Post by Heinz on Apr 3, 2009 0:54:23 GMT
Well, we do have quite a few Officers on the site, but I accepted an English captain a couple of weeks ago and this App does certainly deserve it. Accepted.
PS: What the hell does "The Allied foam" mean?!?!
~Dan
Account E-Mail: Darth_spqr1@yahoo.com
(Yes, this is Speirs...)
Name: Heinz Wagner
Nationality:
-German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
German Wehrmacht
Character History:
There are three things Heinz Wagner loves in life: war, women, and his looks.
Born in 1898 to Heinz Wagner Sr. and Sophia Wagner, Heinz enjoyed a relatively simple life growing up in a small cottage in Cologne, along the Rhine River. As a child, Heinz enjoyed fishing, playing with his 4 brothers, and taking walks along forest pathways. There was something about the forest that amazed Heinz. He loved nature, he was enamored by it, drawn to it, and enthralled by it. Often times, he and his father would venture in heavily wooded areas along the Rhine, hunting rifles in hand, and they would hunt. Something about the sport of hunting drew Heinz to it. He loved the feeling of having a rifle in his hands. It made him feel like he had power, and Heinz loved the feeling of power. It was early on these seeds of egotism were planted within his mind.
As a child, when Heinz was not hunting, he would often be found with his older brothers in Cologne. They were a group that was never far from revelry, whether it be picking fights with other boys, stealing bread from the local bakery, or honing his pick pocket skills on unsuspecting townsfolk. However, often times, Heinz and his brothers would get caught. The disgruntled citizens of the town would often report Heinz back to his parents, who would punish him strictly with a belt. Because his parents knew he was a trouble maker, their rule over Heinz would be strict. Even the slightest mistake would earn Heinz a lashing at his father’s hands. These weren’t simple lashings either. Often times, Heinz would be bruised severely. At times, he would even be busted wide open, blood spilling profusely from an appendage, yet nothing would be done—this was the Wagner concept of discipline. It’s a wonder young Heinz did not die from his wounds.
At the age of sixteen, Heinz’s simple, rural life was changed for the rest of his life. June 28th came along in the town of Cologne. It was a sultry day, and many men and women stayed inside to hide from the oppressive heat. Not Heinz, who at two in the afternoon was hiding in the woods with his bolt action rifle, hoping to kill a large animal for the family’s supper. He had been waiting an hour in a makeshift sniper’s nest, which was made out of luxuriant grass, leaves, wood, and basically any other type of greenery or shrubbery Heinz could find. Then, Heinz’s father came out of nowhere, shouting “Heinz, Heinz, Erzherzog Ferdnand, ist der Erbe den Österreich-ungarischen Thron getötet worden!” Heinz couldn’t believe what his father told him, and answered back incredulously, “Was jetzt?” His father, also in disbelief, shook his head, answering solemnly, “Ich weiß nicht. Wenn wir noch gegenüber den Österreich-Ungarn loyal sind, bedeutet es Krieg.” His father was right. Germany would aid the Austro-Hungarians in WWI. His father would enlist as a private in the German Sturmtruppen, an elite storm trooper unit, which would be pivotal in German victories. Two years into the war however, tragedy struck. In trying to take a British trench, Heinz Wagner Senior would be felled by a British bullet. News quickly reached Cologne, and Sophia Wagner soon went into grieving, not even leaving her house to buy groceries for her family. Heinz, the eldest brother, was used to taking care of his family in his father’s absence, yet he felt a bit perturbed at doing so after his father’s death. It was a lot of responsibility, more than Heinz felt he was ready for, yet he put his reluctance aside and acquiesced to the task at hand.
By 1917, the Wagner family had been hit hard by economic turmoil in the absence of Heinz Wagner Senior. At times, Sophia hardly wanted to go on with life. However, it was the determination of her son, Heinz Wagner Junior that kept her fortitude strong. In the next year or so, the family struggled to eat and earn a basic wage. Heinz decided to get a job at the local bakery, the same one he used to steal from. Notorious by now, Heinz almost did not get the job. It was only through impressing the owner with his determination as a person that he got the job. Even with this job though, it was hard to support his family. Desperate, Heinz enlisted in the German army as a private, a move that made his mother, who remembered fully what had happened to her husband, go into deep grieving. Heinz, confidant, told his mother that this would be a short term ordeal, and once he would have enough money and his years of service were up, he would leave.
