War stories thread? Personal, passed down, or famous stories

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This 6' 4" goober strolled into Belgrade with 6 men and took the town with the only casualty being one of his men suffering a sprained wrist from tripping.
http://www.historynet.com/invasion-of-yugoslavia-waffen-ss-captain-fritz-klingenberg-and-the-capture-of-belgrade-during-world-war-ii.htm

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Andranik Ozanian: Armenian war hero, killed a lot of ottomans

My grandfather was drafted when he was an all A's engineering student at Brown University. He threw a grenade into a German MG nest and killed three men. He drank himself half way to death over it and the pinnacle of his career was being a parts manager at a Ford dealership.
War is hell.

>>31717412
Removing kebab while it still was cool?

>>31717207
>>31717207
Nemo-A534
>Be German Shepard
>inna Vietnam om patrol with handlers
>Get ambushed by VC
>Handler gets immobilized after killing two guys
>I lose an eye and am shot in the face
>No back up, probably gonna die
>lawl fuck that, imma sit on my handler and kill any gook that gets too close
>8 hours later friendlies arrive and forcibly sedate because I want to keep murdering everyone nearby
>Get a permanent kennel, do some recruiting plus morale boosting, and die 6 years later

Alternatively, Gander

>Be 120lb family Newfoundland
>Join Canadian military
>Ship off to fight Japs
>Stalk, tackle, and chase any Jap that approaches our lines
>Somehow learn to toss thrown grenades back too the thrower
>Captured Canucks get interrogated about the "Black Beast" and animal weaponization
>Finally die when I grab a live grenade and carry it over to some Japanese, killing us all

>>31717207
Belgian here, I have a "funny" WW2 story my grandfather loves to tell, he was 9years old when war broke out.

>Germans are invading Belgium
>Situation is chaotic, defensive lines are broken everywhere and french reinforcements are routing en masse
>two french soldiers in disarray knock at their door, begging my family to give them a place to sleep and hide them from germans this night
>My great-grandparents hide them in the cellar
>The two frenchmen found the wine stash and got drunk
>Like really drunk
>They come out from the cellar, holding broken bottles as weapons, and say they will have revenge for their fallen comrades
>They charge out the house, yelling "we're coming for you fucking krauts"
>Later in the night, gunfire is heard
>In the morning, villagers find the two dead frenchmens near a german checkpoint

>>31717822

Frogperson here. Sounds legit.

Literally from a friend of a friend but-
>be buddy's buddy
>inna Afghanistan
>notice boot somehow became untied, bend down to tie it
>hear something behind him
>brand new bullet mark on the wall where his head had been a few seconds before
From dubya dubya wan:
>be doggo innatrenches
>start to notice a pattern where there's a high pitched whistle and then everything explodes
>start throwing myself onnaground to avoid injury
>humans think I'm just copying what they do when their inferior ears finally hear the noise
>humans eventually realize I'm hearing it before they do
>humans start copying me and using me as an early warning system against artillery
>prolly saved a shitton of lives

Also, how Canadian forces were the very first to not only survive a gas attack but then drown the Germans in lead afterwards.
>be a medical officer
>realize this yellow poison the Huns keep chucking around is chlorine gas
>figure out how to counteract it
>everyone piss on these rags and breathe through them
>it works
>Huns not happy
Either the most loved or the most feared man in the trenches right there.

a story about Hans Wind:
"On 5 April 1943 Wind shot down three Il-2Ms, shooting at 90 degree angle to pierce the enemy planes' heavy armour, after slipping through the Soviet escort fighters. Nine days later, on 14 April, his flight fought against 18 Spitfires, of which Wind got 2. The enemy shot off his right aileron and with great trouble he managed to balance the BW-393 and take the course to the base. He was concentrated in nursing his fighter as a Yak-1 appeared on his wing, five meters away. The Soviet pilot counted the 18 victory stripes on the BW vertical stabilizer, saluted and turned away. Wind blessed his good luck. Either the Yak was out of ammo or the guns were jammed... "

and a quote from an interview with "Illu" Juutilainen:

"Juutilainen: I started my Brewster flights in the beginning of April 1940, doing all the aerobatics manoeuvres, stall and dive tests. I was happy with my Brewster. It was agile, it had 4,5 hours endurance, good weaponry - one 7,62 mm and three 12,7 machine guns - and an armoured pilot's seat. It was so much better than the Fokker that it was in another category. If we had had Brewsters during the Winter War, the Russians would have been unable to fly over Finland. It was also a "gentleman's travelling plane", for it had a roomy cockpit and room in the fuselage, as we used to say, for a poker gang. We unofficially transported mechanics, spare parts, oil canisters etc. in our Brewsters. Once, though two pilots went a little too far - a flight sergeant was flying, and in the fuselage was a second lieutenant, his friend, his dog and a lot of baggage. Upon landing the plane went off the runway and the suitcase came out. Both pilots were punished. Humorously, the lieutenant's sentence started with: "As the commander of the crew of a single-seat fighter..""

I was stationed in the mid east and I killed like 300 bad guys. Those bad guys then killed my buddies. I fucking killed more bad guys and then I got a medal for being bravery. The commander told a big long speech talking about how we must kill the bad guys because the bad guys kill good guys like us. My fellow boys will serve this land until bad guys stop existing and world peace is here.

Grandpa's squad was sent into a forest to look for Germans. Somehow, they stumbled right into a German squad of roughly the same size. As in, they were in the same clearing, they didn't see each other until they were within feet of one another. It's a Mexican standoff, nobody knows what to do, the tension can be cut with a dagger, no sounds at all.

Then one of grandaddy's squadmates lets one rip. Massive trumpet of a wet fart that seems to go on forever, almost echoing among the trees as the impassive Germans just stare with guns ready.

Silence

Then everyone bursts out laughing, neither side wants to shoot, they wave each other off and go in opposite directions.

That man's flatulence is why I'm here today

I was hunting black bear and I had to take a dump. I couldn't go to the nearest gas station so I just did the squat hugging a tree. I pooped all over my boots and socks.