We are Cadians...
'Incoming!' The warning had only just left the spotters mouth as the rounds
slammed into the earth, plowing the muddy fields and trenches over again. Ork
artillery was never an exact science, just point it in a direction and push the
button. A hundred rounds impacted on the Cadian 2nd lines, some fell short, some
overshot and hit the wasteland behind the trenches. Others hit home, killing
men, destroying lines of trench.
Tanks gunned their engines, moving onto a overlooking hill, awaiting the order
to provide supporting fire. Forward flamer teams prepared their weapons, holding
them at a steep angle, to shower the enemy from above. Men jumped from cover,
preparing for the assault.
'We've lost a section! Krieger, take some men and plug that gap!' Lieutenant
Badenhalf shouted as he directed the rest of the platoon to their fire steps. 'Sir!
Move it!' Krieger darted to the open section, slipping past other men who were
returning fire at the uncoming mobs. He passed a priest who shouted devotional
hymns to the men, his voice heard even over the heavy booms of the squads heavy
bolter. 'Show them what they receive! Show them that we are just! Show them
that we are rightious! Show them that we are men of the Imperium!' He
shouted, holding a staff aloft for all to see. Unlike the Cadians, who all wore
a faint green with brown camo pattern and dark green flak armour, the priest
wore khaki robes, making himself very visible in the sea of brown mud.
Krieger, a Cadian sergeant, veteran of seven years of crusading led the remains
of his squad to the broken section. Unlike his men he had no helmet, which was
torn off during a previous bombardment, when a shell fragment slammed into his
flak helmet, gashing the right side of his head in the process. he was lucky and
sported a blooded band-aid on the wound. Three men of his squad weren't that
lucky. Lenke, Poal and Tork were killed, the blast not even leaving enough parts
of the three to fill a single bodybag. He would repay the skins the favor, him
and his men would make the skins pay for that.
Krieger halted at the broken section, raising his lasgun and snapping off shots
at the approaching mobs. Behind him Lancer rested his lasgun on the edge of the
trench, also opening fire with the skill and drill of a Cadian that has been
issued a lasgun on his third birthday. Manker dropped onto his knee besides
Krieger, carefully aiming each shot. Behind him Moller got hit, the blast
pulling him backwards, his face a mask of pain and disbelief.
The tanks on the hill opened fire, battle cannon blast like a deviant roar from
the Machine God itself, each autocannon firing like a prayer in the dark. The
forward flamer teams deemed the mobs close enough and started their attack,
bright gouts of flames arcing down at the orks, setting them aflame. More Ork
artillery fire erupted in return, trying to hit the tanks on the hill.
Krieger reloaded his lasgun again, dropping his third spent power pack into the
dirt and mud. No matter how many you hit, Orks will keep on coming for more. He
and his squad had slain more then thirty now and still they kept on coming.
'Counter charge!' Lieutenant Badenhalf shouted over the vox, holding his sword
aloft with his laspistol. As one the Cadians fixed their bayonets while the
heavy weapon crews kept a steady supressing fire. The priest planted the staff
in the earth and slung his eviscerator from his back, gunning it's engine into
life. 'Are you not Cadians!' He shouted in a frenzy. 'Let us meet the
foe and tell them firsthand!'
And as one the Cadians charged...
