He WAS an engineer. Long before the war he was a small time mechanic with a knack for military vehicles.

When WWII started, he was drafted into a military vehicle repair shop in France. One day, his base was attacked. It was a brutal and unexpected attack by the Germans, many men were killed too quickly to react.

The young engineer, quick on his feet, leaped into the jeep he was working on and started evacuating his allies. On his third trip, the jeep was shot with a rocket and he was launched out of the vehicle. The first thing he saw was shovel used to dig trenches.

The second was the German soldier reloading his rockets.

The engineer leapt to his feet, and with a maniacal scream he ran forward and struck the shocked German in the head with the bladed edge of the shovel, instantly caving in his skull.

Adrenaline was pumping through his veins. Sweat dropped down his face and blood covered the serrated edge of the shovel.

He had never felt more alive.

He grabbed the launcher and four rockets. He ran out of the forest to see a panzer tank firing at fleeing jeeps and troops. He drew the launcher to his shoulder and - with an ear to ear grin on his face - fired it straightens true, directly into the gun-slot on the metal monster. The explosion sent shocks through his body, launching him back a good 15 feet through the air.

Mustering himself, he rose and began running towards the fleeing convoy. He held the launcher in his left hand and the trusty shovel in his right. He had fired two more rockets into large masses of German troops while using the shovel to cleave open the heads of any stragglers.

He ran with all his might, although it just didn't seem like it would be enough. Just as the last vehicle was leaving the battlefield; he tripped. In the moment of sheer panic he had accidentally pulled the trigger on the launcher while aiming straight down. He instantly realized his mistake and feared he would die on the spot, but his heavy-duty steel "Man-Tread" boots managed to absorb the explosion; and launched him clear into the sky. For that moment, this sad and lonely engineer knew what it truly felt like to be a bird and soar through the air without a care in the world.

He landed in a pile if old bandages and was picked up by the passing jeep.

After the nightmare had ended, he was called to the colonel's tent. Once inside, he was given a medal for his heroism and offered a place serving as a frontline soldier.

He gladly took the offer, hungry for more combat. He needed to fight more. It was the only thing he could think about. He dreamt a put the sensation of blade cutting into flesh.

Every moment spent out of combat was a little slice of hell for the soldier. His place was in the thick of combat; and that was - he felt - the only place he truly belonged.

He rose in the ranks at a startling speed, reaching sergeant in only a matter of months. He became the leader if a squad of highly trained Shock Troopers. Him and his squad were the most effective fighters in the war, racking up more than 600 kills in the course of merely 5 months.

But one day tragedy befell his squad. They were overrun by German soldiers wielding horrific machines that seemed to bring the dead back to life. After twenty long and brutal hours of fighting he had lost every friend he ever truly had. In a state of all consuming rage he fought through the hoards of German beasts, cutting them down like the dogs they were. He was victorious against the kraut menace, but at such a terrible cost.

He was found severely wounded by a scouting party. They returned him to the base where he was pinned with a sorts of shiny medals and badges; items that told men of a lesser stature to fear his might. Instead of being returned to combat, he was brought to give speeches and to teach and be a god-damned politician. The severe trauma of the whole event had left him clinging madly to the only thing he ever had reason to believed in, the only thing that ever had brought him happiness; valor, strength, rank and killing. Late one night, he escaped his sorry bunk, retrieved his since-retired gear and set out in his great quest to kill every German sonuva' bitch that he laid his sight on.