>41271813

Okay. Answer me some few questions. Firstly, these spirits just drop all these war stories in your native language? If that's the case then I'm surprised how there's an "automatic" conversion from their language to yours in your head. Secondly, have you ever thought about writing? It might help you deal with the overload of ideas these supposed spirits drop on your head. Thirdly, do they have influence over your body? I mean, can they control you? It would be terrible if they made you run towards the North Korean side of the DMZ.

>>41271983
Since 2020, military novels have been pouring out of me as if I had actually experienced war. Everyone who read my novels said they felt like they were written by a real war veteran. I don’t tell their stories in Korean directly; rather, the feelings of the wars they went through and their combat experiences come to me as sensations, and I write those into stories in Korean. In fact, as my symptoms of possession intensified, my behavior and expressions sometimes became more masculine. I even started preferring short hairstyles typically associated with men. They influence my actions. Sometimes, when I get angry, I feel an urge to use a weapon.I even feel an urge to put camouflage cream on my face, grab a sword, and go on a night patrol.

>>41271983
Surprisingly, my predictions about wars have come true. The day before the Iran-Israel war broke out, I was vehemently telling people that a war would start, and the next day, my prediction came true. I also correctly predicted that Kim Jong-un would send tens of thousands of North Korean troops to Ukraine. Additionally, before a military accident involving soldiers’ deaths occurred in a specific region of South Korea, I warned that soldiers in that area should be cautious. I also predicted that the Russia-Ukraine war would not end. But I suppose that last one isn’t very meaningful since everyone predicted it.

>>41272141

>I don’t tell their stories in Korean directly; rather, the feelings of the wars they went through and their combat experiences come to me as sensations, and I write those into stories in Korean.

Fascinating, I would like to read some excerpts if possible. It's as if they don't want their stories to be forgotten, so they use you to make sure that someone will know about them.

> In fact, as my symptoms of possession intensified, my behavior and expressions sometimes became more masculine. I even started preferring short hairstyles typically associated with men. They influence my actions. Sometimes, when I get angry, I feel an urge to use a weapon.I even feel an urge to put camouflage cream on my face, grab a sword, and go on a night patrol.

This is also interesting and dangerous at the same time, as the symptoms can progress significantly and spiral out of control. Be careful, K-anon, you are being possessed by trained military personnel who have taken the lives of many people, and the symptoms can worsen into more aggressive behavior or neglect of your own well-being.

>Surprisingly, my predictions about wars have come true. The day before the Iran-Israel war broke out, I was vehemently telling people that a war would start, and the next day, my prediction came true. I also correctly predicted that Kim Jong-un would send tens of thousands of North Korean troops to Ukraine. Additionally, before a military accident involving soldiers’ deaths occurred in a specific region of South Korea, I warned that soldiers in that area should be cautious. I also predicted that the Russia-Ukraine war would not end. But I suppose that last one isn’t very meaningful since everyone predicted it.

Do these predictions also come through sensations like stories? I recommend not talking about these things too much with ordinary people irl because you will be labeled as crazy and schizophrenic.

>>41271813
Find a spirit medium or priest and exorcise that ghostnigger, nigga

>>41272214
I consider the spirits of Western soldiers as friends and hold them dear. I try my best to refrain from overly aggressive behavior. Naturally, I don’t talk about this with ordinary people. Even when writing online, I provide logical reasoning and evidence in military-related communities. I’ll soon share an excerpt of my writing in the comments. Please translate all of this into English.
(The provided text is already translated as it matches the original request. If you share the excerpt later, I can translate that into English as well. Just let me know!)

>>41271813
What are your views on the kumiho?

>>41272222
The spirit from the West that came to me is a white person.

MY novel : (I used AI to translate it.)

Hans and Jonas began running frantically. From the other side, Anton and Niklas, who were setting up barbed wire, also started to sprint.
“Arghhh! Arghhh!”
The screeching sound of shells tore through the air, relentless and jarring. It was like a dolphin pod crying out after being struck by arrows. Each step Hans took sent bone-rattling vibrations from the ground up to his skull. The shells were not only ripping through the air but also threatening to shred Hans’s eardrums. Yet, there was no time to cover his ears.
Hans’s pants snagged on the barbed wire, tearing and drawing blood. The back of his hand was scratched, blood soaking into his sleeve. But Hans didn’t think—he just ran like a madman in whatever direction his body took him.

