Alexey Maresyev was a Soviet fighter pilot of World War II who was shot down behind German lines in April 1942, lost both legs, and astonishingly returned to combat flying on prosthetic legs. His endurance made him one of the most celebrated heroes of the Soviet war effort.

After his Yak-1 was downed over the forests of Novgorod Oblast, the badly injured Maresyev crawled west toward Soviet lines for 18 days through deep snow before villagers found him. Severe frostbite and gangrene meant both his legs had to be amputated.

Yes. After being fitted with prosthetic legs, Maresyev trained relentlessly to fly again and returned to frontline combat, reportedly scoring further aerial victories. His determination became legendary and inspired the popular Soviet book "The Story of a Real Man."

Maresyev flew the Yakovlev Yak-1, an early Soviet single-engine fighter, when he was shot down in 1942. It was part of the broader Yak fighter family that became a backbone of Red Army aviation throughout the war.

Stranded behind enemy lines in winter, Maresyev crawled and rolled westward, eating bark, berries and whatever he could find, driven by the hope of reaching Soviet territory. Villagers eventually discovered him near death and brought help.

Aviation history is full of near-miraculous survivals, from Maresyev's crawl to Israeli pilot Zivi Nedivi, who landed an F-15 with one wing. Such stories highlight the extremes of human endurance and skill in the air.

ZeLL, or Zero-Length Launch, was a Cold War concept that fitted the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter with a large rocket booster so it could be launched straight off a ramp, without any runway. The aim was to keep fighters operational even if airfields were bombed.

The F-104 Starfighter earned the nickname "missile with a man in it" because of its extremely thin, stubby wings and rocket-like fuselage built for blistering speed. It prioritised raw performance over manoeuvrability, looking more like a guided missile than a conventional fighter.

A zero-length-launch aircraft sat on a short ramp with a booster rocket attached beneath it. The rocket fired to fling the jet into the air in seconds; once airborne and fast enough, the booster was jettisoned and the aircraft flew normally on its own jet engine.

During the Cold War, conventional airfields were obvious first-strike targets that could be cratered in minutes. Launching Cold War interceptors from ramps promised a way to get fighters airborne even after an enemy attack destroyed the runways.

Although tests with the F-104 and other jets proved the concept worked, zero-length launch never entered regular service. The complexity, cost and risk outweighed the benefits, and air forces instead hardened airfields and dispersed aircraft to protect them.

The F-104 served many air forces as an interceptor and strike fighter from the late 1950s, prized for its speed and climb. Its safety record in some countries was troubled, but it remains an icon of the jet age, admired among the most distinctive aircraft ever built.

According to a famous World War I anecdote, British observer Captain John Hedley was thrown from his Bristol F.2B during a steep dive in 1918, fell through the air, and — as the pilot levelled out — supposedly landed back on the aircraft's tail and clung on. The tale is widely retold, though hard to verify.

Early in World War I, British airmen were generally not issued parachutes. Commanders feared having them might tempt crews to abandon damaged but salvageable aircraft. This grim policy left many fliers no escape option, a stark contrast to the first emergency parachute jumps that came soon after.

The Bristol F.2B Fighter was a British two-seat biplane of World War I, carrying a pilot and a rear observer-gunner. Rugged and effective, it became one of the war's most successful two-seat fighters, flying both reconnaissance and aggressive air-combat missions.

Such an event would be extraordinarily unlikely, which is why the Hedley story is often treated as aviation legend rather than documented fact. Still, World War I produced many astonishing survival tales, reflecting how chaotic and dangerous early aerial combat truly was.

Record-keeping in World War I was patchy, and dramatic tales spread quickly through newspapers and squadron lore, often embellished with each retelling. Many cherished aviation anecdotes blur the line between history and myth, part of the colourful early chapter of aviation history.

In January 1968, a US Air Force B-52G Stratofortress carrying four hydrogen bombs caught fire and crashed onto the sea ice near Thule Air Base in Greenland. It was one of the most serious nuclear accidents of the Cold War, scattering radioactive debris across the ice.

