Dueling Roses 

Like many of history’s wars, the Wars of the Roses weren’t named until many years after the conflict ended. The moniker refers to the symbols of the two houses: a white rose for the House of York and a red rose for the House of Lancaster, although roses weren’t the only heraldic imagery used at the time of the fighting. Yorkists, for instance, were also known to sport Richard III’s white boar badge before and during his brief reign as king (1483-1485). Lancastrian monarch Henry VI featured an antelope on his royal badge, and when Henry VII won the Battle of Bosworth, he carried a banner featuring the family’s red dragon crest on a white and green background. 

While the white rose was just one of many badges used by the Yorks, the red rose may have been absent during the civil wars altogether. Before 1485, red roses appeared only minimally in distant Lancaster heraldic imagery. Historians believe the image was only made a prominent Lancastrian symbol by Henry VII and his advisors after his victory. Seeking to unify the nation — and to strengthen his shaky familial claim to the throne — Henry married a York princess, Edward IV’s daughter Elizabeth, six months after the Wars of the Roses had ended. Manuscripts from this era show that he purposefully resurrected the seldom-used red rose and, in a strategic move, combined it with the Yorkists’ white rose. 

Together, the two roses made what came to be known as the Tudor rose, a prominent symbol of the Tudor dynasty. It was not only a powerful piece of political imagery, but also a symbol of unity and reconciliation. The Tudor rose became an enduring emblem and spread throughout England, often incorporated into architecture and decor throughout the country. Today, red and white roses — as well as red dragons — appear in the garden at the Hampton Court Palace, a historical Tudor court. 

A War by Any Other Name

The Tudor rose was firmly entrenched as a symbol of the English civil wars by the late 1400s, but the conflict’s modern name didn’t become common for another 400 years. Much of its popularity is attributed to the 19th-century writer Walter Scott, who, in his 1829 novel Anne of Geierstein, referred to the civil wars as “the wars of the White and Red Roses.” Scott was a famous novelist at the time, and his work resonated with the wider public and bolstered the Wars of the Roses’ name through the 19th century and beyond. He wasn’t the first to make the literary link, however. In his late-1500s Henry VI trilogy, William Shakespeare famously dramatized a scene in which characters pluck red and white roses to signify their loyalties. Influential Scottish philosopher David Hume also helped cement the connection. In a 1775 version of his bestselling book The History of England, Hume referred to the period as “the quarrel between the two roses.” 

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Red Wool Was Commonplace and Cheap

The most prosaic reason for the color of the Redcoats’ iconic jackets was one of simple economics. Supplying a large standing army with uniforms could be a costly business. As it happened, red wool was commonplace, cheap, and durable. While some dyes, such as kermes and cochineal, produced a deep scarlet favored by the wealthy and powerful, the wool used in the standard infantry jacket was colored red with a cheaper, brownish-red dye derived from the root of the madder plant, which had been used by numerous civilizations dating as far back as ancient Egypt. 

Red Uniforms Offered Battlefield Benefits

While camouflage uniforms are standard today, they wouldn’t have served much purpose on the battlefields of old, when infantrymen walked slowly into battle in ordered and obvious columns and lines. Guns were also highly inaccurate, making it difficult to target and hit a particular individual, no matter how easy they were to see. What’s more, having uniforms that blended into the environment would have actually been detrimental. For the generals in command, being able to see exactly where their soldiers were was vital in the smoke and chaos of battle (and also made it easier to spot deserters running from the fight). For the soldiers, meanwhile, red jackets made it easier to tell friend from foe on the battlefield, and in turn avoid friendly fire. 

Red Signified Prestige and Power

Apart from the more practical reasons for the Redcoats’ distinctive jackets, there was also the issue of British pride to consider. It’s been theorized that red was a preferred choice due to it being one of Britain’s national colors: red, white, and blue. The three colors appear on the Union Jack, and, more specifically, on the St. George’s Cross — the national flag of England — which depicts a red cross on a white background. Eventually, the Redcoats themselves became a symbol of British rule both at home and abroad. The use of red by imperial soldiers over a period of nearly three centuries made the bright and distinctive uniform a powerful symbol of the British Empire.

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The FBI Built a Tunnel Under the Soviet Embassy in Washington

In 1977, the Soviet Union began building a new embassy in Washington, D.C. Fears immediately arose within the United States Intelligence Community that the new embassy could serve as a hub for Soviet spying activities, including eavesdropping on communications from the White House and the U.S. Capitol. In response, the U.S. began digging a tunnel underneath the embassy from a nearby building — in what was known as Operation Monopoly — from which they could monitor Soviet communications. Construction began in 1977, but the secret tunnel didn’t become fully operational until the early ’90s. The whole project was a huge and costly failure, partially due to the clandestine activities of Robert Hanssen, a double agent in the FBI. In 2001, Hanssen was arrested on charges of spying for Russia, at which point Operation Monopoly became public knowledge. It's not entirely clear when the double agent informed Russia of the tunnel’s existence.  

