The Battle of Pictavis, a Rome AAR

[Sociopsychoactive]

The Battles of Pictavis: Part 1

Legionnaire Decirius worried. He worried over a lot of things, his family back in Rome, the state of his Scutum, his looks, his recent promotion and keeping his feet warm were just a few of the things that worried him regularly, but today what worried his most was the 7,000 Romans the other side of the river. His Century was one of eight attached the Legio III, originally dubbed Genua as it was the first legion to be raised outside of Rome itself. He had served in his Century for more than a decade now, fighting their way across Northern Italy, Southern Gaul, all across Hispania and finally into northern Gaul. Among the men he was known as steadfast, stoic and strict.

Their Campaigns had gone well, earning them a reputation as formidable and indomitable, at the siege of Bibract, just four years ago, Decirius himself had been first through the gates, an unequalled honour. He had more than thirty confirmed kills to his name in that battle alone, and almost a hundred over the entire Gaelic campaign, his Century earning over four hundred between them. His actions that day had Caught the attention of Publius Vibidius Varro, the legio's commander and earned him the promotion to centurion. All Decirius remembered was running forward, his shield over his head as a seemingly endless rain of javelins fell on him before finding himself running uphill, yelling indecipherably at the bearded Celts while swinging his Gladius wildly. That was the moment of his greatest victory, the Legions greatest victory and it had earned him his promotion and Publoius a grand Triumph through the streets of Rome itself.

Decirius remember how proud he had been that day, how Publius had ordered the city looted and sacked, the legionnaires to take what they wanted of the town and its people. He had secured more than twice his annual pay in that first day of looting alone. Publius had been an inspiring figure, a proud man who believed in the glory of Rome and the army in particular. That was what worried Decirius the most as his unit took position at the bridge between Bibract and Nemosos. The planned siege of Cenabum would have been his first real engagement since his promotion and he had been drilling the troops with tried and tested anti-Celtic tactics for months now in readiness.

And then Publius, along with many others had Forsaken the campaign and his army, marched off with his personal guard and taken up arms at Bibract with those loyal to the senate. All the politics of the various families didn't really matter to Decirius, he didn't understand and didn't particularly care if Rome was favouring the Junia over the Julia, but he did care when he had to defend against a commander who up until some months ago had been his own. Still, as much as this all worried him and all his legionnaires, the problem at hand forced him to focus and put his doubts out of his mind. The 1,200 men of the third legion would hold their ground this side of the river, as instructed. Whether it was barbarous Celts or traitorous Romans made no difference to their orders.

Servius Sextilius Paterculus frowned as the banner of the enemies forward scouts came into view. He was a young man, new to warfare and command and he knew his troops thought little of him. It didn't matter, this battle would either make him a hero of Rome, or a shamed corpse. He steadied his horse and checked the lines were formed up properly, six centuries of some of the most experienced troops serving in the army, two elite centuries, hardened veterans of dozens of battles and various support troops from the auxiliaries. They had seemed so formidable on paper, a full strength legion at his beck and call! The making of an aspiring commander, but they seemed so disheartened by the approaching enemy, outnumbering them more than five to one.

[Hooahguy]

Nice start, maybe add some pictures?

[Sp4]

Sounds like a good start ^^ Looking forward to more. All this is making me want to do something like this too XD

[Sociopsychoactive]

The Battle of Pictavis

When Servius Sextilius Paterculus saw the Banner of the Senate's second Legion approaching he was almost overcome by a flood of conflicting emotions. Joy, that the wait would finally be over, pride at the way his men held steadfast, anger that the bickering old men of the senate would resort to an armed uprising but most of all, fear. Servius tried to hide the fact that he was afraid, glancing over at his loyal bodyguard, his proud roman troops and seeing nothing but hardened grimaces and hungry anticipation. Was he the only man in the army to find himself drenched in terror at the coming onslaught? Then the other banners came into view, the fourth, fifth and sixth legions of the senate, all approaching his forces in strength. It took every ounce of self control Servius had not to turn and run that moment.

