R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

“You crazy bastard, you should know better than to hit the ground,” he yelled at me, but I could just stare at him for a second, his words not really registering.

After a moment, my head began to clear; only then did I realize that there were men streaming past me, and I looked about to see that the entire German left wing had collapsed, with the men of the 10th in hot pursuit. Retrieving my shield, I cursed when I saw that it was ruined, split in half by the German’s axe; the cost to replace it would be docked from my pay.

Things went well on our side of the battlefield, but the same was not the case on the left wing, where the men of the 7th and 12th were threatened with being overwhelmed by the German right wing. Caesar writes that it was only due to the sheer weight of numbers, and again, despite the fact I do not like to disagree with the great man, the numbers were not any greater than what we in the 10th faced, but I suppose that’s just an old soldier’s pride speaking. Regardless of the reason, the outcome of the overall battle was still very much in doubt, so the horns sounded to call off our pursuit of the Germans we had routed. These men were running for their lives, some of them heading back to the wagons, while most streamed past them heading north. However, it is hard to re-form when the men’s blood is up and they are hot on the heels of their enemy, so it took precious moments before we began to gather in some semblance of a formation. Luckily, young Publius Crassus, who was the commander of the cavalry at that point, kept his head about him, and seeing the looming disaster, ordered the entire third line of all six Legions to head to the aid of the 7th and 12th. Moving quickly, they slammed into the flank of the Germans who were now wrapped around the two Legions, almost completely surrounding them. Before our eyes, what was shaping up to be a disaster for us quickly turned around into total victory, and it was not long before the rout was complete, with all of the surviving Germans now fleeing for their lives. Meanwhile, the Legions in the center, the 8th, 9th and 11th, had entered the camp and were eliminating the last shreds of resistance from the German warriors who retreated back there to defend their families. Again we could hear the cries and shrieks of the women watching their men slaughtered before the Legionaries turned their attention to them. By this time, we in the 10th were fully formed up, so Caesar commanded us to move north after the fleeing Germans, in the event that some of them had the presence of mind to regroup into a large formation. At the same time Caesar sent the cavalry to harass and cut down as many stragglers as they could find. Finally the cavalry provided some worth to the army, their pressure keeping Ariovistus or any of his commanders from rallying their warriors. Marching for a third of a watch in a single line of Cohorts, we were ready to confront any group of Germans who decided to stop to make a stand, but it soon became obvious that they were not stopping for anything. Once this was clear, we halted for a brief rest before turning and marching in column back to the battlefield to check for our wounded and dead.

Somehow, Ariovistus managed to escape, getting across the Rhenus in a small boat, but the rest of his family was not so fortunate. He had two wives, both of whom were slain, along with one of his two daughters, the other being captured and sold into slavery. Luckily, both Metius and Procilus were found still alive, although a little worse for wear, having been roughed up a bit by the Germans while being held captive. But the threat posed to the Aedui, Sequani, and other tribes by Ariovistus and his Germans was permanently removed, earning the gratitude of the tribes, at least for a while. Our losses in the 10th had been pleasantly light; in our Century nobody had been killed, with only a couple being seriously wounded and who would return to duty after only a couple of months’ recuperation. The 7th and 12th were not so fortunate, suffering heavy losses when they were surrounded by the Germans, but at least now both the 11th and 12th were veteran Legions like us. Despite it still being early to end the campaign season, the fact was that there was nobody left for us to fight. In the space of one abbreviated season, we had crushed the Helvetii and Ariovistus, so Caesar decided to send us to winter quarters early, marching us back to Vesontio, where the camp was awaiting us to make the necessary improvements for winter quarters. When we marched back to the town, the citizens lined the road to cheer us as we went marching by.

“Not as good as marching in a triumph, but it’s better than nothing,” grumped Vibius, who seemed to be determined to not be impressed or pleased with anything.

This was a trait of his, and I could not decide whether it was becoming more pronounced, or I was just growing weary of it. Despite his sour words, I caught him smiling from ear to ear at the accolades from the people lining our path. The small city had swelled in population; somehow the word that this would be our winter quarters was known by the camp followers long before we heard, so that all the various tradesmen, pimps, wine merchants and whores were there to greet us, along with the proper citizens of Vesontio. Beginnings of a shanty town were already springing up outside the camp gates, and the men started to talk excitedly of finally being released to spend the booty we had earned, some of it on whores, some of it on wine, although most of it would be lost to dice or other games of chance. As for myself, I was still smarting over having my pay docked for my ruined shield, so I had no plans on losing any other part of my money in the same manner as my comrades. It was not that I was a prude, or disapproved in any way the various pleasures of the flesh, and I knew myself well enough to know that despite my best intentions some of my money would end up in the purses of the purveyors of vice. However, I still had ambitions and plans, plans that called for money. Despite my visit home and the admonition from Phocas and Gaia about the folly of trying to buy their freedom from my father, I was determined that I was going to do just that, one way or the other. I also resolved that I was going to make more of an effort to write, although I wish I could say it was for selfless motives. This would be my third winter in garrison and I had learned how boring it was, so I was looking for new ways to pass the time, and for this winter I decided that I was going to pursue learning to read better. Now that I was a Sergeant, I was going to have to start doing paperwork, the bane of every soldier above the rank of Gregarii ' s existence; I knew of several men who would have made fine Optios or Centurions but chose to stay in the ranks just to avoid paperwork.

Before Caesar left for the Province to resume his normal duties as governor, a formation was held where decorations were awarded, and it was here that I earned my first coronacivica , for saving Scribonius against the Helvetii. It came as a total shock to me; I had not known that I was even being considered, but the evening before the formation, the Primus Pilus once again showed up in front of our tent, bringing the Pilus Prior with him.

“This is becoming a habit Pullus,” he joked, which I laughed at dutifully, although I did not find it particularly amusing.

Despite my record and my hunger for glory, I still possessed the ordinary soldier’s suspicion of being singled out. Every time I was summoned, even if I was told the reason, I was sure that it would turn out to be for some sort of chastisement or punishment. I think it was this insecurity that made me such a good Legionary; no matter how hard I worked, I never thought I was deserving of any praise, preferring to focus instead on the things I did wrong and convincing myself that I had been found out.