MASTERS of the art of war have repeatedly assured us that, whereas the weapons employed by fighting forces and the technique of using them to best advantage change from age to age, and even from year to year, the broad principles of strategy are fixed and unvarying throughout the ages. That “history repeats itself” has become a proverbial expression, and one is struck, in the examination of records of early campaigns, with the similarity which these operations bear to some of the most recent events of history. Similar situations lead to similar developments, we see the same mistakes committed both in ancient and modern wars, and can observe these mistakes bringing upon their authors the same inescapable penalties.
Accordingly, it is proposed to examine briefly the great and disastrous overseas expedition conducted by the Athenians against the city of Syracuse in 415 B.C. Such a campaign should have particular interest for us in the United States as, due to the absence of powerful neighbors, any serious war in which we are likely to become involved is almost certain to take the form of a great overseas expedition. Perhaps we may be launching such an expedition against a distant enemy, perhaps we may be defending our own shores against such a threat. In any case, the decisive power to enable us to impose our will on a resolute enemy, or the unendurable pressure necessary to bring us to our knees, can only by this means be applied. Let us therefore take thought from any lessons which may be derived from one of the earliest expeditions of this kind since history was first recorded with accuracy and detail.
At the time of the events in question, the Greek civilization dominated the eastern and central Mediterranean in much the same way as the European civilization dominated the world at the opening of the World War. In general culture, in the arts of peace and war, in personal courage and in physical perfection, the Greeks were the superiors of all the races with which they were in contact. The one thing which prevented them from dominating the known world was their inability to formulate any understanding among themselves. In government they had failed to realize anything approaching racial unity. Though they had united temporarily to throw back the Persian invasion, their confederation had crumbled at once when this menace was removed. Thereafter petty jealousies and partisan politics held sway. Thus they squandered, in warfare between their cities, the strength that might have made them the masters of the world; and their artistic and cultural excellence was passed on to the world through the less brilliant but more robust civilization of Rome.
In the fourth century, B.C., Greek colonies had spread to the westward from the home country to the south of Italy. They had overrun the island of Sicily, displacing, or at least Hellenizing, the former inhabitants; and had even extended to Corsica and Marseilles. However, they were a house divided against itself. Sicily, rich in corn and wine, was parcelled out among a dozen or more rival cities with mutual alliances or antagonisms. Some were bound by ties of blood or friendship to the various cities of the home country; some, through a large admixture of Phoenician population, looked to Carthage for support against their rivals.
Chief among the cities of Sicily was Syracuse. Situated on an excellent natural harbor in the southeast corner of the island, and backed by a hinterland of extreme fertility, she had long been a center of commerce and culture, and had from time to time exerted a sort of over-lordship over some of the smaller and less powerful cities of the island. Under her leadership, a great invasion by Carthage had been defeated and almost annihilated. As a result she grew rapidly in wealth, prestige and architectural magnificence. But meanwhile there was quietly being built up among the lesser cities subject to her sway a spirit of envy and distrust, which was almost to be her undoing in the hour of her need.
The spark which was to ignite the flames of war was found in a perennial quarrel between Egesta and Selinus, two cities in the western end of Sicily. Egesta was more nearly Carthaginian in character than the other cities of Sicily and, being worsted by its rival, applied for help from Carthage, which was refused. Selinus meanwhile sought and obtained the aid of Syracuse. The adjacent city of Leontini however, seeking relief from fancied oppression by Syracuse, allied itself with Egesta, and the two cities dispatched an embassy to Athens, seeking the aid of that powerful city in a campaign to overthrow their domineering neighbor.
Though the Athenians had no great direct interest in the outcome of this quarrel, it so happened that the times were particularly propitious for the favorable reception of such an embassy. A new generation had come up since the great victories over the Persians at Marathon and Salamis, a generation imbued with martial ideals but without the realization of the costs of warfare. Meanwhile commerce had flourished, and wealth and prosperity greatly increased. The dream of conquest, and even of world domination, was one to take ready hold on the popular mind.
