The most detailed textual sources we have for warfare in the Middle Bronze Age is the extraordinary archive from Mari, which contains more than 20,000 cuneiform tablets, many of which are military dispatches from field and garrison commanders to the king of Mari, Zimri Lim {1776–1761}.1 Remarkably for the ancient Near East, the military letters from Mari give us the words of actual commanders written within days or even hours of the events they are describing. Nothing is filtered through the royal propaganda machines. We are, in a sense, transported into the midst of Middle Bronze Age battles.
There are, however, a number of historiographical limitations and problems with the Mari archive. First, chronologically the tablets come largely from the reign of Zimri-Lim, king of Mari, and hence cover only a narrow period of Mesopotamian history. None the less, that period was one of the most militarily important and active, covering the rise of Hammurabi of Babylon {1792–1750} to imperial predominance in Mesopotamia. Indeed, the destruction of Mari, which ironically preserved the clay tablets, occurred two years after Hammurabi conquered Mari {1759}. The archive also presents us only with the Mari perspective; we are left with limited information concerning the views of their enemies. The archive also includes only letters to king Zimri-Lim; unfortunately his responses to his commanders are included only incidentally in quotations within the letters. Likewise the words of other kings, such as Hammurabi, are occasionally indirectly quoted in the Mari letters.
Our second problem in interpreting the Mari archive is that some of the texts are broken or damaged, leaving lacunae – gaps created by lost text. Tablets can be broken in a number of different ways, losing the top, bottom or one or other side of a particular missive; other lacunae are created by a gash in the middle. The net result is that many of the letters are obscure and difficult to interpret. To the problem of lacunae is added philological difficulties relating to uncertain grammar or meaning of words. The result is that the exact meaning of many texts is often uncertain. This is especially a problem in relation to technical terminology.
Finally, we have the problem of historical contextualization. Many of the letters are undated, meaning we don't know whether the events in one particular letter occurred before or after the events in another. The letters also often contain numerous references to unknown people and places. The result is that, although we know what happened, we frequently are uncertain about when it happened, where it happened, or who was doing what to whom.
Trying to reconstruct military history from the Mari archive is thus rather like trying to reconstruct the events of the Napoleonic wars from a disorganized pile of often damaged and semi-legible dispatches of Napoleon's commanders to Napoleon, but none of his responses. Remaining with the analogy, it is unclear if the battle of Waterloo occurred before or after the invasion or Russia, or if Austerlitz is in Germany, France, or Spain. It is also uncertain if Wellington is an ally or an enemy of Napoleon. Nor do we have a French dictionary – we have to make up our own as we go along. Fortunately, great strides have been made in recent years through painstaking study of the Mari letters. The recent publication of Wolfgang Heimpel's Letters to the King of Mari has given us both a historical framework and a translation of many of the letters.2
Battle divination and martial ideology3
Ancient Near Eastern armies operated in a world in which belief in the supernatural power of the gods was an omnipresent assumption. Battles were fought and won by the will of the gods. The prophet of one god promised Zimri-Lim “O Zimri-Lim, swear that you will not neglect me, and I shall hover over you and deliver your enemies into your power” (ARM 10.8; MK 138). Whereas Napoleon claimed that “God is on the side with the big guns”, the ancient Mesopotamians would have countered “God is on the side with the big temples”. To insure that a king, general, or army were operating in accordance with the will of the gods, Mesopotamian rulers employed diviners and prophets who would interpret the will of the gods. A wide range of methods were used to accomplish this. Few kings dared go to war without the explicit approval of the gods.
In the Mari texts, the most important form of martial divination was extispicy (tērtum), the ritual examination of the liver of a sacrificed animal for patterns and markings which were interpreted according to a complex set of rules.4 Mari commanders invariably consulted the diviners (bārūm) before undertaking any major military operation; special martial diviners were assigned to accompany military units on campaign (L 225, 463; ASD 176–9). They were obviously important officers, since one is described as riding in a chariot like the generals of the army (L 225). One bamm seems to have been the independent commander of a force of several hundred men:
Ilushu-nasir, the bārūm-priest … leads the forces of my lord. A Babylonian bārūm-priest goes with the Babylonian forces. These 600 troops are now in Shabazim. The bārūm-priests are now gathering omens.
(ARM 2.22; WM 130)
Frequently the letters give no details about divination, mentioning only that the omens were favorable or unfavorable (L 210–11, 214–15). Other times, more precise questions were asked and specific detailed prophecies were given; examples of oracular responses to divination include:
· “The king's hand will catch territory that is not his” (L 175);
· “My lord will seize the city [he is besieging] in a hard battle” (L 221);
· “The enemy will attack and carry off livestock” (L 175);
· “The enemy will not make an incursion [into the king's land]” (L 229);
· “Those extispicies were bad. Rebellion [in the city] was repeatedly indicated. I have put the [guards] of the city gates on notice about the citizens” (L 230);
· “When [the allied Babylonian soldiers] enter Mari, they will not cause rebellion to be committed and seize the city of Mari” (L 235–6);
· “This month the enemy will not move against you with his troops and his allies, and he will not besiege you” (L 239);
· “Zimri-Lim, do not go on the road [on campaign]! Stay in Mari!” (L 268).
Sometimes, alternative plans were made depending on the forthcoming results of the extispicy. One commander ordered: “Make an extispicy, and if that [rebel] village still holds out at the end of the month, leave the fifty men behind [to blockade it], and depart! If the extispicies are bad, [capture the city] and take down [its fortifications]” (L 236). On other occasions double extispicies might be taken, asking the same question in two different ways to get confirmation, or perhaps to get the answer one wanted.
