# The battle of Patton Hill



## Captain-Octavius (Mar 29, 2009)

_Thought you boys might like to read some of a little story I am cooking up. It is not even slightly finished and does need a good deal of work, but the basics are there.:so_happy:_

ONE

The rain hadn’t let up for days. Though the storm had been forecast, it certainly wasn’t supposed to last this long, or be this hard. If forced to admit it, however, the slow Plink…, Plink, on the roof of his cover was somewhat…, soothing. At least it wasn’t cold anymore. Not that the cold bothered him to much, his home planets was, at certain times of the year, one of the coldest on record. The wind, that was the problem, strong and bone chillingly cold. Thankfully though, the winds that had plagued the area for the last three days had finally died off during the night. He realised that he was still warming his hands on his tea mug; it was a very old habit. He swirled the tea in the mug and realised that it was just about the right temperature, as he raised the mug to his ruddy lips, for a well deserved swallow, he took a look outside. 

Beyond the confines of his cover, was a lush tropical rain forest. Not that you would know from the weather of the past few days. Looking at it now it was almost peaceful. The only evidence of the hurricane was a slight sway of the remaining foliage, and of course, all the detritus strewn across the front of his position. This was a major problem he thought to himself. What he was now facing, was that the gods of chaos themselves could sneak right up to the perimeter defences and take a piss without being seen. He took another long pull on his tea. With a grimace he looked down into his half full mug of now cold tea. Maintaining the perfect temperature was a very delicate thing. ‘Bugger…, I was enjoying that!’ He said as he looked at the offending tea with barely concealed disgust.
With pangs of regret, he flicked the tea over the lip of the cover.

Stepping back into the fire trench, he spotted Leftenant Lerman heading his way, data slate in hand. Cameron approached, grinning from ear to ear, ‘Beautiful day today Major…’
‘Every day is a beautiful day with you Cameron, what makes this one any different? Honestly I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.’ He said.
‘“Any day above ground…,” as they say sir,’ The smile on his face broadening, ‘here are the weather reports you requested.’
‘Where is Alex, I told him to bring me these as soon as they came in…?’
‘Corporal Petty was on his way, I told him to get some sleep. He was dead on his feet sir.’
‘You’re a good man Cameron.’ 
‘Possibly why you keep me around sir…, maybe?’
With a slight chuckle he strode off towards his command bunker. As he did so he said over his shoulder, ‘Smart arse…, get a flamer detail together to clear that rubbish from the perimeter will you? We don’t want any surprises, now that the weather is clearing. When you have done that, get the other officers together and meet me at my bunker.’
‘I’ll get right on to it Major.’ The grin just wouldn’t go away. 

* * *

Not a bad unit to be attached to, this Britannian 1st. Pretty good group of lads, not too much trouble. Content with his position as Commissar for “A Company” of the Britannian 1st, Christian Haydenson leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on a convenient ledge in the wall. Though he wasn’t from the Britannia itself, he still remembered fondly the days he spent there for the re-founding of this regiment. The cold of these last few days had made him very reminiscent of …, “The old days”, as the lads put it. 

Snuggling deeper into his chair, Christian reached out for his steaming cup. As he did so he saw the flap to the bunker being pulled to the side. With a small gust of cold air, in came the commander of “A Company Britannian 1st (Airborne)”, Major Patrick McCormick. ‘Morning Paddy…, you were away early this morning.’
‘Chris…, Emperor’s teeth, what is that smell?’ Patrick said with a barely contained look of disgust on his face.
‘Grox tongue soup…, why? You want some there’s plenty more’, he said pointing towards the small stove in the corner.
‘No thank you, smells like a half rotten corpse.’ He said as he folded himself into his bunk. ‘I swung past the comms tent just now, looks like we could be seeing some trouble soon.’
‘How so?’ his interest peaking, Chris sat up straighter in his chair.
‘Activity reports from the tacticians are showing movement about 300 kilometres to the south. A little heavy armour, and boat loads of infantry’ Not able to get comfortable McCormick slid round so that he was just sitting on his cot.
‘Armour…, how much armour?’
‘Unknown, there’s heavy cloud cover over the target that’s playing havoc with the Auspex. Probably how they managed to get so close without being noticed. Tacticians say it should be minimal and mostly old stuff.’ 

