by Ted Stewart
As for the land battle, the choice of where to engage the Persians was of much greater importance. The Greeks were terribly outmanned. In the end, they sent an army of seven thousand to meet Xerxes’ horde of no fewer than twenty times that number, and perhaps thirty times or even more.
Where could the Greeks stand to fight?
Thermopylae was the only choice.15
Some hundred miles northwest of Athens, Thermopylae was a critical choke point through which the entire Persian army would have to pass. Edged by steep mountains and the sea, the narrow passage was only about twenty yards wide. There was also an ancient wall that could be rebuilt quickly. With the sea protecting the Greeks’ flank to the right and the steep, sheer base of Mount Kallidromos protecting their left, the advantage of the innumerable Persians would be mitigated at the pass.
So it was that, at this narrow neck of land tucked between the mountain and the sea, King Leonidas, three hundred of his Spartans, and a few thousand other Greek hoplites would make their last stand.
The Spartan Warriors
Unlike Athens and most other Greek city-states, Sparta did not rely on citizen-soldiers. In the Spartan social structure, only descendants of those who were part of the original group that had conquered the southern tip of Greece some six hundred years before could be full citizens. For the last two hundred years, the rulers of the Spartan “master race” had developed a set of very strict rules regarding its military class: weak or defective newborns were killed; at age eight, selected males were to be separated from other citizens in camps called messes; no ownership of gold or silver was allowed by those selected, nor were trading, farming, arts, or a profession; these men-children were immersed in military training, focusing entirely on becoming skilled and physically strong warriors. Everyone ate the same food at the messes, and it was a “Spartan meal” insufficient to satisfy hunger, so thievery was encouraged. But one should never be caught, so cleverness and cunning were developed. To further distinguish the warriors, they were encouraged to grow their hair long. Women were revered, good manners and order in families were demanded, strong marriages were admired.
Sparta sustained this warrior class through the efforts of the other citizens who engaged in all those fields forbidden to the warriors. Its form of governance was not like that of any other Greek city-state, for it was a strange mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy.16
The Spartan life required the strictest adherence to religious formality, which explained why the Spartans had showed up late for the battle at Marathon. (Odd though it seems, such restraint was a sign of the discipline and strength of the Spartan warrior.) Yet once again, during the summer of 480, the approach of the Persian army coincided with a sacred holiday. But the enemy forces that approached this year could not be ignored. Despite the religious prohibition against doing so, three hundred warriors were assembled. Under the command of King Leonidas, the tiny army was dispatched to Thermopylae.
As the Spartans started marching toward the narrow pass, the Greek fleet (consisting primarily of Athenian ships) also sailed north.
The collision of East and West was drawing near.
The War Begins
If history shows us anything, it shows that Xerxes, the man who presided over one of the largest kingdoms in world history, was not a weak or foolish man.
In May of 480 BC, his giant army, with soldiers from at least forty-six nations, crossed the Hellespont.
It took a week for the throng of men and animals (seventy-five thousand horses, mules, and camels) to cross over the bridge of boats. Building a road before them, these so-called barbarians (a title attached by the Greeks to anyone not of Greek blood) proved to be quite marvelous in planning for, and skilled in the unfolding of, an invasion. Creating the bridge across the Hellespont, building the Athos Canal to avoid the dangerous seas around Mount Athos, managing a supply of water for such a huge number of men and animals, supplying the men and animals with sufficient food in an area that barely sustained its own population, buying or frightening off the local population to avoid unnecessary fighting on the march south—all of these showed the genius, preparation, and skills of King Xerxes and his royal court.
Xerxes possessed a confidence born of planning, preparation, and an unparalleled history of military success. He fully expected to easily sweep through all of Greece just as he had just swept through the north of that country.
But, unknown to the Persian leader, King Leonidas and his tiny band of long-haired, scarlet-cloaked warriors were marching north to meet them.
As soon as their most holy of festivals was over, the rest of the Spartan army would follow. But all knew that it would be too late. The marching Spartan solders were on a suicide mission. Knowing this, Leonidas selected for his army only those Spartans who had living sons who could carry on their family names once their fathers had been killed.
While the Spartans marched, the Greek navy struggled toward Artemisium, their ships fighting the prevailing currents and wind.
Xerxes was taking his time moving south, enjoying the beginnings of his European conquest. His navy was able to sail faster than his army could march. That created a problem for his naval captains, who knew that the longer they lingered, the higher was the risk of encountering dangerous storms in this temperamental area of the Aegean Sea. The fact that Darius’s navy had been wiped out ten years before, not far from where they now toiled under the summer sun, was not forgotten by Xerxes’ naval commanders. Their fears proved justified, for, while waiting for the army, the navy was hit by a three-day storm, and a large number of ships were lost off the coast of Euboea.
As the Spartans marched north toward Thermopylae, they gathered additional soldiers: seven hundred from Thespia, four hundred from Thebes, a few hundred here and a few hundred more there, from cities large and townships small. By the time he reached Thermopylae, Leonidas had perhaps seven thousand hoplites.
