[EB AAR] The Making Of An Empire
Hey all.
I've been wanting to write an AAR for a while now, and I've finally gotten round to starting one. It hasn't been edited yet and it's my first go so I apologise for the clumsy and awkward bits. Let me know what you think. If you like it, I'll keep going. Anyway, here it is:
Spring, 271BC
Cnaevs Cornelivs Blasio turned back in his saddle, looking at the column of soldiers strung out from the mountain pass several kilometres behind him, to the plain in front. The First Legion had been entrusted to him, and with it he would free the Latin people living under the tyranny of Phyrrus. His mind wandered back to that meeting with Dentatvs, almost a year ago that had put him were he was now.
“The Epeirotes hold Taras with an iron grip. The Italians and Latins living in the area are subjected to tyranny and torture on a daily basis. Any true Roman would intercede on their behalf. And the lords of Rhegion are no better. They claim to have a Senate, but they are kings nonetheless.”
Manivs Cvrivs Dentatvs had looked down at Blasio, pity in his eyes. “My son, I have sent emissaries and diplomats to both cities, pleading for justice on behalf of the plebeians living there. My requests are refused. What else would you have me do?”
“Give me a Legion. Just one. With it I will free the people and bring them under Rome’s protection.”
“Cnaevs, if only it were as easy. The Legions have been disbanded. In addition, to attack Taras would invoke Phyrrus’ wrath, and Rhegion has allies in powerful places. To attack either city would incur the wrath of the mighty. That is something we can not allow. Not now.”
Blasio had been about to accept, when a young messenger had burst into the room. He was, perhaps sixteen, and looked like he had run from Marathon. “Lords…Lords, the Epeirotes have declared war on us, and Rhegion has sided with them.”
The young boy had nearly collapsed with fatigue, and Dentatvs had summoned guards to take him to quarters, feed and bathe him.
When they had left, Dentatvs had turned to Blasio. “This is different. No longer do we have to keep Phyrrus happy. Summon a Legion. Free Taras and Rhegion, but go no further. Do you understand?”
“Yes Lord.”
The next twelve months had been filled with planning and preparing. The call had gone out and the Legion had assembled at Capua. It was larger than Blasio had expected. Under his command were four hundred and eighty Hastati, three hundred and sixty Principe, 122 Triarri and 75 Equites. In addition he had round up 360 Leves and half that number of Accensi. Finally, several tribes from the hills had sent warriors, meaning he had 240 Samnite Spearmen as well. And now the First Legion, Rome’s only Legion, was marching against Helenos Aiakides of Epeiros.
Blasio was snapped from his reverie as his second in command, Manivs Jvlivs, rode up to him. “the scouts have found a good spot to camp. It is easily defendable and well watered.”
“Good. This is to be a permanent camp. We’ll spend summer here and wait for Helenos to come to us”
“Is that wise?”
"I would rather fight his men on flat ground then from the top of a scaling ladder.”
Manivs smiled. “Good point Cnaevs”
As the Legion began arriving at the site, orders were given and the camp quickly began taking shape. In a matter of hours, a well defended camp, the size of a small town was established and provisioned. Now it was just a matter of waiting. Throughout the next four months, small Eperiote divisions moved around the camp. They taunted and insulted the Romans within, but were careful never to come too close, for fear of reprisals. However, the enemy did make it difficult for news to reach Blasio. He only received one messenger, who told him that a ceasefire had been made with the Arverni confederacy and that Capua had begun construction of a Stratae Viae. Every other messenger was caught and killed. Summer began to wane, and still Helenos had not come.
Blasio sat at his table, looking over his papers. Sitting opposite him was Manivs. “We’ve got supplies for another two months. And we won’t get more supplies now that the Epeirotes have cut our supply lines. Helenos won’t advance. He doesn’t need to. He just has to wait us out. Cnaevs, we must fall back, and attack again in the Summer.”
“No. if we fall back, the Senate will not support another attack. They will sue for peace and kiss Phyrrus’ hairy arse. No, we need to capture Taras before winter.”
“How?”
“I don’t know…Yes I do. Manivs, how many enemy have us surrounded?”
