Post by Deleted on Sept 7, 2007 18:59:56 GMT -5
A mound of snow.
Once It might have been a mound of dirt, but those days were over.
A mound of snow.
Why take it? What is it worth? Thought Bryan Dorf. Crisp snowflakes obscured his vision through the rebreather issued to the Guardsmen after 20 reported casualties severe frostbite. It had not been a pretty sight. Men and women being pulled by thier squadmates on stretchers with a missing limb, the tip nothing but pure ice. The cries from the surgery room. It was a cold winter on Ranryan.
Really cold.
5th company marched across the wintry wasteland, ridge 400 well in sight. The commisars, with thier watchful eyes, and stone-cold hearts, as cold as a million Ranryan winters, kept a steely gaze on the marching men. They reached the ridge by 1200 hours. The ridge stretched for miles. Here and there, muzzle-flashes and gunfire could be heard, but as far as Bryan cared, they were just backround sounds. He didnt care.
He hadnt cared for a lot of things since his family had been killed in the mass bombardment. Seeing it as an honourable way to commit suicide, he joined the Imperial Guard.
He who has nothing can still give his life.
"INCOMING!"
The words were clear, but by the time Bryan registered them, he found himself flying. How? what was happening? Then falling. Digging? No, wait, he was being proppelled into the snow. What was happening? Snow, snow everywhere. He saw but could not feel. he was in a hole. buried in snow. Blasts. Explosions. bits of charred meat and limbs, and even the odd body still mostly intact flew all around his red, blurry vision.
Its raining men.
Bits of them at least.
He heard again. Explosions. Blasts. Screams. Guns. Heaps of melted slush flew, superheated by the ordnance bombardment. bryan became aware finally that the enemy was bombarding them on this ridge, this heap of snow, this useless peice of rugged nature.
Bryan picked himself up, and fell down again. Extreme pain came to him, as he felt again. he felt ice. he felt fire. Fire from the burning pain coming from the sinewy remains of his right leg. He screamed. Screamed till he lost his voice and nothing but blood clogged his mouth. Darkness took him. Fire enveloped him. Ice covered him. The two elements fighting in his dead body. He saw his mother. He saw the bombing. The garbled symphony of war once again dimmed, and he became no more.
Bodies covered the ridge. Blood soaked it. Craters pock-marked the once aesthetic natural beauty of the landscape. 6th company marched up the side 5th company had 12 hours ago. It was night. The orders they had been given by the commisars was puzzling. Meet with 5th company and hold the ridge. 5th company was supposed to have fortified it yesterday. But nothing except thier broken bodies was left remaining.
It was clear the enemy had bombarded the ridge, and had exterminated all of 5th company. loses were substantial. The guradmen looked around, a cold feeling settled in thier guts, colder than the Ranryan winter. Colder than the hearts of the commisars.
Then came the order.
"GET DOWN"
Bullets rained down on the guardsmen. But they were well trained. They threw themselved onto the red snow. But what cover was there? The ridge had no natural barriers, and the 5th had failed in thier mission. The only cover was thier dead bodies. The guardsmen crouched behind thier former comrades, firing back at the approaching enemy. Finally they understood. 5th company HAD fortified the ridge.
They had, after all, always carried out thier orders very well.
Once It might have been a mound of dirt, but those days were over.
A mound of snow.
Why take it? What is it worth? Thought Bryan Dorf. Crisp snowflakes obscured his vision through the rebreather issued to the Guardsmen after 20 reported casualties severe frostbite. It had not been a pretty sight. Men and women being pulled by thier squadmates on stretchers with a missing limb, the tip nothing but pure ice. The cries from the surgery room. It was a cold winter on Ranryan.
Really cold.
5th company marched across the wintry wasteland, ridge 400 well in sight. The commisars, with thier watchful eyes, and stone-cold hearts, as cold as a million Ranryan winters, kept a steely gaze on the marching men. They reached the ridge by 1200 hours. The ridge stretched for miles. Here and there, muzzle-flashes and gunfire could be heard, but as far as Bryan cared, they were just backround sounds. He didnt care.
He hadnt cared for a lot of things since his family had been killed in the mass bombardment. Seeing it as an honourable way to commit suicide, he joined the Imperial Guard.
He who has nothing can still give his life.
"INCOMING!"
The words were clear, but by the time Bryan registered them, he found himself flying. How? what was happening? Then falling. Digging? No, wait, he was being proppelled into the snow. What was happening? Snow, snow everywhere. He saw but could not feel. he was in a hole. buried in snow. Blasts. Explosions. bits of charred meat and limbs, and even the odd body still mostly intact flew all around his red, blurry vision.
Its raining men.
Bits of them at least.
He heard again. Explosions. Blasts. Screams. Guns. Heaps of melted slush flew, superheated by the ordnance bombardment. bryan became aware finally that the enemy was bombarding them on this ridge, this heap of snow, this useless peice of rugged nature.
Bryan picked himself up, and fell down again. Extreme pain came to him, as he felt again. he felt ice. he felt fire. Fire from the burning pain coming from the sinewy remains of his right leg. He screamed. Screamed till he lost his voice and nothing but blood clogged his mouth. Darkness took him. Fire enveloped him. Ice covered him. The two elements fighting in his dead body. He saw his mother. He saw the bombing. The garbled symphony of war once again dimmed, and he became no more.
Bodies covered the ridge. Blood soaked it. Craters pock-marked the once aesthetic natural beauty of the landscape. 6th company marched up the side 5th company had 12 hours ago. It was night. The orders they had been given by the commisars was puzzling. Meet with 5th company and hold the ridge. 5th company was supposed to have fortified it yesterday. But nothing except thier broken bodies was left remaining.
It was clear the enemy had bombarded the ridge, and had exterminated all of 5th company. loses were substantial. The guradmen looked around, a cold feeling settled in thier guts, colder than the Ranryan winter. Colder than the hearts of the commisars.
Then came the order.
"GET DOWN"
Bullets rained down on the guardsmen. But they were well trained. They threw themselved onto the red snow. But what cover was there? The ridge had no natural barriers, and the 5th had failed in thier mission. The only cover was thier dead bodies. The guardsmen crouched behind thier former comrades, firing back at the approaching enemy. Finally they understood. 5th company HAD fortified the ridge.
They had, after all, always carried out thier orders very well.
