The merging of units and sub-units to form what the writers of the military manuals would describe as the ‘perfect phalanx’ highlights an element of the pike-formation’s performance on the field of battle that has seen its fair share of scholarly contention: how rigid was a whole line of pikemen once the army had deployed in line? Some scholars suggest that the Hellenistic pike-phalanx lacked the ability to adapt to varying terrain and changes in the tactical situation. Adcock, for example, states that the pike-phalanx was ‘muscle-bound and without flexibility’.¹ Pietrykowski similarly calls the pike-phalanx ‘ponderous’ and states that the formation was ‘fatally flawed at its core’ due to its rigidity ‘which, in turn, inhibited tactical flexibility’.² Somewhat contradictorily, Anson says that the phalanx was organized into ‘interdependent blocks of infantry’ requiring ‘less emphasis on the ability of the individual soldier and encouraging unit solidarity’ while also stating thatthe formation ‘lacked flexibility’.³
Other scholars suggest the exact opposite, claiming that there was an inherent level of adaptability within the structure of the Hellenistic pike-phalanx. Burn plainly states that ‘Alexander’s formations were, naturally, flexible’.⁴ Featherstone states that it was Alexander who broke the pike-phalanx into smaller units, turning it into a ‘spear-hedged’, highly mobile formation ‘rather than a juggernaut of moving spear points’.⁵ Warry calls the pike-phalanx ‘a highly flexible unit, capable of assuming various formations’.⁶
Other scholars offer that the early phalanx did possess tactical flexibility but that this ability was later lost during the time of the Successors. Bosworth suggests that flexibility was what mattered most to the phalanx.⁷ Gabriel states that it is often mistakenly believed that the pike-phalanx lacked flexibility and that it was, in fact, less prone to breaking up than the Classical Age hoplite phalanx until the armies of the later Successor Period expanded the size and depth of the formation to a point where it could hardly manoeuvre at all.⁸ Tarn states that, by the second century BC, the flexibility of Alexander’s phalanx had been lost and rough or hilly ground always disrupted these later, rigid, formations.⁹ Pietrykowski states that ‘relentless training, brilliant leadership and a forgivingly flexible construction rendered the phalanx of Philip [II] and Alexander [the Great] far better suited to an irregular battlefield than the Hellenistic armies of later decades; suggesting that it was the longer pikes of the Successor period which made later phalanxes ‘less flexible and less manoeuvrable’.¹⁰
A review of the ancient descriptions of the pike-phalanx in action tends to agree with those scholars who advocate a certain level of flexibility within the phalanx. As far back as the early reign of Philip II, and well into the Successor Period, the sources detail pike formations which are both adaptable in deployment and flexible in operation. At Chaeronea in 338BC, for example, the Macedonian army deployed and ‘individual units were positioned where the situation required’.¹¹ At Thebes in 335BC, Alexander divided his army into three separate groups, some of which must have contained units of pike infantry, one to attack the palisade which had been erected in front of the city, another (which included a contingent of Macedonians) to face an advance by the Thebans, and another which was posted in reserve behind the lines and who advanced to support the units facing the Thebans when they became hard pressed.¹² This shows that not only could sections of the pike phalanx be deployed separately from each other, but that reserve units could be brought up and into the fight when required.¹³ This can only be considered a use of pikemen in a line that was not rigid. Units of pikemen, rather than the whole phalanx, were also regularly used in many of Alexander’s sieges and assaults as independent contingents.¹⁴
While the use of individual contingents, rather than the whole battleline, would seem an obvious use of manpower in siege warfare, the literary sources also detail the use of individual units of the phalanx in open field engagements as well. At Gaugamela in 331BC, for example, Alexander advanced his right wing, which contained some pike units, in an oblique line towards the Persian left.¹⁵ Curtius states that the entire line, rather than just the right wing, advanced at an angle.¹⁶ It is almost impossible for a pike-phalanx, either in part or as a whole, to advance at an angle if the formation is a solid, rigid line. However, it is much easier to advance individual units obliquely. This suggests that Alexander’s phalanx was not an inflexible battle line. Rather it seems that the pike-phalanx was comprised of a number of independent ‘combat groups’ – made up of the various units and sub-units of the phalanx – who acted in concert with each other within the parameters of any predetermined plan or spontaneous command while attempting to limit any fragmentation of the line as a whole which may occur as different units advanced and/or engaged. Later, when a gap had opened in the Persian line opposite the Macedonian right, Alexander directed his attack into this opening using his cavalry and ‘the section of the phalanx stationed there’.¹⁷ This shows that the pike units on the right of the line could operate independently from the rest. This independence is confirmed by Arrian who describes how the merarchia commanded by Simmias, on the left of the line between the merarchiae of Craterus and Polyperchon at Gaugamela, ‘halted their unit [Arrian uses the term ‘phalanx’ in its generic sense] and were fighting where they stood as the Macedonian left was reported to be in trouble’.¹⁸ Thus it seems clear that each of the merarchiae of Alexander’s line were operating somewhat independently on the field. Again, this indicates that the phalanx was not one rigid battleline.
This flexibility of the phalanx was also used to arrange the deployment of an army to meet certain conditions on the battlefield and to cater to an overall plan of battle. At Asculum in 279BC, Pyrrhus posted units of native levies in between the units of his phalanx.¹⁹ At Sellasia in 222BC, Antigonus similarly posted units of allied infantry between the units of his pike-phalanx to provide the line with enough flexibility to assault up a hill while simultaneously maintaining unit cohesion.²⁰ At Magnesia in 190BC, Antiochus had his pike-phalanx divided into ten divisions with thirty-two elephants positioned between each contingent.²¹ Thus, right from the onset, all of these deployments of the phalanx would not have been a rigid line of pikemen as some scholars suggest.
Even while marching, the phalanx operated as interdependent units. Any redeployment from column into line conducted in the manner of Alexander’s advance towards Issus (see pages 311-317) can only have been undertaken on a unit by unit basis. Similarly, the wheeling of Machanidas’ phalanx at Mantinea in 207BC could only have been conducted in units rather than as a whole line.²² At the same engagement, Polybius describes how Philopoemen, commanding the opposing Achaean forces, deployed his phalanx in contingents with spaces left between.²³ As the battle began, the first section of the Achaean troops wheeled to the left onto clear ground and then advanced into battle without breaking ranks.²⁴ All of these descriptions can only be taken as references to a pike-phalanx that is both flexible in its arrangement and adaptable to varying tactical situations due to it operating as semi-independent combat groups. Similarly, during the parade at Daphne in 168BC, Antiochus IV is said to have ordered ‘those to advance, those to halt, and assigned others to their positions, as occasion required’.²⁵ This again suggests a pike-phalanx which operated as independent units rather than as a solid, rigid, line.
Aelian also details a large number of other ways that the phalanx could be configured other than just in a horizontal or oblique line. These include such formations as the concave or convex crescent (meneoides [μηνοειδής]), with a variant also known as the kyrtē [Kυpτὴ] formation), the open-ended square (epicampios emprosthia [ἐπικάμπιος ἐμπροσθια]), the wedge (embolon [ἔμβoλoν]), and the hollow square (plaision [πλαίσιoν]).²⁶ In Illyria in 335BC, Alexander the Great formed part of his troops into a wedge, and formations such as defensive squares were adopted by Eumenes’ troops at Gabiene in 316BC and by Antiochus III’s phalanx at Magnesia in 190BC.²⁷ These formations are difficult, if not impossible, to form with a single, rigid, line, but can be accomplished by simply arranging the units and sub-units of the phalanx into the desired configuration. At Issus, the pike units on the right wing, finding the Persians who were opposing them in flight, wheeled inwards to attack troops who were holding the centre of the phalanx at bay at the river’s edge.²⁸ Again, this shows that the units of the phalanx could operate independently of each other and, if the need arose, come to each other’s aid. Dickinson suggests that the phalanx could change formation easily.²⁹ This can only be based upon an acknowledgement that the phalanx was composed of several individual units which could be rearranged with ease. Such references also illustrate a continued use of varied arrangements of the pike-phalanx across almost the whole of the Hellenistic Period.
Regardless of whether Aelian’s descriptions of alternative formations are taken as indicative of the variable deployments of the early phalanx under Philip and Alexander (which Aelian suggests he is writing about), or of the later formations of the Successor Period, or both, it is clear that the phalanx was highly adaptable and not inflexible. Importantly, if these descriptions are seen as references to the formations of the later Successor Period – and the references to the adoption of defensive squares at Gabiene and Magnesia suggest that, if not wholly a Successor Period concept, then the use of such formations may simply be a continuance of earlier phalanx configurations – it is clear that the use of longer pikes in this time period did not inhibit the adaptability of the phalanx as some scholars suggest. This flexibility in the deployment, manoeuvring and operation of the phalanx also impacted on how it moved into the attack regardless of its initial configuration.
It is often stated by modern scholars that the Hellenistic pike-phalanx could only operate on certain terrain. Anson, for example, states that the phalanx required ‘level and clear ground with no obstacles’.³⁰ Snodgrass similarly says that the phalanx could be clumsy on rough terrain.³¹ Markle states that ‘the sarissa armed phalanx could only be effectively used on a level plain unbroken by streams, ditches or rivers’ and that uneven or broken ground was likely to cause gaps to form in the line.³² English suggests that Alexander’s troops flattening a grain field with their pikes in Illyria in 335BC (Arr. Anab. 1.4.1) was to create a level battlefield which suited the phalanx best.³³ Griffith, in a fairly generalized statement, claims that ‘acting in big formations on fairly level and unbroken ground, the [phalanx] was very formidable’.³⁴
Such claims, either referenced or otherwise, are based upon a passage by Polybius. In his examination of the pike-phalanx, Polybius states:
The phalanx…requires ground that is level and bare which has no obstacles such as ditches, clefts, ravines running together, ridges, [or] flowing rivers; for all of the aforementioned are sufficient to impede and fragment such a formation.³⁵
The sentiment of this passage can also be found in Livy (who used Polybius as a source) who declares that ‘the slightest unevenness in the terrain renders the phalanx ineffective’.³⁶ Plutarch’s account of the battle of Pydna, the event being described by both Polybius and Livy, also includes a declaration that the phalanx ‘required firm footing and smooth ground’.³⁷
However, there are several issues with the use of Polybius’ passage to account for the operation of the pike-phalanx. Firstly, as Morgan points out, the word used by Polybius to describe the most preferable ground for the phalanx to operate on (epipedos), while regularly translated as ‘flat’ (as in the above quote) can also mean ‘sloped’. Indeed, Polybius himself uses the word epipedos on a number of occasions to refer to ground with anything from a gentle undulation to a fairly steep incline such as a description of the peninsula of Sinope (4.56.6), the lofty ridges at Sellasia (5.24.3), and the valley of Leontini (7.6.3).³⁸ Consequently, it is possible to interpret Polybius’ description as meaning that the phalanx required terrain that was ‘sloped/undulating and bare…’. Furthermore, even if the passage is taken as meaning ‘flat’, just because this was the most preferable ground for the phalanx to operate on does not necessarily mean that it was the only ground that it could operate on. Hammond suggests that while ‘ideally’ the phalanx fought on flat ground, it could also fight on difficult ground.³⁹ In fact, some of the major pike-phalanx engagements of the Hellenistic Age were fought on ground which Polybius would have considered unsuitable.
As far back as the dawn of the Hellenistic Age, the phalanx was fighting on terrain that was anything but flat. In 350BC, Phocion held the high ground against Philip II and waited for the Macedonian attack.⁴⁰ This shows that the early Hellenistic pike-phalanx was capable of attacking up an incline. High ground was also employed at the battle of Chaeronea in 338BC, but this time by Philip himself. Polyaenus tells us how the units of the Macedonian phalanx on the right of the line withdrew to high ground to their rear, enticing the Athenian left flank to advance. Once in possession of this high ground, Philip’s troops re-engaged causing the Athenian line to break.⁴¹ Thus it seems clear that at least part of Philip’s pike-phalanx could effectively engage an opponent on sloping ground and, with the advantage of fighting downhill, fight quite effectively.⁴² Hammond goes as far as to suggest that the counterattack from the high ground was the key to securing Macedonian victory at Chaeronea.⁴³ If this was the case, then uneven ground could actually work in the phalanx’s favour.
