Partisans in the Mist.

[∬: Gero A. Fritz]

OOC: Not a training exercise, rather a fun NPC skirmish. I’d rather only the one or two extra Axis people joining this, no more. Thanks.

Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump! a pair of leather boots came pounding through the dirt, dry leaves and dirt being kicked up simultaneously, as the strafing legs moved swiftly and quickly across the hard terrain. Falling onto one knee and collapsing his back against a large tree, Unteroffizier Fritz sharply and heavily breathed, catching his breath. Muffling his face down into his dirty and worn tunic, he tried his hardest as to not let his breathing give away his position, he was knackered from the running and couldn’t help drawing in sharp bales of breath, as his body ached for the oxygen.

After a good moment of respelling his bloodstream with some O2, he looked back towards the way he came and flagged his arm up towards Unteroffizier Gunter who was peering out from behind a tree of his own, cautiously glancing behind himself every few seconds, looking a little paranoid. Seeing the signal from his comrade, Unteroffizier Gunter sprung up from his position and began to ferry his way across to Gero, keeping his body posture low and his legs moving quickly. As Unteroffizier Gunter made his way over, Gero leaned his body forwards, collapsing the MG42 he had leaning against his shoulder to fall against the dirt by his feet, whilst his hands made quick work on dragging up the stock-end of the gunnery, making sure the attached ammo case to the barrel was still fed into the chamber appropriately.

Feeling Unteroffizier fall down beside him heavily, panting for breath himself, Gero thumped him on the arm and pointed towards a nearby cabin he’d spotted upon his trek up towards the tree. Daniel Gunter peered over quietly and pulled a curious look towards Gero for a moment. They’d both agreed to be silent ten minutes ago and either of them hardly understood one another’s hand signals at times; Grabbing Daniel Gunter by the gruff of his collar and pushing his head down to look towards the cabin’s direction, he let out a brief and quiet “Ohh…”, before yanking himself out of Gero’s grip. The two were like brothers and acted it more than comrades at times, but Gero wasn’t so sure Daniel Gunter would miss him if he took a bullet…

Yanking the bolt upon the side of the MG42 real slowly and as quietly as he could, Unteroffizier Fritz climbed to his feet gradually and began pacing towards the small cabin, tree by tree, falling to one knee each time as he done so, before peering out to check of any patrols or on-lookers, before continuing. Unteroffizier Gunter was following behind with a tactical spacing, his body moving behind the trees also, watching Gero move, before he done so himself. It was wise to have one body moving at a time, rather than two moving figures at once. Gero must’ve neared the mark of at least sixty to seventy yards from the cabin, until he seized to move anymore, looking back for Daniel Gunter who stuck his head out from behind a tree, looking a little comical for a brief moment. Rather than flagging for the fellow Unteroffizier to come over to his position, he swooped his arm out towards the left and pointed towards his eyes, before off towards the cabin, saying; Move up the left and keep an eye out.

Gero was more towards the right flank anyhow, so if anyone came out from the front or right, he’d have them nailed. Supposedly there were German partisans hiding in the woodlands that the Germans regularly used to train in - reports of casualties had been listed as of late, due to rebellious activity coming from deep inside the woodlands. Sadly, the German trainees were loaded with blank rounds. Shells of gunpowder with no lead tips, so the most the German soldiers could do, was burn themselves from the excessive blank firing or run. The two Unteroffiziers were sent out to scout the area and they’d been hunting about for at least two hours already, but now the cabin before them held a good fortune of inhabiting some partisans who were wrecking German exercises.

Small clouds of smoke came from the narrow chimney and the windows were boarded closed, but Gero couldn’t work out one thing. Wouldn’t the partisans have a patrol? With that, a voice angrily spurted out from behind him and a young man, wielding a kitchen knife came throwing himself atop of Gero from out of the tree, knocking his MG42 from it’s supporting feet. Gero worriedly grabbed for the man’s arm holding the knife, feeling him pushing it downwards, so much so, Gero could only divert his target by twisting his wrist and feeling the knife plummet into the ground beside him. Gero’s head snapped to the side as the partisan yanked his elbow sideways with his opposing arm, knocking Gero’s helmet off from the impact, the noise of it rolling into the embankment below worried Gero more than the knife his assailant had!

