The Elite

by Ranulph Fiennes

  By the age of eighteen, the boys were conscripted into the Spartan army and issued with their armour and weapons. However, by far their most treasured possession was their shield. Demaratus of Sparta stated that, during combat, a hoplite (a heavily armed foot soldier) could lose his helmet or his weapon but, if he misplaced his shield without a good, proven and witnessed military reason, then ‘he be disgraced’.

  Legend has it that mothers would tell their sons upon going into battle, ‘Come back with this shield or on it.’ The only choice any Spartan had was death or victory. Indeed, there was no tolerance for cowardice in Spartan society. When a traitor to Sparta took refuge in a sanctuary, rather than plead for his life, his mother was said to have taken a brick and placed it in the doorway. Following this example, the Spartans bricked up the temple door with the traitor left to die inside. He might have considered himself lucky. Any soldier accused of cowardice could be beaten up with impunity, forced to wear coloured ‘coward’ patches on his shirt and made to shave off one-half of his beard. Such soldiers were also not allowed to marry; presumably for fear that their offspring would inherit their cowardice.

  Yet there was good reason the shield was considered so vital, as any man who lost it when in the phalanx could be putting the whole structure at risk. As Plutarch, the Greek biographer, explained, ‘They wear their helmet for their own sakes but carry their shields for the whole line.’ Nic Fields, in his book Thermopylae 480 BC: Last Stand of the 300, laid out why the shield was so crucial in this regard:

  It was the hoplite shield that made the rigid phalanx formation viable. Half the shield protruded beyond the left-hand side of the hoplite. If the man on the left moved in close, he was protected by the shield overlap, which thus unguarded his covered side. Hence, hoplites stood shoulder to shoulder with their shields locked. Once this formation was broken, however, the advantage of the shield was lost; as Plutarch says (Moralia 241), the body armour of a hoplite may be for the individual’s protection, but the hoplite’s shield protected the whole phalanx.

  For those Spartans who displayed exceptional fighting and survival skills, there was yet another prize – entry into the Spartans’ elite special forces, the 300. And, if the 300 was not prize enough, for a chosen few, there was the chance to become a member of the so-called Krypteia, the most elite Spartan military group of all.

  As you might expect, entry into the Krypteia was far from easy. According to Plutarch, every autumn the leaders of Sparta would declare war on its helot (servant) population. Any soldier wishing to join the Krypteia could therefore kill a helot without fear of repercussions. In other words, the state sanctioned murder against its own citizens in order to strengthen its elite military unit. At night, the hopefuls would descend on the Laconian countryside, armed with knives, and would hunt down a helot to earn their stripes. But just killing any helot wouldn’t do. To really prove their worth, they aimed to kill the strongest in cold blood, all without being caught. While becoming a member of the Krypteia was considered very prestigious in its own right, it was often the only way for a Spartan to rise to the ranks of leadership in Sparta, as their king, Leonidas, had once done.

  Leonidas was, however, said to descend from the dynasty of the mythological demigod Heracles. Such lineage meant he was always destined to be king, but there was also no doubt that the young Leonidas was an incredibly capable warrior, and leader, who earned the respect of his men the hard way. Plutarch said of his self-assurance: ‘When someone said to him, “Except for being king you are not at all superior to us,” Leonidas, son of Anaxandridas and brother of Cleomenes, replied, “But, were I not better than you, I should not be king.” ’

  Such was Leonidas’s standing in Sparta, and beyond, that, when the Persian hordes sought to invade Greece, the confederated Greek council looked to him to defend it. Themistocles, an Athenian politician, suggested that, in order to conquer southern Greece, Xerxes and his army would need to travel through the narrow pass of Thermopylae. If Leonidas and his men could somehow block this route, then they might frustrate Xerxes just long enough for the Greeks to reassemble their forces.

