02-16-2009, 11:25 AM
***This is placed here because it sounded like the right place to put it. Feel free to move it if it isn't.
This is a work of pure fiction, based, rather loosely, off of Call Of Duty 3, and the song One by Metallica. Any Historical discrepencies about World War Two, the location, or anything else, is entirely my own. It is not meant to be an accurate historical portrayel, just something to kill the time.
Any resemblances my characters have to any person, living or dead, is purely coincedental.
Everything is © their respective companies and owners.
I am © myself.
Please feel free to read and review this work. Constructive criticism works fine. If you don't find works of this nature to be your cup of tea, please back out of this page. I'm sure there are other stories on this site that may appeal to you.
Thank you, and enjoy.
******
The Thrill Of The Hunt
By Cowboy From Hell
©2009 Cowboy From Hell
******
"Ah, I see you there." The grey wolf spoke, as he sat in his chair, sipping calmly on a glass of Jack Daniel's, "you wanna hear a story? I got a few good ones. Like this time, back in the war..."
"...it was 1944, December, I believe. It was cold. Very cold. We had been ordered to protect a small village from retreating Germans...sounded simple at the time. We went about our business, stockpiling weapons, ammo, talkin' 'bout girls we wanted to fuck....all the normal shit a GI does during the calm in between fighting. I had come in with the bulk of the forces on D-Day....we were a nasty group of furs...Hellbent on killin' every single stinkin' German we could set our eyes on.
There were six of us. Doc, our group Medic and Trenchgunner. That was just a fancy term for a Doctor with a shotgun. Hoo, you shoulda seen the way that Doc would blow those stinkin' Krauts to bits. He was a fun one. Carter, our Radio Operator, he was kinda a prick. Really didn't talk much to him, save for barking orders at him, and having him relay information to Command for me. Junior, he was the kind a guy that scared me. He was more fucked up than I was! Guy took to saving all the shell casings he used to kill Germans with. Mustve had about a'hundred on him. Real nasty guy, he used to burst out in laughter when he shot a guy. We were pretty sure he needed a Section Eight, but, he was too damn good to let go. When he got on the Tommy he used, you could feel safe. Max was our other Machine Gunner, a little more relaxed than Junior, but was still one Helluva fighter when you pissed him off. Somehow he managed to get two Drum Clips for his Thompson. How he scored them, we never knew, and he wouldn't say. The rumor was he had his girl back home fuck a supply officer to have him issued with them....he did have one hot fox for a girl, though...ahem, then there was Duke, my Rifleman. A big, strong German Shepherd. We constantly ragged on him for it, and he vented his frustration on the Germans. He was a crack shot on that Garand they gave him. He'd fire off a burst of two, the first one knocking a German's helmet off, and the second one, gettin' him in the head. He was a good guy...."
The Wolf sighed, and took a drink of his Whiskey.
"We were set up in what we called a Hornets Nest. Three fifty-Cal machine guns, all our hardware, and a bunch of ammo to boot. When the first wave of Germans charged our blockade, we mowed 'em down. Somehow, someone managed to get an MG-42 set up across from our nest, and they managed to start laying down cover fire on us. We had to hunker down, and fire Mama Duece blindly at 'em. Just accurate enough to keep 'em from firing back as much. Then, they stopped firing at us. We figured we got 'em, so we looked out. That's when we heard the rumble of the Panzers.
We ditched the Fifties, and ran for the nearest cover. I straggled a bit, and almost lost my tail underneath the tracks of the first panzer. The Germans began to flood in after they broke our lines. They set up machine guns in window sills and in doorways, and gave us all sorts of Hell.
We were given the order to fall back to our rear line, a bombed out church, and kill any Germans we could along the way. We runned and gunned our way through demolished buildings and streets. We end up getting pinned down again by a group of Forty-Twos in a second-story balcony. Me and Duke got in position, while our gunners started laying down lead. We gave 'em just enough of a break for 'em to poke their heads back up, and we started poppin' 'em in the head.....god, those Garands made the weirdest ping when they shot out those spent clips. Sounded almost like a ricochet....
