Post by GuestRyan on Dec 4, 2009 21:26:26 GMT
Accepted
Account E-Mail: Darth_spqr1@yahoo.com
Name: Viktor Charkov
Nationality:
- Ukranian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Soviet
Character History:
Viktor Charkov was born in 1915 to Vladimir and Anna Charkov in Odessa, Ukraine. Viktor had a hard childhood, with his father being a drunk. His mother was helpless to stop Viktor’s father, who would constantly abuse her without the slightest compunction. Vladimir rarely talked to his son, but when he did, he treated him with absolute opprobrium. Viktor did not understand his father’s reasoning, as the child was far too young at the time, so he bought into it, for the time being. Because of his cold relationship with his parents, Viktor often spent hours alone doing nothing for hours on end, as Viktor had nothing to do. The October Revolution left many Ukrainians in abject poverty, and because of this, Viktor did not have the necessities to entertain himself. Moreover, Viktor barely had the necessities to survive.
Viktor however, was a very bright child. Because of the fact that he had really no one to spend his time with during his childhood, he spent time reading books which were passed down from Vladimir’s father. At first, Viktor did not understand Cyrillic, the alphabet the books were printed in, but he soon taught himself through listening to other town’s folk.
The year 1922 brought about great change for Viktor and his family. One day in November of 1922, Viktor’s father came home drunk, as usual, yet something was different. For once, Viktor’s mother did not give in to the treatment his father usually gave her. Vladimir did not take kindly to this, and in a fit of rage, he connected with a right hook across her face. Once she was down, Vladimir stood over top of her and began kicking her violently. She still tried to fight back, but soon, her fighting was simply frivolous, as Vladimir, now in a complete rage, began to strangle her. By this time, Viktor, who was in his room, had heard to commotion. He rushed to his mother’s aid, but at the time, the poor boy was only seven. He pushed and tugged at his father to let go, but he never did. Viktor then saw a large meat cleaver, which his mother was using to cut up meat to put in a meager stew for their supper. Viktor tugged at it, and it came out of the hunk of meat quite easily. Viktor then moved it back and thrust his arms forward; the meat cleaver connected his father’s ceratoid artery. Viktor pulled back on the cleaver, separating it from his father’s neck. Blood gushed out violently in waves as his father’s heart pumped blood throughout the body. His father lie lifeless on the floor, and Viktor’s mother lie lifeless next to her.
Viktor felt no emotion now. He was completely numb towards the world. He walked outside into the freezing cold. Snow had begun to fall now, and it was getting dark. A lady saw Viktor on the streets and she felt inclined to help. In side of the women’s house, Viktor met the daughter of the lady. Her name was Anastasia. Though only seven, Viktor was enamored by the young lady. Anastasia’s family came from a humble background, and they always worked to get to their place in society. Their family were fervent supporters of Karl Marx’s teaching on Communism, and because of this, Viktor soon became indoctrinated on its ways. When December of 1922 came around, Viktor knew that things had changed. Anastasia’s family burst into joyous celebration of the fact that they were now officially apart of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. At this time, Viktor still did not know much about communism, but he believed he liked the change.
As time went by, Viktor taught himself the tenants of the Communist Manifesto. He became a well versed supporter of communism. He also developed a relationship with Anastasia, and by the time they were 20, they had confessed their love to each other. In 1937, the two of them got married in a humble ceremony in Odessa. They had two children, Zydrunas and Rasputkin, whom they came to love dearly. For once in his life, Viktor had been happy.
On June 22nd 1941, all of that changed—Operation Barbarossa commenced. Viktor heard the news, and quickly, he picked up his rifle and enlisted. Like Communism, Viktor soon learned how to excel in marksmanship, and he became an excellent shot. He would use this to defend the Motherland against the Nazi scum. His cause for fighting—To save the motherland. This all changed however, on one fateful day in September of 1941. The Einsatzgruppen moved into Odessa to rid the land of anything they found inferior. Viktor heard the news and he headed towards his home, hoping his family was still alive. When he arrived, he found the city in flames and the Einsatzgruppen nowhere in sight. He rushed quickly to his home, desperately wanting his wife and kids by his side. Upon arrival, he found three dead body’s in front of his home. His two children had gunshot wounds to the head, most likely from a Luger. His wife was naked, raped most likely by a lonesome SS soldier. She however, did not receive a bullet to the head. Unlike her children, she was riddled full of bullets from an MP40. “Those bastards” Viktor exclaimed as he held her in his arms. “They will pay” Viktor said, weeping.
