Welcome to our collection of 8 of the best Axis stories, where the main characters are from the other side. Some say our older films are rougher than the winters on the Eastern front, but we still hope you'll come with us on this trip through some of our best Axis stories. It’s winter 1939, almost night. As the crimson horizon spreads across the wild, snow-draped forests, a column of Soviet soldiers marches across a frozen landscape. This is the Winter War, Stalin’s invasion of Finland, Talvisota as the Finns call it. As the column makes progress there’s a flash that comes out of nowhere and a man goes down. The Russian soldiers freeze. A cry of “Sniper fire, get down!” is shouted, and the Russian troops hit the ground and scramble for cover, while again another shot rings out and yet another man falls to the ground. A murmur spreads among the hiding Russians: “Белая смерть” – The White Death. All alone in the distance a man clad head to toe in a snow-white coat hidden from view by the wild landscape and snow pushed up all around him balances his rifle on his gloves and patiently waits for another unfortunate soul to enter his sights. But who is this man that strikes dread into the heart of every Russian soldier in Finland? Born and raised in the rugged woods of Karelia in Southern Finland Simo Häyhä – from the start a natural hunter and sharpshooter. Häyhä recalled his experience growing up as a farmer, hunter, and skier as a vital part of his skill of being the excellent sniper that he became. Having been in the Finnish Civil Guard and Finnish Army from the age of seventeen he cultivated his skill as a marksman and won shooting contest after contest. His house was reportedly “full of trophies for marksmanship.” With the outbreak of war Simo is deployed as part of a garrison manning the defensive lines on the Finnish-Russian border. In the early days of the war Simo’s Commanding officer notices Häyhä’s skill with a rifle and assigns him to work independently as a sniper. Häyhä’s first action as a sniper was, ironically, a counter-sniping mission. Simo describes the mission such: "It happened once that my CO tried to kill an enemy sniper with a scoped rifle. This Russian had taken up position about 400 meters from us and was constantly shooting towards our lines. After a while he sent for me and showed me approximately where he thought the enemy sniper's position to be. One of our Lieutenants was with us, acting as a spotter when the duel began. At first, I didn’t see a trace of him, just a small rock where he was supposed to be. But after careful investigation we spotted him behind a little hump of snow near that rock. I took careful aim with my trusty M/28-30 and the very first shot hit the intended target." The Soviet fear of Simo grew to the point that they were willing to call in artillery to shell the areas where they believed him to be. In fact as Simo confirmed, “the Russians put a lot of effort into trying to kill me.” After finishing yet another Soviet sniper they vigorously started shelling Simo's foxhole. “Fifty shells landed around my foxhole, but in vain." Simo once described. Yet for all their efforts the Soviets never scored more than a scratch or at best a ripped coat on Häyhä. Simo’s Häyhä's tactics as a sniper are unprecedented for the time. Unlike his Soviet counterparts Simo doesn’t use scoped sights preferring iron sights as scopes risk giving off a glare that exposes a sniper's location. He said he caught many a careless Russian sniper due to the glare of their scopes. The cold doesn’t bother him either as he is always prepared with many layers of thick winter clothing. On a cold December day Simo wanders into the wild and heads to one of his favourite spots – a snow-covered tree with low hanging branches that creates the perfect spot overlooking a valley. With snow in his mouth his breath doesn’t give away his position. Häyhä pushes up the snow around him constructing a makeshift barrier and with a daily ration supply he sits and waits for hours. He waits, waits, and patiently waits like any good hunter… until his patience is rewarded when a group of four Soviet soldiers march into the iron sights of his rifle. Simo fires and reloads rapidly after each shot, after four shots four men lay in the snow… never to rise. Simo goes on to fire his rifle 25 times that day setting a record for the most kills achieved by a sniper in one day. Increasing the ever-growing legend of Simo Häyhä as the White Death in the Soviet ranks. The story of Simo Häyhä as an invisible sniper and his legacy as “the fear of his foes, a hero at home” became even more dreaded by not just Soviet soldiers, but also the Soviet High Command who put a bounty on his head. There were Soviet snipers who wanted the bounty going to the hot spots and waiting in ambush for Simo. One set up his position and waited for hours. As night fell the sniper thought that Simo must have left and stood to head back to base. There's a crack. But the Russian never hears it and falls in the snow. By the end of January 1940 Simo would achieve 200 career kills and for this Simo was awarded by the Finnish government a custom rifle designed for him although he would continue to use his ever trusted M/28-30 rifle. Simo continues to rack up kills throughout the war and achieves the remarkable feat of over 500 sniper kills in 100 days. In early March he leads a squad of fellow Finns against a superior attacking Red Army force attempting to penetrate through the forest. Of the battle Simo recalled: “I was in the dark forests of Ulismaa. We were given a mission to counterattack, one of many. We moved to our starting positions at early dawn. There was a swamp some 300 meters wide which we crossed without difficulty. Once over the swamp, we charged against the enemy that was really close to us. My rifle functioned very well. We were so close to the enemy that even some were only 2 meters away from me. The enemy was forced to withdraw, but some very brave individual soldiers remained behind to cause havoc amongst us. Suddenly there was a shot maybe only 50 to 100 meters away and I felt hit… There’s a whoosh and Simo gets tunnel vision and then everything goes white for the White Death and he falls hit in the jaw by an exploding bullet. After the battle the Finnish soldiers find what they think is Simo’s remains and place him in a pile with the other fallen. Then one of the Finns notices a leg twitching among the pile. Incredibly Simo was alive… but half his face was gone. He is in a coma for three days by which time the Winter War is over. Simo had 26 surgeries to repair his shattered jaw which was crafted from a piece of bone taken from his hip. After recovering he would peacefully live the rest of his days at his new farm in the scenic Finnish countryside passing away in 2002 at the ripe old age of 96. Simo left a legacy as the world’s greatest sniper and marksman while a renowned Finnish hero, the stuff of legend. When asked about his services in the war Simo said: “I didn’t feel anything towards the enemy. I just fired and loaded and continued as long as there were enemies. I just shot every time I saw one. I didn’t care if he was a commander or not. I’m a lucky man, I’ve never had dreams about the war. I’ve always slept well, during the war too. I did what I was told to do as well as I could.” Asked how he became such a good shot he simply said: “Practice.” It’s June the 21st ,1941. A unit of Spitfires and Hurricanes escort a formation of British Blenheim bombers towards their target in the north of France. When suddenly a BF 109 falls from the heavens and flies straight through the allied formation heading directly for the bombers. The lone and astonishingly brave BF109 heads for the Blenheims and cuts one down with a deadly barrage of cannon fire. It bursts into flames and its crew bail as the aircraft falls away from the formation. The Spitfire pilots are aghast at what’s occurred. This 109 had just ignored them, knowing they’ll get locked in combat with the rest of his German unit. Suddenly the mysterious 109 blasts through the middle of the fight a second time, paying absolutely no mind to the escort of deadly Spitfires. It races through the bomber formation tearing a second Blenheim to shreds. A Spitfire escapes the melee and chases down the daredevil German pilot. The 109 dashes left and right as the British aircraft fires a volley of tracers his way, striking its fuselage. The German pilot turns upside down and pulls his aircraft into a sharp dive, his pursuer is caught off guard and fails to match him, overshooting the turn by a mile. But the German isn’t out of the woods, another