High ground was also a dominant feature of the battle of Sellasia in 222BC. Antigonus Doson had invaded southern Greece to aid the Achaean League against Cleomenes III of Sparta. Cleomenes secured the heights of two hills, called Olympus and Euas, where the road to Sparta and the river Oenous ran between the hills.⁴⁴ Both positions were occupied with contingents of the Spartan pike-phalanx and were additionally reinforced with a ditch and palisade.⁴⁵ On the right of their line, the attacking Macedonians formed up their phalanx with units of allied infantry in between each contingent.⁴⁶ The slopes of Euas, which range from a 15° incline near the base of the hill to around 20° nearer to the summit, were much steeper than that of neighbouring Olympus.⁴⁷ It has been suggested that Antigonus’ alternating deployment of the phalanx units on his right wing may have been to provide the line with greater flexibility to cope with this steep ground.⁴⁸ On the Macedonian left, on the other hand, where the incline of Olympus was less, Polybius specifically states that the phalanx was deployed without any gaps or intervals, but does state that it was arranged in a double depth due to the narrowness of the front.⁴⁹
The Macedonian right assaulted up Euas and, according to Polybius, their line was unbroken when it reached the Spartan position on the summit.⁵⁰ If correct, this shows that, with the insertion of more mobile troops to act as hinges between the units of the pike-phalanx, this formation could effectively advance up fairly steep terrain and possibly even fight over a defensive ditch and palisade. In another indication of how steep terrain could favour the pike-phalanx, Polybius outlines how he believed that one of the major mistakes made by the Spartans at Sellasia was to not have their phalanx on Euas attack down the slope and engage the advancing Macedonians using the advantages of the high ground which, if need be, would have provided them with a means of retreat.⁵¹ Such claims by Polybius seem odd when it is considered that in his own account of the battle of Pydna, he supposedly claims that the pike-phalanx can only operate on ‘flat’ ground. This in itself, suggests that Polybius’ passage should be better translated as ‘sloped’ or ‘inclined’ ground at best.
On the Macedonian left at Sellasia, the pike-phalanx also assaulted up the slopes of Olympus, but here Cleomenes ordered his phalanx to tear down part of their protective palisade and attack downhill (as Polybius says they should have also done on Euas).⁵² Polybius states that both sides lowered their pikes and engaged each other on the slopes of the hill – showing that the pike-phalanx could engage on such ground while moving in either direction.⁵³ However, the impetus of the downhill Spartan attack forced the Macedonian line back onto the plain below.⁵⁴ Plutarch states that the Macedonian right, after defeating those holding Euas, moved back down the hill and attacked Cleomenes and his Spartans – most likely from the rear – and secured the victory.⁵⁵
In this engagement, pike-phalanxes from both sides functioned effectively on anything but level ground. Both wings of the Macedonian phalanx attacked up fairly steep hills with the right wing apparently attacking over the ditch surrounding the Spartan position on the summit of Euas. Furthermore, the Macedonian left wing seems to have been able to withdraw down the slopes of Olympus without breaking the line or devolving into a rout, the Spartan right wing was able to very effectively attack downhill, in an action which must have also involved them crossing the ditch they had dug in front of their position, and (at least according to Plutarch) the Macedonian right was able to turn about and advance back down Euas to engage the Spartans from behind. Importantly, if Plutarch’s statement is accurate, the Macedonian right-wing phalanx would have also needed to have crossed the terrain below the hills in order to engage. Plutarch describes the valley as ‘full of ravines, water courses and generally irregular’.⁵⁶ None of these features seem to have impeded the functioning of the phalanx which indicates that it could operate on steep and/or broken ground.
The battle of Cynoscephalae in 197BC was also fought up and over high ground which Plutarch describes as ‘the sharp tops of hills lying close beside each other’.⁵⁷ Polybius calls the ridge ‘rough, precipitous and of considerable height’.⁵⁸ Pietrykowski calls the ridge upon which the battle was fought ‘a true liability’ to the ‘ponderous phalanx’.⁵⁹ Morgan, on the other hand, points out that the terrain does not seem to have been a deciding factor in the outcome of the battle.⁶⁰ Both of these claims seem to be only partially correct as, depending upon the exact nature of the ground on certain parts of the ridge, the phalanx was either hindered (which ultimately led to its defeat) or not.
The Macedonian army of Philip V, and the Roman army of Titus Flaminius, were both encamped on either side of the ridge at Cynoscephalae. Philip is said to have considered the ground unsuitable and unfavourable for a major engagement but, following initial contact and skirmishing between advance units from both sides, and the receipt of favourable reports from the ridge above which stated that the Romans were in retreat, Philip began to commit more troops to the action including elements of his pike-phalanx.⁶¹ Units of Philip’s right-wing phalanx surmounted the ridge at a run: a manoeuvre which must have necessitated their pikes being held vertically.⁶² Livy says that, once in position and arranged in double depth, the phalangites were ordered to drop their pikes and fight with swords because the length of the weapons was a hindrance.⁶³ Both Polybius and Plutarch, on the other hand, state that the phalanx engaged with its pikes lowered.⁶⁴ Indeed, there are several reasons why Livy’s account should be considered incorrect in this matter. Firstly, Livy later states that the phalanx was unable to turn about to face an attack from the rear.⁶⁵ While this is true of a phalanx with its pikes lowered, it can be easily accomplished by one just fighting with swords. This suggests that the Macedonians were using the sarissa. Secondly, Livy also states that, at the end of the battle, parts of the phalanx signalled their surrender by raising their pikes.⁶⁶ It is unlikely that the members of the phalanx had put away their swords, picked up their pikes – which would have been somewhere uphill behind them as the sources all state that the Macedonian right wing pushed the Romans down the slope – and then used them to signal their surrender. It is more likely that the phalanx had been using their pikes all along.
The phalanx units on the Macedonian right wing effectively engaged the Romans using the advantages of the high ground to their fullest. Plutarch states that the Romans facing these units could not withstand their attack.⁶⁷ It was a different story on the Macedonian left, however, and it was in this quarter that the nature of the terrain may have hampered (and eventually defeated) the pike-phalanx. Livy says that additional pike units were brought up in column – a formation he says is better suited to a march than a battle – rather than in extended line. The ground here may have been more broken than on the right and this caused large gaps to open in the phalanx as it deployed: gaps which the more mobile Roman maniples were able to exploit to defeat the Macedonian left and then swing around to attack the remaining units on the Macedonian right.⁶⁸ Polybius states that this fracture of the phalanx on the left was due to some units already being engaged, others only just making the top of the ridge, while others were in position but were not advancing down the hill. Interestingly, none of these factors have much to do with the nature of the terrain itself and, as such, the extent to which the ground caused the fragmentation of the Macedonian line at Cynoscephalae cannot be conclusively determined. However, it seems clear that it is not the incline of the battlefield which is a hindrance to the operation of the pike-phalanx, but whether or not the line can be maintained on the terrain that the battle is fought upon. This again goes against Polybius’ claim that the phalanx could only operate on ‘flat’ ground.
Another feature which Polybius states could disrupt the function of the phalanx is the presence of a ditch, ravine or river on the battlefield. Yet Alexander the Great’s two battles at Granicus in 334BC and Issus in 333BC were both fought with the pike-phalanx advancing over watercourses and both resulted in Macedonian victories. Arrian’s account of the battle at Granicus contains few details of the infantry action but he does describe the banks of the river as ‘very high, in some places like cliffs’ and how the Persians waited on the far bank so that they could fall upon the Macedonians as they emerged from their crossing.⁶⁹ Arrian and Plutarch also note how the current of the river was strong enough to pull Alexander and his cavalry downstream when they started to cross.⁷⁰ In another comment on the banks of the river, Diodorus similarly states that the Persians held the far side as they thought that they could easily defeat the Macedonians when their phalanx was disrupted as they crossed.⁷¹ Plutarch also notes the uneven slopes of the river banks, but also states that the phalanx crossed the river and quickly put the Persians to flight.⁷² Polyaenus simply states that the phalanx fell upon the enemy and defeated them.⁷³ There are few recorded casualties for the infantry in this engagement.⁷⁴ This would suggest that, regardless of how the banks are described or how fast the river was flowing, the river posed little obstacle to the advance of the phalanx.
At Issus, Arrian again describes the banks as, ‘in many places, precipitous’.⁷⁵ Unlike at Granicus, however, at Issus the banks of the river do seem to have caused some problems for the phalanx. Arrian states that gaps began to form in the line as sections of the phalanx negotiated the crossing and while some units were held up by a stronger resistance than in other areas.⁷⁶ This finds many similarities with the fragmentation of the phalanx at Cynoscephalae. Other units of the phalanx at Issus were able to cross easily – aided by the fact that the Persians opposing them had fled – reform and hit the remaining Persians in the flank.⁷⁷ Markle suggests that both Ptolemy and Callisthenes, the main sources for Arrian, exaggerated the difficulty of the crossing at Issus to make the victory more impressive.⁷⁸ Yet the fact cannot be dismissed that Alexander suffered more casualties among his pike-phalanx at Issus than he did at Granicus. The one thing that could have been a deciding factor in this outcome was the nature of the river that the phalanx had to cross and how it caused part of his line to lose cohesion. Furthermore, Markle claims that the nature of a watercourse at Issus would have made using the sarissa untenable and, as such, suggests that this indicates that Alexander’s troops were not using the sarissa at all.⁷⁹ For the members of the pike-phalanx, it would be far easier to use the longer reach afforded by the sarissa to engage opponents on an elevated riverbank, as they crossed a river, than it would have been if they were only using more traditional length spears. Curtius’ description of Alexander’s infantry at Issus aiming their weapons at the faces of those arrayed on the bank above them seems to confirm the use of a lengthy weapon from the riverbed – most likely the sarissa. This further suggests that Alexander’s troops were using lengthy pikes at both Granicus and Issus.
In his critique of Callisthenes’ account of the battle of Issus, Polybius ponders:
how did a unit of phalangites mount the river’s bank which was both steep and covered with thorny bushes? For this would seem contrary to reason. One must not attribute such an absurdity to Alexander who acquired experience and training in warfare from childhood. Rather, one should attribute it to the historian who, on account of his own inexperience, is unable to distinguish the possible from the impossible in such matters. So much for…Callisthenes.⁸⁰
Polybius also declares ‘what can be less prepared than a phalanx advancing in line but broken and disunited’.⁸¹
While such accusations seem initially valid, Polybius is missing some important considerations in his claims. Firstly, Alexander had successfully attacked with the pike-phalanx across a river at Granicus the previous year so there would be no reason to assume that he thought he could not do it again at Issus. Secondly, the river does seem to have posed problems to the phalanx as it crossed (at least in Arrian’s account) which could be attributable to the slopes and bushes cited by Polybius. Lastly, despite Polybius claiming that such factual errors belonged to those with no experience, unlike Polybius, Callisthenes was actually present at the engagement and may have been an eye witness to the crossing. Consequently, there is little reason to place doubt on the description of the operations of the pike-phalanx at Issus that have come down to us second-hand though Arrian. Strangely, even though his account of the battle is much briefer than that of Arrian, Plutarch states that Fortune had presented Alexander with the ideal terrain for the battle.⁸² Despite the much harder struggle at Issus, it is clear that Alexander’s phalanx could advance and engage across a watercourse with only limited disruption to the line.
Ditches and rivers were also features of other battles during the later Hellenistic Age. At Mantinea in 207BC, for example, the Spartan pike-phalanx of Machanidas attempted to fight its way across a defensive ditch and was defeated.⁸³ However, the important thing to note is that the force holding the other side of the ditch was another pike-phalanx and not some other form of infantry. The ancient texts time and again outline the benefit of using pikearmed phalangites with the benefit of high ground and, while Polybius does state that the Spartan line at Mantinea fragmented as it crossed the ditch, part of the reason for their defeat would have undoubtedly been trying to overcome the lengthy weapons of the opposing formation arrayed against them from elevated ground. Other phalanxes, for example those of Alexander at Granicus and Issus, seem to have had only minor difficulties in crossing a river against opponents who were not armed with long pikes. A similar outcome occurred when Eumenes faced off against Antigonus at the river Pasitigris in 317BC. In this engagement, Antigonus attempted a river crossing but Eumenes and his troops ‘withstood him, joined battle with him, killed many of his men and filled the stream with dead bodies’.⁸⁴ Yet again, it is the fact that the higher ground (or in this case bank) was held by opposing forces which seems to have been a more decisive factor in the outcome rather thanjust the influence of the terrain.
When Pyrrhus attacked the city of Sparta in 272BC, the city’s defences were reinforced with a ditch 6 cubits (2.88m) wide and 4 cubits (1.92m) deep.⁸⁵ Plutarch says that the freshly turned earth of this defensive work made it hard for the attackers to gain a firm footing.⁸⁶ It is interesting to note that a lengthy sarissa, held in its ready position, projects ahead of the bearer by up to nearly 12 cubits (5.76m) if it is of the 14 cubit variety common to the late Hellenistic Period and is held by the last 2 cubits of its length. Plutarch recounts how Hieronymus considered the Spartan entrenchment as being rather small.⁸⁷ The validity of this statement can be seen in the fact that a phalangite standing on one side of the ditch would easily be able to reach an opponent standing on the other due to the length of his pike. Thus the only danger to the advancing pike-phalanx would have been when they actually chose to cross the ditch. Had the phalangites simply remained on their side, the Spartans would have undoubtedly been forced to pull back as they would not have been able to engage their opponents. The key element of the perils of this defensive work as it is described by Plutarch is that it was the freshly turned earth, rather than the nature of the ditch itself, that was an impediment to the advance of the phalanx.
