by Peake, R. W.
Caesar's reference to those days struck Titus Pullus like a blow; he had been the de facto Primus Pilus of the 2 Cohorts of the 6th Legion Caesar had brought to Alexandria in pursuit of Pompey, only to be trapped there for better than 7 months. During those days, Titus had become good friends with Cartufenus, and he remembered the trials they had both endured, when the 28th, then a green Legion, had almost mutinied because of a lack of water. Cartufenus had been steadfast then; in fact, Titus remembered, it had been Cartufenus who, leading 2 Cohorts of the 28th, had scaled the heights above the Egyptian camp during the battle that saw the final defeat and drowning of Ptolemy, breaking what had been to that point a bloody stalemate, with the day still very much in doubt.
"Even as I speak, I have sent ships scouting further along the coast of this wretched Island of Wa. Now that we are in their Inland Sea, I have it on good authority that there are large stretches of coast that are uninhabited. We are going to land again, but not until after we have regained our strength. Also, now that I have seen how these Wa fight, we are going to train differently. I will teach you the best way to defeat these savages, and show them that of all the soldiers in the world, those who march for Rome, no matter where they are from originally, are the greatest in the world!"
Once his words were translated, the ground shook with the roars of the men, as Pullus thought, he's done it again. I don't know how, but he's managed to make the men forget how badly we were beaten just a week ago.
Later that day, Pullus and the other Primi Pili were summoned to a briefing in the praetorium, and as Pullus, Torquatus and Balbinus walked together to the headquarters tent, they discussed what they had heard earlier.
"Any idea what this new tactic is?" Balbinus asked, not really aiming the question at anyone, but Torquatus understood that it had been aimed at Pullus, both men believing, with good reason, that of all the Primi Pili, Pullus was the one closest to Caesar.
"No," Pullus answered, "and trust me, I had Diocles work his network of spies under the tentpole working overtime trying to find out. But Caesar's been playing this one very, very tightly."
"Figures," Torquatus grunted, "gods know he's been withdrawn the last week."
The other two Centurions agreed this was the case, but any more conversation was cut short by their arrival. Entering past the guards, they were waved immediately to the conference room, where about half of the other Centurions and staff had already gathered. Very quickly the rest arrived, and not more than a dozen heartbeats later, Caesar strode in, followed by Hirtius, Pollio, and the rest of his staff. Waving his audience to their seats, Caesar began immediately by pulling the cloth off the tent wall that, as the others saw immediately, had been covering a surprisingly detailed map of the Island of Wa, with most of the detail concentrated on the vicinity of the Inland Sea. Despite themselves, most of the men made small sounds of amazement and surprise, showing how impressed they were that Caesar had been able to amass so much information in such a small amount of time.
"As you can see, Volusenus and his staff have been very busy, with no small thanks going to Zhang," Caesar nodded in the direction of the Han emissary, seated in the first row, whose face as usual betrayed no emotion whatsoever, save for a small nod of the head in acknowledgement.
Uppity bastard, Pullus thought to himself, acting like he's the one in charge. I'd love to gut that slanty-eyed bastard myself. Turning his attention back to his general, Pullus listened, as Caesar continued.
"As you can see, about a day's sailing west of here start a number of islands, as the coast swings to the south. Zhang has told us, and Volusenus has confirmed," Caesar's emphasis on this last part stopped the muttering of the assembled men, "that there is one very large island, then a very large bay, with perhaps two dozen more islands of varying size. However, there is one," as he talked Caesar pointed to a crudely drawn mass of land south of the main island that to Pullus looked a bit like the letter V, although the right arm of it had a protuberance that almost closed off the top, "that has a very protected harbor. It is uninhabited, but as you can also see, it is not far from the main island. And directly north of that island is a large settlement, with what looks like a fair-sized garrison of troops. That, gentlemen," he finished, "will be our target."
