"Platoon 4, move up to the firing line!"
The stomping of their boots was all that could be heard. Trooper Carlton scanned the enemy lines. It was deserted. No Man's land, having been bombarded by Basilisks for weeks was barren, only he slight ridges around the craters could be seen. His squad became uneasy, where was the enemy, why weren't they fighting? Carlton adjusted his lasgun. the green surfaces reflected slightly the sun,as did his shoulder pads. The company commissar looked over at his men, then back to the barren plains. The hill hid the horizon from view, and some men began to mutter quietly to themselves. It was unsettlingly calm, then came the roar...
"WAAAGGH" came the sound of 20 000 orks. Like a massive green wave, they descended down the hill. Everybody turned their lasguns to full in order to cut through the thick green hides. Trooper Carlton yelled as his laspack turned orange from the heat. Orks fell, but their brethren merely climbed over them in their quest to kill the cadians and burn the town.
"Stay ready! We must keep the town!" called the company commissar. Trooper Carlton kept firing, killing more and more orks. Soon, the orks had reached the front-line. Trooper Carlton affixed his bayonet and braced himself. An ork, brandishing his choppa lunged at him, impaling himself on Carlton's blade. Black blood trickled down and stained the dirt around him. He looked around to see his fellow men dying in the righteous cause of the Emperor. With a burst of inhuman strength, Trooper Carlton screamed and ran at a nearby ork. He fired four rounds, each one taking away more and more of the creature's head. He turned to see another ork, raising his choppa at him. He held his lasgun in defence as the crude axe came crashing down. The stock of the lasgun hit him in the face and he blacked out.
Seven hours later, Trooper Carlton woke up with a spitting pain in his head. He waited for his vision to clear, then he got up from the hard ground and looked around. the ork that knocked him out cold was still there, however he had been cut in two by heavy bolter fire. The ork swarm had been stopped, and the uneasy silence had returned. He looked around, then pieced together what had happened. The ork, and possibly others had been cut down by the heavy bolter platoons. Then, judging by the amassed footsteps and dropped equipment. Then, the massive craters indicated that there was a bombardment. But, how did he survive? Then he noticed the clock tower. It was directly in front of him, and the shells hadn't been fired into it. He said a quick praise to the Emperor, picked up his lasgun, now with a massive chunk missing out of one side. He looked around. There was not a living thing in sight. Clutching his head, he staggered towards the town.
The town seemed empty. Nobody was around, however there were no ork carcasses here, nor human bodies, and that seemed to indicate that the town had escaped the battle unscathed. He looked up into the sandstone buildings in the hope that he'd find a human face, but it was in vain. Trooper Carlton found a puddle and looked at his reflection. His right eye was bruised and bloody, and his helmet was fractured and the paint was flaking off. The eagle had been shattered and he thought it would be an insult to continue wearing it, so he gently took it off. He stared at his dirty brown hair and considered washing it, but the murkiness of the water stopped him. He saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw a girl. She parted her long black hair with one hand and raised her autopistol with the other...