The Fall of New Mexico
Centurion Montano stood atop the cliff overlooking the smoking battlefield. The plains of New Mexico were littered with the bodies of legionaries and Guerreros alike and the sea of corpses lead to the distant conflict at the outer edge of ruins marking the old world town of "Roswell." He and the other centurions were formed up, waiting for Legate Graham's messenger to give his directive to the officers of the 20th and 26th Cohorts. As they waited, watching the distant conflict at the edge of ruins, they could hardly see the castle through the black smoke that poured into the sky across the land. The sun was high but the sky might as well have been overcast with all the damage war had been doing to the region.
Suddenly a noise was heard behind the formation of centurions and Montano turned to see a line of heavily armored centurions with gold lined capes filing towards the edge of the cliff, every other man carrying an enormous rifle. Beyond them was Legate Graham gesturing every direction while the large staff around him listened intently through the noise of the Legion's staging area. Montano watched the line of heavily armored centurions take their places along the ridge and begin setting up their rifles facing the far off battle. Montano was honored to be clearing the way for the "1st Cohort."
As previously mentioned, Centurion Theracos, Aleron and Montano's old superior, was transferred to the 1st Cohort a few years prior, and now was one of the occasions the legendary unit was implemented.
When a centurion has survived long enough in the Legion, they enter the 1st Cohort, or go to become members of the Flagstaff Palace Guard. With limited roles in the Palatii Vigiles, most end up going to the 1st Cohort, a 400+ man unit that only came out at the directive of Legate Graham or Caesar himself for the sole purpose of destroying a dug-in enemy with all at the Legion's disposal. The 1st Cohort was predominantly made up of the initial officers from the start of the Legion. Later known as Caesar's Arizona Veterans, or even the Red Okie Centuria based on actions in the far east later on, the unit, even during this time, held a terrifying reputation.
Montano watched the soldiers set up along that ridge and just before Graham's messenger arrived at the front of Montano and the assembled officers, he watched another centurion wearing a blood-red mask with a fan of feathers going vertically across the top raise his blade. He saw the officer swipe the air and scream over the roar of distant chaos, "FIRE!" In one report, the line of over 30 high-caliber rifles boomed and the dust along that ridge grew into an immense cloud, but Montano saw the black smoke of the battlezone clear just enough to see the volleyed projectiles explode against the yellow stone castle before the blackness engulfed the region once more. The messenger stepped up to Montano's group and gave the simple order: Rally your centuries and march forth.
War drums all across the line began beating their slow rhythm as Montano began marching down the paths towards the assembled centuries with his fellow commanders. Thirty seconds later, the long line of rifles boomed once again and their high caliber explosive bullets screamed overhead, exploding on the far off castle. Montano was still too far, but he could faintly see the enemy begin fleeing from the force in the ruins, disappearing into the black smoke that grew more and more with each punctuated volley from the 1st Cohort's guns. Montano arrived at the foot of the ridge, those drums still beat, and Montano took his place at the head of the 32nd Century, helmeted but maskless, Montano was ready. Montano stood at the ready with his blade in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun in the other and watched an Elite Centurion take his place at the head of the 10 assembled centuries of the 20th and 26th Cohorts. With a flag in hand, a contubernium of drummers stepped before the Elite, and not more than 30 seconds after Montano took his spot at the head of his personal century, the Elite commander of his battlegroup fired a flare into the sky. One more report from those heavy guns atop the ridge, and the dual cohorts marched forth towards the ominous display of black smoke and carnage.
What you would see from the ranks of Caesar's forces was the stuff of nightmares, but this was true tribal warfare. The Guerreros Del Instituto were strong, and though the fields leading to the ruins of the old world town were littered with bodies and the abandoned emplacements of the Guerreros' last resort weaponry, the slaughter had yet to truly begin. Further the cohorts marched, that smoky black nightmare ahead still echoed with the constant roar of gunfire and the screams of all in the killing pits. Stepping into the ashy and half-buried streets of the Guerrero's home, another volley of the 1st Cohort's heavy guns whistled overhead, and Montano led his unit through the smoke haze just in time to watch the rounds pelt the fortification. A tower of the sallyport came crashing down, sending another blinding wave of debris across the land, while a thousand soldiers of the combined cohorts washed into the old world ruins like another crimson wave.
