Marching With Caesar - Civil War

by R. W. Peake

  “They don’t have any room to maneuver,” Diocles commented. “That means that it comes down to which side’s marines and soldiers can fight onboard ship better. They’re going to start grappling each other in a few moments.”

  And while we watched, that is exactly what happened. Once it started, the battle quickly degenerated into a one-sided affair, with the men of the 37th leaping over onto the ship that their own vessel had grappled with, making quick work of the Egyptians. Our forces captured a quinquereme and a bireme, and sunk three more. The rest, seeing the fate of those ships we came to grips with, quickly rowed to the far western side of the Inner Harbor or towards the Heptastadion, where the Egyptians had artillery emplaced to provide protective fire, driving off any of our ships that got too close in their pursuit. For our part, not a ship was lost, and the casualties among the marines and Legionaries were light. We had won a great battle, but when Caesar returned and called a meeting of his staff and Centurions, his demeanor was not that of a man who had just won a great victory, and we soon knew why he was so downcast.

  “We won today, but we didn't really solve anything,” he said once we were settled and congratulations were offered. This was certainly not what we were expecting to hear from him. “It’s clear that they have vastly superior resources than we do, and at the end of the day, we only neutralized a small portion of their fleet. And it's become clear to me that no matter how many times we bring them to battle, all they have to do if things start to turn against them is to row close to shore and to be covered by their artillery. It would be a war of attrition, and it would be a war that we would lose.”

  When he finished, there was silence as we all digested this, and it did not take long to realize that he was absolutely right. As much of a boost to morale as the victory was, in the grand strategic sense, it was almost as bad as a loss.

  I believe it was Hirtius who said, “I doubt that you would have brought up such cheerful news if you hadn’t already thought of a solution.”

  Caesar smiled at him. “And you'd be right, Hirtius. As we made our way back to the royal enclosure, we had to pass the island, and I examined it thoroughly. Ganymede hasn't invested the place properly. It can be assaulted, and that's what I intend to do.”

  Men looked at each other; generals looking at generals, Tribunes looking at Tribunes and Centurions looking at Centurions. Even at moments like these, hierarchy is important to us Romans.

  Caesar either did not notice or chose to ignore the reaction of his staff, and went on talking. “By taking the island, we can do the same thing to the Inner Harbor that we've done to the Great Harbor. Emplacing artillery on the western mole will bottle up the Egyptian fleet. If we do that, it won't be necessary to destroy the fleet. I also plan on capturing the Heptastadion, which will deprive them of the whole eastern side of the harbor.”

  Nero objected. “But don’t we want to destroy their fleet anyway?”

  Caesar shook his head. “No, we have to think about the days after this is over. If we completely destroy their fleet, Egypt will be vulnerable to depredation by pirates, and their neighbors might be tempted to take advantage of their weakness. Then we'd find ourselves back here fighting all over again. No,” he repeated, “what's necessary here is to neutralize the fleet, not destroy it.”

  Even if anyone was disposed to do so, there was really no argument to be made, mainly because what Caesar said made perfect sense. Seeing our acceptance, Caesar turned his attention to his plan for taking the island.

  “Pullus,” he said without warning, catching me by surprise. “I'll need you and your men. Can I count on you?”

