Raid on the Trenches! [Erik]

OOC- I sorta made myself be able to see you ‘cos I figured that It’d be a boring thread if we all stumbled around blindly for the whole thing.

In the trench Armin suddenly stopped examining his rifle and looked up. He had been lightly turning his precious weapon over in his hands, making sure there were no scratches or dents in the butt or barrel of the weapon. Any tiny imperfection could make a difference when in combat, that he knew from gruesome stories that had been told to him by training instructors when he was a recruit. Strangely enough when he left training he had found that much of what he considered superstitions told to him by them, were actually true! Now he took careful care in remembering everything they had told him to do in combat and he did it whatever it was with care.

He listened with his mouth slightly open and his ear tilted over the top of the trench where he had thought he heard the noise. It sounded like voices… yes, voices in English. ” Kommen Sie zu Ihren Stationen! Schnell!” (Get to your stations! Quickly) He hissed to the four privates in the trench beside him. He had sent out two men –Wolf and Heinz- on a patrol just a few minutes ago. The English men might onto them and shoot them! Unless they had already been taken prisoner? ‘No’ he consoled himself. They were true fighting men: They would rather die than be taken prisoner. Since he had not yet heard any shots he must presume that they had not yet been discovered. But they might be, soon if he didn’t eliminate the English men first. Now as his eyes strained into the darkness he could actually see a small number of figures moving about. There were too many of them to be his men, so he must presume that they were enemy.

The four privates in the trench – Kalb, Schmidt, Amsel and Fuhrmann – were cautiously peering over the top of the trench straining to see the elusive enemy, who obviously weren’t aware of their presence yet. “ Behalten Sie Ihren Kopftiefpunkt zum Boden und schauen Sie sie aufwärts an. So werden Sie sie gegen das Licht vom Mond sehen” ”Keep your head low to the ground and look up at them in the moonlight. That way you will see them better) the Sergeant Major advised helpfully. The enemy were definitely getting closer now, but they were still only dim faceless shapes even with the small amount of light coming from the moon. ” Kalb, Amsel, nehmen Sie das ein auf dem Recht. Schmidt, Fuhrmann, zielen Sie auf das ein auf der linken Seite!” ” Kalb, Amsel, take the one on the right. Schmidt, Fuhrmann, aim at the one on the left.”[/b] Armin whispered to the men. They nodded and rested the barrels of their rifles on the edge of the trench and looking through the small metal circle at the distant figures they had been assigned.

Armin himself aimed at a different figure altogether. He could see a distant person in amongst the trees, and that is who he aimed at. His rifle moved to slight nudges of his arms as he placed the sights over the centre of the enemy’s chest. He pulled the trigger once sending the single bullet towards his enemy. Around him the men did the same, gently squeezing the triggers, sending one bullet from each of them towards their targets. Their grubby faces squinted around the barbed wire to see if they had hit their targets and they just about remembered to quietly slide back the bolt again.

Out beyond the barbed wire, the two men who were on a patrol were sprawled down in the mud behind a rock, desperately hoping they wouldn’t be seen. They were much closer than the rest of their squad to the enemy, but they still found it difficult - nearly impossible - to see them. They heard the sound of the other rifles being fired and thus they decided it would be a good idea to add some of their own bullets to the chaos. Both of them rolled out from behind the rock to get a shot at the enemy and in three seconds they had lined up the sights on the enemy’s torso. They both fired once, before rolling back into cover again. Back in the trench Armin smiled to himself; happy to hear that all his men were safe.

OOC: Well, first of all, I'm a bit annoyed that you shot on your first turns instead of introductory but I guess I'll post anyway... grumble...grumble... ;D I also made Griggs blue instead of brown as he barely shows up on the map.



The shots came from nowhere and everywhere. As Rhys had desperately tried to calm the desperate Hughes down, the most terrifying sound in the world resounded across the battlefield. The sound of a gunshot amidst a sea of silence. Rhys pushed the young private at his side instantly to the floor and took desperate cover behind the rock that was defending the two of them. Many more followed the shot and then...silence.

Rhys swallowed and turned to Hughes.

"Are you OK, Private?" he whispered.