Channels and watercourses also played a part in the battle of Pydna in 168BC: although not in the way, or to the extent, that Polybius would suggest in his critique of the phalanx. Plutarch observes that the plain of Pydna was cut by the rivers Aeson and Leucus but that, at the time of the battle (the end of summer) the water was not deep.⁸⁸ This comment about the apparent lack of depth of the rivers suggests that both rivers were substantially deeper at other times of the year and, as such, the banks of the streams at the time of the encounter could have been rather steep. Plutarch states that the Macedonian commander, Perseus, thought that these would disrupt the Roman formations.⁸⁹ This suggests that the initial Macedonian strategy was to hold a defensive position and attack the Romans when they advanced. Hammond, in his analysis of the battle concludes that the two opposing battlelines ran from the southwest to the northeast and, as such, the two rivers on the battlefield, which ran roughly west to east, dissected both formations.⁹⁰ As Plutarch notes, Paulus waited for the sun to pass its zenith so that it would not be shining into the faces of his troops when he attacked.⁹¹ This would only make sense if both armies were deployed north-south (with the Romans facing east). While Hammond’s orientation of the lines in this manner conforms with the statement made by Plutarch, it must also be considered that in doing so parts of both armies had to have advanced down, or at least across, sections of a riverbed in order to engage. However these obstacles do not seem to have impeded either army to any great extent.
As if to confirm this tactic of a Macedonian defensive action, Plutarch describes Paulus as being reluctant to go into action against a phalanx that was ‘already drawn up and fully formed’.⁹² What happened to this initial strategy is not stated but, not long afterwards, the Macedonians are said to have quickly gone on the offensive and advanced almost up to the Roman camp.⁹³ This advance would have included parts of the pike-phalanx crossing both rivers which do not seem to have posed much of an impediment to the formation as it moved forward. However, as the battle continued, dangerous gaps began to form in the Macedonian line which allowed the Romans to attack individual phalangites from the flank and rear. Plutarch partially attributes this fragmentation of the phalanx to the terrain, which he says was uneven, but also to the very length of the phalanx and to the fact that some units were hard pressed while others were continuing to advance.⁹⁴ This finds similarities with both Alexander’s battle at Issus and Philip V’s engagement at Cynoscephalae. Yet it must also be noted that, prior to this occurrence, and while the phalanx maintained its cohesion, Plutarch states that the phalanx was ‘everywhere unassailable’, that Paulus was frightened by the sight of the organized phalanx, and that, due to the losses his troops were suffering, he rent his clothes in despair.⁹⁵ Further evidence that some of the fighting took place in and across the water channels is found in Plutarch’s statement that the following day the waters of the Leucas were stained with blood.⁹⁶ Consequently, it is yet again clear that it is in the maintenance of the line (or not) where the deciding factor in the outcome of the battle involving a pike-phalanx lies rather than the terrain upon which it was fought.⁹⁷ Livy attributes the Roman victory to this factor alone in his account of the battle.⁹⁸
Indeed, the maintenance of the line, or not, was the major contributing factor to the success or failure of the pike-phalanx in action. The use of units and sub-units, while providing the pike-phalanx with a certain level of tactical flexibility, also created the potential for the greatest danger to the formation: the opening up of gaps in the line. There are numerous ancient texts which contain generalised comments to the effect that, if the cohesion of the line is retained, a pike formation is almost unbeatable.⁹⁹ Such claims would also have to assume that the vulnerable flanks of the phalanx were protected as well.
How these gaps formed was due to a number of combined factors. Polybius states that whether the pike-phalanx advances and puts an opponent to flight, or is itself turned, the line will fragment as, in one scenario, units of the phalanx will pursue the routed enemy while, in the other, fleeing phalangites will not maintain their formation.¹⁰⁰ Plutarch states that the uneven terrain at Pydna resulted in the phalanx being unable to maintain ‘as close a formation as possible’ (using the term synaspismos in its generic sense) and that this also caused gaps to form in the line.¹⁰¹ Plutarch also states that gaps will form in the phalanx when parts of it are hard pressed while other sections continue to advance.¹⁰² This is exactly what happened at both Issus and Cynoscephalae which shows that this was a vulnerability that existed within the pike-phalanx across the entire Hellenistic Period.
The only way to avoid such perils would be for the entire line to halt its advance if part of it became hard-pressed. Arrian states that the integrity and safety of the whole line depended upon each man holding his position.¹⁰³ This would not only relate to each phalangite keeping his position within his file, but to each file and sub-unit keeping their respective positions across the line as a whole. However, due to the semi-independent nature of the sub-units of the phalanx, and the sheer size of some of the battlelines of the Hellenistic Age, there was not enough command and control to keep the entire line intact and, as a result, gaps would inevitably form.¹⁰⁴ In some instances unit commanders were able to gauge what was happening around them and halt their formation to prevent further fragmentation of the line. We see this in the actions of the units within the merarchia of Simmias at the battle of Gaugamela who ‘halted their unit and were fighting where they stood as the Macedonian left was reported to be in trouble’.¹⁰⁵
When gaps formed in the line, this was when the phalangite was most vulnerable. By exploiting these gaps, more mobile opponents could move inside the sets of serried pikes, negating the advantage that such a lengthy weapon provided, and attack at close-quarters with short reach weapons, or attack the phalangites from the side. In either case the panoply of the phalangite placed him at a considerable disadvantage. The lengthy sarissa, for example, was practically useless as an individual combative weapon due to its size and weight and the formation, not matter how fragmented, made it difficult for the phalangite to individually turn and face a direct threat from the side or rear. Markle offers that the only place that a sarissa did function effectively was within the confines of the massed phalanx.¹⁰⁶ Plutarch also comments on the small size of the phalangite sword and shield and that these made them no match for the Romans in hand-to-hand combat once a gap had been exploited.¹⁰⁷
The creation of such gaps posed little threat when facing another pike-phalanx, the members of which could not exploit it and, even if an inevitability, the success of the pike-phalanx against more mobile opponents suggests that any deficiencies in the formation were countered by many of its other advantages in most cases. So long as enough of the line remained intact to pin the enemy in place for the amount of time required for a flanking cavalry attack to work, then the phalanx was reasonably secure – as per Alexander’s battle at Issus. If, on the other hand, the protection for the flanks of the phalanx was removed, or any flanking attack against the enemy line failed to achieve its purpose, then the gaps that had formed in the line as a result of the phalanx’s advance could result in its undoing. Yet the separation of the line did not mean immediate defeat. On the contrary, the ancient literature shows that the pike-phalanx could even operate reasonably well on terrain which could do nothing but cause the line to fragment.
In Polybius’ critique of the phalanx he states that the formation could be interrupted by obstacles. However, even generally rough and/or wooded terrain did not always negatively impact the function of the pike-phalanx. At Asculum in 279BC, the Romans engaged Pyrrhus of Epirus on terrain which Plutarch describes as ‘rough ground where his [i.e. Pyrrhus’] cavalry could not operate, and along the wooded banks of a river…’¹⁰⁸ Pyrrhus engaged on this ground with his whole army, including his pike-phalanx, and secured a long and hard fought victory.¹⁰⁹ Polybius states that Pyrrhus deployed with alternating units of phalangites and allied troops across his line.¹¹⁰ This arrangement may have been to ensure that his line was more flexible, and therefore less likely to have gaps form, as it advanced across the difficult terrain. Polybius makes the comment in his examination of the pike-phalanx that it is almost impossible to find clear and obstacle free land for the pike-phalanx to fight on.¹¹¹ While generalised in nature, such comments fail to consider that if obstacle free ground was so rare, yet crucial to the proper functioning of the pike-phalanx, why anyone would have adopted such a style of fighting in the first place or have been able to use it to such great effect for almost two centuries up to the time that Polybius was writing. Clearly, obstacles of any shape or form, whether they be rivers, ditches, ridges or trees did not have a significant impact of the operation of the pike-phalanx so long as adequate precautions were taken to ensure the flexibility and maintenance of the line.
Even a narrow fronted battlefield seems to have been little impediment to the pike-phalanx. In 191BC, Antiochus III occupied the narrow pass of Thermopylae in central Greece against the army of the Roman consul Marcus Acilius Glabrio.¹¹² Part of this army included a contingent of sarissaphori who were positioned as a second line of infantry, against a series of defensive works that had been constructed.¹¹³ In the narrow pass, Antiochus’ phalangites engaged the Romans ‘with their sarissae presented in a massed order, the formation with which the Macedonians from the time of Alexander [the Great] and Philip [II] used to strike terror into enemies who did not dare to engage the thick array of pikes presented to them’.¹¹⁴ The phalangites seem to have held their own in the initial stages of the battle – Livy says they ‘easily withstood the Romans’.¹¹⁵ When they became hard pressed, the phalangites withdrew inside the fortifications and ‘made what amounted to another palisade with their pikes thrust out in front of them’ and the Macedonians used this position to easily fend off the attacking Romans.¹¹⁶ This resistance continued until a force of Romans managed to get around behind the Macedonians, using the same path that the Persians had used to outflank Leonidas and his Spartans back in 480BC, which caused the formation to rout and flee for their camp¹¹⁷
Frontinus states that the phalanx did not like fighting in cramped quarters.¹¹⁸ Hammond offers that phalangites were not well suited to fighting in narrow areas like streets or in siege warfare.¹¹⁹ However, this is precisely the kind of terrain where a unit of pikemen would have been at their best. In narrow fronted areas like streets or passes like Thermopylae, where the flanks of the formation were protected by buildings or natural features, a contingent of pikemen could easily hold their own against any opponent with shorter reach weapons so long as the high ground was not occupied by the enemy who could then use this position to rain missiles down upon the phalangites.¹²⁰ If the files could be maintained, the pikes strongly presented, and the formation not crowded by opposing troops, pikemen could simply either advance forward and drive or kill everything before them or hold their position and let the attacking enemy impale themselves on their pikes. However, if the formation was not maintained on such narrow terrain, then any warrior was in trouble regardless of the type of weapon he was using. Plutarch describes in detail the confusion of urban warfare in the Hellenistic Age in his account of Pyrrhus’ assault on Argos in 272BC. In this attack, Pyrrhus’ troops were driven out of the town square, where Plutarch says there was plenty of room to fight and give ground, only to have his formations spoiled by reinforcements coming the other way. In the confusion, orders could not be heard, several elephants went wild and trampled all underfoot, and ‘once a man had drawn his sword or aimed his spear it was impossible for him to sheathe [it] or put it up again, but it would pierce whoever stood in its way’.¹²¹ It is this type of cramped and confused environment where the use of weapons was limited, rather than any reference to the nature of the terrain itself, that Frontinus must be referring to. Had Pyrrhus’ troops been able to withdraw without such confusion, much of the carnage mentioned by Plutarch could possibly have been avoided.
Despite such accounts, phalangites did take part in many assaults on urban areas – particularly ones that were taken through breaches in the walls rather than through the use of assault ladders. At both Tyre and Gaza, for example, some of the troops who stormed the cities were from units of Alexander’s pike-phalanx.¹²² This suggests that either these troops were employing their pikes in an urban environment, or may have been using other, smaller weapons, such as the front halves of their sarissae or just their swords. In any case, these units would have been fighting in a narrow, enclosed space, but with their flanks somewhat protected. Indeed, if contingents of Classical hoplites such as the 300 Spartans, arranged in close order, were able to hold the Thermopylae pass for two and a half days in 480BC, and inflict substantial casualties among their enemies, then even a single syntagma of phalangites could have held the same position with their longer pikes almost indefinitely. This shows that the narrowness of the terrain was also not an impediment to the functioning of the pike-phalanx and, depending upon the circumstances, could actually make the position even stronger.
Markle suggests that sarissa-armed infantry were never led across rivers or ditches except by incompetent commanders.¹²³ However, a review of the literary accounts of some of the major confrontations of the Hellenistic Period shows that in many cases experienced commanders from Philip II to Perseus successfully engaged opponents with pike-phalanxes on this very type of terrain. In other cases, pike formations fought effectively on hilly or narrow ground – contrary to what Polybius would have us believe in his examination of the phalanx. Anderson suggests that Polybius’ description of the unsuitability of the phalanx on rough terrain may simply be an exaggeration to illustrate his point concerning the loss at Pydna.¹²⁴ Based upon the different terrains that the phalanx successfully fought upon, if Polybius’ passage is not translated in another way, this seems more than likely. Thus it seems clear that the use of units and sub-units within the structure of the pike-phalanx made it a very flexible formation and one that could be configured and used on almost any battlefield of the ancient world.