  I snapped to intente. “Absolutely, sir.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The plan, such as it was, called for ten Cohorts, of which the 7th would be one of them and that I would lead. This meant that we would have to make a run from our positions through the streets of Alexandria to join the assault force, a prospect that the men were none too keen on doing. Additionally, we had to do it quickly, when the moment came, and without making any preparations that might alert the Egyptians what we were about, thereby compounding the difficulty. Once at the harbor, we would board a number of open boats that would row us to the island. The rest of the Cohorts were composed of the 37th, along with one Cohort from the 28th, which also did not sit well with the men. The 28th was considered suspect by the men of the 6th, and not a few of Caesar’s staff, if the gossip was any indication. Augmenting the force were a couple Cohorts worth of missile troops that were part of the relief force, along with about a hundred of Caesar’s cavalry that he thought were best suited to fight as infantry for this sortie. The day for the assault was set for three days after the naval battle, and since it only took a few thirds of a watch for the men to make themselves ready, this ultimately meant that we sat and waited. This was incredibly wearing on everyone, because there is nothing quite as maddening as knowing that in some short period of time, one is going to be facing death, yet having nothing to do to occupy the mind during the waiting period. It is also a trial of the patience of the Centurions and Optios, since the men are determined to cram as much debauchery and high living as possible into those days, meaning that we were running from one building to another in the sector that housed our quarters as the inevitable quarrels and fights broke out. Very quickly, I determined that trying to stop the men completely from drinking and whoring for the entire three days would result in exhausted officers, along with half the Cohort up on a charge, so I instructed the Centurions to turn a blind eye towards a certain level of debauchery and carousing while we waited. Of course, if you give a Gregarius an obol, he wants a sesterce; if you give him a slice of bread, he wants the whole loaf. It is their nature, and even relaxing the rules a bit, there are always men who will try to push to get away with more, both with their Centurions and Optios, and their comrades. The only saving grace was that with men as veteran as these, when compared to a Legion composed of younger men, the problems they caused were not of sufficient scale to draw the attention of the senior officers. Still, by the night before the attack, the Centurions and Optios, myself included, had dispensed bathhouse justice on a number of men and I was extremely tired. I hope that it does not surprise you, gentle reader, when I mention that the men were doing as much whoring as drinking and gambling, perhaps more so because of the relative scarcity of wine. As I have mentioned, when we cordoned off our area, we did it so quickly that a large number of civilians were given no opportunity to flee. If I were not a suspicious man, I would simply ascribe the relatively high number of women who made their living on their back to a happy accident, and that we had somehow managed to select the quarter of the city where the whores congregated. But, since we were around the royal enclosure, the resulting neighborhood that sprang up around it was composed of the homes of wealthy government officials and merchants who did business with Pharaoh. In other words, there were no businesses catering to the fleshly desires in this quarter of the city, at least of which I was aware. Somehow, however, a force of a couple hundred whores managed to get themselves trapped inside our redoubt, and in fact one back street had become their own headquarters area, so to speak. The citizens of Alexandria that remained in our area had decided to turn a blind eye to the steady stream of Gregarii who headed for the street the moment they were secured from duty. The only reason that no wine shops had opened on the street, since whores and drinking go hand in hand, was due only to a lack of supply and not any finer distinction. Consequently, it was to this street that the Centurions and Optios found themselves running when some word of a problem reached them, although more than one of them managed to wander over there under their own power a time or two, if my meaning is clear. Another complicating factor was that while the street was actually located in the 28th’s area, there was no way that my men would have sat still if I made the area off-limits to them, meaning that there was ample opportunity for trouble when the men of the two Legions mingled. All in all, it was a touchy situatio
n, and the three-day wait for my men did not make things any easier. By the night before the attack, I was so tired that I slept more soundly than I ever had the night before a battle, and I suspect that the rest of the officers felt the same.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The day dawned bright and clear, without a cloud in the sky, promising a day of heat and humidity. In other words, a normal day in Alexandria. By the time of this operation, we had been in Alexandria several months, and by rights, it was getting close to winter, except there are no real seasons there, even more so than my home in Baetica. Fortunately, the men were tough, mostly Spaniards who had lived most of their lives in a climate that was not terribly dissimilar, if not a bit more extreme here in Alexandria, and we no longer had to ration our water so closely, so the heat was not a terrible worry. What was a concern was what we were about to do, as we used the cover provided by our internal passageways to move through the buildings to the point where we were going to leave our lines. By this point in the siege, we had improved our defenses to the degree that we had constructed a number of gates of varying sizes, which of course the Egyptians countered by building towers and strong points immediately opposite, the size of their defenses commensurate with how strategically important they considered the gate. It was with this in mind that we selected one of the smaller gates, in the hope that Ganymede’s men at that point would not be of high quality, or particularly alert. We also decided to launch our sortie in the third of a watch before the Egyptian watch changed, having long since learned each other's habits and knowing exactly when it would occur. Moving the men as much as it was possible inside the buildings, we crammed the entire Cohort into the building directly opposite the gate, located on the other side of a minor street. While I was given very explicit orders about when we would make our break, the location from where we would leave was left to me. One precaution I took was that we left from a gate that was controlled by the 6th, although it meant that we would actually have a few blocks farther to go to the harbor. This was the level of distrust that I held for the 28th, a feeling that I knew was completely shared by my men, and this frame of mind led to the first time that I openly disagreed with Caesar. The original plan called for both my Cohort and the Cohort of the 28th to leave together, moving as one unit down to the docks, but I had flatly refused. The silence, as it is said, was deafening, the members of Caesar’s staff looking at me in absolute shock. To be completely fair, it was not so much that I had objected. Men regularly argued with Caesar when he gave an order, and he would invariably listen. I was present on more than one occasion where he had modified his decision because someone made a compelling argument. What I believe surprised the staff was that this was the first time that it was me who actually disagreed. And perhaps it was the fact that I did not try to couch my refusal in the form of a question or some other gentler declaration as well.

