Post by silence on Nov 22, 2010 0:08:45 GMT
Account E-Mail: BEGONE!
^Could this be hidden or cleared later?
Name: Wilhelm Schaefer
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?: German/Waffen SS
Character History:
Wilhelm was born in December of 1920 in rural Germany to Dieter Schaefer and Emma Eichel.
Dieter Schaefer owned a small store, selling everything from milk and cigarettes to the local newspapers. When the economy started failing and money started becoming scarce, he shut down the store in the summer of 1923 and moved his wife and newborn son to Berlin in search of a job. By luck, although Emma liked to think of it as a blessing from God, Dieter managed to get a job as a factory worker only a few weeks later. He used what little money he had left after paying the bills to send Wilhelm off to school in 1926, telling him to "get a good enough education and go farther in life then I ever did."
Wilhelm, unlike most other boys his age, enjoyed school and became a straight "A" student. And although he had a firm understanding of mathematics and science, he loved the arts. When he was 11, he got a job delivering newspapers. His mother made him put his money towards paying the bills, although his father often snuck and slipped a few coins into his lunchbox. Using this money he bought himself his first sketchbook and filled it with small drawings of strange creatures and rough sketches of people he knew. His mother disapproved of his art, ("You're only wasting your father's money!") and threw away the sketchbook. Discouraged but not broken, he saved up the money and bought a new sketchbook, this time hiding it underneath his mattress.
When he was 13, he lost interest in school, and started skipping class to wander through the streets of Berlin with some of the other boys. It was during one of these days that he met Cathrin and he instantly fell in love. They started talking and became close friends, often hanging out in some of the abandoned lots after school, just talking like long lost friends. He forgot about school all together, only going long enough that no one would try to mention it to his parents.
They had their first date in August, but when her brother Erik found out his sister was dating the local poor kid, he was furious. He followed them to the lot one day, and attacked Wilhelm with a length of pipe. The resulting fight grew more dangerous when Wilhelm drew his switchblade and lashed out, slicing a 5 inch long gash in Erik's arm. The police came, arrested Wilhelm and sent Erik to the hospital for stitches. Wilhelm was held until his furious parents took him back home. He was forbidden to ever speak to Cathrin ever again, and his mother made sure he stayed at school. He pulled back up his grades, although he viewed school as nothing but a forced activity.
When he was 15, Dieter was promoted and took over the factory. He saved his money and bought Emma an old piano. Although the wood was scratched and the keys were stained yellow, Emma loved the piano and spent the afternoons playing tunes her Grandmother had taught her when she was little. Eventually Wilhelm learned from his mother how to play piano.
When he was 16, he got a job at his father's factory and started saving his money to buy a house when he moved out. However, his mother suddenly fell ill with Pneumonia and became bedridden. Wilhelm quit his job to take care of his mother, who later passed away in the summer of 1937.
Grieving the loss of his mother, Wilhelm dropped out of school even though he was at the top of his class and resumed his job at the factory.
In 1938, a freak fire spread across the factory, and although Wilhelm and his father escaped without harm, his father died of smoke inhalation weeks later.
Alone, Wilhelm moved back out to the country and got a job as a butcher.
Only days after his 19th birthday the SS was knocking on his door and convinced him to consider joining the army. Seeing war as the only option left to him after his parent's death, he took them up on their offer.
Military Rank:
CO if possible
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 low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed…
Wilhelm crept behind the rubble of a destroyed house. Dirt, dust, and ash still hung in the air and burned his eyes and nose. He raised his sleeve over his mouth and nose, and quickly ran behind the ruined house and crouched behind the remains of a stone wall. He turned and pressed his back against the cold stone, and pulled his rifle in front of him. He was out of ammo, and he vaguely remembered having to use the last of his ammo to escape from that tiny patrol only three or four miles back. He sighed, his breath forming a little cloud of steam and pulled out his pistol.
"Ich hätte besser darauf vorbereitet zu haben." Wilhelm muttered under his breath as he thought of the bayonet back in camp. He reloaded the pistol and mentally scolded himself for forgetting to load it before time. He clutched it with his gloved hand, as he glanced around him in paranoia. He could have swore he had heard a twig snap, but he was sure he was the only one out here. He shrunk down, pressing himself against the wall and rocky rubble and held his breath for several seconds as he listened.
He heard nothing but the distant sounds of gunfire, several miles to his left. He ran a hand through his black hair, and tried to brush out the ash and dirt the covered it.
He had been running for several miles, trying to reunite with his squad since about noon today. He was bruised and scraped, and he counted himself lucky. He had only narrowly missed a Russian squad by minutes earlier this morning. The thick uniform he was wearing now had protected him from the freezing cold for most of the day, but now he cold feel the cold seeping in through his gloves and boots.
