Post by Charles Briggs on May 12, 2009 22:35:24 GMT
Account E-Mail: ccschmitt38@yahoo.com
Name: Charles H. Briggs
Nationality: American
Character History:
Charles Hoyt Briggs, born on March 20, 1922 in San Diego, California, was the son of blue collar parents, and the youngest of three children. His father, Terrance Briggs, worked as an industrial engineer, and helped design and build many superstructures throughout California. His mother, Maria Winston Briggs, was a full time nurse at the local hospital. As a young child, Charles spent most of his time learnig. Whether it be in school, or in the privacy of his own room, he could often be found reading books of all kind. History books, literature books, fictional novels, even the manual to his father's lawn mower. He read while his older brother and sister listened to the nightly radio show. Charles had the natural ability to learn something, and then apply it to every day use. However, before Charles's full potential could have ever been known in the academic world, the unthinkable happened.
On October 29, 1929, seven year old Charles Briggs beared witness to the Great Depression. As the stock market crashed, so did his world. It started out slowly first. His father's engineer company had construction cancellations, which lead to less money. His mother tried to take on more hours at the hospital, and even moonlighted at local clinics when spare time was allowed. But then it came like a giant tumbling boulder. Charles' mother had worked herself to death, literally. She had been overworked, stressed, and her body strained. Not even the staff at the clinic she died at could help her. Her body was simply worn down. Charles was only eleven years old. His older brother, by then twenty years old, ran off, and was not heard from since. His sister stayed home to try and keep their father balanced.
Shortly after his mother's passing, Charles' father quit the engineer company and tried to find a local job. He ended up being hired to the local airstrip as a part-time mechanic for fixed wing aircraft. And since it was not enough to pay for the materials needed for Charles to go to school, Charles found himself at the airstrip with his father nearly everyday. This sparked Charles' interest in aviation and aircrafts.
For the next few years, Charles would accompany his father to the airstrip, and help him repair broken down planes, and when he turned sixteen, he was finally able to test fly a plane for the first time. Charles found himself instantly in love with the horizon. The sky gave him an endless range of solace and freedom. He had never felt this way about anything else. Not even when he was a child and loved reading. Flying was the ultimate passion from then on.
Soon after that, Charles was hired on as a full time mechanic and test pilot for repaied aircraft, and he would enjoy his work everyday. Working with his father made it all the more special. He would spend each day working at a place he loved, doing something he loved, with the people he loved. He was beginning to think that things were finally looking up for him, and perhaps a great life to come. However, he was to be hit with the next disaster, only this one would affect every human being on the planet.
At around one in the afternoon, on December 7, 1941, nineteen year old Charles was fixing a broken tail rudder of a Curtiss bi-plane. The radio in the background was playing vintage ragtime music loudly throughout the hangar. Suddenly, the music was cut, and a news anchor could be heard clearing his throat. "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news. We take you now to Washington." Intrigued by the announcement, Charles put aside his work, and walked over to the radio to listen to what was being announced. "U.S. Naval officials have reported that the United States Naval Station at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii came under attack by air based Japanese forces this morning, local Honolulu time. At least three-thousand are reported to be dead, three hundered aircraft destroyed, and over twenty naval vessels torn apart. President Roosevelt has been contacted on the matter, and plans to meet with Congress some time tomorrow. That is all we have for now, please stay tuned for WKRO 1432 for more breaking bulletins!"
The station then cut out, and then slowly came back to ragtime music. Charles couldn't listen to it though. He turned the radio off, and sat frozen. Then, like nearly every other American boy eligable at the time, he went to enlist.
The next day, as President Roosevelt was making his "Day of Infamy" speech, Charles found himself at the enlistment depot for the Army Air Corps. After a physical, aptitude test, other screenings, and the oath to protect America, Charles found himself with a duffle bag, OD green shirt and trousers, and a bus pass to Miami, Florida for aviation training.
For the next year, Charles found himself bored with classroom instructions on how to fly, what not to do, and the other do's and don'ts of basic flight training. However, it was made up for in the time he got to spend flying in the T-6 Texan trainer. With his knowledge and past skills in flight, Charles found himself far ahead of a class who had never even ridden in an aircraft, yet alone fly one. Because of this, instructors passed him along to the advanced course, fighter training. While it was not the easiest course, Charles seemed to adapted well. He quickly accomodated himself to the many types of fighter tactics and defense maneovours. He found the P-40 Warhawk to be an exceptionally fine aircraft.
