MANIPULATING ZAMA

Using the wargamer-friendly information about the 202 BC contest between Hannibal and Scipio found on page 121 of Warfare in the Classical World (the main diagram includes a map scale), I estimated the length of the Roman battle line at around 2,900 yards. The left wing, commanded by Laelius and including the Numidians of Dacamas, represented approximately 500 yards of this frontage. The four legions along with the Numidian infantry supplied by Masinissa, had a footprint of about 1,400 yards. The Numidian cavalry on the right wing, also under the command of Masinissa, extended for something like 1,000 yards. Employing these same amateur skills, it appeared that the Carthaginian cavalry on Hannibal’s right had a footprint (or hoof print) of about 300-350 yards. The first line of Hannibal’s deployment consisted of Mago’s troops and matched, approximately, the combined frontage of the Roman legions, Allied legions, and Numidians. The loyal Numidian cavalry on the left wing formed a line stretching for about 800 yards. 

The diagram of this famous battle shows Hannibal’s 80 elephants screening Mago’s infantry. In fact, the symbols representing the pachyderms are in front of the Carthaginian light troops or skirmishers, so it appears that the diagram is following the narrative accounts provided by Polybius and Livy, as opposed to the description written by Appian. Now then, if I am close with my estimates regarding frontages of the various portions of the opposing lines of battle, simple division informs that there was an elephant about every 17 yards along Hannibal’s first line. 

On another wargamer-friendly page in Warfare, informative illustrations and text are found about “The Post-Camillan Roman Army.” According to one paragraph, “The depth of a legion in open order from the front line of velites to the rear rank of the triarii was c 100 yards (91 m), and its frontage, depending on depth, would average 200-250 yds (182-230 m).” Taking the larger number and multiplying by four gives me exactly 1,000 yards. This would leave just 400 yards, approximately, in which to squeeze 6,000 Numidian foot soldiers. (Estimating a yard frontage per man, this block of Numidians would have to be 400 men wide and 15 men deep.) Upon review, perhaps it is better to take the shorter legion frontage. This would give the legionary infantry 800 yards, and 600 yards (a little more room, the additional 200 yards being the equivalent of a couple of American football fields) for the infantry of Masinissa. 

Returning to the previously established elephant estimate, it appears that there would be nearly a dozen of the nellies lined up against each legion formation. So, if I suddenly became interested in refighting just a portion of the engagement between the armies of Hannibal and Scipio, it seems that it would be quite possible to recreate the fighting that involved just one of the Roman legions and the enemy formations or units it faced on the fateful day in 202 BC.

Building a Functional, Inexpensive, and Unattractive Model of a Roman Legion

After further study of the telescopic illustration and accompanying text on page 112 of Warfare, I decided to establish a “figure scale” of 1:1 and a “working ground scale” of .25 inch represented 3 actual feet or 1 yard. With this “foundation,” I established the strength of my centuries at 72 men each. A maniple of hastati would have 144 legionaries as would a maniple of principes. The triarii would have just 72 men in each maniple, but these would be tough veterans, armed with spears. The attached velites of the cohort would also number 144. These young men would be charged with screening the heavy infantry of the legion and with harassing the enemy. The total strength of my “model” legion would be 5,040 men. [1] Deployed on my tabletop for pretend battle against the Carthaginians, my legion had a frontage of approximately 60 inches or 240 yards by the “working ground scale” previously established. Dividing this estimated frontage by the previous estimate of 17 yards per pachyderm resulted in 14 animals in a line with their trunks and tusks pointed at the shields and standards of the Roman infantry. 

Preparing the Opposition

Instead of fabricating all three lines of infantry in Hannibal’s army, I made formations and units that would model the first two lines of Carthaginian foot. After reviewing the various ancient narratives, I decided to go with Appian’s description. For my first “miniature” line then, I built 20 elephant stands (due to space constraints and overall look, 4 of these stands were not used), 3 units of Moorish archers, 2 units of Balearic slingers, 7 units of Celts (warbands), and 3 units of Ligurian light infantry. The second line consisted of 9 units of Libyan levy and 6 units of Carthaginian citizen militia.

The additional increase in the number of nellies was the result of reading “Amazed am I ere I made Zama,” an excellent article penned by the late and still greatly missed Patrick Waterson, wherein he posited an elephant frontage of approximately 10.5 feet per animal. (Please see the January 2009 issue of Slingshot, The Journal of The Society of Ancients, pages 11-16.) 

With regard to unit frontages and numbers, the Moors, Balearic Islanders, Celts and Ligurians all had stands measuring 3 inches across, so they matched the Roman heavy infantry. The depth for most of these units was 2 inches, which would translate to 8 ranks. The warbands of Celts were 3 inches deep, so these groups of irregular and fierce warriors were 12 ranks deep—twice the depth of the Roman heavy infantry. Adding up the various strengths of the various formations, there were 288 archers, 192 slingers, 288 Ligurians, and 1,008 Celts. The units in the second line had uniform frontages of 4 inches and uniform depths of 3 inches. Therefore, each stand represented 192 men. There were 1,728 Libyan levy present, accompanied by 1,152 citizen militia armed with spears. 

A comparison of the total numbers revealed that the “model” Roman legion had the advantage. There were 5,040 “miniature” Romans on the tabletop, facing 4,656 mercenaries and other types in Hannibal’s army. The Carthaginians did have the double-edged sword advantage of the elephants, however. 

Rules Review and Selection

Ideally, I should have liked to employ the Armati 2nd Edition rules for this exercise. Being able to note fatigue as well as the “step loss” of unit strength was very appealing as well as familiar. However, figuring out how to equate a full frontal fighting value to a single elephant as well as a single century of hastati proved rather problematic, at least in my estimation. (Note: I have a fairly long history of solo gaming with Armati. I was also inspired by Mark Fry’s engaging and entertaining “Zama with Armati” Battle Day report which appeared in the July 2010 issue of Slingshot.) Next, I scanned the pages and related army lists of the Hail Caesar rules. I liked the idea of using an initial clash value and then a sustained value for combat. I also liked the variety of “special characteristics” that could be added to each unit. However, the amount of dice involved (rolling for hits, rolling for saves, re-rolling because of “specials”) proved a little off-putting. Proceeding alphabetically, I briefly considered IMPETVS as this set of rules also has mechanics which allow for the degradation of a unit’s strength as well as organization. There were concerns about accurately representing the “traffic lanes” created by Scipio, however. I also looked at L’Art de la Guerre (3rd Edition, not the 4th). Simon Watson’s (a long-standing member of The Society of Ancients) preferred and thoroughly play-tested set of rules, TACTICA II, appeared to tick most of the boxes, as the saying goes, but I was worried about the number of dice rolls as well as about the number of amendments that might be needed. Finally, I took a look at Simon Miller’s To The Strongest! rules. This innovative set appealed because there would be no dice or rulers involved. The rules included a provision for rampaging elephants. I also liked the “supplement” Simon drafted about modeling and playing with a Polybian Roman Army. (Please see https://aventineminiatures.co.uk//wp/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Polybian-Romans.pdf.)