Artillery crewman, third class Antanius leant forward on his Furca. He knew from long experience that the artillery engineers would be arguing for hours before he would be needed. His job was little more than an ammo carrier and hauler, but he would one day be in charge of the unit, one day. And one day, when his Ballistae took out the walls of some barbarian settlement, or took the enemy general right off his horse he would have his reward. Until then, he took a few minutes respite while he could. They had drawn up the ballistae close to the river, closer than Antanius would normally have liked. The reason he had over-exaggerated his engineering experience before placement was because artillerymen were almost always far away from the main battle line. The chances of being killed up at the front were far too high for his liking.

Decirius called for his men to steady, only to be drowned out immediately by the generals horn sounding. Servius, fool that he was, would address the men for the first time ever, minutes before the most dangerous fight they would ever face.

"Soldiers of Rome! The enemy will try to cross this river, and we cannot let them! We must hold them here!"

And then, almost as soon as it had begun, the speech was over.

Decirius frowned inside his helmet. Was that it? Publius' speech before the assault on Bibract had made hardened warriors cry! The speech he gave when he returned from his triumph in Rome, finding his men still weary from the sacking had been equally inspirational, against the burning city he had called upon men to hold the ideals of Rome dear to their hearts while they rested, to remember the friends lost that day and make sure they were remembered to the next Celt they saw. He had truly been an inspiring figure, and the other side of the river Decirius could almost see the commanders unit, marching before his men, obviously making some inspired pre-battle rhetoric that would cause his soldiers to fight like demons when he called them to. Not like this fool, a first time commander who seemed more interested in temples and gods than killing the enemy. Decerius spat at the thought of it, but shook himself out of his reverie, there was a battle to be fought and he would fight it, by mars he would fight it!



Velite Didius readied his light pila and watched them light the strip of pitch laid out before them. He and his brother glanced at each other one more time before resting the tip in the flame until it was alight. They were coming, cavalry auxilia at first it seemed and he had to stop himself from moving back. Stand your ground, the order had been. Not like the last battle, not like all the other battle where they were told to keep their distance and avoid contact with the enemy, stand and hold and let the other soldiers pass forward in good order. He shouldered the now blazing Pila and sighted his target, a big man on a black horse right at the front of the pack. The enemy horsemen broke into a run and he hefted his pila, readying his throw. Suddenly he was jostled from behind as the Auxillia infantry rushed forward, piecemeal and all out of formation. He checked his shot, seeing most of the others do the same, but his brother hadn't seen them moving and launched, just as an Auxilliaman ran in front of him! Thus the first casualty of the battle of Pictavis fell.

"Loose!"
Didius' training kicked in without a conscious thought and he threw forward just as the enemy passed the bridge and hit open ground. Over a hundred pila flew toward the enemy in that moment and the front rank of horsemen fell and fell hard, but the auxilia were forward then, still out of formation and ragged, taking the full brunt of the charge. More than half the cavalry broke through and started hacking away at the Velites with reckless abandon. Didius dropped his second pila and drew his sword, pitiful protection against a man on horseback, but it was all he had.

Decirius watched the first contact with a cold, calculating eye. What was this fool doing? Holding the skirmishers in place and letting them get trampled? He almost ordered his Century forward there, but knew the punishment for acting without orders and checked himself. The cavalry were only the beginning, he knew. The real work was still to come.
Didius stabbed up at the horse in front of him with all his strength and was overjoyed to see his Gladius sink in almost to the hilt. He shuffled forward, looking for the next target only to see the first skirmish was over, the cavalry routed quickly once the auxilia had finally found the presence to form up and spear them off their horses. He turned to his brother to offer a word of congratulations, only to see the body lying there, brutal slashing wounds still spurting blood from his chest. Didius rushed over to hold his brother, to offer some comforting words as he died, but all he could do was close his eyes. He was dead. Until that moment the battle had been an abstract thing, just another job to be done but now the senate had taken something precious to him. Now he would see that every shot flew true at the enemy, that they were paid in full and more for taking his brother from him.

Servius swallowed again at seeing the now-depleted men re-take their positions for the next charge. In under a minute over a hundred men had died on either side. Was this what his friends had meant by 'Seeing the Elephant'? This bitter taste and anguish he felt at seeing so many dead on his orders? Regardless, there was no time for contemplation. The Second legions infantry were forming up on the opposite bank. The first clash had just been a small taste of what was to come.

