Legio XVII: Roman Legion at War (4 page)

The following day, five young men from the village set out with Manius enroute to Lake Fucino.  They were well armed with Roman swords, shields, and
pila
even though they lacked the skill to properly use these tools of war.  Manius rode in a wagon pulled by a single horse; his leg still not mended completely.  The others walked alongside keeping a sharp eye out for any signs of trouble.  As they walked, Manius coached them on how to properly use their weapons, where to stand if trouble approached, and what to do if a fight was inevitable.  He emphasized that they should use the sword to thrust and not to swing it overhead.  He too was armed, but doubted he would be much help in a fight.

Several groups of men were spotted during the five day journey, but all kept their distance except one group.  They too were five in number and armed with swords and daggers.  They hailed the villagers from about 50’ away and demanded to know their business.  The one who did the talking appeared to be the leader.  The villagers took up their rehearsed positions in front of the wagon and presented a shield wall to the five.  Manius got out of the wagon and stood behind them; coaching them.  He had a
pilum
in his hand as did his escort.  The five approached closer and formed a line to match that of the villagers.  They intended to fight.

As the five got closer, on cue, they drew their weapons and broke into a menacing run while yelling as fiercely as they could hoping to scatter the villagers.  Manius calmly instructed the men to draw back their
pila
and to throw on his command.  The five stopped abruptly about 30’ away when they saw the villagers with their arms cocked and
pila
pointed in their direction.  Manius yelled, “Throw.”  The five spears hissed through the air: two fell short and the other three went a little wide of the target, but did cause the men to dance to their left and right to avoid the missiles.  And that is what Manius was waiting for.  He aimed at the leader, threw, and hit him square in the side as he turned to avoid another
pilum
.  It pierced his heart and he dropped.  The surviving four stood staring for a moment at their fallen leader, then, rifled through his belongings, and walked away yelling threats at the villagers.

It was over that fast and was of no more consequence to either the brigands or villagers than a fish eating a bug on the surface of a lake ~ a small ripple that quickly dissipates and is forgotten.  The villagers retrieved their thrown
pila
and continued on, shaken, but more confident at the same time.  Manius climbed back in the wagon and was happy to be off his aching leg.

They found the piled rocks that Pontius had left to mark the exchange site, identified a nearby place thick with undergrowth to hide themselves and the wagon, and settled down to wait.  They did not build a fire to ward off the cold for fear it would attract robbers.  The next day, they heard the sounds of horses and someone calling Manius by name.  The villagers told Manius to wait and be quiet while they cautiously peered through the brush.  They saw two men on horseback with boxes strapped to the horses’ sides and leading three more horses.  Seeing no Roman military escort and not sensing danger, they stood and hailed them.

Both sides were relieved to have linked up successfully.  The two Roman riders dismounted.  Manius recognized the one from Levi’s office, but not the other who introduced himself as a representative of the Garrison Commander.  They helped Manius mount a horse.

The four villagers mounted two of the horses, split the boxes of coins between them, and took two separate routes back to the village.  This guaranteed one would make it.  Three days later the first horse and riders arrived safely at Agnone.  The next day, the other horse arrived with its two riders and money.  With money and riders intact, the village celebrated.  They swore each other to silence promising not to discuss the money outside the village.  Everyone observed the counting and distribution of the coins.

Their plan now was to dispatch teams of men in different directions to purchase farming tools, animals, food stuff, wagons, building materials, and servants.  If any money remained, they planned to erect a memorial to the gods for their good fortune.

After riding with the two men for 30 minutes, Manius spotted the cavalry escort.  He was relieved to be on his way back to Rome, but he was in a great deal of pain from all the jostling.  His leg was not used to the bouncing of a moving horse.  But he would endure it in silence as each painful jolt brought him that much closer to home and Lucia.  It had been six months since he left Rome, but it felt much longer and he felt much older.

In 215 BC, the
Comitia Centuriata
appointed Manius as the new Commandant of the Recruit Training Camp with orders to quickly produce trained and equipped Legionaries.  The Army told Manius to recuperate for two months, longer if he needed it, but then to report to
Campus Martius
, the Legionaries’ training base.  Rome needed trained men and quickly.

While resting at home, Manius was briefed on Hannibal’s movements and activities during his absence and Rome’s response. Immediately after the defeat at
Cannae
, the Senate boldly ordered the Army to be rebuilt, reequipped, trained, and deployed to contain Hannibal by cutting off his access to Carthage and Hannibal’s new ally, Philip V of Macedonia.  Such was the determination of Rome.  She was not quitting the fight or seeking a peace treaty.  The population not under direct Carthaginian control, which had suffered so much from Hannibal’s invasion, readily responded to this new call to arms.  The Legions’ new training camp on the outskirts of Rome was largely untouched by the Carthaginians as they maneuvered freely throughout Italy and was soon busier than it had ever been in its entire history.  The wealth, talent, and energy of Rome were now poured into this urgent effort to rebuild its military capability.  Nothing was spared; it was a total effort.  Every artisan, foundry, horse, and piece of metal was joined in the single purpose to field an army to contain or defeat Hannibal.