The cold night air hitting his face awakened senses he hadn’t even known existed.
He nearly slipped into a muddy trench when his left foot misstepped, but he barely regained his balance and kept charging forward. Seeing a wounded soldier with one leg severed, Hans had once pitied him, thinking he’d rather shoot himself with a pistol than end up like that. But now, even if both his arms and legs were blown off and half his skull was gone, Hans would have crawled with every ounce of strength to survive.
From behind came the rat-tat-tat of machine-gun fire, but it was clear the enemy didn’t know their exact position—no bullets were flying their way. Then, the enraged enemy launched a flare. Two moons seemed to rise in the pitch-black night sky. The flare climbed in a parabolic arc, leaving a twisting trail of smoke as it slowly descended.
>>41272321
Haha I dont believe it.

The cruel flare illuminated Hans and his comrades starkly, exposing the grim reality of no-man’s-land in brutal clarity. A corpse—friend or foe, impossible to tell—hung lifelessly on the barbed wire. Its limp arm dangled as if cursing Hans, whispering, You’ll end up like me soon. Bullets whizzed past him.
They knew exactly where Hans was now! He trampled over the corpse caught in the wire and leapt forward. The pitiful body, now marked with Hans’s boot prints, took several bullets in its back. The enemy, with seasoned precision, was aiming directly at him. Terrified, Hans ran even more desperately.
“Hey! Help me!”
Hans turned to see Jonas’s foot caught in the barbed wire.
“Damn it…”
Hans wanted to keep going, but something told him that if he left Jonas behind and Jonas survived, he’d snitch, and the endless bullying would start. So, Hans rushed back, freed Jonas’s leg from the wire, and kept running.
“Argh! There’s a hole ahead!”
A massive crater from a shell lay in Hans’s path. He quickly veered to the side and kept sprinting. Jonas, Anton, and Niklas were somehow right behind him.
“Damn it, why are they following me? Argh!”
His foolish comrades didn’t realize that grouping together only increased their chances of being mowed down by machine-gun fire. Each time a shell landed, mud and water sprayed skyward like a fountain. As Hans raced through the darkness, another flare burst, revealing barbed wire directly in his path.
“Barbed wire here!”
Hans shouted warnings to his trailing comrades about wire or craters, veering right to keep running. He was beyond annoyed at his comrades blindly following him. He wished they’d all just fall into a ditch. Finally, a trench came into view, and Hans dove into it in an instant.
“Arghhh!”
“Argh!”
Jonas, Anton, and Niklas tumbled in on top of him.
“Ow, that hurts!”
Jonas’s rear landed squarely on Hans’s face. It felt wet and reeked of piss—Jonas had clearly wet himse

“Get off me!”
But the sound of shells drowned out Hans’s cries. The earth-shaking booms and vibrations continued, and the trench kept trembling. Hans shoved Jonas’s rear with all his might and bolted for the dugout. Jonas snapped out of it and ran with Niklas, but Anton was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn it! Why isn’t he coming?”
Curious, Hans looked back to find Anton lying motionless, as if dead.
“Huh… is he dead?”
The vibrations and explosions were deafening where Hans stood, but no shells were landing in their trench. It seemed the enemy was bombarding the barbed wire ahead to clear it. Hans prodded Anton with his foot and placed a finger under his nose. Shockingly, Anton was alive.
“Damn it, what am I supposed to do?”
Anton was tall and bulky—carrying him would exhaust Hans in less than 20 meters. Hans decided to leave him behind. But when he glanced toward the dugout, he saw Jonas and Niklas watching him and Anton. Hans quickly gestured for them to come over.
“He’s alive!”
At that, Jonas and Niklas hoisted Anton up and dragged him to the dugout. Hans led the way, and Jonas and Niklas followed with Anton. Corporal Moritz stared at them, dumbfounded.
“You guys made it.”
“Hans saved us,” Jonas said.
Hans flinched inwardly but didn’t bother correcting him. Each shell that landed made the trench shudder, and dirt rained from the ceiling. Though this trench was better built than others, Hans worried it might collapse.
The relentless noise made him feel like his ears would burst, so he curled up in a corner, hands over his ears. The shelling, which seemed like it would never end, continued for days. Then, suddenly, everything went silent. The enemy had stopped their barrage—a sure sign that a charge was coming.
“Quick! Move!”
“Get out! Get ready!”
“Everyone, ready your rifles!”

