Small raid on medical tent

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

What are the chances we could actually place said medics on the map? It isn't exactly nice to accidentally take out a medic while they are preforming their duties

-JT

[∬: Erhard Strumfelder]

Moderation Post

The only unwounded medic (Junior Medical Officer Hopkins) has been marked clearly on the map and is in the eastern trench. All the other men in the tent are simply wounded.

Second Lieutenant Mitchell

• Giving orders to the Private had no effect what so ever, seeing as a bullet passed through his skull in the last moderation post.
  
• The pain in Lance Corporal Hilson’s arm became so intense he fell backwards into the trench, trying to keep some cover.
  
• Mitchell, firing his Thompson, emptied his magazine, staffing up and down the German line. The bulky weapon was firing at the limit of its effective range, and with no other fire support, Mitchell was very exposed. German rifle fire was put down on his position, but he was not hit when he was placing his fire down. The lack of heavy support means he virtually wasted his bullets, and only served as a target.
  
• However, as he moved to drop down, a rifle round caught him in the right shoulder. It shattered his collar bone, and he dropped down into the trench. The wound is painful but will not kill him. It has however stopped him from making any use of his right arm.
  
• Anderson’s supplies were unfortunately useless. The bandages he grabbed off the ground were muddy and will cause terrible infection if used. The ‘syrettes of morphine’ were actually packed catheters. (Note: Morphine Syrettes have a metallic and glass casing, and resemble a toothpaste tube.)
  

Another charming piece from the favourite medic in town:

Hopkins was becoming more and more annoyed at the current situation. He was being treated like some misbehaving schoolboy. This would not stand and he refused to take orders from a man who commanded such disorderly men. If they were disorderly, it was probably due to his lack of leadership and discipline. The remark about ignoring the demotion was simply too much for the veteran medic. He looked the Sergeant in the eyes fiercely, and then with all the power he could muster, hooked him across the temple.

Enraged, Hopkins turned on his heel and walked back along the trench. He called out as he walked. “Your job is to protect my men. My job is to treat your men. But seeing as you no intention of protecting my men, I have no intention of treating yours.” With his back still turned to the arrogant and ignorant Sergeant, he looked to a Private and pointed at the tent. “If you want to stay in this army, get into that tent and start carrying my men out.”

Map:



Just to add, I had almost completed my first mod-mark when I saw this major inconsistency and had to produce a new one. The new one has both new and old material. Hopkins piece was old.

- Strum

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

Crimm looked on as fire was exchanged back and forth between the combatants on the field, every once in a while a scream or loud moan could be heard from a wounded man, and some medic was walking about without a care in the world it seemed. What ever happened to the German forces to the east was unknown to Crimm, but he was fully aware that whatever it was didn't get the job done, he needed to get in this battle if they were going to pull off a win for the Fatherland. Edzard continued on his slow journey to what seemed to him as a fair enough staging area. Not quite as slow as normal seeing as the weather conditions were next to perfect for moving without being seen, the quicker he could help out his squad members, the more of them would make it to see the sun rise in several hours.

Once he arrived to his predestinated spot he unsnapped his ghillie suit, not a normal task in combat, but he had a small job to do before he could continue and he didn't exactly feel like doing it face down in the mud. He reached into the small of his back and withdrew the medium sized tan cloth bag he had fashioned from his pack days ago. Keeping a firm grip on it he turned slowly and rotated his suit the opposite direction he rolled to his back to keep himself concealed, all the while keeping the bag out of the mud, didn't matter too much if it got a bit damp or muddy, he couldn't care less for the bag, it was what was inside of it that matter. He unfolded the flap and, one at a time, removed three stick grenades from their resting place, he laid them across his chest and stuffed the bag off to his side, he no longer had a use for it. With quick hands he maneuvered two of the high explosive potato mashers into the workings of his suit, it was a great suit, but it was time to retire it. Spaced about the width of both his hands, the grenades fit snuggly into the ghillie, not really a surprise, it was made of mostly long strings and some thick flat cloth rope. You could have woven just about anything into it that you felt the need to do so, after all, that is what the camouflage was made for, easy concealment and alterations. Being that it was pitch black working under his suit he checked and double checked each piece of fabric that became wrapped around the grenades, and when he finished he tugged on them a few times to ensure they were stationary, then he loosened the caps that held the detonation strings for easier access when the moment came, the third grenade he stuffed into his belt on his left side, not his dominant hand, but the throw shouldn't be farther than a few feet and it would be on that same side, he had to save every second he could while he would be exposed.

Turning back on his right side and then to his stomach to avoid too much contact between the grenades and the ground, again rotating his suit away from his body so that it rested on his back, he did not secure it this time, he would need to get it off in a rush, he pulled the hood down a little farther than normal, not over his eyes as that would have been a terrible idea, but enough to keep the suit in place for his move. Before he set off crawling once more he checked his knife, fastened to his belt on the right side, opposite the grenade, it had a bit of mud smeared across it, he wiped what he could off in case he had to get to it quickly and then wiped his hand on what few clean sections of his uniform were left. He began moving again, this time directly toward his enemy, the poor souls, the trenches they lined would only increase the effectiveness of the grenades all the while protecting him from their horrid blast. But now was not the time for pity, even had he thought about it, he didn't know them, they were the enemy and they would have just as easily killed him, it was better this way.

With every foot he crawled across he had to more and more control his breathing, it had been quite some time since the Scharführer had been so close to enemy troops, not his favorite location, but trying to make a long distance shot in this weather would be less effective. As he made it near the medical tent he slowly pulled his left knee to his chest, raising his body slightly and pushing himself up with his hands, once in a crouched position he withdrew the grenade he had placed into his belt, unscrewed the cap and yanked the cord, took a shallow breath Ein he thought as he exhaled, and reached back to pull the remaining two cords on the grenades wrapped into his suit, pulling his right hand back to the front. Zwei he thought as he stood, keeping his weight forward to start his run, five or six quick steps and he was there, the fact that live explosives were pressed against his back probably aided in his swift movements, he only slowed as he raised the grenade slightly before slamming into the side of his targets head, Drei releasing it to fall into the dark abyss that was a trench, and soon hopefully a grave. Picking up his pace once more it was an even shorter distance to the second trench, which helped as removing his suit would take a few extra fractions of a second than just slamming a grenade into someone. He reached over his head with his right hand, grabbing the ghillie just below his neck line and pulled upward, all the while kneeling to lessen the distance it had to travel. Vier he thought, expecting his first grenade to be detonating at any moment. His arm came around, looking as if it were dragging a large rag doll over his body and Edzard slapped it on top of the first man in the trench, letting go and falling backward onto his left side, away from the trench, he reached behind him, grasping a handful of the forward hand grip of his FG-42 and whipping it to the front of his body, coming to rest on his back, he braced himself for the concussion of the blasts. Once the detonations had done their damage he scurried himself into the last place he should want to be, the enemy trench, firing off a couple rounds on his way down to ensure that if anything survived the blast, it was in no state to harm him. He leveled off his rifle and switched to fully automatic, pointing it down the remainder of the trench he laid on the trigger, the weapon was heavy enough to help with recoil, but he tried his best to keep it steady to try and hit whatever was in the remainder of the trench. As soon as the mag was empty he hit the ground at his feet, worked in a fresh magazine and chambered a round. He didn't stand again but kept watching down the trench, weapon at the ready in case there was anything left.

img387.imageshack.us/i/medicaltent3.png/ - clean

img18.imageshack.us/i/medicaltent3a.png/ - actions

To sum up:
1 - prepare grenades
2 - crouch and pull cords
3 - deploy grenade 1
4 - deploy grenades 2 & 3, enter trench after explosions and fire/fall to ground/reload

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post

Lets get things back in gear, shall we?

