Small raid on medical tent

[Obergefreiter S. Reinard]

Map:

img25.imageshack.us/img25/3836/medicaltent1.png







The night was silent the only thing you could hear was the screaming of pain from the soldiers being helped in the tent and the rain pouring down upon the tent. Sepp sat in the forest with one sgt near him. Reinard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two cigarettes and a lighter. he put one of the cigs in his mouth and handed the other to the sgt. he than lit the sgt's cig than his own. while Sepp puffed the cig he looked around a bit and looked to the sgt. Sepp nodded to the sgt and looked toward the target, The medical tent. Sepp knew that they would guard a medical tent reason being it has medical supplies that are very hard to get such as sryettes, blood plasmas, bandages and such forth. Sepp thought of Wolfrick and how Wolfrick was like a cousin to him and how he has knwon him a long time. Sepp knew his chance of surviving this was slim, he quickly said a prayer and looked toward the sky.Sepp than checked off his gear and quitely said "Rifle...Check, Corporal....Check, knife....Check, Stielhandgrenate...Check, all good". Sepp was happy to know everything was in place, he looked to the corporal and nodded. Sepp was kind of upset not knwoing if his brother was even still alive. Sepp tried not to think of bad things but instead good things. Such as how good of a shot he could be if needed. The only problem was bad thoughts kept coming to Sepp. Sepp took his rifle off his shoulder and looked down the sights. "It seems to be all lined up" Sepp said quitely. Sepp went about five feet from the sgt and cpl and started takign a piss by the tree. "Might as well get it done while i can" Sepp said to himself. Sepp than returned to postion and waited for the time to be right to attack.

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

OOC: Just so there’s no confusion on the trenches, I’ve done them man-sized. 200cm deep, with a 30cm firestep on the outer edge. In my trench, the only person on the step is the Bren gunner, Erik will elaborate on his men.

img40.imageshack.us/img40/3836/medicaltent1.png

A cloud passed over the moon, blotting out what little light there was. Involuntarily, Second Lieutenant Mitchell shuddered as the cold light vanished. He had thought that at night the desert was cold, but this muddy French field was almost as bad.

The poor lighting and heavy rain meant that visibility was down to only a few meters. From his positioning in the trench, Aaron could hardly see the gravel track ahead of him, the joyous one him and his men had marched down earlier that day. The main force of the 7AD was further down the road, at the front line in there lovely little slits, while Mitchell and his men had been given the job, no, the privilege of defending the medical tent. The tent itself was nearly invisible; the medic-in-charge had been called away, so there was no light, no noise, no nothing emanating from it. It was slightly creepy.

A slight movement beside him made the Officer bring his thoughts back to the moment. ”Problem, Hilson?”
The Bren gunner responded in an equally low murmur. ”I don’t know, sir. Thought I heard something ahead. Could be nothing, though.”

Mitchell nodded, and felt with his thumb for the safety catch to check his weapon was set to full-auto, and stepped up on to the firing step. He couldn’t see anything, but that was hardly surprising. He stepped back down, to the safety of cover and looked towards the two Privates sitting upon the firestep. They smiled apprehensively as they cracked open there eyes. He had ordered them to get some rest, but he shook them on the shoulders. It was almost time for the guard to change, for Mitchell and Hilson to grab some rest, but he wanted the lads to be awake first. He had a gut feeling, though. ”Lads, fix bayonets. Just do it.”

Vainly, he peered over his shoulder to try and spot the other trench they had chosen to occupy. He had decided the biggest risk came from the East, so he had set up Staff Sergeant Brentwood there, along with a group of men. He hadn’t really met the NCO before, but if it was Captain Brentwood’s younger brother, he couldn’t be that bad.

Pulling up his greatcoat around him, he reached down for the pack of biscuits he’d smuggled and stuck one in his mouth, offering the last to the gunner. It was going to be a long night.

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

OOC: Do we have a mod for this yet?

IC: Crimm stopped momentarily to check his small assortment of gear, making sure everything was in order and his scope had not been bumped or bothered in any way. He was possibly a little too cautious of his weapon but he figured it was a well placed type of concern given his role in combat. Combat…something Crimm hadn’t seen much of recently and was itching to get back into the fight. The briefings had already been passed around to the small group of soldiers preparing for the ambush for once they arrived on location strict light and noise tolerances were to be maintained at all times.

