Authors: Mark Henrikson
A procession of
three desert camouflage Humvees roared through the crowded streets of Cairo city center. The intimidating size of the vehicles was certainly a factor in other cars giving them a wide birth, but most of the motivation came from the sight of a TOW anti-tank rocket launcher mounted on top of the lead vehicle. Mark sat in the passenger seat of the lead Humvee and navigated the caravan into a private warehouse district.
“You’re trespassing on
private property,” the Egyptian army Colonel protested from the back bench. “And you’re outside the scope of operations granted you in this country.”
Mark looked back at the man nestled among six SEAL team members decked out in full combat armor and carrying heavy assault rifles with the safeties off. Somehow the Colonel looked rather small, and the disregarding look from Mark let the man know how valued his input was on the matter. The Colonel got the message and sank back behind the broad shoulders of the men crammed in next to him and meekly went with the flow.
“The target entrance is dead ahead,” Mark said while taking a cursory look around the area. On the surface everything was consistent with your typical industrial park. A dozen large warehouse structures dominated the landscape, except for the small brick structure that lay dead ahead. The building couldn’t have been more than a thousand square feet in size, and there were no windows or loading docks. The only distinguishing feature was a single steel door facing the main street.
Mark picked up his communication radio and issued orders to the headsets worn by each soldier. “We’re going in heavy.”
The two trailing vehicles accelerated to form up on either side of the lead Humvee. All three roared to a stop in front of the building’s single door and soldiers poured out of the vehicles from every point of exit: left, right, back hatch, and even the roof portal. A perimeter was formed amid the gawking stares of everyone in the office park trying to go about the usual day.
Four men brandished a battering ram and hit the front door with everything they had. The door did not even flinch upon impact, and the only evidence to the devastating blow was a black gash. Mark drew confidence
from their progress until he realized it was just a smudge from the battering ram’s black paint.
The men delivered six more full force blows to the door which yielded the same result; a door still standing with barely a
scratch on it.
Mark looked at the demolitions engineer. “
Your turn.”
“Yes sir,” the man beamed and then proceeded to outline the door with C4 explosives and ran the detonation cords out into the street. The rest of the SEAL team and vehicles immediately followed.
“Fire in the hole,” Mark heard just before he plunged both index fingers into his ears and took cover behind the nearest Humvee. Moments later his ears rung and his body ached from the concussion of an explosion.
Mark got back to his feet and once again looked toward the small building expecting to see a gaping hole where the front door once stood. Instead he found the door still standing, looking none the worse for wear. The wooden door frame
and surrounding brick facade were blown to pieces and revealed a series of steel bars running through the door and into the walls, ceiling and floor.
“Damn, that was my best shot,” the demolitions engineer admitted.
“Not me,” the heavy weapons operator boasted. The man climbed aboard the lead Humvee and popped his head out the portal in the roof to man the TOW rocket launcher. Mark approved whole heartedly of the plan since the weapon was designed to penetrate tank armor over a meter thick.
“Fire in the hole,” the HWO bellowed with all the glee of a five year old playing with his new Christmas toy. The missile leapt away from the barrel, slammed into the door with a thunderous bang, but no explosion. Mark looked at the damage and was well pleased. The armor piercing round punched a three foot diameter hole
in the door that would allow an assault team member to enter and unlock it from within.
“Should I fire another?” the HWO asked from on high.
“No, that’ll do. There’s no reason to use another $20,000 round just so we don’t have to bend over to get through the opening,” Mark laughed.
“
Your relationship with
Tomal reminds me of an old saying,” Dr. Holmes told his patient. “One who serves willingly is worth ten who are forced to serve.”
“Well said,” Hastelloy
responded while allowing a thin, introspective scowl to unfurl across his lips. “With no money coming in and angry creditors nipping at his heels, Tomal had no choice but to leave Rome for the northern territories. His obedience was forced so his service for our cause of returning the Nexus safely home was at best flimsy.”
“So did he do as ordered and join Caesar’s army?” Jeffrey asked.
“Oh yes.”
“But he probably lacked enthusiasm in the assignment and didn’t accomplish much I suppose.”
Hastelloy shook his head, “Quite the contrary. He joined Caesar’s army at a time of extreme peril for the Republic. The Gauls were in open rebellion and threatening the northern borders. The only obstacle standing between them and the city of Rome was Caesar’s men, and they were on the verge of a crushing defeat. The fate of the Roman Republic we worked so hard stimulating into the most advanced society on the planet was on the verge of collapse. Tomal did Rome great service up north, but at great cost to our cause.
“Sounds like he s
aved all your hard work from being torn apart by invading barbarians from the north,” Jeffrey countered.
