office for South Vietnam as part of the Hatchet Force, his team was pinned down by a machine gun bunker. Shriver rushed the bunker and … went MIA. He was 27 years old — or 189 in Mad Dog years.
#4. “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Situation:
Way back in 1066, while anxiously awaiting the impending Norman invasion from modern-day France, King Harold Godwinson of England was taken unawares by scads of Norsemen landing from (surprise!) the north. Led by the Viking King Harald III Sigurdsson, the invasion force was allied with Tostig Godwinson — the newly-crowned Harold’s pissed-off younger brother. Possessing the element of surprise, the invaders took the city of York and camped out at Stamford Bridge, where they patiently awaited their reward of hostages and cattle.
By then, the Norse soldiers were tired of piss-filled shark meat.
Instead of spoils, however, the Norsemen were greeted by the surprise arrival of King Harold’s army, which had marched 185 miles in four days. In an effort to stave off aggressions, Harold met with Tostig and offered him a third of his kingdom if only he’d take off the silly horned helmet and abandon the Norsemen. When Tostig in turn asked what Harold would offer Sigurdsson as appeasement, he replied, “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Aftermath:
Before Harold’s attendants could finish saying, “Aw, snap!” the battle horns sounded. In a true parallel to the story of David and Goliath, a lone Viking defender advanced onto Stamford Bridge and used an obscenely large battle ax to chop down countless English attackers like saplings. In a not-so-biblical moment, the English defeated this Viking Goliath by floating beneath the bridge in a swill tub and spearing him straight in the dick.
To which even Harold said, “Really, bro? No. Not cool.”
The bridge thus seriously, seriously uncoolly cleared, the English army swarmed across and gave the Vikings such a spanking that the Norse never invaded Britain — their traditional punching bag — again.
#3. “Are you afraid to stand when I am on horseback?”
The Situation:
The year was 1898, and the war was of the Spanish-American variety. At the famous Battle of San Juan Hill — part of a decisive initiative to drive the Spanish Army into the Cuban city of Santiago, where they could be laid siege to until they surrendered — Cracked resident badass Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders fought alongside the African American 9th and 10th Cavalry and 24th and 25th Infantry (aka the Buffalo Soldiers). The regiments were bogged down in an exposed position on the banks of the San Juan River, awaiting word to proceed with their assault on the hill.
“Stop, drop, shut ’em down, open up shop.”
When said word finally came, Roosevelt mounted up and rode down the line to urge the men forward, even as bullets zipped all around him — because by God, he didn’t ride a horse all the way to Cuba to not use it. When one soldier was reluctant to stand and stare Death straight in the eye, Roosevelt singled him out and bellowed, “Are you afraid to stand, when I am on horseback?”
The Aftermath:
The cowering soldier stood right up … and was immediately shot dead, definitively demonstrating that not all men are magically goddamn invincible like Teddy.
This includes his horse, which is why Teddy would later find a sturdier mount.
#2. “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
The Situation:
The Mexican-American War didn’t go all that splendidly for Mexico. Still, each side had its heroes, and on the side south of the border, there was General Pedro Maria de Anaya.
Go ahead, make fun of his middle name. He double dares you.
On August 20, 1847, Santa Ana’s army holed up at Churubusco in their continual retreat toward Mexico City. Churubusco was home to the Convent of San Mateo, which offered an ideal defensive position thanks to its enormous stone walls, an abundance of parapets in which to stuff cannons, and hopefully some backup in the form of heavenly blessings. And indeed, the Mexicans did a standup job of repelling the Americans … right until their ammunition supply went kaput.
General Anaya, second in command to General Manuel Rincon and nigh-superhuman holder of the left flank, ordered his men to fight on regardless, barehanded if goddamned necessary. But if Battlefront has taught us anything, it’s that battles aren’t won with melee attacks. Inevitably, a white flag was raised over the convent, and U.S. Brigadier General David Twiggs entered to accept the Mexican generals’ official surrender. When Twiggs confronted Anaya, he asked the good general to surrender his ammunition stores.
Anaya historically replied, “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
“And if I had a mic, I would drop it.”
The Aftermath:
Had the Mexican army’s prayers for more ammunition been answered, it would have delayed the inevitable, but ultimately, the Battle of Churubusco (not to mention the greater war) was a hopeless endeavor for Mexico, and the USA has “Texas, California, Nevada, Utah, most of New Mexico and Arizona, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming” to prove it.
