Post by Dieter Votaw on Mar 7, 2013 2:41:20 GMT
Account E-Mail: locke.esinoza@gmail.com
Name: Dieter Votaw
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?: Heer, Army Group B, 6th Army (Shipped back to Germany Nov. 1, 1942, before the unit was destroyed.) 7th Army
Character History:
Born to Felix and Petra Votaw January 2, 1920 on a small farm between Leipzig and Dresden, Dieter grew up learning how to raise livestock and cultivate crops. His father had served in the German Army from 1914 until 1916 when he was wounded in the Battle of Verdun, losing Most of his left hand. Having brought his Gewehr 98 home from the war, and having been his squad's top rifleman, taught Dieter the fundamentals of marksmanship and frequently helped develop his son's skill with the rifle when he was sober.
Growing up in Germany after The Great War influenced Dieter's world view greatly, and when combined with the opinions of his bitter father led to a unique anti-French edge to many of his beliefs. He blamed the French for the economic hardships that inflicted upon Germany after the war and for the loss of most of his father's hand. Growing up on the farm with a nearly useless father forced him to become very self sufficient at a very young age. Not having the time to go to school with the work necessary to run the farm, his mother Petra (an avid reader) taught him how to read and write with the help of her large collection of books. After learning how to read, Dieter frequently traveled ten miles to the nearest book store whenever he had free time and occasionally bought something when his father decided to give him money. The owner of the bookstore was a German-French man by the name of Florian Kay. Florian's interactions with Dieter broke him of his anti French sentiments and beliefs, expanding his world view and creating a friendship which would last for many years.
Over time his Father became extremely cynical as he watched Germany's descend from a major world power to what he perceived as a backword country. Felix began to drink even more heavily and physically abuse both Dieter and Petra. Dieter was twelve at the time and put up with it because he was not yet large enough to physically oppose his father and had been raised in a family that placed heavy value on the father as the center of any household.
The pattern of abuse continued until Dieter fell in love with a German-French girl named Mallory Kay, daughter of the owner of the book store, Florian, he frequented. He'd spent a large amount of time with her as the years progressed and the two seemed like a natural fit. He proposed at age sixteen with Florian's blessing and brought her home to meet his parents. Dieter's mother was delighted but his drunken father flew into a rage when he found out about her French heritage and called her a whore. Dieter, now six-one and one hundred and ninety pounds warned his father that another such outburst would not be tolerated. Felix cursed at his son and struck Mallory across the face, Dieter, now a full head taller than his father, launched himself at his father in a rage. They grappled for a few minutes before his father managed to get up and grab a kitchen knife, attempting to stab Dieter in the chest. Dieter led his father into the family's sitting room where he grabbed his father's unloaded rifle from above the fireplace's mantle and attached the bayonet that was dutifully placed in it's sheath below it. Using tactics Felix himself had taught him, Dieter pushed his father's knife to the side and thrust it deep into his gut. His father died from blood loss shortly after and Dieter and Petra buried his father in the family cemetery. The only people who knew of Felix's were Dieter, Mallory, Petra, and Florian. At first horrified by the incident Mallory realized what Dieter had shown by killing his father because he'd hurt her. Complete and total loyalty to her and her well being. Though sad that Dieter was forced to do this, Florian was glad that his daughter had found someone who truly loved her. Dieter and Petra were unsympathetic to his father, who'd died to them years ago.
Dieter had a child with Mallory and Petra, continuing to run the farm until 1939, when he heard the call to arms along with many of the other young german men. Germany was reascendant, a phoenix risen from the ashes. He enlisted in the German Army following in his father's footsteps, and leaving Florian (who's bookstore had failed several months prior) to run the farm with Petra. Assigned to the Sixth Army by the time Germany invaded France.
Military Rank:
Obergefreiter(1942)
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed
Stalingrad, July 1942
Dieter sat quietly inside of a deserted, bombed out cafe, listening to the sounds of distant shelling and gunfire. He had been in the cafe for a full day after getting separated from his squad during an intense firefight near the waterfront. The way the battle had went so far Dieter was unsure whether he was on the German side or Russian of the lines. One thing was certain though. He needed to move. Soon. Dawn crept up silently.
