Marching With Caesar – Civil War mwc-2

by R. W. Peake

  “Porro!”

  The men leaped forward, sounding their battle cry, closing the distance quickly to slam into the Egyptians, and I had just enough time to see the look of shock and fear on their brown faces as we cut them down. It was only a matter of moments before they broke and ran for their lives. Our men slaughtered them, running after them and killing as many as possible before they could escape. The panic of the soldiers infected the civilians who had remained behind, the narrow streets of the village quickly becoming choked with fleeing people. At times like this, it is hard to restrain men whose bloodlust has been set afire from putting anyone with whom they come into contact to the sword, so a large number of civilians were killed in the rout, and it took several moments to get the men under control. We had penetrated several blocks into the village, but we were still short of the Heptastadion, and Caesar sent orders from his flagship to stop the advance and wait for the rest of the landing force. Since there were only a couple suitable sites, the landing was taking longer than expected and Caesar deemed that it was better to wait than press the assault with only a part of our force.

  Unfortunately, Ganymede was not waiting. Once he saw what we were doing, he ordered a scratch force assembled from the contingents of marines on the ships in the harbor, sending them to land on the southwestern end of the island, which had better landing sites than where we came ashore. Egyptians began streaming off the rocky beach and heading into the depths of the village to join the others already there. Looking over my shoulder, I cursed that we were still not disembarked, though it appeared that there were only three or four boats left. Calculating that it would be another few moments before they were finished, followed by the time it took to finish forming up, I knew that gave the enemy ample time to land a few thousand men and have them take up positions in the village that could make them difficult to dislodge. I could only hope that they would make the same mistake twice in not taking advantage of the high ground. While we waited, I called a conference of my Centurions.

  “Have any of you or the men had any experience fighting house to house?”

  They glanced at one another, but they all shook their heads.

  “Have you, Primus Pilus?”

  I thought back 14 years to the first town in Lusitania that we had assaulted when I had first drawn, and shed, blood. Looking at the square stone buildings that stood before us and comparing them to my memories of that town, and all the other towns and cities of Gaul we had assaulted, I shook my head.

  “Not anything like this. In Gaul, most of the houses are made of mud and sticks. They’re solid enough, but only the main halls and barracks were made like even the smallest house here. No, I don’t.”

  We regarded each other and I just shrugged. There was nothing to be done about it now; we would just have to do our best.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Once the rest of the assault force joined up, we arrayed our lines along the first north-south street, shaking out into Century formation, three Centuries for each street running east and west, one following the other. Once the men got into position, we waited for a moment, and then Caesar, who had come ashore, dipped his standard as the cornu sounded the advance. The men began to march, moving only a few blocks when we ran into the first line of resistance and I saw that we would not be so lucky this time. The Egyptian marines had climbed back onto the roofs originally abandoned by the militia, arraying themselves on a north and south axis, where they began flinging their javelins at us. The windows and doors on the ground floor were full of men as well, some of them armed with bows, with the rest flinging rocks at us. The missiles started flying thick and furious, forcing me to give the command for the front Century to form a testudo. The racket of javelin, arrow, and rock striking the shields of the men of Clemens’ Century, who I had given the lead, was horrific, and I could barely make myself heard. The air seemed like every inch of it was filled with some sort of missile. I heard men crying out and cursing as they were hit or scared by a near miss, but I knew that either there would come a moment where the enemy would stop, even if no signal were given, because their supply of missiles ran low or they had to grab a breath. This was the moment I was waiting for. It is a tricky business going from testudo to wedge formation under any circumstances and normally I would not have tried it, but I had confidence in these men, trusting that they would understand what I was doing and would perform the maneuver as quickly as it needed to be done. The order to charge would immediately follow the call to wedge, and I was going to aim the wedge directly for the door of the nearest building containing the enemy. Turning to yell to Felix, whose Century was following Clemens, I told him to form his own wedge, pointing towards the next building over as his target. I did not know what Valens was doing; he was one street over, but I could only be in one place at a time and I would have to trust him to do the right thing. The moment I was waiting for came, the sound of the missiles striking whatever was in their path subsiding, much in the same way when rain suddenly lets up, almost ceasing altogether, and I gave the command. I was pleased with how quickly the men moved, smoothly lowering their shields while shuffling into their assigned spots in the wedge.

