Realistic or Modern Paint It Black CS

[SpazTheButcher]

Roles Needed(Other than rifleman):
-Squad Leader
-Radioman Worthlessplebian
-Squad Gunner
-Grenadier (LAW or Thumper) Malphaestus
-Translator(Optional) Taken by Pilgrim59
-Medic

Spoiler: Sheet

Name:
Rank: (Highest rank allowed is Cpl)
Age:
Faceclaim or Description:

Personality:
Background:

Equipment:
Weapon(s):
Helmet Graffiti/Description:
Favorite Song:

 

[Pilgrim59]

Name: Nguyen Su Chi (Nguyen is last name / Chi is First)
Rank: Private First Class (Pfc.)
Age: 27
Role: Translator / ARVN Ranger Attaché
Description: Aside from the standard-issued striped greens, Chi possesses a tan complexion, complemented by dark hair and eyes. He stands at five feet and seven inches, distinguishing himself among others with his scrawny physique.

Personality:
Chi often prided himself an entertainer, always brokering funny remarks and jokes among his comrades to lift the moods. Having spent many years sleeping in wet bivouacs and among the inhospitable jungles, Chi had come to terms with the mundane ambience that followed his job. A reactive person under fire, Chi is always keen on helping out his American comrades and follow through with any details required of him. Despite his principles as a capable soldier, the man is sympathetic of his fellow countrymen's suffering, and only wishes for the war to end - no matter who the victors are.

Background:
A fisherman from Cu Lao, Chi had lived through a war with France for much of his childhood. The young Vietnamese took off for Saigon, where he made some friends there and eventually enlisted alongside them. During his time in the city, the man took it upon himself to learn English, in hopes of being able to communicate with their fellow allies properly. His military career was furthered when he was selected for Rangers training and graduated promptly after. During his time in service of his country, the man was often deployed on joint-operations as an attaché. Often times, he was the go-to local translator and guide for the newer faces - both on and off the battlefield. Having been exposed to the arriving American culture, he finds himself a bridge between his homeland and their American allies. Seven years spent in blood and sweat, Chi is a dogged fighter with little to give but his diligence.

Equipment:
+ AN-M8 Smoke Grenades
+ ARVN Ranger Fatigues (Tiger Stripes)
+ Munition Webbing & Bandolier
+ Boonie Hat
+ Infantry Rucksack (Light)
+ Basic MRE, Canteen, and Field Dressing.

Weapon(s):
+ M2 Carbine (7.62 x 33mm / .30 Carbine)
+ M4 Bayonet

Helmet Graffiti/Description: N/A

Favorite Song:

 

[Malphaestus]

CORPORAL
Harrison L. MacAlister
24 Years Old

Characterized by incessant swearing and a growing beard, Harrison's most notable traits aside from the prior are his tall stature and light blue eyes paired with dark brown hair, standing at 6'3''. Previously known mostly for his shaved scalp, after having fought for a while any regard for unnecessary grooming vanished, placing less care upon his facial hair whilst still keeping his head short: too much hair, too much sweat. Tanned by his service in the Vietnam Conflict, the former College Footballer looks the part for what he's asked to do, taking some liberties in how to dress whilst so doing.​

Personality:
Harrison holds within his mind the simultaneous ability to both be impeccably cool-headed all the whilst swearing and screaming like an absolute maniac, something which has come to characterize his speech ever since he arrived at Vietnam, and began to show its face even earlier. Whether it is a manner of stress-management or simply the undiluted vision of his uncensored behaviour is for anyone to hazard a guess. Needless to say, if there was anywhere in the Christian country to spew as much 'crap' as he does, it would most definitely be the military, in the military during active warfare. Aside from his explosive garbage-spewing, the man has a serene atmosphere to him, capable of transforming others' problems into lead for them to fire at the Viet Cong. When faced with a growing internalized worry, he'll pair it marvelously by pointing at the middle-distance and informing his comrades that he spotted movement amidst the branches.

A simultaneous joker and reliable helper, Harrison has leadership qualities enough to support when the going gets its roughest and the need for men to rise above their station presents itself. That being said, he is no true leader, demanding from his squad leader direction, no matter how intermittent, to point the way for him. Maybe no true grunt, but definitely one who fits well into the machinery in the lower-rung of the hierarchy. His traits becoming exceptional in conflict, and wasted on most other things.

Background:
Born and raised in Belleville, Michigan, south-west of Detroit, Harrison lead a rather dreamy life throughout his entire childhood. Whilst his familial situation was not necessarily ideal, his parents being of the upper-lower-class, his whimsical yet single-minded pursuit of the sport of Football allowed him great fortunes as he only grew older. Taking up one of the Tight End spots at the Eastern Michigan Eagles line-up, all thanks to his scholarship-worthy performance during high school, the thought that his path was paved for him was beginning to seep itself into his mind whilst he simply absorbed the ins-and-outs of the new level. He was a comfortable player on the field, and carried with him a substantial locker-room presence, making it appear as if the step up to the NFL was all but guaranteed to him.

