Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience Page 9

  skytalides remain unique. Thus, we are left in the end with a dilemma of sorts: we know disfigurement or loss of corpses and subsequent misidentification could occur, and yet we hear of no standard methodology for precise identification which could explain the Greeks' apparent facility in reckoning individual battle casualties. Perhaps the relatively small losses (in modern terms) in battle (e.g. Krentz 1985, 13–20), the accuracy of muster lists, and the presence of family and close friends in the ranks usually allowed for a rough 'process of elimination' which left only a few hoplite dead positively unidentified.

  We have considered the katalogos and the muster rolls carried by the taxiarch, roll-calls, personal recognition, armaments, and hoplite initiative—all of which could work in concert to help determine the number of casualties and ensure identification of the dead. But with whom, then, did ultimate responsibility lie for the gathering up and identification of the dead? Hellenic society clearly assumed that responsibility lay with the commanding general; the rationale for this practice is nicely summarized in the following passage from Onasander, which may well have applied to the earlier Archaic and Classical Periods:

  The general should take thought for the burial of the dead, offering as a pretext for delay neither occasion nor time nor place nor fear, whether he happen to be victorious or defeated. Now this is both a holy act of reverence toward the dead and also a necessary example for the living. For if the dead are not buried, each soldier believes that no care will be taken of his own body, should he chance to fall, observing what happens before his own eyes, and thereby judging of the future, feeling that he, likewise, if he should die, would fail of burial, waxes indignant at the contemptuous neglect of burial.

  (Strategikos 36.1–2, Loeb translation)

  Yet, in spite of this more formal delegation of responsibility to officers, the performance of which undoubtedly involved muster lists and roll-calls, it seems equally clear that each hoplite on the field would have felt an obligation to those with whom he served, not only to aid him during the onslaught of battle, but to protect and treat him when wounded and to retrieve and identify him when fallen (e.g. Ducrey 1985 pl. 146); the use of tokens by the Spartans perhaps suggests as much, that the real concern for proper identification came from the hoplites themselves, who knew best what spear, sword,

  looting and decay could do to flesh. Depending on the number of casualties, both hoplites and their servants would have been employed in the physically and emotionally unpleasant process of gathering the bodies of the dead—in some cases friends, brothers, fathers, and sons—always after having taken part in an exhausting battle.

  The participation of the army in this battlefield ritual of retrieval and identification of the dead—like the battle sacrifice and trophy—marked yet another strong affirmation of the unique, integrated nature of Hellenic military and civil life in the Classical Period. As we have seen, the war dead were lionized by the living and were held up as monuments, both literally and figuratively, to the greatness and glory of a particular state. The efforts of comrades—and even enemies—to ensure that the bodies of the fallen were given their due without shameful desecration or neglect demonstrate the strength of the shared beliefs of the Hellenic community, and the near-conspiratorial composition of hoplite armies from a landed class of like individuals, originally small farmers all.

  Euripides' sentiment that robbing the dead of their rightful dues would 'unman even heroes' (Suppl. 538–41), implying as it does that no warrior would be brave were he not secure in receiving proper funeral rites, at first glance might seem to ignore the intensity of the battle experience and to suggest that, on occasion, this was not the natural responsibility of fellow hoplites. However, the real force of the passage is one of reassurance, to reinforce the truth that the state was obligated to the soldier, even in cases of awful and bizarre circumstances, such as the prolonged delay at Delion or the Spartan débâcle at Leuktra. Such universal custom and knowledge became a comfort which the hoplite carried with him, consciously or not, that in a larger sense his service to the state would not go unrewarded. Furthermore, the hoplite had this promise from both the man at his side and his community at large, and he had seen this mystique come to fruition for those who had died before: that the dead really did live on in glory forever. No words here can substitute for those of Thucydides in the famous funeral oration of Perikles:

  For the whole world is the sepulchre of famous men, and it is not the epitaph upon monuments set up in their own land that alone commemorates them, but also in lands not their own there abides in each breast an unwritten memorial of them, planted in the heart rather than graven on stone.

