The Killing Game: A Thousand Years of Warfare in Twenty Battles

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INTRODUCTION

THE KILLING GAME

Believe it or not, farmers started it all – the killing game. When some of the very first cultivators of crops and livestock settled around the fertile Nile, Euphrates and Tigris Rivers, mankind stopped being nomadic. Holding onto land became a fight for survival. Early wars were over access to food and water, but as cities sprang up wars were fought between powerful city states, then unified kingdoms and mighty empires. Squabbling farmers were one thing, but organised warfare brought the violence to a whole new level.

A quick namecheck with the Assyrians, Babylonians, Egyptians, Hittites and Sumerians in the period from 3,500 BC highlights they are all famous for their military prowess as much as their civilising influences in the Middle East. The Sumerians were some of the very first people to conduct organised warfare and were the first to employ metal for weapons and wear armour. They were also the first to use the chariot and the phalanx. The destruction of Nineveh on the Tigris in 612 BC by the Babylonians marked the end of almost 2,000 years of Assyrian military dominance, leaving the Persians in the ascendancy.

Technologically, the evolution of warfare was painfully slow. During this long period cavalry and chariots were the shock troops of their day. They provided the mobile punch to terrorise enemy infantry. It is often referred to as the Age of the Chariot. Common foot soldiers were armed with the axe, sword, spear, shield and bow – notably the latter, although portrayed on ancient monuments from the end of the fourth millennium, was not used by charioteers until after 2000 BC.

From 500–323 BC, the ancient world was dominated by the turbulent Greek and Persian wars – proud city states against an empire, both bordering the Mediterranean. It was during this era that naval and siege warfare began to truly develop. Afterwards it was the turn of Carthage and Rome to fight it out for dominance. By this stage, the chariot had fallen from favour. Rome’s legions and fleet eventually triumphed across the Mediterranean and Europe.

Following the collapse of the sprawling Roman Empire in AD 410, the so-called Dark Ages ran until 1066. Crucially, in all that time basic weapons remained largely unchanged, while numbers and superior tactics won the day. Then, in historical terms at least, things began to change very rapidly on the battlefield.

The second millennium AD of mankind was characterised by almost incessant warfare somewhere on the face of the globe. Sadly, in the field of human endeavour, it is one of the many things that the human race excels at. This book is not intended to glamorise or glorify war, but to chart and analyse its evolution on specific battlefields. It serves as a snapshot of the development of warfare over the last 1,000 years, illustrating the bravery and suffering mankind has inflicted upon itself in developing what we, rather crassly, call the ‘art of war’.

In that time, warfare has progressed from the bow to the unmanned armed drone – staggering technological simplicity to staggering technological sophistication. The spear was replaced by the pike, which was made redundant by the musket, as was the bow. The musket evolved into the rifle, machine gun and sub-machine gun, which made the foot soldier the king of the battlefield. Catapults were replaced by cannon, which became field artillery, howitzers and anti-tank guns. Cavalry were replaced by the armoured car and the tank. At sea, the warship’s reign was challenged by the submarine. Finally, warfare took to the air with the development of the fighter and bomber aircraft.

Increasingly, man has sought to dehumanise and depersonalise the ‘art of war’ by distancing himself from the physical business of killing his enemy, but one thing remains universal and that is the human condition. Much has been written about esprit de corps, but essentially the quality of troops and their leadership remains just as important, if not more so, as the quality or sophistication of their weapons. Excitement and peer pressure drive bravery, not loftier ideals of glory. Also, accurate intelligence has always been vital: where is your enemy, what is his strength and what are his intentions? Such information is essential in ensuring victory – get it wrong and it spells disaster.

Great acts of courage on the battlefield pose the question, what is it that pushes soldiers, sailors and airmen through the ages to feats of heroism? Why do they put themselves in harm’s way? The ideal has always been for sovereign and country; deep down, though, it is acknowledged that servicemen and women invariably make the ultimate sacrifice simply to safeguard their comrades and families. Peer pressure is often a key factor when it comes to acts of selfless valour. Few go willingly to risk their lives or go to their deaths in the name of their country; however, risking ones’ life to protect fellow human beings is a far nobler act.

Understanding the underlying psychological cause for heroism is one thing; it is another to fully comprehend how people individually or collectively muster the courage to face and often overcome life-threatening situations when all their instincts for self-preservation are urging them to flee. Remaining on any battlefield requires self-control and some courage. Good military training and discipline can only engender so much bravery when under fire. Ultimately though, humanity often shines out even in the face of the most brutal modern industrialised warfare.

