by Cliff Graham
After running out onto level ground, the two men reached the ravine in the middle of the field and stopped, panting. David, his auburn hair and beard streaming with sweat, pulled the sword from over his shoulder out of the leather scabbard securing it to his back. He held it over his head.
His powerful voice, trained and strengthened from years of singing war songs and shouting commands over the noise of battle, stopped the entire column of Philistines, was no longer weak and raspy sounding. It surprised Eleazar.
“Sea filth! Come back to me and let Yahweh finish what he started in this valley!”
Ittai heard the voice and ordered his rider to halt the chariot. He had instinctively pulled the war bow out of its carrier when they entered the narrow area of the valley the Hebrews called Pas Dammim, knowing that if there was going to be an ambush, this would be the place.
His was the first chariot in the squadron, so he had to look back over the top of all ten chariots in his lead platoon. The king who marched for glory this day was in the rear of the battalion, and Ittai hoped that if there was an attack, he would fall immediately.
Ittai saw two Hebrew warriors standing near the small ravine they had passed moments before. He cursed the man who was supposed to be watching their rear, though he was actually angry at the commanders who would let the units stray so far apart in the dark.
The Hebrew shouted in the Philistine tongue, and since Ittai had heard every word, this could be only one man. Ittai clasped the amulet of Dagon he wore around his neck and spat to ward off evil. But he was glad; no more waiting, no more wasting time.
“Form the perimeter! Ambush is coming! Grab your loins, men; that is David himself, and he carries the sword of Goliath. Let’s get it back!” he shouted, bringing the war bow up. The Hebrew was foolishly within range of his ten chariot archers. He pulled the string to the corner of his lip, tilted the bow slightly sideways, stared hard at the Hebrew’s torso, and released the arrow.
The shot was perfect, but the Hebrew king leaped away from the bank before it struck him. Ittai saw him roll when he hit the ground and crouch behind a bank of sand. His partner did the same.
Ittai’s platoon stood frozen, unwilling to believe that the dreaded warlord was actually attacking them.
“Get moving! Ambush is coming! Ambush is coming!”
“But there are only two of them, Lord!” his chariot driver shouted over the noise of men suddenly jumping to action.
Ittai pointed up the ridge to his left. “They’re up there, watch for them! Our scouts have succeeded in warning us again, I see.”
He directed the chariots to circle, but that was difficult in the hilly and boulder-strewn terrain. He cursed the Philistine kings once more for foolishly ordering chariots to accompany them. The Hebrews were not, contrary to the rulers’ assertions, afraid of them on sight.
David replaced the sword on his back and tugged out his sling, two cords of goat hair with a leather notch tied between them. Eleazar peered over the sand bank watching the rear Philistine platoon form their perimeter. He desperately wished that water would suddenly flow down the creek bed to quench his thirst.
“They aren’t attacking. Their commander is smart.”
“Yahweh has given them to us,” replied David, reaching over and plucking another stone out of the creek bed. He had a full pouch of them already but apparently had a ritual. Eleazar saw him whispering something as he handled the stones, as though blessing them. An arrow hit a rock next to his arm.
“What are you doing?” Eleazar asked.
“Reminding them how this went last time.”
David fitted the stone into the notch and held it to his heart, muttering things Eleazar could not hear. Eleazar waited for two more arrows to whistle over his head before stealing a glance over the top of the sandbank.
Then the Hebrew archers on the hillside began shooting their own arrows into the Philistine ranks. There were precious few of them, but enough to divert attention momentarily from the bank where David and Eleazar crouched.
David used the distraction.
He shouted and jumped up at the same time, leaping across the creek in a bound, the muscles in his legs twitching furiously. Eleazar watched him scramble up the side of the opposite bank, swing the stone three times, and then release it as he ran across the field.
Eleazar did not see the stone fly, but he saw one of the Philistine troops pitch backward, a spray of blood from his crushed face showering the chariot he was climbing out of.