Still marching on, Montano wished he had his new mask or goggles to see through all the dust and smoke, but Montano knew to keep moving forward with his century close behind in column. Losing track of the Elite he followed and all the other centuries he'd seen in the field, Montano started seeing the legionaries of the 1st and 2nd waves collecting themselves through the haze, having completed their objective and with mercy from the 1st Cohort's cannons. The few who saw the passing centuries in the smoke gave cheers to mars while a rallying drum beat its rapid tempo to inform the 1st and 2nd wave legionaries where to assemble. Montano's eyes were still locked straight ahead as he led his soldiers onward into more concrete ruins and over wide piles of rubble.
Suddenly, there was a clearing, and Montano caught the gold-lined plume of the Elite who stood atop a pile of rubble just before the open stretch to the crumbled fortification. A horn blew from the Elite's direction, another flare was shot into the air, and the drums ahead beat faster as he caught the outline of the fortress walls beyond the thickest grey haze. As soon as that flare popped above, another scream of projectiles sounded overhead before exploding all across the fortress walls. More debris was filling the air and as soon as Montano could see a clear glimpse of the walls, a line of machineguns started sputtering their opposition to Caesar.
The flashes broke out all across the wall, all of them focused on the other centuries emerging from the smoke, and Montano immediately shouted over the roar of gunfire for his vanguard ranks. Montano stopped in place, and the vanguard consumed him into the ranks of his century, protecting the forefront with a wall of heavy shields reinforced with steel and stained in blood. Montano ordered the march forth and bullet after bullet pelted the century's shield walls. Montano was just thankful that the initial pop of machineguns were focused on the other centuries emerging from the smoke and he guided his unit onward, the gate getting closer as the wave's other centuries collapsed to the rattle of machineguns.
Montano kept guiding his soldiers forward, many of the machineguns now focused on the rear of his ranks unprotected by the forefront's shields. There was little he could do but keep moving forward. Onward he went towards that gate, now open from the fallen tower, and he watched the Guerreros along the walls begin hurling stones upon the tops of his unit's shields if not scrambling to counter the other centuries who'd begun mounting ladders on their sections of the fortress. Montano had lost half of his rear before his century was under the scope of those machineguns. Over the rubble of the collapsed tower they went, and the surviving horde reestablished their formation before entering through the gatehouse. All seemed clear on the other side of the walls before another line of machine guns opened up from the opposite end of the fortress. With the vanguard's shields battered into oblivion, they didn't have to endure for much longer before a swarm of tribals fell into the gatehouse. Montano's century dropped their protection and met with the enemy in that half-crumbled gatehouse.
The smoke was so thick and the guns and screaming were so loud, the distant command drums had since been buried by the immediate battle. Montano only saw red as he had so many times before, but this time was different. This time, Montano wasn't carrying the flag on his back, this time, Montano was the symbol, the head officer of his century's strength and tactics. Tactics still being largely secondary to him, he knew that Caesar had placed him on the march to that gatehouse for a reason. Montano slashed and hacked away at the swarm of Guerreros in that gatehouse savagely. Protected from the silent machineguns by the hostiles in front, Montano's unit in particular excelled at close-range butchers work. The only time Montano ever stopped cutting open the opposition in front was when he needed to reload his double-barrel sawed off. One by one, Montano and his surviving century created new corpses to fill the walls of this emplacement when it fell to Caesar. The centuries mounting the walls must have done their work excellently because another swarm of legionaries came to Montano's backing in that gatehouse un-perforated by the machineguns.
