Post by Guest on Dec 21, 2009 10:37:43 GMT
Accepted, sorry about the delay.
Account E-Mail: sandlotslugger@hotmail.com
Name: Howard T. Jefferson
Nationality:
American
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
United States Army
Character History:
Howard Thomas Jefferson, distant relative of the founding father himself, was born on January 12, 1921 in Hartford, Connecticut. His father, Clarence M. Jefferson, was a successful businessman who was often called away to long business trips in Long Island, New York, but was always there for the important coming of age dates in Howard's life. His mother, Susan F.R. Jefferson, was a professional dancing instructor, who taught some of the most famous names on Broadway and the west coast how to dance in the most modern fashion.
Obviously, Howard had a very comfortable and educated upbringing. He was enrolled in New England's most prestigious prep schools, where he collected a vast bank of knowledge that extended from advanced mathematics to the history of Africa's most desolate tribes. He wasn't socially awkward either. Always attending a classmate's birthday party, or meeting with friends at either a library or the pharmacy for a soda and a game of jacks and marbles. He had a comfortable life.
He graduate from grammar school with honors in 1939, just days after Hitler and his Nazi regime began their European conquest with the invasion of Poland and eventually Austria. Howard kept himself informed on the current events and monitored it closely as he entered Harvard Law. It wasn't his choice. His father had his career, and basically the next thirty years of his life already planned out. Howard, never one or conflict, went a long like a stringed puppet, and proceeded to take courses to begin the end of his life.
While in college he met a young woman in his English class, Mary Tisdale. The two quickly fell for one another, and with it so did Howard's grades. This outraged his father, who would often threaten to cut him off financially if he didn't "make away with that filthy tramp." Howard was looking for any excuse now to get out from his father's debt. And on December 7, 1941, he got that break. With the Japanese having attacked Pearl Harbor, it was no doubt that the United State would finally be thrown into this war full force, and Howard saw it as an opportunity to get away.
After a very emotional night discussing his plan with his now fiance Mary, 20 year old Howard T. Jefferson gathered the courage to grow from his father. The following Sunday at a family dinner, when coffee was being served, Howard broke the news. His mother quickly objected to the idea of her son going off to war and his father quickly reminded him of the plans he had for him. Howard held his ground. He explained to both that it wouldn't be fair to have other sons die for freedom while he sat back and collected the rewards. That it was unAmerican and criminal to allow tyranny spread while he let himself go down a course of certain unhappiness.
His father still wouldn't budge. After minutes of words being exchanged, his mother ran to the kitchen in tears, for which Howard's father scolded him And thus what triggered it. He told his father that he was to enlist the following morning and that was that. As he and Mary held hands making for the door to leave, Howard's father shouted that if he left through that door he would no longer receive any money or support for college, and would be left to sure fate as a bum on the street mingling with the drunks and the thieves.
After seconds of hesitation, Howard looked back to his father and grinned, and said so simply, and yet so sarcastically, "That's the Army for ya pop!" And on that notion, he and Mary left his parents' home. The next morning, Howard went to the recruiting station not far from his apartment that he and married shared. After collecting information and passing a physical exam, Howard signed his contract for military service. He was given a ship out date, two weeks from that day. He left the recruiter's office smiling.
Two weeks later, just three days after Christmas, it was time to say goodbye. He hugged and kissed Mary as if he'd never see her again, and there was a strong possibility that it would be. But that wasn't in his mind. He bid her farewell and hailed a cab to the bus station. While on the bus, bound for whichever training facility was going to accept him, Howard reviewed his papers. He had volunteered for the paratroopers, in which he learned were an elite commando unit formed to drop deep into enemy territory and cause as much chaos as possible. At least that's what the LIFE magazine in the recruiting office had told him. He knew that in combat it was best to trust your comrades, not fear them. And who better to trust than one willing to exit from a perfectly good aircraft over a thousand feet in the air? It was a sure bet.
Howard was being sent to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and was to be given both basic training and parachute training at the facility. He arrived early in the morning. The Sun hadn't even risen and already an instructor was screaming at them to gather in formation. The rest of the morning, however, was uneventful. It consisted of an introduction to the base, the army life, and fitting for uniforms. It ended with day long fitness testing and calisthenics. This would become his normal routine for the next few weeks. Basic training itself was absolutely ordinary for Howard. He met the expectations of the instructors and even assisted his fellow trainees who were faltering. Howard, for the high society life he came from, was by no means an arrogant man. He accepted everyone as if he were no better than them, and this gave him ease in helping the other men in training, something the instructors caught eye on and watched.
