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Oh, come on - that's a still from an Indiana Jones movie. Even the soldier looks shoddily greenscreened into that clearly fake, overdramatic movie set. Some half-mechanical Nazi insect monster is going to pop out of that giant Iron Cross jack-in-the-box, and then Hellboy's going to charge on screen and punch him right in his fascist wang. But nope: It's totally real.

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In 1913, the people of Leipzig, Germany, pooled all their money together to build an immense monument to the 1813 Battle of Leipzig, a defining moment in German history when an allied army defeated Napoleon. And we guess they figured the best way to do that was to re-create one of the more preposterous sets from The Chronicles of Riddick: Via 'With monuments like this to inspire us, nothing unfathomably vile could ever happen in Germany!' Now let's fast forward past a few decades of boring civil engineering and construction and get to the action: As the Americans fought their way across Eastern Germany, 150 SS fanatics holed up in the monument and packed the sucker full of enough ammo and food to hold on until their Necromonger reinforcements could arrive. What they didn't count on was the one thing America had in abundance: moxie. Well, that, and a shitload of artillery. After a steady pounding from the big guns, shell-shocked SS troopers eventually emerged from their bunker, took a look back at the Bond villain lair they'd just crawled out of. And reluctantly conceded that, yeah, they were probably the bad guys all along.

11Seas of POWs Via In 1939, Stalin and Hitler plunked two straws into a single milkshake and became best buds forever when they signed the. Then, in 1941, Hitler got a memo reminding him that he was an evil asshole (he knew he'd forgotten something), so he dropped everything and rushed off to go break the pact. Operation Barbarossa saw the Nazi war machine storming across the German/Russian border.

Taking the Soviets by surprise, the Germans - prisoners that they obviously didn't have room for in the backs of their tiny, efficient German cars. So when the POWs asked where they'd be doing their time, the Germans pointed to 'over there' and quietly insisted 'It is too a prison.'

Via 'OK, half of you be the fence and the other half of you be the prisoners.' Unsurprisingly, with no roofs over their heads, a bunch of callous Nazi wardens in charge and only the cold, unfeeling bosom of Mother Russia to nestle up against at night, the camps were a living hell. The casualties were so unfathomably high that even telling you the number would instantly ruin even the greatest comedy article (it was a soul-shattering 3.3 million. We were on a roll here, too). But if it's even the smallest consolation, the Russians got to paint their own lovely pastoral scene out of Nazis when the war ended: Via 'Does anyone know that song about Eskimos and vaginas?'

Did you immediately start scanning for Wookiees in that picture? We spent the first few minutes staring at that giant map and trying to figure out the best place to deploy our Space Marines - you know, like cool guys do.

But even though glass displays and glowing vector graphics have been a sci-fi trope since Luke was cruelly bull's-eyeing womp-rats in his T-16 (harming small animals: first sign of a sociopath, buddy). 'For this mission, we'll need a pilot who's not afraid to shoot first.' Now, if you just look at the base and see the dozen or so guys standing there, then let your eyes fuzz out to take in the rest of this image - this doesn't look that impressive. It's what, a hundred guys?

But note the angle of the photograph: It's not taken from directly above - it's a 3/4 overhead view - and yet the image stays in perfect proportion anyway. How did they do that? Well, the number of men in formation had to increase exponentially the farther away they were from the camera. For example: There are.

The whole human statue, from foot to tip, is nearly a quarter of a mile long. Man, the guys in the base are freakin' HUGE! 8Some Planes Go Off-Roading Via That's a perfectly still image, taken from exactly overhead, and from a great distance away. It's tiny, black and white, and hard to resolve any details. And it is still easily the best action scene we've ever watched.

This was taken. Imagine being on the ground for that: You and your friends are just kickin' back, taking in some rays, when suddenly the skies go dark. You look around and find yourself right smack dab in the middle of a giant shadow, and the thing casting it wants you dead in a hurry.

You nod grimly to your fellow pilots, and despite the total lack of runway, you decide to go for it: What choice do you have? You're going to try to take off. As the world bursts into fire and grit all around you, you race; you race for your life, and for the lives of your fellow soldiers; you race for your country, and your army, and your platoon; you race the speedy horse of Death himself, for your will to survive burns hot and angry in your guts; you race. And you don't win. You are bombed into oblivion.

This photo was taken on June 18, 1953, when U.S. Forces threw an objectively ridiculous amount of explosives at Chinese forces. Seriously, we know war is epic, but there's just no way this many artillery shells were actually necessary.

It's like waking up after a particularly large party, only to find the entire yard buried under beer cans. It just shouldn't be possible - you don't even remember buying that much beer.

