Chapter 144: More Death, More Waaagh!
Earo Lacroix felt that the nature of war seemed to have changed.
Or rather, he thought, this was what war was truly meant to be, while the previous skirmishes seemed trivial in comparison.
He came from a nomadic tribe of survivors, where even securing food was a challenge.
Under the guidance of an elder, he and over a dozen teenagers left the tribe, following a traveling merchant to Garbage Town and joining an adventurer corps.
Although they called it an “adventurer corps,” it was more akin to being an armed scavenger group.
Taking out loans from that traveling merchant, they obtained over a dozen guns and began their lives as scavengers.
Too cautious to take real risks, they only searched in the safer zones outside Garbage Town, collecting metal scraps and pieces of hot ash stone, enough to meet their daily quotas for food exchange.
Each day’s harvest barely covered their food expenses and paid a little toward their mounting gun debt, leaving nothing left over.
If they encountered any real danger, like the occasional mutant monster in the city ruins, they had to conserve every bullet—ammunition was costly.
Life back then held no hope and no future, but he didn’t feel despair; having something to eat was already a blessing.
For the longest time, he hadn’t known what it felt like to be truly full.
He and his companions scraped by in Garbage Town for two years.
Just as he thought this life of scraping by would continue indefinitely until he could no longer manage it, he encountered the Greenskins.
Of the dozen or so friends from his tribe, only six survived; the others, including the elder who had led them, all fell to the Greenskins.
It wasn’t just the deaths that haunted him but the horrific way his friends had perished.
The Greenskins savagely butchered his comrades in front of him, devouring their flesh and smashing their skulls open to feast on their brains.
He wanted to retrieve their bodies but dared not, and someone pulled him away, forcing him to flee.
Among the survivors, some abandoned scavenging and adventuring work entirely, but he and two other brothers could never forget that horrific scene.
Upon hearing of the Beast Slaughtering Group, they joined immediately.
It was shameful to admit, but despite their desire for vengeance against the Greenskins, out of the three of them, he was the only one left after four months, and he had personally killed only a single Greenskin.
When they sought to confront the Greenskins, they would only target small groups of two or three at most.
Even then, they had to gather thirty to fifty people before daring to act.
Facing off against the Greenskins with iron-pipe rifles was no advantage—the range was similar, but the power was vastly inferior.
Humans couldn’t withstand as many bullets as the Greenskins, so the Beast Slaughtering Group had to resort to different tactics.
They modified their firearms, increasing both the caliber and the gunpowder charge.
Although this severely reduced the guns’ reliability, the bullets’ firepower increased significantly.
They equipped themselves with machetes and spears so that when the Greenskins got close, they’d have weapons to fight back.
When a Greenskin tore through three or four people at close range, there were always six or seven spears stabbing into it from all directions.
People claimed the Beast Slaughtering Group had unique methods for dealing with the Greenskins, but to Lacroix, it wasn’t anything special.
More fierce courage, a heart full of hate, and a fearless many-against-one approach.
To kill two or three Greenskins, they often had to sacrifice ten lives.
It was as simple as that.
But things were different now.
When the Battalion Commander spoke to him about restructuring, he thought it was straightforward: better treatment, better equipment, and still fighting Greenskins—what was not to like?
However, what he hadn’t expected was that after restructuring, the whole approach to battle changed.
After a few days of resting at the military camp and going through a round of training under the Governor’s watchful eyes, he felt as if he suddenly understood a lot.
Shooting stance, military skills, fortifying positions, group coordination, armor support, artillery support…
Those few days felt almost miraculous; his mind suddenly became clear.
Any tactic explained to him made sense immediately, and every skill was mastered with just a little practice.
Returning to the front line, he and his squad leader—or rather, his sergeant now—
With ten people in total, they constructed two firing points.
Using common rubble and bricks from the ruins, they created these points on a small slope, which gave them a vantage point.
Similar firing points, spaced out across small distances, had been built by their fellow squad members, ensuring overlapping fields of fire and seamless mutual support.
