caldrail

The real problem with pancration, or even boxing, was that it was the preserve of the slave athlete, and no self respecting soldier was going to lower himself to take part. Seems a bit odd at first considering how ready a typical legionary might be to engage in roughhouse, but a drunken brawl in the vicus outside a fort was a different matter. Boxing was quite a craze. It lasted throughout the length of the empire and changed along with Roman tastes for hard edged violence. Originally the cestus, the boxing glove, was no more than a means to protect the fist when punching your opponent (the hand is quite vulnerable to damage), and the infamous metal glove was a later development along with the nastyier side of gladiatorial style. As far as i'm aware, there are no records of soldiers engaging in either boxing or pancration as an activity though I'm sure they enjoyed watching two slave smah each other to bloody pulp.

Earlier this morning I opened the back window and looked out across the Old College site. It's looking very shabby now. The lead lining on the cafetria and hall roof has been stripped off, and without the verdigrised grey cladding, it now looks oddly naked in flesh coloured wood panels. the tower block at the end clearly shows sign of temporary visits by vandals and homeless people. Smashed glass and boarded up windows. A couple of days ago I spotted a hydraulic lift up the side of the tower block. At first I wondered what was going on, but I could see a firemans helmet from that distance though there was no sign of any smoke or flame. A practice? Possibly, though I noticed they were recovering material from inside the fifth or sixth floor. After a few witty comments from their loudhailer, the firemen disappeared from view as the lift retracted. I wonder what that was all about? The thing is, this abandonment has a bright side. The vegetation has sprouted in luxurious green over the last few weeks, turning a dismal yard into a fine display of tree growth. Along the white fence that surrounds the site, the trees have now grown higher and overhang the barrier, and it genuinely looks nice. When the site gets demolished in the near future all that will go, and if I were honest, I'll miss the old place. As It Was Before I logged on this morning I was leafing through a book of old photographs from Swindon, my home town. Most of it is unrecognisable. The gothic victorian shops and houses have largely disappeared along with all the major town landmarks, not least the railway works, of which only a couple of office blocks and workshops survive. There was a time when I was young that I walked along the Midland & South West Junction Railway that went past the west end of British Rail Swindon Works that I could see the end of that massive A shop, once the biggest industrial complex under one roof in Europe, with row upon row of forlorn rusting diesels waiting for the cutting torch. Drove Road as country lane. The old market building, now long gone, and I recall that strong vegetable smell and and constant haranguing from traders urgently seeking our cash. A police station at the top of Eastcott Hill, once next door to the tram depot, replaced by anonymous housing apartments. This isn't the first time I've had a fit of nostalgia for the Olde Worlde Swindon, a sooty brick town proud of its railway heritage, but with so many sweeping changes on the way in grandiose developments, I wonder how long these flagship constructions will last?

Friday was a quiet unassuming sort of day. Not really suprising since the bulk of the population were either glued to their television sets or heading for the hills in a desperate attempt to avoid watching yet another wedding video. So we had a sort of hazy murky day that never quite made up its mind what it wanted to do about Britains latest extravanganza. Ricky Is At It Again I see Ricky gervais has been giving us all the benefit of his well paid opinion. I shouldn't really criticise, I do exactly the same on this blog (although I get paid somewhat less). Still, at least he gets his picture in the news again. That way we won't forget who he is. I wonder if Mr Gervais will televise his wedding and get tons of people to line London streets waiting for him to roll past on an expensive carriage to generous applause? No? Perhaps his weeding video wasn't all that impressive then? At The Supermarket The lady paying for her shopping at the local supermarket noted that it was all over. The royal couple were hitched already. Sigh of relief. Is it safe to back to the television screen now? "Oh no" She advised me, "You'll be getting that all day." Aaargh! This computer is slow. I mean, archaeologically slow. Every screen update comes with a birthday greeting. Why is the internet so slow? Let me guess. People are sharing wedding videos.

The customer compliance people told me I was articulate, educated, and good at interviews. So why aren't I getting any interviews? Why do you think that is? But I should be employed by now - Why don't I get interviewed? Actually I do, sparingly, and I got an email just today advising me of a possible interview to come. Rather those questions seemed to be fishing for a particular answer from me. Not sure what it is the lady wanted me to say, but I am certain it wasn't going to help.

