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Flight Lieutenant Harry Cave flew 31 operations over Germany in a Lancaster and came home. Most men in Bomber Command never got that ending. Of every 100 who served, 45 were killed. Across the force, more than 55,000 aircrew died, over 10,400 of them Canadian. A man in a...

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Project '44

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23,767 views • 2 months ago •via X (Twitter)

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THIS GUY BUILT REAL FLYING SWORD DRONES AND CONTROLS THEM WITH HAND GESTURES fan shisan is a physics student in chengdu who coded and built flying drones shaped like actual swords he controls them entirely with hand gestures. no controller or a phone. just his hands wave your hand and the sword follows. point and it flies where you direct it. multiple swords in the air at the same time responding to different gestures he built the gesture recognition system HIMSELF and coded the flight control algorithms. designed the drone hardware in the shape of swords. the gesture tracking uses sensors that read the position and movement of his hands in real time and translate them into flight commands for each drone independently he even built one large enough to ride on a physics student with coding skills just brought something straight out of a kung fu movie into the real world the line between science fiction and side projects is getting thinner every month
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THIS GUY BUILT REAL FLYING SWORD DRONES AND CONTROLS THEM WITH HAND GESTURES fan shisan is a physics student in chengdu who coded and built flying drones shaped like actual swords he controls them entirely with hand gestures. no controller or a phone. just his hands wave your hand and the sword follows. point and it flies where you direct it. multiple swords in the air at the same time responding to different gestures he built the gesture recognition system HIMSELF and coded the flight control algorithms. designed the drone hardware in the shape of swords. the gesture tracking uses sensors that read the position and movement of his hands in real time and translate them into flight commands for each drone independently he even built one large enough to ride on a physics student with coding skills just brought something straight out of a kung fu movie into the real world the line between science fiction and side projects is getting thinner every month

Om Patel

307,609 views • 3 months ago

This is a real US Army Air Corps recruiting film, the kind shown in movie theaters during World War II. Young men watched it between features, and on the way out, they were told to stop at the box office and sign up. And thousands of them did, knowing exactly how dangerous it was. This is the story of the generation that answered.. A Night at the Movies Picture the moment. A young man sits in a darkened theater in 1943, somewhere in small-town America. Between the newsreel and the feature, this film flickers onto the screen. Sleek fighters rolling through the clouds. Great bombers thundering into the sky. Men with silver wings on their chests. For a generation of boys who had grown up watching aircraft pass overhead and dreaming of flight, it was everything. The chance to fly, to serve, to be part of the greatest fight of their lives. At the end came the invitation. Stop by the box office on your way out for complete information. One famous recruiting film of the era led more than 150,000 young men to sign up to fly. All across the country, ordinary young men walked out of a movie theater and toward a recruiting desk. Farm boys, factory workers, students, clerks. Most had never flown in their lives. Many had never left their home state. They were about to enter the most dangerous skies on Earth. They Knew the Risks They did not go in blind. By 1943, the young men signing up had a fair idea of what they were choosing. They had read the casualty lists in their local papers. They knew boys from their own towns who had gone up and not come back. Word traveled. Everyone understood that flying in combat was among the most dangerous things a person could do in the entire war. The numbers behind that feeling were staggering. The Eighth Air Force, flying from England, would lose more than 26,000 men killed. That is more fatal casualties than the entire United States Marine Corps suffered in all of World War Two. For the men in the bombers, the air crews, the death rate climbed higher than in almost any other branch of the service. In the darkest stretch of 1943, only about one in four Eighth Air Force bomber crewmen completed a full tour of missions. They knew. And they signed up anyway. The Most Dangerous Skies on Earth What waited for them was a kind of combat no generation had ever faced before. The bomber crews flew in daylight, deep into enemy territory, often before long-range fighter escorts could protect the whole way. They climbed to 25,000 feet, where the air was so thin they needed oxygen to breathe and so cold, around forty below, that exposed skin could freeze in moments. And then the enemy came. German fighters slashing through their formations. Anti-aircraft shells, called flak, bursting all around them, filling the sky with jagged steel. One airman described it as being trapped in a game of Russian roulette. You were going to be hit, he said. It was only a question of where, and when. The fighter pilots faced their own trials, dueling enemy aces, nursing shot-up aircraft home over the sea, taking off again and again knowing the odds caught up with almost everyone eventually. These were boys, many of them still teenagers, doing all of this miles above the earth. They Kept Going Up And here is the thing that should stay with us. They kept going up. A bomber crew might watch the plane beside them explode, see friends fall from the sky, land with their aircraft torn to pieces, and then be told they were flying again the next morning. And they went. Not because they were fearless, but because they had a job to finish and men beside them who were counting on them. They wrote calm letters home so their mothers would not worry. They gave their aircraft cheerful names and painted them on the nose. They found ways to laugh between missions that might kill them. And when the call came, they climbed back into the cockpit. That quiet, stubborn courage, repeated by hundreds of thousands of young men, is what won the war in the air. The Generation That Answered When you watch that old recruiting film now, it is easy to see only the polished images and the confident narrator. But remember what it really was. An invitation, offered to a generation of ordinary young Americans, to step out of a movie theater and into history. And remember that they took it, freely, knowing the price might be everything. Many of them never came home. They are buried under white crosses in England, in France, in Italy, and beneath the seas they flew over. The boys who did come home rarely bragged about it. They went back to their farms and factories and families and quietly built the country we live in now. They were not born heroes. They were just young men in a movie theater, who stood up when their country asked, and answered. This was the story of the generation that answered. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.
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This is a real US Army Air Corps recruiting film, the kind shown in movie theaters during World War II. Young men watched it between features, and on the way out, they were told to stop at the box office and sign up. And thousands of them did, knowing exactly how dangerous it was. This is the story of the generation that answered.. A Night at the Movies Picture the moment. A young man sits in a darkened theater in 1943, somewhere in small-town America. Between the newsreel and the feature, this film flickers onto the screen. Sleek fighters rolling through the clouds. Great bombers thundering into the sky. Men with silver wings on their chests. For a generation of boys who had grown up watching aircraft pass overhead and dreaming of flight, it was everything. The chance to fly, to serve, to be part of the greatest fight of their lives. At the end came the invitation. Stop by the box office on your way out for complete information. One famous recruiting film of the era led more than 150,000 young men to sign up to fly. All across the country, ordinary young men walked out of a movie theater and toward a recruiting desk. Farm boys, factory workers, students, clerks. Most had never flown in their lives. Many had never left their home state. They were about to enter the most dangerous skies on Earth. They Knew the Risks They did not go in blind. By 1943, the young men signing up had a fair idea of what they were choosing. They had read the casualty lists in their local papers. They knew boys from their own towns who had gone up and not come back. Word traveled. Everyone understood that flying in combat was among the most dangerous things a person could do in the entire war. The numbers behind that feeling were staggering. The Eighth Air Force, flying from England, would lose more than 26,000 men killed. That is more fatal casualties than the entire United States Marine Corps suffered in all of World War Two. For the men in the bombers, the air crews, the death rate climbed higher than in almost any other branch of the service. In the darkest stretch of 1943, only about one in four Eighth Air Force bomber crewmen completed a full tour of missions. They knew. And they signed up anyway. The Most Dangerous Skies on Earth What waited for them was a kind of combat no generation had ever faced before. The bomber crews flew in daylight, deep into enemy territory, often before long-range fighter escorts could protect the whole way. They climbed to 25,000 feet, where the air was so thin they needed oxygen to breathe and so cold, around forty below, that exposed skin could freeze in moments. And then the enemy came. German fighters slashing through their formations. Anti-aircraft shells, called flak, bursting all around them, filling the sky with jagged steel. One airman described it as being trapped in a game of Russian roulette. You were going to be hit, he said. It was only a question of where, and when. The fighter pilots faced their own trials, dueling enemy aces, nursing shot-up aircraft home over the sea, taking off again and again knowing the odds caught up with almost everyone eventually. These were boys, many of them still teenagers, doing all of this miles above the earth. They Kept Going Up And here is the thing that should stay with us. They kept going up. A bomber crew might watch the plane beside them explode, see friends fall from the sky, land with their aircraft torn to pieces, and then be told they were flying again the next morning. And they went. Not because they were fearless, but because they had a job to finish and men beside them who were counting on them. They wrote calm letters home so their mothers would not worry. They gave their aircraft cheerful names and painted them on the nose. They found ways to laugh between missions that might kill them. And when the call came, they climbed back into the cockpit. That quiet, stubborn courage, repeated by hundreds of thousands of young men, is what won the war in the air. The Generation That Answered When you watch that old recruiting film now, it is easy to see only the polished images and the confident narrator. But remember what it really was. An invitation, offered to a generation of ordinary young Americans, to step out of a movie theater and into history. And remember that they took it, freely, knowing the price might be everything. Many of them never came home. They are buried under white crosses in England, in France, in Italy, and beneath the seas they flew over. The boys who did come home rarely bragged about it. They went back to their farms and factories and families and quietly built the country we live in now. They were not born heroes. They were just young men in a movie theater, who stood up when their country asked, and answered. This was the story of the generation that answered. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.

