Donnerstag, 20. Januar 2011

Feldbericht 1-90120-11 Loader Ditter - Part 2

One after another they came walking onto the marketplace. But they didn’t seem to be in any hurry. At first they were two then three and then it seemed like a Group of at least a dozen. Some of the roamed like a love drunken youngster after his first kiss. Not like they where at war. The wailing of the Feldwebel was gone. He seemed to have beard up against his pain and tried to press his tight with his bare hands to stop the bleeding. That seemed to displease the advancing squad of xenos. One of them, wearing an armor decorated with an absurd amount of spikes, raised some kind of pistol and fired another shard at the lying Feldwebel. It embedded itself in his right arm and he spasmd in pain. Unable to stop the bleeding of any of his wounds. Frankly that didn’t seem to satisfy the pistol wearer. He fired another shard at the Feldwebel’s head, and ended his life immediately. The pistol wearer then seemed to say, or vox something to his group and the hidden gun crew thought to hear laughter. A cruel and bitter xenos laughter.

Wesselsky had seen his share of brutality in his soldier’s life. He was young, only twenty-one standard years old, but has seen in his three years of service enough brutality from men against men. But these xenos were something completely different. They were way beyond cruelty. For them it seemed like a thing you even don’t think about. Like swatting a krikfly with your hand. With even no need to see if the insect has died by the strike or simply has been scared away.
Every part of Wesselsky’s life and upbringing urged him to kill these abominations. These were xenos, the enemies of mankind and its unquestioned rule of the galaxy. And if not that, they have killed one of his own this very moment like he was some stray dog. The Schütze hold the trigger string of the lascannon. But he had to wait. They haven’t come here by foot. There must be some transport, or emperor helps some kind of a tank. He hoped that the screams and the shouting had at least woken the Grenadier Trupp in the Schulz’s mansion. When the Trupp took control of the building they found the wine cellar barely touched. How their discipline has hold since then Wesselsky doesn’t know, but he couldn’t shake of the thoughts that the whole squad was lying and snorting in that building. Completely drunk after two days of feasting. With his anti tank cannon he had no chance against these killers.

The xenos group was advancing to the mansion. The marktplatz was still occupied by several empty wooden booths. And the enemy troopers did seem to be always in the near of one or another kind of cover, how swaggering their kind to walk looked. But the mansion had their attention as the emergency vox beacon was positioned under the roof of the building. From the outside, the mansion looked like it has two days ago. No sign of activity, fortification or anything else. This changed in an instant. Perfectly executed, the fire ambush sprung. Ten laser shots punched out of the windows of the building in unison. Two enemy soldiers went to the ground immediately. As their limbs lay they wouldn’t stand up on this side of the warp again. Three other xenos took also laser hits but their armor seems to shrug of the deadly effects. In a blink of an eye the surviving xenos where in cover and returning fire. Both sides tried to take potshots at the others but it was a stalemate. This seemed to change as on of the windows on the right side of the building was smashed open from the inside. The Grenadier Trupp brought their heavy stubber to bear. The belt feed machine gun began a second later to spit bullets towards the xenos. The Emperors-saw as it was named by the common soldiers was already hammering the xenos into defense and began to shred away several wooden covers like barrels and overturn market tables.

Still no one seemed to have taken notice of the covered anti tank team. The xenos where to occupied with the fight at their hands and Loader Ditter spoke his thoughts,
‘Let’s kill that scum and give them what they deserve.’

Wesselsky was spared an explanation as the firing position of the heavy stubber and a good part of the building on the left side erupted in an explosion of purple fire. His eyes could have been played a trick, but he thought he saw the upper half of a human body spit out of the mansions window. The transporter has arrived and taken its side in the firefight. It looked like a boat, more at home on some kind of peaceful river than the battlefield. Except that it was flying, painted in different shades of black and bustling with even more spikes and a big energy gun at its bow.

