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Post by silence on Jun 15, 2014 21:57:40 GMT
Trask stood at the head of his formation behind the lead chimera with his other two Sentinel`s to each side, his company in a wedge shape. The Commander and Commissar were both in their chimera, and everything seemed in order. "Now to get things moving," Trask said before keying his vox to the Regiment command channel.
"Captains, the time has come to assault the fortress. You all have your orders, and I know you will carry them out, so let us get this shit storm of an assault going." With that he switched to his own company`s channel.
"Alright ladies, lets show those chaos scum what its like to feel the justice of the emperor, the first one into the fortress gets my rations for a month. So lets get going and do what we do best. Company roll forward at charge speed."
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Post by Darko on Jun 16, 2014 6:09:00 GMT
Captain Black strode out of the command center, having to duck on his way out of the doorway. He paid the plan little thought. They were essentially running at the enemy's guns, praying to the Emperor that they didn't get shot. Other than the obvious disadvantage of assaulting a fortified position, it wasn't much different from most of his plans. Go to the enemy, and beat the righteousness of the Emperor into them.
He reached where his company were preparing. His features remained cold and unflinching as stone, impassive to the men he passed. Several older men nodded respectfully at him as he passed, to which he responded in kind, whereas the younger guard hurried to salute. He ignored them as he walked by. One person he passed was Garvel, the company banner bearer, and he reverently clasped his bear-like hands around the cold metal pole of the flag. Garvel let him have it without comment, and went back to checking his pistol.
A munitions truck was parked more or less in the middle of his company's camp, and he hauled himself onto the top of the driver's compartment. A few heads turned but for the most part the soldiers of the first company continued meandering about, attending to their various equipment or finishing a mug of recaf. The Colonel would be doing the flag routine with the regimental standard. Captain Black was a man of pride however, and refused to have the first company be anything but the finest in the regiment.
Raising his left arm straight up, the dull metal of the armoured fist faintly reflecting the early morning light, he made a subtle hand movement that resulted in the mounted boltgun shooting. A single shot spat out into the sky, the bolter's bark likely audible for a good distance. All the birds in nearby trees flew away into the sky, startled by the noise. The men below all stopped what they were doing and looked at him, wandering around to form a circle around the truck. He waited until he could see hundreds in every direction, then spoke. His voice was deep and rough, and he pulled a hand vox-projector from his belt.
"Listen up you ugly bastards, there's this great big fortress out there and it's our orders to take it. The breach point is this thing's side door, and we've got several miles of barren land with hundreds of guns aimed in our direction. It's our job to run up the right and stick our boots so far up their arseholes they can taste leather." He paused for a moment, unfolding the company standard. It rippled in the wind, displaying the iconography of the first company: a metal fist over a great golden aquila. In one corner a great Thracian forest lion was depicted. Across the top and bottom, the company's personal motto was displayed: Take the fight to the enemy and crack their skulls open with it
"Many of you have been with me for years, some since the regiment was founded. The rest of you are a bunch of white-shield reinforcements and there's a few things you should now. If you are weak, you will die. If you are afraid, you will die. If you are slow, you will die. If you don't sprint your lazy arse to the enemy lines and kill one of the bastards, I will drag you to the Commissar and watch her kick your head in until the Emperor himself gets off his Throne and tells her otherwise.
This standard WILL fly above the corpses of those miserable dog-fucking traitors, and unless every last one of you is dead then it will not fall to the ground, or so help me I will come back from the dead and bite your arms off!
First company, who are we?”
“The first and finest!” the assembled guardsmen shouted back. The veterans knew it off by heart and most of the new recruits would've been told about the chant by now.
“What do we do?”
“Lots of running!”
“Where are we going?”
“To ruin some bastards day!”
“Then let's get a fucking move on you lazy cunts, there are heretics that need murdering,” he shouted, jumping off the truck and moving through the crowd towards the front of the camp. The men hurried to finish what they were doing and follow their commander. Most were ready to go and just a few of the greens were a bit slower than the rest.
Garvel and the other members of his command squad caught up to him and he handed the company banner back to its appointed keeper. Garvel was a gruff, ragged man with a scruffy beard who appeared to be anything but a well-trained soldier. In truth, he was a cold-blooded killer and it was a running joke through the company that he couldn't be killed. The man had both of his arms blown off by an explosion once and he picked what was left of the standard up in his mouth and kept on walking towards the enemy. He had since received bionic replacements, which earned him the nick-name skeleton hands.