Untold War Stories

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What is it like to document a war that destroys you home country and forces millions of your people to flee? Ala Kheir shares his reflections and the story of one of the photos that affected him the most since he started documenting the war in his home country Sudan.
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What is it like to document a war that destroys you home country and forces millions of your people to flee? Ala Kheir shares his reflections and the story of one of the photos that affected him the most since he started documenting the war in his home country Sudan.

UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency

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During my reporting in Japan, I came across this man who searches the caves of Okinawa for the remains of those who died in WWII. He’s one of many who still live with the horrors of that war, and he’s more worried than ever that his island will once again become a graveyard.
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During my reporting in Japan, I came across this man who searches the caves of Okinawa for the remains of those who died in WWII. He’s one of many who still live with the horrors of that war, and he’s more worried than ever that his island will once again become a graveyard.

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I make games, and one of the hardest part is always the world. A map that feels real, coherent, alive. So I'm introducing Bmap. Draw a box anywhere on Earth, and it rebuilds that place as a clean 3D world: terrain, every street and building, the coast, the parks, the rivers. A real city, 1:1, in your browser, in seconds. But the map is just the first piece. Real cities are already the perfect game maps, the layout, the density, the logic of a place that actually works. Bmap's mission is to unlock them: take any real place and turn it into a living world you can shape and play in. The generator is live today. Where it goes next is the part I'm most excited about. 👀 It's free. Everyone who joined the waitlist is already in. New here? Sign in too and you're on the list, I'm opening the rest in waves. Building in public. Come watch real cities become worlds. →
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I make games, and one of the hardest part is always the world. A map that feels real, coherent, alive. So I'm introducing Bmap. Draw a box anywhere on Earth, and it rebuilds that place as a clean 3D world: terrain, every street and building, the coast, the parks, the rivers. A real city, 1:1, in your browser, in seconds. But the map is just the first piece. Real cities are already the perfect game maps, the layout, the density, the logic of a place that actually works. Bmap's mission is to unlock them: take any real place and turn it into a living world you can shape and play in. The generator is live today. Where it goes next is the part I'm most excited about. 👀 It's free. Everyone who joined the waitlist is already in. New here? Sign in too and you're on the list, I'm opening the rest in waves. Building in public. Come watch real cities become worlds. →

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15,163 views • 2 months ago

Every flight with us is more than a flight, it is an experience designed with comfort and convenience in mind. Former Anambra State Governor and presidential candidate, Mr. Peter Obi, flew with us on our London flight and he described his experience as smooth and exciting. He also highlighted the added convenience of the complimentary SIMPLAA drop-off ride service for Business Class and First Class passengers. We remain committed to proudly connecting Nigeria to the world with comfort every step of the way. #FlyAirPeace #LondonWithAirPeace #BetterDealWithAirPeace
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Every flight with us is more than a flight, it is an experience designed with comfort and convenience in mind. Former Anambra State Governor and presidential candidate, Mr. Peter Obi, flew with us on our London flight and he described his experience as smooth and exciting. He also highlighted the added convenience of the complimentary SIMPLAA drop-off ride service for Business Class and First Class passengers. We remain committed to proudly connecting Nigeria to the world with comfort every step of the way. #FlyAirPeace #LondonWithAirPeace #BetterDealWithAirPeace