One must wonder at the willingness of these men who joined this doomed army. All of the solders knew what type of terror was descending from the north. Many of their fellow Greeks had already surrendered in fear. Others had betrayed their homeland for Persian coin. But whatever the reason, there was something different about these men. Willingly, they left their homes, their families, their peaceful lives, and joined in the valiant but hopeless effort to defend Greece.
Leonidas must have considered the last words he is reported to have said to his wife, the queen, upon his leaving. Looking at him for the last time, she had pleaded, “Leonidas, Leonidas, what am I to do?”
He had answered her simply. “Marry a good man and bear good children.”17
Such willingness to sacrifice on behalf of all Greece would prove to be the key to the battles that lay ahead.
Thermopylae Pass Ninety-Eight Miles Northwest of Athens
King Leonidas stood upon the rock and looked out on the narrow valley that lay on the other side of the pass. Sand. Broken shale. Mountains on his left; steep rock, thick with trees and thorny brush. To his right, the deep waters of the Gulf of Malis, the shoreline abrupt and craggy.
Four days now. Four days and four nights. That was how long he had been watching as the Persian army flowed into the narrow gorge between the mountain and the sea. Four full days just to amass and organize the army. The crowd of men and horses was so vast it created a thunder throughout the ground and there was a nearly constant glint of flashing swords in the setting sun, the clouds against the mountain bathing the scene in filtered light. Columns of men. Thousands of tents. It seemed a million horses. Looking at them, he had to force himself to breathe. Amid the army, a massive portable building—was it really just a tent?—rose out of the flatness of the plain. The mobile palace of the mighty Xerxes. Leonidas forced himself to breathe again.
His tiny army waited on the south side of the wall. He turned to look down upon them.
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br /> How does one wait to die? he wondered as he stared down at his men.
He was standing where the man-made wall met a natural outcropping of stone. His Spartans were the closest to him, closest to the enemy, just where they should be. Most of them were bare above the waist, exercising, eating, sharpening their short swords, washing their long hair. Behind them, the hoplites stood in disorganized ranks, milling here and there. They were good men all, and he didn’t doubt their hearts, but none of them were warriors, and their ability to carry out the work of war was an unanswered question in his mind. Yes, they would fight, but would their fighting be effective? And would any of them live?
His lieutenants stood on the wall beside him, watching his eyes. Behind them, the sounds of the mighty Persian army seemed to fill the air, the mass of so many men and animals concentrated so close together creating a constant commotion in their ears. Dust drifted up from the roads that followed along the beach. Still more soldiers coming in.
The Spartan warriors turned to their king. One of them spoke, his voice uncertain. “I wonder, lord . . . how can so few hope to stand against so many?”
Leonidas lifted his chin. “If numbers are what matters, then all of Greece cannot match even a small part of this army,” he said. “But if courage is what counts, then our number is sufficient.”18
The Spartan warrior thought, then nodded.
Leonidas nodded gently to the hoplites and his Spartan brothers. “I have plenty of men,” he seemed to whisper to himself, “since they are all to be slain.”
The other Spartans watched, heavy with the burden of the coming battle, but thrilled to be there all the same. The king frowned, then looked across the wall.
A party of horsemen were riding toward them, their horses kicking up the sand. They were dressed in long black robes and jeweled headdresses—their coats flowing behind them, reaching almost to their horses’ knees, created the impression of dark ghosts floating in the wind. The riders rode quickly, pulling up their horses at the wall. Only their eyes could be seen above the black veils across their faces. Dark pupils. Powerful expressions. No fear or doubt or concern were evident in either their eyes or body language.
The lead horseman reached up to pull aside his veil. “We come in the name of our lord, King Xerxes,” he shouted, his voice harsh and arrogant.
Leonidas stepped up a few paces, taking a position higher on the outcropping of rock against the wall.
The horseman waited for an answer, then shouted once again, “We come in the name of Xerxes!”
Leonidas pointed at the land of Greece behind him. “You are not welcome here,” he said.
The horseman seemed to freeze upon his saddle, then cracked a thin smile. “We go where we go, Spartan!”
Leonidas motioned to the magnificent tent of Xerxes, the banners, the trumpets, the slaves, unnumbered wagons filled with food, the mounts and herds of animals, the majesty of the greatest army in the world. “Persians must be greedy,” he said. “Look at all you have. Yet you come to take our barley cakes.”
The emissary studied him a long moment. “We go where we go, Spartan,” he repeated. “And we take what we take.”
Jerking on the leather reins, he pulled his horse around, the animal snorting in pain against the bit. Then he nodded to his escorts, who seemed to gather nearer. “Our lord demands that you surrender your arms!” he sneered.
Leonidas watched him, his eyes narrowing in disgust. A Spartan moved his hand toward his spear, but Leonidas held him back with a lift of his finger.
A puff of hot wind blew, lifting dust into the air. None of the Spartans answered.
