The tortured death cries of the left flank cut through the morning
\nmist like razors. The first strike had come where the Colonel had
\npredicted. But there was little time to lament the passing of the
\ncomrades as the wall of chitin hit hard and fast across the entire
\nline.<\/p>\n
Hooks and claws wrenching limbs from bodies, and piercing
\nthrusts spilling intestinal tracks in the mud and turf. Never before
\nhave I seen such a fearsome sight. The intensity of these creatures is
\nunparalleled in any other species; their thirst for the kill, their
\nunemotional necessity to spill blood. It’s inhuman.<\/p>\n
Yet still the battle line held. I could not believe that
\nmere men could receive such a charge and still stand their ground.
\nWhere a man fell another took his place, rebuffing the assaults and
\nholding the line firm. This wasn’t the desperate struggle of a man
\nfighting for his life, nor was it the impeccable resilience exhibited
\nby the Adeptus Astartes. This was two platoons of men doing everything
\nthey can to protect their homes, their families. They would not break.
\nThey could not break.<\/p>\n
As I stand here recording this entry, some two hundred
\nmetres behind the battle line, the smell of blood and sweat is
\noverpowering. The screams fill my ears, screams of death, of defiance,
\nand the ever-present chatter of the bugs.<\/p>\n
The other side of the battle line, stretching away across
\nthe plains and into the desert beyond is a sea of tyranids. A swarming
\nmass of destruction, pushing forward relentlessly. Surrounded by
\nhundreds of smaller bugs the larger creatures present themselves; the
\nterrifying Carnifex rolling back it’s head and letting out the most
\ntwisted scream I’ve ever heard; the unnaturally intelligent Hive
\nTyrant, directing the flow of the swarm, pausing only to fire it’s vile
\nbioweapon into the centre of the line; the hideous beast name the Red
\nTerror, stalking down the left flank, pushing on towards the brave
\ndefenders. What could possibly stop these vile monstrosities?<\/p>\n
From behind me a squadron of armoured transports, Chimerax
\nclass I believe, roll past and form a secondary line midway between
\nmyself and the wall of death. The rear doors drop down and out pour the
\nheavy support squads. Two men teams lugging their unwieldy weapons up
\nthe small embankment. After scant moments checking their equipment the
\nfirst shot rings out. A short burst from an autocannon taking down one
\nof the larger warriors. Other shots follow; a lascannon blast rips the
\nhead from a lictor and then the most glorious sight I’ve seen since my
\narrival on this forsaken planet. One guardsmen, heavy set with hair far
\nlonger than regulations permit rocks back with recoil. The krak missile
\nsears over the heads of the guardsmen and bugs alike, striking the
\nTyrant full in the chest. The creature reels back with the blast,
\nknocked off its’ feet and crushing two termagants who were skulking
\nbehind.<\/p>\n
The heavy weapons squads let out a mighty cheer. Their
\ncomrades to involved in combat to see the shot, but the cries of their
\nbrothers spur them on and they redouble their efforts.<\/p>\n
But still the bugs come. How can this be? If the tyrant is
\ndead who is co-ordinating the attack? It is known that the tyranid
\nforces have strong instincts that can direct their actions when they
\nare not in contact with the hive mind, but they still move as a single
\nunit. The termagants and hormagants at the front of the fighting are
\nstrafing apart, leaving a large wedge in the centre of the battle line.
\nThe Lieutenant holds his men steady, to charge into the gap would mean
\ncertain death, but why have they parted? Then the answer comes. From
\nthe very rear of the swarm charging down the centre at tremendous
\nspeeds come the Stealers.<\/p>\n
They dwarf a normal man. Even the mighty Battle Brothers of
\nthe Space Marine Legions would have to look up to face these beasts.
\nFour arms waving wildly, all tipped in three pronged claws, all
\nbeckoning the guardsmen to their inevitable death. No ordinary man
\ncould survive the impending onslaught.<\/p>\n
“There!” calls out one of the missile launcher loaders. His
\narm pointing to the right of the swarm. And true enough, there in the
\ntrees at the edge of the plain, surrounded by some sort of entourage is
\nanother Tyrant. All four lascannons draw beads on the beast and open
\nfire. Their shots all flail wild, but they fire again and again.
\nMeanwhile the autocannons, heavy bolters and missile launchers are
\ndirecting their fire at the Genestealers. If they hit the line full
\nstrength it’s over. The Colonel is running across the back of the line
\nfrom his position on the left flank, where the fighting is thickest.