Heinz found himself soon at a German basic training facility, and the young German loved the atmosphere of the training facility. From long, hard years of discipline under his father, Heinz had grown to love the smack mouth, in your face type of training the army offered him. Even more than the love for the training, Heinz loved the weaponry. Upon enlisting, Heinz was given a Mauser Karbiner, which he had grown fond of, as almost as if the rifle was apart of him. He had learned as much as he could about the rifle, and he was one with it.
It was now 1924 and Heinz’s term in the army was up. He now had enough money that he felt that he wanted to pursue a career. This was a rather selfish move on his part, as his mother had scarcely received anything from him during these hard seven years, besides a small check of money that Heinz hoped would be enough money for her to survive on. At the age of 25, Heinz joined the Offizierschulen, which was the German equivalent to West Point. Soon after his training there was complete, the year 1928, Wagner received the rank of Leutnant. He would serve with that rank until the year 1933, when a eloquent, invigorating speaker by the name of Adolf Hitler would rise to power. Hitler seemed like a skilled leader, and Wagner placed his trust in the inspiring young Fuhrer. With the rise of the Third Reich, Wagner received a blue ribbon with a steel Maltese cross hanging from the bottom. In the cross was a Swastika. This was a 25 year service ribbon. Time flew for Wagner, who had been in the army since 1918, and he had began to feel that his comrades in battle were more like brothers to him. Now, Wagner could only remember distant memories of home. His mother had died at the onset of the Great Economic crisis of 1929, and strangely enough, Wagner did not feel any sorrow for her. By then, she had wanted to die, and Wagner knew this. He wasn’t happy for his death, rather he felt nothingness. He was numb to emotion, which was a feeling the army wanted you to develop.
By 1936, Wagner had been promoted to Oberleutnant and was serving in the 21st Panzer Division. He had heard rumors of Hitler wanting to invade Poland, but he dismissed them. Hitler didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that, and even then, if Germany was to invade Poland, Wagner would welcome it with open arms. The Seasoned German longed for war, he wanted it, craved it, it drove him to the edge of sanity and pushed him off the cliff into an endless abyss of hatred, malice, and evil. He was a megalomaniac by now, proudly displaying his 25 Year service ribbon along with all his other military accolades on his uniform. He cared only for himself, his men, and his country, anything else was obsolete to him. If men tried to garter his trust, it would most likely end in failure. If you could earn the Oberleutnant’s trust, you were one of a kind. At the beginning of 1939, Wagner was not just a Megalomaniac, but he was also a cynic. The only men he wanted to trust were his own men. Even then, he had a hard time doing that.
September 1st 1939 came, a day he could remember vividly as his coffee tasted extra bitter that day. He loved the taste of bitter coffee. It made him feel like he was hardened. Wagner remembered putting on his immaculate uniform, which by now, was adorned with medals and accolades. He looked in the mirror was he placed his Wehrmacht officer’s hat upon his head, covering his black hair, which was combed backwards. He didn’t feel like shaving that morning, and decided upon growing out his beard, so that too could match his immaculate uniform. He had hoped that with the invasion of Poland would come the promotion to Hauptman.
Translations from History:
"Heinz, Heinz, The Heir to the Austro-Hungarian Throne, Archduke Ferdnand has been killed!"
"What now?"
"I do not know. If we are still loyal towards Austro-Hungary, it signifies war. ”
Military Rank:
- Hauptman
Writing Sample:
Location: El Adem, Africa
Time: 1700 hours
The sweltering heat bore down on anything that moved. Nothing could survive long out here in the desert. Hauptman Heinz Wagner found that out the hard way. During the attack on a small Australian platoon, which was apart of the larger Commonwealth forces under General Leslie Morshead, a small contingency of men, led by Wagner, was cut off from the main Axis Force of around 700 men. They were now stuck, wandering the desert, hoping to find signs of Afrika Korps. This small contingency of men consisted of Wagner and two privates, one wielding a fierce MG42 and another who was wielding nothing more than a Luger Pistol. That private had sacrificed fire power for a chance at being able to live. The gun he was carrying was too burdensome, and he had abandoned it in the sand. Heinz himself wielding an MP40, which he knew would come in handy if he were to run into any Commonwealth men.
