Post by Valentin Strauss on May 31, 2011 9:00:09 GMT
Account E-Mail: kyleh@live.ca
Name: Valentin Strauss
Nationality:
- German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?:
- Waffen-SS
Character History:
Valentin’s history started in a small cabin in the mountains of Bavaria, circa December 1922. It was a dangerously cold day according to his father, one of the coldest of the year as far as he could care to remember, and immediately the young Bavarian became a god in the eyes of his father. The love was returned throughout Valentin’s life, and the two developed a very close relationship. Scholastically the young boy was average, and his father (a WWI veteran himself) pressed Valentin to study harder, dive head first into his learning for the old man could see the telltale signs of war on the horizon, and knew his boy would fight in it.
On the Western front, his father had seen the great divide between officer and enlisted men, not only in their quarters but in their health and in their survivability. How many friends had he lost in those damned trenches? Compared to how many officers he’d seen killed, it seemed like a genocide. It was this mentality that drove him to push Valentin in his learning, but the young boy never really took off, books just weren’t his thing. Sports became his number one interest, much like his father, and although the older man prided himself in his son taking after him, he knew it would hurt him in the future. Both mentally and physically, like it had Valentin’s father.
Just prior to the outbreak of war Valentin was a teenager, and had little care for the politics of his country, coming from such a far away place it seemed as though Berlin, and the German army were so immensely far away even though he saw them often in the streets of his village. It only took a year for the grandeur of the propaganda he was victim to day in and day out to take an effect on him; he attended Nazi party meetings in his village and learned as much as he could about Hitler and his followers including his own role in the entire country’s development.
His father was less than enthusiastic.
Their bond was strained by Valentin’s radical ideas, and the teenager became closer and closer with his mother, who had for the most part been a silent overwatcher of his development. Using pamphlets from the local meetings he bombarded her, and his father, with Nazi propaganda. They however, did not have to endure much of it, as at the age of 17 young Valentin, shining star in his father’s eye, signed up as a member of the SS.
His progress was exponential during training, almost overnight he went from a hyper and energetic Bavarian teenager to a cold, hard German soldier. The training itself was cutthroat throughout, but Valentin managed to prove his worth as a soldier and his ability to look outside of the box for answers. Immediately after training he was placed in the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, the toughest and most notorious Waffen-SS unit the world had ever seen.
In Poland he was thrown into the mess of combat and found it at this point, wasn’t much different than training and thought of his foes as lower humans, often advancing without orders along with a good portion of his unit. However, this gallantry had its costs, as needless lives were lost in their brutal engagements, and Valentin quickly learned that combat was much more complicated than him and his fellow Leibstandarte had imagined. Overnight the zealous fog that had blinded his warrior instincts dissipated, and the unit found themselves surrounded at Pabianice. Here, his valour and abilities as a German infantryman came into the light, as he and his units fought valiantly until reinforcements managed to force their way into the encirclement and relieve the Leibstandarte. Soon after the war in Poland ended, and the unit returned to training for re-organization, and Valentin found himself awarded the rank of Sturmann, having been a Oberschütze during his time in Poland.
Preparation was made for France, and Valentin looked forward to the coming battles with prideful eyes. A month before deployment, his chest adorned the Iron Cross.
Military Rank:
- Sturmann
Writing Sample:
There was a call down the line, ‘contact!’ shouted a German voice, and a whistle blew as gunfire erupted all along our frontline. My squad were in the basement of a Chateau, situated just outside of the small town we’d taken only a few hours prior as the sun had been setting. Now, with the dust having cleared it was well into the night, and the Americans seemed to want a little taste of revenge. They’d find no sheep here this night.
“STANDTO!” Shouted my SS-Unterscharführer as he made it halfway down the stairs and made a count of all the bodies that suddenly exploded from their beds. It was a mess of gear and German bodies as we wrestled our clothes on and grabbed our rifles, having no time to blouse our boots or fix our collars. Within a minute we hit the first floor, my boots slamming across the hardwood floor in front of my men as I nonchalantly waved them into positions around the house with my right hand and closed the distance with the Sergeant as he peered out one of the windows.
