Caesar Triumphant- Chapter 5 (cont.)
The slaughter resulting from the pre-landing artillery barrage was so total and so devastating that the biggest challenge for the men unloading in the first wave was keeping their footing amid the bodies and pieces of bodies bobbing and rolling in the red surf. Adding to the eeriness and unfamiliarity of the scene, it was also the quietest landing that any man of Caesar's army had participated in. It wasn't truly quiet, but the only sound competing with the rumbling waves was a low-pitched moan that seemed to ebb and flow with each crash of water onto the beach. There was occasional punctuation to the generally continuous sound in the form of shouted commands from the Centurions and Optios, but what was conspicuously missing besides the sounds of battle were the calls and curses of the rankers. No, Titus Pullus thought, he had never experienced anything like this, and neither had anyone else. It wasn't until Pullus was on the beach, standing amidst carnage the likes of which he had never seen in his 27 years; not at Alesia, not at Alexandria, not at Persepolis, not at Bargosa, that he realized what was so strange. The volume and style of the sound he was hearing was what one heard after a battle was over, not when the landing was just moments old. Right now should be a frenzy of action, a riot of noise, so many things going on in front of one's eyes that the brain can't comprehend it all, the colors and smells, all of it threatened to be overwhelmed by the fear and rage of battle. But nothing like that was happening, and it was clear to Pullus that he wasn't alone in his feelings as he watched his men trying to form up, although it was next to impossible because of the bodies packing the beach.
Just as Caesar had predicted, at the first sight of the Roman warships appearing through a low-hanging mist that allowed them to creep to within 200 paces, the Wa had stormed right up to the edge of the beach in their tightly packed but ordered ranks. Just like the first landing, there was a minimum of the kinds of demonstrations made by the warriors of other nations. They seemed content to wait for the Romans to land, but Caesar and the entire army knew what kind of ferocity the Wa were capable of, so none of them were swayed by the lack of activity. In fact, their close formation fit into Caesar's plans quite well, and his one hope was that they didn't break ranks, making them harder to hit. Within a tenth part of a watch, the floating artillery batteries had moved into their positions, each one turning broadside to the beach as the Wa contented themselves with shouting in their tongue as they watched. Perhaps they don't know what's about to happen, Caesar mused, standing at the flagship rail, his ship positioned roughly in the middle of the spread of warships. He restrained himself from looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction of the beach, knowing how futile it would be trying to spot the assault force rowing towards the beach because of the mist. No, he thought, I will have to count on my generals to make sure all is going as planned. His attention was brought back to the beach by the sharp cracking sound that was the signature of the ballistae, as the arm crashed against the crossbar when it shot to the vertical position as it launched its respective cargo of death. Caesar was unable to track the flight of the first missiles from his ship, but there was no missing the result, as the first one pound stones slammed into the front rows of Wa. No matter how many times he saw it, he was still somewhat surprised at the amount of damage a relatively small rock could do, not just to one man but to several in a row, especially at closer range. Only one missile fell short in the first volley, so that almost immediately bloody gaps were torn in the front ranks, but as the last time, those holes were closed almost immediately. Again, this was something Caesar was counting on, and in this he wasn't disappointed.
What he was unprepared for, however, was that the Wa would stand there and soak up this punishment, without withdrawing from the surf line. Instead, they stood there, first shouting their anger, then screaming out in fear and pain as rocks and scorpion bolts savaged them without letup. Part of the original plan had called for a brief respite, planned by Caesar to give him the opportunity to assess the situation, and if necessary to allow his floating batteries to reposition closer to shore in anticipation that the Wa would have to remove themselves from the surf line. However, they never moved, but Caesar nonetheless ordered those of his ships that carried a higher complement of scorpions to move closer inshore, staying just out of range of the Wa archers, who fired a few volleys of fire arrows to no avail. With the range closer, the scorpion bolts were particularly lethal, punching through the lamellar leather armor and torso of the first and usually second Wa before burying itself in the bowels of its last victim. The slaughter recommenced, with the Wa giving no sign whatsoever that they were inclined to retreat out of range. In fact, from where Caesar was standing, although his eyesight wasn't what it was, he could clearly see that there were no officers or cavalry behind the rear ranks, forcing men forward. No, he realized with shock, these Wa were moving forward without prompting, despite the fact they had to know what awaited them. As disciplined as these men were, and Caesar was certain that these Wa would be more than a match for the warriors of Sparta, not even the most hardened of men could keep from shrieking in agony from the kind of damage done by the artillery, and the air was filled with such noise. As bad as the noise was, Caesar knew, the sights of their comrades being eviscerated, having a limb torn off or even decapitated had to be extremely daunting, yet no Wa that he could see hesitated in stepping into the next spot, even when it was stepping over the mangled body of a comrade. Even when their numbers were reduced to perhaps a quarter of their original strength, the Wa never wavered, and in fact Caesar was sure that the ships would run out of ammunition. Some of the vessels did, particularly those carrying the scorpions, but in the end, there was enough.