“about six hundred”
“But each regiment is independent of the other? They have no chain of command? No overall commander?”
“Only Helenos. But he’s in Taras. And these captains are each too proud to work together. You’ve got an idea?”
“Yes. We strike at the group to the east. How many men do they have there?”
“240 taxeis hoplitai”
“Good. We advance on them. They will retreat. The other two forces will not aid them, even if it is asked for. The Legion should be able to catch them before they reach Taras, but not before they send for help from Helenos. Helenos will sally forth from his fortress, and there we’ll have him in the open.”
“It’s risky. There’ll be no chance for retreat if it goes wrong. But it might just work. If we kill enough men, they’ll not have enough to prevent us from scaling the walls.”
“Exactly. Now, inform the men, and make it happen.”
The next morning, as the sun rose, a great yell echoed out from within the walls of the Roman camp. The gates were flung out, and the Legion marched forth, in full battle order. The Epeirotes, seeing the mass of enemy soldiers, broke camp and began retreating. Having been forced to abandon much of their equipment to keep pace, the Romans formed up into marching order and gave chase. Blasio gave a quick prayer to Minerva, hoping that his plan would work.
Two days had passed, and it was obvious the Gods were on Blasio’s side. A smudge in the air betrayed the presence of Helenos’ army, as the marching Greeks kicked up the dust. They would meet in the morning, a day’s march from the walls of Taras. Blasio gave the order for his men to halt and pitch camp. Once this was done, he addressed the soldiers.
“Men! I know that you’re tired and hungry. So am I. but tomorrow, we must fight. We are the First Legion. Rome’s finest. Rome’s only. If we fail tomorrow, there is no one else to protect our lands and people from those Eperiote barbarians. And when we win tomorrow, not only are we saving our own people from slavery, we are also freeing our brothers from tyranny. Now, rest, because tomorrow will be a busy day.”
The men cheered as Blasio stepped into his tent. They would fight. It would remain to see if they would fight enough.
Morning came, and the camp was a hive of activity. Soldiers performed last minute adjustments to armour, tightening a strap here, loosening another there. The Triarri stood apart from the other soldiers, silent and grim, combing the crests of their helmets, polishing their bronze faced shields. The Samnites chanted to their gods. And every other soldier was silently praying to their own gods as well. Praying for victory, strength, courage or simply survival. But before long, the order was given to fall in.
The sun had well and truly risen by the time the two armies met. Blasio, sitting on his horse at the rear of the army, was proud of the efficiency and speed at which his men had formed up into their characteristic checkerboard pattern. Opposite them, Helenos had arranged his men into a long battleline, his akontistai and toxotai screening his more valuable hoplites.
At Blasio’s signal, the army advanced, the Accensi and Leves rushing ahead of the Hastati, ready to pepper the enemy in preparation for the main assault. Seeing this, Helenos countered with his own skirmishers.
Blasio turned to Manivs. “Take the Equites, and hit those light troops. Hit them hard.”
Manivs grinned and turned to his men, spurring them ahead of the advancing troops.
Manivs looked to his right, then left, glad that the Equites had kept their line. They were charging at full speed, and had moved too quickly for the enemy to prepare any of their missiles. So far he hadn’t taken any losses. As the horses thundered closer, Manivs bawled out orders. “Hold the line! Hold the line! Steady…Lower Spears. Kill them!”
The Equites smashed into the thin lines of unarmoured troops with the force of a tidal wave. Manivs slashed down with his spatha, feeling it bite down into flesh, before he ripped it back up and swung down again, smashing another skull. In seconds, the enemy were fleeing, and the equites cut them down as they ran. Not one of the skirmishers made it back to their lines. “Halt! Don’t go any further. We’ll leave those spearmen for the infantry. Have to give them something to do.”
That last one brought a ripple of laughter from the cavalry. Manivs knew that charging a phalanx with cavalry was suicide but telling the proud, young nobles that, would have been suicidal as well. Better to use tact. Wiping the blood from his spatha before sheathing it, Manivs gave the order to reform behind the Triarri.