A deployed pike-phalanx could be a lengthy formation. A single syntagma of 256 men arranged in sixteen files (for example, with each file occupying an intermediate-order interval of 96cm per man) would possess a frontage of around 16m. Each chiliarchia of the phalanx, if all four of its constituent syntagmae were arranged side-by-side with no interval between, would possess a frontage of 64m. Each merarchia, with its four constituent chiliarchiae similarly arranged side-by-side with no interval between, would possess a frontage of 256m. Thus a pike-phalanx such as that of Alexander the Great, comprised of six separate merarchiae, when at full strength and deployed in a continuous line in its standard depth, would stretch for more than 1.5km. The effective control of such a lengthy formation in battle came down to a number of factors across all levels of command. The effective control of the phalanx was not just due to the positioning of officers across its front rank and the symmetrical distribution of their command abilities to support each other, but through careful planning, clearly understood commands with an easy means of delivering them, and the adaptability of the pike-phalanx in general.
In many instances how the phalanx was to form up and fight was decided well before the commencement of hostilities at a pre-battle council of senior officers. Alexander the Great held just such a council meeting at Granicus in 334BC where, upon receiving reports from his scouts on the Persian positions, he immediately gave all necessary orders in preparation for a battle.¹²⁵ This was not a one sided discussion and Alexander’s senior general, Parmenion, was able to offer his own advice – advice Alexander readily dismissed.¹²⁶ If Arrian is correct in stating that the deployment of the merarchiae at Granicus followed a rotating roster of command to some extent, it would seem likely that these dispositions were confirmed in such a pre-battle council as well.¹²⁷ Alexander’s advance from column into line at Issus the following year must have also been determined well beforehand as is suggested by Curtius (see pages 311-317).¹²⁸ At Tyre in 333BC, officers of varying ranks were present at strategic conferences.¹²⁹ Machanidas’ deployment from column into line at Mantinea in 207BC must have similarly followed a preconceived plan and operational deployment (see pages 322-326).¹³⁰
A major pre-battle council was also held by Alexander prior to the battle of Gaugamela in 331BC which involved commanding officers of all of the different contingents within the army – all of whom seem to have been able to contribute to the discussion. Arrian states that:
…he stopped his phalanx [i.e. army]…and again summoned the Companions, generals, squadron commanders and the leaders of the allied and foreign mercenaries, and posed the question whether he should advance his phalanx at once from this point, as most of them urged, or, as Parmenion thought best, encamp there for the time being, reconnoitre the whole of the terrain…and make a thorough survey of the enemy’s positions. Parmenion’s advice prevailed and they camped there, in the order in which they were to go into battle¹³¹
This passage provides a great deal of information about what took place at these pre-battle councils. Firstly, it is carried out at a time which allows for the options for the timing of the operation to be debated: in this case either to encamp and fight on another day or engage immediately. Secondly, Arrian’s passage shows that the order of battle was pre-arranged at these meetings. Finally, these councils involved representatives of all the units within the army. This would allow the commander of each contingent to know its exact place in the battleline for the ensuing battle and what it was expected to do on the day. As Hammond notes, the discussions and conclusions reached at the pre-battle councils had to envisage how the ensuing battle would unfold as all of the senior commanders present at them would be in the thick of the fighting in their own individual sectors of the battlefield once hostilities had commenced.¹³² Importantly, even if it was decided to go into battle immediately, it can only be assumed that enough time would have been left for these orders and dispositions to be relayed down through the chain of command to each respective sub-unit of the formation. If it was decided to encamp, then presumably orders for the night watch would have been issued, rosters for eating, resting and other duties would have been finalized, and these too would have to be filtered down to each and every member of the army.¹³³
Following this council at Gaugamela, Arrian states that, following an inspection of the army, Alexander summoned the officers again and issued further instructions for how the army was to conduct itself on the day of the battle.¹³⁴ Parmenion is said to have gone to Alexander again following this second council to offer other options such as an immediate night attack on the Persian position – advice which, again, Alexander rejected.¹³⁵ This shows that, once plans had been set, they could be refined further, and possibly even altered, with discussions at the highest command level.
At the Hydaspes, orders were given to certain units regarding what to do if the battle progressed in a certain way. Craterus, for example, commanding units holding the riverbank to keep the Indians of king Porus in check, was instructed by Alexander:
not to attempt a crossing until Porus and his army had left his camp to attack Alexander’s forces [who were attacking from a different direction], or until he had leamt that Porus was in flight and [Alexander] victorious; ‘but should take a part of his army and lead it against me’, Alexander continued, ‘and leave another part behind in his camp with elephants, still stay where you are. If, however, Porus takes all of his elephants with him against me, but leaves some part of his army behind in his camp, cross with all speed…¹³⁶
It is unlikely that most battle plans were as elaborate, or as reliant upon certain conditions, as those given to Craterus at the Hydaspes. It is more likely that, as with Alexander’s council at Gaugamela, the main concern with the plan would have been where each unit was to deploy in the line. From here, the majority of operational tactics for the pike-phalanx seem to have simply been for an order to be given for the phalanx to ‘lower pikes’ (καταßαλoυσαι τας σαpίσας) and advance into action (see following).¹³⁷ This simplicity of direction would ensure that instructions were not confused or misinterpreted as they were passed down the line. It also partially explains why Alexander used the exact same tactic – a frontal advance with the phalanx while the right wing cavalry attacked from the flank – at each of his four major battles with only slight variations on a theme.
Once battle had been joined, a complex system for relaying commands was used to capitalise on the flexibility of the phalanx and to exploit any tactical opportunity that presented itself. Other commands put into effect orders that had been pre-planned. Arrian states that at Gaugamela the units of Alexander’s phalanx had been ordered to open gaps to counter an attack by Persian scythe-bearing chariots. Arrian uses the past tense ‘they had been ordered’ (ὥσπερ παρήγγελτo αὐτοῖς) here which suggests that this had been part of the plan developed from Alexander’s reconnaissance of the enemy position and the considered method of their attack. This relay of commands would have been carried out by four of the supernumeraries attached to each syntagma of the pike formations: the herald (stratokērux – στρατοκῆρυξ), the aide-de-camp (huperetēs – ὑπηρέτης), the standard bearer (semeiphoros – σημειφόρος), and the trumpeter (salpigktēs – σαλπιγκτής).
According to the Suda, it was the role of the herald to relay orders by voice.¹³⁸ During a battle, each officer above the rank of syntagmatarch, in command of their respective unit or sub-unit within the broader formation of the pike-phalanx, would have the aid of a herald. Thus, if the preconceived battle plan required the unit to conduct a particular movement such as an advance, a feigned withdrawal or a counter-march when either a certain point in time was reached or a certain criteria was met, the commander, once that moment had arrived, could instruct his herald of the new order who would then call it out so that it could be heard by the men in the unit. At Gaugamela, part of Alexander’s standing instructions was for his troops to obey orders quickly.¹³⁹ This shows that, even though a pre-conceived battle plan may have been formulated, parts of it were either not put into effect immediately once the battle had begun, and/or that, due to the many variables of combat, plans could change and new orders issued at a moment’s notice.¹⁴⁰
If any such an operation was conducted by a relatively large unit, such as a merarchia, it is highly unlikely that the voice of the herald standing next to the merarch would carry far enough to be clearly heard by every member of the larger unit – even without the din of battle being considered. As such, an instruction announced by the commanding officer’s herald must have been relayed across larger units by the other heralds within it. Due to heralds being attached to each syntagma, this would mean that each instruction would only have to be passed a distance of 16m from one herald to the next. Even if a phalangite on the far side of his syntagma did not hear the order called out by his respective herald, he still would be in a position to hear the instructions as it was relayed by the herald attached to the adjacent unit. This, in part explains why the supernumeraries were attached to the syntagma rather than a larger unit and why this unit was the smallest tactical formation of the phalanx.
Under such circumstances silence was paramount. Aelian and Arrian devote entire sections of their examinations of the phalanx to the importance of silence within the ranks so that such orders could be heard.¹⁴¹ At Gaugamela, Alexander ordered his troops to advance in total silence and to only raise their warcry in unison when ordered to do so.¹⁴² This would have ensured that any instructions given up to that point would have been easily heard and promptly followed as the sheer size of the formations involved caused considerable problems for the relaying of information. Appian states that one of the problems of large armies is that they are often so big that people cannot see what is going on and if one section of the line gets into difficulties, the news of this trouble is intensified as it is transmitted down the line and this can lead to a general panic forming.¹⁴³ The avoidance of such potential calamities explains why Hellenistic armies employed a whole range of methods to pass information and instructions between commanders and their units.
Verbal instructions could also be delivered by a runner. This was most likely one of the roles of the aide-de-camp. The Suda states that the role of this supernumerary was to ‘carry over some of the things that are needed’.¹⁴⁴ The most likely form of these ‘needed things’ would have been the delivery of information. At the Hydaspes, the units of Meleager, Attalus and Gorgias were instructed to cross the river as separate units.¹⁴⁵ It is unlikely that Alexander personally delivered such instructions, although it cannot be ruled out that they were part of the already disclosed pre-conceived battle plan. Rather Alexander would have relayed these orders to the individual unit commanders via a runner and these orders would then be passed down through the respective formations. Arrian describes this in his account of the battle itself. Once across the river, Alexander is said to have ‘ordered the infantry to follow in good order and at a marching pace…He directed Tauron, the commander of the archers, to lead them on with the cavalry, also at full speed.’¹⁴⁶ Once the fighting had commenced ‘Coenus was sent to the right…and ordered to close with the barbarians from behind…[and] Seleucus and Antigenes and Tauron were put in command of the infantry phalanx, with orders not to take part in any action…’.¹⁴⁷ Again, it is unlikely that Alexander, who was himself engaged on the right of the line, would have delivered all of these instructions personally and would have used a series of messengers to deliver the orders.
Many of the pike units themselves seem to have had a considerable amount of command autonomy on the battlefield, especially at the higher levels. At Granicus, the units of Alexander’s right wing wheeled to the left to strike the Persians in the flank. Such a manoeuvre could have only been undertaken if the commanders of each of the two merarchiae involved had co-ordinated with each other, most likely through the use of orders delivered by runners, the exact moment that this change in direction was going to take place. Had both units not co-ordinated their movements, they ran the risk of entangling with one another, possibly as one unit continued to advance while the other wheeled, or of one unit being left dangerously exposed while the other changed its path. At Gaugamela, Parmenion, in command of the left wing, also sent messengers to Alexander to inform him that the position was becoming hard pressed.¹⁴⁸ This not only demonstrates the use of messengers and runners to relay information and requests for assistance across the battlefield, but that some of these messengers were highly mobile, possibly mounted, and could cover considerable distances to locate specific individuals amidst a battle containing thousands of men. All of this combined to make the pike-phalanx, and pike-phalanx tactics, rather fluid and adaptable.
Yet, across the din of battle, general instructions such as the order to advance or retreat may not be heard for any number of reasons. This was where the other supernumeraries attached to each syntagma, the standard bearer and the trumpeter came into play. The positioning of standards across the front of the pike-phalanx could not only be used to help the formation retain a relatively level frontage, as Curtius states they were used for at Gaugamela, but could also be used to relay orders to the troops of their respective units.¹⁴⁹ The Suda states that one of the functions of the standard bearer was to relay orders ‘by the standard, if the voice is not heard because of noise [of battle]’.¹⁵⁰ Thus the role of the standard bearer was to facilitate the issue of commands by delivering them visually. It can only be assumed that, when a unit received such instructions, they were relayed both verbally by the herald and simultaneously visually by the standard bearer so that each member of the unit would have a chance of receiving the orders in at least one form.
This, in turn, suggests that there was a standard set of drill movements and actions that the standard bearer could perform and that the meaning of these instructions was easily recognizable by every member of the unit. Unfortunately, none of the extant literature outlines what these drill movements or actions were. However, it must be concluded that there was an action (or series of actions) which translated into every basic command that a unit might be given – raise pikes; lower pikes; advance; halt, wheel, counter-march and so on – otherwise the standard bearer would have limited value to the command structure of the unit.
As with the herald, because there was one standard bearer attached to each syntagma of the phalanx, the signal that was given needed only to have been visible from a distance equal to the diagonally opposite side of the unit – a distance of some 20m. Even if those on the far side of the unit were unable to see their respective standard bearer due to dust, smoke, rain or any other visual impediment, they might have still been able to see the standard belonging to the adjacent unit, or simply relied on the verbal outbursts of the herald for their instructions.