Dieter began to silently move, picking up his Kar98k and holding it at the ready. He dark brown eyes flashed to and fro as he silently advanced toward the ruined cafe's front doorway. Dieter used the skills taught to him by his father and the German Army as he quietly peeked his helmeted head around the corner. The street was empty besides the bodies of several German and Russian soldiers, piles of rubble, and a discarded bicycle. The smell of smoke perpetrated the air with a foulness nearly matching that of the bodies. Dieter drew his head back into cover and took several deep breathes, hesitantly crouching out of the frame into the street. He kept his eyes open and headed back the way he'd came, hugging the wall, to safety and fellow deutschlanders.
He went along like this for nearly three hundred yards, moving slowly and tactically, before the sound of rubble falling behind him caused him to spin, bringing his rifle to bear. Dieter's adrenaline spiked but no one was behind him. He scanned for several seconds and turned back, fairly certain of no danger. As he continued he heard no more sounds, but had the horrible feeling that he was being followed. He was close to what he was sure was the German line. Dieter walked several more meters before spotting a target of opportunity, an open doorway close enough to sprint into. Dieter continued crouching and suddenly spun around seeing a young Russian soldier crouching twenty feet to his rear. Dieter fired quickly, catching the young man squarely in the chest. He then sprinted into the doorway without looking back and up a intact stairwell, the sounds of footsteps could be heard behind him and he spun around as he rounded the staircase's corner, firing a round into the face of his second pursuer as he came out. A third soldier was directly behind him and lunged past his fallen comrade, bayonet attached at Dieter's stomach. Dieter sidestepped the thrust and brought his fist into the second attackers face. The attacker dropped the rifle and Dieter brought the man's head down to level and sent a knee into his nose. The man fell in a cry of pain and Dieter quickly drew his P38, aiming it at his head. This man had tried to kill him. Threatening his life and the well being of Mallory and his family in the process, even though he was only defending his country, he could not be allowed to live for it. The Russian's eyes grew wide as Dieter squeezed the pistol. The head snapped back, brain and skull splattering a grim painting on the floor behind it. Dieter checked his surroundings as he picked his rifle back up. Apartment block.
The sounds of footsteps below sent Dieter back into fight mode and he reraised rifle. Then came the voices. German. Dieter shouted his identification and rejoined his fellows downstairs. Apparently the reason he wasn't dead was because he was so close to the German line and the Russians must not have wanted a squad similar to the one that had just retrieved him to find them. Dumb luck was the only reason he'd get to write to Mallory today.
Height:6'1
Weight:190
Name: Dieter Votaw
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?: Heer, Army Group B, 6th Army (Shipped back to Germany Nov. 1, 1942, before the unit was destroyed.) 7th Army
Character History:
Born to Felix and Petra Votaw January 2, 1920 on a small farm between Leipzig and Dresden, Dieter grew up learning how to raise livestock and cultivate crops. His father had served in the German Army from 1914 until 1916 when he was wounded in the Battle of Verdun, losing Most of his left hand. Having brought his Gewehr 98 home from the war, and having been his squad's top rifleman, taught Dieter the fundamentals of marksmanship and frequently helped develop his son's skill with the rifle when he was sober.
Growing up in Germany after The Great War influenced Dieter's world view greatly, and when combined with the opinions of his bitter father led to a unique anti-French edge to many of his beliefs. He blamed the French for the economic hardships that inflicted upon Germany after the war and for the loss of most of his father's hand. Growing up on the farm with a nearly useless father forced him to become very self sufficient at a very young age. Not having the time to go to school with the work necessary to run the farm, his mother Petra (an avid reader) taught him how to read and write with the help of her large collection of books. After learning how to read, Dieter frequently traveled ten miles to the nearest book store whenever he had free time and occasionally bought something when his father decided to give him money. The owner of the bookstore was a German-French man by the name of Florian Kay. Florian's interactions with Dieter broke him of his anti French sentiments and beliefs, expanding his world view and creating a friendship which would last for many years.
Over time his Father became extremely cynical as he watched Germany's descend from a major world power to what he perceived as a backword country. Felix began to drink even more heavily and physically abuse both Dieter and Petra. Dieter was twelve at the time and put up with it because he was not yet large enough to physically oppose his father and had been raised in a family that placed heavy value on the father as the center of any household.
