The Red Sand (Wilhelm)

[Jonas Merhoff]

Country: El Alamein, Egypt
Area/Setting: Desert road near the coasts of Egypt. The Commonwealth forces have broken out of El Alamein and continue to push the Germans back through the North African desert.
Current Time: 0930 November 3rd, 1942
Weather Conditions: Dry, humid heat of the African desert.


The African desert. A vast plain of sand and stone. The desert was made to be a battlefield. The battered landscape was littered with mountains and valleys, making the land difficult to maneuver. The rough terrain was stained with the blood of tens of thousands of German, Italian, and Commonwealth soldiers. The arid wasteland's tactical importance was that of the Middle East. If Germany controlled North Africa, they could secure their holdings in the Middle East. And with that came the rich oil fields of the Middle East. There was little hope of such now, however, when the Afrika Korps struggled to put down the Allied offensive in the desert. An ill Rommel had left the horrid desert early September after setting up the German and Italian defenses in Egypt. Now, in November, the Axis forces had been pushed back to the verge of retreat.

It was Rommel's hope, as well as Hauptmann Jonas Merhoff's, that the German forces at Stalingrad would be able to secure the city quickly and move South to threaten the British in the Middle East. Only then could the two fronts crush the British and secure both North Africa and the Middle Eastern oil fields in a glorious series of victories. That was not the case. By late October, the German forces in Stalingrad had not been able to end the fighting and the British launched an offensive in Egypt. The weakened Afrika Korps and it's Italian allies were forced back by the Commonwealth forces might with ease. By early November, they were preparing to fall back.

Two measly platoons. That was all the men that Merhoff could spare for the small ambush. The platoons had been reduced greatly during the initial fighting, now only a force of thirty odd men. The best Merhoff could gather for the ambush were two MG42s and a handful of about five Panzerfausts. There were reports of a small force of British vehicles ranging somewhere between 3-6 tanks was moving down the African road, with the possibility of a British convoy soon to follow the path the tanks were quickly clearing. Merhoff had volunteered to lead the small scale operation, thirsty for British blood after the recent, painful defeats.

The African sand, under the constant heat of the sun, scorched the Hauptmann was he crawled up the small dune . Along the desert road ran a small stretch of elevated sand that had built up over the years, a perfect place to stage an ambush. The thirty German soldiers were pressed against the burning sand, doing their best to ignore the heat. To a British tank moving down the road, they would be nearly invisible. The two MG42s were set up near the top of the dune, concealed by a clever placement of stones. The most experienced of his men had given the control of one of the five panzerfausts, lying in careful wait at the top of the sand dune. The panzerfaust was a one time deal and Merhoff needed to take out the tanks before they had a chance to counterattack. He couldn't afford a missed shot.

Lying on his stomach beside an MG42, Merhoff took a glance at the two men. The Corporal was serving as the loader/spotter, for a younger Private who went by the name of Wilhelm Hasburg. Merhoff had put Hasburg in command of the MG42, the gunner of the deadly machine gun. Raising the binoculars that tangled around his neck, he looked out into the distance. Far away he could make out signs of dust along the road. The rising dust of a storm. He studied the terrain, attempting to make out any hints of a British tank. Nothing. Nada. Merhoff sighed and dropped the binoculars, grasping his MP40 as he rolled onto his left side. Waiting in anticipation. He was ready for revenge. The sand of Egypt would be stained red today.

[Wilhelm Hasburg]

Wihelm griped his large MG42,he Felt the hot handle of the powerful weapon. Then he thought of the heat, ''the heat....'' he thought. Then he looked at the old,grainy and dusty sand He knew the blood of many germans had been spelt on this same sand,he also knew blood of many birtish had been spelt here. That trought made wihelm a bit happyer knowing that some blood of those greedy british had been spelt here. He knelt Down on his knees,the sands sticking him in the kneecap. He looked at the Dusty Road,almost Competely Covered in sand,a dust of Sandy wind blew past him. He knew that there was a possibley of the British bringing in tanks and possibly wiping out the whole group of troops,but he hoped this woud't happen. As he Thought this he looked at to the horizon,seeing noting but the sand covering the whole Landscape,the sand was everywhere in the guns,in his shoes,in his eyes,even in his mouth,he turned around and spoke to his loader. [In german] ''heheh i hope today will be a good victory''Wihelm spoke to the Cpl ''just try not to get killed'' the cpl said,then wihelm giggled at this ''you better hope you wont get killed also...'',''i do'' the cpl said back to wihelm. Then wihelm looked at the open road one more time,nowing as well as the haupptman knew that today the sand would be soaked with blood....british blood...

