Post by Jonas Merhoff on Dec 5, 2008 2:31:34 GMT
Although there were some gramatical and spelling errors, they were few, and the length of the app makes them more minor than they actually are. The Captain position will become available in two days IF the member holding the slot does not appear, I can give you that slot in two days should you like to wait.
-JT
By the way, this is Erik sending him my new application for when my old accounts are deleted. Put quite a lot of effort into this and still feel their could be more. But oh well, I think it's pretty good.
Account Email: john577@comcast.net
Name: Jonas Merhoff
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
German Army
Character History:
Cold and bitter are two words that for the most part, embody the beginning of the promising Jonas Merhoff’s life. Born in Munich, Bavaria in 1896 to a wealthy factory owner/industrialist with connections to the noble family of Bavaria, his life seemed to be paved out for him. However, not all went as expected, especially in his home life. His father was Heinreich W. Merhoff, a successful industrialist with numerous ties to anyone who mattered in Bavaria. His mother, Alexis Merhoff, was the third-wife of Heinreich. Not many women lasted long after being drawn when by Heinreich’s charm and money.
Jonas had a troubled childhood, for his father was extremely violent to him and his mother. As a child he was often beaten by his father. He resolved that he would never cry again when being whipped by his father. When he put his will to the test, his continued beatings only grew more violent, but Merhoff’s will never cracked. Many men who would eventually serve with him would utter that he had a “will of steel”. Over time, the young boy developed a deep emotional attachment to his mother and deep resentment and hatred towards his father.
During his schooling, Jonas displayed excellence with his work and had a promising future with such intelligence. But on his second year of Realschule, he failed and was forced to repeat a grade. To many it seemed he had lost the desire to learn, but in reality he was acting out and it was a rebellion against his father who had desires for his son to take over at his factories in the future. However, following the death of his beloved mother at age 17, he dropped out of school much to his father’s dismay. Before Heinreich could deliver a whipping to his son, Jonas wrestled the whip from his father’s hand and delivered a brutal beating before leaving him bloodied on the floor.
With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to for support, a young Merhoff enlisted in the military with no goals in life. Even after being so close to the breaking point, the strong willed teenager refused to give in. He refused to die. This would serve him well in the following years when the Great War broke out across Europe. The fresh recruit proved valuable to his superiors and was quick on his way to promotions before he even served in his first battle. He served on the Western Front with the 3rd Royal Bavarian Division.
While serving with the unit, he developed a close bond with many of the men who respected him and looked up to him in times of need, even those older than him. It was mature, valiant, straight-forward, passionate, and courageous. The mishaps of his miserable life and beaten soul never seeped to the surface and he grew extremely affectionate of Germany, his fatherland. He was no longer a vagabond teen with nowhere to go, he was a well-rounded military gentlemen with a passion for his German Empire. He would see the war all the way through, in hopes of bringing it to victory.
He first served in the Battle of the Frontiers and participated in the Race to the Sea. He had to accustom to the trench warfare, including how to survive him them. He watched men he bonded with die in front of his eyes and many suspected that at such a young age he would crack or realize this was war…not a game. But Jonas was not that kind of teenager. He had endured pain and suffering and he merely adapted to this new form of such. He killed in order to survive and fought onward even when others fell at his feet. Perseverance served him well over the next four years. The young Bavarian fought for Prussia in the battles of Ypres, Second of Artois, Loos, Somme Offensive, Arras, Messines, Second of Aisne, Spring Offensive, Hundred Days Offensive, Amiens, and Second of Somme. In all he fought in 12 battle and obtained a decorated military record. At the age of 22 he was serving as a Oberstabsfeldwebel or Sergeant Major in the final days of the war. He earned a lot of his men’s respect and many of them would die for him. In fact, many of them did on the battlefield of the Second Battle of Somme.
