What did the legionnaire fight for?

It seems to many that “war never changes”, it is always definitely Ad and Israel. And the unfortunate people who are brought there are victims by default. Whoever they were, from casual passers-by to the highest command staff. But it is not so. Our view in war has been shaped by the monstrous meat grinders of the last centuries, where beneficiaries of wars sit in cozy offices and count shekels or pray for some regular “ism” in the name of which they are ready to put anyone on the steaming mince And in the trenches people are at best. ” do their duty and defend the Motherland “, and at worst they don’t understand what is happening at all. This is the misfortune of the mass conscription armies, when, de facto, random people are drawn into the meat grinder. They mobilized you, you went somewhere, even do it, then bam and that’s it, game over.

It’s quite another matter when you are the beneficiary of the war. And since we is historical, we will illustrate with an example, comparing a Marian legionnaire and a conscript laborer from the Early Middle Ages. Go.

Here you are a legionnaire, enrolled in the army out of idleness and lack of money and managed to survive the “course of a young soldier.” Where they kicked out of you everything that interferes with serving your beloved Republic, along with that half of the brain that the Roman military does not need. Now truly fabulous prospects open before you, which you could not even dream of. Firstly, all your household and financial troubles are over forever. The Legion will take care of you, clothe, feed and provide with orders from the higher command, which are now your new meaning of life for twenty years, until the Republic says “malatse” and sends you to retire. Your salary is paid by the emperor himself, personally, and therefore it is not just impossible to cheat your money, but for this they cut their heads off. With your salary, you can always buy yourself to devour, and at least make cakes with meat, plus what fruits to buy. The army is supplied centrally and, by the standards of the time, quite well, because the Empire needs you to eat well, otherwise you will weaken, get sick and die from bloody diarrhea. Plus, at the borders, the legionnaire is often the only buyer who can pay in coin (the emperor pays, I remind you), and this opens up its prospects. All the equipment you get is centralized from the arsenal, because you have to be well armed, otherwise they will fuck you, and nobody needs it. True, you will have to repair the equipment and change it as it wears out at your own expense, sharpen your weapon, change worn out straps and renew the paint on the shield (the unified scarlet-orange colors are a later meme, in fact, each legion painted their shields to the best of their imagination, there were even white). But you have enough money for this and all the necessary masters are in the legion camp itself. Well, if you screwed up your set of power combat armor model two somewhere, then its cost will be deducted from your salary, and a new set will be issued in the arsenal and you can be free, there is no problem.

But this is all life, the main thing is different. The Legion is your family, it not only provides you with everything you need, but also solves all sorts of existential questions about the meaning of life and other complex matters. At first, they are solved by the fact that your centurion fucks you with an incentive (that was the name of the stick with which the junior commanders stimulated the soldiers) on the head, but then you yourself stop asking them. The minimum organizational unit of the legion is a contubernia, 8-10 people living in one tent, leading a common life, dropping off for a snack and all sorts of common items. At the head of the contubernia was the dean (decanus), the foreman for our money, the most intelligent and respected veteran, and this is the first step on which you can climb the hierarchy. Well, then it was possible by the end of the service to reach the First Centurion, which automatically transfers you to a completely different social cluster (the centurions of Caesar, after a couple of years of wars, bought villas for the duration of the leave just so that the looted by back-breaking labor would not hang out idle). The Legion gives you its own, so to speak, leveling line and takes care of you at all levels. Your centurion (as soon as he knocks all the nonsense out of your head with an incentive and you become a minimally intelligent military man) will tell you “Good Lucius” and know what your favorite stickers are. You are not a consumable, you are a legionnaire of the Early Empire, an ideal weapon in the hands of the most powerful state of the Ecumene. leveling line and takes care of you at all levels. Your centurion (as soon as he knocks all the nonsense out of your head with an incentive and you become a minimally intelligent military man) will tell you “Good Lucius” and know what your favorite stickers are. You are not a consumable, you are a legionnaire of the Early Empire, an ideal weapon in the hands of the most powerful state of the Ecumene. leveling line and takes care of you at all levels. Your centurion (as soon as he knocks all the nonsense out of your head with an incentive and you become a minimally intelligent military man) will tell you “Good Lucius” and know what your favorite stickers are. You are not a consumable, you are a legionnaire of the Early Empire, an ideal weapon in the hands of the most powerful state of the Ecumene.

