Marching With Caesar - Civil War

by R. W. Peake

  While I understood his feelings, I knew that this was not a good idea, on a number of different levels. “And who's going to do the killing?” I asked. “My men?” I continued before he could reply. “The men of the 7th? Men who have marched side by side, bled side by side, died side by side? You really think that the men will be willing to lift a sword against some of their closest friends?”

  “And relatives,” added Torquatus, but Battus was unmoved.

  “The men will do what we tell them to do, damn them,” he stormed. “They take orders, and if the General orders it, and I hope he does, then they'll do their duty.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Torquatus retorted. “I’ve got nothing but green youngsters. That lot,” he indicated the cloud of dust marking the passage of the defecting Legions, “would take a lot of killing, and you should know that as well as anyone. And just because your boys took on some elephants, that doesn’t mean that they’re any match for those Spaniards.”

  Battus’ face flushed with anger as he took a step towards Torquatus, who just stood there looking at him calmly.

  Seeing that the situation was unraveling, I spoke up. “Battus, how many men are you willing to lose to keep them from marching away?”

  Battus was still angry, and snapped, “As many as it takes.”

  “Then who will be left to fight the Pompeians?”

  That finally got through to him, as his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally shook his head. “It’s just not right,” he muttered.

  In that I had to agree with him, but I also did not want the rest of the army to mutiny, which I was sure would happen if we were ordered to try and stop them from marching away. Fortunately, Pedius had come to the same conclusion, which he informed us about once we were all gathered. He could not shed any more light on why the 13th had thrown in with the other two Legions, telling us that a dispatch had already been sent to Caesar, informing him of the defections. There was nothing much we could do except go back to our respective Legions, and of course by the time I returned, the men already knew what had happened.

  I called a meeting of the Centurions immediately; as soon as they were assembled, I asked the question that had been pressing on my mind since I had heard. “Do we have anything to worry about?”

  I was vastly relieved to see that all the men seemed to be in agreement that we did not.

  “I’m just glad that the general didn't order us to try and stop them. That could have been ugly,” Scribonius said, and there was universal agreement about this as well.

  “I don’t think he ever considered it an option, though I can’t say the same for some of the other Centurions,” I replied, then I was struck by a thought. “And now we’re suspect as well, because we’re Spaniards like the 8th and 9th. You need to impress on the men the need for them to keep their mouths shut about what happened and how they feel about it, at least if they’re sympathetic to their friends, which I suspect many of them are. The last thing we need is somebody from another Legion overhearing one of the men talking and having him accused of inciting a mutiny.”