Antainius lit the mouth of the large pot and stood back, not wanting to get caught by the backlash of the Ballistae's powerful arms. He turned for another, not even looking at where the first had landed. It would make no difference to him, after all. The rest of the crew cheered as one fire-pot landed on the enemies general, only to quickly hush and start cranking again. Close, but not close enough, three of his bodyguard would be dining in Elysium tonight, but Publius himself was little more than singed.
"New target! Infantry lines, front and centre!"
The call went out, but it didn't make any difference to Antanius, nothing much did. He paced the next fire pot, lit the top and stepped back as the ballistae re-position for the massing infantry.

"Legionary's, front and centre!" Came the call and Decirius started moving as he relayed the order. The men jogged forward in good order, unlike the useless Auxilia. They were Romans, the best fighting force in the whole world. They had fought Samnites, Etruscans, Hispanics, Cartheginans, Greeks and Celts. They were no strangers to battle. Decirius mentally added 'Romans' to that list as he saw the shields of the enemy come into view on the bridge.
"Front rank, stand and hold, left and right flanks, take position!" He called out, making sure they all started moving correctly. He had thought through the manoeuvre several times, and knew it was their only real hope. Against Celts and Hispanics it was good practice to let them charge your lines and slaughter them where you stood, but against Romans it was another matter entirely. They were evenly matched, for the first time in history, and would need more than standard tactics to win this fight. Decirius hefted his Scutum into position and gripped his gladius tightly. The enemy saw the space they had left, a good twenty feet of open ground, perfect for them to get several hundred men off the bridge and into melee. The enemy broke into a jog, raising their Pila and Decirius firmed his grip on the shield.

The ranks met with an almighty crash, only accentuated by the fire-pots landing just inches away from their own lines. At first it seemed like all would be lost to Servius as he surveyed the field, but then he saw their momentum checked, the Legionarys feet dug in and pushed back. He turned to his aid, thinking he should give him some words of encouragement to pass on to the men, just in time to see a boulder the size of a man smash into the horse beside him, rider and horse both disappearing in a red haze.
"Artillery!" He shrieked, then got control of his voice and started again. "Ballistae! Target their Ballistae!" he yelled in a more manly tone.
Antainius stopped at the shout and put the fire pot down, selecting a large rock instead. The other loading crew were slower to respond, so his was the first to be launched, and it piled into the enemies siege weapon with enough force to smash the siege weapon into splinters.
"Another, and quick about it!" Called the engineer, adjusting the sights before signalling the winch crew to start pulling again.

Decirius stabbed out, and again. He felt a sword glance of his shield, just as his glanced off the enemies. He let his gladius droop for a moment then, peeking over the Scutum to see the situation. Six ranks of Legionarys were engaged with them now, and the line was started to buckle under the strain. He looked back at the bridge and saw yet more, another six centuries at least crossing.
"Hold!" He called out to his men, "Hold and stand, Keep them off you as long as you can!" he bellowed out, not even sure if anyone could hear him over the thunderous ringing of metal on metal that sounded up and down the line. He formed his grip again and stabbed over the top of the locked shields in front of him, being rewarded with a meaty thud and a gasp from the enemy. He thought to call out again, but saw the man next to him stagger back with blood running down his face, and all his attention went to holding off three of the enemy on his own.

Didius threw another javelin over the head of the line. He couldn't see if they were landing, couldn't even see if they were hitting the enemy of splashing harmlessly into the water behind him, but he was determined to make every one count. He saw a gap appear in the front line as over a dozen men fell at once, and launched his last javelin into it, being rewarded by a short scream.
"Now! Close the Jaws!"
Came a shout from the commander, and he backed off, hands burnt in a dozen places and still covered in blood from the horse he had killed.

Veteran Legionary Marcus shouldered his Pila as he started forward. A grizzled man approaching fifty, he knew the timing had to be perfect, they all did, so he had put the sounds of the dying out of his mind as they waited. He saw the others opposite him doing the same and picked his target, a young man, barely ready to shave, locked in combat with a worried looking soldier. Dozens of Pila clouded the sky for a moment, and most struck home, for the shields that would deflect them were all focussed forward, onto Decirius' hard-pressed line. The veterans closed from the side, smashing into the enemies flanks with as much force as the wildest Celtic berserker. Instantly the enemies lines dissolved into a hundred individual duels and shoves.

