A STAGING OF SALAMIS

Thinking that a break from the various concerns about and considerations of cataphracts, elephants, hoplites and pikemen, as well as a sort of sabbatical from the study of De Bellis Multitudinis (DBM), L’Art de la Guerre (ADLG), Tactica II, and similar rules might prove refreshing and restorative, as the final week of 2019 made its inevitable and all too rapid approach, I turned my attention to the subject of ancient naval warfare. [1] Having no experience whatsoever in staging wargames of this variety, the prudent course of action would have been to start slow and small, perhaps with a handful of triremes or quinqueremes on each side, so that I could get my “sea legs.” However and typically, being a long-standing enthusiast of larger actions, battles, and scenarios, I decided to skip this gradual as well as sensible approach and dive, as it were, right into the deep end. For my first wargame of the new year then, I decided to attempt a reconstruction and refight of Salamis. [2]

Interpretations and Options

In the April 2003 issue of Wargames Illustrated, casual readers and faithful subscribers were treated to David Manley’s “Greek Fire and Roman Fury: Ancient Fleet Action Rules,” among other interesting content. As one might guess from the title of his submission, these rules were an adaptation of the popular American Civil War rules Fire and Fury. [3] In addition to the rules, David provided a ready-made scenario for refighting the battle of Salamis. According to the included orders of battle, the Persian fleet outnumbered the Greeks 740 ships to 340. According to the small black and white diagram on the lower right corner of page 59, the Greek fleet had the Athenian contingent on the left, the Spartan contingent in the centre, and the aphract triremes and pentakonters of the Minor States holding the right of the line. As for the Persian dispositions, well, the Ionian and Egyptian squadrons were on the right, facing the Athenians. These ships were separated from their allies by a thin but sizable and unidentified island. On the Persian left, the Phoenician and Cypriot squadrons took up station. These aphract triremes were pointed toward the squadrons of the Greek Minor States and those of the Spartans. To be certain, it would have been a relatively simple matter to use David’s rules as written and stage his version of the great naval battle. However, I was interested in finding out more about the history of the contest, so I looked for and consulted other sources. 

Two diagrams, orders of battle, and an explanatory caption of Salamis were found on pages 32-33 of Warfare in the Classical World. [4] The diagram on the left was the “big picture” illustration and showed the Egyptian squadrons being sent to block the Megarian channel. Consequently, the 75-90 Egyptian ships in the Persian fleet did not figure in the actual engagement. The tactical map on the right had a compass rose, a ground scale, and broad arrows indicating the movement of the opposing squadrons. According to the explanatory caption, the approximately 50 ships from Aegina and Megara were placed in ambush. These squadrons engaged the Ionians, who brought around 100 vessels to the battle. Evidently, the main Greek fleet (the Athenians were on the left of this deployment as well) “backed water” and drew the Persian ships, a mix of allied or subject states and Phoenicians into the narrow waters around the Pharmakousse Islands. The summary caption explained that the Phoenician admiral was “an early casualty.” As a result, there was some confusion in the Phoenician ranks. The Athenians took advantage of this and drove the enemy fleet back to Psyttaleia. Here, Greek marines landed and eliminated the Persian garrison. The Warfare summary also explained that the Corinthian squadron held off the Egyptians. As to losses, it appears that the Persians lost 200 triremes, while the Greeks lost only 40. Doing some quick calculations, it seems that the Greeks had about 220 ships in their main line of battle. There were 50 ships in the ambush force. As previously stated, the Ionians had around 100 ships, or twice the number, approximately, representing the Aeginetans and Megarians. The main force of Persians appears to have contained between 275 and 300 ships. These squadrons were probably “squeezed” as they pursued the withdrawing Greeks, so it is not unreasonable to imagine their deployment was rather deep. It is also not unreasonable to estimate that the Persians could not bring their superior numbers to bear or use them to advantage. From the diagram on page 33, it seems that the allied nations or subject states led the way, while the Phoenician squadrons followed. 

In Carnage and Culture: Landmark Battles in the Rise of Western Power, the accomplished, acclaimed, and prolific academic Victor Davis Hanson devotes an entire chapter to the study of Salamis. [5] There is a full-page map on page 45, which offers plenty of useful information to the interested if also inexperienced ancients naval wargamer. According to this diagram, the Persian fleet was arranged in three lines. The vast majority of its ships are south of Pysttaleia Island. Of the four sections identified, the Phoenicians are on the far right, while the Ionian Greeks are the second group from the left. This illustration does show the Egyptian squadron headed away from the main action. As for the Greek deployment, the Athenians are again on the left, but the allied city-states are in the centre. The Spartan contingent holds the right of the line. (This arrangement led me to wonder if there was any similarity between naval and land battles, as the position on the right was the considered the place of honour.) This diagram showed no ambush, but did indicate the Spartans sailing or rowing south and then making a sharp left turn into the Persian fleet. There was no indication of additional islands that might have disrupted or “crowded” the Persian advance, but the suggestion was there, given the placement of Pysttaleia Island. With regard to the battle itself, Professor Hanson offers the interested reader several nuggets of information. He starts on page 43 by explaining that:

Unfortunately, our ancient sources—the historian Herodotus and the playwright 

        Aeschylus [6], along with much later accounts from the Roman period 

        by Plutarch, Diodorus, and Nepos—tell us almost nothing about the battle itself, 

        but do suggest that the reconstituted Greek fleet was outnumbered by at least 

        two to one and perhaps by as much as three or even four to one. We are not sure 

        how many ships were present at the battle on either side—given prior losses at 

        the first sea battle at Artemesium weeks earlier and subsequent reinforcements—

        but there must have been somewhere between 300 and 370 Greek vessels 

        arrayed against a Persian armada of well over 600 warships.

On page 44, the noted author remarks that Salamis might hold the record for “the greatest number of combatants in any one engagement in the entire history of naval warfare.” He continues, informing that, “Most ancient observers also remark that the sailors of the Greek fleet were less experienced than those of the imperial Persian flotilla, who were veteran rowers from Phoenicia, Egypt, Asia Minor, Cyprus, and Greece itself.” The professor quotes Herodotus, who evidently spoke or wrote of “the Greek ships as being ‘heavier’ (baruteras) than any other ships.” One could surmise that because of this apparent weight, the Athenian ships were perhaps slower. On page 46, Professor Hanson estimates that, “The battle was fought for perhaps eight hours sometime between September 20 and 30, but most likely September 28.” He continues the description, noting:

By nightfall the ships of the Persian fleet were either sunk or scattered, and 

        the morale of the invading sailors lost. Most enemy vessels were sunk by 

        ramming, as Greek triremes darted in and out of the clumsy Persian formations, 

        which quickly became dispersed as national contingents operated 

        independently and in their own interests. Although in theory the fleeing enemy 

        still outnumbered the Greek fleet, the Persian armada was no longer battle 

        worthy, with more than 100,000 imperial sailors killed, wounded, missing, 

        dispersed, or sailing back across the Aegean.

Rereading and reviewing these few sources, I decided to defer to the scholarship of Professor Hanson when setting up my refight of Salamis. This is not to say, however, that I completely ignored that treatment provided in Warfare or the simple account offered by David Manley.