After we cleared them out, we ran for the Church, and met up with another squad. We got enough time to grab some ammo and patch ourselves up, before those damn Panzers came around, and started shelling the church. We retreated again, this time to a bar that was at the end of the street. A few Germans left supplies there from when it was occupied. Two MG-42s in the windows, and thankfully, some Panzerfausts. Those little rockets were Hell on our tanks, so it was time to repay the favor. Junior lined up a shot on the lead Panzer, and let it rip. He got it good, trapping the other Panzers behind it. That was one problem solved, we still had to deal with the Kraut soldiers.
I grabbed one Forty-Two, and Carter grabbed the other, and we started killin' 'em with their own bullets. Junior and Max mowed down anyone that got close enough, and Duke started dealing out headshots like cigarettes. Which reminds me..."
The wolf reached over, and grabbed a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one up, and took a drag off it.
"...ahh, that's better. Yeah, we were doin' great. Until the Germans found somethin' I overlooked. The backside of the Bar overlooked a sprawling meadow, at the edge of the Village. Those fuckers just went around us, and started taking shots from the other side.
They got us pinned, and I mean good. We were four different kinds of fucked, but we kept fighting. I ran out of ammo for my Garand, so I stole this Assault Rifle off of a dead Kraut, and all his ammo. Not like he was gonna need it anymore. Duke, Max, and Carter covered the frontside, while me, Junior, and Doc dealt with the soldiers coming in from a Hole that a Panzer put in the back wall. Remember how I said Junior scared me? Yeah, that fucker was laughing like a madman at the advancing Germans, and mowin' em down with his Tommy.
When the shit got to hot, we fled out a side door. Carter got a call that we were needed to stop advancing soldiers from retaking a pair of Flak-88s that we stole. So, we ran damn near clear across town to help 'em out. A burst of gunfire from the Alleyway near the Flak-88s took down Junior....poor bastard never got to show his momma the collection of Bullets he had.
We charged down that Alley, guns blazin', and came to a razorwire obstacle, just feet from the cannons. Luckily, we found a hole in a building to go through. Those Germans were pissed when they saw my group, and we were pissed to see 'em, too. Me and Duke took point, and popped off any Germans that came at us. One of them tossed a P'tater Masher in the room we were in, and we had to split. Duke grabbed that grenade, and winged it back at 'em, takin' 'em out, but gettin' a bit of shrapnel in his leg. He said he'd live, and we fought on. We got up th stairs, and took out the Germans hidin' there. Up there, we found some sniper rifles. US Sniper Rifles. I grabbed one, and loaded up, just as Mortars started up on our position. I took a peek through that scope, and found the first group of 'em, out in the treeline. I popped the first one in the face, and reloaded, as the second one opened up on me with his rifle. He stopped to reload, and I shot him through his ear.
....somethin' you should know, kid. Never turn your back on the enemy.
I found the next Mortar Team, and took 'em out. They were hidin' behind some bushes, near a stone fence. The last team were right up next to the road, trying to use a fence as cover. They didn't last long.
I then heard that all-too familiar rumble of Panzers. I was about to duck and cover, when one opened up on my building. I fell through the floor, my ear's ringin', everythin' blurry. There was some pain in my legs, but pain was good. Pain meant you weren't dead yet.
That tank took out Duke and Max....they were on the lower floor, layin' down cover fire, and got hit. I still remember seein' their bodies, and smellin' that smell....that smell of charred flesh and burnt fur. It was aweful. I almost puked. I ran out to the other squad outside, that was guardin' the Flak-88s. They were droppin' like flies.
I ran over to a Panzerfaust they set up on the sandbags, and grabbed it. I took aim at that Tank that killed my friends, and it took aim at me. I fired first, hitting the turret just next to the cannon. It blew up, the ammo inside cookin' off. I reloaded the rocket launcher, as a Halftrack rolled by, and I took it out, too. Duke was my buddy....
...those fuckers paid for killing him. When I ran out of rockets, I took command of that Flak-88. I lowered that barrel down, and aimed it at an oncoming Panzer. I shot, and it blew to shit. I reloaded it by paw, and reaimed it at another tank, blowin' it ta Hell. I was reloadin' for the third shot when a tank took aim on my Flak. I ditched it just as it fired. That gun got wasted, so I ran to the other, and fired it off at the tank.
When I stopped hearin' tank engines, I grabbed the nearest rifle to me. Some poor Kraut's lost 98K. I grabbed a couple pawfuls of ammo, when I got hit. Some shithead shot me in my arm. Then again in my leg.