After going back and forth on this question for a couple of days, I decided on TACTICA II. However, the spiral-bound rules would not be used “as written.” There would be a fair number of amendments. Most of these would be taken from the Armati 2nd Edition rules, written or at least approved by the same author. For just three examples, I would be substituting the Armati game move sequence for the TACTICA II game move sequence. I would also be using the movement rates but not missile ranges provided in Armati 2nd Edition. Finding the unit breakpoints and quality modifiers a bit unrealistic or at least limiting, I decided to tinker with these to suit my purposes. 

Have you “heard” the one about the solo wargamer who drafted a “trunk” full of Special Rules for Elephants?

On page 47 of TACTICA II, in Section 10.7.2, the equivalent figure “value” of African elephants is listed as 4. Thinking this too small a number, especially when the pachyderms would be facing attachments of velites and centuries of hastati containing 72 men, I increased this “value” to 8. The FV (fighting value, meaning the number on a d6 that had to be rolled by an attacking enemy unit) of elephants remained 5-6, but the melee ability of the pachyderms was directly linked to their current strength or stamina. An unwounded elephant received 8 melee dice. If there were two hits against the animal, then it would only receive 6 dice. 

Polybius describes the opening of this famous engagement in the following manner: “Hannibal ordered the drivers of the elephants to charge the enemy. When the trumpets and bugles sounded shrilly from all sides, some of the animals took fright and at once turned tail and rushed back upon the Numidians who had come up to help . . .” How could I model this on my tabletop?

Arbitrarily, I determined that the “range” of the Roman trumpets and bugles would be 10 inches or approximately 40 yards. Once it reached or crossed this “barrier,” an elephant stand would have to test for its reaction by rolling a d6. On a roll of 1, the animal would panic. A result of 2 would result in the elephant veering. If a 3 were rolled, the elephant would balk, meaning it would stop at that point and be agitated or confused by the cacophony of music, shouts, and banging of spears or swords on shields. Rolls of 4-6 would mean no effect. 

Panicked elephants would turn about 180 degrees and then flee for a distance of 1d10 inches. If the animal ran into any unit, that formation would immediately be marked as disordered. The roll of another d6 would determine if a melee took place, or if the contacted formation “made a way” for the panicked creature. A roll of 1-3 would mean combat; a roll of 4-6 would mean the elephant passed through the movement rate determined by the d10 result. 

If the result is “veer,” then the elephant is not really frightened by the noise, but is not all that fond of it. The animal changes direction in order to get away from the blaring trumpets and bugles. A d6 is rolled to determine the new direction and a second d6 is rolled for distance of movement. A result of 1 or 2 means the elephant wheels 90 degrees to the left. A roll of 3 results in a 45 degree turn to the left. Rolls of 4 produce a wheel to the right of 45 degrees, and a 5 or 6 produce a 90 degree turn to the right. 

Elephants that receive a “balk” marker halt in place. On the next turn, the driver of this animal must roll a 3-6 on a d6 in order to get the animal moving again. 

Wounded elephants must test each turn to see if they panic or go on a rampage. A d6 is rolled. On a 1, the elephant panics. If a 2 or 3 is rolled, the beast goes on a rampage. Panicked elephants will turn about and then roll a d6 to see what direction (the lower half of a clock face, where 9 o’clock is a 1, 8 o’clock is a 2, and so on) they flee in, and a d10 for the distance of that scampering away. Rampaging elephants will use a d6 and d10 as well, but the initial result represents the top half of a clock face - 9 o’clock is a 1, 10 o’clock is a 2, etc.

To be certain, these scenario or experiment-specific rules are a work in progress. They are subject to further adjustment or refinement as well as deletion. In addition to consulting previous efforts to reconstruct Zama in miniature, I also kept in mind the points raised in two well-written and thought-provoking pieces which appeared in the July/August 2021 issue of Slingshot. (Please see “Solo Wargaming,” by John Hastings, on pages 18-22, and “Game Mechanics and Realism,” by Anthony Clipsom, on pages 33-34.) 

Summary, Findings & Evaluation 

At the end of the eighth turn of play or experimentation, a halt was called to survey the status of the field and the opposing forces. Of the original 16 elephants on the Carthaginian side, only 3 had panicked at the clamor of the Roman trumpets, shouts, and banging of spears or swords on shields. Seven of the animals had been killed in action, whether by showers of pila or by velites and or hastati at close quarters. Five of the pachyderms were wounded, some more than others, and were currently rampaging about the field, not caring if they ran into friendly or enemy formations. One elephant had veered off course, and despite the efforts of its mahout, had not resumed its intended course. This lone animal had, however, managed to make contact with a unit of velites. The subsequent melee was ongoing. 

With regard to the first line of Hannibal’s deployment, in this specific sector of the larger field, most of the Moors, Balearics, and Ligurians had been sent packing. This was the product of being bested by the opposing velites or by being dispersed by friendly formations of heavier, formed infantry. The second line of foot, at least those units that had not been disordered and slowed by a few panicking elephants, had made a rather disjointed advance toward the Roman lines. The Celts struck first and caused some damage, but the Roman legionaries were stubborn as well as flexible. Even though some of the centuries were disordered and suffered losses fighting the impetuous warriors, the thinner grey line held, for the most part. Many more barbarians fell than Romans in this protracted contest. Indeed, on the far left of the Roman line, the legionaries were able to get around the flank of a warband and rout it. Two units of citizen spearmen were moved forward to threaten this local Roman advantage, but they were harassed and then halted by some daring velites of the Tenth Cohort as well as by the principes and triarii of the same formation. In the middle of the sector, hard fighting occurred between the hastati, the Celts, and finally, another phalanx of citizen infantry. Most of the Roman casualties were taken in this fighting, with Cohorts VI, VIII, and IX losing the prior centuries of hastati, while the velites of V, VI, VII, and VIII took even greater losses. On the Roman right, the Cohorts and their attached velites did rather well. They were able to withstand the enemy light troops and elephants; they were also able to dole out punishment to the Libyan levy troops when they advanced into contact. With the single exception of a century of principes belonging to the Sixth Cohort that had been “bumped into” by a rampaging elephant, none of the Roman second line saw any action. The triarii of this “isolated” legion spent all eight turns resting on their knees with shields and spears held on the ground. While the engagement was nowhere near over, it seemed that the Romans had or were rapidly gaining an advantage. The majority of the enemy elephants were out of action and the infantry battle was leaning in favor of the legionaries. Indeed, two-thirds of the Roman heavy infantry had not been committed to battle yet. The Carthaginians had six fresh units in reserve and a few more still sorting themselves out after being hit by panicked pachyderms, but the unit quality and die rolls certainly appeared to favor the Roman cause. 