Hitler had taken away the only three people in the world who he felt love for, and now, Viktor swore, Hitler, and anyone allied with Hitler would pay. Viktor, once again, felt numb.
Military Rank:
Starshii Serzhant
Writing Sample:
Viktor laid, eyes shut, on the cold, concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse. He was trying to catch some sleep before the night’s ambush of a contingency of Einsatzgruppen and Wehrmacht of Army Group Center in the city of Stalingrad. These were dark days for the city. The once great city, built by Ivan the Great as a bastion for the Slavic peoples, had now fallen into the abyss, crushed by the Third Reich. It was not safe for Viktor, Lieutenant Reznov, and their men in this city, and Charkov hated every second of it. This was a bastion for his people, and now, he couldn’t even exist in it. Moscow, at one time, drove invaders, like Napoleon, out in fear, but now it was the Soviets who were hiding in fear. Their day will come, Viktor thought to himself as he laid there. “Eventually, it will be their land, and their blood, and I will take great joy in raping their women and pillaging their towns, as they did to mine.”
Lieutenant Reznov then opened the door to the warehouse. The moonlight, which shone in brightly now, was enough of a stimulus for Viktor to know that it was time for the ambush. Lieutenant Reznov, alongside two Soviet soldiers, stood at Viktor’s feet. Viktor nodded at him, and picking up his scoped Mosin Nagant, he stood up and saluted him. They remained perfectly quiet during this time, as neither one of them knew where the Germans were lurking. They didn’t want to risk the chance of having their position compromised, as at this point, there were only four of them. Reznov and Viktor, alongside the two guards walked out of the room together, still in silence. They then disappeared into the night.
The mission was a simple one. The German Army Group Center, under Walther von Brauchitsch, was to rendezvous with Einsatzgruppen gruppe C in the center of the city of Stalingrad. Viktor, who would have mounted his scoped Mosin Nagant from a building close to where the rendezvous was taking place, was to fire and kill a Major who was in command of the small contingency of Einsatzgruppen. From this point, the Russian army, under Lieutenant Reznov, would emerge from adjacent buildings, taking the Germans by surprise and wiping them out, all the while with sniper support from Viktor.
Viktor found a ten story building in Stalingrad. It seemed like it would fit what he would need to set up a sniper’s nest. He moved around slowly to the front of the building, and then, Viktor noticed something that made him apprehensive at his mission. The building he was to snipe from had a Swastika on the front of it. Viktor had assumed that the Reich was using this building as some sort of headquarters. Whatever the risk though, it was a high building; Viktor had no other choice but to infiltrate it. Viktor knew that he could not enter the building from the front entrance. He would surely be killed by a volley of gunfire from the Waffen SS troops and Nazi personnel stationed inside. Because of this, Charkov was forced to find an alternate route. Viktor paced himself, walking slowly and cautiously along this sidewalk until he found a back alleyway along the building. He decided to walk down the alley to find an alternative route. From there, Viktor was able to find a ladder which led to around the fifth floor. The Russian Sergeant decided to scale the ladder to get to the floor. Securing his Mosin Nagant around his back, Viktor gripped a knife in between his front teeth, anticipating hand to hand combat. He then jumped, grabbing the bottom rungs of the ladder. Viktor scaled the ladder as quickly as a cat, and, upon coming to the window, he found the room vacated. Viktor assumed the soldiers occupying it were in some sort of makeshift barracks for the night and away from the building. His assumption was correct, as he was able to get to the top floor without detection.
Upon reaching the top floor, Viktor opened a window and unfastened his Mosin Nagant from his back. He now took time to try and get the feeling back into his hands. It was a harsh winter, as winters in Stalingrad usually are, and Viktor was completely numb from head to toe. He beat his hands on his thighs, trying desperately to gain better circulation in his hands, but it was no use. He had to go the mission, numb.