About 15 minutes into their excursion from the main force, the private spoke up. “Hauptman, können wir anhalten und uns ausruhen? Ich bin müde, und mein Maschinengewehr ist zu schwer, um unter diesen Bedingungen zu tragen.” Heinz, who had taken the lead by around 4 paces, stopped, turned around, and scowled. His dry lips cracked as he spoke harshly, “Nein, wir müssen uns vorwärts bewegen. Der Verbündete Schaum wird nicht anhalten, weder müssen wir. Wir müssen unsere Männer finden! Sie halten an, und Sie werden sterben.” The soldier who originally spoke did not answer back, he was too demoralized to do so. Instead, he dropped in the sand where he stood, he had succumbed to the desert heat. Wagner himself was overheated. The temperatures must have been in the hundred as Wagner, nauseated from the heat, took off his helmet, wiping his forehead of a heavy sweat. He tried to stomach some water, yet he was dehydrated and vomited up what he got down originally. Knowing that all of them were close to death, he shouted to his men “Kommen Sie, wir müssen uns vorwärts bewegen, oder wir werden von dieser verdammten Hitze sterben! Wir müssen die Basis erreichen, um medizinische Aufmerksamkeit zu bekommen.” Demoralized and dying, Wagner and a lone soldier trudged onward through the sandy hell of Africa.
Soon however, the group came across a few small tents, which had a burning, abandoned Churchill tank guarding it’s perimeter. Wagner put his finger on his MP40, not knowing what he was going to encounter at this Allied campsite. He searched the tent, finding a few dead Commonwealth soldiers within the tents. “Rommel…” Wagner muttered with a sense of relief as he inspected the dead bodies of a few Australians and British soldiers. He turned to the other soldier that was standing outside the tent, and said with a moralizing tone, “Der 21. muss nahe dabei sein. Wir müssen uns schnell bewegen...” Just as he said that however, he heard a gun shot. Wagner fell to the ground immediately, knowing that it wasn’t German. He had studied arms many times, and from the sounds of it, it was Enfield. He turned to the private and whispered, “Wo kam dieses verdammte Feuer her?” The private looked down, grabbed his torso, doubled over, and fell down, bleeding profusely, felled by a sniper’s bullet. This brought back painful memories of his father’s death, and seasoned Hauptman felt inspired to fight through his dehydrated condition. By now, Wagner figured that he would die, so he decided to take as many damned Brits with him as possible. Wagner reminded himself these were the men who killed his father, sent his mother into grieving, and made him the way he is today-an cynical megalomaniac. He grabbed his MP40 and ran out of the tent, firing until he reached the Churchill tank.
Upon reaching the Churchill tank, Wagner heard a few Bren’s open fire upon the position he was at. The simmering, unforgiving lead, clanged up against the Churchill, which let out loud, high-pitched screams as the bullets reverberated off of its mangled corpse. Wagner sliced the pie on the Churchill, seeing a few Bren placements off in the distance, as well as a sniper nest. Wagner cursed under his breath, saying sharply “Verdammte Briten, ich fiel direkt in ihren Hinterhalt!” He decided to make one more run from the Churchill to the tent, hoping he wouldn’t be felled just yet. He began to run sideways, firing the MP40 from the hip. He was surprised at when he actually made it to the tent. However, just as he went to crouch and reload, a Bren bullet ripped through the tent, slicing through Heinz’s bicep, and lodging itself within the humorous. Heinz fell to the ground in agonizing pain from his wound. He thought about quitting just then and there, walking out of the tent, and allowing the Brits to capture him. He reassured himself, bleating to himself in a monotone, “Nein, ich muss vorwärts um Hitler, um Rommel, für das Haus, und für das Land kämpfen!” He found the strength within him to pull out an MP40 stick magazine from the brown pouch he had slung around his shoulder. He fed it to the unforgiving German piece of steel, and then stood up. He ran outside the tent, firing wildly into the air, hoping to hit something once more. However, once more, this backfired, and the Hauptman was shot in the upper thigh by the same sniper who felled the private. Heinz luckily, was close to the Churchill and was able to crawl to cover.
