I awake to hear the sounds of shields clanking, men groaning, and what sounds like beasts growling. For a moment, I thought Mors took my soul to the underworld with Pluto, and I am among the rest of the damned. Blood and mud are running down my face; I shake my head to come to my senses. Feeling my helmet, there is a small fist-sized dent on the left side. A rock missile has struck me. The rain is making it difficult to see. Men lie everywhere, some with spears stuck in them as I look around me. Others dented to all since beaten to death by rock and stone. I get myself up, ready my spear and shield, seeing a shield wall on either side of me. I join the ranks on the right side.
"Soldier report, what has happened? A missile struck me, and I lost consciousness for a bit." I demand the nearest soldier to me. "SIR, we were marching north to help our allies with a possible revolt, and then we were ambushed by German barbarians, SIR." The soldier yells in response, "We are now holding off the Germanic forces until General Varus and his men build the defense fortification, SIR." I am scanning behind to see if there are any men in the mud I can save though sadly, I see not a single soul to keep. "Ready the pilums, men; we must return fire!" I order the men in the rear of the shield wall.
"But sir, the hills are too steep we may not hit them; it would be a waste of Pilums." exclaims a worried soldier. Initially, I knew this, but in my mind, it was better than doing nothing but standing around getting pelted by spears and missiles. "I did not ask you; I am ordering you to ready the pilums to fire!" I yell in response. "Y-YES, SIR!" the worried soldier stutters to say. As the men are ready to throw the pilum, I grab one and aim. The still flowing rain coming steadily down makes it difficult to mark out a target, but I manage to spot an enemy behind the treeline. "READY MEN!? THROW PILUM!"
I order, followed by a volley of pilum soaring through the sky. Many soldiers miss their target, but few hit and even fewer kill the enemy. I only manage to hit a barbarian in the leg, and it was better than missing. As we recover from the volley, I hear beastly roars to my right flank amongst the chaos. They are coming. "MEN, form up, on me; the enemy is flanking us!" I yell as loud as I can to alert the other shield wall while I get in the center between them. Spare soldiers from both sides form up on me to make a phalanx. "Hold strong men; they are coming fast and strong. Remember your training and trust your brothers in arms." I tell the soldiers in the phalanx. This will be a battle to test our mettle and our will of Rome itself.
Even though I see them with my own eyes, men, they have the presence of a beast and the strength of a bear. The barbarians ram the front lines so hard that I certainly would have been knocked down and dead if not for the soldiers behind me. I have heard stories about the german barbarians' ferocity in battle, but I did not expect such raw strength. I can not falter now; I must endure and overcome this battle not just for me but for my fellow soldiers. Through the clashing of shields, I yell to the soldiers, "Get ready to push men! We need to make an opening to reduce the enemy forces! READY, PUSH!" Everyone in the phalanx pushes forward, causing the German forces to tumble backwards in the mud. After the shield push, we thrust our spear forward, piercing the barbarians on the ground and those getting up. We were showing no mercy. We certainly were not going to get any.
We form back quickly as not to waste time or lives. Even though these barbarians have their tricks, they are still simple. Our tactics have and will work, I am sure of it. They come back clashing against the shields, and it even feels harder to hold back than before. "Rearguard ready the pilums to throw for the next push; we must utilize everything we have if we have a chance at surviving!" I yell at the soldiers while preparing for the next big push. As I prepare myself, I feel as if time itself has slowed. I can see everything, every drop of rain coming down through the sky, scanning each barbarian face in front of me, full of pure rage—soldiers beside me most with stoic faces, some with looks of fear and death. I am afraid they may not make it through the night. Taking one big deep breath in, I yell, "PUSH MEN!"
The second push is just as strong as the first, knocking down many barbarians. Everyone in the first two rows of the phalanx thrust their spears forward into the barbarians, striking them down. As this is happening, I yell, "NOW, THROW PILUM!" The rearguard aims and throws their pilums. There is no height advantage, and fighting on equal grounds is our specialty. Pilums soaring gracefully through the sky, shimmering in the rain. Impaling their targets and the bodies hit the ground. Even though these barbarians are fierce and strong, they still go down like regular men. While we get back into formation, I hear a distant whistle; it is one of ours. After the whistle, a soldier yells, "THE FORTIFICATION IS DONE! ALL FORCES FALL BACK!" Finally, it feels as if I have been here for an eternity.
"Alright men, fall back slowly, keep formation. The others in the shield wall will join us and boost our strength, and we will get through this." I yell to the soldiers. As we slowly back up, one of the soldiers, who I saw had fear in his face, trips over one of the dead bodies on the ground. He was not aware of his surroundings. Unfortunately, he is near the front of the phalanx and causes an opening for the barbarians. The barbarians push through to the weak point in just a split second and start brawling. The formation is broke, and soldiers are faltering. Barbarians pushing through, targeting the soldier on the ground. Seeing the look of fear in his eyes as a spear pierces his throat, his eyes grow big, several more spears stab through him. I know this man, his name is Tiberius, an ordinary legionary but still a brother in arms; losing him is losing a part of oneself. His dying face will haunt me for the rest of my days. He is coughing up blood and mouthing the words of help. There is nothing I can do but watch in horror.
