Disaster [Panzerschreck]

[Joachim von Goethe]

Wispy bits of smoke danced on the tips of the high pine trees, a silent reminder of the previous night’s airborne drops and the German’s attempts to halt them. Joachim kneeled as he stared up at the sky with curious eyes, focusing on a parachute hung way up on the boughs of the tree. A limp body hung from the harness, its neck at an awkward angle. At the base of the tree the soldier SMG laid, its stock splintered and half covered with leaves. A few feet away, another parachute and body was sprawled out on a bed of needles, except this American had been cut down by German sentry fire that night. “This can’t be all of them, can it?” a soldier said, crouched low beside Joachim. “No, there are more. At least six.” The officer said gravely.

Oberleutnant von Goethe waved a hand, ordering his party to move further through the foliage. Joachim wore a camouflage smock and low boots with gaiters strapped to his calves. The orange, brown and green hood was pulled tight over his officer’s cap, the brim casting shadows over the Bavarian’s soft face and obscuring his features. A silencer was screwed into the barrel of his Mauser rifle, hopefully suppressing most flash and sound. The three soldiers following Joachim where dressed in similar fashion, their helmets decorated with twigs and rifles fully loaded. Their boots where nearly silent against the forest floor, as if they where as stealthy as ghosts floating through the air.

Suddenly, the sharp snap of a twig echoed throughout the forest, causing von Goethe’s ears to perk up at once. He slowly raised a fist into the air, and the soldiers behind him stopped in their tracks. Joachim’s eyes flitted from side to side, but caught nothing other than rustling leaves and tree trunks. He made the hand signal to go prone, and the three soldiers threw themselves on the ground. The Oberleutnant did the same and flicked the safety off of his rifle, steadying it with his strong hands. He made sure his cheek was pressed firmly against the polished wood stock and peered down the sights, blackened with his cigarette lighter the day before. He breathed, relaxing the muscles of his arms and shoulders, his eyes still sweeping the forest. Footsteps crunched on the leaves to both his right and left. Great god, their flanking us. He thought with panic. He’d walked right into the American’s clever little trap, and now there was nothing to do but listen as bayonets slaughtered the men on his flank. His rifle was pointed the wrong way, and he couldn’t even see his attackers through the shadow that his hood made.

“Help! Hilfe!” was all that he could say as he rolled onto his back, waiting for impending doom. Two American soldiers butchered the Germans with nothing but knives, they must had lost their rifles in the drop. Joachim thought quick and squeezed the trigger clumsily, a bullet whizzing into the Americans thigh, cracking bones. The officer made an attempt to throw open the bolt of his rifle, but the other American was quicker. He thrust down his blade in a panic, slicing through Joachim’s muscular calf and pinning it to the ground. With his good leg the German shoved his heel into the Americans chest, sending him stumbling and grabbing his wounded friend, leaving the Oberleutnant for dead. “Help! Please!” Joachim shouted again, looking at the bodies around him and hoping someone would come to his aid. His calf was bleeding out bad; his whole bottom trouser leg was soaked with red discharge. “Help! I am wounded! Help!”

[Friedrich Bäcker]

Friedrick woke to the sound of the gunfire. "Well, they finally came..." He put his helmit on, got his pack, rifle, and all his other combat get on. He fixed his bayonet to his Karabiner 98K, loaded a clip in, and headed outside.

He sneaked around, searching for friendlies to help and Americans to kill. He paused every so often to scan around, to see them before he himself was seen. Then he heard arustling sound, and the occasional pained groan. He stopped and looked around. After a few moments, he noticed the two Americans, one over theother's shoulder, unable to walk. He thought to himself... "Finally, you'll have your job finished..."

He raised his rifle, and took aim at the good soldier's head. He followed the target for a few seconds, then fired. Both immediately fell, the living one yelling in pain, whilst also panicing. Friedrick reloaded his rifle, took aim, and finished the injured American too. He walked up to their bodies, examining them. "Huh...must have lost their guns in the drop..." Friedrick set down his rifle. He then arranged the corpses neatly side by side, put their helmits on their chests, picked up his rifle, and left them that way. He was not one to unnecessarily rob the dead, even if they are the enemy.

At that moment, Friedrick heard Joachim's calls for help. "That's not a good sign..." He rushed in the direction of the calls as quickly as he could, eventually reaching Joachim. "Sir! I've heard your calls!" Friedrick looked at Joachim's leg. He pulled the knife out, and threw it aside. He tore away the soiled cloth, then some cleaner material from Joachim's other leg. He used this to wrap around the wound, as a make-shift bandage. Now finished, Friedrick looked at the dead, German soldiers, then at Joachim. "What happened here?"

