NABC Chapter 1037: An Ordinary Day in the Trench
Chapter 1037: An Ordinary Day in the Trench
The battle had been going on for several days, and during these days, Calvin miraculously survived.
Calvin's head was resting on a half-broken gas mask canister, and a whistle leaked out from between his cracked lips, playing the tune of a folk song from his hometown during the harvest season.
He blew the melody out of tune so that it blended with the screams of artillery fire passing overhead, so that he could pretend that the green tracers piercing the clouds were celebratory fireworks and the human remains embedded in the trench walls were just scarecrows.
There was thirty centimeters of blood mud at the bottom of the trench, and every fallen shell would splash waves carrying broken bones.
On his left lay Brook, with whom he had shared worm cakes yesterday. Now the boy's blond hair had turned into some kind of fungus culture bed, and some fluorescent mushrooms that had grown from orc corpses were poking out of his eye sockets.
On the right is Joseph, an old soldier with both legs broken. He used his bayonet to carve regular characters on the mud wall. The last stroke was so long that it flowed into the pile of corpses like a dried-up stream.
"Pile the dead bodies to the east gap!"
The political commissar's roar came from three hundred meters away. Calvin raised his eyelids lazily and saw four recruits using a headless corpse as a sandbag.
The body was still wearing a wedding ring on its wrist, and the clinking of the ring against the shovel every time it was moved was eerily in sync with Calvin's leaky whistle.
The trench breastwork is woven from Astra Militarum helmets and Tyranid bone spurs.
Every time heavy artillery struck, the skulls embedded in the barbed wire would rattle, as if millions of wronged souls were grinding their teeth.
Calvin pulled his foot free from a swollen severed hand, and the maggots from the sole of his boot rained back into the bloody swamp.
The rats or maggots here have all mutated. He has personally seen a rat king gnawing on the remains of a gene stealer, with tiny bone blades growing on its back.
Then the thing was shot dead by Calvin.
Seven different stench wafted through the air: the sweet smell of Imperial soldier entrails, the acrid smell of green fungi, the pungent smell of Tyranid acid, and the sulfurous smell of the festering wounds of Chaos cultists.
The most intense smell was in the "toilet" in the northwest corner. It was just an armor plate with "excretion" written on it stuck in the crater. Now the feces piled inside had long been mixed with blood and flesh.
"You! Get up and check the ammunition!"
The commissar's power boots suddenly stepped on Calvin's water bottle. Calvin slowly stood up and saw that the other party's death warrant list embedded in his breastplate had a new name added, and the "Danny K" at the bottom was still stained with lavender crumbs.
The clouds were suddenly torn apart, and six Imperial Lightning fighters swooped down, the eagle emblem on the belly of the plane corroded by acid rain.
Hot on their heels were three Ork fighters, monsters with church stained windows as cockpit covers and organ exhaust pipes as engines.
One of the green fighters dropped a fragmentation bomb made from a tombstone. A tombstone engraved with "Loyalty to the Emperor" happened to smash through the tent of the medical station.
"Keep your head down, idiot!"
The moment the political commissar pounced on Calvin, the Imperial fighter's melta bomb exploded ten meters above the trench.
The gust of wind blew away thirty helmets, including the head of the old soldier who was carving the correct characters.
Calvin spat out the mud in his mouth and saw his harmonica lying in a pool of blood. The silver-plated shell reflected the entangled aircraft in the air. The laser cannons of the Imperial fighters and the orcs' scrap shells formed a death light net in the air, and the wreckage of the crashed aircraft ignited the entire swamp.
When the pilot of a burning Lightning fighter jumped out, his parachute was shredded by the chainsaw propeller of an Ork fighter.
The figure that turned into a fireball fell into the east trench, igniting the bodies piled there. The smell of barbecue mixed with the pungent smell of promethium fuel came to Calvin's nose, and this shit-like smell reminded him of the bread oven in his hometown.
When acid rain began to wash over the trenches, the standing water turned an eerie neon color.
Calvin used his broken lunch box to collect some rainwater. The water reflected the mechanical prosthetic eye in his left eye, which was temporarily modified by a field doctor using parts of an orc searchlight after he was pierced by a Tyranid bone spur.
He continued to whistle at his reflection when someone suddenly shouted, "Seventh Company! Prepare to engage the enemy!"
The political commissar's bolter was pressed against Calvin's lower back.
The swamp a thousand meters in front of the trench was boiling, not because of artillery fire, but because countless orcs were charging on a pontoon bridge built with the corpses of their companions.
Calvin slowly charged the laser gun and saw that the energy indicator was stuck at 17%. This broken gun had been out of service for three days and could now only be used as a firewood stick.
The battle was too intense and there were too few weapons. If you didn't run fast enough you couldn't even grab the weapons from your friendly soldiers' corpses.
As the first greenskin jumped into the trench, Calvin smashed its nose with the butt of his rifle.
The orc's teeth flew into the mushroom bush around Tommy's body, causing the fluorescent fungi to begin spitting spores.
A new recruit who inhaled the spores suddenly went crazy. He stabbed his comrade with a bayonet and then rushed towards the political commissar until he was cut in half by the power sword.
"I'll go to you!"
Calvin stabbed the orcs to death one after another with his bayonet. He had already gotten used to the hardships of the training in the past few days, and he didn't know whether he could return home.
"Are these green bastards constipated?"
The lame Walker poked the moldy sandbags on the parapet with his bayonet, and the blade picked out a mutant cockroach with orc fangs: "For three days, they have done nothing but throw shells at us like shit."
He flicked the cockroach corpse into the air, where it was shattered by a stray bullet.
Calvin was curled up in the "private seat" converted from a bomb crater, using a Tyranid bone spur to pick the rotten flesh from the gaps in his power armor.
"No hurries?"
He nodded at the headless corpse two meters away, "Wait until Jimmy's intestines hatch more mushrooms, then we can have a barbecue party."
The corpse's abdominal cavity was indeed full of fluorescent fungi, and Walker joked last week that he would use it as a pizza topping.
New recruit Aiden suddenly laughed nervously. He was stringing the orc teeth he had picked up into a necklace.
"Have you heard? Joseph's dentures were found in the stew in the kitchen..."
His laughter stopped abruptly as he touched a human molar with the Imperial eagle emblem on the necklace.
There was the sound of boots crushing bones at the corner of the trench. Everyone froze instantly. It wasn't the greenskins, it was the political commissar who came here.
"Everyone, bayonet."
The commissar's voice sounded like rusty chains rubbing against empty ammunition boxes: "Charge in thirty seconds."
Walker's artificial leg got stuck in the pile of corpses and made a crisp sound: "Sir, our laser guns are all..."
The moment the bolter was pressed against the back of his neck, the commissar threw a melta gun to Calvin with his other hand.
"I hope your melta weapon performance is better than your laser weapon shooting performance."
The moment the exhalation valves of the gas masks sounded collectively, the whistles tore through the stagnant air.
It was not an officer's brass whistle, but a tin whistle that Calvin held between his teeth, but he was blowing the same provocative tune that he used to play in the brawls at the tavern in his hometown.
The sight outside the trenches made the whistle go off-tune. The whole swamp was filled with bloated corpses floating like a carpet of flesh covered with ulcers.
The orc tank roared a thousand meters away, and the gun barrel was converted from half a pillager tank.
As soon as Calvin pulled the trigger, the molten beam burned through twenty floating corpses, and a green tide of orc troops emerged from the evaporating blood mist.