Post by Guest on Aug 5, 2009 7:48:19 GMT
Accepted.
Account E-Mail: blindLnstinct@aol.com
Name: Hans von Rutgen.
Nationality: German.
Character History:
Born in 1921 to strict Prussian parents, Hans knew from his second year in grammar school that he was destined to follow in the footsteps of his father ; the military. A complacent child, he finished his schooling but was hesitant about joining the army. His father, a veteran of the Great War later told him that he didn't want him to join the army, he wanted him to serve the Fatherland in whatever way he wanted to.
The Luftwaffe was that way. He signed up with high hopes of becoming as famous as the legendary Condor Legion that ruled the skies during the Spanish Civil War. Accepted, he was inducted into basic training and completed it without difficulty. Following the various and somewhat rigorous exams regarding aeronautics and special emphasis on the Finger Four formation, Hans was allowed to sit in the cockpit of a plane.
The Focke-Wulf Fw 44 was not the ideal aircraft for a soon to be Luftwaffe pilot, but the necessities were quickly learned. Hans had mastered 160 hours of flight time in that damnable Fw 44 before he was even allowed to see a Stuka Ju-87 or a Messerschmidt BF-109. They were beautiful aircraft, and they would serve to dominate the skies of Europe for many years to come.
Military Rank: Unteroffizer
Writing Sample:
The radio buzzed without end, and Hans opted to turn it off. General Command was offering little assistance in navigating the thick fog that had descended over the Mediterranean. The Daimler Benz DB 601A humming and keeping any impending outside noises from reaching his covered ears. He had seen the Hawker Hurricane's come in from four o'clock, and with a sporadic burst of fire dropped his lead Darwin before disappearing back down into the thickness of the fog.
Hans eased back on the throttle, dropped the nose into an angled dive and found the ocean waves just feet above him before leveling the sleek silver and black plane just a few dozen feet above the ways. Ahead, he saw the quickly approaching desert coast of the great African continent, surely there'd be an airfield to land at!
He passed through the remainder of the fog, banked left headed east and scoped out both flanks looking for a lengthy strip of cleared area he could land at. There! He saw it, a row of aircraft hastily hidden indicated a neighboring strip of combed gravel used to land. He pulled back on a lever near his left knee and the mechanical whir of the landing gear dropped.
He eased further back on the throttle and pulled the nose up. The wheels bumped into the sand and the Messerschmidt's thin frame bounced around as the plane came to a halt. His eyes darted across the sitting planes ; Hurricanes?! What?! He looked across his flank and noticed a British soldier, his Lee Enfield pointed right at Hans' cockpit.
" Out of the cockpit, kraut. "
" No! " Hans sat up, sweat coated his chest -- he was at the barracks. He was still in Germany. Whoo. That was a close one, Hans thought, before laying back down against the cot.
Account E-Mail: blindLnstinct@aol.com
Name: Hans von Rutgen.
Nationality: German.
Character History:
Born in 1921 to strict Prussian parents, Hans knew from his second year in grammar school that he was destined to follow in the footsteps of his father ; the military. A complacent child, he finished his schooling but was hesitant about joining the army. His father, a veteran of the Great War later told him that he didn't want him to join the army, he wanted him to serve the Fatherland in whatever way he wanted to.
The Luftwaffe was that way. He signed up with high hopes of becoming as famous as the legendary Condor Legion that ruled the skies during the Spanish Civil War. Accepted, he was inducted into basic training and completed it without difficulty. Following the various and somewhat rigorous exams regarding aeronautics and special emphasis on the Finger Four formation, Hans was allowed to sit in the cockpit of a plane.
The Focke-Wulf Fw 44 was not the ideal aircraft for a soon to be Luftwaffe pilot, but the necessities were quickly learned. Hans had mastered 160 hours of flight time in that damnable Fw 44 before he was even allowed to see a Stuka Ju-87 or a Messerschmidt BF-109. They were beautiful aircraft, and they would serve to dominate the skies of Europe for many years to come.
Military Rank: Unteroffizer
Writing Sample:
The radio buzzed without end, and Hans opted to turn it off. General Command was offering little assistance in navigating the thick fog that had descended over the Mediterranean. The Daimler Benz DB 601A humming and keeping any impending outside noises from reaching his covered ears. He had seen the Hawker Hurricane's come in from four o'clock, and with a sporadic burst of fire dropped his lead Darwin before disappearing back down into the thickness of the fog.
Hans eased back on the throttle, dropped the nose into an angled dive and found the ocean waves just feet above him before leveling the sleek silver and black plane just a few dozen feet above the ways. Ahead, he saw the quickly approaching desert coast of the great African continent, surely there'd be an airfield to land at!
He passed through the remainder of the fog, banked left headed east and scoped out both flanks looking for a lengthy strip of cleared area he could land at. There! He saw it, a row of aircraft hastily hidden indicated a neighboring strip of combed gravel used to land. He pulled back on a lever near his left knee and the mechanical whir of the landing gear dropped.
He eased further back on the throttle and pulled the nose up. The wheels bumped into the sand and the Messerschmidt's thin frame bounced around as the plane came to a halt. His eyes darted across the sitting planes ; Hurricanes?! What?! He looked across his flank and noticed a British soldier, his Lee Enfield pointed right at Hans' cockpit.
" Out of the cockpit, kraut. "
" No! " Hans sat up, sweat coated his chest -- he was at the barracks. He was still in Germany. Whoo. That was a close one, Hans thought, before laying back down against the cot.
)