[NS]Zukariaa
01-11-2006, 06:52
OOC-This is the tale of one soldiers fight for survival as worse comes to worse in war.
At this time, I don't actually know when this war was, or who it was against. It is simply the tale of this man's survival. OOC Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=11884979#post11884979).
Private Michael Stieffer looked across the no-man's-land. It meant death for anyone, it meant a barrage of enemy fire from the other side. It meant a bloody ending to a young life in almost an instant. Michael had watched many men die here. He had watched dozens of men go down in charges across the street. There were often random firefights in the middle of the night, as one man on one side saw the chance to attack another man on the other side. It wasn't odd for them to see each other. They were across the street, after all. A street's length away. It was hard to imagine, but it was true. Michael shook himself as he began to nod off.
He had been dreading this day, this very moment. It was his turn to assault the other side. It would happen in the middle of the night, although they all knew that would make no difference. He noted that no assault by either side had been successful just yet, so why should his? He was not special, he was just another soldier. The fact that several of his good friends had commited suicide rather than charge the enemy was discouraging enough, but when he thought of the numbers stacked against him, it made him realize just how useless it was to try and charge. He hated that all capable bombers or fighters were too busy elsewhere, and that his company had no armored backup.
He checked all of his gear. He put a new clip into his AK-103, and took a deep breath. He tried to relax himself. The next thing he knew, he was being pushed awake. He got into ready position as he was so thorougly trained to do, breathing heavily,"What, what?"
"Michael, you idiot." said his partner,"It is going to begin soon.."
His partner, Corporal Ingo Einfach, had been with him since bootcamp. He was the one man Michael could always count on. He was the one man Michael always looked up to for his wiseness, his fatherly nature. He was a man that anyone in the company could believe in. He was a real soldier. He had done his fair share of fighting since the war had started. And still, even he had his doubts about the doomed assault that would come within minutes.
"Look, Michael." he said. His voice invited confidence from the most unconfident of people,"You'll do good out there, I know you will. You're a good kid."
Michael suspected it was some kind of premature farewell. Did he really expect that they would die? It was just a street, what was so important about it that made so many men die? That made so many men scared. It was just a street used for communes through the city. Who could have known that it could become a deathtrap for anyone who tried to cross? The signal came from the Sergeant of their particular squad. It was time. They all readied their guns, steadied themselves. If they could not keep composed, they would surely die.
"Covering fire!" yelled the company commander from some backroom of the building they were using. Immediatly, the windows of the building lit up. Firing across into the opposite building. The enemies were stirring, and Michael found himself running across the street before he knew it. The dead bodies of the men who had failed in assaults before made his run all the more difficult. Then they responded as the men reached the halfway mark, opening up from all across the building.
Men fell. They were meant to. They were meat going into a grinder, and they all knew it. Almost immidiatly, a dozen men were fallen, then 15, then 18. Ahead of Michael ran Ingo, putting into action his military experience. Suddenly they did something never done before. They reached the end of the street, hittin the building. They had nowhere to go, the surprised enemies had not reacted fast enough, as nearly 7 men had made it. An insignificant number. It all seemed so much less scary to Michael. It didn't seem so bad. He had made it, who would have known?
Ingo moved to the bullet-splintered front door of the building while men ducked under shattered windows. He kicked it, then kicked it again. It fell inward. Outward came a rush of fire, straight into the respected, fatherly-figure of Michael. He fell backwards, dead almost immidiatly. A rush of sadness hit Michael, causing him to fight himself into not rushing to the side of the man he respected so much. But he had to stay alive. He couldn't stop.
"GRENADE!" yelled their Lieutenant, then he threw his grenade into the building. There was a shuffleing of feet, then an explosion, a scream, and a body hitting the floor. There were three different cries of pain. The group rushed into the building, nothing else could be done. They hit the survivors and any coming for them.
Michael and another man rushed into the front room, facing out to the street. It was being pelted steadily by bullets, none of which seemed to be getting into the building. The two men began firing into the men, who were busy counter-firing into the opposite side of the street. The enemies fell so easily. These were the men who had killed so many, and yet they, too, were so fragile. Then something unexpected happen. A pistol touched against the back of Michael's partner's head, then his fear was quelled with a pop, and he fell to the ground lifelessly, bleeding on the ground. Michael's reaction was quick. He turned around and fired, hitting the man in the gut before he could shoot him.