Spitfire is following the chase and he takes the place of his compatriot. The new opponent flies at the 109 and strikes it square on the radiator, a plume of white steam pours out of the Messerschmitt and the Spitfire victorious pulls away to return to the more pressing battle, leaving the 109 to his fate. Down below the German aircraft overheats quickly, and its engine seizes. The pilot acts with calm and spots a German held airfield not too far away. He expertly glides his wounded and steaming 109 all the way to safety and performs a gentle belly landing on the runway. Inside, the pilot takes a deep breath, he looks up with the adrenaline still pumping through his veins and stifles a smile. He had pushed his luck and they had got him. But it was no matter. He’ll be back. This dashing young man is one of the Luftwaffe’s rising stars. Adolf Galland's career accelerated when in February 1940 he found himself at the controls of the mighty BF 109. Just in time for the invasion of Belgium three months later. Just two days after the beginning of the invasion Galland would find himself in his first ever dogfight. While flying alongside his wingman he spotted 8 Hurricanes flying below him. With a brief exchange, the two 109s pounce for their prey. They dive into the action, sweeping in from behind the group of Hurricanes. Galland would later recall “I was neither excited nor did I feel hunting fever. I had one in my gun sight and I thought ‘Come on, defend yourself!’ But Galland had caught his opponent completely by surprise. He fires a burst of shells and they strike the Hurricane on its wings. The allied pilots immediately fall into disarray, the Hurricanes scatter every which way fleeing the scene, while Galland keeps up the chase on his chosen target. The pilot before him attempts evasive maneuvers but he follows them with ease, lining up his shot and opening fire. His short and deadly bursts tear through the Hurricane’s tail and wing, sending it into an uncontrollable spin straight into the ground. Galland leaves the wounded aircraft to its fate and races on for a second. The enemy pilot sees Galland coming and he makes a sharp turn into a cloud but Galland keeps up with ease. With his opponent almost point blank ahead, he pulls the trigger. In a blur a torrent of 7.92 mm bullets tears through the Hurricane’s tail. His opponent instantly pulls sharp upwards, throwing its aircraft into a steep climb. Galland is caught off guard and he pulls off the chase, looping around as he keeps his eyes on his opponent, baffled at its behavior. But then he quickly realizes that the climb is uncontrolled as he witnesses the Hurricane keep its upwards angle until it loses all speed. It stalls and drops like a rock from the sky. He had just claimed two victories, However, Galland was never proud of these events, he would write “I had not felt any excitement and I was not even particularly elated by my success… The congratulations of my superiors and comrades left an odd taste in my mouth. An excellent weapon and luck had been on my side.” Victories kept climbing after that day, scoring his third that very afternoon. He kept fighting throughout the battle for France, slowly but surely earning a staggering 96 victories one or two at a time. With his climbing victory count came climbing recognition. Known for his skill and bravery in the air and gentlemanly behavior on the ground, he soon found himself befriending important generals and climbing the ranks. But not all would be good. Fighters were seen as defenders and bombers as attackers. So during the Battle of Britain BF109s were put into bomber formations and tasked with defending them during their sorties. This was insanity as it put 109s at a ridiculous disadvantage against the Spitfire, which was much better at maneuvering at low speeds. With bomber losses mounting Goering came to France by train where Galland was summoned. Exiting the train Goering spent half an hour in a fury with Galland accusing his men of cowardice, uselessness, and more. For what felt like the millionth time Galland calmly suggested ending such missions and freeing his fighters to hunt allied attack aircraft instead, explaining “when we slow down to bomber speed we are only targets, we can’t maneuver.” Goering fired back “then you will be shot down, better than my expensive bombers” Galland was internally furious, eying his superior with ire. Goering then proceeded to ask what his fighters needed to be more effective at escorting bombers. Galland bluntly stated; “equip my wing with Spitfires.” The men’s confrontations continued with no end in sight, with Galland never afraid to fight back against Goering and never ceasing to request changes that his fighters desperately needed. In November 1941 the Luftwaffe General in charge of the Fighters passed away in an aircraft accident and Adolf Galland was chosen as his replacement. He received the promotion unwillingly at the funeral where he was taken to one side by Hermann Goering and given the role. Galland didn’t wish for this promotion as it would keep him on the ground, whereas his calling was in the air. But he saw a chance to try and fix the procedural problems that had plagued the Luftwaffe fighter force throughout the Battle of Britain. He went on to clash with his superiors more often than he did with the enemy, particularly with Hermann Goering. As the Minister of Aviation, Goering was Galland’s direct superior and the main advocate of the bomber strategy, the source of many of Galland’s frustrations. Surprisingly, despite this constant infighting, he became the longest serving General of the Fighters of the war, remaining in the position for more than 3 years. Galland among others bravely pushed for Goering to be replaced after which the inevitable came to pass and Galland was fired from his post. Goering championed sending him to Court Marshall for incompetent leadership, but many skilled fighter pilots loyal to Galland stood up in protest, and Hitler himself intervened. Galland ended the war flying interceptor Me 262 jets against bombing raids on German soil. Such a unit had been one of his longtime requests from the moment he got to test fly the jet. About the experience he wrote “It was as if the angels were pushing me.” He recruited many pilots to the jet program including a young pilot by the name of Franz Stigler. In the dying months of the war Galland got to experience the aircraft he had long wished for, becoming terror personified for the bomber crews over Germany. But it was too little, far too late. Galland ended the war with 107 victories to his name, not including possible victories acquired in his unofficial sorties during his tenure as General of the Fighters. He was also awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords, and Diamonds, among many others. He surrendered to the Americans and continued his military flying career in Argentina. Many years after the war he remained friends with Stigler. In Adam Makos’ book a higher call Franz Stigler recalled this exchange between the 2 men. Franz admitted to Galland that he had let a B-17 escape. All Galland had to say was “It would be you.” Franz could sense that Galland was neither thrilled nor angry that he had let the bomber escape. Instead, Galland had mixed feelings, having lost his younger brothers in the war. Even forty-six years later, he considered Franz’s act to be dereliction of duty—and yet the right thing to do. Franz and Galland would remain close friends and continue to talk week after week until Galland’s death in 1996. It’s August 7th, 1942. And the famous Japanese Tainan Air Group in Rabaul scrambled to escort bombers to the islands of Guadalcanal, Tulagi, and the Florida Islands. One of the pilots in the group is Saburo Sakai,
Petty Officer Second Class. Sakai is a renowned ace pilot
who has already won numerous aerial battles, and he was an invaluable asset to the group. The Japanese Bombers let loose their deadly cargo
from high altitude. As the Japanese head for home
they nervously watch the skies. Suddenly there’s a cry from over the radio. Bandits! The fight is on. Saburo Sakai and three other pilots from his group engage a Grumman F4F Wildcat fighter in combat. Good odd’s for the Japanese. But at the controls of the wildcat is future ace, James “Pug” Southerland. He manages to evade the Japanese fighters
and get’s on Sakai’s tail. Southerland lines up the Zero. But to Sakai’s amazement
he doesn’t fire. Inside the Wildcat Southerland is confounded by his machine guns which have jammed. If he can keep on this zero maybe he can scare it off or even get the guns to be operational. He chases Sakai and the Japanese pilot
