Catching up: The Battle of Mylae and the Corvus

At the beginning of the First Punic War, Rome and Carthage both faced significant disadvantages to one another, and a kind of Cold War stalemate ensued for the first four years of the war. By 264 BCE, the Roman army had been honed into a victory machine in most land battles, particularly where rough, hilly terrain was the proving ground. This gave them many tactical victories in Sicily early on, the primary theater of the war, but the Carthaginians had been holding that land for many years, and developed a solid defensive strategy that left them well-fortified even if the local garrison had been routed. Carthaginian ships would arrive with fresh mercenary troops and supplies, making it difficult for the Romans to really gain any ground, since they didn't have a navy of their own to counter the enemy.

The story goes that some Carthaginian ships washed up on the Italian shore and were discovered by the Romans, who copied the design and made themselves ready for a sea invasion of North Africa or Iberia. However, siege weapons aboard boats were pretty useless in those days, so crews had to rely on ramming to tear their enemy's hulls and sink them in the Mediterranean, an art in which the Carthaginians were well-versed. Time and again, they sunk every Roman ship that dared cross into their space, breaking blockades with ease and resupplying their dwindling, demoralized armies in Sicily. So how does a land-based power defeat a naval power? By turning sea battles into land battles.

Roman engineers developed the Corvus, a swiveling draw-bridge device whose spiked tip could be smashed onto an enemy deck, attaching the two ships and allowing for legionnaires to take the ship. The Carthaginian fleet didn't know what hit them at Mylae: they lost almost half of their fleet to the Romans, who appropriated the vessels and bolstered their navy. Carthage's biggest advantage was lost, and the surprise of the Roman tactics cost them heavily. The war would drag on for nineteen more years, however, and end with Carthage being driven out of Sicily for good, causing them to intensify their colonization efforts in Spain and once again come into conflict with Rome.

While the Corvus remains one of the most brilliant innovations in ancient naval warfare, Carthage adjusted its sea tactics after several other disastrous encounters with Roman fleets. Roman innovation won the day, and the tired old Phoenician stronghold teetered one step closer to eventual annihilation.

Pax vobiscum

To Siege, or Not to Siege?

The basic siege tactic is to wait around until your enemy gets desperate enough to surrender, rather than starve to death. Sure, it's effective if the city has no allies and no hope of relief, but if they're well supplied, you could be waiting for years while your homestead's crops wither and you contract dysentery. Therefore, since they excelled at every other form of combat, it makes perfect sense that the Romans would use their engineering skills and upgrade a few local weapons to make them capable of destroying walls, piercing armor, and making life for the besieged as uncomfortable as possible.

The Scorpio was the smallest of the artillery weapons, and was mostly used for sniping any one target within one hundred meters. It was basically a big crossbow whose bow apparatus consisted of two wooden arms connected to a torsion-mechanism. Its bolts could pierce the strongest armor, and the machine itself could be operated by one person. Every legion was supported by at least 60 Scorpios, giving the infantry a cover of deadly bolts to retreat under, should the battle prove contentious enough to warrant a second or third line engagement. It was mostly used to support Roman infantry in the field and in a siege, they were angled and fired in a parabolic fashion, quadrupling their range, but eliminating their precision. Still, the chance of getting instantly killed by one of 60 iron-tipped bolts that could rain from the sky any second was enough to cause the right kind of disruption within the besieged city.

The Ballistae was the Scorpio's steroid-popping big brother. Being much larger and more powerful, there were probably only a few Ballistae per legion, though reinforcements might bring more if there was a siege. In its early days, it hurled massive bolts over 460 meters, often impaling several men at once. Its purpose was mostly to cause fear in the beginning, though later it met with greater advancements which made it a very useful piece of field artillery. It was attached to wagons which would pull the terrible giant crossbow to wherever they could be deployed effectively, and let them rip into the enemy ranks.