  While such an operation seemed unlikely, Leonidas already saw it, and his death, as his rightful destiny. Herodotus claims that the Oracle, who was consulted about important decisions in the ancient world, made the following prophecy to the Spartan leader:

  For you, inhabitants of wide-wayed Sparta,

  Either your great and glorious city must be wasted by Persian men,

  Or, if not that, then the bound of Lacedaemon must mourn a dead king, from Heracles’ line.

  The might of bulls or lions will not restrain him with opposing strength; for he has the might of Zeus.

  I declare that he will not be restrained until he utterly tears apart one of these.

  However, with estimates of the Persian forces ranging from 300,000 to over 2 million, Leonidas only selected those Spartans who had living sons for the operation, knowing that they were almost certain to die. But he was also not without hope, for he knew more than anyone the prowess of his men.

  With the battle narrowed to a stretch of land between Mount Kallidromo and the sea, Leonidas knew that the Persians would have no option but to face his men head-on if they wanted to advance south. It would be a tiring, ferocious defence, in temperatures reaching over 40 degrees. Yet the Persians would be forced to do most of the running, with the Spartan phalanx just needing to hold firm.

  On the first day of fighting, the Spartans’ line didn’t break. Repelling wave after wave of attacks, their spears killed one Persian every four seconds. Soon mountains of Persian bodies, amid pools of blood, piled up in front of the Spartan phalanx. This only made conditions even more difficult for the Persians. Forced to climb over the bodies of their comrades, they were unbalanced when they finally came face to face with the sea of spears. Before they could even raise their swords, they helpfully fell onto a spear, doing the Spartans’ job for them.

  With Xerxes’ secondary military unit facing catastrophic losses, he decided it was time to put a quick end to matters. As such, he called upon the ‘Immortals’. But even the Persian army’s most elite force was no match for the 300. With Spartan spears over 2.5 metres long, compared to the Immortals’ 2-metre-long weapons, they merely repeated the fate of the thousands of infantrymen who perished before them. By the end of the first day, Persian casualties were in the thousands, while the Spartan 300 suffered only minor losses.

  Facing off against a far superior enemy is actually something I have a little experience of. In the late 1960s, I volunteered to serve in the Sultan of Oman’s Armed Forces in Dhofar, which were under threat from invading Marxists. With few resources, five Land Rovers and a maximum of thirty men at my disposal, I was expected to engage with the larger, and better equipped, so-called Adoo – ‘enemy’ in Arabic. Upon arrival, I also found my men looked to be unfit for service. Indeed, when Captain Southward-Heyton introduced me to them he warned, ‘Between you and me, it would be suicide to go anywhere near Adoo territory with this bunch in their present state.’ I soon realised that, if we were to survive, I had to be creative.

  Night patrols were especially effective, as we could attack unseen, instilling terror into the enemy, while also making them believe we had a far larger force than was in fact the case. Working at night certainly suited my men and me, as daytime temperatures would frequently reach 50 degrees in the shade, making conditions unbearable. Another trick I learnt was, when under attack, if I were to shout ‘attack’ or ‘retreat’ at my men, they were to do the opposite. This allowed us to escape into the night while our superior enemy braced itself for the attack they thought was coming.

  In daylight, I also made a great effort to showcase our ‘strength’. Near Adoo territory, I would set off mortars and allow my best marksmen to engage in shooting practice. While the mortars caused no actual damage, and only steel drums were hurt by gunshots, it still showed our enemy what we were capable of. Such psychological w
arfare was vital if we were to keep far larger forces at bay.

  Intelligence on the enemy was also crucial. A key part of this was employing a local bedu guide, who was an expert in camel tracks and droppings. Sometimes he knew the name of a camel’s owner just by examining the shape of the hoof mark left in the dirt. By examining the texture of the animal’s droppings, he could even tell where the enemy had last eaten. It was truly incredible, not to mention very helpful in planning our patrols.

  However, unlike the Spartans, I must admit that I found killing the enemy in close combat very hard to deal with. The first time this happened, the sad and surprised look on the man’s face as I shot him, before he had the chance to do the same to me, lived with me for a very long time. I’ve said previously that I felt a part of me died with him that day.