Failure to establish a means of succession is often quoted as a reason (I've done so too previously) but in fact you could argue the means of succession had been established by the late empire. The instability of the third century had been overcome after all, and under the Dominate we see a move toward oriental style rulership. However, the political machinations that supported the Caesar of the day most definitely weakened government to the point of disaster in some cases, and in case, the empire was subject to considerable apathy in general. The economic situation was not as bad as often suggested. The late empire was often doing quite well, which was the entire reason the barbarian tribes saw raiding as a profitable enterprise. I think the point that gets lost by the popular image of the Roman Empire is that it had changed significantly. No longer a conquest state, it was increasingly a prototype for the middle ages.

Another blow to my individuality stares me in the face this morning. In my emails is a reply to a job application which says my attempt to persuade a certain job agency that I would like to be put forward for this particular role is now considered spam. If that doesn't confirm what an obstacle to finding a job the employement agnecies are, what is? So many vacancies are now exclusively in the hands of these agencies who frankly worry more about their contracts than their customers. I hate agencies. Utterly. Modern slave traders. On The Plus Side What a nice day. Sunshine, blue skies, everyone relaxing before the big wedding tomorrow. Except I have to visit the Job Centre and be interviewd by Customer Compliance. Again. But lets not worry unduly. After I've been savaged in a life or death struggle with a claims advisor, I have the prospect of a long walk to look forward to, so I can enjoy the bright sunny weather. And pay the postage on a letter the postman wouldn't put through my door.

I spoke to Prince Philip once. Apparently he watches television too. Hiow bad a person can he be?

Yesterday was not a high point in my life. My credit card was withdrawn. Such a simple little thing isn't it? Just a small rectangle of plastic that allows you spend some of other peoples money provided you pay it back. You might immediately assume that I got into debt by using one. Not so. They withdrew it because I don't use it enough. Profit and loss you see. Due to a technicality in financial assessment, I can't have a replacement card. The tragedy is that I'm now excluded from buying goods and services on the internet. Some might wonder why that is such a big deal. Well, having gotten used to buying from the internet, it reduces my choice and freedom somewhat drastically. It reduces me to a second class citizen, unable to sample the wealth of consumerism for myself. Apart from the expected tantrums and despair, I was appalled to realise how easily the balance in our lives can be disturbed by outside influence. I shouldn't be. I've being saying for a long time that fate is the sum of all decisions and natural forces. Now it seems a decision has gone aganst me. And you know what? My caring sharing bank really isn't interested. It is the bank that llikes to say "We have your money so now get lost". Help Yourself A litle while back I was sat in hospital waiting room. Most of those in there with me were older folk, skinny gentlemen who shuffled here and there, obese women women who waddled and leant on a walking stick. All of us silent, bored, simply waiting our turn. There was a colourful pamphlet on a table that seemed the only refuge from the miserable scene I found myself in. A guide to life, as it turns out, wrapped up in a rainbow coloured cover. The language was quite extraordinary. As an example of selh-help literature it ranks with the most extreme I've ever seen, but it really didn't need the advertisments for Jesus written into it. Something of a confidence trick then. A booklet that suggests not only your life can be better, but that Jesus is responsible for that change. I threw the document back on the desk. It really was too much to swallow, like food so heavily spiced that it makes you cough and splutter. Having watched Derren Browns recent denounciation of the faith healer industry on television, it all fitted the pattern. Normally I launch into some sort of criticism of christianity at this point. Truth of the matter is that their tactics to recruit new members aren't entirely unique. Such things are sometimes done by other agencies who want you to do this or that with your life. Some might argue that it's time to pick up the rainbow coloured pamphlet. Read its content. Digest the message. Turn my life around. I've said before also that christian missionaries are no better than drug dealers. Feeling bad? Have a shot of Jesus up your arm. You'll feel great. Except that I don't think it really does. Like the idea that we can live forever if we worship, the idea that our lives will actiually be any better simply by deciding it's going to be is among the great confidence tricks of religion. You see we still have the problem that other people can influence whether we're successful or not. Right now I'm under pressure to stop being a personality. Nothing to do with maturity or manners, just that I conform to someone elses expectation. Because I resist, because I want to be me, my life is slowly dismantled so that I become psychologically weaker, and whether the influence is religion, employment, politics, or any other authoritarian group, I will be readjusted. Told what to say, do, and wear. Do I really want to be a robot for the rest of my life? There's a empty shop not far from where I live. In the window is a large photo montage, an artistic display on the theme of despair and empowerment. Do something strange and extraordinary, it tells us in bold type, so that your life will be better. I'd be happy to Unfortunately it seems too many people don't like me doing that.