The plan, as Caesar outlined it, like most of his plans, was simple. While there were a number of small craft in the area of this city, none of them were warships, at least of a sufficient size or number to stop Caesar's fleet from investing the island to the south. This island would be the base of all operations from this point forward, he told them, and the harbor would be heavily fortified. The entrance into this protected bay, because of the knot of land that Pullus had noticed, narrowed it down to less than a half-mile, and with artillery emplacements on either shore, there would be no way for any hostile force to enter without being raked by fire. The land in the pocket of the V was flat enough for a camp that would hold the entire army, and according to Volusenus, who had landed on the island, there was wild game and plentiful fresh water. Caesar made it clear that after establishing a defensible position on the island, the first target was the city across the bay where, he told his officers with a wolfish smile, the Legions would be turned loose to exact revenge in a way the Wa would never forget.
All that remained was this new tactic that Caesar had promised, but he had refused to enlighten his Centurions about what he had in store, saying only that once things were settled in their new position, he would make his plans known. But, he assured them, neither they nor the men would be disappointed.
Chapter 5
The move to the new island went smoothly, with only one minor skirmish between a small group of Wa warships, very small craft, poorly armed and crewed, all of them quickly sent to the bottom of the bay. As Caesar's massive fleet cruised by the mainland, heading for the protected harbor of the island, the men lined the rails to watch the activity on the shore, which was a swirl of movement as thousands of Wa stood watching the foreign invaders sailing by.
"How many do you suppose there are?" Sextus Scribonius asked Titus Pullus, the two standing side-by-side on one of the transports.
"I don't know, but there's a lot of 'em," Pullus grunted. "But I don't worry about the civilians. I worry about those bastards," he pointed to a large group of Wa warriors, standing separately from the others.
"I don't know," Scribonius said doubtfully. "If the civilians are even half as fierce as their warriors, we're going to have our hands full."
Pullus laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "What, did you want to live forever? Besides, didn't Caesar tell us he's got a plan to defeat them?"
"Actually, I did plan on living forever," Scribonius retorted, "or at least longer than you. But speaking of Caesar's plan: still no idea what it is?"
Pullus answered with a frustrated grimace and shake of his head. "No, not a clue. And I'm beginning to wonder..." before he finished, he lowered his voice and took a furtive glance about to see, if anyone was listening. "...if he really has a plan, or he's just telling us that he does."
Scribonius couldn't hide his shock; never before had he heard his best friend express this level of doubt in their commanding officer. With those words ringing in his ears, Scribonius turned his attention back to the sight on shore, both men lost in their own thoughts.
As usual in Caesar's army, everything moved with absolute efficiency and speed, so that within two watches of the first ships pulling into the protected harbor, the camp was completed. By the next morning, the northern edge of the island facing the bay was dotted with small forts, each one with a complement of artillery in the form of scorpions and ballistae. Just outside the camp, Caesar ordered a large area cleared of all underbrush and trees, and on the second night he called a meeting of all Primi Pili and Pili Priores, to be held outside the camp walls, out of earshot of the men.
Without preamble, he told them, in the high-pitched tone he used when addressing large groups, "I know that you have been waitin
g to hear about the new plan I have for defeating these barbarians, now that we know how they fight." He waited a moment for the inevitable buzz, as men muttered to their friends, and only those standing close enough could see the twitch of his mouth, as he continued, "And I know that some of you have doubted whether or not I actually had a plan, or if I was just saying it to appease the men."
Although Pullus was standing closely enough to see the shadow of a smile on his general's face, he still experienced a shiver of dread, wondering if this was just a shrewd guess on Caesar's part, or if he had spies in even more places than Pullus thought. Whatever the case, Caesar's words served to focus the minds of the assembled Centurions in a most effective way, and all murmuring and shifting about stopped as they listened intently.
