Gunnery sergeant Phelps cautiously pulled himself to the top of the mound of dirt he was behind just enough so he could see over. Phelps had been in the Imperial guard for six years now, and in that time he had seen his fair share of combat. So much so that he had quickly risen through the ranks and reached Gunnery sergeant. This conflict had lasted for six months now and showed no sign of slowing and neither side showed any sign of progress.
The clear star filled night sky above made for easy visibility and there before him lay the mismatching clutter of an Ork camp. Visible from his position were two Ork transports, each unique in appearance yet just as crude looking, and at least forty Ork foot soldiers, many were walking aimlessly around while others sat around a fire eating and laughing loudly. There were several larger sized Orks who sat separately from the rest of the rabble, they each held a different livestock carcass on their person and ate with ferocity.
Phelps gritted his teeth as he felt bile rise in his throat, he could smell the toxic stench of the Orks from here.
He turned back and looked down the mound he had just climbed, the other eight men of his unit looked back up, their expectant eyes contrasting with their black face paint shone back at him.
"Petyr" Phelps hissed, "Up"
Petyr nodded and hoisted himself up from his crouching stance, the large radio system on his back dragging him back as he did.
He climbed the mound and handed his vox piece to the sergeant.
"Tarantula 2-2 are you receiving" He spoke in a clear but hushed tone into the vox piece, "Hunter 2-1 Alpha ready to deliver report"
"Receiving clear Hunter 2-1 Alpha" A voice replied, Petyr held his hand over the volume control carefully, "Ready for report"
"Enemy encampment discovered along grid 3-4 co-ordinates to follow, forty to fifty infantry, two visible transports, numbers suggest scouting party or small expansion force"
"Received Hunter, fall back to rally point Delta, Tarantula out"
Phelps handed the piece back to Petyr and turned back to the Ork camp. Nothing had changed, the Orks stayed blissfully ignorant.
Petyr slid back down the mound as quietly as possible. Phelps continued to watch the Orks.
He turned back to his unit.
"Move silently, we're going back to New Lettucin, 2 metre spread"
The guardsmen below him nodded in acknowledgement and began to move.
Suddenly a roar of alert was heard from the camp.
Phelps turned so fast that his neck cricked and he winced in pain. Looking at the camp he desperately looked out for what may have seen or heard them.
What he saw was far worse.
An abnormally sized Ork had stomped into the middle of the camp while Phelps hadn't been looking, it was clad in large mechanical armour, a pole stuck out of the top with several Black space marine helmets impaled on it, on its right arm a crude looking rifle had replaced its hand and on the other a large cruel looking claw was clasped around one of the smaller Ork who had evidently been making the noise.
"YA GIT, THINK YOU'D GET AWAY WIV IT?" The large Ork roared at the one in his grasp.
"Sorry boss!" The Ork screeched as the claw began to draw blood, "Snagga told me you were done wiv it!"
"You lyin sneakin grot!" The Warboss growled and with that the claw dug into the other Ork, squeezing and cutting the life from it.
The warboss dropped the Ork body, picked up a large piece of meat that the other Ork had been eating and stomped over to the other slightly larger Orks.
"OW ME NOBZ DOIN DEN? HARHARHAR" His laughter echoed over the camp.
"A Warboss" Phelps hissed down to them.
"Here?" Barak, the squad's plasma gunner replied in disbelief, the leather cover over the heat exhaust glowed dimly in his hands.
Phelps slid down the mound and motioned for them to move.
"If a Warboss is here that can only mean they're a vanguard for a larger force" Barak said in Phelps ear as they moved away into the tall grass.
"Orks don't have that amount of tactical thought, Barak" Dariel half chuckled.
"What would you know of Ork tactics, Highborn?" Barak growled back.
Phelps rolled his eyes as they moved, the squad of eight he had, had been reduced to three original members, himself, Barak and Petyr. Dariel had joined a month before fresh from recruitment and it had soon been public knowledge around the base they operated from that Dariel was from a highborn family and had joined because it was tradition in their family. Of course he would be given a high up position back at a field base far quicker than the rest of them as his Lord father would pull some strings.
Phelps personally did not care where the man came from, as long as they did their duty.
"Not the time Barak" Phelps did not turn back but his stern voice was enough.
"Should we not radio Tarantula, Sergeant?" Petyr suggested.
