Stunted

bore witness to their indomitable spirit. They were an awe inspiring force, feared by their adversaries and revered by their comrades. Led by a commander of legendary reputation, they etched their mark upon the annals of World War One. Clad in uniforms that spoke of discipline and strength, they exuded an air of confidence that permeated the world around them. Their

helmets gleamed beneath the sun, reflecting their relentless determination. These soldiers possessed a resolute gaze, eyes piercing through the fog of war with unwavering focus. With each step, their boots resounded with purpose, the sound echoing through the battlefields as a testament to their steadfast resolve. Their presence alone struck fear into the hearts of their enemies. They were a force to be reckoned with, unmatched in their bravery and

unparalleled in their skill. Yet it was not just their ferocity and combat prowess that set them apart. Within their ranks, a bond stronger than steel bound them together. Comradeship flowed through their veins, serving as a lifeline amidst the chaos of war. In the darkest moments, they found solace in each other's unwavering support, lending a helping hand or a comforting word when the weight of the world threatened to

crush their spirits. One name stood out among the rest, whispered in hushed reverence by both allies and foes alike. Butch Karova. This revered commander led a fierce battalion with an iron will. Every decision was guided by a clarity of purpose that demanded respect. It ignited a fire within the warriors, fueling their valor in the face of insurmountable odds.

Such respect and leadership hadn't always been granted to the commander As a soldier in the early days, Butch Karova had been mocked and harassed, but in nineteen seventeen, during World War One, something happened to change the young soldier's course. As the war continued and the fighting dragged on, many soldiers on the Eastern Front abandoned their posts. Butch Karova proposed a solution to the Minister of War, Alexander Kerensky.

The minister listened intently and agreed to fund the Battalion of Death. The decision had been an easy one for the soldier. In a later memoir, Butchkarova wrote, my heart yearned to be there in the boiling call of war, to be baptized in its fire and scorched in its lava. And so began the select recruitment and training of some of the most determined soldiers in Russia. Nearly two thousand answered the call for recruits, only five hundred were selected.

Residents far and wide gathered to watch the battalion board trains to the Eastern Front. Before long, the battalion captured the attention of world leaders, journalists, and activists. Butch Karova met with England's King George and US President Woodrow Wilson. Theodore Roosevelt shared some of his nobel Peace Prize money with the commander. But it wasn't until the smoke cleared and the battlefield fell silent that the truth was unveiled.

As the world marveled at the gallantry of this extraordinary battalion, they discovered a revelation that shattered their preconceived notions. Butch Keova, you see, had once been a peasant who had fled an abusive marriage to a violent alcoholic. The commander of the Battalion of Death was a woman. But that wasn't all hidden. Beneath the armor and determined gazes of Maria butch Kova's Battalion of Death, the soldiers all shared something

in common. While the men had fled their posts, it had been the women who had taken up the call on the Eastern Front, an act that was both courageous and curious. Everyone has at least one thing they're good at. One person might be an excellent piano player, while another could be a skilled painter. It could take time to figure out what a person's talent might be, but eventually everyone figures out that they have a skill that's all their own. Like Helen Gibson. Helen was really good at

risking her life. She was born Rose August Wenger in Cleveland, Ohio, in eighteen ninety two to fred Annie Wanger. With four other sisters in the family. Her father had hoped that he'd have at least one boy, but when Helen arrived, he pushed her to be the son that he'd always wanted. She got her first taste of danger when she was seventeen years old. She'd attended a Wild West show that had come to Cleveland, which had enthralled her with all

the roping and horseback riding the performers demonstrated. But it was while reading a copy of Billboard magazine when she noticed an ad looking for female writers to audition for a ranch in Oklahoma. Helen answered the call, and one year later she debuted at her first Wild West show in Saint Louis, Missouri. Unfortunately, her employment with the ranch didn't last long. The show closed down in nineteen eleven while its performers were still in California. But Helen wasn't

out of work for long. She found a new job in Hollywood, where she rode horses as an extra in Western Pictures, her first on screen appearance. If You're curious was in a nineteen twelve silent film called ranch Girls on a Rampage. Tinseltown was also where she met her future husband, Edmund Hoot Gibson, and by nineteen thirteen the pair were performing in rodeos across the Western US, and

these weren't just shows, they were contests too. They swept one rodeo in Salt Lake City, Utah, where they took home the prizes for trick riding and won all the races that there were. But this wasn't just a hobby. Helen's true career was back in Hollywood. Western films were getting more dangerous and daring, putting Helen in high demand. Around nineteen fifteen, Gibson took over as the lead for a long running serial called The Hazards of Helen, named

for its star Helen Holmes. But during the middle of the series, Holmes fell ill and Gibson stepped in as a substitute for two films. Gibson took home thirty five dollars a week. The bosses back in New York liked her. She was rough and tumble, and her stunts looked great on screen. One film had her grabbing hold of a rope dangling from a bridge as she stood atop a pack of running horses, then used that rope to swing

onto a passing train. Impressed with her capabilities, the studio decided to keep her for the remaining sixty nine episodes of the serial run, which concluded in February of nineteen seventeen. This led to another series, The Daughters of Daring, with Gibson back in the saddle. For one of her most dangerous stunts ever captured on film, Helen had to ride a motorcycle through a wooden barricade while pursuing a runaway train.

She then steered that motorcycle up to the station platform, threw a box car of one train, and onto the flat car of another passing train. It was the kind of stunt that required expert timing and a lot of skill, and Helen nailed it. Eventually, the studio was sold to another production company called Vitagraph, at which point Helen jumpship to Universal for three years, making one hundred and twenty

five dollars a week. After her contract was up there, she went to Capitol Film Company for more than double her rate, although that didn't last long. Capital went belly up in May of nineteen twenty. That year, she created her own production company called Helen Gibson Productions, but its first picture practically bankrupt her. She was forced to go back to contract work, although this time she earned a substantial increase to four hundred and fifty dollars a week.

And then her career took a hard left turn. A ruptured appendix put Helen in the hospital for weeks, during which time she was replaced with another actress. Once she finally recovered, she got back to work, but injured herself bad enough to wind up right back in the hospital. She had to sell a good deal of her jewelry and personal assets just to stay afloat. But Helen Gibson

never stopped working. She continued to perform in rodeos and circus shows for a number of years after that, and she appeared in films until her retirement at the age of sixty nine. Her last film was the nineteen sixty one western classic The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, starring John Wayne. Helen Gibson was a trail some might even say that literally, and the work she did gave women a leg up in Hollywood. But she wasn't just a

silent film star. She was America's first professional Hollywood stunt woman. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the

Worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.