Seemed that the briefings hadn’t penetrated the skulls of a few of the men, after arriving the light discipline seemed to be tossed out of the window, Gimme a break! he thought. Not only did he have to be the one to hold the new soldier’s hand in combat, but it seemed he, and his men for that matter, would also have to be the ones to take the brunt of the consequences his stubbornness would undoubtedly bring upon them. None the less there was nothing that could be done about it. He couldn’t reveal his location just to get everyone in line, it was go time and there were no second chances. This had to be a near flawless execution if they were to pull off the task effectively. He only hoped the cover and concealment they had would prevent an early retaliation form their intended target.

Continuing to monitor the situation from his snug position it was easy to tell that the enemy was well dug in and probably didn’t have any intentions of making this hit easy for his men. His Sergeants knew their job, knew the game plan. May not have been the best one, but with the limited resources and man power, it was the best one they could come up with. Glassing over the enemy positions, it also seemed that they would be more or less blind to any first actions he and his men would be making, slunk down in their trenches, just never seemed to get an easy job anymore, well at least someone was learning from all of this.

With a few small and double checked calculations Crimm took a mental note of the few ranges in the area he would need, given the short range of the encounter, there was no need in recording them, or really getting any as this whole ordeal would take place in a very small area even given the worst of outcomes.

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

OOC: Strum is our mod. Map is the same as Nate's as I didn't move anyone. The Privates are on the fire step.

Steadying his Lee Enfield MK4 on the edge of the trench, the British man scanned the dark area before him. There was some underbrush growing at the top of a 40 something foot cliff. Probably some plants wishing to grow into a forest, but not being able to flourish near the cliff. As far as he could see, no one managed to sneak into the small are of bushes and small plants, but it was always a possibility. To his left was the trench obtaining Mitchell and his men, a road, and another forested area. Further down the line of men, Sergeant Williams was standing on the firing step with his Sten at the ready. They had worked out a system to have 2 men standing guard at all times while the others awaited their turn or rested.

Taking a step down from the firing step, Brentwood stepped onto some duckboards, which made up the flooring of the trench. Before they had left, they received reports of bad weather heading across the English Channel and had brought the necessary materials. The boards had been used in trenches in the Great War when water seeped through the bottom of the trenches to prevent trench foot and flooding of the trenches. They could work decently well in rain too, keeping the men from sitting in muddy water. He motioned for Davies to take up position on the firing position before taking a seat at the bottom of the trench. Setting his Enfield on the firing step, he pulled his overcoat over himself to keep warm. While Mithcell got his greatcoat, the rest of the men who weren't officers were provided with overcoats to keep warm and protected agains the rain. Being next to the road provided them with a good supply route for what they needed.

Staring at the other side of the trench wall, Brentwood realized how much danger they could actually be in. Walking into this, he thought they would see no action whatsoever. But after realizing how rich the supply route was next to him, he figured they had become a huge target. With the German soldiers being attacked on the frontlines, they could be desperate enough to go behind enemy lines and sever the link in the supply line. And they were that supply line. He had his men rest when it was not their turn to watch the top in order to keep them on their toes should a raid happen in the poor conditions. Suddenly, he felt a weight fall onto his shoulder as if one of his men had just dropped dead and toppled over onto him. Reacting brashly, Tyler tackled the corpse to the floor and was ready to call out a sniper, before realizing Beckett had leaned over on to him in his sleep.

"What the hell was that, Brentwood?" the young Private whispered. Picking himself up off the man and allowing him to sit upright he looked away and responded silently, "Nothing, Private. You fell on me. You shouldn't be sleeping, your turn is coming up." Beckett nodded silently before looking away from his leader. The next few moments passed in silence, before Brentwood noticed the Private next to him was shaking slightly. "You need to calm your nerves, Private. Nothing is going to happen when you go up topside," he whispered, temporarily pausing to reach into Beckett's overcoat. Pulling out the man's case of cigarettes, he noticed it was full. Shaking his head, he pulled out a lone cigarette and handed it to the man. "Here. Smoke this. Cover it with your hand and stay down as far as possible. Don't want anyone spotting a red light or smoke. Just take a few puffs and calm down." Brentwood had a gentle attitude when he spoke to the young lad. He made sure to be quiet though to prevent anyone overhearing.