"Not yet" Phelps climbed over a fallen tree, "Can't risk it knowing a Warboss is with them, they could have some of their blasted Meks with them"
"Would they not have heard us before?" Petyr pressed.
"Hence why we're moving so fast" Phelps grinned as he said it.
Dariel let out a soft chuckle.
The guardsmen disappeared into another patch of tall grass and disappeared again, in the horizon loomed the wrecked buildings that surrounded New Lettucin.
Nathaniel put down his quill and looked over his work, the report from their last engagement.
Seven enemy infantry killed, three of their own lost and the flamer that one of them had wielded, it had been destroyed after one of the larger Orks had cut through it and the wielder in one fell swoop.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, he had to get some sleep but the Commissar would expect the report in the morning. He imagined how he must look at that point, his brown hair would be a mess and his face dragged down by the bags under his tired eyes.
Looking out of his tent he could see the command building. The windows had been mostly patched up with leather rags and sandbags to block out the majority of light but he could distinctly see the Commissar's light still on.
He had hoped to be situated in a building, but this town had in the month's prior been the victim of many Ork bombing runs, the burnt out buildings lay testament to this, so there weren't many to go around especially for a throne a dozen Sergeant like himself.
"You awake in here?" A voice from outside said suddenly.
"'Fraid so" Nathaniel smiled recognising the voice.
Grenn entered with a grin, his short blonde hair shining in the moonlight. Grenn had always been well built and even after the exposure to the shockingly bad rations that were shared out in the Guard he had remained that way.
"Still writing that report?"
Nathaniel nodded with a tired smile. Grenn had joined the Guard with Nathaniel the year before and they had both excelled in training to the point of sergeant, Nathaniel had dominion of third squad whereas Grenn had second squad.
"And what are you up to Grenn? Drinking and harassing the female soldiers?"
"Emperor be good!" Grenn laughed, "But no, Second squad are on east perimeter duty tonight"
"So what are you doing here my friend?"
"Had to run back and get some more drinks" Grenn held up the packaged caffeine packs, "But I had better be getting back, speak to you later"
"Have a good one" Nathaniel lazily waved and looked back to his report.
He remembered each moment but had no idea how to put accurate details on the paper.
"Sod this" Nathaniel groaned, he pushed himself away from his nimble desk and fell into bed.
Grenn arrived back at his squad, who sat sentinel in the dugout around the Emplaced heavy bolter turret, Jericus at its trigger.
"Have no fear brave warriors of the Imperium" Grenn's voice made them all turn suddenly, "I bring caffeine"
The men laughed and smiled back, they all respected and loved their Sergeant.
Grenn sat next to his chain-sword that he'd left in the dugout and handed out the packs.
Jericus took his pack and opened it quickly, he was extremely tired and was equally afraid of falling asleep on duty. The week before a man he did not know had fallen asleep on watch and had been executed in front of the whole platoon by Commissar Yoren using his beautifully crafted Bolt pistol.
Yoren had not said anything after the man's head exploded in front of him he didn't have to.
Jericus turned to his friend who was tasked with feeding the shells into the large gun.
"E're Conroy, this stuff tastes almost as bad as whatever it was you were cooking on the way here"
Conroy rolled his eyes and continued drinking his caffeine before speaking.
"Thank you Jericus, I shall make sure to leave you hungry next time"
Jericus grinned and looked out where the turret faced. The clear sky's exposed stars illuminated the constant fields of tall grass and hedgerows.
Suddenly a patch of grass moved. Jericus squinted, his mouth agape from sudden terror. The grass moved again.
"Movement!" His voice cracked and he swore in his head. He pushed the turret up against his shoulder and poised the weapon at the field.
Grenn sat up and drew his magnoculars.
"Sawney, Vox"
The squad's radioman hurried past the rest of the men who were already in firing positions along the dugout and handed the vox piece to Grenn.
"Tarantula 2-2, this is Second squad, we have movement on grid 0-2, ready to engage"
"Second squad hold your fire" Tarantula's operator's voice replied, "We have Hunter 2-1 Alpha en-route, could be them"
"Roger Tarantula, holding position" Grenn handed the voice piece back and held the magnoculars up to his eyes.
The hazy green vision that the magnoculars provided began to focus on the now active tall grass and Grenn squinted.
