Volume 3: The First Croton War, Chapter 41 Surprise Attack (Part 2)

Davos stood up, surveying the crowd, and his voice was low but forceful: “The battle at dawn tomorrow will decide who owns the Sybaris Plain! It will decide the future of every Amendolara citizen! When the attack begins, there will be no trumpets and no shouting. We must be fierce! We must be violent! We must be fast! The fastest way to wipe out the enemy while they sleep! The fastest way to break through to the center! The faster we advance, the tighter and denser our formation becomes, and the more panicked the enemy will be. We’ll surround them in the middle and force them to surrender! Brothers, the men of Croton are now like a pot of fragrant barley porridge. I want to see which battalion eats fastest and eats best!”

No one spoke, but their eyes blazed with burning battle intent.

...

On the early summer night of southern Italy, the weather was still relatively cool. Unfortunately, the pitch-black sky held neither moon nor stars.

The Amendolara forces began to move out. The First Company of the First Battalion’s First Platoon led the way out of camp. The lead soldier of each company held a lit torch to light the path. The five-thousand-strong army advanced silently, fully orderly. The sound of the river rushing, the chirping of insects and frogs, even the distant howls of beasts masked the soldiers’ footsteps and the clanking of armor. From far away, only the faint flickering of torches every few hundred meters could be seen.

Crossing the floating bridge at night was the biggest trouble of this march. The troops advanced in two columns, ensuring enough space on the bridge and mutual support. Fortunately, most of the soldiers in the First Battalion had participated in the Persian expedition; they were experienced in night marches. They successfully crossed the first floating bridge and then Hetushu, then the second. Their good performance gave the following units confidence.

The Second Battalion also reached the opposite bank smoothly.

When it came to the Third Battalion, the crossing speed began to slow. Alcinus stepped on the uneven planks, looking at the dark water flowing beneath the floating bridge, imagining its depth. His body involuntarily swayed with the bridge, and he almost leaned outward when a hand firmly grabbed his arm.

“Don’t panic, look ahead, not down at your feet!” It was the voice of his squad leader, Kteippos, marching beside him. He steadied his emotions, followed the squad leader’s method, and indeed felt much better.

After taking just a few steps, he heard a splash behind him, followed by cries for help.

Someone had fallen into the water! His heart jolted.

“Don’t look back, keep moving forward!” Kteippos, usually so talkative, now had an unusually steady voice.

Alcinus finally set foot on the triangular land between the two rivers. With experience, crossing the second floating bridge was much easier.

To help the Lucanians cross the river smoothly, Epithenis came up with a trick: let a Greek and a Lucanian walk the floating bridge side by side. With the help of those veterans, most of the Lucanians also crossed successfully.

Once on the southern bank of the Crati River, stepping onto solid ground, Alcinus’s tense heart finally settled. Only then did he ask his squad leader, “What about the comrade who fell into the water?”

“The legion commander had Military Affairs Officer Philistos arrange some rescue personnel on both sides. As long as they throw away their round shields, spears, and helmets, they should be able to swim to shore. Of course, that depends on whether they trained swimming seriously. Now you see how important training is. Every subject should be completed carefully, because you never know when you might need it.” Kteippos seized every opportunity to educate the new soldiers.

Alcinus nodded seriously.

Two hours later, the army approached Castron. The entire force extinguished all torches. Led by Izam’s squad, they reached the middle reaches of the Triornto River (Castron is at the mouth of the Triornto River). They formed eight columns. Soldiers held each other’s spears front and back (since their round shields were slung over their shoulders and helmets hung around their necks) and waded across. Although this stretch of the river was the widest, the water was only waist-deep, and the current was not strong. Apart from many pebbles on the riverbank, it did not cause the soldiers any trouble. They crossed the Triornto River.

The Croton camp was not far away.

The night was still deep, and dawn had not yet broken. Led by the hill squad, each battalion quietly and unhurriedly took their designated positions and lay down to rest, regaining strength. The officers crept closer to observe the Croton camp, comparing it with the previous map, and began adjusting and assigning attack positions for their subordinate units.

As soon as a trace of light appeared in the eastern sky, the officers began waking the soldiers who had dozed off. While they arranged their weapons and equipment, the platoon leaders gave brief pre-battle pep talks. For veterans, just saying things like “Those arrogant Crotonians dared insult our Lord Davos and burn our houses—now we’ll make them pay with blood for their shields and spears” was enough to ignite their fury. For new soldiers, in addition to encouragement, they reminded them of details to watch in battle, such as “Don’t just charge alone; advance with the whole squad. If your spear gets stuck in an enemy’s body and you can’t pull it out, don’t waste time forcing it—draw your sword and keep slashing,” and so on.

