Part 10 (2/2)
Our curiosity of course asks how does this army act upon the campaign; what, in other words, is a typical Greek battle? This is not hard to describe. Greek battles, until lately, have been fought according to set formulae in which there is little room for original generals.h.i.+p, though much for ordinary circ.u.mspection and personal valor. A battle consists in the charging together of two phalanxes of hoplites of about equal numbers. If one army greatly overmatches the other, the weaker side will probably retire without risking a contest. With a common purpose, therefore, the respective generals will select a broad stretch of level ground for the struggle, since stony, hilly, or uneven ground will never do for the maneuvering of hoplites. The two armies, after having duly come in sight of one another, and exchanged defiances by derisive shouts, catcalls, and trumpetings, will probably each pitch its camp (protected by simple fortifications) and perhaps wait over night, that the men may be well rested and have a good dinner and breakfast.
The soldiers will be duly heartened up by being told of any lucky omens of late,--how three black crows were seen on the right, and a flash of lightning on the left; and the seers and diviners with the army will, at the general's orders, repeat any hopeful oracles they can remember or fabricate, e.g. predicting ruin for Thebes, or victory for Athens. In the morning the soldiers have breakfast, then the lines are carefully arrayed a little beyond bowshot from the enemy, who are preparing themselves in similar fas.h.i.+on. Every man has his arms in order, his spear point and sword just from the whetstone, and every buckle made fast. The general (probably in sight of all the men) will cause the seers to kill a chicken, and examine its entrails. ”The omens are good; the color is favorable; the G.o.ds are with us!”[*] he announces; and then, since he is a Greek among Greeks, he delivers in loud voice an harangue to as many as can hear him, setting forth the patriotic issues at stake in the battle, the call of the fatherland to its sons, the glory of brave valor, the shame of cowardice, probably ending with some practical directions about ”Never edging to the right!” and exhorting his men to raise as loud a war-cry as possible, both to encourage themselves and to demoralize the enemy.
[*]It may be suspected that it was very seldom the omens were ALLOWED to be unfavorable when the general was really resolved on battle.
93. Joining the Battle.--The troops answer with a cheer then join in full chorus in the ”Paean--” a fierce rousing charging-song that makes every faint-heart's blood leap faster. Another paean bellowed from the hostile ranks indicates that similar preliminaries have been disposed of there. The moment the fierce chorus ends, the general (who probably is at the post of danger and honor--the right wing) nods to his corps of pipers. The shrill flutes cut the air. The whole phalanx starts forward like one man, and the enemy seem springing to meet it. The tossing color, the flas.h.i.+ng arms and armor, make it a sight for men and G.o.ds. If the enemy has a powerful archery force, as had the Persians at Marathon, then the phalanx is allowed to advance on the run,--for at all costs one must get through the terrible zone of the arrow fire and come to grips; but if their bowmen are weak, the hoplites will be restrained,--it is better not to risk getting the phalanx disorganized. Running or marching the troops will emit a terrible roaring: either the slow deep ”A!
la! la! la!” or something quicker, ”Eluleu!” ”Eluleu!” and the flutes will blow all the while to give the time for the marching.
Closer at hand the two armies will fairly spring into unfriendly embrace. The generals have each measured his enemy's line and extended his own to match it.[*] With files of about equal depth, and well-trained men on both sides, the first stage of the death grapple is likely to be a most fearful yet indecisive pus.h.i.+ng: the men of the front ranks pressing against each other, s.h.i.+eld to s.h.i.+eld, glaring out of their helmets like wild beasts against the foeman three feet away, and lunging with their lances at any opening between the hostile s.h.i.+elds or above them. The comrades behind wedge in the front ranks closer and closer. Men are crushed to death, probably without a wound, just by this h.e.l.lish impact. The shouts and yells emitted are deafening. There is an unearthly clas.h.i.+ng of steel weapons on bronze armor. Every now and then a shrill, sharp cry tells where a soldier has been stabbed, and has gone down in the press, probably trampled to death instantly. In this way the two writhing, thrusting phalanxes continue to push on one another at sheer deadlock, until a cool observer might well wonder whether the battle would not end simply with mutual extermination.
[*]Any sudden attempt to extend your line BEYOND the foe's, so as to outflank him, would probably have produced so much confusion in your own phalanx as to promise certain disaster. Of course for an inferior force to accept battle by thinning its line, to be able by extending to meet the long lines of the enemy, would involve the greatest risk of being broken through at the center. The best remedy for inferior numbers was manifestly to decline a decisive battle.
94. The Climax and End of the Battle.--Boot look away now from the center, towards the two wings. What the generals of BOTH contending armies have feared and warned against has come to pa.s.s. Every hoplite is admirably covered by his great s.h.i.+eld on his left side; but his right is unprotected. It is almost impossible to resist the impulse to take a step toward the right to get under the cover of a comrade's s.h.i.+eld. And he in turn has been edging to the right likewise. The whole army ahs in fact done so, and likewise the whole phalanx of the enemy. So after a quarter of an hour of brisk fighting, the two hosts, which began by joining with lines exactly facing each other, have each edged along so much that each overlaps the other on the right wing, thus:
What will happen now is easy to predict with a.s.surance up to a certain point. The overlapping right wings will EACH promptly turn the left flank of their enemies, and falling upon the foe front and rear catch them almost helpless. The hoplite is an admirable soldier when standing shoulder to shoulder with his comrades facing his foe; but once beset in the rear he is so wedged in by the press that it is next to impossible for him to turn and fight effectively.