Off in the distance now, Viktor could hear the sounds of Panther tanks rumbling through the streets. Viktor now placed his Mosin Nagant upon the window sill, and, looking through the scope, he saw a column of soldiers and armor moving down the street-Army Group Center. He then turned his Mosin Nagant to the left and saw the same thing, only with a column of infantry—the Einsatzgruppen. Viktor led the Einsatzgruppen until they met in the center of the road with the Wehrmacht. He watched the Wehrmacht commander and Einsatzgruppen Major exchange formalities and it made the Russian veteran hate them more. His people were dying, and yet, these two men still had the audacity to exchange formalities. He would take great pleasure in taking their heads.
But then, something Viktor did not expect to happen, happened. From off in the distance, a German Wehrmacht soldier yelled, “Sowjets!” Viktor did not speak German, but he knew the word Soviet well. His stomach sank, his plan was discovered. He must act now! The German infantry and armor scattered to try to deal with the Soviets under Lieutenant Reznov, and now was Viktor’s chance. Viktor took aim at the Major’s head. He paused for a brief second, trying to soak in the moment. His life would be somewhat complete. Finally, he would be able to get a measure of revenge against those monsters of the Einsatzgruppen. He took a deep breath and fired, but right as he fired, a Panther tank moved into the line of fire. Instead of hitting the Major, the bullet ricocheted off of the Panther’s sloped armor. Viktor’s stomach sank once more as a German soldier yelled out, “Scharfschütze!” They were now moving in on his position, and Charkov’s worst fear was realized, he had been compromised. Charkov made his way down the stairs as quickly as he could, hoping he could find an alternate route once more. He knew deep down that his comrades were dead. Against such overwhelming odds, he had been foolish to think the ambush would work.
Viktor made it to the first floor, but met an unwelcomed surprise—A line of German infantry with their MP40 sights trained on Viktor’s head. Viktor put his sniper rifle down. There was nothing he could do, or could he? Viktor did not want to surrender to these bastards. They had killed his wife, they had killed his kids; they had taken the only meaning his life had away from him. Now, the only meaning Viktor could find in his life now was killing German soldiers loyal to Adolf Hitler. Therefore, he felt compelled to reach for the grenade on his equipment belt. As he did so, the Germans all pulled their index fingers backwards in unison, and BANG!
Viktor laid, eyes open, on the cold, concrete floor, of an abandoned warehouse, knowing now that it was only a dream.
Account E-Mail: Darth_spqr1@yahoo.com
Name: Viktor Charkov
Nationality:
- Ukranian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Soviet
Character History:
Viktor Charkov was born in 1915 to Vladimir and Anna Charkov in Odessa, Ukraine. Viktor had a hard childhood, with his father being a drunk. His mother was helpless to stop Viktor’s father, who would constantly abuse her without the slightest compunction. Vladimir rarely talked to his son, but when he did, he treated him with absolute opprobrium. Viktor did not understand his father’s reasoning, as the child was far too young at the time, so he bought into it, for the time being. Because of his cold relationship with his parents, Viktor often spent hours alone doing nothing for hours on end, as Viktor had nothing to do. The October Revolution left many Ukrainians in abject poverty, and because of this, Viktor did not have the necessities to entertain himself. Moreover, Viktor barely had the necessities to survive.
Viktor however, was a very bright child. Because of the fact that he had really no one to spend his time with during his childhood, he spent time reading books which were passed down from Vladimir’s father. At first, Viktor did not understand Cyrillic, the alphabet the books were printed in, but he soon taught himself through listening to other town’s folk.
The year 1922 brought about great change for Viktor and his family. One day in November of 1922, Viktor’s father came home drunk, as usual, yet something was different. For once, Viktor’s mother did not give in to the treatment his father usually gave her. Vladimir did not take kindly to this, and in a fit of rage, he connected with a right hook across her face. Once she was down, Vladimir stood over top of her and began kicking her violently. She still tried to fight back, but soon, her fighting was simply frivolous, as Vladimir, now in a complete rage, began to strangle her. By this time, Viktor, who was in his room, had heard to commotion. He rushed to his mother’s aid, but at the time, the poor boy was only seven. He pushed and tugged at his father to let go, but he never did. Viktor then saw a large meat cleaver, which his mother was using to cut up meat to put in a meager stew for their supper. Viktor tugged at it, and it came out of the hunk of meat quite easily. Viktor then moved it back and thrust his arms forward; the meat cleaver connected his father’s ceratoid artery. Viktor pulled back on the cleaver, separating it from his father’s neck. Blood gushed out violently in waves as his father’s heart pumped blood throughout the body. His father lie lifeless on the floor, and Viktor’s mother lie lifeless next to her.