Rules Summary & Suggested Amendments

Rather than use or represent individual ships, David proposes squadrons which are formed into fleets. Each base (the actual dimensions may vary depending on the models employed) represents 10 actual ships. The bases are formed into squadrons, which are commanded by admirals. Fleets are made up of two or more squadrons, and are commanded by fleet admirals. Admirals are given ratings as to their overall effectiveness. Under David’s adapted rules, these ratings are poor, average, and exceptional. Squadrons are also rated for the ability and effectiveness of their crews. These ratings are elite, average, and poor. Like the original Fire and Fury rules, squadrons degrade when they suffer losses. The morale levels in this adapted set of rules are high, wavering, and crumbling. The ship data section of David’s rules is rather extensive. (I was not aware of all the different types of vessels. I had heard of triremes and quinqueremes, of course, but not of Sedekares, Dromon, and Pamphlyos.) Ship bases are assigned a number of values based on ship type. Each base has a speed, a missile and melee value, and assigned a yes or no for ram bow, towers, and cataphract, which is evidently a kind of protection for the slaves or volunteers doing the hard work of rowing. The permissible formations are basic and straightforward. I confess to being most intrigued by the kyklos, which is a defensive circle. A poor analogy might be a kind of water-based porcupine, or perhaps something like the Roman legionary testudo formation. The sequence of play is IGO-UGO, with Player A rolling for the movement of his squadrons, conducting missile fire (which is mutual and simultaneous) and then resolving melee. Player B follows the same steps. Movement is easier when the squadron is of high morale, in formation, and commanded by a competent admiral. If the unit is out of formation, if its morale is not quite so good, well then, it is rather difficult to move the way or as much as you would like to. The process and effect of missiles is abstracted. Missile values are calculated for all involved bases and a d10 is rolled. Depending on the result, the defender may or may not have their melee roll negatively adjusted. The melee process is similar in that the value of the involved ships is calculated, a d10 is rolled, modifiers are applied, and a comparison of the scores produces the result of the melee. These can range from both sides losing a stand or base and both being labeled as out of formation, to the defeated squadron losing four stands, its morale collapsing, and the squadron being eliminated as an effective fighting formation. 

Unable to resist tinkering a bit with David’s adapted rules, I drafted a handful of changes. First, I reduced the representative scale from 10 ships to a base or stand to just 8 ships per base. If one accepts 150 as the number of Athenian triremes present, as indicated in the Warfare order of battle, then 19 bases (perhaps this total can be rounded up to 20?) will be needed to model the Athenian fleet at Salamis. Thinking that there were not enough ratings of admirals, I increased these categories as well as changed their labels. Instead of just three ratings, I borrowed the leader classifications from the fairly popular IMPETVS rules. Admirals and Fleet Admirals could now be Incompetent, Poor, Fair, Exceptional, or Genius/Charismatic. As for ship crews, well, I designated four categories or ratings. Crews could be either Elite, Experienced, Trained, or Untrained. Based on the information gleaned from the explanatory caption found on page 32 of Warfare, I decided to allow backwards movement, or “backing water” in my scenario. The squadron had to be in formation to attempt this special move, however. Further, its rate or speed would be reduced to one-third of its normal speed. (Fractions rounded down.) The fifth and final change I made to David’s adapted rules was this: squadron commanders could become casualties at any stage of the fighting. This amendment was also based on the information provided in the Warfare caption. Instead of the admiral’s base being the last stand removed in a squadron, the commanding admiral could be killed, severely wounded, captured, or otherwise removed from the battle if, after the melee phase was completed, a separate roll of 2d6 resulted in doubles. A subordinate would take the former admiral’s place, but the squadron would be designated as out of formation for the remainder of the action. 

Salamis, 2020 AD

Map 1 shows how I set up my small table to refight the historic naval battle. For this very amateur attempt, I placed the Athenians on the left, the Allied City-states in the centre, and the Spartans on the right. 

The Persian fleet was arranged with the Phoenicians on the right, the Cypriots to their left, and then the Ionian contingent to their left. The various subject states were positioned on the far left of the Persian lines. I considered indicating some shoreline, but then elected not to. So that I could get some practice moving the collection of ships before missiles started flying, rams started crashing into the sides of enemy vessels or raking their oars, and contingents of marines began attacking each other, I set up the opposing fleets approximately 35 scale inches apart. It would take approximately three turns, then, before the various contingents came into contact and the actual fighting began.

Summary of the Action

The first two turns of this solo wargame were spent moving the “model” ships and squadrons closer to each other. [7] The Greek fleet, having better crews and better admirals, did very well on their command or movement rolls. In contrast, the Persian fleet suffered some less than good die rolls, which, when added to their several mediocre admirals, left some squadrons straining to keep up with their friends and neighbours. There was no exchange of missiles during these first turns, as the distance between the opposing aphract triremes was still too great. During the third turn of play, the first squadron of the Athenian fleet made contact with the leading squadron from the Phoenician contingent. Over on the right of the Greek position, the small Spartan fleet engaged the first squadron of the subject states rowing for Persia. While missiles were hurled, flung, and launched between ships, there were no casualties inflicted. Losses did come, however, with the melee phases of the third turn. Initially, the Athenians performed poorly, and lost two stands as a result. They bounced back quickly enough, though, and managed to disorder the Phoenician squadron as well as the Cypriot squadron that had joined the fight. In addition, the Phoenician squadron commander was killed during this early contest. In the centre, the Greek allied states faced off against the Ionian Greeks. Here, the battle went back and forth, but the allied states performed well and managed to inflict losses on the Ionian contingent and cause their ships to become “out of formation”. Something close to a disaster transpired on the Greek right, as the Spartans evidently forgot how talented and tough they were. Their squadrons made abysmal combat rolls versus the subject states rowing for the Persian Empire and as a result, found themselves much reduced in strength and without their fleet admiral as well, who perished in the confused fighting. As the Spartans continued to collapse (the numbers of enemy ships facing them were too large and again and again, the Spartan die rolls were terrible), the general engagement continued to develop. In the centre, the Greek allied states fought stubbornly against the Ionian squadrons. Eventually, the tide turned here in favour of the Greek allies. On the left of the line, under the watchful eye of Themistocles, the Athenians brought up their second squadron and started putting even more pressure on the Phoenician and Cypriot ships. Map 2 shows the state of the saltwater “field” at the end of the fifth turn of play. 

The Spartans have been eliminated, but by a strange development, the victorious squadron suffered a morale reversal (they rolled very badly for movement) and their crews decided that they had had enough of fighting for one day. The crews in the second squadron continued to row forward into the now open stretch of sea, but a few command and control issues meant that they could not turn the flank of the engaged Greek allies. At least not yet. Counting the dispersed allied squadron, the Persian fleet had lost 25 stands by this point. In stark contrast, the Greeks had lost just 12 stands. To be sure, the destruction of the Spartan contingent and the exposed right was a problem. 

Halfway through the next game turn, it was decided to call the contest. On the left, the Athenian squadrons destroyed the Cypriot contingent and continued to pummel the Phoenicians. This left only one full-strength Phoenician squadron and bits and pieces of a few others to defend against large numbers of Athenian triremes. In the centre, the Greek allied states captured or sank the rest of the Ionian squadron that was in contact. This action left this Persian ally with just one-third of its original strength. The Greeks now enjoyed a numerical superiority in this sector as well. Rather than shift the Persian subject state squadron around and back into the fight (a losing fight, it must be stressed), I figured that these captains and crews would have gotten wind of what was happening and, being in the open water with no enemy immediately nearby, they would have decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valour. The remaining squadron representing various subject states of the Persian Empire executed an about face and rowed, at a rather rapid pace it must be remarked, for a safe harbour. Needless to say, they were soon joined by what was left of the Phoenician and Ionian Greek contingents. 