Taken from behind the right side of the deployed legion. This photo shows Cohorts I through IV. The “elephant lanes” are evident, even though they did not play any part, really, in the ensuing action. The attached velites are “stuffed” between the separated maniples. 

Taken from above the left flank of the Roman legion. This picture shows another view of the deployment and of the “avenues” for the pachyderms.

This picture shows a portion of the Carthaginian deployment. The first line formations have elephants between them. The second line consists of levy troops and citizen spearmen arranged in large phalanxes. 

Rolling dice to see what effect the trumpets and other noise made by the Romans has on the elephants. 

The velites have formed a screen for the heavy infantry of the legion. The various troops making up the first Carthaginian line have started to advance. 

The Celt warbands have launched an attack on the Roman line. 

A wider view of the state of the field shortly after the Celts struck home. At the top of the frame, a few rampaging elephants (identified with black markers) have produced disorder (larger yellow markers) in a number of formations (both friendly and enemy). At the bottom right, the red dice indicate the Roman “kills” against the Carthaginians, while the blue dice indicate the “kills” scored against the hastati.

The hastati of the Ninth and Tenth Cohorts are engaged in a desperate fight with a bunch of Celts. Some velites have managed to get around the flank of the barbarians. 

Four rampaging elephants caused quite a bit of confusion in the center of the legion. 

Over on the right side of the legion, the hastati have destroyed a unit of Libyans, and the principes of three cohorts are moving up in support. 

As this solo wargame or experiment was not played to an actual conclusion, I cannot state that history was repeated or reversed on my non-traditional tabletop. The limited scale of the action prevented this kind of resolution from being realized. That much admitted, what was the value of the exercise?

The recently completed wargame, experiment, or exercise had value (subjectively measured of course) in that it entertained and engaged me over the course of approximately eight days. It provided sufficient material for this article/blog post. Though the elephant rules remain very much a work in progress, I think that as they currently exist, these amendments or scenario rules provided for a certain degree of realism as well as fun. On reflection, I think I might need to shift around the sequence of elephant moves, at least for those animals that are panicked or rampaging. There is also a need for intervention by the mahout, so that panicked or rampaging elephants can be stopped (i.e., killed) by that spike driven into the base of the skull. The interaction between the elephants and supporting troops with the Roman velites was also fairly realistic and entertaining. The velites were sorely pressed at times and many of these cohort attachments paid a steep price, but they also proved quite capable in slowing if not stalling the Carthaginian advance as well as dealing with a number of the elephants. 

The simulation of the infantry combats, between the heavier units such as Celtic warbands and centuries of legionaries, was also fairly realistic in my opinion. It also tended to be rather labor intensive as well as protracted, as handfuls of dice were required to inflict losses and produce some kind of result. On reflection, there was not “line replacement” between the prior and posterior centuries, and there were no instances of principes moving forward to take the place of hard-pressed hastati. In this specific respect, my wargame or experiment could be criticized. Overall, however, I think the resiliency of the legionary cohorts was demonstrated.

Related to this counterpoint, I think my “model” of a Roman legion was very realistic. Admittedly, it was not much to look at, the visual impression was not very impressive, but the arrangement of its component parts was realistic and was, I would advance, to scale. Then again, such a scale limited me to the portrayal of a single legion on my tabletop. Ideally, I should have liked to deploy all four of the legions involved at Zama. 

As for problem areas or areas that could have used additional tweaking, I believe I have already mentioned a few. The elephant amendments need further work; the melee process needs refining so that the number of dice are reduced. (Perhaps I could assign a d6 to each group or rank of 12 “figures”?) I have also remarked on the atypical appearance of my Roman legion. The same lack of aesthetic appeal can be applied to their Carthaginian counterparts. I have no doubt that readers will produce mental lists of their own criticisms or perceived problem areas. I wonder, however, if these same individuals will take the time to post them in the comments section? 

Another “problem area” was the unit rosters. There were 19 pages of rosters prepared and used during the course of this limited engagement. As one might imagine, during turns where units were locked in combat from left to right, there was quite a bit of flipping through various pages and marking losses in addition to rolling handfuls of dice and tracking casualties. I do suppose that I could have decreased the size of the type used to produce these rosters and by doing so, reduced the number of pages required, but this still would have resulted in flipping through various rosters to find the involved unit or units and marking of losses. As I “worked” my way through this procedure turn after turn, I often thought about the Armati and IMPETVS processes whereby an immediate visual status marker or markers are placed on or behind the respective engaged units. 

In summary, this project was educational, engaging, and interesting. While I have more information about what happens when an elephant collides with a formed body of men, I confess that I am still not exactly sure what happens and how best to reproduce this event on a wargames table. 

Sources & Acknowledgements

I was redirected to the ancient authors by Richard Lockwood, who penned the brief for the Zama Battle Day which appeared in the January 2010 issue of Slingshot. The narrative of Polybius can be found here: https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/e/roman/texts/polybius/15*.html. The account written by Livy can be read here: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.02.0144%3Abook%3D30%3Achapter%3D31. The “asterisk marked” narrative from the stylus of Appian can be examined here: https://www.livius.org/sources/content/appian/appian-the-punic-wars/appian-the-punic-wars-8/#40. (Curiously, I noted that Dacamas had 1,600 cavalry with him when he joined the Roman side. In the Warfare orders of battle, the total number of Numidian cavalry on Scipio’s side of the field is given as 4,600. If the contingent under Dacamas is included, then this might suggest only 3,000 light cavalry on the Roman right. In Richard’s briefing, however, he supplies totals of 6,000 foot and 4,000 horse for the Numidians under Masinissa. It appears that there is a surplus or at least a transcriber’s error of 1,000 cavalry.) 

Like my library of rules, my actual library is also rather small, perhaps in the neighborhood of  75 volumes, the vast majority being about history. In addition to referencing the previously mentioned information on page 121 of Warfare in the Classical World, I read the relevant pages of Professor Lazenby’s book, HANNIBAL’S WAR, as well as pertinent sections of Professor Carey’s HANNIBAL’S LAST BATTLE: ZAMA AND THE FALL OF CARTHAGE. 