Viktor felt no emotion now. He was completely numb towards the world. He walked outside into the freezing cold. Snow had begun to fall now, and it was getting dark. A lady saw Viktor on the streets and she felt inclined to help. In side of the women’s house, Viktor met the daughter of the lady. Her name was Anastasia. Though only seven, Viktor was enamored by the young lady. Anastasia’s family came from a humble background, and they always worked to get to their place in society. Their family were fervent supporters of Karl Marx’s teaching on Communism, and because of this, Viktor soon became indoctrinated on its ways. When December of 1922 came around, Viktor knew that things had changed. Anastasia’s family burst into joyous celebration of the fact that they were now officially apart of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. At this time, Viktor still did not know much about communism, but he believed he liked the change.
As time went by, Viktor taught himself the tenants of the Communist Manifesto. He became a well versed supporter of communism. He also developed a relationship with Anastasia, and by the time they were 20, they had confessed their love to each other. In 1937, the two of them got married in a humble ceremony in Odessa. They had two children, Zydrunas and Rasputkin, whom they came to love dearly. For once in his life, Viktor had been happy.
On June 22nd 1941, all of that changed—Operation Barbarossa commenced. Viktor heard the news, and quickly, he picked up his rifle and enlisted. Like Communism, Viktor soon learned how to excel in marksmanship, and he became an excellent shot. He would use this to defend the Motherland against the Nazi scum. His cause for fighting—To save the motherland. This all changed however, on one fateful day in September of 1941. The Einsatzgruppen moved into Odessa to rid the land of anything they found inferior. Viktor heard the news and he headed towards his home, hoping his family was still alive. When he arrived, he found the city in flames and the Einsatzgruppen nowhere in sight. He rushed quickly to his home, desperately wanting his wife and kids by his side. Upon arrival, he found three dead body’s in front of his home. His two children had gunshot wounds to the head, most likely from a Luger. His wife was naked, raped most likely by a lonesome SS soldier. She however, did not receive a bullet to the head. Unlike her children, she was riddled full of bullets from an MP40. “Those bastards” Viktor exclaimed as he held her in his arms. “They will pay” Viktor said, weeping.
Hitler had taken away the only three people in the world who he felt love for, and now, Viktor swore, Hitler, and anyone allied with Hitler would pay. Viktor, once again, felt numb.
Military Rank:
Starshii Serzhant
Writing Sample:
Viktor laid, eyes shut, on the cold, concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse. He was trying to catch some sleep before the night’s ambush of a contingency of Einsatzgruppen and Wehrmacht of Army Group Center in the city of Stalingrad. These were dark days for the city. The once great city, built by Ivan the Great as a bastion for the Slavic peoples, had now fallen into the abyss, crushed by the Third Reich. It was not safe for Viktor, Lieutenant Reznov, and their men in this city, and Charkov hated every second of it. This was a bastion for his people, and now, he couldn’t even exist in it. Moscow, at one time, drove invaders, like Napoleon, out in fear, but now it was the Soviets who were hiding in fear. Their day will come, Viktor thought to himself as he laid there. “Eventually, it will be their land, and their blood, and I will take great joy in raping their women and pillaging their towns, as they did to mine.”
Lieutenant Reznov then opened the door to the warehouse. The moonlight, which shone in brightly now, was enough of a stimulus for Viktor to know that it was time for the ambush. Lieutenant Reznov, alongside two Soviet soldiers, stood at Viktor’s feet. Viktor nodded at him, and picking up his scoped Mosin Nagant, he stood up and saluted him. They remained perfectly quiet during this time, as neither one of them knew where the Germans were lurking. They didn’t want to risk the chance of having their position compromised, as at this point, there were only four of them. Reznov and Viktor, alongside the two guards walked out of the room together, still in silence. They then disappeared into the night.
The mission was a simple one. The German Army Group Center, under Walther von Brauchitsch, was to rendezvous with Einsatzgruppen gruppe C in the center of the city of Stalingrad. Viktor, who would have mounted his scoped Mosin Nagant from a building close to where the rendezvous was taking place, was to fire and kill a Major who was in command of the small contingency of Einsatzgruppen. From this point, the Russian army, under Lieutenant Reznov, would emerge from adjacent buildings, taking the Germans by surprise and wiping them out, all the while with sniper support from Viktor.