Something's wrong. I know something is wrong. Part of me thinks this might be paranoia, yet I cannot escape the evidence of the light through the bedroom curtains. It looks distinctly un-sunny. Oh no! My worst fears were confirmed as I glanced bleary eyed out the back window. A grey, overcast day, with a sombre mood. How strange! Normally it rains on a Bank Holiday Monday but all we got was blistering sunshine. What it must have been like trapped in a traffic jam with a family of bored kids whilst slowly melting in your five-star safety rating oven on wheels is anyones guess. Sounds like my idea of hell. How To Enjoy The Royal Wedding Of course the reason that our sunny weather is evaporating and normal dreary dampness restored is because of the Royal Wedding. What national event in Britain could possibly take place without a deluge? Just now I looked at a news item that tells the world where to enjoy the Royal Wedding. The list of places was predictable and uninspired, being restricted to public parks, medieval castles, or stood with all the other punters along the route. Failing that of course there's always YouTube. The royal family have booked a page to delight us all with talking corgi's and stumbles. I think we need to show more imagination as a country. Surely there's more exciting and interesting places to watch the wedding from? Certainly not afghan prisons, as the timely escape of Al Qaida inmates shows. Certainly not Ireland, with dissident terrorists plotting to reduce the wedding to the status of a war crime. I know. Let's not watch it at all and go instead for a holiday in some remote exotic locale? After all, with everyone converging on London for the practice of the Queens Funeral, surely there's some good deals going down at travel agents? Departing Live As if the Royal Wedding wasn't bad enough, I see there's plans to show a man dying live on television. Please forgive me for being a bit of a party pooper here, but I really do have better things to watch.

Apparently the americans are so unbothered about the royal wedding they've produce a 'made for tv' film about the romance leading up to it. Naturally it bears no resemblance to anything remotely like real life. Since when was Hollywood bothered about reality?

Hot... Too hot... Music being played in the park.... Oh stuff it. I can't be bothered to type anything out. Sunshine does this to the british. My genetic compulsion to laze immobile whilst being slowly cooked is too strong to resist. Bye for now. See ya tomorrow or something...

I thought you yanks defined mountains as bumps in the landscape higher than a thousand feet above the surrounding scenery? I know we do. Sadly we don't have mountains in Darkest Wiltshire, as our tallest spot is Liddington Hill (just down the road from me) which rises about 600 feet at most. Other than that we have a country lane in Wroughton, immediately south of my home town, which is so steep it might as well be classed a mountain because you need oxygen and ropes to walk up it. So there you have an alternative definition

Catching the rays has become a very working class english thing to do, providied there's plenty of lager to lubricate the sunshine. Oh, and short trousers are essential sun-bathing apparel. Muscles are just showing off.

The effort and skill required to handle formula one cars is not in doubt. However, the spectacle is largely spin. A single overtaking move on F1 is headline news. Other than that it's a multimillion pound traffic jam moving at whatever speed the first three decide, rather like the M25 without speed cameras. The problem is that F1 has become a showcase for racing technology. It is, frankly, incredibly dull to watch compared with the less restrained classes of motoring racing. But hey, if you like that sort of thing...

