"It's obvious that my mother often tells me that if we can't change the status quo, we have to adapt to the status quo, such as--"
"For example, immediately close the dog's mouth where you can't spit out green skin, pick up the engineer shovel and dig some soil nearby and put it under your feet, which will make your feet feel much better."
Oh, the Emperor is above.
As for common sense, an introverted person is not suitable for serving as a commander, which is true. However, due to the rules of emergency mobilization during wartime, Hartman Paul was honored to be commanded by an infantry squad, and the rank of military personnel was promoted from a senior corps to a non-commissioned officer, which only took half a month.
The troops they currently belong to are the 114th Infantry Regiment of the Amigdorton, which has a glorious history on the planet.
Of course, perhaps the "they" in the previous sentence should not be added, because the 114th Infantry Regiment did not take these recruits who were native workers and citizens a month or two ago to heart, so it should be natural that they did not rush straight towards the greenskin with the large army, but guarded some irrelevant places.
Hartman Paul could imagine the terrible smiles of those rank-ups.
Well, if you stay, stay. It is his hometown, and he doesn't care whether he can get a green-skinned tooth.
Of course, the trench squats are not the case.
Thinking of this, Hartman Paul looked unhappy.
Look at this big pit, it is also along the river and collecting rain. Now it is a unique shadow season for the planets. Many volcanoes have begun to erupt, and black clouds have covered the sky. Not only does it make remote communications inside the planet extremely difficult, but it also gathers sewage and makes the calves of these recruits numb, and their feet are soaked like flour fermentation.
And those master soldiers huddled in the three-story warehouse on the edge of the bridge and ate the soup dripping down from the big beard on the shiny carapace.
"Fuck it."
Subconsciously reaching out and touching the empty cigarette box on the helmet, Hartman Paul said helplessly to Shechar on the left:
"Go, pick me up another cigarette butt."
Shechar, who was just seventeen years old, was digging broken soil by engineer shovels. He was just a baker not long ago.
"Sir, this is the seventh time."
Then, the recruit stepped on his feet with his frozen legs.
"Give me aside."
"Then, Hapi?"
The shoemaker waved his hand.
"corn?"
The guy who was shaving with a bayonet had no bird at all.
There is no need to ask the rest, Hartman knew that none of them was convinced by him.
According to convention, awe and obedience to superiors are common sense for the guards, but there are exceptions here, because these bastards know that even if they don’t miss him, he will only endure it if they are introverted.
Sometimes he would also think about what common sense routines he had when he went to TM, why others could use it smoothly, and it would be difficult for him to move forward as soon as he reached his own pace.
Alas, the Emperor is above!
Hartman had to pick up the cigarette butt by the warehouse window himself. The only benefit of climbing out of the trench was to make the wet boots slightly dry, but he slid a little when he climbed to the edge.
"Be careful, sir!"
"Be careful."
Hartman, who had crawled out, took a deep breath. The air here was different from the freshness of the park where he was originally located. Now the air only smells of coal smoke.
No one can tell the reason.
He was originally a horticulturalist, but he was a boy scout for a while when he was a teenager. Unexpectedly, he would directly treat it as a "non-commissioned officer reserve" and be given priority.
Good luck is always far away from him.
He still remembered the last order they received from these master soldiers so far, which was actually just two words - guarding the bridge.
But what is there to defend this bridge? The complicated connections of Hapi once asked Hartman to be careful of news that Green Skin might attack at any time, but according to the superiors, they are the attacking parties, and Green Skin is just a small trouble that is not as good as the Nun Do gang.
Seeing the masters and soldiers looking like the meat and forests all day long, this seems very convincing.
A cold wind wrapped in volcanic ash blew, and Hartman shrank his neck. The three-story warehouse built on the bridge in front of him was once the grain purchase station in this area.
Of course, it is better to say that it is a legal robbery that covers a fig leaf than an acquisition.
There was a rumor that the warehouse adopted the standard design of military fortifications in order to prevent farmers from rioting. Now it seems that the solidity of the roof collapsed in an accidental shelling shows that this is true.
Quietly, Hartman bent down and squatted by the windowsill of the warehouse.
“Yo.”
A contemptuous voice sounded, and Hartman looked up and found that it was one of the group of master soldiers who blinked at him.
"If you think of this as a public toilet, we'd better have a talk."
Well, maybe in the eyes of this group of guard veterans, their new recruits are only more intelligent than Oglin, and discrimination is also the norm for this group of people.
Hartman ignored him and reached out to pick up a third of the cigarette butt left and put it in his mouth.
"Oh, quite personality."
The veteran rubbed his stubble chin.
"Well, just say it just if you want a cigarette, sneaky..."
After saying that, he raised his left hand, hung his gun by the windowsill, and began to grop with his hands to get out of the greasy armed belt.
"Give."
The veteran pulled off the cigarette butt from Hartman's mouth and stuffed it into a new cigarette roll.
“…Thank you.”
"where."
The veteran smiled calmly.
"Do you want to be popular?"
"No, I have my own way..."
boom--------!
The explosion suddenly rang, and Hartman was so scared that he climbed directly to the ground.
Just as he was lying in the water without any elegance and gasping for breath, Shechar shouted in his even more indecent voice.
"Here is here! Here!"
"What's here?"
Hartman, a fish-stand, reached out and held his deadly pistol tightly by the trenches, rolled back into the trenches with mud and water, and then looked up slightly.
In the mist, a group of terrifying green beasts with two feet were holding up their swords and axes, as if they were trying to step through the pitiful concrete bridge deck with their slightly trembling steps on the ground.
This was the first time Hartman saw Green Skin, which was more terrifying than he thought, because in the battle manual issued, Green Skin should be something thin, small and timid, why are these big and fierce?
"Be careful of concealment!"
Hartman pressed the Hapi, who was holding the gun, down and asked everyone to lower their heads. Not to mention that the green-skinned shooting was just a sound, it was never a joke if there were too many bullets.
But at this moment, another voice sounded.
"Don't lie down!!"
A shout came from the warehouse, and it was the veteran who handed Hartman's cigarette riding in front of the window.
"Let go to fight! These bastards have no long range when they use melee weapons!"
It seemed to be to prove his judgment that the laser gun in his hand was very comfortable.
But Greenskin is obviously not as simple as he said. The laser gun did not hit the target, but it angered the Greenskins, rushed to the front guys, and reached out to the back to see a few big guns with black smoke.
"Fuck!"
The veteran hurriedly shrank back, and then the windowsill where he had been staying before became a sieve.