The sarcasm in McCormick’s voice was blatant, and he took quite a risk being derisive, but both officers had been close friends for a very long time. McCormick had known since the day they had met that Christian would put a round through his brainpan in a heartbeat, if it was necessary. He accepted it. What he didn’t know, however, was that over the years Christian had grown quite fond of him. As such Christian was not so sure anymore if he could shoot him. Having said that, neither of the two, ever tried to put each other into a position to find out.
‘Well this time they might give us a little support of our own.’ Christian said as he turned to lean on the Major’s desk.
‘You can’t seriously believe that?’ McCormick looked on incredulously.
His look of incredulousness was palpable. ‘Your boys from the 11th are not that far away.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you old friend, but the 11th are being held in, now how did they put it…, ah yes “Tactical Reserve”. In case of a breakout by the enemy.’ To punctuate his statement, McCormick passed over the message wafer that he had received. ‘We are to expect re-supply of all tube missiles, and possible reinforcements by ground troops in the next few days.’
‘The next few days?!’ He looked shocked, and threw the wafer to the desk in disgust, ‘The enemy will be here in a day, what are we to use till then…, harsh language?' Mustering his anger Christian continued, ‘We lost most of our equipment and stores in the drop. It is testament to your lads’ ability that they were able to dig in at all, in such awful weather!’
‘I know what you are saying, but calm down old friend. It does no one any good; we’ll just have to make do.’
‘That doesn’t make me feel any better you know?’
‘I saw a really big stick earlier; I could give you that if you like?’
‘No one likes a smart arse Paddy.’ Christian’s burgeoning grin belied his strong tone.
“I know, I’m going to have a get together with the officers in a few minutes…, do you want the stick first?’ McCormick said as he got up and headed to the door flap.
‘Shut up!’ The full blown smile was impossible to hide now.
As McCormick opened the door flap, the six other senior men of the company came through the doorway. Captain Sam Jeffries the senior medic, Leftenant Cameron Lerman of 1st Platoon, Leftenant James Egan of 2nd Platoon, Leftenant Ryan McCartney of 3rd Platoon, Leftenant Mark Reed of 4th Support Platoon, and Staff Sergeant Logan Ferrier commander of the scout squad. ‘Right on time gentlemen.’ 

McCormick outlined the situation as he knew it, and there were few questions. ‘Now that you know the situation lads, here is what I want you to do. Sam I take it you have already set up a field station?’
‘Yes, but Paddy the facilities are not the best. Almost all of my stores went astray in the drop. I have radioed for more, but command has not gotten back to me yet.’
‘Unfortunately doctor, we are all in the same boat. There is a supply drop scheduled for 1600hrs tomorrow, we’ll just have to make do till then. Right, James, Ryan and Cameron, I need you to dig your units in a little deeper, and prepare for roving ambush. James your lot is first.’
‘We will get right on to it. Standard builds on the fortifications Sir?’ Cameron said still smiling. You know, thought McCormick. If it wasn’t for Cameron being a brilliant platoon commander, I’d shoot him myself. That smile is just creepy!
‘Indeed, do the best you can. Mark I need your boys set up in the middle, you know what to do.’
‘SIR!’ was the only response from Reed.
‘Logan I need you and your team on recon, get out there and find out what we’re facing and where they are.’
‘Understood Major’
‘Right then, let’s get it done chaps’
As they filed out McCormick stopped Capt Jefferies, ‘Sam chances are we won’t get any “Medivac” flights. The weather patterns for the next few days are still uncertain. Do the best you can.’
‘Always do, but thanks for the warning Major.’

