R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

He looked closely, then shook his head. Before he could say anything, the sailor, having heard my question answered for him. “That’s because it’s not sand, Gregarius . That’s foam.”

“Foam? What exactly does that mean?”

“It means that that’s not a beach; it’s rocks, and the foam is from the water striking the rocks. There’s no way we can land there.”

Before we could react, he turned quickly to his assistant to snap some orders, who in turn began giving directions to the men rowing, and for the first time it occurred to me that we were in some danger. Once we cleared the small island, we were less than a half mile from the large one, and in the space between the two land masses, some forces were at work that created a current that was propelling us with alarming speed straight for the rocky shore. In the same moment I recognized that danger, the thought struck me that the men rowing held our fate in their hands; they could exact their revenge by refusing to obey the orders of the men commanding the ship, and let us go dashing onto the rocks. They were chained to their benches, so they would undoubtedly die, but they would at least do so with the satisfaction that they were taking a lot of us with them. We were one of the two lead ships, and if we did not correct our course, there was no reason that the other ships following us would not be led to their destruction as well.

Those next few moments reinforced my loathing of being at sea, at the mercy of forces much greater than ourselves and outside of our control. However, the gods smiled on us in the sense that the Gallaeci, who also held the power of life and death over us, were in love with living as much as we were, because they frantically began reversing our course. Slowly we turned away from the jagged rocks waiting to turn our boats into tinder, managing instead to move up the eastern side of the island. It took us closer to the fort, yet that was another blessing in disguise, at least for me and the others who were supposed to carry the artillery. Finding an area that, while not a sandy beach, was smooth enough that it was deemed to be safe for landing without damaging the boats excessively, we immediately began unloading then moving onto the beach, and as we fell into formation to begin the march to the fort, we could see the boats of the 9th disappearing behind a headland that jutted out to our east.

“We’re going to have to hurry if we want to be in place when we’re supposed to be,” Vibius commented, and I nodded in agreement. It had apparently not taken the 9th nearly the amount of time to cross that they had thought it would, so despite our landing closer to the fort, it was evident that we could not tarry if we wanted this assault to have the coordination that Caesar expected. To that end, the Centurions bawled out the order to begin the march and we immediately set out, with a couple of Centuries sent ahead of us to scout out any possible ambush. The ground was fairly level but was extremely rough, causing a bit of stumbling and a lot of cursing as we moved along, the higher part of the fort clearly visible above a line of trees just ahead. At our approach, we heard shouts and the clash of arms as the advance Centuries ran into something ahead.

“First Cohort, on line!”

The Primus Pilus sounded the order, and the First immediately spread out in a line of Centuries, the sounds of fighting growing in intensity and volume as now the cries of men being struck down was added to the din.

“Advance at the double!”

The First started trotting ahead, with the rest of us following, hearing more than seeing the fighting in the trees. A few moments later, the First slammed into the Gallaeci lying in wait, and in short order the fighting was over. Entering the tree line we saw several dozen dead Gallaeci, with our own dead and wounded interspersed among them. The medici that had come with us moved up through our ranks, examining our men, assessing the casualties and administering treatment in less severe cases, or a quick slash across the throat for those who were too severely wounded to survive. No matter how often we saw this happen we could never get used to it, and to a man we always averted our eyes from the unfortunates whose lives were being ended as we walked by.

Exiting the trees, we were some 200 paces away when we saw the first wall, manned now by what looked like a few hundred Gallaeci. Orders were given to assemble the artillery and I moved with the section of men I was working with to help put together the piece. In short order, everything was assembled and made ready to fire but we did not begin a barrage, being under orders to wait for the signal from the 9th, consisting of horns and fire arrows shot into the air. Watching to the right where the 9th was supposed to be, we waited to start while the Gallaeci stood behind their walls, taunting us and shaking their weapons in our direction, telling us in no uncertain terms what they were going to do to us. The fact that we reduced their first fort with such ease did not seem to have any impact on them and we stared across the expanse of ground, silent and grim, as they continued to harangue us. Moving back to my place in formation once I had discharged my duties with the artillery, I stood there with my friends trying to keep from fidgeting as we waited. After a few moments, we finally heard the blasts of the bucina , followed by a streak of light as a fire arrow shot into the sky to our right.

“Open fire!”

The command to begin the barrage rang out, and immediately we heard the twang of the torsion arms snapping forward as the missiles hurtled towards the fort, some of them striking the wall while others either fell short or sailed high to land beyond the first wall. While we brought ladders, the plan was to open breaches in the outer wall and save the ladders for the inner wall. However, the first few volleys were a disappointment since it did not seem that the barrage was having the desired effect. There was a lot of dust and as we had seen before, the missiles tore the outer bark off the wooden walls, but that was about all that was happening. After several moments of this, the Primus Pilus signaled a halt to the barrage then called for a conference of the Pili Priores, while we had to endure the jeers and taunts of the Gallaeci who celebrated the lack of success. After conferring, the decision was made to concentrate the fire of the artillery on just two points on the wall, instead of the half-dozen that were originally planned. This was not good news for those of us who were going to be charging in through the gap, since it allowed the Gallaeci to concentrate their forces, but there was no real alternative. Immediately our intentions became clear to them, as in a matter of perhaps a half dozen volleys the two points on the wall started to fail, with huge chunks of wood and splinters flying from every strike. Our scorpions were holding their fire, since they would be more useful in keeping the Gallaeci’s heads down as we approached the walls. Then the work was done, two good-sized gaps torn in the walls, just the jagged stumps of the wood protruding from the ground, with enough room for a section to enter the breach abreast. Through the dust we could see the bodies of some of the men who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet to this point the casualties had been minimal, on both sides. That was about to change.

The cornicen sounded the advance, this time the Fifth and Eighth Cohorts being selected to be the first into the breach, another example of how the dirty end of the stick is grasped by all of us at one time or another. Second Cohort was consigned to watch as the others began the advance, the scorpions opening fire once the Cohorts were within range of the Gallaeci bows and slings. Despite the barrage, we saw gaps open in the Centuries, quickly filled by other Legionaries moving up to take the spot of the fallen man, their bodies left behind in the wake of the advancing Cohorts. Missiles issued from the wall in a thick flurry, as it appeared that almost all of the men on the wall carried some sort of sling or bow. Our men started to fall more frequently, some of them with more than one shaft protruding from their bodies, obviously making some sort of mistake in exposing themselves, or even worse, one of their comrades made the error and they had to pay for it. Ignoring the punishment, the Cohorts moved forward, the scorpions continuing their suppressive fire, making me wonder how much worse it would be for us if they had not been there at all. By the time the assaulting Cohorts were within 50 paces of the breaches, it appeared that they had lost more than a third of their numbers, the ground behind them now littered with our dead and wounded. On some unseen signal, the Gallaeci launched one last massive volley, and at that range it was impossible for any missile to miss its mark, while in fact the arrows had enough velocity at that range to pass through one man’s body to penetrate the man behind him. It looked like an invisible hand swept through the ranks of the Fifth and Eighth, and despite ourselves, we let out a collective gasp of shock and grief.