I could sit here and ramble on about my self but that would bore even the most forbearing of us. But allow me to bring you up to speed. I'm just starting to figure out this business most call family -In doing so I've met some pretty amazing people along the way. Come join me as I awkwardly navigate through this conundrum known as life finding family, friends, and a home while trying not to be arrested, lost, or killed
A German corpse found incinerated in an air-raid shelter. Dresden, 1946.
How is the body scorched but the clothing still intact?
Faces of the Warsaw Uprising and the Warsaw Resistance, 1944
Beautiful picture of a young German soldier in World War II being treated by an American GI medic. Unknown location, somewhere in Europe, 1944.
Something like how I picture the take down happening
GO HOME KOSTIK!
Erich Alfred Hartmann (April 19, 1922 – September 20, 1993), nicknamed “The Black Devil” by his Soviet enemies, was a German World War II fighter pilot and is the highest-scoring fighter ace in the history of aerial warfare. He claimed 352 aerial victories (of which 345 were won against the Soviet Air Force, and 260 of which were fighters) in 1,404 combat missions. He engaged in aerial combat 825 times while serving with the Luftwaffe. During the course of his career, Hartmann was forced to crash-land his damaged fighter 14 times. This was due to damage received from parts of enemy aircraft he had just shot down or mechanical failure. Hartmann was never shot down or forced to land due to fire from enemy aircraft.
Народ, Армия, Сталин - Спасли тебя, Москва! / The people, the Army, Stalin - has saved you, Moscow!
1947 -So, how’d that Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact work out for ya, USSR?
yo, is that dude got two M24 grenades tied together?!
“This Russia! One grenade not enough for killing Gans!!”
"I never did like the French, them and their goddamn Underground. When we jumped in Normandy, no Underground came out to help us, like in Holland. There was us and then there were the Krauts, and the Frogs only came out of their cellars to loot the Kraut supply rooms when it was all over. Hell, they were on the Krauts’ side in Normandy. Beat up a couple of guys who landed in St. Marie du Mont. A French broad killed over a dozen troopers in St. Come du Mont before the 1st Bat finally cornered her. She was a sniper, shacking up with the Krauts. You can have them goddamn Frogs."
— Parachute Infantry, David K. Webster (via demons)
How I picture me and Kelsey ever trying to sneak into Lud’s house.
“Hinkle? Is that you? Hinkle? Shit!”
“You asked me to move! I’m movin’! I’m movin’!”
“Hinkle, sweetie, I’m home!”
“Hinkel vinkel eat ze armpit, huh?”
Bwahaha love this series!! Makes me laugh so friggin’ hard!!
PBY Glister Gunner, 1944.
I got some information on this from here:
Found in the December 2002 issue of B&W magazine, in an article about the man who took the picture, Horace Bristol; he was a member of a Navy unit of photographers, and thus ended up being on the plane the gunner was serving on, which was used to rescue people from Rabaul Bay (New Britain island, Papua New Guinea), when this occurred:
“…we got a call to pick up an airman who was down in the Bay. The Japanese were shooting at him from the island, and when they saw us they started shooting at us. The man who was shot down was temporarily blinded, so one of our crew stripped off his clothes and jumped in to bring him aboard. He couldn’t have swum very well wearing his boots and clothes. As soon as we could, we took off. We weren’t waiting around for anybody to put on formal clothes. We were being shot at and wanted to get the hell out of there. The naked man got back into his position at his gun in the blister of the plane.”
Fucking reblogging this for TWO reasons. One is OBVIOUS. Two is because THAT is a kick ass story.
At first I’m like “Wow, that’s kinda cool”
And then the symbolic writer in me comes out and is all “Look at how the earth just swallowed it up, like its repairing its self, healing, burying the memory of war, preserving it, etc”
… just hush brain. HUSH
These are the sort of day dreams I have at work, especially running around with Ludwig when he’s yelling at me in mostly German.
Just wanna pull his thirty eight off his side
then I remember all the shit boss puts him through and I feel bad
But still, some days…