**New Map**

SS-Scharführer Crimm

- [Ghillie Suit] With the added vision impairment of the night and the rain, Crimm easily managed to creep up on his first target unnoticed by the British. No one inside the tent spotted him as they have all been as low to the ground as possible for the duration of the firefight.

- The delivery of the first grenade went off without a hitch. The Britsh troops inside the northern trench were solely focused on the Germans in the woods to the north, no on expected an attack from the rear. In the previous mod, it was stated that Mitchell had been shot and dropped into the trench, thus Crimm didn't swing the grenade at Mitchell's head as his head wasn't within reach. Instead he merely dropped it into the trench.

- The delivery of the second grenade did not go as well, however. As Crimm pulled off the ghillie suit, it snagged on his knife for the briefest moment. At this same moment a soldier in his target trench turned to look at the tent, worry written on his face. The German and Brit's eyes met for a moment. Confusion replaced the worry on the British man's face before Crimm threw the ghillie suit at him. The Brit instinctively jumped to the side knocking over the man next to him, and yelled "Jerry!". That was the only word Crimm heard as he dove for the ground. The grenades detonated a fraction of second later.

- Unfortunately for Crimm, that slight delay with the knife meant the grenades didn't make it all the way into the trench before detonating. The damage is minor in comparison to the British. Crimm has extensive shrapnel wounds along his right-side. His right foot is mangled and barely attached, and a particularly nasty piece of the handle of one of the grenades caught the little finger on his right hand send it flying off somewhere into the night. Needless to say, the rest of his plan was not carried out.

Second Lieutenant Mitchell

- Crimm's grenade bounced off Mitchell's wounded shoulder, plunking down on the bottom of the trench next to him. Mitchell, totally unprepared for an attack from the rear, could only stare in amazement at the device which seemed to have just fallen from the heavens. He didn't even manage to fully comprehend what was happening before it detonated.

- The blast completely destroyed Mitchell, turning the majority of his body into a bloody mess splattered on the walls of the trench. Further down, the Lance Corporal Hilson and the corpse of the private took the rest of the shrapnel, sparing the private at the far end of the trench. Hilson slumped to the bottom of the trench with extensive shrapnel wounds to the right side of his upper body (most of the lower trajectory objects being absorbed by the corpse). He isn't dead, but is damn close. The still-living Private slunk down into the trench staring blankly at the devastated bodies of his comrades.

Second Lieutenant Mitchell is dead.

Sergeant Brentwood

- Hopkins turned, worried, toward the tent that his men and patients were still in. He knew it would be pointless but it was something instinctual that tore his attention away from the cliff edge in front of him. When he turned he saw a bush standing right behind him. There hadn't been a bush there before. Then it moved. Flying at him. The light bulb went off.

- "Jerry!" he screamed as he flung himself at Brentwood, covering the sergeant with his body as the grenades detonated over head. Shrapnel rained down on the pair, mostly Hopkins and the Private standing next to him. Hopkins and the Private are now just as messy as Mitchell and as just as dead. Brentwood, thanks to the actions of Hopkins, only received a few pieces of shrapnel to the lower-right side of the legs. However, also thanks to the actions of Hopkins, Brentwood was knocked nearly unconscious as his head struck the side of the trench as he was tackled by the medic. Further down the trench, the first Sergeant received a bit of shrapnel along the left side of his upper body. It's painful, but he's still conscious and upright. The Private next to him received similar wounds. The Sergeant at the far end of the trench was unaffected by the blasts, but was caught completely off guard by the explosions and doesn't know what's happening. None of them are aware of the German sniper at the edge of the trench.

---

Injuries

British:

Sgt. Brentwood
Shrapnel, lower legs; bleeding, painful
Dazed (due to fall)
Reduced movement, daze (1 Turn: Any movement will be extremely sluggish)

Sgt. [unnamed]
Splinters, back; painful
Gunshot, collar - Broken; painful, bleeding
Reduced accuracy and sluggish movement

Sgt. [unnamed]
Shrapnel, leftside; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy

L/Cpl. Hilson
Gunshot, upper arm - Broken; bleeding, painful
Shrapnel, Left sife; extensive bleeding
No movement without help, bleeding out

Pvt. [unnamed]
Shrapnel, leftside; painful
Reduced accuracy and vision

German:

SfFhr. Crimm
Shrapnel, rightside; painful, bleeding
Reduced accuracy and movement

Sch. [unnamed]
Gunshot, left shoulder; painful, bleeding
Reduced accuracy

---

Next post: Brentwood

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

Movement One

Movement Two

Movement Three

Movement Four

Clean

“While you are serving myself and my men, you will follow my orders! Is that understood, Sergeant!?” An expressionless Staff Sergeant refused to react as the medical officer berated him, as if luring him out into some kind of trap. He spoke to Brentwood with a finesse that suggested he valued himself as a man of superior intellect and carried himself like a pompous ass. The greedy hands of the medical officer tore the chevrons from the non-commissioned officer's right arm and let it drop to the muddy duckboards of the trench, rubbing it against the boards with the toes of his combat boots. Without an ounce of emotion, Brentwood merely held Hopkin's gaze without speaking a single word.

The Second Lieutenant, Mitchell, heard the uproar from a nearby trench. It was obvious a man like Tyler Brentwood was a bit of an obnoxious troublemaker from time to time, but it would serve Hopkin's best interests not to insult the man. Lest he wish for bad things to happen to him. ”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 apologize to the Staff Sergeant later.” In one smooth motion, the Staff Sergeant leaned forward and snatched his filthy, discarded chevrons from off the bottom of the trench. As his hands slowly placed the chevrons in his breast pocket for safe keeping, he eyed the medical officer suspiciously.

As if a child throwing a fit, a flame ignited in Hopkin's fierce eyes and his nostrils flared as his arm swiftly struck Brentwood across the temple. The Staff Sergeant's head twisted with the punch, the sensation of pain running throughout his head and down his body. Tyler recovered quickly, cocking his head back to face Hopkins and licking his lips as if thirsty for blood. His hand tightened around the handle of his trusty Webley revolver that was fastened in a holster at his hip. Directly disobeying a superior, striking a soldier, cowardice, and refusing to do his duty? Execution. Splattering the man's brains across the trench was the best way to go, or at least the way it occurred to the Staff Sergeant. The Germans always stole his fun. Always. Bastards.

