The Roman Eagle Restored 🦅 Germanicus at the Angrivarian Wall, 16 AD - Lost Eagles (Part 4)

It is late summer 16 AD, and in the central heart of Germania, near the Vesa river, the army of Germanicus Julius Caesar is marching triumphantly through the countryside, and preparing itself to sack and burn the territories of the tribes it has vanquished at the plain of Idistaviso. Germanicus believes himself in full command of the lands lost seven years before in the betrayal of Arminius at Teutoburg, and though the Germanic chief still eludes him, the contest is to all intents over. Rome has revenged herself. Rome has prevailed. But the monument to their victory that the Romans have erected on the site of the battle, replete with the arms and armour taken from the corpses of Germanic tribesmen, along with a scarecrow forming a mocking effigy of a warrior, has enraged the survivors of the losing side. And they are still in possession of their weapons and number in the tens of thousands. Arminius himself, wounded and lucky to escape the legions with his life, is hiding out in a sacred grove, and they take their supplication to him, begging him to lead them once more, to summon the old spirit that led him to astoundingly destroy three entire legions in just three days. At first Arminius is reluctant, but then he begins to see that providence has fallen into his lap. Men whose morale would otherwise be plummeting into depths of despair, are once again spoiling for a fight. And Germanicus is on the move. Defeating the legions in a set-piece battle on the open field remains a hopeless absurdity. But the legions are vulnerable when they are travelling. Arminius rises and pledges to lead his people. It is time to roll the dice one more time. Victory or death. At this point, there is nothing left to lose. You ever wonder what it's like to sit in a captain's chair? That's exactly what I felt jumping into Star Trek Fleet Command. 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So, are you ready to command your ship, build your crew and write your own Star Trek legacy? Download Star Trek Fleet Command now, the galaxy is waiting! Arminius chooses his ground on the border between the lands of his Karushi tribe and the Angra Varei, the people who had risen up at the start of the summer and been laid low by a lightning raid from Germanicus' commander, Lucius Sturtinius. Sturtinius had returned to the main Roman army to take part in the action at Edista Viso, however, so the Angra Varei have regrouped and are seeking their own revenge. A dyke forms the border between the two tribes' territories, situated on a rising slope and rendered largely impassable by barriers and obstacles. Arminius has his combined forces occupy this earthwork and then begin labour on further fortifying it, until it forms a wall that his men can stand atop and defend from an oncoming enemy. The V-shaped ditch at its front will be the killing ground. Arminius also plans to make use of the Vesa river which flows on his right wing and makes the ground there impassable, as well as the forested area that lies on his left wing. His men work in shifts to prepare the defences and then rest in the new base, rebandaging wounds and sharpening weapons that were nicked and damaged from the ignominy at Edista Viso. While the tribes recuperate and prepare, they are unaware that Roman scouts have been watching their every move. Still furiously searching for Arminius, Germanicus has dispatched these exploratories to keep track of any large tribal troop movements. There is no hiding a reconstituted force this size, and the scouts are able to map and count the Germanic positions and troop numbers in detail, relaying them back to the high command on a daily basis. All of Rome calls for Arminius to be brought to justice, the traitor whose actions began a war on terror, and Germanicus' sole intention is to become the instrument of its delivery. Only the display of Arminius, alive or dead, through the streets of Rome in Germanicus' triumph, will be enough. When word reaches the general of Arminius' new challenge at the Angravarian Wall, Germanicus does not deliberate. He orders his eight legions and their auxiliary allies to march directly toward the fight. For both men at the center of these gargantuan armies, upon whose shoulders rest the fate of their nations, there is the sense that time is of the essence. The moment for Germanicus to withdraw to winter quarters is fast approaching, but more than that, the correspondence of his adopted father Tiberius is becoming less supportive of the effort to reoccupy Germania, and has begun hinting at Germanicus' recall to Rome. There is a crisis in the east, and only Rome's finest general in the field, the grandson of both the divine Augustus and Mark Antony no less, can be relied on to set this all-important region to rights. What are the bogs of Germania, Tiberius asks, when the wealth of Egypt and the great cities of Alexander's empire warrant attention? For Arminius, the thin sinews holding together his great tribal confederation will not last through any further ransacking by the furious legions. Already chiefs are defecting from his cause and rushing to surrender themselves to Germanicus. How long before the men of his own