[Jonas Merhoff]

Beside the Hauptmann, the eager Obergrenadier and Stabsgrefeiter conversed. A battle was imminent and both of the inexperienced men wished to see combat by night's fall. Merhoff couldn't blame the blood thirsty enthusiasm of the Afrika Korps soldiers that had gathered behind the dune. After suffering defeat to the British during the Second Battle of El Alamein, everyone was eager for some sort of personal revenge. Defeat left a bitter taste in one's mouth. Especially when that defeat was only a grim foretelling of the future. Their frontlines were stretched thin, their tanks were destroyed, and their supplies and reinforcements were meager. It looked like the end of a North African theater to the Hauptmann. With the Americans becoming involved, Merhoff and his men felt doomed as they fought to hold any inch of Egyptian soil they could.

Sliding down the side of the dune, Merhoff kicked up a good deal of dust as he went. Most of the men were gathered at the bottom of the dune, where it was much more comfortable to sit, stand, or walk around for a few brief moments. The battered men greeted their superior with enthusiasm, feeling confident that they would have victory today under Jonas Merhoff's command. The Hauptmann's uniform was worn-out and dirty from the rough desert warfare. His field tunic was tattered, but he still wore it over his tropical shirt. The five button, cotton tunic still proudly displayed his rank and the distinctive Afrika Korps cuff title. In place of a helmet, Merhoff wore his M40 field cap casually over his head, a pair of goggles secured strapped around the cap. A local, silk desert scarf that Merhoff had obtained early in the war was visible, concealing his shirt. The scarf came in handy on particularly hot days, protecting against the sun, wind, and sand.

"Rest jetzt, während Sie können. Wir sehen Kampf kurz, Kameraden. Und wir nehmen Rache nach den unglücklichen Briten, die vor uns kreuzen." The Afrika Korps soldiers relaxed at the bottom of the dune, taking chugs from their canteens. With battle came new supplies. The Germans would be able to scavenge water, food, and ammunition off the corpses of the British they slayed today. With Merhoff's word that they would see battle, the soldiers were much less hesitant to eat and drink in the hope they would replenish their supplies from the fallen. Merhoff spoke briefly with the soldiers, discussing the war in Africa as well as Europe and Russia. Some of the men presented radical ideas that Hitler betrayed the Germans in his promises of peace and prosperity, instead leading them to certain destruction. Merhoff silenced the men, although agreeing with them on some points, he knew negative talk of Hitler destroyed morale.

Slowly, Merhoff crawled back to the top edge of the sand dune. The sleeves of his tunic had been rolled up to just above his elbow, exposing his tanned skin to the heat of the sand. However, he preferred wearing his trousers and boots instead of tropical shorts. Upon reaching the peak of the dune, he found the two MG42 teams still in place as well as the five panzerfausts. Grasping his binoculars one last time, he hoped to spot the enemy at last. And that he did. The distinct form of a British Mk III Valentine tank could be made out in the distance, shooting up dust in its wake. "Die Briten kommen! Männer kommen in Ihre Positionen! Verschieben Sie ihn!" Merhoff's voice boomed across the desert, as the startled Afrika Korps troops scrambled to get into position. The thirty men gather along the dune, covering nearly it's entirely length. They hid a few inches from the edge, not wishing to give their position away prematurely.

