Sad and funny war stories?

Question

Does anyone know and sad and/or funny war stories?
Please don't be idiot and say all war is sad, war isn't funny, we shoudn't have war.... blah blah blah.
I'm trying to find the good side of war along with the sad side.
Mainly from WWII.

I'm just after some stories.

Thank you and I hope you don't get offended by this question. (how the hell would you?

Answer 1

my grand dad broke his leg in Egypt whilst playing football on some down time, then when he was getting brought back the medic ship he was on got sunk and he said he was totally pooping hot bricks cos this other guy said that he would sink like a rock with the plaster cast on...............it was not until he got into the water he said that he actually remembered he could not swim very well to start with and the bloody leg cast kept him afloat. He would roar with laughter when telling this...............

Answer 2

When my dad was in the military, peace time in Germany, artillery shelled tent city killing 10 or so guys.

He was also in a half track at a cross road. This tank on one side of the intersection was swinging its cannon around and pinned the driver of the half track to the sterring wheel killing the driver.

Answer 3

By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Answer 4

while i replaced into little (long term in the past) my sister replaced into looking after me and my brother, she had approximately 5 or 6 of her acquaintances from college around. They desperate to to the 'glass' (that's what we used to call the ouija board) all of them positioned their arms on the upturned glass and started out to assert 'is there each and every individual there' a number of the youngsters (elderly 15) have been given a message whether made up with the help of the different teenagers or in spite of, yet one female stated the failings she replaced into informed with the help of the spelling out of words no person else knew approximately. besides between the adult men blew ciggie smoke into the glass and that they started out back. The glass without notice started out to spin around and around violently and spelt out G.O.D then smashed. I understand now that it replaced into extra advantageous than possibly the smoke that made the glass smash and the lad doing the spelling, yet elderly approximately 8 it replaced into frightening. I wrote this tale with names and slightly longer and have been given an A for the essay in English as quickly as I went to Senior college.

Answer 5

Okay...this isn't really a war story.

But my husband is deployed and we were on the phone together once and I heard a loud noise coming from his end. He farted! And I could hear it over the phone!

It was so funny...laughing really helps him while at war!

Answer 6

here's a good web site.

Answer 7

My Dad and his identical twin brother were both in WWII, both in the Army Air Corps... Dad was terrified of heights, so he became an airplane mechanic, Uncle E became a pilot. I heard a few tales of their adventures overseas during the war, some were humorous and some were just scary! Dad told of being scared to pieces by some of the flyboys when they talked him into taking a test flight one time... said they kept feeling a bump bump bump and when he looked out the window, another plane was tapping wings with them! Of course, the pilots just thought his reaction was hilarious, he was near fainting!

Here's a story from Uncle E about his journey home from Italy, this was read at his funeral and had everyone simply amazed:

"Note: The following is a "word for word" transcription of Emmett's story of the experience as he recorded it on cassette tape in July, 1992.

He says, "I might just ramble on about my trip back to the "States" from Italy. Nothing world shakin' about it but maybe worthy of mention. There were nine fighter pilots from the 31st, several from the 308th Squadron leaving Foggia on April 15, 1944 to return back to the States. Jack Gumph was one, Hugh Midgett, Dan Teachworth, 'Porky' Connors (I don't recall what his first name was), Gerald Carver, Myself, and three other fella's, and I don't remember their names." (Ed: How about Chapman, Guarino, and Holland?)

We flew in a DC-3 to Algiers and stayed overnight. I got bumped on the following day on the trip to Casablanca and had to wait an extra day. Then I rode on to Casablanca in a nice plush C-54. We all milled around the airport for several days staying at the "Hotel DeGink", a hangar stacked up with steel beds. There was a lot of crap games going on twenty-four hours a day.

Our return papers stated we could "get back home anyway we were able to find a ride! "Well... Porky got us all together one day and was really excited... we had a ride back!... in an old B-17 which a couple of guys were taking back for a War Bond Drive. They had a crew of five, Pilot, Co-pilot, Radio Operator, Navigator, and the Crew Chief. We flew to Maraketsch, down in the desert, and stopped there to refuel and then on to Dakar to spend the night. So far... So good! Everybody was happy with the flight.