"But sir, I don't smoke." Beckett murmured out a protest, but Brentwood quickly slapped the man on the back of the head. In response, Beckett allowed the Staff Sergeant to light his cigarette up before covering the flames from the rain and began to puff on it. Grabbing one of the cigarettes for himself, the Staff Sergeant light it up and covered the flame with his body and took a few puffs on the small cigarette. It eased the nerves and boosted morale in the miserable weather conditions. Conditions that made Tyler wonder how their comrades were faring further down the road where the real fight was at. The cigarette break only last a few seconds before Brentwood put them out and shoved them back in the case before placing it back in Beckett's overcoat. The boy rarely even used the cigarettes anyway. Tapping Beckett on the back, the Private didn't hesitate to grab his rifle and get on the firing step. It must have been the cigarette. Moving further down the line, he tapped on Williams back, signaling for the man to step down from the firing step. Another position over, Davies was now standing guard with his Enfield. Making his way back to his spot, Brentwood sat down on the boards and grabbed a hold of his Enfield.

Reason for Edit: I was informed we are at the top of the cliff not the bottom. Sepp specified that the cliff was forty feet and the trenches are at the top.

[Obergefreiter S. Reinard]

OOC: for the map i have placed where i and the two npcs will be by the end of my post


Map:


Translations:
1.God have mercy upon me
2.Quickly take cover once we start to move




Sepp looked over to the Sergeant and then the Corporal. Sepp than focused his attention to the Sergeant. The Sergeant motioned his hand to Sepp for him and the corporal to move out toward the cliff. Sepp than looked to the Corporal and motioned him on. The men quickly and quietly dashed toward the bottom of the cliff. The Corporal than fell, while the Sergeant kept on running to the bottom of the cliff. Sepp stopped and helped the Corporal up. The Corporal was quietly cursing, Sepp had asked him if he would be alright. The Corporal nodded, and than started checking off his equipment. Sepp than ran to the end corner of the cliff. He than looked over to the men and nodded."Gott haben Gnade nach mir" Sepp said almost silently. He than crept up the side of the hill and fixed his grenade. He knew he was practically hidden, and was not worried about being spotted. He pulled the pin on the grenade, stood up and lobbed it toward the entrance of the trench. He than jumped back down, praying he was not seen. He quickly made his way back down to his spot near the Sergeant and Corporal. He heard the grenade explode. He was unsure if it had killed anyone or not. He knew that the grenade explosion was the signal for the men in the woods to move a tad bit closer. He was unaware that they had not moved up any.




Sepp gripped his rifle tightly and stared to the Sergeant. The Sergeant nodded to Sepp, and Sepp nodded back. Sepp than tapped the arm of the Corporal. Sepp and the Corporal than crept toward the corner of the hill, while the Sergeant crept toward the other corner of the hill. Sepp prayed and started to crawl up the hill. The Corporal and Sepp went about half way up the side of the hill before they decided to go back down to their position. "Nehmen Sie schnell Abdeckung, sobald wir beginnen umzuziehen" Sepp said to the Corporal. The Corporal nodded and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a cigarette and threw it toward Sepp. Sepp grabbed it and thanked the Corporal. Sepp decided to save it so he placed it in his pocket. Sepp waited for the sound of gun fire to erupt. He was nervous but anxious to see battle.






Reason for edit: it was not quite the right length it should have been, or at least did not look it

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post[/u]

Let’s getting this battle moving again.

All Forces:

• The weather is becoming worse, if that is possible. Winds are now whipping up the rain and throwing against any object standing. They are blowing from the south-east (the bottom right corner). This also has the effect of making the river swell and consequently, the small forest in the east is close to being flooded. The ground has also become very muddy and waterlogged.
  

Obergefreiter Reinard:

• The grenade, having not been aimed well, and with poor visibility, did not land on target. Instead, it struck the crates of supplies and bounced just over them, before exploding. The Medical tent lost a corner poll, as shards of red hot metal passed through its canvass skin. One medic inside became a casualty, his back peppered with shrapnel. One wounded man was killed instantly by a blow to the head, an one other wounded man was wounded further. The crates themselves were shredded by the grenade which was designed more for concussive power than fragmentation. Splinters flew out in all directions, many small ones striking the British Sergeant’s back. Although blood is flowing, the multiple wounds which would stop most men, have only a limited affect on such a tough NCO. His effectiveness will be reduced across the board, but a little morphine will improve his performance.
  
