R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

The Gauls were down to their last throw of the dice, deciding to try their luck at another spot in our defenses, on the north side of the town. It was on the north side where the terrain was arranged in such a way that there was a hill that we could not completely enclose within our works, so that one of the camps was actually located on the downward slope of the hill, with the bulk of the hill above them. It was at this point that the relieving Gauls would make one final attempt to assault, break through and link up with the besieged force. Vercingetorix’s kinsman Vercassivellaunus would lead 60,000 men in the assault. Realizing that the element of surprise was essential, they crept out of their camp on the hill to the southwest of the town at night, taking a circuitous route, consuming all of the remaining night and part of the next morning before they reached their attack position. At a prearranged time, or signal, we never learned which, the remainder of the Gallic cavalry came thundering out of the internal camp, heading for the western wall once again, with the remaining infantry in the relief camp arraying themselves on the slopes of their hill, preparing to move forward. Simultaneously, Vercingetorix’s army came out of the town, heading for the same spot where they first attempted to cross and some of the ditch was indeed filled in, which we were unable to clear out. Their intent was obvious; they were going to breach the inner wall at the most vulnerable spot, and then in the space between the two, swing up to the northern part of our works, where the assault element of the relieving army was attacking. Their goal was to hit the two Legions, the 8th and 13th, in the left flank while they were engaged to their front. Every redoubt was given a number, with the numbers moving from left to right if one was facing north; the redoubts under assault from the outside force, along with the camp were 21, 22 and 23. My Cohort occupied redoubts Seven, Eight and Nine, with my Century and the Fifth Century manning redoubt number Seven. The spot they chose was relatively close to our redoubt, directly to our left, and it was to this spot that Caesar came to direct the defense of our works, his presence signaled by his red standard, and his paludamentum . We were close enough to see the desperate struggle of Vercingetorix’s men frantically flinging their long hooks up at the wooden palisade, trying to pull it down, the first step in breaching a wall. Our men were just as vigorously knocking them aside, striking down Gauls who were too impatient to wait for the wall to come down and instead were trying to clamber up by hand and foot. The main thrust of the attack of Vercingetorix was focused between redoubts One and Two, yet for the moment our men were holding. A rider came galloping up to Caesar and despite being too far away to hear, by his gestures and posture it was clear that the northern camp was in serious trouble. Labienus was sitting his horse next to Caesar, and we could see Caesar turn to say something to him. Labienus gave a quick salute, then came galloping in our direction but did not stop. A few moments later, men came double timing past us and we saw that the size of the detachment was a number of Cohorts. As they ran by we shouted to them, wishing them good luck, while they called back to us with the usual good-natured taunts about being left behind. A total of six Cohorts, led by Labienus, went running to relieve the camp; three Cohorts from the 10th and three from the 9th, which was positioned next to us and with whom we shared our camp. After they left, we turned our attention back to the fighting, wondering if we would be called to move to where the battle was raging. As it turned out, we did not need to, because the fighting came to us.

I do not know what prompted it, if there was a decision made, or if it just happened. Whatever the case, on some sort of unseen and unheard signal, Vercingetorix’s force broke off their attempted assault then headed straight for us. Perhaps it was the sight of Caesar’s standard, but suddenly there was a large group of very angry Gauls pounding down the gentle slope to our position.

“By the gods, they’re going to overrun us,” I heard someone shout, and I snapped back, “If one of you bastards takes one step back, I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

Then the first of them reached the ditch to begin throwing in their bundles of wood and clumps of turf as we began hurling our javelins, mowing men down, most of whom seemed to either fall, or knowing they were dying, throw themselves into the ditch in order to help fill it up. Within a matter of moments, it was filled and the Gauls came pouring across, waving their long hooks about in an attempt to grab one of the stakes of the palisade. Moving close to the edge, I slashed down at one of the poles, my blade slicing through one as big as a man’s wrist like it was a twig. However, there were hundreds of poles and despite our frantic attempts, some of them managed to find their mark, with first one, then another stake tumbling down. Some of the Gauls used their hooks as weapons, and out of the corner of my eye I saw one grab a man by the neck. The Gaul gave a mighty heave, sending our man’s head tumbling into the air, blood spurting from the stump of his neck a few inches into the air before his body tumbled over the parapet. The noise was deafening, the Gauls roaring out their anger and desperation, as we roared out our own back at them. Soon there were gaping holes in the parapet where several stakes were pulled out, whereupon the Gauls turned their attention to the turf wall, men using the hooks or their bare hands to try bringing the wall down. Our men were standing above them, slashing and thrusting down so that whenever they landed a blow it was usually to the head and face of the Gaul in front of him, who would tumble back, howling in pain, hands covering the horrible wounds. Yet the instant one man fell away, it seemed there were two more to take his place, and in several spots the wall began tumbling down. Running to the nearest area under threat, I was just in time to see the main part of the wall tumble away, a man in the first section named Sido falling screaming onto the spears and swords of the Gauls below, his shrieking cut mercifully short. Into the gap clambered two Gauls, scrambling as quickly as they could to their feet on the undamaged part of the parapet. Without hesitating they threw themselves at me, screaming their war cries. One carried a spear, the other a sword, and I found myself desperately parrying first one blow, then another, backpedaling away and praying that I did not trip over a body behind me. I did not have an opening for an offensive move as they continuously pushed at me. Then, the man with the spear, eyes wild with bloodlust and fear, managed a solid blow that pierced my armor, breaking several of the links. When he lunged, I desperately twisted to one side, yet even as I did, it felt like I was being struck along the ribs with a stave, the wind bursting from my lungs from the force of the blow. A searing pain shot along the length of my ribs and it was only instinct that caused me to reach out with my left hand to grasp the shaft of the spear with all my strength. Trying to withdraw the weapon, he was jerked off balance when it did not budge from my grasp, and I used his momentum to fling him to the side off the parapet, where he fell, losing his grasp of the spear to land heavily on the ground in the space between the two walls. With him out of the way at least temporarily, I gritted my teeth against the pain, using the butt end of the spear, swinging it quickly at the second man, who took a glancing blow on his right elbow, causing him to gasp and drop his sword. Before he could recover I was on him, and he frantically parried my thrusts with his own shield. However, now that I possessed a second weapon I quickly reversed the spear to begin jabbing with it, while thrusting with my sword. Now it was his turn to back up and in a matter of a few heartbeats I forced him to the edge of where the wall had been pulled down. He obviously felt the edge with the back of his heel because the panic on his face was clear to see. Despite himself, his eyes darted down to see how close he was to tumbling off, and that was all the opening I needed, my blade making a quick thrust to catch him directly in the throat, feeling the grate of bone as it exited the back of his neck. His eyes widened then rolled back in his head as I used my foot to kick him off my blade, sending him tumbling down onto the heads of some of the other Gauls who were just then scrambling up into the breach. The pain in my side was excruciating and I could feel the warmth of my blood spreading down my side, yet I could not spare a moment, the Gauls still swarming out from the nearest breach, making it look very much like our position would fall.