As in modern times, appeal to the masses was made on the basis of high-minded, disinterested support of an oppressed ally. Nevertheless, self-interest, either real or fancied, was, as usual, the guiding principle which impelled the leading Athenians to advocate this venture. The underlying basis of these considerations was economic. Athens owed her prosperity to commerce and manufacture, and not to agriculture or natural wealth. Her own soil was mostly barren and incapable of supporting her population. Imports of grain were essential, and these must be paid for from the profits of her overseas commerce. To the eastward the routes of her shipping were commanded by the Persians. To the westward lay a fruitful area for her commerce, as well as the fertile grain fields of Sicily from which the needed supplies could readily be drawn. It is natural then, that the rise of Syracuse to a dominating position in this locality should be viewed with greatest concern. Should the extension of her influence proceed unchecked, she would shortly be in a position to dictate her will to the Athenians. However, if her prestige could be seriously weakened and her influence in Sicily replaced by that of Athens, the vital supply of food-stuffs would be secure, and a renewal of the Peloponnesian war might be undertaken without misgivings.
The arguments in favor of this expedition were eloquently and vigorously put forth by one of the leading political figures of the city, Alcibiades by name. A man of outstanding personal attractiveness, great wealth, abounding enthusiasm and general reputation both as a military leader and a politician, he not only advocated the expedition persistently, but claimed the right to command it. Modesty was not among his virtues. “It belongs to me above all others,’’ he said, “to be in command, and to tell the truth I consider myself worthy of it.”
His chief political opponent, an experienced general named Nicias, was a bit apprehensive over the proposition. Cautious almost to the verge of timidity by disposition, he was reluctant to undertake what might prove to be a long and arduous campaign against a newly acquired enemy, while still faced with the realization that the Peloponnesians only awaited returned strength and a favorable opportunity to renew their struggle with Athens. However, so universal was the popular reaction in favor of this project, that he did not consider it expedient to oppose it openly. Instead, he called attention to its difficulties, and to the great preparations necessary for it, thinking that this would chill the general enthusiasm. The people, nevertheless, readily voted for all the preparations he considered essential, and the work of assembling the necessary force, with ships, accouterments and supplies was actively put forward.
Alcibiades, the impetuous enthusiast; Nicias, the cautious conservative; and Lama- chus, probably the most accomplished leader of the three, were appointed jointly to command the expedition. This arrangement may seem remarkable to us, but in those days it was not an uncommon one. All three were well versed in both the military and naval science of the day. Indeed the Greek title, “strategos,” which they bore was applied indiscriminately to both military and naval commanders. In such a divided command the enthusiasm of one leader would be tempered by the caution of another. There would always be a majority of opinion on any question, and, though extreme brilliance was not to be expected, there was less likelihood of serious errors being committed than under the command of a single individual. Altogether, as compared to the modern system of entrusting the command of the naval forces of an expedition to an admiral and that of the military forces to a general, each with a special viewpoint and a distinct responsibility and sphere of action, the system was, if anything, less open to objection.
Preparations went forward apace. An army of five thousand heavily-armed troops was assembled and equipped; together with the light-armed slingers and bowmen, catapults and ballistas, and all the auxiliaries which went with such a host. No cavalry was provided, and the lack of horsemen was severely felt in later operations. The problem of transporting horses and their bulky fodder has always been a most difficult one in any overseas expedition, and, though this difficulty may be greatly relieved by the development of mechanical transportation, it will doubtless always present most serious complications.
For the transportation of this force, over a hundred triremes were provided. Sixty of these were regular war vessels, each manned by about 200 oarsmen pulling three banks of oars one above the other. Their principal weapon was the ram, but their upper decks were crowded with slingers and archers, as well as heavily-armed soldiers prepared to board the enemy sword in hand. They carried sail, and could make fair progress in a favorable wind, but, being entirely unequipped with cooking or even sleeping facilities for their complements, were forced to move along the coasts, except for short sea passages at favorable opportunities. Ordinarily their crews landed at night, pulling their ships’ sterns up on a sandy beach with an anchor to seaward, and camping on the shore.
The internal organization of these ships is interesting. The hull and masts were provided by the state, but the light spars and equipment were supplied by civilians, who thereby became exempt from other obligations. Such a man was known as a “trier- arch.” He paid the crew, and either supplied their provisions, or provided them with a ration allowance in money. In addition, he commanded the ship, either in person or by deputy. Below him in authority was an official who had particular charge of the rowers, assisted by two inferior officers, one on each side. The rowers were not slaves, but free citizens—though they were not considered of equal rank with the heavily-armed soldiery. Their pay was about $1.80 per month in our money, and their monthly ration allowance about equal in value. In addition to the rowers, there were special bowmen who handled the anchor gear, acted as lookouts and directed the steering; also sternmen who operated the two steering oars, one on each quarter; and a flute player who gave the time to the stroke.