tribe lose all patience, and simply dispatch him at the of a sword, sending his head to the Prince of Rome? For both leaders, battle is a necessity. It is now, or never. Germanicus' tremendous host arrives at the place of combat, and begins to take up its positions on the wide plain before the rising ground. Germanicus can see that the area even in front of the rampart is much more soggy than he would like. It will hamper any advance, but his men are prepared for the challenge. During the final terrible hours of the battle in the Teutoburg, the remnants of the three legions that had been under Varus' command had come upon such a wall, and their exhausted, desperate attempts to get past it, under their prefect Aedius, had been an agonizing nightmare. Since then, legionaries have trained specifically for such manoeuvres, and unlike at Adistaviso, Germanicus has these regulars take the front line, with Seius Tubero assuming command of the bulk of the first rank on the left, and Germanicus leading his own Praetorian cohorts on the right. Germanicus' forces had cohorts of foot archers in the vanguard during the advance at Adistaviso, and it is probable that he sends these men forward again to cover the attack. On the Germanic side, Arminius' uncle Inguiomerus, who was also injured in the recent fighting, takes command of the central defensive position, while Arminius himself is in control of the army's left wing. This is situated outside the wall, on the rising ground there, and concealed by the trees. Arminius' plan is to await the advance of the legions, hold fast until they are pinned in their attack on the main positions, and then ride into their flank and sow panic, or even a rout. It's likely that with his intelligence and scout network by now so highly developed, Germanicus knows this, and he is seeking a personal confrontation with the man who has eluded him for so long. At some point in the early afternoon, everything is ready, and Germanicus gives the order to begin the assault. Tubero leads the legionaries forward under the cover of the archers, and the angry Varii under Inguiomerus form a shield wall atop their rampart. From behind this they throw darts and Framay javelins over the tops of their barrier. The legionaries form Testudo and advance, making it through the Vedic, and then attempt to make the climb up to engage the rampart and the shield wall atop it. At the same moment Tubero dispatches units on the right wing past Germanicus' Praetorian, to begin skirmishing with the tribal companies past the wall, and concealed in the forest. In the center of the fighting, the Roman's mobile shield fortress has gotten them to the cusp of the Germanic front line, but the ground leading up to the barricade is so soft and wet, that it begins collapsing under the weight of their boots, or else they sink so deeply into it, that they struggle to move forward. The Roman's archers have stopped firing for fear of hitting their own men, so the Angrivarii behind the shields now start emerging and stabbing at the legionaries with their long spears and lances. A grueling back and forth begins, with Roman pila being thrown or stabbed up at the Germans on the wall, while the defenders throw and strike with what they can to keep the attackers at bay. Legionaries use hooks and bars to try and pull the rampart apart. A stalemate ensues, for the Romans can't bring down the wall or get past it. Despite their work in the meantime, the tactics used in the Teutoborg are holding true. Eventually the supply of reserves begins to taper, and then at some points along the walls, the Romans are no longer attacking. Capsarii medics help to bring out the wounded. Germanicus, observing the battle from his vantage point, decides that there is no point in pursuing this arduous and deleterious offensive. The trumpets sound and the legions begin to withdraw. The tribesmen on the rampart are euphoric beyond description. After more than half a decade of defeat and despoliation, humiliation and incessant subjugation, there were many who had begun to believe that the distant memory of destroying Varus and his doomed legions had been a dream. Now, here at the border where their people have for so long stood divided, a united front of the tribes has once more halted the invader, met him in arms, and defeated his forces. They bang spears on shields and together sing the songs of their peoples, calling out to the gods of war and nature in thanks for this victory. This will be the start of a new age, where the lands of Germania will finally be rid of the plague of the city of Rome and the family of its Imperator. Or so they think. With the casualness bordering on disdain, Germanicus watches the celebrations of the tribes for a few moments, and then he raises his arm high in the air. Bringing his fingers together, his herald recognizes the order and blows hard on the trumpet. The sound is picked up by Tubero, who gives his own order and has the legionaries stand by. The funditores slingers come forward and assess the distance between themselves and the now bemused tribesmen. When these auxiliaries unleash their bullets, the air is filled with the whistle of the flying missiles, and then the dull clunk as the first of the lethal projectiles smashes into