Still, the carnage continued, and Montano's century was whittled down more and more, while their ferocity never stopped. Montano could just start to see the other end of the fortress and dreaded the moment those machineguns on the far end opened up again if those centuries under the 26th taking the flanks couldn't get through. Taking a page from Hannibal at Cannae, Legate Graham intended to wrap his forces around the enemy and trap all in an enormous killing pit, but Montano didn't know what kind of resistance the centuries were encountering on the fortress's flanks. When Montano removed his blade from the stomach of the last man, the rest of the Guerreros were fleeing, and no more than a few seconds later, those machineguns opened up on everyone in the gatehouse again. Legionaries scrambled to the vanguard's dropped shields or used the bodies of the fallen for cover while many of the new arrivals were caught in the opening fire of those guns.
As all inside the gatehouse scrambled for cover, Montano's vexillarius was clipped in the shoulder by a stray round and fell to the ground with his upper armor half busted. Montano moved to the flag bearer and before the man could stand, the vexillarius was pelted four more times and ended his time on earth in service of Caesar. Just in time, Montano lifted up one of the vanguard shields from under a few bodies and sat under it while a spree of gunshots ricocheted off the heavy instrument. Montano was stuck and could not move, but under that shield, he saw a very young legionary lying prone behind several bodies. Montano watched a bullet enter the chest of that young legionary's cover, and Montano screamed over the continuing gunfire for the boy to move, gesturing clearly for the young soldier to take the flag. In an instant, the legionary crawled around the bodies as more and more bullets whistled overhead and Montano shuffled over with his shield to give the boy more cover as the young legionary fidgeted with the flag harness under fire. As soon as the young soldier released the flag harness from the fallen vexillarius, Montano was hit.
Montano's arm had been sticking out from behind the shield as he moved to cover the boy when the bullet tore through and shattered his left arm. Montano collapsed, one of his arms now useless, and the shield lying on top of him as the bullets continued hitting all the bodies under that gatehouse. Montano felt himself drifting in and out as the pain in his arm was blocked out by his mind dedicated to service. Still, no amount of determination and personal drive could repair a recently shattered limb. Suddenly, all was silent under that gatehouse as the chaos beyond continued. Out of the silence from somewhere within the fortress itself sounded the word, "AHORA!"
An explosion sounded just beyond the hostile side of the gatehouse, then another. Montano instantly stood himself up and bolted to the rear, regardless of his pain, he saw the young legionary, as well as several others who survived the barrage, begin running back the way they came. The explosions crept closer, but Montano didn't dare look back, and suddenly, Montano was thrown to the ground as several large bricks pelted his body and helmet. Montano would thank mars for the strength of his armor and helmet later, but at the time, Montano was knocked unconscious. Montano did not know how long he was out until he awoke to the young vexillarius hauling him out of small pile of rubble. The faceless young legionary pulled Centurion Montano up the second Montano's eyes visibly fluttered open, and Montano felt he still couldn't move his left arm.
Upon standing, he saw another group of legionaries, many of them completely covered in dust, and the young legionary now wearing the flag on his back. A nameless decanus immediately noticed Montano's dust clotted arm still hanging limply by his side and began tying it off for good measure while Montano collected himself. The remaining 20 or so survivors from the exploded gatehouse saw Centurion Montano stand, and all looked to him and his new vexillarius. Montano turned back where they fled and saw half of the gatehouse had been leveled, the entrance completely blocked, save for one beam of light coming down from some spot at the top of the rubble.
Without thinking about it, Montano charged towards the rubble pile he retreated from and his new signifer followed close behind, immediately followed by all the other dust-covered legionaries. Up Montano went, ducking under the fallen pieces of the gatehouse archway, and through that narrow opening in the half-leveled tower. Upon emerging on top of the ruined gatehouse with his men, the machineguns on the far side opened up again, but the parapets of the fort were more than sufficient cover for where they were.