This time the landing of Caesar's army was successful, and in sharp contrast to the first attempt, there were no serious injuries, and only one death, a Legionary who had been leaning out watching the slaughter on the beach and lost his balance, falling into the sea and disappearing from sight before anyone could grab him. The Wa, on the other hand, had lost what Caesar believed was the bulk of their army, at least 20,000 men, or so he hoped. He couldn't imagine wasting his soldiers in such a profligate manner, and there was something deeply troubling about these Wa, something he had first felt during the previous assault, which he couldn't identify and had put down as stemming from his first defeat in many years. But now here he was, standing on the beach as its master, and yet he was just as troubled as he had been the time before. Try as he might, he couldn't come to grips with the feeling, and while to everyone around him he was his same, efficient self, inwardly he was in turmoil. The first inkling of what it might be came when Aulus Hirtius, one of his top lieutenant generals came to give his report on the task Caesar had set for him. Even before Hirtius spoke, Caesar could see the answer on his general's face. "I'm sorry Caesar," Hirtius said uncomfortably, only after rendering a proper salute of course, "but we have no prisoners."Even knowing the answer by Hirtius' expression, Caesar was flabbergasted, so shocked that for several moments he couldn't speak, a fact that Hirtius took as a rebuke. His face colored, and like every member of Caesar's army, Hirtius felt great shame at having failed his general. "I'm sorry, Caesar," Hirtius repeated, his tone so miserable that it snapped Caesar out of his shocked state. Caesar shook his head, putting a hand on Hirtius' shoulder, admonishing him, "It's not your doing, Hirtius. I don't blame you. It's just hard to understand how out of this many men on this beach, we couldn't find any wounded lightly enough to take prisoner to interrogate."Something in Hirtius' eyes prompted Caesar to ask, "What am I missing?" "It's hard to describe, Caesar," Hirtius responded. "Even after I saw it happen, I can't really understand it. But," he continued after Caesar's prompting, "we did as you said, looking for those men whose wounds weren't mortal and finishing off those whose were. But every time we found such a man, we couldn't get close to him. It was like they were.........possessed by some numen, screeching in that language of theirs, I can't understand a word of that gibberish, and I've already picked up a fair amount of the Han dialect...where was I? Ah, yes, when we got anywhere near these men they would try to put up so much of a fight that we had no choice but to kill them." "That's to be expected," Caesar interjected, his mind still working on the larger problems, "but surely not all of them." In every battle he had ever fought, across the entire known world, Caesar had never seen it fail that there were a group of men who chose life as a possible slave than death, at least when it was this large a group. "That's what I thought as well," Hirtius said with what Caesar suspected was respect bordering on awe, something Caesar didn't like a bit. "Until I saw these Wa. Every one of them who was able took a blade, an arrow, whatever was at hand, and ended themselves. To a man." For several moments, neither said a word, their thoughts running along very similar channels. Finally and appropriately, it was Caesar who broke the silence. "If we're fighting a race where even men in the ranks would rather die than submit, how can we defeat these people?"
All posts by R.W. Peake on blog.rwpeake.com are copyrighted by the author, 2012.
Just as Caesar had predicted, at the first sight of the Roman warships appearing through a low-hanging mist that allowed them to creep to within 200 paces, the Wa had stormed right up to the edge of the beach in their tightly packed but ordered ranks. Just like the first landing, there was a minimum of the kinds of demonstrations made by the warriors of other nations. They seemed content to wait for the Romans to land, but Caesar and the entire army knew what kind of ferocity the Wa were capable of, so none of them were swayed by the lack of activity. In fact, their close formation fit into Caesar's plans quite well, and his one hope was that they didn't break ranks, making them harder to hit. Within a tenth part of a watch, the floating artillery batteries had moved into their positions, each one turning broadside to the beach as the Wa contented themselves with shouting in their tongue as they watched. Perhaps they don't know what's about to happen, Caesar mused, standing at the flagship rail, his ship positioned roughly in the middle of the spread of warships. He restrained himself from looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction of the beach, knowing how futile it would be trying to spot the assault force rowing towards the beach because of the mist. No, he thought, I will have to count on my generals to make sure all is going as planned. His attention was brought back to the beach by the sharp cracking sound that was the signature of the ballistae, as the arm crashed against the crossbar when it shot to the vertical position as it launched its respective cargo of death. Caesar was unable to track the flight of the first missiles from his ship, but there was no missing the result, as the first one pound stones slammed into the front rows of Wa. No matter how many times he saw it, he was still somewhat surprised at the amount of damage a relatively small rock could do, not just to one man but to several in a row, especially at closer range. Only one missile fell short in the first volley, so that almost immediately bloody gaps were torn in the front ranks, but as the last time, those holes were closed almost immediately. Again, this was something Caesar was counting on, and in this he wasn't disappointed.