‘That went pretty well I thought.’ Chris said, once everyone had left. 
‘Well enough I suppose.’ McCormick once again tried lying down on his cot. ‘They aren’t about to argue are they. James wasn’t happy that he is on ambush first.’
‘It’s a small matter.’ Chris was checking the small stove keeping his soup warm. ‘You sure you don’t want any?’ He said indicating the pot.
‘I’d rather drink warmed piss. Thank you, but no. I’m going to get some sleep, wake me if anything changes.’
‘Will do.’

The ten men of the scout squad slipped over the top of the small trench and moved out, and slid into the jungle like thieves in the night.


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## Captain-Octavius (Mar 29, 2009)

TWO.

The Britannian 1st has had a long and proud history with the Imperial Guard. Men of the 1st have fought in most campaigns from the last four millennia. The Britannian system sits on the fringe of Segmentum Pacificus and Segmentum Tempestus; this puts it very close to the border of the Sabbat worlds. Due to their locality and renowned fighting ability they were a logical choice for addition into the Sabbat crusade.
The system was brought back into the Imperium very late, and, the transition was not an easy one. An armoured spearhead of the 29th Crusade fleet, under the command of Captain Alex Albethar from the Blood Ravens space marine chapter, entering the system detected a strong military presence on the seventh planet. Albethar, who was on the lead strike cruiser, sent a squad to investigate. The squad sent back pict images of what could only be a military facility. The soldiers, as they could be nothing else, were to the eyes of the marines, both beautiful and deadly. They blended flawlessly with their surroundings, their drills almost fluid. It was only the super heightened senses of the marines that enabled them to observe the soldiers at all. Unable to open communication with the planet, and the fact that a large fleet was approaching from further in system, Albethar was forced to assume an attack posture. Based off the reports from his men, Albethar came to the false assumption that the system was infected by Chaos. He sent elements of his second company in to attack. Meanwhile the two fleets started the first in a long series of small engagements. Though the marines suffered several casualties, more than had been expected, they were victorious. Unfortunately, in their quest for that victory, the planet suffered catastrophic damage and was consequently destroyed. The cataclysmic devastation of an entire planet caused the now famous asteroid field to form between the fifth and seventh planets, and lead to a disruption in the gravitational pull of the remaining six planets.

Their mistake was only discovered when Brother Librarian Corm Manus, leading his retinue, and three squads from the 2nd company, came upon a village buried in the mountains. The villagers, although terrified of the marines, displayed no form of taint at all. Manus acting on his authority as a ground commander halted all offensive operations in the area. As the librarian attempted to open a dialogue with the locals, he found his efforts stunted, due to the Britannian people’s use of a very old dialect. Though a form of proto gothic, it was coupled with a lilting inflection, which also relied, in part, on expression and body movements. Through time and study, Manus, using his powerful psyker abilities, was able to process their language; from there the barrier was broken. Manus learned of the systems history, that the inhabitants were descendants of the original colonists from Terra. Through several more encounters across the planet, later known as White Isle, learned of the people’s friendship, and then struggles with a splinter group of Eldar. Captain Albethar and an honour guard of his marines headed a delegation to the capital planet of the system. Britannia and all her people were welcomed into the Imperium of man. In his anguish, the Blood Ravens Captain dropped to his knees in front of the Queen and begged her forgiveness. In her honour he decreed that a fortress would be built on White Isle. This fortress would be manned, for all time, by his second company, and he would command them. He pledged his loyalty to the crown and to the people of Britannia, and to Queen Alexandra he vowed to atone for his rash and heavy handed barbarity.