• (Numbers given because none sated otherwise) Inside the medical tent there are now six wounded men (including the recently wounded medic) and one medic. With their supplies gone, the medic cannot treat the injured. It is recommended that these men are evacuated from the battlefield. Doing so may result in a nice bonus of CP, and a good word of merit (to go towards promotion). Leaving these men to die when your mission is to protect them may not be looked upon so well…
  
• The attack has heightened the alertness of the Allied soldiers, and all have quickly rushed to their positions, dropping whatever they were doing. Not following up with an attack may cost the German forces.
  

- Strumfelder
[/color]

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

The quiet stillness of the night was shattered by the grenade hitting the tent canvas and erupting in to flame. Mitchell involuntarily ducked, stepping off the firestep before coming back up, screaming at the top of his voice, ”Stand to! Stand to!”

In both trenches, all the men stood up, weapons brought to bear as they peered in to the darkness. ”Brentwood. You and your men stay put. Grenade must have come from over there keep eyes open.” He waited for a confirmation in the dark before addressing his own men. ”Hilson, if I was attacking here I’d come from the bush ahead of us. Put some rounds in to it see if we get anything. Anderson, get up and have a look in the tent. Assess the damage and the wounded then get back in here. Okay?”

It was only a few seconds after the explosion, but everyone knew what was happening and began reacting. Lance Corporal Hilson started firing quick burst in to the trees, tracer lighting briefly in the small flight between the trench and the targets. He was peering for targets through the muzzle fire and holding the weapon tight in to his shoulder. At the opposite end of the trench, Mitchell looked to make sure it was clear before hitting Anderson’s back, the Private lifting himself out the trench through the mud and moved towards the tent, pulling himself through the thick canvas and looked either side. Wounded men were around him, and the first one he saw was the medic. Crouching down, he shouted over the howling wind to the man. “Doc, what needs doing? Tell me what to do, I’ll help you guys!”

Map
Firing

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

Second Lieutenant Mitchell

• The loud shout, coupled with the grenade, mean all men were alerted and rushed to their positions successfully, ready to face the enemy.
  
• Taking care with his weapon, L/Cpl Hilson’s fire forced the German’s down onto their belt buckles. He found it hard to aim in the heavy rain, but did however, strike western most German Grenadier in the shoulder. The round has broken his right collar bone, but he is other wise okay. He cannot use his weapon, however.
  
• Following the scream of the wounded man, the German Unteroffizier quickly took control of the squad. The men began to return with rapid fire, suppressing the men in the British trench. They threw themselves against the trench wall as bullets whizzed over their skulls.
  
• The trace fire of the BREN unfortunately worked against Hilson. The German Stabsgefreiter raised his weapon and fired from the source of the burning rounds. He struck L/Cpl Hilson in the upper left arm, breaking the bone. He is now unable to carry his weapon (all of twelve kilos), and it will take him an entire round of posting to reload and cock his weapon. His aim will also be effected, the blinding pain in his arm distracting him. However, with some help he may be able to continue as normal.
  
• Dashing up and out of the trench, Private Anderson became a target for the Germans. The Unteroffizier spotted him and sprayed with his MP40, striking the Private once before his weapon jammed. The round hit Anderson in the head, knocking his helmet clean off, but doing no damage more than worrying the Private.
  

The next bit is the medic speaking to Anderson, which gives me the chance to write a bit

Junior Medical Officer Hopkins was quickly trying to make sense of this terrible situation. He’d just lost one man, Medical Cadet Pitstone was lying on the ground with his leg cut open, and one other Private was haemorrhaging from a chest wound. His table of equipment had collapsed through the blast, with all its contents buried in the muddy floor. The only way these men were going to survive was if they were carried out of the post and back to a field hospital further down the line.

A Private appeared at the door, bearing no helmet, and he tried to speak. Hopkins couldn’t hear him; his ears had been deafened from what he presumed was a grenade. “WE NEED TO ALL THESE MEN OUT OF HERE, AND TO A FIELD HOSPITAL! THEY’LL ALL DIE IF THEY REMAIN HERE! I CAN’T HELP THEM! THERE IS A FIELD HOSPITAL JUST SOUTH WEST OF HERE, BUT THESE MEN CAN’T WALK. THEY MUST BE CARRIED I’M AFRAID!”

• Each of the wounded men will have to be carried off the battlefield. To do so, soldiers must exit via the south western corner. After one round of posting, they will return. The wounded are on stretchers, but you could carry them over your shoulder if required. This may however worsen their wounds. It’s your choice how you handle them. With no supplies, they may begin to die off as the battle continues.
  

