>be me
>French farmer
>Dad died in Franco-Prussian war, cousins in Alsace-Lorraine ("Elsass Lothringen" my ass, Fritz) are now German citizens
>Extreme hate of Germans because of it
>Hear about some shit going down over in the East, not really concerned about it
>One day brother comes home with a newspaper
>The heir to Austria-Hungary went and got his ass capped
>Thatsnogood.telegram
>About a month later, war breaks out because of France's alliance with the Russians
>Military recruiters come to town
>Kiss my momma goodbye and head into town to sign up
>"Ne vous inquietez pas, ce sera fini pour Noel!"
>Get armed with my Berthier and kitted with my uniform
>Ohyiss.8mmlebel
>Uniform looks fly as fuck, bright red and blue to get all the hairy countryside bitches on my dick
>We march to the front
>Officer says we'll take a rest after we've stopped the German advance
>Alrightthen.phonographrecord
>Can't wait to get myself some German pussy with the boys
>NCO is a pretty chill dude, he actually fought in the Franco-Prussian war so he knows what he's doing
>Feel safe following his orders
>Few days later, we appear to have arrived at the front
>Doesn't look too bad, we can definitely win
>How could the Poilus lose?
>We begin marching downhill towards the German lines
>They're not yet visible but we're assured they're there
>Some bullets and shells begin raining on our position and our NCO orders us to follow him and scatter
>We find safety in one of the newly-created potholes
>Bullets are flying overhead faster than I've ever heard
>I've fired my fair share of guns but this isn't the sort of thing I have any experience with
>It's probably one of the new machine guns some of the lads have been issued
>One of the boys from another squad decides to pop up and return fire to good old Franz
>We heckle him a little, there's probably not that much danger at this range
>He pops up for a minute and begins firing his Berthier
>An entire hemisphere of his head flies off
>Cont.
Jow Forums goes to war in 1914
Compatriote you got my interest, please continue and post more French wojaks for my collection love you my man
>Ffwd a year
>It's 1915 now
>Most of the friends I made in training are dead now, with a majority of them dying in the very first month of the war
>We were mostly trained to fight in massed formations, 19th century style tactics
>Our uniforms at the time didn't help either
>We've pretty much switched to a new drab blue at this point, and casualties have dropped to a more sustainable rate
>By some miracle, no one in my squad has died yet
>That miracle's name is our NCO
>He had the bright idea to have us move as a flexible squad during the Battle of the Frontiers, rather than in the big formations of everyone else
>Haven't even been shot for desertion yet because all the people that would've done it died in their formations
>We try to keep our spirits up, but ultimately the best we can do is just to pool our wine rations together and get drunk every once in awhile
>The British came after the Germans pushed through Belgium, a neutral fucking country
>Alrightnowitstimetodiehun.carrierpigeon
>The recruiting officers lied, fighting is hell
>I saw a British boy walking through the trenches, he couldn't have been older than 13
>Fucking 13
>I asked him how old he was, told me he was 18
>Talked to an officer about it, he said there was no proof he wasn't 18, so it was good enough for him
>Fuckingtommies.napoleon
>My squad and I have taken to sharpening our entrenching tools, because rifles were too long for bayonets to be effective and they could get stuck in the enemy when we needed them most
>Our machine gunner was issued a Chauchat for primary use, a relatively new gun that hasn't been used and isn't supposed to go into mainstream service until a year later
>High command clearly has a preference for us
>Machine gunner tries to fire a few hundred rounds at the Germans to test out his new hardware
>The thing jams 18 times on account of dirt getting into the open magazine
>He almost ruins the barrel on account of overheating the junkspitter
>Cont.
keep going lad its interesting; aussi ca se voit que tu n'es pas francais
I follow this intently. For the moment, I am not doing anything just yet, I will only join the war proper in 1918.
>Our squad is repositioned to Flanders, the details are hazy - probably on purpose - but high command seems to be thinking of launching an offensive on Ypres
>Anotherfuckingoffensive.germanmurder
>I have at least four friends who did in the First Battle of Ypres
>Not looking forward to this shit one bit
>We finally arrive at the front, it seems like it's been really static since last year
>Just the same as our front desu
It should be mentioned that most of the men in the trench seem incredibly nervous, we're just trying to get this over with as fast as fucking possible.
>A few days later
>Get a whiff of some interesting smell
>A green cloud begins floating over to our trench
>Whatingodsname.merde
>We watch as it comes closer and closer, unsure of what to do
>We can't run away because command would have us killed
>Some of it begins floating into our trench, and the men begin coughing and sputtering
>MYFUCKINGLUNGSAREONFIRE.help
>The squad decides to GTFO, deserters or not
>See some Brit with a piss-colored rag to his face that seems to be doing alright
>Can't be bothered, just run away
>German machine gun fire harasses us the entire way
>Look behind to see what's happening with my squad
>They're alright, even the slowest among us is getting away decently well
>I think this until I see Carlus clutch his chest and fucking drop dead
>Carlus was a rifleman and an MG assistant, not altogether that important but a friend of mine and a good man
>I was going to attend his wedding when he got home and married his girlfriend
>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.screaming
>NCO tells me to shut the fuck up and focus on running, we can mourn Carlus later
>I follow his advice, not wanting to end up like Carlus
>I see Germans advancing into the trench wearing some kind of weird fucking thing on their face
>We finally get back to the support trench and the officers immediately question us on why we ran away
>Cont.
