The Soldier with the Most Terrifying Killing Technique
April 1945. The Allies are poised to smash through Italy’s Gothic Line in the war’s final push, but success hinges on a desperate gamble at Lake Comacchio. They need someone brave enough – perhaps crazy enough – to lead a tiny force against entrenched German positions. The odds of survival are minimal.
The terrain offers no escape. Most commanders would call it a one-way mission. But there’s a man with no traditional military training. He’s a 24-year-old Danish former bottom-of-the-class student and merchant sailor. And they call him “The Terrible Viking”… Anders Frederik Emil Victor Schau Lassen was born on September 22, 1920, to the wealthy owners of the sprawling Høvdingsgård estate near Mern, Denmark.
The eldest of three siblings, his parents expected him to one day take over the running of the estate, but as a boy, he quickly showed he was more cut out for adventure than administration. The young Dane would spend hours exploring the woods surrounding the estate, moving through the countryside with the silence of a natural predator as he developed the impressive archery and marksmanship skills that he would later become known for.
He attended the elite Herlufsholm School, but when his exam results proved disastrous – the lowest in his entire grade – his family gave up on the plans they had made for him; instead, he chose the sea. In January 1939, he sailed aboard the MS Fionia of the East Asiatic Company, bound for Bangkok.
Lassen soon realized that maritime life suited him – it offered adventure, camaraderie, and escape from the suffocating expectations of Danish high society. After returning to Copenhagen four months later, he soon secured a position on another vessel, the tanker MV Eleonora Mærsk. In August, his mother came to Hamburg to bid him farewell as he set off on his voyage. But by now, Europe was teetering on the brink of World War 2 – and Lassen was about to get a chance to show what he was made of.
Initially, Denmark stayed out of the conflict, and Eleonora Mærsk continued in her commercial role as normal. But on April 9, 1940, while sailing through the Persian Gulf, her crew received a worrying message from the Danish shipping company: Germany had invaded Denmark, and all ships were to dock at neutral or German ports. But Anders Lassen and his crewmates had other ideas.
Incensed by Germany’s actions, they convinced their captain to sail instead to the British protectorate of Bahrain, where the tanker was requisitioned by the Ministry of War Transport. Now flying the British flag, she was fitted with a gun, and Lassen eagerly joined the crew responsible for the weapon.
Lassen felt he had finally found his true calling, but he wanted to get closer to the action. In late 1940, he signed onto the British tanker SS British Consul as a gunner, leaving Cape Town bound for Scotland. During the voyage, German aircraft attacked the ship, and the 20-year-old Dane finally got his chance to fire back in anger.
However, after reaching Scotland that Christmas, excitement quickly turned to frustration as he found himself alone in the dark, wintry streets of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. For the first time in his life, he was completely on his own, surrounded by strangers in a foreign land.
He spent weeks drinking heavily and wandering aimlessly until a chance encounter changed everything – he met an agent from the Special Operations Executive. The SOE had been formed to conduct sabotage operations behind enemy lines, and they were actively recruiting Danes for potential work in occupied Denmark. In January 1941, Lassen began training at one of their schools.
Initially, he found the classroom instruction tedious and uninspiring, but everything changed when he was transferred to the paramilitary training facilities in the Scottish Highlands. Here, surrounded by wild countryside and physically demanding challenges, Lassen was finally in his element.
His childhood spent hunting and tracking in the Danish woods had prepared him perfectly. He could move through rough terrain with supernatural silence, his shooting abilities were exceptional, and his physical endurance seemed limitless. His instructors quickly realized that while Lassen’s quick temper and disregard for authority made him unsuitable for spy work, he would be very well-suited for guerrilla warfare. In April 1941, a perfect opportunity would arise.
A new unit was being formed under the command of the charismatic Major Gustavus March Phillipps. It was to be a small, elite team designed to carry out daring raids behind enemy lines. March-Phillipps had requisitioned a sixty-five-ton Brixham trawler called Maid Honor, specially converted for clandestine operations.
With space for only eleven men, March-Phillipps chose his crew carefully. Lassen made the cut not just for his close-quarters fighting abilities and natural warrior instincts, but for his sailing experience – a crucial skill for the dangerous maritime missions ahead. In August 1941, Maid Honor left Poole Harbor bound for West Africa.
After six grueling weeks at sea, Lassen and his crewmates reached Freetown, Sierra Leone, where they began searching for reported German submarine bases. They found no evidence of U-boat operations, but SOE agents had discovered something else. On the Spanish colony of Fernando Po sat three enemy vessels at the port of Santa Isabel: German tugboat Likomba and barge Bibundi, as well as the Italian merchant ship Duchessa d’Aosta.
