“This is not a foxhole.
This is the rich earth of my world.
Dirt I threw in handfuls on the coffins of troopers that came before me.
Those who stood in the ranks on the bastion wall, lasgun in hand, And told the Eye it would not have our future.
This is not a foxhole, this is my world.
This is not a foxhole, it is my home.
The place I have shared with my comrades, eating, laughing,
A hole that does not feel empty, for we fill it with light and courage,
And where I have seen them pass into the Emperor's light.
This is not a foxhole, it is my home.
This is not a foxhole, it is my fortress.
It is home, world, a kasr I have dug with my own hands
A legacy that was bequeathed to me, to meet the enemy blade first
As we have always, and I will not leave it, not surrender it
Not take one step back for I have dug my fortress, and will hold it.
For this is not a foxhole, it is a grave.”
―
Robert Rath,
The Fall of Cadia
