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ranked　major　or　higher　will　stay　behind　this　area　here。”　With　a　finger；　he　drew　an　imaginary　line
across　the　map　where　he　believed　the　ork　artillery　would　be　unable　to　strike。　“I　don’t　imagine　the
orks　have　anything　that　can　reach　quite　this　far　out。　I’ll　be　coordinating　the　attack　personally　from
my　Chimera。　Rennkamp；　Killian；　Bergen；　you’ll　relay　my　orders　to　your　respective　divisions　from
your　own　vehicles。”
“Understood；　sir；”　said　Killian。
Bergen　didn’t　speak。　He　noticed　a　fresh　gleam　that　had　crept　into　the　general’s　eyes。
“Then　let’s　disperse；　gentlemen；”　deViers　told　the　colonels　in　the　tent。　“Prepare　for　the　assault。
Your　divisional　commanders　will　have　more　specifics　for　you　within　the　hour。　Dismissed。”
The　regimental　leaders　saluted；　turned；　and　marched　out　of　the　tent。　Bergen　considered
following　Vinnemann　out　for　a　private　word；　but　deViers　said；　“You　three　stay　a　while　longer。　I
want　your　input　on　formations。”
What　did　Vinnemann　think　he　was　doing？　Bergen　wondered。　When　the　orks　spotted　Angel　of　the
Apocalypse　sitting　out　there　on　the　sand；　they　would　hit　her　with　everything　they　had。　She　was　one
hell　of　a　target；　easily　three　times　the　size　of　the　vehicles　that　would　be　escorting　her；　and；　just　like
at　Karavassa；　she　would　be　utterly　immobile　while　her　capacitors　charged　for　firing。　The　blast　from
her　Volcano　cannon　would　draw　every　ork　eye　on　the　wall　to　her；　and　after　the　shot；　the　crew　would
need　valuable　seconds　to　switch　the　generator　back　over　to　power　the　treads　again。　Seconds　counted
for　everything　when　the　shells　were　falling　all　around　you。　Popping　smoke　would　only　help　shield
the　Angel　of　the　Apocalypse　if　the　wind　stayed　low。　If　it　picked　up；　it　would　blow　the　cover　straight
off　of　her。
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Vinnemann　knew　all　this；　of　course。　He　just　wasn’t　about　to　let　any　of　it　stop　him　doing　his　duty。
Bergen　wondered　if　perhaps　the　colonel’s　pain　had　become　too　much　for　him　after　all　these　years。
Was　the　man　growing　impatient　for　an　honourable　death？　Throne；　thought　Bergen；　I　hope　it’s　not
that。
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CHAPTER　NINETEEN
The　chaos　of　battle　erupted　the　moment　the　orks　spotted　them。　The　wall　was　manned；　as　General
deViers　had　known　it　would　be。　In　fact；　there　were　many　thousands　of　greenskins　on　it；　a　huge
garrison　force；　and　they　leapt　to　man　their　long…guns　as　soon　as　they　noticed　the　approaching　dust
cloud　of　the　speeding　Cadian　armour。
The　tanks　of　the　81st　Armoured　Regiment　moved　in　loose　formation；　a　broad　fighting　line　with
van　Droi’s　Gunheads　on　the　far　right　flank。　Captain　Immrich’s　1st　Company　ran　escort　to　Colonel
Vinnemann’s　massive　Shadowsword。
It　was　midday；　searing　hot；　and　the　thick；　muddy　sky　churned　and　roiled　above　the　battlefield。
“Charge！”　yelled　van　Droi　to　his　tank　commanders　over　the　vox。
The　Gunheads　roared　towards　the　wall；　tearing　up　the　ground　that　lay　between　them　and　their
foes。　The　entire　strength　of　Vinnemann’s　regiment　was　being　thrown　at　the　wall　in　one　massive
surge：　ten　companies　of　Imperial　tanks；　though　no　company　could　boast　of　being　at　full　strength。
Every　single　one　had　taken　losses　on　the　journey　east。　They　were　still　a　force　to　be　reckoned　with；
however；　still　something　special　to　see　as　they　tore　across　the　sand。　Bursts　of　black　smoke
announced　heavy　firing　from　the　parapets；　and　the　hot　desert　air　filled　with　deep　booming　thunder。
Great　black…rimmed　craters　began　appearing　in　the　sand　where　the　first　artillery　rounds　struck。　The
orks　could　hammer　the　Cadians　from　this　distance　with　impunity；　and　the　constant　barrage　soon
claimed　its　first　victims。　Three　of　Lieutenant　Keissler’s　2nd　Company　tanks　were　torn　apart　by
tremendous　explosions。　They　were　the　first　of　many　to　fall。　Keissler　rallied　his　surviving　crews；
keeping　them　in　the　line。
The　men　that　died　at　least　died　quickly。　The　ork　shells　were　huge　and　heavy；　packed　with
devastating　amounts　of　explosive。　The　tanks　they　struck　were　smashed　apart　by　the　blasts。　There
was　no　brewing　up；　no　burning　alive　in　steel　coffins；　just　a　sudden；　brutal　end。　Three　black　husks；