the wall of shields. A moment later the howls of pain begin when the slingers find their mark, and any tribesman still above the rampart becomes a target for their excruciating weapons. Their celebrations were premature. Germanicus is no Varus, and he has no inclination to seed the field. Those Angravarii not in the firing line see some further movement behind the slingers, and they await the next stage of Germanicus' plan with trepidation. It comes all too quickly. The Tormentii, Roman artillery pieces, are deployed, and foremost among them is the Caraballisti. These are in effect giant crossbows, firing spear-length bolts, mounted on carts so that they can be brought directly into the range of the enemy, and Germanicus has ensured that his legions have no shortage of them. With each legion being supplied with 60 such artillery pieces and Germanicus' army consisting of 8 legions plus auxiliaries, the men manning Arminius' wall are likely facing something in the region of 500 such killing machines. Germanicus watches the greatness of Rome in action, the physical prowess of the legions, capable of fighting to a standstill with the bravest Germanic warriors, crossed with the genius of technical innovation assimilated from its besting of the Greek world, beginning with the defeat and death of Archimedes two centuries earlier. There is a squall like that of a flock of raptors descending from the sky, with talons bared, as the first of the Caraballisti fire their volleys directly at the unmissable target, that is the tribe's rampart. The thin shields of the Angravarii and the Carusci are no match for the point-blank, lightning-fast bolts that cut through the wood, shearing completely through the first man, and then into anything else that happens to lie behind. The legionaries can fire the weapons at a rate of at least one such round every 20 seconds, meaning that upwards of 1500 missiles slice into the Germanic front line, in the first minute of firing. The action is repeated in the second minute and the third, until the defenders have either lain flat on the earth behind their bulwark, hoping that the man-sized arrows will not pass through the wall itself and hit them, or else they have fled out of range. Seeing that the wall is now undefended, Germanicus and Tubro simultaneously launch the units forward again, and the legionaries sprint on with a bellicose roar of enthusiasm. On the right, Germanicus exchanges his ornamental officer's sword for a more practical cavalry sparta-blade, and advances with his men. Like Alexander, Hannibal, Scipio, and his own father Drusus, Germanicus puts himself at the head of his men, with his fine general's armor, marking him out for enemy and subordinate alike. The legionaries and praetorians see him and redouble their efforts to press as close to the front as they can, their hearts swelling at the sight of Augustus' grandson putting himself in danger with them, their only concern being to protect him and eradicate the enemy who wish him harm. Despite the remnants of the tribes attempting to put up a fight on the exposed left and on the wall, the legions pass this time without taking serious casualties. On the far side of the wall however, Inguiomero sees that his men will be pushed back into the morass at their rear if they are overrun, and he rallies his defenders, calling out to them to stand and fight. This they can do, for although they are tired and in a state of shock from the bombardment of the Tormenti, the unholy machines are now on the far side of the wall and can do them no harm. The onslaught might have rendered the wall indefensible, but the majority of the Germanic forces have simply fallen back. They are still in good numbers, and Arminius and Inguiomerus call out to them to use the uneven and tree-lined ground as their new bastion. Thus, every rise of ground becomes a citadel, every depression in the forest floor becomes a trench of last resort. Arminius and Inguiomerus also fight amongst the lines, inspiring their own men to stand against the oncoming shield wall. Missiles fly between the two sides, slingers, javelins, rocks lifted from the ground, some Romans even carry mobile caraballisti fired from the shoulder. The Romans advance methodically behind their scutum shields, waiting the moment when they will come into gladius range. The tribes fall back, until finally there is nowhere left to go, and their leaders roar for them to make a stand. They punch out with their own shields, swinging their lances and jabbing them forward. The battle devolves into a thousand skirmishes, deadly gangfights played out over a wide swathe amongst the darkened tree boughs. The Romans have their training and discipline, but the tribes have the high ground and the prowess of men that live for this moment, the instant of life and death battle. As the tree branches close over them like a cage and their boots sink into the muck, the Romans call out to Mars and Jupiter, the Germans to Woden and Dona. The cries of the devout mix with the screams of the injured. Any man liable at any moment to be struck with a missile to the face or body, any limb or exposed body part to be slashed with a razor sharp blade. Both sides have descended to hell, but only one will fight through to glimpse