“I’m going down and help Brictius,” announced Gerontius. “Any orders, sir?”
“Watch your flanks. In a town, the enemy can come through a compound and you won’t see them until they’re a blade’s distance from you. Brictius taught me that,” responded the Tribune. “Take care of my First Sergeant.”
First Sergeant Gerontius saluted, turned on his heels and jogged down the stairs. Halfway down, he smiled. Tribune Gaius Claudius, in a short time, had become a Legion combat leader. Always learning and always teaching. The type of officer all Legionaries hoped for and often didn’t get.
***
“First Sergeant Gerontius, get bored being with the command staff?” teased Brictius.
“The Tribune spotted Qart Hadasht soldiers sneaking down on your side,” Gerontius explained. “He’s using the Sons of Mars to free up squads for your position.”
“Good. Let’s see how the Empire does in a face to face fight,” replied Brictius.
The Lance Corporal of the first squad to arrive halted his men and walked over to the First Sergeants.
“Senior Centurion Valerian said you’re in charge, First Sergeants,” the squad leader informed the two senior NCOs. “He wants to keep the officers on the main road and on the south side to manage the Sons of Mars.”
“Park your squad between the streets,” Brictius explained. “If they hit us on more than one street, I want you available as a reserve.”
Soon, nine more squads reported to their location. The fifty heavy infantry men stood between the streets with half facing First Sergeant Brictius at the intersection of one road and the other twenty-five facing First Sergeant Gerontius at the other. In addition to the ten squads, there were thirty-six infantrymen already guarding each street.
Brictius commented that one hundred and twenty-two of the Republics finest could hold the blocks against an army of Qart Hadasht soldiers. Later, he would come to regret the statement.
***
The tops of ten ladders popped up over the southern city wall.
“Standby javelins,” ordered Senior Centurion Valerian. “Skirmishers, forward. Take them as they come over.”
The seven Velites, who had made the crossing, ran between the three ranks of the squads. At the base of the wall, they placed five-extra javelins on the ground. Then with their right arms holding javelins, they waited.
Moments passed and Valerian began to think the ladders were just for show. Then the ladders shook and ten tall conical Empire helmets appeared. From over the wall, faces, shoulders, and arms rose into view. Spears, obviously passed up to the ten, were raised. As if to draw attention to themselves and to intimidate, they waved the shafts in the air.
They did draw attention but not from the heavy infantrymen. The Velites launched seven javelins and seven soldiers fell out of sight with iron javelin tips in their chests. Rapidly, three more were launched and the last of the Qart Hadasht soldiers fell away.
To the Legionaries surprise, the ladders shook as ten more soldiers climbed the ladders and hoisted spears. Again, the skirmishers swept the wall clear of the Qart Hadasht soldiers.
“They sacrificed two squads for nothing,” one of the Lance Corporals said.
“Steady there,” advised Valerian. “There has to be a reason to waste the lives of your men. I just don’t know why. Be ready.”
Then the ladders shook but, this time, soldiers started flowing over the wall. They came over hugging the top before dropping to the ground. Seven died as they were hit by javelins. Seven more were injured but the numbers scrambling over the wall outpaced the Velites’ ability to throw. When the last javelin launched, the skirmishers drew their gladii preparing to engage the thirty uninjured Empire soldiers.
“Velites. Withdraw through the ranks,” Senior Centurion Valerian ordered. Then he announced, “They may waste lives, but the Legion doesn’t. Squads standby. Front rank, draw. Squads Forward.”
As the soldiers attempted to collect themselves into ranks, the Legionnaires marched at them. Left foot down then stomping with their right, the rhythm of the stomp caused the soldiers to look up. Shields locked together, moved towards them and, over the shields, javelins waved in the air.
The Qart Hadasht Sergeants shouted for their men to form ranks and most did. But enough hesitated so when the Legion front rank approached, those soldiers left holes in their formation.
“Advance. Advance,” called out Senior Centurion Valerian.