The small convoy, most likely a small group of elite men attempting to clear the road and break into enemy lines was moving at an alarming pace. It was probable that the men were the elite British SAS fighters, but one couldn't be certain. Observing the movement with his binoculars, he sighed with relief. "Es gibt nur vier Behälter. Zwei Valentinsgrußbehälter M-III, eins am Kopf des Konvois und eins zur Rückseite. Zwischen ihnen könnte ich zwei M VI den Kreuzfahrer Behälter und etwas Infanterietransporte ausmachen. Bren Fördermaschinen, machine-gun angebrachte Jeeps, LKWas und dergleichen. " A few of the men thanked god that they had enough anti tank weapons to deal with the armor. Hauptmann Merhoff paused a bit, formulating a plan in his head. "Niemand abfeuern d, bis ich den Befehl gebe. Verbreiten Sie die panzerfausts über der Oberseite der Düne, von einem Ende zum anderen. Das erste panzerfuast schlägt den ersten Behälter, den zweiten der zweite Behälter, und so weiter. Ich wünsche ein von Ihnen hier neben mir als Reserve, falls ein anderes panzerfaust erforderlich ist. Sie schlagen die Rückseite des Behälters und versuchen, in einem Schuß zu sperren. "

There was another pause as Merhoff organized the anti tank weapons across the top of the dune, seeing to it that each man knew what they were going to do. A Stabsgrefeiter that had served under Merhoff since '41 rested to the Hauptmann's side, in case shit hit the fan. "Die Maschinengewehrmannschaften konzentrieren sich auf die helle Rüstung. Schlachten Sie irgendwie bastard auf einer Bren Fördermaschine, vor auf die Jeeps weitergehen. Der Rest von Ihnen verlosen Fokus auf dem Töten jedes traurigen bastard in einem LKW oder in einem Jeep, bevor sie hinausgehen können. Am wichtigsten, nehmen Sie jedermann heraus, das ein Maschinengewehr auf einem Jeep oder einem Behälterdrehkopf bemannt. Wir möchten nicht durch schweres Feuer festgesteckt werden. " Inching his MP40 closer to the top of the dune, Merhoff peeked over and watched the British approach.

When the British came into close proximity, Merhoff pulled down under the cover of the dune and instructed the rest of the men to do so as well if they hadn't already. He quietly reminded each man not to fire until the order was given. Before he had ducked down below the dune, Merhoff managed to study the approaching British easier. The small convoy was headed by a Valentine tank, which was followed by a truck, then a jeep, a Crusader tank, a Bren carrier, a second Crusader tank, a second truck, a second jeep, and a second Valentine tank to the rear. Four armored vehicles, a light armored vehicle, two trucks of British infantry, and a Bren carrier of Britons. Add to that the few soldiers who were seated on the side of the tanks and quite a fight was in store for the Afrika Korps. Merhoff hoped the surprise and speed of his attacked would eliminate the armor and MGs before they could react. Then, it was matter of gunning the infantry down. He placed his hand on the shoulder of Obergrenadier Hasburg, reminding him to wait for his order to fire.

Translations:

- "Rest now, while you can. We will see battle shortly, comrades. And we will take vengeance upon the unfortunate Britons that cross before us. "

- "The British are coming! Men get into your positions! Move it!"

- "There are only four tanks. Two Mk III Valentine tanks, one at the head of the convoy and one to the rear. In between them I could make out two Mk VI Crusader tanks and some infantry transports. Bren carriers, machine-gun mounted jeeps, trucks and the like."

- "No one will fire until I give the command. Spread the panzerfausts across the top of the dune, from one end to the other. The first panzerfuast will strike the first tank, the second the second tank, and so on. I want one of you here beside me as a reserve, in case another panzerfaust is needed. You will strike the rear of the tank, attempting to disable in one shot."

- "The machine gun teams will focus on the light armor. Slaughter any bastard on a Bren carrier, before moving on to the jeeps. The rest of you lot focus on killing every sorry bastard in a truck or jeep before they can get out. Most importantly, take out anyone manning a machine gun on a jeep or tank turret. We do not want to be pinned by heavy fire."