A number of authors, perhaps the equivalent of a century of triarii, have produced quite a bit of material about Zama for the pages of Slingshot. In addition to the dozen battle reports (Issues 271, 272), I mined the Index for other relevant articles. The analysis offered by Paul McDonnell Staff in Issue 142 still makes for engaging and excellent reading. Duncan Head’s focus on the elephants in Issue 145 proved very helpful in this amateur-by-comparison effort. A second acknowledgement has to be made to Patrick Waterson’s piece titled with a palindrome. I also need to make mention of Stewart Hey’s writing in Issues 273 and then again in 276. Both might be called reviews, but the former was oriented to the Battle Day proceedings while the latter was oriented to a re-examination of the historical battle. 

As one might expect, there are also numerous blog entries and other sites about “wargaming Zama” or the “battle of Zama” available online. I spent some time searching for and scanning what was found, but nothing new or of tremendous significance caught my eye. The narratives of the ancient authors, the analyses found in modern books, and the Slingshot articles more than sufficed, in my amateur opinion.  At the risk of appearing to self-promote or being accused of same, I dug out my old copies of the February and March 2010 issues of Miniature Wargames, wherein the editor kindly published my initial attempt to refight the Battle of Zama using the Armati rules. There were scenario-specific amendments generated, of course.  

Notes

1. If I were to pursue a traditional version of this project, a 6 mm Roman legion would cost me around 435 US dollars. This figure was calculated by finding the cost of a pack of Baccus Legionaries (96 per package) and using the exchange rate as of 26 September. Being completely inexperienced with preparing and painting metal figures, I would probably secure a couple of extra packs just to account for damaged or botched figures. My estimated cost does not factor in the price of brushes, paints, and other related materials. My guess is that a 6 mm legion at 1:1 scale would require another 100 US dollars, so rounding up, let us say 550 US dollars per legion. If I wanted to prepare the four legions present at Zama, then I would be looking at an investment of around 2,200 US dollars. If, on the other hand, I wanted to use 15 mm figures, provided by Essex, then I would require 630 packs. (Each pack of 15 mm Essex Roman infantry contains 8 figures.) At approximately 5.75 US dollars per pack of 8 (again, according to the exchange rate as of 26 September), a 15 mm scale Roman legion would require an investment of around 3,600 US dollars. Four legions would cost approximately 14,500 US dollars. The final price would be higher, when the cost of paints and other materials are factored in. Obviously, storage and set up for 15 mm figures would be greater than that needed for 6 mm figures. Sufficed to say, with any figure size, a 1:1 scale model of Zama would be quite an expensive undertaking. 

 PLAYING AROUND WITH PIKES AND PILA

In the final paragraph of a four-paragraph post made on February 11, 2020, to the ‘To Conform or Not To Conform’ discussion thread on The Society of Ancients site, admired and respected veteran member Simon Watson opined: 

I don’t believe that the Ancient sources really give us anything like enough 

        detail of ancient battles to say identify where a unit faced multiple opposing 

        ‘units’. I would suggest that it almost invariably happened (e.g. a sytagma [sic] 

        of pike against 2 Roman maniples) but then we get into the ‘what’s a unit’ 

        discussions in our games which are pretty sterile.

My attention was caught and my interest was piqued by his parenthetical example. What would happen, I wondered, if a syntagma of pike, let us say Later Macedonians, was confronted by two maniples of Roman legionaries, let us say Hastati? This question was followed by a few more. How could I wargame this on my tabletop? How should I wargame this? Why would I wargame this? What rules should I use? Would anyone be interested in reading an article that was produced as a result of this playing around? What in the world is a “syntagma”?! 

Manufacturing the Models

On pages 72-73 of my rather worn copy of Warfare in the Classical World, I found a veritable treasure trove of wargamer-friendly information about the syntagma courtesy of drawings, diagrams, and explanatory text. (Now I know what it is!) Unfortunately but not surprisingly, none of the rulebooks in my collection permitted me to deploy and “fight” with this particular formation. So, I took matters into my own, admittedly inexpert, hands. 

I started by establishing a working or approximate ground scale of 1 centimetre represented 3 feet. In conjunction with this, I established a figure scale where 1 “figure” represented 1 actual man or soldier. (The word “figure” is in quotes because I do not actually use traditional figures or miniatures.) My finished models (I fabricated a few of each type) were functional, inexpensive, and primitive, but they would serve their purpose. The basic building block of the larger phalanx or “battalion” measured 16 cm on each side and numbered 256 men or “figures.” For the shallower formations, my units measured 32 cm along their front and had a depth of 8 cm. To represent the formation when it was on the defensive, when the men had “locked shields,” I made counters that measured just 8 cm across their front but had the same depth as the square formation. 

Wargamer-friendly information about the Roman maniple was found on pages 111-112 of this much read and often referenced book. Using the same ground scale and figure scale, I fashioned several maniples of Hastati. Each maniple had the option of deploying its centuries in open order, as when the pila were going to be thrown, or in close order, as when shields were readied and short swords were drawn. The dimensions of each century were as follows: a frontage of 10 cm and a depth of 24 cm when in open order, and a frontage of 10 cm and a depth of 6 cm when in close order. 

Choosing the Rules

Actually, selecting which set of rules to use was not a very difficult process. My recently (within the last two years) acquired copy of Tactica II seemed the logical choice in that its missile and melee procedures were figure-based. However, as I was employing rather large units (there were 256 “figures” in just one syntagma, a 208-figure difference from the largest Tactica II unit), there would have to be some adjustments made to the rules as written. In fact, it would be fair to say that I relied upon Tactica II for missile, melee, and perhaps morale processes, but as for the rest of a typical game move sequence, well, I thought I would try something that might be best described as “mental” or “verbal kriegspiel.” In broad overview, I talked myself through the exercise. There were frequent stopping points, where I would pose questions and then try to figure out the answers. In many respects, what I planned and what would eventually transpire would not be a proper historical miniature wargame, as there were no official or recognizable armies involved. There were no auxiliaries, skirmishers, or cavalry present. For that matter, there was absolutely no terrain on my tabletop. This was simply an exercise, a test. This was just a trial run of Simon’s parenthetical suggestion. 

Conducting the Experiment

What happened, exactly, when two opposing bodies of heavy infantry met on an ancient battlefield? In Chapter 5 of his excellent (in my opinion) study, The Roman Army At War 100 BC—AD 200, Professor Adrian Goldsworthy considers such a question. What I should like to attempt is a model reconstruction of his analysis, description, and examination of such a meeting.  The accomplished academic and prolific author divides the contest into four phases or stages. These are: The Advance, The Pila Volley, The Charge, and The Collision. Using sections of the Tactica II rules and deploying four maniples against three syntagmata on a flat and featureless portion of my tabletop, I should like to play or “kriegspiel” those four stages and report on same.  