[Joachim von Goethe]

Joachim lay his head down in the leaves, tearing off the hood of his anorak feverishly. It felt like his whole body was inflamed, a unbearable sense of intense heat rushed through all of his extremities. His wound gushed blood, he could feel it dripping all over his calf, searing like hot magma. The officer had no idea why he felt so overheated, he had always heard of people getting cold when they where injured. Joachim squinted his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, hoping it would chase some of the pain away. "Help!" He yelled again, letting out a breath that he had not realized he had been holding for a remarkably long time.

Leaves crunched under someone's foot to von Goethe's left. Damn it! was the first thing that came to mind, fearing the worst. His hands tightened, his fingernails digging into his palms and drawing more scalding blood. His rifle lay a dangerously long distance from him, and even if he could reach it, he doubted he could use it properly. Instead, his fumbling hand reached the hilt of his Imperial Bayonet, and the metallic schink of it unsheathing echoing in his brain. His eyes blinked rapidly, his vision hazy from blood loss. He could barely make out the figure that knelt over him, but he could easily hear the young man's voice. "Sir! I've heard your calls!" Good, another German. Joachim thought, wincing as the mystery man tugged the soiled part of Joachim's mouse-Grey trouser leg and pulled some fresh wool off of the other side, wrapping it tightly around his wound. The Oberleutnant made an audible grinding sound with his teeth and then stuck the Imperial Bayonet into the dirt next to him, blade first.

Once the wound had stopped bleeding, Joachim worked up enough strength to sit up, propping his torso up with weary arms. He ran a bloody hand through his hair, knocking his officer's cap off in the process and revealing his wispy light brown hair with shocks of Grey on the close-cropped sides. Joachim looked at his savior again and saw that he was a Wehrmacht Obergefrieter, his young face vibrant with youth. He was lucky, the boy was still young, but Joachim was getting up there in years. The Obergefrieter glanced at the sprawled out remains of the other German soldiers, and Joachim shifted positions and winced at both the pain and the memory. "We where hunting down survivors of the drops-" Joachim grunted with pain and continued. "-when we heard something. I ordered them all get prone, but the Americans had circled around and murdered us from our flanks. I managed to shoot one, but I guess they just got away..."

[Friedrich Bäcker]

Friedrick looked at him. "So that's why the one couldn't walk...and yes, I did kill both of them. I layed them somewhere over there...They never saw me." Friedrick notices Joachim's rifle. He goes over, gets it, and brings it to him. "Here, sir..." He looked at the trees. He then looked at the dead Germans again. Then at Joachim. It was clear that he needed to get away from here...he was looking slightly pale...

Friedrick thought a bit. This was a bad place to be caught, and he surely would have died one way or another had he not come...but it wasn't enough. He needed medicalattension quick... He stood. "Well, sir, I'm going to help you back to where I was. At least you can rest there. I'm sorry about your team...I'll bury them in the morning, when we can see better. It's about three fourths of a kilometer, though, so this will take a while..." He put his rifle and Joachim's on his back, after removing his bayonet. He looked around, to make sure noone was watching. "Okay, we're all clear for the moment..."

Friedrick put his arm over Joachim's, and the two managed to make him stand. They slowly start on the long walk back, with much difficulty. "Okay, you'll have to help me look for any enemies, 'cause I can't see too well on the side that you are on..." They slowly trudged along, foot by foot. Eventually, the place finally came into site, at the top of a hill, but mostly hidden by trees. Friedrick stopped torest a for a few short moments. "Do you see anyone?"

[Joachim von Goethe]

Joachim closed his eyes and let himself concentrate on his breathing. His calf still burned, he wasn't going to lie, but at least guiding his lungs on their intake of air took his mind off of it. Wincing, he wriggled out of his anorak and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic one hand at a time, making sure to use one as support at all times. With a clumsy right hand he undid the top two buttons and folded the collar out, and did the same for his service shirt. He sighed, as his skin cooled in the summer evening's air. "So that's why the one couldn't walk...and yes, I did kill both of them. I layed them somewhere over there...They never saw me." The Obergefrieter said, making Joachim jump. He grimaced with the pain of the quick motion and chose his next words.

"Good boy, at least someone around here has the dedication and balls to get the job done. I would be proud to call you a Gebirgsjager, if you where ever interested. That is, if it ever gets out of divisional limbo..."