Air Peace

44,366 views • 3 months ago

Two air forces started the Pacific war. One trained its pilots, then kept them fighting until they died. The other trained its pilots, then often pulled many of its experienced combat pilots out to teach everyone else. This is one of the reasons America won the Pacific air war, let's dive in.. Japan's Elite Aviators At the start of the war, Japan had some of the finest fighter pilots in the world. The aviators who attacked Pearl Harbor were elite. Many had hundreds of hours in the cockpit and real combat experience from the fighting in China. Flying the nimble A6M Zero, they cut through Allied opposition in the early months of the war and earned a fearsome reputation. But Japan made a fateful choice about these men. It kept them in combat, more or less indefinitely. Japanese pilots flew mission after mission with no real system to rotate them home. They fought until they were shot down, crippled, or killed. It seemed ruthless and efficient. In reality, it was a slow-motion disaster. The Difference in Philosophy Because every time Japan lost one of those veterans, everything he knew died with him. America did the opposite. It regularly rotated many of its experienced combat pilots back home once they had done their share of fighting. There, they became instructors, pouring everything they had learned in real air combat directly into the next generation of pilots. So the two systems pulled in opposite directions. Japan's pool of skill drained away with every ace it buried. America's pool of skill grew, as each returning veteran multiplied his knowledge across hundreds of students. One nation was teaching. The other was simply dying. The Training Gap The gap became a chasm, and it was made worse by sheer scale. By 1944, the United States was training around 8,000 new aviators every month, each of them getting well over a year of instruction and hundreds of hours in the air before they ever saw combat. Japan could not come close. As its veterans vanished, its training program collapsed, and it was crippled by something else, too. Fuel. Japan was running so short of it that many trainees could barely fly enough hours to learn their trade. By the later part of the war, Japanese pilots were being rushed into battle with barely 100 hours of flying time, and sometimes far less. They were teenagers with almost no training, being sent up against American veterans who had been taught by the best combat pilots in the fleet. The outcome was no longer a contest. It was a slaughter. The Great Marianas Turkey Shoot Nowhere was that clearer than in the skies over the Mariana Islands in June 1944. When the Japanese launched hundreds of aircraft against the American fleet, they flew into a wall of Hellcat fighters, guided by radar and expert fighter direction that positioned the Americans at the perfect height and moment to strike. The green Japanese pilots in their now outdated Zeros never had a chance. In and around that battle, Japan lost nearly 480 aircraft, while the Americans lost only a few dozen. It was so one-sided that the American aviators nicknamed it the Great Marianas Turkey Shoot. Japan's naval air power, once the terror of the Pacific, was broken in a matter of days. Better Aircraft, Better Technology It was not only the pilots. It was the machines too. America kept producing better and better aircraft, like the tough, heavily armed F6F Hellcat, designed after studying a captured Zero and built to beat it. It could take punishment, out-dive and out-gun its opponent, and it was forgiving enough that even a less experienced pilot could survive his first fights and become a veteran. Over the war, Hellcat pilots claimed more than 5,000 enemy aircraft for a tiny fraction of that in losses. Japan, meanwhile, kept sending men up in the aging Zero, a plane that had been revolutionary in 1941 but was now underpowered, fragile, and outclassed. It was fast and agile, but a single burst of American fire could tear it apart, because it had traded armor and protection for maneuverability. Better pilots, in better planes, backed by better technology. The advantages stacked on top of one another. The Spiral Ends By the end, Japan had reached the final, desperate stage of the spiral. With almost no trained pilots left, and no way to make more in time, it turned to the kamikaze. A pilot did not need 500 hours of training to crash his aircraft into a ship. He only needed to take off, aim, and die. It was the last resort of an air force that had run out of the one thing it could never mass produce. Experienced men. America won the Pacific air war for many reasons. Its factories out-built the enemy. Its radar and intelligence gave it eyes the Japanese lacked. Its aircraft grew deadlier every year. But underneath all of it was something simpler. America treated its best pilots as a resource to be protected and passed on. Japan treated them as fuel to be burned. One of those choices built an air force that kept getting stronger. The other burned brightly, and then burned out. This was why America won the Pacific air war. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.
0:30

Two air forces started the Pacific war. One trained its pilots, then kept them fighting until they died. The other trained its pilots, then often pulled many of its experienced combat pilots out to teach everyone else. This is one of the reasons America won the Pacific air war, let's dive in.. Japan's Elite Aviators At the start of the war, Japan had some of the finest fighter pilots in the world. The aviators who attacked Pearl Harbor were elite. Many had hundreds of hours in the cockpit and real combat experience from the fighting in China. Flying the nimble A6M Zero, they cut through Allied opposition in the early months of the war and earned a fearsome reputation. But Japan made a fateful choice about these men. It kept them in combat, more or less indefinitely. Japanese pilots flew mission after mission with no real system to rotate them home. They fought until they were shot down, crippled, or killed. It seemed ruthless and efficient. In reality, it was a slow-motion disaster. The Difference in Philosophy Because every time Japan lost one of those veterans, everything he knew died with him. America did the opposite. It regularly rotated many of its experienced combat pilots back home once they had done their share of fighting. There, they became instructors, pouring everything they had learned in real air combat directly into the next generation of pilots. So the two systems pulled in opposite directions. Japan's pool of skill drained away with every ace it buried. America's pool of skill grew, as each returning veteran multiplied his knowledge across hundreds of students. One nation was teaching. The other was simply dying. The Training Gap The gap became a chasm, and it was made worse by sheer scale. By 1944, the United States was training around 8,000 new aviators every month, each of them getting well over a year of instruction and hundreds of hours in the air before they ever saw combat. Japan could not come close. As its veterans vanished, its training program collapsed, and it was crippled by something else, too. Fuel. Japan was running so short of it that many trainees could barely fly enough hours to learn their trade. By the later part of the war, Japanese pilots were being rushed into battle with barely 100 hours of flying time, and sometimes far less. They were teenagers with almost no training, being sent up against American veterans who had been taught by the best combat pilots in the fleet. The outcome was no longer a contest. It was a slaughter. The Great Marianas Turkey Shoot Nowhere was that clearer than in the skies over the Mariana Islands in June 1944. When the Japanese launched hundreds of aircraft against the American fleet, they flew into a wall of Hellcat fighters, guided by radar and expert fighter direction that positioned the Americans at the perfect height and moment to strike. The green Japanese pilots in their now outdated Zeros never had a chance. In and around that battle, Japan lost nearly 480 aircraft, while the Americans lost only a few dozen. It was so one-sided that the American aviators nicknamed it the Great Marianas Turkey Shoot. Japan's naval air power, once the terror of the Pacific, was broken in a matter of days. Better Aircraft, Better Technology It was not only the pilots. It was the machines too. America kept producing better and better aircraft, like the tough, heavily armed F6F Hellcat, designed after studying a captured Zero and built to beat it. It could take punishment, out-dive and out-gun its opponent, and it was forgiving enough that even a less experienced pilot could survive his first fights and become a veteran. Over the war, Hellcat pilots claimed more than 5,000 enemy aircraft for a tiny fraction of that in losses. Japan, meanwhile, kept sending men up in the aging Zero, a plane that had been revolutionary in 1941 but was now underpowered, fragile, and outclassed. It was fast and agile, but a single burst of American fire could tear it apart, because it had traded armor and protection for maneuverability. Better pilots, in better planes, backed by better technology. The advantages stacked on top of one another. The Spiral Ends By the end, Japan had reached the final, desperate stage of the spiral. With almost no trained pilots left, and no way to make more in time, it turned to the kamikaze. A pilot did not need 500 hours of training to crash his aircraft into a ship. He only needed to take off, aim, and die. It was the last resort of an air force that had run out of the one thing it could never mass produce. Experienced men. America won the Pacific air war for many reasons. Its factories out-built the enemy. Its radar and intelligence gave it eyes the Japanese lacked. Its aircraft grew deadlier every year. But underneath all of it was something simpler. America treated its best pilots as a resource to be protected and passed on. Japan treated them as fuel to be burned. One of those choices built an air force that kept getting stronger. The other burned brightly, and then burned out. This was why America won the Pacific air war. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.