Furthermore, there had to be both a verbal command and a visual signal which signified that the command that was to follow was for a specific unit to avoid confusion. For example if the men on the far side of one syntagma could not see their standard nor hear their herald, but the adjacent unit was given the order to advance while theirs was not, those men could not simply follow the orders relayed by the supernumeraries of the adjoining unit lest they incorrectly obey an order that was not meant for them. This suggests that each order that was relayed was preceded by a call and/or signal which alerted the men of the required unit that the information that was to follow was for them, and for them alone. Regardless of whether this was for a sub-unit such as an individual syntagma, or was an order that governed an entire merarchia but was being relayed to each sub-unit within it, as each successive unit was forwarded the command, the men inside it would have had to have been alerted that an order was coming.
Standards and banners, in a variety of forms, relayed information at all levels in battles across the breadth of the Hellenistic Age. Pyrrhus’ army at Asculum in 279BC, for example, employed a series of ‘hoisted signals’ to relay instructions.¹⁵¹ Standards were also used in the army of Philip V at Athens in 200BC and by the army of Antiochus III at Thermopylae in 191BC.¹⁵² At Sellasia in 222BC, Antigonus himself began the attack by raising linen and scarlet flags to order different wings of his line to advance.¹⁵³ Polybius says that, once these signals had been given, the officers commanding the appropriate units then relayed these instructions down to their men.¹⁵⁴ This not only illustrates the use of other means for the officers of each unit to relay the order to advance, but also that a pre-conceived plan had been put into effect, most likely determined at a pre-battle council, where the officers were informed of what to do once the flags had been raised.
Yet under certain conditions neither the cries of the herald, nor the signals of the standard bearer, could be heard or seen. This was where the last of the supernumeraries – the trumpeter – was used.¹⁵⁵ As with both the herald and the standard bearer, commands issued for each unit would have been delivered though a variety of different trumpet blasts to relay specific orders. Thus, like the standard bearer, there must have been a certain set of blasts (or series of blasts) each of which translated into a specific command that was readily understood by each member of the phalanx. Additionally, and also like the standard bearer, there must have also been a set of specific notes that could be played to alert individual units to the incoming orders. Polybius states that at Sellasia a contingent of light troops was recalled by the sounding of a trumpet.¹⁵⁶ This indicates that there was a preliminary blast to alert just the light troops to the incoming order as, had the trumpet call simply meant ‘withdraw!’ any unit may have followed the order.
Other, more general orders, seem to have been able to be delivered by trumpet as well. Alexander’s army, for example, was ordered to both attack and withdraw at Halicarnassus in 334BC, Issus in 333BC, Gaugamela in 331BC, and at the Hydaspes in 326BC, by the sound of a trumpet.¹⁵⁷ The entire army of Eumenes was recalled ‘with the sound of the trumpet’ at the Hellespont in 321BC, as was Polyperchon’s army at Megalopolis in 318BC.¹⁵⁸ Demetrius’ army was similarly recalled ‘by a trumpet call’ at the Nabataean Rock in 312BC.¹⁵⁹ At the battle of Beth-Zachariah in 162BC, the signal for the whole Seleucid army to advance into battle was given by the blast of a trumpet.¹⁶⁰ Such passages show the use of trumpeters to relay commands across the entire Hellenistic Period. Undoubtedly these instructions would have been passed among the units by their various trumpeters and more than one ‘sound of the trumpet’ over the entire execution of the command must be assumed.
This leads to the question of the advance itself; once the signal to advance had been given, how fast did the phalanx actually move and how was this pace maintained so that the cohesion of the line was not lost? Sheppard suggests that the advance of the phalanx was sometimes conducted at the run.¹⁶¹ Adcock, on the other hand, offers that the phalanx relied more on a steady advance than it did on a rapid charge.¹⁶² Pietrykowski suggests the phalanx advanced at the ‘quick step’.¹⁶³ In modern military terminology, this equates to a rate of around 120 paces per minute – with each pace being about 75cm in length (from heel to toe).¹⁶⁴ If this is the rate of march that Pietrykowski is referring to, it would seem a bit quick for a formation of men encumbered with heavy armour and carrying a 5kg sarissa who were trying to maintain a compact formation.¹⁶⁵ When the maximum possible rate of march was tested using small groups of re-enactors equipped as phalangites, it was found that it is almost impossible to maintain any semblance of order within the ranks when the formation is moving at anything other than a brisk walk. This would suggest that a slightly slower pace would have been used by much larger pike-phalanxes.
Indeed, there are only few accounts in the ancient literature where the phalanx seems to have moved at anything like a running pace. One instance of a rapid advance occurred at Cynoscephalae in 197BC.¹⁶⁶ Yet even here this advance was to move troops into position quickly, and to seize high ground, rather than an actual advance into combat. The pike units on Alexander’s right wing at Gaugamela are also said to have advanced against the gap in the Persian lines at the run (δρόμῳ).¹⁶⁷ However, it is unlikely that a rapid rate of march could have been conducted in a manner which would allow the pike formation to be maintained. Consequently, it is more likely that the Macedonians advanced at a brisk trot at best rather than a flat out run. In a clear instance of a rapid advance into contact, at Massaga in 327BC, Alexander’s phalanx was said to have counterattacked ‘at the run’. However, even here Arrian states that ‘the mounted javelineers, the light armed Agrianians and the archers first raced forward and joined battle while Alexander himself kept the phalanx in formation’.¹⁶⁸
This suggests that, not only is the term ‘phalanx’ being used here in its generic sense to mean ‘army’, but also that the pike units were brought into action at a slower pace than the lightly armed troops to maintain their cohesion. This is also likely what happened at Gaugamela where the gap in the Persian line was assaulted by cavalry at the charge (hence the use of a term meaning to ‘run’ or ‘advance quickly’) with pike units moving up in support but more likely at a slower pace to maintain their lines. Additionally, it would have taken a short amount of time for Alexander’s phalanx at Massaga to conduct another counter-march and advance upon the enemy in their proper order – more time than would be required for the cavalry and light troops who could simply turn about. This again suggests that the pike units advanced more slowly.
Other passages suggest that a rather rapid advance of the phalanx was possible. At Chaeronea, for example, Philip’s phalangites delivered a ‘committed attack’.¹⁶⁹ At Gaugamela, Alexander’s phalanx ‘rolled forward like a flood’.¹⁷⁰ At Pydna, the Macedonians are said to have attacked so swiftly that the first Roman was killed not far from his camp.¹⁷¹ While all of these accounts clearly describe an advance of the pike-phalanx that was seemingly quite rapid, none of them specifically state that they were conducted at a running pace and a simple fast walk cannot be discounted. It can also not be discounted that these descriptions are of the ferocity of the attacks made at Chaeronea and Gaugamela, rather than their speed, and that the cause for the seemingly rapid attack at Pydna was in part due to the unpreparedness of the Romans. Furthermore, it is possible that the descriptions of the running move of the phalanx up the ridge at Cynoscephalae are merely a literary motif, utilizing a description of something that the pike-phalanx rarely did, to emphasize the seriousness and urgency of the situation. This in itself would suggest that the pike-phalanx advanced into action at a much slower pace.
The few ancient passages that provide more details of the movement of the phalanx all suggest that the formation was moved at a slow pace that would allow the line to be maintained. Arrian, for example, states that, at the battle of Issus ‘[Alexander] was leading [his men] still in line… step by step so that no part of this phalanx should vary and break apart [as it would] at a quicker pace’.¹⁷² Even formations of more mobile hoplites in the Classical Age rarely charged at the run and, as Arrian states, it would be almost impossible to maintain a formation of thousands, or tens of thousands, of men armed with lengthy pikes at such a speed.¹⁷³ Julius Africanus, in a reference to the combat of the Classical Age, states that ‘running in hoplite equipment was infrequent and not prolonged; it is instead quick and of the sort that might be used when one is in a hurry to get inside the trajectory of an arrow’.¹⁷⁴ It can therefore only be assumed that variations of a ‘quick-step’ pace, and possibly one of a slower ‘halfpace’, were used to keep the phalanx (both Classical and Hellenistic) together depending upon things like terrain and the tactical necessities of each situation.
Philip II’s feigned retreat at Chaeronea, for example, if accomplished by having his pike units march backwards, rather than having them conduct a counter-march, could have only been done at a slow pace so that the formation could be maintained, and the pikes kept presented, while the unit moved back and uphill away from an advancing enemy.¹⁷⁵ Alexander is said to have conducted a similar feigned retreat at Massaga in 327BC but, according to Arrian, this manoeuvre was clearly undertaken using a counter-march rather than by marching his phalanx backwards.¹⁷⁶ At Magnesia in 190BC the phalanx formed a defensive hollow square, with light troops and elephants positioned in the centre, and attempted to withdraw ‘step-by-step’.¹⁷⁷ Appian specifically states that the defensive square was arranged in an intermediate-order and that thickly set sarissae projected from all four sides of the formation.¹⁷⁸ Parts of this square would have been definitely marching backwards and a slow pace would have certainly been used to keep the formation together.
The ability for the phalanx to advance or retreat with relative ease and still maintain the integrity of their formation also demonstrates that the side-on posture suggested by some scholars for how the sarissa was wielded, and the close-order interval of 48cm per man, could not have been used within the pike-phalanx. When standing side-on it is impossible to move at anything faster than a shuffling side step. While this could be used for a slow advance, it could not be used for anything more rapid and the inability of the weapons of the phalanx to be deployed while in a close order would simply be compounded if the formation was attempting to move forwards or backwards at the same time. Thus it seems clear that the pike-phalanx operated on the battlefield with its members wielding the pike using an oblique body posture, within an intermediate-order interval of 96cm per man, and moving at a brisk walk at the very best.
The pace of the march could have been maintained through the use of a cadence of some kind. Hoplite armies of the Classical Age regularly used a chanted ‘marching song’ (ἐμβατήριος παιάν), or paean, to keep in step and hold the formation together, just as many modern armies do.¹⁷⁹ While there are no specific references to the army of Alexander using the paean, and Aelian emphasizes the importance of silence within the phalanx, Alexander’s order to advance in silence at Gaugamela suggests that on occasion the phalanx could be quite boisterous. This suggests the use of a sung cadence at times, and the references to units or phalanxes moving ‘step-by-step’ additionally suggest the use of a cadence of some form.
If a called or sung cadence was not used, another possibility is that a musical one was. Again, hoplite armies of the Classical Age were regularly accompanied by musicians, whose beats played on anything from drums to trumpets to pipes and lyres, helped keep the formation in step and maintain the phalanx’s cohesion.¹⁸⁰ The trumpeter attached to each syntagma of the Hellenistic pike-phalanx could have similarly been used to blast a series of short notes at regular intervals to help keep the formation moving at the desired measured pace. If a new order was received, which then needed to be passed on to the men of the unit, the trumpeter could simply halt the playing of the cadence and deliver the instructions. The brief cessation of the blown cadence would have the added benefit of alerting the men within earshot that another order was about to be relayed.
Dickinson claims that, apart from wheeling, there is no evidence for intricate drill movements being made by Alexander’s phalanx.¹⁸¹ However, the literary evidence shows that the phalanx was capable of varied and detailed movements, both in the time of Alexander and the later Successors. Furthermore, it is clear that the use of the herald, the standard bearer, the aide-de-camp and the trumpeter as means of delivering instructions and to maintain the formation, allowed the commanders of pike-phalanxes to carry out the details of any battle plan, adjust them when necessary, and adapt the flexible units of the pike-phalanx to the changing nature of the battlefield, both easily and with a certain level of sophistication.
Once the phalanx had been deployed in its proper order and configuration, the weapons held by the individual phalangites had to be positioned in order to engage an opponent. Polybius details how phalangites were given orders to ‘lower pikes’ (καταβαλoῦσαι τὰς σαρίσας).¹⁸² The order to lower pikes is also contained in a list of general drill commands found in the military manuals.¹⁸³ Both Polybius and the manuals also outline how the weapons of the forward ranks of the phalanx projected ahead of the line once they had been lowered for combat.¹⁸⁴ Polybius calls this arrangement a ‘closely packed [hedge] of pikes’ (συμφράξαvτες τὰς σαρίσας).¹⁸⁵ Livy similarly describes the phalanx as ‘closely packed and bristling with extended pikes’.¹⁸⁶ Plutarch says that the pikes of the phalanx were ‘set at one level’ (ταῖς σαρίσαις ἀφ’ ἑvὸς συvθήμaτος κλιθείσαις).¹⁸⁷ But how were the pikes of the phalanx actually arranged once they had been lowered and set in position? It all depended upon how the file itself was configured.
The vast majority of modern works which examine the warfare of the Hellenistic Age contain passages and/or diagrams which show the members of each file of the phalanx with their pikes lowered and parallel with each other. This seems to be a commonly accepted convention amongst scholars and no analysis of other possible configurations, or of the further implications of such arrangements, seems to have been made other than presenting a generalized statement on the matter. Fuller, for example, simply states that ‘the phalangite wielded his sarissa with both hands, keeping it carefully aligned with the weapons of his comrades’ (Fig. 50).¹⁸⁸
Fig. 50: The first five members of two files with their pikes lowered parallel to each other.