Unfortunately, things are never as easy as they originally appear. Whilst his season was going stellar, the Cold War was about to enter into its newest stage, and the Vietnam War was soon to errupt. Thanks to his grandfather, a role-model within the family due to his service during the second world war, the mysticism of the military always had its allure, and when the time to step-up had arrived, Harrison made it expressly clear what he wanted to do as soon as he got the chance.

He played through the college season, but had already begun talking with recruiters far earlier than that, all the whilst his grandfather looked on in bewilderment and moderated worry, trying his best to both steer his grandson off course, whilst still not trying to get in the young man's way. Once the time to switch professions made themselves obvious, he entered training, and proceeded without too much difficulty through to eventual deployment with the 7th Cavalry Regiment. He's been in Vietnam ever since.

Equipment:
+ OD Green Fatigues.
+ Ammunition Webbing and Bandolier.
+ M1 Helmet.
+ Infantry Rucksack (Light).
+ Basic MRE, Canteen, and Field Dressing.

Weapon(s):
+ M16 (5.56 x 45mm / M193).
+ M79 "Thumper" Grenade Launcher (40 x 46mm Grenade).

Helmet Graffiti/Description:
Harrison has two distinct scribbles across the surface of his helmet, mostly made in morbid jest in a fashion only soldiers could truly appreciate. Though his personal sense of humor might not rub off the same for everyone in his vicinity once he actually starts talking, swear words having a tendency to break his speech in some times strange ways.

To the left from the front, it's written "This side to the camera," whereas on the right it says "Boom Man got Corpse Leader" with an accompanying Jolly Roger skull icon drawn impossibly poorly. The origin of the first was quite simple, as he was in the background of a photoshoot made by an American Newspaper on scene, and thought it would be a good laugh amongst the squad once the newspaper ends up in their own hands. As for the second, it is an obvious allusion towards the fact that not only does the 'Boom Man' use the grenade launcher, but he got promoted to Corporal.

Favorite Song:
"Nothin' beats fuckin' Fortunate Son, brother."

 

[SpazTheButcher]

(Parkinson is seen here leading his Platoon into the brush)
Name: John "LT" Parkinson
Rank: 2nd Lieutenant
Age: 25

Personality: A quiet officer who commands his troops with respect, Parkinson holds a special reputation, because he is one of the few officers who was first Infantry. While he does not speak loud, his presence is usually enough, and he carries a lot of symbolism, which is a hint to his love of writing. He keeps an open door policy, and his troops adore him.
Background: While most of his men don't know what he did before, most guys know the story of him being made a gentleman by Congress(becoming an officer). First deploying to Vietnam when he was 19, in 1965, he served with the 101st Airborne, and it was there that he realized his true calling: leading. He was quickly given a squad to command, and his commander saw his potential, and when his tour was up he was convinced to apply(to much success), to West Point. He went there and was able to graduate in the middle of his class. Afterwards, he found that the 101st had been pulled out of Vietnam, and so he got himself sent to the next best option: the 7th Air Cavalry.
​

Equipment:
-OD Green Fatigues
-M56 Webbing
-M1961 Butt Pack
-Canteens, Assorted Smoke Grenades, and Field Dressing

Weapon(s):
-M16A1 w/ Bipod
-M1911A1

Helmet Graffiti/Description: His helmet is covered in small text, the only legible things that a passerby can read is his last name on the front of the helmet band and "RED RIGHT HAND" written in bold text on the right side of his helmet. On his band he has a rosary wrapped on the right side, as well ad a small American flag which is folded, and on the left side there is a lighter, a King of Spades, and a White Knight(Chess piece). If anyone actually picks up and reads his helmet, the small text varies from things like "Murphy Was a Grunt", to "God is my Pointman", as well as "Send John Wayne, not Bob Hope".

Favorite Song: Eine Kleine Nachtmusik by Mozart

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Name: Baxter "The Stabber" Wilkinson;
Rank: E-4 (Specialist, SPC), Radioman;
Age: 23;
Description: A tall (6'0" / 182 cm) lanky man with a permanent five o'clock shadow and bags under his eyes so large that they threaten to eat his cheeks. His lanky physique isn't helped by his diet, entirely composed of MREs that aren't even fully eaten—getting progressively thinner from when the war started. His hands, scarred from repeated cuts due to his fiddling with his radio and time in the jungle. Black hair, green eyes, small nose.

Personality:

Once Baxter had been a quiet kid who kept to himself, but the times in the Vietnamese jungle had altered and perverted him. Nowadays, he is a shadow of his former self. He is quite literally the nightmare that drill sergeants tell recruits about. A maniac with an obsession for stabbing Victor Charlies (Viet Cong) like it was going out of style. Sometimes, he cackles like a hyena doped up on coke. Others he crashes from the adrenaline would then curl up in the corner of a tent with tears streaming down his face. Keeping himself together (from raving like a lunatic or breaking down) requires a great deal of effort. The sporadic periods of lucidity give others a semblance of who he once was: A kind-hearted albeit sceptical man who had a lotta love for his brothers-at-arms. He treasures every joke, beer, and smoke that he has, for it could be his last. He would sometimes pray to the Lord, finding solace for brief moments.