And the shields hammered forward rocking the Qart Hadasht front line. The gladii thrusts that followed dropped several and panic ran through the soldiers of the Empire. Some turned to the sides getting ready to run off.
“Third rank lateral right five steps,” instructed Valerian. “Second rank lateral left five steps.”
His orders were repeated by the Lance Corporals and repeated again by the squad’s pivots. Almost as if they had planned the maneuvers, the squads shifted extending the front line to twenty Legionaries. It was more than enough to prevent any Empire soldier from escaping the deadly thrusts of the shields and the gladii.
***
The runner pounded down the street, hooked a right and raced through a gate. In the compound, he slid to a stop.
“Sub-commander, sir. Sub-commander Barca has begun the assault over the southern wall,” the runner reported.
Gisco marched to where Admiral Hanno sat on a home’s patio.
“Admiral. Sub-commander Barca’s forces have begun their assault,” Gisco reported. “Should we gather the soldiers?”
“Not yet, Gisco. Give the farmers a chance to rush reinforcements to defend their flank,” the Admiral replied. “I’ve heard they overreact to everything like children playing. Well, the games end today because the Empire is about to do some mentoring. Once they’ve weakened the north side, we’ll sweep the remaining clod busters from Messina and end this fiasco.”
“Very good, Admiral,” Gisco said before strolling over to where their Lieutenants lounged along a wall. There, the sub-commander explained how he and the Admiral had devised a plan to drive the Republic forces into the harbor.
The Lieutenants were tired of the sub-commander’s bragging and the waiting around. But as officers in the Qart Hadasht military, they listened to their superior officer. Even if the knowledge he shared was thin on experience and long on theory.
“Sub-commander Gisco,” Admiral Hanno called softly from the patio.
“Admiral, is it time?” Gisco asked as he walked across the compound.
“Split our forces,” instructed Hanno. “Put a Company on one and another on the adjacent street.”
“That’s a hundred troops on just two streets,” Gisco responded. “Shouldn’t we split the Companies up. Then, we can open three or more fronts?”
“I prefer this not to become a battle of attrition,” Admiral Hanno explained. “Concentration of force, sub-commander, dictates we employ a superior force to breach their lines. Once we’ve broken through, we’ll split our forces to engage their splintered units.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll brief the Lieutenants,” Gisco replied.
***
First Sergeant Brictius couldn’t see what action was taking place on the south end of Messina. But he had a good view of Temple hill. The signalman at the top kept flashing the hold positions sign so he knew something was happening.
The street uphill from his Legionaries was empty. A quick glance at First Sergeant Gerontius let him know that street was also empty. So far, after the big rush to get him the reserve squads, nothing changed. The squads sat and talked, the birds sang, and the streets were peaceful.
Then from blocks away, faint and garbled shouts echoing off the walls and sides of homes reached him. He didn’t understand the words but First Sergeant Brictius recognized commands when he heard them.
“Legionaries, stand up and gear up,” he ordered. “We have visitors. Let’s give them a Legion welcome.”
“Standing up, First Sergeant,” the infantry
men replied as they stopped sharpening and sheathed gladii, packed away half eaten pieces of food, capped water skins, and picked up their shields and javelins. On the other street, First Sergeant Gerontius’ squads mirrored the preparations.
Brictius studied his Legionaries. Twelve shields wide, they stretched across the road in three ranks. Holding up a hand, he motioned over a Century’s Corporal standing with the reserve squads.
“What do you need, First Sergeant,” the Corporal asked as he marched up.
“Give me your opinion of our position and strength?” he responded.
“We’re too close to the end of the houses,” the Corporal replied. “If we have to step back, we’ll be in the intersection and the Qart Hadasht can flow around our lines.”
“You’re right. And our strength?”
“Closed in on both sides, there’s nowhere for the injured to go,” the Corporal related. “If we have to push, we’ll need more than three ranks to plow through their bodies.”
“Good analysis,” complimented the First Sergeant. “Call up a reserve squad and make them the fourth rank. They’ll be short two, but I don’t want to break up a squad.”