is weaving in the air, pulling hard in turns, trying to shake off the US fighter and get on it’s tail. Finally with colossal effort he manages to get
behind the Wildcat. This dogfight is one of the tensest Sakai ever had. His A6M2 has only 60 rounds per barrel
for its 20-mm cannon, so Sakai switched them off to conserve ammo
and only used the 7.7mm rounds. Sakai later said, “I had poured about five or six hundred rounds of ammunition directly into the Grumman, the airplane did not fall, but kept on flying. I thought this very odd — it had never happened before — and closed the distance between the two airplanes
until I could almost reach out and touch the Grumman. To my surprise, the Grumman's rudder and tail were torn to shreds, looking like an old torn piece of rag. With his plane in such condition, no wonder the pilot was unable to continue fighting! A Zero which had taken that many bullets would have been a ball of fire by now.” Southerland said of the battle: “My plane was in bad shape but still performing nicely
in low blower, full throttle, and full low pitch. Flaps and radio had been put out of commission... The after part of my fuselage was like a sieve. She was still smoking from incendiary but not on fire. All of the ammunition box cover on my left wing were gone and 20mm explosives had torn some gaping holes
in its upper surface... My instrument panel was badly shot up,
goggles on my forehead had been shattered, my rear view mirror was broken, my plexiglass windshield was riddled. The leak proof tanks had apparently been punctured
many times as some fuel had leaked down into the bottom of the cockpit even though there was no steady leakage. My oil tank had been punctured
and oil was pouring down my right leg.” At this moment with the Wildcat practically disabled
but still flying, Sakai switched to the 20mm cannons. Ripping into the wildcat it’s left wing shears off and starts to tumble out of the air. Southerland knows he’s done. He Bails out and despite being wounded he parachutes to safety. Sakai rejoins the group. As he gains altitude together with his supporting fighters,
he spots a lone Douglas SBD Dauntless dive bomber. Several Japanese attack and another fight is on. Despite the odds being against him,
the Pilot Lieutenant Dudley Adams shoots into Sakai’s plane
with his two .50inch forward machine guns. He puts fist-sized hole into the Sakai’s plane canopy, but The Zeros quickly gain upper hand and skillfully working together they down the Dauntless. Adams manages to bail out of his stricken warbird and his parachute opens.... His gunner Harry Elliot does not make it out... Sakai and his group continue to search for new targets. As they approach the Tulagi island There’s another cry across the radio... Bandits! It’s a group of eight aircraft. They’re distant but Sakai is confident it’s another group of Wildcats and starts gaining altitude to engage them. Sakai had superior long-distance vision
and reflexes way better than his wingmates. So he turned first and hit the throttle so quickly that his wingmen were unable to catch up
and lagged far behind. The Japanese approach the formation from behind and below with Sakai in the lead. Closing fast now on the “wildcats” Sakai noticed them bunching up. Strange, but it looks like the Japanese were still undetected by the Americans. Closer and closer he got.... And then Sakai’s blood ran cold. It’s not Wildcats, it's Dauntlesses. With their rear machine guns
pointing right at the attacking Japanese. The Americans had spotted Sakai and his supporting fighters clear as day, all the way. They had bunched up for greater defense and are now preparing to rain down hell on the Japanese attackers. Sakai rocks his wings in warning: It’s Dauntlesses! But at the terrific speed the Zero is too close to dodge. If it disengages it’s a sitting duck. Best to fight on and try and take down the Americans. Without choice Sakai engages. He opens up with machine guns, receiving eight streams of bullets in return. Saburo is weaving and dodging as best he can and clip’s one Dauntless which starts leaning to the side and falling. Then another. One of the bullets, sent by rear-gunner Harold Jones,
goes right through the Zero’s canopy, and it didn’t miss this time. The bullet plowed through the metal frame of Sakai’s goggles, denting it, tearing the leather of his helmet and breaking his skull, while the glass from the shattered canopy flies inside and injures his eyes. Sakai passes out and The US pilots report their victory as they watch the Japanese fighter disappearing down below. Saburo Sakai slowly and painfully comes to his senses. What happened? Where is he? With a jolt he realizes that the blue haze looming large
is the sea and he and his damaged aircraft are hurtling towards it... Blind in the right eye, barely seeing anything with his left, half of his body paralyzed, he struggles to pull the Zero out of the uncontrolled dive.
It’s not working. His mind still clouded, he starts searching for an American warship to ram. If he would die that day, he would do so as a samurai. But luckily for him — and for any US warships —
there are none around, and the cold air blasting through the broken canopy finally brought Sakai to his senses. With exceptional skill he manages to get his plane
under control. Checking his instruments and he calculates he just might be able to return to the Rabaul airfield if he is careful. Sakai points the nose of his Zero along the Solomon Islands, roughly towards the base. Trying and failing to stop the bleeding in his head and control the aircraft at the same time, he loses and regains consciousness, correcting his course every time he came to. Once, he woke up to the feeling of blood beating in his head like a hammer: he was flying upside down, dangerously close to the open water he frantically returns the plane to the upright position and gains altitude. And when he sees a volcano in the distance, he realizes
he’s almost home. With fuel quickly running out, he dives to land, and nearly crashes into fighters lined up on the airfield, pulling up and going around again he puts the warbird down on the second attempt. Everyone thought he had been killed in battle, and the personnel of the base ran to his severely damaged fighter in astonishment. As they dragg Sakai, bleeding and barely able to move, out of the plane, he insists on reporting to his superior officer, and only then he collapses. With a serious head injury that led to partial paralysis and lost of sight in his right eye, Saburo Sakai managed an almost five-hour trip across 560 naval miles and made it back to his base in one piece. Months of surgery gave him back the functionality
to the left side of his body. However, his right eye would never see again. He became an expert instructor, but by June 1944 the war was going on against Japan and they desperately needed pilots…
and Sakai answered the call. By August 15th 1945, Japan concluded a cease-fire agreement with the Allied forces, and on August 18, two reconnaissance Consolidated B-32 Dominators were flying over the country’s territory to see if it complied with the cease-fire. Suddenly, 17 Japanese fighters mistake the planes for B-29 bombers and attack... seriously damaging them and killing one of the personnel. One pilot involved was Saburo Sakai, he and his fellow pilots were all labeled “undesirable.” In September, the war ended and Sakai was promoted to sub-lieutenant, and decommissioned from the Navy. The after war years weren’t kind on Sakai: his skills as a fighter pilot became useless. He was left out of work, finding odd jobs and constantly in need of money. In 1947, his wife died of illness. In 1952, he married again and opened a small printing shop. He invited family members of his fallen comrades and other “undesirables” like himself to work there. In 1955, a Dutch pilot came to the US occupation administration, telling a story no one had heard before. He said he had been transporting civilians in a DC-3 from the island of Java in 1942 when a Japanese fighter intercepted him
and ordered him to follow. When the pilot refused, the fighter shifted its position
as if to attack, but then its pilot saw women and children on board. In the fighter was Sakai. He had been given simple orders: bring down all aircraft over Java, be it civilian or military. But when Sakai saw women and children inside the Dutch plane, he felt he had to disobey his orders. With this news, Sakai rose from an “undesirable”
to a war hero, he couldn’t believe what happened, but the real worldwide fame came to him two years later, when his autobiographical book Samurai!