These were things they had just learned.
In the past, they had relied solely on rough instincts, without being able to build effective positions like this.
And these positions had an immediate impact.
One squad of Greenskins, about a dozen strong, sneaked up under the cover of darkness, getting quite close to one of the fortifications before a sentry spotted them.
Gunfire erupted, rousing everyone.
The soldiers stationed there resisted fiercely, while nearby comrades provided immediate fire support, with machine guns and rifles blazing.
Two or three Greenskins were immediately killed in the concentrated fire.
That squad retreated under fire, losing three men and leaving the fortification to the Greenskins, only for reinforcements to fire two rockets into it moments later.
After the blast, seven or eight men charged in, bayonets affixed, and engaged the remaining Greenskins in close combat.
Lacroix was among them and managed to kill one himself.
In close combat, humans were at a disadvantage, even if most of the Greenskins were already injured or dead; the four remaining still managed to kill seven soldiers.
Overall, though, the exchange was nearly one-for-one.
In the past, a dozen Greenskins could have wiped out their entire company.
But at that moment, the battle was far from over.
Their positions had been disrupted, and the Greenskins seemed to seize the opportunity to deploy more forces in an attack.
The moonless night provided cover, but under the floodlights of the encampment, Lacroix clearly saw at least fifty Greenskins forming a wave of shadows advancing on their position.
In that instant, he felt intense fear as he and his comrades opened fire wildly.
Everyone seemed to know there was no escape.
There was no way they could outrun the Greenskins.
Their only thought now was to take as many of them down as possible before they died.
Just then, a piercing sound roared above their heads!
Lacroix remembered the platoon leader saying that if a fight broke out, the company commander would radio the support artillery from the rear.
They only had to hold their ground to receive artillery support!
And now, it had arrived!
At least three shells exploded just ahead of them.
The deafening blasts nearly made his ears go numb.
But Lacroix felt an inexplicable excitement.
Now this was real war!
The Greenskins had tough hides, but they were still flesh and blood.
Within the five to six-meter radius of the 155mm howitzer blasts, there was nothing left of those who were caught in it.
Within fifty meters, the shockwaves and shrapnel could easily kill.
The three shells hit accurately, and if not for the Greenskins spreading out and knowing to lie low when the shells hit, those blasts could have wiped them all out.
Even so, at least twenty Greenskins perished.
The remaining ones howled as they got up and continued charging up the slope.
But this time, more nearby firing points came to life, pouring fire onto them, with at least ten machine guns and countless rifles aimed at the charging Greenskins.
G9M light machine guns, combined with the G9A automatic rifles, formed a web of firepower that far surpassed their old iron-pipe rifles.
Under the dense fire of this firepower web, the Greenskins eventually fell along their charge route.
After that, the entire night and the whole front line seemed to become lively, as if battles were breaking out everywhere, with the sound of gunfire faintly reaching them from as far as ten kilometers away, accompanied by the constant rumble of artillery.
Lacroix and his unit endured several attacks as well, suffering not a few casualties, especially when the Greenskins got as close as thirty to fifty meters away—any shot from those crude Greenskin weapons was deadly for them.
But since when was there a battle without casualties?
Tonight, Lacroix could at least ensure that, in his section of the front line, more Greenskins had died than his comrades.
At dawn, the Greenskins’ assault stopped.
As they counted their losses and gains, it became clear that over fifty Greenskin bodies lay out front, with around thirty to forty killed by artillery and rockets, ten more shot, and five or six taken down in close combat.
Meanwhile, Lacroix’s side had lost thirty soldiers.
A new company arrived at ten in the morning with breakfast, taking over their position.
After fighting all night and losing 30% of their forces, Lacroix and his comrades were finally able to retreat for some rest.
Personally, Lacroix didn’t feel tired—if anything, he was exhilarated and eager for another round of battle!
…
Kao’fu felt exhausted and frustrated, but he too was ready for another fight.
