Torch +1

[Heiko Alkema]

Location: Just outside of Safi, Morocco
Time of Day (24 Hour Clock): 06:00
Current Weather Conditions: Brisk wind from the sea blowing toward the defenders. 65 degrees Fahrenheit and rising.
Map: First Map

Notes:

- The map is pretty obvious. The strange black lines are ridges/sand dunes about chest height. Red is me, Orange my corporal, Black are my privates.



Units:
Axis:
Heiko Alkema
- Cpl. Wieland Amsel
- Pvt. Kaspar Loewe
- Pvt. Ulrich Bachmeier
- Pvt. Torsten Daecher
- Pvt. Meino Faust
Wilhelm Schlegal
- Pvt. Rainer Engel
- Pvt. Leon Junker
- Pvt. Jochim Kaufmann
- Pvt. Nikolaus Stumpf

Allied:
Daniel Brennan
- Engineer Micheal Burns
- Corporal Mathew Smyth
- Private John Teal
- Private Patrick Troy
- Private Donny Well
- Private James Braeburn
- Private John Smith
- Private Donald McClosky
Bradley Coleman


72hr Time Limit
Meaning you have 72 hours after the most recent mod-mark in which to post before your turn is skipped.

Posting Order: Dan, Heiko, Nathan, Wilhelm

[Daniel Brennan]

OOC: Nathan, I haven’t marked you in on the map. Speaking of the map, I’ll have it up later, but I can’t right now. You are probably able to guess my moves anyway.

The squad of American soldiers trudged heartlessly across the hot African sands towards their destination. Their mission was to assault a small German outpost on the outskirts of some town – Sali, or something like that. Daniel trudged at the head of the 10 men walking in a line and he stopped and looked behind him as he spied an area of green, a small way ahead of them. He looked at the men along with him. There were a few old hands along with him – men who he really trusted. The Engineer, Burns, his trusty Corporal Smyth and the one-eared John Teal, who had recently returned from hospital after taking over half a dozen bullets to his chest in France. There were a couple of other men along with him who he half trusted. Braeburn and McClosky had served with him in Italy recently. Hawkins was in a field hospital. There were a few other Privates that he had rarely fought with before, and wouldn’t trust to look after a cat- let alone themselves. He wasn’t going to leave them on their own anytime soon. The last member of the “team” was an experienced medic called Coleman. Daniel thought he seemed trustworthy enough and it was always good to have a medic. If someone got injured, then he just had to send them back to the Medic and they weren’t his responsibility anymore.

”Go quietly from now on” Daniel said shortly. He turned and studied the landscape in front of him, before speaking again. ”Braeburn, Well, Burns… Flank around to their left side. If you see a chance, pounce on it.” He surprised himself with his flowery language. ‘Pounce on it’? He would have to use that one again.

He continued forward and the three selected men scooted off on their own course. The men reached the small oasis in the desert and gathered themselves around the trees; it was good to be in shade again. ”Fill up your canteens. The Africans haven’t quite got a grasp of plumbing yet. The Germans will probably be getting all their water from there, so there is no chance of it being poisoned.” He himself walked up to a small ridge and peeked over it at the outpost. ”There’s the bastards…” he breathed to himself. He pulled himself behind cover. He turned towards Coleman, the medic. ”Should you set up an… “aid station” just here in the trees?” He questioned. ”I’ll give you Private Troy to help you out.” he added. He didn’t actually say “to help you out dragging bodies”, but he meant it and was sure Coleman knew what he meant too.

[Heiko Alkema]

Ah, Afrika. Schoenes toedliches Afrika. Heiko was finally back on the front lines after a month in the hospital recovering from a collapsed lung adding another scar to his ever growing collection. It was comforting to be back in Africa though, it had become his home. He had learned the desert's ways and have come to enjoy its unpredictability. It was also nice to be back among his platoon, back with the people who felt and thought like him. Heiko pulled down the scarf covering his face and took a deep breath of the last cool air before the sun started to bake the his world, they were close enough to the ocean for a hint of that salty air to permeate the area.

Though that proximity was only necessary because of a new Allied assault on Africa and Heiko was here in this little outpost to try and stall their advance until the heavier elements of the 21st could drive them back to the sea and smash them. For that end Heiko had his entire platoon with him, the whole gang. Wieland Amsel's promotion after saving Heiko's life made him a new instrumental member of his unit and had placed Daecher and Faust in his hands as a test of his leadership skills. An SS sergeant was also present, he was separated from his unit during the initial assault and Heiko had attached Engel, Junker, and Kaufmann to him along with Stumpf who had also been separated from Merhoff at the beachhead. In all eleven men to hold only God knows how many enemies at bay.

