Chapter I
Chapter I
Death of a Guardsmen
Larnegin Perenza was sitting on one of the many wood supports for his trench. Of course they weren't called wood, but flak board cut specifically for these newly dug trenches. It has only been two emperor damned months in this stinking mired mid pit of death and hell. Looking up the trenches small view-port built into the lip for periscopes he saw the blasted crater fittingly called “No man's land”. This is how a guardsmen died for the god emperor, unloved and uncared for in the stinking black dirt ground of this accursed planet called Sigma Seven Fourteen, or some other planet who's name would scarcely be remembered.
It was not all bad, he knew that after six grueling months here they would be shipped out for fresher units from orbit. They thankfully had air superiority, not like it mattered much as the damned creatures rightfully named mutants had somehow gotten AA guns online. Large, and menacing they towered behind the front and tertiary lines of the enemy’s trenches, mockingly out of range of their Air and artillery support. In the enemy's front trench he saw spikes and body’s and heads from men who died in battle on their lines, set as grim, vomit inducing reminders of the evil of Chaos. His eyes drawing back now he saw the details of what was in the no man's land. Every where he saw craters slowly filling with rapidly stagnating water. He saw the occasional bloated dead body of both sides. He saw where he last hid with his other squaddies last charge, a shallow crater with rusting razor wire covering the lip. Commissar almost shot them for cowardice, but he saved the man's life as he informed him of the smart thing and kicked his legs down just in time for the troopers behind him to be incinerated by plasma fire. The commissar had a small change of heart then. Wasn't long before they were forced back again. Pulling out of that crater he saw every where discarded and degrading equipment, every once in a while he saw the lines of barbed and razor wire around.
He was brought back to the trench when someone patted his shoulder. Looking round suddenly surprised he fell on his arse as he slipped off the support. Laughter dwindled around as the troopers around him had a laugh at his expense. Not like it matter, looking at his comrades around him he saw them grimy and muddy just like him. Their laughs were choked out and hoarse as they warmed their hands around heat packs and small lamp fires in the dawning light. The man who patted him was one of his closest friends, Janeson Corren, a handsome looking man in his thirties with tight cropped black wet hair and a impish look to his face and blue eyes of ice. “Hey Larns!” He said with a enthusiasm rarely seen in the veteran soldiers of the 10th Vernesta Marines. Looking around the trench space he sighed. It was built on a tiny hill if you could call that, on the front trench. Looking to his left he saw to the end of the fire step and the heavy weapon, then 5 more meters then it suddenly zagged out for artillery security. Seeing around he saw the flak board newly cut hold back the dirt. To his right he saw some men lighting Iho smokes as they called them, they had a black end and a white shaft. The black part was where you sucked to get the smoke from. They called it obscura and was technically a contraband, but no one enforced that rule saying how it was a waste to write them up for something so small.
The fire step was well worn and had dried dirt caked where boots had once stood. He saw one man currently on it using a periscope searching the enemy lines. The man was also Venestian in ancestry. He had the flying black trench-coat , and the bowled helmet that they were all equipped with. If the man were to face him he would see underneath his Carapace armor for trench storming, and the more flexible but strong flak padding for his arms and legs. He had his lasgun slung along his back. Seeing this Larnegin returned to what he had been doing, cleaning his own weapon. It was a rifle about 1.5 meters long, longer then his arm. It's stock was a wooden stock made from a fine wood on his home called Carensta. Feeling it he smiled as he remembered the soft wood trees of home. They were always so nice. He knew he may never return to that place once more. But that was the life of a servant of the mighty Imperium. “Age amicus meus!” His friend said in high gothic. Loosely translated meant, “Up my friend.” Looking at Janeson, Larnegin finally gave in.
“Whats wrong?” He asked his close friend. He smiled and motioned for him to start walking with him. “Sarge wants ya. Didn't ask why, he didn't say.” Larnegin nodded. Walking past a sign to his left towards no man's land it said in his native tongue, “Осторожно! Мины вперед!“ A warning of what lies ahead. “When did da' sappers get the mines out?” Larnegin asked, “The sappers didn't do a damn thing.” Larnegin knew what that meant. Chaos mines, the worst mine of all. If the boom doesn't get ya the infection sure will.
Then Janeson took a left into a bunker built into the wall. Pushing past the gas curtains the bunker was a barracks for his fellow members of his platoon. Smiling he heard soft singing along with a guitar playing. Looking over he saw in the corner men singing the military's anthem from where they all came from. They all sang with great pride even as they sang with great hope. Larnegin passed a mirror where someone had just shaved as a lukewarm bowl of water was below the mirror. Looking into it he saw his face for the first time in at least a day, he had a jutting chin that rounded on the bottom but gave him a vulpine like look to him. His cheeks were drawn and pale giving him a almost sickly look to him as well. His eyes were sunken but did not diminish the piercing gaze of someone who was driven, just deep sapphire green pools of determination. His hair was cut short and black white like many from his home. He also saw he needed to wash as well.
Janeson stood infront of Sargent Caref and saluted at attention, “Sir as you requested.” He said with his trademark enthusiasm. Saluting back with precision he said, “At ease Janeson, get yourself some rest.” Janeson nodded and went to the others and added in his voice with a corner stone of tune, “.......If death don't bring you fear, then death ain't brought by no marine!” They all coursed with pride swelling. Standing infront of his Sargent, Larnegin waited for the message, “Larn how have you been?” Caref said as he returned the salute and motioned for him to sit. The bunker was a bug out barrow, but the men did what they could to keep it clean and tidy from all the dirt. The sarge was a rare breed in the officers core, hell the whole regiments command structure was. The officers cared for the men like they were their offspring themselves, many other regiments looked with envy in their eyes as they felt the pressing whip of their arrogant officers in their backs.
“Fine sir. Glad you asked. I got my inoculations and all. Whats this about?” Caref sighed and sat up more attentively. “Commissar Jard is commending you for your valor in saving his life last time. He also notes that he wants you to be field promoted for some reason.” Larnegin was shocked. It was rare for promotions like these, especially from someone like Jard. Jard was a hard man to impress and as he had seen many great heroes and soldiers. He had carefully cultivated himself as a good army Chaplin and commissar, dealing out both battle field reprimands and punishments and moral and religious support often unseen by others of his cadre. Many respected him as a good man. “Now we have no platoon openings for you, but even if we did I feel you are unready for command,” Caref brought Larnegin out of his mental dreaming, “But the Commissar wants you higher up. So I'm promoting you to Corporal, I will be taking you under my wing after to train.” Caref smiled. He had been in need of a second in command after his previous man died in the last charge. Caref then heard some chatter on the vox radio. “Excuse me Larn. You should go and get some rest as well.” Larnegin was about to leave when Caref stopped him again and said, “Oh and before I forget.” He got a small cardboard box out, “Welcome to the officers cadre Corperal Perenza.......”
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