order you around in our new home. It hardly seems fair. I’ve spoken to Caligula, and he’s agreed to retain each of you as centurions in his own Praetorian Guard, probably attached to his Sacred Band. Nobody is forcing this on you. I want each of you to choose for yourselves.”
No one said anything, but it occurred to me that his decision was an acceptance of our fate in this world, and that he must little faith in our ability to get home. I wasn’t about to give up hope quite yet, but at least now we had a choice. He was giving us the ability to make our own lives in the world fate had delivered us to. We couldn’t change the fact that we were here, but at least now we weren’t forced to live by the decisions made in another lifetime.
I stood. “Sir. I believe I speak for all of us when I say,” I looked around for support, “that I think you made the right choice, and that we’re very happy you did so.”
Everyone else stood as well, offering their own agreements and positive sentiments. Vincent opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by the bellowing blast of a Roman trumpet blaring a call to arms. I looked over Wang’s shoulder and saw hundreds of scampering men, each trying to find their place in the marching column that would lead them to the battlefield.
“Party time,” Santino said.
***
Back when I was working on my Master’s degree, I’d spent most of my time researching and writing about politics, legislation, and social controversies. Needless to say, it was boring stuff, but my favorite professor always told me to write about the tedious stuff first, and wait to write about my passion when it came time for my doctoral dissertation. It was a good idea, except I’d never gotten around to writing my paper on Gaius Marius, the man who’d been influential during the Jugurthian War, reformed the Roman army a generation before Julius Caesar came to power, and had been drawn into two civil wars during his impressive seven consulships.
Military stratagem had always been a passion of mine, both modern and ancient. My knowledge of it had helped me receive my commission upon joining the Navy. I’d scored very well in intelligence tests, especially when it came to anything concerning tactics and strategy. The Navy had been disappointed when I chose not to pursue a career in its intelligence divisions, instead, deciding on a combat unit like the SEALs. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. If I had to be in the military, I wasn’t going to waste my time as a glorified pencil pusher.
I was going to fuck some shit up.
So, when I found myself arrayed on a battlefield, surrounded by a Roman legion with the walls of ancient Rome providing the backdrop, I was surprised to find that any fear I had felt was completely lost to feelings of curiosity, interest, and excitement.
Romans had always been good at warfare, from the rise of their monarchy to the fall of their empire more than a thousand years later. Very good. Their entire way of life was based upon it, and their conquests, because of it. What made them so proficient was their discipline, training, and most importantly their flexibility. Greek phalanx formations had been the epitome of modern warfare during the height of their power, but Roman manipular formations had changed that. What made maniples so versatile was their ability to work independently of the main body of the army. While the phalanx was distracted in a head to head battle, individual maniples could easily peel off and envelop the flatfooted phalanxes, crushing the soldiers who could not defend their flanks. Roman battle doctrine had evolved over the years, and now fought in much larger cohorts thanks to Marius, but the same idea still applied.
These tactics worked well when fighting barbarians and Greeks alike, but I imagined situations where both forces utilized these tactics would amount to nothing more than a prolonged bloodbath. While each side today would use these tactics, the makeup of each army couldn’t be any more different.
Standing opposite Caligula’s loyalist force was the rebel army of Claudius. His army was a mismatch of unit types, complementing each other very little, but making up for it in sheer numbers. The only thing these units shared were the purple cloaks they wore. Purple cloaks, reserved for the emperor alone, would never have been offered to troops whether they were Praetorians or not. It was just another indictment against Claudius.
Out in front were rows upon rows of what I assumed were Rome’s vigiles. Vigiles were nothing more than firefighters, their goal not to extinguish flames, but to controllably destroy burning buildings to help quell the spread of the fire. They weren’t soldiers, but they were still employed by the emperor, and were required to do what they were told. I couldn’t see their armor, but they carried shields and spears. Not scuti or pila, but inferior equipment, and I had to assume their training was next to nil. They’d break easily, but there were seven thousand of them out there. More than our legionnaire force alone.
On Claudius’ right flank stood the city’s urban cohorts. Three in total, but totaling only fifteen hundred men, their training, arms, and armor were superior to that of the vigiles. These men were the police force of Rome, and were housed and trained with Praetorians, making them an opponent that could fight back.
On their left flank stood maybe another ten to twelve thousand men. These men wore little armor, if any at all, and were armed with small swords, daggers, sickles, hoes, pitchforks, clubs, and a plethora of other mob worthy items. These must have been whatever allies Claudius could muster that still supported his cause. Claudius didn’t plan on beating us through generalship, but through force of numbers alone, and he still had the seven thousand rebel Praetorians, probably in formation behind the main body of the enemy who would be the real problem. Seasoned veterans, each, they alone would be hard to break with even an entire legion and its auxilia.
Caligula was going to have a fight on his hands, and while generals like Hannibal had been outnumbered in nearly every battle he waged, and almost always come out on top, I wagered Caligula wasn’t quite the general he was. Very few men were, but Caligula still had plenty of assets to work with.
The first of which was his general. Galba was a good man, and a good leader and tactician, despite his annoying disapproval of my friends and me. His fate during the year of four emperors couldn’t be entirely blamed on him. He had been old, and in desperate need of allies, which were scarce considering the many sides to choose from. He’d been unlucky, but history still remembers him as an able general. Caligula had left overall command of the legion to him while the emperor would only worry about his Praetorians.
Galba had positioned his troops in a way he hoped would combat the enemy’s superior numbers. Unfortunately, between his legionnaires, Praetorians and auxilia, Claudius’ line still extended nearly twice as far as his own.
On our right flank, opposite the massive numbers of civilian militia, Galba had placed his entire contingent of German auxilia. His three thousand infantry were well trained and armed, and had a tenacity about them I’d never seen before. They’d cut a swath through the civilians, hopefully breaking them quick enough to flank the more superior troops from the rear. Galba left his two thousand cavalry in reserve, but on the right flank as well, ready to sweep around once the civilians were broken, or to aid in that effort if possible. The last of the auxilia, his one thousand strong archers, were spread thin and positioned behind the infantry to screen their advance.
Contrary to standard Roman practice of putting the best troops on the right flank, Galba had requested that Caligula and his Praetorians take up position on the left. Both thousand man cohorts were split in half, and lined up five men deep, and a hundred abreast, forming four blocks. Behind them was Caligula’s Sacred Band, arranged in an inverted square U, with Caligula in the center, riding Incitatus, the infamous horse wildly believed to have been named a consul during Caligula’s crazy years. He was dressed as any other Praetorian would be, with a common trooper’s lorica segmentata armor. It was adorned with a long, flowing, purple plume, and an equally purple cloak wrapped around his shoulders, similar to how Julius Caesar would wear his brilliant scarlet cape into battle
With him were a few dozen other horsemen, forming his officer corps which could act as a small cavalry contingent if needed. High above his men, he had a good view of the field of battle, and could use his vantage point to send messengers on horseback to help coordinate his orders. Galba was similarly on horseback, with his own squad of cavalrymen, also ready to issue orders as well as fight if need be. Galba wore a set of his own personal battle armor, molded to look like a muscle suit, common wear for Roman generals. He stood out as well, but wore a more typical red cape.
Placed before him was his legion. The legion he had trained since they were raw recruits, but wouldn’t stay with once they were commissioned. They were deployed in a checkerboard formation, similar to how old manipular formations would be set up. Each cohort was split in half and arranged so that the troops represented the black spaces, while the white spaces were the area in between each cohort. Galba had placed four cohorts in
