Post by Joachim von Goethe on Aug 1, 2009 2:21:29 GMT
Your hard work paid off (pretty much). Not quite Hauptman, but Oberleutnant. 
Account E-Mail: Seseme_Chicken_Guy@yahoo.com
Name: Joachim von Goethe
Nationality: German [More specifically Bavarian, but from what I see it is mostly listed as German in member’s profile]
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Nazi German Army [Although I would like to transfer to the Fallschirmjäger if the airborne is added]
Character History:
The story of Joachim von Goethe started in 1913, in the small Bavarian town Mittenwald. Mittenwald was, and still is, a fairytale town nestled in the foothills of the Alps, the River Isar trickling along next to the picturesque buildings and medieval architecture. Surrounded by the massive Alpine mountains and miles upon miles of forestry, Mittenwald had been a center of commerce for at least two thousand years. It was the perfect place for the two young lovers, Ilsa and Franz von Goethe, to marry and nurture their newborn son, Joachim von Goethe.
Joachim was a happy baby boy with sparse blonde hair and a rugged build, who enjoyed to eat and constantly wanted to be held. Ilsa and Franz bought a small home in the southern part of Mittenwald, its exterior walls painted with colorful bible scenes in the fashion of the 1700-1800’s. Baby Joachim’s room was overlooking their garden, teeming with life. When Joachim was young he used to love staring out at the plot of green land, the beautiful flowers, the bright red tomatoes and tall bean stalks. Ilsa spent most of her time at home tending to the house and nurturing Joachim, while Franz crafted violins and cellos, a staple of the town’s exports. Sometimes, on dark nights, Franz would play one of his instruments for the family, the music swirling around the house and enticing Joachim to dance. In fact, his first steps were to the tune of “A Midsummer’s Night Dream”. Together, the three peace loving people together in perfect harmony. But it all changed when The Archduke of Austria Franz Ferdinand was assassinated on parade in Austria-Hungary.
The German empire, which then ruled all of Germany including Mittenwald, saw this as an excuse to mobilize its large army and draft in every young man in the country. Joachim had only lived through a single year when his father was drafted, sadly leaving their quaint little Bavarian home behind and donning the gray uniform of the Prussian army. He was given basic training and a rifle and then thrust into the spearhead into France. Joachim’s father wrote a notebook full of letters for his son to read when he was old enough while in the trenches, and looked forward to giving it to the rapidly growing young boy. Franz von Goethe fought through every single year of the Great War, being criss-crossed from France to Russia almost every year. He earned the Iron Cross at The First Battle of the Marne for having three English bayonet kills confirmed and four more with his rifle and a grenade toss. The man resented every second of his military service, and never wanted to touch a rifle again when he was discharged after the defeat of the Central Powers without any serious injury throughout the whole war.
Six year old Joachim was delighted to see his father for the first time that he could remember, and helped undress him from his Army Uniform. Franz locked away his writings along with his uniform for when Joachim was older, and took the young boy and his mother for dinner at the most prestigious restaurant in Mittenwald for Bratwursts and Sauerkraut. But that was the last time the von Goethe family would eat out for an extremely long time to come. Life in the Weimer Republic was hard, due to the sloppy government and falling stock market. Hyperinflation came quickly, and Ilsa often burned the Marks she earned at her new house-sitting job as firewood. It was cheaper then buying logs or an axe. Franz and Joachim took long hunting trips into the Alps and the surrounding woodlands with his old rifle to find food for his family, let it be squirrel, deer, bear, and wolf. It did not matter what it was, whatever came into their range they shot. Ilsa tore everything out of her garden to eat, even leaves and weeds. She would boil it all down so it lost some of its bitterness and poured the slop into wooden bowls filled with water and game meat for her family to eat. Ever since, Joachim could remember the bitter taste of greens and salty meat in his mouth for the rest of his life.