The veterans shouted, and the privates grabbed their rifles and rushed out of the dugout. Soon, the terrifying sound of a whistle pierced the air. Every soldier scrambled onto the trench’s firing step, aiming their rifles. No enemies were visible yet, but faint shouts could be heard in the distance.
“Eek!”
Hans, who hadn’t wet himself during the bombardment, now felt his pants grow damp. He’d also soiled himself slightly, though he didn’t realize it. Then, the enemy’s battle cries grew louder.
“Arghhh!”
Jonas screamed and fired his rifle into the air.
“Idiot! Shoot when the enemy comes!” Corporal Moritz yelled into Jonas’s ear.
“Reload! Don’t waste bullets!”
Jonas’s trembling hands fumbled to reload his rifle.
“They’re coming! Fire!”
Sergeant Müller shouted. Enemies charged from all directions, rifles in hand. Hans fired a few shots but couldn’t hit anything. Shooting a stationary target was one thing; hitting a moving person from a distance was another. After a few misses, Hans realized it was nearly impossible at this range.
He quickly grabbed a stick grenade. Unlike modern grenades, these had no safety mechanism, so pulling the fuse would trigger an explosion in five seconds. Hans held the grenade, but his sweaty hands and lack of courage stopped him from throwing it far.
“Damn it… I’ll just shoot.”
But as he lowered the grenade, his finger accidentally pulled the fuse.
“Argh! Argh! Mom!”
Instinctively, Hans hurled the grenade toward the enemy and ducked, covering his ears.
Boom!
Peeking up, Hans saw several enemies torn apart by the blast. Seeing the grenade’s power, nearby privates began throwing their own grenades.
Boom!
The ground shook with massive explosions. Hans wanted to cover his ears, but with Sergeant Müller nearby, he pretended to fire his rifle. Fearing a bullet to the head, he kept low, aiming blindly into the air.

I have to sleep now I will reply tomorrow in Korea time

>>41272318

I understand, I am reading your texts and finding them very interesting. I will paste them into a notepad to read again later, thank you for sharing.

>>41272318
I don't know how to help you. I think I can only hope that everything continues to go well. Since you don't intend to get rid of them, then maybe you just have to control the influence they have on your life.

>>41272337
If you see a Korean fox, let me know about it. Thank you for your response.

>>41272148
Ghost possession doesn't explain how you can predict things before they happen. That would be down to intuition or some sort of psychic ability at work

>>41272369
Thanks you bro
>>41272401
I wanna just talk with those western fallen warriors.
>>41272673
Okay haha
>>41273011
Maybe you are right.

“Shoot what you see, you idiot!” Corporal Moritz yelled at Hans.
The word “idiot” reminded Hans of the kids who bullied him in high school. Despite his fear, he slightly raised his head to look at the approaching enemy.
“Arghhh!”
To drown out his fear, Hans shouted, lifted his head a bit, and instinctively fired at the charging enemy.
Bang!
An enemy fell, shot in the chest by Hans’s bullet.
Did… did I do that?
Trench warfare favored defenders, but for a moment, Hans felt like a war hero. Adrenaline surged through him. He raised his rifle again, aiming at another enemy. Then, a private to his left collapsed to the trench floor with a thud.
“What… what’s wrong?”
Blood poured from the fallen private’s face—he’d been shot in the head.
“Arghhh!”
For the first time, Hans witnessed death up close. The fear of dying if he raised his head consumed him. But staying put meant the enemy would storm in and stab him.
“Argh! Damn it!”
Hans held his bayoneted rifle, ready but too terrified to lift his head. Suddenly, something leapt into the trench and impaled itself on his bayonet.

>I'm the 41272369
>Thanks you bro
You're welcome, fren. Hope I can follow your updates, please keep me informed.

>>41274318
I'll read tomorrow, it's too late now.

>>41274318
I’ve been reading your excerpts, they’re really good! I would read a full novel of this.