Manius was told that the Army had gathered a partial list of survivors from
Cannae
and wanted him to complete it and interview them when he came back to work.  He would be provided funding and a staff to help.  It was important to get to the bottom of the Roman defeat, to identify lessons learned, and to brief the result of his investigation to the Senate and Army.

Barely 6000 of the 86,000 survived
Cannae
to tell the story.  Most of those who managed to survive were not actually on the battlefield itself, but rather were in the two Roman camps behind the killing field.  After the defeat, the two camps united and fled back to Rome.

Manius was one of the so called lucky ones, but he did not feel lucky; he felt utterly betrayed and bitter.  In time, he got over his bitterness, but he had a permanent limp in his right leg as a constant reminder that soldiers will fight well.  It is their leaders who fail them and not vice versa.  Initially, he felt happy that he had survived, then guilty, then angry at those who caused the calamity.  He was also angry at himself for failing to see the trap laid by Hannibal.

He was trying to put
Cannae
behind him, but he was curious to meet the other survivors and see how they were coping.  He imagined that each had a story and was probably eager to tell someone.  He hoped to interview Consul Varro to get his perspective on
Cannae
.  The other Consul, Paullus, died in the battle.

He would have his work cut out for him, but now he needed time to heal and to allow his family to care for him.  Someday, he thought, he would return to Agnone to see how the villagers were getting along and if they had used the money wisely.

January and February of 215 seemed to Manius to be unusually cold.  Perhaps it was his inactivity.  He tried to walk daily and exercise his leg, but it pained him constantly.  Apparently, the infection had damaged the nerves in his leg.  Fortunately, it was tolerable and getting a little better every day.  He enjoyed his time with Lucia and the children.  Decima was now 10, Flavia 6, and Titus 4.  Manius was genuinely delighted whenever Levi and his son Joseph would visit.

With time on his hands, Manius thought about his deceased mother and father, his childhood, his brother, growing up on the Tiber, and his 27 years in the Army.  He relived with perfect recall his battles 10 years earlier at
Faesulae
,
Telamon
, and
Clastidium
along with his former Commanders Consuls Papus and Marcellus.  There were many things he would change, but, overall, he was pleased with his military prowess and life.

Manius’ Early Years 259 BC

A
s the son of a poor Tiber fisherman, Manius earned his military rank through his performance on and off the battlefield.  He was not a patrician from a well established Roman family; he was not wealthy; he was not a Consul or commander of a legion.  He was merely a man who lived simply and did his duty.  Only late in his life did he realize that he actually did have a knack for detailed thinking, organization, tactics, and strategy.  In his heart, however, he knew that command of a legion or service as a senator was beyond his station in life and maybe even his capability.  He was quite content to serve faithfully in positions in which he felt qualified and competent.

Manius was born in 259 BC, which made him nine years junior to his friend Levi and 33 years senior to Levi’s son Joseph.  At 50, he felt as though he was at his prime even though he knew every 18 year old recruit at
Campus Martius
could run faster, farther, and carry heavier loads for longer periods.  But he had what they did not: experience, determination, and the ability to make sound thoughtful decisions.

His power was now in his brains, not his muscles and he reveled in that knowledge.  He no longer expended precious energy on nonsense, dares, or whims.  Long gone were the days of chasing women, drinking long into the night, and running just for the joy of it.  He missed his youth like he missed his time in basic Legionaire training many years ago: glad he did it, but had no desire to do it again.

As a youth, he helped his father and older brother, Gaius, catch fish in the Tiber.  Fishing was their livelihood. He felt grown up as he and his brother pulled in a net or threw out a line.  It particularly pleased him that his father often showed appreciation for his help.

One day, just after his 10
^th
birthday, he saw something he had often seen before, but this time he really watched.  Crossing the bridge was a column of Legionaries. They were marching five abreast and seemed to stretch back endlessly into the heart of the great city.  He had never seen such a beautiful sight and could not take his eyes off the moving mass of shinny armor, huge shields, and pointed spears.  From that day forward, whenever anyone would ask what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would stick out his little chest and proudly respond, “A soldier of Rome.”  Seven years later, on his 17
^th
birthday, Manius Titurius Tullus walked through the entrance of
Campus Martius
and declared his intention to become a Roman legionnaire, like his older brother Gaius had done three years earlier.

Campus Martius
was the Legionaries’ training area.  It was a flat, low lying somewhat swampy 600 acres that was bounded on the west by the Tiber River and on the east by the city walls.  Since the field periodically flooded, the barracks, classrooms, and administrative building were build on the sides of the surrounding hills.

It took about a week for Manius’ romanticized image of Legionaire training to meet reality head on.  He got along well with the other recruits, easily master the physical aspects of the training, but decried the lack of sleep and skimpy meals.  Nonetheless, he was fulfilling his dream and would not be deterred.

That is until his first 20 mile road march in full battle gear in five hours.  It was the hardest thing he had ever done!  His arms and shoulders ached from the weight of the shield and spears and his feet pulsed with hot spots.  He distracted his mind from the pain by remembering the many idyllic days spend fishing on the Tiber with his father.  The following week was another 20 mile march, but this one seemed somewhat easier.  The third was easier still.  He was becoming a warrior and he could feel it.