Wesselsky waited for that moment, but now as it was there he didn’t quite like it. The xenos transport was at the left side of their position, completely out of their guns fire arc. They had expected the enemy to attack from the north. Exactly where the xenos troopers where attacking, as this was the quickest way to their presumed base of operation. Their transport must have flanked the small city and attacked form the southwest, or they just decided to appear from thin air. So it will all been decided by one good shot, if we get out one at all the Schütze thought. He turned to the Loader Ditter who was shaking heavily again.
‘Listen boy, you know the drill. You grab the right stabilizer and I the left. Then we turn 90 degrees to the left. Klar!?’
Ditter waited a full second before answering and said then weakly,
‘Gut, execution!’
Wesselsky grabbed with his left hand the wrist of the left stabilizer rail which went on the backside of the gun to hold the gun into position after each shot. As it was an energy based weapon it has usually no recoil. But this was a gun made on Baran. Produced in the machine cult sanctified factories of Kellersitz Primus they where made with the materials available. That meant inferior materials, thus a substandard focusing lens was used. Through the open focusing camber the very air in front was ignited by the firing laser beam. Resulting in some heavy recoil based on temperature and air moisture. And at this rainy weather it would kick out like a heavy grox bull.
Wesselsky risked a last view through the lens and the scene wasn’t a promising one. With the help of the transport the enemy had the Grenadiers in the house pinned and the transporter cleared on window after another with its bow mounted gun. Ditter grabbed the right stabilizing rail and hold with the other the cannons heavy battery.
Wesselsky began to count,
‘1, 2, 3 Go!’
To lift the two backside rails was difficult enough. The rain had made the earth soggy and it was more mud than earth else. They began to turn the gun to the left and began to sweat at that very moment. The wet ground smacked as they tried to move the tires of the gun carriage. They turned half the way when the barrel of the gun was caught in one of the bushes branches. They coughed and had almost dropped the gun but managed to hold on. The branch though was still there and preventing them from moving it further to the left.
’Fifteen centimeters back!’ Wesselsky ordered.
They pulled the gun back and then turned it further, but they were discovered already.

to be continued…

Mittwoch, 19. Januar 2011

Feldbericht 1-90120-11 Loader Ditter - Part 1

"Machine spirit, please take my gift though you may strike his enemies as he has given us the gift of living."
Loader Ditter, Operation Emperors Garden

At warseer is a guy with a death Korps of Krieg thread where he builds a new Squad and then publishes a short story for it. As I will never produce such an output on stories and perfectly modelled models like this genius I will simply try my humble story here and there and creep along with my own project.

The rain found its way through the camouflage net easily. Not that the net wouldn’t be completely drenched after three days of constant rain anyway. It still bothered Loader Ditter that not only he was completely wet and lying in a pool of cold water for the last two days, but also got a fresh supply of ice cold water from the heaven. Ask and the Emperor provides, that would have said his father in such a situation. Not aloud and not of course if some stranger or official persons where present. He looked left and saw Schütze Wesselsky curled up on the dirty ground, snorting like a grox. Very fitting thought Ditter, only that grox’s didn’t stink as much as the sleeping soldier. They haven’t slept in proper fieldbeds since a week, not to think of the chance to clean or shave. The nearby Trupp of Grenadiers who have taken the house on the right side as a field post haven’t such problems. They where in dry rooms with probably a well in the kitchen and some private place to get rid of the field rations they where eating for weeks.

The former occupants of the house, or a more appropriate name would be mansion was maybe the towns Schulz. Where he was now? Ditter doesn’t know and doesn’t care. Maybe the Schulz thought that in the crisis the people of this little town could look after themselves and left his position or which was more likely he was taken away by the xenos filth that was harassing that planet for half a year. Six month in which the Baran Troops tried to bring that enemy to a fight. But the xenos where avoiding the imperial troops. If the Baran Division where massing at the A2 named main road, then the xenos would attack some supply convoys in the hinterlands. If the troops spread thin then they where amassing and taking on a single Kampfgruppe after another. Ditter didn’t get any real reports of course, but he had his ears here and there. And soldiers talk. But since the last two days he was here, hiding in the garden of the Schulzs Mansion. Hiding with an anti tank field gun the size of a kübelcar. They had taken position in a group of three brushes and put the camouflage net on top of it. From 5 meters away you couldn’t even tell by the eye that they where there. But only for the eye. Ditter tried not to think what evil devices the xenos have at their disposal to find hidden enemies.
He tried to shift his position to get one or two centimeters closer to the shield of the PAL 38. There he would be at least protected from half of the rain. His hands at least where dry. He had put them under the tarpaulin which protected the lascannons battery from the wet. At the beginning of the campaign he had seen a soldier getting flogged for letting the battery caught water. At the test firing of the gun, the battery was simply worn out and the gun was virtually without any use. Well, that soldier wouldn’t do that mistake again, and Ditter didn’t dare to let them be without proper power when the moment arrived. Or get flogged too which was even more motivation to avoid it.