Such an arrangement of the file conforms with the use of the 96cm intermediate-order interval outlined in the military manuals for how the phalanx was configured. Plutarch’s description of all of the lowered weapons of the phalanx being ‘set at one level’ indicates that those weapons that were presented for combat were side by side and not positioned one above the other and the arrangement of the men in the file with their pikes held parallel to each other conforms with this description. This, in turn, means that the phalangites of each adjacent file could not have moved closer to each other and, as such, the intermediate-order was the smallest interval that the phalanx could adopt while still being capable of movement with relative ease and of presenting an offensive posture (see: Bearing the Phalangite’s Panoply from page 133). Such an arrangement also has other implications for understanding the internal structure of the pike-phalanx.
In order for the weapons held by the members of the first five ranks to be lowered and positioned beside each other in a parallel manner, the men wielding these weapons have to be slightly offset to the right in relation to the man standing in front of them. This allows a small, yet sufficient, amount of space to be utilized which permits each subsequent man in the first five ranks to lower his weapon for combat. Importantly, it is this partial offset of each man in the first five ranks which actually makes that section of the file conform to the 96cm intermediate-order (see Fig. 50).¹⁸⁹
The gap between the sets of weapons held by two adjacent files equates to approximately 60cm – the lateral width of the 64cm peltē when it is held at a slight angle across the front of the body due to the angle of the left arm when it is used to carry the sarissa. Thus any enemy who was carrying a shield with a larger diameter – the Greeks at Chaeronea bearing their 90cm diameter aspis, for example – would not be able to force their way into this gap between the pikes without removing their shield from its protective position across the front of their body and so exposing themselves to attack by the phalangites in the phalanx. However, someone with a smaller shield, or a light-armed skirmisher, might be able to quickly move ‘inside’ most of the projected pikes and then use close-quarters weapons to attack the otherwise defenceless phalangites. Due to the way that all of the lowered pikes are parallel to each other, and the most right-hand weapon is abutted against the shield of the leading man in the adjacent file, should an enemy try to force his way into the gap, the weapons held by more rearward ranks are prevented from being swung across to either cover the gap or to engage that opponent.
The only way in which this gap could be covered is if the men in ranks three to five raised their pikes slightly. This would then create a small gap in the presented weapons and remove any impediment for the man in rank two to swing his pike to the right and so attempt to engage the oncoming opponent. If the opponent had managed to force his way further between the lines, the same technique could be employed by the men in ranks four and five to allow the phalangite in rank three to engage. Importantly, if members of rearward ranks did raise their pikes to allow a more forward man to engage, those men would not be able to lower their pikes again until the opponent had been dispatched and the more forward man had moved his weapon back into a position parallel with that of the front rank or all of the weapons would become entangled. Thus the gap in a formation where the pikes were held parallel to each other was not always adequately protected, required particular movements to be undertaken in order to cover it or engage an enemy advancing into it, and had the potential to prevent further engagement by the rearward ranks. This left the files, and the formation as a whole, with certain vulnerabilities when engaged against more mobile opponents.
On the other hand, due to the slight angle of the shield, any lengthy weapon that was thrust into the gap between the files – the pike of an opposing phalanx during one of the battles of the Successor Period, for example – would be more easily deflected into the space occupied by the weapons of the adjacent file. This means that, when engaged against another pike-phalanx, the members of which could not individually exploit the gap between the files, the phalangite was relatively secure.
The other possibility is that the pikes lowered by the first five ranks of the phalanx were splayed rather than parallel to the formation’s line of advance (Fig. 51).¹⁹⁰
Fig. 51: The first five members of two files with their pikes lowered and splayed.
Phalangites in this configuration are lined up one behind the other rather than slightly offset to the right as is required for the pikes of the file to be deployed parallel. Due to this arrangement, the presence of each man immediately ahead of those behind prevents the pikes held by those in the rearward ranks from being lowered into a parallel position and thus dictates that they have to be angled to the right in a splayed manner. Yet the pikes can still be set level with each other as per Plutarch’s description of the phalanx, the points of the first five ranks still project ahead of the formation as per Polybius’ account, and the weapons are still ‘closely packed’ together as per Livy. Interestingly, due to the way that the straight file of men occupies less lateral space, the greater lateral space required for the deployment of splayed pikes is offset and a file arranged in this manner still complies with the 96cm intermediate- order outlined in the manuals.
If the weapon carried by the man in the front rank is pointed directly ahead, but those held by the men behind him are angled to the right (as per Fig. 51), this reduces the gap between the sets of pikes for each file to around 50cm. This would make it even more difficult for an oncoming enemy to try and force his way between the weapons. Even if faced with a more mobile opponent, if the men in ranks three to five raised their pikes slightly, this would allow the man in the second rank to swing his weapon further to the right up to the point where it touched the weapon held by the leading man in the adjacent file (the dotted grey line in Fig. 51). Thus the gap in a formation with their weapons arrayed in this configuration can be completely covered (or even closed) by the men of the second rank – truly presenting a ‘serried wall of pikes’ towards an advancing enemy. This would allow a pike-phalanx arranged in intermediate order to effectively engage an opponent arranged in a close-order of only 48cm per man.
In order to position the rearward pikes in such an angled manner, each man would have to rotate his body and stance slightly more than 45°. However, the increase in rotation is not great, no more than an extra 10°, and this in no way impedes the forward movement of the phalangite or the advance of the formation as a whole. The increased rotation of the body does mean that the shield will be more perpendicular to any attack coming from the front, but it is still sufficiently positioned to either deflect incoming blows into the gap occupied by the weapons between each file, or to be rigidly held in place to attempt to absorb the blow.
Due the variable nature of hand-to-hand combat and the nature of the terrain that most battles of the ancient world were fought on, even if a phalanx had initially been arranged with their pikes parallel, there is little doubt a certain amount of splaying of the pikes would take place during combat as members of the file were jostled, the formation advanced over semi-broken ground, the natural flex of the weapon, and individual phalangites sought out opportune targets once they were engaged (if they were not arranged in a splayed manner to begin with). Due to the way that both arrangements occupy the 96cm intermediate-order interval, files of the phalanx could splay, or not, with the vagaries of combat without compromising the integrity of the line. Additionally, in both methods of arrangement, the projecting pikes held by the rearward ranks of each file would be on the right-hand, un-shielded, side of any enemy who tried to force their way into the gap. This would be a very risky movement which would leave the attacker quite vulnerable. Both of these configurations for the file work, and both comply with the descriptions of the phalanx provided in the ancient literature. Which one was used as an initial form of deployment is uncertain due to the limited nature of the detail contain within these descriptions. Both arrangements have their advantages and disadvantages and it can only be concluded that, in the chaotic environment of massed formation fighting, both configurations for the file would have been in effect – even if unintentionally so.
The file, and indeed the pike-phalanx as a whole, was a varied creature across the period of its common usage. Initially arranged on files of ten men, and then later on files of sixteen (which could, in turn, be ‘doubled’ to a half depth of eight), the file came in a variety of configurations across the Hellenistic Period. It was these files which were joined together to form the larger sub-units of the pike-phalanx. A critical review of the ancient references to the sub-structure of the phalanx shows that many of the units that are detailed in the later military manuals were in use by the early stages of Alexander the Great’s campaign against Asia in 334BC – even if some of them may have only been ad hoc or temporary in nature and/or went under a different name. Other units found in the manuals were clearly in use by the end of Alexander’s campaign. This supports the claims made by writers such as Aelian that in their works they were discussing the nature of the Macedonian army in the time of Alexander.
Another aspect which demonstrates a close correlation between Alexander’s army and that described in the manuals is the positioning of the officers in set positions, based upon a mathematical model, to provide a symmetrical distribution of commanding officers across the line to achieve a balance of command abilities. The use of this principle subsequently allows for the identification, and quantification, of the officers and their respective positions within Alexander’s infantry formations. This requirement for the officers of varying ranks to occupy certain positions also dictated the way in which the pike-phalanx could deploy on the battlefield – with only certain methods being possible if the arrangement of the men and files was to be maintained. This set method for the arrangement of the pike-phalanx, with its officers positioned at key points in the line, coupled with the use of units and sub-units within the broader formation, made the pike-phalanx very adaptable to terrain and tactical plans and, as a result, exceptionally effective on the field ofbattle.
Another facet of the phalanx in combat that needs to be considered is why, in some cases, the phalanx was deployed in its standard depth of sixteen men while at other times it was deployed to a half depth of eight or a double depth of thirty-two. It seems clear that the commanders of armies which contained pike-armed units possessed a substantial degree of latitude when it came to the deployment of their forces. Sixteen deep seems to have been the ‘standard’ deployment, but attestations to the use of other depths indicate that phalangite warfare was not limited to just one type of formation. When, where, why and how formations of different depths were used is a contentious issue amongst ancient and modern writers alike and various reasons and advantages of different configurations have been offered.
One of the main things that could affect how the phalanx was deployed for battle was the terrain of the battlefield itself. This influence could be due to the ground that the army had to cross in order to get into position, to the manner in which the army advanced, to the ground being either too narrow or too broad to adequately accommodate the army in its standard arrangement. Alexander the Great’s advance to the battlefield at Issus in 333BC, for example, can be viewed as the narrow terrain of the defile through which the army had to pass dictating that the units be arranged in a deep column. While there is no specific reference to how the constituent units and sub-units of the phalanx were arranged for this march, from the perspective of the army as a whole, the formation was exceedingly deep.
Likewise, Machanidas’ advance in column onto the plain at Mantinea in 207BC can be considered a deep deployment for the army. Again, there is no reference to how the individual units of the army were arranged. However, if Machanidas’ forces were organized so that, once they wheeled into position they would be in their standard deployment ready for battle with each merarchia side-by-side, and with each sub-unit within these larger formations also side-by-side, then it can be assumed that, while in column, each merarchia possessed a frontage of sixteen men and a depth of 256 men (see pages 322-325). The interesting thing to note is that, unlike Alexander’s move on Issus, Machanidas’ advance in column at Mantinea was not dictated by the terrain. Rather, the arrangement must have been a conscious part of the overall plan to advance in column and then wheel the entire army into position.
Once on the field of battle, an army could have been deployed deeply due to the presence of only a narrow frontage upon which they were meant to engage. The deployment of the Macedonian left wing thirty-two deep at Sellasia in 222BC, for example, was required due to the narrowness of the slopes of Olympus up which this formation was expected to advance. Similarly, at Megalopolis at in 330BC, the terrain of the battlefield was so narrow that ‘it would not allow a full-scale engagement of the two sides, so there were more spectators than there were combatants, and those beyond missile range shouted encouragement to their respective side.’¹⁹¹ Conversely, if the battlefield was too broad, a commander might deploy his phalanx to a half-depth of eight so that his whole battleline stretched far enough to avoid encirclement. Arrian states that the phalanx should be arranged shallower ‘whenever it needs to be deployed thinner, [and] if the ground makes that more useful’.¹⁹² At Issus, Arrian states that Alexander deployed his forces shallow so as to occupy the entire plain and to make his flanks secure – protected on one side by the sea and on the other by a range of hills.¹⁹³ Thus at Issus there was a tactical necessity for Alexander to deploy his phalanx in a shallow manner so that his men formed an unbroken line stretching from one side of the battlefield to the other. It is this stated purpose with which Polybius, in his critique of Callisthenes’ account of the engagement, finds issue. Polybius states that the deployment of Alexander’s phalanx eight deep would have required a plain forty stades (approximately 7.25km) in width when arranged in the intermediate-order interval.¹⁹⁴
It is interesting to note that Polybius states that Alexander’s infantry were in intermediate order when arranged to a half depth. If it is assumed that the move to a half depth was undertaken by ‘doubling’ the files – that is, bringing the rear half-files forward – and if Polybius/Callisthenes is correct in that, following this redeployment the men were in intermediate order, then prior to the ‘doubling’ movement, the army had to have been in the open order of 192cm per man which would have been used for their initial march to the battlefield.¹⁹⁵ The only other possibility is that the units of Alexander’s phalanx advanced on Issus in their normal intermediate order, but then a process other than ‘doubling’ (one not referred to in the narratives) was used to deploy the army to a half depth.
