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Chapter 51: A Battle Plan? Urban Meatgrinder.
Duvette returned the nod and tucked the commissar's cap under his arm. "You flatter me. I am nothing more than an ordinary Astra Militarum commissar."
Beside him, Volkov rose and extended a hand. Duvette shook it. The grip was firm and the hand was rough, the skin hardened with old calluses.
"I have read the Farrak IV campaign report," Volkov said, his voice measured. "Your role at the critical turning point was impressive."
Duvette smiled and shook his head. "The Emperor's blessing entirely."
He did not linger on pleasantries. He walked to the tactical table, set the commissar's cap down precisely, and got to the point.
"I am here to discuss our operational plan going forward," Duvette said. "The front line has broken. The Orks will be on top of us before long."
"Expected." Kleist made no effort to conceal his contempt for the front-line forces. "Though also, in a way, surprising. I had assumed they would have broken entirely several days ago."
He turned to face Duvette, the grey-blue eyes carrying a quality that was all challenge.
"Forgive me, I neglected a proper introduction." Kleist rose, his boot heels coming together with a precise click. "I am the commanding officer of the Eisenmark 11th Heavy Armoured Regiment. Many prefer to call us the Black Cross Armoured. Colonel Kleist von Ludwig."
Duvette nodded. "Good. Colonel Kleist, I suggest we align on tactics immediately. We will need to coordinate if we are to hold against the Ork advance."
"It is you who need our help," Kleist said, raising an eyebrow.
He did not wait for Duvette to respond. He pressed one black-gloved finger to the plain south of the city on the map.
"According to the combat reports transmitted from the front," Kleist said, "the enemy's advance elements are projected to reach the city perimeter in approximately four hours."
He moved his finger to the plain north of the city.
"At that point, the last of the pilgrims and clergy will have just cleared the city. Which means we will be meeting the enemy on open ground."
He paused. The grey-blue eyes found Duvette directly.
"The most straightforward plan available to us is therefore this: the 101st serves as a decoy force to draw the enemy's attention, while our tanks deliver the killing blow."
Kleist straightened, hands clasped behind his back.
"Commissar Duvette. Your thoughts?"
Duvette looked at him and produced a smile that was correct and nothing more.
"I think it is a fine plan," he said. "I also have a different one."
Kleist's brow came down.
"We have no reason to leave the city," Duvette continued. "Engaging Orks who outnumber us on open ground is a poor choice under any circumstances. Furthermore, our readings show the wind is picking up. The spore fog outside will close over the engagement area ahead of schedule."
He pressed his finger to the plain on the map.
"When it does, both sides lose most of their visibility. The primary advantages of heavy armour on open ground are visibility and engagement range. The spore fog eliminates the first. It will also degrade your vehicle-mounted auspex."
Duvette raised his head and looked at Kleist.
"Worse: if the pilgrim column is spotted, the Orks may use the civilians as a mass to break our formation. If that happens, we lose. Certainly."
"What exactly are you proposing?" Kleist narrowed the grey-blue eyes and fixed them on Duvette.
"We fight inside the city, Colonel." Duvette touched the city's outline on the map. "Street warfare."
Kleist produced a short, contemptuous sound.
"What you are suggesting," he said, making no effort to conceal it, "is that we abandon the civilian column, leave them to face the Ork advance directly, allow ourselves to be surrounded inside a city, and wait there to die."
He shook his head.
"A ludicrous tactical proposal. Is this the actual command capacity of the 101st? I am beginning to believe your earlier results genuinely were the Emperor's blessing."
"Save the mockery for a moment, Colonel." Duvette's smile did not shift. "I will concede that my grasp of operational doctrine is not on your level. My knowledge of Orks, however, almost certainly is."
He stepped forward and put both hands on the edge of the tactical table.
"Orks are cunning, in their own way. But every action they take leads eventually to the same destination: the fight. They hunger for it. An unarmed column of pilgrims on an open plain holds no interest for them whatsoever."
Duvette's finger traced across the city map.
"And under cover of the spore fog, the moment we show any indication of fortifying inside this city, they will drop everything else and come for us."
He raised his head and looked at the darkening expression on Kleist's face.
"I need to buy the evacuation column one full day. Do I not?"
"You want a heavy armoured regiment crammed into alleyways fighting at close range?" Kleist challenged immediately.
Duvette nodded.
"Yes, Colonel. The spore fog has already taken our visibility. Given that fact, why not use it and grind them up at close range?"
He raised his chin slightly. "And, Colonel, when I came in I counted three Demolisher Leman Russ at your camp entrance."
The look in his eyes went sharp. "That cannon, the one capable of threatening Titan-class war engines, did you bring it here as a parade piece? Drive those tanks into the chokepoints. My infantry clears the dead ground. That is what those machines were made for."
Kleist's expression went through several changes. He looked at the map, then at Duvette, and something complex worked through the grey-blue eyes.
The tent went quiet. The only movement was the indicator lights on the communications equipment boxes in the corner, cycling in their regular rhythm.
Then Volkov spoke.
"I believe this plan is workable."
Kleist turned sharply toward him. Volkov did not acknowledge the look. He continued facing Duvette.
"I do have one remaining question, Commissar Duvette," he said. "How do we extract when the time comes? Surrounded, fog everywhere, one wrong step and we lose everything."
Duvette glanced at the Grand Strategic Display spread across his vision. Blue-white lines traced the city's structure in clean, precise detail.
He raised his head. His expression carried a confidence that did not need to explain itself.
"Trust the 101st's instincts, gentlemen," Duvette said. "We cleared elite Chaos cultists in an underground labyrinth. The Orks will be no different."
Kleist stared at him for several seconds. Then he laughed.
"Instincts?" He repeated the word. The contempt was open. "You intend to command a battle on instinct?"
"Yes," Duvette answered, entirely calm. He pressed his finger to several positions on the map. "We establish defensive positions at these locations. Buildings for cover, streets for kill zones. Your tanks do not go into the narrow passages. They hold the open squares and the main thoroughfares."
"At that point, the 101st becomes your eyes. We use the vox to feed you real-time enemy movement."
He looked across the table. "Colonel. Your thoughts?"
Kleist was silent for a moment. Then, through his teeth: "...Fine."
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