He checked his lasgun one last time, made sure the straps on his helmet were tightened, and placed his right foot on the bottom step of the ladder.
He wasn't going to break, now, on the eve of their decisive battle, with The Emperor and His children all watching.
Falrich took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled as the bell was rung, climbing up the ladder with a speed he didn't think himself capable of, and began to charge across the muddy ground.
At two hundred yards, the enemy opened fire from their trenches, and Falrich's ears were filled with the screams of the wounded and the dying, but he kept running, picking up the pace.
At one hundred and fifty yards, he began to recite the litany of war, focusing his mind of the blessed words.
At one hundred yards, he realized he could no longer hear the sound of his fellow guardsmen, and looked back to try and see why.
The rest of the army were a full fifty yards behind him, one of the sergeants shouting for him to slow down.
Suddenly, Falrich's illusion of immortality were shattered, and for a split second, he found himself more terrified than he had ever been.
When that fraction of a second had passed, the feeling was replaced by surprise, as he lost his grip on the muddy ground and saw the battlefield rushing up to meet him.
His survival instincts kicking in, he was both unable and unwilling to get back up and finish the charge, the sound of enemy gunfire and the cries of the injured too much for him to bear.
He laid there, on the muddy ground, for close to half a minute before he felt a tug at the back of his armour, jerking him to his feet.