Alcinus lined up with his comrades in a phalanx, then put on the heavy Corinthian helmet. But he did not feel the usual sense of isolation from the world. Although he could not feel the push from the soldiers behind him (since it was a single-file formation), through the eyeholes of the helmet, he saw not only the tents the Crotonians had haphazardly set up a hundred meters away, but also his fellow Amendolara soldiers forming a thin line in the corner of his vision. This line followed the terrain and extended endlessly, curving around the camp until it disappeared from sight…

Alcinus advanced lightly. He was less than forty meters from the nearest Crotonian tent. Still, dead silence reigned ahead.

Alcinus was both excited and a little disappointed. He had wanted to have a proper fight with alert Crotonians to show off his growing skills.

Then, from the right front, a loud chorus of screams erupted, piercing the silence of the camp. The First Battalion had begun its attack.

Kteippos said quietly: “Advance.”

Everyone started striding forward. Their round shields rubbed against each other, producing a low, dull clanking. Their leather sandals trampled the dew-damp mud, leaving clear rows of footprints.

Alcinus had long since fixed his eyes on several enemies sleeping soundly outside the tents ahead. But when he stood before them, he hesitated.

“Get to it!” A comrade beside him urged, at the same time thrusting his spear into an enemy’s throat. The man’s eyes snapped open wide, his hands clawed at his throat, he tried to scream but could not. His expression was one of extreme agony, his entire face contorted.

The comrade pulled out the spear. Blood spurted from the wound like a fountain. The wounded enemy started gasping and wheezing, which woke another enemy from his sleep.

“Still not moving!” The comrade urged again. Alcinus finally stopped hesitating and quickly thrust his spear through the enemy’s chest.

The comrade turned and nodded to Alcinus. Although Alcinus could not see his expression through the helmet, he guessed it must be a satisfied smile. Encouraged, he suppressed the nausea in his stomach and continued advancing, clearing enemies sleeping outside the tents as he went.

A tent ahead blocked the path of Kteippos’s squad. Kteippos made a gesture. Ten soldiers surrounded the tent, ten spears thrust inside. They stabbed wildly. Screams accompanied blood spattering across the tent fabric.

“Alcinus!” Kteippos called.

Alcinus immediately raised his round shield, bent down, and ducked into the tent. He came out quickly and said: “Four men. Two… ugh… two seriously wounded, the others… ugh… all dead.”

“Ignore them, keep moving!” Kteippos waved his hand. Then, looking at Alcinus, he spoke in a low voice: “Even if you vomit, do not stop advancing.”

It was a long while before Alcinus and his comrades finally saw enemies emerging from tents in twos and threes. They wore short-sleeved linen shirts, some were even naked. Most had no weapons in hand. They seemed not fully awake from drinking and sleep. They stared blankly at Alcinus and his men, not understanding what was happening, until Alcinus and his comrades stabbed some of them down. The screams jolted them awake, but instead of rushing forward, they panicked and cried: “Enemy! Enemy!…” Under the pressure of Alcinus’s advance, they fled in all directions, their panicked, pathetic appearance reminding Alcinus of the time he went up the mountain as a child with his father to herd sheep and saw a flock being chased by wolves.

Kolebus’s ancestors were among the earliest settlers of Croton, so they received a sizable and fertile allotment of land. The whole family led a relatively prosperous life of farming and herding. But as time passed and trade rose, many merchants gained astonishing wealth. They used that wealth to win considerable power in Crotonian politics, becoming Croton’s new nobility. Kolebus’s grandfather was an ambitious man who envied those merchants. Dissatisfied with farming, he resolved to join the tide of commerce to win a brighter future for the family. He mortgaged the land, borrowed a large sum, bought several ships, and began port transit trade. Fully loaded with goods, he sailed between the Greek polis Sagunto in Iberia, Massilia in Gaul, Neapolis on Italy’s west coast, and his home city of Croton.

At first, everything went smoothly. He made good money. Then, one voyage, fully loaded, passing through the Strait of Messina, his ship was caught in the Charybdis whirlpool. Ship and man perished. Kolebus’s family began to decline. By the time he grew up, life was impoverished. Apart from possessing the identity of a Crotonian citizen, he had nothing at all—like a freeman from another city. But unlike a freeman, he could vote in the Assembly and serve as a soldier.