Post by Reid on May 30, 2010 0:21:31 GMT
Approved.
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: William Reid
Nationality:
English
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
British Army
Character History:
The Reid family had long ties back throughout the history of Britain. At one point, the Sussex-based family had been leading nobility, with Lord Reid controlling a large portion of Sussex. Unfortunately, as the centuries went on, the family had less and less influence over the land.
By 1917, the title of Lord had slipped away from the family; however they still held influence on Sussex, with a large estate near the town of Battle, in East Sussex. The “lord of the manor” was Brigadier Anthony Reid, an ex-army officer, who finished his career as the Executive Officer of the Sixth Infantry Division before retiring in 1918.
The Brigadier had two sons, the eldest Thomas Reid, soon left the family tree, dying quite suddenly in an automobile accident not long after his 1895 birth. The second son, Edward, only a year the junior of Thomas found himself pressured by his father throughout his youth. Eventually, he took a position in the parliament, sitting with the Conservative party. Whilst in London with his work, he became involved with a young woman of no particular background, Miss Jennifer Scott.
In 1912, they celebrated with the birth of a son, Thomas named for his late uncle, and in 1917 William. It was decided that Jennifer and the two sons would live full-time with their Grandfather in Battle, while Edward would live in London whilst parliament was in session and on the estate when it wasn’t.
William looked up to Thomas, the brother just under five years his elder was a constant source of entertainment as the two boys grew. Their Grandfather had a firm belief that both of the young boys would avoid the “wishy-washy” path of their father, and take the proper jobs of nobility – officers in the British army.
As such, he deliberately left the manor an environment to stimulate their young minds and mould them. Walls were decorated with rifles of various eras, and paintings of battles, showing the British Empire triumphing over native forces as it spread civilisation to the corners of the world. The Brigadier always wore an old army uniform, kept in pristine condition and an Enfield Mk II revolver taking pride of place on his hip.
He encouraged the boys, telling them of brilliant stories with his time in the army, visiting exotic places, amazing experiences, and altogether turning them off of the prospect of a career in politics.
The two boys were initially home-schooled by a private tutor, but upon the boys turning thirteen they were sent away to Eton. William was a pupil of King Henry house. At the school, they were taught all of the subject’s appropriate, religion, arts, Latin and history. Religion and sports were deemed as the most important of all, though, being drilled into the pupils from day one.
In 1931, Thomas joined the British Army, and was sent away to Sandhurst military academy. The entire family was incredibly proud, apart from William who could only feel envy for his older brother. He wished for the attention, to be doted over like Thomas.
He redoubled his efforts at the school he had not long started, taking up boxing as an effort to get over the anger. Over the years, he steadily grew bigger and more determined, obsessing over getting in to the army.
In his third year, a month after his sixteenth birthday, he was hit with a blow like a hammer. His father was killed. He was flying over England, when the aircraft, a small Tiger Moth crashed. Both Edward Reid and the pilot perished when the light aircraft was destroyed. The accident crushed the family. Jennifer refused to leave her room for two weeks, crying non-stop. The only thing that pulled her out was the sound of a gunshot.
She entered the grand hall of the manor to find Brigadier Anthony Reid collapsed on the floor, his Enfield Mk II in his limp grip, his brains covering the wall. The tragedy sent William over the edge, the young man receiving the news whilst in boxing training. He lashed out, knocking his trainer to the ground in a few blows, eventually being restrained by a pair of rugby players leaping on his back, crushing him on the musty boxing ring floor.
The small incident was forgotten by the headmaster, putting it down to “acute mental stress” and suggesting that William spent a few days at home to recover. He spent a lot of that time at the manor outside, riding a chestnut horse, Thrasher around the acres of forest surrounding the house with one of the Lee Enfield rifles from the walls of the house in his arm, hunting down deer and boar, and the common game inside the grounds. He felt a return of control to his life as he lined up the animals, exhausted and defeated in the sights of the rifle before squeezing the trigger. Upon his return to Eton, he seemed to others darker, a gaunter figure, more reclusive.
However, in this time, his brother returned. After having been in the army for five years with several wheels greased, he was now a senior Captain, looking at becoming a Major by the end of the year. Yet again, William felt a great jealousy towards him, wanting that life.
For the remaining two years of his schooling, the simple fact was nothing much happened out of the ordinary. He fell back in to the throng of Etonian.
It was with great pride that in March 1939, he was accepted in to Sandhurst. Here, he was planned in First “Gaza” Company, Second Platoon. It was here he would spend the next 44 weeks, training, preparing for the career which would dominate his life.