The messenger waited, his face dark, his jaw growing tight. “My lord will spare you and your men,” he shouted. “You may go in peace. And you will go much richer. My master is a kind and generous man. You will live a life of luxury. Or you can die here on this day. Those are your choices, Spartan. Surrender this fight, and live to see another day! Or die against the pitiful wall that you have built here. There is no other way!”
Still Leonidas didn’t answer. The burn in his eyes said everything.
The emissary stretched against his stirrups and lifted up his sword. “Surrender now your weapons!” he screamed into the wind.
“Come and take them!” Leonidas shouted back, his voice dripping with disdain.
The emissary sat back into his saddle, his horse pawing at the ground. He stared at the Spartan king in disbelief. Heat lifted off the brown earth and a salty breeze blew in. Turning in rage, he pointed to his right. Ten thousand blue and gray tents were positioned on the high ground against Mount Kallidromos, up where the hills rose out of the plains but before the scag trees grew. “Do you see that?” he screamed in anger. “Do you see that, king of Sparta? Thousands of the best archers in the world stand there with their weapons, waiting for the command from Xerxes to bring your world to an end. They alone can do it; we won’t even need our army. Do you understand that, king of Sparta? Our archers will darken the sky with our arrows!”
Leonidas smiled. “So much the better. We shall fight in the shade.”19
The Persian shook his head. Never had he seen such insolence! Such pride! Shifting in his saddle, he spat on the ground, pulled on his reins, and cut his spurs into his horse’s side. The animal lifted to its rear legs and pawed the air, a trickle of dark blood running down its flank.
The emissary spat again toward Leonidas, then turned and rode away.
Day One
Herodotus recounts that, while his army was assembling for combat, Xerxes sent one of his horsemen forward to try to determine how many Greeks they faced. The narrowness of the pass, plus the wall that had been rebuilt, made it impossible for this scout to see much, but he returned with an unusual report: Some of the vaunted Spartan warriors were stripped and exercising. Others were combing their long hair. Xerxes was apparently amused to hear this report, though his Greek spies, including the former Spartan king, Demaratus, surely could have warned him not to be misled by the lackadaisical approach of the Spartans to the impending combat.
While Xerxes was doing his spying, Leonidas was gathering intelligence as well. During this time he became aware of a potentially fatal Achilles heel of his location.
A deadly trap lay to his west. Something that could change the outcome of the battle.
Did Xerxes also know of the deadly possibility on the mountain?
Only time would tell.
• • •
On August 18, Xerxes decided he could not wait any longer. His navy had not yet crushed the Greek navy, and his chain of resupply was unsure. Because of this, he needed the provisions that awaited him in the cities and countryside on the other side of the small group of hoplites and the wall.
The assault on the Greeks began.
As promised, the Persian archers filled the air with arrows. Then Xerxes ordered his army forward. Lightly armored with their wicker shields, short javelins, and daggers, they moved through the impossibly narrow pass toward the Greek wall of spears and bronze shields and helmets.
As the Persians charged, their ranks were torn apart by the long spears of the Greeks. They fell by the hundreds, only to be replaced by other soldiers. The slaughter was immense. The Persians were forced to withdraw.
Frustrated, Xerxes ordered the men from Susa forward. Forced to clamber over or around the mass of broken bodies, they struggled toward the enemy, only to be met by the bronze-protected Greeks and their long and deadly spears.
The discipline of the Greeks was frightening. If a Greek soldier fell in the stalwart line, another would rush forward to fill his place. Despite their overwhelming numbers, the men of Susa began to fail. Facing annihilation, they were forced to retreat.
Xerxes was furious. Enough of this humiliation at the hand of the tiny band of Greeks! In a rage, he called for
the Immortals, his personal bodyguards, ten thousand men strong. Xerxes watched the battle carefully, expecting the Greeks to be quickly and unmercifully swept aside by the extensively trained and heavily armed elite troops.
And a slaughter did unfold. But to Xerxes’ horror, it was the Immortals who fell, their bodies added to the pile of dead Persian and Susa soldiers.
A humiliating retreat was sounded, and the Persians fell back to lick their wounds.
The first day had gone to the Greeks. Some had died. Many had been wounded.
But they had not given any ground.
War at Sea
While the mighty Persian army was beginning to realize that the Greeks might be something more than a bump in the road on their inevitable conquest of Europe—on that same day, in fact—to the east, in the Gulf of Malis, the Greeks instigated their first assault on the powerful Persian navy.
The Persians had suffered significant losses during the three-day storm off the coast of Euboea, so much so that they had been forced to disperse their large fleet along the long and rugged coastline. Themistocles tried to convince the hesitant members of his navy to take advantage of the disorder. The Greeks were outnumbered more than two to one, however, and most of them were terrified of engaging the Persians in open battle. Themistocles persisted and finally convinced them it was time to attack.
Late in the afternoon they struck, sinking several Persian ships and capturing thirty more. Despite their overwhelming numbers (plus the fact that Xerxes had promised a great reward to any crew that sank a Greek vessel), the Persians were unable to capture a single enemy ship. As darkness approached, the two navies retreated to the protection of their respective shorelines.