Hey, you know what, Mexico? We’d be willing to let you have some of that back.
#1. “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Situation:
Anders Lassen was a guy who was only good at war. Having left secondary school boasting the lowest examination scores of the year, he was drawn into soldiering in 1940 when Germany occupied his home country of Denmark. In 1941, he landed in the Special Operations Executive, which was recruiting Danes to work as spies. It was here that Lassen’s superiors noticed a few key qualities about the man. Namely, his volatile temper, complete lack of discretion, and utter contempt for the rules — all of which made for a rather shitty spy. Hell, it made for a rather shitty regular soldier, too. However, it perfectly suited him for unconventional, guerilla-style warfare, so Lassen was transferred to the Small Scale Raiding Force and tasked with throwing as many wrenches as possible into the gears of the German war machine.
“You’re being transferred to Lt. Raine’s unit.”
Despite his reckless nature, Lassen distinguished himself with his ability to win battles while taking few casualties. He had a complete lack of regard for danger, and was often noted for his ability to read the terrain and then reach and destroy his objective with lightning speed. This was a man who was at his best when surrounded by chaos. He was brutal, he was violent, and his hatred for Germans was legendary.
And you know what else he hated? Goddamned paperwork.
You see, after a battle, officers are expected to file an operational report — a rundown of events that the bigwigs can analyze to help improve future operations. And Lassen was having absolutely none of that shit. His reports consisted of a mere five words: “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Aftermath:
As you can imagine, this aggravated his superiors. However, as we’ve already mentioned, Lassen didn’t give a shit, and when pressed to give more details, he would only respond, “It’s done. What else is there to say?”
“You know who else does paperwork? HITLER.”
And he continued to get it done until April 1945. After landing in northeast Italy, Lassen (now a member of the Special Boat Service) and his commandos encountered German sentries. Lassen led an attack on a German machine gun nest and took it out using only a pistol and grenades. Then he did it again. When he made ready to dick-slap a third, the Germans signaled their surrender.
Unfortunately, Lassen made a fatal mistake: He trusted Nazis. When he approached, the “surrendering” Germans opened fire. Lassen was mortally wounded in the belly and midsection, effectively ending the initiative, and when his men tried to get him to safety, he demanded to be left behind to avoid slowing them down. We sincerely hope that, in his honor, they refused to file paperwork on the incident.
Which is why, 71 years later, we have chosen to file a final after-action report even he would approve of. Hopefully.
Having trouble zinging people? Then it’s time you learned from the best. Check out The 23 Most Crushing Insults From All Of History and The 10 Most Devastating Insults Of All Time.
source http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/21/the-6-greatest-moments-in-wartime-smack-talk/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-6-greatest-moments-in-wartime-smack.html
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allofbeercom · 7 years
Text
The 6 Greatest Moments In Wartime Smack Talk
If we were to suddenly find ourselves in the middle of an honest-to-God firefight, the only sick burns we’d be composing would be the ones in our underpants. But as we’ve shown you before, real-life soldiers caught in the quagmire of war seemingly have no problem coming up with badass one-liners that would make an ’80s action movie screenwriter drop to his knees in awe. For example …
#6. “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Situation:
At five feet, six inches tall and 132 pounds, Sergeant Major Dan Daly was like a real-life Steve Rogers, if Steve Rogers had pooh-poohed the super soldier project because his balls pumped out all the super soldier serum he could possibly need. A former Commandant in the Marine Corps once called him “the most outstanding Marine of all time,” and he’s one of only two Marines to ever earn the Medal of Honor twice for separate actions — the other of whom, Major General Smedley Butler, called him “the fightin’est Marine I ever knew.”
His first Medal of Honor came during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, when he singlehandedly defended a bastion wall swarming with Chinese snipers using only a bayoneted rifle. His second came 15 years later in Haiti, when he retrieved a lost machine gun (which weighed more than he did) from the bottom of a river and proceeded to use it to rain hellfire on the 400 Haitian insurgents who’d ambushed his patrol. That’s right: At an age at which most people start to seriously think about switching to wheat bread, Dan Daly was renewing the nation’s highest award for extraordinary heroism as if that sucker expires.
“I needed a new medal anyway. The ribbon on the old one kept breaking off during sex.”
