*Thunderous gods seem to tear apart the sky above, the artillery behind them exchanging colossal blows with the artillery ahead. Hours pass like this, the sky burning red, black and gold, as the ground turns to scorched mulch. Stuck in a trench 6 feet deep, the 87th Infantry Platoon of the Landsharks regiment cower in terror, flinching at every thud of artillery, fearing each shell will be their last.*
A grim-faced man leans against the forward wall, finger in one ear, vox caster held to the other. His usually stern features sank in despair for a moment before he caught himself.
Adjusting his Commissars' hat, he draws his pistol, awaiting the signal.
Private Uustengrav sat in a warm puddle, hoping it was spilt tea. He wore black flak armour, with light brown military clothing. He exchanged glances with his squadmates. He would have tried to continue their conversation about what they had been doing before the war, but he could barely hear the artillery shells over the sound of artillery shells, and all of them figured it wasn't worth the effort to try to shout over it. Checking his lasgun, he noted that it was still somehow in one piece, despite getting regular use as the Commissar's beatstick.
*Finally, the world ceases to shake, as the artillery cease fire. The suddenly silent air causes the 87th to take pause.*
Uustengrav knew that by now, artillery only stops for two things. Either somebody was going to go over the top, or the opposing trenches were going to spend several days wondering if they were going to run out of supplies before the next wave of artillery covered the advance of the forces behind them. Sometimes both. It seemed that every single person in the 87th was holding their breath.
If, within a few minutes of the silen-
*Every ranking officer blows a loud, high-pitched whistle. The 87th freeze in fear, and then stand. Every man and woman clutches their lasgun tight to themselves, facing the closest ladder.*
Uustengrav felt sick. He attached a bayonet to his lasgun. Every Landshark is taught that in war, his only friend is his gun, and he kissed the barrel for luck, hoping the machine spirit inside would be at his side again.
*The whistles blow again.*
The Commissar moved up to Uustengrav, placing a hand on his shoulder, hoping to encourage the 87th to do as they must.
Uustengrav flinched, and realized that he was at the back of his ladder's group. He was the most likely to survive, not that there was ever much chance of that. But he knew that if he saw one of his friends try to run away, it would be his job to kill him, else be executed himself. Literally anything he sees running towards the trench must be shot. Alien, animal or man.
Suddenly, the Commissar roared "For the Emperor, CHARGE!"
One man, two, three. Gunfire spewed overhead, as the 87th began sprinting down no-man's-land, firing blindly forwards.
Uustengrav reached the ladder. One foot, other, hand over hand. His head cleared the ground, torso, gun and legs in hot pursuit.
Running. Gunfire all around. Through metre after metre of ruin, mulch, smog and bodies, bayonet forward. He caught someone in the stomach with his blade. Not wanting to see who it was, he kept running, holding his lasgun, as the body tore off the blade with a sickening slap.
Diving into a crater as a new wall of fire rose from in front, he quickly shot a burst of lasfire, before ducking down before the enemy fired at him.
The Commissar slammed into him from behind, dragging another man. Uustengrav didn't have time to question it. As he had been trained, the second enemy fire moved away from him, he was to advance.
A few metres, another crater.
Uustengrav had no time to stop and dive out of the way, and neither did
he. Both men stared at eachother, guns raised, wide-eyed. He looked so normal, Uustengrav was surprised. The heretic wore dark brown and grey armour, and seemed just as sacred as himself.
Neither man fired.
The man's head detonated.
"Keep moving soldier!"
Uustengrav snapped back to reality as the Commissar shoved a bolt pistol into the back of his neck. They continued the charge.
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End.
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