THE LIFE OF A SOLDIER
When you read about the Egyptians in the Bible, it seems as though they
were nearly always fighting; and, indeed, they did a good deal of
fighting in their time, as nearly every nation did in those old days.
But in reality they were not a great soldier people, like their rivals
the Assyrians, or the Babylonians. We, who have had so much to do with
their descendants, the modern Egyptians, and have fought both against
them and with them, know that the "Gippy" is not fond of soldiering in
his heart. He makes a very good, patient, hardworking soldier when he
has good officers; but he is not like the Soudanese, who love fighting
for fighting's sake. He much prefers to live quietly in his own native
village, and cultivate his own bit of ground. And his forefathers, in
these long-past days, were very much of the same mind. Often, of course,
they had to fight, when Pharaoh ordered them out for a campaign in the
Soudan or in Syria, and then they fought wonderfully well; but all the
time their hearts were at home, and they were glad to get back to their
farm-work and their simple pleasures. They were a peaceful, kindly,
pleasant race, with little of the cruelty and fierceness that you find
continually among the Assyrians.
[Illustration: PLATE 4.
RAMSES II. IN HIS WAR CHARIOT: SARDINIAN GUARDSMEN ON FOOT.]
In fact, the old Egyptian rather despised soldiering as a profession. He
thought it was rather a miserable, muddled kind of a job, in which,
unless you were a great officer, you got all the hard knocks and none
of the honours; and I am not sure that he was far wrong. His great
idea of a happy life was to get employment as a scribe, or, as we should
say, a clerk, to some big man or to the Government, to keep accounts and
write reports. Of course the people could not all be scribes; but an
Egyptian who had sons was never so proud as when he could get one of
them into a scribe's position, even though the young man might look down
upon his old father and his brothers, toiling on the land or serving in
the army.
A curious old book has come down to us from these ancient days, in which
the writer, who had been both a soldier and a high officer under
Government in what we should call the diplomatic service, has told a
young friend his opinion of soldiering as a profession. The young man
had evidently been dazzled with the idea of being in the cavalry, or,
rather, the chariotry, for the Egyptian soldiers did not ride on horses
like our cavalry, but drove them in chariots, in each of which there
were two men--the charioteer, to drive the two horses, and the soldier,
who stood beside the driver and fought with the bow, and sometimes with
the lance or sword.
But this wise old friend tells him that even to be in the chariotry is
not by any means a pleasant job. Of course it seems very nice at first.
The young man gets his new equipment, and thinks all the world of
himself as he goes home to show off his fine feathers.
"He receives beautiful horses,
And rejoices and exults,
And returns with them to his town."
But then comes the inspection, and if he has not everything in perfect
order he has a bad time of it, for he is thrown down on the ground, and
beaten with sticks till he is sore all over.
But if the lot of the cavalry soldier is hard, that of the infantry-man
is harder. In the barracks he is flogged for every mistake or offence.
Then war breaks out, and he has to march with his battalion to Syria.
Day after day he has to tramp on foot through the wild hill-country, so
different from the flat, fertile homeland that he loves. He has to carry
all his heavy equipment and his rations, so that he is laden like a
donkey; and often he has to drink dirty water, which makes him ill.
Then, when the battle comes, he gets all the danger and the wounds,
while the Generals get all the credit. When the war is over, he comes
home riding on a donkey, a broken-down man, sick and wounded, his very
clothes stolen by the rascals who should have attended on him. Far
better, the wise man says, to be a scribe, and to remain comfortably at
home. I dare say it was all quite true, just as perhaps it would not be
very far from the truth at the present time; but, in spite of it all,
Pharaoh had his battles to fight, and he got his soldiers all right when
they were needed.
The Egyptian army was not generally a very big one. It was nothing like
the great hosts that we hear of nowadays, or read of in some of the old
histories. The armies that the Pharaohs led into Syria were not often
much bigger than what we should call an army corps nowadays--probably
about 20,000 men altogether, rarely more than 25,000. But in that number
you could find almost as many different sorts of men as in our own
Indian army. There would be first the native Egyptian spearmen and
bowmen--the spearmen with leather caps and quilted leather tunics,
carrying a shield and spear, and sometimes an axe, or a dagger, or
short sword--the bowmen, more lightly equipped, but probably more
dangerous enemies, for the Egyptian archers were almost as famous as the
old English bowmen, and won many a battle for their King. Then came the
chariot brigade, also of native Egyptians, men probably of higher rank
than the foot-soldiers. The chariots were very light, and it must have
been exceedingly difficult for the bowman to balance himself in the
narrow car, as it bumped and clattered over rough ground. The two horses
were gaily decorated, and often wore plumes on their heads. The
charioteer sometimes twisted the reins round his waist, and could take a
hand in the fighting if his companion was hard pressed, guiding his
horses by swaying his body to one side or the other.