- Strumfelder

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

Crimm watched on as best he could, the explosion was nice but it didn't seem like it was in the right area, but none the less it had to have affected the enemy a bit. The gunfire erupted, small bursts of automatic mainly, but you could hear the sporadic rounds of bolt action rifles chiming in when they could. There were a few screams that spattered the time-line of combat so far, hopefully nothing too serious, at least not for the German's that was. Edzard hoped the Americans were having a tough time though. Odd question was, that tent, all the rounds randomly zipping through the canvas cover, probably wasn't too pleasant for the guys inside, their cries should bolster the Germans while at least being annoying to the enemy.

He looked through his scope for a moment trying to note down what he could see, but the lack of light coupled with the rain made it difficult. On top of that the ground was becoming way too soft for comfort, he couldn't stay in it long without collecting too much mud on his ghillie suit, he had to try and find a better position, up in a tree would be nice, but the mud and excessive amounts of water would make scaling such an object horribly frustrating to say the least. None the less he couldn't sit still much so he tuck his rifle back under his camouflage but on his back to keep it out of the muck and slowly crept along.

The darkness was his ally of sorts, it hinder his ability to fire at will but muzzle flashes would help that. But it allowed him to move with more ease than he was used to. No one would be able to see a heavily camouflaged soldier in the rain, in the dark, in the setting his suit was built for, no one. None the less he remained cautious but had to get into the fight soon to seize victory for the SS. Slowly he reached out, gripping a bit of earth and sliding his leg up a bit, almost gliding his body through the slick ground, this did make moving easier on him, less strain on his smaller muscles, that was a plus. He just kept his pace, he'd rather join the fight too late and lose a few extra men than rush it and dash to only chances he had to turn the tide of battle abruptly and with great force.

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

The weather worsened considerably, pelting the side of Brentwood's helmet and forcing him lower into the trench. It was odd to think about the "calm, before the storm". If a bloody battle was on it's way, than this moment was the peaceful one that came before. He pondered how an actual battle would fair, especially in these conditions. Probably bloody, brutal, and dastardly in the cold, darkness of the night. He slid the collar of his overcoat up around his neck to protect against the harsh wind and the bitter rain. Resting his rifle against the wall of the trench, he found himself drifting into a slumber. With Davies and Beckett on duty standing upon the firing step, it wouldn't be Brentwood and Toye's turn for some time now. After the hard day of work, he felt he had earned the right for a nice peaceful sleep. Even if it had to come in the miserable conditions of this particular night.

The following explosion startled him and awakened him back into the dreaded world before he could even get any sleep. Fully alert, he glanced down the line where a certain Sergeant Toye had been pepped with some wooden shrapnel cause by a grenade. They were being attacked by Germans, yet not being attacked. Some sort of cowardly soldier had tossed a half assed nade at the trench and not done anything afterwords. A foolish mistake that merely alerted the British to a German presence and put them into full alert. To not attack while you had the chance of catching someone off guard was stupid, especially when you decided to throw a grenade as a warning. Agonizing screams of pain erupted from the tent, confirming the suspicion that the Kraut bastards were killing the wounded.

"Stand to! Stand to!" Second Lieutenant Mitchell cried out from the norternmost trench. Following orders, the men climbed up to the firing step and took defensive actions. Brentwood and Beckett shifted their Enfield's to watch to the northeast, where the Germans were possibly huddling for an attack. Focusing their eyes on one edge of the cliff, Sergeant Toye and Davies began to watch the other. The angry Sergeant who had been slightly wounded from shards of wood, signaled for the other two men to move down the line. Sergeant Williams and Private Davies slowly made their way down the firing step, effectively taking aim on the southern edge of the large cliff face. Toye went as far as to watch the brush to the southeast, with the possibility that the Germans were coming from across the river as well. Covering the cliff edges and river crossing, the British soldiers effectively closed down the Eastern flank before a single German soldier could fire a shot.

Bursts of fire came from Mitchell's trench, followed by German counterfire. The fight was on. No bullets rained out of Brentwood's trench, the men aware that the Germans had excellent cover below the cliff. The only way to hit one would be to run out of the trench and shoot them from above. In the middle of the night and rain, such actions were too risky to be carried out unless desperate measures were called for. Sitting in a trench with your eyes open while a firefight went on to the north was nerve wracking, but the men resisted the urge to waste their bullets. There was some yelling in the medical tent, but this time not one of a pain. This time it was of an illogical medic who was deciding to give terrible orders.