Background:

Baxter "Willy" Wilkinson had been the 'loaded' kid all his life. Born in Pompidou, Nevada and raised in L.A. California, Baxter rode the wave of high society, thanks to his parents. His father had been an executive manager in Axxon, an oil company and his mother, a Doctor of national acclaim. Baxter's parents showered him with many gifts and due to his position, he earned many 'friends.' Yet the only thing that he ever did was study. He planted his nose deep into books, spending hours upon hours in a single reading session. His work paid off in the form of good grades, with the tradeoff of any social life to speak of. The social exile that he imposed upon himself worried his parents greatly, even going so far as to mistake it for some suppressed form of psychopathy. Suffice to say that Baxter did not enjoy the battery of tests, both physical and psychological.

His frustrations came to a boil when he had gotten into a violent conflict with the hippies protesting the Cold War. The altercation meant little in the long run but it did begin the chain of events that led to his volunteering. His parents had been devastated by this decision and begged for him to change his mind. He refused and continued on his path to give his life meaning. Sometimes, he wishes he hadn't done it.

Equipment:
-OD Green Fatigues
-PRC-77 + KY-38 Manpack on the bottom
-M1 Helmet w/ receiver AN/PRR-9 and transmitter AN/PRT-4A
-Canteen, Green Head Bandana, Munition Webbing, Wet Wipes.
-Gasmask.


Weapon(s):
-M16A1, 5.56;
-M7 Bayonet;

Helmet Graffiti/Description:
- On the left side of his helmet, Baxter has painted the cult classic 'Kilroy Was Here' and an arrow pointed to an indentation that resembled a hole in dim conditions. His bands that hold the receiver and transmitter have a faded blue streak. A catalogue of the months that he has survived is scribbled on the back left side. The right side has a stylized bull with a horn that curves to the front. There is also an Ace of Hearts behind the bull. Right on the back, if you look closely, you'll read: "I survived the 5" in reference to the presumed 5-second life expectancy of radio operators.
Favourite Song: Buffalo Springfield - Stop Children What's That Sound

 

[Slim Intoxicado]

LCpl. Charlie "Doc" Reeves
(Not often referred to by his first name, for obvious reasons)

21 Years

Description: Charlie's on the smaller side, five-foot-seven wearing his boots, which always seem a little too big for his feet. Quite frankly, if he wasn't always covered in muck and guts, he'd look like a child that got lost in the shit, with his soft features and lack of facial hair. His auburn hair is cut high and tight, his blue-green eyes always half-lidded. He wore all of his equipment on top of standard fatigues with the sleeves rolled up, and a flak vest.
​

Personality: Doc Reeves, as he's commonly known, enjoys the privileges that come with being a medic. He gets choice of C-Rations, as terrible as they are, and usually gets the least-wet spot to sleep in. Most importantly, the other grunts, generally speaking, don't mess with him too much - after all, he's the one risking his ass to save you when you eat a face full of shrapnel, so you'd better respect him. Don't underestimate him due to his stature, either, just because he's light doesn't mean he's weak, he'll use every dirty trick in the book if cornered. He mostly keeps to himself unless spoken to, he's yet to become accustomed to the grim humor of being in-country yet, even after more than a year. He finds himself disgusted by the actions of both the enemy and his allies at times, and is not afraid to speak his mind and stand his ground, a "voice of reason", as much as there can be in 'Nam.

Background: Reeves, born in upstate New York, had a remarkably unremarkable childhood. He got "okay" grades in school, had an "okay" home life, and a forseeable future of a similarly boring nine-to-five ahead of him. That is, until the lottery started. Charlie saw he had two options: Volunteer on his own and at least have that to show, or be drafted and swept up into some shithole with neither choice of MOS or dignity. With that said, he signed up for MOS 68-Whiskey, seeing as he was already going to study medicine, and was attached to the 23rd Infantry for over a year, until being recently reassigned to 7th Air Cav. Now a Lance Corporal, he's seen some of the worst of the war, but still manages to hold onto a small glimmer of hope for humanity.

Equipment:
-Fully stocked M3 and M5 medical bags, including but not limited to bandages, morphine, trach tubes, tourniquets, etc.
-Two M18 colored smoke grenades: One orange, one purple.

Weapon(s):
-Remington 1911 R1, .45 ACP

Helmet Graffiti/Description: Painted over the red cross on his helmet, now just a plain OD M1. He wants to keep himself as inconspicuous as possible as to not draw fire. The only indication he is a medic are the packs on his back.
Favorite Song: Babe I'm Gonna Leave You - Led Zeppelin