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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jun 8, 2011 14:36:53 GMT -5
Autumn, 1944 0600 hours A little bar in a town in France The brown-haired sergeant entered the bar and took a few moments to breathe in the atmosphere. There were soldiers from his own division, the First Armored, as well as some paratroopers from the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions. There were a few other infantrymen with division patches he didn’t recognize, and there were even a few British soldiers there. The place was packed. The Germans were being pushed across France and things were really looking up. Some people boasted that the war might even be over and done with by Christmas. As much as everyone else, Harry ardently hoped that was true. He’d signed up for the Army the day the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor, and had seen his first combat with the 1st Infantry Division during Operation Torch. He’d landed at Gela in Sicily and landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day. He’d been through hell and back and he was just about ready to go home. However, there was still a job to be done. The Germans weren’t going to give up without a fight, and he was ready for a fight. That’s not to say he didn’t enjoy being in reserve. He’d slept in a nice, warm bed, he’d seen Paris, he’d been to a few USO shows, he’d had hot chow—for a soldier, time away from the frontlines was heaven. He knew it couldn’t last, though. Every day he found himself wondering if that day he’d march right into hell again. The Allies were on the offensive and things seemed to be wrapping up, but still he couldn’t help but worry. When he’d been with the Big Red One, his leaves never seemed to last that long. He and the other men of the division had a joke that the Army consisted of the Big Red One and ten million replacements. They’d always been called up to spearhead whatever offensive the brass felt like launching, or to plug the gaps in the Allied lines. He couldn’t say he didn’t miss the division, though. The men he’d met and bonded with were some of his closest friends. Many of them hadn’t survived. He’d lost several of his friends in France, and a few in Sicily. The replacements were nothing like the old breed. They were green as grass and were fresh out of basic. Neither Harry nor any of the other men made too much of an effort to make friends with them, since usually they were the first to die. They were so reckless and foolish. One man had charged an MG42 all by himself, trying to be a hero. Others had cracked under the pressure of combat. Harry had even seen officers crack. He supposed every man had his breaking point. He hadn’t reached his, but he like everyone else did get scared every once in a while. He’d been afraid that he wouldn’t make it back home as he’d crouched in a shell hole on Omaha Beach. That had been terrible. They’d lost a lot of good men that day. Harry took off his overseas cap and folded it before tucking it in his back pocket. He wore his fresh OD dress uniform. The bartender was at the other end of the bar, so he withdrew a piece of paper and a pen from his coat and started working on a letter home to his parents.
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Ideas?
Jun 8, 2011 14:07:24 GMT -5
Post by Harry Hamilton on Jun 8, 2011 14:07:24 GMT -5
I had an idea--I'm not sure exactly how many members are out there but maybe we could have an epic battle thread or some sort of sitewide skirmish? Maybe somewhere in Holland or even Belgium or the Rhineland since France is used a lot. Just my two cents
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Apr 8, 2011 20:40:34 GMT -5
Harry saluted Wiktor when he approached him. “Good afternoon, sir. It’s nice to see you too.” he greeted him jovially with a grin. He had great respect for the Lieutenant, since unlike many of his superiors he took a genuine interest in him as well as the other enlisted men. He’d been under the command of officers who patronized their men and seemed to have no understanding of what the war was doing to them, but not Wiktor. He was truly honored to serve under his command. At the Lieutenant’s order he nodded. “Yes, sir, we’d be glad to. Fine piece of work, that new tank.” he commented in wonder, looking up at the metal beast. “I reckon it’ll give us more than a chance against those Panzers.” He’d seen the destruction of German tanks firsthand. His first experience with them had been in North Africa. The first time he’d seen an enemy tank he’d nearly frozen. It almost rivaled how he’d felt when he’d first gone into combat. He remembered the day distinctly—he’d never been more scared in his entire life. The old hands in his squad had looked out for him, and had shown him the ropes. If it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t be living. “Gear up, boys. Lieutenant Boguslaw wants us to do an armor support drill. Get ready to load up and move out.” he instructed his men before turning back to Wiktor. He also spotted Daniel Steinert, another friend of his, and smiled. “Hello there Daniel, how have you been?” ( OOC: Gah, short. )
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Dec 21, 2010 22:32:07 GMT -5
