The First Clash: The Miraculous Greek Victory at Marathon and Its Impact on Western Civilization

by Jim Lacey

  In truth, any society, nation, or civilization is at its root a collection of its stories. Military institutions have always glorified their past, and they devote considerable time reflecting back on both their own accomplishments and those of others. On a basic level, soldiers spend countless hours regaling one another with “war stories.” This is how units pass on the traditions and ethos of their organization from one generation of soldiers to the next. It is a process that has remained unbroken for thousands of years. It is fair to say that many older Goths who had crushed a Roman army at Adrianople told stories to new warriors about what it was like to see and fight legionnaires in the field. Many of these Goths, in turn, participated in the sack of Rome itself in AD 410, while their sons stood side by side with the Romans when they fought Attila’s Huns at the Battle of Chalons in AD 451. Over generations, traditions were built on the backs of these stories and the millions of others that came after them. This, indeed, is how cultures are built over the ages. It is how our Western military culture was built and maintained over two thousand years.7

  These stories are passed on in many ways, and they can obviously be distorted in the telling. Despite this, central themes persist over time and form the basis of our distinct Western civilization and culture just as other stories in other places form the basis of other civilizations. As a point of observation, in 2003 the author had the privilege of traveling with the American army that invaded Iraq. Those soldiers knew little about Marathon, but they were maintaining a tradition set back in 490 BC—seek out the enemy and engage him in a decisive battle of annihilation. Moreover, even as this book is being written, 150,000 Americans are fighting in the lands that make up a substantial part of the narrative of this book. Of that number, a conservative estimate would allow that well over half of them have seen the movie 300, which presents a new version of the Greek-Persian war of 480 BC. Whatever its historical inaccuracies, 300 has allowed the story of the Battle of Thermopylae to enter into the consciousness of a new generation of soldiers.

  Furthermore, professional soldiers are often voracious consumers of military history. Even during the Middle Ages, those leaders who knew how to read had almost all perused Vegetius’s fifth-century work The Military Institutions of the Romans, looking for hints on how they could mimic Roman arms. Interestingly, Renaissance commanders, looking for ways to reform their armies in the wake of the gunpowder revolution, continued to turn to Vegetius for guidance. Even today, Vegetius’s work remains in print, and a fair number of professional soldiers have taken the time to read it.8 Moreover, Thucydides’ history, The Peloponnesian War, written almost twenty-five hundred years ago, remains on the reading lists provided by the U.S. Army and Marine Corps and is taught in the war colleges of all our services.

  Lynn, however, discounts this passing on of tradition when he argues that the barbarians broke the developing traditions of the Western way of war because of the vast cultural differences between themselves and the Romans they supplanted. For Lynn, the barbarian invasions and the onset of the Dark Ages is a great cultural divide. Nothing after the fall of Rome is as it was before. Few historians doubt that much was lost when the Western Roman Empire collapsed, but not everything. While I do not join those historians who see the end of the Roman Empire as a smooth transition from one political system to another, there is no doubt that the barbarian invaders attempted to keep the ideal of Rome and its institutions alive for a long time.9 Even during the bleakest years of the Dark Ages, the idea of Rome and all it represented was never lost. Moreover, when Europe began its economic and cultural recovery, it turned to Roman and Greek antecedents for the basic building blocks of its knowledge. In fact, the widespread acceptance of the Aristotelian worldview by medieval scholars is commonly cited as the great intellectual handicap that needed to be overcome before the Enlightenment could truly begin.

  In truth, it appears to me that Lynn, in Battle, often undercuts his own argument. The entire theme of his book revolves around the fact that militaries and their way of fighting are determined by their society and culture—something Hanson would agree with. If that is true, then Western militaries, their traditions, and their methods of war are a result of a unique Western civilization. Since Lynn himself admits that “Greek and Roman precedent has provided us with ideas, myths, and a vocabulary of war,” one is left to ask what Lynn believes a civilization’s culture consists of.10 Most would agree it is the result of the very transmission of ideas over time that Lynn agrees took place.

  And what are these ideas that have made the West different and therefore our military tradition unique? They were identified and commented on by the great Persian king Cyrus over twenty-five hundred years ago, when he told a Spartan envoy: “I have never yet feared any men who had a place in the center of the city set aside for meeting together, swearing false oaths, and cheating one another.”11 What Cyrus treated with contempt—open markets and the free exchange of ideas—has through fits and starts remained the driving dynamic of Western civilization. In turn, this dynamic has shaped and formed a distinctive Western military tradition.

  In the twenty-first century, there remain two open questions. Is the Western way of war as defined here and by Hanson still an appropriate model for waging wars, and are Western societies still capable of conducting war in this tradition? After two horrendous bloodlettings in the last century, many believe Europe’s near Kantian peace has made it incapable of defending its interests.12 At the same time, our enemies have adopted forms of warfare, such as terrorism, designed specifically to negate the weapons and organizations designed to fight and win decisive battles. The fact remains that whenever Western soldiers do enter into a stand-up fight with any of our current opponents, the result is always foreordained. In the test of battle, Western military forces are still supreme. Unfortunately, this brings to mind the opening exchange of Harry Summers’s book on what went wrong in Vietnam:13

  American: You know you never beat us on the battlefield.