I made extispicies as follows: I asked, “If [king] Zimri-Lim cedes [the city of] Id to the king of Babylon, will [king] Zimri-Lim be well? … ” I made [extispicies] on two more lambs as follows: “If Zimri-Lim cedes Id to the king of Babylon, will Zimri-Lim be well? … ” My extispicies were not sound [indicating a negative answer]. I did [extispicy again] as follows: “If Zimri-Lim [does not] cede Id to the king of Babylon, will Zimri-Lim be well?” My extispicies were sound [indicating a positive answer].
(L 237)
Battle could not be undertaken without favorable omens. One priest reported the results of his pre-battle extispicy. He first listed the question asked, and then the answer derived from his divination:
Should Sumu-Dabi, with troops few or many, however many he can readily equip, draw up in battle formation against Zimri-Lim, should he do battle with him, and be safe, defeat him, be victorious? … [The result of the extispicy was that] he must not do battle.
(L 240)
When the result of the extispicy was favorable, the commander would carry out his plan: “I had extispicies done for the well-being of the troops of my lord … and the extispicies were sound, and the troops may move from their position” (L 216, 242). Another officer reported: “We are having extispicies done now. If the god answers, we will do what the god says to us. May the god of our lord go by our side [into battle]!” (L 329). If unfavorable omens occurred, however, the plans were generally put on hold. In such a situation, the commander could wait a while, and consult the oracles again, hoping for a better result. “I made extispicies for the well-being of the messengers, and they were bad, [so I did not send them]. I will make [extispicies] for them again, and when the extispicies have come out sound, I will dispatch them” (L 210). Some oracles were given as a conditional warning; an ecstatic prophet proclaimed, “If you do not make that [new] city gate, there will be a corpse heap [of the soldiers killed in battle at the gate when the city is sacked by the enemy]” (L 263).
When the omens were bad the king or his priests sometimes had to intervene ritually, by making special offerings to re-establish good relations with the gods. Impurity or other types of sin that could antagonize the gods had to be ritually purified to insure success in battle: “There is a taboo [of sin or impurity] among you. The [exorcists and purifiers] must wash off the taboo” (L 199). The king was required to expiate for sins and impurities; according to one oracle: “If my lord stays for seven days outside the walls [of the city] when he does his ablutions [then the gods will grant] well-being” (L 261, 177). In such situations, if the king personally made sacrifice, cosmic order could be restored. One minister advised: “… our lord [Zimri-Lim] must come to Hanat to meet the troops, and our lord must perform an offering before [the goddess of] Hanat. And he must see the troops whom we moved and calm their hearts, which are frightened” (L 196). Bad omens could be changed to good omens by the king making an offering in expiation and taking another extispicy: “I have obtained the [sacrificial] offering that my lord [king Zimri-Lim] offered and whose extispicies he sent, and the god accepted the offering of my lord [and the omens are favorable]” (L 212).
In addition to divination by extispicy, natural phenomena were sometimes seen as ominous. An eclipse of the moon caused panic among the troops (L 209). Eclipses were often, but not universally, associated with disaster, but it was not always clear for whom. In different months an eclipse might presage that “a city loses its population”, “many troops fall”, or “a defeat of the other king will happen” (L 271). A prodigious birth of a deformed lamb was seen as ominous, requiring careful study by the diviners (L 510). Dreams were often thought of as prophetic: “Yasim-Dagan had a dream before his eyes. The dream is serious and is raising concern [among the soldiers]. I had an extispicy of his dream done.… [The meaning of the dream is that] my lord must give strict orders to guard the strongholds” (L 209). Another oracular dreamer wrote: “In my dream the allies of Zimri-Lim defeated Elam” (L 264).
Oracular prophecy is also described in the Mari letters in which ecstatic prophets spoke the words of the gods from trance-like states. Sometimes such prophecies were highly metaphorical and enigmatic. For example, does the prophecy “a wind rises against the land” (L 255) refer to a desert sandstorm or an enemy invasion? Others used simile prophecies: an ecstatic prophet ate a lamb alive, then pronounced, “A devouring will occur” (L 256), possibly an allusion to an invading army consuming a land.
The gods frequently requested specific offerings or behavior from the king. The prophet of the god Shamash told Zimri-Lim:
I [the god Shamash] am the lord of the land. I requested from you [as votive offerings] a great throne as seat of my plenitude and your daughter [to serve as a priestess in Shamash's temple] – let them be rushed quickly to Sippir, city of life. Herewith I deliver into your hand the kings who stood against you [in battle].
(L 249)
Other prophets made independent prophecies not requested by the king:
One “shock-head” (qammatum: an ecstatic spirit-possessed prophetess with disheveled hair) of [the god] Dagan of Terqa came and spoke to me as follows. She said: “The peace offers of the Eshnunakeans are deceit.… I will collect him [the king of Eshnuna] in the net that I knot. I will erase his city. And his wealth, which is from old, I will cause to be utterly defiled.”
(L 251)
As it turned out, Eshnuna was in the end defeated by Hammurabi.
Some oracles were very detailed, promising that the gods themselves would fight on the side of the king:
I [asked the prophets]: “Will my lord [Zimri-Lim] come close to battle?” They [the prophets replied]: “Battle will not be done. As of the arrival [of Zimri-Lim] his [Ishme-Dagan's, son of Shamshi-Adad, king of Assyria] allies will scatter. And they will cut off the head of Ishme-Dagan, and they will place it under the foot of my lord [Zimri-Lim], saying, ‘the troops of Ishme-Dagan were many. And although his troops were many, his allies scattered. My [Zimri-Lim's] allies are [the gods] Dagan, Shamash, Itur-Mer, and Belet-Ekallim and Addu, lord of determination; they [these gods] go at the side of my lord [into battle].’ ”
(L 257)
Unlike the mortal allies of Ishme-Dagan, who will desert him, Zimri-Lim's allies are the gods, who will stay by his side and lead him to victory. Another prophet agreed, repeatedly shouting his prophecy by the palace gate: “Ishme-Dagan [son of Shamshi-Adad] will not escape the hand of [the god] Marduk” (L 325). As it happened, Ishme-Dagan died and lost his kingdom (L 145–6).
