Chapter Eight: The Landing.
In a small port along the Peloponnesian coast four triremes set out from shore towards the blue sea. On deck in one of the small flotilla of ships was Gylippus, son of Cleandridas. When the assembly had passed the motion of sending four ships to Sicily, Gylippus along with Alcibiades were at first both surprised at the choice of commander: Gylippus himself. But when the new strategos looked in detail at the reasons behind his appointment then he could easily see why.
Because of his mothax status Gylippus knew he had been chosen for the command because he was expendable. It irritated him to be portrayed in that way, but he knew deep down it was true: he was a man of inferior status. Sending a mothax to lead a small mission meant that if he were to be killed then it would not be disastrous unlike Pylos. But as the Spartan headed towards his quarters Gylippus was determined that he would carry out the mission and help Syracuse hold out against Sparta.
“I will make sure of it,” he hissed to himself. As the new year of 414 arrived Gylippus was adamant that if he were to die in Sicily then he would deal Athens a mortal blow.
*****
As the ides of late spring arrived, Nicias was below deck, his eyes looking at the map of Syracuse. The strategos autokrator was in full battle gear, with his helmet perched on the table, holding the map down. While his flagship rocked slightly among the sea Nicias decided he should go up to the deck so to survey his men. Nicias put on his helmet while walking towards the deck where fellow Athenians saluted him when he was within view. When he reached his intended target the nobleman saw that the deck was full of hoplites, sailors, missile troops and officers; barking orders to their subjects. Nicias could not help but marvel at the view that lay before him: an armada of warships led by Athens, decked out in splendour and ready for war. He then walked to the second in command of the warship, the trierarch.
“How long till the fleet reaches Syracuse?” he asked, trying to get a grasp of the armada’s bearings.
“Not long,” the trierarch replied. “The flagships under the command of the senior commanders are placed in the middle of the fleet with us. Those triremes that are placed at the very front of the armada will reach the landings points soon. They should signal us once they see the shore,” Nicias nodded, content at what he had been told, but knowing full well the landings at Syracuse could be difficult and bloody. He was under no illusion that the Syracusians had prepared to repel any assault. That is why he had decided to land a considerable distance from the city of Syracuse itself.
The night before the armada had set out, Nicias had convened a council of war, housing the senior Athenian officers, including several allied commanders from multiple states in the empire who had contributed to the expeditionary force. Nicias had remembered how long it had taken to get the allied commanders to agree to his idea, but he had managed to persuade them when he had gone over his plan in detail. The armada was to land at a little village called Leon. Nicias had chosen to land at Leon because the village was north of Epipolae, a large plateau that led to the city of Syracuse.
Every commander, whether they were Syracusian or Athenian, knew that Epipolae was crucial to the outcome of this siege. Nicias and his fellow allies were banking on landing at Leon, push towards the plateau, clear Epipolae of any Syracusians and conduct the siege. During that council of war Nicias had been at pains to stress that Leon was the least defended position, although he had stated obstacles would have been placed, instead of positioning a garrison there. Nicias was also comforted at the amount of resources he had at his disposal. When the plateau was seized from the Syracusians the goal was to erect a wall, so to starve them out on land and maintain a blockade with the fleet. But before Nicias could dissect his strategy further, so he could tweak any minor flaws, his trierarch motioned towards him.
“The assault ships have reached Leon,” he said. Nicias nodded, looking towards the shore that came upon the horizon.
*****
Asthenias gripped his spear tightly along with his shield, as he stood with his fellow comrades on a troop ship, as several of these transport ships headed towards Leon. Many men among the large triremes were feeling very queasy, as the waves smashed onto the ships and the boat rocked uncomfortably. Asthenias stood, crammed with several hundred men, at the prow of the ship so he could easily look at what lay before him. His eyes lingered at the shoreline, under a thousand paces, eager to use his good eyes to good effect and see what his regiment had to confront.
Asthenias could see the beach was peppered with several stakes facing seaward. No doubt in his mind that they were obstacles to make sure the troops ships would be forced to disembark men on sea instead of land. He could see in the background a large plateau that he felt looked menacing. Asthenias’ fixed look at the plateau got the attention of his commanding officer Adieus.
“I see that you worry about the plateau up ahead,” he said to Asthenias.
