"The true heroes of World War II" ONL & GallifreyanOddy IC
Superheroes that you find in comics are not just mere fantasies, they are based on true people with great abilities. Some lived in secrecy and took their gifts with them to their graves, some stood up and used their powers for both right and wrong. More so than anything else in war, and now the greatest human conflict has started, where these people are needed more than ever. This is the story, of those who could be called true heroes with true gifts.
We start this tale of war, friendship and love, tragedy and total war, in the same land that the previous Great War had been stuck for 4 long years. Now it would a mere month for it all to happen in the favour of the Germans. We are in 1940, France is falling...
Dunkirk, May 26th, Northern France.
Above them, German planes flew down at them to drop bombs and fire their machine guns, killing and wounding everyone that stood in their way. It was no silence to be found, no peace or rest to be given, it was war everywhere you walked. In the distance, you could hear the unforgettable sound of fighting, firearms alongside artillery and tanks fighting a war never experienced by anyone before. Not for the French, certainly not for the British and of course not for private Adrian Whitestone.
Adrian Whitestone, 26 year old Englishman from outside London, was experiencing at first hand the shame of being on the fleeing side of a war. From the very moment they, him and his friends in the British Expeditionary Force, had stepped on French soil, they had been fighting a defensive war against the German attackers. But even Adrian, with little to non combat experience other than all the stories his father had told him, understood that the Germans was the better fighting force in this war. He felt ashamed, not only by this, but also the ignorance by his superiors; stuck in the Great War battle-theories about trench warfare. This wasn't like the Great War, this was a war that the Germans had mastered, all while the British and French were unable to do anything against their enemies.
Adrian sat on a chair, taken from a bombed café in the city of Dunkirk that was now the "home" of thousands of British and French soldiers. He was tired, tired of everything from the weather to the French soldiers that he couldn't understand what said. What he felt like doing most was just waking up from a nightmare, like this was too terrible to be true, though it wasn't. So what could he do? Nothing, except waiting. What were they waiting for? Well, either the orders of surrender to the German Wehrmacht, or the final orders of their evacuation from France and continental Europe.
As he sat on the chair, he held his rifle with his left hand and a bottle of French wine in his right, something he had found in the ruins. It was the only thing that kept him alive now. As he took small drinks from the wine, he looked at the different soldiers passing him. They were walking to the frontlines, where they were fighting a tough fight to keep the Germans at bay, and where many would never return alive. He felt lucky to not be one of them, but felt non the less sorry for those who walked.
Out of normal loneliness, he waved to a French soldier who sat on the other side of the street from him, and tried to get him to come over. He waved his bottle of wine, in hope of getting some company, even if he would have to listen to a Frenchman he didn't understand.
"Hey you, you on the other side there, come here! What's your name, friend? Your name. My name is Adrian, Adrian." Adrian said slowly to the French soldier, not knowing anything else that would work to get him to understand Adrian other than talking slowly and clearly.