“Right away, First Sergeant,” the Corporal said as he turned and went to speak with a squad leader.
“Squads stand by, forward ten paces,” Brictius ordered.
***
The Legionaries had just reset when, far up the street, Qart Hadasht soldiers entered from a side road. Their front ranks marched into the intersection and turned towards the Legion lines. Five abreast, the columns stretched back and the tail’s end vanished around the corner. More soldiers emerged until a full Company marched at the Legion lines.
“There must be a thousand of them,” a Legionary remarked.
“You can’t count, Private,” his squad leader responded. “Five times twenty is one hundred. It’s a standard infantry Company for the Qart Hadasht military.”
“Maybe I don’t count so good,” the private observed. “But it sure looks like a thousand to me.”
“How many men in a Century?” quizzed the Lance Corporal.
“Eighty infantrymen,” answered the Private.
“See, only twenty more men than in a Legion’s Century,” explained the Lance Corporal.
“Still looks like a thousand to me,” the Private insisted.
“First rank, stand by to draw,” Brictius ordered from behind the ranks.
“Standing by, First Sergeant,” twelve voices responded.
He waited as the Qart Hadasht columns closed to within fifteen paces. Then, orders rippled down from the Company’s rear. Swiftly and professionally, the columns expanded to ranks ten across.
The Qart Hadasht soldiers and the Legionaries stared over their shields at each other waiting for the next order.
***
Tribune Claudius wanted to pace, yell or hit something. When First Sergeant Brictius repositioned the Legionaries further up the street, he lost sight of the unit. Although he could still see the First Sergeants’ four remaining reserve squads, he had no view of the enemy forces after brief glimpses of them passing through intersections. But he didn’t pace. Instead, he scanned the town seeking clues about the Empire’s positions or movements.
Most of Messina, at least on the eastern sectors where he could see, were stable. Then his eyes stopped scanning. At cross streets, about three blocks from First Sergeant Brictius, a man in a gold cloak and dressed in gold trimmed armor stood staring up at him. He wasn’t positive but it looked like the big man he’d spotted on Citadel Hill.
Runners raced up to the man, talked and listened for a moment before rushing off down the streets. During the exchanges, the man never took his eyes off of Claudius.
Assuming the man was Admiral Hanno, the commander of the Qart Hadasht forces, Tribune Gaius Claudius brought his heals together and gave his opponent a crossed chest salute. He held the fist against his breast plate waiting for an acknowledgement.
Hanno, although Claudius couldn’t make out the details, sneered and bared his teeth. What Tribune Gaius Claudius did see clearly was the Admiral spitting in his direction before marching out of view.
Gaius Claudius dropped his fist and rested it on the pommel of his gladius. Now, he neither wanted to pace, yell or throw something. What he desperately wanted was to run down the stairs, draw his gladius and kill the arrogant Admiral. But he didn’t.
The Tribune returned to scanning the town searching for ways to gain an advantage. Revenge would come later, once he commanded Messina.
***
“Draw,” shouted First Sergeant Brictius as the first rank of Qart Hadasht soldiers sprinted forward. “Brace! Brace!”
The front rank pulled their gladii and crouched down behind their shields. Behind them, thirty-four Legionaries bent their knees, leaned forward slightly, pushed their shields into the backs of the men in front of them and tightened their shield arms. When the soldiers collided with the Legion shields, they bounced off the inflexible wall.
The second and third ranks ran forward expecting to charge through holes made by their first rank. Confusion set in when the rank bounced back. The soldiers suddenly idled for a heartbeat.
“Advance, step back,” ordered First Sergeant Brictius taking advantage of the situation.
The front twelve Legionaries lunged with their shields, plunged their blades into flesh and dropped back into the formation. It happened so rapidly, the Lieutenants standing beside their soldiers didn’t understand why men fell to the ground.
Hesitation in combat kills - delayed response from their junior officers, from the survivors of the first three ranks, and from the overall Qart Hadasht Company commander proved it. Failure to adjust allowed First Sergeant Brictius a second opportunity.