The Allies delivered a crushing blow to the German Empire, shattering it into defunct pieces. Distraught by the idea of defeat, Jonas left the military when his unit disbanded in 1918. Aggravated that everything he fought for was in vain, he returned to Munich to find his father had killed himself during his son’s absence. Even after those 17 years of hell, Jonas should have felt sorry and attended the sad man’s funeral, but he didn’t. He took over the factory, wiping the memories of his father from his mind. After steering the industrial factory back to success, Jonas had a brief romantic relationship with the daughter of a noble, Ava Reinhard, at the age of 28 in 1924. She attempted to drag him into the social life his father once lived and settle down with him, but Jonas refused and abandoned the factory, leaving Munich.
Once again, Jonas Merhoff was a man with no goals in life. He was on the verge of breaking point once more and had nothing to believe in. The awful government the Allies had set up was ghastly and led the German Empire into ruin. Jonas knew they needed someone to restore Germany to its former glory, or the ideals he had once fought for would be lost. Distressed that more and more foreigners and Jews invaded his country, he began protesting with a group of men. Soon we would learn of the National Socialist German Worker’s Party and upon listening to a prominent Adolf Hitler’s speech, he immediately got involved with the Nazi Party. Absolutely everything Hitler spoke of, Jonas believed in deeply and such beliefs dated back to when he began to serve his glorious country. Only those like he and Hitler could truly love and wish to establish a better Germany, as they were willing to die for it. As a matter of fact, he was the striking image of the promising Aryan race. Fair skin, light blue eyes, golden hair, as well outstanding leadership qualities. When Hitler rose to power in 1933, the 37 year old Jonas Merhoff strayed away with his political involvement and enlisted in the military once again. He attended a military academy for officer training and became a Hauptmann in 1937 upon graduation. No longer a young boy with no ambition, he was a veteran of the Great War with a deep passion for the Fatherland and would be a great asset to the German War Machine.
Military Rank: Hauptmann
Writing Sample:
A sharp, distinct ringing blared through the middle-aged German soldier’s eardrums, as he rested against the charred carcass of the famous SdKfz 251 Halftrack. His icy blue, nearly cobalt, eyes blurred by the rising fumes of black smoke. Having inhaled deeply, his lungs felt as if they had combust and were burning the German officer from the inside. The sleek MP44’s metal scorched the palm of his hand which by now was a reddish tinted scar. His eyebrows had been singed off and his once rosy bright, pale skinned face was now concealed by ashes which were smeared across his perfect uniform as well. The loyal Hauptmann of the Arika Korp’s 21st Panzer Division lay broken and wounded on the dirt roads of Normandy. An unusual site to say the least.
With his usual heightened sense of awareness stripped away from him, Jonas Merhoff felt like a helpless baby. The bushes had begun to rustle, but the ringing eliminated the muffled noise. A man had appeared from bushes, approaching the helpless German officer. It appeared as nothing more than a large black blur to Jonas, who had already viciously thrown himself at his assaulter, the gleaming blade of his knife inches from the other man’s throat. “Merhoff! Es ist ich! Anton! Anton!” Jonas gasped at the thought of nearly murdering one of the very medics serving beneath him and let the knife slide from his clenched fist of his left hand. His right hand slipped off the medic’s left shoulder as Jonas stumbled backwards, fighting the urge to lose consciousness. He coughed uncontrollably before swaying backwards, collapsing against the grimy dirt of the road.
“Anton? Ist ... ist dass Sie? Was geschah?” A dumbfounded Merhoff questioned the blur inches from his face. His vision had improved as he could see the general outlines of the German Medic’s face, the indications of the Aryan race. Jonas himself was the splitting image of the Aryan race. Tall, long legged, and muscular. He had a narrow face with a narrow forehead, as well as a narrow well-built nose, and prominent chin. He had smooth, fair blonde hair. The ringing in his ears had ceased and his eyesight was rapidly improving as the Medic finished tending to his comrade’s wounds. "Ja, natürlich ist es ich Herr Merhoff. Ich musste Sie weg vom Konvoi bekommen, es lenkte zu viel Aufmerksamkeit. Sicher verstehen Sie. Es gab nichts mehr wir könnten für die Männer ... Herrn getan haben."