  Addressing the men in the rear ranks of the wedge, I commanded, “When we get halfway across the intersection, I want you to launch your javelins at those cunni on the roof. Keep their heads down while we go in the door.” Raising my arm, I yelled as loudly as I could, “Follow me!”

  With a roar, we pounded across the intersection, pointing directly for the wide doorway in which a number of Egyptian marines stood waiting, their eyes wide over the rim of their wicker shields. There was a blur of our javelins flying past overhead, followed by a number of sharp screams and cries of alarm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a body hurtle to the ground, hitting the stone street with a splatting thud. Clemens was next to me and we smashed into the men in the doorway side by side, knocking three of them off their feet, and staggering a couple more backwards. The blade of my sword quickly became wet as I pushed into the first room, filled with Egyptian marines who were yelling at us and each other in their native tongue. I felt our men pushing in behind Clemens and me, and very quickly, we killed every man who elected to stand and fight us. Stepping over the bodies, I was about to enter the next room, but a hand yanked at my leathers, pulling me back just as an enemy javelin sliced through the air where I had been standing, landing with a wet thud into the body of one of the Egyptians a few feet away.

  I looked back and saw Clemens grinning at me. “I want to get promoted, but not like that.”

  I grinned back, then turned to snap an order to some of the men who still had their javelins. “Throw a few of those in there. We’ll see how they like it.”

  About a half dozen men stepped forward to fling their javelins into the room, leaping into the doorway just long enough to throw before jumping out of the way. Even so, one of the men was not quite quick enough, an enemy javelin striking him in the bicep, the point going out the other side several inches. We pulled him out of the way as he cursed bitterly, trying not to jostle his arm. Immediately after the last man had thrown, Clemens and I burst through the door, him to the left and me to the right, and I ran directly into an Egyptian, my size once again serving me well by knocking him backwards, giving me enough space to gut him. Immediately, I parried a panicked thrust by another man, our blades striking sparks as they clashed, then lashed out with my fist, catching him on the side of the head and knocking him down. I gave him a thrust through the chest; the room was now filled with my men, again making short work of those brave or stupid enough to stand and fight. Within moments, we cleared the ground floor, whereupon I sent three sections to the roof, where they were finished moments later. Going back out the front of the building, I went to check the progress of the rest of the Cohort. Felix’s Century was finished clearing their house, so I walked down the block to the next street. Valens was not using the same tactics, preferring instead for his men to stand away, picking off as many
men as they could with their javelins before assaulting the house. While it was not how I would have done it, his way seemed to be as effective, because he had cleared his house as well. Annius was another story altogether; his Century was still outside the building assigned to his Century by Valens, the men milling around, some of them scrounging around for more javelins, whether ours or theirs appeared to make no difference, while the others were flinging them whenever an Egyptian presented a target. Naturally, once the Egyptians determined that Annius had no intention of actually entering the building until he first picked off everyone inside from a distance, they scrupulously avoided presenting Annius’ men with a target. Every once in a while, a brave soul on the Egyptian side would leap to his feet, and hurl his own missile at Annius’ men. In fact, from what I could tell, Annius’ Century was getting the worst of it, if the small group of men who was huddled around the corner either nursing their wounds or lying prone on the street was any sign. Enraged, I ran up to Annius, who had positioned himself well to the rear of the front rank of his Century.

  “What in the name of Pluto’s thorny cock are you doing just standing here?” I roared at him, gratified to see his chin quiver.

  He licked his lips, his eyes shifting to his men, who were doing their best to watch without watching, and I saw some of them smile. “Primus Pilus, I'm clearing the building, as you ordered.”

  “No,” I snapped, pointing back in the direction of Valens’ Century, whose men were now standing on the roof, flinging javelins across the street at the enemy on the roof across from them, “they’re clearing the building. In fact, they’ve already cleared it, and so have Felix and Clemens. You, on the other hand, are standing here looking very much like you have your head up your ass.”

  “I’m just making sure that we’ve killed as many of the bastards as we can before we go in,” he protested.

  “How about this?” I shot back. “How about actually going into the building, then killing whoever you find in there!” Without waiting for him to answer, I turned, once again shouting, “Follow me!”

  To their credit, Annius’ men did not hesitate, following hot on my heels as we ran into the building, killing everyone we found. To be fair, there were quite a few Egyptians already dead when we entered, most of them on the roof, so it did not take long for us to clear it. When we were finished, I grabbed Annius by the arm and dragged him outside.