“Advance, step back,” he ordered.
Again, twelve shields shoved forward shocking those contacted. Before they recovered from the impact of the big shields, gladii blades thrust forward and more of them died.
“Second rank rotate forward,” First Sergeant Brictius ordered.
All the Legionaries in the unit unfolded their left arms placing their shields perpendicular to their bodies. The first rank stepped back between the spaces and continued until they were in the rear of the formation. Almost as quickly as the shields opened to allow passage, they were pulled back across chests. Now Legionaries with fresh arms and legs manned the front rank.
Commands rippled down the Empire Company formation and the soldiers shuffled nervously. First Sergeant Brictius recognized the symptoms of men asked to perform a dangerous task. He decided to give them something to add to their misery.
“Stand by Javelins,” he shouted. “Launch two!”
At close range to the opposing forces, the javelins flashed from hands to bodies in a heartbeat. Two launches and there were holes in the Company where wounded and dead fell out of formation. This got the Qart Hadasht commander’s attention and he passed down orders. Suddenly, the entire company ran at the Legionaries.
“Brace, brace!” shouted First Sergeant Brictius just before a tide of soldiers washed over the Legionaries.
At first, Brictius couldn’t see anything but the faces, helmets, and armored shoulders of Empire soldiers crawling on his Legionaries’ shields.
“Push!” he yelled, to be heard over the grunts and cries of men struggling against enemies, their own sense of survival, and the mass of bodies pressed together. “Push!”
And Qart Hadasht soldiers rose into the air on rising shields. The higher the shields the more soldiers slid off and the straighter the Legionaries stood. One tilted back and a soldier tumbled behind the ranks.
A Private stepped up and drove his blade between the man’s ribs.
“Advance, step back,” ordered First Sergeant Brictius.
The shields shoved the leading edge of the Empire soldiers back and the gladii thrust helped to maintain the gap for a moment.
“Second rank rotate forward,” Brictius ordered
and, like sideways window slats, the shields opened, and the front rank came off the line.
But only nine of the twelve made it to the rear. Three were down under the feet of fighting and scuffling Legionaries and soldiers.
The battle for the street became a blur of slashes, hacks, and jabs. Legionnaires and soldiers injured and killed each other. And First Sergeant Brictius was forced to feed his reserve squads into the meat grinder as the number of wounded and dead piled up behind the lines.
Even in the chaos of belly to belly fighting, the well-trained Legionaries responded to the call of rotating off the front line. While the Legion valued the ability to put fresh arms and legs into a fight, the Qart Hadasht military hadn’t learned that lesson.
When the Empire Company commander passed the word to withdraw the remaining exhausted soldiers, First Sergeant Brictius had just rotated his ranks. As the Qart Hadasht attempted to retreat, the Legionaries received a different set of orders.
“Advance, advance,” instructed Brictius.
The shields shot out downing soldiers who were stomped as the unit attacked. Gladii stabbed the stumbling and disoriented soldiers as they ran. And still, the Legionaries continued their assault.
“Corporal, on me,” Brictius called out.
“Yes, First Optio,” the Century’s Tesserarius acknowledged. He was covered in blood with bags under his eyes from rotating to the front and fighting. He also sported a number of cuts and bruises.
“Get to First Sergeant Gerontius’ position,” Brictius instructed. “Tell him, we’re taking five more blocks than setting up a barricade. Let me know if he’s able to keep up.”
“On it, First Sergeant,” the Corporal replied before jogging away on rubbery legs.
***
Tribune Claudius watched as the Qart Hadasht soldiers ran in panic from Legionaries in perfect formation chasing them down.
“Signalman. All units to move up four, no wait, five blocks,” the Tribune ordered.
As the flags waved, a weight lifted from Claudius’ chest. With the harbor, warehouse district and half of Messina in Legion hands, he was close to victory. And completing his mission of supplying General Caudex a safe harbor on Sicilia for the Legion. The one remaining task, remove Admiral Hanno from the town.
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2 Page 37