Accompanying the oar galleys there were about forty rowing vessels which acted as transports and supply ships. The “train” proper, however, consisted of “round ships,” or sailing vessels, loaded with grain and heavy supplies for the expedition. These vessels were unable to proceed in company with the galleys, being entirely dependent on the wind. Probably the forty merchant galleys were used to make trips between them and the war fleet, bringing up the supplies needed for immediate consumption. As far as possible, it was intended to subsist the expedition while enroute with food purchased at the various cities along the way, but, so great was the size of this force, that few localities could stand this strain on their available food supplies, even assuming their willingness to do so. The magnitude of the transportation problem of this expedition is impressive. Yet the Athenian soldier carried all his arms and ammunition on his person, his food was the simplest, and the army required but little special equipment. If we contrast this with present day conditions, where, to a great extent, machines fight against machines and men are relegated to the secondary position of machine operators, we may visualize somewhat the stupendous transportation requirements of an expedition of similar importance in our own times.
Preparations of such importance could not be made in secret, particularly as the cities allied to Athens were called upon to furnish men, ships and supplies to augment the great fleet prepared by Athens herself. Thus, it was not long before reports reached Syracuse of the powerful armada which was being prepared to encompass its downfall. Proper measures for defense were, however, inhibited by political factionalism. The wealthy and aristocratic classes were at once impressed by the seriousness of the menace, and demanded that preparations to resist it be vigorously prosecuted. In addition to recruiting and equipping the armed forces to the maximum, strengthening the city’s walls and obtaining all possible assistance from allies, it was proposed to fit out and dispatch a small fleet of galleys to meet the enemy en route, to hamper his movements, prey upon his communications and seize favorable opportunities to attack any scattered forces. Such a force, if well handled, might have been most useful in delaying and weakening the expedition. Its appearance would have forced the Athenian galleys to keep close contact with their sailing ships, and to provide strong escorts for them as well as for the supply vessels which plied between them and the war fleet. If handled circumspectly, it is doubtful if it could have been compelled to accept action with a superior force, since, with rowing vessels, a retreating enemy could be closed only by exertion so great as to unfit the crews of the attackers for serious fighting. The operation would therefore have the same advantages from the viewpoint of the Syracusans as, under present day conditions, the delaying attack of a fast force against a heavily guarded but cumbersome expeditionary force. However, the project was not approved. The opposing political party scouted the idea that Athens was really preparing to attack their rich and populous city. The whole thing was a scare, they said, dictated by timidity or self-interest. The Athenians were not coming, or if they did come “a million men would spring to arms overnight”—or words to that effect. Thus, though generals were appointed to consider the problem of defense, little was actually done in Syracuse to prepare for the coming storm.
Meanwhile, the preparations of the Athenians had been made on a generous and even lavish scale, and in due time the expedition, equipped to the last degree of completeness, stood out of the harbor amid the blowing of trumpets and the cheers of the citizens. The fleet coasted around the south of the Grecian peninsula to Corfu, where stores and reenforcements from the allied cities had been assembled. Progress was by easy stages, but was not without difficulty, as most of the cities passed were hostile and refused supplies or even water to the expedition. When fully assembled the fleet numbered 136 fighting vessels, carrying over seven thousand heavily-armed soldiers and accompanied and served by probably in the neighborhood of three hundred merchant ships. The total number of men carried with this expedition is estimated at 36,000.
From Corfu the fleet sailed across the eighty miles of open water separating it from the heel of Italy, and coasted along the southern shore of that peninsula. Efforts were made with little success to enlist the aid, or at least the benevolent neutrality, of the Italian cities passed. After a voyage of about three months, since leaving Athens, the friendly city of Rhegium on the Straits of Messina was reached, and the three commanders met to estimate the situation and evolve plans for future action.
[Image: ROUTE OF ATHENIAN EXPEDITION. B.C.4I5.]
Nicias, with his usual caution, recommended that a demonstration be made against Selinus, that the cities of Sicily should be duly impressed with the power of the Athenian state by this display of force, and that the expedition then return to Athens.