Either someone couldn't aim for shit, or they wanted me to suffer. Either way, I limped back to the relative cover of the house, and collapsed in the closet. After loading the rifle up, I looked out, and saw Doc, laying in a pool of blood, with a bayonet stickin' out his chest. That just left me and Carter.
The Germans started comin' into the house. I stayed in that closet, watchin' em come at me. I shot 'em dead each time one stepped through the door. I only limped out to grab more ammo, and to see if Carter needed any help. He was a little worse off than I was, with his left arm crudely bandaged up, and the radio was nothing more than a smouldering rack on his back, but he fought on. That little shit sure had balls.
I heard more Krauts comin' in from my side, so I grabbed a P'tater Masher off'a one a'the dead Krauts, and lobbed it at 'em, blowin' 'em to bits, and creatin' enough a'diversion to get back to my Hidin' Spot.
One a' those Kraut sons'a'bitches saw me, and shot me in the side. He grazed me, but it fuckin' hurt, and I was bleedin' pretty good. I fought on, killin' as many as I could.
....we were promised reinforcements, but they came too late...
The last thoughts runnin' through my mind, was that I'd never get to say goodbye to my wife again. That I'd never get to see her again, never be able to run my paw through her soft, black fur...
As I started a Kraut in the eye, the one I was certain would kill me, I heard more tanks.
A Sherman rolled over the razorwire, and the machine gunner on top of it opened up on the Krauts. The tank rolled over the demolished Flak-88, as more rolled on through. Me and Carter woulda jumped for joy, if we could jump. We were the last two left. We fought to the last man."
The wolf sighed, and put the cigarette butt out, exhaling a last mouthful of smoke.
"They finally let me go home, after that. I was wounded and broken, but I got to go home. Those medals they gave me for valor, bravory, and honor, they don't mean shit to me. Shade visited me in the Hospital as soon as she found out I got shipped stateside. She stayed there with me until they let me go home.
...all these years later, she says I wake her up, yelling orders at men I've lost so long ago....yelling orders to the ghosts in my mind.
Some people ask why we did it, why we fought. Some did it for honor, some did it for purpose.
...we did it for the thrill of the hunt. We were truly dogs of war."
This is a work of pure fiction, based, rather loosely, off of Call Of Duty 3, and the song One by Metallica. Any Historical discrepencies about World War Two, the location, or anything else, is entirely my own. It is not meant to be an accurate historical portrayel, just something to kill the time.
Any resemblances my characters have to any person, living or dead, is purely coincedental.
Everything is © their respective companies and owners.
I am © myself.
Please feel free to read and review this work. Constructive criticism works fine. If you don't find works of this nature to be your cup of tea, please back out of this page. I'm sure there are other stories on this site that may appeal to you.
Thank you, and enjoy.
******
The Thrill Of The Hunt
By Cowboy From Hell
©2009 Cowboy From Hell
******
"Ah, I see you there." The grey wolf spoke, as he sat in his chair, sipping calmly on a glass of Jack Daniel's, "you wanna hear a story? I got a few good ones. Like this time, back in the war..."
"...it was 1944, December, I believe. It was cold. Very cold. We had been ordered to protect a small village from retreating Germans...sounded simple at the time. We went about our business, stockpiling weapons, ammo, talkin' 'bout girls we wanted to fuck....all the normal shit a GI does during the calm in between fighting. I had come in with the bulk of the forces on D-Day....we were a nasty group of furs...Hellbent on killin' every single stinkin' German we could set our eyes on.
There were six of us. Doc, our group Medic and Trenchgunner. That was just a fancy term for a Doctor with a shotgun. Hoo, you shoulda seen the way that Doc would blow those stinkin' Krauts to bits. He was a fun one. Carter, our Radio Operator, he was kinda a prick. Really didn't talk much to him, save for barking orders at him, and having him relay information to Command for me. Junior, he was the kind a guy that scared me. He was more fucked up than I was! Guy took to saving all the shell casings he used to kill Germans with. Mustve had about a'hundred on him. Real nasty guy, he used to burst out in laughter when he shot a guy. We were pretty sure he needed a Section Eight, but, he was too damn good to let go. When he got on the Tommy he used, you could feel safe. Max was our other Machine Gunner, a little more relaxed than Junior, but was still one Helluva fighter when you pissed him off. Somehow he managed to get two Drum Clips for his Thompson. How he scored them, we never knew, and he wouldn't say. The rumor was he had his girl back home fuck a supply officer to have him issued with them....he did have one hot fox for a girl, though...ahem, then there was Duke, my Rifleman. A big, strong German Shepherd. We constantly ragged on him for it, and he vented his frustration on the Germans. He was a crack shot on that Garand they gave him. He'd fire off a burst of two, the first one knocking a German's helmet off, and the second one, gettin' him in the head. He was a good guy...."
