He looked out over the side of the vessel to the white cliffs in the distance, his hands steadying his movement on the rail of the boat as it moved up and down in the swell of the water. They were only a short distance from their destination now as he felt the vessel roll slightly once more. He thought about the days ahead and of how many men, with whom he shared meals, laughed and trained, would be dead or injured during the weeks and months to come.
“Can’t wait to get amongst the blue faced scum hey Varro?” His friend and second in command of their small reconnaissance group, Optio Gaius Veranius asked as he looked towards the approaching shore just as a fresh spray of salt water lashed their faces and arms. He and Veranius had lived and worked together for the last two years, since Veranius had joined the Second and they had campaigned through Gaul with the others in their company. Together they made up the section of eight their contubernium or tent party. They were primarily used as scouts and would travel in forward positions ahead of the marching columns on horseback and even sometimes on foot depending on the situation, reporting back to the Legate, who commanded the Legion.
It wasn’t unusual for them to be literally days ahead of the main column, in fact it was routine, so each man had to be reliable, disciplined and be able to look after himself in all manner of circumstances. It was a task that most didn’t envy especially when moving into unknown territory, the majority of soldiers preferred the comfortable tight knit lines of the marching columns and squares, inside main battle formations. Scouting had proven hazardous as casualties had demonstrated previously but Varro and his men wouldn’t be anywhere else. They were the tip of the spear of the greatest force in the army and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I can’t wait to get off this floating stinking death trap that’s all my friend.” He looked at Veranius, “I don’t like salt water or anything associated with it. It rots everything and you can’t drink it or even bathe in it without drying your skin like ox hide.” He looked down at the water. “They say that if people actually drink the stuff, it causes them to go insane, to attack and kill others, why would anyone choose to live with that when you can have dry land and fresh water?” He replied looking at the ships personnel working around the boat.
“We’ll be ashore soon enough, with solid ground under our feet. I hope it’s not all white like those cliffs eh,” Varanius said nodding towards the land growing larger with each rowing stroke, “what do you think it is rock, chalk?”
Varro raised his eyebrows, “I don’t know but it looks in keeping with the stories we’ve been told doesn’t it? I hope those druids aren’t waiting for us or the ballista will be in action before we’ve even landed.” He nodded towards the medium sized torsion catapults located at the front and sides of the ship. Larger machines were onboard other vessels but they would be unloaded and towed by the troops with mules not like their own swifter, more agile animals.
“At least the gods have been kind and given us a calm sea and the sun.” He looked up to the clear blue sky seeing small white birds circling above them. The first few ships of the fleet were approaching the beaches and the nearest boats were already rowing aground with legionaries jumping ashore. There was no resistance on the shoreline or from the cliffs above. The pebble filled coastlines below the white cliffs were empty for as far as the eye could see in both directions. The sound of the sea was soon drowned out by hob nailed boots splashing and landing in the shallow water and on the stony surface.
“I would have set up defences on the cliff top, it’s a natural fortification up there just look at it.” Varro said pointing to the huge cliffs whilst removing his sword and checking it again for what must have been the fifth time that day. The slightly longer cavalry sword known as a spatha had become a part of him since he had joined the legion almost ten years before. He had carried it since it had replaced the wooden training sword he had been given during his first weeks in the army and was as familiar to him now as any of his limbs, probably more so. It had saved his life and taken others on the bloody days when his unit had seen action and he couldn’t now live without it.
The tough brown leather of his bracers against the skin of his wrists had now worn in but occasionally still creaked slightly as he moved his hands. Goose grease had been applied to them so they were pliable enough for comfortable movement, unlike they had been when they were first cut by the military merchant who had sold them to him. The thick leather bands were added protection not only against the elements but also provided a thick natural barrier against attack. The leather helped support the wrist especially when training or using the spatha when the strain on the wrist could become incredible. Not all soldiers wore them but to Varro they were an essential part of his kit, like a second skin.
As the first of the legionaries walked cautiously along and up the beach, fanning out in all directions, their officers red cloaks flowing in the wind, the ship containing Varro and his men crunched into the stones and onto the shore. Decimus Longinus, another of his squad leapt from the vessel and looked around.
“I claim this land and all its females on behalf of the Roman Empire.” He laughed as others around him merely smirked because they were more concerned about who maybe watching from the cliffs above.
“Come on let’s get up to the green areas, there.” Pointing Varro indicated to a patch where the cliff swept down to the beach in a prominent valley shaped configuration, a small stream trickling water down through the ravine and spilling its contents into the sea. The plan was to secure the landing area on foot and once it was established, their mounts would be brought from the other ships that were rapidly approaching the beach.
Whilst some centuries were forming up, other legionaries were already making their way to the natural sweeping dip with sunlight glinting from the polished iron equipment they carried. To the untrained eye it would look like the soldiers were meandering around and exploring at their leisure but each had his own task within his unit and that unit in turn was attached to another. They were trying to ensure that the Britons weren’t primed to ambush them on the beach and would hold their positions once they reached certain vantage points that allowed them to see the coastline and observe inland as well, the problem in the meantime was getting to them.
“We’ll be up there as soon as the horses are unloaded.” Varro turned to see the animals were already starting to be taken ashore from the first ship. They had received their orders the previous night on-board their vessels, the reconnaissance unit were to follow the shoreline moving east. They would rotate in two teams as they had done so successfully on previous occasions. Whilst half would return to report back to the columns of the following legions and replenish supplies, the others would continue to track ahead and scout the area looking for hostile or friendly forces.
The same system would happen in other legions as they went forward in different directions as the land became their own. In time the rear party would catch up with the forward element and resume their tracking distances, which would expand as the campaign went on. Dependant on the terrain and the situation, the reconnaissance troops would more than likely have to fend for themselves living off the land at times or if possible, the local tribe’s hospitality.