Furthermore, Polybius must be referring to the amount of ground required to accommodate Alexander’s whole army rather than just the pike-phalanx. Alexander had 12,000 phalangites, divided amongst six merarchiae of 2,000 men each, at Issus. Within each of these merarchiae there would have been eight syntagmae. Each syntagma, when in its standard sixteen by sixteen arrangement in intermediate order of 96cm per man, possessed a frontage of around sixteen metres. If each of the syntagmae within the merarchiae were arranged side-by-side, each merarchia would then possess a frontage of 128m and Alexander’s whole phalanx of six merarchiae a frontage of 768m (or four and a quarter stades). When deployed to a half depth of eight, but retaining the intermediate-order interval, Alexander’s pike-phalanx would possess a total frontage of around 1,536m (or about eight and a half stades). Such a formation would easily fit within the fourteen stade plain of Issus, as Callisthenes describes it, if this was the only formation that had to be considered. However, at Issus, Alexander also employed his cavalry, hypaspists and light troops. Thus Polybius’ issue concerns not only the arrangement of the pike-phalanx, but the disposition of every unit of Alexander’s army as part of the larger battleline combined. Regardless, the important thing to note is that the entire breadth of the plain was used to accommodate Alexander’s army and, depending upon how the accounts are viewed, a shallower depth may have been employed so that the army would stretch across it.
If the ground, troop numbers and tactical considerations permitted it, a shallow formation could also be used so that part of the army outflanked an opposing formation. Aelian states that reducing the depth of a formation (leptysmos) could be used to outflank an enemy on one wing (hyperkerasis) or on both wings (hyperphalangisis).¹⁹⁶ Frontinus tells us that Philip, when engaged against the Illyrians in 358BC, noticed that the front of the enemy’s formation was strong but its flanks were weak. Philip accordingly placed his best men on his right so as to attack the enemy’s left.¹⁹⁷ While the depth of Philip’s formation is not stated, it is clear that his battleline stretched beyond that of his opponent. As such, the possibility that Philip had adopted a wider, yet shallower, formation to provide the opportunity for this flanking move cannot be ruled out.
Formations of varying depths could also be used to deceive an opposing army. A deep deployment could hide the size of an army.¹⁹⁸ Conversely a wide, shallow, deployment could make an army appear bigger than it really was. When Antigonus, who was greatly outnumbered, was fighting against Eumenes, he sent false information to Eumenes’ camp which stated that his reinforcements had arrived. The next day, Antigonus drew up his phalanx to twice its usual width by reducing its depth. Polyaenus states that ‘the enemy, having heard from the heralds about the presence of allies, and observing the extended length of the phalanx (although its depth was contemptible), was afraid to join battle and fled’.¹⁹⁹ However, while such deceptions were clearly beneficial if the opponent fell for the ruse, such modes of trickery did have their drawbacks if the enemy still chose to fight. Arrian observed that ‘shallow formations are good for deception, but are useless in prolonged engagements’.²⁰⁰
Arrian’s statement about the unsuitability of shallow formations for combat highlights the real purpose of the depth of the phalanx: density. In another part of his examination of the pike-phalanx, Arrian states that the phalanx ‘is deployed deeper when [it needs to be denser], if it is necessary to repel enemies by density and force…or if it is necessary to repulse those who are charging…’.²⁰¹ Polybius states that the men in the more rearward ranks of the phalanx, ‘by the very weight of their bodies pressing against those in front of them, add force to the assault’.²⁰² Similarly, Aelian states that ‘by pressing forward with the weight of their bodies, [those at the back] increase the momentum of the phalanx and leave no possibility of seeking safety in flight to those in the forward ranks’.²⁰³ Arrian, on the other hand, says that only the members of the sixth rank pushed those before them forward.²⁰⁴
Some scholars have seen the depth of the phalanx as being a means of providing the formation with rows of reserves behind those who could engage so that, should any of the combatants fall in action, a replacement could easily step forward into his place.²⁰⁵ This would in part agree with Arrian’s statement that shallow formations were of no use in protracted engagements. While the ability to field reserves would certainly be one benefit of any formation of relative depth, it should be noted that, due to the way only the pikes of the first five ranks could be presented for battle, even a deployment to a half depth of eight would still possess three rows of reserves who would be otherwise unengaged. The key to understanding the advantages of phalanxes of the standard depth of sixteen, or the double depth of thirty-two, seems to be the concept of density and momentum outlined by various ancient writers. The fact that this density and momentum is not attributed to shallower formations suggests that it was an important element of these deeper ones.
As noted by Aelian and Polybius one of the roles of those in the rear ranks was to help drive the formation forward. This push, or othismos, is a difficult concept to comprehend. Warry, for example, says that the phalanx was equally prepared to thrust with its pikes or to push with its shields.²⁰⁶ There are a number of issues with such a conclusion. Firstly, only the members of the first rank of the phalanx, unimpeded due to no one being positioned in front of them, were capable of delivering a thrusting attack with the lengthy sarissa. Secondly, due to the serried array of pikes projecting forward of the formation, and the minimal gap between each set of weapons, it was almost impossible for an opponent to get close enough to the members of the pike-phalanx where they would have to ‘push with their shields’. The writers of the military manuals all state that the weapons projecting ahead of the phalanx, even in its normal deployment, provided comfort and confidence to those within it – especially for those in the front rank.²⁰⁷ Such statements would seem odd if opponents attacking the phalanx could regularly get close enough to the phalangites so that their lengthy pikes were basically useless and they were pushing against each other ‘shield against shield’.
Warry seems to be applying the concept of the ‘pushing’ othismos of Classical Greek warfare to the pike-wielding formations of the Hellenistic Age. Yet even here the pushing of ‘shield against shield’ was only ever a part of very few battles in the Classical Period, and only when certain circumstances allowed for it.²⁰⁸ It seems more likely that, for the pike-phalanx, any othismos was through the members of the pike-phalanx presenting their pikes to the enemy and ‘pushing’ forward with the whole formation to try and drive the enemy back and/or fracture their line.²⁰⁹ Thus, at Pydna in 168BC, when the Macedonians pressed the tips of their sarissae into the shields of the opposing Romans, not only did this keep the enemy at bay as Polybius states, but the formation could also drive forward, pushing with their weapons, to try and force the Roman maniples back.
Such a method of offence sheds light on a number of other passages relating to the pike-phalanx in action. The references to the rearward ranks pressing the weight of their bodies against those in front, whether all of the rear ranks as per Asclepiodotus, Aelian and Polybius, or just those in the sixth rank as per Arrian, would add impetus to any push and drive forward of the formation. Importantly, any man in a rearward rank pushing forward would do so by pressing his shield into the butt-spike of the sarissa held by the man in front. This had a number of benefits. Not only would it drive the more forward man ahead, and prevent him from breaking and running, as the ancient commentators state, but pushing forward with the shield against the butt-spike would also brace the weapon in position and provide it with more stability with which to push an opponent. It would also prevent the butt-spike from accidentally injuring the man behind during the rigours of combat. Undoubtedly, this pushing with the shield would be done by every member of the phalanx other than those in the front rank – even by those in ranks two to five who have their sarissae lowered for battle. This would then provide both concerted impetus and force, as well as mutual protection and safety, to the formation as a whole.
Furthermore, this ability for the push of the rear ranks to brace more forward weapons in position demonstrates that Polybius’ statement that the sarissa was held 4 cubits (196cm) from the rear end is incorrect. If the pike-phalanx was arranged in an intermediate-order interval of 96cm per man, the man behind each rank would not be able to brace the weapon in position as it would extend beyond the interval he was occupying (see page 85). Connolly, in his experiments with the pike-phalanx, found that if the front rank held their place (simulating contact with an enemy) while the rear ranks continued to advance, this resulted in a slight compression of the lines.²¹⁰
Due to this ability for the rearward ranks to both brace weapons into position and to help drive the formation forward, one of the main benefits of a deep formation would be that it could add ‘punch’ to any offensive move. Importantly, this cannot have been a benefit of thirty-two deep, double depth, deployment. It is unlikely that anyone pushing from the back rank of such a formation would be able to exert any sort of pressure against those at the front. Any pushing made by the rear ranks would have simply been diffused throughout the formation. It is really only the first few ranks at the front of the formation which could have had any real effect on each other. This explains why Arrian states that it was only the men of the sixth rank who exerted this pressure without actually being able to engage. For the men of more rearward ranks, their ‘pushing’ would have been more figurative in nature, merely to help keep the formation together and to prevent those in the front from breaking as the ancient manuals state. The rear ranks could certainly help drive the formation forward by pressing into the backs of the men in front of them (who push those in front of them in turn), but their pressure could not directly affect the weapons presented for battle by the front ranks. This then suggests that other factors came into play when a decision to deploy to a double depth was made.
Plutarch states that, at Sellasia in 222BC, the advantage lay with the Macedonians due to their superior armour and the density of their formation.²¹¹ This may be a reference to the Macedonian left wing which was deployed thirty-two deep for an attack up the narrow frontage of the hill of Olympus. It is interesting to note that, once engaged on the slopes of the hill, the Spartan charge was able to force this deep formation back. Consequently, it can only be assumed that the ‘density’ of the formation was advantageous in areas other than in the momentum of their uphill assault.
One possibility is that the advantage of a double-depth deployment was in the greater number of lines of reserves that this deep formation would have possessed. Another possibility is that a deep formation would have been almost impossible for an opposing line to break psychologically. Bennett and Roberts suggest that the back rows of the phalanx provided ‘a crucial psychological feeling of depth and support’ to those in front.²¹² Undoubtedly, the members of a deep formation would find comfort in knowing that there was a vast amount of manpower behind them, all driving them forward or helping them hold their position, and the thought of engaging a formation that was unlikely to break must have greatly intimidated anyone facing one.²¹³
The unlikelihood of a deep formation breaking also accounts for where such formations were used. Deep formations could be employed where a fight could be expected to be particularly hard fought, on ground that was somehow unfavourable, or when a concentration of force against a certain point in an enemy line was the tactic to be employed. In 335BC, Alexander the Great arranged his troops in a deep formation to direct his attack at the weakest point in the Taulantian line.²¹⁴ The concentration of force using a double-depth formation can also be seen at Cynoscephalae in 197BC where the thirty-two deep phalanx on the Macedonian right wing was used to advance down the hill and push back the attacking Romans. At Sellasia, the deep Macedonian phalanx would have been sent against the Spartans on Olympus not only because of the narrowness of the terrain, but also because the Spartans, if they chose to counter-attack, would be fighting with the benefit of advancing downhill and so a deep formation would have been needed to resist such an attack. It is interesting to note that, when the Spartans did counter-attack, the Macedonian line was forced back rather than it breaking or routing. This could only have been a result of the deep formation that had been adopted being somewhat self-supporting which prevented the Macedonian withdrawal from turning into a rout.
Gabriel suggests that one of the benefits of a square formation (presumably the sixteen-by-sixteen syntagma) is that it is a lot easier to control on the battlefield than an oblong formation is – especially when all it has to do is advance.²¹⁵ Gabriel also suggests that a square formation could change direction very easily while still presenting a strong front.²¹⁶ Indeed, a square formation like the syntagma could change its direction almost immediately due to its uniform shape. If an opposing force suddenly appeared to either side of an advancing syntagma (or to the rear for that matter) all that needed to occur to quickly meet this new threat would be for the formation to halt, have everyone raise their pikes vertically so as to not impede each other, have everyone turn to face the enemy, and then lower their pikes to engage. Turning to the left or right is a movement called a klisis (κλίσις) in the military manuals, while turning completely about is a manoeuvre called a metabolē (μεταβολή).²¹⁷ The fact that such movements are referred to as a regular part of phalangite drill suggests that pike-phalanxes could easily perform such movements if the situation required.
Due to the shape of a syntagma in its regular deployment, no matter which way the members of the unit faced, the formation would retain its square configuration. However, the one difference between simply turning to face a new enemy threat and wheeling the formation about to face it is that, in simply turning to face an unexpected threat, the file leaders in the front rank would no longer be facing the enemy. If a square formation simply turned to face to the left, for example, the file leaders would then make up the right-hand file of the unit. Similarly, if the unit faced to the right, the file leaders would be on the left. This was an arrangement of the phalanx known as a paragogē (παραγωγή).²¹⁸ Again, the reference to such arrangements suggests that pike-phalanxes could operate in such a manner. Bringing the file-leaders to bear against an enemy attacking from the side could only be achieved if the formation wheeled rather than turned, but this would take considerably more time and space which, due to the nature of the threat and the battlefield, the formation may not have.
The use of the semi-independent square syntagmae as the basic building blocks of the pike-phalanx raises the question of how each merarchia of a phalanx was organized if the army was deployed thirty-two deep. Unfortunately, both the narratives and the manuals do not provide any indication for how a double-depth phalanx was created – unlike how they outline the means of creating a half-depth deployment through the process of doubling. However, the structure of the units and sub-units of the pike-phalanx provides clues as to how a double-depth deployment could be accomplished. Each chiliarchie of the pike-phalanx, for example, was made up of four syntagmae. There are a number of ways in which these units could be arranged to create a formation thirty-two deep when each syntagma was arranged in its standard sixteen-by-sixteen layout. One possibility is that each of the four square syntagmae of one chiliarchie were themselves arranged in a square (Fig. 52).
