The high rise in the earth behind the Ork mass were barren save for a few shootah boys who were unceremoniously rammed from behind and trampled into the wet soil as the caravan of OSV's burst into the xeno's view. The engines revved and a few of the vehicles got a good amount of air, not slowing a bit, the men in the seats bouncing, holding on for dear life even as the lasguns began to crack and the enormously loud pounding of the stubbers filled the air. Orks fell by the dozen, thick green bodies now scorched from lasburns or filled with apple sized holes as they tried to get their bearings. Zeb knew Orks did not route as easily as traitors or other xenos, for when the unit collapsed, they were still individual warriors that rarely backed down from a scrap. 

That's why Zeb had briefed the men to hit the biggest and loudest Orks. Every break in the chain, every dismantling shot to the WAAAGH effect took away their courage. The vehicles broke apart, forming a perimeter as the horde scattered to try and better hit the guardsmen. A few burly Orks with choppas launched themselves in front of vehicles, potentially sacrificing themselves to disrupt the OSV's trajectory and send them flying. It worked on one, launching two of the brave men off their seats into the mass of xenos to be hacked away, blood spraying into the air. The driver was strapped, regaining his senses as he found himself waking up in a vehicle on its side. The man operating the heavy stubber had been shot, his corpse leaning against the still firing gun as it went wild. 

Normally Zeb would have tossed a frag or krak at the downed vehicle, to stop the rampant firing and destroy any approaching Orks, but the driver who was very much alive unhooked his seatbelt and grabbed for a shotgun. Zeb recognized him. 

"Rikkerd!" He cried, flipping the firing mode of his lasgun to full auto, pointing at the downed OSV with his free hand. "Hagmen! Over there!" 

Across the gulley, two explosions rang out, sending vehicle parts and greenskin limbs across the battlefield. Every death hit Zeb like a Commissar bullet to the skull, but it was clear their blitzkrieg, mobility, and heavy weaponry were killing seven orks for every guardsman. If they kept up the heat, they would send them to hell. Zeb pulled the trigger on his lasgun, bright crimson flashes filled his vision as they bit and then punched into the neck and shoulder of an ork that was charging at Rikkard, cutting down the legs of another xenos that followed it. Grimdal swiveled the heavy stubber to where the sergeant had indicated, uncomfortably aware there were only forty eight more rounds in the gun. He pressed both triggers on the mounted machinegun and cut through a swathe of greenskin's tramping over to Rikkerd's position, the guardsman taking cover behind the glass windshield of the vehicle and firing his shortgun when applicable. 

Across the battlefield, another OSV rounded the corner of the processing plant, approaching Rikkerd's position and hammering away at the orks, the two OSV's now performing a pincer move. The bullets and lasbolts relentlessly cut down the xenos, another OSV across the way hammering into a stumbling grouping of the xenos as a third had a guardsmen dropping frags like depth charges. Zeb's OSV skidded to a halt, spraying mud over the exhausted but very alive specialist Rikkerd. 

"Get in!" Zeb cried, and as the specialist approached, he looked around tentatively. 

"If that's an order sir, I will but...I think we're good." He said, lowering his shotgun. Zeb turned to look at the field, seeing the few dozen orks left now fleeing for the hills. May the God Emperor protect them, there were only five OSV's left. Less than a day and half of the men were dead. But they could claim they killed over twice their number of Orks, which was no small feat for non-astartes. Zeb winced, looking down at his shoulder to realize some shrapnel the length of a pencil had wedged itself into the meat of his upper arm. He grunted and pulled it out, pressing on the wound by bunching his uniform up against it and holding it there. 

"Sergeant! Survivors over here!" A voice cried, Zeb turning to see one of the men at a sundered hole in the side of the plant. Hagman didn't need to be told to drive over.