Chapter 211: Operation North of the Rhine 2
Chapter 211: Operation North of the Rhine 2
After that, Vercingetorix received the specific procedure for his appointment as a legion commander.
“You will be awarded the title of Shield of Hispania and the Eagle Medal. Do you know the name of Spartacus, who was the first to receive this medal?”
“Any warrior would know that name.”
“The second recipient was Surenas, the Eagle of the East, whom I mentioned briefly before. And you are the third. This way, no one can object to your legion command. It will also help you lead the army more easily.”
There was no doubt that some Romans would feel uncomfortable being commanded by a Gallic.
So he needed to be given a credential that no one could deny.
“I am honored to receive such a glorious title. I swear to do my best to serve you and not disappoint you, Imperator.”
“Good. Then I’ll tell you about my plan for the next operation. You need to understand the strategy well so there won’t be any problems in future work.”
“I’m all ears.”
Caesar unfolded the map and explained the grand strategy he had already shared with the other legion commanders.
Vercingetorix’s face gradually filled with astonishment at its overwhelming scale.
“You’re mobilizing thirty legions?”
“That’s right. It’s a strategy that involves two hundred thousand soldiers—one hundred eighty thousand from thirty legions and twenty thousand from Gaul.”
“What about the defenses of the Pyrenees and the Alps?”
“Of course, we’ll leave enough troops for defense.”
Vercingetorix’s mouth opened slightly without him realizing it.
According to what he had heard, the troops blocking the key passages of the Alps numbered two hundred thousand in total.
Of those, forty thousand were Roman regulars, thirty thousand were Germanic tribesmen, and one hundred thirty thousand were defenders composed of northern Italian residents.
The troops guarding the Pyrenees in Hispania numbered one hundred thousand in total, consisting of twenty thousand Roman soldiers, thirty thousand Gallic tribesmen, and fifty thousand Hispanian natives.
In this situation, Caesar was planning to mobilize two hundred thousand for a single operation.
If he failed, Rome could collapse in an instant.
“So you’re saying the ultimate goal of this operation is to reclaim Gaul?”
Vercingetorix’s eyes flashed with unmistakable determination.
The opportunity for revenge might come sooner than he had thought.
If that moment arrived, he would stab his sword into Alten’s neck without hesitation or mercy.
Caesar lightly patted his shoulder, as if to calm him.
“Don’t rush. It will take some time before we begin the operation. For now, get some rest. And I recommend you get along with the other legion commanders. You’re fluent in Latin, so it shouldn’t be difficult.”
“I understand.”
“Good. The number of soldiers we’re mobilizing is large, but most of them are recruits, and veterans are few. That makes your role as the leader of the Gallic warriors especially important. I trust you’ll prepare thoroughly without me needing to emphasize it.”
“You won’t be disappointed.”
Vercingetorix clenched his fist unconsciously as the weight of responsibility settled on him.
Caesar watched him with a faint smile.
At first, he had simply wanted to recruit a talented general skilled in combat. But after speaking with him, he realized Vercingetorix exceeded his expectations.
There were no concerns about his character, and more importantly, he had a solid grasp of tactics.
The heavy damage he had inflicted on the Huns through guerrilla warfare in Hispania was no coincidence.
Caesar was confident Vercingetorix could skillfully handle a large-scale army.
Looking beyond the war, he would be a valuable asset—one who could further strengthen Caesar’s position.
From now on, Caesar needed to make sure to win him over completely.
For that reason, Caesar personally kept Vercingetorix close and arranged various opportunities for him.
A few days later, Caesar’s letter was made public throughout Rome by the Senate.
The details of the operation were not disclosed, but a request for two hundred thousand soldiers for a great operation to save Rome was made—and approved.
There had never been a single operation in Roman history that mobilized such a massive force at once.
Not when Pyrrhus of Epirus invaded, not when they faced Hannibal, not when Scipio marched on Carthage.
None of the generals—Sulla, Pompey, or Marcus—had ever commanded two hundred thousand soldiers at once.
And this number did not even include the troops defending the Pyrenees and the Alps.
The man in charge of the operation was Caesar, the undefeated war hero who had completely conquered the northern regions of Rome.
And Vercingetorix, the Shield of Hispania who had stopped the Hun invasion, would participate as well.
Then the Senate announced another shocking piece of news.
“Vercingetorix, the Shield of Hispania, will be granted the rank of legion commander. If he performs well in the war, he will be admitted to the Senate.
This is not limited to Vercingetorix alone. If the natives perform well, they will immediately receive Roman citizenship. If citizens perform well, they will receive corresponding rewards. O great citizens of Rome, the fatherland calls you!”
Cicero and Cato raised their voices day after day on the Rostra.
The fire ignited in Rome soon spread beyond the Italian Peninsula to North Africa and Egypt.
“Let us save our homeland, Rome!”
Citizens, fired with fervor, rushed north.
Senators, nobles, and knights spent their wealth on provisions.
Local landlords, normally miserly with their money, spared no gold for Rome’s security.
If Rome fell, all their riches would become meaningless.
The Roman upper class understood this well.
Moreover, the devastation wrought by the Huns in Germania and Gaul further stirred the populace.
The provinces of North Africa and Egypt did not send troops, but instead dispatched vast quantities of food.
Fleets of massive ships filled the ports day after day.
Food produced in Sicily and across the Italian Peninsula flowed north along Rome’s proud aqueducts.
Even those long retired from military service volunteered to enlist again.
A battle to save Rome from an unprecedented crisis was approaching.
