Niceandbrutal
Yes, but-
- Joined
- Aug 27, 2013
- Posts
- 2,816
The male: 6'0" tall, dark brown curly hair, blue eyes, lopsided smile, muscular from farmwork. Dressed in GI battle fatigues of WW2.
The tanks came out of nowhere, that is to say, the forest. They weren't supposed to do that, according to the instructors back at basic training in the states. Yet there they were. It was private Richards' grim luck that placed him back at the aid station with a light frostbite instead of in his foxhole with his fellow soldiers.
As the din of battle descended on him, he grabbed his rifle and ran forward. As he reached his position, it was about to be overrun by the Krauts. He stared feebly at the enormous tanks unsure of what to do when he was knocked cold by a treebranch torn loose by explosions.
When he came to, all was dark. And quiet. He'd lost his rifle and his will to fight. He just wanted to live. He hadn't the faintest idea where he was and the forest was almost completely dark as he set out in a random direction, hoping against hope that it would lead to a friendly place.
Richards couldn't tell how long he'd been unconscious, neither coulde he tell for how long or how far he'd walked when he came to a clearing. He only knew that morning had finally broken and he was looking at an inhabited farmhouse. Abandoning all caution, he ran up to the house and knocked on the door. From inside the house, a female voice called out.
The tanks came out of nowhere, that is to say, the forest. They weren't supposed to do that, according to the instructors back at basic training in the states. Yet there they were. It was private Richards' grim luck that placed him back at the aid station with a light frostbite instead of in his foxhole with his fellow soldiers.
As the din of battle descended on him, he grabbed his rifle and ran forward. As he reached his position, it was about to be overrun by the Krauts. He stared feebly at the enormous tanks unsure of what to do when he was knocked cold by a treebranch torn loose by explosions.
When he came to, all was dark. And quiet. He'd lost his rifle and his will to fight. He just wanted to live. He hadn't the faintest idea where he was and the forest was almost completely dark as he set out in a random direction, hoping against hope that it would lead to a friendly place.
Richards couldn't tell how long he'd been unconscious, neither coulde he tell for how long or how far he'd walked when he came to a clearing. He only knew that morning had finally broken and he was looking at an inhabited farmhouse. Abandoning all caution, he ran up to the house and knocked on the door. From inside the house, a female voice called out.
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