\nHe’s screaming at the Chimerax drivers, pointing at the centre of the
\nbattle line. With a mighty roar all three transports burst into life
\nand roll down the embankment to the battle line.<\/p>\n
They won’t last long against the claws of the stealers, but
\nthey’ll last a lot longer than flak armour. If those lascannons can
\ntake out the tyrant maybe the swarm will be disorientated enough for
\nthe reserves to move in and push them back.<\/p>\n
On the right the tyrant’s retinue has been whittled down to
\nonly a couple. The tyrant would be long dead but those cursed guards
\nkeep throwing themselves into the line of fire, sacrificing their lives
\nso the tyrant survives. It’s a curious trait in these killers. It’s
\nalmost a nurturing characteristic, as if they were evolved to defend
\nrather than attack. However their evolution proves inadequate against
\nthe mighty firepower of the Imperial Guard and the last one falls to
\nthe ground, a smoking hole in it’s chest cavity. All four lascannons
\nmark their targets and fire simultaneously. The Hive Tyrant veritably
\nexplodes, showering the trees with purple ichor.<\/p>\n
Immediately the loss presents itself in the swarm. The bugs
\nat the rear start to mill around, too far from the fighting to be drawn
\nin, most begin attacking each other. Instinctive animosity shows as the
\ntermagants and hormagaunts begins attacking each other.<\/p>\n
The Genestealer threat is now only metres from the front
\nline. The massed heavy weaponry has reduced the swarm size by half, but
\nstill they come, and still they pose a great danger. The first five
\ncrash into the Chimerax squadron, sinking their claws into the armoured
\nhull, ripping away the heavy bolters and access hatches. I was correct;
\nthese transports will only last a matter of moments before they are
\nshredded.<\/p>\n
“NOW” yells the Colonel. Again he’s waving in my general
\ndirection, this time at the heavy weapons crews. Acting on orders I was
\nnot privy to, all nine heavy weapons open fire, but not at the now
\nobscured tyranid threat. This time they’re targeting their own
\ntransports! The combined fire soon penetrates the soft rear armour of
\nthe vehicles and within seconds of the Colonel’s order a massive
\nexplosion marks the simultaneous destruction of all three Chimera
\nvariants.<\/p>\n
When the smoke has cleared not only are the three wrecks
\nwracked with flames, they are also covered in alien blood. All twenty
\nstealers were caught in the explosion and not one is left standing.
\nAgain the heavy weapons teams let out a cheer. I look for the Colonel
\nto catch his reaction, but he’s already embedded in the middle of the
\nleft flank, his power sword swinging over his head as he cleaves apart
\nthe aliens with relative ease.<\/p>\n
At last the reserve squads charge forward, bolstering both
\nflanks, the centre of the battle line now protected by three smoking
\nChimerax. With the extra surge the remaining tyranids are actually
\nbeing forced back. I find it incomprehensible. These men are going hand
\nto hand with tyranid monsters and actually showing a possibility of
\nwinning.<\/p>\n
Again a rumbling over my left shoulder catches my
\nattention. It’s the 8th armoured division. Great news, for this surely
\nmeans they were successful on the south ridge. The squadrons of Leman
\nRuss battle tanks form an assault line and open fire. The huge battle
\ncannons lob shells the size of a tyranid warrior’s head into the midst
\nof the swarm. The constant bombardment soon begins to scatter the
\nswarm; huge holes are opening in their numbers. Where once a vicious
\ngroup of hormagaunts stood is now only a crater.<\/p>\n
Within only a few minutes the remnants of a once foreboding
\nhive swarm is scattered, fleeing towards the desert. Those embedded in
\nthe action too overcome by the heat of the battle to comprehend fight
\non, taking down many a good soldier in the process.<\/p>\n
22 minutes after the arrival of the 8th the ominous task of
\ncounting the dead can begin. The battle is over. The guardsmen were
\nvictorious, though I use that word only in the sense that they are
\nstill alive. Out of the three platoons involved in this battle, I think
\nI can see only one or two men walking upright. The rest are crawling or
\nhobbling away from the plains, using their lasguns as crutches where
\npossible. The death toll is tremendous on either side, approximately
\n80% on our side.<\/p>\n
However today I have witnessed a great display of the
\nindomitable strength of the human spirit. Though outnumbered and out
\nclassed in hand to hand, these men fought bravely, or maybe
\nfoolhardily, against a fearsome foe and survived. Their homes are safe
\nand their families alive.<\/p>\n
Of all the men present today I have three men to recommend
\nfor honours. The Colonel obviously must once again receive the highest
\ncommendation for his leadership and skill. The lascannon operator, one
\nPvt F. Jayden, is recommended for marksmanship befitting guardsman.
\nWithout his excellence this battle may well have gone to a rather more
\nsinister outcome. Finally I suggest that the missile loader, Pvt T.
\nHarke, is transferred to the nearest training school to be inducted
\ninto a scout company. His keen observation under the heat of an intense
\nbattle should be duly noted and I believe his talents could be better
\nused elsewhere.<\/p>\n
Thus I conclude this report, a testament to the fighting men of the 7th Kataan Division, Kataan IV.<\/p>\n
J. Defst, Honours Commission, Imperial Guard Division.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The tortured death cries of the left flank cut through the morning mist like razors. The first strike had come where the Colonel had predicted. But there was little time to lament the passing of the comrades as the wall of chitin hit hard and fast across the entire line. Hooks and claws wrenching limbs […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[146],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-916","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-imperial-guard","entry"],"yoast_head":"\n