"NOW!" Yelled Decirius as the young soldier in front of him fell to a Pila in the side, "NOW! PUSH THEM BACK!" he bellowed, making his voice heard all the way down the line and as one the soldiers sheathed their Gladius and put a shoulder to their Shield, then shoved with all their might.
"Put some effort into it you craven dogs!" Decirius called, stepping back from the slowly moving line and drawing out his whip. "Push them back! Shove them into the river!" he shouted again, cracking the whip behind his men to spur them on further. The line jostled for a moment, then began to move solidly forward as the collective might of six hundred men put their shoulders to the wall and shoved.

Servius smiled as he saw the reversal taking shape, then allowed himself a grin when he saw the trap fully sprung and the enemy surrounded. He edged his horse forward, coming up just behind the Velites as he called out encouragement to the front line. The whole thing reminded him of a barbaric game the Celts played, where two teams would lock shoulders together and fight for possession of an inflated pigs bladder. The circle completed, Servius grinned as he saw what would surely be a glorious victory, only for that grin to freeze in place. More troops were coming to the opposite end of the bridge, more than twice as many as they had already engaged. He had to stop himself yelling for retreat in that moment, instead looking for his aid, only to remember the rock that had flattened him.
"Cavalry! Charge the centre!"
He called instead, wringing his hands as the cavalry formed up in the middle. He Pulled his horse into line then, swallowing the lump in his throat and thinking of the glories that would be showered upon him back at the capitol if this worked, trying not to think of the dirt that would fall on his grave if it didn't.

Decirius panted and huffed as he pushed a soldier who was near to fainting out of his way and joined the line again, putting his shoulder to the shield and pushing with all the strength he had left. Then a horn sounded from somewhere, though Decirius couldn't tell where.
Marcus stabbed out again, seeing a fifth man fall to his blade and stepped forward into the gap he created, shamelessly perching on the dead man's body. He saw a glimpse of the greater battlefield in that moment, and paled. All the efforts and sacrifices would be for nothing if the enemy crossed again in force while they were still engaged. He made the decision without thinking, without hesitation then and called out to his men.
"Forward! Cut off the rear! Surround them entirely!"

The cavalry charged forward into the melee, smashing Romans from both sides out of the way as they pressed forward through sheer weight of man and horse. After what seemed like an eternity of shoving they broke past their own lines and the first ten men to do so fell almost instantly to the enemies thrusts. More pressed on and through though, and yet more behind them as they pushed into the enemies lines through sheer brute force. There was no fancy sword work here, no charge and counter-charge like they had drilled for hours, this was sheer weight of bodies added to the press, forcing the enemy back just as the Veterans closed the circle and surrounded the enemy completely. The first Legionary dropped his shield and turned to run moments later, only to be cut down almost instantly. Dozens more followed suit within seconds, seeing they were surrounded and outmanoeuvred. The circle closed tighter, and barely a handful of Legionary's managed to force their way out to flee.

Marcus cut down another man as he turned away from him to run, and another, then suddenly felt the press lighten around him. There was no time to cheer though, the battle was far from over. He turned his men, barely a hundred out of two full centuries still standing, and formed them up directly at the end of the bridge.
"Hold this point! Not a single step backwards you hear? Hold this line for all our sakes!" He called out, and men rushed to position themselves. They were veterans all, grizzled warriors of a dozen campaigns and they all knew what he was asking of them. Not a one hesitated though, not a one considered it any less than their duty.

Decerius staggered back with his severely depleted century. Of the eighty men that had stood with him at the start of the battle, only himself and nine others remained standing, and they were barely doing so.

More to follow

[Barkhorn1x]

Good start.

Nomenclature point:

Legionnaire = French Foreign Legion soldier of American Legion member
Legionary = Roman legion soldier

[Sociopsychoactive]

Thank you. Damn spell checker turning my romans french and american!