In addition, there is an unspoken universal truth about war – some people enjoy it immensely because it is the most exciting thing they will ever experience. War is a drug and it can be very addictive. Nothing can replicate its intense buzz. Hernán Cortés conquered the New World for the thrill of it, as much as any divine mission. Soldiers fight because it is very dangerous and therefore very exciting.

While the basic nature of warfare has not changed over the millennia – namely defeating enemy forces and seizing ground – changing technology in terms of armour, naval and aerial warfare means that there have been fundamental changes, particularly in the past two centuries, in the types of fighting environment in which great courage is needed. Most notably, acts of gallantry by pilots, aircrew and submariners come to mind, where the elements themselves pose an equal, if not greater, danger to enemy action.

The following selection of campaigns, spanning 1066 to 2001, is entirely subjective and consists of engagements that have intrigued and inspired me as a writer in over thirty years of studying military affairs. The linking factor with each central battle is that they played a pivotal part in the outcome of the war. Their principal role is to graphically illustrate the changing face of warfare over the past millennium and how it shaped history. This ranges from the fierce Viking shield wall of the Dark Ages and the rise of the Norman knight, to the deadly long bow and knights of the Middle Ages, to the emergence of gunpowder during the Renaissance and pike-and-shot periods with the effect this had on siege warfare, to linear warfare in the Age of Enlightenment and finally to the rise of aerial and armoured warfare during the tail end of the bloodstained twentieth century. These are designed to give a flavour of the killing game and its far-reaching impact.

Novelist and former journalist Frederick Forsyth summed up the enduring fascination with the killing game when he wrote, ‘A strange thing, war. With its bloodshed and cruelty, its pain, grief and tears, it ought to fill every civilised person with the utmost and unwavering revulsion. It ought to and often does. And yet, and yet …’ Field Marshal Montgomery asked, ‘Why do wars happen? Some will say that war is the child of civilisation, others that war stems from raw human nature. But war has always been the arbiter when other methods of reaching agreement have failed.’

1

THE VIKINGS ARE COMING – FULFORD GATE 1066

A great calamity befell northern Anglo-Saxon England in September 1066 when the country fought two major battles against marauding Viking forces. At Fulford Gate, the Saxon Army of the North was shattered and Norwegian King Harald Hardrada secured half of England. His Anglo-Saxon rival, King Harold Godwineson, managed to retrieve the situation at Stamford Bridge and snatch victory from disaster just before the Normans, under Duke William, invaded southern England.

While the battles at Stamford Bridge and Hastings remain poignant landmarks in British military history, few have heard of Fulford Gate or considered its significance. It was the very first engagement that fateful summer and Hardrada’s triumph forced Harold to abandon his watch on the southern coast; ultimately, this dictated the relative weakness of his army at Hastings.

The only contemporary sources are Snorri Sturluson’s thirteenth-century Heimskringla (Saga of the Norse Kings), in particular King Harald’s Saga, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. King Harald’s Saga is the most detailed account of the whole campaign, but its accuracy is open to endless debate. What is clear is that 1066 saw Anglo-Saxon England threatened with invasion from the south and the north. Both Duke William of Normandy and King Harald Hardrada of Norway had legitimate blood ties with the English throne. When King Edward the Confessor died that year, the Saxon Witan had favoured the succession of his opportunist brother-in-law, Earl Harold Godwineson of Wessex.

The seeds of the northern invasion were laid in 1065 when Harold’s brother, Earl Tostig Godwineson, was expelled from his Northumbrian earldom. Harold did not spring to his defence, an act that could have plunged England into civil war. Tostig’s rule had been so unpopular that it incited rebellion. To appease the rebels, King Edward I (the Confessor) had him banished and replaced him with the teenage Morcar of Mercia. Tostig claimed bitterly that Harold was implicated in the revolt – a slight possibility, as Harold may have seen him as a rival. The end result was that Tostig bore his brother a deep-seated grudge and was determined to regain Northumbria, no matter the cost. Furthermore, Tostig felt that he should have been crowned king on 6 January 1066 and not his brother. Initially, he raided southern England, possibly with the encouragement of Duke William, but was driven north until he found the sympathetic ear of King Harald Hardrada, Thunderbolt of the North.