"Jerry!" Hopkins screamed as he flung himself at Brentwood, who was too busy carrying out the medical officer's death to notice the grenade approaching. He caught a glimpse of the spinning blur in the corner of his eye as he was knocked backwards in the trench. "Bugger," escaped as lips as his head bounced violently against the side of the trench and the shrapnel rained over the trench. The grenade violently exploded overhead, the corpse of Hopkins shielding Brentwood from being peppered with shrapnel. For some time, he lie still with his ears ringing from the shell shock, his eyes stinging from the dust, and his head pounding with pain. After a few moments past, the Staff Sergeant rolled Hopkins's corpse aside and sat upright with his Webley still at the ready. "Williams! Toye! Get over here! And be careful, will ya'?"

The two Sergeants, crouched low in the trench, cautiously made their way down the line towards Brentwood. It suddenly occurred to Brentwood that a German soldier must have charged their trench, as he distinctly remembered Hopkins looking out towards the medical tent and calling out the approaching Jerry. He didn't need to be some kind of genius to realize that they were still very much in danger. Something caught the Staff Sergeant’s eyes as his eyes surveyed the top edge of the trench. A foot was practically tangling over the edge of the trench, barely attached to its owner. Not a single British soldier had left the trench at any point during the assault of the grenades, so the body must have belonged to whoever or whatever had managed to surprise the British soldiers. "Stop! The Jerry must still be up over the edge! On three! First, Williams! Then me! Then Toye!"

The two Sergeants were low in the trench, with their Stens pointed upwards at the western side of the trench. Brentwood, who was a bit dazed from his fall still, slowly counted as he grasped his Webley and positioned himself away from Williams and Toye's line of fire. "One...two...three!" he roared at the two men, who responded quickly. Williams hopped up onto the firing step and let out a burst of fire at the battered body, ducking back down to avoid any return fire afterward. Brentwood and Toye, waited patiently for their turn. As Williams finished firing his burst of sub-machine gun fire, Brentwood climbed up onto the firing step seconds afterward to throw the Jerry off. He hoped to minimize any casualties by changing the direction the Kraut was fired at. With a crazed look in his eyes, he fired shot after shot off at the German. He figured his accuracy, hindered by his massive headache, would be ruled out if he fired enough shots. Toye, who had sustained the worst wounds of the three, was the last to get up on the firing step and spray the last bullets to end the man's life.

Grasping the handle of his Lee Enfield bayonet, Tyler slid the rifle bayonet out from its sheath and viciously plunged it into the slaughtered man's gut. The Staff Sergeant grabbed hold of the still fully-attached leg and used the bayonet to help drag the corpse into the trench, while Toye took hold of the discarded FG-42. Brentwood threw the lifeless body to the bottom of the trench and ripped his bloodied bayonet out of the man, tearing through more of his flesh with a distinct ripping sound. This was the man that took the life of a medical officer that was rightfully Brentwood's to take, after all! Oh, and he might of killed a few other man. Perhaps he had killed that Michelle bastard. Or was it Mitchell? "This man took a lot of good men from us. Beckett. Hopkins. Even if Hopkins was a bit of a bastard, he deserved more than to die by this Jerry's hands. What do you say we take some revenge, lads? Bloody Krauts."

There was a nod of agreement from the two Sergeants who had gathered near the German corpse. "Right-o, then. Here's the plan. Toye, I need you to get over to Mitchell's trench as fast you can. Give me your Sten, you'll take my Enfield with you. See if you can help anyone over there or salvage any weapons. And, at the least, get that Bren back into the action. As soon as you hear FG-42 fire, I want suppressive fire on the northern forest. Here, take this. There's two pills of morphine in here. One's for yourself and the other is for any unfortunate bastards you may find. Now, go," Tyler spoke with fiery passion that inspired the men. Even after he had been knocked down, he was fully prepared to get up again. Toye traded his Sten and his ammunition for Brentwood's Enfield. Tyler handed Toye a packet with two pills in it, the third pill he held on to. Toye swallowed one of the pills, before he crawled out of the trench. He stuck low to the ground to avoid being shot at as he made his way to the northern trench.

"Williams, Davies. On me. We are going to take vengeance on those Jerry wankers, for taking Beckett and Hopkins from us. Davies, take this Jerry's weapon and any ammo he may have on him," Brentwood instructed, the wounded Private scurrying forward and grabbing the FG-42 as well as some ammo pouches. "Davies, you are going to lay down suppressive fire on those Jerries to the south of the cliff on my signal. Me and Williams will crawl up the middle, bombard them with grenades, and clear them out with our Stens. No one fucks with Brentwood's boys," the Staff Sergeant muttered, before looking down upon the two slain soldiers. As much as he hated Hopkins, he showed a little respect in front of the already demoralized soldiers and took both of the dead soldier's dogtags and said a few words for the fallen. The third morphine pill was handed to Williams, who swallowed the pill and let it ease the pain of his wounds.

- - -

In the north, Toye had crawled through the wet, muddy ground at a carefully slow pace as to not irritate his collar bone any further. He arrived in the trench merely to raise morale and help the wounded, he was fortunate to find a perfectly healthy private to fire the Bren. "Don't worry, boys, Brentwood sent me. He's got a plan. Private, get yourself up off the ground. It's time to fight back. Grab a hold of that Bren and any ammo you can and move it further down the trench, to throw the Krauts off a bit. When you hear gun fire from Brentwood's trench, unleash hell into that forest. I'll treat the wounded," Toye instructed, making sure the private grabbed a hold of himself and did as told. Meanwhile, he calmed the dying Hilson and slipped a morphine pill into the Lance Corporal's mouth. He made sure the wounded Bren gunner swallowed the pill whole, chewing it could be disastrous. All the Sergeant could do was ease the pain with the morphine and wrap some of his wounds with gauze.

- - -

With his head in pain after his fall and any movement sluggish, Brentwood rested near the corpse of his slain enemy. He relaxed his body and recovered from the pain. In the southern end of the trench, Williams was speaking with Davies and preparing him for his task at hand. If he didn't perform his task well enough, both Brentwood and Williams could be killed. If he fired a second too long, he might kill one or both of the men himself! There was a lot to be nervous or afraid of in both trenches, so Brentwood was using his Sergeants wisely to increase the morale of the battered soldiers. Meanwhile, he had collected the Erkennungsmarke, or dog tags, and Soldbuch from the German's corpse. The Soldbuch, used for personal identification, was required to be carried on a soldier at all times. The document revealed that the slain Kraut was a sniper, Scharführer Edzard Crimm of the Waffen SS. Tyler's eyes watched over the mangled corpse of the sniper as he loaded a few more bullets into his Webley revolver.

The Staff Sergeant finally stood, with his Sten freshly loaded with ammunition, and signaled to the other two men that they would be moving out now. The sniper had given them two things. A FG-42 and a ghillie suit, although slightly damaged. Williams had slipped the ghillie suit on, which had previously covered Hopkin's corpse. Removing a hand grenade from his uniform, Brentwood placed it in William's hands. He crawled out of the trench first, disguised in the German sniper's ghillie. Either he wouldn't be spotted at all in the brush or the Germans would confuse the ghillie covered soldier for their sniper comrade and decide against firing. He had slung his Sten over his shoulder to avoid exposing it to the dangers of wet mud and slowly advanced towards the cliff with a grenade in the other hand. Davies opened fire towards the Germans position and forced them in against the cliff to avoid the fire. A few moments later, Brentwood climbed out of the trench and crawled south. He stopped and aimed his Sten towards the cliff, waiting for the grenade.

