Marching With Caesar: Conquest of Gaul

by R. W. Peake

  The affair was over in two thirds of a watch, with barely a loss to us, aside from some minor wounds. The bridge went up in flames, leaving the Helvetians on the other side shaking their fists at us, screaming imprecations in their language that we needed no translator to understand. Once it became apparent there was nothing they could do for their fellow tribespeople, they packed up their camp and made preparations to begin the march anew. On our side of the river, once I did finally turn to look, it was a scene of staggering devastation. Bodies lay in large heaps, some of them horribly mutilated, having been cut to pieces fighting, some with a single wound to the throat or chest. Thousands upon thousands of them; men, women, young children, teenagers my age, babies still in swaddling clothes, old crones who gaped with toothless mouths open to the sky, their eyes as wide as their maws, staring in that shocked expression that is common to people who die suddenly. That noxious stench of blood and death was already clearly palpable, and by the end of the day was so overpowering that we began to wear our scarves around our lower face to keep out the foul humors in the air, except it did not help much. The 8th and 9th were swarming over the field, looting the wagons and finishing off the wounded. From underneath piles of bodies people would be found who had escaped harm, and these were rounded up under guard to be sold into slavery, though not before the women among them were sampled by the soldiers who found them. Despite not taking part in the assault on the camp, we were still allotted a section and turned loose to loot it, Vibius and me pairing up as always. It is in times like these that all the camaraderie and good feelings one holds for fellow Legionaries is put under the most severe test; greed has a way of doing that. The customary method is for a tent section to lay claim to one particular house, or wagon in this case, and the others are supposed to respect that, especially this time since there were plenty of wagons to go around. However, it was a matter of who claimed it first, and invariably, there would be two or more groups who would spot an unmolested wagon simultaneously then make claim to it. This is where the Centurions come in, and why they always get a larger share of the spoils from each of us, along with the first pick of the most prized booty. They are the judge and jury of the system and whatever they say is law, which we accepted. Where things get complicated is when the dispute is between Centuries, or even worse, Cohorts, and then seniority is often used, although this is not universally accepted. Worst of all is when it is between Legions, and that is when matters can get violent; I have seen men killed in such disputes, squabbling over a bolt of silk, or in one case, a copper bracelet that perhaps cost a sesterce. That is also when things take a more official turn, with the Centurions involved in the dispute taking their complaints to their respective Tribunes, who then meet and work things out and come to a fair settlement. Of course, that is the theory, but like all things in our system, it comes down to who is willing to give the biggest share of the spoils to the man adjudicating the dispute. Perhaps it is not the most just system, but it works.

  After the looting, we turned back to more practical matters, the most pressing being the construction of a new bridge and the burying of the bodies. We hoped that we were going to be given the task of building the bridge, but it was our turn for Fortuna to dump on us when the 10th was assigned the job of digging a mass burial pit. There were more bodies to bury than we had ever experienced before, and while the idea of digging one huge pit was discussed, it was almost immediately discarded as being impractical. Instead, each Cohort was assigned to dig a pit, given a section of the battlefield to clear, and we worked well into the night completing the task. Once we were done we marched back, filthy and exhausted, to the camp built perhaps a mile away from the site and tried to get as much sleep as we could. Meanwhile, the 9th was charged with building another bridge. Although burning the first one had been a practical necessity, it also meant that the materials previously readily available for its construction were destroyed, so the 9th was sent farther upriver to scour the area for more boats. Caesar deemed this the most expeditious manner of getting across, as opposed to building a proper bridge. The other Legions were sent for and would arrive by midday the next day, while hopefully the 9th would find what they needed to help us get across the river. The 8th had constructed the camp we were now occupying, where most of us immediately dropped to our cots, not bothering to take off our armor or eating anything, and dropped off to sleep immediately.

  The next day saw the 9th successful in finding the number of boats needed to bridge the Aras although it was going to be narrower than what the Helvetii built. We would find out that this was a huge blow to the Helvetii, not as much by the construction of the bridge itself, but in the damage done to their morale, because it took them 20 days to build the bridge we destroyed, yet it took Caesar only one before we were tramping across in pursuit of the Helvetii. I can only imagine the kind of consternation this caused when they learned this, and as I have since come to understand, one can never underestimate the importance of morale in waging war. By the middle of the day, the other Legions Caesar had sent for reached the crossing, just in time to see the last of our group crossing the bridge, whereupon they joined the tail end of the column, almost as if planned that way, and perhaps it was. A Cohort was left behind to guard the bridge, along with firing the debris left over from the battle the day before, which had been piled into a huge pyre to be set alight. The smoke column that it produced was visible to us the rest of the day as we moved in pursuit of the Helvetii. For their part, they turned back to the north, seeking a low pass through the mountains that barred their way west, enabling us to quickly come within striking distance, whereupon they sent a deputation to Caesar, led by a chief named Divico who once led a campaign against Cassius, a relative of that bastard who called himself one of “The Liberators.” The Helvetii were severely shaken by the easy slaughter of a quarter of their number; once the final count of bodies was finished it numbered almost 100,000 people we buried back at the river. Divico begged Caesar to stop his pursuit of the Helvetii, telling him that they only wanted new lands to settle and would go wherever Caesar wished and do what he asked. Caesar told Divico that the Helvetii must make reparations to those tribes whose lands through which they had already passed and devastated, along with giving up a number of hostages, a perfectly reasonable request given all that occurred. Apparently the old boy did not see it that way and got a bit huffy about it, saying something about how the Helvetii never gave hostages, they took them. Whatever took place, the talks were not successful, so the Helvetii began to march to the north again, this time with an army of six Legions following them.