When a king wanted to go to war, he had to consult the gods, both to increase the morale of his troops, but also because a favorable oracle from the gods was considered a justification for war. Hammurabi, when he attacked his erstwhile ally Larsa, proclaimed:
“I now requested [an oracle about going to war with Larsa from the gods] Shamash and Marduk and they answered me with yes. I would not have risen to this offensive [against Larsa] without consulting a god [first].” To his troops he spoke as follows: “Go [to Larsa], may the god go in front of you [into battle]!”
(L 333)
It is possible that Hammurabi had no desire to attack Larsa before the oracle from the gods, but more often kings were simply seeking divine permission to do what they had already determined to do.
Sometimes a commander or a king ignored the omens, though they were repeatedly advised by the diviners not to do so. One commander was adamant: “Only go out [on campaign] upon sound extispicies!” (L 458). Another oracle declared: “I am afraid the king [Zimri-Lim] will commit himself to [peace with] the Eshnunakean [king] without asking a god.… He must not commit himself without asking the god” (L 253). One priest complained that the commander was considering acting against the omens:
The enemy are enlisting border guards from the elite troops and enlisting additional troops [in preparation for war] but my lord must [wait] and keep catering to the wishes of [the gods] Dagan, Shamash, and Addu about these things.… My lord must not hurry into battle, and my lord must not [attack] the enemy.… When Dagan, Shamash, and Addu, these gods, have answered you with yes and your extispicies are sound, then my lord must do battle!
(L 243)
In general, however, the omens and prophecies were ignored at great peril. Bad omens and military misfortunes were blamed on the inscrutable will of the gods: “have I done anything that does not please [the sun-god] Shamash so that he has done this to me? … Why has the god treated me this way?” (PH 33). Although most of us today are rather dubious that the will of God can be found in the blotches on the liver of a sheep, we should never doubt that the ancient soldiers had absolute belief in the efficacy of extispicy and prophecy. If a commander operated against the omens, the morale of his army suffered drastically. Omens changed the course of battle not because they were real, but because the Mesopotamian soldiers believed they were real, and behaved in rational response to that belief. Although generals might miss important military opportunities by refusing to march when the omens were bad, campaigning with bad omens could bring disaster because of the devastating psychological impact on the morale of the troops.5 All successful ancient commanders instinctively acted upon this, whether they themselves actually believed in the gods and the omens or not.
Middle Bronze generals well understood the importance of maintaining high morale among their soldiers, as is reflected in this dispatch:
The last of the Hana [nomad auxiliaries] have arrived here.… No one is sick. No one! There are no losses.… When I observed all [previous] expeditions there were many worries; but in this expedition I observe no sorrow or anything of that kind, only laughter and joking. [The soldiers] are as happy as if they were living at home. The hearts of my lord's servants think [only] of the endeavor of fighting battles and defeating the enemy. Rejoice, my lord!
(WM 101–2)
Bad battle omens were one sure way to destroy this type of good morale.
Modern disbelievers in ancient prophetic techniques might naturally expect a high rate of inaccuracy from ancient omens and prophecies. And, indeed, many of the oracles are manifestly false. One prophet, for example, proclaimed: “kingship, scepter, throne, reign, the upper [land of Syria] and lower land [of Mesopotamia] are given to Zimri-Lim” (L 267). In fact, it was Zimri-Lim's erstwhile ally Hammurabi of Babylon who became universal king of Mesopotamia, by sacking Mari and killing Zimri-Lim. This naturally leads us to wonder: if the omens and prophecies were frequently inaccurate, why didn't military commanders simply abandon their use altogether? To answer this question we must remember that omen interpretation was an art, not a science, and there was a great deal of “wiggle-room” possible in extispicy, allowing a range of possible interpretation by the diviner. We must also remember that the diviner-priests were among the most educated men of their day. They were well-informed high courtiers with close associations with the power elites of the kingdom. Julius Caesar, for all his greatness as a commander, also occasionally served Rome as a diviner, as pontifex maximus and auger.6 Like Caesar, Mesopotamian diviners led troops in battle (ARM 2.22). They frequently served as spies, sending detailed reports on political and military matters back to the king (L 94–5). Whether intentionally or subconsciously, the interpretation of omens and extispicies could be manipulated by the diviners. The results of oracles and divination were thus not merely random, but were informed interpretations of omens made with knowledge of the major military and political issues facing the commander. Court and regimental diviner-priests were undoubtedly often wrong, but overall they were probably not much more inaccurate than modern political pundits and intelligence services. When a modern intelligence service fails, we blame human error. We may try to change the personnel or fix the system, but we don't abandon it. When ancient oracles failed, it was likewise seen as a mistake made by the diviner rather than evidence that the overall system itself was faulty. A particular diviner-priest may have been dismissed from court, but the practice of divination continued.
Oddly enough, battle-divination was one of the most pervasive and long-lasting military practices of ancient Mesopotamia. Long after chariots and slings were abandoned, battle divination continued. Divine sanction for Saul's reign over Israel was withdrawn when he disobeyed his diviner-priest, the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 13). Likewise there was a dispute between Ahab of Israel and the prophet Micaiah over battle divination (1 Kings 22). A thousand years later, Greek and Roman generals were still practicing essentially the same type of battle-divination rituals.7 The last pagan Roman battle divination was requested by Julian the Apostate in 363 CE, 2100 years after the writing of the Mari letters.8 Medieval Christians had their own forms of pre-battle divination, beginning with Constantine's vision at the battle of Milvian Bridge in 312 CE.9 Indeed, in its core feature pre-battle divination has continued in use to the present, for when a military commander today prays for God's help in the planning and execution of his battle and for the protection of his troops, he is, in essence, engaging in the same practice as the ancient Mesopotamian diviners.
