“There are three thousand home guards,” the Suffete replied, “and a thousand cavalry are stationed here.”
“We’ll need four times that many to push them back into the sea,” Hamilcar told the members of the Special Branch.
“Surely, they can’t transport that big an army,” a representative suggested. “And how dedicated can an army be that the Republic throws away.”
“Four days ago, I looked across the water and into the faces of the dirt farmers,” Hamilcar exclaimed. “Even as my ram destroyed their sideboards, each remained set in an expression of defiance. Instead of talking, we should be preparing to march.”
“That does present a problem,” the Suffete noted. “When we received news of your losses and the failure to stop the invasion force, the Special Branch voted.”
“Voted what?” Hamilcar questioned.
“To keep our existing forces near the city,” the floor speaker replied. “We need them to protect the government, the harbor, and our commerce. But be assured, proclamations have been issued ordering our nation states to send warriors and equipment.”
“Who will defend our territory and our people when the Legions land?” the ‘Elephant’s Trunk’ asked.
“We have coastal garrisons,” Suffete Paltibaal pointed out. “They will delay the Republic forces until we gather a larger army. However, we are not unmindful of the situation. Cavalry reinforcements have been dispatched Kelibia.”
***
As if a wave of driftwood on the tide, the quinqueremes and triremes of the Roman fleet rowed forward. Spread across the sea, their appearance pushed the Qart Hadasht coastal Navy away. After a few instances of ramming, actual contact wasn’t necessary. The simple threat of being sunk drove the Empire’ coastal fleet scurrying to their home port.
“Flag the five-bankers with the Marines,” Consul Regulus instructed. “Tell them to start their landing run.”
In response to the flags, five quinqueremes increased their stroke rate.
Marcus Regulus commanded the fleet from the front. Noticeable to the ship’s Centurions and most of the sailors, Lucius Longus kept his Consul ship in the center of the transports. Almost, if one was unkind, as if he were attempting to hide his massive flagship among the merchant vessels.
“We should be going at the Punic city, not some beach miles away, sir,” Kimo proposed. “We could get this over with and be home before winter.”
“Fighting off ships and assaulting up through the harbor would cost lives,” Alerio countered. “Approaching from the landward allows us to form our combat lines properly. Land or sea, it won’t matter, we’ll be home before winter.”
“Flag our detachment,” Kimo ordered his signalman. “Tell them to close up. And remind them, Port turns only.”
While the Centurion addressed the other four warships ferrying the Marines, Alerio walked down the rows of sitting men and talked with them.
“Your job is to hold the gate,” he reminded the Marines. “No heroic charges or stepping off the line. Just hold the mercenaries until the infantry arrives.”
“No problem, sir,” a young Marine remarked. “How hard can it be?”
“But long do we have to hold them, sir?” another asked.
“That will depend, won’t it?” Alerio responded.
“Depend on what, Senior Tribune?” the first inquired.
“If you’re having fun,” he answered before moving to another squad.
Once at the bow deck, Alerio examined the stone walls surrounding the top of a hill. As the only high spot along the coast, the structure was unmistakably the Citadel at Kelibia. But the landing ships weren’t heading for the fortress. The five quinqueremes rowed adjacent to one another and appeared to be heading for the beach north of the fort city. When they were a mile out, it became clear that men with shields and spears were jogging down from the citadel and going north.
Alerio walked back to the steering deck and Kimo confirmed the observation.
“You called it, Senior Tribune. They’re running to the wide beach as fast as their little legs can pump.”
Still studying the hill, Alerio didn’t respond at first.
Long moments later, he declared, “That’s not good. I can see cavalry around the base of the hill fort and more soldiers. They’re not falling for the ploy.”
“What are you going to do?” the ship’s Centurion inquired.
“There are two ways to break an enemy,” Alerio stated. “Come at their flank and collapse their line. Or, stab them in the heart.”
“Which one are we going to do, sir?” Kimo asked.
“Flag the assault ships and the infantry transports,” Alerio ordered. “We’re going for the beach at the fort.”
“And their cavalry?”
“It’s why I picked that narrow beach. Three hundred feet is barely enough room for mounted tactics,” Alerio told him. He began stripping off his armor and placing the senior staff officer gear on the deck. While unbuckling the chest piece, he directed Hektor. “Unpack my battle armor and the dented helmet.”
“Sir, Consul Regulus specifically instructed you to wait for the infantry,” Hektor pleaded.
“I’m going to wait for them,” Alerio exclaimed. “I’ll wait on the beach while having fun with the Marines.”
Hektor lugged over the chainmail shirt and the armor sections of leather and steel bands.
“Why are you doing this, sir?” the youth asked as he lifted the shirt.
Alerio stuck his head and arms through the chainmail and shimmied into the weighty garment.
“I’ve never ducked a fight,” Alerio answered. “And I would never ask an infantryman to do something I wouldn’t do. Why do you ask?”
“I was looking for a philosophical answer,” Hektor told him while tugging and fitting the armor. “But I find the motivation of a leader more to my liking.”
“Sir. Are you going in with us?” a Marine NCO inquired.