The von Goethe family began to listen to the rants of an inspiring young man named Adolf Hitler on their beaten up dinosaur of a radio, and sixteen year old Joachim and his father enlisted in his striving NSDAP, wearing brown shirts and trousers and attending his rallies. At one of these outings Joachim received his father’s war diaries, and read it completely in one night. From then on, Joachim was determined to serve in the Germany’s army, and that he did. Joachim watched Hitler gain in popularity as the crowds went wild to his furious words, and he eventually wrestled control of Germany from the Weimer Republic’s grasp. The same year, Hitler and Goebbles converted the army into the Wehrmacht, including the Landespolizeigruppe General Göring, which set up a recruiting station in Mittenwald and hosted a military parade through the town square. Young Joachim von Goethe enlisted in the service and was sent through a quick police training and served through conventional law-enforcement duties for the next two years.
During this time, Joachim was enlisted as a Private and thrown in at an airfield, occasionaly arresting drunken men attempting the view the rapidly growing fighter planes. The young man enjoyed the work, for it got him good pay and a good bit of excitement from time to time. One time, a outlawed group of Communists tried to seize the airfield to rebell against the National Socialist government, storming the place with pistols and a few hunting shotguns. The Communists where quickly overwhelmed by the Landespolizeigruppe, and Joachim pulled his Luger pistol for the first time on a human being and dropped three rebels, earning him a promotion. Just a few monthes later, his beloved Landespolizeigruppe General Goring was transformed into the Regiment General Goring, the first designated Nazi airborne division.
Joachim was sent to Camp Altengrabow to begin Basic Training, where he was selected for parachutist training. “Camp Alty”, as Joachim and his training buddies called it, was tough as nails. They woke up at five in the morning, drilled until lunch, ate measly food, drilled until dinner, ate more measly food, drilled some more, and then went to bed, asleep before their Aryan heads even hit the pillow. Joachim was the best of the best in training, and due to the shortage of officers, was plucked right out of the enlisted ranks and thrown into officer school, where he had to take a grand total of 16 practice jumps in 13 weeks. He was granted the rank of Leutnant, and thrust in command of a platoon.
During the years leading up to the start of World War Two, Joachim drilled and instructed his men into perfect shape, earning a promotion to Oberleutnant in 1938. He loved the thrill of military life, especially in the elite Fallschirmjäger. The soldier was trained with a Karbiner 98k and a MP-40 submachine gun, not to mention the distinct paratrooper “Gravity Knife” and luger pistol that every German paratrooper carried on the drop, since other weapons where dropped in an equipment box with its own parachute. Joachim could not wait for the war that everyone could feel boiling up in Hitler’s reign. He gained the nickname “Mountain Man” for his Alpine lineage, and always kept fresh Edelweiss flowers in his office and on the collar of his uniform.
In 1939 the day finally came, when the panzers clanked into Poland and Joachim and the Fallschirmjäger redied for the invasion of Belguim in early 1940. Oberleutnant Joachim von Goethe paradropped into the Belguim contryside with the rest of his platoon, quickly taking several major stratigic force with extremly limited combat. For that, he was awarded the rank of Hauptmann, and stepped up his command to two platoons, a formidibale force for any Allied battalion.
Military Rank: Hauptmann
If my writing is not up to par, please at least give me an officer rank. I have tried extremely hard on his application, even going to get it proofread several times. I know I sound like a senseless idiot begging for a CO rank, I just really tried hard for it. Sorry for making a bad impression.
Writing Sample:
Hauptmann Joachim von Goethe shivered in the belly of the massive plane, listening to the growl of the metal bird’s engines and it spurted through the French countryside. It was cold in there, and every one of the 23 paratroopers where attempting to do whatever they could to stay warm. Some of them, including Unteroffizier Bayer, Joachim’s second in charge, lit up cigarettes, filling the compartment with pungent tobacco smoke. Some of them muttered to each other, talking about home and food and the weather, pretty much everything except the matter at hand. Joachim stared ahead with his blank gray-blue eyes, trying to memorize his orders. Jump, recover weapons, and take the valley. Jump, recover weapons, and take the valley. Just he didn’t know how hard the last step would be. There was at least a platoon of American soldiers camping there, expecting some attack on their defense. Hopefully, the Fallschirmjäger platoon would be able to overrun their trenches and be able to rendevous with the 10th Panzer division coming in from the south. If all went to plan, this could be the jump that could earn the Hauptmann his Iron Cross.