As each legionary filed onto the top, many joined the ongoing fights across the roof to aid the centuries still scaling those ladders. Montano caught another brief glimpse of the box-shaped fort, saw the opposite tower, and all those sparks popping from the machineguns along the ground level. Montano felt safe from atop the half-crumbled tower for a moment until he caught sight of an enormous group of Guerreros swarming through the opposite gate straight into the fort. Montano still didn't know what to do with such a limited force, other than aid the taking of the walls his forces were already occupied with. Seeing that mass of tribals form up before storming the walls, Montano cursed the soldiers of the other centuries, assuming the tribal force he was looking at was the one that had repelled the flanks. Suddenly, Montano caught the young vexillarius, ripped the flag off his back, and slammed the rods into the young soldier's hands with the brief order to wave it at the Elite the way they came. The soldier did just that, and Montano turned back to look at the counterattacking force.
The Guerreros were almost ready, and though the walls of this section of the fortress were now Legion, they'd have tremendous difficulty in holding them if the amount of survivors was any indication. Montano turned back the way he'd come once more and saw the young soldier still waving the flag, another flare popped in the Elite's direction, and Montano turned back to the force readying to charge one more time before he heard it.
The drums were still beating along each sector of the attack, telling him that all of their battle groups were still intact, but something unique was coming from the direction of the Elite. A set of heavy drums was beating slowly beyond the smoke haze, and just then, a series of "Fife" instruments started playing. This was a sound he'd only heard one or two times in his life, and that sound was immediately followed by the echo of trumpets, another nearly unworldly sound to him. All of the sudden, the melodic sounds of those far off instruments became loud, and just before the Guerreros began their charge towards the Legion-occupied walls, the instruments picked up. The tune was somehow so loud, yet so buried by the gunshots and screams of battle, that the sensation it gave him could almost be described as pure magic. One more time, Montano turned back the way of those instruments and there he saw it.
Emerging from the smoke, debris, and fog, was the entire 1st Cohort was marching into the battle and up the ladders or over the gatehouse rubble to their own song: "The March of the 1st Cohort." The swarm of veteran centurions had entered the battle, just in time to meet with the Guerreros' counterattack. In just about the most glorious display, the highest elite of Caesar's army met with the remaining horde of Guerreros and all who'd survived up to that point joined the ranks of the 1st Cohort all along the walls.
The blood, death, screaming, guns blaring, and whirlwind of horror swept the legionaries all across the battlefield into a nearly hypnotic state as the 1st Cohort led the way for the Legion's battered force. Bullets could only just barely stop a surge in morale like that, and Montano watched that vexillarius waving the flag with pride as Montano continued to direct the survivors of the entire force along the walls on how to assist the 1st Cohort's steady advance. The final wave of Caesar's Elite Cohort continued their slow march through the Guerreros' ranks like a machete through neck tissue.
The weaponry of the 1st Cohort silenced those remaining gun emplacements and made the Guerreros flee as the 1st never backed down from their own pleasure in melee combat. The chainsaws were revved up and the buzz of spinning blades merged so finely with the ambiance of gunshots and shouts. The walls all across the fortress were painted in blood as more work was done until just before noon. Right before noon, the screaming had stopped, the guns were silenced, and all to be heard was the sound of those rear-echelon drums telling each group where to rally.
The smoke began to clear but the fires still burned all across the region, and Montano looked to the young legionary who pulled him from the rubble who then proudly waved that flag in the face of defeat. He asked the boy legionary his name, just noticing the completely shredded fan of feathers on his helmet, and the boy said he didn't have a formal means of address. Montano at last noticed the battered armor and helmet of a recruit decanus beneath all the dust and recalled his own staff was nonexistent after the collapse of the gatehouse.
Montano thought about a particular officer he served under and how that officer got maimed in a fight somewhere in northern Arizona. An obscure lower-ranked officer in one of the century's Prime contubernia took charge in the middle of the battle and led his centurion's forces to victory when the man himself couldn't. That Prime Decanus' name was "De Falco," and he became the commander of the 6th Century after that act, and was the predecessor to Centurion Theracos.
Being reminded of that incident, Montano looked upon the nameless recruit who only identified himself as "CCCXXV" ("325" A number from the nameless recruit ranks), named the young soldier "Falco," right there, and drafted the boy into his personal staff as the sounds of battle echoed into the distance. The day was won, but at a heavy cost, and the sounds of battle had slowly turned into the familiar sounds of assimilating the survivors of another fallen people.