[Wilhelm Hasburg]

Wihelm focused on the light and heavy armor kicking up dirt .The sand flew in the air. Wihelm took a jug from his water canteens,quicky juging every last drop of clean pure water. After none came out,Wihelm slowy put the canteen on the back of his belt. As the British slowy came closer,makeing large tracks in the sand. Wihelm knew if even one of his commanding officer's order was screwed up,or even one anti tank unit failed to recact in time or failed at hiting a tank,the whole postion could be destoryed,without a trace. As Wihelm looked at his fellow men,he saw there was Thirsty,there clothes was dirty and basicly a bunch of rags. Wihelm knew he had to put his faith in every last on of these soliders,and he knew he had to put faith in his self or everything would be easily lost.Wihelm ducked behind his dune,his eyes barely able to see over the dune,the british came closer and closer unti he coud practicely see there faces,Wihelm thought we were likey doomed.The biritsh had more supplys,more well trained men,and of course ceritanly more armor then the germans did.Wihelm felt the heat of the powerful and mighty sun beat down upon him,he was melting he wished that had just a little bit of water left,he would like just to have just a little bit more of water,he was drinking his own spit just to keep cool,but of course it wasn't working very well.But he would die or take the british supplys before the thrist got to him. But maybe if he got lucky he would be taken POW and not be treated too harshly.Then once more wihelm looked at his fellow troopers,he looked into his eyes and looked at them,and to him it sure damn looked like they did not think they was going to get out of here unless it in a body bag.

[Jonas Merhoff]

The searing heat of the sun beat down on Merhoff's neck as he shifted around uncomfortably in the sand. Raising his right arm up, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the rear of his hand, eager in anticipation. Licking his lips now, which were dry and cracked from the arid heat of the desert, he listened in on the sound of the tracks cutting through the sand. The men were anxious, glancing at their Hauptmann with an uneasiness that questioned when he would finally give the orders to attack. Dragging his belly against the sand, Merhoff peered over the top of the dune, barely flashing the tip of his MP40 out from his hiding place amongst the sand and rocks.

Keeping pace with their Hauptmann, the soldiers who had been equipped with the prototype infantry anti-tank weapon inched their ways over the dune itching to use the weaponry. It was a shame that the Panzerfausts wouldn't come into full force until a year later, well after Rommel and his soldiers would be kicked out of Africa. The straps of Merhoff's goggles seemed to be tighter on his head as he fixed the positioning of his M40 field cap to better protect from the sun's beams. At least the glare of the sun was focused directly over and behind them, blocking a view of the German troops with its angry glares of light that the deserts of North Africa were so accustomed to. This was it. Merhoff pushed his MP40 further into positioning, pushing it up against his shoulder for better stability.

"FEUER!" The bellowing roar came from over the sand dune running across the road. A few of the British soldiers quickly attempted to spot the cause, only to be temporarily blinded by the sun. Exactly as Merhoff planned. In near unison, the Panzerfaust's fired their single rockets which collided with the back of the tanks. Three of which were instantly put out of commission, the impact of the warhead against their rear armor easily enough to destroy the heavy armored vehicle and it's crew with it. Only a lone Valentine tank to the rear of the small convoy still stood, the Panzerfaust's rocket instead colliding with it's side armor and disabling its tracks. That tank would be a nuisance.

"Schnell! Nehmen Sie das Panzerfaust hinunter die Linie und erhalten Sie einem Schuß auf der hintere Rüstung der Behälter! " The Stabsgefreiter was off down the sand dune in a moment's notice, kicking up quite the sand storm with his rushed movements. The MG42s had opened up fire, slaughtering the countless British soldiers that were pouring out of the Bren carriers, jeeps, and a trucks. The ordinary riflemen dropped any machine-gun that presented a risk to the Afrika Korps troops dug in along the dune as well picking off an odd Brit or two that was climbing out of the back of a truck or leaping over the side of a jeep.

Merhoff found a sick pleasure in unleashing the bullets from the barrel of his prized weapon. The cries of pain and screams of terror were enough to to satisfy him. No doubt his bullets struck an unlucky British bastard or two. Maybe even a Scot or Welsh man thrown in with the British. Even the Australians found their way to Africa. The ambushing force threw everything the possibly could at the unsuspecting commonwealth troops. MG42s cut them to shreds, Panzerfausts disabled tanks before they could react, Kar 98 rifles dropped the men piling out the backs of trucks, and MP40 fire covered everything in between.