This brings us up to Daly’s role in World War I and the Battle of Belleau Wood, where the then-First Sergeant risked his life to extinguish an ammo dump that had been struck by enemy fire. Two days later, with his unit pinned down and outgunned by the Germans, Daly walked up and down the line, cheering on each of his machine gun positions and straight-up daring any German bullets to hit him. When he judged it time to launch a counterattack, Daly leapt toward the enemy and shouted, “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Aftermath:
Surprisingly, his men didn’t answer back, “Yeah, that actually sounds great!”
“I didn’t even know that was an option!”
The taunt rallied his fellow soldiers, and Daly led an attack during which he (true to form) singlehandedly eliminated a German machine gun section with a .45 and some grenades. He was recommended for a third Medal of Honor, but someone up the chain downgraded it to a Distinguished Service Cross, maybe figuring that Daly was getting bored with the things by now.
#5. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Situation:
Jerry “Mad Dog” Shriver was a U.S. Army Special Forces Green Beret who served in the MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam — Special Operations Group). He slept with a rifle, and packed as many as six revolvers during combat (plus a shotgun and his regular machine gun). You know that action flick trope where the bad guys tell him to disarm, and the badass hero just keeps removing weapons until it gets ridiculous? Shriver invented that. Sometimes referred to as the Real Rambo, Mad Dog survived twice as many missions as the average member of his unit — a unit which exceeded a 100 percent casualty rate because everybody in it was wounded (usually more than once) and fully half of them were killed.
It’s not entirely clear when Shriver earned the “Mad Dog” moniker, but it’s possible that it was in relation to Klaus, a German Shepherd that he’d brought back from Taiwan and which was his closest companion. Once, Klaus yorked on the floor of the Mess after some recon men gave him beer as a gag, and they rubbed his nose in it and threw him outside. When Shriver got wind of this, he went in, drank a beer, set a revolver on the table, and dropped a deuce on the floor. He said, “If you want to rub my nose in this, come on over.” No one did.
And Klaus was promoted to squad leader.
In 1966, Shriver’s recon team was surrounded by North Vietnamese Army soldiers in Cambodia. AK-47 fire rained down on them from all around. As a Forward Air Controller watched the enemy close in on the team from overhead, he radioed down to Shriver with perhaps the biggest understatement of the war: “It sounds pretty bad.”
“No. No,” Shriver responded. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Aftermath:
Clinking through life as a goddamned walking arsenal comes in handy once in a while. Perhaps not shockingly, turns out it really helps during wartime. Shriver and his team shredded the jungle like they were in the minigun scene from Predator, putting a tear in Mother Nature’s eye and countless bullets and grenade fragments in their NVA aggressors. The attackers were driven back, and with some overhead help from the FAC, the team was safely extracted.
Mad Dog chose to hitchhike back to base.
Eventually, Shriver succumbed to an overdose of toxic masculinity. On April 24, 1969, on approach to the Central Office for South Vietnam as part of the Hatchet Force, his team was pinned down by a machine gun bunker. Shriver rushed the bunker and … went MIA. He was 27 years old — or 189 in Mad Dog years.
#4. “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Situation:
Way back in 1066, while anxiously awaiting the impending Norman invasion from modern-day France, King Harold Godwinson of England was taken unawares by scads of Norsemen landing from (surprise!) the north. Led by the Viking King Harald III Sigurdsson, the invasion force was allied with Tostig Godwinson — the newly-crowned Harold’s pissed-off younger brother. Possessing the element of surprise, the invaders took the city of York and camped out at Stamford Bridge, where they patiently awaited their reward of hostages and cattle.
By then, the Norse soldiers were tired of piss-filled shark meat.
Instead of spoils, however, the Norsemen were greeted by the surprise arrival of King Harold’s army, which had marched 185 miles in four days. In an effort to stave off aggressions, Harold met with Tostig and offered him a third of his kingdom if only he’d take off the silly horned helmet and abandon the Norsemen. When Tostig in turn asked what Harold would offer Sigurdsson as appeasement, he replied, “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Aftermath:
Before Harold’s attendants could finish saying, “Aw, snap!” the battle horns sounded. In a true parallel to the story of David and Goliath, a lone Viking defender advanced onto Stamford Bridge and used an obscenely large battle ax to chop down countless English attackers like saplings. In a not-so-biblical moment, the English defeated this Viking Goliath by floating beneath the bridge in a swill tub and spearing him straight in the dick.
