Feury Campellone Application

Feury Campellone was born on March 4th, 1923. He was a full blood Italian, whom loved eating, drinking, and dancing. He really only hated one thing… and that was Germany, and all of her people. During WW1, His Grandfather’s platoon was hit by a barrage of gas shells, and his Grandfather died. His Grandmother told him many stories of his grandfather when he was a child, and showed him some of the last surviving letters he had written her during the Great War. Feury wanted to meet the man that killed his father, he wanted to spit in his face, because he took from him, probably one of the greatest men he would ever have had the pleasure to meet.

Feury joined the army in 1938, eight years after his family left Italy, seeing the situation in Europe was getting bad. When he first joined, he was horrible at shooting, but a kind-hearted Major in the army named Major Johnson helped him out many times, after a few week’s, Feury finally got the hang of firing a gun, and he began to mastered everything else there was to master as a trainee. After finishing Basic Training, he rose through the ranks, and finally got to the rank he had always dreamed of, 1st Lieutenant. But after a mishap with a bottle of stolen Wine, and him punching a 2nd Lieutenant in the face, he was demoted down to 1st Sargent, Which is his current rank.

Feury stood up, looking around through the dark abyss, and he was scared stiff. He turned around, and no one was there. “Is anyone there!? Johnny, is that you!” he yelled, but there was no answer. He continued his walk through a forest, all Alone, trying to find the front lines, or at least another American, or even a Tommy. “Mama Mea, where are my comrades?” He thought to himself, as he gripped his M1 Grand tightly. He stopped once again, and looked around, and continued walking, his heart pounding rapidly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following him. He stopped, and almost fell to the ground in fright as he heard the loud snap of a twig from behind him.

He turned around to find a German Private, Scared witless. Both their eyes locked, and Feury aimed his M1 Grand at the soldier, and yelled “DROP YOUR GUN!”

Without hesitation, the German Private dropped his gun, and said with a thick German accent “ Please, sir, don’t kill me, please, forget Hitler, please don’t kill me!”

Feury inched forward toward the soldier, and grabbed the K98 rifle that was on the ground, and threw it behind him. He began to think if he should shoot him or not, then lowered his gun. “What is your name son?”

“ Hans, its Hans, please don’t shoot me sir” the soldier had said to Feury

“Im not going to, now follow me, mach Schell!” Feury replied to the solider, looking back to make sure the young soldier was following him. He looked around, and said “So Hans, how old are you?”

“I’m, im 16 sir…. Are you going to kill me?” Hans asked

“No Hans, im not going to kill you, so stop worrying.” Feury replied.

“16.. geeze, the German army must be in disarray if they have to recruit young 16 year-olds like this.” Feury thought to himself, as he continued through the forest. He began to hear the familiar sights and sounds he heard around his camp, and soon heard the voice of one of his good friends, Corporal Walters. He looked behind him once more, and smiled at Hans politely. He looked around, and almost stepped on a roll of barbed wire that had been strung up around the American camp. “We’re at camp kid, you’ll be fine.”

Feury walked around the barbed wire, occasionally looking back to make sure Hans hadn’t fallen. Once he walked into camp, he and the German private walked into the C.O’S office, and Feury said “Sir, I found this kid in the forest, he’s a kraut, but go easy on him, ok?”

“No worries, He’ll be fine, what’s his name?” The major looked up and asked from his desk.

“It’s Hans, sir.” Feury replied

“Alright, follow me Hans, you’ll be fine kid.” The Major said to Hans as he walked out of the tent, his arm around Hans. Hans looked back, and stared at him as Feury disappeared in the mist of the tree filled camp. Feury thought to himself “Maybe Germans aren’t that bad….”

Great application! Accepted welcome to the board. Nice to see new members!

~Austin!