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AqConsul
03-02-2004, 03:15
Hello all These are two stories. One I started several years ago and just finished...the other is an old WWII story... Here they are:
The Lone Ranger
On July 24, of this year Capt. Tony Garret got his Ranger Tag. The emblem of enduring freedom of the United States Armed Forces was given to him after his long training. He had gone through Boot Camp for the Army, though the rough Marine Training, and even through Navy Seals but he never felt so proud than he was then.

Tony, Tony Wake up there shooting at us Just then Tony realized it had been all a dream he actually was in an F-16 squadron. He was in the air over Iraq when he went to day dreaming. Watch out Tony there shooting SAMs at us screamed his wingman, John Franklin. Sorry John just- staggered Tony, It’s just that- Tony stopped. What is it? asked John. Well I- suddenly John interrupted: Boggies at 10 o' clock Screamed John over the radio. They look like MIG-29 I see them, lets go in Tony valiantly said. They put on the throttle and attacked. After a long struggle they shot down 6 when suddenly. Tony there is another SAM and it has locked on, dodge it cried John. But it was too late. Boom The SAM slammed into the right wing of the F-16. I'm loosing control Tony yelled over the radio. Then the F-16 exploded. The remains of the airplane crashed into the countryside. John never saw an ejection seat come out. Base this is Jak 2, Jak 1 has gone down I repeat Jak 1 is down said John with his last ounce of strength after seeing his good friend go down.

~

By the time Tony awoke it was dark. He heard voices of enemy soldiers. He has got to be somewhere he couldn't have just vanished yelled the leader of the enemies, Keep looking They must know that I got out of the plane Tony said to himself. He must rely on his fellow airmen and his survival training. He knew that if he shot at them they would either shoot him now, or capture him and execute him because he was an ace. He checked to make sure that his survival supplies were there and that he had his Berretta hand gun. He could feel the gun in its holster and could tell that he still had his survival vest. The vest consisted of: a flashlight, rations of food and water, first aid supplies, a radio (Which had a GPS and Compass), a flare gun, and a signal hat. These few items would later save his life, he hoped. He felt a pain in his legs and saw, with horror, that his right leg and been burned all the way up to the knee, and his left leg seemed to be dislocated. Then he blacked out.

~

When he awoke it was early morning. He remembered his legs and got out his first aid supplies and put sterile gauze pads on the right leg, and tried to put the left leg back in its correct place. Then he looked at his hiding place. It was a great place. When he bailed out the Para shoot blew him into a cave. The cave was the perfect spot because the only entrance, or exit, was blocked by shrubs. Now how the Para shoot blew in such a way to put him in here was beyond his idea, but it was perfect. The enemy would never find him there, but he realized that if the enemy couldn't find him than that meant his comrades wouldn't find him either. He didn't linger on that fact for very long because he could hear an enemy patrol approaching.

“Do you see him?”

“No sir Should we try some where farther south?”

“Yes…”

And with that the patrol left. He was puzzled as to why they hadn’t stayed long, but he didn’t care because he had to find a way to get out for his right leg was still bleeding heavily and his left, well, he couldn’t get it back into place.

He was in desperate need of food. All that he had when he dropped was 3 sets of water and food packets. The water packets were all 12 oz. and the food he had nearly finished. He had to move. The enemy was sure to find him and it was almost dark. He then ate the last packet of food and tried to get up. The pain in his left leg was horrible, but he knew that if he was caught it would be nothing like what they would do to him.

He took out his Berretta and began move. He was able to crawl under the brush at the head of the cave and then began to snake through the underbrush that was just past it.

“Hey, I am making pretty good time, and my leg doesn’t hurt when I crawl” He happily thought to himself, but what he didn’t know was that he was trailing his blood.

~

“What is that sir? It looks like blood sir”

“What It leads into that cave. Go, go follow it” The sergeant yelled to his private. The two then began to get through the brush that led to a large cave.

“Look A parachute Sir, this is where that American landed We must find him”

~

“I will rest here for the day.” He whispered to himself. He had crawled all night and the day was just beginning to show.

~

“Get up you lazy bum”

“Yes Up, up I say” Tony was being prodded by a enemy sergeant and his private. He couldn’t be taken He couldn’t

“Hurry”

“Never” And with that he took out his knife and stabbed the sergeant in the ankle.

“Aughhhhh” The sergeant fell to the ground and when he hit it his head was met with Tony’s knife again.