Lamachus considered such a limited effort entirely unworthy of the great armament which had been assembled. He pointed out that the Syracusans were unprepared, and that they would probably be thrown into confusion and dismay at the sudden appearance of this vast armada. He believed that a prompt and determined attack in full force would quickly produce a complete victory, and that the fleet might then return laden with honor and booty.
Alcibiades was by nature more of a politician than a fighter. Gifted with unusual persuasive eloquence, he advocated that the Sicilian cities should be systematically canvassed for support and further reenforcements, and the fleet should finally appear before the walls of Syracuse in such overwhelming strength, and with that city so isolated from the possibility of outside assistance, that the futility of any resistance would at once be apparent to her citizens.
This plan was the one finally decided on. Detachments were sent along the coasts of Sicily, but the response of the Sicilian cities was lukewarm. Even Egesta, which was relied upon to furnish considerable assistance, as the war had been undertaken in response to her solicitations, was found to be incapable of contributing appreciably to the expedition in any way. A detachment of ten triremes was sent into the very harbor of Syracuse, where a declaration of war was delivered with appropriate pomp and ceremony. It appears probable that, had the whole fleet participated in this movement, the war might have been speedily finished. Events were to prove, as has been demonstrated by every overseas expedition up to and including the Dardanelles Campaign, that one of the greatest elements of power in such an effort is its ability to deliver a sudden, smashing blow, and that, where this advantage is lost or thrown away, the success of future operations is at once jeopardized.
Meanwhile, the main fleet had proceeded on to Catania, a city about thirty miles north of Syracuse, which, by a stratagem, was occupied as an advanced base. The possession of a point so conveniently located permitted the Athenians to threaten their enemies both by land and sea. The troops were landed for rest and refreshment, but no important operations were organized. About this time Alcibiades was called home to face charges which had been framed up against him by his political enemies. Realizing that at home the cards were stacked against him, he deserted with his flagship to the Peloponnesians, and though he later did great harm to his native city, he appears no further in this campaign. Nicias and Lamachus meanwhile squandered their time in petty operations around the coast of Sicily, taking some unimportant towns, but accomplishing nothing of real value.
The Syracusans were meanwhile thoroughly impressed with the grave danger which confronted them. Troops were assembled, fortifications were greatly strengthened and the aid of allies eagerly sought. Such was the reputation of the Athenian seamen in those days, that no thought appears to have been given at this time to naval preparations, it being considered entirely impracticable to contest with them in their own element. However, as time went by and the expected blow did not fall, the spirits of the Syracusans revived, and detachments of their horsemen were frequently sent out to reconnoiter the Athenian camp and to cut up their foraging parties.
When, at last, the Athenians decided to act directly against Syracuse, the movement was effected by water. Doubtless this was due to the fact that it had been found possible to raise only an insignificant force of cavalry, whereas the Syracusan horsemen were numerous and efficient. Landing in the face of resistance could not, in those times, have involved anything like the difficulties which this operation presents under modem conditions; yet no pains were spared to insure that no opposition should be encountered. Word was sent by pretended spies to the Syracusans that, if the Athenian camp were attacked on a certain day, an easy victory was to be expected. They accordingly set forth in force on this enterprise. Meanwhile however, the Athenian army had been embarked, and, in the absence of all of the mobile forces of the defenders, their fleet stood into the Great Harbor of Syracuse. Landing was made without opposition on the west shore of the harbor opposite to the city, and a naturally strong position was seized and fortified. Thus, when the disappointed Syracusans returned from their abortive expedition, they found their enemies securely settled only a mile from the city wall. The following day they attacked this position in force, but were repulsed by the well-trained Athenian infantry. Lack of horsemen, however, prevented the Athenians from closely pursuing their disorganized enemies.
We should expect the Athenians to follow up this entirely successful operation by moving up and investing the city. However, they did nothing of the kind. After burying their dead and erecting a trophy tocommemorate their success, they reembarked and sailed back to Catania, and subsequently to Naxos, where they went into winter quarters. Thus the result of a well- planned and highly successful operation was precisely nothing—less than nothing in fact, for the Syracusans, though defeated in battle, felt that they had, at least temporarily, thrown back the invaders. Moreover, being essentially not a military people, they were able to profit considerably from the experience gained in battle. Their organisation was materially improved, the fifteen generals who had formerly commanded their forces were reduced to three, and they looked forward to the recommencement of the conflict in the spring with renewed confidence. They also greatly strengthened the defenses of the city, building a new wall across the peninsula on which it stood, and erecting outworks covering the principal land and sea approaches.