He slowly stood up and leaned around the corner of the wall. There was a steep, rocky hill to his right, a road several yards to his right, and past that, several acres of destroyed farmland. There were large chunks of rubble and dirt between and the next destroyed house about half a mile in front of him. He ran, his boots pounding against the frozen soil as he reached the next house and ducked in through a hole in the wall.
The inside barely resembled a house, everything inside was destroyed. Furniture was reduced to piles of splinters and floors were coated in dust and debri. He took a few steps forward and froze.
He knew he had heard footsteps outside, the same heavy thud on frozen ground. He gripped his pistol and turned just in time to come face to face with three Russian troops.
They laughed, their grip on their rifles tightening. One shouted something in Russian, and spit at his feet.
"Scheiße..." He muttered under his breath. He wanted to scream at them, taunt them, but he knew they wouldn't understand. He would only be wasting his breath on these dogs. He had been so close, only about a mile from the front and only about a mile from his allies. He straightened his back as they approached, the scent of nicotine lingering on their breath. He slowly backed up, eventually hitting a wall.
One drew their knife and stepped towards him and Wilhelm could see the cruel glint in the man's brown eyes. He tightened the grip on his pistol with his finger on the trigger.
They knew I was here! They were following me the whole time... If they knew where I was, why didn't they shoot me? Why haven't they killed me yet? I have nothing they want... He thought as the Russian closed in with the knife. They just want to watch me die as painfully as they can.
Shooting any of them would certainly get him shot, after all, he only had a pistol and a knife which he couldn't reach without drawing suspicion.
But I have no other choice... He thought as he tilted his wrist, aiming his gun from the hip, and prepared to pull the trigger.
"Nein!" Wilhelm looked up at the familiar voices. The Russians turned and aimed their rifles. He saw the grey uniforms circle behind the Russians. He pulled the trigger three times, feeling the warm blood spray against him as the Russian crumbled to the ground. At the same time, his own squad opened fire. The other two Russians fell to the ground.
"Schaefer! Welche Mühe hast du dich in dieser Zeit gefahren?" One of his squad members yelled as he walked towards Wilhelm.
Wilhelm had been lucky... Extremely lucky...
Translations
Ich hätte besser darauf vorbereitet zu haben. --- I should have been more prepared.
Scheiße... --- Shit...
Welche Mühe hast du dich in dieser Zeit gefahren? --- What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?
^Could this be hidden or cleared later?
Name: Wilhelm Schaefer
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?: German/Waffen SS
Character History:
Wilhelm was born in December of 1920 in rural Germany to Dieter Schaefer and Emma Eichel.
Dieter Schaefer owned a small store, selling everything from milk and cigarettes to the local newspapers. When the economy started failing and money started becoming scarce, he shut down the store in the summer of 1923 and moved his wife and newborn son to Berlin in search of a job. By luck, although Emma liked to think of it as a blessing from God, Dieter managed to get a job as a factory worker only a few weeks later. He used what little money he had left after paying the bills to send Wilhelm off to school in 1926, telling him to "get a good enough education and go farther in life then I ever did."
Wilhelm, unlike most other boys his age, enjoyed school and became a straight "A" student. And although he had a firm understanding of mathematics and science, he loved the arts. When he was 11, he got a job delivering newspapers. His mother made him put his money towards paying the bills, although his father often snuck and slipped a few coins into his lunchbox. Using this money he bought himself his first sketchbook and filled it with small drawings of strange creatures and rough sketches of people he knew. His mother disapproved of his art, ("You're only wasting your father's money!") and threw away the sketchbook. Discouraged but not broken, he saved up the money and bought a new sketchbook, this time hiding it underneath his mattress.
When he was 13, he lost interest in school, and started skipping class to wander through the streets of Berlin with some of the other boys. It was during one of these days that he met Cathrin and he instantly fell in love. They started talking and became close friends, often hanging out in some of the abandoned lots after school, just talking like long lost friends. He forgot about school all together, only going long enough that no one would try to mention it to his parents.
They had their first date in August, but when her brother Erik found out his sister was dating the local poor kid, he was furious. He followed them to the lot one day, and attacked Wilhelm with a length of pipe. The resulting fight grew more dangerous when Wilhelm drew his switchblade and lashed out, slicing a 5 inch long gash in Erik's arm. The police came, arrested Wilhelm and sent Erik to the hospital for stitches. Wilhelm was held until his furious parents took him back home. He was forbidden to ever speak to Cathrin ever again, and his mother made sure he stayed at school. He pulled back up his grades, although he viewed school as nothing but a forced activity.