  “No, Caesar.”

  To his credit, he was the only who did not seem to be totally shocked, or irritated for that matter. He simply sat back, crossed his arms in a pose with which I had now become very familiar, and only asked, “And why is that, Pullus?”

  For what was probably the hundredth time in my life I had said the first thing that popped into my head without thinking things through beforehand, but never before had things been so potentially explosive. My mind raced; this was not the time or the place to bring up the animosity and distrust that the men of the 6th held for the men of the 28th, for a number of reasons, not least of which was that Cartufenus was sitting there watching me. It was easy to see by the expression on his face that he knew exactly why I was objecting, and I felt a pang of sympathy. I had come to like Cartufenus a great deal, and while it might not have been his intent, he taught me a lot. For example, it was from Cartufenus that I learned that sometimes pure leadership is not enough, that a healthy dose of luck is almost as important in certain circumstances, and it was Cartufenus’ circumstances that showed me how lucky I had been in my career at that point. In that moment, standing before Caesar, I had no desire to do any further damage to Cartufenus, since his career was, for all intents and purposes, finished the moment that the 28th had almost mutinied, unless some sort of miracle occurred. I was struck by a sudden flash of what I hoped was inspiration.

  “Caesar, if we combine our forces and leave by the same gate, we'll be moving almost 900 men in one group.”

  “Yes, Pullus. That is the point,” he said mildly, and I could hear the snickers of a couple of the men.

  I tried to ignore the heat rising to my face as I continued, “That would mean running almost a mile with a force several hundred yards long, which would make a fat target. Even if we catch them by surprise, it’s likely that the last Centuries won’t be clear by the time the Egyptians recover and start hurling the gods know what down on our heads.”

  “Then have the men march in testudo,” interjected Nero, and I tried not to give him a look that conveyed my contempt at the idea.

  While Nero was not completely useless, I considered him to be the weakest of Caesar’s generals.

  “Yes, sir.” I kept my tone neutral. “And that would be a very wise maneuver, if we weren’t expected to go into battle just a few moments after marching such a distance. I realize, sir, that you've never had occasion to actually be part of a testudo, but I can assure you that even for men superbly fit, marching in testudo for more than a hundred yards can be exhausting.”

  Even though I addressed Nero, I was trying to judge Caesar’s reaction out of the corner of my eye and I was relieved to see that upturned lip that I had come to know. Some of the other men, the generals Hirtius and Pollio in particular, were not so circumspect and were grinning broadly; Nero was not taking my retort with as much good grace, making me happy to see that now I was not the only one with a red face.