Anxiously watching as the Valentine tank's main turret defiantly turned to face the German troops, Merhoff knew there was nothing he could do but pray now. It's MG fire collided with the sides of the sand dune, shooting up spurts of sand all across the line and kicking up dust with its brutal force. The British that found themselves fortunate enough to be seated on the tank during the ambush were charging the bottom of the dune, firing at their attackers. The Valentine's turret came to a rest, before terrifying tank round exploded out of its barrel. But... no, that couldn't be. The tank had never fired. Instead, it's wreckage burned and released black smoke high into the African sky. The Stabsgrefeiter's careful aiming had paid off. The fight was far from over though, as the scattered British that managed their way into cover began to fight back. "Erhalten Sie das Feuer aufrecht! Reduzieren Sie jene britischen Schweine! "

Translations:

- "Quickly! Take the Panzerfaust down the line and get a shot on that tank's rear armor!"

- "Keep the fire up! Cut those British pigs down!"

[Wilhelm Hasburg]

Wilhelm sprayed down the British cover with his MG42,he was trying to keep those British pigs from trying to fire back. His head was barely up from the hot flithy sand. Then he heard the almost deafen roar of a Piece of hot lead wasping past nearby. He fired return shots from where he thought it came from,the bullets from the MG42 Wasped from the Powerful weapon,the bullets cuting into the air then they stoped. Wilhelm heard a scream from out from the british cover. He kept trying to pull the trigger but noting happened,it took wihelm a minute to realize he was out of ammo in his MG42. he tapped his reloader on his soulder,and he got to reloading the gun. Wihelm quicky got down,knowing those brits would fire off return shots any moment and he did not want to be the slightest out of his protective cover at the least.The cpl nudged Wilhelm to say that he was done reloading his MG42. Wihelm started to Fire once more Raming the cover of most britishs,as well as possibley takeing out a brit or two that was out of cover to fire or some strange thing as that. Wihelm focused his fire on a rather thin looking dune,after he got a aim on wihelm ducked behind his cover and blind fired at the dune. only a couple of seconds of fireing at the dune the MG42 bullets was able to pierce the thin looking dune,killing off a commonwealth or two wihelm did not hear much fireing off after this. Wihelm thought the germans were wining the fight and looked at his men and saw this there mortal has went up,well a lot then when the battle first began. then he kept placeing fire on the dunes,even though he thought that most of them was dead.

[Jonas Merhoff]

The tanned uniforms of the infamous British "Desert Rats" lay bloodied and tattered across the road. The destroyed wreckage of the British armor, that hadn't been able to react to their attackers, burned and shot up dark smoke into the skies of the desert. The wooden rear of the trucks were nearly destroyed by the hail of bullets. The jeeps tires were blown out by the lead. The Bren carrier held some nasty scars from the MG42, heavily stained with British blood. The chaotic scene on the road was a glorious German victory, but was the fight over yet? Would more British be storming down the African road in the moments to come? Or would the disappearance of four tanks, two jeeps, two trucks, and a Bren carrier deter their quick advance upon the German-Italian positions?

An unnerving silence came upon the Germans as their fire slowly eased and then halted. The mass of corpses seemed enough for them to be certain all the British scum had been slaughtered. The British bodies lay on the vehicles, on the road, behind vehicles, and even at the bottom of the dunes. A courageous group of British soldiers had charged off the Valentine tank and amassed some men the bottom of the dune. Their desperate charge hadn't fared so well, the majority of them were dropped within seconds by heavy SMG and rifle fire. The battle was over and won, but eerily it did not feel that way. At least to Hauptmann Jonas Merhoff, who believed he had heard movement across the road.

A Stabsgefreiter stood up, egging on his fellow soldiers to join him as he climbed over the top of the dune. A few impatient, ignorant soldiers rose up to join the man before stopping dead in their tracks. Merhoff roared,"NEIN! ERHALTEN SIE ZURÜCK HIER!" as he reached out to grab the soldier by the arm. It was far too late for the two. A 'heroic' British soldier quickly climbed atop the jeep and turned its MG to face the dune, cutting down the Stabsgefreiter before he could react. A few other men who were beginning to stand up were cut down as the hail of MG fire cut across the dune. Merhoff grunted as he pulled the corpse of the man back over the dune, where the uneasy faces of the Afrika Korps soldiers glanced at him in confusion of what to do.