Heiko bought his mind back to the area around him, surveying the grassy knoll to the north to the north and the the barren one to the east through his goggles. Nothing seemed to be moving except the trees near the oasis. Heiko checked his new Fg42 brushing any sand off of it. It was an wonderful weapon, he'd removed the scope to for better use as a light machine gun and had resting with the bipod unfolded on the packed sand berm that lined the edges of the trench. A glint of light from the oasis caught his eye. He took out the detached scope and peered out over the flat land toward the oasis. He could only make out vague shapes, not even a good count either.

Heiko turned to the soldiers lining the trench with him, "The enemy has finally arrived. Check your weapons, keep your heads low and don't fire until you get a clear shot or I give the order." They various heads around him bobbed in acknowledgment and set about checking their weapons. Heiko did as well, removing the magazine to make sure the chamber was clean and the magazine was full. He flipped the selector from semi-auto to full automatic, replaced the the magazine, flipped off the safety and chambered a fresh round. He was ready.

[coleman]

The desert wasn’t really the best place for medical care. The sun sapped the energy from all, and the sand got everywhere, making sanitising wounds all but impossible. Infections spread quickly, and as campaigns moved on supplies just disappeared. Thankfully, it was just the second day of this campaign, so the medical bag of Bradley Coleman was still full to bursting.

He took off his helmet; the metal emblazoned with a still vivid red cross on white background, and wiped sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He was too old for this shit, really, but here he was medic of an advance squad in the middle of Africa. At least Mr. Jones from next door wouldn’t be doing this, the egotistic tosser.

The squad stopped, and Coleman looked around. Not a bad place, there was a hill ahead to protect them from fire, trees for shade and water. Not bad at all. Master Sergeant Brennan started giving out orders to the Privates. Although Coleman was senior, he knew bugger all about combat, he was just there to clean the mess up and happily let Brennan get on with it. Apparently a Private Troy would be his assistant, OK, that was good, and help could never hurt. He just nodded appreciatively at the Private who walked over and shook hands with Coleman. He walked over to a tree, and unrolled a large tarpaulin on the sand as a makeshift stretcher.

Now he just had to wait, wait for the soldiers to get screwed over, and try and send them home in one piece, or as few pieces as possible at least. He flipped open his bag, and fished around, pulling out two syrettes of morphine and a few bandages, passing them to the Private, who pocketed them with a “thanks”.

[Daniel Brennan]

Here's my map. Light green is me, Black is Privates, red is engineer, black with yellow stripe is Corporal.

[Wilhelm Schlegal]

So this was where Wilhelm was sent to, Africa. The desert sun beat down on the young Sergeant's helmet. Sweat began to drip down the young sergeant's face, bloody hell he hasn't even done anything. He was sent from Germany to the Afrika Korps, ordered to defend an outpost from any Americans or Brits trying to get through. But why Africa? Why not Russia, where the Ruskies were showing some strength in the forces. Wilhelm, while in Berlin making a visit to a local hospital, had made a promise to himself, that he would kill as many Russians as he could, well 10 to be exact, for every German soldier killed. That was his duty, wreak havoc and punish all who resist the ways of Nazi Socialism. Afrika was just another strategic military objective. It held a good foothold for an Allied invasion force to invade Italy and France. Oh, and don't forget about the oil and any other expeditions that the Fuher wanted done here, with possible treasure being hunted.

Wilhelm looked next to him on both of his sides, looking at the faces of the men. They were under his command and part of the Afrika Korp. The privates were confused as to why an SS man was needed here. As the men looked out of their trench, Private Junker looked to Wilhelm briefly, then looked back down the desert where the enemy was most likely to attack.

"Unterscharführer Schlegal, warum sandte der SS Ihnen hier, Herr?" the private asked.

Wilhelm, with his Gewehr 43k in his hands and resting on the low wall of the trench. Schlegal still maintained his view ahead of him, keeping an eye out for suspicious activity. Listening to the private's question, Wilhelm gave out an answer. "Ich gehe, wo auch immer das Heimatland mir zu, Privat befiehlt. Bleiben Sie Ihre Pistolen festigen Männer, ich bin dabei einen Blick zu werfen."Wilhelm said as he placed his rifle standing up next to him. All the privates had their guns trained down the stretch of the desert. Wilhelm grabbed his binoculars from his backback and wiped off any sand on the lenses. He looked down the desert, scanning from left to right. "Schießen Sie nicht, bis Sie jede Bewegung sehen oder darauf entlasst werden." The privates under his command nodded, keeping their sights down the range.


