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Howdy guys long time lurker of dakka here, ive put together the beginnings of a story im writing its about a guardsmen fighting some heretics on some fethed up world and his interactions and fighting side by side with the Astarte. its only the first part of my story and im still yet undecided on what chapter the marines will be yet, but anyways i hope yous enjoy

The corporal sat there in the blood strewn trench taking in his surroundings, corpses of his fellow guardsmen were strewn everywhere on the battlefield, loyal and traitor’s alike. It had been 18 months since he left home to join the guard, but to him it felt like a lifetime. He came from a small agri-planet the son of a poor farmer growing food to feed the emperors armies. He had always wanted to be a soldier, the imperial posters showing the great feats of the emperors armies banishing the foul xenos and the heretics who dare tear down his beloved imperium, the great battles he read about and the glory of victory the commissars would cry was however, a much different story than the reality he faced in the blood soaked battlefields of the millennium.

It’d been a terrible war on the small backward planet simply named 273, an agri world were the imperial governor had torn his oaths to the emperor and succeeded from the imperium, the governors name was aphorist drake, a power hungry megalomaniac. And the corporal and the 27th, his beloved regiment had been sent there to destroy the governor and his traitorous brethren.
“Only one more week, one more” corporal smith thought to himself, one more damned week on this crummy planet until he’s unit was rotated off after 6 months of brutal fighting and countless friends dead.

“Corporal, corporal” smith snapped out of his daydreaming “what on the damned emperors name do you want” snapped smith
“A beer a bang and a nice comfy bed” smith looked up it was his squads runner and good friend Private Sloan. Sloan was a tall kid with a hard face beyond his years; he had cropped blonde hair and icy blue eyes, with a glint of mischievousness

“Sloan you smartarse, I was having a good daydream, what in the flaming do you want”
“The captain sent me here to tell your men to charge their packs and get ready to man defensive positions, intelligence reports say that the rebels are preparing for a strike on our part of the defensive line, in force thousands of men and tanks, their preparing a break through corporal”
“Damn these traitors do they know what awaits their fate? Why don’t they just give themselves up and the governor’s head and end this damn war" cried corporal smith, the trench warfare had gotten to him, he was losing it and he knew it

I’m not sure corporal but word been sent that the Astarte’s have been sent so save our sorry arses and give these bastards a stern oversized boot up their traitorous arses” Smith could help himself but grin, sloan always had something smart to say regardless of rank, he spent a lot of time in the brig for his mouth, but he always gave the boys and girls something to laugh about.
Thank you private for the sending the word, you’re doing great work keeping us up to date, is it true though, the Astarte’s I mean the angels of death, their coming to help us?

That’s the rumour corporal whether it’s true or not I don’t know, but if they do I’ll be happy I at least saw an angel before I get my head blown off by some spanker who told the emperor to sod off”
Smith let out a short laugh, always something to say don’t ya Sloan,
“I try my best corporal”, replied Sloan with a grin; “well I’ve got to head back to command the commissar will probably execute me for being a tenth of a second late”. Sloan turned around to run back Sloan shouted “smith sorry for snapping their before the wars getting to me”
“It’s getting to us all shouted Sloan, suddenly with a serious look on his face, keep safe corporal, and kill em’ all. Smith nodded and Sloan ran off

Smith got up and wiped the dust from his coat, it was freezing in the trench, mud filth and all sorts of foul pests made their home in the trench. He made his way through the trench passing the cold depressed faces of the men staring at him as he made his way through shouting “ guardsmen up with me” the men and women under his command slowly got up and followed him to the centre of the trench under his command

He stared around at the faces bleakly looking at him, 27 men and women all up. So many sergeants and senior NCO’s had been sniped and killed that he himself, although just a corporal was in charge of the remnants of his platoon.
Smith stood as straight as he could and calmly, but with a commanding tone briefed his men

“Information has come to me that the traitors are preparing for a breakthrough, they will hit our sections hard, they’ve become desperate and are looking for a quick victory, but men I tell you this!”, his tone now louder, “WE are the emperors men, his soldiers chosen to defend the imperium, we will not break our oath and let the traitor win, we will destroy them with lasgun, bayonet and our fists if we have to!” Death to the traitors and glory to the emperor!” Death, death death, smith and his men shouted, their faces now swollen with a fresh vigour and determined for victory

Charge your energy packs, stock up on grenades and sharpen your bayonets, fortify and parts that need to be fortified, dig in defend this trench as if the emperor himself would. The emperor protects. As he said what he needed to say, the men scuttled about to do their tasks. Smith stocked up on his energy cells for his laspistols and sharpened his power sword, a token his dying staff sergeant gave to him. Smith peeped out over the trench to look at his surroundings; he saw utter destruction, upturned earth the landscape peppered with impact craters and the broken bodies of thousands of guardsmen, loyal and traitor alike. In the distance about 4 kilometres away he signs of small movement, the traitors, “this is it” he thought to himself, and with a last glance of the landscape he said aloud The emperor protects”