David flung another stone, then another so quickly that Eleazar did not see them actually release, but he heard the sound of terrified men as the hail of stones from the running warrior killed Philistines.
Ittai ducked as a stone hit his aide in the eye. The man fell over without a noise, blood pumping in spurts onto the rocks. Ittai slipped on the blood, and on the blood of other troops of his that had fallen from the arrow assault, and he shouted orders to form the perimeter with the chariots, heard the terrified horses neighing in fright and kicking at their handlers. Hardened war horses behaving like colts!
He joined in the effort to calm them, but the horses were frothing at the mouth and slinging sweat, shrieking in agony.
“Their god has attacked us!” one of his men screamed.
Ittai crawled to the nearest perimeter chariot and peered through the wheel spokes to see what the rest of their army was doing. Each platoon had circled as they were supposed to, but they were too far apart to link up to coordinate a counterattack. He cursed in frustration. The amulet of Dagon thumped against his neck. He stuffed it down the front of his armor.
Need to move. Who? Where? Their king — kill their king!
Ittai spotted the Hebrew king, still charging and slinging stones from the pouch at his waist. Ittai knew that Hebrew slingers could be formidable adversaries, but this man did move like a god, running and leaping over tremendous distances and firing stones with deadly precision, hitting every target he chose. Ittai had never seen such a display.
“Hit him with everything! Every archer! Take him out and the rest of them will run!” Ittai shouted to his lead platoon.
Eleazar roused himself from his awed stupor at David’s attack. He raced out from behind the sandbank and shouted and waved his sword over his head, staring at the hillside he and David had just come from.
At the signal, two columns of Hebrew troops poured over the ridge into the valley, shouting with battle rage. The Philistine platoon closest to him, the one suffering most from David’s murderous assault and the swarms of arrows from the grove where the Hebrew archers were positioned, turned to face them.
Philistine arrows flew sporadically, the troops unsure where to direct their fire and afraid to raise their heads over their chariots for fear of David’s stones. None of them noticed Eleazar.
He raised his sword again and then pointed it at the huddle of Philistines. He saw that their commander had directed his men to concentrate all of their arrows at David. Good strategy — won’t work. Eleazar dropped his sword sharply. The Hebrew archers sent arrows in the direction Eleazar was gesturing.
The two Hebrew foot-soldier companies reached the bottom of the valley, one on the east end and one on the west, trapping the Philistine battalion and cutting it off from the rest of the force out of sight down the valley.
Ittai, between directing the fire of his remaining archers and trying to settle the horses, saw the trap close. He saw the company of Hebrews disappear over the bend in the valley to the east, where he knew they were setting up defensive positions against a counterattack from soldiers that might be arriving farther up the Rephaim. He was able to see the western approach from where he crouched, and he watched as the Hebrews formed ranks on that end as well. There were only a few companies of them, but if they were stout men, they could defend that gap against assaults long enough to allow a third charge to come directly over the hill and rush across the middle, overwhelming his battalion and completing the ambush.
Ittai glanced furtively between the Hebrew king, still slinging rocks like some awful shepherd war god, and the top of the ridge, where he expected the next wave to come from. A soldier next to him, a youth who had just joined his lead platoon before the march, took an arrow in the leg. It cut deep, and blood spurted. The boy cried out and grabbed Ittai’s waist in pain.
The boy screamed for help and pleaded with Ittai to stop the blood. Hopelessly, Ittai simply pulled him back against his chest, holding him while his sobs became weaker and weaker. The horses shrieked. Stones and arrows struck necks and faces. The boy whispered something.
Ittai did not hear it. He released the boy and started moving.
Eleazar, still standing in the open, was waiting for the chariot ranks to break.
He watched as the horses in the Philistine chariot platoons broke loose all at once, driving open the perimeter ranks of the battalion and scattering men and equipment everywhere.
