Guest Gunslinger Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 Ok Guys, bare with me, I'm a newbie at Wargames so if I make some inaccurate statements, please overlook it. December 17th 1944 20:38hrs I was stationed with platoon Code Alpha next to a large group of snow laden pine trees sucking in the teeth burning cold air waiting for the Go code. Scouts had been sent out to look for the Germans but so far no report of positions had been relayed. You could tell the guys were nervous about not having any contact yet. You could see our objective over the next hill for crying out loud. Maybe this would be a walk in the park. Maybe hell would freeze over. Dougie Johnson was puffing on a Chesterfield with his eyes darting back and forth like some damn wired up pschyo muttering "not going home, not going home" as he rocked back and forth on his knees in the icey snow. Just as I felt I needed to scream from the tension I saw the XO give the go motion. With what amounted to relief we quietly started trudging toward the stone wall about 300 yards up ahead. The point of nakedness hit me when we were about halfway to the wall and I realized we were out in the friggin open like fat Momma ducks. All you could see was snow, trees, and more damn snow. Then out of no where you hear this sound. A sound I would later memorize as the sound of death coming. It sounds like the scream of a large cat mixed with the wind. It was incoming arty. Dougie "Im not Going Home" Johnson was the first casuality. 25 yards in front of me I watched as a shell exploded right in his face. I swear I saw his head go flying past me. Everything slowed down. I felt like a deer caught in head lights. I couldn't move. I distantly heard screams and bright flashes of arty shells exploding. If it wasn't for Bobby "Rhino" running smack into me and knocking me down I wouldn't be telling this story. As soon as he knocked me down he was screaming in my face.. "Run right, run right you stupid basterd!!!" I scrambled up and started running for all I was worth. The ground felt like a sleeping beast had awoken. Explosions to my right, to my left.. behind me. My guardian angel was saving my ass that day. Rhino was beside me pulling a grenade from his belt. "Tiger at 8 oclock!" and throws the grenade. I watched as the grenade bounced of the Tiger and I was blinded temporarliy by the flash. But I was still running. Those damn trees looked like twigs a thousand miles away. Just then the twigs burst into a million pieces and I saw our morter guys get evaporated. I dropped like a runner sliding into home just behind the stone wall. My helmet smacked the while and I played dead. I pulled my hands over my head and prayed as explosions ripped all around me. No more Tabitha. No more home. No "I Love Lucy" Jack. I knew I was going to die in that cold snow. For what seemed an eternity I heard nothing but explosions and screams. I was almost deaf from the sound so when the buzzing finally subsided I realized I heard nothing but groans and a strange crackling sound to my right. I gathered up my courage and rolled my snow covered face to the right. About 2 feet away was my XO. Lying on his back with steam coming out of the holes in his stomach. He gurgled something and I crawled closer. He whispered.. "take my radio. Two tanks 50 feet... over wall. Call sirstrike 2 9 9 B..45... 45-1.. tell my wi..." He was gone. I rolled him over and disengaged the pack from his back. Blood started pouring like crazy making a warm red river as it hit the snow. I snapped his dog tags off his neck and put them in my pants pocket. I slowly looked around. I saw red snow and smoking craters everywhere. Then I heard the engines. My God they were close. I crawled along the stone wall toward the burning trees. After about 4 minutes of crawling I was in the middle of a burning tree patch. I could see the two tanks and three German Arty observers smoking cigs next to the tanks. It took all my will power not to blast the arty guys straight to hell. If I did those tanks would send me there soon after. I called air support over the radio. "Two Niner Niner Bravo, this is Cold Alpha, we are down at location 45-1,the Tigers have claws, repeat, Two Niner Niner Bravo, this is Cold Alpha, we are down 45-1, the Tigers have claws." ..static.... then "Cold Alpha, this is Two Niner Niner, say postion of targets over" "Targets at 45-1, repeat targets are at 45-1 over" "Cold Alpha, you have 2 minutes to withdraw over" "Roger Two Niner Niner, withdrawing to 45-0, a small brick house over" Sh*t, I could run like hell and hope them Germans don't see me but those damn smoking artie observers will have the house blasted... Then an idea struck. I looked at my watch. 