Post by Hartwig Kriegheld on Jun 24, 2008 2:16:31 GMT
Accepted!
Very well written application, you have granted the rank of Hauptsturmführer without a doubt.
~Danny
Account E-Mail: heinrichdn@gmail.com
Name: Hartwig Otto Kriegheld
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Waffen Schutzstaffel
Character History: The world had always been a hard place for Hartwig to grow up in. From the day he was born in 1914 to the moment he joined the Schutzstaffel in 1932, Hartwig had lived through the worst times Germany had seen since the region had been dominated by France and Austro-Hungaria. He had been born into a Germany at the peak of its power only to see it fall four years later. His father, a sergeant in the Imperial German Cavalry, died in 1916 from a well place artillery shell leaving Hartwig fatherless and poor. When he was six years old in 1920, he had to dig for food scraps outside the churches and manors of the wealthy while his mother went into prostitution. It was the image that someone such as Hitler saw as intolerable: a young blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy digging for the waste of others to survive while his strong German mother sold herself to keep her son alive.
Hartwig grew up living on the streets. He finally found his life’s purpose when he joined the Deutsches Jungvolk in 1926 at age 12 with the NSDAP in München. His mother managed to gather enough money from her ‘job’ as a prostitute to buy Hartwig the proper uniform. In his two years in the Deutsches Jungvolk and following four years in the Hitler Jugend, Hartwig found he was a natural leader, gaining ranks in the HJ rapidly. He attributed his strength to the life he lived on the street, making him a strong young man, ready to take the blows of the communists and the subhuman races. He lived the words and thoughts of Adolf Hitler.
Hartwig’s actions and leadership in HJ earned him a commission in the Schutzstaffel in 1932; the same year his mother died of pneumonia. He was left alone in the world except for the Nazis and their ideology. For the following years, Hartwig climbed the ladder of power in the SS. He followed every order and shot every dissident until he got the commission of Hauptsturmführer in the newly formed Waffen-SS. He finally reached a position he could never had dreamed of; he had succeeded in a world that was against him.
Military Rank: Hauptsturmführer
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed… (How does your character React? What’s running through their mind?)
The air thundered as the heavy water fell bleakly from the ever grey sky to fill the craters filled with the dead bodies of the SS. The grey uniforms of the elite soldiers turned a darker shade as the water soaked into the fibres of the German-made wool, creating a darkness that nearly blinded captain Kriegheld as he lay in one of the growing puddles of bloody water. He was breathing heavily from the deathly experience that had happened only minutes earlier.
The young man held his head up from the mud that caked itself over his golden hair, looking for the enemy that had just ruthlessly gunned down his comrades, to fid no sign of any life, just the musty smell of death that pervaded its way to one’s nostrils. Hartwig began to drag himself from the hole he was sinking in, clawing at the slippery mud surrounding the crater he was in, finally pulling himself out once he got hold of a tree root that had stuck itself in the right place. He pulled himself out of the hole and stayed low to the ground as a rabbit would, before running off to be shot by an unskilled hunter. The same feeling of the hunted rabbit etched itself in captain Kriegheld’s thoughts as he began to slowly and meticulously crawl through the slippery mud of the Fatherland, the soil of his ancestors.
He schlepped through the mud for what seemed like hours to Hartwig to reach the tree line at the edge of what was once a farm; now, a graveyard. He stood up for the first time in nearly two days and looked himself over. He found no wounds, but felt the definite precursor of trench-foot as he surveyed his wrinkled feet. He took off his leather jack-boots and tied them to the wooden A-frame on his back and walked through the woods in his socks, hoping to cover the sound of his feet crushing the fallen leaves of autumn. Every step he took felt like his last as the fear he had felt earlier turned into a climate of mind, no longer taking precedence of his thoughts. He began to regain his senses as he walked even further into the woods.
Captain Kriegheld finally stopped when the sky darkened, stopping him from seeing his own hand in front of his face. He quickly, though expertly, fashioned a shelter with his great coat and some fallen branches to protect himself from the elements as he went into an uneasy sleep. He later awoke, still not being able to see anything, not able to go back to sleep. So, he just waited until light began to tint the dark black abyss and birds began to sing as if nothing was going on. He continued his trek across the land only to stop when he found the fallen rifle of a German soldier who lay dead next to it. The rifle was unusual for the frontline, a G43, but Hartwig saw the opportunity and picked up the rifle.
The odious journey through the dank forest ended when captain Kriegheld reached a paved road, the norm for German infrastructure these days. Resisting the urge to walk along the ever appealing road, captain Kriegheld put his worn boots back on and began walking in the forest next to the road. About midday, Hartwig heard a sound in the distance; the sound of vehicles, of tanks. He continued walking in the same direction until he heard the deep growl of the deadly tanks coming closer. The young captain got down in the brush and waited to see whose army was moving through the area.
To captain Kriegheld’s greatest relief, a Panzer III made its way around the bend, officer sticking out the top and all. Captain Kriegheld stood up and began yelling in his Bavarian German, “Nicht schießen, nicht schießen, ich bin Deutsch. Ich bin ein Freund.” The tank continued on as a convoy followed it. Captain Kriegheld climbed down to the road and followed the convoy to the Divisional Headquarters. It was a sad day for Germany; it had just lost a hundred of its men to the brutality of the Allies. They still, however, had one of their Hauptsturmführer.
