“We have to deal with it,” Malobaudes finally said. “The battle line is ready. I will inform the centurions personally about this change. They should prepare their men as far as they can.” He rose at once, and hurried out of the field.
“We can still win this battle,” Gratian said, looking after the general. “Consider a new tactic.”
“No, it will not do much good,” Arbogast said. The burly general stroked his beard. “It’s bad for morale, and we don’t have any effective counter-defense. How did soldiers fight against this weapon in your time, Rheinberg?”
“By killing those who threw them before they could throw them. Once they fly, you find cover and pray that you are not hit or that the grenade is a dud. There isn’t much else left to do.”
Arbogast sighed. “I expected that. So there is nothing else for our men as well.”
Rheinberg rose and nodded to Gratian. “I will inform the field hospital that not only the cannons of the enemy can lead to a certain type of injury, but also the hand grenades. The nurses and paramedics must know.”
He looked around and raised his shoulders. “And then we should simply attack as planned.”
The glances he got reflected his own determination. There was no more waiting.
37
“This is our problem!”
Von Klasewitz’ pointing finger didn’t tremble even when he directed it toward the positions the scouts had drawn into the large map. They were marked with the symbol Maximus had chosen for the legionaries of the time-wanderers, the so-called infantry. The nobleman knew that with this discussion he helped to seal the death of his own countrymen, the German comrades who had disappeared with him in time. But he had long since gone beyond the stage of contemplating unnecessarily about moral questions that didn’t help him in this situation at all.
Maximus nodded. “And how do we solve it?”
Andragathius, the general under the command of Maximus, laid a hand flat on the map. “Normally, I would suggest that with a large cavalry unit the positions of the time-wanderers would be overrun in a wide, circumventing attack. There would surely be great losses, but the most important aim is to make the threat of the … how did you call them, Tribune von Klasewitz?”
“Machine guns,” the man helped.
“Machine guns … yes, this threat must be eliminated.”
“Why don’t we use that tactic, then?” von Klasewitz wanted to know. He was a bit irritated, for he had been consulted when it came to the positioning of the guns, and Maximus and Andragathius had discussed without him the field of fire, but the exact tactics of the battle, they kept hidden. This was a reference to the fact that the two Romans had not yet understood what role artillery played in a battle, and that these weapons had to operate in tight coordination with all other units to be as effective as possible. It seemed to him that above all Andragathius regarded the cannons mainly as a noisy effect, which would pave the ground for the actual battle but would ultimately not be able to make a really important contribution.
“We don’t do it because the rear flank of these positions is covered by selected defensive units. The cavalry would be noticed in time, and the time-wanderers would have plenty of time to adjust to this threat. That would not only cause a high loss, but a bloodbath with a very doubtful outcome.”
“The alternative?”
“If your cannons had a wider range, we’d be able to solve the problem,” Maximus muttered thoughtfully. Von Klasewitz’ first reaction was to take this as an accusation, but a glance into the face of the Comes taught him something better. The man didn’t want to blame anyone here, but he had recognized an important function of the artillery better than the German had thought possible. Of course, cannons were also used to destroy enemy artillery as far as it was within reach. Unfortunately, Maximus was correct in his statement that the machine guns were able to shoot further than the ultimately crude bronze pieces of the insurgents – a reason why he had paid particular attention to the protection of the cannons.
“What does the alternative look like?” he insisted.
“We must go against the position of the wanderers, but not on detours, instead from all sides at once. We will still pay a high price, but we have a tactical advantage with the hand grenades. Getting rid of this infantry is our first priority. We must move so fast that they cannot react in time, both with foot soldiers and cavalry.”
“Leave the horsemen,” Klasewitz advised. “They are too easy a target. We stick with foot soldiers. If they behave as we have practiced, we can minimize losses.”
“But it takes longer,” the General complained.
Von Klasewitz looked at Andragathius. “This may be the case. But through this approach we test a meaningful tactic and show the men that the marvels of the time-wanderers have their limits. It will continue to be important in the future. If we win the battle, the war is not yet decided, no matter what you dream of.” Apart from his activity as an artillery officer, von Klasewitz had also prepared other training units with NCOs, especially for the correct use of the primitive hand grenades as well as the changes in approach. So far, Roman legionaries had huddled behind their shields in the battle for cover, especially when a hail of arrows rained down on them. That wouldn’t help much against the bullets from the German machine guns. Instead, von Klasewitz, much to the initial amusement of the instructed Romans, had shown what was to be done once the weapons of the time-wanderers spoke: fall flat on the belly, press yourself as hard as possible to the ground and then, as soon as the spray of bullets seemed to be moving away from one’s own position, glide ahead on the belly, in the direction of the enemy, all in order to represent as small a target as possible in the shrubbery or higher grass. He had demonstrated it to them with full physical effort, but they had only realized the necessity when he had begun firing with his rifle over their heads. Then their willingness to learn had quickly increased.
