Post by Guest on Sept 6, 2010 14:30:36 GMT
Account E-Mail: EDITED
Name: James “Reverend” Goodwill
Nationality:
American
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
US
Character History:
James Goodwill was born 7th October 1922 into a Christian family residing in Jackson, Tennessee. Goodwill’s Great Grandfather was involved in the Civil War that occurred between 1862 and 1863 near Jackson when the railroad was destroyed. His Grandfather fought and died in World War 1 and his father was a Police Officer, his mother a loyal housewife. Growing up as a devout Christian he attended the Trinity Christian Academy. After graduating he followed his Christian beliefs and joined the First Christians Church in order to spread the word in the service of God.
He never missed a service and was always the first to volunteer for anything the church was holding. He would often assist the priests at weddings, helping to set up the hall and as a doorman, welcoming the guests with a bright smile and a warm hand shake and words of congratulations. He would also assist at funerals and baptisms in anyway he could. It wasn’t long before he became an official Deacon, and soon after a Priest. He had a natural talent with public speaking and a quick mind, always ready with an answer to any question and he never seemed to age, looking as young and healthy as he did when he first joined the Church, he was sometimes called the “Baby Face Preacher” by some of the women who attended his services. He was always available at the church and the doors where never locked, he would often welcome in the lost and hungry, giving them a warm blanket and food for the cold nights.
On the 12th of October 1941 a few children came to the church. From their uniforms James could see that they where students of the Trinity Christian Academy, and he welcomed them with open arms. The children had come to him in order to research the old Holy Crusades for a history assignment. He spent half of the day answering questions and the idea of the crusades became stuck in his mind. Holy Knights fighting for God and Country, giving their blood to show their faith to the Lord Jesus Christ, the idea was appealing to him, and the militant blood that ran though his veins seemed to cry out to him to walk in the shadows of his family.
After the attack on Pearl Harbour on the 7th of December 1941 he decided embark on his own personal crusade and to follow in his families footsteps as noble defenders. He joined the armed forces to help defend America against the fascist Reich, and also to bring peace of mind and harmony to his fellow Americans as they too fought to protect their home and country. Armed with his faith, he quickly earned the nickname “Reverend” as he would quote prayers and sing hymns during hard times in training, raising the spirits of his fellow Christians and comrades. His commanders saw in him the ability to lead and command the respect of those around him, and he was often called upon to give sermons for the men and to raise morale. He was also called upon to give the last rites to those who had passed.
Military Rank:
First Sergeant (I’m aiming high…)
Writing Sample:
The darkness gave way to blurred shapes and colours; there was no sound except for a constant ringing. Eyes blinked, trying to make sense of the images they where seeing. A broken branch came into sharp focus before fading away again in the whirlpool of shapes. The scent of fire was strong and the heat was close, something burning materialized, a strange stick, with twigs that looked like curled fingers hung in the flames. James Goodwill crawled to his knees, rubbing his eyes and forcing them to focus, slowly the ringing in his ears gave way to the crackling of the fire. He opened his eyes again and looked around. He was kneeling in the middle of a crashed C-47, all around him where the scattered and burning remains of the aircrafts fuselage and tattered bodies of the crew and other passengers. He checked himself over for injury; with the exception of a small cut on his forehead he was relatively unharmed.
Something moved and James stumbled to his feet, half crawling over to a sheet of warped and twisted metal, hefting it aside he saw before him the pilot, still strapped into his seat. The mans chest had been crushed by the controls of the aircraft, and blood drooled from his lips. Clearly he was not far from standing before the Pearly Gates. The pilot tried to speak but only succeeded in coughing up more blood. James took the mans hand and placed his other upon the pilots forehead. He bowed his head and uttered a soft prayer,
“Unto God‘s gracious mercy and protection we commit you. The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace, both now and evermore. Amen.” James stayed with the pilot until his heart finally gave out and stopped beating. He rose to his feet and searched through the wreckage, finding a 1911 Colt pistol witched he tucked into his belt. At each body he passed he paused to say a prayer for the departed.
