#German surrender

[newyorkthegoldenage]

When Germany surrendered, New Yorkers celebrated into the night. Times Square, May 8, 1945.

Photo: Arthur Leipzig via Phillips Auctions

[scotianostra]

On the 21st November 1918 the German High Seas Fleet gathered in The Firth of Forth to formally surrender.

I've said it before, but this must have been some sight to see from the coastline along North Edinburgh to South Queensferry.

10 days after the Armistice had been declared, the German High Seas Fleet surrendered to the Allies at the Firth of Forth. The anchorage at the Firth of Forth was merely the first stop for the fleet to ensure complete disarmament; the fleet would subsequently be interned around the Scapa Flow a few days later.

One hundred and six years ago today the crews of the British ships sent to escort the fleet would have observed the historic sight of the diminutive HMS Cardiff leading a convoy of 70 magnificent German battle cruisers and destroyers into internment around the Scottish Isles.

“The greatest naval surrender in the world's history” was how the Glasgow Herald recorded the surrender of the German fleet in the Firth of Forth.It signalled not only the end of German naval power but also the public humiliation of the country that Britain had fought bitterly for four long years.

Some seventy journalists, press photographers and marine painters flocked to Edinburgh to witness “a triumph to which history knows no parallel.” Among them was James Paterson. The artist watched the surrender from the deck of HMS Revenge. This painting is an accurate record of what happened that day. The sun rising through the haze and fog creates a beautiful glow across the water, contrasting against the aggressive forms of the camouflaged vessels, as seen in the painting among the pics, the second painting is from the 22nd and was created and released by the Imperial War Museum taken, or artworks created, by a member of the forces during their active service duties.

[slyandthefamilybook]

when did "you have to work in steps" become a radical position

[polarisbibliotheque]

To my peeps on the Shall Never Surrender project I haven't finished the requests yet and are wondering "what the hell, dude"

I just sketched Dante and Vergil for the first time again after, literally, more than 1 year.

And Vergil looks like Billy Idol 🙃

I'm trying to redraw an old drawing and maaaaaan, I couldn't get his proportions right for ANYTHING in this world hahahaha

Our rebel Vergil right there 🖤 *cries in the corner*

And Dante, as always, is so easy to get right. I love this man

I'm going for a redraw of a redraw. It'll probably be interesting if I get to finish!

(And just realised I gave an oc of mine Dante's hair while I was going for a Farah Fawcett look *cries again)

After I warm up and I'm actually able to draw them decently, I'll be picking up the requests!! Hopefully this week still!!

After Billy Idol Vergil stops haunting my dreams 🥲

[farlontjosh]

[margaritavillewav]

Hey @staff what the fuck is this

[snrland]

I find it ironic that the German stereotype is discipline and the Russian stereotype is chaos when all class materials for Russian are very neatly packed in categories in one place (Classroom or Teams) while for German I have to scavenge some WhatsApp group chat for hours and guess wtf each document is for because it's called something stupid like "A.1. 6969 Übungen mein Schwanz ist dick Sie_werden_Prüfungen_nicht_bestehen"

[diocletianscabbagefarm]

Today is the 4th of May, the Remembrance of the Dead in the Netherlands where we commemorate the dead of WW2 and wars and missions since then. I don't know why, but this year it is hitting me emotionally much harder than it has in other years.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

On May 7, 1945, the word went around: Germany had surrendered. The war was over! New Yorkers lost no time in celebrating, although V-E Day wasn't until May 8.