Mid morning and it's already very, very warm. A couple of years ago we were coping with snow at this time of year. As I strolled past the newsagent at the bottom of the hill the headline boldly displayed on a tabloid was Hottest Easter For 100 Years. Did I really need to buy a newspaper to tell me that? It gets better. Last night I saw a smog warning. Smog? I though that was banned by british law. The Clean Air Act of Before I Was Born. Now they're trying to tell us not to use our cars for short journeys because it makes the smog worse if we do. Why do they bother? We're already paying more for petrol than ever before. Lights Out It seems the american press are getting a little short tempered with us brits right now (Come on guys, chill, it's the weather) because Buckingham Palace isn't keeping the lights on at night so their camera crews can take nice shots of it for their daytime tv news. Obviously the palace is in demand because there's going to be a wedding (in case you hadn't heard) but for crying out loud chaps - Have you any idea how expensive energy costs are in Britain these days? What's the use of security forces buying lots of night vision cameras to protect the royal family if they leave the lights on? Come back when it's daytime. You'll see double decker buses, black taxi's, and lots of soldiers in red uniforms. You'll love it. Shouting Match Quite an argument broke out last night among yobboes meandering home after a good days alcohol fuelled football song contest. DONG!... The unmistakable sound of something hitting iron railings. Well, I suppose they were bound to collide with something eventually. At least the shouting stopped. Have I Outstayed My Welcome? "You've got enough downloads by now" The frustrated librarian hissed at me as I searched for more and more interesting items to enjoy. Sadly my addiction for downloading means that the librarian has to check them all for pornography and political un-correctness. Oooh look at this... A website about railways in Mongolia. Lotsa stuff to download too. Was that a groan I just heard from the man on the helpdesk? Heh heh heh.....

Well that's it. I have now been unemployed for three years. I suppose some people might regard that as an achievement but what a long time to go without throwing paper aeroplanes in an office when the boss isn't around. Of course the government is well aware of claimants like myself. Recently there's been news stories about the problem and interviews with politicians promising crackdowns and work placements. A part of rolls my eyes and shrugs. It's all been said and done before. Initiatives look good in the headlines for a few months but our government behaviour has shown for many years a trend toward fobbing the public off with slogans and good intentions. There is something a bit surreal about this though. With thousands upon thousands of armed services personnel about to be turned into fully trained job seekers like me, you might wonder where the financial gain was in putting them out of work. At least they had an international crisis or two to keep them busy. Now the government have to pay them to do nothing. But it gets worse...How about this? As a result of government plans to get people back into the workplace, contracts with employment service providers are being revised, and as a result of changes, there will be redundancies. So basically they're getting rid of the people helping to put people into jobs. Oh, but they are planning to help people find work, you know... Weather Update No, don't get excited, it's still sunny. Big Spiders There's a spider living under my bed. I hate it. The little monster always knows when to scarper and where to escape the vacuum cleaner. As it happens, it's not too big, so it's more like a nuisance. Thankfully british spiders don't get all that big. I was told by an expert that they never make webs bigger than six feet across here in Blighty. Nonsense. I've stumbled into bigger webs than that in Savernake Forest. You see, you should always be a little careful of people calling themselves experts. Here's why.... A couple of days ago it was announced that a fossil spider was found dating back 165 million years. That's the Jurassic period, the heyday of the big dinosaur. At around four or five inches across, I was a little underwhelmed. Didn't a BBC series feature a much bigger one? So with my employment trainer at the programme centre we occupied our time usefully by trying to find the answer on that source of all wisdom, the internet. Sigh... How did mankind survive without it?... It turns out that the spider the BBC were recreating was in fact a mistake. Mesothelae, supposedly an early poisonous spider the size of a cat, turns out to be a giant sea scorpion. Oh well, you can't be right all of the time. But in case you think I have absolute faith in the World Wide Web, fear not, because the internet has more experts than anywhere else.