Untold War Stories

155,561 views • 1 month ago

A father who never met his son. A son who came to rest beside him. James Hughes Kirton died in November 1918, just two days before the First World War ended. His wife was expecting their second child, David, who would be born months later and grow up knowing his father only through stories and a headstone. In 1940, David followed his father's path into military service, joining the RAF. At just 21 years old, he was killed during the Battle of Britain while flying a Spitfire with No. 65 Squadron. He was buried beside the father he never had the chance to know. The family's heartbreak did not end there. David's older brother, Squadron Leader James "Jim" Kirton, was killed in a flying accident in 1944, leaving their mother to mourn her husband and both of her sons across two world wars. Some families gave more than anyone should ever have to give. The Kirton family was one of them. 🌹🇬🇧
2:11

A father who never met his son. A son who came to rest beside him. James Hughes Kirton died in November 1918, just two days before the First World War ended. His wife was expecting their second child, David, who would be born months later and grow up knowing his father only through stories and a headstone. In 1940, David followed his father's path into military service, joining the RAF. At just 21 years old, he was killed during the Battle of Britain while flying a Spitfire with No. 65 Squadron. He was buried beside the father he never had the chance to know. The family's heartbreak did not end there. David's older brother, Squadron Leader James "Jim" Kirton, was killed in a flying accident in 1944, leaving their mother to mourn her husband and both of her sons across two world wars. Some families gave more than anyone should ever have to give. The Kirton family was one of them. 🌹🇬🇧

Heroes Of Britain

33,817 views • 1 month ago

This is restored footage of a F6F Hellcat belly-landing on a carrier in 1944, with no landing gear, sliding down the deck. Watch what the crew does. They do not run away from the crashing plane. They run toward it. This is the story of the men on the deck.. A Controlled Crash Landing an aircraft on a carrier has been called one of the most difficult and dangerous things in all of aviation. Some pilots described it as a controlled crash. Think about what it involves. A fighter comes screaming toward a tiny strip of deck on a ship that is itself moving through the ocean, pitching on the swell. The pilot has only a few feet of margin. He has to slam his aircraft down onto a precise spot, at exactly the right speed and angle, again and again, every time he comes home. To stop the plane in the short space of the deck, each aircraft had a hook mounted under its tail. As it touched down, that tailhook had to catch one of several steel cables stretched across the deck, called arresting wires. The cable would snatch the speeding fighter and drag it to a halt in about two seconds. But what happened when it went wrong? When Things Went Wrong That is where the danger truly began. If a pilot came in with damaged landing gear, or no gear at all like the Hellcat in this footage, or if his tailhook missed every wire, the aircraft became a several-ton object sliding down a steel deck out of control. And the front of that deck was not empty. It was often packed with other aircraft, fueled and armed, and crowded with men working. A plane that slid all the way forward could plow straight into parked aircraft and deck crews, and turn the whole deck into an inferno. So the carriers had a last line of defense. A crash barrier, a wall of heavy steel cable raised across the middle of the deck, designed to catch a runaway aircraft and stop it before it reached the crowd at the bow. Time and again, that barrier was all that stood between one bad landing and a catastrophe. The Landing Signal Officer Guiding every one of those landings was one man in an incredibly exposed position. He was the Landing Signal Officer, and he stood on a small platform at the aft port side of the flight deck, close to where the aircraft came in. Holding a bright paddle in each hand, he signaled to each incoming pilot, telling him he was too high, too low, too fast, lined up wrong, or clear to land. The pilot trusted those paddles with his life. A good Landing Signal Officer could talk a shaken pilot and a shot-up aircraft safely down onto the deck. It was a job that demanded total calm and split-second judgment, over and over, with lives riding on every signal. One young officer who served as a Landing Signal Officer early in the war, David McCampbell, would go on to become the US Navy's top-scoring ace. The Men Who Ran Toward the Fire Then there were the men who ran toward the fire. The flight deck of a wartime carrier was a storm of spinning propellers, roaring engines, live bombs, high-octane fuel, and steel cables under enormous tension that could snap and cut a man in half. To manage the chaos, the crews wore jerseys in different colors, each color marking a job, so that in the deafening noise everyone could tell at a glance who did what. Men in one color directed the aircraft, another handled the arresting gear, another fueled the planes, another the bombs. And among them were the men in heavy asbestos suits, nicknamed the Hot Papas. Their job, when an aircraft crashed and burst into flames, was to run directly into the fire and pull the pilot out. That is what you are watching in this footage. As the Hellcat grinds to a stop, the men who rush toward it are not spectators. They are doing their job, closing on a possible fire and a trapped pilot without hesitating. The Forgotten Crew Landing accidents like this happened constantly. Belly landings, missed wires, barrier crashes, and deck fires were so common that they were simply accepted as part of the price of operating aircraft at sea. For every dramatic dogfight in the sky, there were thousands of these tense, dangerous moments on the deck, handled by young men in colored shirts who are almost never remembered. The pilots got the glory, and they earned it. But they could not have flown at all without the deck crews who launched them, guided them home, caught them when they came in wrong, and ran into the flames when it all went bad. The next time you see footage like this, do not just watch the plane. Watch the men around it. They worked one of the most dangerous jobs of the entire war, and most of the world never knew their names. This was the story of the carrier deck crews. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.
0:21