The FG42 forced the soldiers near the cliff to cower and hide behind any cover they could find. To the north, the Bren opened fired along the northern forest from a new position. A second man could be heard firing a Thompson until the ammo ran dry. Stealthy, Williams positioned himself near the edge of the cliff and gently crawled forward. Grasping the grenade, his grip was tight around the cast iron of the British fragmentation grenade. Pulling the safety pin off with a tug, Williams counted for two seconds before gently tossing the grenade forward to land between the two men. He quickly rolled over in the opposite direction, hoping to shield himself from the blast. A few seconds later and the all too familiar sound of a grenade exploded at the bottom of the cliff and the FG42 seized its firing.

Near the sides of the cliff, the height of the cliff face was significantly shorter. The Sergeant got up onto his knees, careful to not fall over, and aimed over the edge of the cliff. He emptied his entire clip of ammo into the startled German soldiers. Brentwood, who was some distance away, sprang up at the sound of the explosion and rushed to the site of gunfire. He plopped down as he approached the scene and joined in on the fun, quickly filling the fallen soldiers with lead. He sadistically enjoyed it as the two men ran around like headless chickens. As the Sten stopped firing, Tyler grabbed hold of his Webley once more and finished off the two corpses, ensuring their deaths by shooting them in the back of the head. "Same thing with the northern end, Williams. 'Cept we aren't fortunate enough to have a grenade this time. DAVIES! Shift north and lay down fire on the northern edge of the cliff!"

Williams vanished into the brush along the cliff, crawling the entire distance. Tyler loaded a fresh clip of ammo into his Sten and waited for his cue. The FG42 opened fire once more, joined by Brentwood's Sten. Williams crawled into a decent position once more, a new clip in his Sten. He crawled into position as the FG42's fire slowly dwindled before stopping. Gently, he pulled his upper body over the top of the cliff and opened fire downward into the German Sergeant. As the Jerry dropped to the muddy ground, Williams carefully pulled himself over the edge which stood only a few feet high. He slid down to the ground and fired a few more rounds into the corpse to ensure it's death, before covering Brentwood's sluggish approach. The two men set down, slightly exhausted from combat, and checked their sub-machine guns to pass the time. The FG-42 and Bren fire had drawn to a close, now was a time for rest.

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post

Corrected Mappy Map

Sergeant Brentwood

- As stated in the post, Brentwood was out for sometime. Sometime being about five minutes. When the Sergeant regained consciousness, he attempted to get the attention of his comrades, but only a string of garbled syllables escaped his lips. Nonetheless, the worried sergeants made their way down to their trench-mates.

- By the time Brentwood had come to, there was no foot at the edge of the trench to be seen. Thus this part of your post has been... altered.

- Regaining his wits a little, Brentwood peiced together the direction from which the attack had come and poked his head up over the edge of the trench. He spied what looked like a corpse moving toward Mitchell's trench. The Sergeants and Brentwood exposed themselves to try and finish off their assailant. Toye fired on the wounded man first getting three bursts down range, but as Williams and Brentwood came up, a hail of gun fire from the cliff forced them all three of them back down. Brentwood, bent on revenge and refusing to back down, popped up once more with his Webley firing twice before the revolver jammed (covered in mud after being tackled; you may have bought it after the last mark, but it still has to retro-actively exist in the world) and more fire from the cliff forced him back down. These last shots satisfied that particular vendetta for him.

- From there the post continued as intended only with Davies using his Enfield instead of the absent FG-42. Toye moved out to the other trench with the cover of darkness and the rain preventing the enemy from seeing him. On the way over, he passed the corpse of the German and kicked it for goof measure. It didn't move. Private Anderson shakily got his feet after the pep talk from Toye, picked up the Bren and took up a position on the firing step. After being administered the morphine, L/Cpl Hilson's pain slipped away and the soldier relaxed, closing his eyes for the last time.

- Back with Brentwood, Davies fired toward where he thought the Germans might be. To the North, Toye and Anderson did the same. Almost instantly, their blindfire was answered by more precise fire from the Germans; the muzzle-flashs from the Allied guns pin-pointing themselves for the Germans. Thankfully... it wasn't all that precise, just close enough to force the Allied shooters down into their trenches. The return fire also had an upside for Brentwood and Williams, it allowed them to zero in on their targets in the dark; crawling toward the sounds of gunfire.

- The two British men ended up more or less where they had intended. Williams rolled his grenade into the dark toward the enemy. It rolled a little bit... and got stuck in a patch of mud only a half meter in front of him. Williams noisily got his feet trying to flee the grenade. For the third time that night, the sergeant was wounded; a gunshot wound to the lower back, the bullet passing through one of his kidneys on the way out of his body. The grenade detonated just as Williams hit the ground. He isn't dead, but he's loosing a lot of blood from all his wounds and will die soon if not removed from the battlefield.

- Brentwood to the south, sprung from his hiding place after the grenade went off. The sounds of gunfire and the muzzle-flashes had given away the Germans. He fired one good burst. The morphine ingested earlier had eased his pain, and thus it came as a surprise to him when his legs gave out underneath him. Brentwood stumbled and fell into the mud with a loud grunt. To his surprise, there was no return fire.

SS-Scharführer Crimm

- Realizing his plan had gone pear-shaped. Crimm, using all the strength he could muster, began crawling away from the trench trying to make it back toward his men in the forest. Gunfire erupted behind from and bullets whizzed all around him. One of William's Sent rounds hit him in his uninjured leg, searing through his calf, in and out.

- Crimm decided the best thing he could do was... play possum. When Toye kicked him, he felt one of his ribs break but knew if he made even the slightest sound, it would be the end of him. Despite the pain blazing all over his body and having trouble breathing, Crimm remained still and silent.

Obergefreiter Reinard

- The two Gefreiters fired at the man-bush rising in front of them after the flurry of activity in the trench just minutes before. One the hit him and it dropped. Then the world exploded. The pair were low enough to be just avoid the shrapnel from the grenade. They weren't so lucky when the enemy attacked from their flank. The man next to Reinard took a bullet to the ribcage, it entered his body hitting a lung and his heart, yelping once and falling silent.

- Reinard, knowing his position to be comprised, grabbed his dead comrade and drug him down the shallower edge of the cliff, and then toward the Unteroffizier on the other side of the cliff. All the while completely unaware that the man he was dragging was already dead.

---

Injuries

British:

Sgt. Brentwood
Shrapnel, lower legs; bleeding, painful
Dazed (due to fall)
Reduced movement

Sgt. Williams
Splinters, back; painful
Gunshot, collar - Broken; painful, bleeding
Gunshot, kidney; painful, bleeding
Immobile and requires evacuation

Sgt. Toye
Shrapnel, leftside; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy

Pvt. [unnamed]
Shrapnel, leftside; painful
Reduced accuracy and vision

German:

SfFhr. Crimm
Shrapnel, rightside; painful, bleeding
Gunshot, left calf; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy and movement

Sch. [unnamed]
Gunshot, left shoulder; painful, bleeding
Reduced accuracy

---

I recommend retreat for both Crimm and Brentwood. Both of you are in bad positions and could be killed at any time.