With the coming of spring, the Athenians renewed their offensive. This time they landed in a small harbor in the Bay of Thap- sus, a few miles north of Syracuse, and marched rapidly on the city. The small force defending the high ground called the Epipolae, which lies just to the westward of the city, was driven back and, before the main force of the enemy could be brought against the invaders, they had securely occupied these heights. Thus the actual investment of the city was commenced about two years after the Athenian counsel had decided to prosecute this campaign.
Space does not permit a detailed account of the siege operations that followed. Some determined fighting took place; walls and counter walls were built with greatest en- ergy by both parties. The Athenians made good progress, but their operations at first were rendered somewhat laborious by reason of the fact that their supplies and building materials had to be brought up overland a considerable distance from their advanced base at Thapsus. Accordingly, as soon as their works had advanced far enough to provide security the Athenian fleet was moved around to the Great Harbor, where a new base was established near the mouth of the Anapus River. In executing this change of base a land battle was brought about, in which Lamachus was killed, leaving Nicias in sole command. Though the Syracusans had met with considerable success in this engagement, the situation from their viewpoint was commencing to look very unfavorable. The enemy was firmly entrenched in front of their gates, his fortifications every day increasing. Allies from the Sicilian cities were joining his cause, food and supplies were plentiful in his camp. Syracuse, on the contrary, was completely cut off by sea and almost entirely invested by land. Food was limited, and water was somewhat difficult to obtain. Preliminary negotiations leading to the capitulation of the city were therefore opened with Nicias.
However, unknown to the Syracusans, help was, in fact, at hand. Upon learning that Athens had committed herself to this operation, Sparta had seized the opportunity to reopen hostilities with her.
The first move had been to dispatch an experienced general, Gylippus by name, to take charge of the defense of the hard- pressed city. With but four galleys hastily secured from Corinth, he hurried to the south coast of Italy. There he received such pessimistic reports of the state of affairs at Syracuse that, for a while, he abandoned all hope of saving her and bent his efforts on strengthening the position of the friendly Greek cities in Italy. He then sailed around by the north coast of Sicily, picking up small forces from the cities in that locality. Meanwhile a single galley, dispatched directly from Corinth, was permitted by the laxness of the Athenian blockade to enter Syracuse with news of his coming, barely in time to break up the negotiations for the surrender of the city.
Gylippus with less than three thousand men, proceeded overland by forced marches and, before the Athenians were aware of his coming, appeared on the heights of the Epipolae and effected a junction with the Syracusan garrison. Though he brought little actual force, his arrival greatly strengthened the defenders, for, like Liman von Sanders at Gallipoli, he brought to them efficient leadership and renewed confidence. Issuing a message of defiance to the enemy, he at once assumed the offensive on every opportunity. Several minor successes were achieved, including the capture of an Athenian trireme, the first note of any naval activity on the part of the Syracusans.
The cautious Nicias appears to have been greatly impressed by this show of activity. He withdrew his base to a strongly fortified position on the Plemmyrium, the headland across the Great Harbor from the city, and abandoned any further attempt at a complete investment. A detachment of twenty vessels was sent out to intercept further reenforcements, which it was known the enemy was expecting from Corinth. These, however, succeeded in eluding the force dispatched against them, and entered the harbor, bringing much-needed supplies and fighting men. Moreover, they served as a nucleus around which the Syracusan Navy was rapidly built up.
It is difficult to excuse Nicias for permitting his enemies to use the sea as freely as they appear to have done. His naval force was of preponderant strength and, if properly disposed, might at least have brought these enemy reenforcements to action. Possibly also, a more active sea policy might have prevented the arrival of Gylippus. Nicias, however, appears to have had his attention entirely focused on the close-at- hand details of the land campaign, a nearsighted viewpoint which is not unusual in amphibious operations. Now, having failed properly to utilize his command of the sea, he had placed his enemies in a position where they might seriously challenge it.