Evaluation

As an old calendar was taken out of service and a new one prepared, history was repeated on my small tabletop. Admittedly, my amateur and abstract effort was not a true-to-the-known-or-understood-facts rerun of the historical battle, but it was a victory for the Greek side, for Greek culture and civilization. Instead of the Persian contingents being “confused” and disordered by the nature of the evidently narrow water, they were simply outfought. The glaring exception to this, of course, was the destruction of the Spartan fleet on my table. (Had I played against an actual opponent, I dare say that one of us would have had friendly “ammunition” or bragging rights for many months to come.) 

The abbreviated wargame was certainly different from my usual fare. That said, it was also fun and engaging. Indeed, I find myself rather tempted to explore this topic further. I confess to being drawn to the multiple naval engagements during the Punic Wars. Then again, I could also engineer something wherein Pompey does battle with pirates. It seems that it might be possible to combine my land-based interests with a naval aspect and thereby entertain a very large campaign game. Having sampled the “saltwater wine” of David Manley’s adapted rules, I find myself thinking about investing in a copy of Corvus, the naval rules advertised on the back cover of every issue of Slingshot arriving in the mail. 

Shifting to an assessment of David’s rules, well, it would be rather bold of me to offer an opinion or opinions given my lack of experience and given that this was my first attempt at sailing (or rowing) solo. At the same time, however, I would be remiss were I not to offer at least some comments and remarks. Here goes then. David’s rules work, but they take some getting used to. The IGO-UGO format was familiar, but the abstraction of having all ship bases count as being in contact when only a portion of either squadron was actually touching was a bit difficult to grasp or accept. For example, near the declared end of my refight, something like 16 bases of Athenians were fighting against a much smaller number of Phoenicians and Cypriots. I kept wondering or asking myself why the “uninvolved” Athenian ships did not move forward and swing around to take the enemy ships in the flank or from the rear. The procedures for missile exchange and melee resolution were simple and straightforward, but again, took some getting used to. It was often the case where calculating the missile values of various squadrons resulted in no effect. While necessarily abstracted, I sometimes wondered why 10 or more bases of Athenian ships could not hit the broadside of a floating barn. The melee process was more familiar. Here too, however, it was odd at times, to see a sudden and severe reversal of fortune take place. The Spartans suffered tremendously from poor dice. On a few occasions, the Athenians found themselves on the wrong end of a melee phase as well. Fortunately, for Themistocles and his democratic crews, these shifts in fortune were not too damaging. 

At the risk of appearing rather pleased with myself, I think the various rule amendments worked quite well. Caught up in the heat of the engagement, I did not use the “backing water” tactic. On reflection, I do suppose this movement could be revised further. Perhaps the enemy squadron would have to conduct some kind of test to see if it is “pulled” out of formation? Checking to see if the squadron admirals survived contact with the enemy worked well . . . too well in some cases, as there were several lost during the refight. Perhaps this amendment needs to be reviewed or tested some more? 

In summary, and at the risk of annoying the reader with word play, I think this naval “vacation” went rather swimmingly. It certainly felt strange to play with squadrons of ships instead of formations of infantry and cavalry, but at no point did I become seasick. Indeed, as remarked above, I find myself tempted to conduct further experiments in and explorations of this large and liquid laboratory. 

Notes

1. I regret to inform that I have not made much progress with Tactica II. The requirement for “handfuls of dice” to resolve missile exchanges and melees appears to be a rather substantial (or should I type “subjective”?) boulder blocking my path. In my estimation, there are lesser obstacles as well. I continue to work on becoming better and more confident with ADLG. Indeed, I hope to start a long-term project with these very popular rules (for competitions and tournaments anyway) around March of this year (2020). My interest in DBM was sparked by John Graham-Leigh’s short but superb article in the November/December 2019 issue of Slingshot. While I have found one Youtube tutorial on how to play DBM, I have not had much success in finding additional resources. I guess what I really need to do is find a local wargaming group that plays DBM so that I can learn, hands-on, from experienced players. 

2. A quick search of the 80 pages of the PDF Slingshot Index (1964-2010) produced several hits for the search word “Salamis.” Reviewing these four results, only two were found to be applicable. In Issue 4, the venerable Tony Bath authored “The Campaign and Battle of Salamis.” In Issue 25, Derrick Atwell wrote “Themistocles’ Movement Order [before Salamis].” With respect to the chronology of this particular project, the actual wargame was played in the final weeks of December 2019. The writing and editing was finalized in the first several days of 2020. I suppose, then, that I should relabel this as my first complete and submitted wargame of 2020. 

3. Readers are cordially invited to visit the following sites: https://www.wargamer.com/articles/boff-2-0-an-introduction-to-the-new-brigade-fire-and-fury/ and http://www.fireandfury.com/fireandfurymain.shtml.

4. On pages 30-31 of Warfare, there is an illustration of a Greek trireme, circa 500 BC. There are also diagrams and explanations of the ‘kyklos’, the ‘periplus’, and the ‘diekplus’. These are terms found within David’s rules. The additional information and illustrations on pages 30-31 of Warfare helped me to better understand these foreign words and concepts. 

5. Chapter Two is titled “Freedom—or “To Live as You Please” - Salamis, September 28, 480 B.C.” It starts on page 27 and runs to page 59. 

6. The description of the action provided by Aeschylus can be read here: http://www.poetry-archive.com/a/the_battle_of_salamis.html.

7. As with my many land battles, engagements, and scenarios, the units employed for this refight were fabricated on my laughably old computer, printed in colour, cut out, and then based on thick cardboard. They were model squadrons, but two-dimensional and rather abstract compared to the traditional three-dimensional miniatures or models. 

While I have figured out how to add the "Blogs I Frequent" label to this Blog, I am embarrassed to admit that I have not figured out how to add the handful of blogs that I visit on occasion to this label. 

As a "work around" then, as a temporary fix, the following entry will have to suffice. 

https://prufrockian-gleanings.blogspot.com

https://bigredbat.blogspot.com

http://olicanalad.blogspot.com

http://legio-wargames.com

http://caliban-somewhen.blogspot.com

For what it's worth, I also belong to TMP. There, I spend most of my time on the Ancients Boards or Topics. 

 DECISIONS ABOUT DELIUM

I was not interested in conducting an exercise of the not very well known but quite important engagement that took place in 424 BC between an army of Boeotians commanded by Pagondas and an army of Athenians led by Hippocrates. [1] However, I do think that a demonstration of the historical battle of Delium, in the capable and talented hands of someone like Simon Miller, or Simon MacDowall, or James Roach, or Ron Ringrose, or Rick Priestley, or the Perry brothers, would certainly be a crowd pleaser as well as offer an excellent showcase of the hobby. [2] What did attract my interest was staging a refight of Delium wherein, if I may borrow the words of the venerable Donald Featherstone, I would try to “follow the original course of events reasonably well, but allow some leeway, without too much imaginative stretch, for a reversed result”. (Battle Notes for Wargamers, 11) To develop a certain level of  knowledge—always subject to correction and expansion—about what happened at Delium in 424 BC, I secured the online translations of the narrative accounts written by Thucydides and Diodorus, and then read, studied, and annotated the printed copies of these versions until the pages were rather crowded with highlighter markings as well as scribbled notes. [3] 

To the extent that a battle from the pages of history can be divided neatly into episodes or phases, the following is a numbered summary of Thucydides’ narrative account. As to presentation, I elected to adapt the format used by Aaron Bell in his well-written and well received article on the battle of Thapsus, which appeared in the March-April 2019 issue of Slingshot, The Journal of The Society of Ancients. 