The pattern of abuse continued until Dieter fell in love with a German-French girl named Mallory Kay, daughter of the owner of the book store, Florian, he frequented. He'd spent a large amount of time with her as the years progressed and the two seemed like a natural fit. He proposed at age sixteen with Florian's blessing and brought her home to meet his parents. Dieter's mother was delighted but his drunken father flew into a rage when he found out about her French heritage and called her a whore. Dieter, now six-one and one hundred and ninety pounds warned his father that another such outburst would not be tolerated. Felix cursed at his son and struck Mallory across the face, Dieter, now a full head taller than his father, launched himself at his father in a rage. They grappled for a few minutes before his father managed to get up and grab a kitchen knife, attempting to stab Dieter in the chest. Dieter led his father into the family's sitting room where he grabbed his father's unloaded rifle from above the fireplace's mantle and attached the bayonet that was dutifully placed in it's sheath below it. Using tactics Felix himself had taught him, Dieter pushed his father's knife to the side and thrust it deep into his gut. His father died from blood loss shortly after and Dieter and Petra buried his father in the family cemetery. The only people who knew of Felix's were Dieter, Mallory, Petra, and Florian. At first horrified by the incident Mallory realized what Dieter had shown by killing his father because he'd hurt her. Complete and total loyalty to her and her well being. Though sad that Dieter was forced to do this, Florian was glad that his daughter had found someone who truly loved her. Dieter and Petra were unsympathetic to his father, who'd died to them years ago.
Dieter had a child with Mallory and Petra, continuing to run the farm until 1939, when he heard the call to arms along with many of the other young german men. Germany was reascendant, a phoenix risen from the ashes. He enlisted in the German Army following in his father's footsteps, and leaving Florian (who's bookstore had failed several months prior) to run the farm with Petra. Assigned to the Sixth Army by the time Germany invaded France.
Military Rank:
Obergefreiter(1942)
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed
Stalingrad, July 1942
Dieter sat quietly inside of a deserted, bombed out cafe, listening to the sounds of distant shelling and gunfire. He had been in the cafe for a full day after getting separated from his squad during an intense firefight near the waterfront. The way the battle had went so far Dieter was unsure whether he was on the German side or Russian of the lines. One thing was certain though. He needed to move. Soon. Dawn crept up silently.
Dieter began to silently move, picking up his Kar98k and holding it at the ready. He dark brown eyes flashed to and fro as he silently advanced toward the ruined cafe's front doorway. Dieter used the skills taught to him by his father and the German Army as he quietly peeked his helmeted head around the corner. The street was empty besides the bodies of several German and Russian soldiers, piles of rubble, and a discarded bicycle. The smell of smoke perpetrated the air with a foulness nearly matching that of the bodies. Dieter drew his head back into cover and took several deep breathes, hesitantly crouching out of the frame into the street. He kept his eyes open and headed back the way he'd came, hugging the wall, to safety and fellow deutschlanders.
He went along like this for nearly three hundred yards, moving slowly and tactically, before the sound of rubble falling behind him caused him to spin, bringing his rifle to bear. Dieter's adrenaline spiked but no one was behind him. He scanned for several seconds and turned back, fairly certain of no danger. As he continued he heard no more sounds, but had the horrible feeling that he was being followed. He was close to what he was sure was the German line. Dieter walked several more meters before spotting a target of opportunity, an open doorway close enough to sprint into. Dieter continued crouching and suddenly spun around seeing a young Russian soldier crouching twenty feet to his rear. Dieter fired quickly, catching the young man squarely in the chest. He then sprinted into the doorway without looking back and up a intact stairwell, the sounds of footsteps could be heard behind him and he spun around as he rounded the staircase's corner, firing a round into the face of his second pursuer as he came out. A third soldier was directly behind him and lunged past his fallen comrade, bayonet attached at Dieter's stomach. Dieter sidestepped the thrust and brought his fist into the second attackers face. The attacker dropped the rifle and Dieter brought the man's head down to level and sent a knee into his nose. The man fell in a cry of pain and Dieter quickly drew his P38, aiming it at his head. This man had tried to kill him. Threatening his life and the well being of Mallory and his family in the process, even though he was only defending his country, he could not be allowed to live for it. The Russian's eyes grew wide as Dieter squeezed the pistol. The head snapped back, brain and skull splattering a grim painting on the floor behind it. Dieter checked his surroundings as he picked his rifle back up. Apartment block.
The sounds of footsteps below sent Dieter back into fight mode and he reraised rifle. Then came the voices. German. Dieter shouted his identification and rejoined his fellows downstairs. Apparently the reason he wasn't dead was because he was so close to the German line and the Russians must not have wanted a squad similar to the one that had just retrieved him to find them. Dumb luck was the only reason he'd get to write to Mallory today.
Height:6'1
Weight:190
