The year is 15 CE
and the Roman Empire is prospering.

Most of the credit will go to the emperor,

but this success wouldn’t 
have been possible

without loyal soldiers like Servius Felix.

Servius enlisted as a legionary 
eight years ago at age 18,

the son of a poor farmer
with few prospects.

Unlike the majority of legionaries,
he doesn’t gamble,

so he’s been able to save 
most of his wages.

He’s even kept his viaticum,

the three gold coins he received 
when he enlisted.

If he survives until retirement, 
he’ll receive several acres of land.

And he’s grown rather fond 
of a girl back home

whom he intends to marry.

But he’ll have to wait until he completes 
his 25 years of service

before that can happen.

And the life of a legionary 
is dangerous and grueling.

Today, Servius’s legion, 
along with three others,

has undertaken a “great march” 
of 30,000 Roman paces,

the equivalent of nearly 36 kilometers.

Servius’s armor and weapons,

including his gladius,

scutum,

and two pila,

weigh over 20 kilograms.

And that’s not counting his backpack, 
or sarcina,

which contains food and all the tools
he needs to help build the camp –

spade,

saw,

pickaxe,

and basket.

Although Servius is exhausted, 
he won’t sleep much tonight.

He’s been assigned the first watch,

which means looking after 
the baggage animals

and keeping alert
against a possible ambush.

After he’s done, he lies awake, 
dreading the day ahead,

which will force him 
to recall his worst nightmare.

At dawn, Servius eats breakfast 
with his seven tent companions.

They’re like a family, all bearing scars 
from the battles they’ve fought together.

Servius is from Italia,

but his fellow soldiers hail 
from all over the empire,

which stretches from Syria to Spain.

So they’re all far from home 
in the northern land of Germania.

Servius’s legion 
and three others with him today

are under the command of
Emperor Tiberius’s nephew Germanicus,

named for his father’s military successes
against the Germanic tribes.

Each legion has close to 5,000 men,

divided into cohorts of about 500,

further subdivided into centuries 
of around 80-100 men.

Each century is commanded by a centurion.

An aquilifer, or eagle-bearer, marches at
the head of each legion

carrying its eagle standard.

The centurions march beside 
the legionaries belting out orders,

“Dex, sin, dex, sin,"

“Right, left, right, left,"

starting with the right foot as the left 
is considered unlucky or sinister.

Despite the strict discipline, 
there’s tension in the air.

Last year, some legions 
in the area revolted,

demanding better pay 
and a cut in the length of service.

Only their general’s charisma
and negotiating skills

prevented wholesale mutiny.

Today is a “just march,” 
only 30 kilometers.

As the marshes and forests of Germania 
lie beyond the empire’s road system

the men must build causeways
and bridges to make headway—

something they’ve recently spent 
more time doing than fighting.

Finally, they arrive at their destination,
a place Servius knows too well.

It’s a clearing on the outskirts 
of the Teutoburg Forest,

where six years ago, during the
reign of the Emperor Augustus,

Germanic tribes under 
their chieftain Arminius

ambushed and destroyed three legions.

Proceeding along a narrow path,

the legions were attacked from 
forest cover under torrential rain

with their escape blocked.

It was one of the worst defeats 
the Romans ever suffered

and Augustus never lived it down.

Servius was one of the few survivors.

Servius still has nightmares of 
his comrades lying where they fell.

But now the army is back to bury 
the dead with full military honors.

As he helps in the task,

he can’t help wondering whether the bones
he handles belonged to someone he knew.

Several times he wants to weep aloud, 
but he pushes on with the task.

The glory of the Empire 
can go to the crows.

All he craves is to retire 
on a small farm with his wife-to-be,

if the gods should spare his life 
for 17 more years.