Phase 1 - Pagondas gives a long pep talk/speech and convinces the Boeotians to advance and give battle, even though daylight is fading.

Phase 2 - The Boeotian army draws up behind a large hill which prevents either force from seeing the other. 

Phase 3 - Hippocrates receives notification that the Boeotians are on the march. He orders his army to fall in. As an additional security measure, he stations 300 cavalry in Delium as a garrison. 

Phase 4 - Pagondas moves the Boeotians across the crest of the hill and then has them sit down, under arms and in battle order.

Phase 5 - The Athenians, drawn up for the engagement, are given a pep talk by Hippocrates.

Phase 6 - The Boeotians receive a few more words of encouragement from Pagondas, start chanting or singing, and advance down or off the hill to engage the enemy.

Phase 7 - The Athenians countercharge. Evidently, both phalanxes crash into each other at a run.

Phase 8 - The wings of each army cannot come to grips as the terrain on this part of the field is, apparently, impassable.

Phase 9 - The Boeotian left is bested by the Athenians. The Thespian contingent suffers significant losses; the other contingents on this side of the line are forced to give ground. During the confusion of the melee(s) on their right, some Athenians are attacked and killed by friendly formations.

Phase 10 - The Athenian left is bested by the Boeotians, specifically the Theban phalanx which, reportedly, was deployed in 25 ranks, and so was three-times as deep as the opposing Athenian hoplite formations. 

Phase 11 - Pagondas rescues his left by sending a small reserve cavalry force in support.

Phase 12 - The sudden appearance of this mounted formation panics the Athenian right and they begin to run. 

Phase 13 - This development, in conjunction with the mounting Theban pressure on the Athenian left, produces a general collapse of the army led by Hippocrates. 

I decided to apply my limited resources and focus my limited talent on Phases 4 through 13. To reiterate, I did not want to stage an exercise. I wanted to produce a refight that would follow, more or less, the general course of events as related by the ancient authorities and analyzed by the modern scholars. Starting with Phase 4, I needed to model the opposing armies and then model the landscape on which they stood. Before I could start that enjoyable work, however, I needed to decide on what rulebook or rulebooks I would use for my planned refight or refights of the battle of Delium. 

Of the six sets of rules for ancient and medieval wargaming in my small library, only one, Armati 2nd Edition, provides for the explicit representation of a unit of heavy infantry deployed in depth. To be fair, the IMPETVS rules and Simon Miller’s innovative To The Strongest! also allow player-generals to deploy units in depth, but the frontage of the formations is no different from any other unit on the model battlefield. Of the six sets of rules (my level of confidence and “expertise” varies depending on the particular volume, of course) in that small library, two of them provide for the “pushing and shoving,” the “give and take” that appears to have been a signature characteristic of hoplite warfare. Promoting this characteristic or variable over the representation of unit’s physical depth as in Armati 2nd Edition, I selected Rick Priestley’s Hail Caesar and Lorenzo Sartori’s IMPETVS. Two productions of Delium, then, would be staged on my comparatively small tabletop. 

Orders of Battle - General Considerations

Thucydides (IV.93.3-4) provides some fairly wargamer-friendly information about the numbers and composition of the Boeotian army on the field of Delium. Unfortunately, he does not provide an equal amount of detail about the Athenian forces. Additional information was found on pages 170-185 in Ripples of Battle, Professor Victor Davis Hanson’s excellent book, and on pages 99-101 in Lost Battles: Reconstructing the Great Clashes of the Ancient World, written by Professor Phil Sabin, an accomplished academic, a long-standing member of The Society of Ancients, and a frequent speaker at the annual Battle Day event. 

Without going into too much detail, to model the Thespians, Tanagraeans, Orchomenians, Haliartians, Coronaeans, and Copaeans using Hail Caesar, I fabricated six standard size hoplite units using the Later Hoplite Greek army list found on page 37 of the Biblical & Classical Supplement. The Theban contingent was classed as a large unit, but its frontage was three-fourths the size of a standard unit’s frontage, and its depth - even though page 17 of the colourful and hardbound rulebook states that “depth is far less important” - was three times that of the standard units. Not terribly interested in or excited by the prospect of staging a hoplites ONLY contest, I prepared a few units of light troops and cavalry to guard the flanks of the Boeotian heavy infantry line of battle. [4] A similar process was followed when constructing the Athenian army. Instead of an equal number of hoplite units, however, I built eight standard size heavy infantry formations for the command of Hippocrates. As for the small divisions on either wing, I prepared several small units of cavalry and just a couple of units of levy light infantry/skirmishers. With regard to the command structure of each force, I gave each auxiliary force its own officer, and the main line of hoplites was divided in two. The right of each line would be led by the known commander; the left of each line would be the responsibility of some anonymous leader. 

Turning my attention to the IMPETVS rules and The Age of Hoplites section in the Extra IMPETVS 4 Supplement, I drafted and prepared the opposing model armies for this planned staging of the historical contest. Initially, I considered a simple approach, wherein I would create seven units of Athenian hoplites and an equal number of Theban/Boeotian hoplites. While such a representation would be perfectly within the indicative unit scale described on page 8 of the colourful and spiral-bound rules (I have the 2008 version), it would not provide for a very realistic representation of the reported depth of the Theban contingent or for the possible smaller contingents of the named towns and regions. After drafting some ideas and mulling over some options, I decided to adapt the approximate unit scale provided in my old and unused copy of De Bellis Multitudinis (DBM) [Version 3.2; April 2011]. Each base or stand, then, would represent around 240 actual men organized in four ranks instead of the “wide window” of 600 to 1,200 men as listed on page 8 of the IMPETVS rules. As of this typing (07 September 2019), I have not completely worked out the number of commands that will be in each army, but I am fairly certain that Pagondas will be rated as an Expert leader, while Hippocrates will be rated as a Fair or perhaps even a Poor leader.  

Terrain - An Interpretation

If I read the account of Thucydides correctly, there was a fairly large hill situated between both armies. (IV.93.1) The only other features noted by the ancient author were the “certain currents of water” (IV.96.2) that kept formations on the wings of each army from engaging.  Much ink has been spilt and much thought expended about identifying the actual location of the battlefield, but as Professor Sabin comments, the process is “unavoidably speculative.” (99) [5] As indicated by the subtitle of this section, the following map is simply an interpretation of my amateur study of the secured source material. In addition to not wanting to stage a hoplites ONLY contest, I did not want to stage my refights on a plain-looking (i.e., boring) tabletop. Map 1 shows how I landscaped my six by four-foot playing surface for the first planned contest between Pagondas and his Athenian counterpart. 

Obviously, the centre piece of my model terrain was the large, gentle hill on the Boeotian side of the field. There were three levels to this hill. There were a couple of other gentle hills placed on my tabletop as well. To add some colour and to avoid a hoplite battle on a billiard table, there were numerous patches of scrub sprinkled across the landscape. To keep things simple, the watercourses or ditches, ravines, and or gullies were located just off the short edges of my model battlefield. 

