guyloveshotstories
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 15, 2012
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Sgt. Bruce Willingham
Age 26
Height 5'11"
Crue cut sandy brown hair
Eyes light blue
Physical appearance: tattoo of the 1st Armored Division crest on my left bicep. Formerly the US Army recalled into service. Square, firm jaw, smooth cheeks, medium build from constant workout and manual labor. Not married and no children.
State of Washington, base of the peninsula. It was the second Civil War the country had ben torn apart alon the old Northern and Southern lines except that Arizona and New Mexico went with the south with the old Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, and Virginia still, but the others were north. The reason for the war was still the economic descrepency between the states plus various individual goals, but Texas seceded and the others followed suit now we're fighting to stay alive. It was te second year of the war and a Rebel arm had moved north and taken Portland and now moving through Washington and my unit, a hog-pog Army unit were in the trenches to ward off the invasion. Because of the need for troops the Draft was reinstated and even women were now fighting with front line units. I didn't mind, I found them to be equal with that of many men and we couldn't be picky at this point in time. We had only a couple women so far, they were in headquarters squad and they had done well, but I didn't get to go bed with them, I was too preoccupied in staying alive, however some other guy boasted that they had.
My unit held a mile long series of zig zag laid trenches with dug outs, machine gun nests, mortar pits and miles of wire and mines. Most of the area had been squashed by days of bombardment by heavy artillery but we could see the brilliant light sky that I looked up and could see several birds flying in from the west and there was the aroma of my friend Sgt. Fry had bagged a rare deer and was now cooking it in our dug out. We had food so we weren't starving but the MREs were lacking good taste so we tried to find fresh food as much as possible.
The rebels were about a mile across the open ground and had not made a move in two days so we were using the lull to clean our areas. In those few days we have fought off seven human waves and fighting was hand to hand and brutal but we managed to fend them off each time. Our unit had done well but we were expecting more recruits soon. We didn't have a commissioned officer for a platoon leader and two squads were at half strength because of the fighting, but we have endured with worth.
I can't remember when I entered these trenches, but they were infested by lice and rats that we killed and burned daily. Our dugout were clean because we cleaned reguraly but in entering the dugout Fry was sitting next to a roaring fire that had a chimney that was a stovepipe that was running through the ceiling and to the surface where the smoke exited through. A thick brush to conceal it.
"How's it going?" I asked entering and placing my rifle on a simple wood table to the right of the door and taking off my interceptor vest and feeling over 40lbs of weight being lifted off my shoulders and found a empty chair. Taking a seat and looking over at Fry as he removed the tinfoil from the fire and slowly peeling the flaps the steam billowed up and brushing it aside there was a slab of fully cooked venison and the sauce he put with it made it all the more appealing.
For this thread I'm looking for a partner for military and fighting. Sex will play a significant role, the rank and MOS is your choice.
Age 26
Height 5'11"
Crue cut sandy brown hair
Eyes light blue
Physical appearance: tattoo of the 1st Armored Division crest on my left bicep. Formerly the US Army recalled into service. Square, firm jaw, smooth cheeks, medium build from constant workout and manual labor. Not married and no children.
State of Washington, base of the peninsula. It was the second Civil War the country had ben torn apart alon the old Northern and Southern lines except that Arizona and New Mexico went with the south with the old Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, and Virginia still, but the others were north. The reason for the war was still the economic descrepency between the states plus various individual goals, but Texas seceded and the others followed suit now we're fighting to stay alive. It was te second year of the war and a Rebel arm had moved north and taken Portland and now moving through Washington and my unit, a hog-pog Army unit were in the trenches to ward off the invasion. Because of the need for troops the Draft was reinstated and even women were now fighting with front line units. I didn't mind, I found them to be equal with that of many men and we couldn't be picky at this point in time. We had only a couple women so far, they were in headquarters squad and they had done well, but I didn't get to go bed with them, I was too preoccupied in staying alive, however some other guy boasted that they had.
My unit held a mile long series of zig zag laid trenches with dug outs, machine gun nests, mortar pits and miles of wire and mines. Most of the area had been squashed by days of bombardment by heavy artillery but we could see the brilliant light sky that I looked up and could see several birds flying in from the west and there was the aroma of my friend Sgt. Fry had bagged a rare deer and was now cooking it in our dug out. We had food so we weren't starving but the MREs were lacking good taste so we tried to find fresh food as much as possible.
The rebels were about a mile across the open ground and had not made a move in two days so we were using the lull to clean our areas. In those few days we have fought off seven human waves and fighting was hand to hand and brutal but we managed to fend them off each time. Our unit had done well but we were expecting more recruits soon. We didn't have a commissioned officer for a platoon leader and two squads were at half strength because of the fighting, but we have endured with worth.
I can't remember when I entered these trenches, but they were infested by lice and rats that we killed and burned daily. Our dugout were clean because we cleaned reguraly but in entering the dugout Fry was sitting next to a roaring fire that had a chimney that was a stovepipe that was running through the ceiling and to the surface where the smoke exited through. A thick brush to conceal it.
"How's it going?" I asked entering and placing my rifle on a simple wood table to the right of the door and taking off my interceptor vest and feeling over 40lbs of weight being lifted off my shoulders and found a empty chair. Taking a seat and looking over at Fry as he removed the tinfoil from the fire and slowly peeling the flaps the steam billowed up and brushing it aside there was a slab of fully cooked venison and the sauce he put with it made it all the more appealing.
For this thread I'm looking for a partner for military and fighting. Sex will play a significant role, the rank and MOS is your choice.
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