The Advance - 

Figure 1 shows the initial deployment and positions of the opposing formations. The phalanxes have the advantage of depth, numbers, and reach of melee weapon, but the Romans have the pila and are, for lack of a better description, more flexible with respect to unit or sub unit movement. As indicated in the text within the diagram, the opposing lines are approximately 150 yards (136.5 metres) apart. 

On page 194, Professor Goldsworthy surmises, “It seems that a slow, steady advance was difficult to achieve”. He continues, explaining, “The instinct, due to nerves and fear, to get the thing over with as soon as possible, encouraged most men to run towards the enemy.” This likelihood of disorder, I would contend, is not reflected in the majority of rule sets, where a measured and orderly advance (whether in inches, centimetres, or unit bases) is allowed each turn. On the previous page, the noted author provides examples of drill commands from the Strategikon, a fifth-century source. Though it is out of date as far as this specific exercise goes, I can still hear - or imagine that I do - the grizzled centurions of my pretend maniples uttering the following stern commands to the men in their respective formations: “Silentium” (Silence); “Non vos turbatis” (Do not get into disorder), and “Bando sequate” (Follow the standard). 

Even though the Romans were trained troops, I decided to roll a six-sided die for each maniple to see if they would traverse the short distance in proper order and formation. A result of 1 would require a second roll and would see the maniple suffer a consequence. If the Roman formation passed its roll, then its Macedonian counterpart (trained troops as well) would have to roll a six-sided die to see how it would react to the approaching enemy. 

Maniple III rolled a 1 and then rolled a 4, so its centuries were forced to stop and redress their ranks before proceeding. (I can just imagine the curses and oaths erupting from the mouth of its lead centurion!) As the dice would have it, the men in Syntagma B also failed their reaction roll. The consequence was the worst possible, with the men in the front ranks trying to shuffle back or to the side in order to avoid the oncoming Roman legionaries. For the eventual melee then, this formation would suffer a negative modifier due to the current state of its ranks and files. I just needed to decide how negative the modifier would be. 

As an alternative to the above, I considered drafting and employing rules for intimidation. At the bottom of page 194, Professor Goldsworthy states: “One of the most important aims of any advancing unit was to intimidate the enemy facing them both by its appearance and the noise that it made”. I wondered if giving each formation a six-sided die and then comparing the scores would provide some kind of groundwork for this intimidation variable. For example, let us say that Maniple I rolled a 2, while its Macedonian counterpart rolled a 5. The pikemen would have 3 more points than the legionaries, so the Hastati would be intimidated by the appearance and attitude of the pikemen. Perhaps the Macedonians were standing silently with sarissas leveled? Then again, perhaps they were shouting or chanting their war cry with that same hedgerow of pike points showing? Not wanting to complicate things any more than I may have already done so, I stayed with my initial idea of orderly advance or disorderly advance and the enemy responses. Without using a ruler or a grid system, I moved the Romans to within pila range of the waiting Macedonians. 

The Pila Volley - 

Figure 2 shows the four Roman maniples having advanced to within 20 yards (18 metres) of the waiting line or wall of syntagmata. This range is well within the maximum stated by Professor Goldsworthy on the bottom of page 198. The order “prepare to throw pila!” has been communicated, whether by voice or by instrument. This command will be followed, very shortly, by the order “throw pila!”. 

As is evident in the diagram, none of the Roman formations are exactly aligned with the Macedonian formations. As is also plainly evident, the posterior century of Maniple IV will not be participating in the one-sided missile exchange, as these men are too far to the right. As I understand it or figure it, there are three options for resolving this pila volley. The first option is identified by the white rectangles. Essentially, only the Macedonians directly to the front of any Roman troops will be subjected to a rain of pila. This restriction presumes that the Roman soldier could not or did not aim his pilum when throwing it. This restriction also leaves a large number of Hastati with no targets. The second option is marked by the angled red lines. Here, there is an arc of fire (somewhere between 30 and 45 degrees measured from the front corner of the attacking unit) which enables more Roman legionaries to identify and “shoot” at the enemy. In both of these options, the missile fire will be resolved separately for each syntagma. It is entirely possible, then, that one of the phalanxes may suffer more casualties than another. The third option is identified by the thin tan line. This “field of fire” extends almost all the way across the Roman formation. Again, however, the century furthest to the right is excluded. 

Now then, working backwards from the third option to the first, there would be approximately 420 pila flying through the air shortly after the command “throw pila!” was given. To be certain, if I am using a figure-based missile procedure, such as in Tactica II, then this represents an extraordinary number of dice to be thrown. Thankfully, Professor Goldsworthy saves me from a potential repetitive stress injury when he explains on page 200 that, “Even if the men were supposed to aim at the enemy, most under the stress of battle would not have done so, and indeed many would have missed the target altogether”. I believe this would apply even more to those men in the rear ranks of the century who had to throw over the heads of their friends. Later in the same paragraph, the professor estimates that, “no more than a quarter or a third of the pila actually struck the enemy”. If I were to take the smaller fraction and do simple math, then the impressive if also almost unmanageable 420 dice is reduced to just 105 six-sided cubes. If I were to divide this figure - as evenly as possible - across the three target formations, then that would give me exactly 35 dice per syntagma. This total is still more than twice the number of pikemen in the first rank of the Macedonian formation. Understanding that the pila volley could be both a physical shock as well as have an impact on unit morale, I decided to reduce this almost three dozen dice to 18 (still more than the number of figures in the front rank of each pike block), and conduct separate rolls for each syntagma. Every 6 rolled would result in an incapacitated Macedonian. The results were as follows: Syntagma A lost 2 “figures;”Syntagma B also lost 2 “figures,” and Syntagma C suffered 3 “kills.” Given this poor performance (certainly nothing to write Rome about), I was tempted to provide the Hastati with a few more chances; I was tempted to revise the number of dice to 35 against each block of pikemen. Then again, I recalled reading a translation of Polybius wherein the depth of the phalanx allowed the middle ranks to form a kind of “protective umbrella” of pikes over the heads of the forward ranks, so maybe, the minimal casualties inflicted by the pila volley were not that far off. 