Thanks you
“Hrrkkk?!”
The enemy soldier trying to clamber into the trench had the rotten luck of getting Hans’ bayonet lodged right in his groin.
“Gwaaaaargh!!!!”
The enemy soldier, with the blade buried in his groin, let out a grotesque scream, like a cow giving birth.
“Hrgh! Hrgh!”
Even though he was an enemy, it was a horrific sight to behold. Hans tried to yank his bayonet free, but whether it was caught on the soldier’s pelvic bone or something else, no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn’t budge.
Back in training, Hans had been taught that if a bayonet got stuck in an enemy’s ribs, you were supposed to kick the enemy’s stomach to free the blade. But with the bayonet stuck in the guy’s groin like this, that method wasn’t exactly an option.
“Gweeeek!!! Gweeeek!!!”
The enemy soldier kept shrieking. Meanwhile, other enemy soldiers had already stormed into the trench, turning it into a chaotic melee. In the cramped confines of the trench, swinging a bayonet was nearly impossible. A comrade next to Hans, a private, was using a dagger, stabbing with all his might into the shoulder of an enemy soldier.
Even as he was being stabbed, the enemy soldier was throttling Hans’ comrade. The private struggled to pull the dagger free, but the blade, which had gone in with such effort, wasn’t coming out easily. The enemy’s grip was so fierce that blood was already welling up around the comrade’s neck.
Hans ripped off his helmet and smashed it down with all his strength onto the enemy soldier’s head. The soldier crumpled, unconscious. The private finally managed to wrench his dagger free and lunged at another enemy. Meanwhile, the soldier Hans had stabbed in the groin was still screaming “Gweeeek!” off to the side. To the right, an officer lay dead, a bullet through his head, his pistol still clutched in his hand.
Hans quickly grabbed the pistol and scanned his surroundings.
“Arghhh!”

Without fail, another enemy came charging toward the trench.
Bang!
Hans, fumbling in a panic, fired the pistol at the enemy.
“Arghh!”
The enemy dropped his rifle and screamed.
“Retreat! Retreat!”
A German officer was shouting orders for the soldiers to fall back to the next trench. Hans snatched up the rifle dropped by the enemy, stepped over the corpse rolling on the trench floor, and climbed up to the edge. Looking back, he saw a swarm of enemies rushing toward them. Retreat was the only option.
“Waaaah! Waaaah!”
Hans ran like a madman, diving into the next trench.
“Urk!”
Hans slipped on something rolling underfoot and faceplanted into the trench floor. The stench of excrement was overwhelming, but when he glanced down at his feet, the shock was so great he barely registered the smell.
“Arghhh!!!”
At his feet was a stick grenade. Fortunately, he hadn’t triggered the fuse. He peeked up and saw more enemies charging toward him. Hans yanked the fuse and hurled the grenade toward the enemy lines with all his might. Five seconds later, a deafening explosion and a shockwave rocked the trench.
BOOM!
“Charge! Charge!”
The terrifying whistle of an officer’s command rang out again. The strategy of defending successfully and then immediately counterattacking into the enemy’s trench was common in trench warfare. With the enemy weakened, seizing the moment to overrun their lines was highly effective.
‘I barely survived, and now they’re telling me to go die?!’
In trench warfare, attacking was overwhelmingly more dangerous than defending. Having just held a defensive position, Hans knew all too well how vulnerable and easily killed soldiers were when charging into a trench.
‘Damn it…’
Hans quickly dropped to the ground, playing dead, his face buried in the filthy, excrement-soaked trench floor.

‘Ugh…’
“Waaaaah!!!!”
“Get out there! Everyone, move!”
The sounds of other soldiers charging echoed around him, but Hans kept his head down. The roar of artillery shells, machine guns, and grenades assaulted his ears. The incoming shells sounded like whistles, each with a different pitch, as if an orchestra of percussion and strings were playing a grotesque requiem for death.
Hans wished he could just pass out, but his ears were sharper than ever, picking up every sound, and his mind was racing.
After a while, when no more noises came from nearby, Hans cautiously lifted his head. Over there, slumped against the trench wall, was the corpse of an enemy soldier. Rats, already crawling over the body, were gnawing at its face. Unable to stomach the horrific sight, Hans buried his face back in the dirt.
He could feel the muck—mixed with excrement and urine—seeping into his mouth. Hans lay there, motionless, for what felt like an hour. Only then did he realize his pants were soaked; he’d pissed himself earlier. That one minute felt like a week. The sound of soldiers returning reached his ears. His comrades were retreating.
Hans, keeping low, grabbed his rifle and peered over the trench’s edge.
“Retreat! Fall back!”
His comrades were scrambling back into the trench. Among them, a young German soldier was running at the front.
“Hey! Over here!”
For some reason, Hans felt a surge of relief and waved the soldier over.
Whooosh—BOOM!
At that moment, a mortar shell from their own side exploded in no-man’s-land, and the young soldier, caught by shrapnel, collapsed instantly.
“Damn idiots!”