“Almighty God, we remember this day before thee thy faithful servant, and we pray thee that, having opened to him the gates of larger life, thou wilt receive him more and more into thy joyful service; that he may win, with thee and thy servants everywhere, the eternal victory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
Once he was satisfied that he had done all he could for those departed he rose from the wreckage and wandered out into the open. He turned a full circle, taking in all of his surroundings, from the rips in the earth from the plane crash to the soft grazing grass under his feet and few abandoned farm houses that dotted the landscape. Under the setting sun with his back to the downed flying machine the view he saw could only be described as heavenly. Surely the lord had been watching over him in order for him to survive the crash when all others had passed on into the lord’s arms. A memory flashed into his mind.
‘The seats rocked violently as the plane shook and groaned under the stress of the manoeuvre the pilot was executing, hot streaks of yellow light shot past the window. There was a loud bang and rattle as the bullets pierced the right wing. Flames burst from the engine and the once proud C-47 began her final decent to the earth.’
James shook his head and scanned the horizon. He could see some form of movement heading towards him. His eyes widened as he recognised the German truck. Looking around for an escape route he quickly dropped to the ground and skirted around behind the burning ruin of metal that was once the C-47. Once out of sight of the German truck he jumped to his feet and sprinted towards a hedgerow about fifty meters away. He pulled the Colt from his belt and drove head first into the thick bush. Pushing his way though to the other side he dropped onto his belly and peeked back through the leaves. Silhouetted against the flames and the setting sun was the form of three German Soldiers, poking though the wreckage in a search for survivors. James backed slowly away, muttering a prayer of protection over and over again.
“I beseech thee, Almighty God, look upon the hearty desires of thy humble servants, and stretch forth the right hand of thy Majesty, to be my defence against all my enemies; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
Silently James slipped away, hugging the hedgerow and making his way towards a farmhouse in the distance. He waited until the sun had set before breaking from the cover of the hedgerow and running in a crouch towards the house. He peeked in the windows before trying the door and finding it locked. Looking around first, he broke a windowpane and gained entrance to the house. He searched though the rooms to be sure that no one else was occupying the house before choosing a room and sitting on the end of the bed, contemplating his next move. He had almost fallen back on the back when the lights of a truck passed though the window. He jumped to his feet, looking around in a panic before divine inspiration struck; he looked up and spotted a hatch to an attic. He jumped on the bed and pushed the hatch aside, pulling himself up into the darkness. He closed the hatch, leaving only a small crack for him to peek though. A few minutes later he heard the front door being kicking in and footsteps storming the house. Three Germans entered the room below him, throwing the bed over and kicking in the cupboard doors before leaving to join their comrades. He could hear them talking, they stayed in the house for almost an hour, laughing and joking before finally moving on. James let out a slow sigh of relief and waited another half hour before climbing down from the roof.
He searched the house again, checking for any stragglers. The house had been torn apart, any place that could have hid a man had been checked. He went back to the room with the attic access and fixed the bed up, deciding to get some sleep. Before nodding off he said a quick prayer.
“Abide with me, O Lord, this night, and with all the sick and sorrowful, the forsaken and weary, to strengthen and to cheer, and to give rest. Amen.”
He was awoken by loud footsteps, his first instinct was to jump up and reach for the hatch in the roof but he froze as the door to the room swung open and the barrel of a rifle zeroed in on his chest.
“Get down! Get down now!” A voice shouted as the soldier stormed the room, followed quickly by four more, each levelling their weapons at James and shouting at him.
“Wait, hang on a sec boys! I’m American, I’m American.” James shouted as he dropped to his knees, his hands held high. The soldiers lowered their weapons; they grabbed James and marched him out to a convoy of trucks where an important looking man was waiting.
“Sir, one of ours.” The Major looked over James.
“Rough night, your with friends now. Mind telling me what happened?” James recounted the story of the crash and evading the German patrols before being ordered into the back of a truck. At last, he was safe again.
