Saturday, August 25, 2007

Another WWII Story

This was sent to me by a German immigrant.

I was very young at the time and I'm very old now with a very bad memory. I was a five year old German boy separated from my parents for my own good though I never knew why. I never saw my parents again, they were both killed in the war.

I was sent to live in a very large house in the country with some relatives who I didn't know. They were supposedly aunts and uncles, but I was always suspicious. A young boy's questions went unanswered in those day at that time.

There were lots of people living in the house then, mostly older people, but there was one young couple. A man and a woman that looked to me to be teenagers, but they were married. There room was next to mine and I would often hear them making noises at night and the bed squeaking the headboard hitting the wall. I was too young to know what was going on.

One day soldiers, German soldiers came to the house. They were supposed to be the good guys so why was I told to go to my room and stay there. From my room I heard soldiers stomping up the stairs. I heard them in the young couple's room shouting. A soldier came into my room and smiled and winked and told me everything was OK and not to be scared and to be quiet they would be gone soon. He laughed as he closed my door.

I pressed my ear to the wall and heard more shouting, but couldn't understand any of the words. I could tell when the young husband was shouting and when a soldier was shouting. I could also hear the woman crying. Then suddenly I heard the woman scream and a lot of bed noise, squeaking, but not rhythmic squeaking like when the couple was making love. I could hear the sounds of struggling and soldiers laughing. A muffled woman's scream and then that rhythmic bed squeaking with the headboard hitting the wall. There was some grunting and squeaking and banging against the wall. Then the squeaking and creaking of getting off the bed. (All the beds in the house sounded that way.) Then a little more squeaking and creaking and then the grunting, rhythmic squeaking, and banging against the wall.

It went on and on like that with little moments of silence with some laughter between the grunting, squeaking, and banging the wall. I counted 27 sets squeaking and wall banging, what else did I have to do. Sometimes the wall banging was so loud I thought they would come right through into my room though I had no idea what they were doing in there.
I would much later come to learn that of course the soldiers had gang raped the woman. I don't know if there were 27 soldiers or she was just fucked 27 times. The woman was taken from the house, not by the soldiers I don't think, and I never saw her again. The husband had a bruised face and a few days later he left the house and never returned.

Soon after that I was sent to America.

Sunday, March 4, 2007


Sent to me by a WWII veteran. The second story below is actually the original of the top story. An online person rewrote the story to make it more interesting. Your call.

I don’t know why I remember this so vividly, maybe because it was my first time, then again, maybe because it was all so very unreal.

That very morning a pimply paper pusher had told me, that I was now assigned to the 31st, I didn’t care much, except that if it would have been fair, they would have send me home. After 4 month continuous fighting the Krauts, always the first in battle, always the last once to get some rest, my unit was no more – or better – my unit was ME. Le Havre, Rouen, Nanterre, Amiens and all those countless villages and towns in between, we had been like brothers, and now I was the only one left. Steve and Tony didn’t make it, I saw them die myself, the paper pusher confirmed that Lieutenant Miller lost his right arm, but was on his way home now, what happened to the others, remained a mystery.

All I knew was, if they would be alive and well, they’d be here with me. It was like religion to us, we would not let each other down – ever! I wanted to pray for them, wanted to ask God to take care of them, but I couldn’t. After Normandie and Picardie, none of us was able to pray any more. We didn’t really stopped believing in God, but we knew that if he really cared, he wouldn’t let any being suffer through what we had suffered through. So why talk to him, if he was too busy to listen?

The first weeks, we hated the Krauts with everything we had. It was us against them, good verses evil, right against wrong. But after a while, we realized that those Krauts, I mean THOSE Krauts that we were actually fighting, weren’t so different. Like us they had no idea what was really going on, all they had were orders and no alternative but to follow them. They had guns, tanks, planes, like we did, and they used them to keep us from advancing, as we used them to keep pushing them back to the “Reich”.

Since fighting and killing is real hard to do in cold blood, we hated the French for a while. Why couldn’t those stupid frog eaters take care of their own problems? Why did we have to do all the fighting for them?