This was not such an ambitious project as at first sight might appear. Though Athens at the outset of this war possessed a navy of outstanding strength and efficiency, the ships of Nicias were becoming water-logged and leaky, due to the prolonged service they had given with little opportunity for caulking and overhaul. The crews, originally the pick of a nation of seafarers, had been reduced in numbers and efficiency by being drafted into the shore forces and replaced, to a considerable extent, by slaves and mercenaries of inferior physique and training. Thus, though the Syracusans were admittedly unfamiliar with naval tactics, and their ships no match for those of the Athenians in speed or maneuvering power, Gylippus soon considered the time ripe to send them out against the enemy. Though himself a soldier, he had the breadth of vision to realize that no threat so seriously menaces any overseas expedition as a thrust against its sea communications.
In employing his sea forces, however, Gylippus was severly hampered by a most regrettable initial disposition. Twenty-five of his galleys lay in the Great Harbor, while the remainder of his vessels, numbering twenty, were beached in the cove to the northward of the peninsula of Ortega. To cover the junction of these forces he marched at night with his army, and at dawn attacked the Athenian position on the Plem- myrium. The Athenians, however, appear to have been warned of his intentions, for, notwithstanding this diversion, they launched sixty vessels in time to interpose between the enemy detachments. On land Gylippus scored a brilliant success, driving back the Athenians and destroying vast quantities of their stores. In the sea battle, however, the Syracusans were not so fortunate. Their northern detachment was met in open water by the Athenians and severely handled. Eleven ships were sunk and others seriously damaged. They succeeded, however, in forcing a junction with the southern detachment, and the somewhat battered survivors were beached under the walls of the town in a well protected position. Though the Athenians had lost but three vessels in this battle, their naval situation was considerably impaired, as they were now faced by a “fleet in being” of sufficient strength to constitute a serious threat.
Both sides now clearly recognized the decisive importance of the naval aspect of this campaign. Without the control of the sea Syracuse could hardly hope to hold out for long in the face of an enemy constantly reenforced from his home country, while she herself was isolated from all assistance. To the Athenians, the control of the sea was essential—if it were but seriously impaired, their operations would lose their vigor; while, should it be lost, the entire expedition would be in great danger. The Syracusans therefore lost no time in strengthening the defenses of their restricted naval base. Rows of piles were driven about their fleet, some sawed off below the water and capable of sinking the lightly-built galleys of the enemy should they be run against them. Catapults of unusual size and power were erected on shore to cover these defenses. An effort was made to destroy the enemy fleet with a fire ship, the earliest in recorded naval annals, but the Athenians succeeded in extinguishing it before any damage had been done.
Across the bay, in the Athenian base, preparations for the attack were pressed with equal vigor. The largest of their round ships, a vessel of about a thousand tons displacement, was equipped with wooden towers and protected by leather screens. Bringing her alongside the obstruction, in spite of the heavy fire directed against them, the Athenians succeeded in making fast lines to the piles and heaving up a considerable number with winches. Other piles were sawed off well below the water by divers. The defenders, however, were able to replace the obstructions almost as rapidly as they were removed.
Meanwhile, their shattered hulks were being repaired and strengthened, with a view to renewing the offensive when opportunity offered. The Syracusans realized that their ships were no match for the Athenian galleys in speed or handiness, and that their captains lacked the skill at maneuvering which their opponents possessed. Therefore they strengthened the bows of their vessels with heavy timbers, thereby further reducing their tactical qualities. They were resolved that, on their next meeting, they would give their opponents no opportunity for displaying their superior skill, but would charge them bow to bow, trusting on the increased weight and strength of their vessels to shatter the beaks of their adversaries.
The expected engagement was not long in coming. The opposing fleets met between their respective bases, and, though the battle was indecisive, the advantage rested with the Syracusans. A favorite maneuver of the Athenians had been to cut through the line of their enemy, rounding-to sharply on passing, and attacking again from abaft the beam. They had come to consider it an inexcusable piece of bad handling if a ship were allowed to strike her adversary on her bow. Therefore, when their enemies deliberately adopted these tactics, they were at first unable to adjust their minds to this form of fighting. History is replete with examples of engagements, both on land and sea, where a force has been thrown into confusion by an unexpected form of attack, and we are warned by such instances not to put too much reliance on our preconceived conception of what a naval battle will be like. Perhaps our enemy may have an utterly different conception, and, if he possesses as well the tactical initiative, the result is likely to be bad for us. In the present instance the Athenians lost seven vessels and were forced to withdraw to their own side of the harbor. By this well conceived tactical surprise the Syracusans had inflicted on them the first defeat which an Athenian fleet had ever suffered at the hands of a numerically inferior force.