With a powerful radio that could report Allied naval movements, Duchessa d’Aosta posed a particular threat. What’s more, while her cargo manifest included apparently innocent items such as wool, animal hides, and copper, the first page was inexplicably missing – leading to speculation she might be carrying arms or ammunition. March-Phillipps, Lassen, and the rest of the crew recognized this as a perfect opportunity to hit the enemy where they least expected it.
However, the fact that the ships were in a port belonging to neutral Spain meant that any attempt to interfere with them would violate international law. Initially, the British authorities refused to support any action, but by January 1942, they conceded that there would be no way to prove that Britain had been involved, and gave the green light for what would be christened Operation Postmaster.
The plan was for an undercover SOE agent named Richard Lippett to infiltrate the shipping company John Holt and Co. After getting to know the German and Italian ships’ officers and crews, and gleaning information from them about the vessels, he would organize a dinner party on Fernando Po and invite the German and Italian ships’ officers to attend.
While the enemy was being wined and dined, the commandos from Maid Honor would board their ships and sail them away. On the night of January 14, two British tugs approached Santa Isabel harbor with their lights extinguished. At 11:30pm, they slipped into the port. Lassen led the boarding party onto the Duchessa d’Aosta as other teams attacked the German vessels.
While one group planted explosive charges on the anchor chains, Lassen and his men swept below decks, rounding up the stunned crew. The explosions that severed the anchor chains sent the Spanish garrison into chaos. Anti-aircraft guns opened fire at imaginary aerial attackers while the real raiders slipped away unnoticed with their prizes in tow.
The entire operation lasted just thirty minutes without a single British casualty. When the ships’ officers returned from their dinner, they found only empty moorings where their vessels had been. The Germans were furious, as were the Spanish authorities; Foreign Minister Ramón Serrano Suñer declared the actions to be: [QUOTE] “an intolerable attack on our sovereignty”, adding: [QUOTE] “no Spaniard can fail to be roused by this act of piracy committed in defiance of every right and within water under our jurisdiction.”
But for all their public outrage, there was nothing they could do – the ships were gone. Operation Postmaster had been a roaring success, and for his role in leading the boarding of the Duchessa d’Aosta, Lassen received a field commission as second lieutenant and the immediate award of the Military Cross.
After the success of Operation Postmaster, Lassen spent some time in Nigeria training local tribes in guerrilla warfare and sabotage techniques. Though he enjoyed the responsibility and independence, he was frustrated by being away from direct combat, and left the position not long afterwards.
He wrote in his diary: [QUOTE] “Some time ago, I refused the offer of a very interesting job – it gave me no chance of slaughtering any of the devils, and so I refused it.” He would soon be back doing what he enjoyed, rejoining his Postmaster commander Gus March-Phillipps.
The success of the operation led to the expansion and redesignation of March-Phillipps’ unit as the Small Scale Raiding Force, also known as Number 62 Commando. Under the operational control of Lord Louis Mountbatten’s Combined Operations, they would attack the coast of Northern France and the Channel Islands, conducting “pinprick” raids – operations designed to gather intelligence, capture prisoners, demoralize the enemy, and tie up German resources.
Lassen thrived in this new role. He and his fellow commandos would frequently cross the English Channel in specially modified motor torpedo boats equipped with soundproofed engines. They would slip ashore on German-occupied beaches, strike their targets, and vanish back into the darkness before the enemy knew what had hit them.
Lassen soon found fame for his acute ability to “read” terrain and move through it quickly and silently, almost becoming invisible. He was also noted for his fearlessness, with his biographer Thomas Harder later proclaiming: [QUOTE] “His complete disregard for danger was legendary.” Nevertheless, in October 1942, during Operation Basalt on the Channel Island of Sark, Lassen’s reputation took on a darker edge.
The raiders captured five German soldiers and bound their hands behind their backs according to standard procedure. But as they were being led away, the prisoners made a desperate break for freedom. In the confusion that followed, two Germans lost their lives – at least one as a result of Lassen using his commando knife. When the lifeless prisoners were discovered with their hands still tied, the Germans accused the British of having executed them.
An infuriated Adolf Hitler responded by issuing his infamous Commando Order, decreeing that from then on, all captured Allied commandos were to be executed without trial, even if they attempted to surrender. Lassen had provoked the Nazi leadership into abandoning the laws of war. The cross-Channel raids continued through 1942, but the tide was turning.
In September, Operation Aquatint – a raid near Sainte-Honorine-des-Pertes in Normandy – ended in disaster with the loss of March-Phillipps and most of his men. Luckily for Lassen, he hadn’t been assigned to the doomed mission. But by early 1943, it was clear that Number 62 Commando’s time was over. The unit was disbanded, and its surviving members dispersed among other formations.