Next post: Sepp

[Obergefreiter S. Reinard]

i50.tinypic.com/2epk12a.jpg

Sepp dragged the lifeless body of a fellow comrade. He didn't yet realize his comrade was dead, but yet he still focused on bringing him to the sergeant. "ill get you to a medic my friend." Sepp said. Sepp didn't get a response and assumed his friend had died. Sepp started to rush toward the sergeant. "Sergeant! the Americans are that way!" Sepp yelled toward the sergeant who was roughly 23 meters away. Sepp sprinted those 25 meters wondering how far back the american was and how may there was and if Sepp could shoot them. Sepp squinted his eyes and looked the direction he had came. It was hard for Sepp to see, he couldn't see where his original position was but he could see the flashing of the enemies weapon. Sepp brought his rifles aim up, waited for another flash of the gun and fired. He was unsure if it hit or not but he sure as hell didn't want to find out.

The second sergeant located in the heavy forest just north of a entrenchment signaled his men to advance. Each individual man grabbed their weapons and moved straight through the forest. They moved toward the trench firing off most of their clips of ammo. "Keep moving if you get hit try your best to keep firing!" The sergeant yelled at his fellow German comrades. "Don't let up!" the sergeant screamed. The men kept on firing whether it was accurate or not. "Fix bayonets!" The sergeant exclaimed to his troops. the troops fixed the bayonets onto their rifles. "ADVANCE!!!" the sergeant screamed. The troops rushed toward the trench getting ready to stab anything that moves. The sergeant among the large amount of men sent one other guy to clear the east trench. The man ran toward the east trench rushing through it seeing nothing but dead corpses. He than spotted another body except this one was moving. He rushed at it stabbing in its direction. He hoped for the bayonet to strike the movement and kill it. The sergeant among the forest patrol fired his smg into the trench. His troops hopped into the trench stabbing away at anything that wasn't wearing the shiny grayish black helmet the nazis were issued.


The sergeant peered at Sepp firing off one shot toward the direction he had came. "What the hell are you doing Corporal!" the sergeant exclaimed. The Sergeant moved quickly toward the top of the hill. Sepp followed quickly rushing up the side of the hill. The sergeant slowly moved down the underbrush. He saw a little bit of movement not knowing what it was he fired his SMG toward it. He than went prone and waited for it either to yelp in agony or to drop, or shoot back at him. Sepp moved up through the brush, spotting a trench. He quickly darted toward the trench and hopped in about mid way. He looked behind him and saw two dead corpses. He than looked foward and spotted some motion. Sepp slowly fixed his bayonet and crept toward the commotion. Sepp realized it was one of his men stabbing at something. Sepp stopped and looked over to his right, he saw the medical tent. He looked a little bit back still on his right. He spotted a body lying between the two trenches. Sepp lifted himself outta the trench and approached it. He Realized it was Crimm lying there. Sepp crawled toward Crimm. "Crimm, it's Sepp. Are you alright? oh god look what they did to you. Bastards. I'll get you outta here buddy." Sepp stated and asked to Crimm. Sepp got back up and spotted more movement in the distance to the north trench. By this time he figured the forest patrol were moving in like the original plan. Sepp dragged Crimm's body toward the eastern trench. Sepp placed Crimm by one of the dead bodies in the trench. "Wait here buddy, i'll be back to get you" Sepp stated.

Sepp ran toward the northern trench. He stood at the entrance slit and saw two men jabbing bayonets down toward an allied soldier. Sepp brought the aim of his rifle upon the allied soldiers head. He closed his eyes and fired off one shot hoping to hit the man. He turned around without peering where the allied soldier had been and walked toward the east trench.

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post


**New Map**


Obergefreiter Reinard[/i]

- The one shot into the dark toward the British soldiers, did not hit anything. It was simply too great a distance in the dark for an accurate shot and the bullet zipped far over the heads of the fallen enemies.

- To the North, the Germans in the forest burst forth from their cover guns blazing. To their immediate dismay, this only served to make them targets for the automatic weapons in the trench in front of them. The German Unteroffizier with his automatic weapon proved himself the best target as his constant firing illuminated himself long enough for the British to put one Thompson round in his leg and another in his chest, cutting short his calls for an advance. Just to his right, the three men centered around the German corporal took the wrath of the Bren. Due to the British private's inexperience with the weapon all his rounds fell low but that was enough to bring the corporal and one of the privates to the ground, the third retreating back into the forest. The remaining private grabbed his downed leader, and drug him back into the safety of the forest. Wounds: The Unteroffizier is lucky, both rounds missed major arteries, but the chest round has collapsed a lung. The Corporal is also lucky for the same reasons minus the lung injury. The Private, was not so lucky,one of the rounds to his leg severed a major artery and he mus be removed from the battlefield soon.

- As Reinard entered the trench, he was met with a call of "Sergeant?". Reinard snapped his rifle up to the source of the sound and fired a shot. Before he could work the bolt of his rifle, another rifle cracked and a bullet thipped into Reinard's shoulder, the force of which knocked him onto his back. Wounds: The round to the shoulder pased right through but hit some important nerves. As a result Sepp's right arm is more or less useless at the moment.

- The eastern Unteroffizier, moving along the cliff edge, fired into the night failing to hit anything. He has alerted the British in the area to his presence.[/color]

---

Injuries

British:

Sgt. Brentwood
Shrapnel, lower legs; bleeding, painful
Reduced movement

Sgt. Williams
Splinters, back; painful
Gunshot, collar - Broken; painful, bleeding
Gunshot, kidney; painful, bleeding
Immobile and requires evacuation

Sgt. Toye
Shrapnel, leftside; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy

Pvt. [unnamed]
Shrapnel, leftside; painful
Reduced accuracy and vision

German:

SfFhr. Crimm
Shrapnel, rightside; painful, bleeding
Gunshot, left calf; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy and movement

Sgt. [unnamed]
GUnshots, leg/chest; bleeding
Collapsed lung; trouble breathing
Reduced mobility

ObGfr. Reinard
Gunshot, shoulder; bleeding
Immobile right arm

Cpl. [unnamed]
Gunshot, leg; bleeding
Reduced mobility

Pvt. [unnamed]
Gunshot, leg; massive bleeding
Redeuced mobility and requires evacuation


Pvt. [unnamed]
Gunshot, left shoulder; painful, bleeding
Reduced accuracy

---

I recommend retreat for Sepp due to personal wounds and precarious position.

Nest post: JT

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

OOC: My apologies for the long delay, being out for a while put me way behind and mod responsibilities kinda have priority over my personal threads

IC: Everything became dead silent as the grenades went off, Crimm found himself toppling over instantly from the force of the explosions, slamming back into the mud he began to think, and every passing millisecond seemed to be running along in slow motion. Brilliant, what were you thinking? You’re a sniper, yet you’re here pretty much within arms reach of your enemy, lot of good your scope is gonna do. He tried to rationalize his actions due to the lack of light and the poor weather conditions and the fact that his enemy was in a pretty well laid out defensive position, but if he made it out of this he would never forget the horrible decision he had made. Let’s try getting up. he kept his thoughts and actions as simple as he could to keep his mind focused on what was happening at the very moment, doubting what had already happened would only cause more mistakes. Not working very well. ran through his head as he fumbled about for only a mere second then he realized that his foot was more or less gone, then the fear really started to grip him. Stay calm, staaaay calm, you can’t do a thing about it right now, getting out of here as safely as possible is the only chance you have of ever walking again, so let’s make that happen, can’t fight for anything…uh…play dead, they might shoot you, but they will shoot you for sure if you try and fire on them. Simple yet effective, he did everything he could to keep his mind off of his wounds, the pain was becoming ever more apparent with the passing moments, but he was helpless to stop it.