( OOC: Is it okay if I join you two? ) Harry sprinted breathlessly across the firing range, his BAR in hand. The young man was dressed in his M41 field jacket and his OD field uniform. The straps of his steel helmet hung loose out of habit. His tall frame ran to a pile of sandbags, where he set up the Browning Automatic Rifle. It had a deployable bipod, and it could be used as a squad support weapon. Today he was demonstrating its use to his men. He aimed at the first target--a dummy with a Jerry helmet on its head. He set the BAR on fully automatic and fired rapidly at the dummy. He swiveled to his left and fired on another, and then to his right, taking out another dummy. He stood up and ran forward, keeping low, and firing the BAR from his hip at the next dummy. It was pelted with lead. He finally exhaled and turned around to face the attentive troops. "As you can see, the BAR is very powerful and effective. Not only can it be used as a rifle, but it can also be set up and used as a machine gun. It doesn't pack as much of a punch as our .30 or .50 cal MGs, but it'll send Jerry running back to the fatherland. Obviously, no one would want to be on the wrong end of this." He got a few chuckles out of the men and smiled a little. "Now can any of you tell me why the BAR man always pulls out last during a retreat?" "Sarge?" A private raised his hand. "Because he's providing covering fire the whole time." "Exactly, Simmons. This weapon is perhaps the most important and most essential weapon in any infantry squad. It's saved my life on many occassions, and it can save yours. If I fall, then it is your duty to pick up the BAR. Now I know that makes you a target, but the only way to victory is through teamwork. In a battle, you don't look after only yourself, but the men around you. Only together can you conquer the enemy. By the time we're through today, each and every one of you will know how to use this BAR." And so for the rest of that morning he had them each try their hand at the Browning Automatic Rifle. He showed them it's operating mechanisms, and the best way to operate and fire the weapon. Some soldiers were more proficient at it than others, but all in all he was pleased with the results of his lesson. They'll do well. They broke for lunch at noon and were back within the hour for target practice. Harry had his BAR slung over his shoulder, and the rest of the platoon had their M1 Garands. He knelt down and aimed at the farthest target and started firing. Thanks to years of hunting experience in the woodlands of Pennsylvania, he hit it right in the middle. He grinned to himself and rose. To his surprise and delight, the men looked rather impressed. "Well would you look at that!" "Those Krauts don't stand a chance!" "Yeah, them Panzers are no match for us!" Panzers? Harry turned around to see a huge American tank in front of a decommissioned Panzer IV. "Well what do you know about that..." he muttered with a low whistle. The Army's current tanks could barely penetrate a Panzer tank's armor. But this...just one hit and the thing was history! "Okay, boys, okay. Back to work." He heard groans of 'Aw, sarge...' and other complaints. "No buts. You want to be ready for Jerry, dontcha? Come on, let's see what you can do. Miller, you're first." He continued down the line of the platoon, until each man had had a go at the firing range. He and the men all ran a few laps around the track afterward, and then he dismissed them for the day. It was a tough training regimen, but he believed that they'd be more prepared for combat that way. He knew very well that no training could ever prepare you for hell. You could never truly be ready until you were there. He remembered his first day in combat with the 1st Infantry Division. It was the scariest day of his entire life. But he got through it. Others weren't so lucky. He wanted his troops to be well-equipped and well-trained so that they could deal with combat when the time came. If it weren't for his training, he was sure that he would be dead.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Sept 10, 2010 20:25:21 GMT -5
I, too, would love to get this place revived. I was really looking forward to our upcoming skirmishes :/.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Aug 17, 2010 13:55:58 GMT -5
I saw part of "The Big Red One" and it was really good. I think I'm gonna buy the book after I watch it.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Aug 5, 2010 0:28:40 GMT -5
Harry could hear "La Marseillaise" playing in the distance, but he wasn't paying much attention to the song at the moment. His eyes were still fixed on the photo he held before him. He couldn't get that face out of his head. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't think about anything else except Clarice. She clouded his thinking more than the alcohol did. Perhaps it would have been better if he'd never come to France. No! I could never say that.. He didn't regret meeting her. But before he did he was sure that he wanted to marry Elsa, but now..now..he knew he loved Clarice. They hadn't known each other long, but when he'd seen her..it'd happened so fast and--What's the matter with me? he thought as he took another sip of the beer. He suddenly heard a voice and looked at the man beside him. "Major Campellone, sir!" Harry remembered meeting him at a party a few weeks ago--the party where was going to propose to Elsa, but he'd frozen up and missed his chance. He sat up at attention and saluted weakly. "Oh, no sir, I couldn't--" He protested when Campellone offered to buy him a drink. He cringed a little when the officer asked him what was wrong. "Well, sir..." His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to say. It all sounded really silly when he thought about it. But this bothered him much more than the nightmares he would have about combat. Many a night he'd wake up in a cold sweat after strangling a Kraut in a foxhole, only to realize it was a dream. The dreams were so real since in reality he did have to go through those sort of horrors every day. In the two years since he'd left home, he'd become a completely different person--and he wasn't sure he liked who he had become. Harry was aware that Campellone was waiting for an answer. "Sir..I met a girl in France. And I think I love her."