The other three men were named Gaunt, Thrace and Cutter. Those weren't their real names, but no one ever referred to them by anything other than their nick-names. In the first, names were generally earned and a mark of respect.
Gaunt was the oldest man in the regiment, simply because he pre-dated it. He'd served in a separate Thracian infantry regiment and when it was all-but wiped out after decades of combat, he and the other survivors were sent back home. However, feeling that his service to the Emperor was not yet over, he stowed away on board the troop ships of the 31st before they left home. Eventually he was eventually discovered by one of captain Black's squads and brought to him, but not before knocking four guardsmen out cold before the rest of the squad tackled him to the floor.
Black had been so impressed with the sheer audacity of the old veteran that he gave him a place in the regiment and the higher ups were none the wiser that their regiment was one-man stronger than it should have been. He got the name Gaunt because his face had a certain haggardness weariness about it, attributed to the sheer amount of war that he'd seen. Or, it might have possibly been his gaunt features. Either way, it was fitting and he had the unwavering respect of every man in the company.
Thrace was so named because he was a 'true patriot' – the man loved his homeworld from as long as he can remember and he lied about his age to join the Guard two years early. Originally he'd been a reckless hot-head, overconfident and brash. He barely scraped through basic training, constantly failing team-based training activities by always trying to be a hero. Nonetheless, he made it into the Guard and his recklessness was tempered by experience over time.
Yet his furious and vicious nature in combat never left him, making him a welcome sight on the battlefield. Off duty he would never shut up about the homeworld, singing the national anthems and seemingly knowing everything there was to know about the planet (which it turned out was due to him having eidetic memory). For that he was well liked – he reminded the men of home. In many ways, he was the heart and soul of the company.
Cutter got his name because he was the squad medic. More than that, he's the best medic in the whole damn regiment, or so he boasts. The First are always on the front lines and he's seen men die in just about every way possible. He's also patched up innumerable soldiers, with the vets joking that not one amongst them hasn't been under his scalpel. He is bitter and sarcastic, something most assume is due to how much first-hand death he sees.
The truth is that he came from noble background and was tutored from a young age to be a surgeon in the largest city of Thracia. However, his family fell out of favour and were reduced to ruin. Disgruntled and out of options, he signed up for the guard as a grunt in order to make a living. His particular set of skills quickly marked him out from the rest and it didn't take long for him to become the command squad's medic.
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Warrender
Rising Legend
Currently suffering longterm absence from the site
Posts: 698
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Post by Warrender on Jun 16, 2014 8:33:23 GMT
Stark grinded his teeth as he grinned. The orders had just come over the vox as well as the data confirming the positioning of his targets. Without this, he'd be firing blind as he and his crew were unable to see the enemy positions from their hidden vantage point.
His eyes glanced his crew as he walked along the rear of the machines, all lined up and ready to fire. Several soldiers kept their eyes forward, watching for any signs of enemy patrols that could give away their position.
"Alright you maggots!" he bellowed "Time to show what we can do. There's only one thing I hate more than a Heretic! And that's an breathing Heretic!"
He gestured his hand, pointing towards the group "Group one, set your targets to these co-ordinates" He rattled off several numbers and the crew diligently started to pull on controls and push levers, the cranking of metal squealing as the hunking monstrosities came to bear on the planned target. "Do not stop firing until told to, I want those towers levelled so you could fit a titan in the crater! ... Group two, set your target to these co-ordinates, be prepared to adjust telemetry frequently, we're going to be covering our boys and you know they ain't going to get nowhere without the most important people in the Imperium backing them all the way"
He allowed a grin, and several crew members chuckled as they began to also pull on the levers causing more loud squealing of metal on metal. Then all of a sudden, silence again, the guns remained deathly still, and silent, waiting for the order to fire. Stark slowly walked back to the command table at the rear of the guns. He looked at the radio operator, his eyes fixated on the huge radio system as he turned dials and flicked switched, his hand pressing against the headphone covering his ear. As stark approached the operator met his gaze and silently shook his head, they hadn't received the order to fire.
Stark growled angrily then muttered quietly under his breath to no one in particular "Hurry up, I want to blow shit up!"