On shore as well, things were at this time going badly for the Athenians. The camp to which they had removed was situated on low land, and sickness grew prevalent in their forces. The destruction of large quantities of their stores during the last land engagement had faced them with the prospect of serious logistic difficulties. But on the day following their unsuccessful naval action their depression was turned to elation by the arrival of a second magnificent fleet of seventy-three galleys, with 5,000 heavily-armed soldiers, which had been sent forth from Athens to assist them.
That Athens should be capable of this renewed effort, only slightly inferior in magnitude to the first expedition, is indeed to' be marveled at. She was at that time assailed by Sparta, which had seized the opportunity to renew hostilities, ravaging her outlying country and establishing a fortified position not far from the city of Athens itself, from which her land communications were almost completely dominated. Notwithstanding these facts, with highly commendable persistency, the Athenians had succeeded in collecting, equipping and dispatching this powerful force.
Its commander, an able general named. Demosthenes (not the famous orator by the same name), was anxious to take advantage: of the consternation caused to his enemies by the arrival of this new host; and proposed to make an immediate and general attack both by land and sea. Nicias, sick and dispirited, at first opposed this suggestion, but finally consented to an assault by land, Demosthenes led the troops to a night attack, which at first carried all before it. The attackers, however, became disorganized in the darkness, and the Syracusan reserves, advancing on them in solid masses, threw them into confusion, and finally routed them with heavy slaughter. The Athenians were driven back to their camp, new reenforcements joined their enemies, and soon it became apparent that the problem confronting the invaders was to extricate successfully their fever-striken forces from the grip of their exultant foes.
Nicias, though unwilling to attack, was still reluctant to withdraw. It sometimes takes more courage to admit defeat than to cling doggedly to a hopeless situation. Thus Ian Hamilton under somewhat similar circumstances pronounced the proposed evacuation of the Dardanelles to be “unthinkable.” An interval of inaction thus followed during which the Athenian forces grew daily weaker and more dispirited, while the enemy constantly gathered strength. Finally, Nicias consented to a withdrawal, and, over a month after the disastrous night attack of Demosthenes, all arrangements were made to take advantage of the full moon to embark the troops and retire.
The command of the sea still rested with the Athenians, and there appears no reason to doubt that the force might at this time have been withdrawn with little loss, other than the abandonment or destruction of their siege material and heavy stores. However, on the night set for the embarkation, a total eclipse of the moon took place. Not only did this impede the smooth functioning of the plans, but it filled the superstitious soldiers with consternation. To them it appeared as a terrific portent that the heavens themselves were conspiring against the expedition. Nicias seems to have been particularly impressed by this phenomenon. The plans for the embarkation were immediately canceled, sooth-sayers were consulted, and it was decided to wait till the next full moon before renewing the attempt to bring off the expedition.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the harbor, the Syracusans were filled with elation. It was apparent that the tremendous expedition which had but recently so gravely threatened their very existence was now reduced to impotence. Their preparations for a general offensive went forward with renewed energy, and they were resolved to exact the last degree of punishment from their would-be conquerors.
Though their fleet was still unprepared for a decisive sea engagement, their small boats kept a close watch on their enemy’s position, lying just out of range of their arrows and javelins, and shouting taunts and insults at their dispirited and inactive adversaries. In an attempt to drive off these pests, a sharp, though unimportant, minor naval action was brought on, in which the advantage rested with the Syracusans. As a result, their morale was raised to a still higher level of enthusiasm, while the gloom of the Athenians was deepened.
Bad as was the position of the invaders at this time, it was soon to be rendered almost hopeless. The Syracusans now commenced to block the entrance of the harbor, and the Athenians made no effort to prevent the successful completion of this work. Cut off completely by land and sea, Nicias was now driven to stake all on a decisive fleet action. One hundred and ten vessels were prepared for this last desperate effort. Their decks were crowded with the best of the heavy-armed infantry, with slingers and bowmen; and the rest of the army was drawn up on shore to witness the impending battle.
Orders were given to advance in close formation, bearing down all opposition by the weight of the attack, grappling all enemy vessels encountered, and relying on the excess complement of soldiers carried to board and capture them.