barely　recognisable　as　Leman　Russ　tanks；　sat　pouring　out　smoke　while　other　tanks　surged　past　them
to　continue　the　push。
The　orks　had　found　their　range；　and　Colonel　Vinnemann　ordered　all　companies　to　fan　out。
Bunching　together；　with　the　full　weight　of　the　ork　defences　raining　down　on　them；　was　suicide。
There　was　still　some　way　to　go　before　the　Cadians　entered　effective　firing　range。　Even　in
Golgotha’s　gravity；　a　standard　Leman　Russ　battle　cannon　could　take　out　targets　at　a　distance　of　over
two　kilometres　but　the　ork　artillery　was　pounding　them　from　twice　that。　Closing　the　gap　at　speed
was　paramount。
Like　her　sister　tanks；　Last　Rites　II　roared　over　the　low　dunes　with　all　her　hatches　closed。　Wulfe
sat　in　the　rear　of　the　turret　basket；　peering　through　the　vision　blocks　that　ringed　the　rim　of　his
cupola；　shouting　instructions　to　his　crew。　“That’s　it；　Metzger。　Keep　her　speed　up。”
Looking　left　along　the　Cadian　line；　he　saw　van　Droi’s　Foe…Breaker　to　his　immediate　right。
Beyond　her；　scores　of　other　tanks　raced　forwards。　It　was　quite　a　sight。　Suddenly；　bright　light　stabbed
at　his　eyes　and　he　grunted　in　pain。　When　he　opened　them　again；　he　was　glad　to　see　van　Droi’s　tank
still　at　his　side。　He　turned　to　look　behind　and　saw　a　burning　black　wreck。　Someone　else　had　been　hit。
Thick　black　smoke　poured　outwards　and　upwards。
That　could　have　been　us；　thought　Wulfe。
Metzger　was　squeezing　every　bit　of　speed　he　could　from　the　old　girl；　pushing　her　forward　at　full
tilt；　her　engine　roaring　like　a　mad　carnotaur；　her　suspension　bouncing　and　juddering；　tossing　the　men
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in　the　turret　basket　around　like　dolls。　There　were　more　flashes　of　light；　more　bone…shaking　booms。
Wulfe　saw　two　more　wrecks　drop　from　the　Cadian　line；　fountains　of　dirt　and　rock　exploding　on　all
sides　as　the　greenskins　continued　to　rain　shells　on　the　rapidly　advancing　Imperial　force。　Van　Droi’s
Vanquisher　had　pulled　ahead。　Wulfe　saw　her　swerve　violently　to　one　side；　just　missing　a　huge　pillar
of　fire　and　dust　that　geysered　upwards　into　the　air。　Van　Droi’s　driver；　Nalzigg；　really　was　good；
thought　Wulfe。　Foe…Breaker　had　escaped　destruction　by　a　hair’s　breadth。　Metzger　must　have　seen　it
too。　A　second　later；　he　swerved　to　avoid　ditching　Last　Rites　II　into　the　crater　caused　by　the
explosion。
Beans　banged　his　head　on　the　metal　housing　of　his　gun　scope。　“Damn　it！”
“Watch　yourself；”　shouted　Wulfe　over　the　cacophony　of　battle。　“Keep　your　eyes　pressed　to　the
scope’s　padding。”
Even　over　the　intercom；　it　was　difficult　to　hear　each　other。　The　artillery　fire；　explosions　and
engine　noise　were　deafening。
“I　want　this　crate　ready　to　fire　the　moment　we　make　range；”　said　Wulfe。　“High　explosives。
We’ve　got　to　take　out　those　wall…guns　so　the　infantry　don’t　get　minced　following　us　in。”
Up　ahead　and　to　the　left；　some　of　the　tanks　from　the　other　companies　had　pressed　forward　into
firing　range；　and　their　guns　began　to　answer　the　orks’。　The　tanks　were　travelling　too　fast　to　fire　with
any　real　accuracy；　but　Wulfe　saw　bright　blossoms　of　fire　burst　into　life　as　shells　hit　the　wall。　It
didn’t　look　like　they　were　very　effective。　The　orks’　answering　barrage；　however；　managed　to
destroy　a　number　of　tanks　from　the　5th　and　8th　Companies。
“By　the　frakking　Eye！”　spat　Wulfe。　“How　can　we　expect　to　hit　anything　in　a　full　sprint？　Who
conceived　this　bloody　plan？”
Metzger　spoke　over　the　intercom。　“We　just　made　range！”
“Beans；”　said　Wulfe；　“line　her　up　on　one　of　those　wall…guns。　The　bigger　the　better。”
“Got　one；”　said　Beans。　“Halfway　up　the　wall　on　our　two　o’clock。　How　about　it？　The　gun…port　to
the　upper　left　of　the　central　gate；　sarge？”
Wulfe　scanned　the　wall　and　found　it。　It　was　one　of　the　biggest　barrels　visible。　A　good　target。　The
muzzle　was　so　damned　wide　a　man　could　have　sat　comfortably　inside　it。
“Nice；”　said　Wulfe。　“Siegler；　high…explosive。　Beans；　zero　in。　It’ll　be　a　tough　shot。　We’ll　have　to
fire　on　the　move。”
“I　can　do　it；　sarge；”　said　Beans。
Siegler　slammed　a　shell　into　the　battle　cannon’s　breech；　yanked　the　locking　lever　and　yelled；
“She’s　lit！”
“Metzger；”　said　Wulfe；　“drop　her　dow