On March 25, 1943, the 21 year, 5 day old Charles Briggs graduated from Army Air Corps training. He was then handed a slip of paper upon receiving his wings. It was his deployment paper. After conversing with the rest of his graduating class, and congratulations from his father and sister, he sat down in private and unfolded the paper. He read carefully. After finishing the order to deploy, he folded it and tucked it in his dress pocket. He was going to the Atlantic Theatre, but couldn't tell anyone. He was to go immdiately, as the Americans and British were in drastic need for new pilots. He said his goodbyes to those who expected it, and was then driven by jeep to the train station. After clearing his ticket, Charles was trained to New York, where he was then put on a Liberty transport ship for the boatride to England. Everything seemed to move so fast now, but Charles anticipated what was to come.
Military Rank:
Second Lieutenant/Pilot Officer
Writing Sample:
"... Doyle! No!" Charles watched the horror through his tinted aviator goggles as he watched his wingman, and friend, Timothy Doyle and his P-51 tumble into a violent bank, and slam into the Earth nearly five thousand feet below. While he didn't see the crash, he had seen enough crashes to invision the last seconds of his friend, and it wasn't a good one. It never is. Charles was hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. He just lost a good friend. Someone he had known since flight school. Had it been a rookie, Charles wouldn't have been so emotionally distressed, because it was common for a rookie to try and show up the vets, and then ultimately buy it. But this was someone you don't expect to die. Or at least you lead yourself to believe they won't. And when it happens, it's that much harder.
Charles panned the skyline, up and down, for the bastard that shotdown Doyle. He knew what to look for. It was an Me-109, a good pilot flying it too. He had come out of nowhere and straffed Charle's flight. The other two Mustangs in the formation had to return to base due to lack of fuel and other damages, and that left Doyle and Charles. And now it was just Charles. He continued to search. Nothing. Blue sky above, green grass below. Charles was about to give up and head for him, regretful, until he saw the dot.
Looking up to his two o'clock Charles could see the black dot of another aircraft, and that dot grew larger, and approached faster. Soon that dot grew wings and a tail, and it was obvious it was the killer 109. Charles didn't hesitate, he throttled up and pulled up into the sky to meet the bandit head on. If he was going to go out, he was going to go out fighting. Confirming it was the fighter he wanted, Charles' regret turned into anger. He wanted to avenge his friend. Charles rolled as he climbed, and then balanced out to prepare to fire. Before he could, however, the Me-109 had opened up, and dinked parks of Charle's right wing. It wasn't enough to harm the plane, but it distracted Charles enough to give that Me-109 a chance to try and hide again. Luckily, Charles tracked it.
He pitched downward and rolled right to bank and try and get on the tail of the 109. He dropped altitude to come up on the 109's blind spot. He slowed down and applied the airbrakes so he wouldn't overshoot and get ahead. When his speed stabilized, he continued to pitch and roll until he alligned his sights on the 109. His crosshairs came on the tail of the enemy and then he waited for the German to make his move.
Charles watched and waited. He quickly glanced at his gauges and noticed his fuel was drastically low. If he was going to score this kill, it had to be now. He foucsed back on his crosshairs, and then his moment came. The German pilot pitched up and yawed to the right, this made his wings and fuselage extremely vunerable. Charles then pulled up as well, and got his crosshairs ahead of the 109. Charles then pressed on the trigger and he watched as the traces spilled out and arched into the 109. Charles continued to spray and the right wing of the 109 started to blacken and smoke.
He continued spraying the 109 with bullets until suddenly the right wing of the 109 broke off with a beautiful explosion. It tumbled past Charle's canopy and fell through the sky. The remains of the 109 began to dive downward in a right roll, but Charles didn't see this as he buzzed by the downed aircraft. Charles let out a scream of joy and sorrow. "That's for Doyle!" He balled up his left fist and pumped it as he leveled out and looked down to see the 109 spiraling towards the Earth. Charles lifted up his goggles and set his throttle to full and flew for home. He was greatful that he was able to find some solace in the vengance he took in the name of his friend. But even this small victory would not be enough to fill the void of a fallen comrade.