Military organization
There are few texts in the Mari archive which explicitly discuss military organization (L 498–500, 507–8). However, there are a number of incidental allusions to such matters which give us a fairly detailed view of how a Mesopotamian Middle Bronze army was organized and functioned (MK 141–5; MM).
Conscription and records (MM 7–11; MK 141–5; WM 66–88)
In order to know the proper duties owed by each community, Mesopotamian rulers are known to have instituted censuses. The most detailed account we have is the census of Zimri-Lim of Mari (MK 142–3). The census was called a tēbibtum, which literally means purification, probably related to religious rituals associated with the census. The people were required to gather to be counted. The common people were understandably wary of a census that would be used to determine both their financial obligations to the state and the number of men they would have to provide for military and labor drafts, and the records of Zimri-Lim's census show that many tried to avoid being counted (ARM 14.64).10 One official suggests parading the severed head of an executed prisoner as an inducement to those villagers who refused to be counted (ARM 2.48).
Troops were recruited for military service in three broad categories: professional soldiers, militias and mercenaries. Recruitment (puhrum) procedures were run by a sophisticated military bureaucracy led by the “secretary of the army” (DUB.SAR MAR.TU) (ASD 106–9). Each regiment had a scribe attached to it who received the pay equivalent of a lieutenant (L 500; MM 9, 12–13). These military scribes kept detailed complete lists of the names and hometowns of all of the soldiers, from which were derived lists of casualties and deserters, a frequently mentioned problem (MM 45–7; WM 72). Each village mayor (suqāqum) was required to oversee the recruitment in his village, and to make sure his village's quota was fulfilled. The recruits were required to “swear an oath [of loyalty] by Dagan” or some other god, after which their names were recorded on clay tablets; a copy was kept by the regimental scribe and another sent to the central archive (L 461, 482; WM 73–5). When called up, new recruits were inspected and those unfit for duty – the sick and old – were sent home (L 483). None the less, unfit soldiers could be found in the ranks; one general complained: “Reliable troops are not at hand” (L 400). Another echoed this sentiment: “Why do you release reliable men [from service] and then replace them unnecessarily with [inexperienced] little children?” (L 330).
In times of peace soldiers are frequently described as being on furlough (patīrum) (L 224; WM 75–6). Specific lists of furloughed soldiers were recorded and forwarded to the central government (L 194). One commander reported to king Zimri-Lim:
My lord wrote me about dead and runaway troops. My lord said: “Write down a name-list and send it to me!” Because I watch the troops closely over here, I have sent for the soldiers on furlough twenty days ago. Let the soldiers on furlough arrive here, and I shall inspect the name-list on the tablet and see who are the troops on hand and the runaway troops, and I will send a complete report to my lord.
(L 297)
A commander forwarded to the king the “name lists of the men on hand, the troops of the garrisons, the soldiers on furlough, the deserters, and the dead, place by place, on tablets” (L 348, 462). One such furlough tablet survives, listing individual soldiers by their regiment, personal name, and home town (L 464). One text mentions that sixteen out of fifty soldiers were on furlough (L 224); another unit had twenty-five on furlough and only twenty-two on duty (L 312). When war breaks out, these furloughed troops are immediately called back to service (L 243). Sometimes a commander was not able to muster the requisite number of troops; one officer was reprimanded for having only 800 men instead of the required 1000 (L 487).
As in any army, officers and soldiers grew weary of extended duty away from home. One city commander wrote to the king, complaining: “I have been staying in [the city of] Ilan-Sura [on duty] in the garrison for five years. Now, if it pleases my lord, let my lord dispatch an alternate for me!” (L. 310). Ordinary soldiers also expected to rotate after a certain term of service. “My lord instructed us as follows: ‘Go and stay three months’.… Now we have fulfilled three months.… If my lord will dispatch to me a replacement for these troops, let those troops go!” (L 312). When conditions of service became bad enough, the troops became mutinous. Fifty men deserted when there was insufficient food (L 213), and others threatened to do so as well (L 314). One commander reported growing dissatisfaction in the ranks, with his soldiers complaining:
Why did we go on campaign, and why did we not return to our lord at the end [of the campaign]? … [The soldiers] hearts are angry, and they will rise [and desert] and depart for somewhere else.… [The king] must give them flour. He must replace these troops! (L 313–14)
Soldiers also complained of serving in winter, apparently expecting military service to be seasonal (L 185, 192–3). Punishment for disobedient or cowardly soldiers could be harsh, including being stripped naked, bound, beaten, and paraded before the troops to be mocked (L 463).
Nomad mercenaries
Mercenaries were frequently recruited from the nomads (L 222–3; WM 67), and the Kassite and Elamite highlanders (ASD 88–9). Most prominent sources of nomad mercenaries for the king of Mari were the Hana tribe of the Sim'al tribal confederation.11 Another major tribal confederation, which seems to have been less willing to serve in the armies of Mari, was the Banu-Yamina (Yaminites, Benjaminites) to the north-east around the Khabur River (WM 95). These groups were divided into a number of clans, each ruled by a sugagum – a chief or shaykh. In the Mari archives they make frequent appearance both as raiders attacking the kingdom and its caravans, and as mercenaries in the service of the king. Under the right conditions, the nomadic tribes could muster sizable forces in service of a kingdom. Zimri-Lim mobilized some 7000 nomads for one of his campaigns: “Two thousand [soldiers from the] Hana [nomad tribe] were assembled in Qattunan, and they keep assembling as scheduled.… Five thousand Numha and Yamutbal troops are assembled together. They go to [military service for] my lord” (L 416). The nomads needed both monetary and verbal inducements to join the king's campaign. One commander reported: “the Hana [nomads], all of them, are assembled now and I delivered the instruction of my lord [king Zimri-Lim]. I caused them relief with words; and they arose and proclaimed favorable words and greetings to my lord” (L 200). There was a downside to using nomad mercenaries. The passage of nomad troops, often together with their families and herds, could cause problems for farmers in the campaign area. “There were masses of Numha and Yumutbal [nomads], together with their little boys and girls, slaves, maids, oxen, and donkeys. After they use up the grain, they will destroy the sedge and reed of the bank of the Euphrates” (L 204).
