In one battle, a botched surprise attack, the British were losing. Badly. After hours of intense battle, Braddock was shot off his horse. The British troops were surrounded and couldn't seem to get organized. Then Washington, basically the army equivalent of a golf caddy, started giving the troops orders, riding back and forth between them and the officers. Now, that's not luck; that's just balls. He was giving orders despite the fact that he was a volunteer who held no rank, and if that wasn't bad enough, his horse got shot out from under him.
We can't stress enough that Washington was just a guy who volunteered because he knew the area well. After his general was incapacitated, he didn't think, "Shit, this does not end well for me," but instead, "Whoa, looks like a position just opened up. Shotgun!" Then, in battle, when a horse was shot out from under him, he just got another, like that was no thing. Then, when it happened again, he GOT ANOTHER. Instead of realizing that God wanted him to fucking walk, Washington just thought, "Oh, bad day for horses," and picked the next victim.
"Maybe if I strap one to each foot, like a giant pair of constantly pooping sandals ..."
Because of his efforts, the British troops were able to form a rear guard and allowed a safe retreat. At the end of the battle, Washington had four bullets in his coat and none in his body. He also happened to be the only officer who wasn't shot down. All of this when he was by his own account not recovered from an illness that had him lying down in a wagon for 10 days. Years later, an Indian chief traveled to meet Washington. He recounted the battle, saying, "Our rifles were leveled, rifles which, but for you, knew not how to miss ... I am come to pay homage to the man ... who can never die in battle." Let's be clear: We here at Cracked believe that if a Native American says that someone is magic, that person is magic. Not up for discussion.