This was not how it was supposed to go. Merhoff and his men were to cut down the tiny convoy within seconds and gun down all the British soldiers. There was not suppose to be any resistance. But the British were stubborn and arrogant. They would need to be put into their place. A grave. "Sie sechs! Auf mir! Wir werden den Feind angrenzen. Mannschaften MG42 unterdrücken, dass Magnesium und jene Briten also unsere Männer abfeuern können. Schnell! " A few of the nearest men gathered on Merhoff, before sliding down the dune and running down the side of it. Before no time, they arrived at the end of the small convoy as the MG42s began to release hell once more.

The small squad of seven men charged out into and behind the cover of the Valentine tank. With heavy MG fire being answered with British MG fire of it's own, the battle quickly turned into a stalemate as both sides trying to unleash everything they had at each other. No one had seen the seen German troops cross from the dune to the rearmost tank however. And furthermore, no one saw as the seven Germans slowly made their way around the back of the tank. In a perfect flanking position, the flanking squad fired on the British gathered around the MGs and behind the destroyed vehicles. They first took out the MGs, which freed up a lot of the men in the cover of the dune to return fire. And once the British were suppressed from two sides, it was a matter of gunning them down. Which Merhoff saw to personally. Merhoff would tolerate prisoners, he always treated his prisoners well, but it didn't look like there would be any British prisoners left after the bloody battle.

Translations:

- "NO! GET BACK HERE!"

- "You six! On me! We are going to flank the enemy. MG42 teams suppress that MG and those British so our men can fire. Quickly!"

[Wilhelm Hasburg]

Wihelm quicky got to firing the MG42. Quicky trying to spray down the remaining British and commonwealth Scum that Were hidden at various places on the blood cruel Battlefield. Wihelm was lucky that he was not stuipd or just plain ignorant enough to stuipdly stand on a dune when any and all remaining Commonwealth Soliders can easily fire upon and kill them like of course they did. Wilhelm Pumped bullet after bullet at the biritsh scum hopeing to hit some unlucky British bastard. Hot lead poured out of Wihelm MG and his fellow Germans MGs pinning down the British pretty nicly. Wihelm thought the German army was much more well funded,Bigger and better then the commonwealth army but to Wihelm this proved what he thought was wrong. It seemed the german army was very ill perpared for battle and to take africa and other things. What the hell was the german Generals and so on thinking? Starting a War on three damn fronts! Not even the Great German army could take a war on three fronts! The Cpl beside Wihelm shoke him and told him to stop day dreaming in battle. So Wihelm fired upon the British unhopefuly.Wihelm went in a half day dreaming half fighting mode,he could fight but he was not really thinking about it much. Wihelm forced him self to think better of the german army. He thought to himself the mighty german army can not and could not lose to the Grease money americas,the pig commonwealth or anyother nation. No no no the Great and Grand German army is just too great to be defeated by the the scum allies or any other nation in a matter of fact! Wihelm just hoped by some chance the Grand German nation would surpress all of the other enemy nations and wipe them off the face of the Earth. Wihelm got out of his day dreaming state and kept laying fireing on the British. Everyonce in the a while a got a pig like commonwealth solider or possibly two of them. He kept laying fire on the British pigs,the Cpl reloaded the MG42 when he ran out of ammo. The cpl quicky reloaded the Grand MG42 but said something ''Wihelm were runing out of ammo a little bit''! Wihelm turned back and said ''i hope we finish this off soon''. With this Wihelm kept firing upon the british scum.

[Jonas Merhoff]

OOC: Sorry a bit short and rushed. Waffles -_-.


The butt of the MP40 kicked back into his shoulder, sending a tingle of pain throughout his upper body. Merhoff felt himself moving much slower as he watched the bullet casings flick out of the weapon and flip through the air before landing in the dirt. His finger wrapped around the trigger and pulled further back, unleashing a volley of lead from the barrel of the German sub-machine gun. A flock of British soldiers gathered behind the cover of the burning wreckage of armor and transport vehicles fell before his and his comrade's bullets, chaotically cut down without mercy.

