Gunther

Letters from the Front

@CaptainBritton I enjoyed your post! Well done! :)

I should have an update this weekend. Maybe get us to Coutances

Welcome to the Rice Fields Motherfucker- An Ambitious Vietnam War RP

I speak very little French, but enough German and Spanish to survive in cultures that speak those languages. Clint Eastwood is still one of my all time favorite actors/directors. I loved the Spaghetti Westerns of the 60s, the Dirty Harry movies and many of his later stuff like Million Dollar Baby and Flags of Our Fathers.

Welcome to the Rice Fields Motherfucker- An Ambitious Vietnam War RP

"Pardonnez-moi, je n'ai pas beaucoup de temps pour ce passe-temps. Je publie quand j'ai le temps."

I always assume in RPs like this one that there are a number of NPC soldiers who have not yet been mentioned. This squad could be much larger; in fact, it could in reality be a small platoon lead by a senior NCO. We only are aware of those characters each of us have claimed as our own.

...oh yea, Please forgive my tardiness. If you cannot understand French, I am a very busy person. Currently running three RPs at the moment, which is an ambitious undertaking for a busy father of four children.

Welcome to the Rice Fields Motherfucker- An Ambitious Vietnam War RP

The heat of the jungle was sweltering, but comfortable to the young fisherman. He’d grown accustomed to the heat much as a northern person adjusts to the frigid temperatures in winter. The heat was not a factor in his behavior nor his comfort for that matter.

The patrol of Northern soldiers quietly assumed a hasty ambush position ordered by their patrol leader. The sergeant encouraged the men by reminding them of their obligation to the people; their nationalist sentiments. The Southern men were merely puppets serving the demands of their imperialist masters. Nga recalled the Japanese when he was young, very unforgiving people, believing they were superior and the French when he was a teen. They were accommodating to say the least, but nonetheless, they were not Vietnamese. They were foreigners. They have all been foreigners for centuries. This latest version of masters, the Americans were not better or worse than the previous landlords and needed to understand the Viet people could and more importantly should govern themselves. Nga honestly did not understand why it was the Japanese, then the French and now, the Americans. Apathy prevented him from understanding. He knew why and what for he was fighting. He understood he would have to kill a few of his Southern brothers in the process. They apparently did not understand their crimes against the people they were committing. Hopefully, the survivors will learn the lessons of the dead.

He found a position behind a large tree, providing him with more than adequate cover. Leaning to the right of the tree, he spied over the top of his rifle at the trail in front of him; watching for movement. The NCO in charge of the patrol indicated this would be the spot for the ambush.

As Nga lay on the ground, he could not help experience an overwhelming sense of fear for what was about to happen. He was very frightened about this impending battle, even though he knew he was in the right. The nagging fear was always there. For the soldier, it does not matter if the size of the two forces numbers over a hundred thousand or just under ten. It remained a frightening undertaking. Nga did not want to die. He thought about Mai; her beautiful eyes, pretty smile and smooth skin. He desperately longed to return home to his fishing village. How easy life was back then when casting nets and hauling fish were the most difficult things he had to do all day. What a life it was, spending ones days on the open water and the evenings with the woman you loved.

Nga heard the voices of the enemy and the whispers of his comrades. He believed something was about to happen. He did not want to speak in fear of alerting the enemy to their position. As the enemy patrol drew near he could see their uniforms, lighter in green than their own and their camouflaged colored helmets; mottled greens and light brown or tan in color. Their weapons were much different than his own. He knew right away that his Soviet built assault rifle was better superior than the antiquated American rifles these men carried. Nga was confident this would be a bloody massacre. Nga observed the expressions on their faces. They did not appear frightened as he was. They were determined. Is as though their foolish beliefs were just as important to them as his were to him. He scanned down the sights of his rifle deciding which person would receive his first bullet. It was both frightening and thrilling all at the same time. He could feel the endorphins coursing through his veins. He was ready.

Letters from the Front

Not a problem, @The Spectre. I intend to post about once a week or when I have time to keep it moving. I figured people could pop in and out as they have time available.

Soviet Amerika - Red Dawn-Inspired Alternate History

Ben handed the bag of money off to the wise guy. He stepped back behind Joe near Dan. He looked up towards the woods. It was a clear line of sight. Then he heard the words he had been keyed up to hear, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Simultaneously, Ben “Gigger” Giguere unholstered his Ruger .44 with Dan, bringing the sights up to engage one of Mike LeBeau’s henchmen. With the revelation of the pistols, Preston Giguere, who was watching from a distant hill, he quickly lined up the crosshairs of his scoped .30-06 on the Canadian and slowly squeezed the trigger. The 180-grain projectile exited the muzzle of the rifle at 2700 feet per second. It closed the 300 meters distance in a fraction of a second striking the man at the neck, penetrating into the opposing shoulder where it could be eventually discovered inside the man’s right pectoral muscle. The projectile severed the carotid artery on the way in causing a six-foot long arterial spurt to paint the ground and anyone standing near him in warm blood.