When he was 15, Dieter was promoted and took over the factory. He saved his money and bought Emma an old piano. Although the wood was scratched and the keys were stained yellow, Emma loved the piano and spent the afternoons playing tunes her Grandmother had taught her when she was little. Eventually Wilhelm learned from his mother how to play piano.
When he was 16, he got a job at his father's factory and started saving his money to buy a house when he moved out. However, his mother suddenly fell ill with Pneumonia and became bedridden. Wilhelm quit his job to take care of his mother, who later passed away in the summer of 1937.
Grieving the loss of his mother, Wilhelm dropped out of school even though he was at the top of his class and resumed his job at the factory.
In 1938, a freak fire spread across the factory, and although Wilhelm and his father escaped without harm, his father died of smoke inhalation weeks later.
Alone, Wilhelm moved back out to the country and got a job as a butcher.
Only days after his 19th birthday the SS was knocking on his door and convinced him to consider joining the army. Seeing war as the only option left to him after his parent's death, he took them up on their offer.
Military Rank:
CO if possible
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 low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed…
Wilhelm crept behind the rubble of a destroyed house. Dirt, dust, and ash still hung in the air and burned his eyes and nose. He raised his sleeve over his mouth and nose, and quickly ran behind the ruined house and crouched behind the remains of a stone wall. He turned and pressed his back against the cold stone, and pulled his rifle in front of him. He was out of ammo, and he vaguely remembered having to use the last of his ammo to escape from that tiny patrol only three or four miles back. He sighed, his breath forming a little cloud of steam and pulled out his pistol.
"Ich hätte besser darauf vorbereitet zu haben." Wilhelm muttered under his breath as he thought of the bayonet back in camp. He reloaded the pistol and mentally scolded himself for forgetting to load it before time. He clutched it with his gloved hand, as he glanced around him in paranoia. He could have swore he had heard a twig snap, but he was sure he was the only one out here. He shrunk down, pressing himself against the wall and rocky rubble and held his breath for several seconds as he listened.
He heard nothing but the distant sounds of gunfire, several miles to his left. He ran a hand through his black hair, and tried to brush out the ash and dirt the covered it.
He had been running for several miles, trying to reunite with his squad since about noon today. He was bruised and scraped, and he counted himself lucky. He had only narrowly missed a Russian squad by minutes earlier this morning. The thick uniform he was wearing now had protected him from the freezing cold for most of the day, but now he cold feel the cold seeping in through his gloves and boots.
He slowly stood up and leaned around the corner of the wall. There was a steep, rocky hill to his right, a road several yards to his right, and past that, several acres of destroyed farmland. There were large chunks of rubble and dirt between and the next destroyed house about half a mile in front of him. He ran, his boots pounding against the frozen soil as he reached the next house and ducked in through a hole in the wall.
The inside barely resembled a house, everything inside was destroyed. Furniture was reduced to piles of splinters and floors were coated in dust and debri. He took a few steps forward and froze.
He knew he had heard footsteps outside, the same heavy thud on frozen ground. He gripped his pistol and turned just in time to come face to face with three Russian troops.
They laughed, their grip on their rifles tightening. One shouted something in Russian, and spit at his feet.
"Scheiße..." He muttered under his breath. He wanted to scream at them, taunt them, but he knew they wouldn't understand. He would only be wasting his breath on these dogs. He had been so close, only about a mile from the front and only about a mile from his allies. He straightened his back as they approached, the scent of nicotine lingering on their breath. He slowly backed up, eventually hitting a wall.
One drew their knife and stepped towards him and Wilhelm could see the cruel glint in the man's brown eyes. He tightened the grip on his pistol with his finger on the trigger.
They knew I was here! They were following me the whole time... If they knew where I was, why didn't they shoot me? Why haven't they killed me yet? I have nothing they want... He thought as the Russian closed in with the knife. They just want to watch me die as painfully as they can.
Shooting any of them would certainly get him shot, after all, he only had a pistol and a knife which he couldn't reach without drawing suspicion.
But I have no other choice... He thought as he tilted his wrist, aiming his gun from the hip, and prepared to pull the trigger.
"Nein!" Wilhelm looked up at the familiar voices. The Russians turned and aimed their rifles. He saw the grey uniforms circle behind the Russians. He pulled the trigger three times, feeling the warm blood spray against him as the Russian crumbled to the ground. At the same time, his own squad opened fire. The other two Russians fell to the ground.
"Schaefer! Welche Mühe hast du dich in dieser Zeit gefahren?" One of his squad members yelled as he walked towards Wilhelm.
Wilhelm had been lucky... Extremely lucky...
Translations
Ich hätte besser darauf vorbereitet zu haben. --- I should have been more prepared.
Scheiße... --- Shit...
Welche Mühe hast du dich in dieser Zeit gefahren? --- What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?