Special Rules - Just in Case

According to the narrative of Diodorus, (XII.70.1) the Athenian hoplites or army was “caught on the hop” by the sudden advance of Pagondas and his Boeotian phalanx(es). Appreciating that this is the interpretation favored by Professors Hanson and Sabin, after further review of the account written by Thucydides, I am going to respectfully disagree and suggest that the Athenians were prepared for a general engagement. In IV.94.2, Thucydides informs: “When there were now in their order and ready to join battle, Hippocrates, the general, came into the army of Athenians and encouraged them.” (The italics are mine.) Additionally, in 96.1, it is Hippocrates who is interrupted. There is no direct statement describing the Athenians being caught in a general state of disorder or not prepared for imminent battle. In fact, once Pagondas gives his short second “pep talk,” the Boeotians begin to sing and start advancing downhill. Simultaneously, at least it appears to me, the Athenians advance to meet them. I am not so sure, however, that each phalanx or the several phalanxes, collided at a run. [6] Anyway. 

One of the most intriguing things about Delium, at least to me, is what happened over on the Athenian right. Turning to my second online translation of Thucydides, the unusual episode is worth quoting in full:

The Boeotian left, as far as the centre was worsted by the Athenians. The Thespians in 

that part of the field suffered most severely. The troops alongside then having given way, 

they were surrounded in a narrow space and cut down fighting hand to hand; some of 

        the Athenians also fell into confusion in surrounding the enemy and mistook and so 

        killed each other. (IV.96) [7]

Thinking back to the half dozen rulebooks I own and have varying levels of experience with, it occurred to me that only with L’Art de la Guerre (ADLG) and To The Strongest! would I be able to make simple flank attacks. Let me rephrase that. With these two sets, it seems rather easy to make an attack on an enemy flank. With the former, it is just expending the command point and pivoting the unit stand. With the latter, it is drawing a card that enables one to make a “difficult move or activation.” Reviewing the small collection of old and newer rulebooks a second time, it seems that I would be able to conduct a flanking move with Hail Caesar, as long as there was no other enemy unit in the moving unit’s zone of control or operations. No wait, I believe the key word is “proximity.” In brief, it seems that surrounding a portion of an enemy line with hoplites (appropriately slow moving troops in many sets of rules) would be challenging. So, in an attempt to model this specific incident of the historical battle, the Athenians just have to defeat, to rout the Thespians. If or when they do manage this, then the involved Athenian hoplite formations have to take a special test. A result of 1, 2, or 3 with a d6 is not good. In fact, a roll of 1 is going to result in mutual casualties as well as disorder. Things get slightly better with rolls of 2 or 3. With rolls of 4, 5, or 6, the Athenians have narrowly escaped attacking and hurting friends, family, and neighbours. Admittedly, this special rule is not completely set, but the general framework is there. Again, this special rule is only enforced when or if the Athenians manage to get the best of the Thespians. 

The second interesting episode at Delium is directly related to the Athenian success against the Boeotian left and subsequent confusion that resulted. I will start with a consideration of the modern analysis or interpretation of this particular situation. At the bottom of page 182, Professor Hanson wonders what Pagondas was doing roughly one thousand yards away from the developing disaster. Somehow, and very fortunately for the Boeotian cause, he sees what is going on and orders a small force of cavalry over to the left. The sudden appearance of these horsemen inspires panic in the Athenian right, which quickly spreads to the still-holding-on-against-the-Thebans left. The Athenians break, and the Boeotians claim the field. However, while I found the visual ability of Pagondas impressive, I also found it slightly problematic. Earlier, on page 181, Professor Hanson reminds the reader that the battle began late in the day. The decreasing amount of light was accompanied by the dust clouds kicked up by the struggling masses of heavily armed and armoured men. How is it then, that Pagondas could determine that his left was in peril? The two translations of Thucydides did not provide any “Aha!” moment in this regard. On the one hand, I guess the fact that Pagondas had some spare cavalry to send from his right or reserve over to the left supports the argument that the nature of the ground did not allow sufficient room for the employment of light troops on the wings. On the other hand, if one accepts the deployment of the opposing armies as described by Thucydides, (IV.93.4-5, and 94.1) then there should have been some cavalry already in position on the Boeotian left. If the hoplite melee was so confusing and deadly, then perhaps these troopers could have waited for the right moment to engage. However, this suggestion leads to the question of the location and activity of the reported Athenian cavalry on their right wing. Readers may justifiably fault me for not having a thoroughly play-tested special rule for this climactic situation. [8] As of this typing (still 07 September), the general framework or idea is this: First, the Thespians have to be nearly defeated or routed from the field. When this happens, then Pagondas, assuming he is still alive and has not been wounded or killed in melee, can roll a six-sided die. The result of this roll will determine if or when the cavalry reinforcements arrive on the Athenian right rear. If the cavalry formation does make an appearance, each Athenian unit within a certain distance will have to take a panic test by rolling a d6. Right now, I am thinking that a result of 1 or 2 results in the testing unit routing and possibly impacting others along the way. Rolls of 3 or 4 would result in an immediate retreat of a full move and then taking a second test. Admittedly, both of these special rules are very much “works in progress.” I am looking forward to tinkering with these ideas when I set up the planned games and start rolling dice and moving units into contact. 

Summary of the Hail Caesar Scenario

Map 2 shows how the table looked prior to the first command dice being rolled in my Hail Caesar version of Delium. 

The gray units mark the Boeotian formations; the blue units mark the Athenians. The yellow stars indicate the approximate positions of the opposing generals. Readers will note that there are only 7 hoplite formations in the Athenian line as opposed to the 8 units originally manufactured. This last-minute adjustment was made as the additional hoplite unit took away too much space from the auxiliary formations, identified by [8] and [9]. Indeed, the overlap on the right was quite pronounced. Athenian hoplites would have been facing off against Boeotian skirmishers and peltasts. The correction was made. There was still a slight overlap, but it was not certain that this would result in any significant advantage. The Boeotian contingents are identified with capital letters. Starting on the right of main line, there was the deep block of Thebans [A], then the Copaeans [B], the Coronaeans [C], and the Haliartians [D]. The left half of the line consisted of the Orchomenians [E], the Tanagraeans [F], and finally, the Thespians [G]. The light troops on either wing are marked by the [H] and [I], respectively. Using the 2/3rds scale rulers purchased from Litko Aerosystems, Inc. some years ago (2007, I think), the hoplite formations were separated by 17 scale inches. If they rolled well with their command dice, the Boeotians would be able to advance three moves down the gentle slope and attack the waiting Athenians. 

The refight started slowly, with only the right wings of the opposing main lines making their command rolls, and making only a single move at that. The phalanxes on the left stayed put. There were some command and control issues with the light troops in each army as well. The Athenians did manage to advance their skirmishers close enough to the enemy skirmishers, however, and succeeded in drawing first blood on the day. The second turn saw contact between the heavy infantry in the centre of each line: the Haliartian contingent charged its counterpart. The ensuing melee was a draw. In the Athenian phase of the turn, initiative moves were used to close the gap between many of the hoplite formations, and battle was joined in full. There was quite a bit of pushing and shoving. The Orcohmenians fought well and forced the Athenians facing them to give ground in good order. The Boeotians did not follow, electing to stay on the slight elevation and keep the line intact. The Thespians were engaged by a solid unit of Athenian hoplites and well, the poor fellows rolled abysmally and were routed in the blink of an eye! This unexpected but historical development resulted in trying out the drafted special rule for this eventuality. The victorious Athenians rolled the required six-sided die and breathed a great sigh of relief . . . their formation would not be marked disordered and no sections of the phalanx would attack each other. However, these hoplites did find themselves quite occupied with the Boeotian light troops. They spent the rest of the battle coming to grips with them, until they finally managed to charge into the Boeotian peltasts, win the melee, and force them back in disorder. This retreat discomforted the other light units in this wing. Ironically, not a single unit from the Athenian right wing formation of auxiliary troops played a role in this local contest. Their command rolls were terrible. Turn followed turn and phase followed phase as the various hoplite formations grappled with one another. Soon after the Thespians were routed, the Tanagraeans and Haliartians were broken. Before they left the field, these two contingents forced the Athenians to pay a fairly steep price. Hoplites on both sides were dropping by the score in the rugby match involving the Copaeans, Thebans, and Athenians. The Athenians proved surprisingly stubborn and did not yield an inch. They impressed even more when the Copaeans defeated their opponents and wheeled around to fall on the flank of the engaged and by now shaken Athenians. Still the dice rolls landed in their favor. This run of luck did not hold out for very long, though. In the next phase, a concerted push saw the Thebans, rather bloodied by the melee, finally break the spirit of the opposing Athenians. Map 3 shows the state of my table after four complete turns of play. 