Translations

Unterscharführer Schlegal, warum sandte der SS Ihnen hier, Herr?-Sergeant Schlegal, why did the SS send you here?

Ich gehe, wo auch immer das Heimatland mir zu, Privat befiehlt. Bleiben Sie Ihre Pistolen festigen Männer, ich bin dabei einen Blick zu werfen.-I go wherever the Fatherland commands me to, Private. Keep your guns steady men, I am going to have a look.

Schießen Sie nicht, bis Sie jede Bewegung sehen oder darauf entlasst werden-Don't fire until you see any movement or are fired upon.

Here is the map

s645.photobucket.com/albums/uu179/minyitalian/?action=view¤t=T1-1.png

Black dots are the privates, blue is me, and the lines coming from me is my line of vision from my binoculars. Wasn't sure how I'd show that on my map. If I fucked up with anything on the map, sorry. First time doing this.

[Daniel Brennan]

OOC: Will has a proper weapon now… this has gotten more interesting.



Daniel glanced at his watch and then took a deep breath. It was 0600; time to begin the attack. Hopefully it would be a good success, with the brave American soldiers driving back the Nazi's without losing a single man! Yeah, like that was going to happen.
"Move up behind the ridge, keeping low, and on my signal start firing on them. Remember that although they may outnumber us, we have more firepower than them. Just make them keep their heads down at first.” He hissed quietly.

Smyth, McClosky and Smith (Not to be confused with Corporal Smyth…) moved forward with Daniel behind the ridge, while Teal stayed right where he was to the south of the group, going down on one knee to steady himself. ”Now!” Daniel hissed and the five men stood up. Daniel swung his Johnson up into the air and it landed on the ridge with the Bi-pod under it. He quickly made sure the magazine was properly in place, switched it 200 ROF and squeezed the trigger, sending controlled bursts of 4 or four bullets along the length of the trench. The massive 30-06 cartridge would hopefully do some serious damage to Germans and would definitely make them keep their heads down. Hopefully his men firing the M1-garands around him were doing some damage too, and they weren’t just wasting bullets.

”Stop and drop!” he yelled as he finished his first magazine. Hey, it rhymes! he thought to himself as he got down on one knee, bringing the Johnson with him, but making sure not to burn his arm this time. The men around them did the same, except for Teal. He stayed with his eyes glued to the sights and his rifle trained on the trench. When one of the Germans decided it was safe to stick their heads up again, he would squeeze the trigger.

It had been a quick first attack because of the high rate of fire of the Johnson. He knew he really shouldn’t be wasting his ammo so quickly, but he just wanted the battle to be over with. He wasn’t going to wait for the Germans to start fighting back. He grabbed a second magazine and carefully switched it with the spent one. ”Come on, lads. We’re doing fine” he said encouragingly, addressing particular attention to the newer guy, Smith. He would hopefully be alright now that his adrenaline was up.

To the north of the map, Burns Braeburn and Well stayed quietly behind their sand dune. Burns was panting a little bit from the long march with the very heavy equipment on his back. This was his second time in combat with the flamethrower, but the last time he hadn’t even had a chance to use it. McMillan and [/i]Cronus had the enemy on the run before the second wave had gone in. This time he was determined to burn some Germans. It was very dangerous carrying the flamethrower around. It made him an easier target to see and it slowed him down very much. But its effect on the enemy was worth it. When he had been trained to use the weapon, he had been told that the best thing about it was the effect it had on moral. There were always significantly more prisoners taken when there was a flamethrower on hand.

Bullets Fired:
Brennan: 20
Teal: 3
Smyth: 4
Smith: 5
McClosky: 4

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

Sorry this took so long chaps. I’ll be fast next time.

Master Sergeant Brennan

• Firing off his four bursts of four rounds (can’t see where 20 came from?) the rifle bullets forced many German soldier to duck, before they lost limbs. However, with the second burst, a round caught Grenadier Faust in the shoulder. It passed through, but his left arm is now substantially weaker than before. It will not kill him however.
  
• Grenadier Daecher however braved the fire and took and aimed shot at Corporal Symth. The German round hit the American in the left of the ribcage and barely missed his heart. It did however deflate his lung. He is having trouble breathing, and is beginning to cough up blood. Medical treatment could help him, but he can live a little longer if he must.
  
• Watching his superior be knocked down, young Private Smith returned fire on Daecher, firing half a clip at him. Two round missed, but one struck Daecher in the right shoulder, breaking his collar bone, and one in the left arm, breaking that too. The German is on the floor screaming, as blood pours from his arm where the bone pieced through the skin. He will die very soon if he receives inadequate medical action.
  
