Post by Fritjof Kjeldsen on Dec 21, 2008 6:12:59 GMT
Accepted. Great App, Doc.
~Dan
Account E-Mail: held..nathan@gmail.com
Name: Fritjof Oeliver Kjeldsen
Nationality: Danish
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Luftwaffe
Character History:
Fritjof Oeliver Kjeldsen was born Grasten, Denmark to a middle-class family. Due to the close proximity of Germany and other countries, Fritjof had to learn German, English, Norwegian, and Swedish in school to get around more easily. During the depression, he went to Germany with his parents where they began work for the International Red Cross.
During the time, he was enrolled in a German school. By 1938, he was 18 years old and a full supporter of the Nazi Germany he lived in.
As a boy, he had played war just as any other boy had. In 1930, he was in Germany and became interested in flying when he saw the German gliders in the sky, the only aircraft they were allowed under the Treaty of Versailles. He took a deep breath and imagined what it would be like to be in the air as he watched the silent craft float in the winds of above.
In 1934, he joined the Hitler Jugend, not able to wait a second until he was 16 when he joined the Flieger HJ. He was finally able to make his first flight in an HJ glider. The time was perhaps his defining moment when he knew he wanted to fly for the rest of his life. He had felt the natural desire to stay in the air after he had landed the glider.
It was only two years later that he was siphoned directly into the Luftwaffe as a pilot in a fight/bomber squad. He had joined the strongest air force in the world and he was a cog in the enormous machine that mastered the European sky. He would fly for the Third Reich in Poland and every other major campaign in his time.
Military Rank:
Hauptfeldwebel
Writing Sample:
The world was silent as the Messerschmitt plane rumbled through the air. Fritjof was flying alone in the night over France. He had been separated from his wing earlier while patrolling the air. After a run in with some British fighters and an independent American squadron, he had flown off while another fighter was in pursuit. The British fighter had long been lost, but now the threat of fuel loss became the problem of the German pilot.
The feeling of loneliness was intensified by the loss of radio communications. Now, Fritjof was on his own, without the help of commanders and without the constraints of command. He quickly pulled the joystick back a bit to get attitude up, before he took a deeper dive toward the ground, in search of an airstrip or field in which he could land before he ran out of fuel. He had only about another hour before he was forced to land.
Little had he thought that the dive would put him directly in the firing range of a AAA gun. The allies had commandeered a vlakvierling and had begun firing on him. The shells exploded around him as he manoeuvred the plane through the sky making a turn down and strafing the vlakvierling as he turned down and flew directly past the weapon. He could see men rushing in all directions as he passed over and gently pulled the joystick to make tight turn and head toward the gun again to make a final destructive strafe over it with the four machine guns on his plane.
The gun blew up sending orange light in the sky as he flew back into the clouds to gain the cover. He looked at the onboard compass and started heading north toward the German border. There were at least three airfields and numerous airstrips along the border, allowing Fritjof the chance to land. He was feeling at safer now as he neared the border. His feeling did not last long.
A British spitfire came behind the fighter and began firing. The bullets ripped throught the top of the cockpit, making Fritjof pull back on the control, starting a movement into the upper clouds. It was 3500 metres now. He had to stop and find the fighter that was following him. He cut the clouds as he rounded behind the fighter and started firing on it, only to be lost again as it dived toward the ground and out of range. Not wanting to lose the fighter, Fritjof pushed forward on the grip and took a steep dive before pulling out and firing on the spitfire that had levelled out and started to the south. The bullets ripped through on of the engines and the plane started going down, leaving dark black smoke for the German pilot to get through.
Finally, he pulled out from the smoke and started north, taking a last look at the allied plane engulfed in flames as it hit the ground. A smile gripped his face, the name ‘Stahladler’ came to mind, the name his flyboys had given him after he had shot down three enemies in a single hour while over England where he had taken some bullets to his left port engine and flown the plane back to Holland before landing safely and reporting to the commander. Now, he had to land safely as he was on the last bit of fuel. The radio crackled and announced the Fritjof had reached an airfield where he immediately started landing procedure. Pushing gently forward on the joystick as he levelled the plane and let the throttle down; the plane took a harder hit than usual as it touched the concrete, but the plane was landed and the fuel was out. It was yet another patrol for one of the many pilots of the infamous Luftwaffe.
p.s. it's Doc.