To which even Harold said, “Really, bro? No. Not cool.”
The bridge thus seriously, seriously uncoolly cleared, the English army swarmed across and gave the Vikings such a spanking that the Norse never invaded Britain — their traditional punching bag — again.
#3. “Are you afraid to stand when I am on horseback?”
The Situation:
The year was 1898, and the war was of the Spanish-American variety. At the famous Battle of San Juan Hill — part of a decisive initiative to drive the Spanish Army into the Cuban city of Santiago, where they could be laid siege to until they surrendered — Cracked resident badass Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders fought alongside the African American 9th and 10th Cavalry and 24th and 25th Infantry (aka the Buffalo Soldiers). The regiments were bogged down in an exposed position on the banks of the San Juan River, awaiting word to proceed with their assault on the hill.
“Stop, drop, shut ’em down, open up shop.”
When said word finally came, Roosevelt mounted up and rode down the line to urge the men forward, even as bullets zipped all around him — because by God, he didn’t ride a horse all the way to Cuba to not use it. When one soldier was reluctant to stand and stare Death straight in the eye, Roosevelt singled him out and bellowed, “Are you afraid to stand, when I am on horseback?”
The Aftermath:
The cowering soldier stood right up … and was immediately shot dead, definitively demonstrating that not all men are magically goddamn invincible like Teddy.
This includes his horse, which is why Teddy would later find a sturdier mount.
#2. “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
The Situation:
The Mexican-American War didn’t go all that splendidly for Mexico. Still, each side had its heroes, and on the side south of the border, there was General Pedro Maria de Anaya.
Go ahead, make fun of his middle name. He double dares you.
On August 20, 1847, Santa Ana’s army holed up at Churubusco in their continual retreat toward Mexico City. Churubusco was home to the Convent of San Mateo, which offered an ideal defensive position thanks to its enormous stone walls, an abundance of parapets in which to stuff cannons, and hopefully some backup in the form of heavenly blessings. And indeed, the Mexicans did a standup job of repelling the Americans … right until their ammunition supply went kaput.
General Anaya, second in command to General Manuel Rincon and nigh-superhuman holder of the left flank, ordered his men to fight on regardless, barehanded if goddamned necessary. But if Battlefront has taught us anything, it’s that battles aren’t won with melee attacks. Inevitably, a white flag was raised over the convent, and U.S. Brigadier General David Twiggs entered to accept the Mexican generals’ official surrender. When Twiggs confronted Anaya, he asked the good general to surrender his ammunition stores.
Anaya historically replied, “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
“And if I had a mic, I would drop it.”
The Aftermath:
Had the Mexican army’s prayers for more ammunition been answered, it would have delayed the inevitable, but ultimately, the Battle of Churubusco (not to mention the greater war) was a hopeless endeavor for Mexico, and the USA has “Texas, California, Nevada, Utah, most of New Mexico and Arizona, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming” to prove it.
Hey, you know what, Mexico? We’d be willing to let you have some of that back.
#1. “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Situation:
Anders Lassen was a guy who was only good at war. Having left secondary school boasting the lowest examination scores of the year, he was drawn into soldiering in 1940 when Germany occupied his home country of Denmark. In 1941, he landed in the Special Operations Executive, which was recruiting Danes to work as spies. It was here that Lassen���s superiors noticed a few key qualities about the man. Namely, his volatile temper, complete lack of discretion, and utter contempt for the rules — all of which made for a rather shitty spy. Hell, it made for a rather shitty regular soldier, too. However, it perfectly suited him for unconventional, guerilla-style warfare, so Lassen was transferred to the Small Scale Raiding Force and tasked with throwing as many wrenches as possible into the gears of the German war machine.
“You’re being transferred to Lt. Raine’s unit.”
Despite his reckless nature, Lassen distinguished himself with his ability to win battles while taking few casualties. He had a complete lack of regard for danger, and was often noted for his ability to read the terrain and then reach and destroy his objective with lightning speed. This was a man who was at his best when surrounded by chaos. He was brutal, he was violent, and his hatred for Germans was legendary.
And you know what else he hated? Goddamned paperwork.
You see, after a battle, officers are expected to file an operational report — a rundown of events that the bigwigs can analyze to help improve future operations. And Lassen was having absolutely none of that shit. His reports consisted of a mere five words: “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Aftermath:
As you can imagine, this aggravated his superiors. However, as we’ve already mentioned, Lassen didn’t give a shit, and when pressed to give more details, he would only respond, “It’s done. What else is there to say?”