Forcing his hand up against the man’s mouth, he tried to muffle the man’s aggressive snarls, knowing the young partisan was too fired up to alert his comrades. Perhaps he was the selfish type? Balling a fist, Gero thumped the man in the gut and tried to roll him over, but failed as he felt the rebel dig his knees into Gero’s thighs, trying to hold him down, but Gero couldn’t cry out for help, as it would’ve alerted the others and struggling to snuffle the man’s mouth with his hand, Gero wasn’t sure just how much longer he could take until one of them called out or broke the silence.

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

OOC- Not sure if I have the right end of the stick here. Partisans = Baaaaaaad and this is somewhere in a forest near a training ground? Btw, I don't suppose you know any good online translaters?

A twig snapping somewhere to Armins right caused him to suddenly stiffen and yank his head upwards from where it had been keeping an eye for sticks that he himself might step on. His hand which had been lightly holding the strap of his rifle over his shoulder snapped the rifle into the safe grasp of both hands and it swivelled around to peer into the tall pine tree's to his right. Unfortunately the chamber was only loaded with blank rounds, so if he did sight a so called 'enemy', then he would just have to try to pull the trigger, making it emit the sharp sound, and tree and convince the man that he had pulled the trigger first. Was that a - Yes, there was a helmet poking up from behind a fallen log. He paused, wondering what he should do, before he suddenly barked out a loud "Halt!"

The grey helmet jerked slightly at the sound of the challenge and then the owner apperantly decided he was beaten and raised himself upwards for Armin to see. He relaxed as he recognised the man for his companion in the training excercise, Private Wolf. He had become separated from him about half an hour ago when he had sent him around to flank what he had thought was an emeny outpost. It wasn't and he hadn't seen Wolf since then. Shortly ater they had become separated, Armin had realised that the compass he had been given didn't work and pointed in any direction whatsoever. He wasn't really worried about being lost, though. The forest wasn't more than two days walking in any direction and it was frequented by many men on combat excersises.

He beckened the Private to come over to him with a jerk of his head. He was standing on an old path that so far had gone mostly in the same direction and anyway, a path had to lead somewhere. "The compass is all addled" Armin hissed at Wolf. Sami Wolf grimaced sympathetically and followed the brisk footsteps of Armin down the path. By now, Armin shouldn't really have been trying to keep a low profile in the woods, but he still held slight hopes that he would magically find out where he was and continue the excersise. Wolf was more worried then he was, for he knew that there was a chance they weren't going in a straight line and that when their water ran out they would have a lot to worry about.

Armin held up his hand to stop Wolf. Up ahead in the trees there was a cabin. Could this be the place they were meant to be in? Armin crouched down on the ground having decided to just watch the building for now. It was definately occupied, that he could see in the form of thin wisps of smoke rising from the chimney. But, he had heard reports of vicious anti-nazi partisans which had been ambushing men while they were training. There was a chance that this was one of there bases and that there might be twenty armed men stuck in that building. Yes, he would wait for now.

He blinked his eyes at the site of a running figure. No, two figures. Even from this distance h could see the German uniforms they were wearing, but he was still cautious. He saw one of them approach nearer to the building and then suddenly was sprung on by a man jumping right out of a tree and onto him. Armin's hands stiffened on his rifle and he had already raised it to his shoulder when he remembered that it was loaded with blanks. He had to do something: this was a real fight. The ambusher had a knife which he was repeatedly trying to stab the soldier with.

Without thinking, he ran out of cover and starting covering the ground between him and the fighters his. Without him noticing his feet automatically tried to make as little noise as possible and he ran up to the men almost silently. His hands slid down the gun until the both rested on the barrel. He swung the but hard at the back of the man on tops head. It connected with a sickening crunch, from the mans head or the butt of the rifle he couldn't tell. He stood there panting quietly.