The Obergefrieter looked at the dead bodies and then back at the officer. With a concerned look the junior soldier opened his mouth again. "Well, sir, I'm going to help you back to where I was. At least you can rest there. I'm sorry about your team...I'll bury them in the morning, when we can see better. It's about three fourths of a kilometer, though, so this will take a while..." He picked up Joachim's rifle and slung it across his back, so two Mausers hung from his shoulders. Joachim slid the long blade of his Imperial Bayonet from the soil and wiped some traces of organic matter off on his trousers, the lower parts torn up from both the Obergefrieter's makeshift tourniquet or his wound. "Thank you, soldier" He said as the soldier helped him up with one hand.

The pair hobbled along, Joachim's bad leg dragging behind him. His wool bandage was blood soaked from the moving, and soon had to be changed. He made sure to clutch his bayonet extra tight, as if it helped reassure him as they passed where the two dead Americans where sprawled. The human crutch wobbled, and Joachim collapsed a few times when a bad bought of blood loss hit. His stomach began to churn, and his skin was cold, clammy and pale. He rolled his sleeves down, and now he was freezing cold. A wave of relief swept over him when they sat down at last, and Joachim sprawled against the ground and slipped into a coma-like sleep almost instantly.

OOC: You can RP something while Joachim is asleep, if you want.

[Friedrich Bäcker]

"Alright, sir, are you ready?" Friedrick then noticed that he wasn't awake anymore. "Ehh...only to be expected...though I wish it were after we got in there..." he said to himself. After a few moments, he got up, and cntinued carrying Joachim to the small structure, a bit slower than before, but getting there...

Eventually, the get there, Friedrick dragging him through the door. After checking that the black curtains were still drawn (So as not for the shack's lightto be seen.), he sets Joachim on a small bed, and removes his used, make-shift bandage. He throws it into a trash can, and goes into the bathroom. A few things are heard, and a few moments later, he come back out with a large, real bandage. "One of only two left..." Friedrick applies it to Joachim's leg, making sure is was on properly. "Alright, that should do it..."

Friedrick set both their rifles in a corner near the bed. He put his helmit on one of the bed posts, and his pack on the one next to it. He slid off his boots, setting then just under the bed. He then did the same with Joachim's. He made sure the curtains were drawn once again. "Hmm...I suppose I should keep watch, with the Americans dropping in and all...huh...I did nothing but sleep all day, so it shouldn't be too tiring to stay up all night."

Friedrick turned out the only light in the shack. He took the one chair from a small table, and put it next to a window. He grabbed his rifle, and sat in the chair, rifle on lap. And he watched and waited.

And watched.

And waited.

Eventually, Friedrick spotted shadow. It was near the shack...he quickly slid his boots and helmit. "No need for the rest," he thought. He looked at the shadow again. It had a helmit on...and not a German one. Fortunately, it was alone. Friedrick hid by the door, his knife in hand. The soldier opened the door to the shack, looking to find out what (or who) was inside...

And did he find out. He went inside, and approched Joachim to see if it was a German in this darkness. But Friedrick grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth with one hand, slicing his throat with the other. "Normally, I would leave them outside...but it would give us away..." Friedrick layed the body near the door, and cleaned up the mess. He then when back to watching, all through the night...

[Joachim von Goethe]

Joachim's eyes fluttered, the brown lashes licking at his Grey corneas. The last thing he remembered was laying his head down on the soft grass and succumbing to sleep's soft ebb. The sleep had been heavy with pain and blood loss, but he felt better, wherever he was. The officer shrugged off a thin wool blanket and pulled his injured leg up to his chest. His pants leg was cut off about 3 inches below the knee, revealing a sterile white gauze bandage wrapped around the bayonet wound. He prodded the skin around the puncture gingerly, checking for any signs of paralysis. It did not hurt nearly as much anymore, but Joachim's whole body seemed exhausted. Someone had removed his boots and other prodding equipment, setting it down next to two rifles. An American paratrooper was leaned against one walls, blood dripping from a ghastly second smile under his chin.

The Oberleutnant turned and saw the Obergefrieter keeping watch out the window, his eyes dutifully frozen to the landscape. A abandoned room full of medical supplies was attached to a wall on his right, that mostly held empty cartons. Joachim attempted to stand, but collapsed and would have fallen if he hand not supported himself against the wall. Edging along the wood, Joachim made his way over to the sharp soldier and tapped him on shoulder board, a weak smile on his face. "I owe my life to you, boy. If you hadn't have came, I would be dead. You carried me all the way here and bandaged my leg, even though it wasn't your job, and watched the landscape all night. I even noticed that you dispatched an American..." Joachim said, motioning to the dead body. "...You have earned my trust. God bless you." He said, giving a rare salute to a man of lower rank to him, meaning well.

