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Post by wilko on Oct 26, 2005 15:56:04 GMT
The Year of the Wolf Part 1
“Medic!”
I called out in the vain hope that one of my squad would save me. One of them ran right past me, desperately scampering away from the ping-ping of bullets which followed him down the tunnel wall. “Bastard,” I called after him. I regretted it almost immediately, as the enemy descended from the ladder bookending the passageway. The soldier who passed me by was cut to pieces by the enemy in less time than it took to vainly train his pistol on them. Poor bastard; he was the newest recruit to join the squad. He hadn’t even had time to complete basic training before he was thrust into action. Times were desperate.
Then they saw me and I knew my time was up. In truth, I wasn’t panicked; it felt like I’d already been killed a thousand times during this God-forsaken conflict. One of the enemy looked at me impassively and pulled a long-bladed knife from his gun belt. He was going to savour this moment.
“Incoming!”
The enemy turned. Too late; three of my squad caught their rearguard napping. A soldier with the biggest f**king gun I’d ever seen cut them down like blades of grass, spent cartridges spitting venomously in all directions. It was a miracle he hadn’t done the same to me. No, not a miracle; he was a professional.
“Thanks,” I said, as he administered the morphine shot and I clambered to my feet. Further elucidation was unnecessary. There wasn’t time for further dialogue; we had to get out of there before the enemy reinforcements arrived, as surely they would.
The Battle of the Forest had begun like any other mission. Airdropped into an abandoned base, we’d prepared as usual: ammo was circulated, off-colour jokes spread. A few of the newer recruits even took good-natured pot-shots at each other. Then came the call to move out. The mission was simple: eliminate the enemy troops who had been sighted in the area. This would be best achieved by securing the nearby tunnel. An easy mission, they’d said. They were wrong.
A sudden blast brought me back to the present. I’d made it back to our side of the tunnel and was restocking my dwindling ammo supplies. Airstrike. Sh*t. I ran, my stamina almost deserting me as I reached the relative safety of a nearby hillock. I leapt the rest of the way barely in time to escape the blast; half of my squad were not so lucky and I saw the medic who’d saved me in the tunnel blasted apart like a ripe melon. His head landed nearby, lifeless eyes accusing.
“Sorry,” I whispered, and turned my attention back to the tunnel entrance.
The enemy were gathering.
To be continued…
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Post by richard on Oct 26, 2005 17:00:04 GMT
roll on part 2 ;D
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Post by Trg3Frantic3 on Oct 26, 2005 17:27:56 GMT
Great Story..! Seems like anyone who plays can see themselves as the main character. Cant wait for some more material...!
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Post by Vamp on Oct 26, 2005 19:44:34 GMT
year of the dam, as me and a hand full of axis members eagerly await someone to open the doors i hear a *ding *ding quickly lookin a herd of allies run outof the vents slaughtering half my team. luckly for me and and 2 other ppl we ran out the doors hearin u f**kin cowards bein screamed. but we got out only to be ambushed by 2 allies left behind. they took out my *human* sheilds infront of me but i had my mp40 handy. i blew both of them away but a unescapeable nade fell by my side. quickly i jumped off the edge knowing id die either way..... but i landed on something that thought was heaven. it was a light instead on the long rail of the dam. ive heard rumors that the dam was too slick but hehe i proved them wrong. useing my boots i slid across the dam doing tricks as if i were skating. i landed on the catwalks unharmed. haha. so i waited at the bottom for any reinforcements coming down to claim this flag. one by one i mowed them down. shame i ran out of ammo fast. so naturely i brought out my needle and knife, ran out on the metal catwalks leading my chasers to their doom. as i got to the top i waited for the last 2 to come up the ladder. i jumped down infront of the and pushed one off the ledge to his doom. and the other i poisened and knifed to death.
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Post by gman on Oct 27, 2005 0:07:45 GMT
Well thats my english essay sorted only kidding ;D i dont take english anymore i look forward to the next installment of this riveting read
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Post by wilko on Oct 27, 2005 12:33:46 GMT
The Year of the Wolf Part 2
“The enemy is weakened!”
I laughed at the absurdity of the statement. Those fools back at the base obviously hadn’t seen the latest telemetry. That airstrike had wiped out half the squad. The rest were running for their lives in what certainly couldn’t be called an orderly retreat.
“I need backup,” I signalled. “Affirmative,” came the reply.