This is restored footage of a F6F Hellcat belly-landing on a carrier in 1944, with no landing gear, sliding down the deck. Watch what the crew does. They do not run away from the crashing plane. They run toward it. This is the story of the men on the deck.. A Controlled Crash Landing an aircraft on a carrier has been called one of the most difficult and dangerous things in all of aviation. Some pilots described it as a controlled crash. Think about what it involves. A fighter comes screaming toward a tiny strip of deck on a ship that is itself moving through the ocean, pitching on the swell. The pilot has only a few feet of margin. He has to slam his aircraft down onto a precise spot, at exactly the right speed and angle, again and again, every time he comes home. To stop the plane in the short space of the deck, each aircraft had a hook mounted under its tail. As it touched down, that tailhook had to catch one of several steel cables stretched across the deck, called arresting wires. The cable would snatch the speeding fighter and drag it to a halt in about two seconds. But what happened when it went wrong? When Things Went Wrong That is where the danger truly began. If a pilot came in with damaged landing gear, or no gear at all like the Hellcat in this footage, or if his tailhook missed every wire, the aircraft became a several-ton object sliding down a steel deck out of control. And the front of that deck was not empty. It was often packed with other aircraft, fueled and armed, and crowded with men working. A plane that slid all the way forward could plow straight into parked aircraft and deck crews, and turn the whole deck into an inferno. So the carriers had a last line of defense. A crash barrier, a wall of heavy steel cable raised across the middle of the deck, designed to catch a runaway aircraft and stop it before it reached the crowd at the bow. Time and again, that barrier was all that stood between one bad landing and a catastrophe. The Landing Signal Officer Guiding every one of those landings was one man in an incredibly exposed position. He was the Landing Signal Officer, and he stood on a small platform at the aft port side of the flight deck, close to where the aircraft came in. Holding a bright paddle in each hand, he signaled to each incoming pilot, telling him he was too high, too low, too fast, lined up wrong, or clear to land. The pilot trusted those paddles with his life. A good Landing Signal Officer could talk a shaken pilot and a shot-up aircraft safely down onto the deck. It was a job that demanded total calm and split-second judgment, over and over, with lives riding on every signal. One young officer who served as a Landing Signal Officer early in the war, David McCampbell, would go on to become the US Navy's top-scoring ace. The Men Who Ran Toward the Fire Then there were the men who ran toward the fire. The flight deck of a wartime carrier was a storm of spinning propellers, roaring engines, live bombs, high-octane fuel, and steel cables under enormous tension that could snap and cut a man in half. To manage the chaos, the crews wore jerseys in different colors, each color marking a job, so that in the deafening noise everyone could tell at a glance who did what. Men in one color directed the aircraft, another handled the arresting gear, another fueled the planes, another the bombs. And among them were the men in heavy asbestos suits, nicknamed the Hot Papas. Their job, when an aircraft crashed and burst into flames, was to run directly into the fire and pull the pilot out. That is what you are watching in this footage. As the Hellcat grinds to a stop, the men who rush toward it are not spectators. They are doing their job, closing on a possible fire and a trapped pilot without hesitating. The Forgotten Crew Landing accidents like this happened constantly. Belly landings, missed wires, barrier crashes, and deck fires were so common that they were simply accepted as part of the price of operating aircraft at sea. For every dramatic dogfight in the sky, there were thousands of these tense, dangerous moments on the deck, handled by young men in colored shirts who are almost never remembered. The pilots got the glory, and they earned it. But they could not have flown at all without the deck crews who launched them, guided them home, caught them when they came in wrong, and ran into the flames when it all went bad. The next time you see footage like this, do not just watch the plane. Watch the men around it. They worked one of the most dangerous jobs of the entire war, and most of the world never knew their names. This was the story of the carrier deck crews. I post a story like this every single day. Most people never see them. Follow so you don't miss the next one.

Untold War Stories

145,990 views • 1 month ago

Phil is an English singer, drummer, songwriter, record producer, and actor. He was the drummer and later the lead singer of the rock band Genesis and had a successful solo career, achieving three UK number-one singles and seven US number-one singles as a solo artist. In total, his work with Genesis, other artists, and solo contributed more US top singles than any other artist in the 1980s. His most successful singles from that period include "In the Air Tonight," "Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)," "One More Night," "Sustudio," "Another Day in Paradise," "Two Hearts," and "I Wish It Would Rain Down."
2:58

Phil is an English singer, drummer, songwriter, record producer, and actor. He was the drummer and later the lead singer of the rock band Genesis and had a successful solo career, achieving three UK number-one singles and seven US number-one singles as a solo artist. In total, his work with Genesis, other artists, and solo contributed more US top singles than any other artist in the 1980s. His most successful singles from that period include "In the Air Tonight," "Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)," "One More Night," "Sustudio," "Another Day in Paradise," "Two Hearts," and "I Wish It Would Rain Down."

💜Music is Love💜

14,882 views • 6 months ago

The aircraft was not airworthy, not in the normal sense. A ferry flight is not a normal flight. The aircraft has a known defect that prevents it from carrying passengers. The defect cannot be repaired where the aircraft is, so it must be flown to a maintenance facility. It does not fly on a normal Certificate of Airworthiness. It flies under a Special Flight Permit: a one-time authorization that defines where the aircraft can fly, the crew required, and the operating limitations for that specific flight. I have been part of the process of preparing one of those permits. The defect is assessed. The risks are evaluated. The operating conditions are defined. The crew is fully briefed on the defect and its limitations. The route is planned around those limitations, and suitable alternate airports are selected. Then the aircraft departs, and you watch it leave, knowing exactly what condition it is in. That feeling stays with you. The permit exists because, in some cases, the safest option is to fly the aircraft under controlled conditions to a facility with the right people, tools, parts, and approvals, rather than attempt a repair where those resources are unavailable.
2:26

The aircraft was not airworthy, not in the normal sense. A ferry flight is not a normal flight. The aircraft has a known defect that prevents it from carrying passengers. The defect cannot be repaired where the aircraft is, so it must be flown to a maintenance facility. It does not fly on a normal Certificate of Airworthiness. It flies under a Special Flight Permit: a one-time authorization that defines where the aircraft can fly, the crew required, and the operating limitations for that specific flight. I have been part of the process of preparing one of those permits. The defect is assessed. The risks are evaluated. The operating conditions are defined. The crew is fully briefed on the defect and its limitations. The route is planned around those limitations, and suitable alternate airports are selected. Then the aircraft departs, and you watch it leave, knowing exactly what condition it is in. That feeling stays with you. The permit exists because, in some cases, the safest option is to fly the aircraft under controlled conditions to a facility with the right people, tools, parts, and approvals, rather than attempt a repair where those resources are unavailable.