The survivors of the Guerreros Del Instituto were rounded up by the veterans of the 1st Cohort while the people they failed to protect were pulled from their homes in the ruins of Roswell. Many fled, but few escaped as scouts and reserve forces had been surrounding and patrolling the outer city waiting for the battle to end. As the sun set, smoke and fire still engulfed the region, and the bulk of the Legate's forces were busy reorganizing their ranks and dispersing troops throughout the fortress. Crosses were erected from the debris, and the resisters were dispatched while Montano and all the other commanders of their respective centuries did what they could to refill their ranks after so many losses in the fight.
Still, the fight was over, and the slaves and reserves from the Legate's massive encampment congregated in the fortress walls. Montano met with Clara and Raquel who treated his wounds with tribal remedies and wrapped his arm as the process continued. Montano ended up having to purchase the soldier he named "Falco" from a different Century full of "Born-in" legionaries that'd been nearly destroyed in the first wave.
As hinted above, it turned out that the young soldier was one of those who was born into the Legion, who knew of nothing else, and never even met his mother. Coming from a Circle Junction soldier camp that specialized in raising soldiers from the womb, Montano felt an odd sensation when he realized that the boy was no more than 16 during the fall of the Guerreros and born only a year or so before Montano himself became part of the Legion war machine. The sensation was like a strange sense of unity with the young soldier. One generation of Caesar's servants had pulled another from the rubble and followed close behind in the advance, never wavering and never flinching as the flag was waved and the 1st Cohort, the survivors of that very first generation, led the way to victory.
Days passed, and the assimilation of such an enormous tribe was almost done. Montano's century was still undermanned by around 30 or so legionaries, but that was fine for the moment since New Mexico had fallen. The Guerreros were done, and southeastern New Mexico was firmly Legion. Montano's inexperience in leading tactically was made up for by he and his men's ferocity, and New Mexico would never be the same under the Legion. Of the nearly 300 New Mexican tribes absorbed into the Legion since the start of the campaign almost a decade prior, only 13 were deemed worthy of being marked on Caesar's list of the conquered, the Guerreros Del Instituto included.
When the smoke finally settled across the region, Legate Graham approached Montano's century doing their work within the fortress walls and stepped up to Centurion Montano. After deeming Montano's role in the battle as worthy of the highest praise yet again, Montano was told by Caesar's second;
"Your Century is granted a period of respite as of this moment. A runner will contact you when your force will be needed again, so take your century to the township of Gallup in the far west. After doing their duty at the nearby breeding camp, they are free to remain in town and rest until further order. I advise you to use this time to survey the land I've given near Newcomb just north of Gallup. You have truly been a terrifying asset on this campaign, Centurion. Befitting the praise of Caesar, I have the pleasure to inform you that the mask you've been gifted is ready to be picked up at your earliest convenience. A messenger of Circle Junction's Praetor has been instructed to meet you at the town of Shiprock with the gift. Wear it with pride, Centurion, you've more than earned it, and I'll look forward to leading you to more victories when Caesar moves on Colorado."
Montano fell to his knee, "Thank you, My Legate, there is no higher honor than serving Lord Caesar."
The Legate nodded and walked away.
A/N: If you're curious what the 1st Cohort's battle song might've sounded like, go on YouTube and look up "March of the Old Guard," it'll be the first video (length 1:47) taken from the movie "Waterloo". "La Victoire Est A Nous" was what inspired that part... I challenge anyone reading this to listen to that musical piece and Not imagine themselves dying horribly but spectacularly on the battlefield for the glory of an emperor! Just wait for the drop at about 1:11 *Oh it's so good!* Goosebumps Lol.
Also, if you know which location in Roswell New Mexico they were battling in, I formally declare thee my new best friend. Especially if you attended that place as well.
Lastly: Shoutout to Xcom for Falco. I still fully intend to implement the original character background stuff we chatted about. (Read his stuff, it's great!)