Behind the Churchill, Heinz was able to examine the damage done by the Sniper. He took a knife and cut through his pant leg, only to find a large gaping wound which was spewing dark red blood. Unlucky for Heinz, this bullet had ripped through the Femoral Artery. He was indeed a dead man at this point. The Commonwealth began to move on a flanking maneuver around their ambush sight, Heinz saw them. He had thought about killing himself then and there, but decided against it. He began to fire wildly in the air, screaming, “Kommen Sie bekommen mich Sie Bastarde!” Just as he unloaded another clip, he heard a large bang, and the screaming of Commonwealth soldiers. After the bang, he heard a noise, which had sounded like Brrrrttttt, Brrrrrt.” A sigh of relief, it was an MG42 mounted upon a Tiger. Rommel’s 21st was moving on this position. As he stood there, clutching the wound, a German Leutnant approached him saying, “Hauptman, sind Sie ganz richtig?” Wagner shook his head, saying “Nein, aber ich könnte länger gedauert haben. Hätte sie alle davon gehalten, wenn ich dazu hatte.” The British had been repelled, and Hauptman Heinz Wagner had been rescued, and he was now returning to base, only to find an operating table as his welcome party.
Translations
“ Hauptman, we can stop and rest? I am tired, and my machine gun is too heavy to carry under these conditions. ”
“ No, we must move forward. The allied foam will not stop, neither we must go. We must find our men! We stop, and you will die. ”
"“ Come, we must move forward, or we will die of this damned heat! We must reach the base to get medical attention. ”
"The 21st must be close. We must move quickly..."
"Where did that damned fire come from?"
"Damn Britons! I fell directly into their ambush..."
"No, I must fight forward for Hitler, for Rommel, for the house, and for the land!"
"Come get me you bastards!"
"Hauptman, are you alright?"
"No, but I could have lasted longer. I would have held them all off if I had to."
PS: What the hell does "The Allied foam" mean?!?!
~Dan
Account E-Mail: Darth_spqr1@yahoo.com
(Yes, this is Speirs...)
Name: Heinz Wagner
Nationality:
-German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
German Wehrmacht
Character History:
There are three things Heinz Wagner loves in life: war, women, and his looks.
Born in 1898 to Heinz Wagner Sr. and Sophia Wagner, Heinz enjoyed a relatively simple life growing up in a small cottage in Cologne, along the Rhine River. As a child, Heinz enjoyed fishing, playing with his 4 brothers, and taking walks along forest pathways. There was something about the forest that amazed Heinz. He loved nature, he was enamored by it, drawn to it, and enthralled by it. Often times, he and his father would venture in heavily wooded areas along the Rhine, hunting rifles in hand, and they would hunt. Something about the sport of hunting drew Heinz to it. He loved the feeling of having a rifle in his hands. It made him feel like he had power, and Heinz loved the feeling of power. It was early on these seeds of egotism were planted within his mind.
As a child, when Heinz was not hunting, he would often be found with his older brothers in Cologne. They were a group that was never far from revelry, whether it be picking fights with other boys, stealing bread from the local bakery, or honing his pick pocket skills on unsuspecting townsfolk. However, often times, Heinz and his brothers would get caught. The disgruntled citizens of the town would often report Heinz back to his parents, who would punish him strictly with a belt. Because his parents knew he was a trouble maker, their rule over Heinz would be strict. Even the slightest mistake would earn Heinz a lashing at his father’s hands. These weren’t simple lashings either. Often times, Heinz would be bruised severely. At times, he would even be busted wide open, blood spilling profusely from an appendage, yet nothing would be done—this was the Wagner concept of discipline. It’s a wonder young Heinz did not die from his wounds.