[∬: Gero A. Fritz]

OOC: Partisans do equal, bad. We may have to run if there’s more than the odd few. Fun! Lmao! I’ll PM you a link to an online translator I use and feel free to control the partisans how you like. Don't let me judge what they do.


Continuing to snuffle his rugged dirty palm up against the young male’s mouth, Unteroffizier Gero Fritz desperately flogged his mouth open for precious oxygen, instinctively knowing he had to use any means necessary to strengthen himself, rather much so as the grubby young man was fumbling a knife in his grasp, trying his hardest to push the blade into Gero’s torso. Feeling the Anti-Socialist Partisan struggle a better grip onto his tunic, he suddenly knew the rebel was about to force a harder strike with the blade this time. Perhaps he underestimated the German Soldier’s strength?

Clasping his hands onto the partisan’s wrists, both holding at the knife, the young man’s body pushing and pushing down against Gero’s grip that could hardly hold him back much longer, almost ready to bawl out for help to his fellow comrade, Daniel Gunter, when out of no-where, the stock to a rifle clubbed across the back of the man’s head, emitting the most toe curling crunch in the process. The partisan went limp immediately and the knife fell retarded from his grasp, as the partisan’s body let out a spasm, as if his brain was shooting fireworks from the physical blow it’d suffered - without waiting for the rebel to fall from off him, the Unteroffizier let go of the partisan’s wrists and grasped at the gruff of his tunic, shoving his body aside, causing the perhaps dead male to lifelessly cascade down the dirt embankment where his helmet had fallen; The body slumping into the dry leaves below.

Hastily reaching down to his boot now his hands were free, Gero pulled out a small knife that’d been tightly tucked down into the leather, his eyes wild, blood ablaze with adrenaline. Moistening his dry throat, he took a few deep breaths and stared towards the man that’d helped him, the knife in his hand pointing out a little as it took a good moment for the situation to sink in - he was friendly. “Vi... Vielen Dank” he murmured out stiffly and quietly, lowering his arm with the knife to slowly tuck back into his boot. Glancing towards the cabin, he quickly, leaned out for his toppled over MG42 and dragged it towards him. Climbing to his feet, he pushed the Oberstabsfeldwebel behind a nearby tree and leant behind it aside him. “Es gibt Parteigänger in der Hütte hinunter dort. Sind Sie allein Oberstabsfeldwebel?” he questioned quietly, not wanting to seem disrespectful to the senior NCO, but at the same time, wanted to know if the man brought any extra company that could be used to deal with the situation.

The cabin-door opened below with a high pitch squeak, causing the Unteroffizier to freeze-up, huddling his MG42 against his chest, so no shiny exterior pieces were protruding from behind their tree. A rough looking man walked from the cabin, German karbiner hanging from his shoulder as he began to light up a cigarette, standing outside casually, totally unaware of the strewn comrade of his that laid a mere few yards away, head down in the dirt. It would be a matter of time until he realised. Gero looked away from the man that’d saved him and tried to figure out if he could see Daniel Gunter, but he seemed to be hidden well…


Translations:[/b]

Vi... Vielen Dank.
~ Th… Thank you.

Es gibt Parteigänger in der Hütte hinunter dort. Sind Sie allein Oberstabsfeldwebel?
~ There are Partisans in the cabin down there. Are you alone Oberstabsfeldwebel?

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

The man suddenly stiffened and Armin could imagine his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. He did allow himself a tiny grin here, but it was barely noticeable. He did feel a sense of triumph about the fact that he had completely knocked the man unconscious. As his fellow soldier pushed the limp body off of himself Armin could see a faint trace of blood on the back of the unconscious man’s head. He checked the stock of his rifle; worried that some of this filths blood had tarnished his precious weapon. He breathed a sigh of relief to find that a: there wasn’t a trace of blood on the weapon and B: The wood hadn’t cracked. He winced as he realised what the crack must have been.