The destruction of the seventh planet sent a shockwave through the entire system. It opened fissures in the crust of Chesterholm and boiled most of its oceans. Britannia IV once lush, beautiful and very temperate became in effect a pseudo winter wasteland. Its gravetic poles were altered so much that the planet hardly spins. This meant that Lungdun, the capital city of Britannia IV and the seat of power for the entire system, now resides on the dark side of the planet. And in effect, in a semi-constant state of winter. The light or warm side of the planet has become overgrown to the point of becoming a tropical jungle. The predators in this jungle are some of the most devious hunters and as such have made excellent prey for the ruling elite. Though the capital cities, and the large estates surrounding it, are still populated, the bulk of the planets inhabitants have migrated to the border line between the two climes. The planet is also famous for its eccentricities. There are countless accounts of visiting dignitaries straying away from their guides getting lost only to be found months later buried in snow, or never heard from again. Legends passed down from generation to generation state that entire cities have been known to change position suddenly without cause or explanation. This is in the extreme; the norm is that it is the buildings within the cities that change their locations at random and, on a fairly regular basis. Having said that, these occurrences usually only happens in the coldest parts of the planet and the coldest times of the year, when the fogs and rain that Britannia is famous for, are at their peak. Almost as if the planet itself was flexing, for better comfort. 
The star and the three in lying planets are named Britannia, Corpus, Cromwell and Norsefolk. At present except for a small contingent of RAC Royal Engineers on Norsefolk, the in system planets are uninhabited. The fifth planet, Chesterholm, is a forgeworld, and the second largest of the system planets. The planet itself is predominately volcanic. Britannian engineers built the two forge manufactories over volcanic vents; to harness the volcanic energy, in order to power the huge manufactories. The two main forges on the planet produce weapons and material for the ongoing war effort, both at home and abroad. The MKIII Lasguns produced by the planet are of such a fine quality that many systems purchase them for their own regiments. As an aside, the forgeworld is not governed by the tech mages of Mars; in fact the manufactories have little to no contact with them at all. This is a very strange situation, which no one has been able to adequately explain. There is a large Naval Fleet base called Ports Mouth orbiting Chesterholm, and two smaller ones orbiting Britannia IV, and White Isle. 

The system Governor has the title of Queen. The Queen is usually the first daughter of the current ruling family. This tradition has survived from the very first settlers. Britannians believe that only women should rule. Reasons for this belief vary, though there are several legends of queens that are still in circulation from pre-heresy time periods. There is even one legend inscribed on the wall of the palace library, which tells of a possible link to an ancient ruling empire on old terra. This legend dates back before the dark times; however the only real evidence that exists to support this, is a very tattered, pale and faded portrait. The Britannian people are a very strong and honourable people. They take pride in having held on to such a grand history. The privation of the original colonists made the people a very hardy race. When the warp storms struck, the lack of communication with Terra led to a period of anarchy amongst the populace. The ruler of the time, Queen Margaret quelled these uprisings using the army. Those that were left began to rebuild. The first major step forward was the construction of Ports Mouth. Being a fairly industrious people, they soon sent colonists to the other planets in the system. Approximately two to three thousand years after the original settlement of the system the Britannian’s had expanded from the fifth planet outwards to the sixth and seventh. Records of this time are of dubious worth, and much information has been lost. One of the few records remaining tells of an archaeological expedition in 747.M38 on Britannia IV. They discovered several artefacts thousands of years old, which pay credence to the legends of the alliance with the xenos Eldar. To add insult to injury, it must also be noted that there is one, blight on the perfect name of Britannia. In 589.M40 a Greenskin hulk, heavily damaged, drifted in system and crashed into the asteroid field. Ever since, the orks have built up a society and, raid the surrounding planets from their commune. The combined forces of Britannia immediately attempted to expunge them from existence. However, every time they succeed, the orks just keep reappearing somewhere else. To this date the greenskins have proven to be nigh on impossible to extricate.


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## Captain-Octavius (Mar 29, 2009)

Three

Through his binoculars, Staff Sergeant Logan Ferrier looked out at the enemy. By his count the Greenskin forces were at least battalion strength. To make matters worse he had already counted enough looted tanks and support vehicles to make another, and there was more coming. The scout squad was nestled in the trees, having dug in along a small hilltop. From their perch they could see quite clearly out over the plains to the east and south. For two days they had made good progress, as they moved silently through the jungle. Though, ever vigilant of danger, they had met nothing untoward on the trail. Logan crawled back into the trees leaving Trooper Andy Semper on watch. 