Pulling his weapon in close he rolled to his side and mostly buried his face in the wet ground to keep any expressions out of sight. A second later a sheering pain shot through him having been assaulted by some blunt action, he clenched his teeth as the air pushed through his throat trying to escape. His cheeks bulged fiercely and he tried to slowly exhale from the blow. Yes, good idea, breath slowly, try to calm a few nerves. The sound of gunfire seemed ever so distant as his hearing went from a very loud ringing to just a normally loud ringing.

After what seemed like an eternity he began to turn his head in an extremely slow fashion, he might not have seemed to have retained much from Sniper school given what had just unfolded, but patience had stuck with him. Things were blurry and dark, small flashes of the ensuing firefight lit up in the distances, shapes could be seen moving about in random fashion. Yeah, keep it slow man, with all that has happened, dizzy would be the last thing you needed. He took his time trying to look about and see what was unfolding, knowing he would need help to get out of this situation he knew that he would have to make yet another bad decision to aid his fellow soldiers, but it was the only logical decision he could come up with to get his own tail out of combat. Alright, laying in the mud in the open is quite possibly the best way to leave this place with a toe tag, find some cover and lay low, if the guys pull this off they will find you. Small motor functions are probably shot to hell and back get your knife out to help crawl, clawing at the ground will get you almost nowhere pulling so much weight on this ground and will only tire you faster. Gotta conserve energy. He shakily reached back and felt around on his belt for his blade and withdrew it, pulling it up to his face. Lovely, so that’s what screwed this up. he thought as he eyed a piece of his former ghilie suit entwined on the handle. No use crying over it now, reach out there and stab the earth and hope you find something soft enough to penetrate but solid enough you can pull on.

With his nice knife Crimm began puncturing the damp ground as best he could, trying to get it deep enough to pull himself on, his free arm clutching his rifle like a teddy bear to his chest, the butt of the weapon was dragging in the mud but he did his best to try and keep his upper receiver from getting the same treatment, scope didn’t matter to much to him either, most likely couldn’t shoot straight anyway. The pain coursed through his body from the shambles of bones in his upper body. Get your good leg in on this too, the pain will keep you from passing out, at least for a short bit anyway. He just kept his thoughts small and on each little task as they came along, one small step at a time. Shove it in there, ok now breath…pull your leg up, there you go… Coaching himself as if he were a small child …ok one more breath, yeah it stings but there is no way around it. Ok now for the hard part, you gotta pull against the blade’s handle and push with your good foot…no the other one, that one isn’t going to get you anywhere. Ok there you go, little further, keep breathing keep breathing…good good, now take a few breaths while you pull the knife out. he tried shifting his body weight from side to side to assist in freeing his new found cripple aid to save what little strength his arms had in case he needed them. Ok, another breath, hug your rifle…ok not that tight, broken ribs don’t mix well with lung tissue, ok now let’s try moving another foot toward that hole, at least that grenade got in there alright, hopefully it’s pretty vacant. Edzard kept on and on, keeping his thoughts small but long winded, he needn’t let his mind idle for too long to avoid letting anything else deter him. As far as he was concerned, until he reached cover, he was the only soul on the face of the earth.

Great job man, take another breath and try to focus on what’s in there… Crimm squinted and widened his eyes, tilting his head in various directions while turning his eyes to look through the trench hoping maybe if he was looking up through the trench or down through the trench might make a slight difference. There were all sorts of shapes littered around in it. Ok that’s an arm, and that may be a foot, or a lump of mud, either way it can’t hurt you and that arm is one less trigger being pulled. Now take a breath, let it out slowly, yeah it’s gonna be a nice scar, we’ll make up a better story for it later. First things first now man, we don’t really know what’s truly down in there, and from the looks of no one helping you around, friendlies aren’t near as well, let’s try and put some bullets in there, maybe we stop what might be about to kill us, maybe we piss off what was intended to kill us anyway and it kills us quicker, the later of the two ends with you dead, so…breath…door number one it is. He came to the conclusion, still taking his eyes through all sorts of exercises to get a glimpse of a target. Ok aiming…yeah, that isn’t going to happen, well you are going to use your right arm to pull the trigger, that leaves your left arm to brace the front of the weapon, you are gonna suck with either one so let’s get something out there to help hold her steady. Breath. The knife, ok we can shove that into the ground on the right side of the barrel and push against the left side with limp noodle on the left here, breath, ok let’s stretch it on out there, ok push down, little more, good job good job, we’ve got this buddy, breath. Crimm would have probably smiled at himself, but the pain was all to constant and was quite possibly delusional from that had happened in the passed thirty seconds. Now press your forearm up against the left side of the front end there, good, and drape your hand over, won’t be holding anything but the extra bit of weight toward the knife will help, it’s the most stable bit of anything around at the moment, breath buddy, just breath. Like a small boy getting ready for his first shot of the hunt to impress his father he tried his best to not leave anything to chance, although that was impossible, he could be shooting at dirt for all he knew, but it would be some mighty upset dirt in just a moment. Alright, reach your hand up there, breath, probably not best to try and feel for the trigger, most likely won’t find it, look over, yeah that’s it, ok good good, now check your other arm again, and try to line this bad boy up with the bottom end of the trench, it’s gonna bounce around on you and rise, but that’s why we are…breath…aiming low and trying to brace it, ok lean on it, get some weight against it. This is probably, no this IS going to hurt, but it’s for the better, one last breath then let her rip buddy, you’ve got this. With a slow exhale Crimm pressed onto the trigger with all his might, tensing his body as best he could without pushing the pain too much higher.

The rounds came out in spurts, he tried his best to keep on the trigger but it wasn’t an easy task. Leave some in there, reloading now would be like trying to explain Judaism to a lemon, ain’t happening, take a nice breath, but we’ve quite possibly drawn attention, let’s get down in there and face it, breath, grab your knife and pull, ok here we go, take a deep breath if you can and exhale when you hit the bottom, it will help absorb the impact a bit, every little bit helps right now buddy. with a sluggish almost slither Crimm slid up to the edge and gravity became his friend, fearing the pain from the short fall he had luckily gripped his knife enough to bring it down with him. A bit dizzy from the abrupt movement he sat up and looked about. Smart, you’re half dead and decided to fall into a hole with an eight inch blade in your hand, let’s not do that again, breath. Again he tried to peer off into the short distance of the defensive position, nothing much different than before. Let’s hope we aren’t sitting on hot brass from the shooting just a moment ago, the wet ground probably cooled ‘em off, breath. Ok well we have this knife, time to get ready for a final stand if we need it, stick it into the wall right there, breath, all the way up to the handle, there ya go, good, alright let’s sling this hunk of metal and wood up there so at least our first round out is leveled off, breath, alright one quick move, give it all you’ve got. Crimm gritted his teeth and clenched his entire face in agony as he hefted his weapon up to rest onto of the muddied handle of his blade, then he slumped against the wall behind it and once again he watched himself find the trigger if he'd need it. Just breath man, that’s all we need to do, at least let’s hope so, just breath.


yfrog.com/5mmedicaltent4p - map

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

40 days...that's how long it's been since this thread had a post in it. (Or do I need to be a bit blunt?)

