by Dexter Hoyos
the Gauls in the rear. Interestingly the Volcae made no other effort against
the Carthaginians: news that Scipio was now only a few days’ march away
conceivably prompted them to leave the field clear to the two armies to fight
it out. But it was at this stage, as argued earlier, that the general changed his
strategy.
Polybius gives the army’s size at the Rhône as 38,000 infantry and 8,000
cavalry. If correct, this means that in his largely unopposed march across
southern Gaul Hannibal had somehow lost 12,000 foot and 1,000 horse, yet
no ancient source mentions how. One obvious-looking explanation has been
suggested: garrisoned strongpoints along the Gallic route. But none is ever
mentioned, though if they existed they ought to have given some trouble
both to Cn. Scipio awhile later, when his brother the consul sent him with
part of the Roman army on to Spain, and again to P. Scipio himself the fol-
lowing year. This service would have been even more vital in 211 and 210
when Roman reinforcements were sent over to retrieve the disaster that had
befallen the Scipio brothers.
Of course these expeditions went by sea, but ancient ships could not avoid
putting in to land every two or three days. Besides, the mere presence of
enemy units along the line of communications between Italy and Spain
should have aroused Roman concern and some sort of counteraction, but
again none is heard of. Nor did the hypothetical garrisons achieve anything
positive, for instance like channelling reinforcements to Hannibal in Italy as
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the war went on. His only recorded reinforcements came from Africa by sea.
In sum, if he did station troops in southern Gaul it was a complete waste of
men. But the theory should be dismissed.21
Desertion better accounts for the shrinkage of the army. Already at the
crossing of the Pyrenees Hannibal had had to send home a large contingent.
As the army left Spain further and further behind, pressing on with meagre
belongings and living off the land, disenchantment was bound to grow in
some of the men. To some, too, the attractions of life in the future Langue-
doc and Provence might outmatch the doubtful prospects of warring in a
hostile Italy. This sort of wastage was not unique. In another famous inva-
sion, in 1812, Napoleon’s main army fell from 450,000 in June to some
185,000 by mid-August as it marched across western Russia, with half or
more of the rest left behind sick or deserted, and this before it had done any
serious fighting.22
Four days north of the crossing-point over the Rhône, Hannibal inter-
vened to settle a kingship struggle among the people of a fertile district
Polybius calls ‘the Island’, and by winning their friendship was able to rest his
men and refit them with food, weapons and footwear. Another ten days’
march brought them east to the foothills of the Alps and into real danger, in
the shape of the hostile Allobroges who held the region. Repeated attacks by
these and then by warriors farther into the mountains were driven off, but the
cost was nearly as heavy to the Punic side as to the Gallic.
The danger from humans ended as the army, nine days into its painful
ascent, crested the pass—the identity of which remains, and probably will
always remain, debated. But the descent was steep and seriously broken in
places, and with old snow already covering the ground fresh snowfalls made
the going even more treacherous. As a result, Polybius claims, the army suf-
fered losses nearly as heavy as before and the men’s spirits were badly
battered—even after the famous moment when Hannibal gathered them (or
a lot of them) at the top of the pass and pointed out the plains of Italy
spread out below.23
When the general reviewed his badly shaken forces in the fertile country-
side of northern Italy some days later, they amounted to 20,000 foot and
6,000 horse (he recorded these figures himself), plus the elephant corps and
his Balearic slingers, specialist irregulars who turn up in his ensuing battles
but by now would number only some hundreds. The African infantry contin-
gent was now much larger than the Spanish (12,000 to 8,000): a disproportion
that probably had not existed when the army left Spain and probably again
reflects the impact of desertion, for it was obviously even harder for a disen-
chanted African than for a Spaniard to consider deserting either for home or
for safe parts of Europe.
Polybius, apparently still citing the Cape Lacinium inscription, implies that
this tally of forces took place not directly after the army came down from the
Alps but when it reached the territory of the Insubres on the plains—their
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capital was Mediolanum, modern Milan—after crushing the Insubres’ foes
the Taurini, around modern Turin nearly 60 miles (100 kilometres) to the
west. Desertions during these early days in Italy are not to be ruled out. They
may have been low during the Alpine crossing itself, for getting safely out of
the mountains would be a problem, but quite a few men must have been
tempted as soon as the army reached the amiable terrain below. Only rest,
recuperation and then some swift successes could transform the men’s
attitude.24
The Taurini, slaughtered in a brutal three-day operation for refusing to
become friends, were the first such needed success. Neighbouring peoples
hastened to submit and Hannibal pressed on eastwards looking for the
Roman forces in north Italy.25
VII
Crossing the Alps remains the most famous and mistakenly emblematic of
his feats. The stunning victories that followed give a sheen of paradoxical
brilliance to this opening venture, enhanced by the exotic image of elephants
from the world of the tropics battling their way through snow-covered
passes and gorges. The heroism and endurance of general and troops were
no doubt underlined in Silenus’ and Sosylus’ histories, and grudgingly or
admiringly outlined by Fabius Pictor, Cincius Alimentus and their successors.