What did this user mean by this?
Please be oirignal
I think he's saying that when my story reaches 1918, he'll make his own. speaking of my own story...........
Portugal only sent an expeditionary corps to fight in Europe in 1918. Before, we only did skirmishing in Africa.
based ww1 user keep going
>As we try to explain, more and more men who had the same idea pour into the support trench
>We all have the same story; green gas, burning lungs, Germans push us out of the trench and we're not able to fight
>The officers don't round us up and have us executed for desertion, and instead have us man the guns and the firing steps, and begin waiting for the Germans
>A messenger is dispatched to relay the fact that the frontline has been shifted to the HQ trench
>We wait patiently for Fritz and his pals to show up so we can give 'em hell
>We wait...
>And wait.....
>No Germans show up
>Eventually, scouts return and say that they've dug in
>Whatthefuck.confusion
>Share a hearty laugh with my fellow squadmates about the state of the German high command
>We decide to settle in for a night of equal parts mourning and celebration over the death of Carlus and the fact that we didn't fucking die
>Such is the fate of a soldier, we reconcile ourselves
>We could try looking to see if anyone had taken a photograph of Carlus, but it's extremely unlikely that anyone ever had, and even more unlikely that we'd ever find one if they did
>We raise a cheer to him, downing all of our wine rations in one night.
>We all expected some serious fighting to go down the next day, so we decided to get as good a rest as we could.
So how exactly is this *r9k* goes to war? Its just a standard ww1 fanfic
>Next day, there's plenty of fighting to be had. The Germans decide to make an advance on St. Julien, the new frontline, which wasn't actually prepared to be one - it was designed to be a support line.
>We hastily dig defenses as more and more men begin retreating from the actual frontlines - maybe more of that green cloud, we don't know.
>Some Canadian Lance Corporal gets some men together to go and be a fucking hero, and I, in my patriotic retardation, decide to go after him.
>The motherfucker totes a machine gun and busts his ass right out onto the battlefield, and myself and three other men along with the Lance Corporal begin laying down fire to cover our retreating lads.
>We're so effective the Germans actually end up temporarily stopping their advance, buying time for our retreating reinforcements to get there and for our engineers to finish digging our trench.
>We follow the retreating men to go and resupply.
>The Lance Corporal gets some more men together, but I decide not to head out this time. I'm through risking my neck like that for one day.
>It turns out to be a good thing that I didn't follow him, because all of his men except for him die.
>Somehow this surviving autist decides that he hadn't done enough that day, so he picks up his machine gun and runs through enemy fire to set it up yet again.
>He actually succeeds and downs quite a few Germans, yet again temporarily stopping their advance.
>In this time, the 18 pounder artillery guns have been hauled off, so artillery support will hopefully commence on the advancing Germans shortly.
>As to Rambo over near the enemy lines, he finally gets shot and dies. It's a miracle it didn't happen sooner.
>I and the rest of my squad are busy laying down fire from a building within the village, hoping to capitalize on the slowed advance of the Germans on account of the Canadian.
>The Germans retreat for now, but we were all pretty sure they were going to come back the next day, in even more force.
>Cont
My dearest Love,
the stench of death and human waste does not leave me, even when I'm away from the trenches. Oh.. my love how I crave for your sweet scent to set me free from this hell, but alas as the days go by I fear I shall know no release from this nightmare. In the coming days, it seems likely that my battalion will be deployed to a little town in north-eastern France. The lads seem to be extra weary and fear is slowly creeping into all us, a fear not of death as we are all used to it, but of the notion that this hell has no end in sight. I don't know when I will be coming home to you, but I want you know that feeling you in my arms again, is the only thing keeping me going now days.
ps. you better not be fucking any niggers while I'm away
Love S.
>Next day, green cloud comes a-comin'.
>Notthistime.yellingfromamountaintop
>We were instructed to piss on rags and tie them to our mouths and noses to prevent death from the green cloud
>Really weird but it works
>Turns out the British officer I saw while retreating was right all along, and he probably survived
>Having said that, though, when the gas finally reached us, our "masks" didn't work well enough
>A lot of people said they were having pains in their chest, and I saw a few men drop dead
>Right that's it
>My squad retreats, as we seem to have become masters at it, further back, though not all the way back to our new support trench
>We set up our machine gunner with his piece of shit Chauchat on an outlook over the village
>Eventually we see German troops pouring through the village, and a gunfight ensues
>Our weakened forces don't do too well and it seems that almost all of them die, though some manage to retreat.