Mr LeBeau’s face had a contorted pained look on his face as the bullet penetrated the trachea allowing his blood to seep into his lungs. He began to gasp and choke, slowly dropping to his knees as he drowned in his own blood. He spat the blood out upon the ground. He lay still on the ground as the blood oozed out of his mouth and the hole in his neck. His lips quivered from reflex as the life slowly left his corpse.

Ben searched for additional targets, engaging when available. He lowered his stance to a kneeling one aware of where Dan and Joe were at all times. Preston scanned the scene to find anyone attempting to flee the area. He cocked the rifle and engaged anyone who did not remain with Dan, Joe and Ben.

Letters from the Front

We have made contact with the enemy. OK to use your bang bang toys now. Congratulate Sergeant Cox on his promotion to Staff Sergeant.

Just to let everyone know, the 4th Armor Division crossed the beaches at Utah near Ste. Mere-Iglese and Ste. Marie-Du-Mont. I have taken the unit along a path through the hedgerow country south towards Coutances and eventually, Avranches.

@BingTheWing@The Spectre@CaptainBritton@FrostedCaramel

Letters from the Front

Promotions!

16 July 1944
Our advance has been delayed another week. Everyone was excited to get into combat, but it appears this is not going to happen anytime soon. We continue to drill and prepare for our day in the sun. What will it be like?

This afternoon, there was a promotion ceremony on the field we have taken over as our parade field. I knew it was coming eventually, I didn’t know today was going to be the day. The Colonel promoted me to Captain today with orders effective 1 July 1944. He also promoted two of the platoon leaders to First Lieutenant. Later, I was able to promote several of the enlisted soldiers. My operations sergeant, Cliff Cox was promoted to Staff Sergeant. He probably secretly wants to return to a platoon and serve as a platoon sergeant. I intend to ask him that later today. But for now, he will continue to serve as the Operations Sergeant. We also promoted two soldiers to Sergeant, three to Corporal, three to Technician 5th Grade and seven soldiers to Private First Class.

A local provided us with seventy bottles of French Wine to celebrate the promotions. I couldn’t help but find some humor in his donation to a worthy cause. We definitely took him up on the offer. I believe all contents of those bottles were emptied before the evening was over. Wine and soldiers go together like children and candy.

17 July 1944
I was wrong! I got the call at 0500 hours to be prepared to move. It was painful. I now regret drinking all that wine yesterday. I called the platoon leaders, the first sergeant and SSG Cox. It was time to roll. I’m sure many of the men were hungover from their evening of debauchery. I guess the joke was on me.

By 0600, our tanks were lined up according to the previous operations order and we began our march forward in a south by southeasterly direction. Colonel Abrams’ tank followed mine in the order of march. He stood as erect as he could in the hatch of his tank. I felt obligated to follow his example. I forced myself to overcome my fear of being shot just to set the example for the rest in the company. How would it look if the Colonel stood erect in his turret while the company commander slouched down to just head level? Fear.

At around 0900 we passed through the 4th Infantry Division positions and were now in Indian country. The lead tank in the column kept its barrel pointed straight ahead at 12 O’clock. The 2nd tank’s barrel was pointed to the right at around 2 O’clock and the third tank’s barrel was pointed to the left at around 10 O’clock. Every tank after that alternated their barrels left and right, not knowing where the Germans would show up.

1000 Hours; first platoon reports contact with two German Self Propelled Vehicles (SP). These should be the Jagdpanzer IV with a 75mm cannon. It is a low silhouette vehicle but very difficult to aim as the gun barrel is fixed forward. The gunner can only traverse a few degrees left or right. The driver and gunner must be synchronized in order to be effective. The battalion Intelligence officer (S2) told us that the experienced crews on these SP guns were very good at what they do. The disadvantage for us is the vehicle is so small, the gunner needs to be deadly accurate. Otherwise the cannons are about the same as our 76mm.

The first platoon leader reported his lead vehicle got off two shots. The SPs fired two shots at them and all rounds missed. We continued to march. I specifically ordered them not to charge after the enemy so quickly as they might just draw us into an ambush. But with the first shots of the war being fired, I’m sure everyone is on edge and alert; looking for the enemy anywhere.