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Aug 4, 2010 20:51:31 GMT -5
I'll be away from the 8th to the 16th. I just wanted to let you guys know so you don't think I'm going AWOL
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 30, 2010 16:15:14 GMT -5
I heard that "Stalingrad" was a pretty good movie. I think I'm going to check that one out, especially since I'm playing that level in CoD .
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 28, 2010 12:49:07 GMT -5
I've actually heard of it. It's a John Wayne movie, which gives me another good reason to watch it. He was a really great actor. Check out "They Were Expendable"--it's another great WWII movie of his about the brave men aboard PT boats in the Pacific.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 22, 2010 21:37:38 GMT -5
Harry wasn't drunk. He'd never been drunk in his life. He hadn't even touched the bottle sitting in front of him. But he couldn't think clearly and his head was spinning. He stared at the dark wood grains of the table he was sitting at, his eyes unfocused. Anyone looking at him could tell there was something wrong with the soldier. But only he knew. Before he'd been so sure of himself, of his future, of his goals, but one simple, seemingly meaningless action seemed to toss him around like a whirlwind so that he was left dazed and confused. Her name was Clarice. He could remember every detail--her face, what she was wearing.. The streets were overflowing with people. It was so crowded that the young G.I.s were having trouble getting through. Some troops stopped and chatted with the locals but Harry Hamilton was determined to keep his men moving. "Come on, boys, move out." There were a few disappointed complaints, but the soldiers obeyed his command. He had to admit that this was a much better greeting than the one the last town gave. The place was crawling with Krauts. He lost a lot of men there. Everytime he did he wondered why that man wasn't him. He just as easily could of been the man lying bloodied and motionless on the road, but he wasn't. He was very protective of his men--he saw them all as younger brothers, and everytime one of them was killed, it was like losing a brother. But you couldn't dwell on it. You couldn't dwell on any of it. You were here to kill Krauts, and that meant staying alive long enough to shoot Jerry before he could shoot you. Harry tried to push all this out of his mind as he turned onto the next street. This one had tons of civilians as well. There were people waving French flags, and even American flags ( where did they get those? ). They were all yelling something in French ( all he could get was the word 'Americans' ). Women were running up and kissing his soldiers. He had a few come up to him but it didn't really affect him. He was in love with Elsa, she was the only one for him. And then, all of the sudden, he felt someone's lips on his. He didn't see her approach him, and without thinking, he was returning the kiss. He then realized what he was doing before pulling away and opening his eyes. He looked around frantically--but she was gone. "Wha-?" His blue eyes scanned the area and he saw a flash of blonde and blue. "Stiles, organize the men--I'll be right back." He heard a "Yes Sergeant!" before Stiles was kissed by a brunette. Harry pushed and even shoved his way through the crowd as he went after the woman. She was about to turn the corner when he caught up with her. "Excuse me, ma'am?" She turned around to face him. Harry stopped to catch his breath--it wasn't because of the heavy running he'd been doing a moment before. To say she was beautiful would be an insult in every sense of the word. She was...angelic. Her sky blue eyes made him feel so strong and so vulnerable at the same time. He looked away for a moment before forcing himself to make eye contact. "I..you um..well.." As he stuttered, she looked at him confusedly. "Do you speak English?" "Yes. My father was from London." She had an accent but her English was fluent and perfect. "Really? I'm-I'm Harry. Sergeant Harry Hamilton." "My name is Clarice DuPont." He had to see her again. And he did when he was on leave. That second visit, she gave him a picture to remember her by. He kept it in his uniform pocket at all times. Harry took it out and gazed at it before stuffing it back in the OD coat. Stop it! He ran a hand through his hair and took a sip from the untouched bottle of beer. He just needed time to think, that's all. ( OOC: The set up's crap, but my muse is failing me at the moment. I wanted to set up a thread to maybe help with activity a little. )
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 22, 2010 19:56:31 GMT -5
"I'm Still Here (Jim's Theme)"by John Rzeznik and "21 Guns" by Green Day.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 21, 2010 16:02:31 GMT -5
Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan are two of my favorites, but I really love the Pacific miniseries. In some ways I like it better than the previous two. It really shows the horror of war and what it can do to people.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 17, 2010 20:23:50 GMT -5
That was a great video. My grandfather served in one of those anti-aircraft units. I'm very grateful to your grandfather and everyone else who served our country.