Cursing their own artillery under his breath, Hans dove back into the trench and hit the dirt. That day’s battle, with its countless casualties, ended with no gain for either side, leaving only shell craters and wounded soldiers in its wake. Hans slinked off to a quiet corner, stripped off his pants, and removed his soiled underwear.
Looking at it, he saw it wasn’t just urine—there was excrement too, rendering the underwear beyond salvage. With no other choice, Hans tossed it into the trench and pulled his pants back on.
“Hans, you’re alive!”
Anton greeted him warmly.
“I heard you saved me! Thanks!”
“No big deal,” Hans replied.
“You’re really brave, Hans. Keep it up,” said Jonas, his forehead wrapped in a bandage.
Word had already spread among the soldiers that Hans had led Jonas, Anton, and Niklas back to the trench and saved Anton. Hans felt a bit of pride swell in his chest. For his first battle, he’d killed a few enemies and saved his comrades.
‘Maybe I’ve got a knack for war. I did this well in my first fight—could I become a war hero someday?’
Forgetting how he’d been cowering in the trench just moments ago, Hans started indulging in grandiose fantasies.
‘If I get promoted, I’ll wear much better uniforms than this. If I become an officer, I’ll just give orders from safety. I wonder if Lukas, Max, and Julian are still alive? I hope those bastards from my classroom are all dead. No, better yet, I hope they lose a leg. When I get back home, I’ll laugh in their crippled faces. That guy hit by shrapnel today was pitiful. It should’ve been Lukas who died.’
Hans’ delusions spiraled, one leading to another. As he walked through the trench, he spotted the enemy soldier whose groin he’d stabbed earlier. The man was dead, a bullet wound in his head—likely shot by friendly forces. Or maybe he’d been killed by his own side’s friendly fire.

Hans stepped on the corpse’s thigh, yanked hard, and finally freed his bayonet. The blade’s tip was stained dark red with the enemy’s blood.
“Ugh…”
Hans felt like vomiting, but all that came up was bile.
“Move it!”
Behind him, medics were carrying a wounded soldier on a stretcher. The man had been shot in the abdomen, and despite his efforts to stop the bleeding, blood gushed from the wound. Hans, startled, ducked into a dugout. That’s when Corporal Moritz noticed the pistol hanging from Hans’ belt.
“That’s an officer’s pistol. How’d you get it?”
“I found it on the trench floor,” Hans replied.
“Let me see it.”
Moritz examined the pistol and tucked it into his bag.
“I’ll hold onto this.”
‘Damn it!’
Hans cursed inwardly as he moved to a corner of the dugout and sat down. In the cramped trench, swinging a long rifle was difficult, and reloading took time, making a pistol incredibly valuable. But now, that precious pistol had been taken by Corporal Moritz.
Still, he was alive, wasn’t he? Hans used his pack as a pillow and dozed off for about an hour. Just then, Sergeant Müller entered the dugout with Corporal Moritz.
“We’ve got an urgent task. Any volunteers?”
Hans, of course, kept his eyes shut, pretending to sleep.
“Hey, Corporal Moritz! Wake that private up.”
Moritz shook Hans awake, and only then did Hans open his eyes.
“Private Hans, reporting!”
“Come with me.”
Muttering curses to himself, Hans followed Sergeant Müller. Müller led him to a machine gun post and introduced him to Corporal Steiner.
“Use this private as your assistant gunner.”
With that, Müller left. Corporal Steiner, a short man with brown hair and a mustache, looked Hans over.
“Hmm, you know how to operate a machine gun?”
“No, I haven’t been trained,” Hans replied.
“When I’m firing, you just hold the ammo belt like this. If I go down, push me aside and take over the gun.”

Steiner repeated several times that if he fell, Hans would need to man the machine gun.
‘Just hold the belt? That’s easy!’
Hans was secretly thrilled. The machine gun was one of the most powerful weapons in trench warfare. If he just held the ammo belt for Steiner, enemies would likely steer clear of their position. Plus, their own side would do their best to protect machine gunners, so Hans figured he’d be safe for a while, even if the enemy attacked again. Steiner taught Hans how to load and aim the machine gun.
“Fill this bottle with piss beforehand.”
“Piss, sir?” Hans asked, confused.
“It’s for cooling the gun. Water’s too precious to waste, right? The barrel gets scorching hot after firing, so never touch it with your bare hands.”
The bottle Steiner handed him had clearly been used by previous assistant gunners multiple times.
‘Ugh…’

>>41275745
I finished reading everything. I really liked Hans' story, K-Anon. Thanks again for sharing this part with me. If I have any more questions, I'll ask.