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Post by Scrazz' on Jun 16, 2014 21:35:27 GMT
Racine looked at his wrist watch again, his companies should almost be in attack position. He was seated in one of Vartunk's chimeras. With him was his small command squad, including Garnett. Commissar Whitehall had joined them as well, and faced opposite to the Colonel.
The colonel reached for the horn of the in-build vox set of the Command Chimera after which he dialed the private channel to Captain Stark.
"Captain Stark,This is the Colonel, give 'em hell. I want a ten minute barrage before our forces charge in. Blast those whores to oblivion Stark. Over"
Colonel Racine now switched to a channel all captains shared.
"Listen up, this is the colonel. Stark will blast the enemy position for a good ten minutes, after that we attack. Hopefully the barrage will get those fuckheads off their feet. The artillery will then adjust their fire to our ground assault. Get to your positions,and remember Victory First, Death Later! For the Emperor!"
As soon as he finished he could hear the earthshakers blasting away and he felt the ground shake as they fired. This would be a fine day for the 31st, he thought. Bloody, but a fine victory nevertheless.
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Post by halonachos on Jun 17, 2014 0:41:57 GMT
Kraye had finished setting up his men in a proper gun line, he wanted to make sure they were spaced enough so that any incoming enemy artillery wouldn't take too many out at once while allowing teams to work together on the same emplacements. It was a carefully planned and coordinated effort to also ensure that they wouldn't cause too much rustling in the foliage, the guns had been rubbed with dirt to reduce reflection off of their barrels.
"Attack should hopefully start a bit later." Kraye said as he leaned against a tree behind his men, most of them were still somewhat tired from jogging all the way to their position and Kraye himself could feel sweat pooling along his lower back and pits. Kraye flicked on his microbead for some last minute adjustments to his line, "Remember your roles, bolters should focus on anything moving around on top of the fortifications, autocannons should focus on the emplacements as should the lascannons. If you think you can hit a loaded cannon from here then feel free to try.". A direct hit to a loaded shell would do wonders against the emplacement and it's crew, the explosion would look great on his record as well.
"Gabe, what kind of trees do you think these are?" trooper Jemel asked over the bead.
"Keep chatter to official business." Kraye said.
"Sir, with respect sir I might be allergic to these leaves." Jemel replied. "Trooper Kowaltz knows about all sorts of trees."
"Continue." Kraye allowed the chatter to continue as he drank from his spiked canteen.
"Uh, these are the rare Leaf trees, most noted for growing leaves." trooper Gabe Kowaltz answered.
"No shit." Jemel said with scorn, "But I got this rash on my... you know what."
"Dammit, trooper!" Kraye said with surprise, "See medical if we survive about your crotch rot, now is not the time to be talking about it. Besides, the only thing you're allergic too is hygiene. Next time we get back to camp I will personally see to it that you wash yourself!"
"Sir, does this mean you're going to wash me?" Jemel asked and soft chuckles could be heard along the entirety of the line.
"Jemel, I am going to spray you down with a firehose, stomp your face into the dirt, and then spray you again when we get back to camp. Is that, huh?" Kraye was interrupted by his vox operator. The attack order had been given to the artillery and bombardment was going to begin soon. "Jemel, we'll finish this later. Men we have incoming friendly artillery, adjust your entrenchment if you start getting hit in the head with some loose stones."
The resounding boom from the basilisks echoed even through the ground they were dug into, a few loose leaves fell on top of Kraye as he stood there. With a final chug of his canteen he made his way back to the makeshift command trench they had hastily dug in, no boards in place but at least it wasn't ground level anymore. Today was about to be very, very long.
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Post by Lord Harrab on Jun 17, 2014 1:04:15 GMT
"This is Commissar Whitehall to all Guardsmen of the 31st Tharcian Infantry Regiment, You have your orders. The Warmaster might have placed us here at this sidegate for his own reasons while our brothers earn Glory at the main gate, but imagine their envy, brothers, when we crack this gate open and take the fortress for them! Imagine what your families back home will feel when word of our triumph reaches them. For we will be victorious this day, we have the might of the Imperium at our backs and The Emperor's hand on our shoulders, and you will not bring shame to them all by failing. Let us destroy this blight together and leave them dead in our boot prints, unworthy of pity or even remembrance. Blessed are those who stand before the Darkness. For the Imperium and for Tharcia, Stand firm and shoot true. Whitehall out."
