Marching With Caesar - Civil War Read Online Free PDF Page B

quarter mile short of the slopes of the hill. The slaughter was quick, and it was complete; not one man escaped, the cries of despair and curses of the Pompeian forces carrying clearly to us across the distance. Despite the fact that these men were the enemy, none of us felt like cheering the sight of brave Romans being cut down, especially when we all knew that there might be childhood friends or kinsmen among them.
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    Once more, we were at a stalemate; our army commanded the ground through which the Pompeians must pass, and now they were cut off from their supplies. The only thing in their favor was the fact that they had chosen a hill with steep sides, meaning that assaulting it would be difficult but not impossible. Despite the challenges, the senior Centurions went to Caesar in a group, urging him to allow us to assault the hill, thereby stopping this war once and for all. Caesar listened politely, but he refused to give in to our pleading, saying simply that he believed he could win this war without losing another drop of blood, either from his own men or from those of the enemy. For the first time since I had marched under the eagle, and marched with Caesar, men openly disagreed with him, and while I do not remember exactly who said it, I do remember hearing something that shocked me to my very core.
    “Caesar, remember this moment,” the voice rang out. “The next time you call on us to fight for you, you may find that we’re not as willing as we are today.”
    I was stunned, but what was even more shocking to me were the mumbles of agreement from a large number of the other Centurions. While I might have expected such sentiments from the rankers, I was completely taken aback that the most senior members of Caesar’s army would dare to say something so brazen, or to openly agree with it. Almost immediately after the words were spoken, the very air seemed to change, the import of what was said immediately hitting all of us, and you could almost hear the intake of breath sucking the air out from around us, the grumbling immediately ceasing as all eyes turned to Caesar. Whether or not that was how some of us felt, we also knew that to openly disagree in such a manner was an invitation to the harshest punishment available to a commander, and Caesar would have been well justified to order the Centurion who made this threat seized and executed on the spot. However, Caesar did not appear to be in the least perturbed, instead saying gently, “I understand your frustration, comrades, but these are my orders, and I know that you won’t let your personal feelings interfere with your duties. As far as the next time, and whether you choose to take up arms at my command,” he finished dryly, “I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it. I’ve already crossed the Rubicon, so one more won’t make much difference.”
    His words had the desired effect; despite the tension, his attempt at humor was met with appreciative chuckles, and in that instant, the situation was defused. Returning to our areas in small groups, I chose to walk alone. I was extremely troubled by what I had just heard, on a number of levels. It had not even occurred to me to question Caesar’s judgment, but it obviously had to several of my comrades, men that I respected a great deal. Was my loyalty to Caesar blinding me? I could see the sense of what the others wanted him to do; what better way to end this war but to march up that hill and end it the best way we knew? Nevertheless, I had such faith in Caesar’s judgment that I never stopped to question whether he might be wrong. That was something that my comrades obviously had done, and it worried me. Would they really carry out their threat the next time he called for us to come to arms?
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    We spent another entire day waiting for the situation to develop and thanks to our cavalry, who had gone back to our original camp to escort our supply train back, we were not in the same