Now another fear came over Michael. How had someone got in behind them without getting through his friends? He walked into the entranceway of the building, which was actually a house-shop. He found no signs of life. He walked into the back of the room. He was surprised to find one of his friends, bleeding from the leg. Around him lay the bodies of enemy and friend alike.
"Is everyone dead?" Michael whispered fearfully.
"Ye-yes.." came the reply of the man,"Please, help me up."
Michael lifted him up and walked him. They were about to give the signal of the all clear when, in a cruel twist of fate, the entire homebuilding erupted in fire from within. Gunshots could be heard coming from behind the building. Somehow the enemies had broken through friendly lines somewhere else and gotten in behind them. Through dumbluck, these two were not there.
"Sergeant Kauffman, do you read?" it was the sound of the company commander, in the backround could be heard desperate gunshots,"Sergeant Kauffman, do you read?!"
Michael set his friend, Josef Kreigstein, on the ground. He went into the room full of dead bodies and pulled the walky-talky off of the dead sergeants body,"Commander Einhoffen, this is Private Michael Stieffer. Everyone here is dead but me and Private Kreigstein."
"What?" the commander screamed in disbeleif,"Goddammit!"
There was a low rustling and close-up gunshots that could be heard in the backround of both Michael's hearing and the walky-talky,"Fuck. Look, you need to get out of here. Get to command somehow. You will be moving through enemy territory for a time, but if you can somehow manage to get through there alive, you can reach command and tell them what is happening, if they don't already know. Either way, you need to leave. You still have a cha-fuck!"
It was clear that the enemy forces had gotten into the commander's basement blockade.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Michael lifted Josef quickly, walking as fast as his hurt leg could move. During the conversation, he had patched himself up, which saved a lot of time. They moved out into a hall and down it. Behind them they could hear the yells of enemy soldiers. This was a nightmare. Michael was one of only two known surviving members of an entire company because of one damn street. At the back of the building, they found another street, and here, there were more enemies. And this time, there was armored support.
At this time, I don't actually know when this war was, or who it was against. It is simply the tale of this man's survival. OOC Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=11884979#post11884979).
Private Michael Stieffer looked across the no-man's-land. It meant death for anyone, it meant a barrage of enemy fire from the other side. It meant a bloody ending to a young life in almost an instant. Michael had watched many men die here. He had watched dozens of men go down in charges across the street. There were often random firefights in the middle of the night, as one man on one side saw the chance to attack another man on the other side. It wasn't odd for them to see each other. They were across the street, after all. A street's length away. It was hard to imagine, but it was true. Michael shook himself as he began to nod off.
He had been dreading this day, this very moment. It was his turn to assault the other side. It would happen in the middle of the night, although they all knew that would make no difference. He noted that no assault by either side had been successful just yet, so why should his? He was not special, he was just another soldier. The fact that several of his good friends had commited suicide rather than charge the enemy was discouraging enough, but when he thought of the numbers stacked against him, it made him realize just how useless it was to try and charge. He hated that all capable bombers or fighters were too busy elsewhere, and that his company had no armored backup.
He checked all of his gear. He put a new clip into his AK-103, and took a deep breath. He tried to relax himself. The next thing he knew, he was being pushed awake. He got into ready position as he was so thorougly trained to do, breathing heavily,"What, what?"
"Michael, you idiot." said his partner,"It is going to begin soon.."
His partner, Corporal Ingo Einfach, had been with him since bootcamp. He was the one man Michael could always count on. He was the one man Michael always looked up to for his wiseness, his fatherly nature. He was a man that anyone in the company could believe in. He was a real soldier. He had done his fair share of fighting since the war had started. And still, even he had his doubts about the doomed assault that would come within minutes.
"Look, Michael." he said. His voice invited confidence from the most unconfident of people,"You'll do good out there, I know you will. You're a good kid."
