Battlefield 1: Over the Top!

[Minuteman75]

September, 1916
The Somme, France​

To say that eighteen years old Private Edmund Townsend was nervous would be an understatement. He stood in line with the rest of his battalion within their trench line, awaiting for the order to move forward into No Men's Land, grasping his Enfield rifle ever so tighly. Several months ago, Edmund had enlisted into the British regular army out of his small town in Southern England to answer the call for volunteers. Being from a well-off middle class family, the training had been hard to get used to in all honesty, but his friends, who joined up at the same time helped him through it.

As British and German artilleries waged a thunderous duel overhead, Edmund or Ed as he was called looked all around him. Many of the men, were similar in age, or even younger he suspected, like freckle faced Geoffrey on his right, who looked like a choir boy straight out of church. Some seem to look like he felt, others like the old hands displayed either blank or steady expressions. The attack they were about among the latest in the Somme Offensive that began back in July. So far their forces had taken serious losses for little gains since then. Of course Ed had heard about the landships or tanks that recently been used in an eariler assault.

I heard mention that some of those machines will be joining this attack. Hope they work better this time.

Ed thought to himself, listening to Geoffrey whimpering next to him, much to his own annoyance. Don't sent little boys to war with real men was Ed's opinion, before saying.

"Keep it to yourself choir boy, nobody dosen't want to heard you crying right now."

Geoffrey solemnly nodded in reply, trying to put on a braver face. Ed, himself was inwardly tensed, he just didn't appreciate a bloody reminder to add to the stress. The earth shook repeatdly each time by shells, raining from the King's finest and the Kasier's as well. When will they stop he wondered for the thousandth time in an row. Finally the shelling lessened and the commander's whistle was blew, signal for the attack to begin. The battalion climbed up of their trench and charged forward, with their guns and baynots at the ready.

 

[Talon maara]

View attachment 3744 The engines roared as the ground shook as 'Big Al' began to creep forward. Its steady 4mph where just enough to move the beast across the the battle field. Its twin 6 lb cannons were locked and loaded and ready to rumble as its four machine gunners stood fast and at the command to cut down any one who stood in their way.

The 8 men were a crazy bunch, the driver sam a young boy of 18, just recruited straight from training into this armored turtle sat scared out of his mind. Sanders the first gearsman, kept and eye on the engine as it ripped and roared on command while simultaneously occupying one of the cannons as the secondary Gearsman Williams was commanded to man one of the two cannons. The four machine gunners Norris, Harold, Shaun, and Richard loaded their individual hotchkins machine guns and began to scan the horizon attempting to protect their left and right flanks as well as the front and rear sectors of fire. The men were always kept on their toes by the track commander, you never knew where the enemy armor could be lurking.
View attachment 3743
With all that said and done, we now come to the commander, Captain Ronald J. Keys. Keys was a 43 year old man, with luck on his side he had managed to stay alive in this hell of a war since the first shot rang out in 1914. The weathered of a man sat halfway atop his vessel with both his 1911 on his hip and his 1909 machine gun resting beside his person with his hand close to the trigger.

'Big Al' crept passed the foot soldiers as it pressed on. The men sweating and cough due to the engines emplacement inside the hull and lack of escape from its devastating fumes. Keys nodded to his fellow mk1's as they began their assault forward seamlessly crossing the trenches with ease getting into position. The hearts pumping faster and faster as the time grew near, every single one of them new this could be their last.​

 

[Enuf]

"Keep it to yourself choir boy, nobody dosen't want to heard you crying right now."

The Words rang through his head as he sat in the mud ridden, rat infested scar in the Earth they called home. Private Dominic Porter was not ready for what was ahead of him in this Hell. He lied about his age, signing up at the meager age of Seventeen not only was he underage, he was Ill-Prepared. The Constant reminder of what he has gotten himself into whistled over the head both from "friendly" and hostile howitzers. He had only been here about two days and he knew this might be the last thing he sees. Reaching to his belt, hands would be shaking uncontrollably as he grabbed his canteen just barely able to unscrew the cap. Bringing it up to his mouth the water would be shaking all around dropping from the canteen and onto the already mud-ridden trench. He took a long drink, letting it loosen up his his throat before placing it back onto his belt. This is when he heard it, a sharp whistle blew. He raised his rifle up as he clambered over the top into fray of battle.