Soldier BA-148 of the 9th Praetorian, armored specialist Matias Ventan.
The view from the gun-port jumped as the mighty battle tank tore up the wasted sand underfoot. Smoke rose in darkened plumes in the distance, a silent funeral pyre in honor of those guardsmen who had given their lives on this day to rid world 7A-2939F4 of the Orkish menace.
It would mark the resting place of many more.
The priest's prayers could be only just heard over the radio, distorted by the sounds of poorly-lubricated engines and tactical chatter from a separate channel. Matias couldn't care less about the history, the future, and whatever else the holy man was rambling about. All that mattered was that he was to die today, in the name of the ever-living God-Emperor.
"E.T.A. two minutes, fifty seconds!"
That was all he needed to hear. Matias laid his hands on the controls of the large-bore heavy bolter mount, carefully re-attached to the Leman Russ's starboard armor plating after Alpha-Three's last run-in with the Orkish "Tankbustaz," a battle which had nearly cost him his life.
Shaking his head, the gunner attempted to focus on the task at hand. The 4 miles into the ruined desert city of Kar-Nisas seemed to pass in no time at all. Alpha-Three's tank commander's voice on his radio was a more-than-welcome interruption to the droning engines.
"Lance two is moving to support the infantry assault on the square, and lance one is securing the outskirts. That leaves us to charge home, boys. Get ye…" the commander was interrupted by the sound of a vicious explosion near the vehicle.
Through the dust of a crater blown not 5 meters in away from his side-facing vantage point, Matias could just barely make out a duo of Orks, armed with a rather large "rokkit" launcher, bickering amongst themselves over who's fault the poor shot was.
"For Emperor and imperium!" Matias shouted, and targeted his rather large weapon at the position. With a gentle tightening of his finger, nearly two dozen high explosive bolts impacted the Orkish position, a small balcony on a shelled building.
Barely a thing remained after the smoke cleared, save for some shattered rubble and what could barely be thought of as corpses.
"All guns forward! Hostiles at twelve O'clock!" ordered the brave commander. Alpha-One and Alpha-Five moved up alongside them, as the other two war machines of the Third lance moved into a flanking position.
A group of guardsmen poured out of their Chimera APC, and took up position amidst a scattered graveyard of armor, left behind from the previous battle.
"Main cannon, three-five by two-eight, fire!"
With those words, the enormous cannon mounted atop the Leman Russ choked out a powerful round, impacting squarely within an Orkish band in the street in front of the infantry men. Another pair of Chimera transports quickly unloaded and ran off toward cover.
"Move to support!" another order dictated. Alpha-Three's driver brought it up directly in front of the infantry group. "First lance is inbound, blow past this wave and we can hit their encampment!"
Matias held onto the grip with fists of steel and, just as the Orkish battle cry rang out…
WAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHH!
He and his companion on the gun posted port opened fire. This, accompanied by the co-axial cannon mounted front-side and the barrage from the encamped infantry, cut a hole in the Orkish ranks.
Alpha-Three rocked with each ferocious burst from her main cannon. Light arms fire had already felled a number of the guardsmen, and no matter how much ammo was emptied into the green tide, still more of them kept coming, jumping with ease over the bodies of the fallen.
Matias sighed with relief as the lead vehicle of first lance came up behind Alpha-three.
With the combined fire of two lances' worth of firepower, as well as the nearly 70 guardsmen, the Orks had finally chosen to retreat.
Ambient heat filled the cabin, and his barrel glowed red. "The Orks won't stay down forever, men," radioed the lance commander from Alpha-One, "you know how this goes. We MUST strike while the enemy regroups!"
And so it began.
Lance Two roared down the debris-covered highway toward the center of town. The Orkish encampment.
Accompanying was Lance 4, carrying several squads of Imperial Guardsmen, one hundred-twenty soldiers to be exact.
The group turned through one last corner, and spotted what was unmistakably the Orkish "command" center, if it could be called that. "Mek boyz" were littered about, fixing and re-supplying the various Orkish "trukz" littered about the camp.
A perfectly vulnerable target.
And so the charge began. The men dismounted from the chimeras and charged toward the camp, lasguns scarring the poorly-build structures and striking down any "fleshier" targets. Lance Two charged in beside them.
The assault could not have been any easier. The enemy was unprepared, their forces apparently scattered throughout the ruins of Kar-Nisas. It was too easily missed, however, that their target was more than ready. "Tankbustaz," carrying looted missiles and rockets of all shapes and sizes, began to crawl from every crack and crevice.
An eternity passed in a few short, sweet seconds for Matias. Deafening explosions drowned out anguished screams, and an enormous gash formed in the side of the now-scrapped Alpha-Two.
When Matias crawled back to his feet, there was little left of his station. The initial blast threw him back several feet, and a trio of Ork "Boyz" had made their way inside to look for anything of value.
Matias reached for his laspistol, but it was too late. Upon seeing him, the "Mek boyz" ducked back out, and left a rather sizable grenade in their place.
The world faded, replaced by a blurring image of the world, and a painless drifting sensation. "For… the emp…" he managed to choke out in his final breath.