Bizarre History (18 page)

At first, Mallory kept his prank a secret, but a friend of his wrote about it in a letter. The story then reached a local radio station, and it wasn’t long before
Stars & Stripes
and newspapers around the world carried the story. In order to avoid any further trouble, Mallory visited Tojo once again, borrowed the dentures, and ground away the message. Tojo was executed for war crimes on November 12, 1948.

In 1325, soldiers from the Italian city-state of Modena invaded the city-state of Bologna to steal a bucket. The raid was successful, but not without hundreds of Bologna citizen casualties. Bologna declared war and the two city-states fought on and off for twelve years. Bologna never got their bucket back and to this day it’s stored in a bell tower in a Modena cathedral.

In 1838, the president of Mexico, General Antonio López de Santa Anna, had to have his leg amputated after being hit by cannon fire. He ordered a full military burial for the leg.

In 1664, Dutch colonist Peter Stuyvesant also had to have his leg amputated after battling the Spanish in the Caribbean. His leg had a proper Christian burial with full military honors.

Confederate general Stonewall Jackson lost his arm in a friendly-fire incident after the Battle of Chancellorsville. If you visit Chancellorsville, Virginia, you can find where his arm was buried. The grave marker says ARM OF STONEWALL JACKSON, MAY 3, 1863.

Here’s another story of missing limbs from the Civil War: Union general Daniel Sickles lost his right leg to a cannonball during the Battle of Gettysburg. Instead of burying the leg, however, Sickles preserved the bones and donated them to the Army Medical Museum (now known as the National Museum of Health and Medicine) in Washington, DC. The bones were presented in a small coffin-shaped box along with a card that said, “With the compliments of Major General D.E.S.” Sickles was said to have visited his leg bones every year on the anniversary of the amputation. No word if he visited General Henry Barnum’s bullet-riddled hip, which also went on display at the museum after Barnum’s death.

British Canada and the United States fought a war during the winter of 1838–1839 over a boundary dispute between Maine and New Brunswick (then a British territory). Troops amassed on both sides of the border, and then … nothing. The war got its name from the food troops sat around and ate while waiting for cooler heads to prevail.

The Pork and Beans War wasn’t the only unusually named war between the United States and Great Britain over boundary issues in Canada. In another such war, the disputed area was the San Juan Islands, which lie between Vancouver Island and the US mainland. With both countries claiming and inhabiting the islands, on June 15, 1859, an American farmer named Lyman Cutlar shot and killed a big black pig that had invaded his garden. The pig was owned by Charles Griffin, who worked at Britain’s Hudson’s Bay Company. Cutlar offered $10 for the pig. Griffin demanded $100, and when Cutlar refused, British authorities threatened to arrest Cutlar. Some accounts attest to this exchange taking place:

Tensions mounted, and before you could say “ham and cheese,” nearly five hundred American troops were stationed on the island and ready to face off against five British warships. Neither side was given permission to fire first, so the two armies exchanged many insults, hoping to goad the other side into action. No shots were ever fired, negotiations brought about an agreement to share the island (which is what they were doing in the first place), and the only casualty was the pig. Today, the San Juan Islands belong to the United States.

It’s always fascinating to look back and attempt to ascertain the beginning of certain wars. The Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648) was one of Europe’s bloodiest wars with more than ten million dead (25 percent of the population of central Europe), and its beginnings can be tied to a bunch of guys throwing a bunch of other guys out a window. In May 1618, a group of Protestants, angered over not being allowed to build churches and hence not being allowed to practice their religion, bribed their way into Hradcany Castle where Catholic regents were meeting. Three men were then tossed out a third-story window. According to the Catholics, either angels or the Virgin Mary magically appeared and cushioned their fall. According to the Protestants, the three men lived because they fell in a dry moat that was filled with manure. Either way, the men lived, but the Defenestration (which means throwing someone out a window) of Prague, which started out as a fight between two religions, soon engulfed Bohemia (modern day Czech Republic), Denmark, Germany, Sweden, Poland, Netherlands, and France.