Rage starts to flow through me; I can feel it coursing in my veins. Gripping my spear with such strength, I nearly break the wood shaft. I yell to the soldiers. "CHARGE MEN, WE MUST DEFEND OUR BROTHERS!" The barbarians are distracted by the weak spot. They overlook our flank until it is too late. We come through with a mighty shield push, knocking the Germans down into each other and driving our spears forward, demolishing them. Thrusting my spear multiple times, I am cocky, and it catches up to me when I push too far ahead of the phalanx. Striking down one last barbarian with my spear, I do not have time to pull it out before another German swings a club in my way. Dashing back a bit to gain some distance, switching to my gladius, I prefer that over my spear anyhow. The barbarian with the club chases after me, uttering strange words and emitting a beastly roar.
I am bashing my sword against my shield twice as mental fortitude and readiness for battle. The barbarian charges forward towards me, and as he is charging, I hear a scream to my left. Another German is after me, brandishing a shield and spear, taking my time to focus; I await the perfect time to strike. The barbarian wielding the club raises it over his head to use all of his strength—a predictable move, an easy counter. At the last possible moment, I take a few steps back, and the barbarian swings with all of his might, hitting nothing but the ground. In this moment of opportunity, I lunge forward, stabbing my sword into the German's chest right through the heart. Quickly pulling out the sword, I prepare my shield for the next attack. Charging with a spear and shield, the German thrusts forward. Using my shield, I parry the barbarian attack and use his unbalance stance against him. I stab into his thigh and shield bash his face, and he tumbles backward.
Wasting no time, I make my way back to the phalanx. At the same time I was running, one of the German barbarians who was barely clinging to life on the ground reaches his hand out and took hold of my ankle. Turning onto my back, I kick the German in the face, he loosens his grip, and I skewer him in the back. As I try to get up, I feel a sharp pain in my right arm. A Javelin was thrown at me, missing any vital points but lacerating my arm. At first, the pain was too much and halted my rise, and I hear pacing footsteps in the mud on either side of me. Heart racing, I hear in front of me, "CHARGE MEN, PROTECT CENTURIAN MAXIM! IF NOT FOR HIM, WE SURELY WOULD BE DEAD NOW!" A quick moment of relief flows over me, and I get to one knee as fast as I can to perform a roll. While preparing myself, the barbarians are closing in quickly, and I barely manage to evade incoming attacks as I roll. Immediately as I break through the first lines of the phalanx, the soldiers make a shield wall.
Making my way to the rearguard, I hear the man leading that phalanx in my place. "Centurian Maxim, I am glad you are alright, sir." the soldier says. Once I lay eyes upon him, I realize it is my Optio, my second in command. Evander is his name, and I personally chose him as my second command. "I'll be alright once we get into the fortification, and I can treat this wound," I respond to Evander's remark. "We need to throw a volley of pilum to make a tactical retreat," I order Evander. "Yes sir, MEN, ready the pilum to throw!" He tells the rearguard. As the soldiers ready the pilum, I take one and aim, but the pain in my arm is too great I cannot throw. Evander notices and takes the pilum out of my hand, nods, and aims to throw. I yell to the soldiers, "READY MEN, THROW PILUM!" A large volley of pilum soar through the sky. Most of the soldiers have joined the phalanx and boosted our numbers. Once they strike their targets, a significant number of German barbarians tumble down. Creating enough space for us to retreat safely.
We advance closer and closer to the fortification. All of the soldiers from the shield wall are now in our phalanx. Marching to the doors of the fortification, we slowly start to fill in. I stand near the entrance to make sure everybody makes it through. General Varus made his way through to the door with a look of panic on his face. He yells, "Hurry up men, get in here faster! We must close the doors before the barbarians push forward!" After he says this, I hear distant groans of pain. Looking to where I heard the scream, a soldier gets struck by a javelin. Not just one, but a couple of other soldiers, hit by javelins and missiles. Trying to help the wounded men, General Varus himself stops me. Telling me, "Centurian, I order you to stay here. You will only get yourself killed if you help them."
Looking back at the wounded men, I see the barbarians closing in on them. "But sir, we cannot leave them to the barbarians. That is a fate worse than death!" I yell to Varus. He snarkily says, "Know your place, Centurion; I gave you an order. You will follow it, or I will take it as insubordination and have you executed!" I sternly respond, "Yes, sir." Sitting in front of a fire. An Immunes, a field medic, is wrapping up my arm and I hear the distant sound of the legionaries screaming in pain in the distance. Gods only know what horrendous acts the barbarians are doing to the men. I pray that their pain goes away quickly, but I fear it will continue for hours. Night has fallen, and I am thinking about the traumatizing events on this cursed day. This battle is only the beginning.