Name: Charles H. Briggs
Nationality: American
Character History:
Charles Hoyt Briggs, born on March 20, 1922 in San Diego, California, was the son of blue collar parents, and the youngest of three children. His father, Terrance Briggs, worked as an industrial engineer, and helped design and build many superstructures throughout California. His mother, Maria Winston Briggs, was a full time nurse at the local hospital. As a young child, Charles spent most of his time learnig. Whether it be in school, or in the privacy of his own room, he could often be found reading books of all kind. History books, literature books, fictional novels, even the manual to his father's lawn mower. He read while his older brother and sister listened to the nightly radio show. Charles had the natural ability to learn something, and then apply it to every day use. However, before Charles's full potential could have ever been known in the academic world, the unthinkable happened.
On October 29, 1929, seven year old Charles Briggs beared witness to the Great Depression. As the stock market crashed, so did his world. It started out slowly first. His father's engineer company had construction cancellations, which lead to less money. His mother tried to take on more hours at the hospital, and even moonlighted at local clinics when spare time was allowed. But then it came like a giant tumbling boulder. Charles' mother had worked herself to death, literally. She had been overworked, stressed, and her body strained. Not even the staff at the clinic she died at could help her. Her body was simply worn down. Charles was only eleven years old. His older brother, by then twenty years old, ran off, and was not heard from since. His sister stayed home to try and keep their father balanced.
Shortly after his mother's passing, Charles' father quit the engineer company and tried to find a local job. He ended up being hired to the local airstrip as a part-time mechanic for fixed wing aircraft. And since it was not enough to pay for the materials needed for Charles to go to school, Charles found himself at the airstrip with his father nearly everyday. This sparked Charles' interest in aviation and aircrafts.
For the next few years, Charles would accompany his father to the airstrip, and help him repair broken down planes, and when he turned sixteen, he was finally able to test fly a plane for the first time. Charles found himself instantly in love with the horizon. The sky gave him an endless range of solace and freedom. He had never felt this way about anything else. Not even when he was a child and loved reading. Flying was the ultimate passion from then on.
Soon after that, Charles was hired on as a full time mechanic and test pilot for repaied aircraft, and he would enjoy his work everyday. Working with his father made it all the more special. He would spend each day working at a place he loved, doing something he loved, with the people he loved. He was beginning to think that things were finally looking up for him, and perhaps a great life to come. However, he was to be hit with the next disaster, only this one would affect every human being on the planet.
At around one in the afternoon, on December 7, 1941, nineteen year old Charles was fixing a broken tail rudder of a Curtiss bi-plane. The radio in the background was playing vintage ragtime music loudly throughout the hangar. Suddenly, the music was cut, and a news anchor could be heard clearing his throat. "We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news. We take you now to Washington." Intrigued by the announcement, Charles put aside his work, and walked over to the radio to listen to what was being announced. "U.S. Naval officials have reported that the United States Naval Station at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii came under attack by air based Japanese forces this morning, local Honolulu time. At least three-thousand are reported to be dead, three hundered aircraft destroyed, and over twenty naval vessels torn apart. President Roosevelt has been contacted on the matter, and plans to meet with Congress some time tomorrow. That is all we have for now, please stay tuned for WKRO 1432 for more breaking bulletins!"
The station then cut out, and then slowly came back to ragtime music. Charles couldn't listen to it though. He turned the radio off, and sat frozen. Then, like nearly every other American boy eligable at the time, he went to enlist.
The next day, as President Roosevelt was making his "Day of Infamy" speech, Charles found himself at the enlistment depot for the Army Air Corps. After a physical, aptitude test, other screenings, and the oath to protect America, Charles found himself with a duffle bag, OD green shirt and trousers, and a bus pass to Miami, Florida for aviation training.
For the next year, Charles found himself bored with classroom instructions on how to fly, what not to do, and the other do's and don'ts of basic flight training. However, it was made up for in the time he got to spend flying in the T-6 Texan trainer. With his knowledge and past skills in flight, Charles found himself far ahead of a class who had never even ridden in an aircraft, yet alone fly one. Because of this, instructors passed him along to the advanced course, fighter training. While it was not the easiest course, Charles seemed to adapted well. He quickly accomodated himself to the many types of fighter tactics and defense maneovours. He found the P-40 Warhawk to be an exceptionally fine aircraft.