The biggest news for the course came on 1st September, 1939, six months in to the course. Britain was at war. There was almost an air of disappointment, all the Officer Cadets believing that by time they had passed the war would be over.
However, it was not. When they graduated January 1940, Britain was still fighting. Second Lieutenant Reid was posted to do Corps training for the armoured corps of the British army. This was an interesting position, with the tactics of modern combat only just adjusting to the use of vehicles. Indeed, war had changed a lot since 1918 where correct tactics appeared to be for all ranks to march in file towards the enemy position. The idea of using mechanised units as a spearhead, and then using smaller amounts of infantry to secure objectives was radical, to say the least. This lead to a further ten weeks of training, focused around the Infantry Tank Mk II, the “Matilda”, the 25 tonne tank was a deadly weapon which Second Lieutenant Reid learnt to control, and use effectively.
By time he had finished all his training, it was turning April 1940. The war had been going on for eight months now, and it showed no signs of stopping early. Europe was still dominated by the “Phoney War,” with neither side making any attempts at aggression towards each other on the continent.
In Africa, however, British Armoured divisions were sparring with Italian and German tanks and infantry, and sometimes to quite heavy losses. With the two hundred officers from Sandhurst now split up, William found himself promoted to Lieutenant, and shipping away to North Africa.
Military Rank: Lieutenant.
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay how, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed…
This wasn’t particularly good shape now, was it? A Lieutenant of the King’s army lost! And in the middle of the African desert, as uncivilised a location as one could get.
It was a disaster, really. The Germans must have got some saboteurs in to the armoured lot, causing four tanks to break down a few miles from anywhere, in the typical nondescript “sandy place.” Coincidentally, of course, no sooner had they all broken down, Italian tanks had appeared from behind, targeting the Matilda’s weak armour. Luckily for Lieutenant Reid, his tank had been on point, and he’d clambered out to climb a small dune and observe the lay of the land. The four tanks were obliterated, and he threw himself over the edge of the dune, away from the probing machine gun fire from atop the enemy armour.
So now, it was a single British officer in the North African desert, lost, armed only with his Webley Mk VI, a knife, binoculars and a map. He didn’t even have any water or rations with him, those being left in the tank because of the size of them.
It was a good hour later before he made any movement, slowly climbing over the dune, Webley in hand, feeling the sand slip underneath his battledress shirt which was slowly riding up as he inched forwards. He slowly cast his eyes over the carnage. It seemed as if the Italians had left, the four gently smouldering tanks being the only thing on the road.
With a final look left and right to check it was all clear, Reid ran down the hill, stopping short of the first tank, lest he burn himself on it. He didn’t really have a plan from here, the basic idea revolving around finding some rations, possibly a radio, and trekking back to base.
He carefully climbed the metal of the first tank, feeling warmth through the leather of his boots. He gently laid the back of his hand on the hatch atop the tank, but pulled it away instantly as the hairs on it singed. There was somehow a big fire still on the inside of this vehicle. Quickly, dismounting he walked towards the second. This one didn’t feel as hot, and once he reached the top, he flung open the hatch, to be greeted with a disgusting sight.
The four crewmen had been scrambling against the hatch, but unable to open it as they roasted alive inside. A large belch of smoke emerged, stinking of burnt flesh. Reid held no hope of scavenging food from this one.
There were two tanks left, and he was about to mount the third when he heard a noise, causing him to stop mid step. An engine was coming this way, it sounded small, but he couldn’t be sure what it belonged to. Carefully, he climbed atop the tank, and peered through the binoculars. He recognised it as a Volkswagen Kubelwagen, complete with MG 34.
Lieutenant Reid quickly jumped down, landing in the sand, and taking cover behind the blown rear panel of a tank, away from the approaching Wagon. It was his only chance of escape really, hopefully it was a reconnaissance vehicle sent to check for documents on the ambushed tanks. He crouched down, drawing up a plan in his head.
Two minutes later, the German vehicle arrived, pulling to a stop. There were two crew members, one remaining in the vehicle sat at the MG, whilst the second grabbed his MP40 “Schmeisser” and began inspecting the front tank. Sat behind the second in line, Reid felt nervous, loosening and tightening the grip on his firearm as he listened to the harsh German language from the two men.
As the German soldier came around to look at the second vehicle, something caught his eye. Just to the rear of the vehicle he could make out a few pieces of paper, as if a folder had been dropped whilst somebody scurried away. He walked around, following the semi-circle of paper until he was on the vehicles blindside, away from the view of the gunner.