Nine weeks went by with the standard developing of an Army soldier that was now Howard. But he wasn't close to finished. For now the newly commissioned Pfc. Jefferson was sent with the rest of his graduating platoon to the airborne section of Ft. Bragg to qualify for his paratrooper wings. If he failed here, it was "straight legged" infantry for him. So he did what he had to do. In his first week he began extensive calisthenics and physical training with his platoon, and made exits from mock airplane doors that rose four feet above the ground. He would later graduate to the thirty-four foot zip line towers that gave the impression of moving in flight. During the second week, mass exits were performed from mock towers, and free fall jumps from 250ft towers that allowed the trainee to control his landing. Howard performed exceptionally well, but the final test was still left.
The third and final week of paratrooper school had arrived. To pass, one had to make five successful exits from a C-47. The first two would be daylight jumps without gear. The third and fourth with gear, and the fifth being with gear at night. Howard was ready for the thrill and challenge. On the first jump, Howard stood at number three in the door. When the green light was given, his mind went blank and he charged down the aisle, and without second glance he let go of his static line hook and leaped out the door. He felt himself be dragged behind the plane and heard his parachute begin to unravel. It was the final POW and sudden calm that let him know all was well. He looked up and took hold of his risers an then looked directly forward, and what he saw amazed him. The entire South Carolina countryside, blankets of farmland in an afternoon Sun
All around him he could hear his fellow trainees cheer and shout to one another with glee and excitement. Howard grinned all the way down. He was in love with jumping.
The next two jumps went as normal, but on the fourth jump, the final daylight jump, Howard got a taste of how real things were getting. The aircraft circled around in the air, the men stood into the aisle as the jump master instructed. Everyone checked their equipment, and when the light turned green, they exited. Howard was jumping eleventh, and the man behind him, twelve, a kid from Texas by the name of Johnston, shuffled right behind him. Howard exited like it was a no brainier, and when he looked to the plane as it flew off he could see that Johnston had frozen in the door. He went back to watching his own chute to guide his landing, and it wouldn't be until he was back at the barracks that he learned of the events that had taken place.
Johnston froze in the door and refused to jump. The jump master, yelling at him to encourage him to jump, had lost all patients with him. Taking his heavy boot, he gave Johnston a quick kick in the rear to motivate him, and it did. But there was so much force that Johnston clamped on to his static line hook so tightly that it ripped from the static line. The chute didn't deploy on exit. All parachutes had a reserve, but for unknown reasons, Johnston's reserve was never pulled. His remains were found by the medics the following day in a small farm patch of grazing cattle. They were quickly sent home to his family with a folded American flag. A letter reading about how their son was a brave warrior who fought for freedom, when he never even left the states...
With tragedy behind them, the rest of the platoon made the final jump with a total success. And the following morning the men were issued their paratrooper wings and the stylish paratrooper boots. Each man blousing their trousers over them, as so was the practice. During the ceremony, promotions were also made. And the instructors hadn't forgotten about Howard's generosity of helping his troubled troops. He was presented with a commission to the rank of Sergeant. The chevrons were quickly applied to his new uniform and he shook hands with his commanding officer and the press corps.
Along with the graduation and promotion, Howard and his fellow soldiers were assigned under the 82nd Airborne Division. It was now mid 1942. Just several months ago Sgt. Howard T. Jefferson was to be Howard T. Jefferson, attorney at law, and husband. But significant events in the world now had him in New York, aboard a troop transport ship, bound for the European theater. His fate to be determined at the will of his superiors, and All Mighty God...
Military Rank:
Sergeant
Writing Sample:
The crunching of the snow was not helping Howard's cover as he paced his way through the tangled and snow covered woodlands of France. Also not helping him was the pitch black night that seemed to dislike having the Moon visit. Instead he had the sounds of sporadic gunfire in the distance, and what he thought were the crunching footsteps in snow not so far from his position. Howard was normally a calm soldier, but having been displaced from his team, and left without a map or compass, he was sure that the next person he saw was going to be Old' Gerry with a gift from Hitler.