Joachim picked a broken piece of floorboard off of the ground and used it as a crutch, hobbling unsteadily, but at least he didn't have to stick to the wall like some type of horsefly. The Oberleutnant walked into the supply room, rummaging through boxes and drawers to find anything of use. He found a small box of pain relievers in a dusty corner and swallowed two with water from his canteen, trying to rehydrate his deteriorating body. Joachim noticed a small, narrow wooden door on one side and shoved it opened, nearly tumbling to the ground when it finally gave. A small window illuminated the room, which was decorated with propaganda posters with slogans like "Achtung Panzer!" and tables stocked radio supplies, a captured Russian revolver some cocky young German took for a souvenir, and one monster of a radio, decked with knobs and dials. He removed the revolver from its holster and tucked it in his belt for easy use in his wounded state. A plaque next to the radio read PANZER CO NM: 379987. "Soldier, do you mind coming over hear and assist me in operating the radio?" He called to the other man. "Its signal can only go to some Panzer. If we can contact them, maybe they can radio in some help..."

[Friedrich Bäcker]

Friedrick came over. "Alright, sir, I'll do what I can. Maybe some tanks are actually within its range by now..." He started messing with the thing, seeing if he could pick up a signal. "One thing I've hated about preparing for this invasion...who had the bright idea of keeping nearly all our tanks away from the beaches?!" He fumbled with the radio a bit more, trying to pick up someone...pick up anyone on their side...

After afew minutes, the static started to break a bit. "Finally!" He messed with it more, trying to hear what was going on...he nearly lost the signal several time, and nearly gained it several times. "The must be barely within range. I hope that their only getting closer..." He continued messing with the radio... "I think I've gotten them this time."

Now Friedrick starts talking into the radio. "Hello? We need a bit of help...I have a wounded officer here, and there's no doubt we'll encounter more Americans soon." He sets the radio back to "recieve," and waits a few moments. Finally, another voice comes through. "We areheading towards beaches...how many of you are there?" Friedrick looks at Joachim. "Just two, sir." Afters a few moments, the reply comes of what they should do... "Alright, what is your location?" Friedrick pulls ot a small map, heavily wrinkled and with a few tears here and there...he tells right where they are. "Alright, then. I'll send a half-track when we get near." He smiles with relief. "Jawohl!"

Friedrick turn off the radio. He gets up, and looks outside. No Americans...yet. He goes and sits on the bed, putting his pack on. "So, sir, I guess it is now time for this question...what is your name, sir? I am Obergefreiter Friedrich Bäcker."

[Joachim von Goethe]

Joachim pulled a rickety wooden chair over to near the radio table, letting the seat take all of his weight. He rubbed his skinny arms, trying to warm himself up. He was still cold from the bloodloss. Joachim could hear the footsteps of the other soldier tap on the wooden floor, appearing in the doorway after a few seconds. He was still young, and still had a future ahead of him. Joachim would be lucky if he made it out of the war, between bullets and his deteriourating liver and lungs. Fortunatly, the problems where not serious enough for the officer to be plucked off of the front and sent back to the Fatherland, for the Wehrmacht was short of officers, and expecially ones with high altitude and ski training. He was extremly grateful to the young soldier for saving his life, and would do what he could to make life easier for the boy.

The Obergefrieter apologized, citing that he would do what he could to radio the Panzers. "Try your best, boy. Hopefully you will be able to get a hold of them quickly." As the young soldier turned knobs and tapped dials, Joachim leaned in to help in every once in a while, but his leg was paining him badly again. He swallowed two more pain killer pills and downed the rest of his water, and cursed the fact that he had no cigarettes. Joachim slipped the captured revolver out of his belt, releasing the cylander and twisting it, revealing the brass primer of six Russian bullets. He tossed it between his hands, weighing it in his palms and running fingertips across its blued steel barrel. To him, the hammer seemed flimsy compared to the German's Luger Parabellum pistol action, and it didn't seem like it packed anywhere close to as big as a punch. But it would do for now.

After a while of electric whines and constant static, the Obergefrieter finally grasped ahold of a Panzer crew, the clanking of treads audible in the background. The young soldier explained their situation and asked for help, and the crew agreed to send a halftrack to rescue the stranded pair. Joachim threw a fist into the air and cheered, in good spirits because of the good news. They walked into the main room, Joachim still hobbeling along with his makeshift crutch. The Oberleutnant sat down into a chair and pulled out the revolver again, circling the cylander absentmindedly. The Obergefrieter introdouced himself politely and asked Joachim the same question. "Ah, another soldier with manners. Well-bred, I presume? The Wehrmacht could use a few good men like you. I am Oberleutnant Joachim von Goethe, nice to meet you Obergefrieter Backer, nice skills with that old radio back there. Have you ever considered becoming a combat engineer? Or maybe a radioman?"