I ordered the vehicles to move at 10-15 MPH. It is better to travel at a slower rate of march so that the second and third platoons as well as the infantry can charge in if needed. So far, we haven’t had to deploy the rest of the company yet. It is slow, but safer this way.

We only made it as far as Cretteville where we bivouacked for the evening, keeping sentries up all night long. The infantry platoon pulled security and conducted dismounted patrols into the countryside to our west and south.

18 July 1955
The Infantry platoon leader reported a German concentration of armor and infantry just north of Saint-Jores. They have identified three Panzer Mark IV tanks, two SPs and three halftracks with roughly 20 infantry. I have reported this to the Battalion Commander. He wants us to handle this location. He is going to deploy B Company to our left and C Company to our right in support. I will put 1st and 2nd Platoon abreast with the Infantry and Assault gun platoon in support. As we make contact, the Assault gun platoon and the infantry platoon will remain together, making an end run to hit the enemy on their flanks while they are engaging the two Sherman platoons in their front.

We moved out at 1400 hours after rest and orders dissemination. I thought we would be able to move faster through the open ground, but there are hedgerows everywhere we go. They slow us down. The first platoon lost a tank trying to push through the thick bushes. The tank threw a track and the crew are trying to repair it. We need a bull dozer to get through these damn hedgerows. We have looked for openings and have been able to take advantage of a few. At the rate we are moving, it will be nightfall before we make it to the enemy position. We will have to bivouac only a thousand yards from their position.

I second guessed myself. I decided to keep pushing, even if it means we are shooting in the dark. I don’t like it. There are too many opportunities for fratricide. But we kept pushing.

By 2000 hours, we reached a hedgerow and started taking fire at only 200 meters. A round ricocheted off my Sherman. The first two platoons along with the BC and myself stuck our barrels through the bushes and began firing in the direction of the enemy. If you think the colonel was being rash sticking himself out of the turret the way he was, I did something stupid. I stepped out of the tank with my binoculars and looked over the top of the hedges to see if I could see the enemy. They were right in front of us; three Mark IVs and two SPs. Their infantry had dismounted and were firing two MG 42s in our direction. That revelation forced me back into my turret. I immediately ordered the assault gun platoon and the infantry to maneuver to the right and hit them on their left.

By 2200 hours, Saint-Jores was clear with two surviving Mark IVs heading south. We knocked out the two SPs and one of the Mark IVs. We also managed to secure eight German prisoners which will be turned over to the S2 shop.

We did lose one tank in the first platoon. The driver, PFC Marin, who I promoted two days ago and the bow machine gunner, Private Tarkenton were both killed in the burning wreck. These were our first brothers killed in action. I’ll have to write letters to their mothers. This is not a pleasant day after all.

19 July 1944
We spent the night on the southwest side of Saint Jores. The Infantry patrols report at least a platoon of Wehrmacht infantry dug in only two kilometers away. It is difficult to see them through the hedgerows. The Infantry plotted their coordinates and we called in 105mm howitzer fire on the position just before we left. This morning, 2nd Platoon is leading and 1st platoon is in reserve. I suspect those Mark IVs are in the area.

1000: We made contact with the enemy. I ordered the infantry to move up on line with the 2nd platoon. Both platoons had a heated engagement with the enemy across a distance of only a hundred yards. The first platoon and the assault gun platoon advanced on the enemy’s left flank and ran into the two Mark IVs. One of the enemy tanks got away and one is now a burning wreck. We lost no tanks on this engagement, but did take three wounded during the firefight at Le Plessis-Lastelle.

I have put in requests for a replacement tank, two armor crewmen and three infantrymen. Two infantry sergeants are being put in for the Bronze Star for their heroics in eliminating the enemy position.

We advanced as far as Le Petit-Saint Germain to establish a bivouac and eat a hot A. We ate mashed potatoes and boiled chicken with corn for dinner. Oh my. That could have been a gourmet meal. I have never tasted anything so delicious. It was much better than the canned C-Rations we have been eating the past two days.

One of the tank crews asked if they could join an infantry squad on a patrol tonight. At first I was reluctant to allow them to do so, but eventually gave in.

20 July 1944
During the night, I heard a loud raucous of gunfire coming from the direction of Saint-Patrice-de-Claids. I could not sleep after that and remained awake. Sergeant Cox apparently couldn’t sleep either. He had a pot of coffee on and I was able to get my canteen cup filled. Thank God for Staff Sergeant Cox. He is a savior.

