In AD 198-99, the emperor Septimius Severus began the Second Parthian War, in one of several Roman bids to control Mesopotamia. He failed in two separate attempts to capture the remote desert stronghold of Hatra, a city that derived great riches from its control of the caravan routes. Hatra’s impressive remains, south of Mosul, Iraq, reveal the ruins of an enormous double-walled fortress with ninety large towers, 163 small towers, and a moat. The city was located at the top of a precipitous ridge, and surrounded by barren desert.
Holed up inside their fortified city, King Barsamia and the citizens of Hatra prepared strong defense plans as the Roman legions advanced over the desert. One of their defenses was biological. Anticipating by seventeen hundred years the bombs of fragile porcelain filled with noxious insects that the Japanese dropped on China in World War II, the Hatreni filled clay-pot bombs with “poisonous insects” and sealed them up, ready to hurl down at the attackers.7
Herodian, a historian from Antioch (Syria), who recounted the story, did not specifically identify the venomous creatures, but simply referred to them as “poisonous flying insects.” What sort of insects would have been collected by the Hatreni? In the “wretched,” waterless wilderness stretching for miles in every direction around Hatra, nothing grew but dragonwort and wormwood; there were no bees, except for an occasional solitary ground bee. Scorpions, on the other hand, were extremely abundant. The stinging creatures were sacred to the local goddess Ishhara and scorpion motifs abound in Mesopotamian mythology.
In the deserts surrounding Hatra, deadly scorpions lurked “beneath every stone and clod of dirt,” wrote the natural historian Aelian. They were so numerous that to make the land between Susa to Media safe for travel, Persian kings routinely ordered scorpion hunts, bestowing bounties for the most killed. Scorpions, declared Pliny, “are a horrible plague, poisonous like snakes, except that they inflict a worse torture by dispatching their victim with a lingering death lasting three days.” The sting is intensely painful, followed by great agitation, sweating, thirst, muscle spasms, convulsions, swollen genitals, slow pulse, irregular breathing, and death.
Everyone “detests scorpions,” agreed Aelian. The fear factor was put to symbolic military use among the ancient Greeks, who painted scorpion (and snake) emblems on their shields to frighten foes, and by the early first century AD, the scorpion had been taken up as the official emblem of the dreaded Roman Praetorian Guard, the personal troops of the emperors. It’s no coincidence that modern U.S. military weapons carry names like “scorpion” and “stinger,” “hornet,” and “cobra” to instill confidence among the troops that man them and to inspire fear among the enemy.
FIGURE 29. Scorpions abound in the desert around Hatra, and they were used as live ammunition against Roman besiegers.
(Dover Pictorial Archives)
According to Aelian, the sting of some scorpion species killed instantly, and in the Sinai peninsula, gigantic scorpions preyed on lizards and cobras. Anyone who even “treads on scorpion droppings develops ulcers of the foot.” Eleven types of scorpion were known in antiquity: white, red, smoky, black, green, pot-bellied, crab-like, fiery red-orange, those with a double sting, those with seven segments, and those with wings. Most of these species have been identified by entomologists, but others may have been venomous insects mistaken for scorpions.
True scorpions lack wings, and Herodian referred to flying, stinging insects in his account. But ancient authors consistently referred to winged varieties of scorpions and winged scorpions are also depicted in ancient artifacts. The natural historian Pliny explained the error. Scorpions are given the power of flight by very strong desert winds, he said, and when they are airborne, the scorpions extend their legs, which makes them appear to have membraned wings.
The modern commentator on Herodian, C. Whittaker, dismissed Herodian’s account of clay pots filled with scorpions as a tall tale based on a special double-firing ballistic catapult that was called the Scorpion. But the abundance of scorpions in the desert, and the many other historical reports of hurling hornets’ nests and earthenware pots filled with noxious creatures in ancient military engagements make Herodian’s account quite plausible. In fact, heaving scorpions by the basketful at attackers was specifically recommended by Leo VI (AD 862-912), in his famous military Tactics handbook.
