Post by ∬: Felix Odegaard on Feb 27, 2009 0:55:01 GMT
Alright, I wrote up some Fan Fic. Gerhardt isn't the main charactor, in fact, he will be violently and brutally maimed and killed at the end of the prolouge ;D Gosh, I love violence... 
It's going to be about a Wehrmacht/Heer infantryman and his trip to earn the Iron Cross. Hence the title.
Here it is:
PROLOUGE
Cpl. Gerhardt Spiegel quickly darted to the cover of a small rock wall. Where was that truck? Eying up the road with shifty eyes, Gerhardt saw no trace of any vehicle, German or Russian. In fact, there were few sounds at all. An unseen crow squawked loudly as the nervous scout shifted his pack and ran to another piece of cover.
Cpl. Gerhardt was a nervous man to begin with. He had always been. Being a scout on the Russian front just amplified it. From a very young age Gerhardt had experienced severe anxiety under pressure. Being hunted by merciless Russian guards thirsty for revenge was most defiantly under pressure.
The scout had been dropped off by a halftrack exactly one Thursday ago. Then, he had food and his Kar98 bolt action rifle still had a scope mounted on its barrel. His mission was to get information on the amount of Russians that occupied an electrical complex and maybe snipe off a few of there guards. But it had gone all wrong. The Russians had spotted him, attacking the scaffolding he was on with captured Panzerfausts. He had narrowly escaped and set up a sniping/scouting position nestled in blown out electrical circuits. A Russian sergeant had spotted him, and unbeknownst to Gerhardt, snuck up behind him and assaulted him with a knife. Struggling, Gerhardt had narrowly made his escape. Throwing the Soviet off the scaffolding, Gerhardt had several gashes in his left torso and a smashed scope.
Running away from the electrical plant were he had been exposed, Gerhardt wound up in the village where he was now. That was on Tuesday. Gerhardt had ripped the shattered scope from his rifle and had used just iron sights since. The past two days Gerhardt had been milling around the hopefully Soviet-free village. Using the small radio in his pack, he had signaled Heer command. They said a truck would arrive Wednesday, but it was six o’ clock on Saturday morning and no truck had arrived.
A light mist hovered over the eerily intact town as Gerhardt nervously darted from cover to cover; even no there was no Russian in sight. One thing that had surprised Gerhardt is that no civilians were living in the town. They had left in a rush, signified by the foodstuffs piled up in the houses. Strange. Gerhardt worried over this, but then again, he worried over everything.
It's going to be about a Wehrmacht/Heer infantryman and his trip to earn the Iron Cross. Hence the title. Here it is:
PROLOUGE
Cpl. Gerhardt Spiegel quickly darted to the cover of a small rock wall. Where was that truck? Eying up the road with shifty eyes, Gerhardt saw no trace of any vehicle, German or Russian. In fact, there were few sounds at all. An unseen crow squawked loudly as the nervous scout shifted his pack and ran to another piece of cover.
Cpl. Gerhardt was a nervous man to begin with. He had always been. Being a scout on the Russian front just amplified it. From a very young age Gerhardt had experienced severe anxiety under pressure. Being hunted by merciless Russian guards thirsty for revenge was most defiantly under pressure.
The scout had been dropped off by a halftrack exactly one Thursday ago. Then, he had food and his Kar98 bolt action rifle still had a scope mounted on its barrel. His mission was to get information on the amount of Russians that occupied an electrical complex and maybe snipe off a few of there guards. But it had gone all wrong. The Russians had spotted him, attacking the scaffolding he was on with captured Panzerfausts. He had narrowly escaped and set up a sniping/scouting position nestled in blown out electrical circuits. A Russian sergeant had spotted him, and unbeknownst to Gerhardt, snuck up behind him and assaulted him with a knife. Struggling, Gerhardt had narrowly made his escape. Throwing the Soviet off the scaffolding, Gerhardt had several gashes in his left torso and a smashed scope.
Running away from the electrical plant were he had been exposed, Gerhardt wound up in the village where he was now. That was on Tuesday. Gerhardt had ripped the shattered scope from his rifle and had used just iron sights since. The past two days Gerhardt had been milling around the hopefully Soviet-free village. Using the small radio in his pack, he had signaled Heer command. They said a truck would arrive Wednesday, but it was six o’ clock on Saturday morning and no truck had arrived.
A light mist hovered over the eerily intact town as Gerhardt nervously darted from cover to cover; even no there was no Russian in sight. One thing that had surprised Gerhardt is that no civilians were living in the town. They had left in a rush, signified by the foodstuffs piled up in the houses. Strange. Gerhardt worried over this, but then again, he worried over everything.