Jumping forward a bit in Professor Goldsworthy’s examination, on page 222 he states,”When a man in the front rank was killed, he most likely fell backwards, making it difficult for the man behind to step immediately into his place.” The impact of a pilum must have been something. Even if the hit man was only wounded or if his equipment was fouled, this must have had some kind of effect on the men to his immediate left, right, and rear. What kind of impact would this have then, on the unit’s performance in the eventual melee? Jumping back to page 201, the university lecturer suggests: “Whatever missiles were striking the unit, its men almost certainly went into a crouch, heads bowed, as if walking into the wind, which seems to have been the timeless posture of the infantryman advancing under fire.” Here too, I paused and wondered what kind of modifier, if any, should be applied to a subsequent melee, if on one side of the combat, more than several of the participants were occupied with making themselves as small as target as possible; were in shock at seeing their neighbour(s) severely wounded by a pila, or were just not that keen on engaging an advancing enemy in a life or death struggle. 

The Charge - 

While unit integrity and order were primary concerns when advancing on an enemy, this same order was not possible during a charge. Professor Goldsworthy notes that immediately after the hurling of their pila, the Roman soldiers were, more often than not, “released to run and yell.” As  the legionaries would run at different speeds, either because of armour, the nature of the terrain, or their level of eagerness to actually cross swords with the enemy, the full weight of the century or maniple would not fall upon the enemy line in a single instant. Given this logical assessment, I wondered if I should add a negative modifier to the melee value of or number of dice permitted to a charging unit. This seemed especially relevant, as the Roman soldiers were running toward a veritable wall of pike points. I believe Polybius stated that each Roman infantryman would face at least five leveled pikes, if not more, when engaging a phalanx. I also wondered how or if I should factor in the effect of a charging group of troops, in this particular case, Roman Hastati, on a stationary enemy line. The professor stresses the probable devastating effect of the pila volley, suggesting that the enemy’s morale might well collapse and they would run away before the charge, however disordered, struck home. Given the depth of the syntagma, however, it seems well nigh impossible for a phalangite in the first, second, or even third rank, to make a clean and quick escape through all those supporting ranks. 

The Collision - 

Figure 3 shows the Roman line in contact with the enemy line. Forward motion has stopped. The uninvolved centuries on the right and left ends of the Roman line have not continued, have not wheeled and wrapped themselves around the exposed flanks of the vulnerable Macedonian units. Strict adherence to the Tactica II rules would see eight separate and distinct melee areas (identified by the different coloured bars). 

The total number of “figures” fighting on each side, in each melee area would be determined and depth bonus dice would be added to this number, if they were available. More specifically, the melee dice available to a unit would be evenly divided between all enemy formations, even if it appears that only a portion or a sliver of that particular unit is engaged, that is, physically touching the enemy formation. For example, in Figure 3, there are two centuries that are engaged with two enemy units. A portion of each century’s front does not have any enemy in contact. Per the rules, at least as I understand them, the 10 “figures” in the front rank of my century of Hastati would be divided into 5 “figures” for each melee area. Thus, in one melee area, the Roman player-general would get to roll 5 dice against the pikemen. Oddly enough, at least to me, the century of Hastati on the right of the line, the one that is only partially in contact with the enemy formation, gets to roll 10 dice, as there are 10 “figures” in its front rank. I find this strange, as it appears that a good portion of the century is fighting thin air. I also find it unusual, but can see how it might be necessary, to fight or resolve each melee area one at a time. As the Romans charged as a group, and as they hit the enemy line as a group, it makes more sense to me that the melees would take place simultaneously. Therefore, I tend to see this combat as one fairly large melee instead of eight different melees. 

On page 209, Professor Goldsworthy contends: “A combat between two units became inevitably a collection of fights between individual soldiers in the opposing front ranks”. If I accept this argument as plausible, then I will have to adjust my original math, my original calculation of the number of melee dice that each side will be able to roll. The Macedonians have 16 “figures” in the front rank of each formation, so, added together, they would have a total of 48 “figures” or dice in the first round of melee. However, we need to subtract the seven that were lost from the pila volley. This gives a new total of 41 “figures”. Recalling that the men in Syntagma B were disordered due to poor reaction rolls, it could be said that of the 14 “figures” that survived the pila volley, 2 more “shied away” from contact, so the true total of pikemen available to fight in the first round is 39 “figures”. The Roman count would be 48 “figures,” even though some of the Hastati, technically, are not face-to-face with a pike-wielding Macedonian. According to Section 7.11 of the Tactica II rules, a phalanx formation receives three bonus dice for every rank deeper it is than an opponent. Under my figure scale/unit scale, a syntagma is 16 ranks deep, while a Roman century is just 6 ranks deep. This yields a surplus of 30 dice to the Macedonian player-general. Therefore, if wargaming the situation with the rules-as-written, the pikemen would have 69 dice to roll against the 48 dice held by the Romans. This seemed rather lopsided to me. 

On page 223, Professor Goldsworthy explains that, “The men in the rear ranks were exposed to many of the same stresses and fears as the men fighting in the front rank, but, unlike them, were inactive, unable to do anything to counter their fears”. After re-reading this, it seemed to me that while depth might be beneficial, the men in most of the ranks would not actually or actively participate in the fighting. Consequently, I decided that the depth bonus should be capped at five or perhaps six ranks, so instead of having 30 additional dice to roll in the melee round, the Macedonians would have 15 or 18 more. This adjustment brought the totals to 54 or 57 for the pikemen and 48 for the Hastati. At the risk of complicating matters, I decided that for the initial melee round, the Romans would be at a disadvantage, as the leading rank of each century had to negotiate a veritable hedgerow of pike points. Therefore, I reduced their available dice by 25 percent. The final numbers of dice, after all these adjustments, were as follows: the combined phalanxes would get 54, and the centuries of Hastati would receive 36. 

Instead of using the specifications from the Macedonian (Philip-Alexander) army list for the fighting value and quality of the pikemen, I opted to use the specifications provided in the Pontic  (Early) army list. The syntagmata, then, contained pikemen or phalangites with a fighting value of 4-6 and a quality rating of veteran. This meant that any enemy formation would have to roll 4s, 5s, or 6s on their melee dice in order to score “kills”. Veteran units have a break point or percentage of 66%, so with 256 men or “figures” in each formation, the “battalion” of pikemen would have to suffer 169 casualties before it was required to take a Fates Test. For the Hastati, I used the specifications given on the Roman (2nd Punic War) army list. These professionals had a fighting value of 5-6. They were also rated as veteran troops. Anyway. 

In the first round of melee, both sides managed to inflict 18 “kills” on the other. To keep things simple, to avoid too much accounting, I simply divided the casualties across the number of units involved. The Roman centuries lost 3 “figures” each, while the Macedonian formations lost 6 “figures” each. Before proceeding to the second melee round, the centuries on either end of the Roman line of battle moved forward as well as wheeled a bit. They were not quite able to reach the vulnerable flanks of the pike blocks however, at least not yet. 