But those few French we met, were actually kind off nice. They cheered us on, waving little hand made American flags and everybody – even the men – tried to kiss us. You can’t really hate people like that for too long.

On August 25th 1944 God finally remembered us and send us somebody to hate – the US army headquarters Europe! It had been us who did all the fighting for them, it had been us who won all those battles, and it had been us who paid with our own blood. And on that day, were it should have been us to march into the liberated Paris for a few days of R&R, it was them who took all the glory. We were just send to fight the Krauts for some other unnamed village.

But no matter how much we have hated whom, as long as we were together, it was ok. Well, half of us never made it to the beaches at Omaha, Johnny and Tom died at Le Havre and we lost Terry, Rob and that crazy little Greek fellow (Tappadopoulos, or something like it, we just called him Papa) at Rouen. But still, we were the 45th, we were brothers and no matter what would happen, we would march right into fucking Berlin.

And now I’m here, in some town called Pèronne, with about 30 other guys, walking down to the harbour, or what they call harbour here. It was more like landing stage, and there was not one military vessel anchored there either. I looked at my papers again – take the boat to St. Quentin (what a joke, but the stupid Frogs actually have a town called St. Quentin) and join the 31st. What boat?

I noticed that all the other guys have stopped too. Like me they look around, like me they don’t seem to find what they were looking for. I look closer and realize that not two of them wear the same emblem. I can’t help but bark a short laugh, they are like me, no they are exactly like me. We all are the last guys from our units. With these guys, and probably a bunch of other survivors, we will be the 31st.

“Anybody know where the boat to St. Quentin is supposed to be?” some guy in a thick Jersey accent finally said what everyone of us was thinking.

“Sure Jersey” from nowhere a Jeep with MP’s appears “It’s that pretty Yacht over there.” with a stupid grin like only MP’s are able to grin this guy points to an old motor vessel, maybe it has been a fishing boat ones, the kind you can only use on smaller rivers, but it is definitely not a big enough to get all of us anywhere. From what I can see, it only has one tiny cabin, and not much room on deck either.

“Your kiddin’ “ said Jersey as he looked at that boat. “All of us on THAT?”

“Are you making problems, Jersey?” the MP’s voice was suddenly smooth and dangerous.

“Hell, no” Jersey replied “I can swim enough to reach the shore when that nutshell goes down.”

Some of the guys actually manage to laugh, I just made a mental note to put MP’s down on my “to hate” list.

Slowly we push and shove on board that little boat. The first guys on want to enter the small cabin, but the MP with the oily voice calls them back.

“That’s not a luxury cruise, you’ll all stay on deck, the cabin is for a special guest.”

This is getting ridiculous, 30 men in full marching gear on a boat made for maybe 12, and we aren’t even allowed to use all the available space? Many must have felt what I felt, I saw battle hardened men routinely reaching for their weapons, the MP’s tensed, 4 of them, 30 of us, …

A Jeep approached and – a woman – a real young woman, not at all like those old grannies who cheered us on, a real FEMALE – got out, ignored the whole situation, stepped on the boat, pushed through all of us and entered the cabin. Just when we were about to kill each other, just when the tension was so unbearable that none of us cared any more, she managed to top this all just by appearing. I know it was impossible, but when she pushed by me, when her back was touching my front, I swear I could smell her pussy and I got a rock hard erection, that was so painful, I couldn’t help but grunt.

A fat Major stumbled out of the Jeep, and came closer.

“You men are heroes, real heroes, the lot of you” he started his little speech. “Your spirit made this all possible, and it is men like you, who will throw the Nazi’s out of this beautiful country and make this world safe again.”

I tried to remember when I had seen any high ranking officer for the last time. Sure, we always had a Lieutenant, and Miller had been a good one, but for the life of me, I can’t remember seeing any higher ranking officer since we boarded the ships on D-Day. Steve had always said, that those would sit out the war in London, but would be there in time for the victory parade, and Paris had proved him right.