Round the Pharaoh himself, as he stood in his beautiful chariot, marched
the royal bodyguard. It was made up of men whom the Egyptians called
"Sherden"--Sardinians, probably, who had come over the sea to serve for
hire in the army of the great King. They wore metal helmets, with a
round ball on the top and horns at the sides, carried round bossed
shields, and were armed with great heavy swords of much the same shape
as those which the Norman knights used to carry. Behind the native
troops and the bodyguard marched the other mercenaries--regiments of
black Soudanese, with wild-beast skins thrown over their ebony
shoulders; and light-coloured Libyans from the West, each with a couple
of feathers stuck in his leather skull-cap.
Scouts went on ahead to scour the country, and bring to the King reports
of the enemy's whereabouts. Beside the royal chariot there padded along
a strange, but very useful soldier--a great tame lion, which had been
trained to guard his master and fight with teeth and claws against his
enemies. Last of all came the transport train, with the baggage carried
on the backs of a long line of donkeys, and protected by a
baggage-guard. The Egyptians were good marchers, and even in the hot
Syrian sunshine, and across a rough country where roads were almost
unknown, they could keep up a steady fifteen miles a day for a week on
end without being fagged out.
Let us follow the fortunes of an Egyptian soldier through one of the
great battles of the nation's history. Menna was one of the most skilful
charioteers of the whole Egyptian army--so skilful that, though he was
still quite young, he was promoted to be driver of the royal war-chariot
when King Ramses II. marched out from Zaru, the frontier garrison town
of Egypt, to fight with the Hittites in Northern Syria. During all the
long march across the desert, through Palestine, and over the northern
mountain passes, no enemy was seen at all, and, though Menna was kept
busy enough attending to his horses and seeing that the chariot was in
perfect order, he was in no danger. But as the army began to wind down
the long valley of the Orontes towards the town of Kadesh, the scouts
were kept out in every direction, and the whole host was anxiously on
the lookout for the Hittite troops.
Kadesh came in sight at last. Far on the horizon its towers could be
seen, and the sun's rays sparkled on the river and on the broad moat
which surrounded the walls; but still no enemy was to be seen. The
scouts came in with the report that the Hittites had retreated
northwards in terror, and King Ramses imagined that Kadesh was going to
fall into his hands without a battle. His army was divided into four
brigades, and he himself hurried on rather rashly with the first
brigade, leaving the other three to straggle on behind him, widely
separated from one another (Plate 4).
The first brigade reached its camping-ground to the north-west of
Kadesh; the tired troops pitched camp; the baggage was unloaded; and the
donkeys, released from their burdens, rolled on the ground in delight.
Just at that moment some of the Egyptian scouts came in, bringing with
them two Arabs whom they had caught, and suspected to belong to the
enemy. King Ramses ordered the Arabs to be soundly beaten with sticks,
and the poor creatures confessed that the Hittite King, with a great
army, was concealed on the other side of Kadesh, watching for an
opportunity to attack the Egyptian army. In great haste Ramses, scolding
his scouts the while for not keeping a better lookout, began to get his
soldiers under arms again, while Menna ran and yoked to the royal
chariot the two noble horses which had been kept fresh for the day of
battle.
But before Pharaoh could leap into his chariot a wild uproar broke out
at the gate of the camp, and the scattered fragments of the second
brigade came pouring in headlong flight into the enclosure. Behind them
the whole Hittite chariot force, 2,500 chariots strong, each chariot
with three men in it, came clattering and leaping upon the heels of the
fugitives. The Hittite King had waited till he saw the first brigade
busy pitching camp, and then, as the second came straggling up, he had
launched his chariots upon the flank of the weary soldiers, who were
swept away in a moment as if by a flood.
