The Potsdam Giants of Frederick William I

Frederick William I of Prussia had the world’s weirdest obsession. While other kings built palaces, he collected "Potsdam Giants"—an elite regiment of men who had to be at least six feet tall.

He didn't just recruit them; he kidnapped tall travelers, traded prisoners for "long fellows," and even tried breeding programs. He even used stretching racks to squeeze out extra inches, treating human beings like custom-made action figures.

The punchline? He never let them fight. He just wanted them to march through his bedroom when he felt sad. It was a national-scale hobby for a man who just really liked tall toys.

Wait, so he basically ran a human tall-person farm?

He literally played matchmaker with human lives. He’d scout the tallest women in Prussia and force them to marry his "Long Fellows," convinced he could DIY a race of titans. It was a bizarre, high-stakes way to distract from his own deep-seated insecurities about his height and legacy.

The project was a total flop. Genetics isn't a vending machine, and most offspring ended up average height. He spent a fortune on "giant-making" only to realize he’d just created a very expensive, very tall, and very resentful group of babysitters.

Did these giant soldiers actually do anything besides march around his bed?

Exactly. He was a 'Soldier King' who was terrified of actual war because his precious giants might get a scratch. He treated them like mint-condition action figures you’re never allowed to take out of the box.

Their 'training' was a high-stakes talent show. They performed drills in his private quarters while he was sick or depressed. He even commissioned life-sized portraits to stare at when they weren't around.

He built the most feared army in Europe just to use it as a glorified security blanket. He didn't want a military; he wanted a very tall, very expensive support group.

Seriously how did his successor deal with this room full of giant 'toys'?

His son, Frederick the Great, couldn't wait to end the circus. He viewed the 'giants' as a humiliating, expensive embarrassment. Imagine inheriting a kingdom only to realize your dad’s legacy was just a room full of very tall, very confused men.

He didn't fire them all instantly—that would be a PR disaster—but he immediately stopped the kidnappings and breeding. He took the fortune his father wasted on height and invested it in actual gunpowder and training.

The 'Long Fellows' were relegated to a single ceremonial unit. Frederick the Great preferred winning real wars over playing house with human action figures.

But how did these 'action figures' actually hold up on a real battlefield?

Imagine the culture shock. One day you're a king's bedroom decoration, the next, you're in the Seven Years' War. Frederick rebranded them as the 6th Infantry Regiment, but it wasn't a promotion.

It was a brutal reality check. Being seven feet tall is great for reaching shelves, but it’s a nightmare when you're a giant target for musket fire. They were basically human lightning rods.

Frederick saw his dad’s "action figures" were better at looking imposing than winning. He stopped the specialized recruitment, letting the unit fade into a regular regiment as the original giants retired.