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Post by Warork on Jun 17, 2014 4:39:44 GMT
"I want the entire treeline picketed at these sectors." Captain Cutter said as he pointed one of his fingers at a map that lay in front of him of the general area. He had requested one from the Colonel after the officer's briefing about their mission and though it was several years old, he saw that the area they had been assigned to stage at had not changed much since it had been made.
"I want the company stretched out by platoon to cover all the angles we've been given. Make sure you observe proper spacing, I wont have one errant shell taking out a whole squad of my men." He continued. Cutter had made his company command post not five hundred feet from the edge of the trees where his scouts had already dug in and were currently keeping their eyes on the fortress below as well as the defenses in front of it. Around him were his company officers and a few other individuals he'd handpicked for attendance in this meeting. Each one of them knelt at a low, flat rock in the middle of the forest floor where Cutter had placed the large map of the area for everyone to see.
"Egram and Wekolitz take the east flank while Petyrs and Joakim take the west. We might not have enough men to surround the entirety of both flanks but at least from our vantage here on the edge of the trees we can see whatever they might try to move."
Cutter had made the company CP next to the trail that his men were currently using to get to the frontl line. All around them were the sounds of boots crunching through leaves and underbrush. Cutter could hear a few curses in the distance as well as the voices of his troops chuckling over their crude, unheard jokes.
"Our orders are to hold this area we've been assigned until further notice. Seems like we're in reserve for the main assault but dont get too comfortable. I want the entire company ready to move at a moment's notice." His officers all nodded solemnly, they all knew that fourth company's strength was in its mobility and furthermore that their Captain always meant to play his strengths to the enemy's weakness.
"What of the other companies, sir?" Lieutenant Egram asked.
"First, second and fifth companies are to lead the assault right up the middle with third company volleying support fire on the curtain walls of the fortress."
"Those poor bastards." Egram said with a slight smile that quickly faded. All the officers looked up from the map as the sound of shouting further off into the forest came to their ears.
"Speaking of third company," Cutter said. "That would be them now. Kraye will be moving his men up next to ours. Do try to stay behind or beside them...you know how bad their aim is." The rest of the officers chuckled slightly at the joke as they all looked back to the map.
"Starks' boys will be providing artillery support for the assault and the Colonel and Commissar are both going to be down there with Black and the rest so as you move don't worry too much about stepping on any toes. Just stay low. Remember, they can't hit what they can't see."
At this point Cutter pulled on his wool glove to see the chronometer on his wrist. He mumbled something to himself and then turned to one of the assembled group, a rough looking man with three long scars down one side of his head. The man was dressed in heavy camouflage and a camo cloak and held a long las in his hands.
"That brings me to our other orders. Rikker, take your men down the east flank," Cutter chopped his hand roughly in an east-west motion. "There's a clearing half a klick that way that the scouts marked out as a good spot for sniping. No cover to block your sights. Hunker down there and keep the bastards in the trenches pinned down. Officers, vehicle and weapon crews, message runners, you know the drill."
Cutter turned to his immediate right. He was kneeling and the figure to his right was standing but their eyes met evenly. Cutter had to stop himself from smirking at the man's weapon. The sniper rifle slung on his back was taller than he was.
"Deeber, take your men down the west side. There's a slight ridge you'll come to that's another good sniping position."
"Yeh can count on us, boss." The ratling said as he took the smoking pipe out of his mouth, his accent making his short stature even more comedic. Behind him about a half dozen more small figures like him stood, all holding or having slung rifles that were longer than they were. The squad of diminutive creatures looked like jokes and Cutter knew of many men outside the regiment who had laughed upon seeing them, but he also knew some of those same men and women owed their lives to the ratlings in his company. They were his best shots, not even Rikker's men comparing to the steady hand and keen eye of the lecherous little sub humans.
"Good," Cutter said as he stood and gripped the lasgun that hung in front of his chest by the strap around his shoulder. "Hop to it. I want you in position before the assault starts. That goes for the rest of you too. Ge to your posts and remember what we say in battle."
"Fight for honor, fight for your life." His officers intoned.
"Pray to the Throne that our cause is right." Cutter finished. "You're all dismissed."
