"Charge!"
A loud roar struck over the battle field, somehow managing to over come the constant din of artillery, and heavy bolter fire. The landscape was in ruins. Nothing but wasteland was left. Trenches dotted the landscape. The sky was full of dust. But the Death Korp didn't care. Chaos could not, would not, be allowed to have another world, even one as desolate as this. And so, the Death Korp fought.
Left and right, men were cut down. Not one was caught running. Within 5 minutes, a full company had been lost. Within another 10, a platoon was caught in the barbed wire. They died torn to shreds, blasted apart by a vicious crossfire. Acceptable casualties.
Another 3 minutes.
Tanks rolled over the barbed wire, crushing the remains of the platoon. Cannons fired, blowing traitors apart. And tanks burned, dooming their crew to an agonizing demise.
With a resounding cry, the Death Korps surged forwards, following their tanks. Those in the front died from the desperate defensive fire, but there were always more to replace them.
1 minute.
The Emperor's Vengeance had arrived. Surging into the trenches, the Death Korp struck. Flamers purified the forsaken souls of the rebels. Bayonets stabbed and lunged, cutting into men from both sides. Bodies clogged trenches. Fire soon roared. Men screamed, fought, and burned.
The advance force of the Death Korp stumbled across a force of rebels, too young to shave, who surrendered without firing a shot. The loyalists left with their bayonets still wet with their blood.
As the Death Korp met the last line, they came across what could be a war ending obstacle.
A set of fences on the the sides of a road.
It was a massacre. Volley after volley fired into the Death Korp's ranks, cutting down men left and right as they tried to mantle the fences. A lone trooper managed to cross the second fence, and tried to lead a charge against the line. He was shot dead before he could take three steps.
Yet despite standing shin-deep among their dead, the Korp reformed, and charged.
With a resounding roar, they surged forwards. Despite the hail of fire raining down on them, not one took a single step back. The first wave crashed into the rebel line, and the Death Korp tore it apart. Tanks crushed the bodies of those unable to run away fast enough. Bayonet and lasgun tore through the trenches. Again the flamers roared, and the purifying screams of the damned filled the air.
In the face of such righteous fury, the rebels panicked...and ran.
They were cut down as they run, for traitors deserved no mercy. In the end, those who fought, died. Those who surrendered, died. Those who ran were hunted down, and died. It was glorious.
Over the course of the day, 5 kilometers were gained.
Hundreds of thousands of guardsmen lay dead or dying.
High Command had called it acceptable casualties.