The next Chimera was hit by a salvo of autocannon shells that punched narrow round holes into its side armour and shredded those inside.

She had a glimpse of Sergeant Elhrot crouched double, running forward as the beach erupted with mortar shots.

Dido’s own vehicle plunged forwards up the right-hand side of the beach, beneath the headlands. The squat bulk of Fourth Redoubt rained fire down on them. They were nearing the lower slopes when Dido’s tank slammed into the lines of razor wire.

There was a screech of tortured metal as the wire scraped a thousand sharp nails along either side. The note of the engine rose as it took the strain and then its weight and power and momentum drove it forward.

Breve aimed The Saint at the gap that Dido’s Chimera had made, but another tank had got there first. It caught on a half-buried tank trap and snagged, one side of its tracks spinning helplessly in the air.

‘Go around!’ Minka shouted down to Breve.

‘I can’t see!’ he shouted in reply.

A line of tracer fire hammered the stricken tank. Deep red sparks sprayed off into the night.

‘Get out,’ Minka willed, but the Chimera remained stuck, the troops still inside. Breve was slamming the gears as he spun The Saint round. ‘Forward!’ Minka shouted. ‘Now!’

Breve spotted a place where the tank traps had been laid too wide apart, but they didn’t have enough of a run up to crash through the barrier.

‘I’m going to have to back up,’ he cursed.

‘No!’ Minka shouted, hammering the turret with the butt of her pistol. ‘Forward!’

Breve cursed as he revved the engine until the machine-spirit was screaming hatred, and the Chimera jerked violently forward.

Minka clung on. They hit the next line of wire with a scream of metal. The razor wire did not give. Through the corner of her eye Minka could see the immobilised Chimera was attracting a huge amount of fire.

There was no time to hesitate.

‘Dismount!’ she ordered, and in a moment her squad were piling out and running up the beach into a hail of death.

On Creed Beach, armoured units that were supposed to have landed in the first wave brought vital momentum. Lines of Hellhound variants were fed straight into battle, clambering up from the beach and cresting the lip of the cliff, then roaring out towards the low tower of the main bastion, which was strangely quiet.

The commanders of these tanks had a reputation for insane courage, and they showed all that and more as they roared forward, their turret-mounted guns spraying gouts of burning promethium and toxic chems.

Yedrin threw himself sideways behind a Hellhound, his fingers scrambling for a fresh powercell. As he ejected the old one he caught sight of Blanchez, away to the right, pausing to kneel, her sniper rifle braced against her shoulder.