Come here for some juicy RP from WW1.
I think I’ve done this right.
So, if this is where we are going to roleplay, I’ll repost my introduction.
So, if this is where we are going to roleplay, I’ll repost my introduction.
Over the span of a mere couple of days, the French soldiers are loaded off of trains into Amiens (northeastern France) and are made to stand in neat lines, separated by rank, as NCOs carried out orders bellowed down from the Commissioned Officers, assigning the men to battalions, platoons, and squads.
In a nearby location, a British company appears to be doing something similar, the fates of the two units appearing the same.
Separate officers approach Sergeant Movarch, Corporal Winder, Corporal Honore, and PFC Bossuet, all providing the same demand, “6e division d'infanterie, 4e bataillon de pied, 2e peloton!” When Movarch’s officer arrives, he grumbles, spitefully. “6e division d'infanterie, 4e bataillon de pied, 2e peloton. Troisième équipe. toutes nos félicitations. (2nd Platoon, 3rd Squad... Congratulations).”
After everything is sorted out, the squad is clumped together, and arranged in a column with the rest of the Division, apparently preparing a march, the British unit having already departed to the Somme a couple hours prior.
(talk to eachother, etc etc, you’re standing there in excess of 30 minutes)
In a nearby location, a British company appears to be doing something similar, the fates of the two units appearing the same.
Separate officers approach Sergeant Movarch, Corporal Winder, Corporal Honore, and PFC Bossuet, all providing the same demand, “6e division d'infanterie, 4e bataillon de pied, 2e peloton!” When Movarch’s officer arrives, he grumbles, spitefully. “6e division d'infanterie, 4e bataillon de pied, 2e peloton. Troisième équipe. toutes nos félicitations. (2nd Platoon, 3rd Squad... Congratulations).”
After everything is sorted out, the squad is clumped together, and arranged in a column with the rest of the Division, apparently preparing a march, the British unit having already departed to the Somme a couple hours prior.
(talk to eachother, etc etc, you’re standing there in excess of 30 minutes)
Isaiah found himself in the middle of another war, this time as a Lieutenant on the field, commanding a platoon of men. He had been ordered to liaise with a fire team of French soldiers who were coming to reinforce the Somme bulwark and had handed over command of his platoon to his 2IC in his absence.
For all his commando, frogman, armour infantry, heliborne and shipborne training, he had never fought in a time where trench warfare was the main theatre of war. Nonetheless, he had spent 25 years as a soldier and he'd be damned if he lost his edge in one of the greatest conflicts of history.
For all his commando, frogman, armour infantry, heliborne and shipborne training, he had never fought in a time where trench warfare was the main theatre of war. Nonetheless, he had spent 25 years as a soldier and he'd be damned if he lost his edge in one of the greatest conflicts of history.
**The cool late-November air nipped at the soldiers, as the commanding officers moved up the columns, making sure everything was aligned.
"My fireteam, sound off!"
After waiting for an extended period of time, the French company begins it’s march to the frontlines of what would become the battle of the Somme, the cold morning silent, except for the faint whistling of oblivious birds in the air.
(hopefully they come)
As he shouts the command, his squad sounds off, one by one.
(hopefully they come)
As he shouts the command, his squad sounds off, one by one.
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