• As Private Teal aimed on the trench directly in front of him, he forgot the trench to his left. SS-Schütze Kaufmann took this opportunity and aimed well at Private troy to the rear. He fired, sending his bullet into the vulnerable American’s side. It hit his pelvis, cracking it, then travelled upwards, through his intestine, through his heart, his left lung and popping out through the soft flesh at the base of his neck. The man was dead in seconds.
  
• Young Smith, who has just witnessed this death is beginning to suffer Combat Stress Reaction. Grab hold of him or he’ll become useless.
  

I try to make my mod marks exciting. So, to recap:

Americans
KIA: 1
WIA: 1
MIA: 0

Germans
KIA: 0
WIA: 2
MIA: 0

- Strum

[Heiko Alkema]

Clean Version. I didn't bother messing with Dan's units. he can do it himself

As Heiko chambered that fresh round, several heads popped up from behind the ridge in front of him and a hail of bullets screamed through the morning air toward himself and his men. Heiko and company instinctively dropped below the edge to avoid the withering amount of fire, though Faust took and round to the shoulder as he did so.

The most amazing sight was Daecher. As Heiko came down below the edge, he caught a glimpse of Daecher standing there while bullets and sand kicked up all around him. He just stood leaning causally forward, one foot on the firing step, holding his rifle steady with an elbow resting against, and aiming carefully for each shot. He seemed to stand there for an eternity calmly starring death in the face. But tempting fate had never been and continued to be a bad idea. Daecher's bravery was rewarded with a shattered collar and arm. Reality seemed to hit Daecher all too quickly as he fell back screaming in pain.

Leaving his weapon back at his position, Heiko moved down the trench, consciously trying to keep his head below the edge. The enemy fire subsided before he reached Daecher, and his own men started to return the favor as per Heiko's orders. Once Heiko reached Daecher he unslung his metal gas mask canister, he'd thrown away the actual gas mask long ago, and produced a morphine pill.

"You are going to be alright, Torsten. You did well," Heiko talked to him trying to keep his attention off the wound as he pulled off his own scarf with his free hand. "We're all very proud of you, Torsten." He helped Daecher get the pill into his mouth and take a drink from his canteen to help it down. It took a second for it to take effect, but calmed him down enough for Heiko to get a good hold of his broken arm and tie the scarf tightly around the upper arm to try and slow the bleeding. It was all he could do, Heiko didn't have any kind of medical equipment aside from a few of the morphine pills. Heiko then turned his attention to Faust. He didn't look too bad; a bit of blood soaking through his shoulder but nothing serious. "You're fine as well, Faust. Stay with Daecher and keep him calm." Heiko patted Faust's good shoulder and went back to his position on the east side of the trench.

Heiko picked his Fg42 back up, checking it for any dirt and joining the others in firing on the enemy ridge. He didn't see anything in particular and hoped the barking of his machinegun was enough to keep their heads down as he sprayed the center of the ridge.

****

Amsel was the first to poke his head up over the edge after the Americans had stopped firing. He caught a glint of sunlight off a helmet to the west just through some trees. He could barely make out the uniform but that was enough for him. He nudged Bachmeier and pointed toward the American, Bachmeier nodded and took aim with him.

Amsel was a crack shot and took his time lining up the American's helmet in his sight, adjusting as best he could for the wind and distance. It was a tough shot, but Amsel was confident as he took in a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. Bachmeier followed suit a second later. The east side of the trench erupted just after Bachmeier's shot.

With the American in the trees taken care of, Amsel and Bachmeier shifted their focus to the ridge as well, firing two shots each at what they thought was another American helmet.

****

Loewe watched silently as Heiko took off to tend to the wounded further down the trench. That was Heiko's way, always looking after his men, he always took it personally when someone under his command was wounded or, god forbid, killed.

Loewe emerged from behind the trench wall and tried to see where the Americans had fired from. He couldn't see a damned thing. He brought his rifle to bear anyway waiting for some poor American bastard to show himself. He didn't have to wait long, just after a rifle cracked to the west, Loewe thought he saw a helmet. With out hesitation he brought his sights down onto the shape and fired, repeating the process two more times before the bark of Heiko's Fg42 caught him off guard and threw his aim off for the fourth shot.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post[/u]

Please can we not have this degenerate in a WWI era battle of attrition? We’ve meant to have moved on.