The smoke cleared and the Afrika Korps Hauptmann stepped into the chaos, his glazed eyes looked over the corpses of the the Britons that had fallen in the ambush. Adjusting the M40 field cap on his head, he wiped the gathering sweat off his tanned forehead. The heat on his face only grew was he glanced towards the glare of the sun and signaled towards the men on the dune that the fight was over. Victory at last. But it would be short lived, that much was certain. "Neigen Sie zum verletzten und erfassen Sie alle mögliche Gefangenen. Reinigen Sie Versorgungsmaterialien von den Toten, wenn Sie müssen. "

With his MP40 slung over his neck, the Hauptmann carefully made his way through the crowd and corpse and checked for any wounded amidst the dead. He found none. No British man had survived the attack. From the dune, the soldiers poured over the scene and scavenged for any supplies they could get their hands on. Food, water, guns, ammo, and even clothes and boots. God knew that the German soldiers were in desperate need of supplies. Perhaps, they would get more plentiful supplies after their retreat to Tunisia. But no. Hitler had forgotten about the poor bastards fighting in the North African deserts. And they were doomed fall to the Anglo-American forces.

Merhoff loosened the goggles around his head and lifted the field cap off, allowing the top of his head to be free from the pocket of heat that gathered within the cap. His hair, drenched with sweat, was amiss and needed to be fixed. But there was practically never any time for that in Africa. A few of the men looked at their leader, who was suffering along with them. His face, slightly red with exhaustion, was just as beaten and dirty as theirs if not more so. He rubbed his fingers through the mass of sweaty locks just as they did. But he had too much respect to scavenge from the dead and wounded, which was set the leader apart from a majority of his men. Honor and chivalry. Placing the field cap back on his forehead, he looked at the mob of men that had flooded over the wrecked convoy. "Wir umziehen heraus in fünfzehn Minuten n! Rest und vorbereiten en. "

Translations:

- "Tend to the wounded and gather any prisoners. Scavenge supplies from the dead if you must."

- "We move out in fifteen minutes! Rest and ready yourselves."

[Wilhelm Hasburg]

Wihelm quicky ceased his fire as soon as he saw those Scum of a army commonwealth Solider pretty much dead. Wihelm got up and start to slowly walk to the dead bodys of the commonwealth bastards. The heat from the sun beat upon Wihelm head caused him to sweat uncontorlably. Sweat runing down his neck Wihelm bend over a dead british Solider and he thought about Scavengeing supplies from the dead commonwealth,he thought if he scavenged suppiles from dead british troopers that would pretty damn well kill his pride,but he rather stay alive then keep his pride. So he grabed a water canteen from one of the fallen british.

, Wihelm gulped down much water as he could from the old commonwealth water canteen. Then he threw the canteen down. the canteen slamed the ground with much force kicking up a lot of the old dusty and now blood soaked sand into the air. He grabed a another one from a another dead solider and dumped all the pure and clean water into his own canteen for safe keeping. Wihelm got up and looked at his own dead german men,being respectful for the dead or at least the german dead he started to dig a small ditch into the ground with his shovel. He dug as fast a possible knowing he did not has much time,when he was done he knew the grave was very shity at best but he when he was done he thought it was going to do for now. Then he kicked some of his fellow fallen germans into the ditch,two of them fit into side but it was a tight fit,then he shoveled dirt onto the top of it trying to give them a decent resting place,but it was far from nice.

Wihelm started to take some of Kar98 ammo,because even though he did not really use it all really,he was issued a low amount of the ammo. Which was sad really to Wihelm. Hitler forgot about his africa boys which need more men and more suppiles and many other things among that but he thought what he had would have to do. Wihelm quicky started to move out with the rest of the men,the sun beating down on his neck once more.''Well at least we all did not get killed'' Wihelm thought to himself as he walked with the rest of the remaining men.

[Jonas Merhoff]

Three. That was the number of men Merhoff had lost under his command that day. No, three was not a big number. However, the three men made up ten percent of the force he had mustered up for the ambush. The Hauptmann had been hoping to come home with no casualties, but as he watched a few of the men pay their respects to the three fallen men, he grunted at his failure. A young Schutze, Hasburg, was doing the honors of burying the dead. Merhoff muttered a quick prayer under his breath for his fallen soldiers, before turning to attend to more pressing matters. According to Merhoff's Lutheran beliefs, the dead would await Christ's second coming upon which they would be judged. Merhoff's ancestry had roots in the Teutonic Order as well as the formation of Prussia which led to his Lutheranism. The deeply embedded Lutheranism in the Merhoff family was formed after his ancestors followed the Grand Master Albert in his conversion as well as move to the Duchy of Prussia.