Name: James “Reverend” Goodwill
Nationality:
American
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
US
Character History:
James Goodwill was born 7th October 1922 into a Christian family residing in Jackson, Tennessee. Goodwill’s Great Grandfather was involved in the Civil War that occurred between 1862 and 1863 near Jackson when the railroad was destroyed. His Grandfather fought and died in World War 1 and his father was a Police Officer, his mother a loyal housewife. Growing up as a devout Christian he attended the Trinity Christian Academy. After graduating he followed his Christian beliefs and joined the First Christians Church in order to spread the word in the service of God.
He never missed a service and was always the first to volunteer for anything the church was holding. He would often assist the priests at weddings, helping to set up the hall and as a doorman, welcoming the guests with a bright smile and a warm hand shake and words of congratulations. He would also assist at funerals and baptisms in anyway he could. It wasn’t long before he became an official Deacon, and soon after a Priest. He had a natural talent with public speaking and a quick mind, always ready with an answer to any question and he never seemed to age, looking as young and healthy as he did when he first joined the Church, he was sometimes called the “Baby Face Preacher” by some of the women who attended his services. He was always available at the church and the doors where never locked, he would often welcome in the lost and hungry, giving them a warm blanket and food for the cold nights.
On the 12th of October 1941 a few children came to the church. From their uniforms James could see that they where students of the Trinity Christian Academy, and he welcomed them with open arms. The children had come to him in order to research the old Holy Crusades for a history assignment. He spent half of the day answering questions and the idea of the crusades became stuck in his mind. Holy Knights fighting for God and Country, giving their blood to show their faith to the Lord Jesus Christ, the idea was appealing to him, and the militant blood that ran though his veins seemed to cry out to him to walk in the shadows of his family.
After the attack on Pearl Harbour on the 7th of December 1941 he decided embark on his own personal crusade and to follow in his families footsteps as noble defenders. He joined the armed forces to help defend America against the fascist Reich, and also to bring peace of mind and harmony to his fellow Americans as they too fought to protect their home and country. Armed with his faith, he quickly earned the nickname “Reverend” as he would quote prayers and sing hymns during hard times in training, raising the spirits of his fellow Christians and comrades. His commanders saw in him the ability to lead and command the respect of those around him, and he was often called upon to give sermons for the men and to raise morale. He was also called upon to give the last rites to those who had passed.
Military Rank:
First Sergeant (I’m aiming high…)
Writing Sample:
The darkness gave way to blurred shapes and colours; there was no sound except for a constant ringing. Eyes blinked, trying to make sense of the images they where seeing. A broken branch came into sharp focus before fading away again in the whirlpool of shapes. The scent of fire was strong and the heat was close, something burning materialized, a strange stick, with twigs that looked like curled fingers hung in the flames. James Goodwill crawled to his knees, rubbing his eyes and forcing them to focus, slowly the ringing in his ears gave way to the crackling of the fire. He opened his eyes again and looked around. He was kneeling in the middle of a crashed C-47, all around him where the scattered and burning remains of the aircrafts fuselage and tattered bodies of the crew and other passengers. He checked himself over for injury; with the exception of a small cut on his forehead he was relatively unharmed.
Something moved and James stumbled to his feet, half crawling over to a sheet of warped and twisted metal, hefting it aside he saw before him the pilot, still strapped into his seat. The mans chest had been crushed by the controls of the aircraft, and blood drooled from his lips. Clearly he was not far from standing before the Pearly Gates. The pilot tried to speak but only succeeded in coughing up more blood. James took the mans hand and placed his other upon the pilots forehead. He bowed his head and uttered a soft prayer,
“Unto God‘s gracious mercy and protection we commit you. The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace, both now and evermore. Amen.” James stayed with the pilot until his heart finally gave out and stopped beating. He rose to his feet and searched through the wreckage, finding a 1911 Colt pistol witched he tucked into his belt. At each body he passed he paused to say a prayer for the departed.