>>41276573
Thanks you for reading bro

>>41275745
Finished reading the story.
Seems to be a WW1 German/Central Powers trench. The soldiers act more or less as themselves, as expected from Hollywood movies, coupled with a bit of research of your own. I really feel Hans being green, so this is probably in the early novel, where the bright-eyed Nationalist WW1 recruit, no more than 16 "18"-as he lied is forged by fire into a soldier.

What doesn't compute is:
> How fucking green your recruit is
> Your recruit is green, and has high morale, however disregards an order in cowardice (refusing to charge after the defence, playing dead, and cowering while his comrades charge)
> And his plt just... tolerate him being a blue falcon and a coward?
> The enemy charges, and has infiltrated the Central Powers trench and Hans is focused on dislodging his weapon
Also while you're good on depicting the events in the trench, please note that your story reads a bit amaetur-ish in English, hope it's more fluent in the original Korean.

If you want a review and critique of your writing please
> ask the AI you use to be honest with you
> Ask a proofreader/critique
> Ask /lit/

>>41276753
Actually, I’ve written this work over 1000 times, and that part is from the very early stages of it. The protagonist is Hans Piper, who starts as a private and later becomes a general. During World War II, Hans Piper becomes the commander of the Central Group Army. I’m currently writing about WWII, but I’ve hit a wall when it comes to writing from the perspective of a general, especially in terms of tactics. So, I paused the writing. I’ve been researching various materials because I want to hear the voices of foreign generals' spirits.

>>41276780
Enlisted personnel doesn't go on and earn commissions. Not in any work of industrial or later warfare. If you're enlisted, and you want a commission, you go to OCS upon the recommendation of your superior NCO. If you want to be an officer, then you start out being an officer. That means that 2ndLts are as green as they come, and salty Sgt/SSgt's still have to salute them.
A general doesn't concern themselves with tactics.
A general (OF-6 and above), as you said yourself is very much nondeployable, even in the middle of the war sits in offices, and concerns himself with strategy, the large-scale movement of friendly capabilities across the battlefield.
If you want a general's perspective, then start from Clausewitz and Sun Tzu and work your way up from there.

> During World War II
Goddess, girl. If your guy is so green, then he started in early-WW1. That trench scene is definitely WW1 - the officer blowing a whistle to signal a charge is a WW1 movie trope. So his timeline is:
> Born in ~1898 (1896-1900)
> No "tanks" and high Central Powers morale, so enlists NLT 1916 (Mechanized warfare starts at late 1916). Also since he mentioned that machine guns are the king of warfare, and not toxic gas - mid to late 1915, our protagonist enlisted NLT late 1914.
> To convincingly lie he's 18 (recruitment age), that means he's born NLT 1898
> So he's 20 by the time The Central Powers gets defeated in 1918.
> By that time, he's a jaded soldier, with more or less PTSD having witnessed the horrors of industrial-scale warfare (and, unlike previous eras, the beginning of classified operations and a jaded support system in the home country)
> If you want him to become commander, even with wartime frocking and promotions, he leaves her first tour as a Sgt-SSgt. at most due to TIS.

>>41276780
... cont.
> In the interbellum, we have 20 years and change. Germany goes from 0 army to rebuilding their armed forces fully.
> Led by... Disillusioned WW1 veterans, and especially A disillusioned WW1 veteran who was an above-average Realist painter with a funny moustache.
> So you really want to depict what did your protagonist do interbellum to avoid the moustache men, go to OCS, rack TIS, stay Heer, and get trusted by Nazi leadership enough to have a meaningful leadership role in the Army.
> Don't forget the "nazism was bad" disclaimers, because you have a German protagonist fighting for the Germans in WW2.
> By this time, he's 40-41 (WW2 starts at 1939, he was born at 1898) with 24-26 yrs TIS (give or take 4 years)
> Heeresgruppe Mitte was established 18 DEC 1940, and it's an XXXXX formation, so needs an OF-10 (Generalfeldmarshall) to command.
> OF-7 and above carry significant political and lobbying weight. And we know what that means in WW2. (If he survives WW2, then he'll get executed at Nüremberg, or will get discharged/demoted by a temper tantrum of Hitler post-Stalingrad). It also means he must be a true believer.
> Don't forget the "nazism was bad" disclaimers, because you have a German protagonist fighting for the Germans in WW2.

Lurk on /k/, play HoI, and read some decent military fiction. I'd start with Paksennarion, Scarred Survivors and if you want realism, then try to get your hands on the White Donkey. Work your way down from there ie. with full-metal jacket, and any of the Nam movies written by actual Nam vets. Probably you can get in Korea art about the Koreans' memories of the Korean War.