Translation:
"Don't shoot, don't shoot, I'm German. I'm a friend."
Very well written application, you have granted the rank of Hauptsturmführer without a doubt.
~Danny
Account E-Mail: heinrichdn@gmail.com
Name: Hartwig Otto Kriegheld
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Waffen Schutzstaffel
Character History: The world had always been a hard place for Hartwig to grow up in. From the day he was born in 1914 to the moment he joined the Schutzstaffel in 1932, Hartwig had lived through the worst times Germany had seen since the region had been dominated by France and Austro-Hungaria. He had been born into a Germany at the peak of its power only to see it fall four years later. His father, a sergeant in the Imperial German Cavalry, died in 1916 from a well place artillery shell leaving Hartwig fatherless and poor. When he was six years old in 1920, he had to dig for food scraps outside the churches and manors of the wealthy while his mother went into prostitution. It was the image that someone such as Hitler saw as intolerable: a young blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy digging for the waste of others to survive while his strong German mother sold herself to keep her son alive.
Hartwig grew up living on the streets. He finally found his life’s purpose when he joined the Deutsches Jungvolk in 1926 at age 12 with the NSDAP in München. His mother managed to gather enough money from her ‘job’ as a prostitute to buy Hartwig the proper uniform. In his two years in the Deutsches Jungvolk and following four years in the Hitler Jugend, Hartwig found he was a natural leader, gaining ranks in the HJ rapidly. He attributed his strength to the life he lived on the street, making him a strong young man, ready to take the blows of the communists and the subhuman races. He lived the words and thoughts of Adolf Hitler.
Hartwig’s actions and leadership in HJ earned him a commission in the Schutzstaffel in 1932; the same year his mother died of pneumonia. He was left alone in the world except for the Nazis and their ideology. For the following years, Hartwig climbed the ladder of power in the SS. He followed every order and shot every dissident until he got the commission of Hauptsturmführer in the newly formed Waffen-SS. He finally reached a position he could never had dreamed of; he had succeeded in a world that was against him.
Military Rank: Hauptsturmführer
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed… (How does your character React? What’s running through their mind?)
The air thundered as the heavy water fell bleakly from the ever grey sky to fill the craters filled with the dead bodies of the SS. The grey uniforms of the elite soldiers turned a darker shade as the water soaked into the fibres of the German-made wool, creating a darkness that nearly blinded captain Kriegheld as he lay in one of the growing puddles of bloody water. He was breathing heavily from the deathly experience that had happened only minutes earlier.
The young man held his head up from the mud that caked itself over his golden hair, looking for the enemy that had just ruthlessly gunned down his comrades, to fid no sign of any life, just the musty smell of death that pervaded its way to one’s nostrils. Hartwig began to drag himself from the hole he was sinking in, clawing at the slippery mud surrounding the crater he was in, finally pulling himself out once he got hold of a tree root that had stuck itself in the right place. He pulled himself out of the hole and stayed low to the ground as a rabbit would, before running off to be shot by an unskilled hunter. The same feeling of the hunted rabbit etched itself in captain Kriegheld’s thoughts as he began to slowly and meticulously crawl through the slippery mud of the Fatherland, the soil of his ancestors.
He schlepped through the mud for what seemed like hours to Hartwig to reach the tree line at the edge of what was once a farm; now, a graveyard. He stood up for the first time in nearly two days and looked himself over. He found no wounds, but felt the definite precursor of trench-foot as he surveyed his wrinkled feet. He took off his leather jack-boots and tied them to the wooden A-frame on his back and walked through the woods in his socks, hoping to cover the sound of his feet crushing the fallen leaves of autumn. Every step he took felt like his last as the fear he had felt earlier turned into a climate of mind, no longer taking precedence of his thoughts. He began to regain his senses as he walked even further into the woods.
Captain Kriegheld finally stopped when the sky darkened, stopping him from seeing his own hand in front of his face. He quickly, though expertly, fashioned a shelter with his great coat and some fallen branches to protect himself from the elements as he went into an uneasy sleep. He later awoke, still not being able to see anything, not able to go back to sleep. So, he just waited until light began to tint the dark black abyss and birds began to sing as if nothing was going on. He continued his trek across the land only to stop when he found the fallen rifle of a German soldier who lay dead next to it. The rifle was unusual for the frontline, a G43, but Hartwig saw the opportunity and picked up the rifle.
The odious journey through the dank forest ended when captain Kriegheld reached a paved road, the norm for German infrastructure these days. Resisting the urge to walk along the ever appealing road, captain Kriegheld put his worn boots back on and began walking in the forest next to the road. About midday, Hartwig heard a sound in the distance; the sound of vehicles, of tanks. He continued walking in the same direction until he heard the deep growl of the deadly tanks coming closer. The young captain got down in the brush and waited to see whose army was moving through the area.
To captain Kriegheld’s greatest relief, a Panzer III made its way around the bend, officer sticking out the top and all. Captain Kriegheld stood up and began yelling in his Bavarian German, “Nicht schießen, nicht schießen, ich bin Deutsch. Ich bin ein Freund.” The tank continued on as a convoy followed it. Captain Kriegheld climbed down to the road and followed the convoy to the Divisional Headquarters. It was a sad day for Germany; it had just lost a hundred of its men to the brutality of the Allies. They still, however, had one of their Hauptsturmführer.
Translation:
"Don't shoot, don't shoot, I'm German. I'm a friend."