Harald Hardrada was the last of the great Viking adventurers and had held a senior rank in the Byzantine emperor’s Varangian Guard during 1035–44. His participation in the 1066 campaign heralded the end of the Viking era. Hardrada had a good claim to the English throne as he was related to England’s Danish King Cnut (1016–35). Tostig may have offered his aid and possibly the co-operation of Northumbria in defeating Harold, if Hardrada would promise him the Northumbrian earldom or sub-kingship.

Tostig has always been cast as the villain of the story, which is not necessarily true; nonetheless, he had sailed first to Flanders and then Denmark seeking support. He hoped King Svein of Denmark would provide a Danish army, but ironically the king was too preoccupied defending Denmark against the Norwegians. So Tostig, legend has it, sailed to Norway to see King Harald Hardrada at Oslo Fjord. Hardrada was initially reluctant to invade England; there is some evidence to suggest that his son Magnus tried unsuccessfully in 1058 with a fleet from Norway, Ireland, Orkney and Shetland. In Norway, rather surprisingly, it was felt in some quarters that one Saxon housecarl was equal to two Norwegian warriors.

To the King of Norway, the opportunity of conquering fertile England was indeed a tempting prize. No doubt he felt confident that any Norman invasion would either not take place or could be contained and defeated in the South. His initial plans were simple – seize York, the capital of the North and the third city of the realm after London and Winchester. Finally, Tostig convinced Hardrada of the merits of the enterprise, and in the spring of 1066 Tostig sailed to Flanders to collect his English and Flemish troops.

By June–July 1066, the Norwegians began to gather their forces at Solund Isles and Hardrada sailed from Trondheim to collect them. Before leaving Trondheim, he took the precaution of having Magnus, his eldest son, declared king and regent in his absence. Even so, he took his wife and other children, including Prince Olaf. According to Sturluson, the king dreamt of his dead brother, who told him that death awaited him. Also, while on ship two Norwegian warriors had bad dreams bearing ill omens for the coming invasion – Gydir saw an ogress, who told him they were sailing west to die; while Thord, on a ship near the king’s, saw an ogress riding a wolf prowling in front of the Saxon Army and consuming Norwegian corpses. In such superstitious times, these were foreboding portents of things to come.

By August, the fleet was on route for northern England. Fortunately for King Hardrada, the winds that blew down the North Sea aided his crossing and in turn blew across the English Channel causing Duke William to continually postpone his expedition.

King Hardrada had a very large army, although its exact composition can only be open to conjecture. He sailed from Sogne Fjord near Bergen with 200 longships and forty smaller vessels, which could have carried up to 18,000 men, a full leidang, and this was without the forces collected from the Scandinavian colonies off northern England. It is very unlikely that Hardrada would have taken Norway’s entire fighting force. He probably only took the 7,000–8,000 professional soldiers that he is known to have had available (approximately 7,200 hirdmen fought at the Battle of Nissa in 1062 against the Danes).

England was not unprepared for the threat of invasion. The country was divided mainly between the three great earldoms of Wessex, in the South, and Mercia and Northumbria, which consisted of the Midlands and the North respectively. The rest of England was divided amongst Earl Waltheof, whose father had once been Earl of Northumbria (his earldom consisted of the shires of Huntingdon and Northampton), and Harold’s brothers, Gyrth (Earl of East Anglia) and Leofwine (Earl of the shires of Bedford, Essex, Kent and Surrey).

Half of the war-making potential of England was centred on London and the other half on York. Indeed, the two northern earldoms combined had proved themselves a match for Wessex in 1050, when Harold’s father was defeated in a power struggle. An Army of the North and an Army of the South (though Harold was probably only certain of the Norman attack) countered the threat of double invasion. King Harold, with the Saxon fleet, planned to protect southern England from the Normans, while Earls Morcar of Northumbria and Edwin of Mercia could defend northern England from Norwegian aspirations.

England in 1066.

Anglo-Saxon organisation was based on the fyrd, or militia. Every freeman between 15 and 60 had a military obligation to serve in the General, or great fyrd, which was designed to meet local emergencies, but was badly trained and ill-armed. In contrast, the select fyrd was a more regular force, better equipped and prepared to fight outside their home areas. The majority of the select fyrd consisted of thanes – lesser nobles and the total national force may have been about 4,000. The population of England during this period was only between 1 and 2 million. Professional soldiers were provided from personal retinues of hearth-troops, or hird, very similar to the Vikings.