Post by deadbeatbert on Mar 8, 2013 16:38:48 GMT -5
The sun was high and the heat was stifling. He stooped and pinched a small clod of dry, crumbling mud between his forefinger and thumb and rubbed them together causing a small drift of light brown dust to fall back to the cracked ground at his feet.
"No wind, boys." the Colour Sergeant said with his customary deep, droll tone.
He looked around with squinted eyes and stroked his huge handlebar moustache, inspecting his troops and the advancing enemy in turn. He took a long, deep breath and paused for thought.
"Enemy at six hundred yards." he said concisely. "Load and make ready the autocannons lads." the air was swiftly filled with the familiar metallic 'Schink schink!' of bolts as they were drawn back to load the first round into their huge firing mechanisms.
"Mortars, set your range to five hundred yards. Independent fire on my command." he said looking straight ahead, knowing his command was being obeyed regardless of his absent baleful stare. "Load and make ready your lasrifles, boys."
The sound of rumbling engines, random gunfire and the howling and jeering of green skinned ruffians grew as the horde drew ever closer. He caught the sound of a rifleman stammering through a prayer of courage whilst fumbling with a magazine as he loaded it. The Colour Sergeant spoke again still looking forward as he loaded and checked his own lasrifle.
"Take a breath and stand fast, Jones 575. We are men of Harlekk and we will maintain dignity under the God Emperor's pride filled watch."
"Yes Colour Sergeant." came the shaky reply followed by a long sighing inhalation of hot, stale air.
"Autocannons, take aim at the vehicles nearest the center of the wave. Mortars prepare to fire. Wait for it... Autocannons fire!"
The large bore guns opened up with a slow, clunking thump and the relative calm was broken as dust ripped up from underneath the cannons. Tracer rounds flew in a shallow arc toward the enemy and ripped into the noisy vehicles that approached. Black smoke rose and explosions plumed up in the distance as three trukks met their end, causing a huge pile up behind them. A few seconds later the dulled booms of their destruction reached the ears of the Colour Sergeant. Screams and jeers of laughter from uninjured orks followed soon after.
"Mortars! Fifteen rounds independent... Fire!" called the Colour Sergeant forcefully above the ever harshening sounds of battle.
Shells hit their back plates and launched into the sky with the most satisfying of thumps that sucked the very breath from the mortar crews who flung them toward their foes. Then there was silence as the orks realised the trap they had fallen into as the whistles of death grew louder at their end of the battle field. Dirt, vehicles and many a greenskin flew into the air as fifteen mortar tubes each fired fifteen bombs that exploded with near perfect accuracy into the roiling mass of orks.
But still they came.
"Three hundred yards! Snipers and Heavy Bolters independent fire at will! Riflemen fix bayonets!" a cacophony of deeply thunking bolters and high pitch cracks from the sharpshooters made the most blissful accompaniment to the Colour Sergeant's next order.
"Men of Harlekk, prepare to sing. Lift your voices to the God Emperor! Sing, damn you!" and sing they did. The throng of a thousand men singing the regimental battle hymn grew louder and louder as the wave of blood thirsty orks drew closer into the range of their trusty lasrifles.
"Wait until you see the whites of their eyes, lads!" he called knowing full well the irony of the statement.
"Take aim!"
"First rank... Fire!"
"No wind, boys." the Colour Sergeant said with his customary deep, droll tone.
He looked around with squinted eyes and stroked his huge handlebar moustache, inspecting his troops and the advancing enemy in turn. He took a long, deep breath and paused for thought.
"Enemy at six hundred yards." he said concisely. "Load and make ready the autocannons lads." the air was swiftly filled with the familiar metallic 'Schink schink!' of bolts as they were drawn back to load the first round into their huge firing mechanisms.
"Mortars, set your range to five hundred yards. Independent fire on my command." he said looking straight ahead, knowing his command was being obeyed regardless of his absent baleful stare. "Load and make ready your lasrifles, boys."
The sound of rumbling engines, random gunfire and the howling and jeering of green skinned ruffians grew as the horde drew ever closer. He caught the sound of a rifleman stammering through a prayer of courage whilst fumbling with a magazine as he loaded it. The Colour Sergeant spoke again still looking forward as he loaded and checked his own lasrifle.
"Take a breath and stand fast, Jones 575. We are men of Harlekk and we will maintain dignity under the God Emperor's pride filled watch."
"Yes Colour Sergeant." came the shaky reply followed by a long sighing inhalation of hot, stale air.
"Autocannons, take aim at the vehicles nearest the center of the wave. Mortars prepare to fire. Wait for it... Autocannons fire!"
The large bore guns opened up with a slow, clunking thump and the relative calm was broken as dust ripped up from underneath the cannons. Tracer rounds flew in a shallow arc toward the enemy and ripped into the noisy vehicles that approached. Black smoke rose and explosions plumed up in the distance as three trukks met their end, causing a huge pile up behind them. A few seconds later the dulled booms of their destruction reached the ears of the Colour Sergeant. Screams and jeers of laughter from uninjured orks followed soon after.
"Mortars! Fifteen rounds independent... Fire!" called the Colour Sergeant forcefully above the ever harshening sounds of battle.
Shells hit their back plates and launched into the sky with the most satisfying of thumps that sucked the very breath from the mortar crews who flung them toward their foes. Then there was silence as the orks realised the trap they had fallen into as the whistles of death grew louder at their end of the battle field. Dirt, vehicles and many a greenskin flew into the air as fifteen mortar tubes each fired fifteen bombs that exploded with near perfect accuracy into the roiling mass of orks.
But still they came.
"Three hundred yards! Snipers and Heavy Bolters independent fire at will! Riflemen fix bayonets!" a cacophony of deeply thunking bolters and high pitch cracks from the sharpshooters made the most blissful accompaniment to the Colour Sergeant's next order.
"Men of Harlekk, prepare to sing. Lift your voices to the God Emperor! Sing, damn you!" and sing they did. The throng of a thousand men singing the regimental battle hymn grew louder and louder as the wave of blood thirsty orks drew closer into the range of their trusty lasrifles.
"Wait until you see the whites of their eyes, lads!" he called knowing full well the irony of the statement.
"Take aim!"
"First rank... Fire!"