Incidentally, this is known as the
second
Defenestration of Prague. The first happened in 1419. Prague has a thing about enemies and windows, I guess.

General Jean-Charles Pichegru was a distinguished French general during the French Revolution. In 1794, Pichegru led his forces in an invasion of the Netherlands. Upon entering Amsterdam, his scouts learned that the Dutch fleet was stationed nearby. This would normally cause great consternation for the general, but for one fact: The entire fleet was frozen in the bay. Pichegru dispatched a cavalry brigade, which simply marched onto the ice and surrounded the entire fleet.

Lord Horatio Nelson was an officer for England’s Royal Navy in the late 1700s to early 1800s. He’s known for many victories, especially during the Napoleonic Wars. He was also known for his valor and bravery—especially since his many battles had taken a personal toll. He was wounded several times over the years and had lost an arm and his sight in one eye. And at the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801, he used his disadvantage to gain a tough victory against the Danish fleet.

With the battle going badly for the British as they advanced into Copenhagen Harbor, Admiral Sir Hyde Parker, who was holding back in case reinforcements were needed, saw how poorly the fight was going and sent a signal to Nelson to withdraw. Nelson was told of the signal and turned to his flag captain and said, “You know, Foley, I have only one eye. I have a right to be blind sometimes.” He then raised the telescope to his blind eye and said, “I really do not see the signal.” After a costly battle and lengthy truce negotiations, Nelson emerged victorious. And hence was born the expression, “turning a blind eye.”

Did you know Ohio and Michigan once went to war? Known as the most bizarre and least deadly altercation on American soil, the Toledo War of 1835 was over a poorly drawn boundary line. The boundary situation was allowed to simmer for a while until Michigan applied for statehood in 1833. After failed negotiations with Ohio governor Robert Lucas, the nineteen-year-old, hot-headed, territorial governor of Michigan, Stephens T. Mason, sent militia to the contested boundary. Lucas did the same, and it seemed a major battle would ensue. Except for one thing: Both armies got lost in the swamps at the boundary, and for one week simply couldn’t find each other. The dispute was resolved in 1836. Michigan lost Toledo, but gained statehood. Plus, Congress gave them the Upper Peninsula, which, in retrospect, is a much better piece of land than Toledo.

John Sedgwick is known more for his famous last words than for any of his exploits as a Union general during the Civil War. At the beginning of the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House in 1864, Sedgwick and his troops were scouting artillery placements while Confederate sharpshooters about a thousand yards away were taking pot shots. While members of his staff flinched at the sound of shots, Sedgwick said, “What? Men dodging this way for single bullets? What will you do when they open fire along the whole line? I am ashamed of you. They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance.” When his men continued flinching, Sedgwick continued, “I’m ashamed of you, dodging that way. They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distan—” They could, though, and Sedgwick died of a bullet wound below his left eye.

Known as one of the world’s longest wars, the 335 Years’ War was between the Netherlands and the Isles of Scilly (located off the southwest coast of the United Kingdom). Two points of interest here: No shots were ever fired, and a peace treaty was finally signed in 1986. The ambassador to the Dutch Embassy in London joked that it must have been scary to the Scillonians “to know we could have attacked at any moment.”

In 1932, Australia declared war against a bird. Or to be more precise, they declared war against twenty thousand or more emus (think ostrich but a tad shorter). Farmers in Western Australia were complaining about the great number of emus, which were moving into settled areas and destroying crops because of drought and food shortages. A military operation under the command of Major Meredith of the Royal Australian Artillery was undertaken in November. He, along with two soldiers with machine guns and ten thousand rounds of ammunition, set out to engage the emus, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The emus ran away at the sound of gunfire, and even the few that the soldiers were able to hit simply ran off. Ornithologist Dominic Serventy put it this way: “The machine gunner’s dreams of point-blank fire into the serried masses of emus were soon dissipated. The emu command had evidently ordered guerilla tactics, and its unwieldy army soon split into innumerable small units that made use of the military equipment uneconomic.”