Since 1872, the Ludovica Military Academy had been turning out competent and efficient officers and graduated the majority of officers for the Hungarian Army. A core of competent and educated officers struggled to handle the large expansion of the Hungarian Army to meet the needs of the Eastern Front. The Hungarians enjoyed a professional and experienced core of staff officers.
Although the majority of infantry forces fielded by the Royal Hungarian Army in 1944–45 were not combat hardened, there were some experienced units after 3 years of fighting on the Eastern Front. Infantry Divisions of the Hungarian First Army had recently fought in the defence of Galicia in early 1944, and would put their experience to good use, like the 25th Division at the Battle of Tordá and the 10th Division inside the Budapest pocket.
For ten thousand years Mortarion, Lord of the Death Guard, has crushed his enemies upon the field of battle.
Plagueburst Crawlers are lumbering, formidable siege tanks whose huge ram-blades, thick armour plating and daemonic energies provide them with incredible resilience.
Festooned with swaying plague censers and tainted bells, Miasmic Malignifiers belch thick clouds of miasmal fumes from their rusted chimneys.
Blightlord Terminators are relentless and unstoppable, elite Death Guard warriors bound forever to mutated suits of Cataphractii armour.
The Pale Harvestmen; the Scythes of Nurgle; the Eyes of Mortarion. The elite warriors of the Deathshroud go by many names, and every one is redolent with a miasma of fear and menace.
Bloated with festering corruption, Plague Marines form the mainstay of the Death Guard, and unlike many Traitor Legions their numbers have only swollen as the millennia have passed.
Labouring through the air on buzzing turbines and driven by the trapped essence of a Nurgle Daemon, the Foetid Bloat-drone drifts toward the enemy like an armoured plague fly.
Typhus, Lord of Mortarion’s First Plague Company and Host of the Destroyer Hive, is the most feared of all Plague Fleet commanders.
Tubes and pipes erupt in profusion from the Lord of Virulence’s armour. These gout noxious fumes are putrid eruptions whose hue and stench guide the fire of artillery engines behind the lines. In their wake, their flensefrond cloaks leave a trail of sickening mucosal slime for hungry Daemon Engines to follow.
Shambling across the battlefield in reeking hordes, Poxwalkers engulf their enemies in rotting tides of grasping hands, gnashing teeth and squirming tentacles. They are the cursed victims of Nurgle’s plagues, transformed into unliving weapons by the cruel masters of the Death Guard.