6:43 AM July 1st, 1916

An eerie mist hung in the air over the field where trees and wildlife had once flourished. A time ago, a time of innocence, one could have walked along the Sommes river, the green grass tickling their feet. But now....now it was desolate. The ground torn and warped by shellfire. The stench of thousands dead lay over no man's land. On either side, the trenches stretched out as far as one could see. No signs could be seen of the hundreds of thousands of men that were contained within.
The Great War had been fought for two years now, many had died, and many more were yet to. Germany continued to drain the life blood out of France with it's attack on Verdun. For over five months now they lay the city and it's surrounding countryside under seige. The British had finally come up with a plan that could not fail.
For days they had bombarded the German trenches with artillary fire. "the largest artillary fire in history" some said. The Third, Fourth, and Fifth Divisions of the British Army would make the charge towards the German trenches, as well as the French Sixth Army.
750,000 men lay in wait in the British trench, ready for their order to go over the top. All types of men speckled the mass, British cream of the crop, boys from the slums of London, "Pals" (boys from sports teams who agreed to enlist but only if they could be stationed together), among many. The Germans were all but dead by now, massacred in their trenches. July 1st was the day chosen to make the charge....

6:46 AM July 1st, 1916

The British soldiers stood in a near silent line across the length of the trench. Little movement could be seen, aside from the random ammunition check of their bolt action rifles. The men were fresh and ready for battle. The stark realities that came with trench life had already begun to set in. Body lice had begun to run rampant, and trench foot had set in. Trench foot was a crippling affliction caused by the mud and water that lined the trenches.
In the line, the Soldier stood. Silent and patient he waited for his orders. He made no movements, and uttered no sounds. The others had immediantly alienated him. He was cold and unfriendly. It was said that when he entered the room a chill would run up people's spines, even when he was hidden from view.
He always wore his helmet low to cover his face, and he was often as isolated as one could be in the trenches. The men who had accompanied him to bootcamp had remarked how he had spoken to no one but his superior officers, and even then he only replied in short bursts. His voice however, when heard, was a powerful sound. It had a soft tone to it however, much like an explosion heard from miles away. A muffled thud.
He carried no personal effects, only what had been issued from the British Expiditionary Force. His hair was thick and black and his eyes were cold and lifeless.
Private Regenold Tibbs stood next to him in the muddy trenches, speaking loudly to Private Bryan Baldwin. The Soldier listened quietly....
"I say Bryon," spurred Tibbs, "this is going to a glorious day, what. They say no one could withstand that attack, what."
Bryan Baldwin, a former coal miner, looked to his friend. His face was muddy and coarse. His thick nose only overshadowed by his low hanging brow.
"Aye...I 'spose it's going to be quite a slaughter." The two men chuckled heartily and went back to checking their equipment. The brass had been SO confident that the Fourth Division had been order to march over no man's land in PARADE formation.
The Soldier, somewhere deep beneath his lifeless exterior, smiled....

7:29 AM July 1st, 1916

"OVER THE TOP BOYS, OVER THE TOP!"

The cry rang out and the trenches sprang to life. The bright morning sun was masked by the smoke of artillary. The troops climbed the trench walls and hauled themselves up to the ground above. In the middle of it all the Soldier climbed up as well. Taking his place near the front of his squad he surveyed what lay before him.
No Man's Land.
The area between the two trenches where charges were held. It was sparse and burnt. Trees were merely smoldering stumps. Where grass once was, only morter holes remained. Black...dark...and dead.
The call was made once more and the division began foward, the Soldier with it. They marched in near perfect time with each other, their boots slogging down at points in the thick mud. Up ahead, Sgt. Henry Townsend called out.
"Alright boys! Lets give em hell!"
The Soldier glanced past the Sgt. and through the smoke that hung on the horizon. Up ahead lay the German trench....miles away. The Soldier's eyes adjusted...slowly things became clearer...like a vision in a dream. Through the smoke he could see the Germans scurrying in their trenches, thousands of them. He watched in silent amusement as they set up their machine guns on the trenches.
For the first time in a LONG time, he smiled outwardly. The British Army had made a CRUCIAL error. The Germans had not suffered in the artillary as they had thought...they had taken cover in their cement bunkers. And now they were about to unleash a terrible retribution on the advancing lines.
The Soldier glanced ahead once more and almost felt the urge to laugh. Not only had the artillary failed to break through the German front...but it had failed to destroy the German barbed wire that lay between the trenches.......

((more to come

((WWI ? D-D-D-DAmn
what you got goin down? this is sweet. :smile:

((very nice .. :smile: but that is my icon first :mad: ))

((REally Cool. But this scene seems familiar...Am I remembering a history lesson..or was this in a WWI movie?...