was published in the US. After the war ended, Sakai became a Buddhist acolyte, vowing to never take the life of any living creature — not even a mosquito. This vow, as well as his opposition
to the policy of rearmament, didn’t bring him much sympathy, but he stood his ground. He kept his active position even in old age. Microsoft’s developers consulted him in creating
Combat Flight Simulator 2. He said: “To fly is just like swimming.
You do not forget easily. I have been on the ground for more than ten years. If I close my eyes, however, I can again
feel the stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left, the rudder bar beneath my feet. I can sense the freedom and the cleanliness and all the things which a pilot knows. It’s December the 20th, 1943 and in the freezing air high above Germany, 2nd Lieutenant Charles "Charlie" Brown is at the controls of his B-17 F, Ye Olde Pub. Nearly the entire 8th Air Force's Bomb Group are headed towards Bremen to take out the Focke-Wulf plant on the outskirts of the city. They can expect more than 500 FW-190s and BF-109s defending Germany. Charlie’s formation is right at the front and out behind him strung out over 80 miles are nearly 500 bombers. Just after 11am the Pub is approaching the German border when Hugh "Ecky" Eckenrode cries out: "Bandits!" German fighters were attacking someone high up behind the Pub. Two escorting P-47s race to intercept. The bombers push on leaving the dogfight behind them and at 11:30 approaching the target, Flak starts to bloom all around them. The Pub is rocked as 4 explosions go off right in front the B-17. A cry comes across the intercom: "We’re hit!" In the plexiglass nose a huge hole has been made and now icy cold wind was being blown inside. Charlie’s co-pilot, Spencer "Pinky" Luke, told Charlie: "Engine №2 is losing oil pressure." Charlie looked out the window to his left and saw that it had been hit. "Shut it down!", Charlie ordered. Just 1 minute from the drop, Pinky let out an expletive as he noticed a huge hole in the right wing. Then engine №4 began to rev wildly and accelerate. Charlie had been warned by his ground crew that there were problems with engine №4. What to do now? They chose to reduce power and press on through the hail of flak. Releasing their bombs over the factory the crew turned North planning to head over the coast then turn West for home. With one engine out and another faulty, The Pub started to fall back from the formation with another damaged plane that was trailing smoke from two engines on the left wing. Charlie heard the distress call as it lost altitude. Sam "Blackie" Blackford in the Ball Turret watched as it disappeared behind and below into a cloud bank. Blackie watched and there was an orange flash in the cloud. Something bad was happening… "Bandits!", Ecky shouted as 5 BF 109s streaked from the cloud bank. Then another cry: "Bandits!" as 8 FW-190s were spotted in formation ahead of the Pub. Two FW-190’s peeled off and headed straight towards the cockpit. Charlie nudged the Pub up to meet them. Opening fire the lead 190 hit the Pub but did little damage. Once in close Sergeant Bertram "Frenchy" Coulombe in the Turret shot the 190 out of the sky. The Navigator Al "Doc" Sadok took out the second. Pinky reported that Engine 3 had been hit and was now stuck on half power. That left just 1 engine at full power. Like sharks sensing blood in the water, 5 BF 109’s emerged from behind the Pub. Ecky cried out: "Fighters attacking 6 o’clock level!" To their dismay, both Ecky and Blackie’s guns were frozen. Hearing the shouts of his men Brown put the injured bird into a turn. The 109’s pressed their advantage and half the rudder was shot off. Charlie felt the plane judder under the impact. All the time hearing reports from the other crew members that their guns were also inoperable because of ice. The tail gunner position was hit instantly killing Ecky. A shell penetrated and exploded near the waist gunners. Alex "Russian" Yelasenko had been badly hit and was losing blood. With the Pub still in a tight turn, bullets tore through the cockpit hitting the oxygen supply. The plane lurched and spun toward the ground, Charlie and Pinky passed out... The Pub fell for 4 miles… 1 mile above the fields below, Charlie started to come around. Realizing the peril and gripping the controls he pulled back as the plane continued to fall. 5,000 feet, 4,000 feet, 3,000 feet... We need your help to keep the channel producing at this quality. So if you enjoy our films, please help by becoming a member where you'll get VIP access to exclusive perks and me on the Discord. But if this summer you want to impress the kittens and stand out from the crowd, you need a stylish polo shirt. Everyone has horses and crocodiles, but if you want to be a real cool cat then grab the brand new shirt that's sure to impress. Wear it on every occasion! Just moments from hitting the earth the plane pulled up almost scraping the trees as it did. Passing low nearby a German airfield, the Pub was heard by a pilot who was refueling and rearming his BF 109 G6. Having been in the fight already there was an American bullet lodged in his radiator, but Franz Stigler was 1 bomber victory away from earning the Knight’s Cross and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him. He jumped in and took off to claim his prize. Stigler rapidly caught up with the Pub, having the plane fill his sites he was about to deliver the death blow when he realized something was wrong. The B17 was incredibly badly damaged. The rear gunner was dead. What’s more he’d never seen a more shot up plane still flying. Realizing there was little threat to him he flew around to the right wing. He could see the hole where the waist guns should be and inside the pitiful site of the injured crew, desperately trying to stay alive. The plane was a barely flying wreck. Blackie and Franz locked eyes. "What are you waiting for!", Blackie cried out in defiance. Franz made an ominous decision. He remembered the words of his commanding officer. Honor is everything. This plane was no threat. In Franz’s mind it would be the same as shooting a man in a parachute. He decided: "This is no Victory. If I shoot this plane down, it will be on my conscience for the rest of my life." At the controls Charlie looked out the window and their to his complete dread saw the 109. Locking eyes with Franz, the German pilot nodded! Pointing firmly at the ground, he gestured at the pilots for them to land in Germany. They responded with the firm "No". He flew in formation alongside the plane as it passed over the German flak batteries. There was no way they would fire at a German plane even one that was flying in formation with the enemy! Neutral Sweden was just 30 minutes away and Stigler knew that it was a far better option than England which was about 2 hours flight across the North sea. Stigler mouthed, "SWEDEN" and gestured wildly. Pinky just shrugged in return. Trying the same thing with Charlie and getting the same response, Stigler thought the Americans were just totally stupid! The crew of the Pub, thought they were being told to land in Germany. Charlie ordered Frenchy to train his guns on the German fighter. Stigler saw the guns wheel around. Locking eyes one last time with Charlie, he saluted and turned away knowing that they would likely crash in the North Sea… The crew totally confused as to why their enemy had seemingly spared them, flew on towards England. Skimming the sea and losing height and speed they were intercepted by 2 P-47s who directed them to a nearby airfield. Unbelievably they had made it back to England. Other than Sergeant Hugh "Ecky" Eckenrode, all the crew survived. At debriefing, Brown told his story about the German fighter which escorted him. It was decided that this should be kept secret – notion of an honorable German pilot