“Sitrep?” My voice was practically a whisper as my throat was dry, but he heard me and turned to look into my eyes, his own full of adrenaline, so full of life…There was a shot, one single unbelievably loud shot from outside the window and I saw the life drained from my SS-Unterscharführer bewildered eyes as a .30-06 round pierced through one side of his helmet and exited out his chin, narrowly missing me. When his body hit the floor, all hell broke loose.
Automatic gunfire exploded across the stone wall of the Chateau, both German and American munitions going off as I fell backwards away from the window and gathered up my Karabiner 98k and levelled it at the hallway I’d only just walked through. A silhouette! My rifle bucked as the round rifled through the barrel, and as the body dropped I cocked back the bolt and caught sight of a ball falling through the air heading into the room from the doorway. My instincts kicked into high gear and I snatched my dead Sergeants MP40 before diving on the opposite side of his body, covering myself with as much of him as I could as quickly as I could and closed my eyes. The explosion raised me from the ground with a thump, and I opened my eyes and raised the MP40 just in time to catch an American storming through the door, his eyes missing me behind the gory mess of my units former XO.
With a cry he fell backwards as a spray of 9mm riddled his chest, and I followed it up with a spray into the wall beside the doorway, hearing another cry and a thud as a body hit the floor, before American voices called out all around me. It wasn’t long after that the fire started to die down, and I raised myself up from behind my makeshift cover, MP40 raised as I neared the window and peered outside. Nothing moved outside, and I heard footsteps above me from my men as they rushed downstairs.
“Sturmann Strauss? Are you alright?” Asked one of the privates as he surveyed the damage in the room and the hallway. Three dead American’s and the tattered remains of his former Platoon leader, whos blood still stained the better part of my body.
“I’m fine, is anyone else hit?”
“No, everyone’s alright. What’re your orders?” My eyes looked up at his for a fraction of a second before turning back to the body beside my crouched form.
“All around defence, don’t fire unless fired upon…”
“Understood,” He turned to head back upstairs to the rest of the men.
“And get me a runner,”
How did you find us? If you found us via a link somewhere, where was it? If someone pointed you here, who was it?: Google
(Just a side note, I hope no one takes offence if I don’t write in German or use German military phrases, I’m much more familiar with Western military slang.)
Name: Valentin Strauss
Nationality:
- German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?:
- Waffen-SS
Character History:
Valentin’s history started in a small cabin in the mountains of Bavaria, circa December 1922. It was a dangerously cold day according to his father, one of the coldest of the year as far as he could care to remember, and immediately the young Bavarian became a god in the eyes of his father. The love was returned throughout Valentin’s life, and the two developed a very close relationship. Scholastically the young boy was average, and his father (a WWI veteran himself) pressed Valentin to study harder, dive head first into his learning for the old man could see the telltale signs of war on the horizon, and knew his boy would fight in it.
On the Western front, his father had seen the great divide between officer and enlisted men, not only in their quarters but in their health and in their survivability. How many friends had he lost in those damned trenches? Compared to how many officers he’d seen killed, it seemed like a genocide. It was this mentality that drove him to push Valentin in his learning, but the young boy never really took off, books just weren’t his thing. Sports became his number one interest, much like his father, and although the older man prided himself in his son taking after him, he knew it would hurt him in the future. Both mentally and physically, like it had Valentin’s father.
Just prior to the outbreak of war Valentin was a teenager, and had little care for the politics of his country, coming from such a far away place it seemed as though Berlin, and the German army were so immensely far away even though he saw them often in the streets of his village. It only took a year for the grandeur of the propaganda he was victim to day in and day out to take an effect on him; he attended Nazi party meetings in his village and learned as much as he could about Hitler and his followers including his own role in the entire country’s development.
His father was less than enthusiastic.
Their bond was strained by Valentin’s radical ideas, and the teenager became closer and closer with his mother, who had for the most part been a silent overwatcher of his development. Using pamphlets from the local meetings he bombarded her, and his father, with Nazi propaganda. They however, did not have to endure much of it, as at the age of 17 young Valentin, shining star in his father’s eye, signed up as a member of the SS.
His progress was exponential during training, almost overnight he went from a hyper and energetic Bavarian teenager to a cold, hard German soldier. The training itself was cutthroat throughout, but Valentin managed to prove his worth as a soldier and his ability to look outside of the box for answers. Immediately after training he was placed in the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, the toughest and most notorious Waffen-SS unit the world had ever seen.