OG of the Souŧh

132,070 views • 21 days ago

B-1B LANCER BOMBERS ROAR AGAIN! The B-1B Lancer was originally designed as a strategic nuclear bomber with a mission to fly at low altitude in order to avoid Soviet early warning radars. With the end of the Cold War, the B-1B Lancer has been adapted to carry conventional munitions and has been used extensively in close air support and tactical bombing missions. Carrying the largest payload of both guided and unguided weapons in the Air Force inventory, the multi-mission B-1 is the backbone of America's long-range bomber force. The B-1B was first used in combat in support of operations against Iraq during Operation Desert Fox in December 1998. Most recently, the U.S. used them against Iranian proxy groups in Syria and Iraq. Unfortunately, I think the US will have to use them again very soon.......................................
0:27

B-1B LANCER BOMBERS ROAR AGAIN! The B-1B Lancer was originally designed as a strategic nuclear bomber with a mission to fly at low altitude in order to avoid Soviet early warning radars. With the end of the Cold War, the B-1B Lancer has been adapted to carry conventional munitions and has been used extensively in close air support and tactical bombing missions. Carrying the largest payload of both guided and unguided weapons in the Air Force inventory, the multi-mission B-1 is the backbone of America's long-range bomber force. The B-1B was first used in combat in support of operations against Iraq during Operation Desert Fox in December 1998. Most recently, the U.S. used them against Iranian proxy groups in Syria and Iraq. Unfortunately, I think the US will have to use them again very soon.......................................

WORLD AT WAR

10,527 views • 2 years ago

Jalen Brunson's one ring is worth more than both of Kevin Durant's combined. To me it's not even a debate. That's not disrespect to Durant's talent either. He's one of the most gifted scorers to ever play. But rings don't exist in a vacuum. Context is everything. And the context of how those two got theirs tells you everything about what kind of competitor they are. Durant had Russell Westbrook, James Harden, Serge Ibaka, and Steven Adams in Oklahoma City. They made the Finals in 2012 and were up 3-1 on a 73-win Warriors team in 2016. All that talent, and Durant still couldn't get it done. So he joined the team that just beat him. A 73-9 Warriors squad with Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, and Draymond Green already in place, as well as some of the best role players in history. He got his rings. Two of them. And nobody with a functioning brain thinks those rings tell you he could build something. They tell you he could join something. Now look at what Brunson did. He chose the New York Knicks. A franchise that hadn't won a championship in 53 years. A franchise that LeBron, Durant, and every other marquee free agent avoided because the pressure and the spotlight would eat you alive if you weren't built for it. Brunson came anyway. And he didn't come to ride shotgun. He came to build. The Knicks constructed their roster around him piece by piece. OG Anunoby, Mikal Bridges, Karl-Anthony Towns, Josh Hart. Every one of them bought in and played their role to the ceiling every single night. No shortcuts, no superteam handshakes. Just a plan, and Brunson was the engine of it. Then came the 2026 playoffs. The most dominant postseason run in NBA history. A +283 point differential across 19 games against four different defenses. Nineteen games, four rounds, four different schemes trying to solve them, and the Knicks solved every single one. Brunson was the reason it held together. He averaged 32.6 points per game in the Finals, the highest ever by a point guard. He dropped 45 in the closeout game on the road in San Antonio. He went right at Wembanyama, the reigning DPOY, the 7'4 face of the league everyone else was scared of. He did all of this with a torn tendon in his shooting wrist that required surgery three weeks later. He never mentioned it and never used it as an excuse. 11.2 points per game in the fourth quarter of the Finals. When the game tightened and the moment got heavy, Brunson wanted the ball and he buried them with it. Durant borrowed his rings from a dynasty that didn't need him. Brunson earned his in the hardest market in sports, against the best competition in the world, while his body was falling apart. History is going to remember who built something and who just showed up.
1:00

Jalen Brunson's one ring is worth more than both of Kevin Durant's combined. To me it's not even a debate. That's not disrespect to Durant's talent either. He's one of the most gifted scorers to ever play. But rings don't exist in a vacuum. Context is everything. And the context of how those two got theirs tells you everything about what kind of competitor they are. Durant had Russell Westbrook, James Harden, Serge Ibaka, and Steven Adams in Oklahoma City. They made the Finals in 2012 and were up 3-1 on a 73-win Warriors team in 2016. All that talent, and Durant still couldn't get it done. So he joined the team that just beat him. A 73-9 Warriors squad with Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, and Draymond Green already in place, as well as some of the best role players in history. He got his rings. Two of them. And nobody with a functioning brain thinks those rings tell you he could build something. They tell you he could join something. Now look at what Brunson did. He chose the New York Knicks. A franchise that hadn't won a championship in 53 years. A franchise that LeBron, Durant, and every other marquee free agent avoided because the pressure and the spotlight would eat you alive if you weren't built for it. Brunson came anyway. And he didn't come to ride shotgun. He came to build. The Knicks constructed their roster around him piece by piece. OG Anunoby, Mikal Bridges, Karl-Anthony Towns, Josh Hart. Every one of them bought in and played their role to the ceiling every single night. No shortcuts, no superteam handshakes. Just a plan, and Brunson was the engine of it. Then came the 2026 playoffs. The most dominant postseason run in NBA history. A +283 point differential across 19 games against four different defenses. Nineteen games, four rounds, four different schemes trying to solve them, and the Knicks solved every single one. Brunson was the reason it held together. He averaged 32.6 points per game in the Finals, the highest ever by a point guard. He dropped 45 in the closeout game on the road in San Antonio. He went right at Wembanyama, the reigning DPOY, the 7'4 face of the league everyone else was scared of. He did all of this with a torn tendon in his shooting wrist that required surgery three weeks later. He never mentioned it and never used it as an excuse. 11.2 points per game in the fourth quarter of the Finals. When the game tightened and the moment got heavy, Brunson wanted the ball and he buried them with it. Durant borrowed his rings from a dynasty that didn't need him. Brunson earned his in the hardest market in sports, against the best competition in the world, while his body was falling apart. History is going to remember who built something and who just showed up.

Jersey Shore Knicks Guy

17,535 views • 8 days ago

Chechnya’s first President Dzhokhar Dudayev speaking about why Russia invaded his country. He was killed in a Russian airstrike in 1996. Dudayev was born in 1944, just days before his family and all Chechens were deported by force to Central Asia. 1/3 of the Chechen population was killed during the Chechen genocide in 1944 and the following years The Chechens were allowed to return first after Stalin’s death. From 1962, Dudayev served in the Soviet Air Force, ultimately reaching the rank of major general and commanding several strategic bomber aircraft divisions based in Poltava and Tartu. In 1991, Dudayev refused orders from Moscow to suppress Estonia's independence movement, and subsequently resigned from the Soviet Armed Forces before returning to Chechnya. He became president of the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria after a referendum in October 1991, and unilaterally declared the republic's independence from the Soviet Union. In the First Chechen War (1994–1996), Dudayev organized a successful resistance against Russian forces before his assassination. Around 150 000 Chechens were killed in the First Chechen War under Yeltsin. Another 80 000 Chechens were killed in the Second Chechen War under Putin.
0:35