Either he will be ma.s.sacred as he stands or the panic will spread betimes, and simultaneously both left wings will break formation and hurry off the field in little better than flight.
Now will come the real test of discipline and deliberate valor. Both centers are holding stoutly. Everything rests on the respective victorious right wings. Either they will foolishly forget that there is still fighting elsewhere on the field, and with ill-timed huzzaing pursue the men they have just routed, make for their camp to plunder it, or worse still, disperse to spoil the slain; or, if they can heed their general's entreaties, keep their ranks, and wheeling around come charging down on the rear of the enemy's center. If one right wing does this, while the hostile right wing has rushed off in heedless pursuit, the battle is infallibly won by the men who have kept their heads; but if both right wings turn back, then the real death grapple comes when these two sets of victors in the first phase of the contest clash together in a decisive grapple.
By this time the original phalanx formations, so orderly, and beautiful, have become utterly shattered. The field is covered by little squares or knots of striking, cursing, raging men--clas.h.i.+ng furiously together. If there are any effective reserves, now is the time to fling them into the scale. The hitherto timorous light troops and armor bearers rush up to do what they can. Individual bravery and valor count now to the uttermost. Little by little the contest turns against one side or the other. The crucial moment comes. The losing party begins to fear itself about to be surrounded.
Vain are the last exhortations of the officers to rally them.
”Every man for himself!” rings the cry; and with one mad impulse the defeated hoplites rush off the field in a rout. Since they have been at close grip with their enemies, and now must turn their ill-protected backs to the pursuing spears, the ma.s.sacre of the defeated side is sometimes great. Yet not so great as might be imagined. Once fairly beaten, you must strip off helmet and cuira.s.s, cast away s.h.i.+eld and spear, and run like a hare. You have lightened yourself now decidedly. But your foe must keep HIS ponderous arms, otherwise he cannot master you, if he overtakes you. Therefore the vanquished can soon distance the victors unless the latter have an unusually efficient cavalry and javelin force.
However, the victors are likely to enter the camp of the vanquished, and to celebrate duly that night dividing the plunder.
95. The Burial Truce and the Trophy after the Battle.--A few hours after the battle, while the victors are getting breath and refres.h.i.+ng themselves, a shamefaced herald, bearing his sacred wand of office, presents himself. He is from the defeated army, and comes to ask a burial truce. This is the formal confession of defeat for which the victors have been waiting. It would be gross impiety to refuse the request; and perhaps the first watch of the nigh is spent by detachments of both sides in burying or burning the dead.
The fates of prisoners may be various. They may be sold as slaves.
If the captors are pitiless and vindictive, it is not contrary to the laws of war to put the prisoners to death in cold blood; but by the fourth century B.C. Greeks are becoming relatively humane.
Most prisoners will presently be released against a reasonable ransom paid by their relatives.
The final stage of the battle is the trophy: the visible sign on the battlefield that here such-and-such a side was victorious. The limbs are lopped off a tree, and some armor captured from the foe is hung upon it. After indecisive battles sometimes both sides set up trophies; in that case a second battle is likely to settle the question. Then when the victors have recovered from their own happy demoralization, they march into the enemy's country; by burning all the farmsteads, driving off the cattle, filling up the wells, girdling the olive and fruit trees, they reduce the defeated side (that has fled to its fortified town) to desperation. If they have any prisoners, they threaten to put them to death. The result, of course, is frequently a treaty of peace in favor of the victors.
96. The Siege of Fortified Towns.--If, however, one party cannot be induced to risk an open battle; or if, despite a defeat, it allows the enemy to ravage the fields, and yet persists in defending the walls of its town,--the war is likely to be tedious and indecisive.
It is notorious that Greeks dislike hard sieges. The soldiers are the fellow townsmen of the generals. If the latter order an a.s.sault with scaling ladders and it is repulsed with b.l.o.o.d.y loss, the generals risk a prosecution when they get home for ”casting away the lives of their fellow citizens.”[*] In short, fifty men behind a stout wall and ”able to throw anything” are in a position to defy an army.
[*]In siege warfare Oriental kings had a great advantage over Greek commanders. The former could sacrifice as many of their ”slaves”
as they pleased, in desperate a.s.saults. The latter had always to bear in mind their accountability at home for any desperate and costly attack.
The one really sure means of taking a town is to build a counter wall around it and starve it out,--a slow and very expensive, thought not b.l.o.o.d.y process. Only when something very great is at stake will a Greek city-state attempt this.[*] There is always another chance, however. Almost every Greek town has a discontented faction within its walls, and many a time there will be a traitor who will betray a gate to the enemy; and then the siege will be suddenly ended in one murderous night.
<script>