As he had been examining his rifle, rudely ignoring the Sergeant (Not purposefully of course) the SS man had gotten up and was now breathlessly thanking him. Armin nodded back and was just about to beckon the private to come over when he was rudely dragged behind a tree. He was about to glare at the Sergeant for being so rude to a subordinate, but he stopped as the door of the cabin opened and another partisan walked out. He caught his breath, knowing how easily the body could be seen. ”Well, practically yes. There is a single private over there behind that tree.” He whispered quietly.

The man outside the cabin had obviously come out to smoke, to get away from the musty interior of the cabin. Armin started to raise his rifle and went about to shoot the man straight away. There was no point letting him find the body and then go running inside to tell his friends. One glance in the wrong direction was all it would take and then they would be caught. It was better to attack now and take the initiative early on. He relaxed as the man suddenly tossed away the butt of his cigarette and shuffled back to the cabin. The door opened and then slammed shut, leaving the German soldiers to release their drawn breaths.

Out of the corner of his eye Armin saw Private Wolf drop his rifle looking almost sad. He heard a rustling and then another Sergeant appeared to his eyes out of the foliage. He saw the rifle he was carrying and immediately snapped at him. ”Give me some ammunition, quickly” He loaded the proper rounds into the rifle and felt already felt safer. Now he was able to actually shoot someone.

He turned towards Fritz; eager to have information. ”Sergeant, I presume you were assigned to eliminate these partisans, yes? There would be no other reason for you to come with equipment like that!” He said gesturing with an index finger. ”Did you already have a plan ready? We must act quickly, before they notice the disappearance of the sentry. What if you lay down a base of suppressive fire here at the front; trying to smash windows and scare them into keeping their heads down while myself, your sergeant friend and Private Wolf go around the back and pick them off while their backs are turned. That would work, yes?”

He had already started to beckon Wolf over and to direct the sergeant through the trees around the back when he checked to see if Fritz had any objections. ”That is fine with you, right?” He personally couldn’t think of anything wrong with the plan, other than if they were accidently hit by friendly fire, but as long as they kept out of his line of fire they should be ok. Still, it was better to have a second opinion. He would berate only himself if he had to be corrected by someone of a junior rank to him.

[∬: Gero A. Fritz]

Clunk, the noise of the wooden door slamming shut gave an ultimate relief to the Unterscharführer, allowing his arms to relax a little and lower the gunnery he was clutching tightly against his chest, in hope the partisan would have not seen anything suspicious protruding from behind their tree - it was a tight squeeze with the pair of them hiding behind it as it was. Gero’s lips pursed, as he blew a breath of air up against his face, trying to remove a few strands of hair that had fallen against his brow. He was already feeling a little incomplete without his helmet, that now laid toppled alongside the body down below.

Reluctantly, the Unterscharführer looked to the “know it all” senior sergeant and merely smirked, Gero found it hard respecting any superiors telling him what to do, he was the type of man that needed to be earned the loyalty from, before becoming loyal at their beck-an-call instantly. “Für Ihre Informationen Sturmscharführer habe ich diese Ausrüstungen gebracht, den Feind schnell zu beseitigen. Bei allem Respekt aber macht Sie erwarten, dass zwei Soldaten mit Gewehren eine ganze Gruppe der Feinde annimmt, die bekannt sind, Handgranaten in einigen Fällen benutzt zu haben!” the Unterscharführer bit back with a remark, staring towards the senior sergeant that suddenly made the mission his own business. He was thankful for their presence, but found the man’s criticism unbearable.

Listening to the man’s battle plan, Unterscharführer Fritz merely nodded and brushed past the man, stopping as he stepped across to his opposite side, looking back. “Ich werde entlang des treeline, ein paar Füße von hier aufstellen. Ich werde Ihnen fünf Minuten geben, herum dem hinteren von ihnen anzukommen, werde dann ich öffnen... Seien Sie vorsichtig jetzt Sturmscharführer” Gero said with a smug grin, having hardly any respect for the man that suddenly took charge of the operation. As far as Gero was concerned, he was neither a Herr or a General, but a mere Sergeant alike himself.