A chariot team whirled and raced into the valley, out of control, then veered straight toward him. He darted to the side to avoid it. A wheel struck a rock and burst into splinters, sending the chariot cartwheeling. Horses and men screamed in pain. A horse from the chariot team caught its leg in a hole in the ground. Its leg bone snapped so loudly that it pierced the din.
The charioteer was tossed from the back and landed in front of another runaway team, which tried to avoid the fallen man but veered just enough to sever his head with a wheel.
More chariot teams charged away into the field where the rocky ground caused them to stumble and fall. Wheel spokes burst, men were trampled, and still the arrows flew.
Eleazar sensed no command or control in the Philistine ranks. Officers shouted orders sporadically. Troops cowered behind their section leaders. He overheard men screaming that the avenging Hebrew god was going to cast them into the sea to be judged by Dagon.
When the horses of the platoon closest to him had all scattered, Eleazar raced forward to join the fight. A Philistine archer swung his bow toward Eleazar, who rushed at the man. The archer released the arrow a moment too soon — high and to the left. Eleazar tackled the archer, sending him crashing into another soldier before he killed them both with his sword. They were his first kills in a long time. He leapt back to his feet, regretting the deaths for a moment, loving it the next. Then he tossed his head back and shouted with battle rage.
David took cover behind a boulder. The pause in the fighting came at just the right time. His arm was weary from the sling, and he was gasping for breath. Lying around in the palace harem makes a man soft. Forgive me, Yahweh.
He checked the valley’s east and west ends and saw his troops in their positions. The other two commanders should be rushing down the hillside at any moment to sweep across the ambush line and destroy the demoralized Philistine remnants. Eleazar had charged the platoon nearest the barley field and was finishing them off. All was going as planned.
Bless you for your covering and your strength in the day of war.
David closed his eyes, felt the sea breeze stirring up. He caught the smell of sweat and gore swirling on the wind. It was getting hot. Dust scratched in his eyelids. He coughed. Thirsty. So thirsty. All he could think about was water. He opened his eyes and stared hard at the ridge across the valley.
The Philistines were scattered and disorderly across the valley floor, their perimeters had been broken by their foolish attempt to bring chariot horses into the hill country, troops were losing their discipline. This was the best possible time to hit them.
Where was the second assault?
THIRTY-THREE
Ittai saw another Hebrew running between the overturned chariots, almost upon him.
He swung his bow at the warrior, but too late — the warrior blocked it easily with his short sword. Before Ittai could move again, the Hebrew had cut down two more of Ittai’s troops. Ittai shouted warnings, but now his entire lead platoon was gone, along with the horses. He cursed and spat on the ground. The Hebrew darted away from the last corpse and charged Ittai again. Ittai was ready this time and held up his own sword to meet him.
The Hebrew feinted high. Ittai anticipated it and met him with a low block when the sword cut low. He twisted his shoulders away to absorb the force of the blow, trying to trip the Hebrew as he rushed past, but his opponent knew it was coming and pivoted at the last second.
Ittai caught the edge of the Hebrew’s armor with his sword and tripped him. As the man hit the ground Ittai was on him, trying to choke him, screaming in his face, feeling the man’s hot breath. Sweat flowed into his eyes. They rolled and wrestled, then the Hebrew squirmed out of his grip and jumped up.
Ittai blocked a strike, tried kneeing him in the ribs. The man was too fast — he avoided it, and Ittai tried to toss him again, but the Hebrew stepped out of reach.
Ittai thought the next move would come low again, but the Hebrew’s fist smashed into his face and knocked him flat. He felt his nose break. Warm blood streamed down his lips into his mouth. The blow had aggravated the injury to his jaw, still painful from his fight with the other two Hebrews days before. His vision went blurry, his head numb.
The Hebrew was on top of him, the sword point at his neck. Ittai closed his eyes and prayed to Dagon that it would be quick.
He waited. Horses shrieked throughout the valley. Men yelled. Nothing came.