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Post by Harry Hamilton on Jul 13, 2010 20:37:31 GMT -5
Everything was quiet save for the sound of machine guns and small-arms fire in the distance behind them. Probably Daniel's squad, Harry assumed. As they headed deeper into the forest the noise faded completely. It was too quiet for Harry's taste. He kept a lookout and ordered his men to stay alert as well as they kept walking. Harry heard a rustling of leaves and signaled for his men to stop and get down. He held his hand up and listened. "Safeties off.." he whispered to his men. The enemy was close. He could hear footsteps. As if on cue, a paratrooper leapt out of the bushes and began firing blanks at them. "Move! Find cover, now!" Harry barked, diving behind a tree. The men did as they were told as more paratroopers advanced from the trees. "Open fire!" he ordered. From his position behind a tree, Harry set up his bipod and lay prone, aiming the BAR at the incoming paratroopers. He selected the automatic setting with the Fire Selector Lever and held down the trigger. His men followed suit, opening fire with their M1 Garands from concealed positions. An MP began handing slips to the men from the other group, indicating who had gotten hit. The "survivors" began to retreat in a leapfrog motion--one man would cover his buddy as he ran, and then they would switch roles. "Cease fire!" Harry shouted once the last paratrooper had fled. He stood up and looked over the platoon. I haven't lost a man, he realized, as the MP's hadn't handed them any slips. Unfortunately, I can't say it'll stay that way when we get in a real fight. "Excellent job, men. All of you did a great job. You followed orders and you stayed calm under fire. Were any of you scared?" Each man shook his head. Harry smiled. "That's good. It's not a real battle, but it's okay to be scared--it's alright to be scared during real combat. Any man who says he's not is either dead or a damn liar." He allowed the men to take this in before continuing, "Let's get moving--there's probably more of them up ahead. Move out!" BAR at his hip, Harry led the platoon after the paratroopers. They didn't meet up with them until they reached an open field outside the woods. They stopped just before entering the field. Harry ordered his men to get down before climbing silently up a tree. Two Browning .30 caliber machine guns were set up on two seperate hills overlooking the field. One was aimed to the left, and the other to the right. When fired, anything in the middle would get decimated. In addition to this, there were about 30 or so infantrymen stationed about the area. He descended the tree and turned to his men. "Simmons, I want you up in that tree firing down at those soldiers over there. Daniels, you get in the other tree and fire at the ones next to that gun. Wait for my order before you fire." The two men each replied with "Yes sir!" before getting into position. Harry then divided the rest of the platoon into two. Half of then were to go with Private Ernest Stiles ( a veteran of the North African campaign ) and attack the gun on the right while the rest went with Harry to take the second gun. "Remember, heads down, and take cover when possible. When we're out in that field remember to keep moving. Don't just stand and shoot." Harry instructed the men. He took his squad and yelled, "Follow me!" urging them forward as they ran across the field. He could hear the machine gun fire and he started firing his BAR from the hip at a group of paratroopers to the left of the gun. "Open fire!" The two men he'd stationed up in the trees started firing down at the parachute infantry in the field. The paratroopers were taken by surprise, having been preoccupied with Harry and his squad. Harry crouched and fired a volley of shots at the troopers. He was in the line of sight of the machine gun on the right, but Stiles and his squad were drawing its fire away from him, giving him the chance to take out the ten paratroopers to the left of the other machine gun. He ordered his men to toss their grenades ( which, for this exercise, were harmless smoke grenades ) at the gun and attack the group of paratroopers. He then led his men to the left flank of the gun and aimed at the two men manning it, firing warning shots into the air to indicate point-blank hits. They'd successfully captured the machine gun. Behind them and to their left was another squad of 10 paratroopers who began to charge up the hill. One of Harry's men, a replacement by the name of Fred Jennings, sprinted forward and knelt, firing his Garand. An MP marked him as killed. "The rest of you hold your ground! We'll let them come to us." He crouched and fixed his BAR on the troopers. "Now!" The hill erupted with fire. Several of the paratroopers were 'killed' and three surrendered. He ordered six of his men to guard them while he took the others to reinforce Stiles. He led them across the field to Stiles' squad and fired on the remaining six paratroopers ( four had been labeled as KIA ). Stiles's squad had lost two men--Williams and Bishop. Once they had subdued the enemy, the MP's marked the two hills as taken by Harry's platoon. "You all fought well, men. I know that you'll show as much skill that you've shown here in a real battle." Harry then faced the three rendered KIA. "Jennings, I appreciate your spirit, but we're not here to try and be heroes--we're here to do a job, and we have to work as a team. It was just a game, today, but showing off will result in you getting killed." The other two men had been shot down by machine gun fire. "Remember, if there's no cover to speak of, get down and stay prone, but keep moving! You'll be a lot harder to hit if you're on the ground as opposed to standing up." He looked at all of his men before saying, "I don't ask for you to be heroes--I just ask for you to be good soldiers. If you do that, then you have made your country proud."
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