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This is my first stab at putting pen to paper, or finger to keyboard.
If it's any good then i'll have another go. C&C welcome.

At first he thought it was what he’d been served at breakfast, but the nausea suddenly got worse and he knew something was wrong. They’d been on patrol for 3 hours and the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach told him today was different.

Patrols were a regular part of the 94th’s life, patrol and guard duty on the back end of no where, join the guard, see the universe, yeah right!

His platoon had been this way hundreds of times before, they knew the route, knew where and how to cross the river designated Romeo23, keep their trousers dry and their boots on their feet. Lasguns slung over their shoulders, laughing, chatting, cat calls and good natured abuse, everything you’d expect from a regiment that hadn’t seen action in over 2 years, sent to guard an agri settlement, on a little know planet in the heart of Segmentum Tempestus.

And so on that day like any other, on a patrol like any other, Pvt ‘Gumby’ Gamble found himself ravaged by the feeling that something was wrong. He also found his sergeant, Sgt Dennis, screaming in his face telling him to pick his feet up. He didn’t pick his feet up, instead he pulled his trigger. The single las shot flashed over the bank, across the slow flowing waters of Romeo23 and into the undergrowth on the far bank.

The world held its breath for 2 seconds but his mind stretched it out for a small eternity. During that time he was able to study the crease lines in his sergeant’s face, and his wide disbelieving, ragining eyes. For a briefest of moments Gamble thought “what have I done?” That was until Sgt Dennis’ head dissolved in front of his face under a hail of bolter fire and all he could hear was “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!”

The Orks charged after their initial fusillade, choppa’s held high, down the bank and into the river. Clever enough to set an ambush, not disciplined enough to hold whilst a single las bolt fired into their ranks and certainly not clever enough to check the river bed was passable. 885 platoon, opened fire, it had taken a full 30 seconds for the first of them to start firing, but basic training soon took over, even if it was a little rusty. The platoons 2 grenadiers fired as quickly as they could, fumbling grenades and hardly aiming but at 60 metres that didn’t matter.

2 minutes later it was all over, 10 Ork bodies lay awkwardly on the river bed, the water foaming around their bulky bodies, legs sunk deep into the mud over their knees.

Platoon commander, Lt Greer, re-formed the squads minus 1 sergeant. They began the 2 hour tab back to HQ, to file a full report on a small Ork incursion and victorious skirmish. Weapon butts tight into their shoulders, talking now barley above a whisper, “watch that tree line,” “check your six,” and everyone wondering about that single las shot that had saved their lives.

The official report would later state that Pvt Gamble had seen movement on the opposing bank and having fired a warning shot triggered an Ork ambush and that Sgt Dennis had died rallying his squad to assault the enemy and it was lucky the river designated Romeo23 was slow and the river bed thick with sucking mud.

Pvt Gamble who had failed selection, Pvt Gamble who had transferred in from the motor pool, Pvt Gamble, tall, skinny, quiet Pvt Gamble or Gumby to the rest of the platoon. Pvt Gamble just made Sargeant.

Lucky sod , i fgure! planning on any more?

ACK THE BLUE IS BLINDIN! Anyways nice story hope you right more.

Thanks for the comments guys, I hadn't planned on doing anymore due to the lack of comments, but for what it's worth here's the second installment
Mwwwrraaagggghhhhh! The primal scream ripped through the woods sending those closest to the originator running for cover. The boss was not happy! For the last 5 weeks Orks had been awakening, slowly at first in 1’s and 2’s then more and more had stretch new strong green limbs, pushing their way out of the top soil as if from a deep sleep. Bewildered at first they formed into gangs, which had coalesced into bigger and bigger bands. Fights had broken out as each Ork fought for supremacy, each one wanting to prove he was the toughest and the meanest. Wilgutz was such an Ork fighting not just with his huge muscular frame but his brain as well, studying his opponents for signs of weakness, exploiting them and at the end of his victory helping them back to their feet to show it had been a good fight and that they now reported to him.
“Da boss ain’t appy,” stated Smif unnecessarily as he shoved his way onto a log next to his friend “Got dis for ya,” he said shoving some fresh fungus into Klein’s face. Smif liked his quiet serene friend because he had found a way to spike his hair up and turn it blue with the juice of some berries and had fashioned him a rudimentary club out of a branch and sharpened stone. Klein tolerated Smif’s constant pushing, shoving and obsession with food because he was bigger than most of their kin and made sure nobody gave him any trouble. “I don’t get it, why don’t he let us fight da pinkies?” Kline sighed, they’d had this conversation many times. “Cos da boss wants us to fight when they don’t know we’re cummin, its called da elment of soorprise.” Klein had a way of explaining things so Smif could understand, but it was too late now. One Ork who hadn’t appreciated proffered hand and fancied himself as “a bit sneaky,” had gathered a band of like minded Orks and gone off to find some humans to pick a fight with, they were dead now and the humans knew the Orks were here.

