I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 224 Breaking and then standing up

Bug lay in the trench, struggling to discern the number of stars in the unchanging, dark green gas cloud overhead. Just then, a soldier carrying a communicator, on his deathbed, crouched down and ran over, patting Bug's leg.

"Squad leader! Squad leader! Stop counting stars, something's wrong!"

"Damn it, I'm definitely not going to be a squad leader again next time," BUG cursed as he got up from the mud, brushing the dirt off his clothes. "So much trouble. I'd rather be a regular soldier, where all I have to do is aim my gun at the enemy. If it's that kind of stupid thing again, like 'The dice are missing, squad leader, come help me find them,' then I'll fight you to the death!"

"Hey, squad leader, stop complaining. This is big news," the player said with a grin, showing no sign of the tension of the battlefield. "A Space Marine is coming this way!"

"Space Marines?" BUG asked in surprise. "Are you sure? What would Space Marines do in our dilapidated trenches where we have to use the toilets outside?"

"Hey, why would I lie to you?" the other person urged. "Hurry up and go, don't keep him waiting. He's a Space Marine, after all!"

"Damn it, last time you said there was a Batmobile parked outside the trenches, and I spent ages crouching down looking for it, and what happened?!"

Despite saying that, BUG still stood up, grumbling. But when he peeked out, he was stunned. What he didn't expect was that what this guy said was actually true! Right in front of their makeshift position, a Space Marine dressed in yellow and black paint, with a golden scythe emblem on his shoulder armor, stood silently like a statue! The oppressive feeling emanating from that massive body could be clearly felt even from more than ten meters away.

"Holy crap," BUG muttered, adjusting his armor and trotting forward to give a perfect Eagle Salute. "Good morning, sir! May I ask what brings you here?"

Upon hearing the words "Good morning," the Space Marine instinctively looked up at the pure green sky, seemingly trying to determine the time.

However, he did not dwell on the topic, but instead said in his booming voice, "I am Sergeant Reinhard Roberts of the Second Company of the Emperor's Scythe Chapter. According to the newly promulgated Unified Command Regulations, I am here to lead you."

“Uh, excuse my bluntness,” BUG’s expression twisted slightly, “Commander Reinhard, you… a Space Marine, leading our eleven-man squad, including me?”

Reinhard was clearly struggling with this, but he still said, "Although I don't quite understand the order, [yes], that's the order."

"What's wrong with the command center?" BUG muttered in bewilderment.

The reason Calgary issued this order is actually quite simple: unified command doesn't mean that Calgary issues orders and then the people below simply carry them out. War is not that simple.

I believe everyone understands the principle that "strict discipline is essential in large-scale operations." Imagine having hundreds of Astartes Legions with different fighting styles, cultural customs, and no prior training to coordinate their operations. The scene would be far from harmonious; in fact, it would be more like each legion fighting its own battle.

If this situation were to be resolved through Karga's individual command, then Karga's command would have to be so precise that it would require specifying details like "moving the heavy logging gun on a certain position five centimeters to the left."

So Calgarh's solution was to first scatter the Space Marines to various positions to lead the fallen, gradually building cohesion in the process. If one position was in danger, Space Marines from different chapters in another position could immediately come to their aid, forging a bond of life and death in the process. When the time was right, the forces could be reassembled, and the situation would likely be much better then.

“Alright, sir,” BUG reluctantly accepted the fact, “so, what are your instructions?”

“First, conduct a pre-battle briefing and equipment check,” Sergeant Reinhard said sternly. “Report on your ammunition, supplies, and personnel status.”

“Sir!” BUG cleared his throat. “Ammunition… is fairly sufficient, at least enough for the next assault. Supplies… we haven’t even finished the rations from a month ago, and the nutrition bars taste awful; everyone’d rather die than eat them. Personnel status… everyone’s alive, and morale… we were just telling jokes, so it should be alright.” Sergeant Reinhard was silent. His sculpted face was expressionless, but BUG could sense that the sergeant was processing this highly unorthodox report with his superhuman brain.

“I need to inspect your weapons myself,” Reinhard finally said.

What happened next was perhaps even more impactful for this battle-hardened Space Marine than facing the Hive Tyrant head-on.

He picked up a team member's laser gun and found "For the Tribe" engraved on the stock; on another gun's scope, there was a crooked front sight painted with paint; most outrageous of all, he found that the bayonet of a gun was actually tied to a sharpened metal spoon.

"What is this?" Reinhard asked, pointing to the spoon-shaped bayonet, his voice filled with incomprehension and confusion.

"Reporting, sir!" the soldier proudly puffed out his chest. "A multi-functional combat tool for emergencies! It can kill the enemy, or you can pick your teeth after a meal!"

Sergeant Reinhard took a deep breath, and the power armor's respirator emitted a soft hiss. He decided to skip the topic.

“Then, tactical arrangements.” He took a tactical data panel from his waist, on which a complex battlefield map was immediately projected. “According to intelligence, Tyrannosaurus’s next attack will come from our twelve o’clock position, with an estimated force of one wave of Bladebugs. My plan is that I will act as bait, drawing their main force from the front. You will use the poison mist as cover to flank them, establishing a crossfire point at coordinates 7-B-4 to attack their flanks. Make sure to complete the crossfire setup within thirty seconds, and then…”

He was recounting a brilliant tactic, one that could be written into textbooks. Yet, even through his gas mask, he could sense that he was facing a death knell looking at him with a blank, incomprehensible gaze.

“Uh… sir,” BUG interrupted him cautiously, “you mean… we should go around to the side and then shoot those bugs’ butts?”

Sergeant Reinhard fell silent once again. For the first time, his tactical mind, honed by countless battles, understood what it meant to "talk to a brick wall."

“…That’s one way to understand it,” he said with difficulty.

"Alright! Got it!" BUG immediately turned around and shouted to his teammates, "Did you all hear that? In a bit, the boss... uh, Commander Reinhard will hold the line in front, and we'll sneak up on them from the side! Whoever gets the most kills gets tonight's Ant Cow canned food!"

"Good!!!" The team members erupted in a completely undisciplined cheer.

Just then, the ground in the distance began to shake, and a piercing shriek cut through the poisonous fog.

"They're here!" Sergeant Reinhard immediately raised his explosive pistol and said in a deep voice, "Execute the tactics! For the Emperor!"

"For the canned goods!" The eleven men who were going to their deaths shouted in unison, then completely ignored his ingenious "outflanking" plan, howling as they jumped out of the trenches, each carrying their modified weapons, and launched a... frontal charge towards the swarm of insects.

Sergeant Reinhard: "..."

(End of this chapter)