However, the Syracusans had changed their tactics. They no longer charged impetuously, but, taking an open formation beyond the range of the Athenian javelins, they set up a heavy and effective fire of stones hurled from the catapults with which their ships had been fitted, while their enemies were unable to make an effective reply. Having by this means impaired the fighting strength of their enemy, they sent among his fleet a number of small boats which, passing along the towering sides of the Athenian galleys, discharged darts through their port holes against the oarsmen, and snapped off or fouled their oars, so that the stroke was lost, the ships sheered wildly against each other and the fleet was thrown into confusion. Only then did the Syracusan galleys close for the final attack, ramming and sinking their huddled opponents, till the defeat became a rout and only a few battered vessels struggled back to beach themselves before the camp of their horrified compatriots ashore.
The similarity of this action to a modern naval battle is striking—first a long range attack scoring heavy initial damage, then a charge of light forces by which the enemy is thrown into confusion, and finally a determined “clean up” attack to reap to full measure the fruits of victory.
The result of this naval battle was decisive. Cut off from succor by sea, there remained to the Athenians but the faint hope that they might break through the shore forces of the enemy, and make their way into the interior. This they might have done had they moved promptly, as the Syracusans at once engaged in a wild orgy of feasting in celebration of their victory, and Gylippus, though recognizing the greatness of his opportunity, was unable at the moment to post forces to cover the fords and passes by which the enemy must withdraw. However, the morale of the Athenians was completely shattered and they also were, for the moment, incapable of movement. When on the next day the Athenian forces marched out on their desperate attempt, still 40,000 strong after leaving behind their sick and wounded comrades, the passes were already held by their enemies. They made some progress, however, and for eight days fought on bravely though hopelessly. At last, driven into a position from which there was no escape and attacked on all sides by greatly superior forces, the survivors, now reduced to about 7,000 in number, surrendered unconditionally.
Of the two mighty fleets which had so proudly sailed from Athens not a vessel returned. So complete was the annihilation of the invaders, that it was months before Athens learned of the fate of her expedition, and then her citizens were at first unable to credit it. The flower of her manhood had passed away, or were prisoners in the Sicilian quarries. Her navy, for years the ruler of the seas, had sunk almost into utter oblivion. Her treasuries had been drained to fit out and support this mighty expedition. She was still confronted at home with the forces of Sparta, which were securely established in a fortified position almost at her very doors. Under these circumstances, it is greatly to the credit of the Hellenic character that her government did not at once disintegrate. Instead, fresh forces were raised, a new fleet took the sea within a year, and by desperate efforts the war at home was actively prosecuted. But her efforts to recover from this great catastrophe, though valiant, were not destined to be successful. Ten years later, at Ægospotamos, the Athenian fleet of 180 vessels was utterly destroyed by Sparta. Thereafter her navy was restricted by treaty to a paltry dozen vessels, and Athenian influence was no longer effective in determining the course of human progress.
The story of the annihilation of this mighty expedition is so replete with lessons applicable to modern conditions that it is
difficult to sum up in a few words the conclusions to be drawn from a consideration of the events leading up to this great disaster. Modern conditions of warfare have greatly increased the advantage of the defenders in an overseas campaign. The Athenian expedition was prepared and equipped on a lavish scale and supported by generous reenforcements, yet it suffered a fearful defeat. Equally complete but swifter in its arrival, it is likely to be the defeat of a similar expedition in modern times, unless it be fitted out with greatest care and completeness, and move in crushing strength. Should we ever embark upon such an enterprise, those in authority must resist to the utmost, even to the sacrificing of their personal reputations, the popular demand for premature movement which will be directed against them—as it has been in all similar crises in our history.
But, having once embarked upon such an enterprise, its leaders must use the force entrusted to their command with greatest energy and determination. They must be prepared to accept the heavy losses likely to be encountered, and must strike hard, and strike again; employing every energy and resource with a vigor almost approaching recklessness, to bear down the enemy before he can bring his full strength into action.
If, on the contrary, such an effort be launched against us, we must not be dismayed by the apparent strength of our adversary, even though the situation may appear desperate. We must recall that, in such a situation, even a small force, if efficiently led, is capable of greatly delaying the enemy and embarrassing his operations, and that if we can but gain the time necessary to transmute our immense potential resources into usable military assets, we may look forward with confidence to a final victory as complete and decisive as that gained by the Syracusans.