“Yes, but he also found another cause he was all too willing to serve I’m afraid,” Hastelloy said while settling back into his chair to continue his tale.
**********
Tomal stood atop the earthen works constructed around the settlement of Alesia. The Gauls occupied a stout fortress at the peak of a formidable hill. At Tomal’s suggestion, Caesar chose to lay siege rather than initiate a costly and unnecessary eng
agement. The logic was simple. 80,000 soldiers plus civilians would run out of food and water in short order and be forced to attack the Roman fortified lines rather than the Romans smashing into theirs.
A continuous fifteen foot high wall with watch towers placed every quarter mile reached ten miles in length to completely surround the
settlement. Not content with just a wall, Caesar ordered two trenches ten feet deep and fifteen feet wide dug in front of the walls. The enemy had launched several attacks on the construction crews, but Tomal’s skillful command of the cavalry divisions turned them back.
There was one
part of the siege that didn’t go according to plan however. A small group of enemy cavalry managed to charge through the lines. Only a few dozen escaped, but they would be back with every able bodied man in the surrounding countryside to try and relieve the besieged army.
A set of outward facing fortification
s were hastily erected by the Romans, but would not hold against the second army of nearly 60,000 men that approached. Caesar’s men were now surrounded and outnumbered two to one and in very real danger of being annihilated.
Anticipating the extra man power, the trapped army now moved to engage the Roman lines at focused points
along the fortifications. One such point was directly in front of Tomal. The enemy operated in two-man teams. One stood over them both with shields deflecting arrows while the other used a shovel to fill in the trenches.
The Gauls were taking casualties as the Roman archers were well trained, but the job was getting done. The trenches
were leveled out at a single point and the workers pulled back.
“Form a phalanx at that point on the wall where the trenches are now flat. They’ll try and press through there,” Tomal ordered as he pointed to the desired location with his sword in hand.
The veterans of Caesar’s army knew their business and went about forming a line of interlocking shields sixteen men deep with spears at the ready. The strength of a phalanx came from organization and discipline. As long as no soldier panicked and ran away to open a hole, the wall of shields and spears was nearly impossible to break.
In the distance Tomal spotted a brewing storm of dust moving quickly towards the wall. A closer look revealed hundreds of bare back horses led by a few dozen riders. Behind them was a sea of men charging the wall at a quick jog.
“Double the depth and brace for cavalry,” Tomal ordered.
The reserve troops moved up to make each line of the phalanx formation thirty two men deep. In unison the second and third row of soldiers dropped the butt of their spears to the ground and braced it with their back foot while the first man held his curved body length shield in place. The effect was a wall of armor with spears sticking out at a thirty degree angle waiting to impale anything unfortunate enough to come near.
The attacking horses broke into a full charge a hundred feet from the wall and slammed straight into the
wooden barrier. The first two rows died instantly when they collided with the solid wall at a full sprint, but the impact and weight of the bodies succeeded in toppling the fortification to the ground. The remaining horses hurdled their dead brethren and charged headlong into the awaiting phalanx.
The horse charge hit the Roman line like a thousand sledge hammers swung in unison. A thunderous clatter of screeching metal and snapping wood nearly drowned out the sickening squeals of the mortally wounded animals. It was the single most impressive sight Tomal ever witnessed. The concussion wave of initial impact with the line rippled backward through the stacked men until the last soldier felt the blow. Then the wall of bodies actually slid backwards several feet. Not by men walking or stumbling backwards, but literally skidding their dug in he
els across the dirt as the weight of the horse charge was absorbed.
When only the death
wails of several hundred impaled horses remained in the air, Tomal blew three long blasts into the whistle around his neck. Captains within the phalanx began shouting orders and in unison the first three men in the formation stepped to the side and backed their way to the end of the line for a much deserved rest.
The soldier fourth in line stepped up and locked his shield in place with the others. A few injured men with broken or dislocated limbs were carried out, but for the most part the formation looked as if nothing even happened, other than the chest high and twenty foot deep pile of dead horses in front of them that is.
Gaelic foot soldiers started coming through the wide breach in the wall about thirty seconds later. Under heavy archery fire, they lugged the dead horses out of the way to allow a full infantry charge, and charge they did.
A
solid mass of bodies smashed into the array of Roman shields. A mighty war cry came up from the phalanx as the second row of men thrust their spears forward, and when the spears broke they used their blades. Every five minutes Tomal blew his whistle one time, telling the man in front to step aside and fall back to let the second man take over with his shield. All the while archers peppered the Gauls with razor sharp death from above.