In Poland he was thrown into the mess of combat and found it at this point, wasn’t much different than training and thought of his foes as lower humans, often advancing without orders along with a good portion of his unit. However, this gallantry had its costs, as needless lives were lost in their brutal engagements, and Valentin quickly learned that combat was much more complicated than him and his fellow Leibstandarte had imagined. Overnight the zealous fog that had blinded his warrior instincts dissipated, and the unit found themselves surrounded at Pabianice. Here, his valour and abilities as a German infantryman came into the light, as he and his units fought valiantly until reinforcements managed to force their way into the encirclement and relieve the Leibstandarte. Soon after the war in Poland ended, and the unit returned to training for re-organization, and Valentin found himself awarded the rank of Sturmann, having been a Oberschütze during his time in Poland.
Preparation was made for France, and Valentin looked forward to the coming battles with prideful eyes. A month before deployment, his chest adorned the Iron Cross.
Military Rank:
- Sturmann
Writing Sample:
There was a call down the line, ‘contact!’ shouted a German voice, and a whistle blew as gunfire erupted all along our frontline. My squad were in the basement of a Chateau, situated just outside of the small town we’d taken only a few hours prior as the sun had been setting. Now, with the dust having cleared it was well into the night, and the Americans seemed to want a little taste of revenge. They’d find no sheep here this night.
“STANDTO!” Shouted my SS-Unterscharführer as he made it halfway down the stairs and made a count of all the bodies that suddenly exploded from their beds. It was a mess of gear and German bodies as we wrestled our clothes on and grabbed our rifles, having no time to blouse our boots or fix our collars. Within a minute we hit the first floor, my boots slamming across the hardwood floor in front of my men as I nonchalantly waved them into positions around the house with my right hand and closed the distance with the Sergeant as he peered out one of the windows.
“Sitrep?” My voice was practically a whisper as my throat was dry, but he heard me and turned to look into my eyes, his own full of adrenaline, so full of life…There was a shot, one single unbelievably loud shot from outside the window and I saw the life drained from my SS-Unterscharführer bewildered eyes as a .30-06 round pierced through one side of his helmet and exited out his chin, narrowly missing me. When his body hit the floor, all hell broke loose.
Automatic gunfire exploded across the stone wall of the Chateau, both German and American munitions going off as I fell backwards away from the window and gathered up my Karabiner 98k and levelled it at the hallway I’d only just walked through. A silhouette! My rifle bucked as the round rifled through the barrel, and as the body dropped I cocked back the bolt and caught sight of a ball falling through the air heading into the room from the doorway. My instincts kicked into high gear and I snatched my dead Sergeants MP40 before diving on the opposite side of his body, covering myself with as much of him as I could as quickly as I could and closed my eyes. The explosion raised me from the ground with a thump, and I opened my eyes and raised the MP40 just in time to catch an American storming through the door, his eyes missing me behind the gory mess of my units former XO.
With a cry he fell backwards as a spray of 9mm riddled his chest, and I followed it up with a spray into the wall beside the doorway, hearing another cry and a thud as a body hit the floor, before American voices called out all around me. It wasn’t long after that the fire started to die down, and I raised myself up from behind my makeshift cover, MP40 raised as I neared the window and peered outside. Nothing moved outside, and I heard footsteps above me from my men as they rushed downstairs.
“Sturmann Strauss? Are you alright?” Asked one of the privates as he surveyed the damage in the room and the hallway. Three dead American’s and the tattered remains of his former Platoon leader, whos blood still stained the better part of my body.
“I’m fine, is anyone else hit?”
“No, everyone’s alright. What’re your orders?” My eyes looked up at his for a fraction of a second before turning back to the body beside my crouched form.
“All around defence, don’t fire unless fired upon…”
“Understood,” He turned to head back upstairs to the rest of the men.
“And get me a runner,”
How did you find us? If you found us via a link somewhere, where was it? If someone pointed you here, who was it?: Google
(Just a side note, I hope no one takes offence if I don’t write in German or use German military phrases, I’m much more familiar with Western military slang.)