[Friedrich Bäcker]

Friedrick looked got up, opened the door, and looked out. In the distance, the loud Ford GAA engines of Sherman medium tanks could barely be heard. He closed the door, and went to Joachim. "Actually, Sir, I've been thinking more on the lines of being an anti-tank soldier. I've always wanted to use one of those Panzerschrecks...those things can really punch through armour, even against our own tanks!"

Friedrick looked again at the dead American. For some reason, it wasn't untill now that he noticed his M1 A1 Carbine on the floor...he picked it up, and layed it on the table. Abeit slowly, the sound of the engines were getting a bit closer as the time went by. Who's tanks were going to get to them first? "That half track had better get here soon. I'm not going to get captured after just one damned day!!" He sighed and looked out again. The engines were no longer getting closer, nor farther. A few stray machine gun shots were occasionally heard, and even one main gun was fired, but that was about it.

Friedrick walked around the the room again. After thinking for a few moments, he went to the bed, picked his helmit and his pack, put both of them on, and got his rifle. "I might as well..." He went to the door, and listened again, hearing a more familiar sond of their own engines. "Finnally, our own tanks are approaching...you know, Joachim, I think we are probably going to make it out of this! Our engines are quiter, so I know that our own tanks are closer to us." He smiles, looking in both directions, assurred that the Allies ould not reach them first. He wasn't going to go against tanks in this condition. He had no antitank weapons. But at least their own tanks were getting closer, and one seemed almost at them...

[Joachim von Goethe]

Frederich walked over to the door, pushed the rough door open, and peered outside, listening to the mechanical rumbling tearing up the pristine French countryside. His ears zeroed in on the clank of the Sherman Medium tanks. He had seen them several times before, mostly in the Kasserine Pass, where he and his platoon had ambushed several convoys of American troops reinforced by the huge green machines. Joachim thought their rounded design and bright colors where almost comical, like a toy, or a cartoon. He couldn't of helped but laughed when his force had captured one with a crude painting of "Steamboat Willy", the American cartoon mouse that he thought of every time he thought of his olive-drab clothed enemies.

"An anti-tank soldier, eh? Panzerschrecks are well and all, but I would go for Panzerfausts and mines instead. Way more useful. 'Schrecks are way to big and heavy, and many a fine German soldier has been killed because they take so long to reload."

Obergefrieter Backer gazed at the dead American again, now creating another puddle of sticky red blood beneath his pale body. The crimson dripped down the front of his tunic, staining it forever. Poor soldier, had probably wandered for hours before ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Frederich had been good about killing him, quick, efficient, and as painless as possible. Joachim hobbled over and picked his own Imperial Bayonet up from the floor, the blackened blade sharp and imposing. He slipped it back in its sheath, admiring the pleasing sound that rang in his ears of metal on metal.

Soon, the two became tired of the monotonous waiting for their own armor to rescue them. Joachim was reassured by Backer's speech, and was elated when he heard the treads of a half-track just outside the hut. "Seig Heil!" Joachim yelled enthusiastically as he motioned for Backer to follow him.

OOC: I think your post will be the last, as we agreed via PM.

[Friedrich Bäcker]

Friedrick followed him, making sure he had all of his gear. "Yes sir!" The gunfire was getting closer and faster now, both machine gun and main cannon. Their own guns were firing now, trying to push back the Americans. As they went, they finally encountered their first friendly troops in quite a while...the half-track had finally arrived. It stopped near them, and a soldier manning the MG-34 spoke to them. "You two the ones that called for us?" Friedrick looked at them. "Yes sir, we are. The wounded one is Oberleutnant Joachim von Goethe, sir."

"Well, get in, then. We'll take you back to command." Friedrick nods and helps Joachim into the half-track, before getting in it himself. It takes off, bringing the two to much needed safety. Thank you...there's no way that we would have lasted much longer had you not come. We have no anti-tank weapons of any kind... He looked at his rifle, checking to see if it was loaded. Then he made sure the safety was on.

One of the soldiers spoke. "What happened to him?" Friedrick looked at Joachim, then him. "Knive through his leg. I found him just in time, too." Friedrick lied back, thinking of what had happened.Not much compared to some people, but still, he saved a life. The gunfire was louder now, and American aircraft were starting to fly overhead. It was now that Friedrick realized just how tired he was...he lied back even further, against the vehicle's armour. And then, he just let himself drift into a long delayed rest...

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

-Closed-

Goethe - 10CP

Backer - 8CP

-JT