The Journal of Hannibal #3

dies Saturni ante diem VIII Idus Aug. DXXXVI

                My surgeon tends to a cut at my back while I dip my quill in ink and write these words.  A great victory has been won on this day.  Our meager force, outnumbered nearly two to one by the Romans, has pulverized them almost to a man.  Sitting in my tent the wind is filled with the cries of the final Romans who have not escaped or have been killed.  Our estimates state that of the eighty thousand men that came to meet us a mere fourteen thousand had been able to escape our clutches, while ten thousand of their countrymen lie clasped in our irons.  The rest have all been killed. 

                When I told my generals of my plan not a full day ago they stood in disbelief over the map we had drawn.  But as I explained how the battle would fold out, how young Varro would make the critical error of the old Roman generals, their faces brightened.  My brother Mago, normally sullen and dour even smiled and embraced me, complementing the genius that was our plan.  A few weeks before we had seized the granaries here at Cannae and thus were well stocked to wait for the Romans to come to us.  My trusty scouts reported that the army had encamped themselves not more than an hour’s ride away from us on the banks of the Aufidus river.  When Gisco, whom I had sent personally, told me he feared the size of their force, I joked with him that while they were so big, the real surprise was that not a single one amongst them was named Gisco as well.  He frowned but then nodded, clearly relieved.   That night, while eager Varro was in charge, I sent a small detachment of men to harass their troops carrying water.  The attack was repelled of course but this was intended.  Varro, filled with hubris, took it to be a sign of a great victory to come.  I emboldened him to push for pitched combat, but the next day, when cautious Paullus took command he refused to attack.  We even went as far as setting up entire battle lines in the field, waiting patiently for the Romans to join but they stayed behind their walls.  When next the sun rose, Varro had control, and he was eager to comply. 

                With the sun beaming down on us, our armies faced one another.  The Romans had deployed in an archaic formation, a massive square that, while having depth, did not have the same breath as my line.  I noticed that Varro had studied how they got through my line at Trebbia, and had studied it well.  He had placed his principes, his heavy infantry right behind the hastatii, the lighter infantry, to bolster them forward.  I also saw that the maniples, while usually spread wider, had been pushed together, as if the entire tactic was to split my army at its center.  The fool simply wanted to overwhelm my army.  What was worse was the position he had taken, with the river at side and back, it would be hard to retreat when I sprang my trap.  His cavalry was only there on his right flank, for the river protected the left.         

                I had placed my men more shrewdly by arranging them according to their strengths and weaknesses.  My battle hardened Iberians and Gauls would be my center.  The core of my army, these men would not run from a fight, especially not when I, their general stood beside them in the thick of battle.  My African spearmen would cover my flanks and would never give in to their oppressors.  I gave my young brother Hasdrubal command of my Spanish and Gaulish cavalry on the right flank while the Numibians would be led by their own commander.  It must’ve been the formation which caused confusion.  I adopted a triangle position, with my center, closest to the Romans, and my wings further back.  The wind picked up and dust rose from the ground.  As the clouds cleared, the sun shone brightly directly into the eastern facing eyes of my enemy.  Now they had to deal with the elements as well.

                The moment before the fighting started was dead silent.  Even the birds had stopped singing, aware of the struggle to come.  Then the sound of the horns came and the Romans moved forward, hungry to taste blood.  Immediately my Numibians engaged the cavalry in a brutal struggle, and Hasdrubal raced behind the Romans to envelop them.  A flash of pilum came next, cutting down our first line.  My bravest soldiers were engaged now.  I shouted encouragement from behind the wall of spears.  When we became overwhelmed, we retreated just far enough for the enemy to want to follow.  Slowly but surely our formation changed.  My brave wings held strong, never moving once until suddenly the bulk of the army had passed them, lured into the center by ever retreating men.  Varro, his eyes only seeing my demise by his hand failed to recognize he had sprung my trap.  Now my center, bolstered by the never moving flanks turned and faced our enemy.  Varro was nearly completely enveloped by mine with only a section at the back left open which filled quickly by Hasdrubal and his
men after sending their opponents running to the hills.  At this point the battle ended, as the Roman grinded to a halt, and the slaughter began.  I could see that in the very center some men couldn’t move at all.  They were stuck to their companions and could do nothing but wait for death. 

                I do not know when, but somewhere in the melee Paullus died but Varro seems to have escaped.  Mourn I will not for an enemy of mine but I will allow his body to be returned to his family, this is a question of honor.  Honor, something else the Romans lost in this battle.  Every noble son of their house wears a golden ring on which the family crest is stamped.  My men have gathered near two hundred of these.  I will send them to Carthage and have them spilled on the floors of the Punic Senate in proof of my victory. 

                I rest my eyes for a mere moment.  Father, I now turn to write to you.  I have done it father, I have vanquished our sworn enemy in the field.  Over the last three seasons of my campaigns, I have killed more that a hundred and fifty thousand Roman men.  They are in disarray and will never be able to defend their city.  I still have the scar from my promise, and that is to be fulfilled.  We march on Rome soon.