“You know who else does paperwork? HITLER.”
And he continued to get it done until April 1945. After landing in northeast Italy, Lassen (now a member of the Special Boat Service) and his commandos encountered German sentries. Lassen led an attack on a German machine gun nest and took it out using only a pistol and grenades. Then he did it again. When he made ready to dick-slap a third, the Germans signaled their surrender.
Unfortunately, Lassen made a fatal mistake: He trusted Nazis. When he approached, the “surrendering” Germans opened fire. Lassen was mortally wounded in the belly and midsection, effectively ending the initiative, and when his men tried to get him to safety, he demanded to be left behind to avoid slowing them down. We sincerely hope that, in his honor, they refused to file paperwork on the incident.
Which is why, 71 years later, we have chosen to file a final after-action report even he would approve of. Hopefully.
Having trouble zinging people? Then it’s time you learned from the best. Check out The 23 Most Crushing Insults From All Of History and The 10 Most Devastating Insults Of All Time.
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/21/the-6-greatest-moments-in-wartime-smack-talk/
0 notes
samanthasroberts · 7 years
Text
The 6 Greatest Moments In Wartime Smack Talk
If we were to suddenly find ourselves in the middle of an honest-to-God firefight, the only sick burns we’d be composing would be the ones in our underpants. But as we’ve shown you before, real-life soldiers caught in the quagmire of war seemingly have no problem coming up with badass one-liners that would make an ’80s action movie screenwriter drop to his knees in awe. For example …
#6. “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Situation:
At five feet, six inches tall and 132 pounds, Sergeant Major Dan Daly was like a real-life Steve Rogers, if Steve Rogers had pooh-poohed the super soldier project because his balls pumped out all the super soldier serum he could possibly need. A former Commandant in the Marine Corps once called him “the most outstanding Marine of all time,” and he’s one of only two Marines to ever earn the Medal of Honor twice for separate actions — the other of whom, Major General Smedley Butler, called him “the fightin’est Marine I ever knew.”
His first Medal of Honor came during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, when he singlehandedly defended a bastion wall swarming with Chinese snipers using only a bayoneted rifle. His second came 15 years later in Haiti, when he retrieved a lost machine gun (which weighed more than he did) from the bottom of a river and proceeded to use it to rain hellfire on the 400 Haitian insurgents who’d ambushed his patrol. That’s right: At an age at which most people start to seriously think about switching to wheat bread, Dan Daly was renewing the nation’s highest award for extraordinary heroism as if that sucker expires.
“I needed a new medal anyway. The ribbon on the old one kept breaking off during sex.”
This brings us up to Daly’s role in World War I and the Battle of Belleau Wood, where the then-First Sergeant risked his life to extinguish an ammo dump that had been struck by enemy fire. Two days later, with his unit pinned down and outgunned by the Germans, Daly walked up and down the line, cheering on each of his machine gun positions and straight-up daring any German bullets to hit him. When he judged it time to launch a counterattack, Daly leapt toward the enemy and shouted, “Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?!”
The Aftermath:
Surprisingly, his men didn’t answer back, “Yeah, that actually sounds great!”
“I didn’t even know that was an option!”
The taunt rallied his fellow soldiers, and Daly led an attack during which he (true to form) singlehandedly eliminated a German machine gun section with a .45 and some grenades. He was recommended for a third Medal of Honor, but someone up the chain downgraded it to a Distinguished Service Cross, maybe figuring that Daly was getting bored with the things by now.
#5. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Situation:
Jerry “Mad Dog” Shriver was a U.S. Army Special Forces Green Beret who served in the MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam — Special Operations Group). He slept with a rifle, and packed as many as six revolvers during combat (plus a shotgun and his regular machine gun). You know that action flick trope where the bad guys tell him to disarm, and the badass hero just keeps removing weapons until it gets ridiculous? Shriver invented that. Sometimes referred to as the Real Rambo, Mad Dog survived twice as many missions as the average member of his unit — a unit which exceeded a 100 percent casualty rate because everybody in it was wounded (usually more than once) and fully half of them were killed.