He tried not to embed that thought into his brain. So he concentrated on working his way through the woods as quietly as possible. Something that was short of impossible, for if he wasn't crunching in the snow, he was snapping twigs or ruffling leaves. Another variable that wasn't helping him was his own breathing. The air was dry and cold, and the sharp burning sensation one gets when breathing in that air at a fast pace only makes you breath harder. And so the sounds of a heavily panting man would be a sure target for the enemy, or even the friendlies if they didn't take time to identify their target.
Howard crouched as he pulled himself through the thick and thin branches half fallen off from shrapnel. He continued to feel as if he were approaching people, but that thought would fad away with the sounds of gun fire off in the meadows. He had to keep sharp and think quick. His men needed him, and he needed his men. Wishing to hurry, Howard was weighted down with equipment and his bulky Thompson submachine gun. He slung it around his backside, figuring if he got shot, well at least it won't be in the back running away. He continued to move through the woods, attempting to look and listen for any human contact.
One leg in front of the other, he continued moving, panting, sweating, fearing. He was moving slowly until he came to a sudden stop. His eyes widened as he looked a head. He could see the figures of two men standing against two trees, facing one another. He couldn't make out whether they were German or American. He'd have to get closer, something he wasn't fond of. He inched his way, from tree to tree, stump to stump, taking minutes upon minutes, not taking his eyes off the men.
He was stepping into position at the next tree when suddenly the ground below him collapsed. He fell into a pile of branches and leaves, he also felt the body of a man below him, who began to shout and swing. The two men from the tree dashed to the sounds and with rifles pointed looked into the pit. Howard's helmet had fallen forward and all he could here was untamed screaming. It wasn't until he was able to flip his helmet back that he saw he had two men aiming rifles at him. The third man who was below him got out of the pit and scattered a few feet away. One of the riflemen spoke. "Match?" he asked in a stern and clear voice. Howard was relieved, for it was the American lines. The challenge was Match, to which the reply was Light. Howard gave the response and as the men helped him up, he saw it was his own team. They quickly laughed at their Sergeant for the embarrassing situation. And Howard himself shared in on the laugh.
Once things were reorganized and the humor had been exhausted, Howard and his men dug back in. There was a war on, and the Germans could punch through at any moment. They went back to their position and stood guard. It was Christmas morning...
Account E-Mail: sandlotslugger@hotmail.com
Name: Howard T. Jefferson
Nationality:
American
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
United States Army
Character History:
Howard Thomas Jefferson, distant relative of the founding father himself, was born on January 12, 1921 in Hartford, Connecticut. His father, Clarence M. Jefferson, was a successful businessman who was often called away to long business trips in Long Island, New York, but was always there for the important coming of age dates in Howard's life. His mother, Susan F.R. Jefferson, was a professional dancing instructor, who taught some of the most famous names on Broadway and the west coast how to dance in the most modern fashion.
Obviously, Howard had a very comfortable and educated upbringing. He was enrolled in New England's most prestigious prep schools, where he collected a vast bank of knowledge that extended from advanced mathematics to the history of Africa's most desolate tribes. He wasn't socially awkward either. Always attending a classmate's birthday party, or meeting with friends at either a library or the pharmacy for a soda and a game of jacks and marbles. He had a comfortable life.
He graduate from grammar school with honors in 1939, just days after Hitler and his Nazi regime began their European conquest with the invasion of Poland and eventually Austria. Howard kept himself informed on the current events and monitored it closely as he entered Harvard Law. It wasn't his choice. His father had his career, and basically the next thirty years of his life already planned out. Howard, never one or conflict, went a long like a stringed puppet, and proceeded to take courses to begin the end of his life.
While in college he met a young woman in his English class, Mary Tisdale. The two quickly fell for one another, and with it so did Howard's grades. This outraged his father, who would often threaten to cut him off financially if he didn't "make away with that filthy tramp." Howard was looking for any excuse now to get out from his father's debt. And on December 7, 1941, he got that break. With the Japanese having attacked Pearl Harbor, it was no doubt that the United State would finally be thrown into this war full force, and Howard saw it as an opportunity to get away.
After a very emotional night discussing his plan with his now fiance Mary, 20 year old Howard T. Jefferson gathered the courage to grow from his father. The following Sunday at a family dinner, when coffee was being served, Howard broke the news. His mother quickly objected to the idea of her son going off to war and his father quickly reminded him of the plans he had for him. Howard held his ground. He explained to both that it wouldn't be fair to have other sons die for freedom while he sat back and collected the rewards. That it was unAmerican and criminal to allow tyranny spread while he let himself go down a course of certain unhappiness.