the sky and the rich fields of victory. For an all too fleeting moment it appears to Arminius that his men will stand and hold. This is what he has been building for the best part of a decade, a force of his own who will be able to withstand the march of the legions. He dares to believe once more. But there are eight legions now streaming forward to take their place in the fighting. The Germans and Gauls who are fighting on the Roman side are just as fervent to show their valour as warriors and throw themselves at the tribal lines. Germanicus' Praetorian, the most elite hand-picked Roman men, have no intention of taking a step back and leaving the fighting to the regulars. They will not abandon their prince. Just as Arminius is rallying and throwing his men into the maul, Germanicus stops and turns to look at the packed ranks behind him, more men coming up all the time. He removes his helmet and shows his face to the legionaries and the auxiliaries, the Praetorian holding up their shields on the side to stop any missiles hitting him from the enemy line. The army sees Germanicus ahead of them, standing in the lion's den and daring the scourge of Rome to attack him. They roar anew as he turns and starts forward once more, his head unprotected, and they rush up the hill, into the forest, unmindful of the terrors that await. The tribes make their stand and fight, but the momentum and number of the Romans is irresistible. The wave hits its crest and breaks. Arminius and Inguiomerus' positions wash out like the draw of the tide. It is Arminius and his men who step back first, Inguiomerus attempting one more rally, but it is not enough. Nothing can stop the legions from chasing after Germanicus and they charge with no concern for their own safety. Once the front line of the Carusci and Angravarians turn, the rest follow, whole units attempting to flee to safety. The legionaries give chase and Germanicus' order is relayed to all, no mercy is to be shown. Scattered elements of the tribes make stands at various points before they are run down, but the closely clustered trees make swinging their lances an impossibility, and the legionaries follow Germanicus' advice to stab with the gladius directly at the face. Rome has conquered once more, and there is much satisfaction that just as Arminius taunted and tortured Varus and his legions through the dark woods, so now those betrayed men's brothers in arms do the same to him. As at Adistaviso, the hunt and executions carry on until nightfall, and once more Arminius slips from Germanicus' grasp. But there is no disguising the extent of the victory. Tens of thousands of the enemy have been killed, and the arms of Rome are proven to be unstoppable. Again Germanicus has his men strip the enemy dead of valuables and arms, and these are piled high in a victory tower inscribed with the words. After thoroughly conquering the nations between the Rhine and the Elbe, the armies of Tiberius Caesar dedicated this monument to Mars, Jupiter, and Augustus. Their own dead properly interred, Germanicus turns the army loose on the now undefended tribal lands, scouring and burning everything that they come across on their march back to the sea. The Angrivari surrender to the cavalry of Stertinius, begging him and Germanicus for mercy at their betrayal. The price is high, but Germanicus is keen to have them as a subject people, rather than turn their lands to desert that could be occupied by unknowns. The continued liberty of Arminius notwithstanding, the campaign of 16 AD has been an outstanding success, seeing hard fighting, but tremendous victories over strong and worthwhile opponents. Seven decades previously, Julius Caesar had conquered Gaul in eight years, and in this seventh year since Teutoburg, Germanicus believes that one more campaign season is all that is needed, to bring Germania to heel and re-establish it as a province. But fortune deserts his troops when they re-board the gigantic fleet at the Ems and sail for the Rhine. Storms in the North Sea are so severe that the ships are scattered, resulting in thousands of men drowning, or being blown onto the coasts of dangerous, enemy-infested lands. Some ships are even swept as far as the barbarous and backward island of Britain. Germanicus mourns the loss of such fine soldiery, who could only be vanquished by Neptune himself. But once he is established again on the Rhine, he resupplies and immediately crosses into Germania once more. Celius moves out with 30,000 infantry and 3,000 cavalry, and batters the Chatti, who are starting operations for a new uprising against the empire. It is the fate of the Marci tribe to face Germanicus himself at the head of a similar force, but the message given by his overwhelming presence is so clear, that their surrender is instantaneous, and comes with an unexpected prize. The second of Varus' eagles is handed back as part of the plea deal, and the blot of the fleet disaster is made somewhat less raw. Germanicus crosses the Rhine in renewed triumph, and a winter spent in the company of his ever-growing happy family, and planning the final subjugation of Germania, and the overdue termination of Arminius, seems to lie ahead. All is well with the heir of Rome. As always, I'll see you in the next one.