The Hatreni would have gathered the venomous insects in advance and, to avoid getting stung while preparing their live bio-ammunition, they would have followed several safety procedures. Aelian told of the “innumerable devices contrived for self-protection” against the giant Egyptian scorpions (seven inches long) and the multitudes of them in North Africa, where people “devise endless schemes to counter scorpions.” Wearing high boots and sleeping in raised beds with each bedpost in a basin of water were just two common defenses.
Scorpion stings were most deadly in the morning, declared Pliny, “before the insects have wasted any of their poison through accidental strikes.” The Hatreni may have teased the irascible arthropods into wasting stings before they placed them in the pots. Aelian pointed out that the stinger was a very slender hollow core, so one could temporarily block the tiny opening by very carefully spitting on the tip of the stinger. Or, one could sprinkle scorpions with deadly aconite (monkshood) powder, which was said to cause the creatures to shrivel up temporarily. They could be revived with poisonous white hellebore, once they were inside the earthenware containers.
It’s possible that other venomous flying insects, such as assassin bugs, were called scorpions in antiquity. Assassin bugs (cone-nose bugs, Reduviidae family) were notoriously used by rulers in Central Asia for torturing prisoners. These predatory, bloodsucking insects cling tenaciously to a victim and push their sharp beaks into the flesh, injecting a lethal nerve poison that liquefies tissues. The bite can be extremely painful. Assassin bugs do have wings, and Herodian’s description of the effects of the “poisonous flying creatures” fits these insects’ clinging, piercing attack: As Severus’s men attempted to ascend the walls, the clay pots were rained down on them. “The insects fell into the Romans’ eyes and the exposed parts of their bodies,” wrote Herodian, “Digging in before they were noticed, they bit and stung the soldiers, causing severe injuries.”
Probably the best conclusion is that the earthenware bombs contained a potpourri of scorpions, assassin bugs, wasps, pederin beetles, and other venomous insects from the desert around Hatra.
Military historians are perplexed over what caused Severus to give up his siege of Hatra after only twenty days, just as he had successfully breached the city walls and victory was within reach. Roman sieges were usually grueling ordeals, and they were expected to last several months or even years but they were ultimately successful. So, what could have caused Severus to back off? Citing the “insalubrious desert,” mutinous troops, poor planning and disputes over plunder, a possible secret treaty, or other unknown factors, modern scholars seem to be unable to accept the ancient historians’ clear indications that it was the brute effectiveness of Hatra’s defensive biological and chemical weapons that overcame Roman morale, manpower, and siege machines.
Herodian gives a vivid account of the violent battle, in which nearly every siege technique was tried. He makes it clear that the scorpion bombs were just one of many types of ammunition fired at the Romans. In the scorching desert sun, a great many legionaries had succumbed to the heat and unhealthy climate even before the battle, but the Romans sent their full forces and manned every kind of siege machine. The Hatreni “vigorously defended themselves” with their double-shot catapults, “firing down missiles and stones.” Dio Cassius adds that the Hatreni also poured burning naphtha on Severus’s army, which completely destroyed his siege engines and enveloped his men with unquenchable petroleum-fed flames.
The last straw must have come when the defenders began firing the jars full of hideous bugs down on Severus’s soldiers as they assaulted the walls. The terror effect would be quite impressive, no matter how many men wer
e actually stung. Herodian states that these combined defense tactics caused Severus to withdraw “for fear his entire army would be destroyed.” And the desert fortress of Hatra remained independent in “splendid isolation” until AD 241, when it was reduced to ruins by Iranian Sasanids.8
Harking back to ancient deployments of stinging insects, Pentagon experts not only investigated ways of using bees to attack the enemy in Vietnam, but also tested the ability of assassin bugs (there are thousands of species around the world) to hone in on prey at long distances. During the Vietnam War, the Army carried out tests using assassin bugs in special capsules to track down the Vietcong in the jungle. The predatory bugs reportedly detected humans from a distance equivalent to two city blocks and emitted a “yowling” sound that was amplified to audible range. It is not known whether the assassin bug tracking device was ever actually used in the jungle.