It’s not entirely clear when Shriver earned the “Mad Dog” moniker, but it’s possible that it was in relation to Klaus, a German Shepherd that he’d brought back from Taiwan and which was his closest companion. Once, Klaus yorked on the floor of the Mess after some recon men gave him beer as a gag, and they rubbed his nose in it and threw him outside. When Shriver got wind of this, he went in, drank a beer, set a revolver on the table, and dropped a deuce on the floor. He said, “If you want to rub my nose in this, come on over.” No one did.
And Klaus was promoted to squad leader.
In 1966, Shriver’s recon team was surrounded by North Vietnamese Army soldiers in Cambodia. AK-47 fire rained down on them from all around. As a Forward Air Controller watched the enemy close in on the team from overhead, he radioed down to Shriver with perhaps the biggest understatement of the war: “It sounds pretty bad.”
“No. No,” Shriver responded. “I’ve got ’em right where I want ’em, surrounded from the inside!”
The Aftermath:
Clinking through life as a goddamned walking arsenal comes in handy once in a while. Perhaps not shockingly, turns out it really helps during wartime. Shriver and his team shredded the jungle like they were in the minigun scene from Predator, putting a tear in Mother Nature’s eye and countless bullets and grenade fragments in their NVA aggressors. The attackers were driven back, and with some overhead help from the FAC, the team was safely extracted.
Mad Dog chose to hitchhike back to base.
Eventually, Shriver succumbed to an overdose of toxic masculinity. On April 24, 1969, on approach to the Central Office for South Vietnam as part of the Hatchet Force, his team was pinned down by a machine gun bunker. Shriver rushed the bunker and … went MIA. He was 27 years old — or 189 in Mad Dog years.
#4. “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Situation:
Way back in 1066, while anxiously awaiting the impending Norman invasion from modern-day France, King Harold Godwinson of England was taken unawares by scads of Norsemen landing from (surprise!) the north. Led by the Viking King Harald III Sigurdsson, the invasion force was allied with Tostig Godwinson — the newly-crowned Harold’s pissed-off younger brother. Possessing the element of surprise, the invaders took the city of York and camped out at Stamford Bridge, where they patiently awaited their reward of hostages and cattle.
By then, the Norse soldiers were tired of piss-filled shark meat.
Instead of spoils, however, the Norsemen were greeted by the surprise arrival of King Harold’s army, which had marched 185 miles in four days. In an effort to stave off aggressions, Harold met with Tostig and offered him a third of his kingdom if only he’d take off the silly horned helmet and abandon the Norsemen. When Tostig in turn asked what Harold would offer Sigurdsson as appeasement, he replied, “I will give him only six feet of English earth, or seven, for he is taller than other men!”
The Aftermath:
Before Harold’s attendants could finish saying, “Aw, snap!” the battle horns sounded. In a true parallel to the story of David and Goliath, a lone Viking defender advanced onto Stamford Bridge and used an obscenely large battle ax to chop down countless English attackers like saplings. In a not-so-biblical moment, the English defeated this Viking Goliath by floating beneath the bridge in a swill tub and spearing him straight in the dick.
To which even Harold said, “Really, bro? No. Not cool.”
The bridge thus seriously, seriously uncoolly cleared, the English army swarmed across and gave the Vikings such a spanking that the Norse never invaded Britain — their traditional punching bag — again.
#3. “Are you afraid to stand when I am on horseback?”
The Situation:
The year was 1898, and the war was of the Spanish-American variety. At the famous Battle of San Juan Hill — part of a decisive initiative to drive the Spanish Army into the Cuban city of Santiago, where they could be laid siege to until they surrendered — Cracked resident badass Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders fought alongside the African American 9th and 10th Cavalry and 24th and 25th Infantry (aka the Buffalo Soldiers). The regiments were bogged down in an exposed position on the banks of the San Juan River, awaiting word to proceed with their assault on the hill.
“Stop, drop, shut ’em down, open up shop.”
When said word finally came, Roosevelt mounted up and rode down the line to urge the men forward, even as bullets zipped all around him — because by God, he didn’t ride a horse all the way to Cuba to not use it. When one soldier was reluctant to stand and stare Death straight in the eye, Roosevelt singled him out and bellowed, “Are you afraid to stand, when I am on horseback?”
The Aftermath:
The cowering soldier stood right up … and was immediately shot dead, definitively demonstrating that not all men are magically goddamn invincible like Teddy.
This includes his horse, which is why Teddy would later find a sturdier mount.
