Standard Terran Calendar, 41
Planet Armageddon, main continent, Hades Hive, 9th Infantry Regiment position
Hartmann Paul never realized that they could hold on for so long, that even after the friendly forces on both flanks had failed, they could still hold on to this position.
Of course, the price is that there are less than 500 people left in the entire regiment, and the last recruitment was 20 days ago, and only 30 lonely ghosts came.
And what they have to face is a geometric increase in greenskins.
Now everyone is a combatant. The only non-combatant, the old man, was killed while rescuing a bag of starch a few days ago.
Hartmann simply held a funeral for him. Although everyone complained about the food every day these days, everyone knew that he was the only one who could use such inferior materials to make something barely edible.
And everyone got used to his nightly stories.
This feeling is like losing a family member.
But there was not much time left for the dead, because during the next attack, Hartman felt that maybe no one would hold a funeral for him.
They were almost surrounded, and the greenskins started using light armor, which they couldn't handle.
Mines, rockets, cluster grenades, all means have been almost exhausted, and now everyone is trapped on the last small high ground.
In the open area in front of the position, a green leather combat truck overturned on the ground. Black smoke poured into the air from its burning tail compartment like a huge wave. A green leather mixed with cables and right-angled edges was using some kind of technician's claw. The pliers tear at the exposed bottom of the carrier.
Light bullets from the soldiers on the low embankment of the trench were fired at it.
"Who's shooting at that greenskin technician?"
Hartman growled into the intercom. After all these days, he could already tell the type of greenskin, and it was obvious that this was a true mechanic who recycled scraps.
"You're wasting your damn time, lasers can't penetrate armor that thick, I need a heavy bolter to fire on it, where the hell is the Heavy?"
"Here, sir!"
Then, a deep voice from the right shouted.
"We have deployed!"
Hartman looked over at the Heavy, a large gang member with the fabric of his coat stretched tightly around his muscular arms. As he cocked his heavy bolter and prepared to fire at the greenskin technician, Hartman I saw the power of that body of muscles.
The oversized gun usually required a two-man team to set up, but the guy lifted it himself.
"Ready, sir!"
"Get it done!"
When the machine gunner opened fire, the thunderous sound of the heavy bolter shook down the dust on the bunker, and even the surrounding sandbags were scorched black by the muzzle flash.
Watching carefully from his cover, Hartmann saw the massive Green Technician shuddering as bolt after bolt struck its armor plating, blue sparks flying from each impact.
Then the raindrops of bombs found a weak point - the armor on the side of the monster was the thinnest. Then the projectiles penetrated the metal and sank deeply into the green flesh. The fatal wounds caused made the beast roar.
"Ceasefire!"
But after the heavy bolter stopped firing, the green-skinned mechanic looked down at its battered body in disbelief, and then fell headlong from the disabled truck.
"here you go!"
As soon as Hartmann finished speaking, an explosion swept through the trench in front of him. Several soldiers were immediately swallowed up by the flames, and their limbs and pieces of meat flew everywhere.
Through the smoke, he pressed the button and saw several strange-looking red tattered trucks in front of him. One of them was equipped with a rocket launcher on top, and it fired rockets at the trench shelter from time to time.
Even without a telescope, he could see that the crew of those vehicles were loading more heavy rockets into the launchers in teams. Some crazy little figures among them were jumping up and down noisily, obviously eager to ride on the back of the rockets. Blow yourself to pieces.
What do you think about these things?
As soon as this thought came to his mind, he reminded himself not to try to understand the alien's mind.
At this time, Lunante crawled to his side.
"How do you plan to get them, sir?"
"Only explosions."
Hartman's voice sounded like he was breathing in under a scarf.
"I guess it's time to open up some of these mushy brains, isn't it?"
Then he turned to his men.
"How many brothers are carrying gel bombs?"
Five people answered in the affirmative and came to their commander.
"Five bombs, four rocket launchers, great. One person will stay here as a reserve team, and the others will set the timer to 30 seconds. As soon as the bombs are loaded on those broken vehicles, you guys will charge at full speed." Come back here, got it? Don't stop attacking the enemy. The rest of us will provide covering fire. Your job is to plant the bomb and then run back like a mad dog."
"Understood, sir!"
The four commandos answered after distributing the bombs. There was no hesitation or quarrel. Everyone was used to death.
"Mortars, a few rounds, one battery, for covering fire."
Soon, lasers and artillery shells fell on those rocket vehicles. When the greenskins focused their attention on the company's position, the demolitioners were already ready to raid the rocket launchers.
"Now!"
Hartmann roared, and four soldiers rushed out of the trench, each selecting a corresponding target.
The regimental commander stared intently at each soldier, watching them move through the smoke-filled shooting area and rise and fall among the bomb craters.
The Grot crew noticed the approaching men, turned their heads, and began shooting with crudely made pistols at the men who were running back to the trenches.
"Fire!"
The soldiers in the trench fired another volley of blinding light bullets, tearing the ugly, deformed green face in half.
But one of the farts managed to hit the thigh of the last runner, who screamed and fell to the ground.
Lunengte jumped out of the bunker without hesitation, grabbed the man's coat collar and dragged him towards him. The Goat turned to aim at him, and the projectiles hit him around him, splashing white snow foam.
The veteran noticed that the man's eyes were rolled up and he was hopeless, so he picked up the opponent's bomb and began to rush towards the rocket car.
After the other three people dodged the bullets and got close to the target, they slapped their inventory on the side of the rocket launcher, activated the timer switch and returned to their hiding place.
But they were all knocked out on the way back.
"Come on!!!"
Lunante saw several guns pointing at him, activated the bomb without hesitation, and rushed over with a roar.
Bullets hit his body, his arms, and penetrated his abdomen, but they did not stop him.
Amid the screams of the farts, he pounced directly on the last rocket car.
Hartman gritted his teeth, tears streaming down his face.
At this moment, the bomb sounded deafeningly——
For a few seconds, the whole world melted into a white flash, and he slammed his face into the dirt as the heat of the rocket blast hit him.
After a moment, a hand tried to dust him off.
It was Eli, the little messenger.
"Are you okay, sir?"
Hartman raised his face, mud mixed with tears, and nodded slightly.
"I'm fine, thank you, Ellie."
Although the greenskin vehicle was destroyed this time, more greenskin infantry had surged up and covered the attack route with the smoke of burning wreckage.
Hartmann drew the chainsword from its scabbard, moved his steps and stood up.
"soldiers."
Eli also gripped his laser gun tightly.
"Even if we die, let us take away one more greenskin before we die!"
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