(I am re-applying for the Soviet Faction due to renewed interest and finally having the free time to participate in the server) - OOC Section - Name: Akula SteamID: STEAM_0:1:75977733 Timezone: AEST (GMT +9) How is your activity?: Between 1 and 10, somewhere around a 6 most likely, my timezone is a bit of a hindrance but I have a terrible sleeping schedule anyway. Any previous infractions at the community? If so, can you explain?: Quite a few as I used to be an extremely unserious and unproductive member of the community. A very long time ago, and I like to believe I am not that person anymore. Previous WW3RP / RP experience: I’ve been with WW3RP since Lemonpunch, starting with Generations and the Romanian campaign. I’ve been up and down the rank structure on both sides, holding positions such as UCTF, NATO Co-lead, NJSOC lead, Coalition Engineering lead, etc. How familiar are you with the Soviet Union (ideology, history etc.)?: The culture of the USSR has been a personal interest of mine for quite a long time (I have family from the Belarusian SSR, and am generally interested in history in general), so I would like to say I am very familiar with it Are you aware of the new concept? What are some of the differences between this iteration of WW3RP and the old one?: It’ll focus far less on constant semi-serious s2k combat between two equal military factions, and rather focus on rear echelon occupation, and a more fluid dynamic between a conventional military force, local civilians, and various insurgents amongst the civilian population. Combat will still occur, but it’ll be far more impactful and varied, and less of a gamified competition. What do you think this faction will be doing on the server?: Ensuring Soviet supremacy in the region and ensuring relative peace. While they won’t be acting as total police, as obscure civilian laws and altercations between civilians aren’t of any real concern, they’ll ensure soviet interests are kept safe and any insurgent groups are harshly dealt with This’ll be achieved through patrols, checkpoints, and civil engagement, as well as raids on suspected dissidents and confiscation of contraband that could harm Soviet interests. I am applying for: A rifleman, but any specialisation is fine I would like: Junior Sergeant if possible - IC SECTION - Group of Soviet Forces in Germany (ГСВГ) Hesse Military District 2nd Guards 'Red Banner' Tank Army 90th Guards 'Lvov' Tank Division FORM 72-B | PERSONNEL TRANSFER To be filed with company clerk of relevant sub-unit ORDER OF TRANSFER By order of the General Staff of the Soviet Army KAZLOÚSKAJA, NADZEYA. Is hereby transferred from 353RD SEPERATE AIR ASSAULT BATTALION to the 899TH AIR ASSAULT BATTALION (RESERVES) signed on 11/06/1992 Report to COL. PETROV, LENOID for further instructions Biographical Information Name: Nadzeya Valentinovna Kazloǔskaja Date of Birth: 02/03/1968 Place of Birth: Soligorsk, Belarusian SSR Sex: F Height: 165cm Weight: 66Kg Hair Colour: Black Eye Colour: Brown Blood Type: O NEG Religious Preference: None Marital Status: Single Spoken Languages: Belarusian, Russian Service Information Rank: Junior Sergeant Role: Rifleman Date of Enlistment: 05/09/1990 Condition of Enlistment: Conscription Service Record: 1990: Subject conscripted into Land Forces Reserve as part of a program to bolster readiness Passes Basic Training Passes Infantry Training Passes Driver Training Course (UAZ-469) Promoted to Soldier Transferred to 102nd Motor Rifle Brigade 1991: Activated Active duty upon commencement of hostilities in Western Europe Deployed to Honecker Line, participates in Battle of Strasbourg Rotated to Rear for Vocational Training (Airmobile Assault) Transferred to 353rd Separate Air Assault Battalion Participates in Battle of Dijon Promoted to Junior Sergeant WIA on Patrol near Lyons Rotated to Rear for Medical Recovery 1992: Approved for return to Active Service Transfer to 899th Air Assault Battalion (Reserves) Pending Commendations: Medal For Battle Merit, 1991. Battle of Dijon. Infractions: Improper Conduct [x2] Days of Active Duty Service: 545 Spoiler: The Story so Far Outskirts of Lyons, France. 1991. 353rd Seperate Air Assault Battalion C Company. 