  This was the pattern of almost two full weeks, with the army following the Helvetii procession about five or six miles behind them as they plodded north along the Aras. About the fifth day of the first week, they turned away from the Aras to head west for a pass through the low mountains. The terrain got rougher, yet more importantly their route took us farther away from our supply line, which was the river itself. Caesar had ordered the Aedui to supply us with grain by way of boats sent from their towns along the river, and the farther we marched away from that, the longer our supply line grew. Perhaps it was this that persuaded Dumnorix, one of the chiefs of the Aedui, that it would be more politic of him to withhold the grain from us, a fact that soon became apparent even to us in the ranks. It was made known to Caesar even earlier, who summoned Diviciacus and Liscus, both of them also high officials in the Aedui tribe, to demand an explanation. Diviciacus was a Druid, something called a Vergobret, and previously Caesar had been friendly with Diviciacus, who reciprocated the friendship. Diviciacus more importantly was also Dumnorix’s brother, and it was this relationship that Caesar hoped to prevail upon to convince Dumnorix that holding back our food was going to be a bad idea for everyone involved. While this negotiation was going on, Caesar also recruited more cavalry from the surrounding tribes and even from across the Rhenus, fearsome looking men who wore trousers and cultivated long flowing mustaches, though they w
ere reputed to be great horsemen. I will admit they were ready enough for a fight, but they possessed very little discipline. The squadrons now had swelled so that there were some 4,000 horsemen, and aside from the normal outriders and scouts who rode in small groups, they were kept in one body. It was this unit that had the job of keeping in visual contact with the Helvetii column, while the rest of us marched behind. For the first couple of days the marches were very tense affairs, as we were constantly on guard and ready to be summoned into battle. However, it soon became clear that neither the Helvetii nor Caesar had any desire to tangle just yet, a fact that we spent much time in the evening speculating about. After about a week of this we settled into a monotonous routine of marching, then stopping and waiting, then marching again, our pace of travel being much faster than the Helvetii, and Caesar wanting to keep a buffer of several miles between us. It was dreadfully boring, causing the grumbling around the campfire to become more pronounced. One night, as we were talking about it, Calienus said something that finally made some sense to us.

  “I wonder if Caesar’s lost his nerve,” Vibius mused, drawing a chorus of angry remarks, to which he replied defensively, “Then what other reason could we have of not engaging with these bastards? We’ve passed over good ground that would've made a perfect battlefield, but we do nothing. So what else could it be?”

  In this much, Vibius was right and we all knew it. It was not a matter of terrain; even with the hills, there had been plenty of spots where two armies of our size could have deployed then gone about the business of slaughtering each other.

  “I don’t think it has to do with terrain, I think it has to do with us.” This came from Calienus, immediately catching our attention and to be honest, arousing our irritation. Seeing the reaction on our faces that his remark caused, he added quickly, “I’m not talking about us, the 10th, or the other veterans in the 7th 8th and 9th for that matter. But how long have those boys in the 11th and 12th been in the army now? A month?”

  Someone calculated quickly and answered, “They’ve been in one week longer than a month.”

  “So how well trained could they possibly be?” he asked, rhetorically, since we all knew the answer to that. They had taken a hard course in marching and all that goes with it, we had to give them that, but that left precious little time for weapons training. Their training regimen was composed of snatched bits of time whenever they could grab it. They had undoubtedly been training in the camp when we had attacked the Helvetii at the bridge, yet how much good would that have done? Sitting in silence as we mulled this over, I for one could see the sense of it, and I said so. Caesar was not fighting because he wanted to season the new Legions a bit more before we forced a battle on the Helvetii, so we would continue to march and wait.

