During the Battle of Cannae, the Roman Republic, which did not even control all of modern day Italy at the time, went up against Carthage, a Semitic merchant empire that spanned across Spain, Iberia, Gaul and North Africa.
50,000 Roman men died in that battle, and within the first three battles of that war, Rome lost 20% of its adult male population. To put that in perspective, over the course of the entire First World War, only 11.5% of British soldiers were killed.
And what was the Roman response? Did they bow down to Punic rule and submit? Did they take peace over pride? No. They banned the word “peace” from even being uttered.
Rome eventually went on to win the Punic Wars so utterly that Carthage would never rise again. With their bare hands they did to Carthage what nuclear bombs could not do to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And this was thanks to the prodigious general, the Priest of Mars, Publius Cornelius Scipio, who only survived thanks to the Triarii, Rome’s veteran soldiers, the old men, volunteering to stay behind and die so that the young men could escape.
One Triarii was found with both his arms cut off, and a chunk of a Carthaginian’s neck in his teeth. The loss of both his arms was not enough to stop him in the defence of his country. We do not know his name, but we do know his story, and that his sacrifice was not in vain. Rome went on to define the world, and Carthage was forgotten.
That, I believe, deserves at the very least a poem.
50,000 Roman men died in that battle, and within the first three battles of that war, Rome lost 20% of its adult male population. To put that in perspective, over the course of the entire First World War, only 11.5% of British soldiers were killed.
And what was the Roman response? Did they bow down to Punic rule and submit? Did they take peace over pride? No. They banned the word “peace” from even being uttered.
Rome eventually went on to win the Punic Wars so utterly that Carthage would never rise again. With their bare hands they did to Carthage what nuclear bombs could not do to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And this was thanks to the prodigious general, the Priest of Mars, Publius Cornelius Scipio, who only survived thanks to the Triarii, Rome’s veteran soldiers, the old men, volunteering to stay behind and die so that the young men could escape.
One Triarii was found with both his arms cut off, and a chunk of a Carthaginian’s neck in his teeth. The loss of both his arms was not enough to stop him in the defence of his country. We do not know his name, but we do know his story, and that his sacrifice was not in vain. Rome went on to define the world, and Carthage was forgotten.
That, I believe, deserves at the very least a poem.