  North Vietnam official: That is true, but it is irrelevant.

  Today, America and the West remain supreme on the battlefield. Whether its leaders can develop a strategy that can turn battlefield victories into war-winning strategies remains to be determined.

  Still, while our enemies have demonstrated that they are capable of launching devastating attacks on our homeland, they still have not become, as of yet, an existential threat on the level Athens faced at Marathon. Although such a monumental crisis may never again arise, the growing rift between the West and the backward-looking forces that are rising in the Arab-Persian world means a future war between civilizations cannot be ruled out. I remain confident that if faced with such a threat, the West will remember its twenty-five hundred years of tradition, much to the detriment of any possible foe. Having said that, we must all hope our leaders are wise enough to forestall any threat of this magnitude before it manifests itself. Because the Western way of war is brutal. If it is ever again unleashed in all its decisive barbarity, it will be many generations before our enemies recover.

  PART V

  BATTLE

  Chapter 17

  THE PERSIANS SAIL

  Although the Persian expedition that Mardonius led into Thrace at the end of the Ionian revolt had probably not been intended as a prelude to an immediate assault of Greece, it is safe to assume that he was expected to secure a base for a future invasion. Darius, therefore, could not have been pleased to hear about Mardonius’s losses against the Thracian Byrogi tribe or the loss of the fleet off Mount Athos. Still, he remained as determined as ever to punish Eretria and Athens for their effrontery during the Ionian revolt. The burning of Sardis had sullied his honor and the prestige of the empire. Retribution was required, and Darius was probably not inclined to postpone his vengeance any longer than necessary. But if he was leaning toward a postponement, the constant entreaties of an aged Hippias, then residing at the Persian court, would have kept his determination from waning. At length, Darius rel
ieved Mardonius of command. Whether he did this because of the failure in Thrace or because Mardonius was still recovering from wounds is unknown. One suspects the latter, as Mardonius returned to royal favor rapidly and was the military commander of Xerxes’ much larger 480 BC invasion.

  To replace him, Darius chose Datis and Artaphrenes. Artaphrenes was Darius’s nephew and the son of the satrap Artaphrenes, who had crushed the Ionian revolt. However, he was young and inexperienced, and it is doubtful that he was placed in overall command. More than likely he was the royal representative and as such a symbol of the importance Darius placed on the success of this mission. Datis was a Mede. He was also a battle-hardened leader and likely the commander of the Persian fleet at the Battle of Lade, after which he oversaw the reduction of the Ionian cities that remained in revolt.

  Both men left Darius’s court and proceeded to Cilicia. They brought with them a small core of elite Persian infantry, possibly also some Persian cavalry, and a Saka contingent of cavalry.1 Along the route, particularly once in Ionia, they collected more troops. One can assume that the levies raised to fight the Ionian revolt and for the invasion of Thrace were eager for additional paydays. At any rate, the two commanders arrived in Cilicia with a large host, where they met up with the 600 ships of the Persian fleet.2 Among these ships were specially constructed transports for horses.3 If we accept these numbers, it is possible to make a reasonable estimate of the size of the Persian army. Datis would have known from spies and reconnaissance that Athens had 70 triremes and Eretria had somewhat more. Given that the Eretrians had likely mauled a Persian fleet early in the Ionian revolt, they had to be taken seriously. Furthermore, although it did not happen, Datis had to be prepared for the possibility that both fleets would combine to face him. Given the Persian predilection to always outnumber their potential foes, Datis would have wanted at least 300 combat ships to meet 150–170 Greek vessels. We can only guess at the number of horse transports, but as the Persians had been building them for over a year, 50 is a reasonable estimate and may be high. That leaves 250 ships available for carrying supplies and troops.

  Each trireme would require a full complement of 170–200 sailors, in case of a battle. This would have left room for 30 soldiers or marines. The transports would use mostly sails and would need few rowers, leaving room for probably 80–100 soldiers, assuming they shared space with supplies. The cavalry troops would likely have shared space with their horses. As these vessels would also need to hold substantial amounts of fodder, they probably could have carried 20 horses at best. Putting all of this together indicates that the Persians had close to 35,000 infantry/archers and 1,000 cavalry. There would also be over 50,000 sailors with the expedition. Of course, these numbers are open to debate, but it is noteworthy that they agree with the estimates presented earlier of what Persia was capable of accomplishing in 490 BC.4

  Mindful of the possibility of storms, the fleet at first kept close to shore and sailed up along the Ionian coast. From there it set out for Naxos. It will be remembered that Naxos had precipitated the Ionian revolt when it successfully resisted a Persian assault and siege, thereby driving Aristagoras into rebellion. As Datis approached, it remained unconquered, but it knew it had no chance against the massive expedition sailing off its shore. Remembering Miletus’s fate, the Naxians abandoned their city and took to the hills. The Persians, with vengeance on their mind, took the time to comb the countryside and kill as many of them as possible before burning the city to the ground. Vengeance done, the Persians sailed on.