#2. “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
The Situation:
The Mexican-American War didn’t go all that splendidly for Mexico. Still, each side had its heroes, and on the side south of the border, there was General Pedro Maria de Anaya.
Go ahead, make fun of his middle name. He double dares you.
On August 20, 1847, Santa Ana’s army holed up at Churubusco in their continual retreat toward Mexico City. Churubusco was home to the Convent of San Mateo, which offered an ideal defensive position thanks to its enormous stone walls, an abundance of parapets in which to stuff cannons, and hopefully some backup in the form of heavenly blessings. And indeed, the Mexicans did a standup job of repelling the Americans … right until their ammunition supply went kaput.
General Anaya, second in command to General Manuel Rincon and nigh-superhuman holder of the left flank, ordered his men to fight on regardless, barehanded if goddamned necessary. But if Battlefront has taught us anything, it’s that battles aren’t won with melee attacks. Inevitably, a white flag was raised over the convent, and U.S. Brigadier General David Twiggs entered to accept the Mexican generals’ official surrender. When Twiggs confronted Anaya, he asked the good general to surrender his ammunition stores.
Anaya historically replied, “If I had ammunition, you would not be here.”
“And if I had a mic, I would drop it.”
The Aftermath:
Had the Mexican army’s prayers for more ammunition been answered, it would have delayed the inevitable, but ultimately, the Battle of Churubusco (not to mention the greater war) was a hopeless endeavor for Mexico, and the USA has “Texas, California, Nevada, Utah, most of New Mexico and Arizona, and parts of Colorado and Wyoming” to prove it.
Hey, you know what, Mexico? We’d be willing to let you have some of that back.
#1. “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Situation:
Anders Lassen was a guy who was only good at war. Having left secondary school boasting the lowest examination scores of the year, he was drawn into soldiering in 1940 when Germany occupied his home country of Denmark. In 1941, he landed in the Special Operations Executive, which was recruiting Danes to work as spies. It was here that Lassen’s superiors noticed a few key qualities about the man. Namely, his volatile temper, complete lack of discretion, and utter contempt for the rules — all of which made for a rather shitty spy. Hell, it made for a rather shitty regular soldier, too. However, it perfectly suited him for unconventional, guerilla-style warfare, so Lassen was transferred to the Small Scale Raiding Force and tasked with throwing as many wrenches as possible into the gears of the German war machine.
“You’re being transferred to Lt. Raine’s unit.”
Despite his reckless nature, Lassen distinguished himself with his ability to win battles while taking few casualties. He had a complete lack of regard for danger, and was often noted for his ability to read the terrain and then reach and destroy his objective with lightning speed. This was a man who was at his best when surrounded by chaos. He was brutal, he was violent, and his hatred for Germans was legendary.
And you know what else he hated? Goddamned paperwork.
You see, after a battle, officers are expected to file an operational report — a rundown of events that the bigwigs can analyze to help improve future operations. And Lassen was having absolutely none of that shit. His reports consisted of a mere five words: “Landed. Killed Germans. Fucked off.”
The Aftermath:
As you can imagine, this aggravated his superiors. However, as we’ve already mentioned, Lassen didn’t give a shit, and when pressed to give more details, he would only respond, “It’s done. What else is there to say?”
“You know who else does paperwork? HITLER.”
And he continued to get it done until April 1945. After landing in northeast Italy, Lassen (now a member of the Special Boat Service) and his commandos encountered German sentries. Lassen led an attack on a German machine gun nest and took it out using only a pistol and grenades. Then he did it again. When he made ready to dick-slap a third, the Germans signaled their surrender.
Unfortunately, Lassen made a fatal mistake: He trusted Nazis. When he approached, the “surrendering” Germans opened fire. Lassen was mortally wounded in the belly and midsection, effectively ending the initiative, and when his men tried to get him to safety, he demanded to be left behind to avoid slowing them down. We sincerely hope that, in his honor, they refused to file paperwork on the incident.
Which is why, 71 years later, we have chosen to file a final after-action report even he would approve of. Hopefully.
Having trouble zinging people? Then it’s time you learned from the best. Check out The 23 Most Crushing Insults From All Of History and The 10 Most Devastating Insults Of All Time.
Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/07/21/the-6-greatest-moments-in-wartime-smack-talk/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/07/21/the-6-greatest-moments-in-wartime-smack-talk/
0 notes