-JT

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post

You've waited longer before

Doesn't mean I enjoy it

**New Map**

SS-Scharführer Crimm[/i]

- The trained sniper, despite his wounds, successfully managed to creep up on the wounded and distracted British troops.

- The British were caught unaware once again, but with slightly better luck this time. Crimm's wounds made accurate shots nigh impossible and only managed to hit the closest target, the until-now unwounded private twice, knocking him to the ground and causing the Bren to fall on top of him. Wounds: One round through the privates lower, right arm shattering the bones therein. One round into his hip and lodging in the bone therein. The Bren hit him in the face on the way down breaking his nose.

- The British sergeant returned fire immediately emptying his entire clip at the end of the trench. He was also too injured for accurate shots and only scored one hit. Wounds: One round to Crimm's left shoulder. The one wound by itself managed to disable the arm; in combination with his other wounds, forced Crimm up and over his pain barrier and has rendered him almost unconscious.

- The small German force in the woods took the gunfire as an opportunity to rescue their wounded comrades. With the enemy's night vision destroyed by their own muzzle-flashes, the two unwounded soldiers surged forward. They reached the group of fallen compatriots without attaching attention and begin pulling them back to safety. The wounded corporal spotted and pointed out Crimm near the trench. One of the rescuers made a snap decision and abandoned the unresponsive private and rushed forward one more to save his commander.

- The would-be hero reached the slightly less unresponsive Crimm and worked him up and over his shoulder. In the process, Crimm let out an audible cry of pain drawing the wrath of the British once more in the form of another emptied Sten clip. Again one round managed to hit it's mark, but the German private through sheer adrenaline made if back to safety under cover fire from the rest of this squad. Upon making it to safety the private collapsed under the weight of himself and Crimm. Wounds: The one round passed through the private's thigh avoiding major arteries but making his journey extremely difficult and exhausting.[/color]

---

Injuries

British:

Sgt. Brentwood
Shrapnel, lower legs; bleeding, painful
Reduced movement

Sgt. Williams
Splinters, back; painful
Gunshot, collar - Broken; painful, bleeding
Gunshot, kidney; painful, bleeding
Immobile and requires evacuation

Sgt. Toye
Shrapnel, leftside; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy

Pvt. [unnamed]
Shrapnel, leftside; painful
Reduced accuracy and vision

Pvt. [who's name I'm too lazy to find. Anderson maybe?]
Gunshot; left lowerarm and hip; broken nose
Reduced accuracy and mobility

German:

SfFhr. Crimm
Shrapnel, rightside; painful, bleeding
Gunshot, left calf; painful, light bleeding
Reduced accuracy and movement

Sgt. [unnamed]
GUnshots, leg/chest; bleeding
Collapsed lung; trouble breathing
Reduced mobility

ObGfr. Reinard
Gunshot, shoulder; bleeding
Immobile right arm

Cpl. [unnamed]
Gunshot, leg; bleeding
Reduced mobility

Pvt. [unnamed]
Gunshot, leg; massive bleeding
Reduced mobility and requires evacuation

Pvt. [unnamed]
Gunshot, left shoulder; painful, bleeding
Reduced accuracy

Pvt. [unnamed]
Gunshot, left thigh
Reduced mobility

---

I strongly recommend retreat for all still-living players.

Nest post: Brentwood

[Tyler D. Brentwood]

(OOC: Retreat? I'm sorry, that word is not in my vocabulary. ;D)

Movement

Clean


As according to the plan, Williams covertly crawled through the underbrush and reached the edge of the cliff. Disaster struck somewhere in between the crawling and the actual throwing of the grenade. Watching, in silence from his hiding place, Brentwood couldn't bare the sight of the Sergeant fumbling with the grenade before being put down by rifle shots. Gritting his teeth, he readjusted his grasp on the Sten, which he prayed wouldn't fail him in the moments to come. Dashing across open ground with all his might, the Staff Sergeant let out a lengthy burst of fire towards the pair of Germans who had exposed themselves. Surprisingly, it was not the sub-machine gun that failed him, but actually his own legs. He felt his legs, wounded from shrapnel, give out underneath him as he stumbled in the mud and fell onto his backside. He grunted, dazed and injured from the fall, before tightening his hold on the Sten. No one returned any fire.

The Krauts fled to the other end of the cliff and then... vanished. For some time, he lie there in the damp mud, wondering how it had come to this. The battlefield was a mess, havoc and chaos for all who fought in the miserable rain and blackness of night. After a few moments, Brentwood lifted himself from the ground, supporting himself up with the butt of his weapon. He inched his way forward, towards the cliff, and took cover to watch the unfolding events. Williams was miraculously still breathing, but a bit preoccupied with maintaining such a thing than to notice Brentwood hiding behind the cliff. Or at least, the Staff Sergeant believed so. It was too dark to tell. But as the Krauts approached the Sergeant, Brentwood held his finger to his mouth. Ducking beneath the cliff, he hid in cover as the night came alive once more with gunfire.

There was much firing in the North, a few rifles mixed in with sub-machine guns. A Bren LMG answered back, but soon the North fell silent. Victory or defeat? That he couldn't ascertain. More concerning, the Germans who had disappeared were assaulting the vacant trench. Vacant except for Brentwood's private, Davies. There was more rifle fire, followed by a burst from a nearby MP40. A Kraut was nearly on top of Williams! And he was giving his position away! Tyler silenced his breathing, leaning against the cliff face with his Sten at the ready. More silence. The sound of silence scared the Staff Sergeant more than anything, at least the gunfire helped him "read" the battlefield a little better. From what he could gather, there was an assault in the North. Toye and whoever was still alive in the northern trench most have fought back. But there was also movement on the eastern trench. Davies must have fought back, but there was still another German lurking in the underbrush.

Bugger! Just as Brentwood began to ease his way to the edge of the cliff, a few more shots rang out. He remembered the sound of the weapon, the one that had killed so many of the men under his command. The FG-42. But how could that be? Brentwood, Toye, and Williams silenced that sniper for good! Unless... he was still alive? No. No, that couldn't be. Maybe Toye had grabbed the weapon off the corpse. Yes, that seemed like a more logical explanation. He waited for the brief silence that followed, before reaching into a pouch attached to the webbing of his uniform. From the pouch, he pulled a second grenade. With the British grenade in his right hand, he slung his Sten's strap over his left shoulder. Easing his way into a position where he could spot Davies, he knew he could also spot the German should he stand up. Knowing the general area of where the German with the sub-machine gun was, he pulled the safety pin from the explosive device. This was the moment of truth. Waiting for two seconds, he stood and quickly spotted the German. At the third second, he tossed the grenade, not having to cover that much of a distance.