The next morning the Pilot asked if we minded them going on down to Akraw on the "Gold Coast" to visit some friends instead of going across to South America. We said, "Hell, we're just passengers, do what you want to do." So, that's what he decided, and we headed south.

Some time later, when we were flying over a jungle country where you couldn't see the ground, Connors, who had been up at the cockpit, came back and said, "Everyone get your 'chutes on, we've lost number three engine. He said the oil pressure was down to 19 pounds and not enough to feather the prop'." We fighter pilots didn't have any idea what would happen if the damn thing continued to windmill. I thought maybe it would throw the engine off, or put us in a spin, or whatever.

Well, nothing happened, and after while everyone took chutes off and relaxed, until someone came back again, and said "Guys, we're losing number two engine the same way!" So the Radio Operator started a "May-Day" sending out radio messages. It was about this time that we found out that the pilot had only about 10 hours of pilot time in a B-17, and the Co-pilot had not first time and only 5 hours of co-pilot time! So, they headed southwest to get out of the jungle territory and over the coastline. As we flew down the coast we had radio contact with a civilian airliner and told him about our predicament. So, we were going on number one and four engines.

Well, we opened the side door, and I don't remember whether we jettisoned the door or what we did with it. But anyway, we had the open door, and Hugh Midgett found an axe in there and he was chopping off armor plate trying to lighten the load. Someone was carrying it back to the door. Another guy and I stood at the door without chutes on, which is a "no-no", and tossed the armor plates out, watching them fall. We'd gotten down to about 7,000 feet, and had thrown out quite a lot of excess stuff.

Then we went up to the cockpit to see how things were going. The pilot and co-pilot were arguing about what to do. Number four was losing some oil pressure, and the co-pilot thought we should get on down, while the rest said, "Hold the altitude as long as you can... we can always lose it but we can't get it back!"

So, we held altitude until number four was gone, and incidentally, the co-pilot, this is the only time I've ever in my life seen somebody sit in the cockpit and cry, .... and that's what he was doing! Now we're flying on number one engine and the pilot decided that was about it so they're going to ditch the airplane outside of the breakers, in smooth water.

We landed in the water at 3:30 PM. The landing was good... we hit the water at about 90 mph, and the airplane went under the surface, came back up and floated. Everyone was seated against a bulkhead, and as water gushed in from the open door it threw us up against the ceiling of the airplane.

We all began to get out as quickly as we could, and one dinghy on the right filled with six men. The other on the left was slow to inflate and only three men in it and the rest of them in the water except me. I sat on the plane and reached down into the airplane and picked up a leather jacket and threw it into the right dinghy. I don't know why in the hell I did that but anyway, I did! Just about that time someone yelled, "Look at that wave!"

I started to look and it slapped me in the face. When I could turn, I saw that the whole tail section of the airplane from about 3-1/2 feet behind me was standing straight up in the air! Thinking that it was going to fall on me, I stood up and jumped as far as I could into the water. I noticed too, when I started to jump, that the wing tips were knocked off by that first wave. The plane was completely torn in two by the first wave and had separated. The tail section had fallen back away from me. The two pieces floated along. The men were thrown from the dinghies and were at the mercy of the high tide. We were roughly 3/4 of a mile out.

The Crew Chief was holding onto a rope around the outside of the dinghy, and when everybody was thrown out, he held on to the rope and the dinghy shot him in toward shore at a pretty good clip. He stood and watched as everyone else struggled. All thirteen made it. The airliner flying south, also flew low over us on the beach. We indicated we were all OK and he went on to Acraw.

The next day, a PBY came up and landed in a lake a mile or so away. We boarded it for the trip to Acraw. We had ditched about 180 miles from Takarati, down the Ivory Coast.

The rest of the trip from Akraw to Miami was on a C-46. We looked like a bunch of bums, but we were glad to get back.

CERTIFIED TRUE TRANSCRIBED; February 15, 1993

~~~~~~~
And the poem read at Uncle's Funeral had me in tears:

High Flight - - Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr., RCAF

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless falls of air.

Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,

I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew

And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untresspassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

:`\

Good luck gathering stories!