It would be fair to say that the Athenians had won on the wings. On their far right, the hoplite phalanx that had bested the Thespians, almost too easily, was sweeping away the disorganized Boeotian light troops. On the Athenian far left, their cavalry had defeated all comers, leaving only the Boeotian skirmishers caught in the middle of a potential vise. The hoplite battle was, to take the opposite view of Professor Hanson, quite the bloody spectacle. [9] Three contingents of Boeotians had been broken, one was disordered and shaken, and the remaining three were in rather poor shape. Even the Theban phalanx, for all its 25 ranks, was very close to being marked as shaken. On the Athenian side of the model field, three of their five surviving phalanxes were shaken. It would be fair to say that the battle lines of both forces were hardly recognizable. It would also be fair to remark that this refight left both sides in no real condition to continue. After debating playing another turn or two, I decided to call it a draw, but with a slight advantage - a very slight advantage - to the Athenians.

Assessment

There were hints of history in this short or shortened solo wargame refight of Delium. The Thespians were “destroyed,” and the Boeotian left was roughly handled. The Athenians did not attack friends and family, and their victorious formation was not ambushed by Locrian cavalry. Over on the left, the Athenian hoplites facing off against the deep-ranked Theban contingent put up a good fight without giving ground. The additional pressure of a Boeotian flank attack, however, signaled the end of this particular phalanx. The Athenians did not lose, per se, but they did suffer quite a few losses in this battle of mutual destruction. As related above, they were awarded the laurels by the slimmest of margins, by subjective assessment primarily, because they had won on the wings of the hoplite battle. The contest between opposing hoplite lines did not resemble a “revolving door” as some authors have aptly described. Instead, at the end of four turns of moving and rolling handfuls of dice, my tabletop looked more like a large window after being struck with a hammer. There were fragments everywhere. The Athenian performance and determined result was quite different from the previous experiment using Tactica II. In the just completed scenario, there was fluid movement as opposed to static fighting between the various contingents and phalanxes. I could readily see where each side was winning and where each side was being pushed back or forced to give ground. As I have commented before, however, the combat process in Hail Caesar is a bit dice heavy and protracted, as first hits must be determined and then saving throws must be made. These rolls are often followed by a break test. There are also a number of modifiers applied throughout the sequence. For example, units that are shaken will hit the enemy by rolling a 5 or 6, instead of the usual 4, 5, or 6. The “specials” for each Hail Caesar formation also played a part. The “phalanx rule,” more often than not, produced a slogging contest, as casualties mounted with neither side yielding an inch. The process in Tactica II, at least as I understand it and have experienced it, though only a few times, is also dice heavy, but not as protracted or modifier dependent. Melees between hoplite formations are also more abstracted in Tactica II, again, at least as I understand it, as there is no recoiling as in DBM (a set of rules I really should learn how to play), there is no giving of ground, in good order or disorder, as in Hail Caesar, and, there is no accumulation of fatigue, as in Armati 2nd Edition. Overall, this refight was engaging and at points, rather exciting. Even though amateurish and more functional than aesthetically pleasing, this model increased my appreciation and knowledge of the historical battle. 

Summary of the IMPETVS Scenario

Map 4 illustrates how I set up my table for the IMPETVS refight of Delium.

Observant readers will notice that the landscape is the same as that used for the previous solo wargame. To save money and time, I simply recycled the functional terrain (something more along the lines of a boardgame map) employed for the Hail Caesar refight. The units (i.e., counters) were fashioned to represent the various contingents and phalanxes present on that day in 424 BC. I did not have to tinker with the dimensions given for 15mm scale formations in the IMPETVS rulebook. So, the contingent of Tanagraeans, for example, was depicted with four bases or stands of Boeotian hoplites. These were two large units grouped into a single formation. These heavy infantry were on the left of the Boeotian line, between the Thespians and the Orchomenians. The Haliartians, I decided, would have a smaller contingent on the field, so these hoplites were depicted with one large unit. The Theban phalanx was on the right of the line, deployed to the unusual depth of 25 shields or six stands. Pagondas was embedded with the formation. The Athenian hoplites were arranged in a line of single large unit blocks. Their battle line extended farther than the Boeotian line. As with the Hail Caesar scenario, light troops were posted on the wings. Deciding to use the Litko rulers again, I arranged the opposing armies about 15 scale inches apart. Given the movement rate of hoplites in IMPETVS, it would take three moves for opposing phalanxes to meet. To reduce the number of die rolls required, I substituted a playing card for each command. There were two cards/commands for each side; the Athenians had a left and a right. The Boeotians had a left and a right. Each turn would begin with the drawing of a single card. Whatever command was linked to that card would be the active command. The rating of the officer in charge would be checked to see if it went up, down, or remained unchanged, and then the units within that command could move, hurl missiles, and or engage in melee until they were done. At that point, another card would be drawn and the process started again until all commands had moved and or engaged in combat, or had forfeited their move. The very small deck of cards would be shuffled, and the game move sequence would begin again with a new turn. 

The Athenians took first honours or bragging rights when, on the left wing, their skirmishers bested the Boeotian skirmishers. On the opposite end of the model battlefield, the contest between skirmishers and light troops was even. There was also a clash of opposing bodies of light cavalry. This melee resulted in both sides being disordered but no losses being sustained. In contrast, there were quite a few casualties spread between the various contingents and phalanxes of hoplites on the first elevation of the large hill dominating the field. The right wings of both heavy infantry lines were the first to advance. As a result of the numerous melees, both lines quickly lost any resemblance to neatness and order. Many contingents were disordered by the pushing, shoving, and stabbing at each other with long spears. Some had been pushed back by more aggressive Athenian formations; others managed to stop the Athenian countercharges and push the enemy back to the lip of the gentle hill. Over on the Boeotian right, the deep formation of Thebans engaged the Athenians arranged against them. The Athenians tried to hold the line but were pushed back in a series of sharp, short contests. Then, the tide turned, and it was the Thebans who were stymied by a group of bloodied and stubborn Athenians. While the hoplite battles raged to and fro, on the far right of the Boeotian line, their light troops were completely routed by the Athenian light troops and cavalry. Indeed, it seemed that it was only a matter of moments before the Theban phalanx found itself dangerously exposed. Two units of enemy cavalry hovered near the inviting and undefended flank of the Theban formation. In addition, a unit of Athenian hoplites was also situated within striking distance of the same flank. Rather than continue play, I decided to end the refight then and there, judging the Boeotian position to be untenable. 