The ancient practice of enlisting insects as weapons has been taken to new levels in the U.S. government’s most advanced research. Since 1998, the Pentagon has sponsored experiments in “Controlled Biological Systems” to create sophisticated war technologies based on entomology and zoology. The research is overseen by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), the central research and development unit of the Defense Department. The mission is to exploit the natural traits of what they call “Vivisystems,” living creatures from insects to intelligent animals, in order to “turn them into war-fighting technologies.” Just as the ancients learned to use the natural instincts of bees in waging war, scientists are studying insects whose attributes might be valuable for military purposes. For example, DARPA-funded laboratories are training honeybees to detect minute amounts of substances that indicate the presence of biochemical or explosive agents. The hope is to deploy the hypersensitive insects as spies and sentinels in biochemical warfare.
We have come a long way from praying to plague gods to send mice and lobbing hornets’ nests at foes—and yet the Defense Department’s sophisticated insect research still relies on the timeless principle of exploiting bees’ instincts. But living insects have disadvantages: for example, bees sting indiscriminately and they won’t work when cold, at night, or in storms. Accordingly, DARPA scientists are improving on mere Vivisystems by designing “Hybrid Biosystems” and “Biomimetics.” With brain-computer interface technology, they can integrate living and nonliving components, for example, by reengineering bee neurology or attaching real bee antennae to a cyborg bee.
In antiquity, biological strategies were often justified in self-defense and, as noted earlier, often modern treaties allow biochemical weapon research for defense, which can serve as a cover for covertly developing biochemical agents with first-strike capabilities. The tendency to justify biological armaments “for defense only” is evident in the public explanations of DARPA’s Vivisystems mission. One ambiguous sentence in the DARPA “Objectives” statement of 2003, for example, remarks that “other applications [of insect agents] might involve controlling the distribution of pest organisms to improve operational environments for troops,” while the next sentence asserts that “all aspects of the program are for defensive purposes only.”
Scientists stress the peaceful applications of their DARPA-funded research, but the military applications are obvious. The most recent Hybrid Biosystem creations, remote-controlled rats, are promoted in the media as “search and rescue” agents, but the project scientists admit that the cyber-rat would also be “an ideal delivery system for biological weapons.” What nature (and the god Ptah) brought to Sennacherib’s Assyrian army in Egypt back in 700 BC—a rodent-borne plague—could now be delivered by remote-control. The DARPA scientists have also successfully wired monkey’s brains to control machines. Transforming animals into living war machines represents a giant step in the militarization of nature. And the use of intelligent animals in war has a very ancient history.9
In antiquity, mice were inadvertent allies in repulsing attackers, and even smaller allies were the stinging insects whose natural aggressive instincts could be directed against foes. But larger creatures, such as the ferocious bears sent against the Roman besiegers in Pontus in 72 BC, could also be drafted for war duty.
Hannibal’s masterful use of animals during his invasion of Italy in 218 BC is an excellent example of how creatures could be used for war. The well-known feat of Hannibal’s war elephants crossing the snowy Alps was only the beginning, for the Carthaginian general had many ad hoc animal tricks. For example, when he seemed to be trapped in a narrow valley guarded by the Romans, Hannibal terrified the enemy into wild flight by assembling herds of cattle and affixing burning torches to their horns. He made a safe getaway that night, by driving the herd before his army toward the Romans.
Four different historians related another creative zoological ploy thought up by Hannibal during a decisive naval battle against King Eumenes of Pergamum (Asia Minor) sometime between 190 and 184 BC. Hannibal and his allies were far outnumbered in ships. Therefore, explains the Roman historian Cornelius Nepos, “it was necessary for him to resort to a ruse, since he was unequal to his opponent in arms.” Hannibal sent his men ashore to “capture the greatest possible number of venomous snakes” and stuff them into earthenware jars. When they had amassed a great many of these, he prepared his marines for the battle. The biological secret weapon boosted the confidence of the outnumbered men, reports Nepos. When the clash came and Eumenes’ ships bore down on Hannibal’s fleet, the marines let fly the jars, catapulting them onto the enemy decks.