  Leaning down, I made my tone as menacing as I could make it. “If I ever see you do something like that again, I'll have you busted back to Gregarius, but not before I flay the skin off your back. Do you understand?”

  This time, his chin was clearly quivering, but his voice was firm enough. “Yes, Primus Pilus.”

  “Centurions in Caesar’s army lead from the front, Annius,” I continued, in a calmer tone. “It’s what makes us so feared, and it’s the only real way your men will respect you, if you set an example.”

  His eyes were locked above my head, his tone flat as he answered that he understood, telling me that I was having no impact on him at all. I sighed and shook my head, dismissing him to go back to his men. Maybe he will do everyone a favor and get killed, I thought.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  This was the manner in which we secured the island; house by house, floor by floor. Methodical, professional, and completely without mercy, we killed every Egyptian who chose to fight. Finally, after several blocks of buildings fell in this manner, the remaining Egyptians finally lost their nerve, and on some silent signal, most turned to run for their lives. Many of them simply doffed their gear before jumping into the water to begin swimming to safety; some of them even diving from the roofs of a series of buildings built up to the very edge of the harbor. Another portion, about 6,000 in all, chose to surrender, but we did not put these to the sword, being ordered by Caesar that they would be sold as slaves and we would share in the proceeds.

  As further reward, we were given a full watch to ransack the village, the men stripping it clean of anything remotely valuable, and even of things that held value only to the man who took it. It always amused me to see what some of the men thought of as worthy of being taken. Usually it is a statue of one of the local gods, which the man who took it would somehow convince himself is incredibly valuable in and of itself, or that it had some magic power that made it so. Sometimes, however, it was little more than an old brass coin or an amulet made of hair or something similar, but the man who took it would consider it his most prized possession and would kill anyone who tried to take it. I saw men kill each other over a comb, or a cloak clasp worth less than a sesterce. Now, we were in a somewhat unusual situation. Normally, there are merchants among the camp followers whose sole business it is to relieve the men of the items that they have looted, giving them cash money in exchange, but none of these merchants had come with us. Additionally, it was doubtful that any of the Alexandrians would be willing to serve in this function, since their neighbors would probably take a dim view of them profiting from fellow Alexandrians’ misfortune. Therefore, the men were now stuck with their pile of possessions, and I knew from bitter experience that over the next few days there would be a number of disagreements about combs, amulets, and cloak clasps.

  Once we secured the men from their spree, we were ordered to begin tearing down the houses along the southern edge of the island, using the stones from the buildings to build a fort to guard the northern end of the Heptastadion. We also took stones and dumped them in the passageway under the nearer drawbridge to block Egyptian access to the Great Harbor. By the time the fort was finished, it was almost dark and Caesar sent orders that my and Cartufenus’ Cohort would return to the redoubt. Loading into the same boats we had come to the island in, we were rowed back to the royal docks. By the time we unloaded, it was now dark, for which I was thankful since it would help us make our dash back to the redoubt. Another factor helping us was the chaos caused by our attack and seizure of the island, so we managed to make it back to the redoubt without a single loss. All told, our losses were almost astonishingly light; a total of five dead, three of whom were wounded on the way to the docks and were never heard from again, with about a dozen wounded, none of them seriously. Before I left, I told Diocles to scour the area to find some wine, and he somehow managed to produce a dozen large amphorae of something that could only be charitably called wine, but I ordered a ration for all the men who participated in the assault. The men passed the night, reliving the battle and bragging to their friends in the other Cohort, waving their spoils and otherwise rubbing it in their faces. In other words, a normal night after a battle.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  While taking the island was important, it was only a first step; next was seizing the rest of the Heptastadion. The Egyptians held the southern drawbridge, and had built a fort mirroring the one we constructed; an annoying habit of theirs, copying the things that we did. I do not know what was more infuriating, that they copied us, or that they did such a good job of it. Whatever the case, the Egyptians who were manning the fort had to be dislodged, and the day after the island was taken, Caesar gave the order for a total of three Cohorts to make the assault. Two of them would advance up the Heptastadion, while one would make a landing from ships. To provide support, Caesar filled a couple ships with the archers, sending his heavier vessels with their artillery as well. The small flotilla did its job very well, scouring the small fort of defenders, the bulk of whom simply fled back into the city rather than face such a ferocious and sustained barrage, leaving behind a number of dead and wounded. Seeing the defenders flee, the Cohorts from the northern fort left their own defenses, marching down the mole to take the fort without the loss of a single man. The seaborne Cohort landed without incident as well; all of this we were again watching from the rooftops, and Caesar put the men to work immediately tearing up some of the stone docks to use to build a wall and parapet on the western side of the mole, running lengthwise across the bridge.