  Having disposed of that question, I turned back to Caesar. “As I understand the plan, sir, we'll have to load into a number of different boats, which will require even more exertion, as you well know. Then, it will probably take no more than a tenth part of a watch to row from the enclosure to the island, where we're going to have climb the rocks, probably under fire. Caesar, if we do as General Nero suggests, which I would agree if we were to march with our forces combined would be the right tactic.” I was not completely politically inept, so I threw this bone to Nero. “The men won't be sufficiently recovered by the time we're expected to assault the island.” I could see that I had gotten Caesar’s full attention, and I pressed the advantage. “The other benefit of splitting the force and having them come from different points in our position is that it will spread the enemy a bit more thinly. We can compound the surprise if we leave at exactly the same time, on a prearranged signal.”

  Caesar considered this, then gave a nod. “Very well. You'll lead the 6th, and Cartufenus will lead the 28th, and you'll leave our position at different points, but at the same time.”

  And with that, he turned his attention to other matters. I had escaped Caesar’s wrath.

  As Cartufenus and I left headquarters, he said quietly enough so that only I could hear, “Thanks, Pullus.”

  I was somewhat surprised, and I looked at him with a question in my eyes.

  “I know why you really don’t want to combine our forces,” he said quietly, then sighed. “And I can’t say that I blame you, or your men.”

  I looked at him in sympathy, clapping him on the shoulder. “No worries, Cartufenus. You'd do it for me.”

  He gave me a speculative look at this and shrugged. “I hope so, Pullus. I hope so.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Now, we stood waiting for the sound of the bucina that would signal that it was time for us to leave. While the building in which we were hiding was large, it was still crammed full of men, the smell of sweat and fear hanging rank in the air in the close quarters. I glanced at Valens, who gave a grimace.

  “It stinks in here,” he said, and I laughed.

  Suddenly, the bucina sounded. Without hesitation, I
threw open the door, roaring as loudly as I could to Fuscus, who I had ordered to be present to ensure there would be no mistakes, to open the gates. Running across the street, I heard the men clattering behind me as they followed. Fuscus bellowed at the men standing at the gates, who grabbed the attached ropes to begin pulling them open. Fuscus had timed it perfectly, and we did not need to slow down as we ran through the open gates, whereupon I took a left turn, heading for the nearest corner leading to the north-south thoroughfare. Even with the clatter of the men pounding behind me, I could hear the cries of alarm from the Egyptian sentries, though they did not start yelling until we had already covered a couple hundred paces. I just hoped that it would be enough of a head start to avoid taking many casualties, because even if a man was wounded, if he could not keep up he would be left behind, and everyone knew what that meant. It was inevitable that we would lose men running this gauntlet; I just hoped that it would not be too many. Keeping my head turning, I looked not just at the rooftops, but also when we approached an intersection, although the biggest threat to us was from missiles thrown down at us. We were more than halfway before the first resistance was met, the men above us starting to hurl stones or whatever else was at hand down at us, though they did little damage. It was not until we could actually see the harbor that the first volley of proper missiles rained down at us, and I heard a couple of men shout in a manner that told me they were hit, but we nevertheless continued running. Bursting out of the relatively confined space of the city streets, we ran the rest of the way down to the enclosure, where Caesar had assembled a few score of small boats that would act as our landing craft. The guards at the gate to the enclosure threw them open and we ran down to the docks, where most of the other men of the 37th were already loaded in the boats. A provost directed us to the boats designated for our use, and we immediately began loading the men into them. Each boat carried a contingent of oarsmen, the boats themselves all open-topped with no decks, which was a mixed blessing. It made loading and unloading easier, yet it also meant that the only cover from artillery and missile fire would be what we could provide ourselves with our shields. The 28th arrived shortly after we did, but it appeared that they suffered slightly heavier casualties than we had. For our part, we had three men wounded to the point that they could not keep up, with another half dozen slightly injured. I pushed the thoughts of the three men out of my mind, knowing that we could not do anything for them. The loading operation was finished in a matter of moments, then the signal was given for the men at the benches to begin rowing, and we set off for the island.