Male

You poor sorry bastard.

The chance that you will EVER know anything but unending battle and **** again for as long as you have the good fortune to live is... Remote. The Guard chews up, swallows, digests, and shits out men like you by their billions every day; truly is it said “For every minor award and metal a million heroes die unsung and unremembered,” and “The martyrs grave is the keystone of the Imperium”...

You however are extraordinarily fortunate, this is not to be your fate: for one thing, you have a son and a daughter, they at least will remember you as the father who was called to make the hero's sacrifice for the Imperium and as a result they will attend the Scholla Honorarium which is their ticket to a life of wealth and comfort; well, relatively speaking. (Assuming they don’t get called up to serve too.) For another, you are not the average bear when it comes to stamina, strength, intelligence, savvy, and dexterity: you are an exceptional specimen of humanity, which gives you a SLIGHTLY, but statistically significant, higher chance to survive until your regiment is awarded settlement rights. Lastly, and you are not EXACTLY sure how this happened, but possibly some kind of bizarre aptitude testing, you were made Corporal of your squad, you answer to your Sergeant but in the event he is incapacitated or you split into fire teams you assume control, and there is a small but non-zero chance you could be promoted further, even to full Officer status.

All this is cold comfort however, since the survival rates of anyone under full officer rank are low indeed, averaging a span measured in hours upon reaching a new war-zone for the first time, even to the point that soldier's are not issued their full kit until they have survived a full day of 'Boots on the Ground' service.