"Yes...yes, sir..." stuttered the young man, before displaying that he was evidently not OK, by rolling onto the floor and staring up at the stars in the fetal position.

Rhys had no idea where the others where, he was seperated from his company but he had an idea. He knew for a fact that Diaz could at least vaguely comprehend the Welsh language. Perhaps if he sent orders to him in Welsh for him to translate to the rest of the squad. After all, what were the chances of the Germans being fluent?

"Jack!" he bellowed. "Sut wyt ti? Beth yw'r sefyllfa? Beth yw'r sefyllfa?"

There was silence for the next few seconds and Rhys feared the worse until, at last, a tentative voice piped up from the distance.

"Rydyn ni'n iawn, Sersiant," a voice said breathlessly. "Ond...mae...mae Griggs lawr. Mae 'di cael ei saethu yn y stwmog..."

"Ydy'r anaf yn angheuol?" /b] the Sergeant demanded. "Atebwch!"

"Dwi ddim yn chredu, Sersiant,"Diaz answered. "Ond mae'n wan. Dwi ddim yn siwr os bydd o gallu dall arno am llawer fwy,"

"Iawn," Rhys answered determinedly. "Parker, Cadwaladr! Swatiwch tu ol y coed cefn; gwnewch yn siwr fod Griggs o dan cwfert dda a protectiwch o!"

A faint muttering in the distance clarified that Diaz was translating to the privates in hushed tones.

"Jack!" continued Rhys quickly. "Gwthiwch ymlaen a Rich; cymerwch y ddau agosaf i lawr!"

With the orders given, Rhys turned back to Hughes who seemed to have taken control of his panic attack.

"You can do it, Private," Rhys whispered. "Just concentrate,"

Hughes nodded and Rhys suddenly saw a defiant gleam in his eyes. The private expertly aimed his rifle with commendable fashion and without batting an eyelid, sent a bullet roaring through the night sky towards the nearest couple of the enemy.

"Good lad," whispered Rhys encouragingly. "Now push forward with Rich and Corporal Diaz. Make sure to stay low,"

"What about you?" asked the Private fearfully.

"Don't worry about me, Private," said Rhys through gritted teeth. "I'm going to pick them off one by one,"

Hughes nodded and scuttled off towards the centre of the battlefield while Rhys backed away, deciding to use his sniper rifle to its full advantage. He was vaguely aware of his men taking a couple of shots in the distance but none of that mattered. All that mattered in his mind was sending as many Germans to hell as possible. The safety of his men was foremost in his mind.

Kneeling down behind a large rock just to the left of his main force and aimed his rifle directly at a young German private whose body was just poking out from behind a second cluster of rocks. Expertly closing one eye, Rhys pulled the trigger as the gun was aiming directly at the German's outstreched neck. With the shot fired, Rhys jumped to the ground prone to await the enemy's retalliation.

*

Private Phillip Hughes peered over the craggy surface of the rock and ducked down again instantly and wondered how he had ever become engulfed in such a horrific situation. He had signed up immediately, the second war had broke out, everyone had. Somehow at training, they never told you what it was really like on the battlefield. Hughes was scared. Not because he was scared he might be shot. No. Because he was scared he could kill someone - a real, live human - and not feel anything. He didn't want to be a..a...murderer. He didn't want to killa anybody. But how much choice did he have?

Breathing heavily, the Private jumped up again and this time didn't hesitate. He sent two lightning shots at the enemy before him before ducking down again. He felt sick as the guilt began to rise in his stomach. But then, suddenly, the guilt was replaced by a sudden feeling of...excitement? Exhiliration? Happiness? Hughes felt nauseous. He was actually enjoying himself.

"It's me or them," he muttered to himself. "It's me or them,"

Translations

1. Jack!Sut wyt ti? Beth yw'r sefyllfa?

Jack, how are you? What's the situation?


2. Rydyn ni'n iawn, Sersiant. Ond...mae...mae Griggs lawr. Mae 'di cael ei saethu yn y stwmog...

We're fine, Sergeant. But..but Griggs is down. He's been shot in the stomach.


3. Ydy'r anaf yn angheuol? Atebwch!

Is the wound fatal? Answer!


