Marching With Caesar – Civil War mwc-2

by R. W. Peake

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  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 bell
owed 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.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Caesar had sent some of his heavier ships out of the harbor around to the north side of the island, where they were laying down a barrage with the artillery that the ships carried in order to draw the defenders away from the south side of the island. Pulling closer to the island, I could see that if it was successful at all, it was only partially so, the rooftops of the buildings closest to the shore lined with men.

  “Uh-oh.”

  I looked over at Valens, the one who uttered the warning, then followed his gaze. Coming towards us from the Inner Harbor were five warships, along with a number of smaller craft, heading for the northern drawbridge of the Heptastadion. Their intent was obvious; they wanted to head us off and keep us from landing. The island had originally only been home to the lighthouse, but in the intervening years, what was in effect a suburb of Alexandria grew up around it, so that now almost the entire island was covered with buildings and streets. The houses were mean; it was clear that the island was home to the lower classes, probably seafaring men, shipbuilders, and their families. Now those houses appeared to be filled with soldiers of the Egyptian army, and once we approached within missile range, the first bolts from their scorpions and rocks from their ballistae began hurtling our way. Nothing struck our boat, though I was soaked to the skin by a near miss, causing some amusement among the men.

  Now within a hundred paces, I scanned the shore, feeling a tightening in my throat. We knew the shore was rocky, but viewing it from a rooftop a mile away and then seeing it up close were two different things. It was clear that we would have to climb more than ten feet over rocks, all while the Egyptians were firing down at us. The first of the boats was pulling up to the shore, men beginning to leap out into the water and wade ashore, trying to grab a foothold while keeping their shields above their heads. Almost immediately men were hit, most lucky enough to fall onto the rocks, but a small number of men fell backwards into the water, their armor dragging them under before any crewmember on the nearest boat could offer them an oar and pull them to safety. It quickly became obvious that there were only one or two suitable spots where the water was shallow enough for men to jump out without drowning, and our boat headed for where the first boat had landed, pausing long enough for it to move away. Our craft scraped the bottom several feet from the shore. Without waiting, I jumped over the side, landing in water slightly above my waist, Valens right behind me. Naturally, we drew the most fire by virtue of our transverse crests and the fact we were not carrying shields so we had to dodge everything coming our way while trying to keep our footing. I made it to shore, beginning the climb over the rocks, Valens and the men of his Century close behind. We made it across the rocks, joining the other men who were looking for their standards to form up.

  “Seventh of the 6th, on me,” I bellowed, grabbing Valens’ signifer, pointing to a spot that gave us room to form up. With men streaming ashore, I noticed that the missile fire was slackening. I looked up to see that for some reason, the Egyptians were leaving their position on the roofs, not that I was complaining since it gave us a respite from the constant harassing fire. If they wanted to give up a strong position, I was not going to argue. The other benefit was that it gave us time to form up. Once we did so, we began marching along the length of the island on the gravel path serving as the ring road around the outside of the buildings, looking for an entrance into the village. While we marched, the reason for the disappearance of the Egyptians became apparent when they appeared from around the corner of a side street, coming face to face with us, arrayed in their own formation. For a moment, both sides stopped to stare at each other. During the pause, I took a look around to see that two of my Centuries were leading the assault force, aligned side by side. Without waiting, I gave the command to move forward in assault positions, and we began closing the distance. Making a quick decision, I ordered the men to drop their javelins to go immediately to the sword. Raising my arm, I held it aloft for a split second, then let out a roar.