"Just like being on holiday" observed a shaven haired monster of a man sat with his family on the streetside tablle under a cafe awning. "Swindon On Sea". He's right. There's a huge crowd of people milling around aimlessly for no other reason than aimlessly milling around. Come on people, do something! There's shops all around you. Stop obstructing the pavements with aimless miling and buy stuff. Save the economy and create new job opportunities for me to apply for. The Bike Sheds I was right too. I knew I would get slapped for being slow off the starting blocks with last weeks job search and sure enough my mentor at the programme centre took me to task for my unmobile phoning style. At least she was nice about it. She is quite a nice lady, bless her, but whereas she can spot minute grammatical errors at three hundred paces, she does have slight gaps in her education. I noticed a vacancy for a bike-hut mechanic. Someone actually gets paid to build and repair those things? Oh, I mused aloud, I suppose it has some perks, especially with the opposite sex. "Why's that?" My mentor asked me. What? You never had bike sheds when you were at school? "I never used bike sheds" She commented with a look of confused innocence. Why am I not suprised to hear that? The Planet Sun There was a news item on the web page about Stonehenge being an overrated tourist attraction. I mean, what do the public expect? Hordes of dancing dwarves sweeping majestically across Salisbury Plain? Guest appearances by has-been rock bands? And so the conversation got around to the inner mysteries of our most famous megalithic monument. "Stonehenge?" My mentor wondered, "Isn't that the one aligned with planets?" Not as far as I know. The sun and moon certainly. "But the Sun is a planet." She stated authoritively. Oh please! No, dear, it's a star, and I was eventually thrilled to discover that although she has stellar recognition difficulties, the time wated in class was not all in vain. She knows what a star is.

A bright and early start for Caldrail this morning. My quest to discover the causes of my health issues now leads me on a major expedition into the countryside where Swindons hospital now resides. Of all the daft places to build one it's miles out on the fringe of wilderness. At least there's a footpath all the way there. Someone thought of that. The Great Western Hospital has attracted a poor reputation of late. As far as I could tell, the staff were efficient, courteous, and very helpful, pretty much what we expect the NHS to be. Luckily though I wasn't parking my car there. Now there's a bone of contention, with too few spaces charged enthusiastically, and I noticed the parking attendant eyeing me suspiciously as I walked past the bus stop. His laser rangefinder was locked on to me. Sorry mate, I'm walking.... Yeah yeah, next time, eh? Allow two hours for your appouintment, the letter said. I expected a chat with a doctor and a few simple tests. Instead I was poked, prodded, irradiated, and made to break sweat on a walking machine. "It's going to get faster... In ten seconds..." The nurse told me as I hung on for dear life wheezing and dripping with sweat. I'll bet she has a riding crop in her desk. However, it wasn't all bad news. Having pretty young nurses rub all sorts of exotic gels on my body is not entirely an onerous experience. Help... I'm sweating.... Oh yeah. I'm nearly as fit as a fiddle. Apparently all I'm probably suffering from is aggravated middle age. So a job with NASA is still on then? it's A Hot Day No sooner had I recovered from exertions in the hospital than I had to walk home again, and the sun is extraordinarily warm today. Help... I'm sweating.... It's A Hot Meal A quick pit stop at home before embarking on the next part of my busy day. Haven't got time to cook anything, so it's the left over chilli from the weekend sitting in my fridge. Gulp. Not sure if that's a good idea.... A few minutes in the microwave... Ping!... And now to torture my tase buds with exotic spices the likes of which have ne'er been swallowed before.... Help... I'm sweating... Meanwhile, Back At The Programme Centre Oh heck... I've got jobs to find and so little time left to apply for them before the centre closes for the afternoon. Help... I'm sweating....

I stand by what I said. Half the stuff talked in historical and archaeological circles is speculation, and without that, half the evidence makes no sense or is misinterpreted. It's about ideas man. If all you do is stifle a subject because no-ones got some dusty scroll on the subject then history as a field of study is sterile and dead. You do sound very blinkered. There's nothing wrong with speculation whatsoever provided that it remains such until evidence says yay or nay. Since you tell me there's no evidence, I must speculate. Anyway, I'm not interested in your views on evidence. This a thread about whether homosexuality destroyed the Roman Empire.

On the contrary. There's plenty more to be said. We've only touched on the matter of homosexuality and its significance in the Roman Empire, and simply because no Roman writer conveniently supplied us with an explicit expose does not mean we cannot draw comnclusions. That is after what expertise in history is about. otherwise all you're doing is learning by rote and understanding nothing.