“I just wonder if the battle will be won or lost,” the Catanaian replied.
“Most likely,” Adieus explained. “Whoever controls the plateau can take or defend Syracuse,”
“Then why do we land at Leon?” asked Asthenias, slightly puzzled. “Isn’t it a short trek to the city?”
“Yes,” the officer nodded. “Which is exactly why we are landing there. Leon is likely to be lightly defended with a few hundred men defending the sector. Once we seize the beach it will allow us to push forward towards the plateau, set up a siege or even force the Syracusians to sally out for battle,” Asthenias nodded, now understanding why Leon was considered so important to land there. But before he could ponder further the alarm was sounded for the hoplites to assume battle conditions as they neared the beach.
Men checked themselves and the person next to them, making sure that everything was in place. Soon the shoreline was now coming into full view, only a couple of hundred paces away. Hoplites on the troop ships were breathing heavily, praying to the gods, while others vomited into the sea from the side to relive themselves of nerves. Asthenias could see men at the top of the plateau moving about and getting ready for any attack. Soon the assault boats got close enough to the shore and that was when the call came to disembark. Quickly several hundred troops disembarked from their ships and waded through the cold water. Although getting wet, the hoplites got out of the water, swarmed further inland, eager to get off the beach.
As the Athenians dashed to try and climb the steep slopes towards the entrances to Epipolae, Asthenias was surprised to hear a faint whizzing sound. Instinctively he raised his shield up and heard a dull thud. When he looked at his shield he saw that two arrows were lodged inside and preceded to pull them out. Soon arrows along with javelins were hitting men harassing those trying to push out from the beach. The officers quickly ordered their men to get into groups and form shield walls so to protect themselves from missiles. Among the several groups of phalanxes was Asthenias, who was trying to see from the small gap made from the interlinking shields, where the enemy were releasing their missiles. He quickly saw they were coming from plateau, at the points where those hoplites pinned down on the beach, needed to reach if they wanted to head towards Epipolae. The commanding officers knew those missile troops had to be dealt with, if they were to push forward.
“Come on, men! Let’s reach the top of the cliff!” they urged, trying to give inspiration to their men. Slowly yet surely the shield walls pushed forward, trying their best, to dodge the incessant volley of missiles coming at them. The Syracusians on top of the ridge tried to increase their rate of fire, desperate to slow the advance of the Athenians. But they were dismayed when they saw that their arrows, javelins and pebbles simply bounced off the shields of their enemy. Asthenias breathed heavily, moving forward inside the shield wall, getting ever nervous, as they got closer to the Syracusians positions. Now that several blocks of Athenian hoplites were near their objective the call came to break off. Soon several men broke formation and headed straight to the missile troops that had previously caused them such grief.
Now those Syracusian archers who had previously been the tormentor were now the tormented, as they felt the full force of Athenian steel. Asthenias was among the first to engage in fighting, quickly using his shield to deflect a javelin headed towards him. Soon he used his spear to gut an archer that had tried to flee the fighting; the Syracusian’ resolve broken at the sight of hand-to-hand combat. Asthenias had to be at his wits because even though these missile troops were not good fighters they were resilient. Asthenias then looked up to see hundreds of enemy reinforcements arriving from the plateau, straight towards the slopes of the cliff face, where most of the fighting was taking place.
However the Catanaian had to be alert, as an enemy soldier came out of nowhere to attack him. Asthenias had to use every inch of his training to move his spear quick enough to just parry away his opponent’s sword. The Syracusian was then undone, as he wasn’t quick enough to prevent Asthenias’ hoplon shield smashing into his face. The dazed soldier was quickly finished off by a fellow Athenian hoplite eager to get his first kill. As the first wave held their own against the Syracusian reinforcements, several ships of the second wave now started landing fresh hoplites to back up those who had started the attack.
A large war cry blast reverberated from the Athenian reinforcements, as they entered the fray of battle, eager to push forward to victory. The influx of fresh men had the desired effect with the Syracusian reinforcements whittled down to a mere pittance of what they originally were. After a few minutes the Syracusians had enough and broke. This was met with great joy for the Athenians who rushed ahead towards the plateau. As they scampered towards the plains of Epipolae they were eager to see the city of Syracuse.