Chechnya’s first President Dzhokhar Dudayev speaking about why Russia invaded his country. He was killed in a Russian airstrike in 1996. Dudayev was born in 1944, just days before his family and all Chechens were deported by force to Central Asia. 1/3 of the Chechen population was killed during the Chechen genocide in 1944 and the following years The Chechens were allowed to return first after Stalin’s death. From 1962, Dudayev served in the Soviet Air Force, ultimately reaching the rank of major general and commanding several strategic bomber aircraft divisions based in Poltava and Tartu. In 1991, Dudayev refused orders from Moscow to suppress Estonia's independence movement, and subsequently resigned from the Soviet Armed Forces before returning to Chechnya. He became president of the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria after a referendum in October 1991, and unilaterally declared the republic's independence from the Soviet Union. In the First Chechen War (1994–1996), Dudayev organized a successful resistance against Russian forces before his assassination. Around 150 000 Chechens were killed in the First Chechen War under Yeltsin. Another 80 000 Chechens were killed in the Second Chechen War under Putin.

Visegrád 24

124,298 views • 1 year ago

Big Stacks, known as “the hardest man in the UK,” tells how on his first day in jail he fought seven of his wing mates and, by the end of it, he had taken over and was running the wing 😳🚨 “I got jumped by seven men, every one of them was a top boy. I knocked them all out, real bad man. Then I took over the wing. I took their food, took their phones… they were all moist yutes.”
0:35

Big Stacks, known as “the hardest man in the UK,” tells how on his first day in jail he fought seven of his wing mates and, by the end of it, he had taken over and was running the wing 😳🚨 “I got jumped by seven men, every one of them was a top boy. I knocked them all out, real bad man. Then I took over the wing. I took their food, took their phones… they were all moist yutes.”

KickCastle

212,191 views • 3 months ago

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🇬🇧 The man who first lit a house died 7 years before Edison was even born. One house in Cornwall glowed after dark in 1792. No candles. No oil. Light, burning out of pipes. The first house on Earth lit this way. The man inside was a Scot. William Murdoch, a millwright's son from Ayrshire, walked more than 300 miles to Birmingham in 1777 to ask the great firm of Boulton and Watt for work. ⚙️ Matthew Boulton noticed his hat. It was wood, turned on a lathe the young Scot designed himself. The hat got him the job. The firm sent him to Cornwall to keep its mine engines running. But the nights were his own. In 1784 a model steam carriage ran across his living room floor, under its own power. The first machine in Britain recorded doing it. Then he sealed coal in iron, heated it, caught the gas that came off and piped it through his own house. He put a flame to the end of the pipe. 🔥 And the dark went out of his parlour. By 1805 he had lit a Salford cotton mill end to end: over 900 steady flames where candles had guttered and smoked. In 1807 the first gas lamps rose in Pall Mall. Murdoch did not put them there. A promoter called Frederick Winsor had run ahead with the idea. Companies were chartered and fortunes made, in pounds sterling. Murdoch had never patented gas light, and the fortune was never his. What he got instead was the Royal Society's Rumford Gold Medal in 1808, stamped in Latin: out of smoke, light. 🏛️ You were taught the man who beat the darkness was Edison. Murdoch was 7 years dead before Edison was even born. By 1839, gaslight stood over London, Manchester and Glasgow. Britain lit the night first, and the world followed. 🇬🇧 Today he stands in gold in Birmingham beside Boulton and Watt, and every June the town of Redruth holds a festival in his name. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ His real monument comes on at dusk, in every British street. A gift from a millwright's son. Never signed. Still burning. We are the home of British heroes. There is a place for you in it. If you can afford to support our mission: Be part of us. ☝️🇬🇧 Be Proud Of Us. 🙏🇬🇧
2:51

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🇬🇧 The man who first lit a house died 7 years before Edison was even born. One house in Cornwall glowed after dark in 1792. No candles. No oil. Light, burning out of pipes. The first house on Earth lit this way. The man inside was a Scot. William Murdoch, a millwright's son from Ayrshire, walked more than 300 miles to Birmingham in 1777 to ask the great firm of Boulton and Watt for work. ⚙️ Matthew Boulton noticed his hat. It was wood, turned on a lathe the young Scot designed himself. The hat got him the job. The firm sent him to Cornwall to keep its mine engines running. But the nights were his own. In 1784 a model steam carriage ran across his living room floor, under its own power. The first machine in Britain recorded doing it. Then he sealed coal in iron, heated it, caught the gas that came off and piped it through his own house. He put a flame to the end of the pipe. 🔥 And the dark went out of his parlour. By 1805 he had lit a Salford cotton mill end to end: over 900 steady flames where candles had guttered and smoked. In 1807 the first gas lamps rose in Pall Mall. Murdoch did not put them there. A promoter called Frederick Winsor had run ahead with the idea. Companies were chartered and fortunes made, in pounds sterling. Murdoch had never patented gas light, and the fortune was never his. What he got instead was the Royal Society's Rumford Gold Medal in 1808, stamped in Latin: out of smoke, light. 🏛️ You were taught the man who beat the darkness was Edison. Murdoch was 7 years dead before Edison was even born. By 1839, gaslight stood over London, Manchester and Glasgow. Britain lit the night first, and the world followed. 🇬🇧 Today he stands in gold in Birmingham beside Boulton and Watt, and every June the town of Redruth holds a festival in his name. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ His real monument comes on at dusk, in every British street. A gift from a millwright's son. Never signed. Still burning. We are the home of British heroes. There is a place for you in it. If you can afford to support our mission: Be part of us. ☝️🇬🇧 Be Proud Of Us. 🙏🇬🇧