  It was not the best way to run an army, but I did not want a bad situation to become worse, and the Centurions all agreed that they would keep a tight lid on the men for the next few days.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  While Sextus Pompey was holding Corduba, older brother Gnaeus had decided to besiege the town of Ulia, one of the few in the region that still held for Caesar, but neither Pedius nor Fabius wanted to move until Caesar arrived. So we waited in camp, doing little more than conducting weapons drills, not even going out on forced marches because of the threat of ambush. We did run regular cavalry patrols, using native levies along with some of the men who had marched with us, thus keeping apprised of the enemy movements to a reasonable degree. Caesar wasted no time, taking just 27 days to travel what it took the army six weeks to cover, outrunning even his cavalry, which trailed behind several days. He arrived in early Januarius of the old calendar, which by this time was so far off being aligned with the seasons that it was still mid-autumn. Word of Caesar’s arrival spread quickly, and upon hearing it, a small party of elders from the town under siege managed to slip out to come to the camp, begging Caesar for assistance. In response, Caesar ordered three Cohorts of the 7th and three Cohorts of the 21st along with the same number of cavalry, under the command of a Tribune who had local knowledge by the name of Paciaecus, to leave shortly after dark, using the same route to enter the town as the elders had used to escape from it. In concert with that, Caesar ordered us to pull up stakes, then march on Corduba, the idea being that Gnaeus could not maintain a siege when his rear and base of supplies was under threat. As had so many of Caesar’s enemies, Gnaeus did not credit the idea that our general could move an army as quickly as he did, so before Gnaeus knew it, we were camped on the southern bank of the Baetis (Guadalquivir) river, just across from Corduba. Now Gnaeus had no choice but to lift his siege, hurrying to the aid of his brother Sextus. While Gnaeus was in the process of turning his army about and coming to confront us, Caesar put us to work building a bridge across the Baetis. There was already a stone bridge in place, but there was a fort guarding its northern side, which would have forced us to make a possibly costly assault, so instead, Caesar selected a site about a mile downriver to the south. We left a force of several Cohorts occupying a fort identical to the Pompeian fort on the north bank, the only difference being ours was on the southern bank, blocking Gnaeus’ army from crossing the river to get to Corduba. The bridge we built was a makeshift affair, constructed of baskets filled with stones, which we sunk to the river bottom to act as pilings. It was one of the shakiest constructions we had ever made while marching for Caesar, though it served its purpose. We crossed the river, then Caesar immediately disposed us into three separate camps, placing one to the west of the city, one to the north and one to the east, with the river serving as a barrier to the south. The 10th occupied the camp on the eastern side, which took us until past dark to finish since we had to build a camp in the face of the enemy. This type of camp is more strongly fortified while requiring more men to stand ready in case of attack. About mid-day the next day, Gnaeus’ army arrived on the other side of the river. Instead of immediately assaulting our fort and trying to force his way across the stone bridge, he chose instead to construct his own camp, siting it on a hill that rose up from the bend of the river that curved around the southern side of Corduba. This allowed Caesar to order a trench built that ran from our temporary bridge to our fort at the stone bridge that would allow us to send reinforcements to the fort under cover. The digging began immediately, and to Gnaeus’ credit, he did see that he had made an error, so he sent out a force of men that he could spare from the building of his camp to try to stop the work on the trench. There was a sharp fight, but after some hot work, our men repelled the Pompeians so that work continued. As this project was underway, Caesar and his engineering officers were surveying Corduba, yet even from my limited examination, I was not confident that we would be able to take the city easily. I had visited Corduba as a young recruit, but I had been too green to be able to assess the city’s defenses back then, not knowing what to look for. Now, almost 16 years later as I examined the approach and the walls on our side, I did not like what I saw. Fortunately, after his inspection, Caesar came to the same conclusion, so instead of trying to besiege the city, we spent the next several days trying to entice young Gnaeus to meet us in battle by forming up on the plain to the north of the city out on the open ground. The young Pompey was not biting, however; he was unwilling to put his mostly untested troops against the veterans of Caesar’s army. While Gnaeus may have had the three veteran Legions that defected from our army, he clearly did not trust them, because along with the 1st and the 4th, on paper that was more than enough to face us with a reasonable chance. After a number of days where we marched out to offer battle, only to be rebuffed every time, Caesar gave the order to break camp, our next objective being the
fortress town of Ategua. It lies a day’s march to the southeast of Corduba, on the north bank of the Salsum (Guadajoz) River, a tributary of the Baetis, where there was reportedly a large supply of grain. In order to steal a march on Gnaeus, we were ordered to keep the campfires burning in order to deceive the enemy, so we left men behind in the camp to tend to them. We slipped past first Corduba, then the camp of Gnaeus, crossing over the makeshift bridge and marching through the night to arrive outside the walls of the fortress shortly before mid-day. While part of the army constructed the camp, the rest of us immediately began the contravallation of the town.