The drop light flashed red and Joachim rose to his feet. “Alright Paratroops, hook your static lines. Helmut, you got the weapon boxes?” he said. A German in the back said “Yes sir. All strung up and ready for drop.” The Hauptmann nodded and quickly checked over his jump equipment. His Luger was strapped tightly to his belt and gravity knife in his boot holster. Joachim’s pack and parachute was fine from what he could tell as he hooked his shiny steel static line, looking out into the bustling winds outside of the open jumpdoors. A collection of snow and air whitsled around the opening, biting at the paratrooper’s extremities with cold abandon. “Everyone ready for drop?” Joachim asked, and looked for nods even though it was a retorical question. If they weren’t ready, tough luck.
Once again the drop light flashed, this time green. Without a word, the German officer took a position on the left of the jump door and ushered out the Fallschirmjäger lined up to meet their fate. “Go go go! Remember, sharp as a grayhound, tough as leather, hard as Krupp steel! I’ll see you boys on the ground.” Soldiers poured out, headfirst as their parachutes opened, then blasted into unknown oblivion. Joachim felt strange that there was no fire from American Machine Guns attempting to take down a few of the Germans. Eerie. Soon, every paratrooper had bailed out and it became Joachim’s turn. He turned so his bearlike stature covered most of the door, took a deep breath, muttered a unheard prayer, and let his feet go from the steely floor of the transport plane.
Joachim always loved the intitial freefall, the feeling of falling through space a million miles a minute. As a result of the Irving-type chute harness, the Hauptmann had to bale out headfirst. Despite his broad shoulders and massive limbs, Joachim looked strangly gracefull as he jumped out of the cockpit. Almost as if he was a swimmer, diving into a pretty blue pool with a sparkly tile bottom. In fact, that is what he thought of everytime he jumped. A few seconds later, the tug of the parachute opening tugged back his graceful body into a muscular stance of feet out and big hands holding onto the parachute cords. The drop was uneasy but safe, the fear of Allied fire coming to pin the Germans down gnawing at the back of his mind.
Soon, Joachim neared the ground in an extremly fortunate way. He landed in a small clearing amongst the trees, filled with tall grass up to his knees. As he landed the soldier crunched up and landed on his elbows and knees, racking his joints despite the leather pads. Joachim tumbled when he hit the ground, flattening a small trail of grass in the field. As he was dragged by the still-inflated parachute the Fallschirmjager drew his gravity knife and cut the chute cabels, freeing him from the tormenting camo puff. Van Goethe lay in the flattened grass for a moment, his pulse returning to normal and his heaving chest return to calm. After his moment of physical gathering he got up into a kneeling position, drawing his Luger and creeping totally concealed through the wispy grass. The landscape was dusted with snow in a small premenition of the coming winter, which would take its toll on the paratrooper. He had always hated the cold, it soiled his bones with the freezing winters.
“Hey! Mountain Man!” a voice shouted from a few meters away. Despite knowing the voice was in German, the officer swung his whole body in the direction of the sound and extended his Luger pistol, his gray-blue eyes trained on the sights. But seven other Fallschirmjagers burst out of the forest, one of them lugging two green steel weapons containers. “Sir, lower the damn weapon. We found the weapons containers, but also Unteroffizier Bayer strung up in one of those firs. Neck snapped. The rest are still missing. MIA for now, I guess.” Joachim looked away and cursed over Bayer’s death. He had been a good man. “Come on, lets crack open the weapons cases. I’m getting nervous with just my Luger.” The Private nodded and set the two boxes down in the grass, opening the lids and revealing the contents. One contained as many Stick Grenades as you could count, and the other one had stacks of Gewher 43k rifles in it. The Hauptmann picked up one of the rifles and some cartridges, slung it over his shoulder, and took six stick grenades and thrust them through his belt. Three on one side of the belt buckle, three on the other. “Should we head out, sir?” One of the troopers asked. “Yes.” The officer said grimly, standing up and surveying the terrain. This would not be an easy night.