“If the instructions I have given will be well-implemented, the men should know what to do when they are fired upon. I cannot tell a cavalryman to get off the horse and lie down, especially because he probably will not have a horse left to ride. No, let’s leave the cavalry out of the game. They won’t help us here. A determined advance of the legionaries, reaching the range for throwing hand grenades, and from several sides at the same time – that is our tactical approach.”
Von Klasewitz had spoken calmly. His comments had been of cold precision. Andragathius and Maximus couldn’t resist the impression that the man knew what he was talking about. Finally, it was the Comes who nodded and said, “That convinces me. Andragathius, we rearrange the legions accordingly. Run a force around the enemy’s positions so they can attack in time. Use the cavalry to attack the enemy scouts or, better yet, kill them. But no riders in the direct attack against the positions of the time-wanderers. We use most of the auxiliary troops at the other end of the battlefield.”
“Very well,” von Klasewitz commented. “The enemies have made an important tactical decision that is of advantage for us: Their infantry is more or less concentrated in one place. Their advantage is that they can cause big damage from there and have a clear field of fire. Also, one is more difficult to overwhelm, as we will find out soon enough. The serious disadvantage is the lack of flexibility. The range of the MGs is considerable, yes, and the rifles also cover the whole battlefield. Nevertheless, the more distant parts of our legions will suffer much less from the attack of the enemy. There, I will also concentrate the fire of our cannons. We have to keep one flank moving and slowly work on the position of the time-wanderers; with the other, we must take an offensive approach toward Gratian’s troops.”
The German sketched the scenario on the map. He had made this argument often, but he didn’t tire to repeat it again. Of course, he pursued another goal: His cannons had to convincingly prove their effectiveness and their relevance in battle. His continued grace in the eyes of Maximus depended on their performance. Therefore, he wanted to use his art
illery as much as possible to gain prestige and influence. His goal had to be to be recognized alongside Andragathius at least as an equal military leader.
The meeting didn’t last much longer. The basic lines of the advance were clear, and the formation of the legions was almost completed. Finally, von Klasewitz said goodbye, stepped out of the tent into the muddy morning, and marched at once to his artillery unit. He tried to radiate confidence and self-assurance, albeit in his own more arrogant version. He was hiding his real feelings as much as he could. A battle, that he had learned during his training, was absolutely unpredictable once it had begun and developed its own momentum. This was all the more true here where hitherto unusual and untrained elements were included in the equation. This was usually the recipe for helpless confusion and coordination problems. It was also the opportunity to establish a new tactical doctrine and to demonstrate its value.
Chances and risks, he felt, had to be considered.
Now it was necessary to put his own weight as much as possible into the balance. And von Klasewitz was determined to do exactly that.
38
“Now is the time, my friends!”
The encouragement wouldn’t have been necessary. Captain von Geeren had rarely witnessed his soldiers as concentrated as now. Everybody knew the importance of the day, and they all knew the risks involved. Von Geeren nodded to the centurion, who was lying next to him in the dirt and also armed with binoculars. Lucius Verilius was the commander of the unit that was to protect the infantrymen from the flanks and the back in order to avoid surprise attacks. He was very young, younger than the German, and he had been given this task above all because he was particularly good at getting along with the new weapons of the time-wanderers. The fact that he used the binoculars with the same self-assurance as the German was only an indication of this fact. That he was the first Roman officer to have received a pistol from the Germans’ stock and carried it visibly on his belt, and even achieved good results in shooting exercises, was another. Verilius belonged to a new generation of Roman soldiers who recognized the advantages and potentials of the weapon technology from the future and were prepared to rethink old methods and certainties.
They came along really well. This helped to ensure that the language skills of the two men were not a one-way street. With the same soldier, with whom the centurion had learned to master the pistol, he had been part of language classes. What he had learned was bumpy and full of mistakes, but he was ready to speak without fear of errors and accepted corrections with stoic calmness.
Not far from here the war-music of the legions, which had begun with their final preparations for battle, was heard. Von Geeren somewhat missed the drums he was accustomed to. Roman battle music had much more to do with flutes and trumpets, which were often very loud, but ultimately rather disturbing, at least in his ears. He would take the opportunity to speak about drums in due course, but he realized that it was ultimately too late for it now. Once artillery and guns had been brought to their full extent, no one would be able to hear any musicians play, and they would be, as in his own future, confined to festive occasions.
The two gigantic armies, which had finally positioned themselves, looked like oversized sports teams. Although von Geeren and Rheinberg had pointed out over and over again that it was much more sensible to take positions as quickly as possible, in the vicinity of promising cover, the Romans had not been deterred from this rather pompous and now increasingly obsolete mode of battle preparation. Rheinberg had at some point mentioned to von Geeren that his complaints were of no use. They would have to have the bitter experience on their own to understand that classical battle formations became more or less obsolete.