In reality, not only was the march close to a disaster but its outcome may have
cost Carthage the war.
As the ancients knew, it was ordinarily no great task for an army to cross
the Alps. The Gallic peoples in Cisalpine Gaul had migrated there—armed
warriors, their families, wagons and animals—two centuries before. Seven
years earlier an army from Gaul, the Gaesati, had crossed to help the Boii and
Insubres in their southward onslaught on Italy. Eleven years later, Hannibal’s
brother was to march unruffled from Spain without loss. Hasdrubal perhaps
managed this because of the lesson Hannibal had taught the locals (though
they had seen nothing of Carthaginians since) or because he bought them
off. But Hannibal himself had supposedly made arrangements with them
through his agents for safe passage. The agents must have been too opti-
mistic, or misleading, when they reported back to him—unless he had
originally planned a different route, more to the south in line with his in
itial
strategic plan, and so had conciliated what turned out to be the wrong Alpine
folk.
Even so, the losses in the Alps were only one part of the total strength lost.
To judge from Polybius’ account most of the missing 33,000 went between
the Pyrenees and the Rhône or on the descent from the pass. As we have
seen, desertion was probably the chief cause rather than battle-casualties (or
falls from heights). Those who remained at the end were indeed troops of
proven quality and loyalty, one of the finest armies in history; but the quality
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of the grand army that crossed the Pyrenees had been high too, according to
Polybius. Hannibal realized the impact of the losses. For the next 11 years he
looked and hoped for reinforcements, from his brother in Spain or from
Africa—reinforcements which in effect would bring his Spanish and Libyan
forces more or less back to the strength of the original grand army.
With what remained of that army and with his new Gallic allies he won
huge victories, detached half of Italy from its allegiance to Rome and
hemmed the Romans in with enemies at home and abroad: and yet failed in
the end. Had he reached Italy with the army largely undamaged, he might not
have failed.26
This suggests some limitations to Hannibal’s leadership in 218. He did not
succeed in inspiring enough commitment in all, or even most, of his troops
to see them through to Italy; and his preparations for the expedition turned
out to be deficient. Just why the Allobroges and the other mountain folk were
so hostile is not clear: presumably they suspected the army’s true intentions
or resented its intrusion into their territories. Even so it might have been pos-
sible to bargain with them—had he had the time. Instead he pressed forward
into their lands with no recorded effort at negotiating. It was already autumn,
snowfalls threatened to block the passes, and he must have thought he could
push through by simple fear or force.
There was another, related flaw in carrying out the venture. By setting out
when he did, first from New Carthage and then over the Pyrenees, Hannibal
added to the risk and dangers that the expedition faced from the seasons. The
delay was dictated, as argued earlier, by his original plan to destroy the
consul’s expeditionary force in Gaul and so safeguard Spain while clearing
the way to Italy. With his timing thus dependent on Scipio’s movements, the
consul’s own lateness in turn contributed indirectly to the damage that the
Punic army suffered. P. Scipio the elder therefore helped to bring about Han-
nibal’s ultimate failure, even before any fighting had occurred between the
two armies.
Scipio’s unwitting service partly mitigates the miscalculation he and the
Romans went on to commit. On learning that the Carthaginian army was
heading for Italy over the Alps, Scipio decided to go back to confront it him-
self—but still sent most of his army on its mission to Spain, with his brother
Cn. Scipio as commander. He himself took over the legions sent to north
Italy against the Gauls. The Senate at Rome, in turn, recalled the other consul
Sempronius Longus from Sicily in haste, so that both consuls and two con-
sular armies could confront the invasion. Carthage and North Africa in other
words were spared immediate attack, an outcome Hannibal himself no doubt
much appreciated.