Among the forefront of men rushing to the top was Asthenias, adamant that their chased foe would be driven away from the plains. When they reached the plateau Asthenias was quickly stopped in his tracks, including several others. Ahead were the large plains of Epipolae, along with the hundreds of Syracusians running away, heading past a small cluster of houses. But further ahead Asthenias could see on the horizon a detachment of cavalry. But it wasn’t the horsemen that caught his eye, along with his fellow men, but what was behind the riders. What occupied their eyes was the city of Syracuse, looking menacing in its size, but marvellous in its splendour.
*****
While the Athenians had reached the plateau, across the plains close to Syracuse, Hermocrates rode with a small detail of cavalry. He was shocked to see his own men retreating, their faces one of shock, as they limped back to the city. Across the plains of Epipolae his eyes could see the large block of silhouettes on the horizon. It was clear to him that the Athenians had arrived in larger numbers than he had previously thought. When inspecting the retreating men that had relinquished control of the beach Hermocrates saw one of the junior officers, who was badly wounded, being supported by a fellow comrade. The strategos rode his horse towards him with the wounded officer saluting his commander.
“Where’s Diomilus?” Hermocrates asked, referring to the officer in charge of the garrison placed at Leon.
“Killed,” replied the Syracusian, moaning in pain from his wounds. “They were too many of them. We held their first wave for a short while but more kept coming. Diomilus commited the reserves but they were no match for the Athenians. The call came to retreat but Diomilus tried to form a rearguard action but he was killed. Every effort was made in trying to hold our ground, but in doing so our battalion has lost half its men including our commander. We did what we could,” Hermocrates nodded and dismissed the wounded soldier.
“What now, strategos?” asked one of his aides.
“Epipolae is now under Athenian control,” the commander sighed, his tone irritated at which the strategic plateau was ceded so meekly. “Most likely they will build a wall to enclose us in. So a counter attack must be formed before we are starved to death,” But Hermocrates was aware it would take a while before the army could form itself into a cohesive fighting force able to launch such an attack. And time was not something that his kinsmen enjoyed.
*****
Nicias inspected the plateau up ahead on foot accompanied by his fellow Athenian and allied commanders. He was satisfied with the day’s events as he saw his men get to work on the plains of Epipolae. The Athenian was aware that capturing the plateau was pivotal if he wanted to capture Syracuse. Suddenly he coughed quite heavily as his face curled up in some discomfort.
“Are you alright?” asked Festus, the Mantinean commander. Nicias nodded.
“I’m perfectly fine,” he replied. “Just something that has slightly been troubling me. I don’t need a physician. Anyway I want to know whether our reinforcements have arrived yet?”
“They will soon,” answered Lamachus. “Our allies from Sicily brought a dispatch rider informing us that six hundred and fifty cavalrymen will arrive tomorrow,”
“That is good to hear,” Nicias nodded in reply. “We finally have enough horsemen to protect those workers building the siege walls from enemy cavalry. Have the non combatants and the rest of the army landed?”
“Most of them,” replied Menander, one of the Athenian junior commanders. “They should disembark the rest of them by this afternoon,”
“Get those who were in the first and second wave to rest for the day,” Nicias ordered. “Those soldiers who just landed along with the carpenters and labourers will help them build a supply fort at Labdalum immediately when they receive their equipment,” Nicias pointed at the small houses that made up Labdalum, not far from the northernmost sector of the plateau, where Nicias and his generals stood.
“Labdalum will be our main supply depot?” Festus asked.
“Yes,” Lamachus answered. “That is why it’s imperative we build it quickly so that our supplies, equipment and treasury can be stored,”
“Once the fort is built then we can look towards building a wall to starve out the Syracusians,” Nicias explained further. “Remember that patience and discipline will serve us well. Dismissed,” As the commanders went their separate ways there was a feeling that so far the expedition was going well. But many knew that more blood would be spilled before the stronghold of Syracuse fell.
General Rawlinson- This is most unsatisfactory. Where are the Sherwood Foresters? Where are the East Lancashires on the right?
Brigadier-General Oxley- They are lying out in No Man's Land, sir. And most of them will never stand again.
Two high ranking British generals discussing the fortunes of two regiments after the disastrous attack at Aubers Ridge on the 9th May 1915.[This message has been edited by Legion Of Hell (edited 07-09-2010 @ 06:45 AM).]