The General surveyed the battle field that the Reverend had suggested. Located in the gaza strip it sat over an abandoned city. The crumbling ruins lending an air of sadness to the battlefield. One Eye had yet to make an appearence so Karden had to make plans according to his expected deployment.
“First Company will check kit and advance to contact.” bellowed Captain Franklin.
The soldiers slotted magazines into their rifles, stowed kit or took a last look at a picture of a loved one. The captain set off at a careful walk, picking his way through the rubble of the killing zone. The 90 men and women at his back followed suit, their faces blank and hearts pounding.
Empty windows and blown in doorways glared accusingly at them as they passed. They reached the high water mark set by the General and began digging trenches. That was what made them soldiers and not just some rabble. They prepared their battlefield.
Private Richard Arthur hefted his shovel, spilling a mixture of stones and soil down the small incline at the lip of the emerging trench. He was sweating heavily under his armour but didn’t stop to remove some; he would need it soon anyway. He sent another shovelful of soil over the lip and stopped to drink from his canteen. Someone was shouting something further down the line. Richard couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Someone was whistling, a high pitched noise that overrode the sound of heavy breathing that was emanating from the diggers. Realisation hit Richard like a blow.
“Incoming!” he yelled and leapt down into the trench. Shells hammered into the ground all along the line, throwing those not quick enough to reach cover into the air. Thunder rolled, but it was not thunder, it was the sound of the guns firing. The god of war was speaking to them, with his voice of death. He was angry.
A dozen feet to Richards left the trench disappeared as a shell scored a direct hit. Dirt and body parts rained down on Richards hunched back. He screamed, the fear eating into him like a cancer, the man Richard died and only a primitive animal was left. Only the fear. His wails were lost amidst the fury of the storm. Then as quickly as it had struck, the shells ceased to smash the earth.
“Stay down!” someone was shouting. Richard uncurled from the foetal position that he found himself in. Mark from his squad was sitting a few feet away. He turned to Richard looking shocked,
“I kacked myself Richard. I f&*king shat my breeks.”
Richard ignored him and looked above the lip of the trench. Out in the open, a quarter of a mile from the edge of the killing zone, was a portal. Out of it spewed Red armoured shock troopers, banners and weapons held high. Even at this distance their shouting was audible.
“Contact front! Multiple enemies closing.”
“Get ready lads here the f&*ckers come.”
A light rain began to fall, wetting the upturned faces of the dead.
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