3rd Platoon. Patrol “Zmeya” “You think the Frenchies are going to surrender? Like the Patriotic War?” Kowalczyk quipped. The Polish emigre always had some stupid question to spout off in the middle of a patrol. “Perhaps if they see your face.” Lebedjev, the grim-faced Lieutenant muttered back. “Now quiet. This is a patrol. Not a tea party.” he added. Always a stern bastard, though on some level he had to be. The men and women under his command may have been paratroopers, but most of them were young, conscripted, and very irate. After the drop over Lyons, there was hardly a shot fired. The French Army units were on the back foot, and rather than conduct a conventional fighting retreat, had elected to leave a wake of snipers, minefields and roadside bombs to hinder the Soviet Advance. “Junior Sergeant, what do you think eh? One week? Two? We’re already at Paris so I hear!” the Private continued, opting to ask a less terse figure. “I think the Lieutenant told you to be quiet, Bartek.” came a more muted response from the patrol’s second in command. Junior Sergeant Kazloǔskaja was an oddity amongst the Platoon for sure. A conscript, though one that had lived long enough and even done enough good to earn herself some modicum of authority amongst her peers. She had no real military ambition, truth be told. As one might assume, she never even wanted to be a soldier. Once a factory worker in the small city of Soligorsk in Belarus, a B-52 bombing raid would entirely flatten the industrial sector of the city. The local government, fearing an outbreak of “Societal Parasites”, would enact mass conscription upon the out of work industrial workers. Anything to keep people working for the state, it seemed. A hand rose to the sky, beckoning the small patrol to halt. Something had been found. With an idle grunt, Kazloǔskaja jogged up to the center of the patrol, coming to a squat next to the Lieutenant, leaning in to hear his insight. “That copse of trees. Got a bad feeling about it. Take two men and scout it out. We’ll cover you.” he commanded, ever simple in his directives. She simply nodded, craning her neck back to the patrol and jabbing two fingers out. “Kowalczyk, Brusilov. Drop your packs and on me.” she hissed over the dull forest ambience. Both men complied, simply eager for something to be happening for once, as they dumped their packs and readied their weapons, slinking up the formation. Brusilov, a large, stocky man from the steppes, jogged out first, unknowingly taking the last step he’d ever take. Kazloǔskaja didn’t remember the detonation, or even the pain. She simply saw the stars. Oddly beautiful, she thought, as she tried to rack her brain as to what exactly happened. A bouncing betty mine had gone off, obliterating Brusilov and peppering the NCO with a copious amount of shrapnel in her flank. She felt the tug of hands pulling on her harness, and the panicked face of Private Kowalczyk as tracers flew overhead, and then, blackness and nothingness. If this was dying, it seemed far more dramatic in the books, she thought, before losing her grip on consciousness entirely. Krakow Veterans Hospital, Poland. 1992. Recovery Ward. Eight months. Eight long, agonizing months spent in between a hospital bed and a surgery table. Blood transfusions, skin grafts, and endless weeks of sleep were the price to pay for surviving a flank detonation of a mine at point blank range. She was alive, at the very least, and according to her Doctors, she’d even be fine after all this. If she made it that far. Kazloǔskaja never really thought of herself as a soldier, and she never truly cared for the culture, but even so, this was killing her inside. To be felled by an enemy she never saw, to have to spend months in a bed unable to walk, or even eat her own meals, to piss in a bedpan, and to not even get a single bloody visit from the squad. It’d drive even the most zen of people insane. She thought about ending it. Quite a few times, actually. Pinch the IV line, put air bubbles in it, hell, even defibrillate herself, these were all plans that formulated in the darker recesses of her mind. She even seriously considered it, before the door burst open, and a familiar brash Polish accent assaulted her eardrums. “Hey hey! Sergeant!” Kowalczyk beamed. Nothing truly seemed to upset the kid, an enviable trait. “How are you feeling?” he asked, a question she thought had an extremely obvious answer. “Like death. Have you come to add to the torment?” she retorted, superficially harsh, as was her way. “Something like that, eh?” he shrugged, stepping forward and plopping himself down on the edge of the hospital bed, tossing a letter across. “Looks like the Army is so desperate for people they’re keeping you on.” he remarked, words that forced her heart to sink the deepest of abysses. She tore the letter open, frantically reading it. “But- ...You’re off the front, at least. Eh? Germany. What a fucking joke.” he added, confirming the words on the letter. “Occupation and counter-insurgency.” he crowed, waving his arms about for effect. “I am jealous, truly. You know where they are sending us? Korea. Korea! What does Korea have to do with anything!” he continued, mostly just speaking to himself. Kazloǔskaja was too engrossed in the letter to respond anyhow. She’d hoped for an end to her service, but this was the next best thing. … Hopefully.