Viktor found a ten story building in Stalingrad. It seemed like it would fit what he would need to set up a sniper’s nest. He moved around slowly to the front of the building, and then, Viktor noticed something that made him apprehensive at his mission. The building he was to snipe from had a Swastika on the front of it. Viktor had assumed that the Reich was using this building as some sort of headquarters. Whatever the risk though, it was a high building; Viktor had no other choice but to infiltrate it. Viktor knew that he could not enter the building from the front entrance. He would surely be killed by a volley of gunfire from the Waffen SS troops and Nazi personnel stationed inside. Because of this, Charkov was forced to find an alternate route. Viktor paced himself, walking slowly and cautiously along this sidewalk until he found a back alleyway along the building. He decided to walk down the alley to find an alternative route. From there, Viktor was able to find a ladder which led to around the fifth floor. The Russian Sergeant decided to scale the ladder to get to the floor. Securing his Mosin Nagant around his back, Viktor gripped a knife in between his front teeth, anticipating hand to hand combat. He then jumped, grabbing the bottom rungs of the ladder. Viktor scaled the ladder as quickly as a cat, and, upon coming to the window, he found the room vacated. Viktor assumed the soldiers occupying it were in some sort of makeshift barracks for the night and away from the building. His assumption was correct, as he was able to get to the top floor without detection.
Upon reaching the top floor, Viktor opened a window and unfastened his Mosin Nagant from his back. He now took time to try and get the feeling back into his hands. It was a harsh winter, as winters in Stalingrad usually are, and Viktor was completely numb from head to toe. He beat his hands on his thighs, trying desperately to gain better circulation in his hands, but it was no use. He had to go the mission, numb.
Off in the distance now, Viktor could hear the sounds of Panther tanks rumbling through the streets. Viktor now placed his Mosin Nagant upon the window sill, and, looking through the scope, he saw a column of soldiers and armor moving down the street-Army Group Center. He then turned his Mosin Nagant to the left and saw the same thing, only with a column of infantry—the Einsatzgruppen. Viktor led the Einsatzgruppen until they met in the center of the road with the Wehrmacht. He watched the Wehrmacht commander and Einsatzgruppen Major exchange formalities and it made the Russian veteran hate them more. His people were dying, and yet, these two men still had the audacity to exchange formalities. He would take great pleasure in taking their heads.
But then, something Viktor did not expect to happen, happened. From off in the distance, a German Wehrmacht soldier yelled, “Sowjets!” Viktor did not speak German, but he knew the word Soviet well. His stomach sank, his plan was discovered. He must act now! The German infantry and armor scattered to try to deal with the Soviets under Lieutenant Reznov, and now was Viktor’s chance. Viktor took aim at the Major’s head. He paused for a brief second, trying to soak in the moment. His life would be somewhat complete. Finally, he would be able to get a measure of revenge against those monsters of the Einsatzgruppen. He took a deep breath and fired, but right as he fired, a Panther tank moved into the line of fire. Instead of hitting the Major, the bullet ricocheted off of the Panther’s sloped armor. Viktor’s stomach sank once more as a German soldier yelled out, “Scharfschütze!” They were now moving in on his position, and Charkov’s worst fear was realized, he had been compromised. Charkov made his way down the stairs as quickly as he could, hoping he could find an alternate route once more. He knew deep down that his comrades were dead. Against such overwhelming odds, he had been foolish to think the ambush would work.
Viktor made it to the first floor, but met an unwelcomed surprise—A line of German infantry with their MP40 sights trained on Viktor’s head. Viktor put his sniper rifle down. There was nothing he could do, or could he? Viktor did not want to surrender to these bastards. They had killed his wife, they had killed his kids; they had taken the only meaning his life had away from him. Now, the only meaning Viktor could find in his life now was killing German soldiers loyal to Adolf Hitler. Therefore, he felt compelled to reach for the grenade on his equipment belt. As he did so, the Germans all pulled their index fingers backwards in unison, and BANG!
Viktor laid, eyes open, on the cold, concrete floor, of an abandoned warehouse, knowing now that it was only a dream.