choosing not to shoot down a damaged American bomber was not a story that anyone wanted to get out. Brown kept his silence about the incident until 1986 but then started searching for the German pilot that had spared him and his crew. In 1990 he received a letter from Stigler who had emigrated to Canada in 1953. Thanks to Adam Makos for allowing us permission to use this footage of the first meeting of Brown and Stigler since that day over Germany. "Franz, what were you feelings when you met again for the first time?" "I was so happy as we met, I grabbed him and hugged him." "The fact that he risked his life really in many ways and I wrote him in a letter, and I said that if you were… if you made a habit for feeling sorry for bomber crews flying up alongside them, I am sure that you were shot down many times. But it was a not only the audacity that he came up to us and then recognizing the threat. If someone had seen him and reported him, it could have been a death sentence." Franz gifted Charlie a book and inside the inscription read: "In 1940, I lost my only brother as a night fighter. On the 20th of December, 4 days before Christmas, I had the chance to save a B-17 from her destruction, a plane so badly damaged it was a wonder that she was still flying. The pilot, Charlie Brown, is for me, as precious as my brother was. Thanks, Charlie. Your Brother, Franz" Franz Stigler never got the Knight’s Cross, but as he always said, he got something better. In 2008 within a few months of each other the two firm friends went on their final journey. It’s spring 1944. In the skies above the oil fields of Romania. It’s a strategic location which supplies some 60% of the Reich’s crude oil and is vital to Axis logistics. American B-17s and P-51s are en route to strike a blow and take out the oil supply. Swarms of B-17 bombers are incoming. But they’re not alone. The flying fortresses are being escorted by squadrons of P-51 Mustangs – The Cadillac of the Sky. It’s an epic force… But they’re not expecting an easy ride. Inside the mustangs the cry of "bandits" goes up and swarms of BF-109s are spotted. The battle is on. The P-51s desperately try to protect the slower B-17s and a bitter dogfight ensues. One of the P-51s is about to score a kill on a 109 when from behind a German fighter appears and opens up with cannon fire from just 100 yards. The Mustang doesn’t stand a chance. It falls apart in an epic explosion leaving a trail of smoke on its way down as its final flight ends. The 109 - victorious, with its red heart on the side doesn’t stop for self-congratulation and its pilot immediately targets and trails another P-51 strafing it with machine gun and cannon fire. A second American plane is sent in flames to the ground. This particular pilot’s skill is recognized by the Americans and eight Mustangs team up to scream around him, shooting constantly. But the German amazingly is evading most of the fire with superb manoeuvres and hard turns. But being chased in a hard battle drinks fuel at an alarming rate. Inside the cockpit of the 109 a red warning light has been flashing for some time now: fuel is running out. The German pilot knows he won’t make it back to base and continues until the last moment. As the engine starts to splutter he makes a decision to bail out. His parachute opens violently and then he floats gently towards the ground. One of the Mustangs comes around for what looks like an attack run on the falling pilot. Instead the American flashes past saluting the German. The code of conduct amongst the knights of the air isn’t dead. The man on the receiving end of the salute is Erich Hartmann the deadliest fighter pilot of all time with 352 confirmed victories. Hartmann scored most of his victories fighting the Soviet aircraft on the Eastern front. On one memorable occasion in 1944 he flew two consecutive missions during which he downed 11 enemy aircraft! Flying in an almost constant state of numerical inferiority dodging bursts from Yak fighters and Soviet flak Hartmann had many brushes with death but the closest he got was when he was almost killed by a fellow German. The Soviets are advancing towards the base of Erich’s unit - JG 52. His commanding officer orders Lieutenant Hartmann and seven other pilots to take to the skies and clear the air of enemy fighter-bombers. The squadron takes off and Hartmann soon sights 40 Stormovik bombers escorted by 40 Yak-9 and Lagg-5 fighters. Erich leads his squadron, plunging from above like falcons onto their prey. The BF-109s slice through the enemy fighters, firing burst after burst of machine gun fire. Hartmann then moves on to attacking the Stormoviks. His modus operandi is to approach the target from behind and slightly beneath its tail. Then when the plane fills his windscreen Erich squeezes the trigger. One short burst and the Soviet bomber explodes. The ace then banks away sharply and flies even closer to the second catch of the day. Another hail of bullets and this Stormovik too, flashes into flames. But then a series of bangs startles Hartmann. He has not been hit, but his engine is failing and it’s spewing off smoke. While he still has control of the fighter the pilot decides to crash land onto a field of sunflowers. Erich takes his time to exit the plane reassured by the sight of a German truck approaching. The problem is it’s a captured vehicle and the two soldiers inside bear a Red Star on their caps. He knows he will be taken prisoner but they will have to sweat for it. As the Soviets approach, he feigns injury and the two have to load him onto a stretcher and then onto the bed of the truck. As the vehicle drives behind Soviet lines, the soldiers are distracted by the sound of Stuka dive-bombers. It’s now or never. The apparently wounded pilot
springs to his feet and knocks the guard to the ground then jumps off the truck and sprints away. Walking in the darkness Eric is startled when a voice booms out: “Halt!” Before Erich can identify himself the German sentry fires with his Mauser and a bullet tears through Erich’s trousers! Luckily, the round misses his leg. Before the nervous sentry reloads Hartmann shouts: "I’m a German pilot who has been shot down! For God’s sake, let me come through.” The Soviets had removed all identification from his pockets and the suspicious German sentries march the flying ace to a foxhole at gunpoint. After a tense night and several interrogations Erich Hartmann is escorted back to headquarters. He claimed his 352nd victory on the 8th of May 1945 a Soviet Yak fighter shot down over Brno. Later that day after long and brutal 6 years the war in Europe ended Hartmann and the JG-52 unit were ordered to surrender to the Americans and they surrendered themselves to the US 90th Infantry Division. However Erich and the other pilots of JG-52 were handed over to the Soviets who had not forgotten the pain inflicted by the ace upon the Soviet Union. Erich was convicted by the Soviets as a war criminal and sentenced to 25 years in a POW and forced labour camps. It was a brutal sentence, but one the Soviets considered fully justified given the devastation the German war machine had wreaked upon the Soviet people. The end of captivity came when the Soviets wanted a trade agreement with the West especially West Germany. And part of this deal was the release of all POWs. Hartmann returned to West Germany in 1955. After returning he continued to serve in the Air Force retiring in 1970 with the rank of Colonel. He would continue to fly and would join his old air eagles with fly-ins and naturally he became a flying instructor. Erich Hartmann, the deadliest fighter ace of all time took his last flight on the 20th of September 1993. In 1997 the Russian Federation posthumously quashed all the charges made on him by the Soviet Union. It’s the early morning of June 13th, 1944, in the French town of