Assessment

Readers may well object to the decision to end the IMPETVS scenario of Delium after only a couple of turns. As described above, the Theban phalanx was quite exposed. There were three enemy units within range of its open flank. [10] There were enemy units to its front as well. Granted, these phalanxes of hoplites had been shoved around a bit, but they were still standing. The eventual fate of the Theban formation and of its attached general seemed rather certain. The accepted history of Delium was reversed on my table. Ironically, it was the Boeotian right that was threatened with a mounted force of some strength. Admittedly, these Athenian horsemen did not ride from one end of the field to the other, and did not use a route that was screened by a terrain feature. However, their presence and expected charge did have the desired effect. Shifting my focus to the mechanics of the rules for a brief moment, I found myself quickly reminded of the “interesting” process of IMPETVS, wherein the melee phase is divided into small slivers of action for lack of a better description. One example would be the advance of the Theban phalanx. This deep formation fought three or four consecutive melees before being halted by the previously mentioned stubborn group of Athenian hoplites. The focus on just one interaction or melee struck me as somewhat artificial. Would movement and combat on an ancient battlefield “freeze” so that one unit could fight another unit until a decision had been reached? I would guess no. From what I have read and studied, it seems that, during this broad time period, battle was more general, and involved larger sectors and numbers rather than isolated contests between individual units. [11] From the numerous IMPETVS battle reports I have read, the interaction between individual units seems to be part of the appeal. The opportunity to create dioramas with the comparatively large bases or stands is also one of the appealing aspects of these rules. On the other hand, these rules did provide for that “give and take,” that physical and spatial representation of local wins and losses that is not evident with other rules. Even though I did not play a complete game using the IMPETVS rules, I think that what was staged was sufficient. Unfortunately, I cannot say I was as engaged or entertained as I was when employing Hail Caesar. Professor Hanson (171) remarks that the historical contest of Delium took about an hour. My refight with the IMPETVS rules took slightly less time before an informed (or perhaps I should type estimated) decision was reached. 

Critique & Comments

As per usual, I can be faulted for not staging a “proper wargame” when making these two attempts to refight the historical battle of Delium. Both terrain and troops left much to be desired.  Neither terrain nor troops would present anything remotely close to the best face of historical miniature wargaming. To reiterate, a demonstration game of Delium, in the capable hands of the right individual or club, would be an excellent advertisement of the hobby. It would also, I think, serve as an excellent teaching tool about a relatively unknown engagement from the thick and dusty annals of ancient history. [12] I acknowledge that I can or will also be taken to task for not playing either refight to its conclusion. While I set out with a plan of trying to follow the understood “general course of the historical action,” neither refight provided much of an opportunity to do so. The Hail Caesar scenario came close with the early rout of the Thespian contingent, but after that point, it was difficult to find any resemblance to historical Delium. Furthermore, it was difficult to keep playing the wargame, as both sides had essentially knocked each other senseless. The IMPETVS scenario, as just related, went in an entirely different direction when the Boeotian right wing collapsed, and the Theban phalanx was judged to be in a most precarious position. I do suppose I could have played two or three more turns of this wargame as well, but I worried about my stamina as well as attention, given the previous remarks made about the complicated, at least to me, melee process. These numerous problems accepted, I would still maintain that these two refights served a purpose. I was engaged and entertained during both wargames. On further reflection, it seems that, with growing frequency, I appear to enjoy the process of research, development, and tinkering more than playing an actual wargame. That said, I feel it necessary to note that I do not have a great deal of experience with either Hail Caesar or IMPETVS. The reason for choosing these two sets of rules has already been explained. More playing time with either set of rules would, I think, have provided a higher level of engagement as well as afforded more entertainment. It occurs to me that if I had more actual experience with either set of rules, then I might have been able to engineer a Boeotian victory on my tabletop, perhaps even repeat history.

Staying with the subject of rules and choice of rulebook for a moment, I did take a long look at my unused copy of DBM [Version 3.2; April 2011]. Going over the narratives of the ancient authors and the analyses of the modern scholars, it seems quite evident - or seemed quite evident to me - that DBM would be a very good set of rules to employ for another refight of Delium. Based on my review of the popular rules, it appears that it would be possible to recreate the terrain of Delium. These model or physical features would include the declining daylight as well as the dust stirred up by the masses of hoplite phalanxes wrestling with each other. As with other commercially available sets, it seems that it would be entirely possible to draft amendments to allow for the “friendly fire” on the Athenian right, as well as provide for the “panic” on that same side of the field when or if the Boeotian reserve cavalry arrive. Representing the various troop formations with a better degree of accuracy would also be possible. As I currently understand the narrative of the historical engagement, there were hoplites of varying ability and experience on the field. This seems to have been the case with the Athenian heavy infantry especially. Looking through the rules, I see that DBM provides for three categories of SPEARS. [13] I noted, too, that the combat procedures in DBM provide for recoiling, so that some melees would result in the physical displacement of this or that stand, depending on the difference in the opposing die rolls. So, like Hail Caesar and IMPETVS, DBM would provide for movement as the various combats raged across the tabletop. Unfortunately, I have no experience whatsoever with DBM. Perhaps I need to make a resolution for 2020 that requires me to purchase the newest version of these rules and learn them. Then again, perhaps I could do some additional tinkering with Tactica II that would allow me to factor in the effect of decreasing daylight, increasing dust, more categories of hoplites, and the possible giving of ground when a pushing and shoving contest gives one side an advantage. It appears that I have some more thinking to do about Delium. [14] It appears that I have, as always, more thinking to do about what I want to stage on my tabletop and what I want from that effort. It appears, obviously, that I have many more decisions to make.

Notes

1. On page 171 of Chapter 3 in Ripples of Battle: How the Wars of the Past Still Determine How We Fight, How We Live, and How We Think, Professor Victor Davis Hanson comments that Delium was “a gory nonevent.” He continues, at the bottom of page 171 and top of 172, remarking that not a whole lot of people know about the battle. Then on page 174, Professor Hanson explains the significance of this little known but important engagement: 

Yet what went on for about an hour or so in that nondescript plain changed the life of 

ancient Greece and the nature of European civilization itself—a Euripidean tragedy 

inspired, Socratic philosophy preserved and altered, an artistic renaissance launched, a 

community nearly erased, a monster at Athens spawned, and Western infantry tactics 

themselves created. The ripples of Delium have lapped even upon us, the unsuspecting, 

nearly twenty-five hundred years later—in ways that we can scarcely imagine. 

2. My guess is that most if not all of these names will be familiar to members of TMP who have an acute interest in the ancient and medieval periods. Most of them have blogs, websites, or companies that cater to the hobby. Most have had articles, containing gorgeous and stunning colour photos, written about them or by them in various hobby publications. A few of them have published rulebooks. It is not my intention to appear obsequious or sycophantic, but I would suggest that these gentlemen (along with many others I have not mentioned) are the recognized and admired celebrities, drivers, even giants of the hobby of historical miniature wargaming. In my opinion, a demonstration game of Delium would also be an excellent teaching tool for an advanced level history course. 

3. Two versions of the narrative provided by Thucydides were read, studied, and annotated. My focus was on Chapters 90-96 of Book IV. The first translation was found here: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/History_of_the_Peloponnesian_War/Book_4. The second translation was found here: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0247%3Abook%3D4%3Achapter%3D93. It was interesting to note the differences, sometimes very slight but still significant I think, in the wording of each. For this project, I decided to rely on the second translation. The translation of the very brief account written by Diodorus was found here: http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Diodorus_Siculus/12D*.html#69. It was, it goes without saying, quite interesting to compare and contrast his version of events with the narrative provided by Thucydides. 