The rush of terrified men carried off the first brigade along with it in
hopeless rout. Ramses and Menna were left with only a few picked
chariots of the household troops, and the whole Hittite army was coming
on. But though King Ramses had made a terrible bungle of his
generalship, he was at least a brave man. Leaping into his chariot, and
calling to the handful of faithful soldiers to follow him, he bade Menna
lash his horses and charge the advancing Hittites. Menna was no coward,
but when he saw the thin line of Egyptian troops, and looked at the
dense mass of Hittite chariots, his heart almost failed him. He never
thought of disobedience, but, as he stooped over his plunging horses, he
panted to the King: "O mighty strength of Egypt in the day of battle, we
are alone in the midst of the enemy. O, save us, Ramses, my good lord!"
"Steady, steady, my charioteer," said Ramses, "I am going among them
like a hawk!"
In a moment the fiery horses were whirling the King and his charioteer
between the files of the Hittite chariots, which drew aside as if
terrified at the glittering figures that dashed upon them so fearlessly.
As they swept through, Menna had enough to do to manage his steeds,
which were wild with excitement; but Ramses' bow was bent again and
again, and at every twang of the bowstring a Hittite champion fell from
his chariot. Behind the King came his household troops, and all together
they burst through the chariot brigade of the enemy, leaving a long
trail marked by dead and wounded men, overturned chariots, and maddened
horses.
Still King Ramses had only gained a breathing-space. The Hittites far
outnumbered his little force, and, though his orderlies were madly
galloping to bring up the third and fourth brigades, it must be some
time yet before even the nearest could come into action. Besides, on the
other bank of the river there hung a great cloud of 8,000 Hittite
spearmen, under the command of the Hittite King himself. If these got
time to cross the river, the Egyptian position, bad enough as it was,
would be hopeless. There was nothing for it but to charge again and
again, and, if possible, drive back the Hittite chariots on the river,
so as to hinder the spearmen from crossing.
So Menna whipped up his horses again, and, with arrow on string, the
Pharaoh dashed upon his enemies once more. Again they burst through the
opposing ranks, scattering death on either side as they passed. Now some
of the fragments of the first and second brigades were beginning to
rally and come back to the field, and the struggle was becoming less
unequal. The Egyptian quivers were nearly all empty now; but lance and
sword still remained, and inch by inch the Hittites were forced back
upon the river. Their King stood ingloriously on the opposite bank,
unable to do anything. It was too late for him to try to move his
spearmen across--they would only have been trampled down by the
retreating chariots. At last a great shout from the rear announced the
arrival of the third Egyptian brigade, and, the little knot of brave men
who had saved the day still leading, the army swept the broken Hittites
down the bank of the Orontes into the river.
Great was the confusion and the slaughter. As the chariots struggled
through the ford, the Egyptian bowmen, spread out along the bank, picked
off the chiefs. The two brothers of the Hittite King, the chief of his
bodyguard, his shield-bearer, and his chief scribe, were all killed. The
King of Aleppo missed the ford, and was swept down the river; but some
of his soldiers dashed into the water, rescued him, and, in rough first
aid, held the half-drowned leader up by the heels, to let the water
drain out of him. The Hittite King picked up his broken fugitives,
covered them with his mass of spearmen, and moved reluctantly off the
field where so splendid a chance of victory had been missed, and turned
into defeat. The Egyptians were too few and too weary to attempt to
cross the river in pursuit, and they retired to the camp of the first
brigade.
Then Pharaoh called his Captains before him. The troops stood around,
leaning on their spears, ashamed of their conduct in the earlier part of
the day, and wondering at the grim signs of conflict that lay on every
side. King Ramses called Menna to him, and, handing the reins to a
groom, the young charioteer came bowing before his master. Pharaoh
stripped from his own royal neck a collar of gold, and fastened it round
the neck of his faithful squire; and, while the Generals and Captains
hung their heads for shame, the King told them how shamefully they had
left him to fight his battle alone, and how none had stood by him but
the young charioteer. "As for my two horses," he said, "they shall be
fed before me every day in the royal palace."
[Illustration: PLATE 5.
ZAZAMANKH AND THE LOST CORONET.]
Both armies had suffered too much loss for any further strife to be
possible, and a truce was agreed upon. The Hittites drew off to the
north, and the Egyptians marched back again to Egypt, well aware that
they had gained little or nothing by all their efforts, but thankful
that they had been saved from the total destruction which had seemed so
near.
A proud man was Menna when he drove the royal chariot up to the bridge
of Zaru. As the troops passed the frontier canal the road was lined on
either side with crowds of nobles, priests, and scribes, strewing
flowers in the way, and bowing before the King. And after the Pharaoh
himself, whose bravery had saved the day, there was no one so honoured
as the young squire who had stood so manfully by his master in the hour
of danger.