“Sir You ******* AHHHHH” Then the private charged Tony with his knife. With only seconds to react Tony shot him with his pistol. The bullet hit in the chest and knocked him down. “Augh….” And it was done, the air escaped his breast and his eyes closed.

“I must get in contact with my carrier…”

~

“No I am not leaving I must find him” John screamed into his microphone.

“JAK 2 Get together You must come back IMMEDIATELY” The voice at the other end of the receiver ordered. “If you don’t you WILL be courts-martialed”
“Yes sir…Goodbye old buddy…” And with that he turned his F-16 around and went back to base.

~

SCHOOOOMM

“What the…That was a F-16” Tony whispered to himself. “I must get in contact” He pulled out his radio and set it to BW-24 (the Bandwidth that the Air Force flies on) and talked. “Hello…Is there anyone there? This is JAK 1. I have been shot down, repeat shot down…anyone there?”

“Huh” John yelled, “My God” Switching to BW-24 he whispered: “Tony? Is that you”

“John Is that you? This is Tony…”

“Tony...I mean JAK 1…What is your status?”

“Umm….Left leg dislocated, right burned to knee, stab wound on left arm…”

“We will meet again Go to the field to the south…wait there”

“Thanks JAK 2”

~

“We must help him He is in dire need” John tried to convince the commanding officer.

“No It is too dangerous I will not send my choppers out You have to find another means”

“NO SIR”

“That is an ORDER Captain Good day”

~

“Well we have a problem…The CO wont send the choppers… I am…”

“Don’t worry I will get back Out” Tony let off the button and looked around him. He had found an old abandoned checkpoint base that was on a river. On it there was a small raft. That raft was his means out. He would take it down the river to the border, and get off at a base there. It was the only way. He then heard many men coming towards his direction.

“Where is that man Captain Captain” A Ranger yelled.

“Hello…Who is there?”

“Ranger Sergeant O’Hara…come with us…” They then picked him up and put him on the raft and began to move down the river.

Tzaaa…Tzaaa…Thug…”Ahhh” A ranger fell to a bullet.

“Moove Go GO” They pushed the motor faster. They then rounded a curve and found the whole Iraqi Army “Hurry OPEN FIRE” The Sergeant yelled into the radio. Then from above 6 F-16s dropped down and fired. They fired at the Iraqi resistance and held them at bay so that they could get across the border.

~

“Hello Tony” John yelled as he came down the hall.

“Hey Next time watch the sides, aye?”

“Next time don’t dream…Ranger Training sent a letter back…you are in”