Organization12
Reports of the payment of some Mariote regiments in Babylonian service provide us with a basic outline of both military organization and pay rates (L 498–500, 507–8). Compensation for military service took a number of forms, including land grants (L 446), clothing (L 507–8), food (ASD 88), weapons (see section on logistics on p. 21), silver wages (L 498–500, 507–8), and slaves (L 225, 349). One tablet records the daily grain distribution to soldiers: high officers received two-thirds of a liter (qa) of barley per day, lower officers half a liter, and ordinary soldiers about a third of a liter (WM 140); there were also occasional distributions of vegetables, beer, and mutton (WM 14).
Land (sibtu) was given to a soldier's family in return for military service, and was governed by strict laws in Hammurabi's Law Code (LC §26–38 = ANET 166–8; ASD 96–101; L 446). Land was distributed in varying amounts to different ranks; one general was given a huge estate of 190 hectares of land (MAS 26), while common soldiers were given small, single-family plots. If the soldier failed to report for duty or sent an unauthorized substitute, he was to be executed (LC §26). On occasion, however, soldiers were permitted to send substitutes (takhkhu) to fulfill family military obligations (ASD 91–3). Soldiers who were taken prisoner in war were to have their land protected, and passed to a son who was to assume his father's military responsibilities (LC §27–9); land with a military obligation attached to it could not be sold (LC §36). Officers were forbidden upon pain of death to take the goods of a soldier, to hire the soldier out for labor, or appropriate his land grant (LC §34). Soldiers were also forbidden to sell the provisions given them by the state (LC §37).
Plunder (šallatum) (WM 76–9) was an important element in the soldier's pay; a portion of all booty was kept by the king, but soldiers expected their share:
Let your troops seize booty and they will bless you. These three towns are not heavily fortified. In a day we shall be able to take them. Quickly come up and let us capture these towns and let your troops seize booty.
(ARM 5.16; WM 77)
The documents mention soldiers who stole booty from the king's share, and also officers who kept booty that should have been given to the soldiers. One commander complained that some of his officers …
have stolen the soldier's booty! I put an oath of the king into my mouth … not to rob the booty of a soldier. Not ten days had passed after my decree when a tablet … arrived, saying “Whoever has taken away the soldiers’ booty has committed a sacrilege against me.”
(ARM 2.13; WM 78–9)
In Table 7.1, I give very rough hypothetical equivalents to modern military ranks. The fundamental military leader was the general (GAL.MARTU, rab Amurrim), literally the “great man of the Amorites”. Generals are mentioned as commanding regiments of sizes ranging from 500–2000 men (L 581, index; MM 12), but perhaps ideally standardized at 1000 (MK 142). At Sippar the rank was not permanent; rather it rotated among different officials every one to three years (ASD 93–6), perhaps to prevent officers from gaining a permanent independent power base.
Mention is also made of two colonels (šāpiū sābim) as assistants to the general (L 508). Under the generals were captains (rab pirsim, GAL.KU), who commanded a standardized company of 100.13 Each captain was assisted by two lieutenants (lapūttum or NU.BANDA).14 There is also mention of 50 “standard bearers” (mubabbilum) in a regiment of 1000 men (L 597, index). This would make five “standard bearers” assigned to each 100 men. They may have been something like a sergeant, commanding twenty men each (L 508). Finally, there is the corporal (UGULA 10 LU.MEŠ, wakil 10 awīlum, literally, “overseer of ten men”), who commanded ten men (L 499, 581 index). A quasi-military commander was the mayor of a royal city (sugāgum). These served as citadel-commanders and were responsible for equipping and feeding troops, and sometimes leading troops in battle (L 587, index; MM 13).
That these were somewhat standardized ranks rather than merely vague titles is indicated by the proportional pay scale associated with each rank. The following chart (Table 7.1) shows the scale of pay.
In interpreting these figures, it must be emphasized that the shekels mentioned here are measures of weight, not coins. The Middle Bronze Mesopotamian shekel weighed about eight grams, but the actual weight of a shekel could vary from region to region and time to time. Broadly speaking, a talent was the load a man could carry – roughly 30 kilograms. This was divided into 60 mina: roughly 500 grams or 1.1 pound. The mina was further divided into 60 shekels, of about 8 grams each (L xiv).