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“But what if there is a war?” The reader will ask. And if there is a war, it means a holiday on your street. You can safely bang a glass or two of good wine, praising the wise emperor who started a war with someone, or a short-sighted enemy who himself provoked the Empire to its destruction. If your life in a relatively peaceful time was good, then with the outbreak of hostilities, there are really good days. War is entertainment (service is always boring at all times), war is enrichment (even in a small campaign you can become a very rich person, because you can rob), war is career growth (both due to losses and due to the explosive growth of the army) , well, just a war is what you have been preparing for all this time. If the legion is your family, then war is your home, where not your life is in danger, but you are the danger. ”

And now let’s digress from our legionnaire and look into tomorrow, where some Jacques is digging beds with turnip. Recruiters come to the village of this very Jacques from Sir Lancelot (insert a suitable title here, I did not think of it), and they recruit as many of these jackets as they can, with the expectation that there will be someone in the village to continue digging rutabaga, but no more. After that, the incomprehensible Jacques are given drin, taught to wave for a couple of hours and put into operation. Where, in fact, he is standing and goggling eyes at the oncoming wave of cavalry, trying not to crap and not to lose his drin. Then the cavalry sweeps away these jackets and spreads them across the field with a thin layer, some bloody chaos begins and our hero pokes his stick somewhere, trying to survive and praying to the Virgin Mary to return to his rutabaga. Let’s say Jacques survived, and his army even won, Hurrah Hurrah. Well, now it’s time for Jacques to go somewhere (and try not to die of dysentery along the way), where they will say, to the next battlefield or siege, and already there to run somewhere, yell something and wave his dingy while everything is happening pitch ad. If everything goes well, then the war will end in a couple of months, and Jacques will be allowed to go home, because it’s autumn, it’s time to collect rutabagas. He, in fact, will go to collect it, and then overwinter and spring again, which means first sowing, and then sirs lancelot start to measure up with dicks and recruiters again catch jacks in the villages, since someone must die for “our great cause” in a war incomprehensible and unnecessary to a simple Jacques. and already there somewhere to run, to shout something and waving his drynom while there is a pitch hell around. If everything goes well, then the war will end in a couple of months, and Jacques will be allowed to go home, because it’s autumn, it’s time to collect rutabagas. He, in fact, will go to collect it, and then overwinter and spring again, which means first sowing, and then sirs lancelots begin to measure their dicks and recruiters again catch jacks in the villages, since someone has to die for “our great cause” in a war incomprehensible and unnecessary to a simple Jacques. and already there somewhere to run, to shout something and waving his drynom while there is a pitch hell around. If everything goes well, the war will end in a couple of months, and Jacques will be allowed home, because it’s autumn, it’s time to collect rutabagas. He, in fact, will go to collect it, and then overwinter and spring again, which means first sowing, and then sirs lancelots begin to measure their dicks and recruiters again catch jacks in the villages, since someone has to die for “our great cause” in a war incomprehensible and unnecessary to a simple Jacques.

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That’s such a shit, little kids. You can stand here and say that “a legionnaire can catch a piece of tile and die in some siege with a skull.” But the legionnaire is ready for this. But the mobilized peasant is not. The state took the legionnaire “under the care”, taught and provided, now “his home is war, his job is to kill.” And it uses them for their intended purpose. And the farm laborers were simply herded to the slaughterhouse, exchanged for the same on the other side and ZBS, wash-repeat. “The duke and the baron fought drunkenly and filled up the entire battlefield with the corpses of peasants, every year the same thing,” hehe. And dying before retirement, Lucius will simply feel sad from the fact that he could not buy a small house in Campania and sit and sip wine on the porch, watching young Latins fuck each other with wooden swords. And before he dies, Jacques will think, “Fuck your mother, what’s going on here, you don’t have to die, dick understand why.” Such are the things, two worlds, two big top. At the same time, keep in mind that I painted here portraits of TYPICAL military men of that and other era. Most of the ancient armies were, in one way or another, composed of the Lucii, military professionals who knew what they had signed up for. And most of the medieval armies are disposable Jacques, which are new every year and “women still give birth”. And that is why I love antiquity and its military history, and all this medieval fencing by the peasants seems to me some gloomy, hopeless shit, from which it is better to stay away purely for reasons of “moral hygiene”. At the same time, keep in mind that I painted here portraits of TYPICAL military men of that and other era. Most of the ancient armies were, in one way or another, composed of the Lucii, military professionals who knew what they had signed up for. And most of the medieval armies are disposable Jacques, which are new every year and “women still give birth”. And that is why I love antiquity and its military history, and all this medieval fencing by the peasants seems to me some gloomy, hopeless shit, from which it is better to stay away purely for reasons of “moral hygiene”. At the same time, keep in mind that I painted here portraits of TYPICAL military men of that and other era. Most of the ancient armies were, in one way or another, composed of the Lucii, military professionals who knew what they had signed up for. And most of the medieval armies are disposable Jacques, which are new every year and “women still give birth”. And that is why I love antiquity and its military history, and all this medieval fencing by the peasants seems to me some gloomy, hopeless shit, from which it is better to stay away purely for reasons of “moral hygiene”. which every year new and “women still give birth.” And that is why I love antiquity and its military history, and all this medieval fencing by the peasants seems to me some gloomy, hopeless shit, from which it is better to stay away purely for reasons of “moral hygiene”. which every year new and “women still give birth.” And that is why I love antiquity and its military history, and all this medieval fencing by the peasants seems to me some gloomy, hopeless shit, from which it is better to stay away purely for reasons of “moral hygiene”.

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