On March 25, 1943, the 21 year, 5 day old Charles Briggs graduated from Army Air Corps training. He was then handed a slip of paper upon receiving his wings. It was his deployment paper. After conversing with the rest of his graduating class, and congratulations from his father and sister, he sat down in private and unfolded the paper. He read carefully. After finishing the order to deploy, he folded it and tucked it in his dress pocket. He was going to the Atlantic Theatre, but couldn't tell anyone. He was to go immdiately, as the Americans and British were in drastic need for new pilots. He said his goodbyes to those who expected it, and was then driven by jeep to the train station. After clearing his ticket, Charles was trained to New York, where he was then put on a Liberty transport ship for the boatride to England. Everything seemed to move so fast now, but Charles anticipated what was to come.
Military Rank:
Second Lieutenant/Pilot Officer
Writing Sample:
"... Doyle! No!" Charles watched the horror through his tinted aviator goggles as he watched his wingman, and friend, Timothy Doyle and his P-51 tumble into a violent bank, and slam into the Earth nearly five thousand feet below. While he didn't see the crash, he had seen enough crashes to invision the last seconds of his friend, and it wasn't a good one. It never is. Charles was hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. He just lost a good friend. Someone he had known since flight school. Had it been a rookie, Charles wouldn't have been so emotionally distressed, because it was common for a rookie to try and show up the vets, and then ultimately buy it. But this was someone you don't expect to die. Or at least you lead yourself to believe they won't. And when it happens, it's that much harder.
Charles panned the skyline, up and down, for the bastard that shotdown Doyle. He knew what to look for. It was an Me-109, a good pilot flying it too. He had come out of nowhere and straffed Charle's flight. The other two Mustangs in the formation had to return to base due to lack of fuel and other damages, and that left Doyle and Charles. And now it was just Charles. He continued to search. Nothing. Blue sky above, green grass below. Charles was about to give up and head for him, regretful, until he saw the dot.
Looking up to his two o'clock Charles could see the black dot of another aircraft, and that dot grew larger, and approached faster. Soon that dot grew wings and a tail, and it was obvious it was the killer 109. Charles didn't hesitate, he throttled up and pulled up into the sky to meet the bandit head on. If he was going to go out, he was going to go out fighting. Confirming it was the fighter he wanted, Charles' regret turned into anger. He wanted to avenge his friend. Charles rolled as he climbed, and then balanced out to prepare to fire. Before he could, however, the Me-109 had opened up, and dinked parks of Charle's right wing. It wasn't enough to harm the plane, but it distracted Charles enough to give that Me-109 a chance to try and hide again. Luckily, Charles tracked it.
He pitched downward and rolled right to bank and try and get on the tail of the 109. He dropped altitude to come up on the 109's blind spot. He slowed down and applied the airbrakes so he wouldn't overshoot and get ahead. When his speed stabilized, he continued to pitch and roll until he alligned his sights on the 109. His crosshairs came on the tail of the enemy and then he waited for the German to make his move.
Charles watched and waited. He quickly glanced at his gauges and noticed his fuel was drastically low. If he was going to score this kill, it had to be now. He foucsed back on his crosshairs, and then his moment came. The German pilot pitched up and yawed to the right, this made his wings and fuselage extremely vunerable. Charles then pulled up as well, and got his crosshairs ahead of the 109. Charles then pressed on the trigger and he watched as the traces spilled out and arched into the 109. Charles continued to spray and the right wing of the 109 started to blacken and smoke.
He continued spraying the 109 with bullets until suddenly the right wing of the 109 broke off with a beautiful explosion. It tumbled past Charle's canopy and fell through the sky. The remains of the 109 began to dive downward in a right roll, but Charles didn't see this as he buzzed by the downed aircraft. Charles let out a scream of joy and sorrow. "That's for Doyle!" He balled up his left fist and pumped it as he leveled out and looked down to see the 109 spiraling towards the Earth. Charles lifted up his goggles and set his throttle to full and flew for home. He was greatful that he was able to find some solace in the vengance he took in the name of his friend. But even this small victory would not be enough to fill the void of a fallen comrade.
