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Hannibal's Dynasty

Page 21

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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  T H E I N VA S I O N O F I TA LY

  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-

 

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