To complicate matters, the Mesopotamians in this period indulged in the time honored practice of devaluing their currency. The texts speak of, for example, “silver rings of five shekels nominal value, their [real] weight four shekels” (L 500). It seems that the Babylonians were either adding 20 percent copper to their silver, or trying to pass off shekels that were in reality only 80 percent of their supposed weight. On the other hand this discrepancy might reflect a distinction between different weights of a shekel in different regions. The silver was not in the form of coins, but in the form of jewelry, cups, or plates, though these could have a standardized weight. The texts mention rings, cups, disks, and collars (L 498–500, 508).
|
Table 7.1 Pay scales associated with military ranks |
|||||
|
Ancient rank |
Modern parallel |
Payment L 498–9 |
Payment L 500a |
Payment L 500b |
Payment L 508 |
|
rab Amurrim |
general |
8G |
– |
20 G |
– |
|
30 S |
1 garment |
||||
|
3 garment |
1 shirt |
||||
|
šāpirū ṣābim |
colonel |
5G |
– |
10 G |
10 G |
|
10 S |
1 garment |
8S |
|||
|
1 garment |
1 shirt |
2 garment |
|||
|
2 shirts |
|||||
|
rab pirsim |
captain |
7S |
– |
20 S |
20 S |
|
1 garment |
1 garment |
1 shirt |
|||
|
1 shirt |
|||||
|
laputtūm |
lieutenant |
5S |
7S |
10 S |
11 S |
|
1 garment |
1 garment |
1 garment |
1 garment |
||
|
1 shirt |
1 shirt |
1 shirt |
1 shirt |
||
|
mubabbilum |
“standard bearer” = sergeant |
– |
? 1 shirt |
6S 1 shirt |
6S 1 shirt |
|
wakil |
“overseer of ten” = corporal |
2 S 1 shirt |
– |
– |
– |
|
10 soldiers |
2S= 0.2 S/man |
2S= 0.2 S/man |
3S= 0.3 S/man |
3S= 0.3 S/man |
|
Abbreviations: G = gold shekel; S = silver shekel; a shekel weighed roughly 8 grams
To give a sense of the economy of scale, we can look at other prices mentioned in the Mari archive. The price of a boat ranged from 10–30 shekels depending on size and quality (L 407). A slave cost 10 shekels, while three sheep could be bought for two shekels (MM 13). Six (large?) jars of wine cost one shekel (L 407), as did twenty arrows. Men who brought back a prisoner of war were given two shekels of silver and a new shirt (L 467). A horse, on the other hand, cost five minas (300 shekels), fifteen times the wages of a captain.
One can see from this chart that payment was proportionally relatively stable, although the specific amounts varied. The variation in pay is probably because of differences in the period of time which the soldiers served; was this payment for a month, two months, or a full campaign season? The pay may have been campaign pay rather than monthly or annual pay; an army of 650 was paid two shekels per ten men, and their leader eight shekels and a shirt for a short campaign (L 467), roughly the same as indicated in Table 7.1. Some of the payments were also given to allied troops or nomad mercenaries, who may have been paid at a different scale than the king's own professional troops.
Mesopotamian armies were also divided into categories based on equipment, training and experience (MM 17–25). The precise meaning of many of the terms discussed here is unknown, and must be inferred from the context. It is also unclear if some terms designate a specific assignment or function given to soldiers on an ad hoc basis, rather than indicating separate permanently organized regiments.
The normal term for a simple soldier is be'rum or erin (MM 22–3); generically, soldiers or troops are sābum while an army is ummanātum (L 598–601, index). The term sābum is used with all sorts of qualifiers indicating specific assignments for troops. Mesopotamian armies clearly understood the importance of reconnoitering before battle. Scouts (sakbum) are mentioned frequently (L 594, index), as are skirmishers or reconnoiterers (baddum) (L 592; MM 16–17). Armies were sometimes divided into different columns, marching ahead or behind each other. The vanguard (rāsum) seems to have been composed of elite troops who could march faster than ordinary soldiers, and were sent ahead of the main body (MM 18). They were more than just scouts; one letter mentions that a commander “led the vanguard of 1000 men and reached Qatunnan. The rest of the troops will come after me in battle formation to Qatunnan. The [total] force of 3000 men … will be gathered” (ARM 3.14). According to contemporary itineraries, armies generally made 25 kilometers (15 miles) per day, but could march 35 (21 miles) on a forced march.15
There were also different classes of troops serving as guards and garrisons for cities. The border guards (bazāhātum) (L 573, index) seem to be small outpost and patrol units which were stationed away from the main city and who watched the border and reported to the commander on the movement of troops, nomads, merchants, messengers, or any other significant groups of people. Garrison troops (birtum), on the other hand, were assigned to defend cities (L 581, index; WM 98; ASD 87–8). Massartum or guards may be a different term for a similar function; they are mainly described as guarding cities (L 582, index).
There are also classifications of troops which seem to apply to their state of readiness. The regulars (pihrum) seem to be permanent professional troops (L 592, index). They are mentioned as receiving tracts of land in return for their military service; whether they were to farm these lands or receive the produce or revenues is unclear. They received “five dike plots”, whereas ordinary farmers had only “three dike plots” (L 446). Another category were the reservists (diriga), who were called up only in times of war (L 593, index). This category may be related to “replacement” troops (ruddum) (MM 19). Archers are rarely mentioned as a separate category of soldier in the Mari texts (MK 63), though there is some evidence for a low level of military archery. It may simply be that archers are assumed to have been included in the broader categories of troops mentioned above, but it may be that archery was not widely used in Middle Bronze Mesopotamian armies. In conditions of extreme emergency the entire population could be mobilized for military and labor in the service of the state (L 319, 386).
A strange category of troops are the “fishermen” (bā’irum) (ASD 101–2). They have sometimes been interpreted as being enlisted to fish for the army on campaign, or for using their nets to entangle the enemy (WM 93–4). A more likely explanation is that the “fishermen” were more generically simply boatmen, who were enlisted to run the boats servicing the army, and probably to act as marines fighting from boats. One Mari text shows that they were clearly expected to fight: “When you hear this tablet send me the bā’irum who are with you, all who are present. They can carry their axes and equipment” (ARM 1.31; WM 94). In the contemporary Law Code of Hammurabi the military obligations of the bā’irum are precisely the same as those of the ordinary soldier (rēdūm).16 In the military context I would suggest that marine might be a broadly analogous modern term.