  After a day of ferocious combat, Leonidas and his men retired to the mountains for the night to regroup. Around a campfire, they relished not only buying their Greek compatriots time, as they had promised, but also surviving another night on earth. Barring a miracle, they had all accepted that they would eventually die. They just had to withstand the Persians for as long as possible.

  However, as they rested, Leonidas was alarmed to hear that there was a secret path over the mountains, which stretched beyond the Spartan line. If the Persians were to find this, they could bypass the Spartans and encircle them from behind, leaving the phalanx all but redundant. Fearing such an outcome, Leonidas sent a group of Greek fighters to guard the path. If the Persians were to find and cross it, all would be lost.

  Meanwhile, Xerxes admonished his generals in his tent. The first day had been catastrophic. While his infantry had suffered thousands of losses, even his elite Immortals had failed to breach the Spartan wall. But, if he was to reach the southern regions, Xerxes had to somehow defeat this stubborn band of 300 men. Devoid of other ideas, Xerxes decided that the Spartans were bound to tire and it was only a matter of time before they broke. With close to a million men at his disposal, he believed he could afford to sacrifice a few second-class infantrymen to wear the Spartans down.

  The following day, Xerxes launched a relentless assault on the Spartans. Minute after minute, hour after hour, waves of Persians crashed into the Spartan phalanx. But still they held firm. The intense heat, and little rest, saw their muscles cramp, and their arms and legs tire from holding up their heavy shield and spears, but as the sun set on the second day, thousands more Persians lay dead.

  However, that night, catastrophe struck for Leonidas. A local resident called Ephialtes visited Xerxes with momentous news. Behind the Greek lines was a secret path that could lead to victory. Wasting little time, Xerxes sent his Immortals off into the night, where they made quick work of the Greek defence, and looked to surround the Spartans by daylight.

  Having escaped slaughter at the hands of the Immortals, a Greek runner rushed to tell Leonidas that their defence had been breached. It was now clear that the phalanx of the 300 would no longer suffice on an open battlefield where they could be attacked on all sides. At this, Leonidas decided to utilise the skills of the Krypteia, with the head of Xerxes, no less, their target. Striking down the Persian leader would not only destroy the cohesiveness of their army, but also send a signal that no Persian was safe.

  Approaching the bustling Persian camp at night, the Krypteia wrapped their blades to ensure they didn’t shimmer in the moonlight. Finding Xerxes’ tent, in this vast sea of men, was the easy part. Not only was it the grandest in the camp, but it was also surrounded by his caravan of slaves and women. However, getting to the tent itself, and through the thousands of Persians, and guards, undetected, would test them to their limits.

  Sadly, their fate is lost to history. All we know for sure is their mission failed, as Xerxes survived the night and, at the break of dawn, ordered his men to finally kill off the Spartans. All that was left for Leonidas, and his men, was to somehow buy more time with one last heroic stand. Knowing death was now inevitable, Leonidas kept the best of his fighters with him, while he allowed the bulk of his army to escape in order to fight another day. This was the mark of a true leader.

  At daylight, a Persian force of over 10,000 men charged at the last remnants of Leonidas’s forces. Even now, after days of fighting, and knowing death was imminent, the Spartans fought until their spears were shattered and their swords broken. Yet even that didn’t stop them, as they then continued to fight with their hands and teeth, heroically killing Xerxes’ brothers Abrocomes and Hyperanthes.

  At this, Xerxes reached breaking point. With the Spartans scattered, he sent for his archers to finish them off. Plutarch claims that, upon seeing this, one of the Spartan soldiers said to Leonidas, ‘Because of the arrows of the barbarians it is impossible to see the sun.’ Leonidas replied, ‘Won’t it be nice, then, if we shall have shade in which to fight them?’

  As the thousands of archers pulled back their bows, Leonidas issued a final cry to his Spartans, ‘Death or victory!’ Remembering what their training had taught them when faced with mass archery, they sprinted at the enemy, thus minimising the time they would be exposed to the deadly shower of arrows. Roaring out their battle cry, which was described by the war poet Aeschylus as ‘the noise of the scream of eagles’, Leonidas and his men fought until every last one of them was dead.