“Not to worry, Optio,” Alerio promised. “I will not be a burden.”
“Yes, sir,” the NCO acknowledged but he didn’t sound convinced.
Set back five hundred feet from the shoreline, Citadel Kelibia grew from a bump to a hill looming over the beach. Although, it never appeared to be too high the steep sides and stone walls at the top made it formidable. But the hill fort was for another day. First, the Legions had to secure a beachhead on the Punic coast.
“Strap up,” the Marine officer directed. “Helmets on and snugged down. Lose your helmet, and a soldier will remove your head. If they don’t, I will cut you for being stupid.”
The combat officer glanced at the crescent shaped scar on the crown of Senior Tribune Sisera’s head. He lifted a hand in a passive gesture as if to apologize for the resemblance.
“Your Centurion is serious,” Alerio declared. He bent at the waist in the direction of the Century and rubbed the scar on top of his head. “When I was a young Legionary, I failed to secure my helmet. This was the result.”
“Was it your Centurion or an enemy tribesman?” a Marine asked.
The scar was from assassins from the Golden Valley, but he would never tell that to them.
“Truthfully, Marines,” he commented to the unit, “does it matter?”
The deck of the Psyche of Bellona rolled and there was a rash of helmet straps being tightened. Once Kimo had the landing ships aligned with the beach, he addressed his first officer.
“First Principale. I don’t want the Qart Hadasht defenders to have time to organize,” he exclaimed. “Get those Marines and the Senior Tribune on that beach fast.”
“Yes, sir,” the officer answered. “Second Principale, speed run. Begin.”
Neither the second officer nor the oarsmen around him could see the beach. For them, it boiled down to trust. At the command, the Stroke, Engine, and Bow sections muscled down and began thrashing the water with long, quick strokes of the oars.
***
From the beach, the warships e
nlarged as they drew closer. But to the Empire officers, the Republic fleet came towards shore in a slow and methodical manner. None of the officers panicked, mounted, or directed their mercenaries into positions. Instead, they sipped wine, chatted, and watched the warships emerge from specks on the horizon to a line of quinqueremes with decks crowded with infantrymen.
“Am I wrong or are the troops on those ships half naked?” a Captain quizzed his fellow officers.
“Now that I look closely, you’re correct,” a cavalryman noted. “And there can’t be more than five hundred of them. This should be easy.”
“It’s a guess, but I’m getting closer to four hundred,” the Captain stated. “Where is their chest armor? All I see are shields, helmets, and a shoulder rig to protect the sword arm.”
“I thought the Legion’s heavy infantry had better armor,” the calvary officer remarked.
While still at a distance, five Republic warships raced ahead of the fleet. To the amazement of the officers on shore, the handful of five-bankers moved forward as if to attack. Wine was poured and salutes given to the foolhardy and weak assault. Several companies of mercenaries were sent to the beach to deal with the understaffed invasion.
***
As if they were relay runners, the Bellona and her four companion warships hit their marks two ship lengths from shore and sliced U-turns to Port.
“Backs her down, back her down” Kimo yelled.
The five warships stopped and faced the sea for a heartbeat before powering backwards. The rearward movement ended abruptly when their keels ground against the sand.
“Go, go, go,” the Marine NCOs and officers shouted.
Five Centuries of Marines and one Senior Tribune poured over the steering platforms. Leaping over the rails, they touched briefly on the suspended boards before vaulting to the sand and into the midst of Empire soldiers.
With the weight of the Marines gone, the five-bankers rose higher in the shallow water.
“Stroke, stroke,” Kimo directed. Calling over his signalman, he directed. “Flag in the infantry transports. I’m afraid the Marines can’t hold out for long.”
As the five warships slipped away, Kimo faced aft. Flashes of half armored Marines rotated with fully armored soldiers. He still had not sorted out the Empire soldiers from the Legion Marines when his warship reached deep water and began patrolling parallel to the beach.
“A useless precaution,” the ship’s Centurion whined to himself. “Even if they managed to signal, there is no way, we could get to the beach and pick up any survivors.”
The Marines on the beach had been deposited into the ultimate win or die situation. There were no other possible outcomes.
Act 7
Chapter 19 – Dominate the Beach
In the philosophy of warfare, tribal warrior tactics were unpredictable and a natural product of the survival instinct. As a result, when thrown into a brawl, men resorted to savage and selfish behavior. The counter to the randomness and bedlam resided in discipline. Consequently, the winning side in a melee would be the first to re-adopt structure to their command and thus impose their will on the battlefield.
Be it a broken shield wall, an overrun position, a cutoff Century, or a crowded beach, the first commander to give his men organization would dominate. And, the first step to control began with a rally point.
Alerio Sisera bashed aside a soldier, stabbed another, spun, and kicked away a third man. All around him, he could see Marines in pairs or alone hacking and slashing. There was one positive to the assault, his Marines had dropped into the middle of a mass of charging soldiers. Out of ranks and rushing headlong into the surf, they were in no better position than the Marines.