And yet, here you are. Your parents come home in two hours, and now you have to pick up like 10 million artillery shells while suffering through what has to be a vicious battle-hangover. Either that's an X-ray of the exact second Bob Grenade first thought up the idea for the grenade, or this poor son of a bitch has a grenade in his face. It's the latter, of course, because Vietnam was a terrible goddamn thing. Found himself in this predicament after he stepped on a landmine, which, by itself, is pretty darn unlucky. When the grenade he was carrying on his chest was blown inside of his own head by the other, unrelated explosion going off right beneath his feet, he officially entered wrathful god/gypsy curse territory. But even a furious and scorned deity knows when enough is enough, and the soldier finally caught a break: You can actually still see the pin and spoon in there, meaning the grenade was not armed.

When it went inside of his skull. Yep, real lucky. Somebody get us a micro-schnauzer NOW. Aw, it's just a giant camera? We guess that's kind of neat. What you're looking at here is a normal size dog and a giant-ass K-19B camera.

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Like all cameras back in the day, the K-19B was unwieldy as hell. Unlike cameras of the day, the K-19B could take photos at night from a distance of several miles, and was hardly ever mounted to a man wearing black socks and sandals (it was usually found on spy planes). The thing we love most about the K-19B is that the inventors built it to look like a giant normal camera for no particular reason - as though you worked it by using both hands to press down on that gargantuan button and wind that comically large switch. Those wacky camera technicians, you know?

They have fun. Either somebody forgot to buckle their seat belt on Barrel Roll Day, or some pilot is ghost-riding his Huey like a beat-up Huffy. But despite what it looks like, this was neither a superfluous act of destruction nor an accident. Just like these guys weren't shoving their helicopter off into the water because it was constantly spouting terrible, vaguely racist knock-knock jokes: Via 'Who's there?' 'Ding Dong, me Chinese!

Aw, come on, guys, not the ocean again.' These are photos from, also known as Operation What Do You Mean the Vietnamese Don't Like Us Very Much? When it became apparent that the U.S. Was not going to win the Vietnam War, everybody needed to get the hell out of there fast. The South Vietnamese UH-1 Hueys responsible for the evacuation flew out to friendly ships and immediately disgorged their passengers.

As soon as that was done, they had to be pushed right off the deck to make room for more. There's no good way to say this, so we'll be blunt: Apparently the Rapture happened.

Obviously, you're reading this site, so you are not one of the Chosen. First, the bad news: Eternal war, and the devil rules the world. Good news: No more churchgoers crowding up Sunday brunch! Waffles and damnation for all! In actuality, those streaks are coming, not going.

These are photos of a test of being conducted just off the Kwajalein Atoll in the Pacific. MIRV stands for 'multiple independently targetable re-entry vehicle,' which basically just means we've found a way to use the space program to kill people. There's always one troublemaker. Via And as you probably guessed, it's not generally a good time for the people on the ground when the Finger of God lands on them. Via 'And lo, he did tell them, 'Suck it, bitches. Ye shall lick my asshole.' ' If these had been real warheads instead of empty fakes, each would've held a 300-kiloton nuclear weapon.

To put that in perspective: The Little Boy bomb that devastated Hiroshima was 16 kilotons. Here's what the ultimate power of devastation looks like, as it is being assembled by two middle-aged men in button-down shirts: Via 'Hey Doug, you ever feel like Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds?' 1The Trouble With the Troubles Via Northern Ireland was a very tense place for a very long time. And at the epicenter of the tension was a city called Derry, where ' all began. By 1969, everybody was an unclaimed fart away from a citywide fistfight.

And then a group of Protestants had a parade that had the gall to come close to a bunch of Catholics - so you know that shit was on. The ensuing riots, skirmishes and conflicts were so prolonged and so commonplace that the townspeople simply learned to go about their business as the boys played war in their front yards. That led to photos like the above, where Seamus Hardass' new Facebook pic is being photobombed by a girl on roller skates. Or the below. Via 'Pardon me, lad. Don't mean to get in the way of your aim.

Carry on, then.' Where an elderly gentleman is casually ducking under the line of fire on his way to the pub. We always thought it was a joke - a cliche stereotype with no basis in reality - but seriously: Nobody gets between an Irishman and his drink.

Not even death himself. Eric Yosomono writes for and has a. Show him some love and LIKE him! Is a Photoplasty Ninja and encourages, nay, demands you check him out. For more insane photos that HAVE to be fake (but aren't), check out and.

If you're pressed for time and just looking for a quick fix, then check out. And stop by to discover what folks in the 1920s used to do when the cable went out. And don't forget to follow us on and to get sexy, sexy jokes sent straight to your news feed. Do you have an idea in mind that would make a great article? Then sign up for our! Do you possess expert skills in image creation and manipulation?

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