4. I was quite relieved to find that my rough calculations for the approximate frontage of the Athenian army at Delium nearly matched the figure arrived at by Professor Sabin. (Allowing for gaps or intervals between various contingents of hoplites, I guesstimated a frontage of roughly 1,100 yards.) Professor Sabin does not allow for gaps or intervals and determined a frontage of approximately 900 metres. If the narrative of Thucydides is accepted, then it appears quite evident that the Boeotians were overlapped by the Athenian phalanx(es) on either one flank or both. If one also accepts the estimation made by Professor Hanson [the first sentence of Chapter 3 asks the reader to: “Imagine a rolling plain of dry grain stubble, extending for not more than a mile before being cut off by ditches on both sides.” (171)], then simple math would argue that there was additional sufficient space for the deployment of at least some auxiliary formations at Delium. 

5. Figure 10, provided by Professor Sabin, is similar to the colour map found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Delium. The black and white, three-part diagram accompanying Professor Hanson’s analysis and interpretation of Delium does not show the hill mentioned by Thucydides, but does illustrate the ravines which framed the ancient field. In the 15 pages of coverage he provides in this chapter, he calls the impassable terrain bordering the battlefield ditches, gullies, and ravines. In my solo wargaming mind, I can see how these types of terrain would be extremely problematic, especially to formed units such as a phalanx of heavy infantry, but I also consider these various descriptions to differ in size and depth. I am also of the opinion (also subject to correction and or revision) that skirmishers, light troops, and perhaps even light cavalry would be able to negotiate such obstacles. On page 174, he offers: “The ancient site is probably near the lovely modern hamlet of Dilesi, once rolling hills of grain fields by the Euboean Sea.” In a discussion following the post of my “Arab Conquest vs Early Byzantines” Battle Report, Society member Richard Taylor contributed the following: 

The current best guess for the location  of Delium is here. This is looking down the slope 

down which the Boeotians advanced - the cavalry hiding 'hill' is presumably over to the 

right. Note the ground cover - olive groves aplenty. If it wasn't covered in olive groves at 

that date, the natural ground cover is if anything even harder going such as this).

6. Years ago, I used to run 5 and 10k races. With proper training and diet, I gained some proficiency and even placed in my age group once in a while. I dressed in running shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt. (Races held during the winter months saw me clothed in the proper gear. Anyway.) I was not wearing the kit of a ancient Greek hoplite. According to Professor Hanson, the weapons carried and armour worn by these soldiers could weigh up to 60 pounds. (Ripples of Battle, 171) I recall reading somewhere about experiments with similar kit that disproved the hoplite advance and attack at Marathon. Admittedly, the distances between the opposing lines at Delium were probably not significant, but hoplites running would seem to go against the order, security, and relative safety provided by a formed phalanx. Coincidentally, the discussion thread on ‘Holding the Line’, started on 07 September by Society member Anthony Clipsom, included a response from the prolific and perspicacious Patrick Waterson (sadly, no longer with us), wherein I learned that, “Athenians and Argives typically attacked at the run.” Now we just have to arrive at an accepted definition of “run.” At the risk of extending this note, in my first official attempt at Delium using Tactica II, I drafted a special rule that had each Athenian unit test to see if it was caught “unprepared” for battle. A series of poor die rolls put several units of hoplites at a disadvantage, and this initial “wrong footedness” had something of an impact on the course of the wargame. Please feel free to read Reply #1306, posted to the ‘What was the last game you played?’ forum on 06 September 2019. In my opinion, the subsequent discussion between Society members Patrick Waterson and Simon Watson is much more interesting and thought-provoking than the original post. 

7. Professor Hanson offers an informative as well as fairly graphic description of this chaos from the bottom of page 180 to the middle of page 182. It would be interesting to find out if there are other recorded examples of “friendly fire,” for lack of a better term, across the 4,500 years of ancient and medieval history covered by The Society of Ancients. Perhaps this could be the subject for a future article, if it has not already been researched, written, submitted for consideration, and or published.

8. In Reply #8 to my “Arab Conquest vs Early Byzantines” Battle Report post, Society member Patrick Waterson offered the following constructive comments:

A circumstance like this is quite hard to model in most rules systems (at least those I 

know), and quite unfair to force upon a player who knows better.  The event might be 

achievable under WRG 6th, because if the Theban cavalry managed to get on or behind 

the Athenian right flank (not hard if the latter is wrapping up the Boeotian centre) and 

launched a charge, they might cause a very bad reaction result by the right-most 

Athenian unit, causing the next one to test, and if it also got a very bad result the 

cumulative penalty for routed units would make the rest of the line likely to break. 

The probability is really low, but it could happen, and if it did it would be the result of the 

standard rules and not a deliberate fix.

To be certain, this had nothing to do with the Battle Report. In a response to other comments posted by other members, I mentioned something about Delium, and well, the discussion took an interesting turn, as they often do. 

9. Again, on page 171, after a rather descriptive paragraph, Professor Hanson states: “The battle of Delium is just that—a gory nonevent.”

10. The depth of the model Theban phalanx was unrealistic due to the stated dimensions of the bases used for 15 mm miniatures. There were six stands in this formation. Each stand of heavy infantry had a depth of 3 cm, so the entire formation was 18 cm deep. The frontage of the IMPETVS bases used in this scenario were a uniform 8 cm. So, two units of Athenians could have combined to hit the open or exposed flank of the Theban formation. 

11. There are exceptions to this “rule,” of course. My recent investigation and attempt to reconstruct a small but key portion of the battle of Taginae springs to mind. Please see Issue 321 of Slingshot. I imagine that there are other examples of which I am not aware. I defer to the broader and deeper knowledge of Duncan Head, other Society members who are well read, and to equally well read members of TMP.

12. In Ripples of Battle, at the top of page 172, Professor Hanson remarks: “After all, not more than a few thousand out of some 300 million Americans know what or where Delium is.” His book was published in 2003. I readily admit to being an ignorant member of that larger camp. Moving forward to the latter months of 2019 and increasing the population sample to include England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and portions of the European continent, I would hazard to guess that a similarly small percentage of the population knows anything of Delium. I am quite certain, however, that if the population subset is restricted to members of The Society of Ancients, readers of Slingshot, and ancient wargamers in general, then the percentage of those who have some knowledge of Delium will be substantially larger. 

13. SPEARS are defined as: “representing all close formation infantry fighting with spears in a rigid shield wall.” (DBM, 6) Hoplites are found in all three categories, and can be classed or rated as Superior (S), Ordinary (O), or Inferior (I).

14. In addition to the usual concerns about modeling terrain and depicting the troops involved, I wondered why anything about or on Delium had never been published in the pages of Slingshot. On September 10 of 2019, I checked the Slingshot Index (1964-2010). My search words were “Delium,” “Pagondas,” and “Hippocrates.” No matches or results were found. Is this lack of coverage due to the difficulty in sorting out the differences between the narrative descriptions offered by Thucydides and Diodorus? Is it more on account of a general lack of interest, stemming from the fact - or assumption - that Delium is not important, is just another hoplite battle? Is it a result of the challenges of writing scenario rules to cover friendly troops attacking each other and hoplites being terrified by the sudden appearance of light cavalry? Is it a combination of these things along with variables that I have not defined?