While I was thinking, I missed most of the Major’s pep talk, but got his very last sentence,

“You will not even think any indecent, hell, not even a decent thought about that young lady, or – I swear – you will all be court-martialled
What happened to “You men are all heroes?” I wondered, but the Major was already leaving and our little boat was getting ready to sail.

It could have been a pleasant trip, with Tom, Steve and the others, some beer and maybe even something real to eat, but as it was, me and 29 guys in the very same situation, cramped together on a small boat, nobody felt much like talking.

Night approached fast, and though I could hardly see the guy sitting next to me, I stared in the general direction of that cabin, that cabin without a door, that cabin without even a curtain. I didn’t see anything, but I knew she was there, and so did everybody else.

Rain started to come down and with no space to move, non of us was able to get the capes out. We just set there, wet, cold, angry, and we all thought of the same thing – if I was in that cabin now, out of the cold and the rain, with her … !

I felt it first before I heard it, somebody was getting up. In the dim light of the moon behind the clouds I saw somebody move. Was that Jersey? What was he doing – stupid question, he did what each and everyone of us wanted to do, he went into that cabin.

The motor made it almost impossible to hear anything, but I could swear there was some struggling going on, no screaming though, just struggling. Damn, what was going on? What was I to do? This wasn’t right! But she was probably French – and the French had been on our “to hate” list. And she had been with that fat Major, who was probably from headquarters. Still, this wasn’t right, I should do something.

For a moment the moon appeared and I was able to see a tall trooper coming out of the cabin, he adjusted his belt and nodded to the guy sitting next to him, who silently got up and vanished into the black hole downstairs. This time I was able to hear a struggle. I had to do something, so I got up just the second as the tall guy pushed by me.

“Wait yer turn” he pushed me back down, so it had been Jersey then. For some unknown reason it made me feel a little better, maybe because Jersey had been an alley down at the docks, when we almost, almost eliminated those freaking MP’s. Had that been only hours ago? It felt more like a few lifetimes.

When the second guy came out of the cabin, we all moved one space closer. I did too, all thoughts about “needing to do something” were gone now. There were a few minutes of warmth, a young girl and some relieve for my aching, throbbing cock somewhere in the front of that boat, and she never screamed, and – she was French, and she had been with that …

The closer I got, the more I could hear. No screaming, just silent resistance at first, then guys grunting and that slurping sound that a cock makes when it’s moved in and out of a wet pussy. Damn she must be wet by now, there must have been 12 or 13 guys in that cabin so far and I somehow doubted that any one of them used condoms or pulled out in time.

Then it was my time, almost like in trance I got up and stumbled the 4 steps down. The moon came out of the clouds and I saw this pretty, young woman, lying on her back, her skirt and blouse ripped so bad, she wasn’t covered at all. Her tits were somewhat smaller than I had imagined, but her nipples were standing up proudly, probably because of the cold though, not because she liked anything that had been done to her.

Her cunt was oozing sperm, it looked like ½ a gallon, but that was impossible. For some reason I didn’t want to enter her overflowing pussy like that, so I looked around and found a piece of cloth, probably part of her clothing. I wiped the spunk away and as I did, she opened her eyes and looked at me. For a second I thought she would say something, but she didn’t and the moment was lost when I pulled down my zipper. My cock was sticking out of my fly of my boxers. That probably sticks in my mind because it was the first time I ever fucked with my boxers on. I entered her with one hard thrust.

To my surprise, she was very tight, her cunt didn’t feel at all like I had expected after about 20 men had raped her. The inside was hot and massaged my throbbing cock. So this is what a gang bang feels like I thought, before I lost the ability to think for as long as I was pounding her.

I remember her soft tits bouncing hard with every thrust, I remember hating her for just lying there, not responding – she should have done something – fight, or enjoy it, or anything, but she lay there with her eyes closed and waited for me to finish. It felt so good when I finally blew my load into her, I almost bend forward to kiss her. I didn’t, of course, I’m not sure, but I think you aren’t suppose to kiss the girl you just raped.