Trotting over towards the edge of the tree-line with a low composure, he slumped down against the leaves and dirt, crawling the last couple of yards into position. Unfolding the loose tripod at the end, he wriggled the stilts down against the soft dirt and turned the main screw-cap attached to the end gunnery, to stiffen up the tripod legs. Shouldering the stock of the MG42 against his shoulder, he took practice aim upon the cabin and simultaneously fiddled with the stock, making sure the belt was secure. He was ready and had already began to count backwards from one hundred and twenty - two minutes. He could only hope the Sturmscharführer was worth the shoulder boards he wore…


Translations:[/b]

Für Ihre Informationen Sturmscharführer habe ich diese Ausrüstungen gebracht, den Feind schnell zu beseitigen. Bei allem Respekt aber macht Sie erwarten, dass zwei Soldaten mit Gewehren eine ganze Gruppe der Feinde annimmt, die bekannt sind, Handgranaten in einigen Fällen benutzt zu haben! !
- For your information Sturmscharführer, I brought this equipment to eliminate the enemy quickly. With all due respect, but do you expect two soldiers with rifles to take on a whole squad of foes, known to have used grenades in some instances!

Ich werde entlang des treeline, ein paar Füße von hier aufstellen. Ich werde Ihnen fünf Minuten geben, herum dem hinteren von ihnen anzukommen, werde dann ich öffnen... Seien Sie vorsichtig jetzt Sturmscharführer.
~ I'll set up along the treeline, a few foot from here. I'll give you five minutes to get around the back of them, then I'll open up... Be careful now Sturmscharführer.

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

OOC: Sorry, I kinda rushed this and it seems sorta lame. Meh.

The young Sturmscharführer’s face started to flush an angry red colour at the Unterscharführer’s response. The words that he had used didn’t make Armin particularly angry, but the way in which it was said and the expression in Fritz’ face clearly showed what he thought of Armin. He struggled not to start shouting at him, because it would surely bring the Partisans running. Why had Fritz reacted in such a bad way? All Armin had done was made a joke. Maybe Fritz had thought he was insulting his weaponry rather than joking. He didn’t know how it had started, but he was going to set the sergeant straight.

He didn’t move from his position when the Sergeant told him to get going. “ für IHRE Informationen unterscharführer,“ (For, YOUR information Sergeant) He whispered angrily, “ War Die Bemerkung um Ihre Waffen ein Witz, keine Kritik. Wenn Sie haben etwas gegen mich dann warum Sie mich jetzt nicht erzählen, zu meinem Gesicht?” (The comment about your weaponry was a joke, not a criticism. If you have something against me then why don’t you tell me right now, to my face?) He hissed angrily, struggling to keep his voice quiet. Private Wolf and the other Sergeant had stopped and were quietly watching the spectacle, each occasionally glancing towards the cottage to make sure the argument hadn’t been heard.

Armin glared at the man whom he now deemed worse than a piece of shit. He could nearly imagine the smoke coming out of his nostrils. He was sure the unterscharführer was staring at him with a sneer on his face. Or maybe that was just his anger making him paranoid. The thought that he might be overreacting a small bit never came to his mind.

“, Da Sie ein offensichtliches Problem mit meiner Autorität haben; ich werde Sie die Strategie setzen lassen“. (Since you have an obvious problem with my authority; I’ll let you set the strategy) He muttered. “ Kommt auf, werde ich machen, was auch immer Sie sagen“ (Come on, I’ll do whatever you say”) He said while spreading his arms out in a defenseless guesture. It wasn’t that he thought the Sergeant wouldn’t be able to make a plan. In fact, he was sure the more experienced man would be able to make a better plan than his. He was just showing him that he was prepared to listen.