  (2.43.3)

  There would have been few missing in action, few 'unknown soldiers, few skeletons on the battlefield like those Herodotus saw at Plataia years after the Persian disaster (Hdt. 9.83). This eternal commemorative meant that the Greek hoplite, though fallen, would continue to be part of his community, not separated from it by death. Furthermore, memorializing the dead always involved, lest we forget, the particularly unpleasant task of removing and identifying the decomposing remains of family and friends. Individual recognition—for the living and the dead—and glory in war really did work together, like so many other aspects of Greek society, to reinforce the unity of all the citizens of the city-state.

  NOTES

  I would like to thank my colleagues at California State University, Fresno, Dr Victor Hanson and Dr Bruce Thornton, who both read early drafts of this paper and offered many helpful suggestions. The final result has been immeasurably improved by their able assistance, and naturally any omissions or shortcomings are mine alone. Works referred to by author alone or with short title or date are cited in full in the Bibliography to this volume.

  1. One sees this portrayed early in Greek art as well; see, for example, several plates in Ahlberg 1971:6, 57, 87–90. See also the discussion in Hanson 1989 (The Killing Field,' and in particular pp. 199–204) regarding the appearance of the battlefield after hoplite warfare.

  2. Who apparently and mistakenly (?) associates the incident with the battle of Mantineia in 418 BC; despite the apparent apocryphal nature of such a story, designed to affirm the friendship and loyalty between Pelopidas and Epameinondas, the depiction of the danger to Pelopidas seems quite accurate.

  3. This situation also illustrates the great risk to the wounded once they fell among the crush of dead and dying. In one instance the Spartans thought that their commander, Hippagretos, had died at Sphakteria (425 BC), but he was actually lying wounded among (and possibly hidden beneath) the many corpses (Thuc. 4.38).

  4. Of course, it is neither the intention here to reopen any discussion regarding the well-known controversy pertaining to the Athenian patrios nomos nor to presume to expand on the extensive and invaluable material in W.Kendrick Pritchett's several volumes on The Greek State at War, (1971–85) especially his fourth, and in some sense, his most valuable treatment of hoplite battle.

  5. Cf. Plut. Thes. 36.1–3, Kim. 8. Kimon, according to Athenian legend, was able to echo the spirit of Theseus' undertaking on behalf of the Argive dead, for he returned to Attika Theseus' own bones from hostile territory (cf. Paus. 1.17.2).

  6. Plutarch disputes Euripides' portrayal, which shows the Thebans flouting panhellenic tradition, and cites Philochoros as his source for Theseus' truce. Herakles, in some sources, is also credited as the first to establish the practice of a truce for retrieval of the dead (Plut. Thes. 29.5; Ail. VH1 12.27).

  7. In the Odyssey, too, respect is shown for the bodies of the dead suitors, when they are all returned (properly identified?) to their families for burial (24.418).

  8. Obviously, such concern for the dead was not limited to the field of battle, as the previous note indicates. Ultimate responsibility for all dead—civilian and military—lay with the state (Dem. 43.57–8). Cf. Ail. VH 5.14, for the Athenian law requiring all who saw an unburied body to cast earth upon it, which of course assumes th
at corpses could occasionally not be given over for burial.

  9. For a complete analysis of the material, see generally Pritchett, War 4.

  10. See Pritchett, War 4.152 regarding the distance of transportation in this case, and generally War 4.145–53 regarding the monuments in detail.

  11. This particular heroon is apparently quite old according to Pritchett (War, 4.152), perhaps from the seventh century BC, and thus further evidence of the antiquity of the notion of reverence to the dead, even accorded to those from outside the immediate community.

  12. But certainly not the Persians, who for their effrontery in invading Greece were left to lie where they had fallen (cf. Hdt. 9.83).

  13. The Plataians, remember, at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, were able to appeal to the Lakedaimonians for mercy on the basis of the Spartan dead from the battle of 479 BC still interred at Plataia. They believed (wrongly) that devotion to those glorious fallen warriors might cause the Spartans to prevent Thebes from taking over Plataia, thus putting Spartan dead in enemy hands (Thuc. 3.58–9). But, like so much of hoplite ritual and practice during the barbarism of the Peloponnesian War, the old rules simply no longer applied.

