Edward Crichton - The Last Roman

Satisfied, I looked over at Helena, who was dressed nearly identically to how I was, as she pulled her own ammo bag over her shoulder. I almost expected her to wear her breast-molded legionnaire armor, knowing what it would do for morale, but she chose the more protective route, something everyone, especially myself, understood.

“Ready?” I asked her.

In response, she slapped a magazine down into her P90, leaned over, and gave me a kiss.

I smiled and jerked my head towards the tent’s entrance. She left first, and I gave the tent one last look before I followed.

Outside, Vincent and Santino were already sitting on logs, warming their hands over a dying fire. Even though we were deeper in Italy than we had been during our time in the winter, and summer was quickly approaching, mornings were still chilly morning. Each was dressed similarly as Helena and I, their swords strapped to their waists and their shields at their feet. Helena and I took a seat on a particularly long log lying on its side, and tried to warm up as well.

A few minutes later, Bordeaux and Wang emerged from their tent. Bordeaux carried nothing on his chest rig, but had his three day assault bag in one hand, his SAW in the other. Sitting on another log, I noticed he was inserting the last few rounds of ammunition into one of his box magazines. The box magazines were large, about the size of a brick, and could carry two hundred rounds each. I estimated he had at least ten in his bag, with another already loaded into his weapon. He noticed my inspection and flicked his eyebrows in rapid succession. The man loved his firepower.

Wang was geared up more traditionally, with most of his vest looking much the same as it always did. He had a half a dozen magazine pouches with a few other miscellaneous ones, but had his large medical bag as well. It consisted of enough supplies and modern feats of medicine to provide more care for a century of men than a traditional Roman doctor could provide for an entire army. Even though he wasn’t equipped to care for the entire legion, he’d still save more lives today than any other doctor. He’d hang back and do what he could from the rear.

They joined the rest of us as we warmed our chilled bones.

It was an unusually chilly morning.

Quiet and contemplative, the squad sat and enjoyed our own personal calm before the storm, barely paying attention to the hustle and bustle of the active camp around us. Everyone had their eyes on the fire, their gazes glossed over, each of them running through the possible outcomes of the battle in their minds. They were nervous, but I had nothing but confidence in each of them.

Helena laid her head on my shoulder, her own gaze staring blindly into the fire. I wrapped an arm around her waist and looked over at Santino, who had broken his stare to offer me a supportive smile. I returned it, and tracked my attention over to Vincent, who had pulled his hands away from the flames, stuffing them into his pockets, and stood up.

“Everyone get something to eat?” He asked.

We nodded. Helena and I had shared the breakfast egg burrito MRE earlier, which had always surprised me as being exceptionally delicious.

Catching each of our nods, he nodded back. “Good. Today is going to be an interesting day.” He sighed, and kicked a small amount of dirt into the fire. “That said, I have something important I need to say.”

I straightened, feeling Helena take her head off my shoulder, interested as well.

“No matter how today’s battle goes, afterwards, I am officially disbanding our unit. We will no longer be Praetorians. Considering our situation, I feel it is only appropriate. I will not become a mercenary captain and order you around in our new home. It hardly seems fair. I’ve spoken to Caligula, and he’s agreed to retain each of you as centurions in his own Praetorian Guard, probably attached to his Sacred Band. Nobody is forcing this on you. I want each of you to choose for yourselves.”

No one said anything, but it occurred to me that his decision was an acceptance of our fate in this world, and that he must little faith in our ability to get home. I wasn’t about to give up hope quite yet, but at least now we had a choice. He was giving us the ability to make our own lives in the world fate had delivered us to. We couldn’t change the fact that we were here, but at least now we weren’t forced to live by the decisions made in another lifetime.

I stood. “Sir. I believe I speak for all of us when I say,” I looked around for support, “that I think you made the right choice, and that we’re very happy you did so.”

Everyone else stood as well, offering their own agreements and positive sentiments. Vincent opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by the bellowing blast of a Roman trumpet blaring a call to arms. I looked over Wang’s shoulder and saw hundreds of scampering men, each trying to find their place in the marching column that would lead them to the battlefield.

“Party time,” Santino said.

***

Back when I was working on my Master’s degree, I’d spent most of my time researching and writing about politics, legislation, and social controversies. Needless to say, it was boring stuff, but my favorite professor always told me to write about the tedious stuff first, and wait to write about my passion when it came time for my doctoral dissertation. It was a good idea, except I’d never gotten around to writing my paper on Gaius Marius, the man who’d been influential during the Jugurthian War, reformed the Roman army a generation before Julius Caesar came to power, and had been drawn into two civil wars during his impressive seven consulships.

Military stratagem had always been a passion of mine, both modern and ancient. My knowledge of it had helped me receive my commission upon joining the Navy. I’d scored very well in intelligence tests, especially when it came to anything concerning tactics and strategy. The Navy had been disappointed when I chose not to pursue a career in its intelligence divisions, instead, deciding on a combat unit like the SEALs. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. If I had to be in the military, I wasn’t going to waste my time as a glorified pencil pusher.

I was going to fuck some shit up.

So, when I found myself arrayed on a battlefield, surrounded by a Roman legion with the walls of ancient Rome providing the backdrop, I was surprised to find that any fear I had felt was completely lost to feelings of curiosity, interest, and excitement.

Romans had always been good at warfare, from the rise of their monarchy to the fall of their empire more than a thousand years later. Very good. Their entire way of life was based upon it, and their conquests, because of it. What made them so proficient was their discipline, training, and most importantly their flexibility. Greek phalanx formations had been the epitome of modern warfare during the height of their power, but Roman manipular formations had changed that. What made maniples so versatile was their ability to work independently of the main body of the army. While the phalanx was distracted in a head to head battle, individual maniples could easily peel off and envelop the flatfooted phalanxes, crushing the soldiers who could not defend their flanks. Roman battle doctrine had evolved over the years, and now fought in much larger cohorts thanks to Marius, but the same idea still applied.

These tactics worked well when fighting barbarians and Greeks alike, but I imagined situations where both forces utilized these tactics would amount to nothing more than a prolonged bloodbath. While each side today would use these tactics, the makeup of each army couldn’t be any more different.

Standing opposite Caligula’s loyalist force was the rebel army of Claudius. His army was a mismatch of unit types, complementing each other very little, but making up for it in sheer numbers. The only thing these units shared were the purple cloaks they wore. Purple cloaks, reserved for the emperor alone, would never have been offered to troops whether they were Praetorians or not. It was just another indictment against Claudius.