For Lassen, this meant a new theater of war and an even deadlier role. In early 1943, Anders Lassen found himself aboard a ship bound for the Mediterranean, where he would join the Special Boat Service – an elite amphibious unit that had emerged from the reorganized Special Air Service.
Based in Palestine and commanded by Major George Jellicoe, the SBS specialized in reconnaissance and sabotage operations behind enemy lines. Lassen’s first major test with this new unit came in July 1943, when the SBS was tasked with diversionary attacks on German airfields in Crete and Sardinia, designed to convince the enemy that the Allies would invade these locations rather than Sicily.
Lassen was assigned to lead a four-man patrol against Kastelli airfield in Crete. After being transported by motor launch, the team paddled ashore in dinghies and then marched for two grueling days through the island’s inhospitable mountains. When they finally reached their target, Lassen split his patrol into two pairs to attack from opposite directions.
Under the cover of darkness, Lassen and Private Ray Jones crept through the perimeter wire undetected and began attaching timed explosive devices to the parked German aircraft. Suddenly, a sentry challenged them. Without hesitation, Lassen eliminated the guard, but the sound of the gunshot alerted the rest of the garrison.
A fierce firefight erupted, but the chaos served Lassen perfectly – it drew attention away from his other two men, who were able to plant their bombs on additional aircraft before slipping away unnoticed. When the explosions began tearing through the airfield moments later, Lassen and Jones also managed to escape in the pandemonium.
The raiding party successfully evacuated Crete, having destroyed five German aircraft in a textbook special operations mission. The success led to Lassen receiving a bar to his Military Cross, recognizing his growing reputation as a natural leader in the most dangerous of circumstances. After Italy’s surrender in September 1943, the Allies made an attempt to seize control of the Dodecanese Islands before the Germans could consolidate their hold.
From secret bases along the neutral Turkish coast, SBS patrols repeatedly sailed into German-controlled waters aboard traditional Greek fishing boats called caiques. By day, they would hide on remote islands; by night, they struck German positions with devastating effect. Here, Lassen found his perfect hunting ground.
Though this campaign ultimately failed, it marked the beginning of Lassen’s legendary career in the Aegean Sea. By April 1944, Anders Lassen had been promoted to captain and had carved out a formidable reputation for himself throughout the Aegean. Major Jellicoe described him as having: [QUOTE] “all the qualities of the buccaneering Viking — extraordinary courage, physical endurance, devil-may-care and keenness.
” This image led to his comrades nicknaming him “The Terrible Viking”. On April 19, he led an 18-man SBS team aboard two schooners from their Turkish hideout, bound for the volcanic island of Santorini. After a three-day voyage, they landed on a remote beach near Cape Columbo and made contact with local resistance fighters.
The Greeks guided them to a cave where they could hide during daylight hours. Based on intelligence gathered by Lieutenant Stefanos Kazoulis, who had infiltrated the capital of Fira in civilian clothes, Lassen divided his force into three detachments. The first would attack the German barracks in the town center, the second would attempt to capture the German commanding officer at his residence, while the third would destroy the vital radio station at Imerovigli that served as a communications relay between Athens and Crete.
At 12:45am on April 24, the coordinated assault began. Lassen led the attack on the barracks, a fortified building housing most of the 35-man garrison. Despite barking dogs that threatened to give away their approach, the commandos achieved complete surprise. The SBS men came from two directions simultaneously, trapping the Germans in a deadly crossfire.
Most of the German garrison was eliminated in brutal close-quarters combat. But the victory came at a cost – Lieutenant Kazoulis took a bullet to the chest, claiming his life instantly, while Sergeant Frank Kingston was mortally wounded and succumbed to his injuries hours later. The attempt to capture the German commander failed when he managed to escape in the confusion, but the radio station was successfully destroyed with timed charges.
As dawn broke, Lassen’s team made their escape aboard the waiting schooners, taking with them some of the locals who had aided the raid. However, the violence didn’t stop with the commandos’ escape. The Germans executed five local civilians in reprisal, including the village mayor, while another thirteen lost their lives when they attempted to loot German supplies from the destroyed radio 13 and triggered the remaining explosives.
The operation’s trail of destruction earned it a grim nickname among both Allied and German forces – “Lassen’s Bloodbath.” Nevertheless, despite his ruthless persona, Lassen was greatly admired by his men and superiors alike. Not only did he possess awe-inspiring skill and courage, but he was an empathetic commander who always led from the front, never asking his teams to do anything he wasn’t prepared to do himself.
By October 1944, aged just 24, Anders Lassen had been promoted to major in the British Army – a remarkable achievement for a man with no conventional military background who had started the war as a failed Danish student. But as German resistance crumbled across Greece, he was about to face his greatest challenge yet.