At approximately 02:57 Jonas Merhoff and a convoy of tanks, infantry, and halftracks of the 21st Panzer Division, once spearhead of the infamous Afrika Korps, were brutally attacked by Allied Airborne troops. The resulting explosion of a nearby Panzer IV tank hurled Jonas back, dislocating his shoulder and breaking his nose. Miraculously, he managed to recover to take shelter during the Allied onslaught of his unit. Unfit to fight, but desperately attempting to, he scorched his hand and inhaled smoke aiding to his eventual unconsciousness. Fortunately, a Medic survived the brutal attack to save Jonas’s life by resetting his shoulder, cleaning up his noise, and extracting tank fragments that punctured his torso and thigh, which missed any vital organs.
Jonas Merhoff was swiftly moving through the fields of Normandy, searching for his Divisional HQ located near Caen. Panting heavily, he leaned over to suck in a fresh supply of oxygen before collapsing into the tall grass of the field to rest and recuperate. His body ached terribly, his left shoulder barely able to move freely and his legs were killing him from all his sprinting and wounds. Nearly 2 hours had passed since his first engagement with the enemy in Normandy, and he had lost Anton in a following engagement with a small American Airborne squad. The medic was gunned down after an American had hollered Flash and a startled Jonas had barely been able to gun down the squad with the M1 Garand he had gotten his hands on. Of course he had depleted the weapon’s ammo in the firefight and was on the move again when he heard more Americans converging on his position. The Medic was dead… Jonas knew that before he even aimed his weapon.
Drenched in sweat, Jonas removed his jacket which was littered with blood, dust, and smeared remnants of ash. He removed his field cap and slicked his hair back with his perspiration. Upon wiping the sweat from his brow, he heard a rustling in the tall grass before him. Acting without hesitation, he slid his knife out of his combat boot and stayed low as he moved to the West of the field, aware the enemy was moving from the North. Peering out from his position in the tall grass, he spotted 3 Americans weaving their way through the waist-high grass. One grasped a map and the other two had M1A1 Carbines at the ready. As they bickered over where the hell they were, Jonas got onto his belly and got into position.
The Americans were moving in a V-formation, with the map carrier on the left and the Carbine wielding paratroopers at the point and right. Jonas allowed the paratrooper on the right pass before him, before stealthy raising himself from the grass and sliding his left hand over the man’s mouth. Before he could attempt to struggle, Jonas slashed his throat. His eyes glared onward as he slowly placed the American’s body on the ground. He slid his crimson-stained knife back into its place, reminiscing about almost taking one of his own men’s life with the very knife. Firmly grasping the Carbine in his hand’s he raised it towards the paratrooper at point, who was nearing Merhoff’s jacket and cap. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The American muttered kicking at the German jacket. As he turned around to face his comrade, whose throat had been slashed, Jonas let 3 precise bullets loose which all hit the target square in the chest. The map carrier uttered a cuss under his breath before reaching for his Colt, but suffered the same fate as his friend.
Immediately, Jonas was stripping a paratrooper of ammo and bounding over to the map. He grasped the square of paper with his gritty fingers and scanned for his position on the map and the route he was taking before folding it up and placing in into the breast pocket of his jacket. Sliding on his unbuttoned jacket and field cap, Jonas Merhoff set off in the distance towards the rising sun with one thought on his mind. Revenge.
Translations:
“Merhoff! Es ist ich! Anton! Anton!”
-“Merhoff! It’s me! Anton! Anton!”
“Anton? Ist ... ist dass Sie? Was geschah?”
-“Anton? Is...is that you? What happened?”
"Ja, natürlich ist es ich Herr Merhoff. Ich musste Sie weg vom Konvoi bekommen, es lenkte zu viel Aufmerksamkeit. Sicher verstehen Sie. Es gab nichts mehr wir könnten für die Männer ... Herrn getan haben."