I could see in the distance our few remaining reinforcements streaming from the base. Raw recruits mostly, they’d been held back in the hope they wouldn’t have to see major battle this soon. I knew what they must be going through; the memory of the son et luminaire of my first combat was one which haunted me still. The beach. The fear. The red, red seas of France. Back then, we were all still of the same nationality. Now, years of bloody conflict later, my squad was made up from a mixture of raw recruits, misfits, and soldiers from other forces; men whose own squads had been decimated long before. Americans, English, French, Italian. Hell, we even had a Brazilian. The language-barrier was a problem, but we all spoke the universal tongue of comradeship.
Christ, these reminisces were going to kill me one day. I forced myself to concentrate on the present. The enemy had taken the tunnel and were spilling out, taking up positions on three sides of us. We retreated even further, to the machine gun nest. Even with the scant cover the gun gave us, there was no way our reinforcements could get to us in time. It was then I noticed one of my squad, kneeling apart from the rest.
“Move!” I cried. Too late. The enemy sniper’s aim was true and he lurched, back and to the left, bright blood erupting from his temple, spraying into the air like Vesuvius. I crawled towards the young lieutenant and dragged him back behind the protection of the nest. Sh*t. There was no way he could be saved and I was out of morphine shots. All I could do was cradle him in my arms until his life ebbed away. He coughed. A fine mist of blood sprayed my face.
He laughed out loud. “Heh,” he croaked. “I was on the ‘phone.”
I looked down at the now-shattered battlefield telephone on the grass. What had he done? It was at that moment I knew: without regard for his own safety, he’d taken up a position in the open to ensure the maximum signal strength to call for backup. It had cost him his life.
I stood and fired a few hopeful shots off towards the enemy; none hit, but that didn’t matter. “Fire in the hole!” I cried and flung myself to the ground as I heard the familiar screech of a B-25 close overhead. Then came the eardrum-shattering blast as they unleashed Hell on the enemy troops. That terrible noise had never seemed so sweet. Debris flew overhead, hurled from the blast zone with almost unbelievable force. I risked a glance through the sandbag wall of the machine gun nest. For the longest time I could see nothing through the thick, pungent smoke. Then it began to clear. The enemy’s forward line had been utterly vapourised and their few remaining troops were gathered at the opposite end of the tunnel. We were once again evenly matched, provided we could reach the entrance to the tunnel in time.
“Let’s go,” I commanded. “I’m on offence.”
I leapt to my feet and thundered down the hill, not caring if my still shell-shocked squad were following; I’d take the bastards on by myself if I had to. As I reached the tunnel entrance I risked a glance behind. The reinforcements had arrived.
We were ready to launch the final, horrific assault.
To be continued...
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Post by wilko on Nov 2, 2005 16:06:00 GMT
The Year of the Wolf Part 3
“Great shot!”
Our remaining sniper took down one of the enemy at the other end of the tunnel. One less to face. One more killed. One more pointless end to a life full of potential.
Four hundred thousand British. Three hundred thousand Americans. Seven million Germans. The list went on: the French had lost nearly a million, the Russians a staggering twenty-five million. All told, over sixty million souls, both military and civilian, had been lost in only six years of war. Ten million per year, the greatest disaster to befall modern Man? Not even that. Even more heartbreaking was the fact that it was by our own hand. No natural disaster could have contrived to kill as many, so quickly, and so horrifically.
We were ready to move out.
“Let’s go!”
All bets were off, all plans discarded. It was kill or be killed. Rumours had abounded in the morning of a potential ceasefire. Ha! That looked as likely as my being able to shoot straight. I was lagging seriously, the weariness infusing every muscle, making it seem as if my reactions were several seconds behind those of my comrades. And more importantly, my enemy. I took a moment, enough to let some of the fresher members of the squad enter the tunnel before me as I collected my thoughts and attempted to re-establish a connection between my brain and long-suffering limbs.
Even if the enemy won, would it make a difference? To our lives, to the lives of our children, to their children? Would our actions affect them even at all, or was the timeline irrevocably set, the ripples of history just that – a temporary upset in the smooth course of humanity’s existence? I knew not. All I did know was the here and now, that appalling evils were being perpetrated, and they had to be halted.