Reid pounced. He had moved himself so that he was lying atop the tank, flush with the armour so he couldn’t be seen, and he came down, swinging his leg catching the German soldier in the head, knocking him to the floor. The German let out a cry as he fell, and William heard shouting from his partner on the MG, presumably asking what was wrong.
The German’s hand went crawling towards the dropped Schmeisser, and Reid put an end it, leaping down on the hand, crunching the fingers under his boot. He picked up the German by the collar, and threw him to the side of the tank. He wanted to avoid gunfire, to try and confuse the Machine Gunner, make him think that perhaps his friend, whose name appeared to be Hans from the shouting, had simply fallen from the tank. And taking a prisoner back could prove useful, as well. And besides, he wanted the bastard to suffer for the carnage here.
As Hans staggered forward from the vehicle, Reid sent a left hook on to his nose, making him stagger backwards, before following with a right jab on to the same spot, causing the nose to break, and blood to pour over the German’s uniform. He finished with a “jawbreaker,” slamming his left fist in to the man’s lower jaw, snapping the head backwards in to the tank and causing him to slump to the floor, unconscious.
That was the first part, the easy part done. Now he had to somehow contend with a machine-gun armed, concerned German. He scooped up Han’s Schmeisser, and removed the unconscious man’s knife in case he woke up early, and kept his Webley in hand. He would no doubt have to shoot the gunner, as he wouldn’t be able to get close enough to incapacitate him.
With a stroke of genius, he grabbed the German helmet, and from the rear end of the tank, rolled it the full length of the vehicle to serve as a distraction. He heard a squeak as the MG was twisted, and a shout of “was?” as the gunner was distracted, and Reid swung out from the other end, swinging up his Webley and lining it with the German’s head. He squeezed off, twice, watching with satisfaction as a red cloud spurted out backwards, and the MG34 point skywards as Fritz fell backwards. Smiling to himself, he rounded the tank again, dragging Hans to the Kubelwagen.
Loading the unconscious German in to the back and tying his arms and legs together, he enjoyed a well deserved drink from the man’s canteen. Twisting the keys, he slowly led the vehicle off past the tanks, and started down the sandy road, back towards the forward base.
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: William Reid
Nationality:
English
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
British Army
Character History:
The Reid family had long ties back throughout the history of Britain. At one point, the Sussex-based family had been leading nobility, with Lord Reid controlling a large portion of Sussex. Unfortunately, as the centuries went on, the family had less and less influence over the land.
By 1917, the title of Lord had slipped away from the family; however they still held influence on Sussex, with a large estate near the town of Battle, in East Sussex. The “lord of the manor” was Brigadier Anthony Reid, an ex-army officer, who finished his career as the Executive Officer of the Sixth Infantry Division before retiring in 1918.
The Brigadier had two sons, the eldest Thomas Reid, soon left the family tree, dying quite suddenly in an automobile accident not long after his 1895 birth. The second son, Edward, only a year the junior of Thomas found himself pressured by his father throughout his youth. Eventually, he took a position in the parliament, sitting with the Conservative party. Whilst in London with his work, he became involved with a young woman of no particular background, Miss Jennifer Scott.
In 1912, they celebrated with the birth of a son, Thomas named for his late uncle, and in 1917 William. It was decided that Jennifer and the two sons would live full-time with their Grandfather in Battle, while Edward would live in London whilst parliament was in session and on the estate when it wasn’t.
William looked up to Thomas, the brother just under five years his elder was a constant source of entertainment as the two boys grew. Their Grandfather had a firm belief that both of the young boys would avoid the “wishy-washy” path of their father, and take the proper jobs of nobility – officers in the British army.
As such, he deliberately left the manor an environment to stimulate their young minds and mould them. Walls were decorated with rifles of various eras, and paintings of battles, showing the British Empire triumphing over native forces as it spread civilisation to the corners of the world. The Brigadier always wore an old army uniform, kept in pristine condition and an Enfield Mk II revolver taking pride of place on his hip.
He encouraged the boys, telling them of brilliant stories with his time in the army, visiting exotic places, amazing experiences, and altogether turning them off of the prospect of a career in politics.
The two boys were initially home-schooled by a private tutor, but upon the boys turning thirteen they were sent away to Eton. William was a pupil of King Henry house. At the school, they were taught all of the subject’s appropriate, religion, arts, Latin and history. Religion and sports were deemed as the most important of all, though, being drilled into the pupils from day one.