Troops were also classified by their arms (see pp. 252–6) and function. Light troops (qallatum) are frequently mentioned in association with ambushing enemies (L 474; MM 17–18, 43–4). Elite or heavy troops (kibitum) seem to be more heavily armed and better trained than ordinary soldiers, but also to move more slowly.17 Rulers, governors, commanders, and kings were frequently served by personal retainers (Šūt rēšim), who were presumably the most experienced and skilled warriors they could find (L 591, index). The king's personal retainers formed the Royal Bodyguards (kisrum; girseqū), who accompanied the king wherever he went (MM 18–19). The royal bodyguard of Shamshi-Adad numbered 200–400 men (ARM 2.1; WM 99). Charioteers were undoubtedly also elite warriors (see pp. 145–53).
Numbers (MM 7–9; L 599–601 index)
A wide range of numbers are given for military forces in the Mari tablets, from a few dozen to tens of thousands. The figures provided in the sources are sometimes based on propaganda, attempting to inflate the glory of a king either by increasing the strength of his army, or that of a defeated enemy. Other faulty figures frequently derive from ignorance, and were no more than wild guesses. However, many numbers provided by the sources are derived from internal archives, which were intended for day-to-day operation of the state. These figures are probably quite reliable (MK 141–2; MM 7–8).
The largest force mentioned during this period is a claim of 120,000 men by the king of Eshununa. The king claimed “he inspected my troops at the gate of Bab-Kikurrim and now from my 600,000 troops I will send [as an allied contingent] 120,000 good troops” (PH 79). Given the demographic and logistical realities of the day, these figures are undoubtedly sheer hyperbolistic propaganda (L 599, index). Other extraordinarily large armies include one of 60,000 (MM 8; L 599), 40,000 (L 329), and 30,000 (L 418, 459, 460; ARM 2.69). Six armies of 20,000 are mentioned and another four of 10,000.18
However, such large armies were certainly exceptional and in some ways the numbers are problematic. One of the letters in the Mari archive contains a remarkable statement of intentional disinformation by Hammurabi: “When I dispatch 100 troops the one who hears it will quote it as 1000. And when [I dispatch] 1000 troops, he will quote it as 10,000.” It seems here that Hammurabi was worried about enemy spies hearing about the number of his soldiers, or capturing the messenger and reading the dispatches from the clay tablets. Thus, in at least some of his correspondence and communication, Hammurabi used a simple code: multiply his real troop strengths by ten. Thus, if the enemy somehow intercepted the message, they would be confused by how many men Hammurabi really had, thinking he had more men than he did and hopefully causing confusion and hesitation, perhaps even forestalling an attack altogether. The problem is that, though Hammurabi wanted to confuse the enemy, he may also have succeeded in confusing later scholars. Was this a permanent policy on the part of Hammurabi, or was it used only for a limited period of time in a particular campaign? Which of the numbers for Hammurabi's army found on the clay tablets are accurate, and which should be divided by ten? Did other rulers also use similar codes for the actual numbers of troops? Or did other rulers use a different code system: should the numbers given for Zimri-Lim's Mariote armies be divided by two, or four, or ten? Or should they be read as the actual numbers? Unfortunately, we can't be sure.
Based on archaeological evidence we can obtain good information on city size, and from that, a range of population for cities based on an assumption of potential population density per hectare.19 Unfortunately, even here we are left with estimates. How many floors did a building have? How many people slept in a room? We cannot be certain. But the overall population of the largest Mesopotamian cities was probably around 50,000 people. If there were armies of 20,000–60,000 regularly operating in Middle Bronze Mesopotamia, these forces undoubtedly included large numbers of militia conscripts, and even laborers to build siege ramps. Due to logistical limitations such huge armies would be able to stay in the field for only limited periods of time.
On the other hand, as discussed above, Mesopotamian military scribes kept detailed censuses with tablets recording the name of each individual soldier. It is clear that kings had good information on their potential and actual manpower. Shamshi-Adad {1809–1776} wrote a letter to his son Yasmah-Adad, who had been installed as king of Mari {1796–1776} before being ousted by Zimri-Lim in 1776. This letter explains how Shamshi-Adad planned to raise an army of 20,000 men for his campaign.
[One of my officials] has inspected the Hana [nomad mercenaries] of the encampment and I have fixed at 2000 men those who are to go on a campaign with Yasmah-Adad [king of Mari]. All of these men are now inscribed by name on a tablet.… [These men] will march with you, plus 3000 men [you will mobilize from Mari].… All those people who go with you should be inscribed, by name, on a tablet.… Collect 1000 men between the two [nomad tribes?], 1000 men among the Hana [nomads], 600 men from among the Uprapu, Yarihu, and Amnanu [clans of the Yaminite nomad confederation]. Pick up here and there two or three hundred men according to the circumstances and collect 500. With your [own personal military] attendants, 1000 men will suffice. Then you will have assembled 6000 men. As for me, I will send you 10,000 men of the land [of Assyria].… They will be a strong and well-equipped contingent. I have also written to [our allied kingdom of] Eshnunna. Six thousand men will come up from Eshnuna. These [added] upon those [troops you will raise will total] 20,000 men, a strong army.
(MM 8–9; WM 66–7)
Shamshi-Adad seems to have had a little trouble with math; his numbers are confusing, but I interpret his figures as follows. The first part of the letter describes 2000 nomad mercenaries and 3000 regular troops from Mari. The next mention of 1000 men from a clan whose name is lost and the 1000 Hana nomads, I believe repeats the original number of 2000 nomads, but breaks the total down into smaller clans. To these are added 600 men from smaller nomad clans, creating a total of 2600 nomads, plus 500 men recruited from odd sources to bring the total up to over 3000. This figure is then added to the 3000 men mobilized from Mari mentioned in the first half of the letter, of whom 1000 are the personal attendants or elite troops of Yasmah-Adad. The two groups added together make up the 6000 men Shamshi-Adad expected from Mari, to which he adds the 10,000 men he will send from his forces in Assyria and 6000 Eshnuna allies, giving the grand total of 20,000 (actually 22,000) he wants for the campaign. The numbers are obviously vague estimates, but indicate that Shamshi-Adad, an experienced warrior, believed it was realistic for an alliance of three of the most powerful kingdoms of the age to raise an army of 20,000. He also states, however, that this is “a strong army”, implying that most armies were smaller than 20,000.