A human face appeared, he immediately recognised the aged features of Gunnery Sergeant Phelps and breathed out in relief.
"It's Phelps" He said to Second squad before picking up the vox.
The west of New Letuccin had been the most damaged in the raids in the months prior to Third company's arrival. The only building that remained standing was a Religious shrine building, which the Company's Priests had insisted was a good omen. Though they had not been shown nor did they want to see how the Orks had defiled the inside.
New Lettucin had not been evacuated in time in the early weeks of the war and thus the civilian populace had been to their knowledge wiped out, and it was in the shrine building that many pieces of human bodies had been dumped.
It was unknown why the city had been targeted so ruthlessly, as far as Commissar Yoren knew it had no real strategic value or any form of military defence force.
It was concluded that the Orks had no reason, they just enjoyed the destruction and mayhem that ensued once they did launch an assault such as this.
Yoren put down his magnoculars and stopped observing the sector, he looked down at his desk and rolled his eyes. Several dozen reports to read and all would tell him the same thing. NO CLOSER TO FINISHING.
His desk was situated in the middle of what had once been a hab unit, picts and various other personal belongings had been moved to the corner and the bodies of the inhabitants had been removed, every piece.
Yoren had a particular hatred for Orks, as the first time he had ever been deployed into battle some ten years ago his best friend had been cleaved in two by an Ork Biker as it zoomed past. The beast had barely noticed the life it had just ended and had crashed into a nearby Ork walker, sending its ride careening out of sight.
The younger Yoren had driven his bayonet into the back of the creature's head and repeated this action at least seven times, he had become so frenzied that he had not noticed the Ork walker turn toward him. Its harsh buzzsaw like weapon had struck his face and left him with the ugly scar that lay across his face.
"Commissar Yoren" A frail voice echoed through the room.
Yoren looked up to see two robed figures.
One was in a robe of dark red, a mechanical set of legs protruded from the waistline and an augmented set of eyes regarded him brighter than the other.
The other was in a robe of old cotton, his face elderly and in his right hand he held a holy scripture.
"Tech Adept Co-ronal and Priest Haradal" Yoren nodded at each of them in turn and sat up straight, "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"The men you sent out on a scouting mission have returned, Lord" Co-ronal informed him, "I've told second squad's sergeant to send them here"
"Very good" Yoren nodded, "And you preacher?"
"We are holding a service tomorrow morning and we'd appreciate it if you could attend, my lord commissar"
"I will of course" Yoren smiled softly.
The elderly man smiled back and exited the room, leaving the tech adept and the commissar alone.
"You're still here tech priest" Yoren did not look at him, the man was eerie enough to speak with let alone look at.
"I had hoped to speak about the arrival of our Tank detachment?" The robed man clicked and whirred as he spoke.
"And I had hoped you would remember our conversation from the other day" Yoren growled and this time looked the man in the eyes, or what was left of them, "I do not know when they'll push through, last I heard they had been held up in a town north of here fighting another Ork armoured horde, we don't even know IF they will get through"
The tech priest stayed eerily silent before nodding and exiting the room.
Yoren sighed out and looked back out to the west of New Lettucin.
Unknown to the Commissar, five Orks silently made their way through the skeletal remains of the buildings in the north of the town. They passed past the old administratum and into the ruins of an old manufactorum. The five beasts all wore full faced rebreather masks and wore camoflauge, each carried a variety of different blades and pistols. The largest among them sported a large power klaw which it kept open as it moved as to make less noise.
Inside the manufactorum the Orks stopped suddenly. There in the middle of the factory floor lay several humans sleeping, their green armour dirty and their faces hidden by their helmets.
The leader of the Ork unit paced silently towards the unaware guardsmen and positioned the Klaw either side of the nearest one's throat.
It nodded at the others, who also made their way to the other humans, their blades and axes poised over them.
The leader tensed the klaw and separated the man's head from his shoulders instantaneously, sending blood spraying over the floor.
In unison the other Orks struck their unsuspecting prey, the Guardsmen let out sudden and muted breaths as they died.
The Ork Kommando leader spotted a nearby building that had a light source in the windows and next to that a group of tents.
"Leave none" The gasmask did not hide the maliciousness of its voice, and the other Kommando's sniggered.
They began to move out of the manufactorum, and towards the tents.