“You’ve gotten pretty soft, Vibius,” I countered, “Are you scared of a little hard work?”
Because I used the tone of voice that told him that this was not his friend but his Sergeant speaking, Vibius refrained from retorting, yet I could see that my barb found its mark, his face turning red. Instead of speaking, he turned back to the digging of the trench, attacking the sod in front of him like it was one of those blue devils we would be facing shortly. The others followed suit, but it was with a sullen silence that told me that their sentiments were with Vibius, not me. Our camp was on what passed for a hill in this area, barely 20 feet high, while the ground around us was wide open, with the nearest cover in the form of a small forest more than a mile away. Finishing about a full watch before the time we would be departing, it gave us some time to rest before we were to set out at midnight, so we gobbled down our meal to give us as much time as possible to catch some sleep. That is, the others did; I had a number of duties to attend to, so by the time I was finished, I decided that the amount of sleep I might get would actually make me feel worse. Instead I sat outside the tent, staring up at the sky, lost in thought. It is a strange thing, but the farther north one goes the longer the days, so at this time of year there is really never a true night. It is still somewhat light at midnight, fading away to what we think of as dusk for perhaps two thirds of a watch, before the sky begins to get light again. It was this phenomenon that allowed us to start the march at midnight without stumbling around in the dark.
Promptly on time, we marched out of the camp, leaving behind the ten Cohorts to guard it and the fleet, heading almost due west towards the higher ground where the Britons were supposedly gathered and waiting for us. Marching for perhaps ten or eleven miles, our scouts came galloping back to report that they spotted a force of cavalry and chariots that had chosen to occupy a line of high ground overlooking a river running from the southwest to the northeast, with the intent of contesting our crossing. However, Caesar sent our cavalry force around their right flank to force them from that position, making the Britons retreat to a line of even higher ground, protected by thick woods, where they threw up some hasty earthworks, felling trees to form a series of abatis to block our advance. Their position was a strong one, and because of the abatis, a funnel was created through which only one Legion at a time could have a chance of success. Therefore, because they were in the vanguard of the advance and able to deploy the quickest, Caesar ordered the 7th to assault the position. Immediately they went in, formed up in a series of testudo, with the Britons sending a shower of missiles and rocks at them as they advanced. The 7th carried bundles of sticks with them to throw into the ditch that the Britons dug, piling them up until the ditch was filled. Once it was, the men of the 7th came out of their testudos to unleash their own volleys of javelins before rushing across the bundles and over the rampart, sweeping away the Briton defenders. Despite the Britons putting up a brief fight, they quickly saw that their cause was lost and began melting into the woods, with the 7th in hot pursuit. Caesar was worried about unleashing his men into terrain which he knew very little about, so the recall was sounded and since it was late afternoon already, orders were given to build a camp in a cleared area on the edge of the woods. We were told that we would pick our pursuit back up in the morning, but with all of our stakes, tents and other equipment back at the main camp, we had to make do with deeper ditches than was normal even for Caesar. Spending the night under the stars, we were wrapped only in our sagum, though thankfully the weather held.
That next morning, Caesar divided us into three columns, with a contingent of cavalry assigned to each one, the idea being that the cavalry would either pin the fleeing enemy down while we hurried up to finish them off, or they would circle around the enemy and drive them back into us. He chose to stay behind with the Cohort left guarding our temporary camp to wait for the situation to develop. Marching out of the camp, we picked our pursuit back up, hurrying along, carrying just our weapons and a canteen. Fairly quickly, we spotted the rearguard of a group of the enemy and were just beginning to double time when we were alerted by the shouts of the men in the rear of the formation that there was a courier approaching. Finding the Tribune in nominal command of our column, the courier relayed the order to turn around and head back to the coast, stopping at our camp only long enough to pick up our gear. Once again, Neptune had been harsh with us; another great storm had arisen, wreaking havoc on our fleet one more time. Because of this development Caesar ordered that we head back to the beach with all haste, taking care to maintain security and giving us the permission to defend ourselves if attacked. All three columns received this order, so we reversed our march to head back to the camp of the night before. Grabbing our gear, we did not even stop to destroy the camp in our normal manner, beginning the trek back to the beach, wondering if the gods were trying to give us a message that we could no longer ignore.
The sight of the ravaged fleet, the ships laying in various stages of damage, with debris scattered among them as witness to the severity of the storm, was a sobering sight. There was a feeling that we were once again being tormented by the gods and there were mutterings among us that perhaps at least one legend about this island, that it was cursed, was true. Those Cohorts left behind were already clearly busy, the Centurions organizing them into working parties to begin the operation of repairing the fleet. We were Caesar’s men, meaning if there was one thing we learned under his command it was that of all the enemies we faced, the greatest one was time. It was well into summer, so there could be no delay in repairing the fleet because we had already witnessed the severity of the weather in this channel once it got later in the year. Caesar had no choice but to put offensive operations on hold, not only from the viewpoint that it was the strategically sound thing to do, but also because we in the ranks would constantly worry about how we were going to leave the island. It would have dominated the conversations around the fire every night, as well as the watches of marching, so it was wise of Caesar to put these fears to rest. Of course, nothing was said openly on this topic, since it would give an indicator that we did not have faith in our general. Nevertheless, there was a silent sigh of relief when our orders were confirmed that we would be working on the fleet until further notice. The men designated to perform certain tasks the winter before now went back to them, and very quickly, work began to repair the fleet.
The immunes labored through every watch, doing their jobs by the light of oil lamps during that brief period of time where it was dark enough to justify the extra light. They were set up in shifts, so that they could snatch some sleep and feed themselves, yet they worked extremely hard nonetheless. Caesar also sent for more skilled workmen, via his fastest galley, and they were soon added to the workforce. In order to prevent a catastrophe of this nature happening a third time, Caesar ordered the construction of an enclosed area, much in the nature of a fort, placed at a point where neither the highest tide nor the most severe storm could wreak any damage. Because of the space needed to contain all of the ships, it was by far the largest project of this type we ever worked on, and even with the labor of 20,000 experienced and willing men, construction of the enclosure took more than three days. Once it was completed, we began the process of moving the ships up off the beach and across the ground, thankfully flat, through one of the gates of the enclosure, of which there were four in the normal manner, except that they were all large enough to accommodate the width of our largest transports. Using huge amounts of grease brought over from Gaul that we applied to a number of logs, we pulled the ships across the rollers into the enclosure, where the men skilled as shipwrights began their work. Day and night, the activity was incessant, and it was of the type that had all of us praying to be selected for guard duty. Normally we abhorred it because it was so boring yet also so easy to find oneself in some sort of trouble. Even so, we felt it was better than the alternative. We were not one of the lucky Cohorts until almost the very end of the project, where we stood on the ramparts gazing out at a large group of Britons who we were told had made it a habit to come watch us work, seemingly fascinated at our activities.