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Morning gents.
Big news (arguably huge news): Outdoor Boys drops a new video tomorrow. Plans have been canceled, and the honey butter has been secured. In the meantime, let’s talk about the Nazi pilot who accidentally landed in enemy territory.
Let’s get into it.
🗓️ Today in History
November 7th, 1944 – FDR's Fourth (Yes, Fourth) Term
Today in history, Franklin Delano Roosevelt won his fourth consecutive presidential election. FDR crushed Republican challenger Thomas Dewey with 432 electoral votes to 99, because apparently Americans figured "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." And honestly, who could blame them? The country was in the middle of the biggest war in human history, and voters weren't exactly eager to swap quarterbacks mid-game.
Here's the thing though: FDR was in rough shape. Like, really rough. His health was declining fast, and pretty much everyone around him knew it. Just 82 days into his fourth term, he died of a cerebral hemorrhage, leaving his VP Harry Truman to close out WWII and figure out what the hell to do with something called an "atomic bomb."
The whole situation basically forced Congress's hand. In 1951, they passed the 22nd Amendment, officially capping presidents at two terms. Turns out watching a president serve until he literally died in office was enough to make "maybe we should have actual rules about this" seem like a pretty good idea.
❓ Trivia
During Prohibition’s repeal, FDR famously celebrated with what drink?
P.S. We’re now breaking down the answers at the end of each edition, so you get a little more insight.
The Time a Nazi Pilot Got Lost and Gave the Allies His Cutting-Edge Fighter Jet
Faber's Focke-Wulf Fw 190A-3 of III/JG 2 at RAF Pembrey, June 1942
In June 1942, the Luftwaffe was still riding high. Germany had air superiority over most of Europe, and their newest toy, the Focke-Wulf Fw 190, was absolutely shredding Allied fighters in the skies. Spitfires and Hurricanes were getting outclassed like a Nokia 3310 trying to compete with an iPhone. British pilots were coming back rattled, reporting this terrifyingly nimble, heavily armed beast that could out-turn, out-climb, and out-gun pretty much everything they had. The Allies desperately needed to understand this aircraft. They needed intel, specs, weaknesses. Preferably without having to scrape one off a crash site.
Enter Oberleutnant Armin Faber, a skilled Luftwaffe pilot with Jagdgeschwader 2, which sounds very impressive until you realize he was about to pull off one of history's most consequential brain farts.
On June 23, 1942, Faber was flying escort duty over the English Channel. Things got spicy when RAF fighters showed up, and a dogfight broke out. Faber, to his credit, was good at his job. He shot down a Spitfire, pulled some aggressive maneuvers, and generally did all the things you're supposed to do when people are trying to kill you at 20,000 feet. In the chaos of the engagement, with adrenaline pumping and clouds everywhere, Faber got completely turned around. He thought he was flying north over the English Channel, back toward France.
He was actually flying north over the Bristol Channel, heading deeper into Wales.
Armin Faber
Now, if you've ever gotten lost in a city because your phone died and all the streets look the same, imagine that but with your life depending on finding the right coastline and also everyone below you wants to shoot you. Faber looked down, saw water, saw land beyond it, and thought, "Perfect, that's France." Spoiler: it was very much not France.
He landed his pristine, barely used Fw 190 at RAF Pembrey in South Wales, probably expecting a hero's welcome and a schnitzel. Instead, he got British soldiers sprinting toward him with rifles. The look on his face must have been awesome.
For the RAF personnel at Pembrey, this was like Christmas, your birthday, and finding $20 in your old jeans all happening at once. They'd been getting obliterated by this aircraft for months, and now one just landed at their doorstep with a bow on it. The plane was intact, fueled, armed, everything. They immediately cordoned it off, shipped it to the Royal Aircraft Establishment, and proceeded to take it apart like mechanics at a chop shop.
The intelligence windfall was massive. British engineers discovered the Fw 190's strengths (radial engine, excellent roll rate, heavy armament) and, crucially, its weaknesses (poor performance at high altitude, vulnerable fuel system). They test-flew it against Spitfires to develop new tactics. This single navigational oopsie gave the Allies the blueprint they needed to counter Germany's most advanced fighter. Within months, new Spitfire variants were being designed specifically to exploit what they'd learned from Faber's gift-wrapped present.
The whole thing is a perfect reminder that history doesn't always turn on grand strategy or genius military planning. Sometimes it pivots on a guy getting confused about which body of water he's over. Faber spent the rest of the war in a POW camp, probably replaying that moment over and over, wondering how he mistook Wales for Nazi-occupied France. That's some "sent the email to the wrong person" energy, except the wrong person was your mortal enemy and the email contained your team's playbook.
The takeaway? Even when you think you're executing the plan flawlessly, double-check your GPS. Because sometimes the biggest victories don't come from brilliant tactics but from your opponent flying confidently in the wrong direction. And sometimes the weirdest, most embarrassing mistakes end up changing everything. History loves irony like that.
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🥣 Stuff to Check Out
🎸 Song of the Week
“Shadow on the Sun” by Audioslave feels like driving through a desert at golden hour with the windows down. It’s badass and absolutely rules. Give it a listen.
Check it out 👇
📸 Photo of the Week
Meeting of ages. Osaka, 1960
🍽️ Last Bite
🎰 Trivia Breakdown
FDR is remembered for leading America through the Great Depression and World War II, but some argue his finest moment came with the clink of a glass. In 1933, after signing the 21st Amendment and ending thirteen long years of Prohibition, he famously said, “I believe this would be a good time for a beer.” But his real drink of choice was the gin martini, and that’s where things got interesting.
The Roosevelt Martini was infamous among his friends and family. His own grandson called it “the worst” drink he had ever tasted, but that never stopped FDR from mixing another round and occasionally breaking into his old college fight song. Nobody could quite agree on his recipe, though most said it was way too heavy on the vermouth. For a man who rebuilt a nation, his bartending skills left a little room for improvement.
What’d you think of today’s edition? 👇
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