Photo: Weegee via the Jewish Museum

[afriblaq]

africanarchives

—Job Maseko, a WW2 hero, sank a NAZI ship with a bomb made from a tin can with condensed milk. He was denied the highest military decoration, due to his race. —Maseko was working as a delivery driver when he volunteered for service in the South African Native Military Corps during WWII (NMC). Later he was sent to the 2nd South African Infantry Division after finishing basic training in North Africa. —Due to South African race regulations at the time, they were unable to carry firearms. They were only allowed traditional weapons such as spears for guard and ceremonial duty. —Maseko served as a stretcher carrier for the allied forces in North Africa, providing medical assistance to the wounded. When his commander surrendered to the Germans at Tobruk in June 1942, he became a prisoner of war. He was forced to work on the ports at Tobruk. — Being a former miner, he made an astonishing bomb on July 21 using condensed milk tin, cordite & a long fuse. He loaded the little tin with gunpowder and placed it in the hold of a German ship near some petrol drums. —He planted his bomb deep in the hold on June 21, 1942, just before they were set to leave the already overloaded ship. He lighted the fuse and dashed to the dock. An enormous explosion erupted sinking the ship instantly. —He eventually escaped from the prisoner of war camp and rise to the rank of lance corporal. He was supposed to get the Victoria Cross, the highest and most prestigious millitary award but instead received a mere Military Medal.

[tacticalprincess]

haii it’s that one anon that submitted the boot ask a while back

exhausted könig getting back from deployment and his brain fizzling out as you ride him, mumbling sweet little things you can’t even tell is english or german as you take care of him,,, the most he does is rest his hands on your hips because you already know the way he likes it

you treat him so well, he could cry. your kitten nails make little crescents on his broad shoulders as you sink down onto his heavy, aching cock, relishing in the way it pulses inside your warm hole like its happy to finally be home. as tired as he is, he can’t take his eyes off you as you ride him slowly and lovingly, looking at you down the bridge of his strong nose with heavy, lidded eyes. he’s mesmerized by the way your sopping pussy clings to him like it missed him just as much, how your hips buck and tummy flexes as you swirl your body on his burly lap. if he had the strength, he would flip you over and take you apart like you deserve, show you just how much he’s been yearning to be inside you, but for now, all he can do is surrender himself to you, holding onto you by the soft crease between your hip and your thigh.

“just like that, schätzchen. sich so gut um mich kümmern.” he huffs, voice tired and raw and filled with emotion. “know just what i need, don’t you? mein engelchen.”

[suugarbabe]

poly!slytherin boys x gn!reader; animagus!slytherin boys; ignoring the canon that once turning back from an animagus form that the person is naked because i want to :)

an: i know it's newer territory for this fandom (at least from what i've seen) so i hope you all love it

this is another addition to the yap sessions with my hubby @musingsofahufflepuff <33

“Merlin’s beard!” you swerved your hips to the side, nearly missing being taken out by a large German Shepherd. You made your way over to the sofa to cuddle up next to Enzo. He happily wrapped an arm around your shoulder and tucked you into his side. You watched as the German Shepherd chased a large grey and fluffy cat around the living room. “How long have they been at this?” You sunk further into the sofa, and thus further into Enzo’s chest as he let out a low laugh, “About twenty five minutes; not even sure what Nott did to make Matty chase him like this, but it’s been entertaining for sure.” 

Theo was always quick witted, and that skill definitely relayed to his animagus form as he quickly dodged Mattheo’s quick snap for his tail, zipping past in a blip of grey fur. “Matty’s getting a little quicker,” you smiled, Enzo nodded in agreement, “but don’t tell him I said that.” Enzo lifted both hands in surrender, “Oh I would never, darling.” 

As if Theo heard exactly what the two of you were saying, he took a different approach to avoiding Mattheo’s grasps. Theo took advantage of his smaller form, jumping from the floor to a chaise and finally up on a floating bookshelf. Poor Matty had too much momentum, not able to stop himself once he was in full motion and thus slamming head first into the wall beneath the shelf. You and Enzo winced in pain for him as Matty’s paws covered his snout while he whined. 

In the next moment Matty was no longer a German Shepherd but fully fledged himself, rolling from his back to his side and groaning, “Fucking hell, Theo. You’re such a fucking asshole.” You pushed up from the couch then, cooing out as you approached the scene, “Oh, my poor sweet boy.” Matty’s lower lip jutted as he sat up and leaned against the wall. You stretched out your arms and Matty mirrored you before his mouth fell open. You bypassed Mattheo completely, reaching up instead to grab Theo from the shelf. 