Account E-Mail: Seseme_Chicken_Guy@yahoo.com
Name: Joachim von Goethe
Nationality: German [More specifically Bavarian, but from what I see it is mostly listed as German in member’s profile]
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Nazi German Army [Although I would like to transfer to the Fallschirmjäger if the airborne is added]
Character History:
The story of Joachim von Goethe started in 1913, in the small Bavarian town Mittenwald. Mittenwald was, and still is, a fairytale town nestled in the foothills of the Alps, the River Isar trickling along next to the picturesque buildings and medieval architecture. Surrounded by the massive Alpine mountains and miles upon miles of forestry, Mittenwald had been a center of commerce for at least two thousand years. It was the perfect place for the two young lovers, Ilsa and Franz von Goethe, to marry and nurture their newborn son, Joachim von Goethe.
Joachim was a happy baby boy with sparse blonde hair and a rugged build, who enjoyed to eat and constantly wanted to be held. Ilsa and Franz bought a small home in the southern part of Mittenwald, its exterior walls painted with colorful bible scenes in the fashion of the 1700-1800’s. Baby Joachim’s room was overlooking their garden, teeming with life. When Joachim was young he used to love staring out at the plot of green land, the beautiful flowers, the bright red tomatoes and tall bean stalks. Ilsa spent most of her time at home tending to the house and nurturing Joachim, while Franz crafted violins and cellos, a staple of the town’s exports. Sometimes, on dark nights, Franz would play one of his instruments for the family, the music swirling around the house and enticing Joachim to dance. In fact, his first steps were to the tune of “A Midsummer’s Night Dream”. Together, the three peace loving people together in perfect harmony. But it all changed when The Archduke of Austria Franz Ferdinand was assassinated on parade in Austria-Hungary.
The German empire, which then ruled all of Germany including Mittenwald, saw this as an excuse to mobilize its large army and draft in every young man in the country. Joachim had only lived through a single year when his father was drafted, sadly leaving their quaint little Bavarian home behind and donning the gray uniform of the Prussian army. He was given basic training and a rifle and then thrust into the spearhead into France. Joachim’s father wrote a notebook full of letters for his son to read when he was old enough while in the trenches, and looked forward to giving it to the rapidly growing young boy. Franz von Goethe fought through every single year of the Great War, being criss-crossed from France to Russia almost every year. He earned the Iron Cross at The First Battle of the Marne for having three English bayonet kills confirmed and four more with his rifle and a grenade toss. The man resented every second of his military service, and never wanted to touch a rifle again when he was discharged after the defeat of the Central Powers without any serious injury throughout the whole war.
Six year old Joachim was delighted to see his father for the first time that he could remember, and helped undress him from his Army Uniform. Franz locked away his writings along with his uniform for when Joachim was older, and took the young boy and his mother for dinner at the most prestigious restaurant in Mittenwald for Bratwursts and Sauerkraut. But that was the last time the von Goethe family would eat out for an extremely long time to come. Life in the Weimer Republic was hard, due to the sloppy government and falling stock market. Hyperinflation came quickly, and Ilsa often burned the Marks she earned at her new house-sitting job as firewood. It was cheaper then buying logs or an axe. Franz and Joachim took long hunting trips into the Alps and the surrounding woodlands with his old rifle to find food for his family, let it be squirrel, deer, bear, and wolf. It did not matter what it was, whatever came into their range they shot. Ilsa tore everything out of her garden to eat, even leaves and weeds. She would boil it all down so it lost some of its bitterness and poured the slop into wooden bowls filled with water and game meat for her family to eat. Ever since, Joachim could remember the bitter taste of greens and salty meat in his mouth for the rest of his life.