What he was unprepared for, however, was that the Wa would stand there and soak up this punishment, without withdrawing from the surf line. Instead, they stood there, first shouting their anger, then screaming out in fear and pain as rocks and scorpion bolts savaged them without letup. Part of the original plan had called for a brief respite, planned by Caesar to give him the opportunity to assess the situation, and if necessary to allow his floating batteries to reposition closer to shore in anticipation that the Wa would have to remove themselves from the surf line. However, they never moved, but Caesar nonetheless ordered those of his ships that carried a higher complement of scorpions to move closer inshore, staying just out of range of the Wa archers, who fired a few volleys of fire arrows to no avail. With the range closer, the scorpion bolts were particularly lethal, punching through the lamellar leather armor and torso of the first and usually second Wa before burying itself in the bowels of its last victim. The slaughter recommenced, with the Wa giving no sign whatsoever that they were inclined to retreat out of range. In fact, from where Caesar was standing, although his eyesight wasn't what it was, he could clearly see that there were no officers or cavalry behind the rear ranks, forcing men forward. No, he realized with shock, these Wa were moving forward without prompting, despite the fact they had to know what awaited them. As disciplined as these men were, and Caesar was certain that these Wa would be more than a match for the warriors of Sparta, not even the most hardened of men could keep from shrieking in agony from the kind of damage done by the artillery, and the air was filled with such noise. As bad as the noise was, Caesar knew, the sights of their comrades being eviscerated, having a limb torn off or even decapitated had to be extremely daunting, yet no Wa that he could see hesitated in stepping into the next spot, even when it was stepping over the mangled body of a comrade. Even when their numbers were reduced to perhaps a quarter of their original strength, the Wa never wavered, and in fact Caesar was sure that the ships would run out of ammunition. Some of the vessels did, particularly those carrying the scorpions, but in the end, there was enough.
This time the landing of Caesar's army was successful, and in sharp contrast to the first attempt, there were no serious injuries, and only one death, a Legionary who had been leaning out watching the slaughter on the beach and lost his balance, falling into the sea and disappearing from sight before anyone could grab him. The Wa, on the other hand, had lost what Caesar believed was the bulk of their army, at least 20,000 men, or so he hoped. He couldn't imagine wasting his soldiers in such a profligate manner, and there was something deeply troubling about these Wa, something he had first felt during the previous assault, which he couldn't identify and had put down as stemming from his first defeat in many years. But now here he was, standing on the beach as its master, and yet he was just as troubled as he had been the time before. Try as he might, he couldn't come to grips with the feeling, and while to everyone around him he was his same, efficient self, inwardly he was in turmoil. The first inkling of what it might be came when Aulus Hirtius, one of his top lieutenant generals came to give his report on the task Caesar had set for him. Even before Hirtius spoke, Caesar could see the answer on his general's face. "I'm sorry Caesar," Hirtius said uncomfortably, only after rendering a proper salute of course, "but we have no prisoners."Even knowing the answer by Hirtius' expression, Caesar was flabbergasted, so shocked that for several moments he couldn't speak, a fact that Hirtius took as a rebuke. His face colored, and like every member of Caesar's army, Hirtius felt great shame at having failed his general. "I'm sorry, Caesar," Hirtius repeated, his tone so miserable that it snapped Caesar out of his shocked state. Caesar shook his head, putting a hand on Hirtius' shoulder, admonishing him, "It's not your doing, Hirtius. I don't blame you. It's just hard to understand how out of this many men on this beach, we couldn't find any wounded lightly enough to take prisoner to interrogate."Something in Hirtius' eyes prompted Caesar to ask, "What am I missing?" "It's hard to describe, Caesar," Hirtius responded. "Even after I saw it happen, I can't really understand it. But," he continued after Caesar's prompting, "we did as you said, looking for those men whose wounds weren't mortal and finishing off those whose were. But every time we found such a man, we couldn't get close to him. It was like they were.........possessed by some numen, screeching in that language of theirs, I can't understand a word of that gibberish, and I've already picked up a fair amount of the Han dialect...where was I? Ah, yes, when we got anywhere near these men they would try to put up so much of a fight that we had no choice but to kill them." "That's to be expected," Caesar interjected, his mind still working on the larger problems, "but surely not all of them." In every battle he had ever fought, across the entire known world, Caesar had never seen it fail that there were a group of men who chose life as a possible slave than death, at least when it was this large a group. "That's what I thought as well," Hirtius said with what Caesar suspected was respect bordering on awe, something Caesar didn't like a bit. "Until I saw these Wa. Every one of them who was able took a blade, an arrow, whatever was at hand, and ended themselves. To a man." For several moments, neither said a word, their thoughts running along very similar channels. Finally and appropriately, it was Caesar who broke the silence. "If we're fighting a race where even men in the ranks would rather die than submit, how can we defeat these people?"
All posts by R.W. Peake on blog.rwpeake.com are copyrighted by the author, 2012.
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