Villers-Bocage, south of Normandy. Civilians line the town streets, celebrating the arrival of the British soldiers. They hail them as liberators, gifting the rank-and-file men fresh produce in gratitude. It’s a welcoming and uplifting sight. But little do the people know the soldiers are performing a flanking maneuver behind enemy lines. The town is far from safe. Just outside the town, hidden in the bushes lining the many fields a beast stalks its prey. A Tiger tank of the 2nd Company of the 101st SS Heavy Panzer Battalion. Standing atop its cupola is the most decorated German Panzer ace in history; Lieutenant Michael Wittmann. Wittmann looks on at the line of British armor and infantry: Half-tracks, Cromwells, Fireflies, and towed artillery all moving up the highway. They’re taking position at a hill just beyond the town. Their advance had caught him completely by surprise and thoroughly unprepared. His 15-tank company is down to 12 tanks and they’ve had so many mechanical problems only 2 are ready for immediate combat, but Wittmann feels his hands are tied. The British must have already seen him, and if they haven’t it is but a matter of time. Weighing his options he retreats inside the Tiger’s turret and makes a very simple order: “Charge.” The Tiger roars to life, bursting out of the bushes and racing towards the British forces. By sheer chance an NCO in a half-track witnesses the pouncing Tiger and shouts over the radio "For Christ's sake get a move on! There's a Tiger running alongside us fifty yards away!” But it’s too late, the Tiger crashes into the scene, emerging onto the highway behind the stationed troops. Wittmann’s machine turns its turret and immediately fires upon a parked Cromwell tank, destroying it with a single devastating hit from its mighty gun. The British panic and run every which way. A Sherman Firefly starts to turn towards Wittmann, it’s the only machine present capable of posing a danger to the German heavy tank, but it’s facing the completely wrong way, Wittmann’s expert loader is quicker than that vehicle can ever hope to turn. A muzzle flash lights up the highway and the 88mm shell pierces the side of the Firefly, in the blink of an eye it's reduced to a piece of flaming scrap blocking the highway. The second operational Tiger arrives mere moments later from the opposite end of the hill, spreading further panic. The British forces are in total disarray as this new adversary opens up on the field of parked war-machines. Meanwhile Wittmann decides to take the fight into town leaving the hill to his ally. The Tiger turns away from the ongoing battle and drives down the road towards Villers-Bocage. Half-tracks line the road, abandoned by their crews the moment the battle started. Wittmann systematically destroys them, the Tiger unleashing devastation with machine gun and high explosive shells, leaving behind a column of flames and mangled debris. Barreling down now towards the town he sees three Mk V Stuart tanks blocking his path. To his surprise they don’t run and instead the lead Stuart turns to block the road as the rest fire at Wittmann with shells from their tiny guns. They bounce off Wittmann and his crew without any effect. In response the Tiger crew fires at the lead Stuart without hesitation, swiftly destroying it. The Tiger’s sights then turn to the left Stuart, and it too is dealt with in a single brutal shot from the mighty 88, the ensuing explosion fires the little tank’s turret sky-high. The third and last fares much the same. The Tiger then rams the blocking Stuart off the road and carries his rampage into town. He sees a half-track and swiftly takes it out with a High Explosive shell. Immediately upon entering he spots a Cromwell backing away between the houses to the left. Wittmann gives the command and the gunner fires at it from point-blank range. They keep moving and a second Cromwell is spotted up ahead. It fires and its 75mm shell ricochets off the German armor with a deafening clang. Desperate, the crew of the Cromwell fires a smoke canister, but it flies past overhead as the unstoppable Tiger turns its 88mm weapon upon them. In a flash the Tiger shoots the Cromwell, piercing it with ease and setting off a fire. Somehow the crew members survive the impact and hastily stagger out of the machine. Wittmann orders to fire the machinegun upon the survivors who had taken cover behind their wrecked machine. A third Cromwell commanded by Captain Pat Dyas quickly flees the scene, his gunner hadn’t returned when the chaos broke so he’s unable to fire, so he orders his tank into a farm’s garden and takes cover behind a barn. Wittmann’s Tiger rolls past his position, miraculously failing to spot him. As soon as it rolls past Dyas’ gunner emerges from his cover and rejoins the crew. Now fully operational, Dyas and his crew bravely give chase. Meanwhile Wittmann comes across two Observation Post tanks parked on the side of the road, an unarmed Sherman and yet another Cromwell. He swiftly destroys them both and keeps moving down the road when a Sherman Firefly peeks around the corner at the end of the town. It fires and the Firefly’s shell slams against the armor of the Tiger. Somehow it doesn’t pierce, and the Tiger crew desperately attempt to turn the vehicle’s heavy turret. The Firefly fires three more times, but none manage to penetrate. The Tiger fires in haste and it, too, misses its mark, it strikes the side of the building and the entire corner collapses down onto the Firefly below. Aware now of how far he’s gone Wittmann decides it’s time to get out of there, he orders the tank around and they retreat back from where they came. At the same time Dyas is coming down the road with his Cromwell, believing he’s about to surprise the Tiger from behind, but his hopes turn to horror when through the heavy smoke of burning machines he sees the Tiger emerge staring straight towards him. Dyas orders: “Shoot!” and the gunner fires at the enemy head on, but the Cromwell stands no chance. The shell ricochets and the Tiger rolls ominously to a halt. Dyas’ crew manage to fire one more time, but its just as useless, the Tiger returns fire its shell goes straight through the Cromwell’s turret, killing the gunner and loader. Dyas on the opposite side of the turret miraculously survives and hurriedly crawls out of the machine along with the driver. Wittmann then orders his tank off the road hoping to avoid any further encounters and retreat for once. They burst through the fences as they make their way behind the home. Back at the highway a British anti-tank crew runs out of cover. They scour the line of wrecked half-tracks and find one of the towed anti-tank weapons still serviceable. They aim it towards the town waiting for the German war machine to return. Believing that he had already bypassed any survivors Wittmann orders his tank back onto the highway to rejoin his squadron up at the hill, inadvertently wandering right into the crosshairs of the British. In a display of incredible discipline, the gunners don’t fire right away and they take a handful of seconds to carefully aim for the tracks. In a flash the 6 pounder shell flies across the road and slams straight into the Tiger’s sprocket wheel, immobilizing it. The crew of the anti-tank gun instantly bolts for cover as the Tiger’s turret starts to turn. Inside Wittmann and his crew feel a bang and then a sudden stop as their running gear comes undone. They hurriedly scan the area for the enemy, but they’re long gone. Wittmann stays in place for twenty long minutes, turning the turret around and firing at anything that seems to move, but now he knows the situation is untenable and he orders the crew to bail out. They jump out of their tank to no resistance, only surrounded by the distant sounds of battle taking place in the hill ahead. All together, the crew flee into the countryside. The