I didn’t even have time to pull up my pants, the next guy pushed in the tiny cabin and I stumbled out.

Somewhere up front were lights, it looked more like a big town than a village. Was that St. Quentin? Were we close to our destination? 5 or 6 guys were still waiting for their turn. That wasn’t fair, wasn’t it?

The boat suddenly changed direction and started to circle. Who ever was at the helm, he realized that we were getting there to fast too. Nice guy, or maybe Jersey had “talked” him into it, who knows, but we circled until every guy was done.

We immediately left the boat after docking. As expected, a few MP’s were awaiting us and accompanied us to the make shift base. I don’t know what ever happened to the girl. I became friends with most of the guys, but we never talked about her, or that boat again. Jersey got shot at Arnheim, I got wounded twice, but nothing ever serious enough to be send home. We met quite a few girls on our way to Berlin, French, Belgium, Netherlands and Germans. We didn’t rape them all of course, but when ever we had a chance like on that boat, we took them, used them and discarded them after.

Why? I don’t know, I really don’t. I never did anything like that before, and I sure never even thought about it after the war, but while we were on our way to Berlin, expecting to die every day, it just seemed the right thing to do at that very moment.

The Original Story.

This is my father's story, not mine. He was a soldier in the army during WWII.

We were in France on a boat waiting to cross a body of water, I can't remember which or even why. It wasn't a military boat, but one commandeered from a civilian. It had a very small sleeping compartment from what I could see and there was no door on it. There were about 30 of us and we were really crammed in that little boat.

A jeep pulls up on the dock at the boat and a young woman is put on the boat and put in the sleeping cabin. We were told if any man touches her he would be court-martialed. I don't know why we were transporting her, it was none of my business. But I can tell you that when she went past me I swear I could smell her pussy and I got a rock hard erection.

This was at night and there wasn't much light, but I could see she was young with a nice set of boobs. As the boat started moving across the water the only light we had was from the moon. We could barely see each other let alone the girl in the cabin, but every man in the boat knew she was there. I could just see her sitting on that thin mattress that looked like it was on top of a wooded chest of some kind.

Suddenly one of the men near the doorway to the cabin gets up and goes into the girl. Nobody said a word. From where I was sitting there looked to be some struggling, but I didn't hear any sound from the girl. Of course the boat was pretty loud, but I could hear the soldier grunting. Then the boat turned a little and the moonlight lit up the cabin. I could see the soldier's pants pushed down and his bare butt humping up and down against the girl. His hand was probably covering her mouth as her fists pounded on his back. Then it looked like she was trying to push him off, but he didn't budge, he kept on nailing her. Then there were a couple of cuming grunts and the soldier pulling his pants up.

He backed out of the cabin and another soldier went in and got on the girl and we all moved one space closer to the cabin. No one spoke as one by one each man took his turn in the girl. The only sounds were the boat and the slurping wet flesh moving in flesh sounds of fucking and a lot of male grunting. It only stopped long enough for the men to switch off.

When it was my turn I entered the cabin and saw her cunt was covered with sperm so I grabbed a piece of cloth that may have been a piece of her clothing and wiped away some of the spunk. As I did she tried to close her legs, but I quickly opened them without much resistance. Her inner thighs were very warm to the touch and I quickly opened and dropped my pants. My cock was sticking out of my fly of my boxers. That probably sticks in my mind because it was the first time I ever fucked with my boxers on. It had been a while since I had pussy and man, it felt good to slip inside her. To my surprise she was rather tight, but then I'd never been in a gangbang before. It felt so good that when I ejaculated it seemed like I spewed gallons of sperm.

Then before I knew it my turn was over and I was immediately replaced by another soldier. As we closed in on our destination the boat made some wide circles until all the man had fucked the girl then we docked.

Most of us immediately left the boat and I have no idea what ever happened to the girl. Well, that's my story of my first experience with gang rape. There would many others once I got to Germany.