The Wolf sighed, and took a drink of his Whiskey.
"We were set up in what we called a Hornets Nest. Three fifty-Cal machine guns, all our hardware, and a bunch of ammo to boot. When the first wave of Germans charged our blockade, we mowed 'em down. Somehow, someone managed to get an MG-42 set up across from our nest, and they managed to start laying down cover fire on us. We had to hunker down, and fire Mama Duece blindly at 'em. Just accurate enough to keep 'em from firing back as much. Then, they stopped firing at us. We figured we got 'em, so we looked out. That's when we heard the rumble of the Panzers.
We ditched the Fifties, and ran for the nearest cover. I straggled a bit, and almost lost my tail underneath the tracks of the first panzer. The Germans began to flood in after they broke our lines. They set up machine guns in window sills and in doorways, and gave us all sorts of Hell.
We were given the order to fall back to our rear line, a bombed out church, and kill any Germans we could along the way. We runned and gunned our way through demolished buildings and streets. We end up getting pinned down again by a group of Forty-Twos in a second-story balcony. Me and Duke got in position, while our gunners started laying down lead. We gave 'em just enough of a break for 'em to poke their heads back up, and we started poppin' 'em in the head.....god, those Garands made the weirdest ping when they shot out those spent clips. Sounded almost like a ricochet....
After we cleared them out, we ran for the Church, and met up with another squad. We got enough time to grab some ammo and patch ourselves up, before those damn Panzers came around, and started shelling the church. We retreated again, this time to a bar that was at the end of the street. A few Germans left supplies there from when it was occupied. Two MG-42s in the windows, and thankfully, some Panzerfausts. Those little rockets were Hell on our tanks, so it was time to repay the favor. Junior lined up a shot on the lead Panzer, and let it rip. He got it good, trapping the other Panzers behind it. That was one problem solved, we still had to deal with the Kraut soldiers.
I grabbed one Forty-Two, and Carter grabbed the other, and we started killin' 'em with their own bullets. Junior and Max mowed down anyone that got close enough, and Duke started dealing out headshots like cigarettes. Which reminds me..."
The wolf reached over, and grabbed a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one up, and took a drag off it.
"...ahh, that's better. Yeah, we were doin' great. Until the Germans found somethin' I overlooked. The backside of the Bar overlooked a sprawling meadow, at the edge of the Village. Those fuckers just went around us, and started taking shots from the other side.
They got us pinned, and I mean good. We were four different kinds of fucked, but we kept fighting. I ran out of ammo for my Garand, so I stole this Assault Rifle off of a dead Kraut, and all his ammo. Not like he was gonna need it anymore. Duke, Max, and Carter covered the frontside, while me, Junior, and Doc dealt with the soldiers coming in from a Hole that a Panzer put in the back wall. Remember how I said Junior scared me? Yeah, that fucker was laughing like a madman at the advancing Germans, and mowin' em down with his Tommy.
When the shit got to hot, we fled out a side door. Carter got a call that we were needed to stop advancing soldiers from retaking a pair of Flak-88s that we stole. So, we ran damn near clear across town to help 'em out. A burst of gunfire from the Alleyway near the Flak-88s took down Junior....poor bastard never got to show his momma the collection of Bullets he had.
We charged down that Alley, guns blazin', and came to a razorwire obstacle, just feet from the cannons. Luckily, we found a hole in a building to go through. Those Germans were pissed when they saw my group, and we were pissed to see 'em, too. Me and Duke took point, and popped off any Germans that came at us. One of them tossed a P'tater Masher in the room we were in, and we had to split. Duke grabbed that grenade, and winged it back at 'em, takin' 'em out, but gettin' a bit of shrapnel in his leg. He said he'd live, and we fought on. We got up th stairs, and took out the Germans hidin' there. Up there, we found some sniper rifles. US Sniper Rifles. I grabbed one, and loaded up, just as Mortars started up on our position. I took a peek through that scope, and found the first group of 'em, out in the treeline. I popped the first one in the face, and reloaded, as the second one opened up on me with his rifle. He stopped to reload, and I shot him through his ear.