So what? With all due respect to the people concerned, why does their answer necessarily silence mine? That's the entire point. We don't have any evidence of military judgement on this issue, nor as far as I'm aware, any suggestion of it for longer than the period you quote. We know there are written sources we lack, such as the military manuals of the late empire, yet I notice vegetius, even in his moaning about the state of affairs in the legions of his day, does not infer any such activity. Nor does Suetonius - and lets be honest, would he resist any mention of scandal? You cannot ignore the absence of something - it reamins a valid point within history and archaeology. If something crops up later I'll be happy to adjust my opinion. Until then, I'll extraoplate from my understanding of Roman behaviour and military history to my hearts content. I agree. However we're not discissing a permissive regime nor one with any egalitarian principles at all. The Romans are very clear about this - they want toughies who can stick swords in people, and they don't think much of greek practises. I know the latin word for penis is rooted from the same meaning of penetration, but I seriously don't think the Roman's regarded homosexuals as equals. They were blantantly chauvanistic toward women for crying out loud. Homosexuality might have been fine in palaces and back alleys of the big city - not in a camp of fighting men from all sorts of cultural origins. It isn't beyond speculation that a senior man kept a soldier as a pet but bear in mind that such behaviour was normally reastricted to boy slaves. For a serving warrior to allow himself to be treated in that fashion would be contrary to the spirit of the legion. That's not speculation Mel - it's in black and white, available from any good book store or internet site. I agree. There are always deviant cases. however, the Romans were very quick to sneer and pour scorn on such things and yet despite that, there's little or no suggestion of it. Also, the changes over 500 years may or may not be significant, but only in the late empire do we see adverse comment about legions as sign of the times. previosuly, scandal was quickly hushed up, which of itself suggests that deviant behaviour was regarded as dishonourable and unacceptable, a view compatible with current thinking on legionary issues. Further, althoiugh 500 years is indeed a long time, the legions are remarkably bound by tradition, due largely by the success they achieved which removed the need for development. A marker of success which not only covers their military performance, but also the viability of their day to day regime. Although subject to various reforms from Marius onward, the legions quality was unaffected by the re-organisations to any great degree, largely because the tradition of discipline and leadership was maintained by the centurionate, and that same quality declined as the centurionate did. That change might be said to have happened because of Constantines reforms (I've made the same accusation in the past), but undeniably it was also the extent of casualties in the centurionate in the civil wars that shredded the ranks of their experience. It can be plainly seen that one of the real strengths of the legion was the persistence of tradition and standards, something the Romans were able to do for centuries until their own penchant for grabbing power ripped it apart.

The robot was commercially available in high streets a few years ago. And already in a museum, such is the pace of change in technology. As for the Speaking Ball, it usually comes out with Stuwey saying "That was so funny I forgot to laugh"

I knew it was going to happen. My neighbour, Punch, is nothing if not predictable. On the Sunday I had left the house for an early morning hike to take advantage of the glorious good weather. With squeaky floorboards and no sound insulation between our properties, it's impossible to be silent, though in fairness I have no intention of making an unnecessary racket. I am after all required by the letting contract not to do things that upset the neighbours. But my early morning departure was impossible for his slavic masculinity to ignore. Anything I do that impacts on his life in any degree whatsoever is regarded as a challenge to his status as the 'take no crap' member of society he clearly wants to be. So this morning he slammed doors and shelves with total abandon before he left for work. As I say , I knew he would. That was why I had an early night previously. Seeking Something Interesting Yesterday was the televised coverage of the Chines Grand Prix. Shall I watch it? Dunno... It is motor racing after all, and I do like a bit of that, but for me Formula One fails to energise that part of my anatomy that makes me all excitable about it. Sorry, but Formula One is incredibly dull. It really is. Why that should be is hard to figure out. On the one hand the personalities involved don't seem as larger-than-life as they once were. They all seem squeaky clean boy-next-door types. They all make shy smiles and talk quietly like they're uncomfortable with all the attention they're getting. And the cars are so horribly anonymous and ugly these days, like carrion birds daubed in warpaint because you couldn't tell one from the other if they didn't. There's nothing really attractive about them, no real artistry, just a total surrender to computer aided efficiency that leaves me cold. On the other hand, another channel was showing the BTCC event at Donnington. Ginetta Junior and GT, Formula Renault, Touring Cars, and a few other race categories, all jostling for prizes in races where you see competition in a lot less timid fashion than Formula One demands. Sorry Bernie, but Donnington was more fun to watch.