[∬: Gero A. Fritz]

OOC: Ah, you made a past tenths’ post. Something I can’t respond too… Not sure if you meant for that or didn’t read my post properly, but I had already moved off and set up, so I can’t exactly reply to what you said and neither can I particularly shoot as you didn’t get into position? Great. Bit stuck now.


As Gero continued to count backwards, he thought about what the Sturmscharführer had said and grinned to himself, sure, the man was a higher ranking male, but in Gero’s mind, he only truly respected those who had proven themselves - this man seemed to drag a corpse like a chip upon his shoulder, thinking he were some Officer of the ranks. This time next week, he most probably will be. An alarming thought, but it didn’t worry the Unterscharführer as he adjusted his grip, shuffling his shoulder against the hard butt of the heavy gunnery, squinting to take a rough aim upon the dim lit window, by the broken light through the branches in the trees.

A funny thought crossed Unterscharführer Fritz’s mind as he acutely made sure his aim was set, a small smile creeping upon his lips at remembering the time he’d gotten drunk and pissed all over an Leutnant’s (German spelling, if you thought I spelt it wrong) vehicle upon his merry stride home, it was a complete surprise he was still here, promoted at that. He knew he was a good soldier at heart, but respect was a few and far between acknowledgement with the Unterscharführer, the only man he’d ever trusted being Daniel Gunter, someone he’d met a few years back and bonded brotherly with -- the thought of that petty Sturmscharführer ordering him about made Gero nervous, he wasn’t quite sure he would forgive the man if he’d got him killed.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he bellowed out a long breath and suddenly tightened up as he watched an older man open the door, rubbing his hands together coldly. It wasn’t the same male as earlier, smoking the cigarette, which made Gero nervous - did they have a basement? If so, it most likely stored more things than armoury, but a possible whole band of those partisans! The old man must have been French, by the mere look of his disgruntled face at being cold, the French had a way of pulling a horrid look at most things, like the pesky English and their greasy looks. Biting his tongue, he allowed the old man to step out of the doorway for a better shot, but also knew he was walking on eggshells as the corpse of their sentry laid a matter of meters away…

Taking no more risks, he inhaled loudly, half wanting the man’s attention, but also wanting to hold his breath quickly, rather than a slow quiet inhale. The old man did surprisingly look into his general direction, then Click! the Unterscharführer pulled back on the trigger and struggled momentarily to keep a firm grasp on the kicking machinegun, as it kicked up the leaves and dry dirt towards the muzzle. A good barrage of bullets cracking straight through and past the old man, as sprays of blood spat out of his wrinkly body like spore clouds, sending the man off from his feet after the third or maybe fourth bullet slitting straight through his torso -- then Gero’s body leaned sideways, as he strafed off the aim towards the window and doorway, making sure to try and get some bullets into the corridor, knowing a foolish moron would most likely come stumbling out or peering out to see what was happening; Hopefully, they were inexperienced enough to make such a fatal mistake.

Gritting his teeth, he felt the MG42 get warm at the stock, which was a sure sign the barrel must have been quite hot by now, as he’d relentlessly held his finger upon the trigger, mercilessly firing upon the whole frontier of the wooden lodge. Releasing his trigger finger, he let out his held breath and quickly adjusted the belt of bullets attached to the box magazine locked into place beneath the gunnery - it held less ammo using the machinegun this way, but at least it didn’t mean he had to belt feed the weapon from a crate, which was the main cause for jams. Blowing at the barrel, to try and get a sense of how hot it was, he knew the weapon could sustain much more heat before overheating, but his main worry was for the Sturmscharführer; He’d yet to see him fire and his impression of the man continued to drop… He could only pray the man proved him wrong.

[∬: Armin Fuchs]

OOC: Sorry. :/ I hadn’t meant it to seem like that. I had tried to make it so I was saying things as you were getting into your position, so you could start talking at the beginning of your post.