  The fortress was on top of a hill with fairly steep sides, so we also began working on a ramp in the same fashion as the one we built against the Aduatuci those years ago back in Gaul that would allow us to roll a siege tower up to the walls. On the nearby hills surrounding the town there were a number of towers that Caesar ordered a section of men to occupy in shifts to watch for Gnaeus’ approach. Finally, the weather began to catch up with the calendar, as it turned very raw, with driving rain and blustery winds. In order to combat the elements, we asked permission to build huts instead of using our tents, which was granted. They were rude shelters, and I for one did not think them much, if any better than our tents. Yet given the propensity of our leather tents to suddenly split after being subjected to soaking rains for more than two or three days, I suppose they were an improvement in that sense at least. We invested Ategua without encountering any resistance from Gnaeus, who as it turned out, at first, believed that Ategua was too strong to fall. Although some of his generals, and I suspect Labienus was chief among them, convinced him that underestimating Caesar’s ability to reduce any fortress was folly, Gnaeus delayed further because he believed that the elements would provide a sufficient barrier if the walls did not. When Gnaeus finally realized that Caesar was indeed serious about taking Ategua, only then did he rouse his army to come in pursuit. Fortuna favored him by blanketing the area with a dense fog to cover his approach, preventing the men in the watchtowers from doing their job. During his advance, forward elements of his army stumbled onto one of the watchtowers and there was a sharp fight for it. All of our men were killed, the position falling to the Pompeians, while the Pompeians made camp at the base of the hill on which it stood. The next day, Gnaeus apparently felt that his position was not a strong one, so the Pompeian army marched past the town, crossing the river, then marching round to the southeast to take up position on a hill that put another one of his fortress towns, Ucubi was its name, to his rear to serve as his new supply base. On the southern side of the river was one lone watchtower that Caesar had ordered occupied. Once he divined Gnaeus’ intentions, he reinforced this position, sending a full Century to guard it, which turned out to be a wise move, even if it meant that he sent one of my Centurions to hold it.

  “I want you to send one of your best to hold the watchtower on the south side of the river,” Caesar told me at the daily briefing. “Now that I’ve seen what the young Pompey is up to, I'm sure that he'll deem it vital to take that tower.”

  I knew that when Caesar worded an order in this manner, he already had someone in mind, so I asked him as much. Smiling slightly, he replied, “I was thinking that Scribonius is one of the most dependable of your Centurions, and he has a good head on his shoulders. Do you disagree?”

  I shook my head, not that I would have objected even if I did. Caesar’s nerves had been very raw lately, those defections opening an old wound, so it did not take much to rouse his temper, especially with matters concerning the army. I was just thankful that I actually agreed that Scribonius was the best choice, and I went to tell him. He and the First of the Second were ready to march shortly after Caesar gave me the order, whereupon I stood watching as my old comrades marched out the gate, calling to their friends, happy that they would be relieved from the monotony of digging for a time.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  That night, Gnaeus sent a Cohort-sized force against the watchtower. I was roused from my sleep by a man sent by the commander of the guard, who had heard the sound of the Century cornu sounding the call to arms. I quickly pulled on my armor, and then I woke Diocles, telling him to rouse the Centurions of my Cohort to get the men ready to march. I moved quickly to the southern rampart, though it was too far away to hear the sounds of the fighting but I stood listening nonetheless, next to one of the sentries and the commander of the guard, straining to see any movement in the darkness. After perhaps a sixth part of a watch, one of the sentries called out, then a moment later my eye spotted movement, slowly gaining form to become the figure of a man running towards the gate. As he got within hailing distance, one of the sentries offered the challenge for the day, which the man answered with the watchword, and I recognized the voice.

  “That’s Vellusius,” I exclaimed, jumping down from the parapet to meet him at the gate.

  He had just entered the camp when I reached him, panting for breath and unable to speak for a moment.

  “Any old day, Vellusius,” I grumbled, though I did not really mean it, just anxious to hear his report.

  “Sorry, Primus Pilus,” he gasped, and I saw his teeth, or what was left of them flash in the gloom as he grinned. “I guess I’m just getting old. Pilus Prior Scribonius sent me to report that our position is under assault from a Cohort-sized force, but that it appears that it’s about to be reinforced by at least three more Cohorts. The Pilus Prior says that we can hold out for another third of a watch, but no more than that.”

