A squad of soldiers were on the barge itself, shouting orders to the mass of soldiers who were doing the actual work of placing the barge. Many of those soldiers were on the riverbank, holding onto the barge by means of long ropes. Others were on the two barges which were serving as tugs—one directly behind, helping to hold the barge against the sluggish current; the other in mid-river, counteracting with its own ropes the pull of the soldiers on land.
Surprisingly quickly, the barge was brought into location about thirty yards from the riverbank. The barge was facing upstream, its bow heading into the current. The craft was riding very low in the water. From their vantage point, Belisarius and Baresmanas could see the stones in the hull which weighted down the craft to the point where it was almost already submerged.
The soldier in charge looked up at Belisarius. The general waved his hand, indicating that he was satisfied with the positioning. Immediately, two of the soldiers on the barge clambered down into the hull. Belisarius and Baresmanas could hear the hammering sounds as the soldiers knocked loose the scuttling pins.
A minute or so later the soldiers reappeared. The entire squad, except for their commander, clambered aboard a small boat tied alongside the barge. They attached the boat to a rope from the tub directly astern, and then released the rest of the ropes coming from that tug. The barge was now settling below the river’s surface.
The squad commander quickly climbed up a ladder to the top of the barge’s mast. There he remained, watching carefully as the barge sank into the river, ready to issue commands if the current moved it out of location. Not until the water was lapping at his feet did the squad commander climb into the small boat alongside. A moment later, the only thing visible was the upper three feet of the mast. The barge was securely grounded on the riverbed.
“That’s the first one,” announced Belisarius. “Well done, that was.”
Already, another barge was being jockeyed into position next to the first. Baresmanas, watching, was struck by the speed with which the Romans scuttled that craft next to the first, further into the river’s main course. And the next. And the next.
The sahrdaran said nothing, but he was deeply impressed. Persians had often matched Roman armies on the battlefield—outmatched them, as often as not. But no people on the face of the earth had that uncanny Roman skill with field fortifications and combat engineering.
“Will you have enough barges?” he asked, toward the end of the day. By then, eleven pontoons had been sunk.
Belisarius shrugged.
“I think so. The supplies are coming from Callinicum steadily now. Since there’s nothing to send back on those barges, I can use almost all of them for pontoons.”
He smiled, remembering the look of relief on Basil’s face when the supply barges which had arrived the day before proved to be carrying an ample supply of gunpowder to refurbish his rocket force. Refurbish it—and more. New stocks of rockets had also arrived, along with three more katyushas and the crews to man them.
Belisarius glanced toward the west. The sun was almost touching the horizon. He decided there wouldn’t be enough daylight to position another pontoon, and he didn’t want to risk his men’s lives in a night operation unless it was critical. For all the relaxed ease with which his soldiers went about their task, it was dangerous work.
So he leaned over the rail and shouted the order to quit for the day. His squad commanders, familiar with their general’s attitudes, were obviously anticipating the order. The oncoming barge was gently grounded on the riverbank, where it could be easily pushed off the next morning.
On the third day, Belisarius shifted his operations to the other side of the river, where a similar command tower had been erected. While Maurice oversaw the work on the left bank, Belisarius started the process of extending a line of pontoons from the west.
By the fifth day, the operation was in full swing. The Euphrates, at that point, was a shallow but very broad river—almost a mile wide. Sinking twenty to twenty-five pontoons a day, the Roman engineers were building their dam at the rate which would, theoretically, bridge the river within a fortnight.