  14. Showing both names and patronymics; cf. Pritchett, War 4.168–73 and notes cited there.

  15. See, for example, the discussion in L.Van Hook, 'On the Lacedaimonians buried in the Kerameikos,' AJA 36 (1932) 290–92.

  16. I, like most others, find extremely persuasive Pritchett's argument that, in spite of the lack of an inscription, the joint testimony of Strabo and Pausanias should be decisive. His analysis of the excavations, including the evidence of the skeletons buried in the Theban tomb, seems conclusive. 'Observations on Chaironeia,' AJA 62 (1958) 307–11. For an opposing view, see N.G.L.Hammond, The two battles of Chaironeia (338 BC and 86 BC),' Klio 31 (1938) 186–218. Regarding the Athenian epigrams, see Pritchett, War 4, 223–6.

  17. For treatment of the lists (the majority of which are Athenian) and the usual problems and controversies involved, see generally G.Smith, 'Athenian casualty lists,' CP 14 (1919) 351–64; D.W.Bradeen, 'Athenian Casualty Lists,' CQ 63 (1969) 145–59; Pritchett, War 4.139–45; C.W. Clairmont, Patrios Nomos (Oxford, 1983) 179ff.

  18. If one believes Pausanias, 9.32.9; cf. also Plut. Lys. 13; Xen. Hell. 2.1.31; and (especially) the discussion in Pritchett, War 4.238–9 (with notes).

  19. On unburied dead, both during and after the Classical Period, see generally Pritchett, War 4.235–41.

  20. Regarding the katalogos, see references also in Thucydides 6.31.3; 6.43; 8.24.2; Plutarch Nik. 14; Xenophon Hell. 2.3.20; Mem. 3.4.1, cf. Hipp. 1.2. See further G.Smith, 'Athenian Casualty Lists,' CP 14 (1919) 351–64, especially at 351–4; A.Andrewes, 'The Hoplite Katalogos.' M.H. Hansen's contention ('The number of Athenian hoplites in 431 BC,' SO 56 (1981) 19–32) that there was no central katalogos drawing exclusively from the hoplite census in no way affects the idea that military commanders always had master lists of the men in the field.

  21. It was a Spartan custom to bring the bodies of kings (who, apparently, were always easily identified) home for burial (e.g. Plut. Ages. 40; cf. Xen. Hell. 5.3.19, Diod. 15.93); consequently it was a great disgrace to let the body fall into enemy hands (Paus. 9.13.10).

  22. 'Let us slay the men, then at leisure you will plunder the corpses lying on the ground,' as Nestor told the Argive forces (Homer, Il. 6.70–1). On viewing hoplite dead, cf. supra note 1.

  23. Was it a particular mark of courtesy between fellow citizens that, after the battle against the Thirty at the Peiraieus, the bodies of the dead were returned with their tunics still on (Xen. Hell. 2.4.19)? Perhaps this suggests that in most cases even undergarments were stripped away, with nudity thus adding to the anonymity of the corpses in some cases.

  24. For additional information regarding both the battle and the topography of the area, see Pritchett, Topography 2. 31–2; 34–6,

  25. Polyainos, in his traditional eulogistic fashion, records that Archidamos, although wounded himself, sought the truce in order to save his own men (1.41.4).

  26. See, for example, the well-known story related in Polyainos 2.3.11, in which Epameinondas was reluctant to draw up his troops because they would have been disheartened to see the number of dead friends missing from their ranks, which might imply, too, that there was some element of delay between the end of battle and visual recognition and identification of the fallen. Otherwise, the men would have already known the outcome from their own inspection of the corpses.

  27. See once more the discussion in Pritchett, War 4.190.

  28. It must be noted that Thucydides does not say that these two corpses were unidentified, merely that they could not be found. It is entirely possible, therefore, that their identity was already known through visual recognition or surmised from lacunae during roll-call before Nikias and the army were forced to withdraw.