Michael suspected it was some kind of premature farewell. Did he really expect that they would die? It was just a street, what was so important about it that made so many men die? That made so many men scared. It was just a street used for communes through the city. Who could have known that it could become a deathtrap for anyone who tried to cross? The signal came from the Sergeant of their particular squad. It was time. They all readied their guns, steadied themselves. If they could not keep composed, they would surely die.
"Covering fire!" yelled the company commander from some backroom of the building they were using. Immediatly, the windows of the building lit up. Firing across into the opposite building. The enemies were stirring, and Michael found himself running across the street before he knew it. The dead bodies of the men who had failed in assaults before made his run all the more difficult. Then they responded as the men reached the halfway mark, opening up from all across the building.
Men fell. They were meant to. They were meat going into a grinder, and they all knew it. Almost immidiatly, a dozen men were fallen, then 15, then 18. Ahead of Michael ran Ingo, putting into action his military experience. Suddenly they did something never done before. They reached the end of the street, hittin the building. They had nowhere to go, the surprised enemies had not reacted fast enough, as nearly 7 men had made it. An insignificant number. It all seemed so much less scary to Michael. It didn't seem so bad. He had made it, who would have known?
Ingo moved to the bullet-splintered front door of the building while men ducked under shattered windows. He kicked it, then kicked it again. It fell inward. Outward came a rush of fire, straight into the respected, fatherly-figure of Michael. He fell backwards, dead almost immidiatly. A rush of sadness hit Michael, causing him to fight himself into not rushing to the side of the man he respected so much. But he had to stay alive. He couldn't stop.
"GRENADE!" yelled their Lieutenant, then he threw his grenade into the building. There was a shuffleing of feet, then an explosion, a scream, and a body hitting the floor. There were three different cries of pain. The group rushed into the building, nothing else could be done. They hit the survivors and any coming for them.
Michael and another man rushed into the front room, facing out to the street. It was being pelted steadily by bullets, none of which seemed to be getting into the building. The two men began firing into the men, who were busy counter-firing into the opposite side of the street. The enemies fell so easily. These were the men who had killed so many, and yet they, too, were so fragile. Then something unexpected happen. A pistol touched against the back of Michael's partner's head, then his fear was quelled with a pop, and he fell to the ground lifelessly, bleeding on the ground. Michael's reaction was quick. He turned around and fired, hitting the man in the gut before he could shoot him.
Now another fear came over Michael. How had someone got in behind them without getting through his friends? He walked into the entranceway of the building, which was actually a house-shop. He found no signs of life. He walked into the back of the room. He was surprised to find one of his friends, bleeding from the leg. Around him lay the bodies of enemy and friend alike.
"Is everyone dead?" Michael whispered fearfully.
"Ye-yes.." came the reply of the man,"Please, help me up."
Michael lifted him up and walked him. They were about to give the signal of the all clear when, in a cruel twist of fate, the entire homebuilding erupted in fire from within. Gunshots could be heard coming from behind the building. Somehow the enemies had broken through friendly lines somewhere else and gotten in behind them. Through dumbluck, these two were not there.
"Sergeant Kauffman, do you read?" it was the sound of the company commander, in the backround could be heard desperate gunshots,"Sergeant Kauffman, do you read?!"
Michael set his friend, Josef Kreigstein, on the ground. He went into the room full of dead bodies and pulled the walky-talky off of the dead sergeants body,"Commander Einhoffen, this is Private Michael Stieffer. Everyone here is dead but me and Private Kreigstein."
"What?" the commander screamed in disbeleif,"Goddammit!"
There was a low rustling and close-up gunshots that could be heard in the backround of both Michael's hearing and the walky-talky,"Fuck. Look, you need to get out of here. Get to command somehow. You will be moving through enemy territory for a time, but if you can somehow manage to get through there alive, you can reach command and tell them what is happening, if they don't already know. Either way, you need to leave. You still have a cha-fuck!"
It was clear that the enemy forces had gotten into the commander's basement blockade.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Michael lifted Josef quickly, walking as fast as his hurt leg could move. During the conversation, he had patched himself up, which saved a lot of time. They moved out into a hall and down it. Behind them they could hear the yells of enemy soldiers. This was a nightmare. Michael was one of only two known surviving members of an entire company because of one damn street. At the back of the building, they found another street, and here, there were more enemies. And this time, there was armored support.