  “What’s he having them do that for?” Sertorius
asked, clearly puzzled, but I could not help because I had no idea.

  “Maybe he’s trying to screen the Egyptians from seeing what he has planned,” suggested Fuscus.

  I bit back a sarcastic reply, chiding myself for letting my personal feelings for Fuscus color my opinion of the validity of his comment. The truth was that what he said was perfectly reasonable, although I did not think it was likely, because I was sure that the Egyptians knew exactly what his intentions were, to fill in the southern passageway the way he had the northern one. Consequently, I chose to remain silent, and we kept on watching as the work continued. One Cohort was given the task of carrying stones from the razed buildings on the island to use to fill in the passageway, earning our sympathy.

  “That’s got to be a bastard of a job. They have to carry those rocks more than seven furlongs. That’s what, about a mile?” This came from Sertorius.

  “Near enough,” I grunted, trying to disguise the fact that I could not do sums that rapidly in my head.

  “In this heat? I’m just glad it’s not us,” he laughed and I had to agree.

  Most of the men carrying the rocks appeared to have teamed up, stacking a number of stones on one of their shields, with each man carrying one end. Some of the men had grabbed the wooden boards that are used as stretchers for casualties, but most of the men appeared to be using the first method. I could not help wondering how long it was going to take for them to block up the southern passageway at this rate. Meanwhile, the Egyptians were not idle either, as Salvius called out, pointing to the western side of the harbor. We watched men begin boarding the ships moored there. In a few moments, the first of the Egyptian craft pushed off from the quay, the oars dipping into the water, glinting like silver when they were pulled out. There is something inherently graceful and beautiful in watching a vessel moving through the water under oar, the hull slicing through the water, leaving a steadily widening V behind it, the oars that power it moving in unison, each one powered by one, two or even more men, individuals acting as one unit. Who else but a Roman could appreciate such precision, such teamwork? The fact that the ship was filled with men who were going to try to kill my comrades was the only thing marring the beauty, and I had to force myself to remember exactly what was going on before us. Another ship pulled away, then in a few moments, the water in the harbor was roiling as more and more vessels made their way across to the mole. Then, something happened, and I do not know if it was part of the plan, or if one of the Egyptian commanders, perhaps Ganymede himself, saw an opportunity to put our men working on the mole into difficulty. Whatever the cause, suddenly a number of ships suddenly veered off their course to the southern end of the mole, instead moving quickly towards the opposite end, towards our northern fort. As is our custom, Caesar would allow only Legionaries to perform the labor for his engineering projects, so in order to keep a presence in the fort, he had ordered the seamen from a number of our ships to land and take up positions there. But seamen, foreign-born seamen at that, are not Legionaries, and now Ganymede or one of his commanders was going to put them to a test. In growing shock and dismay, we watched the Egyptian craft disgorge their passengers, who came swarming up the same rocks that we had been forced to climb the day before, although being more lightly armed they were able to ascend more quickly. We could not hear them, but we could just make out the men waving their weapons over their heads as they charged, and I imagine that they were screaming their heads off. Even if they were not, the effect the sight of the charging Egyptians had on the seamen was immediate and dramatic. As we moaned in disgust, the sailors in the fort simply turned to run without putting up even the pretense of a fight, dashing headlong across the mole to the eastern side, back to the ships from where they had come. Men went scrambling down the sides of the mole since there were no quays this close to the northern drawbridge. Naturally, they were forced to stop at the water’s edge and beckon their comrades still aboard ship to come closer so they could climb aboard. No more than a moment later, there was a confused mass of men jammed together at the shoreline, with the pursuing Egyptians beginning to catch the slower of the sailors. Even as all this was happening, the first of the enemy ships heading for the southern end had unloaded their respective contingents at the foot of the newly built rampart, while other ships ranged offshore firing missiles at our men at the wall in much the same way that our archers drove off the original occupants of the fort.