#History #carton #adrian #unkillable #soldier

For the next few years, surgeons try to save what's left of your hand, and eventually you get sick in them failing, so you ask them to just cut it off. So now you got one eye and one hand, and you get yourself back into the trenches. You find yourself at the Battle of the Somme. Over 1 million soldiers will die in this battle, and you're right in the thick of it leading the charge. On July 3rd, 1916, you lead your division to attack La Boycelle, one of the strongest German held positions. The offensive is brutal, but you're leading your men well, firing at the enemy, pulling grenade pins with your teeth and encouraging your troops. By night, all of your fellow commanding officers are dead or wounded. Out of nowhere, you're suddenly knocked to the ground, and you quickly check yourself for wounds. Hand? Check. Eye? Check. Head? Uh-oh. A back of your head has been blown off by a machine gun bullet, but luckily it missed all the vital parts. Okay, all right, seriously, what does that even mean? You spend three weeks in the hospital for this one, but while there, you receive their prestigious Victoria Cross for your efforts at the Somme. This just makes you want to go fight some more, so as soon as you can, you're right back in the thick of things. First, at the Battle of Poshondale, where artillery fire catches you on the hip, blowing off your clothes. Next at the Battle of Conbre, where you're shot in the leg and almost lose it, and then at the Battle of Arras, where you get shot in your other ear. By this point, the generals and the doctors are all urging you to stop going back out to the frontlines. But what do they know? In another one of your medical stays, you're lying in a stretcher, upset with yourself, but just how quickly you found yourself back in the hospital, and a clergyman making his rounds spots your sour face. You approach as you, observes your eye patch and tells you, "Cheer up, it could have been much worse." A few months ago, I saw a man come through here who was missing both an eye and an arm. You ask him to tell you the name of this soldier, and the clergyman replies, "General Cauton de Wyotte!" What? The war ends and you find life pretty boring back in England. So you move to Poland, where literally every one of their neighbors are trying to destroy them. You get to fight against the Soviets, the Ukrainians, the Lithuanians, the Cheks, it's everything you hoped for. While letting in Poland, you try air travel and end up in an airplane crash but survive. You decide to take a train instead on your next diplomatic mission, but your train is attacked by Cossacks and you have to fire at them while hanging off the back of the train. You fall off and quickly scramble back on all the while continuing to shoot at them until they disappear. Poland is nice, and you retire and spend the next 16 years there hunting every single day. Life is good. Until a failed Austrian painter starts another massive war in Europe. Poland is quickly invaded by both the Soviets and the Germans, and you barely make it out of their life. You eventually make it back to Britain, and at 60 years old you're giving your old rank and sent out to fight the Germans in Norway. Your mission is to take Trondheim, but the situation is horrible. In your opinion, the Allied soldiers in this war are nothing compared to the ones that fought in the first one, and the Germans are taking your ass. Eventually, your unit is pulled back, and you end up in North Ireland. You think your military career is over. Until you get selected for a special diplomatic mission to Yugoslavia. You board a plane in Cairo and set off for Belgrade hoping that this plane doesn't crash this time. Your plane crashes off the coast of Italian controlled Libya, and when you swim ashore, you're quickly arrested. You're identified as a valuable prisoner and moved to Italy, where you remain captive for three years. You attempt to escape five times, and on the last attempt, actually make it out and spend eight days in Northern Italy disguised as a civilian, who spoke no Italian, and had an eye patch and was missing his hand. Your recaptured again, and eventually Italy wants out of the war. They use you as a bargaining chip with the British and offer to dress you in a fine Italian suit. You tell your captors you won't object to free clothes, as long as they don't make you look like a jiggle-o. You get sent back to Britain, and shortly after your good friend Winston Churchill asks you to be his representative in China. You fly there, this time without crashing, and you quickly take a liking to the Chinese people. Though there's one person in particular you're not too fond of. This guy Mao Zedong seems to love communism, and you do not like it one bit. In a dinner where he's giving a speech, you interrupt him and tell him he's wrong, and that he should spend less time yapping and more time attacking the Japanese. Mao, startled, looks at you for a bit, then laughs. Japan finally surrenders in 1945, and you participate in the formal surrender ceremonies as one of the representatives for Britain. As the war is over, you finally retire for good at the age of 67. On your way back home, you make a stop in French-Indo-China and slip on a coconut mat breaking a few reds and knocking yourself unconscious. Luckily you survived because that would have been a terrible way to go considering everything else you'd gone through. You retire to Ireland and write your memoir and eventually pass away peacefully at the old age of 83.