Post by ♠ Aaron Mitchell on Oct 9, 2008 0:06:13 GMT
Accepted!
Wow, very detailed Nathan.
I actually thoroughly enjoyed reading that.
You have the 2nd Lieutenant Rank!
~Danny
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: Aaron Mitchell
Nationality:
British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK
Character History:
Two things were in short supply in Aaron's family. Money and cowardice. As a boy, he led a select group of friends, ones who had proven themselves to him by their complete disregard of the rules, yet a certain intelligence and physical strength. Running around the fields of Lincolnshire had been the only entertainment a butcher’s son could get in those days, with fun-filled activities taking up most of their time such as a brief spate as the infamous “knickers nickers” taking the underwear from the washing lines of the various residents of the town and turning them into nice little flags, or pheasants and other game on the farms of the more affluent. Naturally, this was without permission.
His school results weren’t particularly impressive, above average certainly, but nothing that stood out too far. With his lack of money and no scholarships throwing themselves his way, too choices were given to the young man. Follow his father into butchery, or join the military. He chose the latter, his sense of adventure leading him onwards towards an illustrious career.
Training was a dross. He had the intelligence and the physical strength to pass with ease, coming at the top of the recruitment, earning the divisional sword, an award given to the most promising recruit and a shot at an early promotion to L/Corporal.
He quickly asserted himself as a popular soldier, both amongst his superiors and the soldiers under his command. One of the things that helped him achieve this was how laid back he was and his regard or lack their of to the rules. As long as somebody wasn’t being physically beaten or abused and there wasn’t a superior over his shoulder, you could generally get away with anything. This popularity with the men helped him gain a promotion, as the lack of junior officers meant many men had an opportunity to grasp at power.
As the Second World War broke out, Aaron was just settling in as an officer and he was sent out with the British Expeditionary Force to France. In that small campaign, he saw things that could break a man mentally, but his attitude let him get through it with his mind relatively intact, but it had one effect on him. A desire for revenge for those that died at German hands.
Military Rank:
2nd Lieutenant
Writing Sample:
The cadence of gunfire was the only thing to suggest the scene wasn’t a photo. Mitchell was perfectly still on the French balcony, lying down on the weathered wood, binoculars at his eyes as he observed. The lines of the battle had come to a stalemate; neither the British not the Germans were making any advances into enemy terrain. Aaron had been sent forward to look at a possible location for a breakthrough, a church on the very edge of the town, one of the richer parts by the looks of it.
He made another sweep of the street with his eyes, factoring in everything possible. A house destroyed by an artillery strike. The rubble could provide good cover, but the building was also a good marker for more explosives, and who was to say it wasn’t still aimed at? Butchery was a few doors down from the building, and he felt a strange twinge in his stomach. His parents had sent a letter which he had received just the day before leaving, and he rolled his leg slightly, the first piece of movement he had made for hours, save the minute rotations of his head. He felt the folds of the paper press against his leg and felt a wave of comfort over him, he knew what he was fighting for, who he was fighting for.
But that feeling was still in his stomach, foreboding.
He slowly lowered the glasses, he didn’t like the street anyway. Enough had been seen for the report as the lieutenant slipped them into the pouch on his belt. His left hand fell onto the Thompson by his side and he rolled it onto himself. His right fingers slipped around the pistol grip, and breaking the slowness, he picked himself up and flung himself into the house, stepping behind the wall and crouching next to the window.
It wasn’t too slow, either. A bullet imbedded itself into the wood where he had just been. The feeling was still there.
He fingered the Thompson magazine strapped onto his legs. His fingers grasped one and he slid it out and held it in his hand next on the stock to speed up the necessary reload. Keeping low, he walked over to the staircase and walked downstairs the gun raised incase anybody had been dispatched into the house. He now faced two options, to go out the front door directly under where he had just been. Or to go out the back into the unknown, it was a big decision. War was full of them.
He placed the magazine back onto his leg and pulled out a smoke grenade. He gripped the pin between his teeth and pulled it out. He rolled out of the front door, the natural slope of the hill spinning it around slightly to one side. He let it detonate and the cloud to expand. As soon as it seeped into the house, he went out the door.
The smoke had proved all the cover necessary, leading the Snipers around to the front of the house, allowing Aaron to leave through the back door. He vaulted the low fence into the next garden and zig-zagged the length of the lawn to the small river at the end. He turned right and started moving through the shallow water, at the deepest going up to his boots. He heard a cocking sound of several guns to accompany his splashing and he let out three bullets spaced apart evenly before spinning around the corners, into the waiting door of the APC and the helping arms of his team mates.
