The 6th Fallschirmjager

The unmistakable throb of adrenaline coursing through my veins found me restraining a battlecry and fools charge behind the cover of a bunker on that hot muggy day. Our quarry was raining hellfire on our position from just out of range. Our situation was dire. Before us was a zealous group of Allied Pathfinders, atleast 80 strong. looking at the juggernaut force pouring out on us, I remembered back to our camp when our Commanding Officer asked us "Who Are We?" A thunderous shout came as a reply "FALLSCHIRMJAGER!" In such a short time we had become family, comrades, and warriors. Was it true? Had I become a Fallschirmjager? Did I deserve the title?

Several shots came close to my position as the Pathfinders began moving in to eliminate us. I looked at what was left of my squad. Five men. My heart pounded into my head, then through the rest of my body until even the tips of my fingers seemed to join the rhythm. We were going to die. I tried to remember my training, mentally searching for a tactical maneuver or masterful decision to turn this situation around. They had already broken the cease fire arrangement, and their movement suggested no intention to give quarter now. My squad looked to me, anxious for my lead. Suddenly I have my answer as I silently recite the Fallschirmjager Commandments, stopping at the 5th. "Never surrender, to you death or victory must be a point of honor." 

"Load up" I yelled to the last of my eager squad, most of them already copying my motions as I filled my hopper with the last of my precious paint. No orders were needed. We all knew what needed to be done. Our honour was before us waiting to be claimed. My urge could no longer be contained as we screamed in unison "FALLSCHIRMJAGER!" and charged out of the bunker to confront our prey. 

Who knew that five minutes of paintball could be so epic.