  As they approached Delos, that population, forewarned by events on Naxos, also took to the hills or sailed to nearby Tinos. However, Datis, with no need to avenge an earlier setback, adopted a different policy toward Delos. He kept his fleet out of the Delian harbor—across the bay at Rheneia—presumably to make sure his men did not take it upon themselves to do some looting. He sent for the Delian priests, who served Apollo’s temple, and told them that Darius had forbidden him to do harm to them, their island, or the temple. He then bade them return home, and to prove his sincerity, he offered three hundred talents’ worth of frankincense on Apollo’s altar.5 With Delos pacified, the Persians made a circuit of the nearby islands, enlisting troops for their army and taking hostages to ensure good behavior. Only Karystos, on the south coast of Euboea, refused to turn over hostages or march against their friends and neighbors. So the Persians, as Herodotus states, “besieged their city and ravaged their land until the Karystians adopted the Persian way of thinking.”

  With the Aegean quiescent, Datis turned his attention to his first assigned target, Eretria. The time had come for them to pay for their part in burning Sardis. The Eretrians were under no illusion as to what was about to befall them. After all, they had the example of Naxos’s fate to instruct them. Everywhere in the city there was confusion and terror. They had sent to Athens for help, but as yet no word had come. Some in the city wanted to follow the Naxian example and head for the hills; others advocated shutting the gates and manning the walls to the end. This was not a bad strategy to adopt, as Datis was unlikely to have brought a siege train with him, and a successful defense of even a couple of weeks would have provided precious time for Athenian hoplites to prepare and possibly even for Spartan help to arrive. However, this was true only if there was no one in the city willing to betray it. Unfortunately, there was.

  While Athens debated coming to the assistance of Eretria, it ordered four thousand of its colonists, settled at Chalcis, to march to Eretria’s aid. The colonists marched out so promptly that they must have been expecting the order for some time. But as they approached, information arrived of dissension within Eretria. Giving the city up as doomed, the colonists crossed the narrow straits to Attica. This is the last Herodotus mentions of these hoplites, probably all veterans of the wars against Thebes. Athens, however, would not have forgotten them. In truth, despite their disappearance from Herodotus’s account, it would be completely nonsensical for the Athenians to neglect such a large and experienced force at its direst moment. As they were not at Marathon, they were likely ordered to close off the possibility of the Medes escaping from Marathon to the north and to keep an eye on Thebes, which had gone over to the Persian side (Medized). Herodotus’s neglect probably reflects the fact that he was writing for an Athenian audience at a time when tensions between that city and its former colonists were running high.

  Even without the support of the Athenian colonists, Eretria was not defenseless. It had strong walls and three thousand hoplites to defend them. This was not enough men to meet the imposing Persian army in the field, but if they remained resolute, it was more than enough to hold the walls. When the Persians arrived, they wasted no time before trying to carry the city by assault. They failed, as they were to fail for the next six days. The fighting was fierce, and many fell on both sides. But on the seventh day, two prominent citizens, Euphorbos and Alkimachos, betrayed their city and allowed the Persians entry. History is silent about the fate of the traitors, but the Persians plundered the city, set its temples afire, enslaved its remaining citizens, and then prepared them for transport to Persia.

  Their first objective accomplished, the Persians lingered on the island for several days. Assumedly, they needed a period of time to recover from the damage the Eretrians had done to them. Furthermore, by this time they would have been on the move for many weeks and the supplies with which they had started were probably exhausted. Before they could begin the next phase of the expedition, they needed to gather stores, while the horses required time to adjust their systems from fodder to grass.6 Datis had now accomplished half his mission, but the real prize was just across the narrow gulf. Although he was confident of success, he was also an experienced commander. He would not rush.

  But the Persians had made one massive and irredeemable mistake at Eretria. By destroying the city and enslaving the population, they had sent a message to the Athenians. It was precisely the wrong message, because just as in Eretria, there wa
s considerable dissension in Athens as to what course to take against the Persian threat. For the moment, those pushing for resistance had the upper hand, but there were many who wanted to find some accommodation with the invader. Eretria’s fate ended Athenian dissension. In a moment of folly, Datis had alerted the Athenians that despite the fact that their old tyrant Hippias was with his army, accepting him back in return for peace was not an option. Their city was to be burned and a large number of them were to be shipped to Persia as slaves of the Great King.

  When Datis’s Persians met Athens’s hoplites, he encountered a force unified behind a single policy—conquer or die. All knew that defeat meant doom not just for themselves, but for their families as well.