Mathias Rust Flew to Moscow With a Message of Peace

In May 1987, a 19-year-old amateur pilot named Mathias Rust decided to illegally navigate through Soviet airspace — and what was then the largest air defense system in the world. He took off from Helsinki in a single-engine Cessna and flew 550 miles to the center of Moscow, where he promptly landed next to Red Square, a stone’s throw from the Kremlin. It was a stunning achievement, not only because of the real risk of being shot down, but also because Rust had only 50 hours of flying experience. 

The West German teenager was driven by a noble cause. He explained how he wanted “to build an imaginary bridge between West and East,” and how he thought “every human on this planet is responsible for some progress and I was looking for an opportunity to take my share in it.” He carried with him a 20-page world peace manifesto that he planned to deliver to Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. Rust was arrested immediately after landing, and later sentenced to four years in prison (he served 14 months before being released). How far Rust managed to advance peace is impossible to say, but his daring flight did result in a swathe of high-profile firings and demotions, including the Soviet defense minister and the commander of the country's air defenses.  

The Black Sea Bumping Incident

The idea of two Russian frigates deliberately ramming into two American ships sounds like something that could spark a wider conflict. But the Black Sea bumping incident of 1988, in which that very thing occurred, was resolved fairly amicably — and fortunately, considering the Cold War tensions of the time. The incident occurred when the cruiser USS Yorktown and the destroyer USS Caron sailed close to the Crimean coast, partly to challenge the Soviet claim of a 12-mile territorial water limit. (The U.S. argued there was only a 3-mile international limit on the respective territorial waters.) The two vessels were shadowed by two Soviet frigates, one of which, the Bezzavetnyi, had previously warned the Yorktown it would “strike their ship with own” if the Americans entered Soviet territory. It was not an empty threat. The Bezzavetnyi closed to within 50 feet of the Yorktown before slamming up against it. The second Soviet frigate did the same to the Caron. Thankfully for all involved, there was no direct intention to sink either ship, no weapons were fired, and no wider escalation ensued. 

Stanislav Petrov May Have Saved the World

If it weren’t for Stanislav Petrov, the Cold War — and potentially the trajectory of human life on Earth — could have come to a devastating end. Petrov, a lieutenant colonel in the Soviet Air Defense Forces, was on duty on September 26, 1983, when his early-warning satellite system detected what appeared to be five approaching U.S. nuclear-armed intercontinental ballistic missiles. Had he followed Soviet military protocol and reported an incoming American strike, he likely would have set in motion a full nuclear retaliation. Instead, Petrov kept calm and reported a false alarm, reasoning that if the United States really wanted to start a nuclear war, it would launch far more than five missiles. Petrov was correct, and the false alarm was later discovered to have been the result of the Soviet satellite warning system confusing the sun’s reflection off clouds for incoming missiles. By keeping his cool, Petrov potentially prevented a full-scale nuclear war.  

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A Masterless Samurai Could Become a Wandering Rōnin

Both the status and salary of a samurai warrior came from the lord, or daimyo, they served. If their lord died, or if the samurai disgraced themselves and lost their patronage, they could find themselves masterless, at which point they became a rōnin. These rōnin often ended up traveling Japan, offering their services to anyone in need of a sword for hire. It was seen as a tragic position, and a far fall from grace for any former samurai. Rōnin were viewed as a problem. Highly trained, armed, and yet leaderless, they had a reputation for troublemaking, banditry, and mercenary activities — and there were a lot of them. At the time of the decisive Battle of Sekigahara in 1600, it’s estimated that there were some 400,000 rōnin in Japan.

Women Warriors Fought Alongside the Samurai

Within the traditional samurai class, women were typically charged with maintaining the household — as well as defending it. They were therefore trained to use the naginata and a dagger called the kaiken. Some of these women went a step further, receiving the same training in martial arts and strategy as male samurai. Known as onna-musha, female warriors engaged directly in offensive battles as the equals of their male counterparts. Arguably the most famous onna-musha in Japanese history was Tomoe Gozen, who came to prominence during the Genpei War in the late 12th century. Renowned for her bravery, horsemanship, and exceptional skill with a bow and arrow, she famously led 300 samurai against a force of 6,000 enemy fighters — and, according to legend, emerged victorious as one of only five survivors.