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He watched the trenches through his magnoculars. As the minute rolled by, Cutter's vox man gave let him listen to Trask's address to the regimental officers as well as Whitehall's address to the regiment at large. Cutter replied to each with a self aimed grunt and went back to work. Let the regiment's leadership say their words and make their oaths, at the end of the day action was the master of fate.
He got word that Deeber's and Rikker's men had found their final waypoints. In the quiet of his prone position, saying nothing and looking out over the battlefield through his scope as the assault advanced, he heard the tinny whining cracks of long las shots and the deep throaty bangs of sniper rifles in the distance. He couldn't see what his men were shooting at from his position, but Cutter had seen their effectiveness in battle before and he knew out there in the trenches, some traitors were having very bad days...perhaps even their last.
Suddenly Cutter put his magnoculars on his belt and stood up. His command squad that was currently taking cover behind a fallen tree near the main clearing took notice. Cutter turned to his vox man.
"Get me Kraye on the horn, I've got an idea that might make the assault's job easier."
The vox man hailed third company on his set and soon looked up to Cutter after a few moments. Cutter took the vox phone.
"Third actual, this is fourth actual copy? I've got an idea I want you to hear. I'll be at third company CP in five minutes. Out."
Five minutes later, Cutter was rolling up to Kraye's command post in a utility car with his command squad. He hopped out as the car stopped and saluted Kraye as he approached. Cutter stood a few inches shorter than the men around him but then again he was probably the shortest man in the regiment.
"I was sitting out there on the line, captain," Cutter began. "And a thought occurred to me. Both of our companies are occupying the same relative area. Your men have heavy weapons and mine have optics equipment and are used to spotting for the artillery. They're also stuck with their thumbs up their asses for the moment so why don't I have my officers coordinate with your weapons teams to help put the shots on target. I'm sure the Colonel would appreciate quality support fire for his assault."
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coolyo294
Iconic
Slayer of Demons
Posts: 1,169
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Post by coolyo294 on Jun 17, 2014 5:29:12 GMT
Klaine listened to the earthshakers rattle and boom as they fired off their pre-assault volley. Though there were only three of them, the guns still made a tremendous racket as they lobbed 132mm of high explosive death into the foul heretics assembled before them.
The lieutenant stood behind an idling chimera with the three other members of her command squad assembled alongside her. She had lit up another lho stick. Bassen, the platoon vox operator, crouched beside her as he listened intently to company and regimental chatter. The medic, Vaye, was making some last minute checks on his medi-pack. Klaine's bodyguard Stone also enjoyed one last lho stick before the assault began. None of them talked.
Eventually Stone broke the relative silence. "Those guns were supposed to go for ten minutes before we began the assault, right? They must've been going for that long now."
Klaine rolled back her sleeve and checked her watch. "They've been going for eight minutes now. Are you really that excited to dive headfirst into the shit, Stone?"
He laughed. "It's what we do best, ma'am."
"True enough. Bassen, give me the horn. I suppose I should say something to the men before we get going."
The short trooper nodded and handed the headset of the vox-set to her. He fiddled with the dial for a brief moment before speaking. "You're on the platoon vox channel now, ma'am."
Klaine nodded. "Men of the first platoon. I'm not going to bother with a fancy speech. I know you all know your jobs and will execute them to the utmost of your capabilities. Just remember to stay low in no man's land and never stay in one place too long. Let's show those lazy bastards in the 1st and 2nd what 5th company can do!"
Just then the pitch of the artillery changed as an order crackled across the company's general vox network. It was captain Kruger "5th company, advance."
The chimera Klaine and her squad had crouched behind suddenly shifted into gear and began rumbling towards the heretic fortress.
"This is it!" Klaine shouted. "1st platoon move out!"
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Warrender
Rising Legend
Currently suffering longterm absence from the site
Posts: 698
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Post by Warrender on Jun 17, 2014 9:01:48 GMT
A wolfish grin spread across his face as the radio operator suddenly glanced up and smiled "Confirmation received, 10 minute duration" he said, writing down the order into a little book next to him to assist in the report that would be written after the battle.
