As the army marches westward towards Egypt, there is a sense of uneasiness in the camp. None of my fellow comrades knew what we were about to go through. None, save the guard who came back to warn us. Life can be full of mysteries and this was just another one. This was what we were told. That the enemy was a bunch of savages that could and should be put easily back into their rightful place. It seems, the Romans, with whom I was traveling had heard something similar, for their was a calm among the legions until we arrived at the edge of the marshes.
The scouting party had returned and reported sights of enemy scouts. They had been heavily countered and managed only to escape with their lives because of the ever shifting fog looming within the marsh. The general in command ordered that we prepare for an attack and the officers began ordering the troops into position. Moments later, everything was quiet as we waited.
Suddenly, the marsh ahead of us gave way to a massive, army. Alas, no, it was more of a horde. Before we knew it, they had already began banging against our shields, eager to hammer apart or flesh and bones. The fighting that followed was one of massive blood and gore. At one point in time, i could not tell friend from foe. I simply pushed forward.
The enemy even had cannibalistic dogs that would aim straight for our throats. If not for our superior weaponry and our general's rallying capabilities and strategic mindset, we would have been totally overwhelmed by both numbers and morale.
We won a decisive victory that day. However we did not win the war and that is probably the biggest mistake we ever made. To assume, we had already won.