....somethin' you should know, kid. Never turn your back on the enemy.
I found the next Mortar Team, and took 'em out. They were hidin' behind some bushes, near a stone fence. The last team were right up next to the road, trying to use a fence as cover. They didn't last long.
I then heard that all-too familiar rumble of Panzers. I was about to duck and cover, when one opened up on my building. I fell through the floor, my ear's ringin', everythin' blurry. There was some pain in my legs, but pain was good. Pain meant you weren't dead yet.
That tank took out Duke and Max....they were on the lower floor, layin' down cover fire, and got hit. I still remember seein' their bodies, and smellin' that smell....that smell of charred flesh and burnt fur. It was aweful. I almost puked. I ran out to the other squad outside, that was guardin' the Flak-88s. They were droppin' like flies.
I ran over to a Panzerfaust they set up on the sandbags, and grabbed it. I took aim at that Tank that killed my friends, and it took aim at me. I fired first, hitting the turret just next to the cannon. It blew up, the ammo inside cookin' off. I reloaded the rocket launcher, as a Halftrack rolled by, and I took it out, too. Duke was my buddy....
...those fuckers paid for killing him. When I ran out of rockets, I took command of that Flak-88. I lowered that barrel down, and aimed it at an oncoming Panzer. I shot, and it blew to shit. I reloaded it by paw, and reaimed it at another tank, blowin' it ta Hell. I was reloadin' for the third shot when a tank took aim on my Flak. I ditched it just as it fired. That gun got wasted, so I ran to the other, and fired it off at the tank.
When I stopped hearin' tank engines, I grabbed the nearest rifle to me. Some poor Kraut's lost 98K. I grabbed a couple pawfuls of ammo, when I got hit. Some shithead shot me in my arm. Then again in my leg.
Either someone couldn't aim for shit, or they wanted me to suffer. Either way, I limped back to the relative cover of the house, and collapsed in the closet. After loading the rifle up, I looked out, and saw Doc, laying in a pool of blood, with a bayonet stickin' out his chest. That just left me and Carter.
The Germans started comin' into the house. I stayed in that closet, watchin' em come at me. I shot 'em dead each time one stepped through the door. I only limped out to grab more ammo, and to see if Carter needed any help. He was a little worse off than I was, with his left arm crudely bandaged up, and the radio was nothing more than a smouldering rack on his back, but he fought on. That little shit sure had balls.
I heard more Krauts comin' in from my side, so I grabbed a P'tater Masher off'a one a'the dead Krauts, and lobbed it at 'em, blowin' 'em to bits, and creatin' enough a'diversion to get back to my Hidin' Spot.
One a' those Kraut sons'a'bitches saw me, and shot me in the side. He grazed me, but it fuckin' hurt, and I was bleedin' pretty good. I fought on, killin' as many as I could.
....we were promised reinforcements, but they came too late...
The last thoughts runnin' through my mind, was that I'd never get to say goodbye to my wife again. That I'd never get to see her again, never be able to run my paw through her soft, black fur...
As I started a Kraut in the eye, the one I was certain would kill me, I heard more tanks.
A Sherman rolled over the razorwire, and the machine gunner on top of it opened up on the Krauts. The tank rolled over the demolished Flak-88, as more rolled on through. Me and Carter woulda jumped for joy, if we could jump. We were the last two left. We fought to the last man."
The wolf sighed, and put the cigarette butt out, exhaling a last mouthful of smoke.
"They finally let me go home, after that. I was wounded and broken, but I got to go home. Those medals they gave me for valor, bravory, and honor, they don't mean shit to me. Shade visited me in the Hospital as soon as she found out I got shipped stateside. She stayed there with me until they let me go home.
...all these years later, she says I wake her up, yelling orders at men I've lost so long ago....yelling orders to the ghosts in my mind.
Some people ask why we did it, why we fought. Some did it for honor, some did it for purpose.
...we did it for the thrill of the hunt. We were truly dogs of war."
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
![[Image: seifer.jpg]](http://www.ff-fan.com/chartest/banners/seifer.jpg)