7:32 AM July 1st, 1916

The Fourth Division of the British Expidetionary Force trudged foward towards the German trenches. The Soldier moved with even strides, barely containing the yearning inside him to rush foward at full speed. The men were ready to attack the weakened half dead Germans. And then a shot rang out.
The empty morning air cause the shot to echo, but only for a moment. Within second hundreds of bullets were flying through the air. Up ahead, the cold black barrels of rifles emerged from the German trenches. The muzzles flashed, then were lowered and raised again with a repeat volley. Around The Soldier, men's chests and heads erupted with a colorful spray of blood that covered him. Still he marched foward.
A new sound emerged...still gunfire, but much quicker now. Louder...more agressive. The machine guns let loose upon the unsuspecting British ranks.
POP POP POP POP POP POP POP!
Around him, the men fell to their stomach's hoping to avoid the gunfire. The Soldier watched their faces as he marched foward. Some men were battle hardened...they showed no fear but only a mild detachment from their surroundings. They crawled through the mud. Others took cover behind the dead...their blood smearing their uniforms. Still some hid in the mortor craters, their faces white with fear.
The Soldier did not crawl, he strode towards the gunfire, a sickly grin on his face. He passed a British private. The Private was young and inexperienced. This was obviously his first battle. His face was devoid of any color, his eyes wide and filled with tears. He looked up at the Soldier making eye contact. For a moment the Soldier could see the Private's life in years past.
A happy boy, son of a taylor...schooled outside of London. Played football....born 1895...poor but content. A sweetheart awaited him back in England. His mother sick and worried about him, his father long since passed. The boy hoped to return a hero and continue his family's legacy as farmers.
The image was ended as a bullet tore through the boy's skull, effectively splattering his brains on the mud beneath him. The Private's mouth, half open, let out a timid squeek as he collapsed, his face buried in the dirt. The Soldier moved foward.
He made his way through the barbed wire as though it was not even there. Beneath him, men groaned and gasped as bullets riddled their bodies. The dirt was turning to mud again as the blood mixed into it. It clung to the Soldiers shoes but it did not hender his movement. Like a bullion he thrust his way through. Bullets wizzed past his ears and into the bodies of others.
The CLACK CLACK CLACK of the machine gun fire was near...directly in front of him. A German machine gunnist fired intently on the British soldiers. Smiling, the Soldier made his way foward over the last of the barbed wire.
The machine gunnist looked up in shock. His face was covered in grime, blackened by soot and dust from the artillary bombings. A thick beard covered his lips, but his jaw hung open. The Soldier stood at the top of the trench, rifle in hand....the German pulled his pistol from his holster.
In a blur of motion the Soldier's bayonet sliced the German officers mandible from his skull. A gurgle and spat....the German fell to the ground. To his left four more Krouts took notice. They cried out and they bore down on the Soldier.
The Soldier leapt into the trench was immeadiantly submerged in mud upto his waste. Without a thought he swung his rifle around and fired four shots into the Germans. They disappeared beneath the mud. The last let out a faint groan before going under.
Sloshing foward through the marsh, the Soldier reached under and grasped the dying German's head. The German surfaced, held tight by the Soldier's iron grip. Smiling, the Soldier sunk his teeth into the Kraut's neck.
He felt a slight impact as a bullet lodged itself into his back. The Soldier growled, threw the now dead German back under the mud, and whirled around. Five German's were advancing down the trench towards him.
The Soldier quickly disappeared from sight. The German's, perplexed, glanced to each other inquisitivly. The lead soldier grunted in agony as the unseen bayonet blade of the Soldier, tore into his lower abdomin and worked it's way up, effectively spilling his guts. The other's looked in stark horror. In shock, they began to move backwards.
The fourth German, the one at the back of the group, screamed and dropped his rifle. The other's watched as he was lifted out of the mud and into the air by some unseen force. His back, arched and pointing downward, was torn open and gushing blood. He was heaved from the trench and onto No Man's Land.
The Soldier, unseen to all, smiled.....

((btw, this was a REAL battle...that's why you might have heard about it. It was called the Battle of the Sommes

((ok good writing, but what clan are you to vanish from site like that? last i heard you were a Venture. Just wondering.
Good writiing though

((what clan? WHAT is he..and how come NO bullets hit him while he crossed no man's land? I mean...who is he..Neo?

((number one...this is NOT the General, that's a seperate player...number two, if you keep reading my posts you'll find out what he is and why not bullets hit him..