So here is a first sample of my Guardsmens memoir idea, written to convey my intended style. Its styalisticly modelled after With the Old Breed, by World War 2 Pacific theatre veteran Eugene Sledge, as a veteran recollecting their experience in war. Also when you see the term "hedgerows" use, think the
Bocage of Normandy. No character introductions or such, as this is intended to take place in the action.
Content Warning: There is a part that might upset people after the line "Skelan! Put him out of his misery!" I hope the way i engage with what happens passes Sufficient Velocities muster, but I am putting the warning up just in case.
A Leap of Faith
Jumping unto the Hellstorm of the Kastelon Campaigns
By Merudet ver Melliur
Chapter ??: Assault on Bargelud
It took us about 2 hours to make our way to our assigned bridge, and its surrounding town of Bargelud. There hanged an excited yet nervous tension above the platoon, as more so than the spontaneous encounters with the secessionist's militia, this would out first proper action. Our excitement for this encounter was tempered by our need to arrive unnoticed by the enemy, and while the hedgerows that crisscrossed over the land made for excellent concealment for us, it meant the same for our opponents. By the Emperors fortune we would arrive unmolested to Bargelud's outskirts, and we all took cover behind the hedgerow closest to the town. My squad took the furthest left of the line, closest to the river. As we waited for the next order, I noticed Lieutenant Sylwin observing Bargelud, after which she ordered the vox-man up. I deduced afterwards that she was conversing with lieutenant Ver Alkeyon, who was leading his own force to take the other end of the bridge.
After hanging up the vox, Sylwin moved up and down the line, instructing each squad and heavy weapon team on their task in the coming assault. When she reached us ,she told us the following;
"See that checkpoint at the bridge," she said as she pointed at it, now becoming visible in the early dawn. "They might have rigged the bridge to blow, and that's a prime spot for the detonator. Take it or destroy it, no matter what."
The plan was to begin the assault at the suns first rays, which would be shining at our backs, and into the eyes of the secessionists. We would throw smoke grenades, which would be followed by specialist Vexon launching a missile at the top floor of the nearest building, which Sylwin had identified as a heavy stubber position. My squad had one of our own heavy stubber teams assigned to us, as another building close to the checkpoint was thought to make a good vantage point for them.
The next half-hour we spent waiting for the attack to begin was one of the most agonizing stretches of time I have ever experienced. We had to avoid detection, so there was not much for us to do. Even dozing off was out of question because we needed to be ready in case the enemy found us early. My squad mate Raken busied himself by constantly checking his lascarbine clip and the drum of his grenade launcher while Leryn whispered the chants of accuracy to her lasrifle. After checking over my lasrifle for the third time I spent my time using my bayonet to clear dirt and mud off my boots. An utterly futile endeavor in the field, but He on Terra despises idle hands.
When we were two minutes away from the appointed hour, the instructions went down the line to conduct final checks. With the sunrise at our back we made ready to spring up over the lip of the row. Members of the platoon pulled out smokers, and I heard Vexons assistant Kaisyn load a rocket into their launcher. What happened next occurred much faster then you might read it. At the appointed signal, each squad across the line threw smokers into our line of advance. Seconds after they popped I heard that signature rush of the rocket firing, and saw the second floor of the building go up in dust and fragments. I swear I saw chunks of the unlucky bustards inside launch into the open.
"ADVANCE! ADVANCE!" The shouts of Sylwin and my sergeant gave me no time to contemplate our enemies end. Save for out other stubber team spreading fire onto potential hiding places, we rose and ascended over the rows lip and through the brush near as one. With no thought other than getting into the town, we ran like the Emperors messengers. The whole dash is hazy in my memory, even moments after. My singular desire was moving forward; no thought was given to any other matter; even to the sporadic return fire and the flow of time. Once I noticed I was approaching the buildings wall through the smokescreen I had to will myself to slow down, hitting it with a slight bump. Raken was not so aware and ran straight into it, though I was not in the headset to laugh at his misfortune. As the squad stacked up against the wall I lifted him of the ground.
"Was he hit?!" barked sergeant Caloun. "No! He hit the wall!" I replied over the las and autogun fire that had increased in frequency by this point. Lucky for Raken he would only be dazed for a few seconds, his helmet and flak saving him from anything worse then a few bruises later. Once we were all up against the wall, we implemented the clearing procedure that was drilled into us during training. Between Leryn and me was a window, and on the sergeants command I pulled out a grenade and motioned to her.
On Caloun's mark Leryn smashed a windowpane with her rifle butt after which I tossed my grenade in. The same was being done with the door behind me and another window further back, and once we heard the grenades go off, everyone who could flashed lasfire into their opening. There was no one in Leryn and my window, but once we filled through the door I saw four downed secessionists, one of whom I noticed was moaning in pain on the floor. Sergeant checked them over, revealing the rebel to have been a youth perhaps a year or two younger then the regiment average. He looked to me to have taken a severe amount of shrapnel to his mid-section, and his struggled breath made it sound like he was not long for the world. Caloun certainly thought so.
"Skelan! Put him out of his misery!" She simply nodded, and moved to stand to the left of the boy, then took aim. And with one flash to the temple, the young mans war was over. To where his soul went, I do not know.
The urgency of the situation meant I could not think of it in the moment, but that execution, brief as it was, has never faded from my memory. So often the projector vids, vox plays, operas and other entertainment do their utmost ensure no ambiguity to such executions. The evil heretic is always defiant; cursing the Imperium and its servants with his or her last moments before the hero righteously ends the villains' life, to the swell of hymns extolling the Imperium's virtues. All I saw in front of me was a youth on the cusp of adulthood struggling for a few more breaths of life, and it ended with no fanfare. I have no idea what Skelan felt or thought of it. She was one to keep things locked in her heart. I never herd of her killing anyone before this, which if true would make a dying, helpless enemy her first kill. Weather she feels guilt for cutting short the life of one who might repent, or embarrassment for ending someone who could not shoot back is a secret she will carry to the Emperors embrace. And it fell to her only because of the sergeant's whim. I could have been the one ordered to carry it out, and it would have been me those fading eyes would have stared up, the last sight that would stay with him to his judgment.
The word "intimacy" is used often with an overtone of warmth, comfort and desire though closeness. It is also the word I would use to describe an execution conducted in such a manner, with none of warmth.