4. Dwi ddim yn chredu, Sersiant. Ond mae'n wan. Dwi ddim yn siwr os bydd o gallu dall arno am llawer fwy.

I don't think so, Sergeant, but he's weak. I don't think he'll be able to hold on for much longer.


5. Iawn. Parker, Cadwaladr! Swatiwch tu ol y coed cefn; gwnewch yn siwr fod Griggs o dan cwfert dda a protectiwch o!

OK. Parker, Cadwaladr, take cover behind the trees at the back; make sure that Griggs is under good cover and protect him as best you can!


6. Jack!Gwthiwch ymlaen a Rich; cymerwch y ddau agosaf i lawr =

Jack! Push forward with Rich; take down the closest two!

Shots Fired

Staff Sergeant Rhys Bevan - 1
Corporal Jack Diaz - 3
Private Phillip Hughes- 2
Private Geraint Cadwaladr - 3
Private Daniel Rich - 4
Private Sean Parker - 2
Private Richard Griggs - 1

OOC: *Whistles innocently*


Out of the trench in among the rocks Privates Wolf and Heinz lay flat down in the mud waiting for the retaliation they knew would come. The first thing Heinz noticed was a sudden burning pain in his upper shoulder (Your Biceps are in your arms, right? ). His first reaction was a scream of pain which he stifled into a grunt before it even came out of his mouth. His hands temporarily let go of his rifle, he was in so much pain, but as any soldier would do, he quickly picked it back up again. ” Wolf! Verbinden Sie die Verletzung!” (Wolf! Bandage the wound!) he gasped out in a whisper. Wolf had injuries of his own to worry about. A different shot from another enemy had taken the little finger right off his left hand. His hands fumbled in his pocket for a piece of fabric to tie around it. His hands found the wanted item and trying to ignore the pain, he wrapped it tightly around the stump of his finger. He finished with a rough knot and then turned over to look at his comrade.

Wolf flinched as he saw his fellow soldiers wound. He looked around, desperately needing something big enough to act as a bandage. He started to roll up the mans sleeve, ignoring his feeble grunts of pain. He stopped rolling up the sleeve, thought for a moment, then gave a sharp tug on the sleeve, ripping it straight off the shirt. Now he had his bandage. Trying not to dirty the wound he wrapped the sleeve around the wound so that the part which was the cleanest – the side on the inside – was against the wound. He braced his feet against the ground and pulled hard on the bandage to tighten it. He knotted the end and let the other man admire his handywork.

In the trench all the soldiers flinched as the bullets tore into the earth around them. A sound close to a sob could be heard just after a loud pinging noise which obviously meant that someone’s helmet had been hit. Rather than panic Armin, the sob actually made him relieved. If the bullet had gone through the helmet, then the man would either be dead or unconscious and the noise proved that the man was just shaken by his close ordeal. Armin took a closer look at the shocked Private Amsel, shaking at the bottom of the trench. ”Amsel!” He barked. ”Hören Sie jenes Schreien? Das ist, was we gemacht hat. Erhalten Sie sich zusammen und Siehe Dose, dass wir ein noch paar machen, von der sie für ihre Mütter weinen!” ( Do you hear that screaming? That is what we did. Get yourself together and see can we make a few more of them cry for their mothers!). Without even waiting to see if the stricken soldier had gotten up, Armin quietly addressed the rest of the men.

“ Kalb, Schmidt, Ziel am einem gerade vor Ihnen, der nur an Wölfen und Heinz gefeuert hat. Fuhrmann, Amsel das nähere gerade vor Ihnen. Jeder feuert einen Schuss. Wenn Sie das beenden, geben Sie unterdrückung Feuer auf den Soldaten in den Hölzern.” ( Kalb, Schmidt, aim at the one straight ahead of you who has just been firing at Wolf and Heinz. Fuhrmann, Amsel the closer one straight ahead of you. Everyone fire one shot. When you finish that, give suppressing fire on the soldiers in the woods.) The soldiers nodded and turned to rest their rifles on the edge of the trench, each of them aiming at the chest of their target. ” Feuer!” Armin screamed and the men simultaneously fired their rifles at their given targets.