1 minute 45 seconds left. I unsnapped my grenade pouch and carefully pulled the pins on the 6 grenades but didn't release the handles. I then placed my hand over the grenade handles in the pouch and pulled the pouch over my hand like a glove. 30 seconds to air strike. The German arty guys heard the aircraft before I did. "Goodin ta! Goodin ta" They could hear them but didn't know what location they where coming from. I didn't plan on letting them know either. I pulled my arm up, released the handles on the grenades, dropped them into into the pack and tossed the entire pack up, up, up, and to the far behind of the tanks. Kablaaaam.. The explosion ripped up several trees to the Germans 2 oclock rear. The German Arties swung around with there rifles at the ready and crouched down. I got up and ran like hell. The explosion had muffled the sound of the incoming strike aircraft. Just as I was reaching the door of the house the first explosions hit. The concussion slammed me away from the house into some very thick bushes. Branches, twigs... scratches. blood running into my eyes.. .....blackness enveloped me..... "Private Wohlever.... PRIVATE! Wake up!" I felt wetness.. and extreme cold on my back.. Where?......... The sky came into focus.. a person. I grabbed my service pistol and a hand knocked the gun away. "Private Wohlever, XO Veliant 23rd US infantry division, good evening young man" I pulled my helmet off and slowly rose to my feet. I looked up toward the stone wall. Scattered pieces of Tiger tanks. I looked over to the house. What house? the house was gone. A bomb had landed on the opposite side from where I tried to enter and had blown me and the house sideways. The only thing that saved me was the damn bushes. "Good work son." "Good work hell. My platoon is gone, my friends.. dead. All we have to show for it was two dead tanks" "Not so soldier.. Those two tanks and the arty was the only thing standing between us and there stronghold. If you hadn't called in the position when you did, those birds in the sky would have been too far away when our infantry platoon got here and we would have been met the same fate as your platoon. well, Like I said, good work... Sargent" ------------------ Gunslinger ;=- [This message has been edited by Gunslinger (edited 08-29-2000).] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 What a bloody, beautifully written piece. I love the written word, and that was very nicely done. You are welcome here, sir, and I appreciate that effort. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Gunslinger Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 I'm glad you liked it ------------------ Gunslinger ;=- Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Berlichtingen Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 Lovely bit that. You sir, are welcome on the "It's a Mutha Beautiful Thread" (aka "Peng, I take Our Challenge Public!") Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Henri Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Gunslinger: Ok I unsnapped my grenade pouch and carefully pulled the pins on the 6 grenades but didn't release the handles. I then placed my hand over the grenade handles in the pouch and pulled the pouch over my hand like a glove. 30 seconds to air strike. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> How da hell does one hold SIX grenades with their pins pulled in his hands? Very fine AAR, you have a talent for writing; your spelling could use some improvement... Henri Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Gunslinger Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 >How da hell does one hold SIX grenades with >their pins pulled in his hands? Veeerrrryyy carefully >Very fine AAR, you have a talent for >writing; your spelling could use some >improvement... That's what them thar speel cheekers are four..heehee ------------------ Gunslinger ;=- Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Malmvig Posted August 29, 2000 Share Posted August 29, 2000 Whatever you took, eat or drinked before started this game of yours, I would be glad to have some May I post this on DCMF? It sure sell some CM's, that for sure ------------------ Malmvig Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Gunslinger Posted August 30, 2000 Share Posted August 30, 2000 LOL! Actually, I had been up for 30 hours straight (long work day ) Sure, the story is free for anyone to use. I'm glad to see people enjoy iy and I hope others can enjoy the game as much as I. ------------------ Gunslinger ;=- Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lorak Posted August 30, 2000 Share Posted August 30, 2000 Thanks Gunslinger. I really enjoyed that. Now if you could work in a German story...maybe with some Chinchillas.... Lorak ------------------ Proud commander of the CCT's Chinchilla Commando Teams Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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