  29. Although, admittedly, there is less information available about the mechanics of, for example, the Spartan methods, the use of muster rolls is implicit in the sources. Cf. Lazenby 1985:12–14.

  30. See again, generally, discussion in Hanson 1989:175–7.

  31. The alert spectator will realize that a man is less certainly recognized by his shield than by his face,' A.W.Gomme and F.W.Sandbach, Menander, A Commentary (Oxford, 1973) 68. For the Roman practice of writing names on their shields, cf. Vegetius Epit. 2.18.

  32. The bulk of the evidence for such state shield blazons is classical. See Chase 1902:75–7, 81–3; L.Lacroix, 'Les "blazons" des villes grecques,' Et. Arch. Class. 1 (1955) 89–116; Anderson 1970:17–20, 262–3; Snodgrass 1967:55 and 64–7, fig. 22. The evidence also shows that Athens, by the Hellenistic period at least, may have begun to use on state-owned armor a similar state emblem. Cf. Kroll, 'Some Athenian Armor Tokens,' Hesperia 46 (1977) 141–6, pl. 40. The arms and armor from the panhellenic sanctuaries which are inscribed with a name represent dedicatory or votive offerings, where such identification is a post-battle phenomenon.

  33. See, for example, Polyainos 1.17; Diod. 8.27.2; cf. Pritchett, War 4. 243–6. The word skytalis, of course, is a diminutive form of the skytale ('stick'), and often associated with the famous Spartan device for sending coded messages through enemy lines. See an early discussion in J.H.Leopold, "De Scytala Laconica," Mnemosyne 28 (1900) 365–91 (esp. pp. 381–2 on skytalis). One wonders whether the smaller identity 'bracelets' of the Spartan troops, as described in Polyainos and Diodoros, were similarly coded so that they could only be read by fellow Spartans. Perhaps one-half of the skytalis was left on the body, the other removed by the enomotarch or lochagos to be collated with others against a master list. Dog tags in both world wars were worn in duplicate or more, to allow both constant identification of the remains in the field and simultaneous recording at the rear.

  34. The need for additional methods was felt in spite of the distinctive long hair (e.g. Hdt. 1.82.8; Plut. Lyk. 22.1) and red cloak (e.g. Xen. Lak. Pol. 11.3; Plut. Lyk. 27.1) of the Spartan soldier which, after all, would only identify them collectively, not individually. Nor could Spartiate dead even be distinguished from the corpses of perioikoi, who were apparently often outfitted similarly (Anderson 1970:39).

  35. See discussion in Hanson 1989; 206–7.

  36. See the complete discussion in J.H.Kroll and F.W.Mitchel, 'Clay tokens stamped with the names of Athenian military commanders,' Hesperia 49 (1980) 86–96.

  * * *

  3

  HOPLITE TECHNOLOGY IN PHALANX BATTLE

  Victor Davis Hanson

  INTRODUCTION

  From the research since the early 1960s a clear picture of the Greek hoplite panoply has emerged. Archaeological finds of helmets, breast-plates, swords, greaves, shield remnants, and spearheads and butts from the major sanctuaries have been carefully collated; from these, taken together with the evidence of painted vases, the few remains of the pertinent Lyric poets, and anecdotal remarks from the Greek historians and much later military manuals, we have
learned a great deal about the first appearance of hoplite arms, their composition and methods of fabrication, regional and stylistic variations, and also the chronological development of and transformation in their use from the mid-seventh to the late fourth century BC. Only a few controversies remain, yet they are fundamental to the very study of Greek history: there is no consensus about and often little interest in, the circumstances of the panoply's introduction into Greece or the ensuing ramifications (military, social, and political) of its adoption for the tactics of phalanx warfare. This controversy has arisen in part because many have often ignored the most practical (and important) of all considerations: the battlefield experience of the men who wore the panoply. For example, even at this late date there is no agreement concerning the actual weight or suitability of hoplite armor and offensive weapons.1 Neither can we obtain any accurate idea about the limits of physical endurance of men under arms and thus the very length of hoplite battle itself.2 Nor do we appreciate how specific elements of the panoply were exclusively advantageous for the particular environment of fighting in close array.