Whether driven by patriotism, ambition for glory and wealth, or both, volunteers gathered in no time.
The soldiers officially enlisted burned with the desire to crush the Huns.
There was not a trace of anxiety in their hearts.
Every citizen knew that Caesar had repelled the invaders in the north with his legions.
They had no doubt he would once again command with brilliant strategy and utterly annihilate the Huns.
A great war that made everyone’s heart pound was about to begin.
※※※
“…Or so I thought.”
Wiping away sweat that poured like rain, a Roman engineer sighed.
When they had marched north across the Alps toward the Rhine with great momentum, their hearts had trembled with anticipation for the coming battle.
But something felt wrong when they were issued shovels and tool handles instead of weapons.
“What the hell is this? We’re nothing but engineers! This is bullshit!”
Another soldier openly cursed.
Yet he didn’t stop digging, revealing just how long they had been at it.
The other soldiers ground their teeth as they drove stakes, dug trenches, and erected palisades.
“My mother must think I’m smashing Hun skulls right now…”
“Same here. I told my sister I’d earn glory and come back so she could find me a good match.”
“Ha… damn it. I’m going insane with this digging. It never ends. Why don’t those Hun bastards just come over so we can hit them once?”
Caesar’s strategy with his two-hundred-thousand-strong army was simple but effective.
They would form a continuous defensive wall along the Rhine by driving stakes and erecting palisades without pause.
With two hundred thousand troops at work, the defensive line advanced ten kilometers a day.
Occasionally, Hun scouts attempted to interfere, but waiting archers rained arrows and drove them off.
Sometimes the Huns crossed the river and maneuvered from afar, but each time, the Roman army held its defensive positions, firing arrows and throwing spears.
When difficult forest terrain appeared, only Caesar’s elite legions and Vercingetorix’s Gallic warriors were sent out to engage.
The strategy was so simple it bordered on stupidity—but with sufficient supplies and resources, it worked.
Material consumption was enormous, but Rome could afford it.
As the operation continued, Roman engineers never once swung their swords at Hun soldiers.
Instead, their daily routine was endless trench-digging, stake-driving, and palisade-building in three shifts: day, first half of the night, and second half of the night.
Complaints were inevitable.
“When I get home, I’ll tell my parents how amazingly I shovel.”
“Hey, look! There they are—the Hun bastards!”
“Good! Everyone grab your bows! Let’s vent our anger!”
The only moments that felt like war during those hellish days were when they loosed arrows at Hun cavalry.
But those moments always ended in an instant.
No matter how brave Hun horsemen were, they couldn’t withstand tens of thousands of arrows pouring down from fortified positions.
Once again, after the Hun forces retreated as quickly as they had appeared, the Roman soldiers returned to digging.
“Damn it. Useless. Why do those Hun bastards always show up and then run? I want to shoot arrows instead of digging like a dog.”
As he gulped water from his canteen and stuck his shovel back into the earth, a Gallic soldier beside him muttered something in his own language and threw his shovel down.
Their eyes met, and they shared an awkward smile—a brief sense of brotherhood.
It didn’t last.
Hun scouts appeared again at a distance.
The Roman soldiers eagerly reached for their bows, only to have cold water poured on them by a white-haired captain’s voice.
“The enemy force is small! Continue working. The Gallic troops will drive them off with arrows!”
“What? That’s not fair!”
Ignoring the howling Roman soldiers, the Gallic troops grinned, grabbed their bows, and took position.
The Romans felt that fragile sense of brotherhood shatter instantly.
“Hey, you bastards! Enjoying that?”
“Shut up and pick up your shovels!”
“Aaaah!”
Watching the soldiers’ sweat- and tear-filled labor from afar, Caesar clicked his tongue.
“I think we should give them some rest once we pass the turning point.”
Vercingetorix nodded with a bitter smile.
“That would be wise. Anyone would get angry if all they did was shovel every day.”
“I remember when we had to shovel too. We even cleared snow with shovels when we camped near the Alps during the first year of the Gallic War. Labienus, you remember that, right?”
“Yes. Even the legion commanders had to shovel, to set an example.”
Labienus shook his head in disgust.
“That’s right. I was especially surprised by how skilled Marcus was. I thought all of you would be good at it—but no. He was the only one strangely adept at shoveling.”
Vercingetorix’s eyes widened at Caesar’s oddly nostalgic words.
“Marcus Mesopotamicus? The governor of the East? Now that you mention it, I heard he was there in the early days of the Gallic War… He was good at shoveling?”
“Yes. He cleared snow smoothly, like someone used to it. He said he’d done it so much in the past that it became second nature.”
“…Do you make Roman nobles shovel when they’re young?”
“Of course not. There’s rarely that much snow in Rome. That’s why I wondered—how did Crassus raise his son?”
Labienus nodded in agreement.
“He used to say incomprehensible things. But the soldiers admired him. They said he was different from other successful men…”
“Haha. If the leader sets the example, the subordinates naturally follow.”
Thus, the Rhine defensive line steadily grew stronger, built by soldiers’ sweat and hardship.
At the same time, far to the east, Marcus—who had been successfully tying up loose ends—suddenly shuddered with irritation for no apparent reason.
Spartacus, watching him, asked with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just remembered something from long ago.”
“From when you were in Rome?”
“Even earlier. I don’t know why it suddenly came to mind.”
Recalling the nightmare of snow shoveling he would never forget, Marcus bit his lip and remained silent.
‘I knew I shouldn’t have shoveled back then.’
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