-"Yes, of course it's me Herr Merhoff. I had to get you away from the convoy, it was drawing too much attention. Surely you understand. There was nothing more we could have done for the men...sir."
-JT
By the way, this is Erik sending him my new application for when my old accounts are deleted. Put quite a lot of effort into this and still feel their could be more. But oh well, I think it's pretty good.
Account Email: john577@comcast.net
Name: Jonas Merhoff
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
German Army
Character History:
Cold and bitter are two words that for the most part, embody the beginning of the promising Jonas Merhoff’s life. Born in Munich, Bavaria in 1896 to a wealthy factory owner/industrialist with connections to the noble family of Bavaria, his life seemed to be paved out for him. However, not all went as expected, especially in his home life. His father was Heinreich W. Merhoff, a successful industrialist with numerous ties to anyone who mattered in Bavaria. His mother, Alexis Merhoff, was the third-wife of Heinreich. Not many women lasted long after being drawn when by Heinreich’s charm and money.
Jonas had a troubled childhood, for his father was extremely violent to him and his mother. As a child he was often beaten by his father. He resolved that he would never cry again when being whipped by his father. When he put his will to the test, his continued beatings only grew more violent, but Merhoff’s will never cracked. Many men who would eventually serve with him would utter that he had a “will of steel”. Over time, the young boy developed a deep emotional attachment to his mother and deep resentment and hatred towards his father.
During his schooling, Jonas displayed excellence with his work and had a promising future with such intelligence. But on his second year of Realschule, he failed and was forced to repeat a grade. To many it seemed he had lost the desire to learn, but in reality he was acting out and it was a rebellion against his father who had desires for his son to take over at his factories in the future. However, following the death of his beloved mother at age 17, he dropped out of school much to his father’s dismay. Before Heinreich could deliver a whipping to his son, Jonas wrestled the whip from his father’s hand and delivered a brutal beating before leaving him bloodied on the floor.
With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to for support, a young Merhoff enlisted in the military with no goals in life. Even after being so close to the breaking point, the strong willed teenager refused to give in. He refused to die. This would serve him well in the following years when the Great War broke out across Europe. The fresh recruit proved valuable to his superiors and was quick on his way to promotions before he even served in his first battle. He served on the Western Front with the 3rd Royal Bavarian Division.
While serving with the unit, he developed a close bond with many of the men who respected him and looked up to him in times of need, even those older than him. It was mature, valiant, straight-forward, passionate, and courageous. The mishaps of his miserable life and beaten soul never seeped to the surface and he grew extremely affectionate of Germany, his fatherland. He was no longer a vagabond teen with nowhere to go, he was a well-rounded military gentlemen with a passion for his German Empire. He would see the war all the way through, in hopes of bringing it to victory.
He first served in the Battle of the Frontiers and participated in the Race to the Sea. He had to accustom to the trench warfare, including how to survive him them. He watched men he bonded with die in front of his eyes and many suspected that at such a young age he would crack or realize this was war…not a game. But Jonas was not that kind of teenager. He had endured pain and suffering and he merely adapted to this new form of such. He killed in order to survive and fought onward even when others fell at his feet. Perseverance served him well over the next four years. The young Bavarian fought for Prussia in the battles of Ypres, Second of Artois, Loos, Somme Offensive, Arras, Messines, Second of Aisne, Spring Offensive, Hundred Days Offensive, Amiens, and Second of Somme. In all he fought in 12 battle and obtained a decorated military record. At the age of 22 he was serving as a Oberstabsfeldwebel or Sergeant Major in the final days of the war. He earned a lot of his men’s respect and many of them would die for him. In fact, many of them did on the battlefield of the Second Battle of Somme.
