***
As the marching order blared, we moved in step with the legion. Claudius’ troops held their lines, content to watch us move against them. I remember reading Julius Caesar’s Commentarii de Bello Civili, literally, Commentaries on the Civil War, as a high school sophomore, and his description of the Battle of Pharsalus. There, he had his men charge against Pompey the Great’s numerically superior troops because he understood a soldier’s impetuousness of spirit when it came to battle. His argument was that Pompey’s stationary troops wouldn’t have the same kind of anger, confidence and zeal his own troops had because of the adrenaline rush they received from the charge.
Caesar’s reasoning couldn’t be universally confirmed. It may have worked for him, but that didn’t mean it would for us. Either way, we had no intention of rushing upon Claudius’ vigiles anyway.
As we marched, Helena and I concealed any evidence of our weapons and tried our best to blend in with the legionnaires. We walked behind the 4th cohort’s signifer, who held his century’s personal standard, different from every other century’s, with markings to identify which cohort, of which legion, it belonged to. It was adorned with an open palmed hand surround by an olive wreath.
We hadn’t marched long when the officers called for a halt. Vincent had probably signaled from the left that we were ready. With no further prompting, Helena and I took a knee, steadied our aim, and opened fire.
We were only a hundred and fifty yards away, and at this range, even the lowliest of marksmen in basic training would have scored good numbers. Helena lay prone, firing her P90 precisely from the ground. I assumed she was still targeting officers first and I followed Helena’s example of selective targeting and took my time with every shot.
As I went through one magazine, five, ten, twenty magazines, I saw the body count start to build. Fifteen minutes later, I had fired nearly six hundred rounds and I was just starting to see the line of vigiles start to shift and maneuver, and I knew they were getting ready to counter attack. I looked to my right and saw the bodies of the militia heaped into mounds and being used as cover from the hailstorm of lead Bordeaux must have been throwing at them. To my left, Vincent and Santino’s kills seemed to mimic my position’s, and I figured the urban cohort must have taken especially heavy losses.
Ten minutes later, I dropped my thirtieth magazine, which I had to stuff in a cargo pocket because my dump pouches were full, and saw the line of vigiles finally thunder forward. Their lines were so thin in places I could see the occasional Praetorian lined up behind them, walking forward at a more reserved pace. To my right, I saw the civilians charge, along with our auxilia. That was my cue to prepare for a strategic withdrawal.
As planned, the counter charge floundered slightly when they hit the mine field.
Helena and I had been exceptionally busy last night.
After securing our gear for today’s battle, we retrieved the ghilli suits we had been working on for the past two months, and went to lay the field. Ghilli suits were the epitome of camouflage. Designed by its wearer to mimic the exact contours of the earth they were trying to replicate, a well-made ghilli suit could make its wearer look like nothing more than a bump on the ground.
So, under the cover of darkness, around 2300 hours, still rather early, we slowly crawled out of the perimeter of trenches our legion had created and spent an hour crawling inch by inch towards our target location. Claudius’ note had indicated the battle was to be fought on the terrain next to the via aurelia, decent of him to give us the exact coordinates to set up our demo. Only a hundred feet from the walls, Helena and I laid down a zigzag pattern of the few claymores we had, and the mines. It took us an hour to accomplish the layout, and another to sneak back to the trenches.
The first claymore’s explosion sent fifteen or so men flying backwards towards the Praetorians. Each was probably dead within seconds. The antipersonnel mines took a few seconds to go off when tripped while they were launched in the air. Those did the most damage, killing dozens of men in all directions. I was beginning to see large holes opening up in their formation, but not as big as I had hoped.
Standing, I tapped Helena on the shoulder who was still focused on her sights. I looked towards the advancing lines to see the survivors getting closer, but I also saw an enemy Praetorian go down as well, shot through the lines of vigiles. She pulled her head away from her scope and smiled.
I shook my head.
Grabbing the carry handle for her MOLLE vest, I yanked her to her feet. She squealed in surprise, but quickly recovered and continued firing her rifle as I pulled her back into formation. The enemy were only about fifty yards away when I heard the nearest centurion yell for the first pila volley.
About ten feet in front of the legion, I looked up to see a cloud of spears dim the sky above me before they fell into the vigiles ’ ranks. The three thousand or so spears, only half of the first volley, did practically just as much damage in one effort as my squad had done in fifteen minutes. The only difference was they had three thousand guys, whereas we only had six, not exactly a fair comparison.
As I watched man after man impaled through head, chest, torso, or leg I couldn’t imagine why these mere firefighters were so willing to needlessly throw their lives away. These men didn’t seem confused or unhappy. They just seemed angry. And so did I.
That’s what confused me.
As I pulled Helena back through our ranks, the last two lines from our legion released their volley of spears. By the time the inbound projectiles found their marks, I saw the reason for everyone’s craziness. Riding a black horse easily as tall as Caligula’s, I saw Claudius sporting a wonderfully purple cape and armor. In his right hand he held a long cavalryman’s sword, but in his left, high above his head as though it were a standard itself, was the blue orb that had started this fucking mess.
I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. Claudius’ prolonged exposure seemed to be increasing his insanity exponentially, and its possible effect on the troops wasn’t that farfetched. While they hadn’t turned into mindless zombies yet, something had to be driving them and I suspected it wasn’t Claudius’ charming disposition.
Helena and I moved towards the extreme right flank of the legion, its auxilia now engaged in battle out in the middle of the field. The auxilia were acting as predicted, cutting through the militia like a hot knife through butter. They were outnumbered four to one, but were still making headway through superior skill and determination.
The orb was another snag in our plan that would cause more trouble than we wanted, but I the undisciplined and untrained militia had to break, even though that seemed less than likely now. That meant Galba would have to commit his cavalry reserves to that side of the battle prematurely.
Bordeaux and Wang linked up with us near the rear of the legion’s farthest cohort on the right. We exchanged quick greetings, and made our way along the long line towards the extreme left, and Caligula’s position. One of the legionnaires noticed our movement and yelled, asking us where we were going.
“Orders,” Helena announced loudly. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
The men in earshot cheered at the idea of her coming to aid them in the upcoming battle. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to make you a god after this,” I told her as we jogged.
“Would you finally listen to me for a change if I were?”
“Why, of course, oh goddess.”
She laughed and kept running. Wang peel off and join the legion’s medical cadre where he’d stay and offer more help than every other doctor combined. Wounded were already trickling in from the battle with the vigiles. It seemed they were fighting harder than expected, another bad sign.