Post by William Luther on Sept 12, 2009 9:41:06 GMT
Berlin,
25th April, 1945
The cold stone of a Lichtenberg house dug in to the back of Sturmscharfuhrer William Luther. He, along with the rest of his platoon, had been told to come off of the line for a few hours, sort there stuff out. The small suburb of Berlin, Lichtenberg was a hive of activity, as the bloody Battle of Berlin raged on; the group of men gathered around the camp could hear the crumps and explosions of artillery, the chatter of Machine Gun fire, and the ever present drone of Soviet armour pushing forward.
Luther’s platoon was in shambles now. Without a commanding officer, the senior NCO had been put in charge, but that didn’t really matter. There were scarcely two squads left, no mortars, one machine gun, no way of dealing with armour… Things were grim. One thing they did have, however, was 7.62, and lots of it. The miracle round that powered 98ks, G43s, MG42s and 34s. and of course the StG44. They had less 9mm, though, Luther having two and a half magazines for his Browning Hi-Power.
He picked up a black rag, and carried on working on his StG44, cleaning the moving parts systematically before giving them a blast of lubricant. In the last few hours he’d noticed the action getting a bit “chunky”, and one too many jams for his liking. Whenever you were taken off the line, three things needed sorting in a certain order; weapons, equipment, self.
Every time he was off, he’d clean either his StG, pistol, or sharpen his knife. He’d then find cloth of some sorts to turn in to bandages, and get any other gear needed before seeing to himself, getting food and rest. With a final grunt, he slipped a new magazine in and slapped the cocking handle forward, making the weapon ready to fire.
25th April, 1945
The cold stone of a Lichtenberg house dug in to the back of Sturmscharfuhrer William Luther. He, along with the rest of his platoon, had been told to come off of the line for a few hours, sort there stuff out. The small suburb of Berlin, Lichtenberg was a hive of activity, as the bloody Battle of Berlin raged on; the group of men gathered around the camp could hear the crumps and explosions of artillery, the chatter of Machine Gun fire, and the ever present drone of Soviet armour pushing forward.
Luther’s platoon was in shambles now. Without a commanding officer, the senior NCO had been put in charge, but that didn’t really matter. There were scarcely two squads left, no mortars, one machine gun, no way of dealing with armour… Things were grim. One thing they did have, however, was 7.62, and lots of it. The miracle round that powered 98ks, G43s, MG42s and 34s. and of course the StG44. They had less 9mm, though, Luther having two and a half magazines for his Browning Hi-Power.
He picked up a black rag, and carried on working on his StG44, cleaning the moving parts systematically before giving them a blast of lubricant. In the last few hours he’d noticed the action getting a bit “chunky”, and one too many jams for his liking. Whenever you were taken off the line, three things needed sorting in a certain order; weapons, equipment, self.
Every time he was off, he’d clean either his StG, pistol, or sharpen his knife. He’d then find cloth of some sorts to turn in to bandages, and get any other gear needed before seeing to himself, getting food and rest. With a final grunt, he slipped a new magazine in and slapped the cocking handle forward, making the weapon ready to fire.