  The only event of any note that happened during this period was when our cavalry became overeager and attacked the rearguard of the Helvetii, all 4,000 of our men going against what we were told was 500 Helvetian warriors. Our men were bloodily repulsed, a fact that did not do much to instill confidence in our cavalry among the Legions, I can tell you that. This clash only strengthened Caesar’s resolve that biding his time was his best option, except that the supply situation soon threatened that, prompting him to try one stratagem before the situation turned desperate. The scouts reported that the enemy had gone into camp at the base of a hill some six miles distant. On questioning the scouts and locals friendly to us, Caesar learned that the hill was sufficiently large enough, with a slope practicable enough that he could send a Legion on a night march to take up position on the crest of the hill, getting there by traversing the reverse slope away from the Helvetii camp. Like we did with the assault on the bridge, the plan was that the dawn would arise to the sight of a Roman Legion, this time commanding the heights above their camp, with Caesar then bringing up the rest of the army to face them, in a pincer movement. The 10th was selected as the Legion to climb the hill, yet another sign of Caesar’s confidence in not just us but Labienus as well. Setting out that night once it was dusk, we waved cheerily at the other Legions left behind who were making their usual rude remarks and catcalls at us. The only time we do not hate each other is when we are fighting someone else, I thought as I listened to some of the more inventive and colorful taunts thrown at us as we tramped out of the gate. No matter, all that counts is when the fighting starts, they will be by our side when we need them.

  During my career, I have read several books and treatises on the art of warfare, and there is always a phrase that makes me laugh when I read it. The “fortunes of war”, or “Bellona’s fickle caress”, or some such nonsense is how it is usually termed. Although I have no disagreement with the idea behind it, if you are one of those who are subject to these vagaries, it is not quite so easy to dismiss as a sign of the gods’ displeasure or indifference. Such was the case with Caesar’s night operation against the Helvetii. Oh, we did our part well enough; despite getting lost a couple of times in the dark, we found the enemy camp, skirted around it far enough away to avoid detection, then climbed up the small hill behind the camp, even having time to dig a shallow entrenchment before the sun came up. Then we waited for the rest of Caesar’s army to approach from the opposite direction, from the southeast where we had left them. It was enjoyable seeing the consternation of the Helvetii when they became aware of our presence above them, except we got a little nervous as the day wore on. Caesar’s progress was clearly marked for all of us to see, the accustomed pall of dust marking his march towards us, and to our eyes, it was painfully slow to watch. Luckily for us, it was clearly visible to the Helvetians as well, which is the only reason I am sure that they did not turn on us. Despite our superior position, they still outnumbered us more than 20 to one in warriors, so that it would not have taken long for them to walk up the hill to crush us. Nevertheless, it was clear that Caesar was up to something and this forced them to hesitate, unwilling to commit to our destruction while leaving the camp either undefended or lightly guarded. So like us, they sat watching that damn dust cloud move gradually in our direction. Then the cloud stopped, the dust slowly settling back to the earth, not more than a couple of miles from us. We could clearly see the army now, although it was still an indistinct mass on the horizon, with the sharper eyes among us reporting a great deal of activity at the front where the command group was normally located.

  “What in Dis’ name are they waiting on?” fumed Optio Rufio, prompting a snapped reply from Pilus Prior Vetruvius about officers needing to keep their mouths shut.

  He was merely voicing our own fears, yet an officer of any sort cannot do that, and the Pilus Prior was right to correct him, no matter how embarrassing it may have been for Rufio. It clearly was on the Pilus Prior’s mind as well, because he finally turned and stalked off, looking for the Primus Pilus and Labienus.

  We sat for the better of the morning waiting before there was movement, and once it came, it was not what we had expected at all. Instead of advancing on the camp, the army began to march across our front to our left, instead of arraying in battle formation. They maintained a healthy distance away from the camp so that in the event the Helvetians decided to roll the dice, our army would have time to shake out into formation, while we would be poised to strike from their rear. However, the Helvetii were not foolish, at least this day, instead contenting themselves with drawing up into a battle line, then standing there watching as the Legions marched around them. This development caused us a great deal of consternation, since we had no way of knowing what had happened to change the plan. Once Caesar moved a distance away to a much smaller hill, only then did he have the Legions form up for battle, sending all the baggage train to the rear. This new position meant that while we would not be engaged in an assault from their direct rear, we would still be able to swing down the hill onto their flank, and for a bit there was speculation that this might actually be better than from the direct rear. Whatever the case, still nothing happened, the sun rising ever higher in the sky. Fir
st we were allowed to kneel, then finally sit down, and we prepared a cold meal while we waited, it being just a matter of moments before the dice came out and the gambling began. It was in this manner that we passed most of the day, with Labienus and the Centurions becoming increasingly frustrated. No word came from Caesar, so our orders still remained in place, but it became clear to all of us that the likelihood of attack was decreasing with every passing moment. The Helvetii sensed this, made their own preparations for breaking camp, and by a bit past midday had moved on again, leaving us to watch them as they withdrew to continue their westward march. After about two parts of a watch, the rear of their column was marching away, and we were soon left alone on the hill, wondering what was going on.