This in reality meant favouring a secondary priority over the primary. Of
course Spain was important: the Romans worried about Hannibal drawing
reinforcements from there, and steps had to be taken to block any. But
Roman forces loose in North Africa, endangering—worse, besieging—
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Carthage could have been catastrophic for him. Regulus 40 years before and
Agathocles of Syracuse still earlier had brought the Carthaginians to despera-
tion, and in Regulus’ case almost to terms. Sempronius Longus, true, proved
no match for Hannibal in battle, but the Carthaginians had no other Hanni-
bals available. It is striking that when Punic Spain was lost in 205 Hannibal
and his fellow-countrymen carried on with the war in Italy, even though his
own fortunes were plainly sinking—but once Scipio the younger invaded
Africa and put direct pressure on the Carthaginians at home, Hannibal was
recalled.27
Once Sempronius’ expedition was aborted it was not revived for 14 years.
Various raids on the African coast were made between 217 and 205 but had
little discernible impact on the Carthaginians’ war-effort. Yet most raids met
little serious resistance, some garnered notable booty, and they showed how
vulnerable the Punic heartland was. Instead the Romans were fixated on
Spain: the brothers Scipio operated there for years and did thwart Has-
drubal’s planned march to Italy in 215 by defeating him in battle. But in the
end, seven years later, he broke out, even though by then his Roman oppo-
nent was the famous Scipio, Hannibal’s own nemesis.28
Had as much attention from the start been paid to Africa as to Spain—or,
arguably, more attention—the war might well have been shorter and Punic
defeat have come sooner. Instead, Hannibal’s war would bring untold disas-
ters on the Romans.
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I X
T H R E E G R E AT V I C T O R I E S
I
A sharp cavalry skirmish at the river Ticinus, west of Mediolanum, was Han-
nibal’s first victory over the Romans. The consul Scipio, badly wounded,
pulled back south of the river Po to await his colleague, but the doubling of
Roman forces that resulted when Sempronius’ army arrived did them no
good. On a freezing snow-driven morning in late December, beside the river
Trebia a little south-west of Placentia, the 40,000-strong Roman army was
largely destroyed by Hannibal’s 40,000.
The victory was due to the classic encirclement tactics which have made
the Punic general famous among military theorists. His cavalry cleared the
enemy cavalry off the field while his infantry battled the enemy infantry, then
victory was clinched by a rear-and-flank attack on these—first by his
youngest brother Mago from an ambush site, then by the returning cavalry
plus skirmishers. The elephants also took part, though this was their swan-
song as all but one perished in the inhospitable winter following. The only
Romans to get away were those who broke head-on through the Gallic
infantry they were charging. Hannibal’s losses were thus suffered mostly by
the Gauls.
With north Italy his, the general could rest his forces over the winter while
planning his next move. After the Trebia he developed his liberation propa-
ganda-line, freeing his Italian prisoners without ransom and sending them
home with a message which he obviously thought would strike a chord: he
had come to free the Italians from Roman rule and (a neat appeal to past
grievances) to win back for them the lands they had lost to the Romans. He
had been encouraged in his hopes, even before the battle, by the defectio
n of
a Brundisine commander who handed over the town and grain-depôt of
Clastidium, for Brundisium was not just an Italian ally of Rome but was a
Latin colony, one of the 30 privileged city-states that enjoyed a special rela-
tionship with Rome and contributed vitally to Roman war-power.
But just as the North Italian Gauls had given him support only after he
reached their own territories, equally he could not expect any Italian states to
join him unless he came nearer—and came as an assured victor. So he had to
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march south, seek out whatever armies the Romans next produced, and
defeat them.
This was what his existing allies the Gauls expected too. For them, invading
the peninsula meant booty while staying put meant facing new Roman attacks
at home. The Gallic warriors who joined up with him during the winter
cannot have expected a mere defensive campaign. Nor had they ideological or
emotional ties to the newcomers from Africa and Spain. The self-interest
linking the two sides began to fray over the winter lull, if the story in Polybius
and others of Hannibal repeatedly donning varied disguises to evade Gallic
attempts on his life has any basis (it may exaggerate one such stratagem). But
even less hostile expressions of disenchantment, like desertion, would do
his cause no good. Invading the peninsula was the obvious move in any case,
for to stay in Gallic Italy would achieve nothing and the Romans would cer-
tainly counterattack. In late spring 217, with 50,000–60,000 men, he moved
south.1
II
The invasion of Etruria began badly all the same, with the army forced to
march—or wade—for days and nights through the flood-swollen marshes of
the middle Arno river to avoid the more obvious open routes, and suffering
losses as a result, notably among the Gallic contingents. Even if Polybius and
Livy overdramatize the rigours of the marshes, these did take some toll of
the men and animals: the most famous casualty being Hannibal himself, who
suffered a severe attack of ophthalmia that damaged (if it did not fully
destroy) the sight of his right eye.2
But stunning success followed. By arriving in central Etruria he drew the
consul Flaminius in pursuit, then ambushed him on a mist-laden June morn-