There Were Samurai From Africa, China, and Europe

The samurai were almost exclusively Japanese, but a handful of foreigners were accepted into their ranks. The first was Yasuke, a tall man of African origin (perhaps from Mozambique, according to historians) who arrived in Kyoto in 1579. He caused a sensation, initially due to his race and height — he was a foot taller than the average Japanese man. Under the rule of Oda Nobunaga, a powerful feudal lord, Yasuke was trained in martial arts and eventually became a fully fledged samurai warrior. After Yasuke came four samurai from Joseon (now South Korea), one from China, and four from Europe. This latter group included William Adams from England and Jan Joosten van Lodensteijn of the Netherlands, two navigators who were stranded in Japan together in 1600. When neither man was allowed to leave the country, they ended up serving the shogunate and rising to the rank of samurai. 

There Was a Samurai Colony in California

The only settlement established by samurai outside of Japan — and the first Japanese colony in North America — was the Wakamatsu Tea and Silk Colony in Gold Hill, California. Established on June 8, 1869, the settlement was comprised of 22 people from samurai families (they even brought their swords with them), including farmers and carpenters, who had fled the Boshin War, a civil war that was a precursor to the Satsuma Rebellion of 1877 that effectively ended the samurai class. The colony got off to a bright start, with the planting of tea plants, mulberry trees, and bamboo, all in anticipation of the arrival of further colonists from Japan. But the influx of fresh settlers never came, and the farm soon began to fail. It’s unclear what happened to most of the settlers, but we do know that the historic site is home to the grave of Okei Ito, the first Japanese woman buried on American soil. The colony was also the birthplace of Mary Schnell (the daughter of the colony's founder, John Schnell), the first naturalized Japanese American citizen. 

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Why Was the War Fought?

The Seven Years’ War was very much about land — specifically, reclaiming territory or expanding empires, depending on the country. Longtime enemies France and Great Britain were fighting for commercial and colonial supremacy in North America and India. Austria wanted to reclaim its former province Silesia from Prussia, and exact revenge in the process: In the words of Austrian ruler Maria Theresa, “Prussia must be given a trouncing.” Russia saw Prussia as a threat to its territory and aligned with Austria accordingly. Sweden joined the anti-Prussia coalition to protect its military presence in the Baltics, and in hopes of currying favor with Austria and France. (As Swedish historian Patrik Winton put it, “Swedish politicians hoped that the coalition would lead to a quick victory without having to get too involved in the fighting, but that Sweden still would be rewarded for its support. Swedish military action was thus primarily designed to show the allies that Sweden participated in the war.”) Prussia sought to continue the territorial expansion it accomplished in the War of the Austrian Succession, specifically eyeing Saxony and Polish West Prussia.

When and Where Did the Fighting Take Place?

Part of what makes the Seven Years’ War convoluted is its wide geographic range, somewhat fuzzy timeline, and a sense of separation between the participants: The war was at its core a fusion of one war between France and Great Britain, and another war between Austria and Prussia. While the official time frame of the Seven Years’ War is 1756 to 1763, related battles took place before 1756, particularly in North America. The North American theater of the war has been commonly referred to as the French and Indian War, as Indigenous peoples in North America largely allied with the French against the British (though the Iroquois Confederacy aligned with Great Britain). The conflict began in 1754 as a series of military skirmishes between the French and British over undefined territory in the Ohio Valley. The moniker “French and Indian War” not only sounds outdated today, but is also confusing, as the French and British also fought separate battles during the Seven Years’ War in India. 

The military action in continental Europe began with the French seizing the British territory of Menorca in June 1756. Two months later, Prussia invaded Saxony, which triggered the aforementioned alliances. The alliance-activating nature of Prussia’s invasion of Saxony is the reason why it’s considered the start of the Seven Years’ War, even though the French invasion of Menorca and two years of colonial North American battles between France and Great Britain predate it. War between France and Great Britain was not officially declared until 1756. The other major theaters of the war include the Caribbean, Central America, the Philippines, and West Africa, as well as warship battles at sea. 

What Was the Impact of the Seven Years’ War?

Two peace treaties ended the Seven Years’ War. The Treaty of Paris was signed on February 10, 1763, between Great Britain, France, Hanover, Portugal, and Spain; five days later, the Treaty of Hubertusburg was signed between Austria, Prussia, and Saxony. The Treaty of Paris represented a major loss of territory for France, as it resulted in France relinquishing all of its North American territories east of the Mississippi River (except New Orleans), all land gains in India and the East Indies since 1749, and some of its West Indies territories, ceding them to Great Britain in most cases. The Treaty of Hubertusburg was a status quo antebellum agreement, restoring the conditions that existed prior to the Seven Years’ War: Silesia remained a Prussian territory, and Saxony regained its sovereignty. 

These treaties resulted in the enhancement of Great Britain as a global power. The war also led to the rise of George Washington, who was a 22-year-old major during the first North American military battles between Great Britain and France, and eventually became commander of the Virginia colony’s military regiment. Ultimately, the exorbitant expense of the Seven Years’ War resulted in Great Britain levying increased taxes upon the American colonies,  fostering conditions that led to the American Revolutionary War. 

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