At the age of sixteen, Heinz’s simple, rural life was changed for the rest of his life. June 28th came along in the town of Cologne. It was a sultry day, and many men and women stayed inside to hide from the oppressive heat. Not Heinz, who at two in the afternoon was hiding in the woods with his bolt action rifle, hoping to kill a large animal for the family’s supper. He had been waiting an hour in a makeshift sniper’s nest, which was made out of luxuriant grass, leaves, wood, and basically any other type of greenery or shrubbery Heinz could find. Then, Heinz’s father came out of nowhere, shouting “Heinz, Heinz, Erzherzog Ferdnand, ist der Erbe den Österreich-ungarischen Thron getötet worden!” Heinz couldn’t believe what his father told him, and answered back incredulously, “Was jetzt?” His father, also in disbelief, shook his head, answering solemnly, “Ich weiß nicht. Wenn wir noch gegenüber den Österreich-Ungarn loyal sind, bedeutet es Krieg.” His father was right. Germany would aid the Austro-Hungarians in WWI. His father would enlist as a private in the German Sturmtruppen, an elite storm trooper unit, which would be pivotal in German victories. Two years into the war however, tragedy struck. In trying to take a British trench, Heinz Wagner Senior would be felled by a British bullet. News quickly reached Cologne, and Sophia Wagner soon went into grieving, not even leaving her house to buy groceries for her family. Heinz, the eldest brother, was used to taking care of his family in his father’s absence, yet he felt a bit perturbed at doing so after his father’s death. It was a lot of responsibility, more than Heinz felt he was ready for, yet he put his reluctance aside and acquiesced to the task at hand.
By 1917, the Wagner family had been hit hard by economic turmoil in the absence of Heinz Wagner Senior. At times, Sophia hardly wanted to go on with life. However, it was the determination of her son, Heinz Wagner Junior that kept her fortitude strong. In the next year or so, the family struggled to eat and earn a basic wage. Heinz decided to get a job at the local bakery, the same one he used to steal from. Notorious by now, Heinz almost did not get the job. It was only through impressing the owner with his determination as a person that he got the job. Even with this job though, it was hard to support his family. Desperate, Heinz enlisted in the German army as a private, a move that made his mother, who remembered fully what had happened to her husband, go into deep grieving. Heinz, confidant, told his mother that this would be a short term ordeal, and once he would have enough money and his years of service were up, he would leave.
Heinz found himself soon at a German basic training facility, and the young German loved the atmosphere of the training facility. From long, hard years of discipline under his father, Heinz had grown to love the smack mouth, in your face type of training the army offered him. Even more than the love for the training, Heinz loved the weaponry. Upon enlisting, Heinz was given a Mauser Karbiner, which he had grown fond of, as almost as if the rifle was apart of him. He had learned as much as he could about the rifle, and he was one with it.
It was now 1924 and Heinz’s term in the army was up. He now had enough money that he felt that he wanted to pursue a career. This was a rather selfish move on his part, as his mother had scarcely received anything from him during these hard seven years, besides a small check of money that Heinz hoped would be enough money for her to survive on. At the age of 25, Heinz joined the Offizierschulen, which was the German equivalent to West Point. Soon after his training there was complete, the year 1928, Wagner received the rank of Leutnant. He would serve with that rank until the year 1933, when a eloquent, invigorating speaker by the name of Adolf Hitler would rise to power. Hitler seemed like a skilled leader, and Wagner placed his trust in the inspiring young Fuhrer. With the rise of the Third Reich, Wagner received a blue ribbon with a steel Maltese cross hanging from the bottom. In the cross was a Swastika. This was a 25 year service ribbon. Time flew for Wagner, who had been in the army since 1918, and he had began to feel that his comrades in battle were more like brothers to him. Now, Wagner could only remember distant memories of home. His mother had died at the onset of the Great Economic crisis of 1929, and strangely enough, Wagner did not feel any sorrow for her. By then, she had wanted to die, and Wagner knew this. He wasn’t happy for his death, rather he felt nothingness. He was numb to emotion, which was a feeling the army wanted you to develop.