"Mitchell... who is this buffoon and why the bloody hell is he giving orders?" Brentwood called out from his trench, in a lull between the firing. "Hey Doc, I'm not sure if you are aware or not... but we're being fucking SHOT at. It's our duty to protect this god damn medical tent, because it's the only one for miles. We can't drop everything and run away with it, because you can't do your job!" The aggravated Staff Sergeant knew there might be a drop in morale because of his orders, but he was speaking the truth. The small medical tent had specifically been set up, because there was no field hospital close enough to the front line to carry out the task that needed to be done. "With all due respect if we abandon our orders to protect this tent and evacuate the wounded into a forest crawling with Germans, we're all dead. The only thing we can do now is fight. We'll fight the Krauts and you'll fight to keep our boys alive. Can you do that for us, Doc?"

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

Boy, I wish I wish I could speak to an officer like that…

Junior Medical Officer Hopkins’ reply:

The ringing in Hopkins’ ears began to subside, long enough for him to hear someone outside begin to shout loudly. It’s only when he heard ‘Doc’, that he realised it was him they were discussing. “Buffoon”? “Fucking shot at.”? “You can’t do you job”? Hopkins had never heard such impudence in his life! He’d been in the Royal Army Medical Corps since 1916, when men knew how to treat their superiors. He could not stand for this! Clutching his helmet and placing it upon his head, he stormed out of the tent and towards the sound of this courageous, or more, likely ignorant soldier. Bullets may have been whizzing around, but he’d seen a lot of fire in his life, and so he walked purposely towards this man.

He found the trench and leapt down into it, and then spotted the soldier. As Hopkins closed, he realised to his alarm that this man was SNCO. He hoped that the man that had promoted him was lying rotting somewhere. The Staff Sergeant tried to almost backpedal, but it was too little, too late. Hopkins was brimming with anger. He placed his face less than a foot away from the Staff Sergeant’s face. “You do not speak to an officer of the Royal Army Medical Corps with that tone of voice or vocabulary! You do not speak to an officer of the British Army with that tone of voice or vocabulary! It may be your duty to protect this medical tent, but at this rate you’ll be protecting a morgue!”

With that, Hopkins reached out and grabbed the right arm of the soldiers jacket. He took the crown between his thumb and forefinger, and tore it straight off. It dropped to the wet and muddy duckboards, where Hopkins smothered it with the toe of his boot. “While you are serving myself and my men, you will follow my orders! Is that understood, Sergeant!?”

Just so not to scare you too much, fight a half decent battle and you may very well get that rank back. And if Hopkins were not to survive the battle (for whatever reason…) who would know if you just sew it back on?

-Strum

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

Due to inactivity, Obergefreiter Reinard’s post has been skipped. However the following actions did occur in the time span.

Nazi German Forces:

• The Grenadiers are quickly becoming impetuous, wanting to attack the enemy and finish the job. The Unteroffizier is also eager to attack, although he realises that the plan would call for a two pronged assault. He’s dubious as to whether he should push forward, and if something has gone wrong. If nothing changes, in the next post, his men will attack.
  
• The Germans none the less laid down further suppressive fire, forcing the Allies further into their fortifications. One stray round struck the Private next to Lance Corporal Hilson in the head, the small target not quite deep enough in cover. The rifle round passed clean through the helmet and killed him instantly. His corpse fell face first onto the muddy duckboards, doing the power of good to morale.
  
• The second German Unterofizier to the north east of the trench heard the further fire, and started spraying at the trench directly in front of him. The large area of under bush meant that no bullet actually hit a target. However, the noise and movement has alerted the British troops to the fact more German troops may soon attack from another direction.
  
• Finally the Stabsgefreiter, next to Reinard spotted a target above and took careful aim with his weapon. He fired, striking the British Sergeant in the right collar bone. It broke, and the force of the round threw the Sergeant back down unto the duckboards. The wound is painful and combined with the splinters in his back, his combat effectiveness has been further decreased. He will not be killed from such a wound, but he is certainly not in good shape.
  

Morale now is now suffering for the British, and I suggest they quickly start killing the better positioned enemy, than getting killed themselves.