>We cover their retreat with machine gun fire, and bark at them to alert the support trench of a German advance. Hopefully we'll be prepared this time.
>While cycling the bolt of my Berthier, I get shot through the shoulder. My vision goes black and I scream in pain.
>Next thing I know, I'm in a tent with some ladies around me.
>Ohhohhoh.sexytime
>Turns out they're nurses and I've been pretty badly wounded
>No bones were hit but I'm gonna be taken out of the fighting for a long time
>I won't be cycling any bolts for a good while now
>They tell me to just lay back and comply with whatever they needed to do to get me back into fighting shape
>Tfw I'm not healthy enough to fight but not wounded enough to go home and get myself some decent wine and cigarettes
>God fucking dammit
>Ffwd another 2 years
>We've been fighting on in off, in skirmishes and in proper battles
>At this point the entirety of our squad save for the machine gunner, the NCO, and myself have died and been replaced
>I'm actually becoming a proper veteran now, and know my way around trenches and potholes better than I would know my own homestead at this point
>My shoulder never really heals back to how it used to be, so the officers try to keep me out of major fighting roles
>Bullshit.writtenletter
>I deserve to be up at the front, fuck this boredom is killing me
>Either send me home or kill me already, one or the other, don't make me sit in this trench
>NCO and other squadmates laugh at me occasionally because I don't fight very much anymore
>They still carry some respect for me though on account of my participation and survival of the Battle of the Frontiers and the Second Battle of Ypres
>The new guys all look up to me, and I realize I'm slowly becoming my NCO
>Our squad gets repositioned again, though not too far
>We're positioned along the Aisne river, again in preparation for an assault
>At this point our squad - specifically the three veterans within it - have a bit of a reputation in the trenches for being particularly smart and survivable
>Ironically, we're the ones who are now being tasked with breaking through the enemy lines using modern infiltration tactics
>Fixbayonets.notwarhammer
>We're to attack the town of St. Quentin
>After an initial barrage of artillery fire, my squad is to move up and create a hole in the German lines
>After we've successfully done this, instead of spreading out and aiding our lads to the left and right of us, we're expected to push deeper into their lines and wreak havoc in the support section of their trenches
>Whatthefuck.suicidemission
>Well, if the officers think it'll work, I guess it'll work
>The order is finally given to go over the top, and we charge straight towards our destination
>We breach the German lines with a bayonet charge after picking a few of them off, and we then set to using our entrenching tools
>I dug my E-tool halfway into a German's neck before removing it and screaming while swinging it at the next one
>We created our breach, and now set about getting deeper into the enemy lines.
>The location we picked connected to a small tunnel, which resurfaced in the enemy support trench.
>We follow through it, but we run into some German reinforcements along the way.
>We do our best to fight but they end up driving us back.
>I get hit in the leg by a German kid - couldn't have been older than 17 - and I yet again black out.
>This time when I wake up, I'm not in friendly territory.
>I've been taken as a prisoner of war, and I'm missing my right leg. The round impacted the bone, and there was nothing more they could've done.
>I wasn't altogether too concerned about being taken as a prisoner of war, because I knew I would eventually be traded for German prisoners of war.
>It turns out the French attack ultimately accomplished very little, but the British attack worked out much better.
>I take some solace in the knowledge that not all is lost on the Aisne, and try to go back to sleep.
>Eventually I am traded for some German POW's, and I'm medically discharged on account of my leg.
Cont. in epilogue.
Epilogue
>I return home to my farmstead, finally getting to smell glorious, non-destroyed French air.
>All seems to be going wonderfully, and my mother greets me and kisses me. She doesn't even seem to be too bothered by my lack of a leg.
>Ilovemymom.timeless
>I decide to go about seeing my old buddies.
>Only a few weren't conscripted/didn't sign up when the war started, but it was still great reconnecting with them and sharing my stories.
>I eventually decide to go see my girl, who I haven't seen since 1914.
>It turns out she was pregnant when I left, and had a child.
>Mfw the child looks nothing like me
>Mfw it's a nigger
>Mfw cucked again
God fucking dammit Fritz, I fight you for 3 years and this ends up being the greatest wound you inflicted on me.
>Never date or marry again, and am too sad to even go to the local whorehouse to regain some manhood
>When the war ends in 1918, my old squad comes to visit me in my loneliness. Our NCO even survives and we tell our stories, having a laugh and a drink of some good wine for once.
>None of us will ever recover from or forget about what had happened during the war, but we try our best to move on and live good lives.
>I was awarded a few medals for my brave service to the country, and all seemed alright in my life.
>My mother dies some years later, and I employ farmhands to work on the farmstead using the money I earned.
>Eventually, I too die, with no children to inherit my estate. It ends up going to the state.
>At the end of the day, my life wasn't at all worth it.
>Fucking Fritz.
>op writes actually good story
>"and then a NIGGER came along and ruined it all :'( :'( :'("
couldn't think of an ending so i memed my way out of it
glad you enjoyed it though
Do one about the Nazi policemen occupying Poland in the last years of ww2