The von Goethe family began to listen to the rants of an inspiring young man named Adolf Hitler on their beaten up dinosaur of a radio, and sixteen year old Joachim and his father enlisted in his striving NSDAP, wearing brown shirts and trousers and attending his rallies. At one of these outings Joachim received his father’s war diaries, and read it completely in one night. From then on, Joachim was determined to serve in the Germany’s army, and that he did. Joachim watched Hitler gain in popularity as the crowds went wild to his furious words, and he eventually wrestled control of Germany from the Weimer Republic’s grasp. The same year, Hitler and Goebbles converted the army into the Wehrmacht, including the Landespolizeigruppe General Göring, which set up a recruiting station in Mittenwald and hosted a military parade through the town square. Young Joachim von Goethe enlisted in the service and was sent through a quick police training and served through conventional law-enforcement duties for the next two years.
During this time, Joachim was enlisted as a Private and thrown in at an airfield, occasionaly arresting drunken men attempting the view the rapidly growing fighter planes. The young man enjoyed the work, for it got him good pay and a good bit of excitement from time to time. One time, a outlawed group of Communists tried to seize the airfield to rebell against the National Socialist government, storming the place with pistols and a few hunting shotguns. The Communists where quickly overwhelmed by the Landespolizeigruppe, and Joachim pulled his Luger pistol for the first time on a human being and dropped three rebels, earning him a promotion. Just a few monthes later, his beloved Landespolizeigruppe General Goring was transformed into the Regiment General Goring, the first designated Nazi airborne division.
Joachim was sent to Camp Altengrabow to begin Basic Training, where he was selected for parachutist training. “Camp Alty”, as Joachim and his training buddies called it, was tough as nails. They woke up at five in the morning, drilled until lunch, ate measly food, drilled until dinner, ate more measly food, drilled some more, and then went to bed, asleep before their Aryan heads even hit the pillow. Joachim was the best of the best in training, and due to the shortage of officers, was plucked right out of the enlisted ranks and thrown into officer school, where he had to take a grand total of 16 practice jumps in 13 weeks. He was granted the rank of Leutnant, and thrust in command of a platoon.
During the years leading up to the start of World War Two, Joachim drilled and instructed his men into perfect shape, earning a promotion to Oberleutnant in 1938. He loved the thrill of military life, especially in the elite Fallschirmjäger. The soldier was trained with a Karbiner 98k and a MP-40 submachine gun, not to mention the distinct paratrooper “Gravity Knife” and luger pistol that every German paratrooper carried on the drop, since other weapons where dropped in an equipment box with its own parachute. Joachim could not wait for the war that everyone could feel boiling up in Hitler’s reign. He gained the nickname “Mountain Man” for his Alpine lineage, and always kept fresh Edelweiss flowers in his office and on the collar of his uniform.
In 1939 the day finally came, when the panzers clanked into Poland and Joachim and the Fallschirmjäger redied for the invasion of Belguim in early 1940. Oberleutnant Joachim von Goethe paradropped into the Belguim contryside with the rest of his platoon, quickly taking several major stratigic force with extremly limited combat. For that, he was awarded the rank of Hauptmann, and stepped up his command to two platoons, a formidibale force for any Allied battalion.
Military Rank: Hauptmann
If my writing is not up to par, please at least give me an officer rank. I have tried extremely hard on his application, even going to get it proofread several times. I know I sound like a senseless idiot begging for a CO rank, I just really tried hard for it. Sorry for making a bad impression.
Writing Sample:
Hauptmann Joachim von Goethe shivered in the belly of the massive plane, listening to the growl of the metal bird’s engines and it spurted through the French countryside. It was cold in there, and every one of the 23 paratroopers where attempting to do whatever they could to stay warm. Some of them, including Unteroffizier Bayer, Joachim’s second in charge, lit up cigarettes, filling the compartment with pungent tobacco smoke. Some of them muttered to each other, talking about home and food and the weather, pretty much everything except the matter at hand. Joachim stared ahead with his blank gray-blue eyes, trying to memorize his orders. Jump, recover weapons, and take the valley. Jump, recover weapons, and take the valley. Just he didn’t know how hard the last step would be. There was at least a platoon of American soldiers camping there, expecting some attack on their defense. Hopefully, the Fallschirmjäger platoon would be able to overrun their trenches and be able to rendevous with the 10th Panzer division coming in from the south. If all went to plan, this could be the jump that could earn the Hauptmann his Iron Cross.