Naked, weapon less (apart from Smif’s club) and bored the band of Orks were dangerous. Wilgutz knew he had to lead his boyz to a proper fight soon or the in-fighting would grow beyond his control and he’d lose his position as the boss, more and more challenges were coming each day and he’d have to start killing in order to quell the unrest. The problem was the walls, every human target he’d seen was surrounded by walls, tall and thick.

Klein sat idly watching his friend Smif climb a tree, he was going to use the extra height to drop-stomp on some unsuspecting passes by just in case they didn’t know he was tougher than them. The thick branches grew straight out almost horizontal so Smif was able to climb very quickly and gain a lot of height in no time at all. “SMIF!” Klein suddenly yelled, causing his friend to lose his grip in surprise and come crashing to the ground, luckily he landed head first. Sitting up his mouth open wide, Smif was perplexed to see Klein hoping from one foot to the other, he never seen him so animated before, “I fink I got an idea.” Was all he got by way of an explanation.

Later that day Klein, Smif and another Ork who’d joined them called Beetzam, carried a large construction made from wood over to the boss who was busy venting his frustration on a bunch of his larger followers. “Wasss dat?” He yelled at Smif, Klein and Beetzam mid way through punching an unfortunate in the face. Smif and Beetzam leaned the contraption against a tall tree just how Klein had shown them to do it. Smif pulled himself up to his full height and proudly said “I calls it, a Ladda!”

Great stuff hangfire , glad you posted , more, you captured the orks very well. wonder where this is headed? i could visualise them very well! your writing is very characterfull.
look forward to more mate!

Where this is headed, no idea! Hah, I'm in the mood for writing at the moment so i'll see what happens. No doubt in a couple of days I'll be back to painting or programming, or playing bad company 2..but for now it's back to our newl promoted Sargeant.

Maul took a deep breath, held it and let it out, then a normal breath held it again and took up the slack on his las rifle’s trigger whilst putting his target’s head squarley in his sights, and squeezed…

Maul had always liked the ranges; he felt comfortable going through the drills, practising reloading, dealing with malfunctions and of course shooting practise. He prided himself on being the best shot in the squad using only one shot per target whilst his squad mates used 2 or 3.

Today was different, the target didn’t go down, annoyed Maul snapped off a second round, it was a rushed shot but he was sure he’d hit home, still the target stayed up. He realised the rest of the squad were murmmering and looking at each other wondering what was going on, none of the targets had gone down after 4,5,6 direct hits.

“FIRE YOU USELESS BUNCH OF F……!” Gamble screamed at the bunch of micreants, Maul reacted the quickest. 3,4,5 shots hit home. He kept firing, pausing every 3 shots until the magazine had run dry. Utterly confused he looked round to see what was going on and received a clout on the back of the head for his efforts. “RELOAD” Gamble screamed in his face, “YOU THINK AN ORK IS GOING TO STAND THERE PICKING HIS NOSE WHILST YOU…” Gamble’s work trailed off as Maul opened up, after another 5 shots and the target snapped down.

Despite being screamed at Maul was pleased with himself, not only was he the first to get his target to drop, but he’d executed a fast and clean magazine change under Sargeant Gumby’s, wrong, Sargeant Gamble’s watchful eyes. Again he earned a clout of the back of his head. “THERE ARE STILL TARGETS ON THE FIELD, FIRE YOUR RIFLEEEEEEE!” Maul turned to help his neighbour, firing across the range and outside his lane, which was extremely unorthodox. That target went down, so he switched and went to work on the last target that remained standing.

No sooner had the squad breathed a sigh of relief, when fresh targets popped up, this time at different ranges. It took a full 5 minutes before all targets were down, Maul was breathing hard and had got through half his compliment of ammo. “5 MINUTES AND 13 SECONDS!” Gamble was enjoying his new role, a bit too much thought Maul. “IF THOSE TARGETS WERE LIVE ORKS THEY’D HAVE GUTTED YOUR WORTHLESS BODIES, FOUND YOUR HOUSE, EATEN YOUR PORRIDGE, BROKEN YOUR KID’S CHAIR AND HAD TIME FOR A SNOOZE!” Maul didn’t get the reference but it sounded deep and meaningful so he made a mental note to research it sometime.

This time when the targets popped up Maul ignored the one in his lane and shot at the the one closest to the squad. A few seconds later and the rest of the squad joined in, all firing at the same target, before swtiching to the next closest target. After the last target fell they stayed down and Maul risked a quick peek at his sargeant. He noticed the slightest hint of a precursor of a grin on Gamble’s face. “3 minutes, 48. You get that down to 1 minute dead and you get the rest of the afternoon as R and R.”

For the next 5 hours Felix squad parctised the same drill over and over, learning to hit the same target as a squad, rather than a buch of individuals. They never did make 1 minute, so they completed a second mountain run of the day, full pack. They’d never been this fit before either. Dog tired they dragged their wrecked bodies to unmade billets as the rest of the company sneered and laughed at them, they didn’t care they simply hoped they’d have enough energy to get through whatever Gumby, wrong, Gamble had in store for them tomorrow.