[h3][center][i][color=gray]Dirt[/color][/i][/center][/h3]

[i]It was always dirt. Earthen trench works and fox holes, warhead and artillery craters. Muck and mud, sand and dust. Dirt, Dirt and more Dirt. Kraeger wondered, just how much time had he spent in the dirt? Not just on the ground, but under it. His armor stained every shade of brown one could imagine at one time or another. He was certain he had been covered in dirt far more often than blood. But just how much [b]time[/b] had he spent kneeling, laying down in, and smothered with dirt? Days most definitely. Weeks? Absolutely. Months? Most likely. Years? In all probability yes. Years down on his knees or squatting within earthen works, be they his or the enemies. Waterlogged trenches and muddy fox holes.

He had once spent a whole month in a 4 foot deep hole with fetid water up to his navel. [b]A month[/b]. He had hardly moved. When the water would soak into the ground and leave just mud he had to fight in order to keep from getting stuck it was so thick. by the time the order to go over the top and rush a fortified bunker came his armor wasn't gray anymore. He had spent over an hour peeling off layers of mud after that assault.

And now here he was again. Squatting in a hole. And this time the dirt was [b]literally[/b] burying him. Kraeger had dug his hole quickly, and covered himself nearly as fast. Not that he had ever complained about being dirty.
 No, by now the cramped, claustrophobic feeling of barely being able to move ones arms or legs, uncomfortably squatting on his haunches, almost completely still save for his own breathing... it was peaceful. He could think clearly here, even more than when embroiled in combat. For him it was a time of reflection. A time to rest and wait... after all there wasn't much else to do. They had been waiting for hours outside of the chateau. Him and all the other Legionaries. They were from many of the legions... most had a squad, though most were a mixed bag of legions rather than any unified group. Then there were a few like Kraeger, lone wolves. No squad, no brothers,
 just a lone marine. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd been a sergeant just before... well his squad was dead, and it felt almost wrong to take another... for now at least. He shook his head just barely in his hole, these thoughts were distressing him. They were complex, not simple like the hole. He couldn't reduce it to numbers anymore, his old squad. How long was his trench? How deep was the fox hole? How right was he to have abandoned his legion? His father? Questions far less simple begun to creep into his mind. 

He couldn't be happier when the signal came. Like the others the Iron Warrior veteran burst from his hile in the ground, it was deep enough to obscure his chest and midriff from fire. As he stood dirt was pushed around in a circle, creating a small barrier to deter an enemy from simply rolling an explosive into his fortification. It would be just enough. Kraeger scanned the elegant chateau as warning claxons blared, human guard scrambled for cover and weapons and automated defenses came online. Several were already knocked out by other Legionaries or being engaged by the time Kraeger surfaced.

Kraeger raised his own bolter with a low growl, and picked his targets.[/i]