By 1936, Wagner had been promoted to Oberleutnant and was serving in the 21st Panzer Division. He had heard rumors of Hitler wanting to invade Poland, but he dismissed them. Hitler didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that, and even then, if Germany was to invade Poland, Wagner would welcome it with open arms. The Seasoned German longed for war, he wanted it, craved it, it drove him to the edge of sanity and pushed him off the cliff into an endless abyss of hatred, malice, and evil. He was a megalomaniac by now, proudly displaying his 25 Year service ribbon along with all his other military accolades on his uniform. He cared only for himself, his men, and his country, anything else was obsolete to him. If men tried to garter his trust, it would most likely end in failure. If you could earn the Oberleutnant’s trust, you were one of a kind. At the beginning of 1939, Wagner was not just a Megalomaniac, but he was also a cynic. The only men he wanted to trust were his own men. Even then, he had a hard time doing that.
September 1st 1939 came, a day he could remember vividly as his coffee tasted extra bitter that day. He loved the taste of bitter coffee. It made him feel like he was hardened. Wagner remembered putting on his immaculate uniform, which by now, was adorned with medals and accolades. He looked in the mirror was he placed his Wehrmacht officer’s hat upon his head, covering his black hair, which was combed backwards. He didn’t feel like shaving that morning, and decided upon growing out his beard, so that too could match his immaculate uniform. He had hoped that with the invasion of Poland would come the promotion to Hauptman.
Translations from History:
"Heinz, Heinz, The Heir to the Austro-Hungarian Throne, Archduke Ferdnand has been killed!"
"What now?"
"I do not know. If we are still loyal towards Austro-Hungary, it signifies war. ”
Military Rank:
- Hauptman
Writing Sample:
Location: El Adem, Africa
Time: 1700 hours
The sweltering heat bore down on anything that moved. Nothing could survive long out here in the desert. Hauptman Heinz Wagner found that out the hard way. During the attack on a small Australian platoon, which was apart of the larger Commonwealth forces under General Leslie Morshead, a small contingency of men, led by Wagner, was cut off from the main Axis Force of around 700 men. They were now stuck, wandering the desert, hoping to find signs of Afrika Korps. This small contingency of men consisted of Wagner and two privates, one wielding a fierce MG42 and another who was wielding nothing more than a Luger Pistol. That private had sacrificed fire power for a chance at being able to live. The gun he was carrying was too burdensome, and he had abandoned it in the sand. Heinz himself wielding an MP40, which he knew would come in handy if he were to run into any Commonwealth men.
About 15 minutes into their excursion from the main force, the private spoke up. “Hauptman, können wir anhalten und uns ausruhen? Ich bin müde, und mein Maschinengewehr ist zu schwer, um unter diesen Bedingungen zu tragen.” Heinz, who had taken the lead by around 4 paces, stopped, turned around, and scowled. His dry lips cracked as he spoke harshly, “Nein, wir müssen uns vorwärts bewegen. Der Verbündete Schaum wird nicht anhalten, weder müssen wir. Wir müssen unsere Männer finden! Sie halten an, und Sie werden sterben.” The soldier who originally spoke did not answer back, he was too demoralized to do so. Instead, he dropped in the sand where he stood, he had succumbed to the desert heat. Wagner himself was overheated. The temperatures must have been in the hundred as Wagner, nauseated from the heat, took off his helmet, wiping his forehead of a heavy sweat. He tried to stomach some water, yet he was dehydrated and vomited up what he got down originally. Knowing that all of them were close to death, he shouted to his men “Kommen Sie, wir müssen uns vorwärts bewegen, oder wir werden von dieser verdammten Hitze sterben! Wir müssen die Basis erreichen, um medizinische Aufmerksamkeit zu bekommen.” Demoralized and dying, Wagner and a lone soldier trudged onward through the sandy hell of Africa.