Not even giving themselves time to catch their breath, they turned and started firing into the trees. Looking for the shadowy figures, slapping their face to the sights and then firing, the men repeated the procedure three more times, as their commander made his way down to the end of the trench. As the men all paused to reload their weapons Armin took aim at the nearest man whom he could see quite well from this range. His sights started at the enemy’s chest and he moved them upwards until they rested firmly on the base of the neck. He fired.

Out in the field, Wolf listened to the other shots as he looked down the sighs at the sniper who had shot Heinz. He took a deep breath, breathed out and then fired. The rifle buckled as the bullet left the barrel and Private Wolf lifted his left hand from where it had been holding the barrel, up to the bolt which he painfully drew back. He fired again at the sniper. He then turned to the other side of the rock and aimed down the sights at the man who had most likely shot off his finger. He fired once more, before dropping his head back down and hoping to god that he would survive.

Red, Green and White - Rhys
Blue - Private Phillip Hughes
Yellow - Corporal Jack Diaz
Orange - Private Daniel Rich
Red - Private Geraint Cadwaladr
Green - Private Sean Parker
Brown - Private Richard Griggs
Grey - Rocks
Black - German trench, surrounded with barbed wire

OOC: I know a lot of this doesn't include much shooting or anything and contains a lot of dialogue between the soldiers but this is meant to generate morale so if you get bored, don't worry! ;D

Parker staggered to the floor in surprise as a stray bullet tore into his unprotected shoulder to the shock and horror of his comrades. He screwed his grimy face up in pain and was breathing a tad too fast for it to be normal. Parker had never been shot before and the realisation that he had had brought him into a mild panic. Almost as bad as Griggs. Cadwaladr stared desperately at his companions and tried to work out what to do. He kneeled down next to Parker and looked him straight in the eye.

"You're fine, Sean," he said tenderly. "It's just a scratch. You're going to get through this,"

Parker looked up pathetically at his companion and nodded hesitantly. Easing his way back to his feet, he attempted to regain as much dignity as he could by holding out a stiff hand for Cadwaladr to shake.

"But...but can I shoot? " he hissed suddenly. "It's just...my arm..."

"Sean, if you think you're too injured to fight, then by all means retreat. Flee. But I'm going to keep on fighting,"
Parker nodded cauiously.

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "Me too. Me too,"

Cadwaladr nodded and clapped his friend on the back before turning to the more seriously injured Griggs. He seemed to be growing worse every minute and his usually joyful face was pale and haunting.

"Richard..."

"Am I going to die?" whispered the pathetic figure, glancing his haggard face up to Cadwaladr who seemed to be taking charge of the situation as best he could.

"No," said Cadwaladr defiantly, without a moment of pause. "You are going to survive. We are going to survive. And Jerry will be sucking sausages in the nearest hospital ward by teatime!"

Parker grinned at this and raised his rifle determinedly. Griggs attempted a wan smile and Cadwaladr was joyed to see a little colour grow back into the wounded man's cheeks. Seemingly roused by the unofficial leader's speech, he even tried to rise to his feet. To his companions' surprise, he actually managed it, although it took him a good few seconds to even take one dizzy step.

"But I'm not going to let you die, Richard," continued Cadwaladr. "You'e too young. Keep your head low and get back into the trees; out of range. The Germans wouldn't think twice about killing an injured man, even if his head had been chopped off. So get down there. Wait for us. We will return, I promise,"

Griggs hesitated.

"But what about you?" he asked.

"Don't worry about me," said Cadwaladr courageously, dabbing his face with even more mud to blend in with the surroundings. "We're going to stand and fight,"

Griggs took one last look at his comrades before disappearing into the undergrowth.

"Let's go," said Cadwaladr, gesturing for his companion to join him in pushing forward. But still Parker hesitated. Cadwaladr could sense that his morale was low. Dangerously low. As he stared into his companion's terrified eyes, he began to sing softly. A low hum at first which then grew steadily louder and louder, but never loud enough for the enemy to hear.

"Men of Harlech, stand ye ready,
Victory is hov'ring o'er ye,
Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye,
Hear ye not her call?

Upon their soil we never sought them,
Love of conquest hither brought them,
But this lesson we have taught them,
"Cambria ne'er can yield!"

Now the enemy is flying,
Trampling on the dead and dying;
Victory aloft is crying,
"Cambria wins the field!"