The Allies delivered a crushing blow to the German Empire, shattering it into defunct pieces. Distraught by the idea of defeat, Jonas left the military when his unit disbanded in 1918. Aggravated that everything he fought for was in vain, he returned to Munich to find his father had killed himself during his son’s absence. Even after those 17 years of hell, Jonas should have felt sorry and attended the sad man’s funeral, but he didn’t. He took over the factory, wiping the memories of his father from his mind. After steering the industrial factory back to success, Jonas had a brief romantic relationship with the daughter of a noble, Ava Reinhard, at the age of 28 in 1924. She attempted to drag him into the social life his father once lived and settle down with him, but Jonas refused and abandoned the factory, leaving Munich.
Once again, Jonas Merhoff was a man with no goals in life. He was on the verge of breaking point once more and had nothing to believe in. The awful government the Allies had set up was ghastly and led the German Empire into ruin. Jonas knew they needed someone to restore Germany to its former glory, or the ideals he had once fought for would be lost. Distressed that more and more foreigners and Jews invaded his country, he began protesting with a group of men. Soon we would learn of the National Socialist German Worker’s Party and upon listening to a prominent Adolf Hitler’s speech, he immediately got involved with the Nazi Party. Absolutely everything Hitler spoke of, Jonas believed in deeply and such beliefs dated back to when he began to serve his glorious country. Only those like he and Hitler could truly love and wish to establish a better Germany, as they were willing to die for it. As a matter of fact, he was the striking image of the promising Aryan race. Fair skin, light blue eyes, golden hair, as well outstanding leadership qualities. When Hitler rose to power in 1933, the 37 year old Jonas Merhoff strayed away with his political involvement and enlisted in the military once again. He attended a military academy for officer training and became a Hauptmann in 1937 upon graduation. No longer a young boy with no ambition, he was a veteran of the Great War with a deep passion for the Fatherland and would be a great asset to the German War Machine.
Military Rank: Hauptmann
Writing Sample:
A sharp, distinct ringing blared through the middle-aged German soldier’s eardrums, as he rested against the charred carcass of the famous SdKfz 251 Halftrack. His icy blue, nearly cobalt, eyes blurred by the rising fumes of black smoke. Having inhaled deeply, his lungs felt as if they had combust and were burning the German officer from the inside. The sleek MP44’s metal scorched the palm of his hand which by now was a reddish tinted scar. His eyebrows had been singed off and his once rosy bright, pale skinned face was now concealed by ashes which were smeared across his perfect uniform as well. The loyal Hauptmann of the Arika Korp’s 21st Panzer Division lay broken and wounded on the dirt roads of Normandy. An unusual site to say the least.
With his usual heightened sense of awareness stripped away from him, Jonas Merhoff felt like a helpless baby. The bushes had begun to rustle, but the ringing eliminated the muffled noise. A man had appeared from bushes, approaching the helpless German officer. It appeared as nothing more than a large black blur to Jonas, who had already viciously thrown himself at his assaulter, the gleaming blade of his knife inches from the other man’s throat. “Merhoff! Es ist ich! Anton! Anton!” Jonas gasped at the thought of nearly murdering one of the very medics serving beneath him and let the knife slide from his clenched fist of his left hand. His right hand slipped off the medic’s left shoulder as Jonas stumbled backwards, fighting the urge to lose consciousness. He coughed uncontrollably before swaying backwards, collapsing against the grimy dirt of the road.
“Anton? Ist ... ist dass Sie? Was geschah?” A dumbfounded Merhoff questioned the blur inches from his face. His vision had improved as he could see the general outlines of the German Medic’s face, the indications of the Aryan race. Jonas himself was the splitting image of the Aryan race. Tall, long legged, and muscular. He had a narrow face with a narrow forehead, as well as a narrow well-built nose, and prominent chin. He had smooth, fair blonde hair. The ringing in his ears had ceased and his eyesight was rapidly improving as the Medic finished tending to his comrade’s wounds. "Ja, natürlich ist es ich Herr Merhoff. Ich musste Sie weg vom Konvoi bekommen, es lenkte zu viel Aufmerksamkeit. Sicher verstehen Sie. Es gab nichts mehr wir könnten für die Männer ... Herrn getan haben."