Unterofizier Alkema

• As Alkema began his work, his men covered him with return fire. It was sporadic to say the least, the bolt action weapons unable to match the American M1’s. It did however suppress the enemy slightly, the shots coming too close to comfort in some places. One shot did strike San’t Brennan in the head. It simply knocked his helmet off and made a small pea-sized hole.
  
• Already beginning to fade, the morphine pill was not a good idea. While it reduced the pain Daecher was feeling, it was that pain which was keeping him awake. Tying a scarf around his arm has helped to stem the bleeding. the only thing keeping him even slightly awake at the moment is Faust. Faust is Daecher’s life-line.
  
• The FG42 forced the Americans further down, the less experienced ones becoming nervous at assaulting such a position.
  
• With the enemy suppressed, Amsel and Bachmeier had slightly longer to take their shots. Firing, Bachmeier’s shot just missed, but clipped the American’s knee, scorching it. Amsel’s shot thudded into the side of the tree, but tore out a jagged splinter which pieced through Private McClosky’s chest on the left side. It missed his heart, but caught his lung, before it pieced through the skin on the other side. McClosky stumbled around for a second, before falling to his knees and falling on his chest. He has but moments to live if the brutal internal haemorrhaging has not be stopped.
  
• Loewe’s shots struck the ridge in front of Corporal Symth , kicking up several large and jagged pieces of rock, but inflicting no damage on the soldier.
  

- Strum[/color]

[coleman]

The shade of the tree provided a certain relief from the sun, and for a small amount of time, Coleman could relax. By small, think milliseconds. Firing started, and he lifted himself, checking the bag was secure. Within a few moments, the infamous cry went up. “Medic!”

He started running in the soft sand, the Private, what was his name, Troy or something chasing after him. Throwing himself in to the sand below the edge of the hill, he felt itchy grains slip under his shirt. You didn’t need to be a doctor to see who was wounded. Signalling for the Private to help, he grabbed a leg and slowly dragged the soldier downwards so he could work.

The chest was clear, apart from a small hole and blood blossoming from it, but the red liquid coming from the mouth meant this couldn’t be good. Slipping his arms under the Corporal, he felt for more blood. None, good. Think, quickly. He opened up his bag, pulling out a cloth and bottle which he uncorked and upturned on the brand new piece of fabric, letting the sterilising liquid soak it, stopping for a second and rubbing the liquid over his hands. He rubbed around the wound, to try and get rid of the blood and allow him to work. “Private, talk to him. Make sure he stays awake.” Thinking for a second, he pulled out a cigarette lighter and tossed it to Troy. ”Have him watch the flame.”

He pulled the soldiers shirt in to one bundle and placed it to block the chest from eyesight as he reached in to the bag once again. A syrette of morphine was in his hand, and he ripped off the sterilised coating. Swabbing the soldier’s upper arm, he felt for a vein and squeezed out a dab of the liquid to get rid of air bubbles before stabbing in and squeezing the top to empty the contents of the phial. Placing the stopper back on the end, he threw it away and pulled out a scalpel. He counted thirty seconds to give the morphine some time to start working before slicing through the flesh. This wasn’t good, he could see the lung, but the ribs presented a problem. The lung itself was deflated, but that was easy enough to fix, temporarily atleast. He pulled out a sterilised bandage and a tub of petroleum jelly. He unfolded the bandage and rubbed the jelly over the bottom of it to make it airtight. He thought for a second before extending the scalpel cut downwards so he could reach under the ribcage. If he was in a theatre, he would have just had the bones removed. With the lung deflated, there was room to move his hands under with the bandage secure. He found the hole and felt slightly with a finger. The bullet had stopped inside the lungs, but hadn’t exited the other side. That made it a lot easier, and he smoothed the bandage around the wound, and stuck a finger in one side and wiped the jelly away, leaving a small flutter valve so that the air could escape while the lung inflated and didn’t explode.

That was all he could do for now. Once the lung inflated, he just had to make sure that the soldier didn’t choke on his own blood. Breathing should return soon, and the pain relief should help. But as he stood, up, another soldier was hit. It just didn’t get easy, did it?

On his knees, he moved along the edge to the soldier, and he pulled out the tags of the man. McClosky was his name. A tree splinter, not so complicated, and by the looks of it another lung wound. It looked like rather brutal internal bleeding, and he had little time. Grabbing another splinter of wood from the ground, he placed it between the American’s lips, who with a look of horror, bit down hard and closed his eyes. Pulling out a second scalpel, Coleman opened up the soldier’s chest and grabbed a second lighter from his pocket. Aiming carefully, he turned it on, letting the small flame jump to life. McClosky let out a loud “mmph” as the flame roughly cauterised the graze long the wound. Working quickly, a field dressing was pulled out along with a few sticky tabs. The padded section was pushed in to the wound, and with the scalpel he slipped off the excess bits before sticking it to the membrane.

