"Oberleutnant!" The Brigadier ducked his head back into the compartment of the Fox, with his hand resting upon his pistol, "are you ready to give your life in service of the Empire today?"

The Brigadier was a man for eccentric displays of fanciful soldiery. He had, in some ways, always been dreaming of this moment. To lead men into combat. To destroy the enemy utterly and relentlessly. He only regretted that it was in a Civil War, between Aryische men. It would've been preferable if the lesser sub-groups of Man had survived the Deluge, and had somehow staked a claim far in the Galaxy. But, he could not choose his fate, only follow through with the duty that was given to him.

The Brigadier could see some apprehension on the Oberleutnant's face and rested his hand upon his field-grey uniformed shoulder before he could offer a reply, "we cannot pick our fate, Oberleutnant. We can only do our duties as Aryische folk and as Imperial officers."

He then looked towards the Gefreiter driving, "take us straight through their line, and then we'll turn heel and smash into them from behind!"