Slowly, with every blow of the whistle, the phalanx was pushed back from the wall allowing more enemy soldiers to come through. Every time the line widened Tomal had to thin the depth of the phalanx. The loss of life was severe for the Gauls, but their we
ight of numbers was threatening to overrun the Roman line. It was only a matter of time, and to make matters worse a whole other army was approaching their rear.
Tomal lurched back when an enemy arrow got imbedded into the wooded hand rail he held. The e
nemy archers had moved close enough that it was no longer safe for him to command the battle from his watchtower. When Tomal reached the last rung of the ladder he was greeted by Julius Caesar himself, who came to inspect the line and inspire his men. Content that the battle line was under control for the time being he pulled Tomal aside.
“The second army is upon us, do you have any men to spare?” Caesar asked.
Tomal shook his head from side to side. “The phalanx is spread to only six men deep and the attackers are only gaining a bigger foothold. I have no one to spare. In fact, without reinforcements we won’t even be able to hold our ground for much longer.”
Tomal stopped talking long enough to look at the enemy army forming up in the valley behind them. It was a typical line of battle with infantry in the center and virtually no cavalry. It suddenly dawned on him what a rag tag bunch the men at their rear truly were. He saw pitchforks instead of spears, knives and axes instead of swords, and wooden cabinet doors with hand holds instead of proper shields.
“How many infantry and horse do we have in reserve?” Tomal asked.
“Three thousand men and six thousand auxiliary cavalry,” Caesar answered. “Not enough to face an army of 60,000, I’m afraid.”
Tomal scoffed at the statement. “That cluster of untrained peasants is no more an army than a pile of rubble is a house. Line the reserves up for battle and let me command the cavalry. Our disciplined men will cut them down.”
Caesar regarded Tomal like he was a raving lunatic. “Ten to one odds against us and you want to charge? No. We will withdraw and live to fight them another day.”
“No,” Tomal defiantly stated. “Their entire nation is here, it ends today. Give me one charge to test their resolve and then make your decision.”
Caesar was still hesitant, but Tomal’s final argument ended the debate, “Fortune favors the bold, General, so let’s be bold.”
With the sudden change of plans Tomal left a captain in charge of the phalanx , mounted his horse and rode to the cavalry camp.
By the time the horse and men were ready and moved into position the small line of infantry was already engaged. The line was
so severely stretched that it only stood two men deep and they would not last long.
“We do not stop for anything,” Tomal yelled at the top of his lungs to his cavalry men. “I don’t care if Jupiter himself sets his foot in your path. You ride until you reach the end of their line.”
Then he drew his sword, pointed forward and his 6,000 cavalry charged head long into the side of an army with ten times their numbers. Like a warm knife slicing through butter, the cavalry plowed through a sea of loosely organized peasants.
Any man not trampled under
a horse’s hoof was cut down by the swing of a blade made all the more devastating by the momentum of a horse’s gallop. Panicked men ran head long into others causing those men to drop their weapons and run as well. In a matter of minutes the entire Gallic army at the Roman rear was routed and the cavalry wore themselves beyond the point of exhaustion cutting them down in retreat.
With the army at
his rear demolished, Caesar redistributed his troops and easily repelled the assault coming from the besieged fortress. The next day the Gauls surrendered. The Roman Republic was saved and, as a bonus, the annexation of Western Europe was at hand.
That evening Caesar invited Tomal to his command tent for a private audience. They may have been in the northern wilderness, but
Caesar’s canvas abode boasted all the comforts of home complete with ornately carved dining table and chairs, soft bedding, paintings, and statues all about. Centered in the middle of the main room stood a golden eagle perched atop a wooden staff.
Caesar walked up behind Tomal and placed a hand on his shoulder
. “The eagle is the sacred symbol of Jupiter. He grants me good fortune and so I pay him homage with the place of honor in my tent. I may no longer be his high priest here on earth, but he continues to speak to me and guide me to glory.”
“His favor certainly shined upon you on this great day,” Tomal added with reverence.
“Us, “Caesar said as he spun Tomal around so the two stood face to face and he peered into Tomal’s eyes with all the intensity of the mid day sun. “Jupiter favors us both. You are a man of fortune and courage and I need you by my side as second in command of this army. Together we will harvest the vast riches of the north and return to Rome to fulfill the destiny Jupiter has laid out for us. Are you with me?”
Tomal beamed with pride at the thought of returning to Rome with more wealth, prestige and power than Hastelloy could ever imagine.
He could see his future so clearly under Caesar’s wing. He resolved then and there to follow this great man wherever he went, in whatever endeavor he undertook, even if it meant defying Hastelloy. Caesar would make him rich and powerful, while Hastelloy stood in his way.
Tomal eagerly clasped Caesars outstretched forearm. “I will be your man to the very end, General.”