Fighting, killing, and watching blood spray—this was the greatest passion of the Greenskin orcs, a desire rooted in their genes.
They were brutal, violent, and battle was their very nature. They feared nothing, least of all death, and their biggest concern in life was a lack of fights; even losing a fight left them in a bad mood.
Today was one of those disappointing days.
To avoid losing, Kao’fu had no choice but to temporarily pull his boys back.
Several Mad Docs were performing surgery on Greenskin lads missing hands, legs, or heads.
If an arm was missing, they’d hack one off from another Greenskin and sew it on; they did the same for legs.
Some Greenskins, who had taken direct artillery hits, were missing several parts, but if they still had their heads and were somehow alive, they’d decapitate them and swap their heads onto a body with an intact body but a ruined head.
Seeing his lads reassembled one by one made Kao’fu feel slightly better.
“I like fighting, and I’m not afraid of dying, but that doesn’t mean I’d knowingly walk into a losing battle. We live for the next fight, and if too many Greenskin boys die, it’ll be hard to keep fighting afterward.”
He returned to the barracks assembled from ruins, grabbed a red, clunky-looking communicator, and fiddled with it, trying to reach his boss in the rear.
However, the communicator crackled with static, unable to connect.
Kao’fu grew angrier, shouting, “Kacha! Kacha! Get in here!”
A Greenskin much smaller than Kao’fu, though still larger than a typical orc, walked in with a wrench.
“Kao’fu Boss, what do you need me to do?”
“Fix this thing! I need to contact Big Boss Ripper!”
“This thing broke again?”
Kacha took the communicator from Kao’fu, scratched his head, tapped it with a small hammer a few times, and removed a couple of parts with his wrench.
Then he handed it back to Kao’fu, saying, “I think it should work now.”
Kao’fu didn’t care; he fiddled with it again, and sure enough, it connected.
He kicked Kacha in the rear to send him off, then, hearing the familiar breathing sound on the other end, Kao’fu impatiently yelled, “Big Boss Ripper! I listened to you and led the boys on a charge while those shrimp were changing their shifts! But a whole lot of lads got killed, and we still didn’t break through. Those shrimp cannons are too fierce. I want big boom-booms too! I need trucks! I want racing bikes!”
“No!” Big Boss Ripper denied, “Stay there and keep defending! Any boys itching to fight can go fight! I heard from the Elders that if we wait a bit longer, we’ll be able to unleash something big, a big boom-boom! We can’t let it out too soon! Once we’ve got new lads and new grots ready, we’ll bring those big boom-booms and wipe out all those shrimp in one sweep!”
“Alright… you’re the boss, so I’ll listen.” Kao’fu grumbled, “But you have to promise that when the big boom-booms come, I get extra!”
“I’ll share it with you, I’ll share it with you!”
…
Click. Ending the call, Ironjaw Clan’s big boss, Ripper, walked heavily toward the Elder.
The Elder was an old Greenskin orc whose teeth were nearly all gone.
An old Greenskin was a rare sight. Orcs who couldn’t fight didn’t live long, and there was no respect for elders among Greenskins.
On the other hand, if a Greenskin could survive to an old age and still hold an important position in the clan, it meant he must be extraordinary and likely not as weak as he looked.
In front of the Elder, even Ripper, the boss of the whole clan, showed some respect—a rare trait among Greenskins.
“When will our big boom-boom be ready?” Ripper asked. “The lads keep asking and begging for support. If it doesn’t work out, I might have to call them back. Some new shrimps have arrived, and they’re proving to be quite tough; the lads are getting battered!”
The Elder thought for a moment and replied, “They have to keep fighting. More death, more WAAAGH, more boys, more death, more WAAAAGH, more lads, and even more death… Then we win! We’ll all turn into bigger orcs! The boys on the front need to push harder, and if they struggle, just send more grots forward. We have too many of those grots, and we don’t need that many. The new mushrooms are almost grown, but we’ll still need more land to grow even more mushrooms.”