After his outburst Armin’s face started returning to it’s normal pale colour, but his anger still hadn’t fully left him. It was bad enough that he had had to even raise his voice, but it was worse that the Unterscharführer hadn’t even answered him. It was humiliating for him that Fritz hadn’t responded to his outburst. If he had, then the other men would have just seen it as an fight between two NCOs. But, when Gero didn’t answer, it would send a message across that Gero was superior to him and that he was the bad person in the argument. It put Gero across as a more mature person and made Armin seem like an overaggressive idiot. Which, he thought darkly to himself, he was.

The gunner started to set up his heavy equipment and Armin – still furious – beckoned to Sergeant Gunter and Private Wolf. The two came over looking nervous because they feared they would get the brunt of his anger. The fact that his anger was so easy to see made Armin try and calm himself. Men performed worse in battle when, A: they have no faith in the ability of their commanders and B: they are scared of their commander’s. Although if the commander was absolutely furious then it was most likely they would fight well because they would be scared of what would happen to them if they had to retreat. But, Armin wasn’t that bad… yet. He could only take so much back, chat and smart comments from Fritz and if it continued like this then he might snap fully.

The three crept almost silently through the underbrush, going on a circle around the cabin. They made sure not to stray too far into the forest, because they would become disorientated and wouldn’t come out where they planned. But also they had to make sure they weren’t close enough to the clearing that they would be seen and heard by the people in the house. Armin’s foot skidded on a wet fern, but luckily he didn’t fall over properly. He stuck his hands out backwards just before he hit the ground, so only the back of his trouser legs got wet. He didn’t even bother to brush off the pieces of grass; he merely continued onwards.

They had only got halfway to their destination when Gero opened up with the MG-42, so they were at the side of the house rather than the back of the house which was where they wanted to be. It took James a second to decide what to do. ” Bewegen Sie näher zur Kante vom Wald hier. Hopefuly, den wir einen guten Schuss werden erhalten können” ( "Move closer to the edge of the forest here. Hopefuly we will be able to get a good shot.")[/i He breathed to the SS men beside him. They started moving towards the cabin and stopped at tree right on the edge of the clearing. ”Wählen Sie Ihre Ziele jetzt, aber feuert nicht, bis ich die Reihenfolge gebe“ "Pick your targets now, but don't fire until I give the order" He commanded firmly. The undergrowth rustled as they raised their rifles and fixed the sights on a target. Through a window they could see into what appeared to be the main room. Inside Armin counted nine heads. He cursed to himself; Nine men were a lot of people for four soldiers to take on. And there might be more in other rooms. At the moment they seemed to be frozen: crouched down and glancing nervously at the door into the hall. Bullets from the Machine-gun were able to go fully in the front door and down the hallway, but they weren’t able to penetrate the room. Well, through the door anyway.

Suddenly one man picked himself up from the floor and charged out. He turned into the hallway and was out of sight for a second before a line of blood sprayed the wall that was visible. The window in the room facing the front smashed into pieces which demonstrated its poor quality. The Machine-gun suddenly stopped firing. Maybe the Unterscharführer was changing the barrel because it was too hot. Armin didn’t know; He just hoped that Fritz would start firing again soon. ”Feuer” Armin hissed and the three rifles buckled as the bullets were ejected. Three men fell; two of them to lie there limply, but another started screaming and squirming around on the floor.

Now Armin took the time to study the damage caused by the heavy weaponry and was delighted to see that bullets had penetrated the outer wall of the building. This would make it so much easier than having to pick the partisans off with rifle shots. He turned to Sergeant Gunter ” Erzählt, dass Fritz anfängt, an den Wänden vom Zimmer zu feuern. Erzählt, dass er Tiefpunkt bleibt. Schnell!” ”Tell Fritz to start firing at the walls of the room. Tell him to stay low. Quickly!” Gunter sped off. To make sure the Partsians didn’t start firing back Armin and Wolf stayed firing shot after shot at the window, trying to panic the enemy into forgetting to fight back.

[Nathan Whyte]

Moderation Post

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...Wow

Fuchs! - 8 CP
Fritz - 9 CP (Slightly longer posts)[/color]