I looked at my watch, surprised to discover that the battle had lasted only eight minutes thus far. It seemed like much longer. It must have seemed like an eternity for those who had been in the base, waiting to join the fray. I knew the feeling well. Fear gnaws hungrily at the pit of the stomach, conversely becoming more ravenous the longer it feasts. Then the call comes and the rush of adrenaline sates the beast, if only temporarily until the next lull in battle.
An engineer (what the Hell was he doing here?) saluted sarcastically as he darted past me, his elbow sweeping up and nudging me bodily towards the tunnel. “Move,” he said. “Affirmative,” I replied and darted after him.
Immediately a bullet took me in the shoulder, sapping half my strength. I ducked into a narrow passageway halfway through the tunnel and applied the contents of a medpack to the wound. It looked bad, the loss of blood likely to overcome me within minutes. It didn’t matter. Either we won and I’d be fixed up at the field hospital, or I’d die before my body betrayed me. I emerged, grim-faced, determined. Ready. Sickened.
I headed towards the light. Amazingly, I emerged on the enemy’s side without further injury; my comrades had taken them by surprise with a few well-placed ‘nades. Hope briefly sparked inside me as I considered for the first time since joining the battle that we might win, that I might survive. Another bullet took me in the leg. I spun, realising the shot had come from behind me. I looked up. A canny enemy soldier was perched atop the tunnel entrance. I raised my weapon without hesitation and fired.
CLICK. Sh*t. “I need ammo!” I cried, dropping the empty Thomson and reaching for my pistol. Too late; the enemy soldier lined up the killing blow before I could even pull it out. Then his body exploded before my eyes. I looked around. The sarcastic engineer had seen my predicament and had hurled his one remaining ‘nade, in hope rather than out of a genuine conviction that it would reach its intended destination.
“Great shot,” I said, relief evident on my face. I turned to gaze at the battlefield. Most of the enemy were dead, but I was sure some remained in hiding, camping, planning an ambush. I saw a flash of gunfire at the apex of a nearby embankment.
I headed towards the light. As I reached the top I saw that six of the enemy were still alive; ammo expended, they had drawn their knives to fight to the last. Brave bastards. It would take a matter of moments to finish them off. I raised my pistol, took aim, and…
I felt for those I faced. No doubt there were some evil men amongst them, but after six years of bloody conflict the large part of their force was like ours: young, inexperienced, afraid. No doubt they had been cajoled into fighting by their Government with threats, promises, lies. Told that they were fighting for a greater good, for the moral high ground, for Freedom even. Were these ever true? I didn’t believe it when I was told the same, but still I joined of my own free will, not waiting to be drafted. We each of us have a moral autonomy separate from that which we are directed to hold by our leaders and it is our duty to act upon this, rather than as commanded or enticed into doing. That my own principled, ethical stance - and my desire to do something about it – coincided with my Government’s wishes on this occasion was merely coincidence.
Such thoughts were oft upon my mind, but I knew they had to be set aside during battle. I had to be dispassionate, not thinking of the mother, wife or daughter the man I had to kill would leave behind. One moment of hesitation would be all it took for my enemy to see one more night, lying awake, thinking these same thoughts of me.
…stopped.
It was only eleven minutes into the battle; it was hundreds of deaths later. Almost simultaneously with those of the enemy, my radio crackled into life: “Hold your fire!” – word had finally come: a cease fire had been declared! We were to lay down arms. The war was over.
The relief coursed through my ravaged body like fire, burning. With shame. With release. I collapsed to the grass, my wounds finally taking their toll. I closed my eyes. Resting. Only resting. I heard the rest of the squad rejoicing behind me. The remaining enemy were doing likewise.
At long last, they could go home. I could go home. I…
…I headed towards the light.
The End.
World War II Fatalities (civilian & military):
Soviet Union - 25,568,000 China - 11,324,000 Germany - 7,060,000 Poland - 6,850,000 Japan - 1,806,000 Yugoslavia - 1,700,000 Romania - 985,000 France - 810,000 Hungary - 750,000 Austria - 525,000 Greece - 520,000 Italy - 410,000 Czechoslovakia - 400,000 Great Britain - 388,000 USA - 295,000 Holland - 250,000 Belgium - 85,000 Finland - 79,000 Canada - 42,000 Australia - 39,000 India - 36,000 Spain - 22,000 Bulgaria - 21,000 New Zealand - 12,000 South Africa - 9,000 Norway - 5,000 Denmark - 4,000
Total circa 61,000,000.
