I will never forget the day I was drafted into the Imperial Guard. Large spacecraft descended on our peaceful world of Regath VIII, sending me and my friends off to war with rifles rather in place of our tools. I was only 18 then. I am 20 now, but I have experienced more than most people experience in a lifetime. My name is Rym Kesselring. This is the story of my experience in the Imperial Guard.
The day after we were abducted onto the transport-class spaceships, we began to learn the rules of the Guard. We got dressed up in our flak armor, which is light, bullet-resistant material worn as protective covering. We were given a laser gun, or lasgun, as everyone calls them. We went out to the firing range on the second day. I and most of the others qualified as marksmen, and I went into physical training. In one month, we were trained soldiers. Three hundred more men for the Imperial Army. We were sent to the distant desert planet called Kalhyzerus, and that was where we were baptized by fire. We formed the 18th Regathan Light Rifle Battalion, and I was made a corporal, in other words a second leader if our squad leader was killed or split up from the rest of us. We would be up against the forces of Chaos, demonic, twisted humans dressed in power, or joined steel-alloy full armor. They were all veterans of centuries of combat. They stood seven feet tall. They lived to kill and adorned themselves with trophies of their foes, which included mostly everyone, human or alien, even different branches of their own dark religion. They were the most fearsome enemies of all, and it was our task to cleanse the planet of their existence. Easier said than done.
The war on this planet had already been raging for twenty years, when Imperial forces first learned of the existence of multiple Chaos bases of operations. Over the years, the opposing forces had attacked each other countless times, hundreds of unsung heroes fell fighting for their beliefs, and a new generation had to be sent in. So far, the Imperials on the planet held a strong foothold on the planet, and the minions of Chaos were blockaded in by an Imperial attack fleet, so their incoming offworld resources and reinforcements were nonexistent. But the Chaos soldiers were still fighting hard, and they would not be broken by a simple defeat. Many major battles would still pass in the hot sands of Kalhyzerus before the worshipers of Chaos were finally brought down.
We were selected to support an armored company in the taking of a ruined town thought to be the site of troublesome Chaos artillery platforms. I remember, very clearly, arriving on my first battlefield. We came behind the armored company, and found al the battle tanks smashed to bits by the artillery. We charged forward, unsupported, knowing that we would lose most of our men. The Chaos soldiers on the other side of the line blasted away with their boltguns. My best friend from Regath was killed in that charge. Once we were over the Chaos stockades around the artillery positions, the few Chaos defenders were overwhelmed but did not go quietly, and their armor made them extremely resilient, especially from knives and bayonets. Finally, we captured the artillery post. We had killed 25 Chaos warriors, but we only had 58 of our original 300. We received reinforcements the next day, and congratulated. Then came the Chaos counterattack. Our Colonel, Colonel Graff, told us to hold the position as best we could. Then Chaos rear artillery smashed into our line and killed the colonel and many others, men who I had just met the night before, men who had families of their own on their own distant homeworld. The Chaos attack was devastating. Despite the failure of their tanks due to the artillery we had captured, the Chaos forces had made it through our barricades without losing very many men. Their battle cries and bloody adornments sickened and infuriated me and the other men, which was our only fuel to keep fighting and hold the line. They kept throwing more twisted minions of darkness at us. We repulsed the attack, with the help of a friendly airstrike, but we only had 13 men left. We were ordered to destroy the artillery with explosives at retreat to friendly territory. I could not believe I was still alive. I remembered killing many Chaos warriors, by stabbing a bayonet in the weakest part of their armor, their helmet. As they had crumpled to the ground, bleeding red-black blood, they laughed maniacally. I was not as frightened as I was angry at these evil warriors, for embracing death for an evil and putrid cause. When we reached our battle lines, I was made sergeant of the remaining 13 men. We would be attached to another regiment, they told us. I gave us the nickname: The Lucky 13. I only had one question in my mind. How long would we stay alive?
The day after we were abducted onto the transport-class spaceships, we began to learn the rules of the Guard. We got dressed up in our flak armor, which is light, bullet-resistant material worn as protective covering. We were given a laser gun, or lasgun, as everyone calls them. We went out to the firing range on the second day. I and most of the others qualified as marksmen, and I went into physical training. In one month, we were trained soldiers. Three hundred more men for the Imperial Army. We were sent to the distant desert planet called Kalhyzerus, and that was where we were baptized by fire. We formed the 18th Regathan Light Rifle Battalion, and I was made a corporal, in other words a second leader if our squad leader was killed or split up from the rest of us. We would be up against the forces of Chaos, demonic, twisted humans dressed in power, or joined steel-alloy full armor. They were all veterans of centuries of combat. They stood seven feet tall. They lived to kill and adorned themselves with trophies of their foes, which included mostly everyone, human or alien, even different branches of their own dark religion. They were the most fearsome enemies of all, and it was our task to cleanse the planet of their existence. Easier said than done.
The war on this planet had already been raging for twenty years, when Imperial forces first learned of the existence of multiple Chaos bases of operations. Over the years, the opposing forces had attacked each other countless times, hundreds of unsung heroes fell fighting for their beliefs, and a new generation had to be sent in. So far, the Imperials on the planet held a strong foothold on the planet, and the minions of Chaos were blockaded in by an Imperial attack fleet, so their incoming offworld resources and reinforcements were nonexistent. But the Chaos soldiers were still fighting hard, and they would not be broken by a simple defeat. Many major battles would still pass in the hot sands of Kalhyzerus before the worshipers of Chaos were finally brought down.
We were selected to support an armored company in the taking of a ruined town thought to be the site of troublesome Chaos artillery platforms. I remember, very clearly, arriving on my first battlefield. We came behind the armored company, and found al the battle tanks smashed to bits by the artillery. We charged forward, unsupported, knowing that we would lose most of our men. The Chaos soldiers on the other side of the line blasted away with their boltguns. My best friend from Regath was killed in that charge. Once we were over the Chaos stockades around the artillery positions, the few Chaos defenders were overwhelmed but did not go quietly, and their armor made them extremely resilient, especially from knives and bayonets. Finally, we captured the artillery post. We had killed 25 Chaos warriors, but we only had 58 of our original 300. We received reinforcements the next day, and congratulated. Then came the Chaos counterattack. Our Colonel, Colonel Graff, told us to hold the position as best we could. Then Chaos rear artillery smashed into our line and killed the colonel and many others, men who I had just met the night before, men who had families of their own on their own distant homeworld. The Chaos attack was devastating. Despite the failure of their tanks due to the artillery we had captured, the Chaos forces had made it through our barricades without losing very many men. Their battle cries and bloody adornments sickened and infuriated me and the other men, which was our only fuel to keep fighting and hold the line. They kept throwing more twisted minions of darkness at us. We repulsed the attack, with the help of a friendly airstrike, but we only had 13 men left. We were ordered to destroy the artillery with explosives at retreat to friendly territory. I could not believe I was still alive. I remembered killing many Chaos warriors, by stabbing a bayonet in the weakest part of their armor, their helmet. As they had crumpled to the ground, bleeding red-black blood, they laughed maniacally. I was not as frightened as I was angry at these evil warriors, for embracing death for an evil and putrid cause. When we reached our battle lines, I was made sergeant of the remaining 13 men. We would be attached to another regiment, they told us. I gave us the nickname: The Lucky 13. I only had one question in my mind. How long would we stay alive?