Wow, very detailed Nathan.
I actually thoroughly enjoyed reading that. You have the 2nd Lieutenant Rank!
~Danny
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: Aaron Mitchell
Nationality:
British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK
Character History:
Two things were in short supply in Aaron's family. Money and cowardice. As a boy, he led a select group of friends, ones who had proven themselves to him by their complete disregard of the rules, yet a certain intelligence and physical strength. Running around the fields of Lincolnshire had been the only entertainment a butcher’s son could get in those days, with fun-filled activities taking up most of their time such as a brief spate as the infamous “knickers nickers” taking the underwear from the washing lines of the various residents of the town and turning them into nice little flags, or pheasants and other game on the farms of the more affluent. Naturally, this was without permission.
His school results weren’t particularly impressive, above average certainly, but nothing that stood out too far. With his lack of money and no scholarships throwing themselves his way, too choices were given to the young man. Follow his father into butchery, or join the military. He chose the latter, his sense of adventure leading him onwards towards an illustrious career.
Training was a dross. He had the intelligence and the physical strength to pass with ease, coming at the top of the recruitment, earning the divisional sword, an award given to the most promising recruit and a shot at an early promotion to L/Corporal.
He quickly asserted himself as a popular soldier, both amongst his superiors and the soldiers under his command. One of the things that helped him achieve this was how laid back he was and his regard or lack their of to the rules. As long as somebody wasn’t being physically beaten or abused and there wasn’t a superior over his shoulder, you could generally get away with anything. This popularity with the men helped him gain a promotion, as the lack of junior officers meant many men had an opportunity to grasp at power.
As the Second World War broke out, Aaron was just settling in as an officer and he was sent out with the British Expeditionary Force to France. In that small campaign, he saw things that could break a man mentally, but his attitude let him get through it with his mind relatively intact, but it had one effect on him. A desire for revenge for those that died at German hands.
Military Rank:
2nd Lieutenant
Writing Sample:
The cadence of gunfire was the only thing to suggest the scene wasn’t a photo. Mitchell was perfectly still on the French balcony, lying down on the weathered wood, binoculars at his eyes as he observed. The lines of the battle had come to a stalemate; neither the British not the Germans were making any advances into enemy terrain. Aaron had been sent forward to look at a possible location for a breakthrough, a church on the very edge of the town, one of the richer parts by the looks of it.
He made another sweep of the street with his eyes, factoring in everything possible. A house destroyed by an artillery strike. The rubble could provide good cover, but the building was also a good marker for more explosives, and who was to say it wasn’t still aimed at? Butchery was a few doors down from the building, and he felt a strange twinge in his stomach. His parents had sent a letter which he had received just the day before leaving, and he rolled his leg slightly, the first piece of movement he had made for hours, save the minute rotations of his head. He felt the folds of the paper press against his leg and felt a wave of comfort over him, he knew what he was fighting for, who he was fighting for.
But that feeling was still in his stomach, foreboding.
He slowly lowered the glasses, he didn’t like the street anyway. Enough had been seen for the report as the lieutenant slipped them into the pouch on his belt. His left hand fell onto the Thompson by his side and he rolled it onto himself. His right fingers slipped around the pistol grip, and breaking the slowness, he picked himself up and flung himself into the house, stepping behind the wall and crouching next to the window.
It wasn’t too slow, either. A bullet imbedded itself into the wood where he had just been. The feeling was still there.
He fingered the Thompson magazine strapped onto his legs. His fingers grasped one and he slid it out and held it in his hand next on the stock to speed up the necessary reload. Keeping low, he walked over to the staircase and walked downstairs the gun raised incase anybody had been dispatched into the house. He now faced two options, to go out the front door directly under where he had just been. Or to go out the back into the unknown, it was a big decision. War was full of them.
He placed the magazine back onto his leg and pulled out a smoke grenade. He gripped the pin between his teeth and pulled it out. He rolled out of the front door, the natural slope of the hill spinning it around slightly to one side. He let it detonate and the cloud to expand. As soon as it seeped into the house, he went out the door.
The smoke had proved all the cover necessary, leading the Snipers around to the front of the house, allowing Aaron to leave through the back door. He vaulted the low fence into the next garden and zig-zagged the length of the lawn to the small river at the end. He turned right and started moving through the shallow water, at the deepest going up to his boots. He heard a cocking sound of several guns to accompany his splashing and he let out three bullets spaced apart evenly before spinning around the corners, into the waiting door of the APC and the helping arms of his team mates.