In 1931, Thomas joined the British Army, and was sent away to Sandhurst military academy. The entire family was incredibly proud, apart from William who could only feel envy for his older brother. He wished for the attention, to be doted over like Thomas.
He redoubled his efforts at the school he had not long started, taking up boxing as an effort to get over the anger. Over the years, he steadily grew bigger and more determined, obsessing over getting in to the army.
In his third year, a month after his sixteenth birthday, he was hit with a blow like a hammer. His father was killed. He was flying over England, when the aircraft, a small Tiger Moth crashed. Both Edward Reid and the pilot perished when the light aircraft was destroyed. The accident crushed the family. Jennifer refused to leave her room for two weeks, crying non-stop. The only thing that pulled her out was the sound of a gunshot.
She entered the grand hall of the manor to find Brigadier Anthony Reid collapsed on the floor, his Enfield Mk II in his limp grip, his brains covering the wall. The tragedy sent William over the edge, the young man receiving the news whilst in boxing training. He lashed out, knocking his trainer to the ground in a few blows, eventually being restrained by a pair of rugby players leaping on his back, crushing him on the musty boxing ring floor.
The small incident was forgotten by the headmaster, putting it down to “acute mental stress” and suggesting that William spent a few days at home to recover. He spent a lot of that time at the manor outside, riding a chestnut horse, Thrasher around the acres of forest surrounding the house with one of the Lee Enfield rifles from the walls of the house in his arm, hunting down deer and boar, and the common game inside the grounds. He felt a return of control to his life as he lined up the animals, exhausted and defeated in the sights of the rifle before squeezing the trigger. Upon his return to Eton, he seemed to others darker, a gaunter figure, more reclusive.
However, in this time, his brother returned. After having been in the army for five years with several wheels greased, he was now a senior Captain, looking at becoming a Major by the end of the year. Yet again, William felt a great jealousy towards him, wanting that life.
For the remaining two years of his schooling, the simple fact was nothing much happened out of the ordinary. He fell back in to the throng of Etonian.
It was with great pride that in March 1939, he was accepted in to Sandhurst. Here, he was planned in First “Gaza” Company, Second Platoon. It was here he would spend the next 44 weeks, training, preparing for the career which would dominate his life.
The biggest news for the course came on 1st September, 1939, six months in to the course. Britain was at war. There was almost an air of disappointment, all the Officer Cadets believing that by time they had passed the war would be over.
However, it was not. When they graduated January 1940, Britain was still fighting. Second Lieutenant Reid was posted to do Corps training for the armoured corps of the British army. This was an interesting position, with the tactics of modern combat only just adjusting to the use of vehicles. Indeed, war had changed a lot since 1918 where correct tactics appeared to be for all ranks to march in file towards the enemy position. The idea of using mechanised units as a spearhead, and then using smaller amounts of infantry to secure objectives was radical, to say the least. This lead to a further ten weeks of training, focused around the Infantry Tank Mk II, the “Matilda”, the 25 tonne tank was a deadly weapon which Second Lieutenant Reid learnt to control, and use effectively.
By time he had finished all his training, it was turning April 1940. The war had been going on for eight months now, and it showed no signs of stopping early. Europe was still dominated by the “Phoney War,” with neither side making any attempts at aggression towards each other on the continent.
In Africa, however, British Armoured divisions were sparring with Italian and German tanks and infantry, and sometimes to quite heavy losses. With the two hundred officers from Sandhurst now split up, William found himself promoted to Lieutenant, and shipping away to North Africa.
Military Rank: Lieutenant.
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay how, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed…
This wasn’t particularly good shape now, was it? A Lieutenant of the King’s army lost! And in the middle of the African desert, as uncivilised a location as one could get.
It was a disaster, really. The Germans must have got some saboteurs in to the armoured lot, causing four tanks to break down a few miles from anywhere, in the typical nondescript “sandy place.” Coincidentally, of course, no sooner had they all broken down, Italian tanks had appeared from behind, targeting the Matilda’s weak armour. Luckily for Lieutenant Reid, his tank had been on point, and he’d clambered out to climb a small dune and observe the lay of the land. The four tanks were obliterated, and he threw himself over the edge of the dune, away from the probing machine gun fire from atop the enemy armour.
So now, it was a single British officer in the North African desert, lost, armed only with his Webley Mk VI, a knife, binoculars and a map. He didn’t even have any water or rations with him, those being left in the tank because of the size of them.