To finish off, he pulled out another bandage and tightly wound it around the chest of the soldier, and gave a burst of morphine to allow the soldier to rest a bit easier. “Keep talking, inspire your buddies,” Coleman muttered before moving back to the Corporal. Satisfied that breathing was clear, he started bandaging the soldier up to keep him alive.

OOC: So the first part of my post happened while Heiko’s was made, the second after. Assume that Dan and co were firing all the time. Everything I’ve done was accepted medical practise

img242.imageshack.us/img242/493/torch1clean.png

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

Nathan, I’m going to be honest with you. I am unsure from that post whether you were trying to save these poor soldiers or rush them to their graves faster… Please actually learn some very basic first aid and possibly what to do with a deflated lung. Wrapping a bandage around it… I’m speechless… Just to note but Private Troy passed away from my first mod-mark. I’m going to guess you mean Private Smith who is unwounded as of yet.

Corpsman Class One Coleman

• Washing your hands before touching the bullet wound did manage to kill some of the bacteria on your hands, but not all the nasty stuff which a medic would have been touching after being in the field for twenty-four hours. Gloves would have done the job far better.
  
• The shot of morphine helped to relieve some of the pain almost instantaneously. However, it was no where near as powerful enough to allow an incision. The Corporal screamed out in pain, simultaneously biting off his tongue and bringing up a long spurt of blood.
  
• Taking the sterilized bandage and covering it in petroleum jelly, breaking its sterility, and then reaching into the soldier with his hands, Coleman did all manor of damage to the insides of the man. Handling the lung, he tore the pulmonary artery and vein at the same time, severing the lung from the body…
  
• Moving over to McClosky, Coleman gave the man superficial medical treatment. The large, half a meter long splinter of wood was jostled around as Coleman had to move the soldier off his front. This loosened whatever blood clotting had occurred. Wrapping bandages and dressings around the outside of the soldier’s chest did nothing to stem the ‘brutal internal haemorrhaging’. The movement simply hasten the soldier’s death.
  
• Both Corporal Smyth and Private McClosky are dead. Smyth died by severely inappropriate medical treatment in front of young an inexperienced Private Smith (who is now very panicy), and Private McClosky died from extreme negligence. Corpsman Class One Coleman will be held responsible for the deaths of these two men and could face court marshal (you effectively murdered two of your own men).
  

I’ve updated the map with current deaths.
img216.imageshack.us/img216/404/torch.png

- Strum

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Hey Strum, not trying to intrude here...but...how big is a "jagged splinter"? Half a meter is longer than my forearm and I'm a lanky kinda guy.

-JT


I realise I should have specified and I apologise. I don't believe 50cm is too big for the round that went into it. In the 18th and 19th century's, when large cannon balls used to strike the sides of ships, its wasn't uncommon for splinters to be over a metre long. Doing some complex physics, you could work out velocity and energy being transferred to the wood. From what I've seen, a 7.92 bullet would transfer about half to a third of the energy of cannon ball, because the ball was going that much slower.

In some cases the bullet would have gone straight through, but if it hit a knot in the wood, it would rip the knot out and send it as a jagged splinter.

- Strum

[Wilhelm Schlegal]

OOC:Strum, Punk told me to include this in my post. I am unable to have 2 grenades in my display area, so I am putting here that I have them. Feel free to deduct the needed CP, which is 16 I believe. Thanks.



ICC: As Wilhelm scanned the area in front of him, he saw 3 figures behind the ridges. He smiled, knowing that they were the enemy. Suddenly, the shock of the enemy fire from the other side caught Wilhelm and the Privates off guard. Wilhelm dropped his head and body in the trench, trying to avoid being seen by the enemy. The Privates were already down and all gave a brief look at Wilhelm, then gave out a slight chuckle.

"Waffen SS, huh?" said Private Engel, who he and the other Privates were relatively calm. It was uncommon for an SS Sergeant to be all giddy and jumpy, luckily, however, Wilhelm had good discipline and didn't shout to his men, which probably would have alerted the enemy in front of them.

Wilhelm got up and put his binoculars in his backpack. Raising his rifle, he grabbed his bayonet from his right boot, which was strapped to the side of it. "Sie wollen leben, nicht Sie Privat tun? Dann hören Sie mir zu! Bajonette der üblen Lage!" The Privates all held their Mausers with their left hands, their butts of the guns on the sand. Their barrels were pointed to the air, the sun shining on the barrels. Each Private reached their bayonets
and screwed them over the barrel. Right now, their Mausers were not only fitted with bullets, but also with a bayonet at the end. This would surely scare the enemies when they see what is going to happen.