He opened his eyes and saw the Hebrew squinting at him through a sweaty brow. He was holding the tip against Ittai’s throat, muttering something in the Hebrew tongue. The two men glared at each other, breathing hard.
Then, to Ittai’s surprise, the Hebrew jumped up and ran in the direction of the next platoon.
Ittai sat forward, reached up to touch his broken nose, and coughed out some of the blood in his mouth. His anger raged. Dagon, where are you? Give me vengeance!
A bug crawled on a gore-splattered rock between his legs. He watched in a daze as it struggled to make its way through the mess, getting stuck every few steps. He thought of helping it along. An arrow struck the chariot he was sitting near, rousing him. Move!
He moved to a crouch and watched the next platoon being decimated by the Hebrew warrior, then flicked his eyes to the top of the ridge where the final wave of the ambush would soon cross. Still nothing. He coughed again, wiped his face on his tunic. Sweat burned in the cut.
Ittai left the bow and quiver, slid the sword into his waistband, and decided to charge the archers shooting relentlessly at them. Assaulting through the ambush would be the only way he and any of his men would survive, and he had to do it before the final wave of Hebrew troops attacked.
He was unsure why he was still alive. The Hebrew god was pouring out his wrath on the invaders from the coast.
Ittai willed the amulet against his chest to do something as he charged toward the grove from which the Hebrew archers were raining violent terror on his men.
David was outraged that the third assault still had not come.
His throat burned with dust and he ached for water. Eleazar had destroyed the rear platoon and was attacking the next, but David knew that he could not keep up such an attack unless the next wave of troops came down.
Angry, David ran back across the field to show his officers on the ridge to attack right now. He whirled the sling once, measured again, measured a third time, released it. It glanced a fleeing Philistine harmlessly on the side of his helmet.
David arrived back at the sandy bank and darted across the streambed. Dead Philistines lay in the sand where Eleazar had killed them. The valley went quiet before David reached the top of the bank. He crawled to the lip and checked the ridge. Still no assault!
The valley had grown quiet because his archers had run out of arrows.
The Philistines, seeing this, had mustered several squads to charge the trees, knowing their only chance to escape the ambush was to assault through it. Philistine officers had regained control of their troops and were directing a counterattack.
David sh
outed in frustration as he stared at the ridge above him.
Decide! No hesitation!
He turned and sprinted down the creek toward the gap where one of the two first assaults had taken its position. He kicked sand up his legs as he ran. His feet slid around in the sandals. He kicked them off. Always preferred barefoot. Need the armorers to — focus!
He reached the gap where his men were supposed to be lined up. Instead, they were fleeing back up the slope they had come from.
“Stop! Get back down here!” he yelled, more furious than he had ever been.
One of the section leaders looked over his shoulder at him and stopped. He pointed west toward the gap. David followed his gesture.
The next Philistine battalion was already coming, and another behind it.
Eleazar killed one more man before he knew the time had come to escape. There were too many. The planned third assault had never come, and the Benjamite archers were trapped in the woods with the Philistines about to run through them.
Eleazar ran back the way he had come, stabbing wounded men who still lived as he went to ensure they would not fight again. He headed for the sandy bank and heard the rustling noise of Philistine arrows as they flew toward him. He knelt behind an overturned chariot, waited for the thumping of the arrows striking the carrier to cease, then continued running.
He searched for David but did not see him. Must have gone to rally the fleeing troops. They would need to escape the valley before it became a slaughter field. He stamped his feet in frustration as he ran. We had them! Where was the third assault? Why had Yahweh stopped him from killing that Philistine commander?
He smelled smoke. Turning, he saw a Philistine with a lit torch running across the valley toward the barley field. Eleazar looked away and kept running, but he could not prevent himself from looking again, and then finally stopping. The enemy troops behind him were finally in an assault formation and coming his direction. He glanced at them, then back at the soldier.