It was a good hour later before he made any movement, slowly climbing over the dune, Webley in hand, feeling the sand slip underneath his battledress shirt which was slowly riding up as he inched forwards. He slowly cast his eyes over the carnage. It seemed as if the Italians had left, the four gently smouldering tanks being the only thing on the road.
With a final look left and right to check it was all clear, Reid ran down the hill, stopping short of the first tank, lest he burn himself on it. He didn’t really have a plan from here, the basic idea revolving around finding some rations, possibly a radio, and trekking back to base.
He carefully climbed the metal of the first tank, feeling warmth through the leather of his boots. He gently laid the back of his hand on the hatch atop the tank, but pulled it away instantly as the hairs on it singed. There was somehow a big fire still on the inside of this vehicle. Quickly, dismounting he walked towards the second. This one didn’t feel as hot, and once he reached the top, he flung open the hatch, to be greeted with a disgusting sight.
The four crewmen had been scrambling against the hatch, but unable to open it as they roasted alive inside. A large belch of smoke emerged, stinking of burnt flesh. Reid held no hope of scavenging food from this one.
There were two tanks left, and he was about to mount the third when he heard a noise, causing him to stop mid step. An engine was coming this way, it sounded small, but he couldn’t be sure what it belonged to. Carefully, he climbed atop the tank, and peered through the binoculars. He recognised it as a Volkswagen Kubelwagen, complete with MG 34.
Lieutenant Reid quickly jumped down, landing in the sand, and taking cover behind the blown rear panel of a tank, away from the approaching Wagon. It was his only chance of escape really, hopefully it was a reconnaissance vehicle sent to check for documents on the ambushed tanks. He crouched down, drawing up a plan in his head.
Two minutes later, the German vehicle arrived, pulling to a stop. There were two crew members, one remaining in the vehicle sat at the MG, whilst the second grabbed his MP40 “Schmeisser” and began inspecting the front tank. Sat behind the second in line, Reid felt nervous, loosening and tightening the grip on his firearm as he listened to the harsh German language from the two men.
As the German soldier came around to look at the second vehicle, something caught his eye. Just to the rear of the vehicle he could make out a few pieces of paper, as if a folder had been dropped whilst somebody scurried away. He walked around, following the semi-circle of paper until he was on the vehicles blindside, away from the view of the gunner.
Reid pounced. He had moved himself so that he was lying atop the tank, flush with the armour so he couldn’t be seen, and he came down, swinging his leg catching the German soldier in the head, knocking him to the floor. The German let out a cry as he fell, and William heard shouting from his partner on the MG, presumably asking what was wrong.
The German’s hand went crawling towards the dropped Schmeisser, and Reid put an end it, leaping down on the hand, crunching the fingers under his boot. He picked up the German by the collar, and threw him to the side of the tank. He wanted to avoid gunfire, to try and confuse the Machine Gunner, make him think that perhaps his friend, whose name appeared to be Hans from the shouting, had simply fallen from the tank. And taking a prisoner back could prove useful, as well. And besides, he wanted the bastard to suffer for the carnage here.
As Hans staggered forward from the vehicle, Reid sent a left hook on to his nose, making him stagger backwards, before following with a right jab on to the same spot, causing the nose to break, and blood to pour over the German’s uniform. He finished with a “jawbreaker,” slamming his left fist in to the man’s lower jaw, snapping the head backwards in to the tank and causing him to slump to the floor, unconscious.
That was the first part, the easy part done. Now he had to somehow contend with a machine-gun armed, concerned German. He scooped up Han’s Schmeisser, and removed the unconscious man’s knife in case he woke up early, and kept his Webley in hand. He would no doubt have to shoot the gunner, as he wouldn’t be able to get close enough to incapacitate him.
With a stroke of genius, he grabbed the German helmet, and from the rear end of the tank, rolled it the full length of the vehicle to serve as a distraction. He heard a squeak as the MG was twisted, and a shout of “was?” as the gunner was distracted, and Reid swung out from the other end, swinging up his Webley and lining it with the German’s head. He squeezed off, twice, watching with satisfaction as a red cloud spurted out backwards, and the MG34 point skywards as Fritz fell backwards. Smiling to himself, he rounded the tank again, dragging Hans to the Kubelwagen.
Loading the unconscious German in to the back and tying his arms and legs together, he enjoyed a well deserved drink from the man’s canteen. Twisting the keys, he slowly led the vehicle off past the tanks, and started down the sandy road, back towards the forward base.