battle would drag on for a whole day, with the British forces surrounded on the hill facing the brunt of it. More German units joined the fray, including one led by Wittmann himself, The British attempted in vain to relieve the hill, they fought valiantly, performing much better once reorganized, but their position behind enemy lines and the initial surprise attack left them vulnerable. In the end the allied forces would retreat back to their proper lines and the surviving soldiers on the hill were taken prisoner. Michael Wittman would be promoted to Hauptsturmführer and awarded swords to his Knight’s Cross. The tale would be exaggerated by the German propaganda machine, and he became a household name. We try to pull together a narrative for these events that have been drowned from several sources but many accounts can fleet no doubt there are errors in our film today. Our last two films are unrelated except the fact that they happened on exactly the same day. It's April 7, 1945 and in the skies over Europe more than 1,000 B-17 Flying Fortresses and B-24 Liberator bombers hurtle towards airfields deep in Germany. They are preparing for a desperate battle in the air. The Luftwaffe is on its last legs. Desperately short on fuel, aircraft and experienced pilots, Germany’s once mighty Air Force lays in ruins. Even diehard senior officers know the end is near, but they’re still planning to put up a valiant defense against Allied aircraft. Desperate times call for desperate measures and the time has come for an unconventional defense. As nerve shattering sirens sound at air bases across the Fatherland, dozens of airmen rush frantically from hangars and climb into ME 262s, Nazi Germany’s advanced jet-powered wonder weapon. Their Jumo turbojet engines whistling reassuringly, the pilots taxi to their assigned runways, then releasing the brakes and shoving the throttles forward they race down the tarmac and lift into the air towards the foreign invaders. High above in the Fortresses and Liberators, bombardiers line up sites, open bomb bay doors and release their lethal payloads. Thousands of feet below, bunkers, runways and hundreds of grounded German aircraft are torn apart by violent explosions, while more than 100 pilots of the top-secret Sonderkommando Elbe unit scramble into their Messerschmitt Bf 109 Gs. It’s an all volunteer force because most of them know they will never return. Their role is to ram their planes into the bombers, ejecting just before, or after, if they survive the impact. The men understand the risks, but they embody the motto of the Sonderkommando: "loyal, valiant, obedient". Minutes later, airborne and en route with their 1,500+ horsepower Daimler-Benz V-12s roaring, they spot the colossal air armada dead ahead. Approaching the targets, the pilots acknowledge each other, knowing that the chances are they won’t see one another again. Entering the fray, it’s a chaotic mishmash of contrails, tracer rounds, screaming Mustangs and hissing 262s maneuvering for kill shots. The gunners are distracted by the 262s and the Sonderkommando try and find a window of opportunity. Fueled by adrenaline, intense patriotism for Germany, and love of family and friends back home, young pilot Heinrich Rosner selects a target and joins in the fight. Without armor and cannons his stripped down 109 has just one machine gun and 50 rounds of ammunition, but it’s lighter, faster, and more maneuverable than the vaunted Mustangs. Now just a few hundred yards away he holds the screaming Messerschmitt steady. The B-24 ahead looms larger and larger but Heinrich’s resolve is unshaken. With a colossal force of will he keeps the plane on target, until at nearly 400 mph it slams into the “Palace of Dallas”, the 389th Bomb Group’s lead B-24. The 109 slices its way through the cockpit taking out the forward crew, then careens violently into a second B-24. Heinrich Rosner, his mission complete, bails out… and unbelievably he survives. Nearby in another 109 Reinhold Hedwig spots a B-17 straight ahead. Streaking along at full-throttle and struggling to maintain his course, he’s just about to ram it into oblivion when tracer rounds rocket past his canopy. Instinctively jerking his head to see what’s behind him, it’s already too late. A mustang is on his tail and he’s riddled with .50 caliber bullets from a P-51’s eight heavy machine guns. He and his Messerschmitt plummet to the ground. Nearly identical scenes are playing out everywhere. Hans Nagel manages to shoot down a B-17 from the 490th Bomb Group, only to be killed while moments later ramming another. Heinrich Henkel takes out a B-24 called “Sacktime” from the 467th. Eberhard Prock plows into a Flying Fortress fatally damaging both it and his own aircraft. He manages to pop the canopy, bail out and deploy his parachute. But these fanatical attacks are shaking the allies and he’s strafed by an indignant Mustang pilot and is dead by the time he hits the ground. All told, most of the Sonderkommando Elbe pilots who took to the skies on April 7 were shot down by Mustangs and the bombers’ door, turret and tail gunners. Only 15 managed to ram their targets, and of those who did only a few managed to inflict significant engine, cockpit and control surface damage. As a result just 8 American bombers were downed. German pilots had spontaneously rammed enemy aircraft earlier in the war, but the Sonderkommando Elbe raid was the first time the tactic was officially used. American bombers destroyed more than 300 aircraft that day, and another 700 a week later, effectively wiping out the Luftwaffe. Due to ineffectiveness and high losses, the Sonderkommando Elbe never flew again. It’s the dawn of the 7th of April 1945, off the south coast of Japan. 10 shadows stretch across the sea’s surface in the early morning sunshine. A formation, breaking through the waves, onwards to their fate. In the center is a giant. A 72 thousand ton behemoth. It’s a battleship bigger than anything that’s come before or since. Armed with 9 18-inch cannons firing 3,000 pound shells, 16 inches of armor across the waterline, and secondary weapons bigger than the main armament of the destroyers around her, she’s the pride of the Japanese Imperial Navy, the symbol of the Japanese’s unwavering resolve – the Yamato. On board Admiral Ito Seiichi looks on from his command seat, supervising the flurry of coordinated and well-practiced activity before him with the characteristic calculating coldness of any good Japanese Officer. Their mission is simple and brutal. Operation Ten-Go involves the entire fleet charging the American ships providing artillery support to the invasion of Okinawa. They are to throw themselves straight through the enemy, beach all 10 ships ashore, and fight to the last. Things are going smoothly when an officer calls to him, relaying that an American flying boat has been spotted shadowing them, Ito orders to open fire and a handful of anti-aircraft guns come to life, but the plane hides behind clouds before any of the gunners can judge distance and escapes unscathed. The morning passes and the day carries on when the bridge receives more bad news. A Japanese-held island communicates that over 250 American war planes are headed straight for the ships. It’s exactly what he expected, and exactly what they aren’t prepared for. He cedes strategic command to Captain Kosaku Aruga and retreats to his seat. Meanwhile, sailor Kazuhiro Fukumoto is passing time on the deck with some friends. He is young and unafraid. After all, what is there to fear with the power of the mighty Yamato on your side? Then, the alarms blare. The friends scatter and immediately run to their battle stations. Kazuhiro runs across the deck, evading other rushing sailors as he rushes for his post on the opposite side of the ship. Anti-air weapons rise towards the sky, locked and loaded. The gunners keep