It's not a testudo, but a static shield wall composed of two rows of shields rather than one.

Unfortunately we do know the recruitmnent policy of the Roman legions. Now whilst I take on board the concept of active and passive parts in the act and the manner in which this would be viewed, clearly the Romans would take a dim view of anything they considered less than a typical masculine individual. However, as you rightly point out, that doesn't exclude the act or those prone to committing it. In answer to that I would point out that the conturberniae were set up to avoid such circumstance. Never forget the prevailing regime prior to the late empire was one we would describe as macho and even loutish. It was the duty of the lead man in a barracks room of eight 'close friends' to keep misanthropic behaviour at bay. Whilst some regard him as no more than a junior NCO, that's merely foisting our own modern world on the Romans which is an assumption I find indefensible. In fact, it seems his role was more of a social nature, since the Roman's clearly had no use for small unit tactics, nor did they assign small units to duty, preferring to assign individuals regardless of which contubernium they belonged to. Remember that service for the average legionary was a bleak prospect. Certainly it was regularly paid, with the prospect of additional rewards and some other perks, but that soldier could not expect promotion, had signed for a twenty five year term, and would be expected (unless an exemption was found) to take part in heavy manual labour. It was therefore important that the legion addressed their esprit-de-corps, which originally was little more than patriotism and aggression harnessed by tradtion and leadership. Later, in imperial times, the focus had changed to money thus we see a distinct lack of the earlier zeal in performing their role for Senate and People of Rome. Not suprising then that the legion was adapted to provide other means of achieving loyalty from disparate recruits, few of whom had signed on for anything like a sense of duty to the state. The order pf barracking was therefore one means of achieving it. The grouping of soldiers into eight man contuberniae has immediate benefits. It allows the development of 'family', a concept far more wide ranging in Roman minds than the narrow nucleated ideal of today (It was also used in gladiatorial circles to achieve the same standards of lotyalty and behaviour). In that respect then the idea that one member of their 'family' at least was effectively behaving as a woman would be disagreeable to the majority. I don't believe for a moment that sort of activity escaped the attention of the others considering the closeness they developed betweeen themselves, which is, as I m entioned previously, one of the reasons for establishing such a structure. That isn't to say legionaries didn't indulge their variant passions away from the group. There was little other than rumour to dissuade men once off duty and away from the camp, something they did frequently. What we cannot dismiss however is the nature of the legion and the propensity for bullying exhibited by it's soldiers. If a man accepts the standards of the regime and his place in the pecking order, there's a good chance he'll be left alone. Should he exhibit variant behaviour disapproved by the majority, he would be fair game for insults or worse. Given the larcenous nature of the legionaries that our sources describe, it wouldn't be hard to imagine a homosexual warned that All that is well and good. The fact remains the centurion was responsible for leading and disciplining his century. Senior commanders generally didn't get involved unless they saw something they didn't like, but even then, they would have the centurion deal with it. We know centurions meted out the punishment themselves as often as not. Should he discover one of his men was effectively a woman, it reflects on his leadership and career prospects, and understandably the situation would require immediate attention to bring his men back to conformance with the legionary ideal. In fairness it must be said that some centurions were probably somewhat lacklustre as leaders. It certainly holds true that many senior officers were more concerned with luxury and lifestyle than actually running a military formation. I don't doubt there were occaisions when patricians proved to be less than the masculine ideal, though in their case their status preculded attention from the centurions, the men responsible for discipline and good order within the legion. Instead, considering their reputation would affect their political career and the loyalty of the men, such indulgencies would be likely something committed in secret, and without the observation of 'close friends', it would be easier for them to hide it.