Proudofus.uk

96,117 views • 1 month ago

EDWARD G. ROBINSON was born Emanuel Goldenberg in Bucharest in 1893, came through Ellis Island at nine, and grew up on the Lower East Side. Nothing about him said movie star. Five foot seven, thick-featured, a face built for character parts. He came up through the stage — trained at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, put in real years on Broadway — and that grounding shows in everything he did on screen. And yet for two decades he was one of the most magnetic presences in American film, precisely because he never once relied on being handsome. Everybody knows the entry point: Little Caesar (1931). Rico Bandello — the snarling, doomed little Napoleon who basically invented the Warner Bros. gangster template alongside Cagney. "Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?" got quoted and parodied for decades. It made him a star and, briefly, a prisoner of the type. The tough guy with the cigar became shorthand for the whole genre. But here's the thing that makes him great rather than just iconic — he was one of the most versatile actors of the studio era, and he spent the rest of his career quietly proving it. Watch him in Double Indemnity (1944) as Barton Keyes, the claims investigator with the "little man" in his gut that tells him when something's wrong. It's a warm, rapid-fire, deeply human performance, and the final scene with MacMurray is one of the tenderest things in all of noir. No gun, no snarl. Just a guy who loved his friend. Then there's his run with Fritz Lang — The Woman in the Window and Scarlet Street, both 1945 — where he plays weak, ordinary men swallowed by desire and circumstance. He was fearless about looking small and pathetic. In Key Largo (1948) he flips back to menace as Johnny Rocco, sweating in a bathtub, and steals the picture out from under Bogart. He'd already gone toe-to-toe with Welles in The Stranger (1946). And he had range far outside crime. He played Paul Ehrlich in Dr. Ehrlich's Magic Bullet (1940) and lent real gravity to Confessions of a Nazi Spy (1939) — one of Hollywood's earliest openly anti-Nazi pictures, made when the studios were still nervous about the German market. Late in life he was still sharp enough to hold the screen against Steve McQueen in The Cincinnati Kid (1965), the old lion teaching the kid a lesson at the poker table. Off screen he was the opposite of every role — cultured, multilingual, one of the great art collectors of Hollywood, with a wall of Impressionists and Post-Impressionists he had to break up in a brutal divorce settlement. A gentle, erudite man playing killers for a living. The ugly chapter: the HUAC years. His liberal politics and donations got him greylisted, and he was dragged in to testify more than once to clear his name. It stalled him, and it clearly wounded him. He never got the respect from the industry he'd earned — astonishingly, he was never nominated for a competitive Oscar. Not once. The Academy finally moved to give him an honorary award in 1973. He died of cancer two months before the ceremony, in January '73. His last film was Soylent Green, and his death scene — Sol Roth choosing to "go home," bathed in music and images of a lost natural world — plays now like a farewell he knew he was giving. Heston reportedly knew he was dying while they shot it. One of the best who never got his statue in his lifetime. Watch the noirs. He's better than his reputation, and his reputation is already huge. Here he is in Fritz Lang's The Woman In The Window (1944):
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EDWARD G. ROBINSON was born Emanuel Goldenberg in Bucharest in 1893, came through Ellis Island at nine, and grew up on the Lower East Side. Nothing about him said movie star. Five foot seven, thick-featured, a face built for character parts. He came up through the stage — trained at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, put in real years on Broadway — and that grounding shows in everything he did on screen. And yet for two decades he was one of the most magnetic presences in American film, precisely because he never once relied on being handsome. Everybody knows the entry point: Little Caesar (1931). Rico Bandello — the snarling, doomed little Napoleon who basically invented the Warner Bros. gangster template alongside Cagney. "Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?" got quoted and parodied for decades. It made him a star and, briefly, a prisoner of the type. The tough guy with the cigar became shorthand for the whole genre. But here's the thing that makes him great rather than just iconic — he was one of the most versatile actors of the studio era, and he spent the rest of his career quietly proving it. Watch him in Double Indemnity (1944) as Barton Keyes, the claims investigator with the "little man" in his gut that tells him when something's wrong. It's a warm, rapid-fire, deeply human performance, and the final scene with MacMurray is one of the tenderest things in all of noir. No gun, no snarl. Just a guy who loved his friend. Then there's his run with Fritz Lang — The Woman in the Window and Scarlet Street, both 1945 — where he plays weak, ordinary men swallowed by desire and circumstance. He was fearless about looking small and pathetic. In Key Largo (1948) he flips back to menace as Johnny Rocco, sweating in a bathtub, and steals the picture out from under Bogart. He'd already gone toe-to-toe with Welles in The Stranger (1946). And he had range far outside crime. He played Paul Ehrlich in Dr. Ehrlich's Magic Bullet (1940) and lent real gravity to Confessions of a Nazi Spy (1939) — one of Hollywood's earliest openly anti-Nazi pictures, made when the studios were still nervous about the German market. Late in life he was still sharp enough to hold the screen against Steve McQueen in The Cincinnati Kid (1965), the old lion teaching the kid a lesson at the poker table. Off screen he was the opposite of every role — cultured, multilingual, one of the great art collectors of Hollywood, with a wall of Impressionists and Post-Impressionists he had to break up in a brutal divorce settlement. A gentle, erudite man playing killers for a living. The ugly chapter: the HUAC years. His liberal politics and donations got him greylisted, and he was dragged in to testify more than once to clear his name. It stalled him, and it clearly wounded him. He never got the respect from the industry he'd earned — astonishingly, he was never nominated for a competitive Oscar. Not once. The Academy finally moved to give him an honorary award in 1973. He died of cancer two months before the ceremony, in January '73. His last film was Soylent Green, and his death scene — Sol Roth choosing to "go home," bathed in music and images of a lost natural world — plays now like a farewell he knew he was giving. Heston reportedly knew he was dying while they shot it. One of the best who never got his statue in his lifetime. Watch the noirs. He's better than his reputation, and his reputation is already huge. Here he is in Fritz Lang's The Woman In The Window (1944):

Mike David

18,745 views • 1 month ago

For those who do not know who Fereydoun Farrokhzad is. He was one of the most recognisable cultural figures of pre ’79 Iran. A TV host, showman, poet, and later a political dissident who refused to legitimise the Islamic Republic. From exile in Germany he used his programs and concerts to expose the regime’s mass executions, expose its leaders, and openly call for its removal. He had a real audience and real influence. That made him a priority target for the regime. He also openly rejected the MEK, condemned their Marxist-Islamist ideology, their involvement in the Islamic Revolution and their alliance with Saddam, and warned against replacing one form of authoritarianism with another. In August 1992 he was assassinated in his home in Bonn. His throat was cut and his body was stabbed many times. A method that later became synonymous with the regime’s chain murders of dissidents abroad. He was killed because he had a voice that reached inside Iran and he used it without fear.
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For those who do not know who Fereydoun Farrokhzad is. He was one of the most recognisable cultural figures of pre ’79 Iran. A TV host, showman, poet, and later a political dissident who refused to legitimise the Islamic Republic. From exile in Germany he used his programs and concerts to expose the regime’s mass executions, expose its leaders, and openly call for its removal. He had a real audience and real influence. That made him a priority target for the regime. He also openly rejected the MEK, condemned their Marxist-Islamist ideology, their involvement in the Islamic Revolution and their alliance with Saddam, and warned against replacing one form of authoritarianism with another. In August 1992 he was assassinated in his home in Bonn. His throat was cut and his body was stabbed many times. A method that later became synonymous with the regime’s chain murders of dissidents abroad. He was killed because he had a voice that reached inside Iran and he used it without fear.

Arsalan Naamdar

81,742 views • 5 months ago