Wilhelm did the same thing as his men did; he had his gun rest on its butt while he used his left hand to hold the gun in place and used his right hand to screw the bayonet over the barrel. His bayonet was now fixed.

Looking at his men to the left and right, Wilhelm took a deep breath and looked at the enemy in front of him while there was sporadic fighting to their left flank. "Bewegung zur Ostseite des Grabens, schnell!" said Wilhelm in a strong voice, loud enough for his men to hear. The 5 men began moving to the farthest side of the trench, that way, the enemy with the MG wouldn't be able to hit them. They were all crouch walking with their guns in both hands, each had an eager look on their face. When they reached the end of the trench, Wilhelm looked up to see the enemy still hasn't noticed them. He then crouched back down and looked at the men, who were awaiting further orders. The Unterscharführer reached for his smoke grenade, which was clipped to his belt. "Ganz richtig, ist hier der Plan. Der Feind wird darin gespalten, was wie zwei Mannschaften aussieht. Einer von ihnen verpflichtet Unterofizier Alkema und seine Mannschaft, während der andere uns von den Blicken davon nicht bemerkt hat. Wir sind wird sie mit ihren Hosen unten fangen. Ich bin dabei, Rauch einzusetzen, unsere Bewegungen vor dem Maschinenkanonier verbergend, und sobald der Rauch völlig aus ist, werden wir eine Bajonettanklage machen. Sie drei werden die Bedeckung des Feuers zur Verfügung stellen, wie wir vorwärts gehen. Schlagen Sie uns um Himmels willen nicht. Während wir, Privater Engel stürmen und ich zwei Handgranaten am Kamm werfen werde. Engel, Sie werfen Ihrig zur Ostseite des Kamms, während ich meinig zur Westseite werfe. Männer, Geschwindigkeit ist der Schlüssel. Setzen Sie fort, auf diesem Kamm zu schießen, während Engel und ich unsere Handgranaten werfen. Engel wissen Sie, wie man denjenigen verwendet?"

"Ja tue ich Herrn." said Engel as Wilhelm gave him a grenade and took out his own. Schlegal nodded to the men, knowing that this move will decimate the enemy's left flank. Wilhelm would throw the smoke to conceal their movements from the machine gunner, and knew he would have to throw it farther ahead of them because of the wind blowing in on them. Turning back to his men before they attacked, Wilhelm said, "Ihr Fuher zählt auf Ihnen. Kampf für Hitler, kämpfen Sie um Deutschland!"

Pulling the pin off the smoke grenade, Wilhelm hurled it to the west to cover their movements. Wilhelm has thrown the smoke farther than he intended, but realized that it was a good idea because the wind helped push the smoke into position. As the smoke finally settled in, Wilhelm waved his arm forward, signaling his men to rush the enemy. The soldiers all jumped from their cover as they rushed forward. They were in a line formation as they ran. Junker, Kaufman, and Stumpf continued providing covering fire.

In range for the grenades, both Wilhelm and Engel unscrewed the bottom caps of the stick grenades, pulled the cords, and held onto them for 2 seconds. The two men then threw their grenades at their desired positions, Wilhelm's grenade being thrown to the west side of the ridge while Engel's was aimed to the east side of the ridge. After the grenades were thrown, the 5 German soldiers let out a battle cry as they advanced on the ridge, waiting for the grenades to explode.

Translations:

Sie wollen leben, nicht Sie Privat tun? Dann hören Sie mir zu! Bajonette der üblen Lage!-You wanna live, don't you Private? Then listen to me! Fix bayonets!

Bewegung zur Ostseite des Grabens, schnell!-Move to the east side of the trench, quickly!

