"What's your regiment's situation, Colonel?" Major General Hikes asked from across the desk.
Voltke knew the general hadn't met many Krieger officers. It must be with a sense of fascination that the general looked upon him now. The signature Death Korps rebreather and helmet in his lap, greatcoat with its shiny epaulettes, polished breastplate and high-cut boots. With laspistol in its brown leather holster and sabre at his side he must look quite impressive to men not accustomed to the Krieger way of life.
"12 line companies of infantry. Each company has ten infantry platoons, a heavy weapons platoon and two squads of grenadiers. 11 mortars, 9 lascannons and 20 to 25 other heavy weapons: autocannons, heavy bolters and stubbers. Seven hundred and fifty men in each company, all told." Voltke replied, grimly. For an infantry regiment without much integrated motorised or mechanised support, they were a seriously capable regiment. Their lack of mobility was made up by sheer weight of numbers and heavy weapons.
"Additionally we have an engineer company. Another 500 men, useful in clearing obstacles and breaching defensive lines." Voltke finished.
The general raised his eyebrows, giving Voltke a fair look.
"That's a large regiment. I'll put them to use, too. You know what my situation is; they told you?" He asked Voltke.
"No." Volke replied.
"We're bogged down in the city fighting. My predecessor spent so long shelling the city that he gave time for the Orks to prepare everything they needed to set up a defence. And every building that we collapsed with artillery became a new fortress for them." The general stood up and gestured to the map on the wall behind him, pointing out some critical infrastructure.
Major General Hikes' HQ was based in a ruined old hotel lobby in part of the recaptured city. Everything was covered in concrete dust and the General Staff were rushing around updating positions and calling in for updates over vox-net. Occasionally one of the staff officers would glance over at Voltke and evaluate him. Voltke carried the legendary reputation for siege warfare born with the death of a billion Krieger troops. He wondered what these men expected of him. The idea didn't bother him so much as it occurred as a passing thought.
"They shape the rubble into defensive works. Reinforce it with steel from the buildings. Our men assault and get turned back, then need to bring up armour to dislodge the defenders. But the defenders have already shifted positions. And they have a lot of anti-armour. It's costing me tank after tank to take each city block. And infantry by the hundreds."
Voltke looked at the city map from his chair. The Imperial forces were situated in the south of the city, attacking north. Most of the city streets were arranged in a grid pattern. North-south, east-west. From years of siege warfare, Voltke could already see the whole campaign play out as he stared at the map.
Those streets were a killzone. Once where you might be able to see a kilometre down the straight and flat street, now enormous piles of rubble born from collapsed buildings blocked your view. Each pile of rubble was an obstacle. It would be like assaulting a hill every time you tried to take one. With the added complexity of ruined buildings either side of the road. Both sides could be hiding hordes of Ork warriors. So you would have to clear those buildings out before you assaulted up the rubble pile, which itself could be fortified with all the provisions a ruined city could afford.
And the buildings that you've just cleared on either side of the street were connected to buildings further up. So after you've cleared them, perhaps those buildings are re-occupied by Orks infiltrating through secretly cut holes, only to open fire as your troops emerge onto the street to begin the assault. So perhaps you occupy the buildings and bring up armour to blast the rubble. Forgetting for the moment that you had to fight room to room, up dozens of stories against the enormous Orks: bred for war and good at it, too. The enemy has had long enough to hear your tanks rolling through the streets and bring up their own heavy vehicles or anti-tank weapons. And when they blow up your lead tank, it blocks the way for all the followup tanks. Now you need a recovery-vehicle to drag it out of the way, with guardsmen hitching winches, under fire.
Hell is the only word for it. Commanders in the ground would learn quickly that the Orks were adept at this game of chess. Every clever move a well-learned imperial commander brought to the streets would have a dumb but battle hardened Ork warboss reacting just as cleverly.
"How many regiments do you have, sir?" Voltke asked.
"General Torrent has nine to the west, taking all the industrial districts. But I have twelve to deal with the city. And your regiment makes thirteen." The general answered.
But none of them were from Krieg.
"The 202nd Death Korps Infantry Regiment is happy to be at your service. Where am I to deploy, sir?" Voltke asked, somberly.