^Wilko
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Post by richard on Nov 2, 2005 20:53:32 GMT
well done wilko
good sobering stuff
thats why war is better fought behind a pc !!
then we feel brave, and better still , respawn.
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Post by wilko on Nov 3, 2005 8:48:06 GMT
well done wilko good sobering stuff thats why war is better fought behind a pc !! then we feel brave, and better still , respawn. Thanks for the praise. To be honest, it began as a little experiment to see if certain features of RtCW could be incorporated into a short story (hence the vsay dialogue, multinational makeup of the teams, the "LOL, I was on the phone" excuse, among many other playing references). Then I didn't know how to end it, and while it wasn't my intention to scribble an anti-war polemic, I thought it would be interesting to contrast the 'fun' of the first two parts with something more sober, while still attempting to keep the Wolf references flying (the engineer where none is needed, for example). I'm not entirely sure it succeeded, but then again it wasn't an attempt at great literature, just a bit of fun penned in my half-hour dinnertime. Yes, let all wars be fought on the PC! No more deaths! "Coming soon to the XBox, 'Israel vs. Palestine: Full Body Conflict' - dare you strap on and step up?"Or maybe not. As an aside, I used to find it odd that so many of the people who played Wolfenstein were staunch anti-war supporters, or avowed pacifists. I myself was a member of the planning committee for my local branch of the Stop the War Coalition, yet am a confirmed convert to the church of Wolf. This apparent incongruity can be explained. I think it's because, unlike with certain films which glorify violence without consequence (e.g. the Bond films, which are far more dangerous and dishonest than something ostensibly more violent like Natural Born Killers), the participation element here allows the gamer to see more clearly that what they are watching/doing is nothing more than a cartoon, a fantasy world with little or no relation to the real horrors of war. I am happily resolved with this, as long as we still have the other stuff, the films which do not shy away from showing us the reality, the blood, the suffering. These, sadly, are becoming less prevalent in the mainstream. It is a worrying trend. I appear to be rambling. I'll shut up now and get on with my work. ^ Wi lk o
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Post by gman on Nov 6, 2005 22:54:06 GMT
Great short story wilko and i didnt relise how many people actually died in WW2 especially from the soviet union and china
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Post by 2072p15 on Nov 7, 2005 18:22:19 GMT
Great story wilko, you can write a whole book with that
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Post by c0MBat on Nov 7, 2005 19:13:44 GMT
The Chinese were slaughtered by the Japanese like animals, the Japanese are not really proud on what happened, so they tried to hide it away for many years, allthough recently they have apologised to the Chinese people for denying for so long the unhumane treatment of their neighbours during WW2 and also before... The Japanese let the Chinese work so hard in their camps that they couldnt survive more than ½ year, most of em died in a few months
No wonder the hole world agreed after WW2 had ended, that it should never be possible that such thing could ever happen again. Allthough another global conflict was allready waiting...
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Post by dingdong on Nov 7, 2005 19:26:31 GMT
Yes but notice Japan has never apologised for the atrocities commited in the 'rape of nanjing' For those who are interested: www.tribo.org/nanking/(not for those of a sensitive disposition) The Japanese refuse to admit such an occurence ever happened and do not include it in their history books... The optomist in me would hope that things like this would never happen again in this day and age, but being cynical i'd say its difficult to change human nature . We've already been torturing prisoners in Iraq, who knows what will happen in the next war? (P.s Wilko i enjoyed your story, but think you may have far too much time on your hands )
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Post by Fox on Nov 7, 2005 19:34:26 GMT
Heh heh!!! but noone is like me!! Im the king of all noobs: one of the first play i did i lost all my lives doving on my own grenades.. and sometimes i get killed in few seconds...uhauahuahua Just for fun
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Post by wilko on Nov 8, 2005 5:56:11 GMT
(P.s Wilko i enjoyed your story, but think you may have far too much time on your hands ) Cheers, though don't fret about the time I wasted; even that last was but the work of 25 minutes from my dinner hour Wilko
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Post by SgT. MikE on Nov 13, 2005 19:50:43 GMT
Very cool stories I see myself in some
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Post by SgT. MikE on Nov 23, 2005 17:33:18 GMT
MORE PLEASE!!!!!!!!!
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Post by Fox on Nov 23, 2005 19:04:38 GMT
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