a watchful eye, scanning the never-ending blanket of clouds. Then, everything falls silent. There is a hum of distant engine noises in the sky, spiking the nerves of everyone on deck. Gunners grip their controls, aware they are staring at the angels of death, determined to fight to the bitter end. The noises get louder... and louder... In a flash a wave of warplanes pierce through the clouds, diving straight towards the mighty ship. The cacophony of anti-aircraft weapons roars and streaks of shining tracers fire into the sky. It’s a swarm of warplanes, dozens after dozens fall upon the mighty battleship, braving the wall of Japanese lead. The gunners fire non-stop towards their targets, giving it their all. But they do little. The fighters respond in kind. A hailstorm of .50 caliber bullets tears through the deck, ripping through metal and people alike. Shrapnel and ricochets fly in every which way as the enemy zooms over their heads. Anti-aircraft guns spin in all directions, gunners tracking their own targets without orders. Muzzle flashes and fumes take hold of the lower superstructure as everything is fired into the sky. Kazuhiro can hear the chaos unfolding behind him as he hurries into the lower deck. He reaches the damage control station and barges into the room. Inside he finds his superior and a few fellow sailors, sitting patiently, waiting to be summoned. Nervously, he joins them in silence, listening the gunfire and explosions that are happening overhead. Back outside the sky is alight with tracers. The anti-aircraft gunners are struggling, planes come down from the clouds, strafe, and disappear back into the sky just as fast as they appeared, leaving them little time to react and take a good shot. There’s just too many. Then a massive explosion sends shockwaves across the deck. The main batteries of the Yamato fire into the sky. Special beehive shells explode into the air creating a giant cloud of burning phosphorus shards. The big weapons though are completely incapable of tracking enemy aircraft in such low flight. The strafing runs do not falter, bullets and bombs keep raining down mercilessly. Exposed anti air gunners suffer greatly, they fall in droves with every attack. Brave souls dash across the exposed deck to replace their fallen brothers only to suffer the same fate. The attack ends as suddenly as it began, the planes simply disappearing through the clouds and not coming back. In their wake they leave utter devastation. The deck is covered in men, bullet holes, shrapnel, and blood, and a fire burns in the superstructure. Despite the human suffering, the ship itself suffers little more than superficial damage. Her seaworthiness is unaffected, and Kazuhiro’s team remains in standby. Back at the bridge Admiral Ito remains quiet amidst the chaos. Orders and status updates fill the air as the Captain attempts to regroup and prepare for more attacks. Ito doesn’t intervene. He knows the end result is inevitable. The ship continues sailing towards Okinawa for an hour until the dreaded rumble of engines once again sounds through the clouds. It all becomes a blur as the battle resumes with the same brutality as before. Fighters and bombers fall upon the ship, explosions rock the deck and one by one the anti-air weapons fall silent, no more brave men are present to replace the fallen gunners. In the lower deck Kazuhiro’s team is ordered further into the ship. He goes down with 5 more people to the second lowest deck, the ship rumbles and creeks around him, each explosion sending shockwaves through the hull. His commanding officer orders two of the group to go further down into the lowest deck to investigate for damage. Simultaneously, torpedo bombers skim the waves and release their deadly payloads. The captain orders evasive maneuvers, but they are of no use. Kazuhiro watches as two fellow sailors adventure into the lower decks and close the hatch behind them. Mere seconds later a massive BANG reverberates through the ship, the lights go out and water gushes up the hatch, quickly flooding the hallway. He stumbles in the pitch dark, searching desperately for the way back up as the water level reaches his chest and his feet leave the floor. Then, miraculously, something shines weakly above them. The hatch to the upper floor opens slightly from the air pressure, letting a sliver of light through. The men swim towards it and push it open; they climb up moments before their pocket of air disappears. They close the hatch behind them, but they watch horrified as seawater shoots up through the seals. Desperate to stop further flooding and believing the hatch was going to burst, they search for a way to reinforce it. The Yamato is mortally wounded, she’s taking in water, listing, and there are no longer enough surviving crew members to rescue her. A new alarm joins the symphony of gunshots and explosions: the forward magazine is at a critical temperature. Captain Aruga orders its flooding to prevent catastrophic detonation, but he’s informed the pumps are inoperable. He stares out into the distance, exhausted and defeated. It’s all over. He orders “Abandon ship”. Admiral Ito stands up from his seat. “Cancel the operation. Return to port after rescuing the men,” he orders. It’s the only thing he’s said since the start of the battle. A signal man runs out of the bridge to inform the rest of the ships of their new orders. The Admiral then thanks the crew on the bridge and solemnly leaves for his cabin. Captain Aruga then dismisses the remaining crew and orders them to abandon ship as well. Back under the deck Kazuhiro and his crew jam a metal beam between the hatch and the roof, a desperate and futile attempt to slow the flooding. His commanding officer can see its all over and yells at the group. “Everyone up!” The sailors abandon their work and rush to the upper deck as the ship lists further and further underneath them. They emerge to a chaotic scene. The guns have stopped firing, men are jumping overboard, and the wounded are being tended on the ground, all the while the ship lists further and further to port. His officer orders them to throw everything that floats overboard: logs, mats, hammocks, whatever. The port railing sinks into the waves and the waterline starts taking over the deck as starboard rises up further and further. Standing up becomes a struggle, he almost slips down the smooth deck into the ocean. It’s then that Kazuhiro and his group decide it’s time to abandon ship. He jumps off the stern into the murky water below. He tries to swim up, but he can’t. The propellers still spin, and he is sucked into the whirlpools. The wrecked and burning battleship slowly turns over as the men jump overboard, guns fall into the waves below when the forward magazine detonates. The resulting mushroom cloud is seen from mainland Japan. Kazuhiro emerges from the sea some distance away. He’s disoriented. Several black columns of smoke rise all around him, a film of oil floats over the water and he can see many people floating in the distance. Close by he spots a group of survivors on a raft and joins them. Two and a half hours later, a Japanese destroyer approaches the raft and picks the men up from the water. Only 287 men of the more than 3300 would be rescued, Kazuhiro was one of the lucky few. He survived the war and went back to his family. He was only 18. Admiral Ito and Captain Aruga went down with the ship. Operation Ten-Go was a total catastrophe. Of Yamato’s escorts 5 of the 9 sank alongside her, and a 6th would be sunk later due to her damage. It would be the last major naval operation of Japan before the end of the War. Thank you for staying with us to the end of this compilation. When you subscribe, comment and share our films, it really helps to keep the channel alive. As does being on our membership program, so please consider joining. Thank you.