Ganz richtig, ist hier der Plan. Der Feind wird darin gespalten, was wie zwei Mannschaften aussieht. Einer von ihnen verpflichtet Unterofizier Alkema und seine Mannschaft, während der andere uns von den Blicken davon nicht bemerkt hat. Wir sind wird sie mit ihren Hosen unten fangen. Ich bin dabei, Rauch einzusetzen, unsere Bewegungen vor dem Maschinenkanonier verbergend, und sobald der Rauch völlig aus ist, werden wir eine Bajonettanklage machen. Sie drei werden die Bedeckung des Feuers zur Verfügung stellen, wie wir vorwärts gehen. Schlagen Sie uns um Himmels willen nicht. Während wir, Privater Engel stürmen und ich zwei Handgranaten am Kamm werfen werde. Engel, Sie werfen Ihrig zur Ostseite des Kamms, während ich meinig zur Westseite werfe. Männer, Geschwindigkeit ist der Schlüssel. Setzen Sie fort, auf diesem Kamm zu schießen, während Engel und ich unsere Handgranaten werfen. Engel wissen Sie, wie man denjenigen verwendet?-Alright, here's the plan. The enemy is split into what looks like two teams. One of them is engaging Unterofizier Alkema and his team, while the other hasn't noticed us from the looks of it. We're gonna catch them with their pants down. I am going to deploy smoke, concealing our movements from the machine gunner, and once the smoke is fully out, we'll make a bayonet charge. You three will provide covering fire as we advance. For God's sake, don't hit us. While we are charging, Private Engel and I will throw two grenades at the ridge. Engel, you throw yours to the east side of the ridge while I throw mine to the west side. Men, speed is the key. Keep firing on that ridge while Engel and I throw our grenades. Engel, do you know how to use one?

Ja tue ich Herrn.-Yes, I do sir.

Map

Edit: Added an S to the word grenade in the last sentence.

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

Can I just make small point? THEY’RE RIFLES, NOT GUNS! GUNS BELONG ON SHIPS!

SS-Unterscharführer Schlegal

• Fixing the bayonets in broad daylight, the sun did indeed reflect off the blades. However, the fire fight to the left distracted the engineer and his comrades. One noticed, but by the time he looked to check, it had gone. However, the shine could have very easily got you killed if somebody with a half good aim had seen it.
  
• Moving up the trench, Private Well spotted the German movement and pointed it out to the two men beside him. However, with no NCO for guidance, they decided to not open fire yet.
  
• As the smoke canister flew through the air, the three American’s went to belt buckles, suspecting a live fragmentation grenade. When it failed to go off, and the smoke started to fill the air, they rushed forward to the ridge, trying to put together a basic defence.
  
• The German charge began, the warcry scaring the Privates. As he German covering fire came, it luckily did not hit any friendly soldiers. However, the smoke was so thick that they didn’t do anything to suppress the Americans.
  
• Schlegal tossing his grenade, caused it to land just past the ridge. It detonated, completely peppering the back of Private Braeburn, the westernmost soldier. He crumbled to the floor. He is seriously wounded, and his whole body is full of shrapnel. The only way to save him is immediate MEDEVAC; he cannot be saved on the battlefield. Schlegal then continued forward, and leapt down off the ridge.
  
• Grenadier Engel was not as lucky. He burst through the smoke, straight into Well’s sights, just as he was throwing his grenade. Well fired, hitting the German in the right knee, followed by the thigh, followed by the pelvis. He fell to the floor after throwing the grenade. He is losing a moderate amount of blood, but no arteries were struck. The cooked grenade was late leaving the soldier’s hand and off target…
  
• The grenade hit Engineer Burns (ironic name) in the face. It didn’t have time to bounce off before it exploded. The American was blown to pieces in an instant, but so was the M2 Flamethrower on his back. It was shredded, sending out a spray of petroleum droplets. A split second later they ignited.
  
• Grenadier Junker had his legs sprayed with the petrol, being just on top of the ridge. They burst into flames, and he fell to the floor screaming, and chocking on the white smoke. He rolled around frantically, and after a few second extinguished the flames. He has suffered second degree burns all over his legs.
  
• Both Grenadier Kaufmann and Private Wells were completely doused in the petrol. They tried to drop to the floor and roll, but their eyes and all their skin were burnt away within five seconds. Five seconds after that they were dead.
  
• Unterscharführer Schlegal had the entire front of his body covered in the liquid. He fell to the floor screaming in agony, before putting the flames out. He has suffered third degree burns over all of the front of his body, his right hand has had all of its flesh burnt off, his right eye has been burnt out, as well as his tongue, and blood from his face is flowing into his left eye, blinding him. His left nostril is none existent, as isn’t his right ear. He is losing a lot of blood, and is on the border of consciousness and unconsciousness. He can’t think straight and is hallucinating about heaven.
  
• Grenadier Stumpf received only second degree burns on his left arm, being the furthest back. He has dropped his rifle, and is trying to fight his way back to the trench through the dense smoke.
  

C’mon, it what you all wanted to happen, right? I won’t list medical treatment need because I think you can all guess that. The smoke will clear very soon, revealing the extent of the damage. However at this point, the only sign of trouble is the discusting smell of burnt flesh.

New Map:
img507.imageshack.us/img507/8669/torch2.png

- Strum