When the infantry came back into the perimeter around 0430 hours, they were carrying someone in a poncho. It was Corporal Melvin Banks, gunner in the 2nd platoon. He was killed in action in a firefight at 0300 near a church at Saint Patrice. I knew I should not have allowed the tankers to go on dismounted patrols. That will not happen again. I will let the company know I cannot afford to lose another armor crewman in this manner. I need them to operate their tanks not their M3 Grease guns. I was pretty upset about this and let the company know about it after they woke up. Well, the platoon leaders and platoon sergeants felt my wrath. The 1SG and SSG Cox heard it too.

We mounted our vehicles after breakfast or just after day break and advanced only as far as La Regnauderie, just west of Periers. The Colonel wants to send C Company to check out the city tomorrow. We may have to reinforce them or be prepared to continue the march south.

21 July 1944
This day was pretty uneventful. We dug in our infantry and applied camouflage to our tanks. The men took advantage of this respite to cook food over open fires or on the back decks of hteir vehicles. The engines produce sufficient heat for cooking food. The Germans made no attempt to attack our positions. B Company was in position to our right while C Company made a reconnaissance in force toward Periers.

Around 2130 hours, we heard a tremendous firefight going on in the direction of Periers. The Platoon leaders, 1SG, SSG Cox and myself listened to the radio messages between C Company and battalion headquarters. Artillery fired on positions in southern Periers. It was quite a sound lasting for no less than ninety minutes.

22 July 1944
From what I could gather. C Company locked horns with a platoon of Tiger tanks on the outskirts of Periers. They lost five tanks and managed to destroy two Tigers before they disengaged. Two platoons of Wehrmacht infantry engaged a company from the 53rd armored infantry in house to house fighting in the streets of Perier. By 2300 hours, the enemy had withdrawn to the south.

0700: We continued our advance south. 2nd Platoon is leading with 1st platoon trailing and the infantry and assault gun platoon following. We stopped at the outskirts of Saint Sauveur-Lendelin. Again, the colonel wanted to check out the city and this job was going to D Company. C Company was held in reserve and B Company was again on our right.

1000: A new tank arrived with two additional armor crewmen and three infantrymen. Replacements have arrived. This replacement system is pretty quick. They obviously had these soldiers at their replacement detachment somewhere just waiting for people to die or to go to the hospital. What a business this is, dying and sending more young men in to die. It is both horrifying and amazing. I cannot believe I am here doing this. Sometimes I feel like I just want to cry.

---

Jean Tyler
27 Cranberry Dr.
Watertown, NY 13601

CPT Arthur Tyler
A Co. 37th Tank Battalion
APO NY 09012

21 July 1944

My Dearest Jean,
I truly miss you, sweetheart. I wish you would write. Maybe you have and the letters just have not made it to me yet. Maybe there is a backlog in Britain? Maybe there is a ton of mail coming our way and no one was prepared for such an avalanche of mail to be flooding into the United Kingdom.

Anyway, we landed in France last week. It was pretty uneventful, but those were busy days getting the equipment unloaded and moving over the beaches at Normany. I don’t know if you have noticed, but I was promoted on the 16th of July. My orders are effective 1 July 1944. This bring a few more dollars into the household for your and the boys.

Jacob appears to be doing well. I spoke to him a few days ago. He is still working and claims his wrist is not bothering him. That is truly amazing with this work we are doing.

Two days ago the mess section prepared this boiled chicken and mashed potato meal for us. I tell you, it was the most delicious thing I have tasted since I have been in Europe. Well, maybe that is because most of my meals have been coming cold out of a tin can lately. I can’t stop thinking about it. I hear we are going to have another hot meal tonight or tomorrow.

I can’t tell you where I am. I can say that I have seen some Germans up close and they look tired. They have not given up the desire to fight, but most of the ones I have seen look like they really do not want to be here. I saw this 16-year old German kid a few days ago. He was crying his eyes out. Maybe it was because we spanked their butts pretty hard. Maybe he just misses his mom.

I would still like to know what is going on back home. How are the kids doing? How are mom and dad? What about the Yankees? Are they having a good year? I don’t get to see all the baseball news here in France.

Your soldier,

Love,

Art

@The Spectre

The Spectre

Assume CPT Tyler asks Staff Sergeant (SSG) Cox if he would like to serve as a Platoon Sergeant.

Welcome to the Rice Fields Motherfucker- An Ambitious Vietnam War RP

I was in a platoon life fire defense once and the call for "FPL!" went out, just as you mention it, @Foster. Some of the guys in their DFPs were like, you could reach out and touch the stream of lead flying past their position it was so close. It was during the hours of darkness and those tracers do make it look pretty fucking deadly. That is right before it turns to bayonets and E-tools. Keep both sharpened, just in case.

Letters from the Front

That is fine by me, @FrostedCaramel. I would expect that.