The drop light flashed red and Joachim rose to his feet. “Alright Paratroops, hook your static lines. Helmut, you got the weapon boxes?” he said. A German in the back said “Yes sir. All strung up and ready for drop.” The Hauptmann nodded and quickly checked over his jump equipment. His Luger was strapped tightly to his belt and gravity knife in his boot holster. Joachim’s pack and parachute was fine from what he could tell as he hooked his shiny steel static line, looking out into the bustling winds outside of the open jumpdoors. A collection of snow and air whitsled around the opening, biting at the paratrooper’s extremities with cold abandon. “Everyone ready for drop?” Joachim asked, and looked for nods even though it was a retorical question. If they weren’t ready, tough luck.
Once again the drop light flashed, this time green. Without a word, the German officer took a position on the left of the jump door and ushered out the Fallschirmjäger lined up to meet their fate. “Go go go! Remember, sharp as a grayhound, tough as leather, hard as Krupp steel! I’ll see you boys on the ground.” Soldiers poured out, headfirst as their parachutes opened, then blasted into unknown oblivion. Joachim felt strange that there was no fire from American Machine Guns attempting to take down a few of the Germans. Eerie. Soon, every paratrooper had bailed out and it became Joachim’s turn. He turned so his bearlike stature covered most of the door, took a deep breath, muttered a unheard prayer, and let his feet go from the steely floor of the transport plane.
Joachim always loved the intitial freefall, the feeling of falling through space a million miles a minute. As a result of the Irving-type chute harness, the Hauptmann had to bale out headfirst. Despite his broad shoulders and massive limbs, Joachim looked strangly gracefull as he jumped out of the cockpit. Almost as if he was a swimmer, diving into a pretty blue pool with a sparkly tile bottom. In fact, that is what he thought of everytime he jumped. A few seconds later, the tug of the parachute opening tugged back his graceful body into a muscular stance of feet out and big hands holding onto the parachute cords. The drop was uneasy but safe, the fear of Allied fire coming to pin the Germans down gnawing at the back of his mind.
Soon, Joachim neared the ground in an extremly fortunate way. He landed in a small clearing amongst the trees, filled with tall grass up to his knees. As he landed the soldier crunched up and landed on his elbows and knees, racking his joints despite the leather pads. Joachim tumbled when he hit the ground, flattening a small trail of grass in the field. As he was dragged by the still-inflated parachute the Fallschirmjager drew his gravity knife and cut the chute cabels, freeing him from the tormenting camo puff. Van Goethe lay in the flattened grass for a moment, his pulse returning to normal and his heaving chest return to calm. After his moment of physical gathering he got up into a kneeling position, drawing his Luger and creeping totally concealed through the wispy grass. The landscape was dusted with snow in a small premenition of the coming winter, which would take its toll on the paratrooper. He had always hated the cold, it soiled his bones with the freezing winters.
“Hey! Mountain Man!” a voice shouted from a few meters away. Despite knowing the voice was in German, the officer swung his whole body in the direction of the sound and extended his Luger pistol, his gray-blue eyes trained on the sights. But seven other Fallschirmjagers burst out of the forest, one of them lugging two green steel weapons containers. “Sir, lower the damn weapon. We found the weapons containers, but also Unteroffizier Bayer strung up in one of those firs. Neck snapped. The rest are still missing. MIA for now, I guess.” Joachim looked away and cursed over Bayer’s death. He had been a good man. “Come on, lets crack open the weapons cases. I’m getting nervous with just my Luger.” The Private nodded and set the two boxes down in the grass, opening the lids and revealing the contents. One contained as many Stick Grenades as you could count, and the other one had stacks of Gewher 43k rifles in it. The Hauptmann picked up one of the rifles and some cartridges, slung it over his shoulder, and took six stick grenades and thrust them through his belt. Three on one side of the belt buckle, three on the other. “Should we head out, sir?” One of the troopers asked. “Yes.” The officer said grimly, standing up and surveying the terrain. This would not be an easy night.