Maybe he should also take a nap like the Schütze. Take some sleep and wait until the action start, or someone higher up decides that this ambush was a stupid idea after all. Activating an emergency vox beacon in an almost empty town in the hinterlands. Predicting that an administratum official was stranded here and need evacuation. After two days the xenos wouldn’t be that stupid to came here anymore or believe that story. Also the transmission was encrypted and in their imperial tongue. Ditter doubts that the xenos could even understand it.
Just pack together and get back to the field camp. Eat, sleep, get dry and see if some amusement could be arranged. His thoughts of a particular very female amusement was cut short when there was muffled sound.
‘Oh scheiße, Wesselsky you stinking….’, but his hissed accusations where cut short as he heard that sound again. But this time it was followed by a series of piercing sounds, like someone was throwing knifes. He shivered but not of the cold. The xenos must be here. The human-takers, stories to scare children in his youth have set fear in some hardened veterans recently. But, by the emperor, where was Feldwebel Kessel. He is the commanding NCO of this mission and had sat the last two days with them in this position and waiting for the enemy to come. And now the enemy was here, and the Feldwebel gone. And that grox Wesselsky is still grunting like he is on baran at home.
He peaked past the protection shield of the field gun through the maze of the camouflage net and saw the last moments of the Feldwebels life.

He cam in view at the left side of the marktplatz. A square to sell and buy goods of the nearby farms. Before the xenos came of course. Despite the rain he was clearly visible as he wore his white underwear and was running as fast as he could towards the Schulz’s mansion. Actually it wasn’t very fast as he was obviously wounded and that wound has already painted his right side in a deep red.  He was screaming for help and for the emperor. Where his uniform was or his weapon Ditter could not tell. But he had the idea that not all of the former inhabitants had left the town, or where caught earlier.
The Feldwebel was getting slower, his wound draining the power from him. He was half over the platz when there was another series of slicing sounds, but this time the soldier saw the projectiles. Tiny knives or pieces of sharp metal flew towards the Feldwebel and impacted with his right leg. The flesh seems to vaporize in a cloud of red mist. The NCO hit the ground, screaming like he was set on fire. From his knee downwards his leg was a mess of sliced flesh and bone. Ditter have never heard a man scream in such pain in his soldier’s life. Death screams or last words, yes, lots of it. But this was pure pain, and the shot was not meant to kill the man in the open. Only to inflict pain. He had to act quickly; he took the battery from under the tarpaulin and tried to connect it to the heavy power cable feeding the lascannon. But his hands where shaking and the wailing of the Feldwebel was not helping either. At least Wesselsky was waking up.
‘By the emperor ba…’ he began, but was cut short when Ditter kicked his helmeted head as hard as he could. Enraged Wesselsky turned around only to see the terror in the loaders face. He understood fast enough that leisure time was over and peered through the gunshields slit. But there was no one to see except the heavily wounded soldier, he turned to Ditter. ‘Calm down boy, calm down’ he whispered to him.
He hated it when the only two year older Wesselsky called him like that. But he was saying the truth, Ditter tried to calm down and recited the litany of quick reloading. His hands shacked less as he concentrated on the text, a hundred times spoken. He managed to put the power cable in the batteries slot. The machine spirit of the lascannon gratefully hissed a merely audible whining sound. He nodded to Wesselsky. The Schütze nodded back and looked again through the tiny slit.

The black clad xenos were approaching.