You wrapped your arms around Theo as he nuzzled further in to your hold, purring softly. Matty looked over toward Enzo, pout growing deeper, “Are you seeing this, babe?” Enzo put on a mock pout, opening his arms for Mattheo. The curly haired boy took the bait, pushing up from the floor and plopping down on the couch to let his boyfriend soothe his mental wounds. “They’re so mean to me, Enzie,” Mattheo mumbled into his chest. Enzo ran his hands through Mattheo’s curls, “I know, baby. So mean.” 

You scoffed, “You two are the most dramatic men I’ve ever met.” You sat down on the arm of the sofa, still holding Theo. Mattheo sat up at the accusation, “How dare you say that when you’re holding him.” He pointed at Theo lounging comfortably in your arms. Theo lazily turned his head towards Mattheo, meowing loudly. Mattheo threw a finger in the air, sticking out his tongue. Theo hissed back at Mattheo before you stood up, mumbling something about going in to the bedroom for a cuddle.

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

The first time I saw Skip Muck’s grave at the Luxembourg American Cemetery and Memorial, I just stood there and felt numb. I was with Dick Winters and Carwood Lipton, on a trip led by Stephen Ambrose. It was 1991. No tears. In fact, there’s a photo of three of us old vets standing at his grave and we’re all looking resolute. Soldiers, you know, posing for a picture taken by a historian who admired the hell out of us. I returned there in 2004 and remembered how when Roe asked if I wanted to see Skip, I’d said no. And when Winters asked if I wanted a break, I’d said no. I realized that since those moments, I’d grieved for everybody I’d lost except for one man, the man whose death I’d tried for decades to run away from, the man whose loss had hit me harder than all the rest. How many times had I looked at that 1942 photo of all of us at Toccoa, the one I’d written all the KIAs and SWAs on for those killed and seriously wounded, and thought, Why not me? Why no initials on my chest? Why not at Brécourt Manor, when I’d stupidly gone after what I thought was a Luger on that dead soldier? Or at Hell’s Corner, when German soldiers had our patrol outnumbered eight to three but wrongly assumed we had more firepower and surrendered to us? Or at Bastogne? If Winters hadn’t split Skip and me up, that would probably have been me, not Penkala, in that foxhole with Skip on January 9, 1944. But even if I’ve played the what-if game often, I know, deep down, that you can never win at it. Better to remember that, for whatever reason—God or fate or reading a Reader’s Digest article about paratroopers on a Greyhound bus heading for Astoria—I was privileged to serve with a company of men who would make me far more than I would have been without them. And that losing one of those men had hurt so badly that I’d buried the thought of him, thinking that somehow that would help me avoid the pain. Better, I’ve since learned, to turn into those waves and dive. So on that day in 2004 when I visited the cemetery where Skip is buried, I looked at that white marble cross and that name—Sgt. Warren H. Muck—and thought of the kid who swam the Niagara. The march to Atlanta. The smile. I knelt, placed flowers at the base of that cross. Prayed. All the things I’d done before when I’d come to see his grave. Only this time I did something different, long overdue, and hard but freeing. I cried sixty years’ worth of tears.

~ Don Malarkey

[perkwunos]

So are the French and German govts currently just holding constant meetings to plan how to make the EU the new world power as the USA obviously is starting to surrender that status? Seeming like we should expect a vastly more militarized EU with greater colonial ambitions very soon, though I’m not sure if they could actually make that transition.

[jonnywaistcoat]

my dad has decided that gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser is about world war 1

This is very funny to me - it's like saying your dad decided High Noon Over Camelot is about the wild west, or Ulysses Dies at Dawn is about film noire. Like, yeah, Gunpowder Tim is riffing on WWI - almost all the songs are based on old soldiers songs from the war, the tunnel-fighting is inspired by trench warfare, and the last time Germany had a "Kaiser" was Kaiser Wilhelm II, who abdicated after the German surrender.

Genuinely curious as to what you thought it was about, if you didn't have WW1 as a cultural touchstone?

[theworldatwar]

German soldiers surrender to US forces as they make their advance - Lemgo, Germany, April 1945