His father still wouldn't budge. After minutes of words being exchanged, his mother ran to the kitchen in tears, for which Howard's father scolded him And thus what triggered it. He told his father that he was to enlist the following morning and that was that. As he and Mary held hands making for the door to leave, Howard's father shouted that if he left through that door he would no longer receive any money or support for college, and would be left to sure fate as a bum on the street mingling with the drunks and the thieves.
After seconds of hesitation, Howard looked back to his father and grinned, and said so simply, and yet so sarcastically, "That's the Army for ya pop!" And on that notion, he and Mary left his parents' home. The next morning, Howard went to the recruiting station not far from his apartment that he and married shared. After collecting information and passing a physical exam, Howard signed his contract for military service. He was given a ship out date, two weeks from that day. He left the recruiter's office smiling.
Two weeks later, just three days after Christmas, it was time to say goodbye. He hugged and kissed Mary as if he'd never see her again, and there was a strong possibility that it would be. But that wasn't in his mind. He bid her farewell and hailed a cab to the bus station. While on the bus, bound for whichever training facility was going to accept him, Howard reviewed his papers. He had volunteered for the paratroopers, in which he learned were an elite commando unit formed to drop deep into enemy territory and cause as much chaos as possible. At least that's what the LIFE magazine in the recruiting office had told him. He knew that in combat it was best to trust your comrades, not fear them. And who better to trust than one willing to exit from a perfectly good aircraft over a thousand feet in the air? It was a sure bet.
Howard was being sent to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and was to be given both basic training and parachute training at the facility. He arrived early in the morning. The Sun hadn't even risen and already an instructor was screaming at them to gather in formation. The rest of the morning, however, was uneventful. It consisted of an introduction to the base, the army life, and fitting for uniforms. It ended with day long fitness testing and calisthenics. This would become his normal routine for the next few weeks. Basic training itself was absolutely ordinary for Howard. He met the expectations of the instructors and even assisted his fellow trainees who were faltering. Howard, for the high society life he came from, was by no means an arrogant man. He accepted everyone as if he were no better than them, and this gave him ease in helping the other men in training, something the instructors caught eye on and watched.
Nine weeks went by with the standard developing of an Army soldier that was now Howard. But he wasn't close to finished. For now the newly commissioned Pfc. Jefferson was sent with the rest of his graduating platoon to the airborne section of Ft. Bragg to qualify for his paratrooper wings. If he failed here, it was "straight legged" infantry for him. So he did what he had to do. In his first week he began extensive calisthenics and physical training with his platoon, and made exits from mock airplane doors that rose four feet above the ground. He would later graduate to the thirty-four foot zip line towers that gave the impression of moving in flight. During the second week, mass exits were performed from mock towers, and free fall jumps from 250ft towers that allowed the trainee to control his landing. Howard performed exceptionally well, but the final test was still left.
The third and final week of paratrooper school had arrived. To pass, one had to make five successful exits from a C-47. The first two would be daylight jumps without gear. The third and fourth with gear, and the fifth being with gear at night. Howard was ready for the thrill and challenge. On the first jump, Howard stood at number three in the door. When the green light was given, his mind went blank and he charged down the aisle, and without second glance he let go of his static line hook and leaped out the door. He felt himself be dragged behind the plane and heard his parachute begin to unravel. It was the final POW and sudden calm that let him know all was well. He looked up and took hold of his risers an then looked directly forward, and what he saw amazed him. The entire South Carolina countryside, blankets of farmland in an afternoon Sun
All around him he could hear his fellow trainees cheer and shout to one another with glee and excitement. Howard grinned all the way down. He was in love with jumping.
The next two jumps went as normal, but on the fourth jump, the final daylight jump, Howard got a taste of how real things were getting. The aircraft circled around in the air, the men stood into the aisle as the jump master instructed. Everyone checked their equipment, and when the light turned green, they exited. Howard was jumping eleventh, and the man behind him, twelve, a kid from Texas by the name of Johnston, shuffled right behind him. Howard exited like it was a no brainier, and when he looked to the plane as it flew off he could see that Johnston had frozen in the door. He went back to watching his own chute to guide his landing, and it wouldn't be until he was back at the barracks that he learned of the events that had taken place.