At approximately 02:57 Jonas Merhoff and a convoy of tanks, infantry, and halftracks of the 21st Panzer Division, once spearhead of the infamous Afrika Korps, were brutally attacked by Allied Airborne troops. The resulting explosion of a nearby Panzer IV tank hurled Jonas back, dislocating his shoulder and breaking his nose. Miraculously, he managed to recover to take shelter during the Allied onslaught of his unit. Unfit to fight, but desperately attempting to, he scorched his hand and inhaled smoke aiding to his eventual unconsciousness. Fortunately, a Medic survived the brutal attack to save Jonas’s life by resetting his shoulder, cleaning up his noise, and extracting tank fragments that punctured his torso and thigh, which missed any vital organs.
Jonas Merhoff was swiftly moving through the fields of Normandy, searching for his Divisional HQ located near Caen. Panting heavily, he leaned over to suck in a fresh supply of oxygen before collapsing into the tall grass of the field to rest and recuperate. His body ached terribly, his left shoulder barely able to move freely and his legs were killing him from all his sprinting and wounds. Nearly 2 hours had passed since his first engagement with the enemy in Normandy, and he had lost Anton in a following engagement with a small American Airborne squad. The medic was gunned down after an American had hollered Flash and a startled Jonas had barely been able to gun down the squad with the M1 Garand he had gotten his hands on. Of course he had depleted the weapon’s ammo in the firefight and was on the move again when he heard more Americans converging on his position. The Medic was dead… Jonas knew that before he even aimed his weapon.
Drenched in sweat, Jonas removed his jacket which was littered with blood, dust, and smeared remnants of ash. He removed his field cap and slicked his hair back with his perspiration. Upon wiping the sweat from his brow, he heard a rustling in the tall grass before him. Acting without hesitation, he slid his knife out of his combat boot and stayed low as he moved to the West of the field, aware the enemy was moving from the North. Peering out from his position in the tall grass, he spotted 3 Americans weaving their way through the waist-high grass. One grasped a map and the other two had M1A1 Carbines at the ready. As they bickered over where the hell they were, Jonas got onto his belly and got into position.
The Americans were moving in a V-formation, with the map carrier on the left and the Carbine wielding paratroopers at the point and right. Jonas allowed the paratrooper on the right pass before him, before stealthy raising himself from the grass and sliding his left hand over the man’s mouth. Before he could attempt to struggle, Jonas slashed his throat. His eyes glared onward as he slowly placed the American’s body on the ground. He slid his crimson-stained knife back into its place, reminiscing about almost taking one of his own men’s life with the very knife. Firmly grasping the Carbine in his hand’s he raised it towards the paratrooper at point, who was nearing Merhoff’s jacket and cap. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The American muttered kicking at the German jacket. As he turned around to face his comrade, whose throat had been slashed, Jonas let 3 precise bullets loose which all hit the target square in the chest. The map carrier uttered a cuss under his breath before reaching for his Colt, but suffered the same fate as his friend.
Immediately, Jonas was stripping a paratrooper of ammo and bounding over to the map. He grasped the square of paper with his gritty fingers and scanned for his position on the map and the route he was taking before folding it up and placing in into the breast pocket of his jacket. Sliding on his unbuttoned jacket and field cap, Jonas Merhoff set off in the distance towards the rising sun with one thought on his mind. Revenge.
Translations:
“Merhoff! Es ist ich! Anton! Anton!”
-“Merhoff! It’s me! Anton! Anton!”
“Anton? Ist ... ist dass Sie? Was geschah?”
-“Anton? Is...is that you? What happened?”
"Ja, natürlich ist es ich Herr Merhoff. Ich musste Sie weg vom Konvoi bekommen, es lenkte zu viel Aufmerksamkeit. Sicher verstehen Sie. Es gab nichts mehr wir könnten für die Männer ... Herrn getan haben."
-"Yes, of course it's me Herr Merhoff. I had to get you away from the convoy, it was drawing too much attention. Surely you understand. There was nothing more we could have done for the men...sir."