Parker stared haunted-looking at his companion in silence. Cadwaladr was almost sure the man had tears in his eyes. The privates nodded at eachother and Cadwaladr knew that Parker was ready.

"Good luck," he whispered.

"You too," said Parker, his voice strong. "You too,"



Rhys Bevan could feel his heart pounding away inside his ribcage like a drum as a sea of adrenaline coursed through his body. It didn't look like he'd incurred any casualties but both men before him looked in a bad state. A couple more shots should finish them off, he thought.

The Staff Sergeant moved stealthily towards a second gathering of rocks and peered over his newfound cover. It didn't look like the enemy had seen him. The closer figure seemed to be the most seriously injured, a pathetic improvised bandage wrapped around his arm.

Adjusting his sniper rifle directly opposite the target's chest, Rhys felt a twang of guilt as he realised he was shooting to kill an injured man. But the moment passed. He couldn't think of them as humans or he would never be able to achieve what he needed to. He mentally pictured exactly where he wanted the bullet to go. He imagined it ripping through the target's chest, sending him sprawling into the mud. He imagined him twitching. And he imagined him dying.

Rhys pulled the trigger.



Jack Diaz let out a hugely uncharacteristic yelp as he crashed to the floor in agony. It was as if he was on fire. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled to his feet. Attempting desperately to ignore the growing pain in his body, he concentrated on the plan ahead. He had been momentarily briefed about the small mission by the Sergeant and had promptly given all the details to both Rich and Hughes. He sighed. The two most inexperienced members of the platoon.

Rhys would apparently be firing a shot, a shot that would kill or seriously maim one of the figures huddled behind the rock. When the shot was heard, the three men were meant to jump to action. While Rich and Hughes sent a series of clips up into the air, a good few inches above the surviving German's head, stunning him in fear, Jack would dash forward and gun him down at point black range. He was, of course, nervous. If his companions mis-timed their shots, it could be him with a bullet through the back. But he knew he had to take down the two scouting figures. It was their only hope.

Suddenly, the men jumped to attention as the Staff Sergeant's shot rang out.

"Fire," whispered Jack and suddenly the relatively silent atmosphere was blown to pieces by shot after shot from the privates. His heart in his mouth, Jack charged forward until he was but feet away from the enemy. Hoping desperately that the shots would distract him enough so that the enemy would not be concentrating on the figure charging before him, Jack sent two rounds towards the figures chest and neck at point black range.

With the frantic job done, Jack retreated back into cover further back, closer to the trees. Breathing heavily, he saw to his delight Griggs nearby.

"Private," he whispered. "What's going on? How are you?"

"I'm fine, Coporal," replied the private, although the gaping wound in his abdomen told a different story. Jack instinctively ripped off a part of his own pristine sleeve and gestured for the private to use it to stem the blood.

"And the others?"

"They're up in the trees," replied Griggs simply, who seemed perhaps more confident with a corporal by his side.

"Well, then," smiled the corporal. "We'd best go and join them, hadn't we?"



Rhys rolled back behind his rock and made sure that no part of his body was out in the open.

"Stoppen Sie nicht schießen!" (Stop shooting!) he yelled, killing two birds with one stone. The men would stop firing into the sky so that their companions could move freely. Besides, if he was very, very lucky, perhaps he would be able to fool a German or two. Lying prone behind the great rock, Rhys watched Diaz charge back into safety and comfort the injured Griggs and realised something. He had never been so proud of his men.



Rhys - One

Diaz - Two

Cadwaladr- Three

Parker- One

Griggs- Zero, injured

Rich and Hughes: Emptied their clips in firing far above the German's head

Gimme until tomorrow.

OOC: No German this time, I’m afraid.

OOC again: Sorry there is no map, but I couldn’t do it for a number of reasons: This is a much newer computer than I used to have and the colours in paint were much different. So what looked on the toolbar like the same brown as you used for the ground in the map, was actually a much lighter colour. The map when I was finished editing with it was sloppy and horrible looking. It was made even more sloppy by the fact that if I was drawing a line I would click somewhere on the page and the line would appear about a centimetre away from the cursor! And in the end it wouldn’t let me upload it. GRAHHHH!

