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The heavy tracks of the Gorgon super heavy transport churned up the dense mud underneath them, bullets bounced harmlessly of its hull and explosions rocked the heads of the guardsmen within. The growling engine of the Gorgon whined every time they ascended a crater wall then the massive Transport crashed down into the mudd with a bone jarring thud. A mortar shell hit the hull of the Gorgon and Trooper first class Ivanov was rocked back again. His heart pounded in his chest and sweat dripped from his brow, just like the men packed in to the left and right of him. He shared the Gorgon with the 39 other men from his platoon and the entirety of his regiment, the 122nd Cythrax, advanced in similar heavy transports across the unrelenting no man’s land between the imperial trenches and the Trenches of the Renegade troopers over a kilometre away.

The Imperial army had sent thousands of men over the top already that day but they didn’t even make it half way before they had been torn to ribbons. So command opted for a different tact, to pack an entire regiment of guardsmen into tight platoon sized transport and have them grind their way to the enemy’s lines.
Another artillery shell struck the earth next to the Gorgon and specks of mud splashed across Ivanov’s face. This would be his first engagement, and he had been told it could easily be his last. ‘Twenty seconds lads!’ The driver of the Gorgon shouted to the men of his Platoon. He could hear his heart in his ears and feel his hands trembling, the Transport shuddered again as it ascended a slight slope, and he whispered a prayer to himself. He could hear the Heavy stubber and bolter fire peppering off the front hull of the Gorgon, but soon enough those bullets would be shredding into him and his platoon. ‘Remember Troops, heads down, pump your arms and dash for the trenches, we want to close the gap as soon as possible’ Shouted Lieutenant Duboff, his Platoon commander. The Gorgon shuddered to a halt and the front assault ramp whined and slowly began to lower, ‘The Emperor protects!’ The driver shouted.

‘Forward!’ Duboff ordered and the guardsmen began to surge off of the assault ramp, as soon as it lowered the men in the front were cut to ribbons by a hail of stubber shells, some men were slaughtered before they could even move, they torrent of fire was so intense, the gorgons had Halted barely fifty meters away from the trenches. Ivanov made it onto the ramp and kept his head low, a Guardsman to his left was splattered off the side and two In front of him were cut down and there bodies tumbled down the ramp. He hit the dirt and followed the surge of bodies which seemed incredibly thinned out by the torrent of fire coming from the trenches. Mortar shells detonated around him and men and body parts alike were thrown into the air with the mixture of think mud and blood. He slipped in a deep puddle and fell and as he came down a hail of shells whizzed past his head and cut down a group of guardsmen trailing behind him. Mud and blood in his eyes and covering his face he could barely see and couldn’t hear a thing over the torrent of fire power. A large figure loomed over him and yanked him hard onto his feet by the straps on his body armour. ‘Move trooper move now!’ it was Duboff shouting at him to move or die, so Ivanov moved with him towards the gun fire.

They had barely made it ten meters and thousands of bodies already littered the muddy earth around Ivanov, he had lost his helmet and las gun, but it did not matter, he would never make it to the trench, not a single guardsman of the 122nd would make it within twenty meters of the trench. All he could to was run, and wait, running and waiting for that one stray round to finally strike him. He took another step forward and 3 large calibre rounds ripped through his belly, he stopped and stood shocked, he knew this would happen but he could barely believe it. He gazed around, winded, and saw utter carnage. The loyal men of the 122nd were being decimated by the second; they were being cut down in droves as the stumbled through the thick mud, like lambs to the slaughter.

He looked down and saw he was gushing out blood, he felt hot liquid running down his chin, and knew it was his own blood also. But he took another step, he would not lay down and die slowly, he would keep going till he was nothing but dust. One slow drawn out step after another, until he could manage to stumble forward. Another round struck his shoulder and he was knocked down to one knee, but with a growl he raised and kept marching forward, another round smashed into his chest and he was winded and knocked down again. That was it, that was the round that would kill him, but once more he raised, numb to the pain, thoughts of home on his mind and tears in his eyes, he marched forward until he was the last Imperial soldier on the battlefield. He shamble forward clutching his stomach, until in a hail of shells he finally went down, and did not get back up.

I liked it up until you said not one of them were going to make. The drive across no man's land reminded me of Siapan(?) in WWII for some reason as they drove up the beaches.

Ahaha just wanted to give it the lions being led my donkeys feel

It felt more like lambs to the slaughter tbh, lions would have made it to the trenches.