‘How’s it looking Staff’ Corporal Tom Jansen said as he handed a freshly brewed steaming mug of tea to his Staff Sergeant.
‘Not good, that’s how, Major is going to shit bricks when he hears about this.’ Ferrier took the mug and sat down reaching for the vox. ‘No point delaying the inevitable, eh?’ 
Ferrier fiddled with the dials, he was no vox man, but McGhill was asleep and he didn’t want to wake him. Finally he gave up in frustration, and woke the boy.
‘What the…, who the hell is…., oh sorry Staff’ Trooper Mike McGhill mumbled as he transitioned to fully awake.
‘It’s alright lad, keep it down. I need you to get me a secure link to shadow base.’
‘Yeah ok, sure thing Staff,’ McGhill twirled a few dials then handed over the handset, ‘all yours.’
‘Good lad, go back to sleep.’ McGhill was asleep before his head hit the improvised pillow.
‘Hello…, Wolf lead to Shadow base? Wolf lead to Shadow base?’
‘Shadow base to Wolf lead, authenticate please?’
‘Wolf lead to Shadow base…, “Rule Britannia”’
‘Authenticator accepted Wolf lead, what can we do for you?’
‘I need to talk to the Shadow lead.’
‘Very well, reconnect on this channel in one five minutes, confirm?’
‘Confirmed Shadow base, Wolf lead out.’

“Hello Wolf lead, this is Shadow base.., do you copy?”
“Go ahead Shadow base, this is wolf lead.”
“Wolf lead, stand by or Shadow lead”
“Roger that…”
“Wolf this is shadow, what’s the situation?”
“Situation is…, perilous to say the least shadow. Recommend forces insufficient.”
“Calm down Wolf…, what’s the count son?”
“Count is in excess of forty plus plus…, four zero…”
“Confirm count Wolf?”
“Count cofirmed Shadow. We are bugging out, we’ll keep eyes on for as long as we can, and try to delay where possible. Eta home patch around dinner time.”
“Understood Wolf, good hunting lad.” McCormack looked down at his adjutant and radio operator, “Get me command on the line son.”

As McCormick looked on, Corporal Petty played with the dials on his set for moments then started speaking, another moment later Petty handed the headset to his commander.
“Hello…, this is Shadow lead?” 
“Paddy? This is Johnny what can I do for my best commander?” Said Leftenant – Colonel Mark Johnson, Commanding officer of the Britannian 1st Airborne “The Queens Own Fusiliers”.
“I know what you are doing Johnny, so don’t you try and butter me up!”
McCormack looked down at Petty, “Go and brew me a mug of tea.” 
“Alright Paddy, give me the news.”
“I have Wolf on the ground, he reports a count of forty plus plus. You know I’m no coward Johnny, but I just don’t think I can hold this position for very long…”
”Calm down Major! How far out is the enemy?”
“Just over 100miles, would be my guess, why?”
“Right then, well that gives us some time. There is a supply Valkryie heading to your position now. I want you on it when it returns; I need you back here for a briefing.”

* * *

Pushing the entry flap out of his way, McCormick stepped into his dugout. Once again the Commissar, was in deep discussion with Petty, on the finer points of soup making. 
“You know Major, you really should learn to knock, it was just getting interesting.”
“Hey…, this is my dugout!!”
“Well so it is…, my mistake. Have anything from Ferrier?”
“Yes just now, it’s a forty plus plus count. “
“Forty? That’s Battalion strength! What does command expect us to do against that?”
“Alex go get me that mug of tea will you…, there’s a good lad.” McCormick said to the rather amused looking adjutant. Without a word of reply Petty left the dugout. Having not taken his eyes of the Commissar, McCormick said, “Chris how long have we known each other?”
“Ever since you were a lowly Leftenant, fresh out of officer candidate school.”
“And how long is that?” Said the major, as he propped his muscled frame against the earthen wall.
“About fourteen years…, I don’t get where you are going with this.”
“Fourteen years…, in fourteen years I have never known you to say anything so contra to morale in front of an enlisted man.”
With a look of shock Chris realised his mistake, “”You’re right, that was foolish…, it won’t happen again. I lost my head.”
“You’ve never lied to me either…, until now. What is it? What is it you’re not telling me?” Real concern spreading across his face.
“Do you know how old I am?”
“Actually no, I don’t.”
“Eighty seven.”
“What!? How can you possibly be that old?”
“I’ve had a few treatments, here and there…, my point is, I’m old. And to be honest I think I’m loosing it.”
“I hope not…, the men are going to need you soon, probably more than ever before.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Do I need to requisition a new Commissar? Perhaps if you take some leave?”
“At this stage I don’t think it will do any good, just…, just don’t forget your promise.”
McCormick looked at his old friend, the crestfallen and almost desperate look on Christian’s face was, heartbreaking.
“In all the years we have been friends have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“Well…, no”
“That’s right, and I’m not about to start now. Anyway, I’ve been ordered back to regimental HQ, there will be a transport here shortly. I’ll need you to look after the boys while I’m gone…” McCormick’s voice trailed off as the scream of twin jet engines passed over head, “I should be back before dinner, get the boys to strengthen their positions. I’m going to try to get us pulled back, but don’t get your hopes up”. Having packed a few things into a kit bag, as he spoke, McCormick left the dugout, and headed for the waiting Valkryie sitting at idle on the grass.