The second round of melee sees the front rank of the Macedonian formations reinforced, so 48 “figures” will be engaged in close combat. (The negative disorder for the men in Syntagma B was not applied for this round, as it seemed apparent that everyone would be fighting, and melees are not orderly affairs anyway.) As decided above, these men will be supported by five ranks of the deeper formation, so 15 additional dice will be added to the calculated total. The  veteran pikemen will roll 63 melee dice then. On the other side of the melee, the Romans will respond with 48 dice. This increase is due to the fact or assumption that the legionaries were able to hack their way through the forest of pike points and also because the 18 casualties in the first round were replaced by the “next man up”. The results of the second melee round were: 25 “dead” Macedonians versus 17 “dead” Romans. Though it was early in the struggle, it appeared that the sword skills of the Hastati were starting to make inroads against the deep formations of syntagmata. Once again, for sake of simplicity, the losses were divided as evenly as possible across the involved units. 

Figure 4 shows the state of my fictional field at the start of the third melee round. Two of the pike blocks have been attacked on the flank by centuries of Hastati. Without going through the actual process, one can imagine the impact, both physical and to morale, that a volley of pila followed almost immediately by a charge of shield and sword bearing legionaries would have on the densely packed phalangites. 

It seems reasonable to conclude or at least argue that the men in Syntagma A as well as Syntagma C would quickly lose heart and start thinking about how to escape a perilous situation. According to the Tactica II rules, units that are flanked by heavy infantry are automatically disordered. This results in a loss of half of their normal melee dice. Furthermore, deep units, such as these phalanxes, do not receive depth bonus dice when disordered. So, just off the top of my head, the previous number of 63 dice for the combined pike formations would be reduced to 47. Specifically, Syntagma A would fight with just 8 dice, as would Syntagma C. Syntagma B would remain very much in the melee, with 31 dice. Based on my quick sums, the Romans would get 36 dice against each flanked pike block (the century conducting the actual flank attack would have its melee dice doubled), and would have 16 dice, as per usual, against the syntagma in the centre of the struggle. Added together, the Romans would have 88 dice in this melee round versus 47 dice for the Macedonians. With nearly two times the number of dice, it seems fair to say that the Romans will come out on top in round three of the melee, perhaps by a wide margin. 

While working my way through this part of the exercise, I was reminded of ancient wargame reports penned by Charles Grant (Senior) in his excellent book Wargame Tactics, wherein, using his own rules or a commercial set modified to suit his interpretation of history, opposing units in melee were required to break off after a certain number of turns if no definitive result had been achieved. While working my way through this part of the exercise, I recalled reading the second full paragraph on page 224 of Professor Goldsworthy’s text. The gentleman scholar explains: “Hand-to-hand fighting can never have lasted very long, simply because the physical and emotional strain was enormous.” He goes on, offering time estimates from earlier historians like Clausewitz and Major General Fuller. Professor Goldsworthy concludes, suggesting that, “probably most melees actually took even less time . . . If neither side gained an advantage, then such lulls in the fighting with the two sides drawing breath, separated by only a short distance, must have been common”. 

Though some readers may be annoyed or disappointed that I have not finished what I started, that I have not completely resolved the imaginary melee, I think this is an excellent stopping point. I think that a sufficient enough reconstruction of Professor Goldsworthy’s four stages has been completed. It is time to turn a critical if also subjective eye on the experiment.  

Evaluating the Effort

On review, it appears that I have answered most of the questions I posed to myself at the beginning of this article. Though I did not wargame the scenario to its actual conclusion - when one side routs, it seems that when a few syntagmata of pikemen are challenged by several maniples of legionaries, the Romans will, or usually will, emerge victorious. They will be bloodied, to be sure, but victorious. I chose what I feel or would argue was a more authentic route than an aesthetically focused approach. I staged this scenario because my interest was sparked, as I mentioned, by the parenthetical example offered by the admired and respected Simon Watson. As explained, I employed the Tactica II rules, though I did not strictly adhere to the procedures contained within the spiral-bound manual. While I cannot answer the question about the interest of the reader, I certainly hope that a percentage of the regular subscribers to or casual purchasers of this bi-monthly journal take the time to peruse this submission. Indeed, I can only dream that a few might take the time to write a response for the Guardroom or a type shorter and simpler blurb to the dedicated forum. (This presumes, of course, that this piece will be accepted by our esteemed editor.) Finally, my understanding of the term “syntagma” has increased greatly, as I have already explained. 

In the engaging process of answering these various questions, others were raised during the course of my experiment, as I played around with pikes and pila. With the permission of the respected reader, I should like to attempt to answer these additional questions by looking at my effort through the lens of a few suggested categories, which sprang, fully formed, from the fertile and formidable mind of Anthony Clipsom in his initiating post for the discussion thread ‘River deep, mountain high - terrain thoughts.’ On August 23, 2019, the gentleman offered that we might look at or consider wargames terrain in terms of authenticity, aesthetics, and abstraction. I should like to examine, measure and or review my experiment, or at least make an attempt to do so, through those same categories. 

As for authenticity, well, I think my models, even though they were two-dimensional and rather crude in comparison to the traditional painted and based miniature figures, were a truer representation of the historical formations, so I think a mark can be made in the plus column of the rubric or score sheet. The ground scale and figure scale established allowed me to create, I would respectfully submit and argue, a more authentic or realistic model of both a syntagma and maniple than what is found, for example, in the pages, of Tactica II or Simon Miller’s innovative To The Strongest! In the former set of rules, the depiction of a Roman Republican Legion is an admitted abstraction. The much debated process of line relief is handled in a certain way. More to the point with regard to my model, however, were the numbers permitted for the Hastati of a standard or typical legion. Using the figure scale provided on page 1 of the rules, a Tactica II Republican legion contains between 480 and 720 Hastati. To be certain, I am no expert on the organization of the formation, but sources that I have read and studied indicate that there were 10 maniples of Hastati (along with 10 of Principes and 10 of Triarii), and that each maniple, except for the Triarii, had between 120 and 180 men in its ranks. This unit scale problem, or abstraction, is seen again in Simon Miller’s excellent addendum or brief on The Polybian Roman Army in To The Strongest! Here, it appears that the 10 maniples of Hastati as well as Principes are represented by two units, so it seems that each unit represents 5 maniples. 