  While the Persians claimed victory, they had suffered over 20,000 casualties. And, despite the death of the 300, the Spartans would ultimately endure. A year later the surviving Spartans reassembled with Greek forces and defeated the Persians at the Battle of Plataea, finally putting a decisive end to the Greco-Persian war, and ensuring the Spartans were renowned as the most brutal, and effective, fighting force in ancient Greece.

  However, a rival had taken note of their every move, and now planned to use their skills against them. With this, the Spartans would soon be consigned to the history books . . .

  3

  THE SACRED BAND OF THEBES

  379 BC

  The Persians might not have succeeded in conquering Greece but, by 400 BC, the country seemed intent on tearing itself apart. Its three major regions, Sparta, Athens and Thebes, each had a wildly different political outlook, which put them at loggerheads. While Athens was considered the model of democracy, Sparta was at the other end of the spectrum, regarded as the most autocratic military dictatorship in the ancient world. Meanwhile, Thebes was somewhere in the middle. Although its citizens clamoured for Athenian democracy, its ruling elite did all it could to keep hold of power.

  This ideological battle was one Sparta kept a close watch on. Should Thebes suddenly follow Athens’ lead, then the rule of Sparta’s two kings, Agesilaus and Cleombrotus, could also come under threat. Agesilaus refused to counter such a situation. In his sixth decade, he had never lost a battle as leader of the Spartan race and was regarded as one of the most powerful kings in history. To Agesilaus, democracy was a threat that had to be crushed at all costs.

  Consequently, Sparta embarked on an aggressive unilateralist policy towards the rest of Greece. As the citizens of Thebes rebelled, Agesilaus eventually marched on the city in 382 BC and proceeded to install a puppet Spartan government, consisting of Archias, Leontiades and Hypates. With this, all dissidents were brutally dealt with, causing many to flee the city rather than be imprisoned or executed.

  One such dissident who fled to the safety of Athens was Pelopidas. According to Plutarch, his Greek biographer, Pelopidas came from great wealth but gave most of it away to the poor, preferring to live a simple life and immerse himself in the military. Such deeds made him an incredibly popular figure in Thebes, as did his daring, brave escapades on the battlefield, where he earned a reputation as one of the finest soldiers in the region. It was on the battlefield that he met Epaminondas, a fellow soldier who not only saved his life, but in time would also help him overthrow the Spartans.

  Sadly, little is known about Epaminondas. What we do know has been cobbled together from accounts in Plutarch’s ‘Life of
Pelopidas’, as well as briefly in the writings of Xenophon and Diodorus Siculus. From these sources, we know that, while Pelopidas fled to Athens, Epaminondas stayed in Thebes, where he had turned his back on the military and was now regarded as one of the region’s most admired philosophers. As such, the pro-Spartan leadership did not see him as a threat. This was to prove to be a catastrophic mistake.

  While Pelopidas built a small resistance group from Athens, Epaminondas did likewise in Thebes. Joined by the likes of Charon and Gorgidas, they spied on the powers that be and fed information back, all the while planning an assault that would rock Thebes, as well as Sparta. And, by December 379 BC, they were ready to put it into action.

  From his grand home in Thebes, Archias, the pro-Spartan Theban leader, hosted a raucous party. Joining him were his colleagues Leontiades and Hypates, as well as other nobles and politicians. Satisfied that all resistance had been wiped out, they had now settled into a life of debauchery, growing fat and drunk, with servants catering to their every whim and desire. Feasting on the finest food and wine, they all eagerly anticipated the evening’s main event, as twelve scantily clad hetairai, the most beautiful prostitutes in all of Thebes, suddenly waltzed into the room.

  Enraptured, Archias immediately beckoned them to join him, so that he might get a closer look and take his pick. As the ladies of the night sashayed across the room, the drunken powerbrokers lustily watched on, eagerly awaiting their turn.