The well-documented ancestry of the Merhoff family was of no concern to Jonas at the moment, he had other things on his mind. Like the African sun that was scorching his flesh or the savage men that were quick to scavenge from the dead. Merhoff pulled a Sergeant who was accompanied by a Corporal aside. Joachim Wolf and Johann Stumpf, respectively. The veteran Sergeant had seen plenty of war under the guidance of Jonas Merhoff and the younger but still experienced Corporal was just beginning to become acquainted with Merhoff and the hell that is African warfare. "Wolf. Stumpf. Sehen Sie, wenn die Konvoi-LKWas gereinigt werden können. Er würde Wunder für Moral tun, wenn die Männer nicht zurück marschieren mussten." The two soldiers, who were of Merhoff's most trusted, set off on their task.

Within moments, Merhoff was gathered with the two men once more off to the side of the road. "Herr Hauptmann, beide LKWas ist in der vollkommenen Arbeitsbedingung. Gerade oben geschlagen durch Gewehrkugeln und mit Leichen geladen." Merhoff smirked as he listened to Wolf, "Gut, Unteroffizer. Erfassen Sie einige Männer, um den LKWas der Leichen klar zu helfen. Haben Sie die Soldatversammlung auf der anderen Seite der Straße. Dann ist es gerade eine Angelegenheit von Ihnen zwei die zwei LKWas aus diesem Wrack heraus und auf geöffnete Straße erreichend. " Jonas watched the scene with scrutiny as the two NCOs ushered the mass of Afrika Korps soldiers towards the dune and then gathered some of the men to clear the trucks of bodies. Although, every man would be glad to be riding in the back of the trucks... they might not be so pleased to be sitting in blood and bullets. But they were the rough soldiers of the Afrika Korps, they could handle it.

Within minutes the trucks had been cleansed of British corpses and the two men had skillfully worked the trucks out from the halted convoy. The trucks had been led by a slow moving tank, so it had managed to keep its distance. And with a jeep behind it, the men did not have much trouble moving the two large vehicles out into the open desert and then back onto the road before the lead tank. Merhoff gathered the German soldiers into the back of the trucks like a shepherd with his sheep, the NCOs acting like his helping dogs. German shepherds. Merhoff chuckled at his own silent joke, gaining a few odd looks from the nearby men. But the 27 men gathered into the trucks. Wolf and Stumpf took the drivers seat and the other 25 men split between the two trucks which could hold 14 men. 13 crowded into the back of one truck while the other 12 crowded into the second truck. Both groups were relieved they wouldn't have to walk.

Merhoff closed and locked the back of the truck, securing the canvas to help protect the men from the horrors of the sun. The many bullet holes that cut up the canvas didn't exactly help though. The Hauptmann pulled open the door of the first truck and lifted himself up into the passenger seat beside his trusted Unteroffizer, Joachim Wolf. The NCO glanced at his Hauptmann and grinned slightly, before the engine of the truck roared to life and the truck took off down the road kicking sand up in its wake. They were retreating. Merhoff knew the Afrika Korps was falling back. And most likely for the last time. He hid his sadness and his anger as he watched the desert go by. He had grown use to the North African desert. He was going to hate his return to Europe.

Translations:

- "Wolf. Stumpf. See if the convoy trucks can be scavenged. It would do wonders for morale if the men did not have to march back."

- "Herr Hauptmann, both the trucks are in perfect working condition. Just beaten up by bullets and loaded with dead bodies."

- "Good, Unteroffizer. Gather some men to help clear the trucks of the corpses. Have the soldiers gather on the other side of the road. Then it is just a matter of you two getting the two trucks out of this wreck and onto open road."

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post

Good thread, Merhoff.

CP:
Hauptmann Merhoff: 11CP

Obergrenadier Hasburg: 7CP


~Dan