Soon however, the group came across a few small tents, which had a burning, abandoned Churchill tank guarding it’s perimeter. Wagner put his finger on his MP40, not knowing what he was going to encounter at this Allied campsite. He searched the tent, finding a few dead Commonwealth soldiers within the tents. “Rommel…” Wagner muttered with a sense of relief as he inspected the dead bodies of a few Australians and British soldiers. He turned to the other soldier that was standing outside the tent, and said with a moralizing tone, “Der 21. muss nahe dabei sein. Wir müssen uns schnell bewegen...” Just as he said that however, he heard a gun shot. Wagner fell to the ground immediately, knowing that it wasn’t German. He had studied arms many times, and from the sounds of it, it was Enfield. He turned to the private and whispered, “Wo kam dieses verdammte Feuer her?” The private looked down, grabbed his torso, doubled over, and fell down, bleeding profusely, felled by a sniper’s bullet. This brought back painful memories of his father’s death, and seasoned Hauptman felt inspired to fight through his dehydrated condition. By now, Wagner figured that he would die, so he decided to take as many damned Brits with him as possible. Wagner reminded himself these were the men who killed his father, sent his mother into grieving, and made him the way he is today-an cynical megalomaniac. He grabbed his MP40 and ran out of the tent, firing until he reached the Churchill tank.
Upon reaching the Churchill tank, Wagner heard a few Bren’s open fire upon the position he was at. The simmering, unforgiving lead, clanged up against the Churchill, which let out loud, high-pitched screams as the bullets reverberated off of its mangled corpse. Wagner sliced the pie on the Churchill, seeing a few Bren placements off in the distance, as well as a sniper nest. Wagner cursed under his breath, saying sharply “Verdammte Briten, ich fiel direkt in ihren Hinterhalt!” He decided to make one more run from the Churchill to the tent, hoping he wouldn’t be felled just yet. He began to run sideways, firing the MP40 from the hip. He was surprised at when he actually made it to the tent. However, just as he went to crouch and reload, a Bren bullet ripped through the tent, slicing through Heinz’s bicep, and lodging itself within the humorous. Heinz fell to the ground in agonizing pain from his wound. He thought about quitting just then and there, walking out of the tent, and allowing the Brits to capture him. He reassured himself, bleating to himself in a monotone, “Nein, ich muss vorwärts um Hitler, um Rommel, für das Haus, und für das Land kämpfen!” He found the strength within him to pull out an MP40 stick magazine from the brown pouch he had slung around his shoulder. He fed it to the unforgiving German piece of steel, and then stood up. He ran outside the tent, firing wildly into the air, hoping to hit something once more. However, once more, this backfired, and the Hauptman was shot in the upper thigh by the same sniper who felled the private. Heinz luckily, was close to the Churchill and was able to crawl to cover.
Behind the Churchill, Heinz was able to examine the damage done by the Sniper. He took a knife and cut through his pant leg, only to find a large gaping wound which was spewing dark red blood. Unlucky for Heinz, this bullet had ripped through the Femoral Artery. He was indeed a dead man at this point. The Commonwealth began to move on a flanking maneuver around their ambush sight, Heinz saw them. He had thought about killing himself then and there, but decided against it. He began to fire wildly in the air, screaming, “Kommen Sie bekommen mich Sie Bastarde!” Just as he unloaded another clip, he heard a large bang, and the screaming of Commonwealth soldiers. After the bang, he heard a noise, which had sounded like Brrrrttttt, Brrrrrt.” A sigh of relief, it was an MG42 mounted upon a Tiger. Rommel’s 21st was moving on this position. As he stood there, clutching the wound, a German Leutnant approached him saying, “Hauptman, sind Sie ganz richtig?” Wagner shook his head, saying “Nein, aber ich könnte länger gedauert haben. Hätte sie alle davon gehalten, wenn ich dazu hatte.” The British had been repelled, and Hauptman Heinz Wagner had been rescued, and he was now returning to base, only to find an operating table as his welcome party.
Translations
“ Hauptman, we can stop and rest? I am tired, and my machine gun is too heavy to carry under these conditions. ”
“ No, we must move forward. The allied foam will not stop, neither we must go. We must find our men! We stop, and you will die. ”
"“ Come, we must move forward, or we will die of this damned heat! We must reach the base to get medical attention. ”
"The 21st must be close. We must move quickly..."
"Where did that damned fire come from?"
"Damn Britons! I fell directly into their ambush..."
"No, I must fight forward for Hitler, for Rommel, for the house, and for the land!"
"Come get me you bastards!"
"Hauptman, are you alright?"
"No, but I could have lasted longer. I would have held them all off if I had to."