The sounds of the shots echoed slightly in the night air and the sounds of small branches breaking in the trees could be heard. Then, there was silence: for a short while at least. A gust of wind blew in from the north which made the leaves rustle and the branches creak. The soldiers in the trench nervously looked out at the enemy. They did know that one of their shots had hit their targets; a loud scream had pierced the night seconds after they had fired. Private Wolf was certain that he could hear enemy voices talking to each other, but he might have been imagining it.

Out in no man’s land, Wolf and Heinz were waiting, terrified of the enemy that had been shooting at their position. They didn’t dare look out from behind their shelter and both were holding onto their rifles too hard to notice the creeping figure that was attempting to flank them. Heinz gave a shiver and tried to stop himself from falling unconscious. His wound was exceedingly painful, but he knew he had to stay concentrating if he wanted to stay alive. A shot sounded, making the Armin and the Privates in the trench flinch involuntarily. Private Heinz gave a last jerk as the bullet hit his body, before he slumped back and didn’t move again. Wolf stared at the body beside him for seconds before he panicked. Bullets were being fired at his position (Or so he thought), but he didn’t notice them. Without thinking about the danger he jumped up into the air quickly and turned towards the trench. A man was moving towards him, his rifle ready to fire. Almost in slow motion Wolf saw the bloodstains that proved the man was injured. His rifle had been clutched in his hand and now it was brought to his hip. His fingers checked the bolt was drawn back and he fired from the hip, meaning for the bullet to impact right into the British soldiers chest.

Then, he was gone, running away from the scene as quickly as his trembling legs could carry him. Somehow his brain managed to get a message across that the enemy would fire at him and he threw himself down into the mud behind a rock. Waiting for the shots to end, he drew back the bolt on his rifle again. But, he didn’t fire it. He started running again back towards his allies. He zigzagged from rock to rock back towards his trench until he reached the barbed wire where he threw himself down behind a rock.

The men in the trenches also came under assault. Bullets tapped against the wall of the trench and the ground around it, which made them crouch even lower. ”Anyone injured?” the Sergeant major hissed down the trench to where he could make out the shapes of his squad. He squinted to see all of them shaking their heads. He sighed to himself: ‘Good’. SO far it seemed they were defending their position well enough, but a couple of injuries could turn the whole battle around. Armin had to stop himself from laughing out loud as he heard the shout in terrible German. These were definitely the stupidest enemies he’d ever encountered if they thought that would fool him.

He moved down the trench nearer to the men, making sure to keep his head low. ”OK, we need to finish them off cleanly and quickly. We are all going to aim at one target and on my word we will all fire one shot. Then we will move onto the second near one and each fire one shot again. Then you, Schmidt will go down to the end of the trench and try to comfort whoever it was that ran down just a few seconds ago. Try and make sure nobody sneaks up on him. Everyone reload now.” They ejected their current clips and gently pushed in the new ones, trying to keep quiet. The sights of five different rifles settled on the chest of the nearest figure. The weapons were kept steady against the top of the trench and each man made sure that nothing was obstructing the line of fire. ”Now”. Five rifles bucked slightly in the arms of their owners and five bullets were fired towards their targets.

Quickly the four Germans and one Austrian switched their sights to a slightly farther away target. Again the word was given by Armin and again, the rifles fired. The men automatically remembered their training and they apart until there was nearly a two metre gap between each of them encase a grenade was thrown in the trench. Schmidt crept his way down the trench to the soldier who he found out to be Private Wolf. “Fuchs says to make sure nobody creeps up on you. Keep looking out for any sign of the enemy moving towards you. You’re alright, don’t worry.” Schmidt not being the most comforting of people was awkward, but he did succeed in cheering up Wolf slightly. Slightly. The two soldiers looked out into the gloom with their rifles raised; ready to fire on anything that moved. At the other end of the trench it was mostly the same, with everyone keeping their eyes peeled for enemy movement and all of them wishing they were back at base.

OOC: You may have a problem with me having Wolf shooting in the time that had been given for him to run away, but remember; The Corporal had been injured TWICE. One of them was pretty serious. In reality he probably wouldn’t have forced himself to get up and start running towards the enemy.