Ducking beneath the cover of the cliff to avoid any stray shrapnel or even bullets, he hoped no shrapnel hit Williams. He had attempted to toss the grenade behind the Kraut, to assure the maximum safety of his own Sergeant. Slipping the sub-machine gun back into his hands, ready to fire, he knew he only had a second or two before the explosion. When it came, he stood again and fired on the German. Emptying what remained of his clip, he ducked below cover and jammed a new clip into the weapon. This time, he hopped over the cliff and made a dash to Davies side, before squatting down and letting off a burst of three or four bullets towards the German's hopeful corpse. "Williams! Hang in there, ya bastard! I'm going to get you some help. Stay here," he muttered to the wounded Sergeant, who looked as if he was a corpse already.

"Davies, are you there? Is everything alright, Private?" he inquired, his eyes and Sten jumping back and forth between the trench and the German. It was so hard to assure someone was dead these days. Or at least, the firing of the FG-42 had made him a little... paranoid to say the least. "A Kraut's in here! Halfway down the trench! I can't get a good shot, sir!" Brentwood quickly sprinted to the underbrush, where the dead German lie. He crouched down near the corpse, pointing the Sten at the man's chest in case he were alive. Glancing back towards the trench, he was expecting to see a German pop up and fire at him. A third grenade was pulled from the pouch and Tyler made a note of the middle of the trench, lining it up with the medical tent. Holding the Sten off to his side with his left hand, he pulled the pin from the grenade with his right and held on to it tight. Rushing forward, he waited a second or two before tossing the grenade into the trench and dove down into the mud.

His ears, practically still ringing from the first explosion, endured a second. He fired off a quick burst at the trench, before getting up on his knees and working his way over. Davies had approached the scene and fired off another shot and Brentwood noticed the trench assaulter was to his right. Rising higher, he let off a number of bursts from the sub-machine gun, until he had emptied the clip. No doubt, the Kraut was dead or fatally wounded. He shifted the Sten to his left hand again, once more unholstering the Webley. Three more shots rang out, directed at the poor soldiers head to put him out of his misery. He gently stepped down onto the firing step and then into the trench itself, careful not to aggravate his wounds any further. "Davies, leave your Enfield here. Go retrieve the Sergeant for me, please." With a nod, the Private was off.

One more clip was loaded into his Sten. He peered over the edge of the trench, towards the medical tent. The corpse... the body... it was gone. His fears were right, after all. "Toye? Hello? Is anyone alive over there?" the Staff Sergeant called out, fearful the Germans had broken through. "We're here alright, Staff Sergeant. A bit beaten up, but here. It's just me and a private left. That... sniper... came back." The Staff Sergeant was weary now. He sighed in relief, glad the northern trench had yet to fall. Maybe they still had a chance. "Man the Bren, Sergeant. Give the private Mitchell's Thompson. Hold that line, soldier!" Brentwood barked out, knowing it was vital the northern trench would be held. "Yes sir!" Toye acknowledged the orders, setting the Bren up on the top of the trench.

From behind, Davies returned from the night with the wounded Sergeant in tow. With the assistance of Brentwood, the two managed to gently ease the man's body into the trench. Once they had laid him down, Brentwood grabbed the Lee Enfield that rested against the wall of the trench. "Davies. Use all the gauze you have to from your first aid kit. Patch the man up as best as you can and try to stop his bleeding. Please, comfort him," he instructed, before he set off down the trench. Along the way, he encountered a handful of corpses and some memories he wished not to dwell on. He arrived at the end of the trench and set his Sten up against the side of the trench. It would do him little good at long range. He made sure there was still ammo in the Enfield, before he aimed down its iron sights and watched the dark forest closely. Standing guard for the wounded man in the trench and the private who desperately tried to save his life, or make his last moments bearable.

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post

Dark, dark, dark...

**New Map**

Sergeant Brentwood

- Once again, the night has spoiled plans. As Brentwood popped up for his grenade, he did not spot the German sergeant and guessed again where his enemy was. he ducked down below the edge of the cliff and avoided any injury from the grenade as it detonated above him.

- Brentwood popped back up again and fired at his best estimate of the German's location. Five rounds left his Sten before an MP40 replied angrily from the brush not a meter away. Two rounds caught Brentwood, one in the chest and another in the shoulder, with sufficient force to topple the British sergeant backwards a short distance down the hill. [Wounds: Shoulder - Disabled left arm; Chest - [Luck] No damaged organs, heavy bleeding]

German Sergeant

- The sergeant heard the grenade plop down behind him and instinctively dove in the opposite direction, toward the enemy, and flattened himself against the grass. He didn't managed to fully avoid the blast, a good sized chunk of metal gouged out a hunk of his left calf.

- When the Sten opened up in front of him, firing over him, he raised his MP40 and fired back. Seven shots to be exact before his machinegun jammed. He waited a moment for death to greet him in the form of British bullets, but when none came he took it as a sign, picked himself up and hobbled as best he could toward friendly troops.

---

You can look at the last mod for a list of wounded, nothing but Brentwood and the sergeant's changed.

---

Next post: Sepp
96hr Time Limit on next post.

Mod Songs:
Today - KMFDM
Rearming Strafbomber - And One
Immortal - Decoded Feedback

[Heiko Alkema]

Moderation Post[/u]

It's well past the deadline.

Next post: Crimm[/color]

[⊕ Edzard Crimm]

The noises of battle seemed faint as Crimm was slowly weakening from his injuries. There was not much left in him and he knew something had to give one way or another. He looked around and could tell he wasn't the only one to have suffered during this engagement. "Is anyone not wounded?!" he shouted. A lone private was pulled in front of the senior German soldier on the field. "That's it?!..." the looks he could see solidified his fears "...Fuck!" he did his best to slide himself partially up a nearby tree to try and look around a bit easier. "Alright who's missing?!" he shouted to them again.

"The men that were on the far ridge have yet to be seen, we've got a man down in the road. We aren't the only ones with heavy casualties the fighting is more or less over with sporadic fits of it still creeping around."[/i] The nearby Corporal reported to Edzard. But he wasn't trying to hear all of that, he needed simple answers and waved his hands around trying to get the soldier to be quiet.

"Private, you are gonna earn yourself a nice medal, get over there and drag that man back over here! You understand me?!" with a nervous twitch the Private nodded quickly while clutching his rifle. "You won't need that, you must be quick about it. Corporal!" he looked about rapidly as the Corporal stepped forward. "Take my rifle anyone that can shoot decently and not hit this Private line up on the tree-line! Don't fire unless you or he is fired upon! I repeat do not fire unless you have to do so! Whether I'm out cold or not when you guys get back, pack it up and drag what's left of us out of here, consider that my final order for the battle! Now move with God's fury men!" They scurried about getting ready for the move. Crimm breathed as best he could, most of his breaths were shallow and he kept what pressure he could on his wounds with his fading strength.

"What about the men that were on the ridge?!"[/i] the Corporal asked loudly.

"If they haven't been seen yet then they won't be...NOW FOCUS AND GET THIS DONE!!" he gasped for air trying to focus himself, had he been able he would have smacked the reluctant Corporal around a bit, after all Crimm wasn't exactly a great front-line commander of soldiers, he usually worked alone and liked it that way. He'd make sure it remained that way in the future, this was not to his liking.

OOC: Didn't figure a map was needed but if you'd like me to produce one Heiko then please feel free to ask.