On October 29, Lassen led the first British force to enter Saloniki, Greece’s second-largest city. The Germans were preparing to destroy the harbor installations and fuel depots before withdrawing, but Lassen had other plans. Though his unit consisted of only 50 men, he convinced the enemy that he was leading a much larger force through a series of bold tactical moves and calculated bluffs.
The deception worked perfectly. Believing they faced overwhelming odds, the Germans abandoned the city without carrying out their planned destruction, leaving the vital port facilities intact for Allied use. For about a week, Lassen effectively served as the unofficial military governor of Saloniki.
However, in December 1944, Lassen would be given an even greater responsibility when he was appointed governor of Crete. A German garrison of 13,000 men had withdrawn to a fortified pocket in the northwest of the island, and Lassen’s small, hastily assembled force – dubbed “Senforce” – was tasked with containing them while preventing the Greek civil war from spreading to the island.
The two months he spent commanding Crete made enormous demands on his leadership abilities. Relations between communist and right-wing Greek partisan groups grew steadily worse, and Lassen’s SBS men found themselves under attack not just by communist guerrillas, but by civilians they had come to help.
The situation reached a breaking point when two of his men, including his close friend Captain Charles Maurice Clynes, lost their lives in an ambush. It was a much-relieved Lassen who departed for Italy with Senforce in February 1945, leaving Crete to a more robust British garrison. By April, the Allied spring offensive was preparing to smash through the Gothic Line and drive the Germans out of Italy once and for all.
The British Eighth Army’s breakthrough would come through the narrow Argenta Gap, but first, they needed to convince the enemy that the main assault would come elsewhere. Operation Roast at Lake Comacchio was designed as the perfect deception. The 2nd Commando Brigade would clear the muddy spit separating the lake from the Adriatic Sea, giving the impression of a major coastal offensive while drawing German reserves away from the real target.
On the night of April 8, Anders Lassen received orders to lead an 18-man SBS patrol in a diversionary raid along the northern shore of Lake Comacchio, creating maximum noise and confusion to reinforce the illusion of a massive amphibious landing. The patrol landed on the narrow spit under cover of darkness, finding themselves on a road flanked by water on both sides with no room for maneuver.
Lassen led his men forward, preceded by two scouts, when suddenly German sentries challenged them from a roadside position. An Italian-speaking member of the patrol tried to bluff their way past, claiming they were local fishermen returning home. For a moment, it seemed the deception might work, but then machine gun fire erupted from the German emplacement, quickly joined by fire from two more positions.
Without thinking twice, Lassen raced forward through the hail of bullets and stormed the first position with hand grenades, annihilating four Germans and destroying two machine guns. Barely stopping for breath, he then charged the second emplacement under covering fire from his men, silencing it with more grenades and eliminating two more enemy soldiers.
By now, casualties had reduced his force’s firepower considerably, and a fourth German position had opened fire from 300 yards down the road. Still under heavy fire from multiple directions, Lassen rallied his scattered men and brought their remaining weapons to bear on the third position. Moving forward alone, he hurled grenades until he heard cries of “Kamerad” – the Germans were surrendering.
But as Lassen approached within three yards to accept their surrender, they opened fire again with a burst of machine gun fire that struck him down. Even as he fell mortally wounded, Lassen managed to throw one final grenade, wounding the occupants and enabling his men to overrun the position. When they tried to evacuate him, he refused, knowing it would slow their withdrawal and endanger more lives.
The 24-year-old major had gone the way he had lived his life – thinking of his men first. The mission had succeeded beyond all expectations. Three German positions destroyed, six machine guns silenced, eight enemy soldiers neutralized, and two prisoners taken – all accomplished by a force that had been reduced to just ten effective men.
More importantly, the diversionary attack had served its purpose, helping to draw German attention away from the main Allied assault through the Argenta Gap. But the cost had been devastating. Four SBS men lost their lives that night, including their legendary commander. The following day, local parish priest Don Francesco Mariani and several women from Comacchio recovered the bodies of Lassen and his fallen comrades, laying them to rest in the town’s old cemetery with full honors.
For his bravery, Lassen was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross – the highest military honor in the British system – making history as the only non-Commonwealth recipient of the decoration during the entirety of World War 2. In December 1945, King George VI presented the medal to Lassen’s family at Buckingham Palace.
His mother, Suzanne, would later write a book about her son’s wartime exploits, ensuring that his story would not be forgotten. Today, Anders Lassen’s Victoria Cross is displayed at the Frihedsmuseet – the Museum of Danish Resistance – in Copenhagen, while a bronze bust, unveiled in 1987, stands outside the museum in Churchill Park.
The Italians have also erected a monument to Lassen and his men alongside the SP1b highway, close to the spot where he made his final stand.