~Dan
Account E-Mail: held..nathan@gmail.com
Name: Fritjof Oeliver Kjeldsen
Nationality: Danish
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Luftwaffe
Character History:
Fritjof Oeliver Kjeldsen was born Grasten, Denmark to a middle-class family. Due to the close proximity of Germany and other countries, Fritjof had to learn German, English, Norwegian, and Swedish in school to get around more easily. During the depression, he went to Germany with his parents where they began work for the International Red Cross.
During the time, he was enrolled in a German school. By 1938, he was 18 years old and a full supporter of the Nazi Germany he lived in.
As a boy, he had played war just as any other boy had. In 1930, he was in Germany and became interested in flying when he saw the German gliders in the sky, the only aircraft they were allowed under the Treaty of Versailles. He took a deep breath and imagined what it would be like to be in the air as he watched the silent craft float in the winds of above.
In 1934, he joined the Hitler Jugend, not able to wait a second until he was 16 when he joined the Flieger HJ. He was finally able to make his first flight in an HJ glider. The time was perhaps his defining moment when he knew he wanted to fly for the rest of his life. He had felt the natural desire to stay in the air after he had landed the glider.
It was only two years later that he was siphoned directly into the Luftwaffe as a pilot in a fight/bomber squad. He had joined the strongest air force in the world and he was a cog in the enormous machine that mastered the European sky. He would fly for the Third Reich in Poland and every other major campaign in his time.
Military Rank:
Hauptfeldwebel
Writing Sample:
The world was silent as the Messerschmitt plane rumbled through the air. Fritjof was flying alone in the night over France. He had been separated from his wing earlier while patrolling the air. After a run in with some British fighters and an independent American squadron, he had flown off while another fighter was in pursuit. The British fighter had long been lost, but now the threat of fuel loss became the problem of the German pilot.
The feeling of loneliness was intensified by the loss of radio communications. Now, Fritjof was on his own, without the help of commanders and without the constraints of command. He quickly pulled the joystick back a bit to get attitude up, before he took a deeper dive toward the ground, in search of an airstrip or field in which he could land before he ran out of fuel. He had only about another hour before he was forced to land.
Little had he thought that the dive would put him directly in the firing range of a AAA gun. The allies had commandeered a vlakvierling and had begun firing on him. The shells exploded around him as he manoeuvred the plane through the sky making a turn down and strafing the vlakvierling as he turned down and flew directly past the weapon. He could see men rushing in all directions as he passed over and gently pulled the joystick to make tight turn and head toward the gun again to make a final destructive strafe over it with the four machine guns on his plane.
The gun blew up sending orange light in the sky as he flew back into the clouds to gain the cover. He looked at the onboard compass and started heading north toward the German border. There were at least three airfields and numerous airstrips along the border, allowing Fritjof the chance to land. He was feeling at safer now as he neared the border. His feeling did not last long.
A British spitfire came behind the fighter and began firing. The bullets ripped throught the top of the cockpit, making Fritjof pull back on the control, starting a movement into the upper clouds. It was 3500 metres now. He had to stop and find the fighter that was following him. He cut the clouds as he rounded behind the fighter and started firing on it, only to be lost again as it dived toward the ground and out of range. Not wanting to lose the fighter, Fritjof pushed forward on the grip and took a steep dive before pulling out and firing on the spitfire that had levelled out and started to the south. The bullets ripped through on of the engines and the plane started going down, leaving dark black smoke for the German pilot to get through.
Finally, he pulled out from the smoke and started north, taking a last look at the allied plane engulfed in flames as it hit the ground. A smile gripped his face, the name ‘Stahladler’ came to mind, the name his flyboys had given him after he had shot down three enemies in a single hour while over England where he had taken some bullets to his left port engine and flown the plane back to Holland before landing safely and reporting to the commander. Now, he had to land safely as he was on the last bit of fuel. The radio crackled and announced the Fritjof had reached an airfield where he immediately started landing procedure. Pushing gently forward on the joystick as he levelled the plane and let the throttle down; the plane took a harder hit than usual as it touched the concrete, but the plane was landed and the fuel was out. It was yet another patrol for one of the many pilots of the infamous Luftwaffe.
p.s. it's Doc.