* * *

Ferrier praised the Emperors name for the fourth time that afternoon, as the tree that he had only just been using for shelter blew apart, showering the immediate area in blackened sharp wooden shrapnel. Slowing them down is one thing, he thought, getting killed in the process is quite contra to long and happy life I have planned! 

The Greenskins had made it to the treeline, where the scout team had been prepping charges for the last hour. Ferrier took a quick look out from behind his new tree, the Orks were spreading out to make better use of the surrounding cover. This posed a greater problem for the ten man scout team, as they couldn’t hope to cover the now spreading line of xenos. As an Ork sprinted between two trees Ferrier sprayed off a quick burst from his mkIII lasgun. At that moment his earpiece chirped, “All charges set and ready Staff!”
Finally! “Right then pull back by twos, bounding cover!”

As the squad started to move back, several of the looted tanks poked their noses into the wood. The flash of the main guns, and the deep roar as they fired filled the lightly armoured scouts with a great deal of trepidation. Professionals to the last, they held their ground, long enough for each pair to slip a little further back. At a thousand yards from the treeline, Ferrier ordered the charges be detonated. Having taken advantage of the Imperials apparent retreat, the Orks had moved advanced quite a way into the wood. When the charges went off, almost a hundred of the xenos were caught in the killzone. Like Ferrier had almost been, foul green bodies were shredded as the trees exploded and expanded outwards. The wood had become a charnel house of death and destruction. There was no respite for the scouts however, as several hundred more Orks streamed in to fill the gaps in the line, “It’s like an unholy unstoppable tide of green death!” Yelled McGhill over the voxnet.
“FALL BACK, FALL BACK! COVER FIRE!” Screamed Ferrier. 
“The trees are down, at least the tanks aren’t going anywhere for a while.” 
“Jansen you are a master of the understatement lets go!”

The two scouts broke cover as one firing from the hip, three xenos went down. Skidding behind the stump of a long dead tree they both popped shots from cove, as the next two men broke cover. On and on it went, and they almost got away with it, almost. On the fifth run, Ferrier dove for cover. Thinking he had landed in a puddle, he wiped the wet off of his face, when he looked at his hand he saw deep srimson. His heart sank as he looked down into the eviscerated body of Corporal Tom Jansen. Screaming with rage, he picked up his friends weapon. With a lasgun in each hand he turned and loosed the last of the packs at the line of xenos behind him. One went down, the others simply ducked. “This is no good,” Ferrier said into his bead. “Run! Try and get Back to the to the company, I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”
Replacing both packs he propped the lasguns against the fallen tree he was sheltering behind and fired. Bright blue streaks of hot las streamed through the wood, as the rest of the squad fired a quick volley in retreat. Waiting as long as he dared, Ferrier dropped a krak grenade into the chest cavity of his fallen comrade, silently intoning a prayer for the fallen as he broke and ran.


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## Lord Ramo (Apr 12, 2009)

Awesome hope that there is more to come!


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