The Power of Six

“Achtung” He heard from a man standing next to him as he groggily awoke. Where was he? Who were these people?
“He doesn’t know what you are saying, Hans. Let me talk to him in English. You, Jew, get up” said another German who was standing over him and who seemed to be in some position of higher authority.
“Get up You’re coming with us,” the same man said. Then he realized that they had seen his phylactery on his arm and he, Jacob Mueller, had been found by the S.S. A painful thought went through his head: “What will they do now that they know that I am a Jew and an airman?”
“Get up you filthy American--” Before the German could say more, the truck pulled up, and at the point of their MP-40’s, he was shooed into the back of an Opel Blitz.
The truck pulled away off a dusty road, and he looked around the back of the truck to find the unwelcoming faces of defeated airmen and civilians with yellow “Jude” stars on their clothes.
The truck stopped at a field, and they were unloaded. He noticed that those around him in the field all had the same attitude as those in the truck. The entire field was surrounded by S.S., and another truck pulled up, opened its tailgate, and a machine gun rolled out and--
“Hey Mueller, get up Your patrol flight leaves at 06:00 Get a move on” He dazedly blinked his eyes open to the angry voice. He must have been dreaming because right above him his C.O., Major Bill Paddington, was staring at him as irate as ever. The Major was called “Old Bill” because he was in the First Great War flying Sopwiths with the Brits.
“Get up You and Smith will be scouting over Frankfurt. Call signs Agate and Agate 1. Get a move on” The Major left and Jacob strapped on his flight gear and he began to remember another day...
The wind blew across the field in gusts, and the crowd gathered for the occasion. This was it; he was going to get his wings and assignment after his completion of air training. They called his name. He went up, received his wings, and on a sheet of paper was his assignment. With horror he read the six words: “23 Air, Squadron 213, P-51D, Dover.” Dover Dover As in the Dover in England He was a Jew, and he knew that if he was shot down, and if the Germans discovered that he was a Jew, than he would be killed. He wanted to object, but if he told them that he was actually Jewish perhaps they would even find out that not only did he lie about his religion, but about his age as well. It was all his own doing...
He returned to his hut and his life from the dream, checked to make sure his phylactery was hidden under his flight suit, and he began to walk to his plane. He had no time for a meal, but on the way he saw his wingman Sergeant Robert Smith.
“Hey Lieutenant Think that you will get your sixth kill today?” Smith asked.
“I don’t know, but we will see.” Jacob said. He went to his plane and checked it all out to make sure it was all in working order. He carefully checked his six machine guns. He would need them for getting his sixth. When he was thinking about the guns on his plane he remembered to check his six-shot Colt .45 sidearm. He looked at his watch; it was 05:30, and he should go.
“Smith lets go” He yelled to his wingman.
“Yes sir” the diligent Sergeant replied.
He climbed into his P-51D Mustang, which he had named “The Irate Lady,” and started the engine. It instantly kicked in, and he put down the throttle. Off he went and was on his way.
“Sir, we are over Frankfurt, time to turn back,” Smith said.
“Ok,” Jacob whispered in the mask. As he began to turn he saw them: two ME-109s coming down out of the clouds.
“Bogies At 9 o’clock” He yelled.
“I got ‘em” Smith replied.
Jacob came in on the lead plane and pulled the trigger. The six guns blared, and he flamed the German, and the plane began to fall back down to earth. He had done it number six He was now an Ace
“Yah, you got him, Lieutenant I sure hope that the Germans-- Oh my God Sir the other is right behind you Bank left” the Sergeant screamed.
“I can’t shake him Help me” Jacob cried. But it was too late the German got him with his cannon and Jacob’s plane exploded.
“No” The Sergeant screamed, and that was the last that Jacob heard from the man. All that Jacob could do now was act on instinct. He broke open the canopy, jumped out, and when he was as low to the ground as possible, he pulled the cord to his parachute.
“Ugh” he grunted as the chute opened, and he hit the ground. In the distance, he heard vehicles. They were coming for him. He tried to move, but it was hard. He hurt everywhere from the jump and, most especially, from the landing. He crawled behind a bush and waited. Two German scout motorcycles pulled up and two riders dismounted, got out their MP-40’s, and began to search for him.
“Johann Check over there” He strained to understand with his limited knowledge of German. “The pride of the Luftwaffe got this one” They continued to search but couldn’t find him.
“He is not here; lets go.” The two went back to their motorcycles and drove off. Jacob began to hurriedly dig to bury his flight gear. He buried his parachute, hat, gloves, and glasses, and started off. He knew very little except that it was December 14, 1944, and that he had landed west of Frankfurt. As he looked out and about his surroundings, he saw a house in the distance and went to it.
When he got there, he found that the occupants were away so he took some clothes, food, a bicycle, and a map of the area. He then rode to the west on the bicycle he had found at the house. His plan was to ride to Wiesbaden and from there to Bastogne, far behind the front line.
He began to ride in that direction. The next day, December 15, 1944, as he rode, he heard tanks ahead of him. He went as far as he could without being spotted, and he looked off a hill in the direction of the tanks. What he saw made him freeze right where he was. Ahead of him was an entire Panzer division. They were equipped with the new Tiger tanks, capable of destroying any Pershing or Sherman tank that the Americans threw at them. He was afraid that even though they were going the same direction as he, that they would find him, so he made a plan.
That night he rode his bike into the German Panzer Division’s camp and found a secluded scout with a motorbike. He then shot the scout with his sidearm and took the German’s motorbike, uniform, and weapons and went away back to his makeshift camp while trying to make very little noise.
Early the next morning, he awoke to the sound of a German voice yelling: “Schwartz is that one of our bikes? Go see who that is” a loud German man said. Jacob instantly bolted awake and saw that the men’s uniforms were S.S. Had they found him? He didn’t want to find out. He got up and pulled out the knife that he had taken from the German earlier and stabbed the officer. He then snuck up on Schwartz and got him. He then got on his motorbike and rode to Wiesbaden.
When he arrived he was surprised to not see the front line. It was December 16, 1944, and he didn’t believe that the Americans were to make an advance that day. He then began to ride towards Bastogne.
As he went he began to run into rear units of German forces moving forward. He was already past the previous front line. What was going on? He decided to ask a man standing next to him who thought, from his stolen German uniform, that he was a German.
“What is going on? Why are we so far forward?” He asked an officer in German.
“We have pushed back the Americans with our Tigers We will certainly defeat them now” He said proudly. Many other joined in joyous remarks. Jacob rode on, shaking on the stolen German motor-bike.
He then reached a hill and could see many miles ahead of him. He saw the German line very far ahead, but there was a circle around a city, a city where Bastogne should be, where it is. It was under siege by the Germans He must get in.
That night he put his flight uniform on under a German overcoat and drove to the edge of the German-American line around Bastogne. He dropped the motorbike, took off the coat and ran to Bastogne.
He reached the gate and yelled: “Let me in It is Jacob Mueller, Lieutenant Jacob Mueller, Squadron 213; I was shot down several days ago Help me Let me in please”
The gate to the city opened, and he was greeted by five VIII Corps men and was ushered in.
“Sir, I am Sergeant Brooks, VIII Corps we all know of your exploits you are very famous. You shot down Vermund Mausen, the Iron Cross winner He had shot down twenty planes and you got him General Middleton will be pleased that we found you Welcome back But before you rejoice you must know this: we, as you can see, are under siege and you cannot go yet. Go get a Carbine from our Q.M., Sergeant Cook,” the soldier said. He had made it to slight protection, and was warmly accepted. He then went and got his Carbine.
On December 26, 1944, tanks from General Patton’s 3rd Army and men from the 101st Airborne broke through the German lines of General Heinz Kokott and General Hasso von Manteuffel, and at last the siege of Bastogne and the Battle of the Bulge was over; as a result, Mueller was able to be sent to Paris to be debriefed by many Commanders so that they could learn more about the events of his flight from the Germans.
Several days later he was able to return to his Squadron in Dover. He received a hero’s welcome from his friends, and he was able to see his wingman, Robert Smith. The next day he was flying in the “The Second Irate Lady,” and just as before, six weeks later, he was woken up at 06:00 by “Old Bill,” in Hut #6, having shot down six planes, and lying that he was six years older than he was to be able to be accepted into the army.
“Get up You and Smith are going to lead a flight of Mustangs to protect some B-17’s out of Bristol. Get up you lazy bum” “Old Bill” was at it again, and Jacob began to suit up.