"Excellent" Stark mused and turned back to his beloved machines "FIRE!!" he bellowed, followed a second later by deafening booming noises as one by one the great machines spewed out their deadly cargo and sent them onto their intended targets. Within moments the area was being swamped by white smoke that drifted from the guns exhausts. As soon as one gun was fired its crew instantly set about reloading a shell ready to fire again. The loud clanking of metal as the fire chamber was opened and a new shell slide in place was muted by the sheer noise of the guns and only in the brief lull between shots could it be heard.
Stark watched in glee as his machines rained death upon the Emperor's enemies, their huge frames shaking violently with each shot as they blasted the shells skyward and created yet more white smoke that hung around the bases of the machines. Stark's next in command pulled off some readings from another machine on the same desk as the radio operator "Shells approaching target, Sir. Should impact any second"
"Time? Stark enquired. "One Minute, Sir. Reports now coming in. Impacts on target for enemy entrenchments, reporting severe damage to sections of the trench system from concentrated fire. Confirmation of hits against the towers ... minimal damage"
Stark gritted his teeth, angrily this time. He knew the trenches would fall easily to his shelling, THAT was not the problem. His only concern with the trenches was without them gone his Artillery would be unsupported from reprisal unless a full assault were to occur at the same time as the shelling, therefore the Trenches were a priority to ensure the safety of the platoons. He was not at all surprised at the lack of damage to the towers, they would require a little more persuasion before succumbing to his wraith.
"inform Group one to continue firing along current trajectory. I want those towers weakened or gone by the time our boys get there. Group two is to adjust trajectory to these co-ordinates on the next barrage" he quickly scrawled a set of numbers onto paper "I want the trench broken up into sections to disrupt their abilities to reinforce each other. On the following barrage Group two is to spread fire across the field and provide covering fire. Make sure we know how much progress our boys are making as I don't want to shell our boys. It takes a full minute for our shells to get there so we need to be thinking forward at all times" He preached, as if he was talking to a couple of recruits. They knew their duty and how to do it all to well, Stark even knew this, but the prospect of shelling one's own army always left a lump in his throat.
He knew that mistakes happen and was the inevitable outcome of bad planning or misinformation from the Generals. That didn't make it any easier. His concern for all troops on the battlefield no matter the regiment was one of the many reasons the men under his command loved him. His sheer determination to lambast any foe in his way balanced with his concern for the safety of those approaching his cylindrical shells of death.
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Post by halonachos on Jun 17, 2014 16:06:48 GMT
Kraye raised his brow to the suggestion coming from Cutter, "I don't know, it'a awfully hard to miss a tower like that." Kraye said indignantly as shells from the artillery blasted into it, "I mean look, even Stark managed to get his boys to land some hits."
"I meant for the more difficult kind of shots; caches, equipment, actual targets that would sever the quality of their defenses greatly." Cutter replied as if trying to explain the concept to a child. Kraye stared at Cutter for a few seconds while another chorus of thunder echoed through the forest.
"You want a fucking promotion, don't you?" Kraye accused.
"No, I want to win this battle." Cutter said curtly.
"Look, the artillery is pounding on that garrison they have there pretty hard. Sure, there hasn't been too much damage to the actual walls and towers but once the artillery lets up we'll start shooting in their general direction to keep their heads down while the assault occurs." Kraye shrugged as he took out his canteen and took a quick swig. "If you ask me, you've been listening to that commissar a bit too much and not enough to the good ol' Tactica Imperialis."
"You don't understand, do you?" Cutter asked Kraye. "This isn't about glory or a promotion, it's about keeping more of the assault groups alive."
"It's about you telling my men what to do, I gave them some pretty good orders and if they follow them it'll turn out exactly as planned." Kraye finished as the second volley of artillery hit the fortifications.
"Let's try this then, if it doesn't go as planned I report your declination of my support to the Colonel and the Commissar. I'm sure she'd be happy to learn about your canteen water's flavor additive." Cutter furrowed his brow as Kraye simply stared at him blankly.
"Coordinate with platoons 1 and 2." Kraye's answer came abruptly, "If you manage to make one of their towers go boom before 3, 4, or 5 then you can coordinate with the others. If you can't then my strategy is enough."
"Good, compromise in tactics is a great way to combine the best of two worlds. Glory in his name." Cutter walked away proudly.
"Yeah, glory in his name." Kraye slowly nodded, "Just keep my canteen out of any conversation you have with that commissar!" he shouted after Cutter who waved the back of his hand in response.
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