"As you all saw, these barbarians are extremely aggressive," Caesar continued, "and the reason we were repulsed had nothing to do with the bravery of our men. The reality is that the method we use in making a beach assault, while it has been successful thus far, is not suited for the type of resistance we saw a week ago. Therefore, after giving it much thought, I have come up with what I believe will give us the best chance of making a successful landing."
Caesar paused for a moment, and despite themselves, the men found that they were leaning forward, waiting for him to continue. Their general knew this, and accordingly didn't say a word for several moments, drawing out the tension and anticipation of the Centurions, until he could tell they were on the verge of shouting at him to continue.
"You all know that I set great store in the use of artillery, but I realize my mistake with this landing was that I didn't use the artillery nearly as much as I should have. Therefore, I am doubling our artillery, and I am converting even more ships into floating artillery platforms. Before we send in the first landing craft, we are going to pound those barbarians into jellied meat and teach them what the true might of Rome is all about!"
The last part of his statement was drowned out by the roars of his Centurions, as they thrust their fists into the air, shouting their approval and defiance. All of the anger and frustration came roiling out of these hard-bitten men, and Caesar was content to let them continue for several moments, before finally raising his hand for silence. Finally, once it was quiet again, he continued.
"But that's not all. We are going to have to get onto the beach more quickly than we have in the past. To that end, I am also ordering a number of transports to be broken down, and their timbers will be used to make smaller craft, holding no more than a Century, so that we can unload more quickly, and these ships can go back to the larger transports and load up with another Century. We are going to practice that maneuver here in this inner harbor, where the Wa cannot see us, until I'm satisfied that it can't be done any more quickly."
Caesar paused again, letting his Centurions absorb this plan and this time they were silent, more thoughtful, as they considered it. All of them knew that this meant their men would be worked until they dropped, then worked some more, for Caesar was nothing if not a hard taskmaster. But if it meant that fewer of them would perish on some foreign beach, far from home, then none of them begrudged the work that was to come. There were a few more details Caesar wanted to go over, then he dismissed the Centurions to go prepare their men for their upcoming ordeal.
And Caesar was good to his word: the very next morning work began, as ships were dragged onto the beach and torn apart, their timbers used to build both the artillery platforms and smaller transports. While this was taking place, those Legionaries who were not immunes involved in the work on the ships were sent out to the stakes to work on their sword work, or to the range, where they worked on hurling their javelins. Everywhere was a scene of nonstop activity, and every man retired to his tent at the end of the day sore and tired, the Centurions included. But despite the pace and harshness of the regimen, no man complained, all of them knowing that it was time to avenge their earlier defeat, and that the harder they worked now, the greater was their chance of not only seeing another sunrise, but also avenging the loss of friends and comrades. Caesar's army was determined that they would not be turned back a second time.
It had been a long time since Caesar had worked the men of his army so hard. But day after day, he had them loading and unloading from the smaller ships that he had ordered built, working them relentlessly on leaping over the low sides of the craft, then sprinting to shore in order to form up as quickly as possible. The fact that they had to do so in waist-deep water made no difference. Caesar judged them as if they were running across open ground, consequently every night the men staggered to their tents, barely able to consume their evening meal, engaging in only the most desultory conversation. Despite this, there was no complaining, because every man knew, after what had happened barely two weeks before, that this training was their best chance for not only performing, but also surviving the next landing.
As all this was taking place, Caesar was just as relentless in working the crews of the shipborne artillery, not sparing any expense in using live ammunition, aiming at a series of targets on shore, knowing that the rocks for the ballistae could be reused, while the bolts for the scorpions would be repaired by the immunes responsible for such matters. Over and over the crews drilled, until they were sending their respective missiles faster and more accurately than anyone in the army had seen, including Caesar.
"There's no way those Wa will be able to stand up to this," Quintus Balbus said, as he and Pullus stood watching the crews work, as they waited for their men to slog back aboard the transports in order to be rowed back out into the harbor to repeat the process of landing.