Thanks for reading


Consul

Ludens
03-03-2004, 18:59
AqConsul, it would improve your first story to no end if it actually had an end. As it is now, the story stops just after the intro.

AqConsul
03-04-2004, 03:08
Yes...there actually is one...it is just that my PocketPC died in the making...I will make one...thanks

The Wizard
03-04-2004, 10:05
Yes, indeed, it needs an ending. Since there isn't a cliffhanger or anything to keep us busy, a nice ending will do just fine. http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif



~Wiz

AqConsul
03-04-2004, 23:29
Ok...there is a continuation, I will continue work on it...thanks

AqConsul
03-05-2004, 03:23
OK I have finished it...I will add another one of my other battle stories aswell...

Ludens
03-05-2004, 18:18
I already thought I was missing something http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif .

Welcome to the Org and to the Mead Hall, AqConsul.

I see that you have changed your clan picture. Pity, I thought the old one was slightly more beautiful.

Regarding your story, I have two questions. Although I understand that it is very convenient for the readers and for Tony, I wonder why the Iraqi's talked English. Secondly: what are two lone P51's doing above Frankfurt in 1944? Although the P51 had the range to do that, I fail to see the point: it is rather to far away for combat air patrol. Of course, I am no expert in WWII air tactics. Quite the contrary http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/wink.gif .

AqConsul
03-05-2004, 23:32
Firstly:

The English: Origonally it was supposed to be over like a terrorist land, then Afganistan, then North Korea, then Iraq...it constantly changed...who knows...perhaps Tony knew Iraqi...

Secondly:

I dont remember if I put this, but I meant for them to be scouts, or Bomber Protectors...sorry for that...for the most part the story is historically acurate...

Thanks for your great comments

Consul

Note: Are these stories any good?

Ludens
03-06-2004, 11:09
I am glad you appreciate it, AqConsul. It was a bit unfriendly of me to ask questions about details in a story, but I wanted to make a point: your stories contain very little details. It is almost an summary of what happened to the two pilots. Details are like the flavour, they make the story interesting. This answers your question.
You should look at the stories of the HoF writer's award competitors: Frogbeastegg, Monk and Simon Appleton: they don't give a rough sketch, but describe what happens in detail (Simon Appleton does not post in the Mead Hall, but in the Throne Room, where the PBM-campaigns are organized).

I hope you will find this advise useful.
There is more to writing than just writing.

AqConsul
03-06-2004, 16:27
Thank you very much for the...ideas...I will try to remember them the next time that I make a story.... Thanks

Consul