As narrow as the length of the waves rolling onto the beach, the battle for Kelibia presented a problem for both sides. For the Empire, holding the Marines at water’s edge gave them time to group more forces. With the reinforcements, they could throw the arriving Legionaries back into the sea. But the wait would cost the lives of loyal soldiers. On the Marine’s side, they were stretched out in a lean band. No Centurion could wade out and get behind the fighting to organize his Marines.
Alerio ducked, drove his shoulder into the belly of an Empire soldier, and tossed him up and over. As if a wolf thrown from the horns of a bull, the man tumbled over Alerio and a comrade. He fell between two Marines who were fending off a trio of soldiers. Seeing the body of one of their own falling from the sky disrupted the three mercenaries. Not so the Marines. They each stabbed a man. However, the third recovered and swung a sweeping slice intending to wound both Marines.
But his blade never made contact. Senior Tribune Sisera stepped in, blocked the swing with his gladius, and stabbed the man with his dagger.
“Flank me,” he directed the two Marines, “and sing.”
Two shields and a Senior Tribune attracted a lot more attention than simply a three-man formation. Adding to the heightened awareness, the three belted out the Legion Marine song.
“The Marines strive to be
Where the Gods leave free
Like a place with a future unsure
Tellus has dirt and solid ground
Neptune has the sound”
It was a short line to begin with, but as they sang, Marines picked up the tune, the spirit, and the direction. They began fighting their way to the three-man line.
Three more battled to the line and shoved into the rank. Six strong, they weren’t a matched for the Empire soldiers aligning against them. Reluctantly, they stepped back attempting to maintain unit cohesion. Yet, they sang.
“Which leaves for the Marines
The land between
A place of fear
And horrors unseen”
When he had ten Marines in line, Alerio began grabbing the next to arrive and stacking them in a second rank. Only partially the length of the forward rank, the addition of a beefed-up center gave the Marines an anchor. Their rearward motion stopped, and the ranks held firm.
Feeling the change, they sang with gusto.
“We will not give ground
We have none to give
Where sea and sand convene
That’s where you will find
The Legion Marines”
Along the beach, Marines began bashing and dashing. It was quicker to run than to wound or to kill. Spying the fledging shield wall, they hammered down the soldiers. Then, instead of stabbing or stomping, they ran for the rank of shields. Tripling in size, the double rank of Marines found their heart.
For the first time, their unified voices drowned out the war cries of the Empire forces.
“We are the Legion Marines
Shields firm on sloping sand
The land may shift but solid we stand
A wall of muscle, steel, and ideals
Nothing but surf at our heels”
When the Marine NCO from the Psyche of Bellona shoved through the brawl dragging three young Marines, he pushed them into the combat lines and faced Alerio.
“You aren’t a burden at all, sir,” the Sergeant announced.
“Good to have you here, Optio,” Alerio acknowledged. “I need help with the right wing.”
“Sir,” he said. The NCO spun and bellowed. “Marines, they can’t hear you on the ends. Sound off.”
In reply to the NCO, the ranks roared back with the song.
“And the enemy before
We bar the door
Until the Legions moor
and waddle ashore”
The line reached eighty, the size of one Century. With the strong center widening and threatening to surge forward, the attacking soldiers stacked up in front of the shields. From a mad melee, the Marines were beginning to impose order. In a beach of chaos, the stillness of order drew the attention of outlaying Marines. They linked up and began fighting their way towards the shield wall.
And the voices now rang out with confidence as the Marines sang.
“We will not give ground
We have none to give
Where sea and sand convene
That’s where you will find
The Legion Marines”
Alerio splashed to the right end. After checking to be sure his Marines had control, he started to wade back. A familiar and welcomed sound cut through the singing.
“Who is in charge of this mess,” a gruff voice demanded.
Unable to locate the speaker, Alerio lowered his eyes and looked down the double rank.
“Centurion Palle,” Alerio called to the officer. “Where are your Ardent Rabbits?”
Palle whistled a sharp note and a wedge forced aside the solders clustered around the left end.
“I didn’t know if this was a mistake, or an accident, or a proper place for my Marines,” Palle growled.
“And your evaluation?” Alerio questioned.
The short combat officer scanned the double line of Marines.
“It’s a start,” he declared before strutting to the shield wall where he began straightening sections.
With seventy more Marines, Alerio’s hasty collection of a shield wall became a combat line. Unaware of the consequences, the Qart Hadasht officers continued to stage and hold back reinforcements. Obviously, they didn’t appreciate that a deadly tool of the Republic Legions had formed on the Punic shoreline. Perhaps it was overconfidence from watching the stationary line of Marines, or maybe, that the Marines were standing in ankle deep water. In any case, the Empire Commanders missed that a combat formation had emerged within the pandemonium.
“We are the sacrifice
Duty bound like a curse
Although the Sirens sing and chant
Marines are already infected
being unmoved or tempted”
With almost three full Centuries, Alerio now had a fighting force of two hundred and twenty under his command. Unfortunately, the twenty missing Marines were bleeding out on the sand or floating face down in the sea.
“I am tired of my feet being wet,” he shouted. “Centuries, stand by.”
His warning order got passed along by two Centurions and the five remaining NCOs.
Uncertain Honor Page 16
