novelraw Chapter 162: Soldiers' Assault (2)
Chapter 162: Soldiers' Assault (2)
Half a minute later, the command from Colonel Vidar, commander of the 4337th Infantry Regiment, came through the vox.
The assault would commence in five minutes.
The entire regiment would do as the preceding forces had done: charge into the line of fire and see what happened.
After deploying his company's heavy weapons squads to their designated positions, Miller pulled the vox-pickup away from his mouth. He raised his whistle to his lips, drew a deep breath of the incredibly dry air, and waited for what felt like an eternity.
The bombardment ceased.
TWEET—!
Miller blew the whistle with all his might.
The piercing trill echoed through the ranks. Without hesitation, the soldiers roared and charged up the trench embankment.
This was immediately followed by the cacophony of automatic weapons fire and the agonizing screams of men.
Shortly after, Miller and his command squad also scrambled over the top of the trench.They found themselves atop a slope cratered by enemy artillery. Ahead of them lay a landscape dotted with enemy pillboxes constructed from massive stone blocks.
A bunker two hundred meters away spat tongues of fire from its machine-gun slit. Miller tried not to flinch before the heavy bolter fire that was tearing the ground to shreds.
"Fifth Squad, take out that bunker!"
Miller shouted into his vox, his vision subsequently obscured by the thick smoke of a launched rokkit.
A fire support team had fired a missile at the bunker. Through the thick smoke, he couldn't see the explosion of the warhead striking its target.
However, when the backblast smoke cleared, he saw the bunker had been reduced to a smoldering ruin. Miller found it slightly easier to breathe.
"Second Platoon, for the Emperor and the glory of the 4337th, advance!"
His men charged down the slope after him, an assortment of weapons firing all around him. Then came the roar of mortars and rokkits erupting behind the enemy lines.
Although the 4337th Regiment managed to push to the edge of the enemy lines at one point, they were ultimately repelled by an overwhelming barrage of heavy firepower.
Today was a massacre, just like yesterday, and the day before that.
It was another day of failure.
The encampment was laid out in a rigid grid pattern, with a lamppost at every intersection. In addition to the pungent odor of unwashed bodies, the air was thick with the stench of fossil fuels burning in the generators.
Their boots slapped against the dirt. Miller felt as if his feet were threatening to sink into the ground.
He walked with his head bowed to keep the dust out of his eyes.
He wondered what the other officers heading to the briefing tent were thinking, but no one spoke; each man was immersed in his own private agony.
Today's defeat had been far too crushing.
At times, he even found himself yearning for the Angels he had once seen. Unfortunately, after saving the landing zone, the Astartes had departed, presumably to execute more critical missions.
Yet, in their current predicament, breaking the stalemate seemed impossible without external intervention.
A sudden commotion snapped Miller out of his thoughts. He looked up to find an unfamiliar man surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.
"Then let me show them."
The man spoke with a hint of triumph in his voice, waving his arm toward a massive object.
Miller stepped closer and vaguely made out a gargantuan behemoth, its sheer size rivaling that of an officer's command tent.
Pushing his way through the crowd, the first thing he noticed were the treads of the super-heavy tank. They were as wide as the cot he slept on, entirely obstructing the view of the briefing tent on the other side.
He took a step back to get a better look at the tank.
The vehicle's treads stood twice as tall as a man, making him feel like a dwarf in comparison. A massive turret dominated the front superstructure of the tank; twin-linked heavy autocannons protruded from both sides of the hull, an enormous heavy flamer was mounted on the frontal armor, and an oversized main gun jutted from the top of the turret.
"When did these roll in?"
An officer asked curiously.
"An hour ago."
The man standing in front of the tank replied:
"It was the Astral Knights Chapter. They teleported these beasts directly into the landing zone, and then these big boys just rumbled their way right over here."
"What pattern of heavy tank is this? I don't believe I've ever seen it before. Are we using these to smash the enemy lines?"
Miller then asked. It wasn't that armored assaults hadn't been attempted before, but they simply hadn't worked. A considerable pile of scorched Chimera transport wrecks was already accumulating in front of the enemy lines.
"From what I've heard, it's a Malcador heavy tank—an extremely ancient design. And there isn't just one; there are twelve."
The officer providing the introduction grew animated.
"An entire super-heavy tank battalion. Bah, those greenskin bastards won't be able to stop our iron cavalry from rolling forward this time, absolutely not."
Miller wasn't entirely convinced, but like everyone else, he was filled with awe at the sight of these war machines.
They continued to stare at the tanks until the military police arrived to disperse them—they were late for the briefing.
"Ahem—"
The air inside the briefing tent was thick with smoke, making it quite uncomfortable. It was also stiflingly humid and laced with the body heat radiating from the gathered men.
A hololithic projector situated on the central tactical table flickered with images.
The tent was incredibly crowded, especially as the officers of the 4337th Regiment jostled forward trying to get a better look. Miller was shoved straight to the side.
The Colonel and his staff leaned against the table, glaring angrily at the images displayed on the hololith.
In truth, there wasn't much new information. It was mostly footage of void combat. The human and greenskin fleets had fought numerous naval battles surrounding the planet and its moons, leaving orbit littered with all manner of debris.
Of the five moons, two had been conquered, but the remaining three were putting up a stubborn defense. Their resistance was buying the greenskins more time, and the situation around the Vorenus system was deteriorating further.
Greenskins from other star systems were already beginning to join the fray. To a greenskin, a war was like a flower to a bee.
Finally, the sullen face of Lord Malakim, Chapter Master of the Excoriators, appeared.
He spoke only four words.
End this war swiftly.
"We lost over two thousand men yesterday."
The Colonel deactivated the hololith and turned to address the officers.
He was a seasoned veteran with a greying beard, his skin mapped with the deep wrinkles of age and experience.
"This assault has dragged on for far too long, gentlemen. You've all seen those heavy tanks outside. They belong to the Astral Knights Chapter's Armoured Assault Battalion. Colonel Lucian is their commanding officer."
Then, a man stepped forward from the corner of the tent.
He wore a long greatcoat adorned with the epaulets and collar tabs of a tank commander. The style of the insignia was identical to their own, but the emblem it bore was highly unusual—two crossed silver longswords.
Miller couldn't help but recall the sigil borne by the Angels.
The officers in the tent turned to look at him, and the man began to speak.
"Gentlemen, by tomorrow, either the greenskins in that sector will be utterly eradicated, or we will have earned a glorious death in the attempt."
The tall man spoke plainly and with pure, unshakeable resolve, invigorating everyone present.
The Colonel nodded.
"Do you all understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
The officers of the 4337th Regiment replied in unison.
"Then this is the revised plan: crush those xenos rats into the dirt, and use the tanks to blow them all to kingdom come!"