“Almighty God, we remember this day before thee thy faithful servant, and we pray thee that, having opened to him the gates of larger life, thou wilt receive him more and more into thy joyful service; that he may win, with thee and thy servants everywhere, the eternal victory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
Once he was satisfied that he had done all he could for those departed he rose from the wreckage and wandered out into the open. He turned a full circle, taking in all of his surroundings, from the rips in the earth from the plane crash to the soft grazing grass under his feet and few abandoned farm houses that dotted the landscape. Under the setting sun with his back to the downed flying machine the view he saw could only be described as heavenly. Surely the lord had been watching over him in order for him to survive the crash when all others had passed on into the lord’s arms. A memory flashed into his mind.
‘The seats rocked violently as the plane shook and groaned under the stress of the manoeuvre the pilot was executing, hot streaks of yellow light shot past the window. There was a loud bang and rattle as the bullets pierced the right wing. Flames burst from the engine and the once proud C-47 began her final decent to the earth.’
James shook his head and scanned the horizon. He could see some form of movement heading towards him. His eyes widened as he recognised the German truck. Looking around for an escape route he quickly dropped to the ground and skirted around behind the burning ruin of metal that was once the C-47. Once out of sight of the German truck he jumped to his feet and sprinted towards a hedgerow about fifty meters away. He pulled the Colt from his belt and drove head first into the thick bush. Pushing his way though to the other side he dropped onto his belly and peeked back through the leaves. Silhouetted against the flames and the setting sun was the form of three German Soldiers, poking though the wreckage in a search for survivors. James backed slowly away, muttering a prayer of protection over and over again.
“I beseech thee, Almighty God, look upon the hearty desires of thy humble servants, and stretch forth the right hand of thy Majesty, to be my defence against all my enemies; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
Silently James slipped away, hugging the hedgerow and making his way towards a farmhouse in the distance. He waited until the sun had set before breaking from the cover of the hedgerow and running in a crouch towards the house. He peeked in the windows before trying the door and finding it locked. Looking around first, he broke a windowpane and gained entrance to the house. He searched though the rooms to be sure that no one else was occupying the house before choosing a room and sitting on the end of the bed, contemplating his next move. He had almost fallen back on the back when the lights of a truck passed though the window. He jumped to his feet, looking around in a panic before divine inspiration struck; he looked up and spotted a hatch to an attic. He jumped on the bed and pushed the hatch aside, pulling himself up into the darkness. He closed the hatch, leaving only a small crack for him to peek though. A few minutes later he heard the front door being kicking in and footsteps storming the house. Three Germans entered the room below him, throwing the bed over and kicking in the cupboard doors before leaving to join their comrades. He could hear them talking, they stayed in the house for almost an hour, laughing and joking before finally moving on. James let out a slow sigh of relief and waited another half hour before climbing down from the roof.
He searched the house again, checking for any stragglers. The house had been torn apart, any place that could have hid a man had been checked. He went back to the room with the attic access and fixed the bed up, deciding to get some sleep. Before nodding off he said a quick prayer.
“Abide with me, O Lord, this night, and with all the sick and sorrowful, the forsaken and weary, to strengthen and to cheer, and to give rest. Amen.”
He was awoken by loud footsteps, his first instinct was to jump up and reach for the hatch in the roof but he froze as the door to the room swung open and the barrel of a rifle zeroed in on his chest.
“Get down! Get down now!” A voice shouted as the soldier stormed the room, followed quickly by four more, each levelling their weapons at James and shouting at him.
“Wait, hang on a sec boys! I’m American, I’m American.” James shouted as he dropped to his knees, his hands held high. The soldiers lowered their weapons; they grabbed James and marched him out to a convoy of trucks where an important looking man was waiting.
“Sir, one of ours.” The Major looked over James.
“Rough night, your with friends now. Mind telling me what happened?” James recounted the story of the crash and evading the German patrols before being ordered into the back of a truck. At last, he was safe again.