  Sending Vellusius back to the Legion area, I ran to the headquarters tent to inform Caesar. He had also been roused by the commander of the guard, and was already in his armor when I gave him Scribonius’ report.

  Turning to one of the Tribunes, who was also in armor, though clearly upset at being roused from his slumber, Caesar rapped out his orders. “Go inform the Primi Pili of the 5th and 7th that they'll be needed after all. They will be ready to march in a sixth of a watch.”

  I realized I should have known that Caesar would be prepared for such an eventuality. The thought crossed my mind that Scribonius and his Century had been set out as bait. I stifled the feeling of anger welling up within me, partly because it would not have changed anything, but mostly because I did not know what I was angrier about, that Caesar had used my men or that I had not seen it coming. The men of the 10th were formed up by the time I arrived in our area, so we marched quickly to the southern gate to wait for the rest of the party that would be marching to relieve Scribonius. The waiting was difficult, not improving my mood any, as I strode up and down, cursing the 5th and 7th for taking their time to join us. Of course, they were doing nothing of the sort, but these were my oldest and best friends fighting out there and every moment that passed meant a better chance of one of them being wounded or dying. I felt the same way about all of the men of the 10th, and for the men of the 6th for that matter, but I had a soft spot in my heart for the First Century, Second Cohort, which I carry to this day, even for Didius. Caesar came trotting up, not using Toes, but one of his other mounts, then I heard the pounding footsteps and jingling of the two other Legions. I looked to Caesar, illuminated by the torches that are kept lit at the gates, and he nodded, indicating that we should proceed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  We marched as quickly as the darkness allowed. As we got closer, we began hearing stray shouts and calls first, then came the ringing sound of metal on metal. Caesar ordered the 10th, since we were in the lead, into a double line of Cohorts, two Centuries across and three deep, which was somewhat unusual, but we would be attacking on a narrow front. The enemy was too busy with Scribonius’ Century to notice us until we were almost on them. One of the Pompeian Cohorts sent to reinforce the original assault force had circled behind Scribonius, so they had their backs turned to us, barely having time to turn about when I ordered the cornicen to sound the charge. Night attacks are a tricky thing, but we were well versed in the maneuver, it being a favorite of Caesar’s and one that we
had performed many times. While the surprise was not total, it was enough, as the screams and cries of men being cut down informed me as we slammed into them. The Pompeians went from attacker to defender in the heartbeats it took us to hit them, and they now found themselves pressed between two forces. It was about a Cohort-sized force, their Centurions working frantically to get at least a couple of their Centuries turned about to face the threat we posed. Fortunately for us, these were not seasoned veterans, the chaos of a night attack ripping their cohesion to tatters, so it was just a mass of men flailing about, most of them doing more damage to the man next to them than to us. My men cut through them like stalks of wheat, it not taking more than a couple moments before the inevitable panic set in, the Pompeians dropping their shields then turning blindly to run away, only there was nowhere to run. They went just a few steps before colliding into the back of the men still facing Scribonius’ Century, exposing their own backs to us and sealing their fate. Perhaps half of them managed to escape in the night by scrambling to the sides of the press formed by our two forces, while we slaughtered the rest of them. As we were taking care of the force to Scribonius’ rear, the 5th had swung around to assault the Pompeians fighting the half of Scribonius’ Century that he had faced in that direction, doing essentially the same thing that we had done, with the same result. All told, the Pompeians lost perhaps 300 to 400 men, though we did not stop to count the bodies. The rest of them fled into the night, throwing their shields and weapons away to lighten their load. Once things had settled down, I found Scribonius who was binding up a wound on his arm.

  He saluted then said, “I guess this means that Vellusius made it back.”

  I grinned, hoping that he could see it in the dark. “Oh he made it. It just took him a while to get his breath back. Says he’s getting old.”

  “Aren’t we all,” Scribonius replied, then said sadly, “Not all of us.”