R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

It was not until the late afternoon of that day that we were finally ready to set sail for the island, turning to the northwest to begin our journey. Just like our trip the year before, it was not going to be easy, with the currents and wind once again seeming to conspire against our best efforts and we began drifting farther north than where we were supposed to land, roughly the same beach where we landed at the year before. Another of the refinements to the transports that Caesar ordered was that we were not completely powered by sail; holes were drilled in the sides of the boats to allow the use of oars, and the signal was given for us to break them out to begin rowing back to the southwest toward the beach. There was the usual cursing and groans, punctuated by muttered comments that we had not signed on in the army to be sailors, but the Centurions and Optios quickly put a stop to this, and we set to the task. Fairly quickly, the spirit of competition began to set in amongst us as, without any order given, we began rowing at a pace that allowed us to keep pace with the war galleys. Before long the galleys noticed us catching up with them, so they began to quicken their rhythm. It was not a few moments later that we were in an all-out race for the landing beach, putting everything we had into at the least keeping up with the galleys, if not overtaking them.

Because of the tricks of wind and current, we did not begin the landing process until around midday of the seventh. With our disembarking, the changes to the design of the transport made unloading go much quicker and more smoothly, while the advance party went out to find a spot to camp. One pleasant surprise was the absence of any Britons waiting for us, although we were sure that they knew we were coming; it is impossible to keep secret a fleet of almost 800 ships, between the newly constructed vessels and the ones that we used the year before. Whatever the cause, we were thankful that we did not have to fight our way off the beach again, this landing going much more smoothly than the year before. Part of the advance party came back to guide us to the spot chosen for the camp, a little more than three miles to the northwest from the beach. Even as we were marching to the campsite, cavalry scouts went out ranging through the area, capturing some prisoners. From them it was learned that we were indeed seen and expected, the Britons actually forming up to fight us on the beach. Then, upon seeing the huge size of our army, they decided that discretion was the better part of valor, retreating instead to some high ground nearby. Caesar was determined to press the attack immediately, so leaving about ten Cohorts chosen from each Legion behind to guard the fleet, which was brought up onto the beach, he ordered us to throw the camp up as quickly as we could, since he was determined to march that night to meet the Britons.

“We’re supposed to put up a camp, then immediately start marching again? What kind of madness is that? We’ll be so tired by the time we find those bastards we won’t be able to do anything more than curse their ancestors,” Vibius complained, supported by the others, who all agreed vociferously.

“You’ve gotten pretty soft, Vibius,” I countered, “Are you scared of a little hard work?”

Because I used the tone of voice that told him that this was not his friend but his Sergeant speaking, Vibius refrained from retorting, yet I could see that my barb found its mark, his face turning red. Instead of speaking, he turned back to the digging of the trench, attacking the sod in front of him like it was one of those blue devils we would be facing shortly. The others followed suit, but it was with a sullen silence that told me that their sentiments were with Vibius, not me. Our camp was on what passed for a hill in this area, barely 20 feet high, while the ground around us was wide open, with the nearest cover in the form of a small forest more than a mile away. Finishing about a full watch before the time we would be departing, it gave us some time to rest before we were to set out at midnight, so we gobbled down our meal to give us as much time as possible to catch some sleep. That is, the others did; I had a number of duties to attend to, so by the time I was finished, I decided that the amount of sleep I might get would actually make me feel worse. Instead I sat outside the tent, staring up at the sky, lost in thought. It is a strange thing, but the farther north one goes the longer the days, so at this time of year there is really never a true night. It is still somewhat light at midnight, fading away to what we think of as dusk for perhaps two thirds of a watch, before the sky begins to get light again. It was this phenomenon that allowed us to start the march at midnight without stumbling around in the dark.

Promptly on time, we marched out of the camp, leaving behind the ten Cohorts to guard it and the fleet, heading almost due west towards the higher ground where the Britons were supposedly gathered and waiting for us. Marching for perhaps ten or eleven miles, our scouts came galloping back to report that they spotted a force of cavalry and chariots that had chosen to occupy a line of high ground overlooking a river running from the southwest to the northeast, with the intent of contesting our crossing. However, Caesar sent our cavalry force around their right flank to force them from that position, making the Britons retreat to a line of even higher ground, protected by thick woods, where they threw up some hasty earthworks, felling trees to form a series of abatis to block our advance. Their position was a strong one, and because of the abatis, a funnel was created through which only one Legion at a time could have a chance of success. Therefore, because they were in the vanguard of the advance and able to deploy the quickest, Caesar ordered the 7th to assault the position. Immediately they went in, formed up in a series of testudo , with the Britons sending a shower of missiles and rocks at them as they advanced. The 7th carried bundles of sticks with them to throw into the ditch that the Britons dug, piling them up until the ditch was filled. Once it was, the men of the 7th came out of their testudo s to unleash their own volleys of javelins before rushing across the bundles and over the rampart, sweeping away the Briton defenders. Despite the Britons putting up a brief fight, they quickly saw that their cause was lost and began melting into the woods, with the 7th in hot pursuit. Caesar was worried about unleashing his men into terrain which he knew very little about, so the recall was sounded and since it was late afternoon already, orders were given to build a camp in a cleared area on the edge of the woods. We were told that we would pick our pursuit back up in the morning, but with all of our stakes, tents and other equipment back at the main camp, we had to make do with deeper ditches than was normal even for Caesar. Spending the night under the stars, we were wrapped only in our sagum , though thankfully the weather held.

That next morning, Caesar divided us into three columns, with a contingent of cavalry assigned to each one, the idea being that the cavalry would either pin the fleeing enemy down while we hurried up to finish them off, or they would circle around the enemy and drive them back into us. He chose to stay behind with the Cohort left guarding our temporary camp to wait for the situation to develop. Marching out of the camp, we picked our pursuit back up, hurrying along, carrying just our weapons and a canteen. Fairly quickly, we spotted the rearguard of a group of the enemy and were just beginning to double time when we were alerted by the shouts of the men in the rear of the formation that there was a courier approaching. Finding the Tribune in nominal command of our column, the courier relayed the order to turn around and head back to the coast, stopping at our camp only long enough to pick up our gear. Once again, Neptune had been harsh with us; another great storm had arisen, wreaking havoc on our fleet one more time. Because of this development Caesar ordered that we head back to the beach with all haste, taking care to maintain security and giving us the permission to defend ourselves if attacked. All three columns received this order, so we reversed our march to head back to the camp of the night before. Grabbing our gear, we did not even stop to destroy the camp in our normal manner, beginning the trek back to the beach, wondering if the gods were trying to give us a message that we could no longer ignore.