The enemy’s first reaction to the smashing pottery was derisive laughter. But as soon as they realized their decks were seething with poisonous snakes, it was Hannibal’s turn for mirth, as the horrified sailors leaped about trying to avoid the vipers. Eumenes’ navy was overcome and it may have been this incident that led Eumenes to make his famous remark that an honorable general should eschew victory by underhanded means that he would not like to have turned against himself.
Hannibal’s idea was to terrorize Eumenes’ crew so that they were unable to fight and similar ideas have occurred to commanders in other times and places. For example, in Afghanistan in about AD 1000, during the siege of Sistan, Mahmud of Ahazna ordered his men to catapult sacks of serpents into the stronghold to terrify the defenders of the fort.10
Animals could also be used to give the enemy an illusion of vast numbers of attackers, a ploy that was advised by Polyaenus and other ancient strategists. Alexander the Great, for one, resorted to such a trick in Persia, tying branches to the tails of sheep to raise clouds of dust, which the Persians took as the sign of a massive army. He also tied torches to the sheep at night, so that the whole plain looked to be on fire. Alexander’s successor, Ptolemy, did the same thing in Egypt in 321 BC, when he attacked Perdiccas, binding loads of brush to herds of pigs, cattle, and other domestic animals to raise dust as he approached with his cavalry. Perdiccas, imagining a very great cavalry was galloping toward him, fled and took heavy losses.
Much earlier, in the sixth century BC, the Persian king Cambyses lay siege to Pelusium, which had remained the same entry point for invaders of Egypt since Sennacherib’s mouse-borne disaster there in the eighth century BC. This time, the Egyptian defense was very well-organized, holding off the Persians with batteries of artillery that shot stones, bolts, and fire. Cambyses responded by placing a unique zoological shield before his ranks: a phalanx of yowling cats, bleating sheep, barking dogs, and silent ibexes. All these animals were worshipped by the Egyptians, and just as Cambyses hoped, the warriors halted their fire to avoid harming any sacred creatures. Pelusium fell and the Persians conquered Egypt.11
All the creatures dispatched against the enemy discussed so far have been involuntary zoological allies: from Chrysame’s poisoned bull (in the previous chapter), swarms of mice, and innocent sheep dragging branches, to venomous creatures whose aggressive nature leads them to attack human targets. But, unlike hordes of wasps or rodents whose instincts might work to the ad
vantage of one side in military contexts, large, intelligent animals could be specially prepared for battle. Almost every army in antiquity maintained baggage animals (mules, oxen, donkeys, camels) and used dogs for sentry duty, and some large animals were trained to actively participate in war: horses and camels were cavalry mounts, while dogs and war elephants could be used to attack the enemy.
Ever since dogs became man’s best friends they have served as sentinels to warn of intruders. Their acute senses and their loyalty, vigilance, speed, and intelligence make them valuable for military purposes. To guard the citadel of Acrocorinth against Philip of Macedon in 243 BC, for instance, the great guerrilla general Aratos set out fifty dogs, while an inscription from the small Greek city of Teos (on the Turkish coast) records that three dogs were to be purchased for sentinel duty at the garrison fort. In the fourth century BC, Aeneas the Tactician referred frequently to dogs as sentries and messengers in wartime, but he also warned that their instinct to bark could backfire.
Dogs also participated in combat. Perhaps the earliest evidence of dogs in war is an Assyrian stone relief from about 600 BC found at Birs Nimrud (Iraq), depicting a warrior carrying a shield and leading a large, armored mastiff. According to Pliny, the king of the Garamantes of Africa had two hundred trained war dogs “that did battle with those who resisted him.” The cities of Colophon and Castabala in Asia Minor also maintained troops of war dogs that fought ferociously in the front ranks. These canines were their most loyal allies, joked Pliny, “for they never even required pay.” The Hyrcanians of the Caspian Sea and the Magnesians (a mountain tribe of northeastern Greece) were also feared for the large hounds with spiked collars that accompanied them on the battlefield (by the Middle Ages, war dogs would sport full coats of mail). “These allies were an advantage and great help to them,” remarked Aelian, although he did not give any gory details.
Greek Fire, Poison Arrows, and Scorpion Bombs Page 18