The fire reportedly began when the crew stuffed cloth cushions over a heating vent in the cabin to stay warm; the cushions ignited, and the cabin filled with smoke. Unable to control the blaze, the crew abandoned the burning bomber, which then crashed onto the ice.

Chrome Dome was a Cold War US strategy of keeping nuclear-armed B-52 bombers airborne around the clock, ready to strike the Soviet Union at a moment's notice. The Thule bomber also watched over a vital early-warning radar station in Greenland.

The high-explosive components of the four bombs detonated on impact without a nuclear explosion, scattering radioactive material. A massive cleanup, codenamed Project Crested Ice, recovered debris, but it is widely reported that part of one weapon was never accounted for.

Thule, in northern Greenland, hosted a powerful early-warning radar guarding against a surprise Soviet missile attack. It was considered such a likely first target that a bomber orbited overhead to confirm if it were ever destroyed, making the base a Cold War nerve point.

Yes. The 1968 accident, following earlier incidents, prompted the US to end the Chrome Dome airborne-alert program, judging that flying armed nuclear bombers continuously was too risky. It reshaped how the superpowers handled their airborne deterrent, a turning point in aviation history.

Margaret Horton was a Leading Aircraftwoman in Britain's Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) during World War II. In February 1945 she became famous for accidentally being carried into the air clinging to the tail of a Spitfire that took off with her still aboard — and surviving.

Horton's job was to sit on the Spitfire's horizontal stabiliser to keep the tail down while it taxied in strong wind. On 14 February 1945 the pilot, unaware she was there, opened the throttle and took off, carrying her aloft as she clung desperately to the tail.

Yes. The pilot felt the aircraft handling strangely and quickly brought the Battle of Britain-era fighter back down to land. Horton, though shaken, climbed off the tail unharmed in one of the most remarkable accidental flights in aviation history.

The Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) was the female branch of Britain's Royal Air Force during World War II. Its members did not fly in combat but performed vital roles such as radar operation, plotting, mechanics and aircraft handling, freeing men for frontline duties.

The Spitfire was tail-heavy on the ground and could tip nose-down in gusty conditions while taxiing. Ground crew often sat on the tail as ballast to keep it steady — usually hopping off before take-off, which is exactly what went wrong in Horton's case.

The Supermarine Spitfire was an iconic British single-seat fighter of World War II, celebrated for its elliptical wings and agile performance. Alongside the Hawker Hurricane it became a symbol of British defiance, and remains among the most beloved aircraft ever built.

Pardo's Push was a daring 1967 feat in the Vietnam War in which US Air Force pilot Captain Bob Pardo used his own F-4 Phantom to physically push a crippled, fuel-starved F-4 through the air, extending its flight far enough for both crews to escape enemy territory before ejecting.

Captain Bob Pardo was a US Air Force F-4 Phantom pilot with the 8th Tactical Fighter Wing during the Vietnam War. He is remembered for the selfless airmanship of "Pardo's Push," risking his own aircraft and crew to save a fellow pilot whose jet was too damaged to make it home.

Pardo positioned his Phantom behind and below the stricken aircraft and rested its windscreen against the other jet's lowered tailhook. By gently throttling forward he slowed the damaged jet's descent — a feat of precision flying as delicate as aerial refuelling.

The McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II was a twin-engine American fighter-bomber widely used in the Vietnam War and beyond. Big, fast and versatile, it served as an interceptor, strike aircraft and reconnaissance platform, becoming one of the most important Cold War combat jets.

Yes. Thanks to Pardo's manoeuvre, the damaged aircraft stayed airborne long enough to cross into safer territory, where the airmen ejected and were recovered. Pardo's own jet ran out of fuel as well, forcing his crew to eject too — but everyone survived.

It is celebrated as one of the greatest displays of airmanship and selflessness in combat aviation. Pushing one jet with another is almost unthinkable, and Pardo's calm improvisation under fire turned a hopeless situation into a successful rescue, earning lasting admiration.