As the cavalry fell back, the Roman skirmishers had found their range. The opening volleys took the hoplites by surprise and the enemy fell in droves. The next volleys were not so lucky. Shields were raised and most of the stones and spears were deflected.
The infantry had halted, the Hastati perhaps fifty paces from the enemy line. “Hold your positions. Let them come to you. You know what to do when they get there.”
As the skirmishers ran out of ammunition they fell back, reforming behind the main lines. The Epeirotes, enraged by the skirmishers, and eager to avenge the deaths of nearly three hundred of their own men, rushed forward. Helenos himself led the charge, his cavalry bodyguard racing along with him.
Blasio smiled. Fool.
As the enemy approached, the Hastati hurled their pilum. The heavy javelins tore into the hoplites, piercing shields and cuirasses alike. Soldiers, realising they couldn’t pull the spears from their shields, dropped them, removing their best defence. Even the heavy armour of the cavalry was no protection, and several of the general’s bodyguard had died as well.
Thus, it was not a well organised, eager enemy who reached the front ranks of the Hastati but instead a demoralised, shaken mob. The Hastati, still outnumbered, were not swept aside by the Greeks. Instead they held, forcing the Epeirotes to halt. It was then that the Principe counter charged. Hurling their own pilum over the heads of the younger Hastati, they then rushed into the gaps between the Hastati centuries, cutting through the enemy like a knife through butter. And Helenos, foolish Helenos, charged right onto the spears of the waiting Principe. He himself did not fall, but fully two thirds of his remaining bodyguard would not be riding again. It was too much and Helenos turned tail and fled.
Blasio turned once more to Manivs. “Run him down” was all he said.
Skirting around the flank of the melee, Manivs led the Equites after the fleeing general. The heavy Greek cavalry was slower than the Romans, and the gap quickly closed. Too scared to even fight, the enemy were cut down from behind.
Turning back, Helenos saw the approaching Romans. “Faster you stupid horse. Faster” Failing to see the ditch in front of him, the horse fell, tipping Helenos into the dust. As he clambered to his feet, there was only one thing on his mind: survival.
Manivs reined in his horse as he approached the grovelling general. Dismounting, he walked over, his spatha, dripping blood, held loosely in his hand. “Helenos Aiakides. I am Manivs Jvlivs. If you come quietly, you will be ransomed back to your king. If not…” Manivs let the threat hang in the air.
Helenos contemplated the offer. Then he saw it. His break. All he had to do was remove the fool in front of him and rush to the horse. Then he could ride free back to Taras. Leaping forward he drew his sword, swinging wildly at Manivs. Easily parrying the clumsy blow, Manivs returned with an economic, fast and hard thrust, the point of his sword piercing Helenos’ cuirass, spearing into his belly. Thrusting up, the blade slashed through organs, before slicing into one of Helenos’ lungs. Manivs pulled the blade clear, and for the second time that day cleaned it. He looked down at the fallen general, his hands clasping his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. “Fool”
Meanwhile, at the battlefield, the Epeirotes had realised their general had left them and wasn’t returning. Like wildfire the fear spread and just as quickly, the press on the Hastati shields lessened as the enemy fell back, fleeing. They threw aside their shields and spears, to run all the easier. Not that it would matter.
Blasio gave one final order for the battle. “Accensi, Leves. Pursue them. Hunt them down and kill them all.” Then he turned to his aides and began the long process of seeing to the wounded and finding the dead.
And as the Roman skirmishers rushed forward, daggers glinting in the light as they were plunged into the backs of fleeing soldiers again and again, the remainder of the army celebrated their victory and mourned the loss of comrades.
Two days later, Blasio stood at the gates of Taras, a grin on his face. The local populace, realising that Rome had defeated their oppressor had killed the Epeirote survivors of the great battle as they straggled into the town. Hanging from the walls were their bodies. All sixty three of them. The First Legion had done well. Only sixty three enemy had escaped, from an army of over 1470 men and Helenos Aiakides had been killed. His own losses had been relatively light, losing 275 men. It had been a heroic victory. And now the people of Taras had thrown their gates open to him and pledged their undying loyalty to Rome.
Reply With Quote