Fig. 52: One chiliarchie arranged in a square with the location of the syntagmatarchs (•).
Within this arrangement, each of the four individual syntagmae retain their square structure and, if need be, can move independently of each other to attack or to reform the line if a different configuration is later needed. Additionally, because each of the syntagmae retain their square sixteen-by-sixteen arrangement, by deploying them in a larger square, the whole formation becomes a larger, double-depth square of thirty-two-by-thirty-two. Such an arrangement could easily be made out of a chiliarchie initially deployed in extended line by simply having the two most right-hand units (i.e. syntagmae #1 and #4) move forward and left to take up a new position ahead of the other two using a series of advances and changes of facing to ensure that they ended up facing forward. This would result in both lines of the new square formation having commanding syntagmatarchs leading the files on either side and the even distribution of command abilities of the senior officers remains intact and balanced (Fig. 53).²¹⁹
Fig. 53: The deployment of one chiliarchie from extended line into a square.
Arranging a chiliarchia into a double-depth square in such a way would have all of the same benefits of movement and control associated with the square syntagma, just on a bigger scale. Alternatively, a double-depth square formation could be created by having every second file of each syntagma take up a position behind the file to its right – in effect making each syntagma a unit eight men across and thirty-two deep. When four such units were combined, each chiliarchie would then be thirty-two-by-thirty-two. However, in this manner of arrangement the individual syntagmae would not be in a square formation and would lose any benefits that such a configuration possessed – although this in itself is not a reason for dismissing such a possible configuration of the doubledepth phalanx.
The use of square syntagmae and chiliarchiae also provides options for how each of the mararchiae of a pike army could be deployed. If each chiliarchie was arranged in a square, then both formations could simply be positioned beside one another to create a unit with a double depth of thirty-two – made up of two squares which could operate independently on the battlefield (Fig. 54).
Fig. 54: The arrangement of one double-depth merarchia with square chiliarchiae.
Alternatively, each of the two chiliarchiae of the merarchia could have been deployed in extended line, but with one of the chiliarchiae positioned behind the other. This would still result in a formation with a double depth of thirty-two (Fig. 55).
While such a deployment loses any of the benefits of having the chiliarchiae arranged in semi-independent squares, the use of two parallel extended lines could be used to meet other tactical requirements.
At Gaugamela in 331BC, Alexander deployed his phalanx with a second line behind his front so that ‘his phalanx faced both ways’ (καὶ δευτέραν τάξιν ὡς εἶvαι τὴν φάλαγγα ἀμφίστομον).²²⁰ It has been suggested that this second line was made up of Greek allies and mercenaries not referred to by Arrian.²²¹ However, it cannot be discounted that Alexander’s deployment was the arrangement of the pike-phalanx to a double-depth with one chiliarchie of each merarchia positioned behind the other to create a double line.²²² Alexander had adopted just such a deployment, with his phalanx in two lines, for his advance to the Granicus in 334BC.²²³ Arrian states that the commanders of these reserve units had orders to face about and receive any enemy attack if the position was encircled.²²⁴ This provides a number of clues as to the nature of Alexander’s deployment and the identification of these reserve units. Firstly, Arrian states that the reserve units were under the command of separate officers to those in the front line. While this does not discount the possibility of them being allies or mercenaries, it is also possible that they were the second chiliarchiae of each of the six merarchiae – the front chiliarchiae being under the command of the six merarchs, while the reserve lines would be commanded by chiliarchs.
Fig. 55: The arrangement of one double-depth merarchia with the chiliarchiae in extended line.
Secondly, Arrian states that Alexander’s second line at Gaugamela was expected to face about only if the rear of the Macedonian position was threatened. This suggests that the initial purpose of the second line of troops was to support those at the front. This would suggest an initial deployment of the pike-phalanx to a double depth of thirty-two with both chiliarchiae in parallel extended lines facing forward. The term that Arrian uses to describe Alexander’s formation at Gaugamela (amphistromon) is used in the military manuals (Arrian’s included) as the name for a pike-phalanx deployed in two parallel lines but with each line facing in opposite directions.²²⁵ This finds close parallels with the stated purpose of Alexander’s deployment at Gaugamela and the reverse facing of the rearward line can only be assumed to be something that the second line would do if required, rather than as part of its initial deployment. Aelian states that a phalanx with lines facing in two directions was very useful when engaged against enemies whose army was strong in cavalry – probably because of the likelihood of being encircled.²²⁶ Alexander was greatly outnumbered at Gaugamela, and the Persians had large cavalry contingents which, unlike at Granicus and Issus, would be fighting on a level plain where they could manoeuvre and operate effectively. Consequently, no matter how shallow he deployed his line, Alexander would not have been able to outflank the enemy position, or prevent encirclement, with infantry alone or even with his combined army as a whole. Consequently, a double-depth deployment of the phalanx may have been adopted to provide density to his front which would bear the full brunt of the Persian opening charge but the arrangement was done in such a way that the rear half of the phalanx could easily turn about to face attacks from behind if needed. Both Arrian and Curtius state that to meet the threat of encirclement was the reason for the nature of Alexander’s deployment.²²⁷ Not only would the use of a deep formation to resist an enemy attack correlate with the exact purpose of such a formation as stated by Arrian, but this again suggests the deployment of the chiliarchiae in two parallel lines with the ability of the rear line to face about to meet an attack from the rear. If this is correct, it seems that Alexander recognized that the sheer weight of Persian numbers opposing him at Gaugamela would bear heavily on the front ranks of his phalanx and would afford the Persians the opportunity to encircle his smaller force. Consequently, it seems that Alexander had masterfully deployed his phalanx to effectively meet both scenarios.
The use of standardized units and sub-units within the pike-phalanx clearly provided commanders with a variety of possible ways to arrange their forces to meet any challenge and adapt to the changing nature of the battlefield. The use of shallow, standard or deep formations to meet any threat, conform to any tactic and operate on any terrain made the Hellenistic pike-phalanx a very flexible formation for commanders to work with and the ancient literary sources contain numerous accounts of engagements which highlight the sheer adaptability of the pike-phalanx in action. Thus while sixteen deep can be considered the ‘standard’ for the basic building block of the syntagma, one method of deployment for the larger army as a whole was just as likely as the other; and its arrangement was very much dependent upon the circumstances of the individual encounter. This, coupled with the greater tactics employed by many commanders, and the way that the individual phalangites fought, easily accounts for why the pike-phalanx was able to dominate the battlefields of the ancient world for nearly two centuries.
How was the pike-phalanx used to gain such a position of dominance in the ancient world? Evolving from the developments that the Classical Greek way of war had undergone at the end of the fifth century BC, warfare in the Hellenistic Age was a time of the effective and co-ordinated use of the various arms of an army to create opportunities where a decisive blow against an enemy formation could be delivered. For many scholars the two dominant arms of the Hellenistic army are the pike-phalanx and the cavalry. Both arms played different roles on the Hellenistic battlefield. In many analyses of the conflicts of the time, the tactics of the Hellenistic Age are often referred to as those of the ‘hammer’ and the ‘anvil’.
The concept of the ‘hammer and anvil’ tactic of the Hellenistic Age is almost universally accepted and is thought to have been in use from the very beginning of the time period. Fuller, for example, says that Philip II ‘decided to make his cavalry his decisive arm; that is, it would replace the phalanx as the instrument of shock, while the phalanx…would constitute the base of cavalry action. Instead of assaulting, normally the phalanx would threaten to do so, and through the terror its advance always instilled it would immobilize the enemy and morally prepare the way for the decisive charge.’²²⁸ Thus for Fuller the purpose of the pike-phalanx was not to begin any offensive action directly, but to merely advance against an enemy, forcing them to remain in place in order to face it, while the cavalry swept around the flanks to attack the immobilised enemy from the sides. In this way the pike-phalanx became the ‘anvil’ for the cavalry’s ‘hammer’. Many scholars have accepted this analogy and used it as the basis for their own examinations of Hellenistic warfare.²²⁹ Fuller additionally likens the warfare of the Hellenistic Age, following Clausewitz, to a struggle between two boxers – with the phalanx in the centre forming the body and the cavalry on both wings the arms which are used to deliver blows.²³⁰ English, one of the few who argues against the hammer and anvil analogy, states that it is the pike-phalanx that is the strike weapon of Hellenistic warfare, rather than it being a defensive platform, and that the lengthy sarissa was similarly an offensive weapon rather than a defensive one.²³¹ This conclusion seems unlikely as it does not correlate with the accounts of many of the battles of the Hellenistic Period (see following).
Indeed, one need look no further than an examination of the four main engagements fought by Alexander the Great to see the ‘hammer’ and the ‘anvil’ in effect. In each of these confrontations (Granicus (334BC), Issus (333BC), Gaugamela (331BC) and the Hydaspes (326BC)) Alexander’s tactics were to advance the pike-phalanx to pin the opposing line in place while the right wing of the cavalry charged ahead to either knock out or nullify the enemy’s left wing so that it could then turn inwards to deliver the decisive blow against the enemy centre from the side. There is a clear reason why Alexander’s cavalry charge was always directed against the opponent’s left wing. If, once their left wing had been routed by Alexander’s horsemen, the enemy infantry units in the centre turned to face this new mounted threat, they would have to expose their right, unshielded side to the serried array of pikes presented by the pike-phalanx advancing against them from what used to be their front. If, on the other hand, the enemy centre chose to remain in place and engage the phalanx, they would then simply be mowed down by the cavalry attacking from the side. Had Alexander chose to attack with his cavalry from the left on the other hand, the enemy could turn to meet them and still present their shields to the advancing phalanx and so be able to resist this attack better. Alexander, however, never did this and always attacked in a way that made the enemy vulnerable. Alexander’s tactics were to not only dictate the tempo of the engagement, but to also create opportunities to make the right wing charge as effective as possible, thus leaving the enemy centre virtually in a no-win situation. Alexander clearly knew what worked, what worked well, and how to best employ the various sections of his army to their best effect. This accounts for why his tactics are almost identical at every major battle he fought with only slight variations to cater for the terrain and the size of the opposing forces.
Timing was critical when employing the hammer and anvil stratagem. If the flanking attack was committed too early, before the pike-phalanx was able to pin the opposing formation in place, the enemy could simply turn to meet this threat with little risk. If, on the other hand, the flanking attack was delayed, or committed late, the pike-phalanx had to be able to hold the enemy in position long enough for the flanking units to arrive. This, in part, accounts for the greater depth of the Hellenistic pike-phalanx. The necessity of timing also explains Philip’s feigned withdrawal at Chaeronea: to draw the Athenian left wing forward, rout it with a counter-attack, and provide enough time for the rest of the phalanx, which had been deployed obliquely to the left-rear of Philip’s position, to advance and pin the opposing line in place. The timing of the hammer and anvil tactic also explains why many of Alexander’s flanking movements moved obliquely to the right: not only did this action create many of the gaps that his flanking units were able to exploit, but it also provided the pike units in the centre the necessary time to engage the opposing centre.
Modern combat doctrine follows the exact same hammer and anvil tactics employed by Philip, Alexander and the Successors – a tactic known as the ‘4F’ principle in the US Army: Find the enemy; Fix them in place using part of your forces; Flank the enemy with the other part of your forces; and Finish off the enemy in a crossfire.²³² These tactics work at any level of operation; from small unit infantry tactics to those employing entire mechanized divisions.²³³
The use of the cavalry ‘hammer’ and phalanx ‘anvil’ by Macedonian armies carried over into the engagements of the Successor Period as well. Many of the battles of this time opened with a charge of mounted troops, either on horseback, on elephants, or both, from the wings with the pike-phalanx only coming into action later in the encounter. Such opening tactics can be seen in the accounts of the battles of Paraetacene (317BC), Gabiene (316BC), Gaza (312BC), Ipsus (301BC), Heraclea (280BC), Asculum (279BC), Raphia (217BC), Mantinea (207BC) and Magnesia (190BC).²³⁴ Other battles of the Hellenistic age, such as Chaeronea in 338BC and Sellasia in 222BC, also followed a similar tactic of opening the fighting with an attack from the right flank.²³⁵ However, the difference between these two battles and many of the others during the Hellenistic Period is that they were predominantly infantry engagements.
Even when all seemed lost the cavalry could still carry the day. Phocion is said to have been able to recall his scattered units of infantry and cavalry, reform them, and achieve victory through the use of his horsemen.²³⁶ Similarly, when Eumenes’ infantry had been routed in a fight against Neoptolemus in 321BC, he was able to secure victory by having his cavalry attack the enemy forces pursuing his fleeing troops.²³⁷ The sheer number of battles which involve flanking charges by mounted troops or even infantry clearly demonstrates that the use of the ‘hammer and anvil’ was an integral part of Hellenistic tactical doctrine across the entire time period.