Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-5946246-20170504211023/@comment-26977364-20170506232627

(Sorry boys, you started when I was asleep lol)

Corduroy Volsse sat, crouched onto the right side of the trench holding his pistol to his side. He was firing his Lewis gun, which was mounted on the top of the trench just beforehand before his hat got shot off all to hell. A lucky shot by the Bosch.

His British army-issue woolen trench coat wavered in the breeze caused by the underdraght by the nature of the trench, and took a deep breath in. He didn't run out of the trench like the rest of the soldiers as he was situated as a gunner, but he still played an important role to get rid of the other gunners and try his best not to commit friendly fire and get court-martialled.

Volsse finally stood up and manned his light, setting the sights and caught a good glimpse of-

Oh great.

A tank.

Was it on his side, or the enemy's side? He couldn't tell, the misty fog was nearly blinding. He deduced that if the tank wasn't pointing at the trench and was heading directly towards his trench (a tank rushing the enemy's side is a blatantly idiotic move), then it was probably on his side. Probably.

Corduroy managed to pick off an enemy gunner, but there were still much more to come.