Let's face it: the real ultimate weapon of the ancient world was fire. Still a largely misunderstood and uncontrollable force in those days, the sight of fire alone could devastate an army's morale, much less the thought of having balls of the stuff thrown at them. The Onager existed for just this purpose. You may notice in the picture that the payload is contained in a sling, which increases its range, but pretty much destroys any sense of precision. It worked well enough to hurl pots of pitch over enemy walls to set alight whatever they happened to land on, wrecking food supplies, killing soldiers or civilians, and giving yet another calamity for besieged cities to fear.

In the Medieval period, many of these weapons would evolve in different ways; the Scorpio being replaced by the crossbow, the Ballistae by . . . well, better Ballistae, and the Onager by the catapult, which had a fixed bowl instead of a sling and was used to hurl hot coals or large boulders at whatever you want to die. As Hannibal learned the hard way, you can't take a city without laying a siege, and the Romans show us time and time again that it is always best to be prepared.

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Archimedes

Unfortunately, Archimedes is one of those semi-mythical guys who wasn't written about heavily until hundreds of years after his death. What we do know about him is a combination of contemporary and later sources, all of which agree on at least one thing: he was crazy smart.

He approximated pi to an unprecedented degree, which by itself is one heck of an accomplishment. He built world-changing inventions, created new mathematical formulas which incorporated infinity and zero (two concepts which scared the daylights out of Aristotle), applied buoyancy, and created complicated pulley systems which allowed for the earliest cranes to be built. I have focused mostly on how his inventions applied to warfare and farming, but those were the two chief interests of the ancient Mediterranean, when you get right down to it.

Though he died an untimely death at the hands of a foolish Roman Legionnaire, his concepts and inventions continued to change history long after his death. That is, the inventions that they could duplicate continued to change the world. There were several items the plunderers found in his workshop which could not be re-created and were taken as trophies by Marcellus and his Captains. One of them was a sphere with gears and levers which could calculate the exact position of the known planets.

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It's All Greek To Me!

How do you know what you know? Seriously, think of something you are sure is true right now. How did you come to know that truth? Do you believe that humans are basically good or evil? Do we have souls, or are we purely material, and what is the meaning of life? Is there a God, and is she in a good mood? With the economy the way it is, it's unlikely that most of us have had a lot of time to ponder the deeper meanings in life. Socrates would be greatly disappointed in us for this. And so would Archimedes.

The Socratic Method is the practical application of Socrates' belief in self-examination. It began circa 430 BCE, so the story goes, with a bunch of young Athenians who were trying to find the answers to life's biggest questions. They sought out Socrates, a bricklayer and veteran, who had a most curious way of discussing matters of truth. Rather than making quotable statements or using flowery words to push his point across, he asked questions. For example, if one of them stated that “Love always gives and never seeks to receive,” Socrates might answer, “If love never receives, what will it have left to give?” His entire point in life was to make people say, “Hmmmmm . . . .”

While he was mostly concerned with ethical and spiritual matters, he did use his questioning method as a way of trying to understand the world around him. Archimedes was born hundreds of years after Socrates' death, but it seems obvious from his discoveries that he used the same principles of critical thinking. One of the most famous stories (though it's believed to be Apocryphal) is that of the riddle that King Heiro II posed. A local goldsmith had forged a golden crown, and the King was suspicious that it was a fake. He asked Archimedes to find a way to prove it, so the mathematician went to work. He thought deeply about the subject, but couldn't come to a good conclusion, so he took a bath to relax before going at the problem again. While in the bath, he observed the water rising and falling, and realized that he could use the principle of buoyancy (which he basically created) to determine whether the crown was real or a cheap knock-off.

Greek thinking started with how to think, and it was only when the ancients strayed from the art of questioning that they plunged the known world into an intellectual dark age, with only a few bright lights like Archimedes to lead the way. Aristotle, a student of Plato (who was a student of Socrates) went about using inquisition to determine the natural world. After Alexander the Great, his student, took that knowledge with him to every place he conquered, it became concrete fact for the next thousand years. History loves irony, and so it stands that the scholastic line of Socrates ends with someone claiming absolute truth over the natural world.

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