Moving to the negative column for this category, unfortunately, the minuses outnumber the plusses. First of all, my exercise took place in a vacuum. There were no skirmishers present for either side, and there were no auxiliary troops in attendance. More disconcerting, perhaps, was the fact that the contest took place on a perfectly level and featureless plain, a soccer field or football pitch, if you will. This kind of arena is not authentic. However, for what it is worth, I did describe or explain the lack of these variables at the start of my “lab work.” Another mark in the negative column stems from the analysis provided by Polybius. According to his Histories (18.30, I believe), because of the advantage in numbers per frontage, “nothing could stand up to the frontal assault of the phalanx, as long as it retains it usual order and strength.” In my incomplete experiment, the three blocks of pikemen did not do any moving, did not build up any kind of momentum, but even so, for the legionaries to make any kind of impression on that hedgerow of pike points seems quite improbable.

The second category suggested by Anthony is aesthetics. Here, I do not believe that my experiment and or testing even qualifies to be judged. There was no aesthetic appeal to my two-dimensional, colour poster board models. The “units” on my tabletop cannot even begin to hold a candle to the miniature works of art presented to or staged for the large and admiring crowds by the likes of Keith McNelly, Simon MacDowall, Simon Miller, or Simon Watson. (Is there a pattern here, or is the run of wargamers named Simon merely a coincidence?) Admittedly, historical miniature wargaming is a visual hobby. Even when painted and based miniatures are not employed, player-generals are overlooking maps on which counters are arranged or perhaps tables and floors where large-scale models of ships or armoured-fighting vehicles are positioned. Some of the younger player-generals may be looking at a large and flat screen or even wearing a helmet/visor as they use buttons and joy-sticks to command and control their forces. Anyway. 

To state the obvious, aesthetic appeal comes at a cost. Out of curiosity, I did a quick search for 15 mm scale figures of the ancient period. Finding an appropriate blister pack of pikemen, I calculated approximately how much it would cost me to build a one-to-one scale model of a syntagma. The figure I arrived at, using the current exchange rates, was 175 USD. This cost did not include painting and basing. Having no experience in this part of the hobby, I simply doubled the initial cost, assuming that paints, undercoating sprays, brushes, various tools, a workbench or some suitable area, as well as magnifying glasses, powerful lights, and basing materials (including the flock to go on the finished stands) would be in the same range. 

The initial or overall expense of building an army can be reduced by adopting a certain figure or unit scale, but does not this approach “bump into” or interfere with authenticity? At the risk of getting ahead of myself here, my model of a syntagma could be called an abstraction, but I should think it was less of an abstraction than a 48-figure phalanx in a Tactica II wargame, or a deep phalanx worth three victory medals in a friendly To The Strongest! tournament. 

Along these same lines, while it is aesthetically pleasing as well as impressive to see rank after rank of 15 mm or 28 mm heavy infantry in neat and orderly formations, how authentic is this representation once the fighting begins? Did historical units maintain a perfectly straight front edge when grappling with an enemy formation? When men start to fall, whether wounded or dead, how are the aesthetics of this natural albeit awful progression of ancient combat addressed? 

This seems like a good place to reference a portion of Part 3 of ‘War, Games, and Wargames,” an excellent series written by the talented Richard Taylor. In Slingshot 295, while considering the complexities of combat, he also considered the representation of unit losses. On page 18 of the July/August 2014 issue, Richard explained: 

The obvious way to represent step losses would be to place markers on or 

        behind the affected units, but aesthetic considerations make this a not widely 

        popular solution. Using casualty figures (dead toy soldiers) would be better 

        aesthetically than counter or markers, but they then have to be moved around 

        with their parent units, which most games seem to consider too inelegant, or too 

        much trouble. 

Given my approach to the hobby, it is probably not my place to comment, but I wonder if a middle ground might be reached here. What if casualty figures were “deployed” at the locations of combat, whether missile or melee, thus providing a visual record of areas of heavy fighting and the losses to a given unit were represented by the removal of bases or elements? Re-reading Richard’s award-winning article reminded me of something I saw in Simon Miller’s To The Strongest! rules. On page 9 of the PDF version in my possession, this noted celebrity of the hobby offers:

Finally, there can be a tendency for battlefields to become increasing [sic] bare 

        as units are gradually lost and removed from it during the course of a battle. 

        Players with strong stomachs are encouraged to provide markers depicting dead 

        elephants, crashed scythed chariots and heaps of bodies.

Again, speaking as someone who does not employ traditional figures, I can easily see the attraction of this approach. From what I have read, it appears that actual battlefields (especially after the contest was concluded) were chaotic, messy, and nightmarish places. Accepting this, would it not be more authentic to employ the dead toy soldiers and elephants as Richard and Simon advise? Or would the addition of these splendidly painted and based dioramas or markers,  detract from the overall aesthetic appeal of the tabletop? 

To adapt a line from Anthony Clipsom’s original post: Abstraction is, rules wise, a key area of melee resolution. In “working” my way through this experiment, wherein several maniples faced off against a few syntagmata, I used six-sided dice to help me determine what happened. I used the writing of Professor Goldsworthy as a reference point, and I borrowed from my experience as a historical wargamer to “work” my way through the process. The engagement or experiment was conducted in the relative comfort of my basement office or work space. At no point during the experiment was I hungry, thirsty, anxious, scared, or threatened with bodily harm. At no point during the experiment were my senses assaulted by the “cacophony of combat” (a description used by Professor Victor Davis Hanson when writing about the battle of Delium, 424 BC). I should like to think that educated guesses were made about what might happen if X occurred or Y happened, and what might or would transpire as a result. But again, the entire interaction between my Macedonians and Romans was abstracted. At the risk of dwelling on a point, this abstraction was achieved using coloured poster board as opposed to superbly painted and based miniature figures. 

I will end with just a few more subjective questions and answers. First, was the project worthwhile? I believe it was. I certainly learned a few things. I certainly found it different and refreshing to focus on the smaller scale (perhaps too small?) of things as opposed to massive engagements. Second, did I have fun, was I engaged? If this question was posed in a court of law, I might respond: asked and answered. On a less legalistic note, yes, I did have fun. I was certainly engaged, if also a little frustrated, as this draft represents the seventh or eighth try at coming to grips with the topic. Finally, what’s next? Well, given the “success” of this latest experiment, I am tempted to try something a little larger in scale. (There I go again . . . ) If I reduce my established ground scale to 1 centimetre equals 12 feet, then it would be possible to model a single syntagma with a counter measuring 4 centimetres on a side. With this approach, I could come close to, I think, modeling the ideal phalanx, at least according to Asclepiodotus. With this approach, I could also come close to fielding a consular army on my tabletop. I have to wonder then, is there another Magnesia in my future?