When helicopter pilot Hugh Thompson Jr. flew over the Vietnamese village of My Lai on March 16, 1968, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Below him, American soldiers—his brothers in arms—were systematically executing unarmed civilians. Women, children, even infants lay dead or dying along village paths and in ditches. What happened next would define not just Thompson's life, but reshape our understanding of moral courage in warfare.

Thompson made a split-second decision that few would have the bravery to make. He landed his small OH-23 helicopter directly between American troops and fleeing Vietnamese villagers, ordering his crew to train their weapons on their fellow soldiers. "If these bastards open up on me or these people, you open up on them," he commanded. In that tense standoff, with American guns pointed at each other on foreign soil, Thompson evacuated eleven civilians to safety. Later, spotting movement in a mass grave, his crew rescued a five-year-old boy—the only survivor among hundreds of bodies.

The aftermath proved that moral courage often comes at devastating personal cost. Rather than being celebrated, Thompson was ostracized, received death threats, and was labeled a traitor by members of Congress. The military attempted to cover up the massacre, awarding Thompson a medal with a fabricated citation that disgusted him. For thirty years, he battled PTSD, depression, and alcoholism while the institution he served tried to bury both his actions and the atrocity he exposed. Only in 1998 did the Army finally acknowledge the truth, awarding Thompson and his crew the Soldier's Medal for their extraordinary heroism.

Thompson's legacy transcends the Vietnam War. His actions at My Lai now form the cornerstone of military ethics training, teaching soldiers that their ultimate loyalty must be to humanity and moral principles above unlawful orders. Join us as we explore the remarkable story of a man who, when faced with the ultimate test of character, chose to stand alone against overwhelming pressure and save innocent lives, reminding us all what true heroism looks like in our darkest hours.

Interview: Larry Colburn From the Collection: Vietnam War

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/my-lai-interview-larry-colburn/#:~:text=starting%20to%20see%20things%20%E2%80%94%C2%A0you,they%20were%20leaving%20on%2C%20and

Op-Ed: A forgotten hero stopped the My Lai massacre 50 years ago today

By Jon Wiener

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-oe-wiener-my-lai-hugh-thompson-20180316-story.html#:~:text=Advertisement

Wikipedia: Hugh Thompson Jr.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Thompson_Jr.#:~:text=Thompson%20reported%20the%20atrocities%20by,destroy%20operations%20in%20the%20village

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The frigid winter of 1925 brought more than just bitter cold to Nome, Alaska—it delivered a deadly diphtheria outbreak that threatened to devastate the isolated town of 1,400 people. With the harbor frozen solid and no roads connecting them to civilization, Nome faced a terrifying reality: their antitoxin supply had expired, and without fresh medicine, hundreds could die from what was grimly known as "the strangling angel of children."

What followed was an extraordinary feat of human and canine endurance that would capture the world's attention. When officials in Anchorage received Dr. Curtis Welch's desperate telegram, they organized a relay of twenty mushers and their dog teams to transport precious serum across 674 miles of Arctic wilderness in conditions that seemed impossible to survive. Temperatures plunged to -50°F, with winds creating a windchill of -85°F, as these teams raced against time through blizzards, across frozen rivers, and over mountain passes.

At the heart of this epic journey was Leonhard Seppala and his 12-year-old lead dog, Togo, who tackled the most perilous section—a 261-mile stretch that included crossing the treacherous ice of Norton Sound during a raging blizzard in complete darkness. Through pure instinct, Togo navigated where no human could see, saving his musher's life when ice began breaking behind them. While Gunnar Kasson and Balto would complete the final dramatic sprint into Nome and receive most of the glory, it was Togo's remarkable feat that truly made the difference between life and death for Nome's residents.

The "Great Race of Mercy," as it became known, was completed in just 127.5 hours—setting a world record for overland travel in such conditions. This incredible story not only saved a town but inspired the famous Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race and demonstrated the extraordinary bond between humans and dogs when faced with seemingly impossible odds. Listen as we uncover the true heroes of this remarkable journey and set the historical record straight on one of the most inspiring rescue missions ever undertaken.

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Would you believe a surgeon could accidentally kill three people in one operation? Welcome to the blood-soaked world of pre-anesthesia surgery through the story of Robert Liston, the fastest knife in the West End of London.

Before the merciful darkness of anesthesia, surgery was a waking nightmare where patients remained fully conscious as surgeons cut through flesh and bone. In this harrowing landscape, Scottish surgeon Robert Liston emerged as a controversial medical hero. What made him special? While most surgeons wore blood-stained aprons like macabre trophies, Liston scrubbed his hands and instruments decades before germ theory existed. But his true claim to fame was speed—he could amputate a leg in just 28 seconds, a mercy in an era where surgical pain was unbearable.

Yet Liston's lightning-fast approach created the stuff of medical legend. During one particularly frenzied operation, he allegedly managed to amputate a patient's leg while accidentally removing the patient's testicles, slicing off his assistant's fingers, and cutting a spectator's coat—causing such shock that the bystander dropped dead on the spot. With the patient and assistant later dying from infections, this became the only known operation with a 300% mortality rate. Though this gruesome tale first appeared in the 1980s and lacks contemporary evidence, it perfectly captures the chaotic reality of early 19th-century medicine.

Despite these grisly stories, Liston's contributions to modern surgery were immense. He became the first surgeon in Europe to use ether anesthesia publicly in 1846, helping usher in a new era where speed would no longer be medicine's primary mercy. His story serves as a vivid reminder of how far we've come—and why you should be thankful for modern medical practices the next time you need surgery.

Subscribe to The Origin of Weird by the History Buffoons for more astonishing tales from history that will make you grateful to be alive in the 21st century!

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This website contains affiliate links. This means that if you click on a link and purchase a product, I may receive a small commission at no extra cost to you. This helps support the running of this website and allows me to continue providing valuable content. Please note that I only recommend products and services that I believe in and have personally used or researched.