The problem, both officers had also recognized, was that the Goths were the first who had become victims of the German arms. Barbarians. Wild and uncivilized. Now Romans, but ultimately only second-class citizens. Roman legionaries had not yet been confronted with the firestorm of cannons and guns, at least not as targets. It was hard to describe it in mere words. Centurion Verilius was one of the few officers who had absorbed the lessons. His men had had to learn certain things, for instance, to throw themselves into the dirt without any hesitation, no matter where they were.
This was yet to be communicated effectively to the masses of legionaries.
The survivors of this battle, von Geeren thought bitterly, would better understand later. But at that time it would be too late for their dead comrades.
A cavalryman came up, snapped the horse by the reins so that it came to a standstill almost next to von Geeren. The man jumped from the back of his animal; it was one of Rheinberg’s messengers.
“The Magister Militium sends his regards,” the man said, somewhat breathlessly.
“I hear you.”
“The order for the attack will be given at 8:30 a.m., if Maximus should not take the first step.”
“Thank you! We are ready.”
The man nodded, threw himself back on his horse, and stormed away. Von Geeren looked at the clock. Another innovation for Roman Battlefield tactics: At the Saarbrücken, Rheinberg had collected all working watches, whether worn on the arm or on a chain. There had been a decent number. Some of them had been distributed to important officers of the Romans, who had shown themselves very pleased about the exactness of this measurement of time. Since then, tactical commands have been given with times that were unmistakable. It facilitated the co-ordination immensely, although the advantage immediately decreased rapidly with the start of a battle. The biggest problem remained to be battlefield communication, which depended on spotters, signalmen and acoustic signals. Dahms had proposed to introduce widely visible and wisely coded flag signals, with a mast on a hill, so that the enemy couldn’t interpret the signals or at least only with difficulty. Unfortunately, the necessary preparations weren’t finished before this battle. So the flutists and trumpeters were still essential, and their signal sequences well known to Maximus. No chance for any surprise here.
Von Geeren waved his lieutenants. They just nodded. They all knew. The officer saw how the gunman in his vicinity was checking the seat of the patron’s belt one last time, and then formally placed himself behind the powerful weapon, keeping an eye on the targets. Other infantrymen, in dug-out trenches, were protected against the occasional arrow or other thrown missiles. Von Geeren had ordered, where possible, to target officers of the enemy. They were clearly recognizable by their uniforms and, above all, the helmets. The more they got, the more difficult it would be for the enemy to coordinate his attack properly.
But von Geeren did not want to overestimate the effect. Once the battle was well underway, it became quite a challenge to move big units, and some had a tendency to dissolve in the tangle of battle. Good leaders certainly played an important role, but not the same as at the beginning of the slaughter.
Nevertheless, every little advantage was helpful.
And then, as if it had not been announced well before, von Geeren was startled when he heard the trumpet signal. He should have looked at his watch, he admonished himself.
“Targets!” he shouted, and the other officers related the order. It was quite unnecessary – the men had been doing nothing else for half an hour –, but it announced that the next order would follow soon.
In Maximus’ army, movement was visible. The men of Gratian, on the other hand remained at their given place, and for a good reason: They didn’t want to get into the fire line of the infantry. Geeren raised the binoculars and frowned. A whole wing of the opposing army had changed its direction of march. Thousands of soldiers were on the move, directly toward … him.
“Fire!” he yelled, louder than necessary.
The infantrymen obeyed. A deafening noise scattered over the battlefield as the guns and MGs sent their deadly bullets on their way. Von Geeren’s eyes were glued to the eyepiece. He saw legionaries fall, essentially mown down, pictures that reminded him of Thessaloniki. But then he saw how much more fell to the grou
nd than could possibly have been hit, and he felt both fear and respect.
The legionaries, like a man, fell into cover, lay flat on the grass.
And then, almost as if a gigantic carpet had set in motion, they crawled to the position of the Germans with an obstinate slowness.
Yes, the infantrymen still found their targets. MGs plowed through the ranks of the attackers. Cries of the victims echoed across the field. The attackers made a great, painful, cruel progress.
But the losses were not half as great as if the legionaries would’ve continued to march upright instead of crouching down. Von Klasewitz had instructed the men of Maximus well. They would suffer, but what von Geeren had secretly feared would become reality: They would approach the positions of the Germans, bleeding and full of injuries, but in a certain and inevitable wave, and then, at some time, crude grenades would fly and blades would flash in the summer sun.
“Verilius!” von Geeren demanded.
But the Centurion was not at his side. Von Geeren lowered the glass, looked around, and his eyes widened as he realized that the Centurion did what was his job – to protect the Germans from an attack from behind.
“Secure flanks!” von Geeren shouted, pointing to the direction from which another, massive wall of opposing legionaries slowly approached them, kept in check by Verilius’s men, who evidently had the disadvantage in numbers. “Messenger!”
A man appeared next to him. Von Geeren scribbled something on a piece of parchment, handed it to the cavalryman, who immediately disappeared with it.
A loud, crashing sound made the German huddle down.
The Emperor's Men 4: Uprising Page 22