"I certainly hope not," Pullus agreed, "I just wonder how much longer we're going to be practicing, before we get on with it."
"Why?" Balbus asked. "It can only help us, the more we train."
"I suppose so," Pullus said doubtfully, but while he had reservations, he was unable to articulate the reason for his worry, because he knew that what Balbus said was true.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that with every day that passed, the Wa weren't just sitting idly by, themselves, and he worried what they had in store.
Another reason for Caesar's delay was to allow as many men to heal as possible, knowing that they were the most experienced in his army, and that even with his new approach, he would need every one of them to accomplish his goal. Like Pullus, Caesar worried, but as was fitting for the overall commander of the army, his concern extended beyond this next landing to the rest of the campaign. Of all the officers, he knew better than anyone that neither he nor the army could afford to take the kind of casualties they had suffered in the first assault, not if they had any hope of conquering the entire island. Not, that is, unless they stayed on this gods-forsaken island for two or three years and managed to recruit men from here—a prospect that he didn't hold in particularly high regard as being likely. So despite his nature, he forced himself to be patient, checking with the medici every day for progress reports, doing his best to hide his disappointment when they couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear: that all the men in the tent had recovered and would be ready to march the next day.
Finally, a couple of days more than three weeks after the repulse on the beach, the last man limped out of the hospital tent to return to his own tent section. Although none of the last dozen men were truly fit for duty, Caesar could wait no longer, and knowing their general and still willing to give every last ounce of their energy and life to him, they struggled to convince him that they were fit enough to march with their comrades. And Caesar was a receptive audience, so an assembly was called that night, the faces of the men lit by the flickering torches surrounding the forum.
"Comrades," Caesar called out, his voice ringing and strong. "Tomorrow, we begin our task of avenging the comrades we lost!"
If there was more to this statement, it was drowned out by the roar of the assembled men, even those whose native tongue wasn't Latin not needing any translation. Caesar was c
ontent to let this demonstration continue for several moments, before holding his hands up for silence. Finally the men quieted down enough for him to continue.
"We'll load the first wave in the watch before dawn. Because it's such a short distance, we won't need more time than that. As the first wave is loading, the artillery ships will be making their way across the bay to get into position. Comrades," he raised his voice even louder, his tone taking on the quality of icy anger that his long-time officers knew so well, "this is one time we don't want to surprise our foe. No, this time we want them to see us coming and to prepare for the assault. If all goes according to plan, they will be as eager to stop us on the beach as the last time. And when they come running to the edge of the shore, they will be mown down like wheat before the scythe!"
This time Caesar didn't bother trying to stop the men cheering.
The ships bearing the artillery had one other refinement of Caesar's design. As a further way to entice the Wa into crowding the beach, he ordered the sides of the artillery craft raised, with pivoting sides that hid the artillery pieces and disguised the ships as transports. Each captain was under orders to wait until the last possible moment before swinging the sides down to expose the artillery pieces. It was dark when the artillery ships left their moorings and began making their way out of the protected harbor. As they did so, Titus Pullus and the men of the 10th designated for the first wave sat quietly on the shore, waiting for the orders to begin their own loading process. Of all the new parts of this operation, Pullus thought, probably the trickiest was going to be loading into the new transports. In order to enable the quickest unloading possible, the sides of the transports were mere inches above the water, making these craft completely unsuitable for any type of voyage longer than what was facing them and in any seas, other than the inland bay they would be crossing. But what made it dangerous for the men was that, in order to increase speed, the beams of the vessels had been narrowed substantially as well, so that as the men loaded, they had to do it in roughly equal proportions from each side, or there was a very real danger of swamping their transport. Of course, the transport consequently had to be exited in the same manner, but that was what Caesar had trained them so hard to do, with each tent section assigned a specific side of the craft to exit. Still, as Pullus and the rest of the men well knew, what went smoothly in training rarely translated the same way in combat, but it was in the gods' hands now.