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Adreas slowly rotated the rat over the fire.
He had raised it higher this time, but it was still charred and black by now. Not that it mattered how burnt it was. It would taste foul as the promethium from Jareks’ flamer he used as cooking fuel sunk into what little meat there was.
At least this way it was cooked- Emperor knows what parasites it carried. Better than risk gut rot or worse.
Adreas the spit off the fire, took a bite and passed it on to the next man. The rats are becoming scarce and this one was small. It would struggle to feed the squad.
“Five Mikes and we move. Sothan take point- have ‘stoppers racked in. Jarek make sure you double check the flamer is screwed back together. I don’t think the Munitorium would be happy if we went back without a canister again”.

A weary laugh from the squad. “Morale hasn’t gone completely” Adreas thought to himself, completing the final roll his cigarette. “Everything here is so wet, it’s an Emperor-damned miracle there’s any left at all” he mused as he lit it, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply…

The rain was constant. The 116th arrived a year previous to quell rioting against the planetary governor, but this deteriorated into a prolonged and bloody campaign, having to clear streets and hab-blocks against an entrenched guerrilla force. The mud was a far throw from the rapid assault operations they were trained for.
Adreas shifted as he felt the low vibrations of a Cerberus, a lightweight wheeled vehicle built for rapid assaults, ill-suited for patrolling this urban environment. They had done what modifications they could to make them more practical- most of these had been learnt quickly from attacks by rebel forces- extra belly armour against the ever present anti-tank mines, translucent armour for the driver and commander. Too many had been lost, easy targets in the network of dead ends and restrictions, but the autocannons were often the only support that could be called upon. The biggest success was muffling the engine and exhaust noise, decreasing the thermal signature of the vehicle. To the annoyance of the crew these were informally known as [hushed] puppies.

Adreas took a last drag, before dropping the half-smoked wet remains to the floor, grinding it into the mud by habit more than necessity. Dropping to one knee, he pulled out his ocular and lent on a crate to steady himself- the auto focus had been damaged weeks before but still no replacement. Flicking the switch to manual and increasing the image intensification, three familiar shapes appeared out of the shimmering blackness. With 3rd squad riding on top, and all their kit hung off them, it reminded him of the cyber-mules from the mountainous agri planets where they had trained, piled so high with equipment they nearly toppled over.
Adreas engaged his comm bead.

“You’re too late for dinner Hall, we have just sold out of rat”

That's some fine guardsman mood, right there.
Keep it up

Thanks, I haven't been on in a while and I have a couple more sections hashed out so will put them up in a few days!

Now there's beautiful rendering of the gritty guardsmen life. Thanks for the read, it was enjoyable.

Moving forwards down the street, Adreas hugged what little cover there was. He could see nothing in the darkness, but he could hear the slow padding of boots on mud and rockcrete as guardsmen picked a route through the wasteland from one point to next, pausing for a moment to scan the tall buildings around them, before moving to the next position. Behind him the Cerberus’s had stopped in a covering position but even halfway down the street he could hear the gunner moving the turret, worn servos whining as he scanned for a target. He knew at least one of Halls bolter teams would be finding a high position, no doubt led by Bourna his squad’s sniper. “At least we aren’t completely naked”- he voiced internally. Too many times had a routine patrol turned into an ambush, pinned in a killing zone with little chance but turn and run as fast as possible. Now it was different, now they were taking the residential zones back, driving the scum back towards the industrial zones and docks beyond. With any luck they would give up soon and then move on to the next hell hole.

A burst of fire forced Adreas back to the matter in hand, immediately dropping in behind a stack of old administuriom waste disposal crates which had long since been emptied, contents spilled out through a hole corroded in the side.
With a hand gesture he ordered the squads to hold position.
“Bourna,” Adreas started into the comm link, pausing to sigh upon the realisation he was sitting in a small nocturnal creatures nest as he pulled a pouch from his pocket and quickly rolled a cigarette with an automatic ease before placing it behind his ear.
“What is it, single shooter or are we about to get ripped? We are stuck here until you clear us”

Bourna scanned the opposite buildings windows with a practiced grace, dismissing twice the heavy weapons teams surround hims calls of a target within the building he had already finished. He was a large man, the sort one would assume goes through the door shoulder before even checking whether it’s even locked (he had in fact quite famously charged through a door leading a squad on an urgent flanking mission, however the building had been heavily bombed and he ended up several stories below in explosion exposed sewage pit). His large frame hid a subtlety that amazed even the trainers at the 116th when he emerged top of his class. He was the first to admit he was not the best shot, but what made Bourna stand out from the others were his decisions & awareness- he always seemed to pick the right spot to observe from, the right extraction route to avoid searching patrols, the right target to take out. On the rare occasions he chose the wrong option he still walked away with all his fingers. Many called it luck, some said he was guided by the Emperor himself.

Bourna engaged the comm bead on his rifle without slowing his pace.
“Nothing yet, either they are good or it was a single potshot and they are long gone. No thermal signs in the buildings on the North or East sides. ‘Cannons are covering and you’ve got a Puppy with you, might be worth pressing on. Next right looks like a larger door for some sort of communal space or hall area. Either way we can cover from here”

Adreas cursed inwardly at himself for not noticing the waste disposal crates he lent against were larger than the normal hab sized units. Shifting his weight and sliding to the corner he could make out space in the wall where it would be, but the door itself was obscured. Looking up and back from the direction they came he saw autocannon barrels protruding from a series of long windows and spotters searching for target. Damned if he could see Bourna, but he was right, plenty of cover to move through.
Dropping back behind the cover, wiping his face he started,
“Sothan, door-space on right, 5 metres beyond my position, move up and hold. No breach. Go”
Sothan was already up and moving before he replied
“Rodger, move and hold”
1…2… Adreas counted as the point man moved up and towards him before darting round the corner of the crate 16…17…18..

“In position, no sign of enemy movement. Got space for 1 and 1”
Sothan had completed the move quicker than he had expected, and had updated he had space for 2 troops in support- both in separate positions, rather than stacked up like the textbook training rigs, At least 1 would be able to give him immediate cover, the second could move up if they went through the door.

Jarek was starting to move before Andreas raised his hand to hold his position, before pointing at the nearest 2 and signalling for them to move up. They set off with a sprint to cover the short stretch of open ground quickly.
“Two moving to you. Breach and hold, have 2 more on your go” Adreas signalled two more to be ready, he knew it wasn’t required. These were the basics all squads drilled on. It was second nature to them. The rest of them would be looking around for a target checking for ambushes.
“Breaching”

Without being there, Adreas knew the format the breach would take. He waited coiled like a spring to move if the situation changed braced against the corner of the crate.

“Clear, no targets.”

Great stuff. That's a kind of tactical understanding I just couldn't write. But I'm loving reading it. Even the fact that in the end its clear, no targets. It's just all about the squad, their team work, well drilled professionalism. It's great stuff. When they eventually end up in the gak we'll not be rolling our eyes saying "typical crummy guardies." We know these guys got chops.

Great read so far, thanks for sharing.