Johnston froze in the door and refused to jump. The jump master, yelling at him to encourage him to jump, had lost all patients with him. Taking his heavy boot, he gave Johnston a quick kick in the rear to motivate him, and it did. But there was so much force that Johnston clamped on to his static line hook so tightly that it ripped from the static line. The chute didn't deploy on exit. All parachutes had a reserve, but for unknown reasons, Johnston's reserve was never pulled. His remains were found by the medics the following day in a small farm patch of grazing cattle. They were quickly sent home to his family with a folded American flag. A letter reading about how their son was a brave warrior who fought for freedom, when he never even left the states...
With tragedy behind them, the rest of the platoon made the final jump with a total success. And the following morning the men were issued their paratrooper wings and the stylish paratrooper boots. Each man blousing their trousers over them, as so was the practice. During the ceremony, promotions were also made. And the instructors hadn't forgotten about Howard's generosity of helping his troubled troops. He was presented with a commission to the rank of Sergeant. The chevrons were quickly applied to his new uniform and he shook hands with his commanding officer and the press corps.
Along with the graduation and promotion, Howard and his fellow soldiers were assigned under the 82nd Airborne Division. It was now mid 1942. Just several months ago Sgt. Howard T. Jefferson was to be Howard T. Jefferson, attorney at law, and husband. But significant events in the world now had him in New York, aboard a troop transport ship, bound for the European theater. His fate to be determined at the will of his superiors, and All Mighty God...
Military Rank:
Sergeant
Writing Sample:
The crunching of the snow was not helping Howard's cover as he paced his way through the tangled and snow covered woodlands of France. Also not helping him was the pitch black night that seemed to dislike having the Moon visit. Instead he had the sounds of sporadic gunfire in the distance, and what he thought were the crunching footsteps in snow not so far from his position. Howard was normally a calm soldier, but having been displaced from his team, and left without a map or compass, he was sure that the next person he saw was going to be Old' Gerry with a gift from Hitler.
He tried not to embed that thought into his brain. So he concentrated on working his way through the woods as quietly as possible. Something that was short of impossible, for if he wasn't crunching in the snow, he was snapping twigs or ruffling leaves. Another variable that wasn't helping him was his own breathing. The air was dry and cold, and the sharp burning sensation one gets when breathing in that air at a fast pace only makes you breath harder. And so the sounds of a heavily panting man would be a sure target for the enemy, or even the friendlies if they didn't take time to identify their target.
Howard crouched as he pulled himself through the thick and thin branches half fallen off from shrapnel. He continued to feel as if he were approaching people, but that thought would fad away with the sounds of gun fire off in the meadows. He had to keep sharp and think quick. His men needed him, and he needed his men. Wishing to hurry, Howard was weighted down with equipment and his bulky Thompson submachine gun. He slung it around his backside, figuring if he got shot, well at least it won't be in the back running away. He continued to move through the woods, attempting to look and listen for any human contact.
One leg in front of the other, he continued moving, panting, sweating, fearing. He was moving slowly until he came to a sudden stop. His eyes widened as he looked a head. He could see the figures of two men standing against two trees, facing one another. He couldn't make out whether they were German or American. He'd have to get closer, something he wasn't fond of. He inched his way, from tree to tree, stump to stump, taking minutes upon minutes, not taking his eyes off the men.
He was stepping into position at the next tree when suddenly the ground below him collapsed. He fell into a pile of branches and leaves, he also felt the body of a man below him, who began to shout and swing. The two men from the tree dashed to the sounds and with rifles pointed looked into the pit. Howard's helmet had fallen forward and all he could here was untamed screaming. It wasn't until he was able to flip his helmet back that he saw he had two men aiming rifles at him. The third man who was below him got out of the pit and scattered a few feet away. One of the riflemen spoke. "Match?" he asked in a stern and clear voice. Howard was relieved, for it was the American lines. The challenge was Match, to which the reply was Light. Howard gave the response and as the men helped him up, he saw it was his own team. They quickly laughed at their Sergeant for the embarrassing situation. And Howard himself shared in on the laugh.
Once things were reorganized and the humor had been exhausted, Howard and his men dug back in. There was a war on, and the Germans could punch through at any moment. They went back to their position and stood guard. It was Christmas morning...
. Just wait for an admin, it's the holiday season.
