Anyone who steps on a landmine while running will not be instantly shredded by the flaming hot sharpnel. His body will be bounced into the air (almost as if he had ran and jumped on a diving board) where he will do two slow motion blackflips and a half gainer before crashing back to the ground. Judge’s scores: 9.7, 10, 9.8
If a hick kid from Texas mentions that he used to fly cropdusters similar to certain German planes, by movie’s end he will have to fly one.
Majors in charge of two groups of twelve (okay, a “Baker’s Dozen” in the sequel) condemned men will age what appears to be about 18 years worth in only a few months. So will the head general and the platoon sergeant.
If you capture something from the enemy - a gun, a car, a plane, a submarine, whatever - you will instantly know how to operate it, and do it better than they could. No fumbling with the gear stick for you!
French Resistance operatives always drive big black Citroens - those ones with the chevrons on the grille and the doors that open the wrong way. No-one else does, but the Nazis haven’t figured that out yet.
What, no mention of artillery being unable to hit the side of a barn unless said barn is filled with the soldiers who called for the artillery to fire?
The purpose of anti-aircraft guns is to give pilots an excuse to bounce and twirl the plane around a bit. No plane has ever been hit by anti-aircraft fire unless
a) it was a German plane over London, or
b) it was a British plane over Berlin and no member of its crew had been named, or
c) it was a British plane over Hamburg and its pilot (the only named crewmember) was competing with the American pilot for the affection of a specific girl.
Why Franco’s side won the war is a mistery. Nobody ever fought for his side in any movies, but there’s quite a few movies around where either people fight for the Republican side or are said to have done so. Oh, wait… maybe he got help from the Faun in Pan’s Labyrinth?
After attending to his injured buddies throughout the film, a medic is then required to suffer a grievous, abdomen-splitting injury.
His suffering will be protracted and heart-wrenching, but that’s good: It will give his bewildered brethren time to fumble wildly through his medical kit in a vain attempt to apply gauze pads and administer morphine injections.
Meanwhile, he’ll fish his “death letter” from his breast pocket and stuff it into his buddy’s hand who will them promptly refuse to deliver it because “You’re going to deliver it yourself dammit!!”