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Gravenpolder, Netherlands. An innocuous name. Dutch city. Nice architecture. A homey kind of town. Pretty cathedral. Docks filled with fishermen and merchants hawking their wares. That was a long time ago. Such a long time...

I belong to a Fallschirmjager squad, 3rd FJR. We decided to take Gravenpolder, to push back the Allied lines in the "Zeelands." Maybe even launch an attack and push them off the islands all together. We were naive.

Krabbendijke was another town like Gravenpolder. War torn streets showed that we had ripped it from the Frenchie's choking claws. We started by taking several Opels from the Army Base, pulling out into the floodplains surrounding the city and traveling in a convoy. As per the plan, a Transport ship carrying several tanks and infantry was on it's way. It had already dropped off an elite panzer team in one of the new Pz 4s. They would be our scouts and our fire support.. We would meet the Transport at a channel dredged into the penninsula for shipping to cross. Get picked up on one side, dropped off on the other. Simple.

Only it wasn't simple. Screams, so many screams choked the radio channels. The transport had been found by British aircraft. Fires lit the deck as the crew struggled to save everything they could. It was a lost cause, for the British were relentless. Not one man escaped the burning hulks that used to be two proud Kriegsmarine vessels.

The plan had failed, but our commander, the one called Loogan, urged us forward. We returned the Opels to the Army base in silence, caught a JU 52 flight to Antwerp, and outfitted ourselves with paratrooper gear. We would take Gravenpolder how we usually did. Go in, kill anything that doesn't speak Duetsch, secure the Army Base, get out.

After a few minutes we had recruited several more Falschirmjaegers to assist us. An attack order was placed on Gravenpolder, a step through the buracracy of the system of Oberkommando Der Wehrmacht. We were now allowed to begin the assault.

The JU 52's engines started, a delicious sound. I savored the moments of comradery that we shared as we flew to our target, each of us dealing with the stress of possible death in our own ways. I like to joke, earning me the title of "Captain Obvious". Our pilot who, for unknown reasons, was known as Pig, stayed quiet. Too busy on concentrating to try and yell over the roar of three props.

In seemingly no time we were over the target. We began the ritual in silence, standing and hooking our parachutes to the line that would deploy them automatically.

"JUMP JUMP JUMP!" Pig screamed. We leaped from the plane, enjoying a split second of freefall before the jerking of the parachute brought us back to reality. I checked my gear, making sure everything was secure. I was carrying a heavy weapon, the MG34. My target was the Army Base bunker, crucial to securing the base.

I corrected my jump and slowly spiraled to Earth, not sparing a glance to see if Pig made it out. I knew that there might be some Frenchman just waiting for me to lose my concentration before he put a bullet in my head.

No. I pushed that type of thinking into a corner of my mind.

Err... That house is coming up very fast... maybe if I just move this this way... no no NO NO!

I noticed the MG tower too late. An automated drone manned the gun, searching for movement. I landed on the roof directly to the South East of the gun. Well within it's field of fire. As the weapon slowly turned, I hastily shrugged out of my harness. Bringing my MG34 up, I dove for the safe side of the angled structure.

"Chunk Chunk Chunk Chunk"

The 30. caliber bullets chipped the wood, sending splinters careening into my back as I tried to crawl away. It seemed as the rounds were getting closer, and I paniced. Pushing myself off the roof, I fell heavily. Luckily my training kicked in, and I rolled... Right out into the open in front of the tower.

Sprinting as fast as I could, I dove for the safety of the French building. Bullets richocheted all around me as I crawled down the long hall to the main room, eyeing the window set into the far wall. I got back up and sprinted through the main room, turning the corner to confront... nothing. I searched the back room and came up with the same conclusion.

Sighing with relief, I setup my bipod on the "murderhole" firing down the long hallway. It was then I noticed the automated defense turret had better aim than I expected. Blood stained my calf red, and I quickly tore open the cloth. The bullet seemed to have gone straight through, lucky me. I used the torn cloth to make a bandage of sorts. Good enough for now.

Standing back up, I used one hand to whisper into my radio.

"Check in."

"Rotn here." One of the new fellows.

"As always." Loogan's voice called back.

"Anyone else?"



"Two truck depots down. Docks down. City secure."

"Bunker fine."

"Alright, I'm heading to-" Loogan was cut short by a vicious burst of machinegun fire.



"Get to the bunker."

I continued watching the hallway before hearing a peculiar sound. Almost like...

"It's the Panzer four! He's here!" Rotn said excitedly. I pulled my MG 34 off the wall and ran to the other window, looking out. A beautiful green tank stood majestically outside of the Army Base bunker, watching over me. Or maybe not, as I saw a flash of khaki, and a flash of white. A Frenchman had come for me.

Running back to the other murderhole, I fired a burst to no effect. I backpedaled and aimed at the last turn the man would ever make. There he was, carrying one of the ugly French sub machineguns. Bad idea. If I had been thinking, I might have yelled something. Tried to take him prisoner. As it was, all I did was squeeze the trigger. The man, the boy, really, was caught by dozens of slugs. His corpse fell to the ground.

I walked over, smoking weapon in hand, and looked at him. He couldn't have been over twenty. His face was... happy. He seemed almost content in death. A single drop of blood tinged the boy's cheek. Looking further down...

I turned away, a hand over my mouth, nearly sick.

I... I don't want to talk about this any more. Maybe, maybe I'll tell you the rest of the story. I need to calm down, rest, joke with my friends and pretend that everything is alright...

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This is awesome!! You are quite the story teller. I was in a patrol boat outside of town and saw you all drop. You did well!

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Thanks, but I don't think that this is very good. I wrote it at 5 in the morning, and I think I'm gonna have to write it again when I'm not falling asleep. Thanks for the compliment, though. I'm actually writing a short story right now.

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I think this is an excellent AAR and war story. I play on the other side and may have been that fresh faced french lad but you did him great honor in your story. I have often thought about keeping a war diary and writing it up. But I doubt my writing skills would equal yours!

Keep it up! Thanks for a quality read.

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Thanks! If you were,then I suppose I'm sorry for killing you. :D It was heart pounding, defending the bunker with only my MG34, then Rontn for a couple of minutes.

I'll probably write the end of the story tomorrow. Graven was a pulse pounding battle, and I got a hell of a rush from defending that bunker.

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