-Strum

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:

[/b][/center]

I've decided to freeze this battle due to numerous complaints, all of which are pointing the blame at one another and I've been asked to investigate the matter. This shouldn't take long to clear up, but to make sure no-one makes things worse, by continuing to post in this thread, I'm temporarily closing it until a resolution has been sought.

I’d highly appreciate it if people were to reframe from arguing or causing conflictions in the Chat-Box, due to a flagged incident where a small argument broke loose earlier? Something I’d like to avoid, so if you have anything to say, you know the method to use (PM). Otherwise, just be patient and this battle will continue in due course once I’ve read the mass PMs I’ve received and studied the thread carefully.

This is not the only time I’ve received a complaint of sorts in regards to this thread either…
So remain patient and hopefully it’ll continue soon enough.
~Danny[/color]

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:

[/b]
[/center]
Alright I've taken this thread into consideration and there has been a few areas where it can be questionable. For instance, Strumfelder spawning NPCs (including a medical officer) when previously the medical tent was described as being empty.

None the less, why would soldiers be guarding such a tent that's empty? So I have no qualms on this level, although, Strumfelder you should reframe from creating "superiors" during battles that inevitably seem as if you may be contradicting a side - perhaps. Creation of NPCs is not illegal for moderators to do during battles, it adds a zest of unknown and thrill, but I can understand the unease a member may incur when faced with a new superior controlled by the moderator of the battle.

Secondly,
I’ve been told the settings are dark/night-time and well placed British units are being hit through foliage by sparse German units? To be honest, the coin may flip both ways on this argument. German units have free rein over their movement in the foliage and therefore can evade being spotted if capable of moving between firing spots to confuse the enemy. The British hunkered down in a trench are technically sitting ducks, although I can understand the concern here, as they have a greater deal of defence - so to speak.

Again, this argument can spin both ways and whether it was “well placed shots” or “random fire”, I feel as if both are capable from such close proximities I’m seeing on the maps. So the argument here does flip both ways in my eyes.

There isn’t a great deal I can do, because although some areas are questionable, I see real no threat or problem as to why Strumfelder can’t carry on moderating this thread. Should anymore complaints arise, he will be asked to hand over his moderation of this thread to another staff member.

You guys can carry on,
~Danny[/color]

[♠ Aaron Mitchell]

Over the firing of weapons, Mitchell could hear the chief medic shouting his head off. The Second Lieutenant had an equal rank to him, and he needed to sort that guy out before he ended up killing everyone. First things first, though, there was a Private out in the middle of nowhere. ”Hilson, get some…Hilson?” He saw the form of the Bren Gunner limp, and then suddenly as if a massive hand grabbed him, he fell forwards hitting the opposite wall of the trench before landing on the ground dragging the Bren down with him. ”Shit…”

The Private next to him managed to hold himself together, checking to see if he was alive before sighing and picking up the Bren, and grabbing another magazine off of the pile next to the prone form of the L/Cpl resting on a large tarpaulin. He reloaded it, and looked towards Mitchell. ”D’ya see where the shots came from?”
”Yessir,” came the rushed reply, as the soldier fumbled with the cocking handle he had a quick look at the magazine as a hindsight, and so no piece of masking tape with a large “T” written on it to indicate tracer. He did a quick search with his thumb for it to make sure no tracers were in this magazine before popping the Bren on the trench wall once firing subsided.
”Okay, I want a two-second burst, then drop down. We’ll fire again when it’s clear.”

Mitchell followed suit, reloading his Thompson before aiming over the parapet. He had a rough idea of where to fire because he’d seen bright flashes of muzzle fire. ”Go,” he called, not particularly loud, but loud enough for the Private to hear.

Above ground, in the tent, Anderson made a snap decision. He was no medic, he had no idea what to do, but he wasn’t about to carry these men in the pitch black night to some field hospital he had no idea of its location. He looked to the ground, and spotted a few cellophane wrapped packages, which felt like syrettes of morphine and bandages to him. He grabbed some and threw them in to his pockets, so that his trench may have some supplies. He tightened his grip on his rifle, and began running over the mud, before sliding in to the end of the trench, heart pounding from the exertion.

Mitchell finished firing, and dropped on to the firing step, sitting on the flap of his coat as he called out to the other tent. ”Hopkins, do I need to remind you of the briefing? We are under attack, so I have full command. Now, sort out any wounded in that trench before going back to your tent and sorting anyone in there out. You can apologise to the Staff Sergeant later.”

Clean
Firing/Movement