In extreme emergency a general mobilization of the entire population could occur, as happened when the Elamites invaded Babylon:
The conscripts of Hammurabi have positioned themselves for battle.… Hammurabi has ordered a total mobilization in his land. He called up troops of all merchants, all males, including releasing slaves [from slavery if they serve in the army], and they are ready. And he sent high-ranking servants to Rim-Sin [king of Larsa] asking for [allied] troops.
(L 319, 386)
It is thus likely that figures mentioning armies larger than 20,000 men were either disinformation, included a large number of laborers, or represent a temporary total mobilization for a state emergency. Generally, most armies mentioned in the Mari tablets ranged in the hundreds and low thousands, even in major wars.20
Logistics (MM 34–6)
Depending on the circumstances, the state frequently provided soldiers with weapons, clothing, and food. An official known as the abi sabi was a type of logistical officer (ASD 102–5). Troops going on campaign are often said to have been given provisions for a certain number of days (L 361–4, 368), ranging from ten (L 458, 507) to forty days (L 383). Delays in campaigning were often caused by difficulties in collecting enough supplies: “he is staying in Manuhatan and secures their travel provisions” (L 191–2, 487–8). Requests for supplies are frequent in the letters, including oil (L 193). Sometimes troops show up without weapons and have to be equipped by the state (L 516). Weapons were stored in government arsenals, and were issued to troops as they were mobilized: a commander ordered that his men “open the storehouse, provide a spear [for each soldier], and add travel provisions for forty days.”21 Weapons mentioned in texts from the Old Babylonian period include the standard Middle Bronze panoply.
State storehouses also contained thousands of bushels of grain (L 409), but getting these supplies to the troops in the field was frequently a problem. Commanders often complained of lack of supplies (L 213, 262); one officer, exasperated by such grumbling, responded, “Stop griping! Accept those provisions [we sent]!” (L 464). A bad harvest or a plundered crop could send a city-state into crisis. When armies were in the field, there were sometimes not enough men to collect the harvest (L 421–2); soldiers might therefore be temporarily assigned to aid with the harvest (L 457). One officer says his soldiers could not be mobilized until after the harvest is over (L 520). Armies sometimes confiscated local carts and boats for military transport, with the result that the harvest could not be collected for storage and rotted in the fields (L 413). Good boots are always in short supply in war. One commander asked his friend, “Send me good boots!”, to which his friend replied, “Send me an impression of your feet and I shall have good boots made” (L 308).
As warfare continued, supplies could dwindle; people were sometimes reduced to eating the seed-crop for next year, insuring ongoing grain shortages (L 419). Ishme-Dagan's crops were destroyed in war, leaving “no grain whatsoever in his land” (L 402); he was forced to send his sons as hostages along with boats and eight talents of silver as tribute, to buy grain from his enemy (L 389, 396, 403). In the end he sold 400 “little boys and girls” into slavery to buy grain (L 390). As famine spread, the poor were forced to move in search of food, spreading the crisis: “Any strong man who has grain is staying [in the city]. Any weak commoner who has no grain departed for the [Euphrates] River [in search of food]” (L 419, 420). As in any other war, the supplies were not always in the same place as the soldiers: “The troops are hungry. They have not received provisions” (ARM 13.33, WM 141).
Natural disaster, drought, or bad harvest could exacerbate food shortages. Locust attacks wiped out one harvest (L 420–2), causing a commander to recall an army:
My lord must dispatch troops, and they must save the grain of the palace, and [come] over here for harvesting. These commoners – they suffered last year. They now saw the hand of the locust and said, “If the locusts [eat] the grain plantations, we will not stay on [but will leave in search of food].”
(L 422)
The problems of garrisoning troops are discussed in some of the letters. One letter mentions a plan to move a force of“coherent picture must be cobbled;two thousand strong spearmen.… [But] if you evacuate the troops, their [total] population is ten thousand [including the] men and [their] women [and children].… If we evacuate a population of ten thousand and also leave their grain behind, it will be a heavy burden for the palace to feed them.… Boats and pack asses, indeed carts [will be needed to move them]” (L 195). Keeping an army stationed in one region for too long could put a strain on local food resources, since the land where the troops were stationed was expected to provide half of the supplies for the army each month (ARM 1.60; WM 142). One commander complained: “The load [of feeding the army] has become great. The garrison troops, all of them, consume [our] grain rations” (L 417). In another city, the commoners rioted because too much of the city grain supply was being taken by the army (L 521).
Corruption and war-profiteering were problems four thousand years ago as well as today. One disheartened quartermaster was shocked at the disarray of the grain supplies for the soldiers in one city:
I came down and found the earlier troops [who had been quartered in a city] have sold [the army's] grain for silver. The later troops came and wasted grain. Now there are fifty donkey-loads of grain.… Not that they gave grain rations to anybody – and five hundred measures of grain are gone from the granary for no reason whatsoever!
(L 271)
When soldiers were serving on campaign with an allied king, the ally was expected to provide their supplies (L 281, 438), though he didn't always fulfill his responsibilities properly (L 215). Some allied logistic services were better organized, with precise amounts of provisions prepared for a specific number of soldiers, who were also provided with quarters by the allied commander (L 323).
Transport
Supplies, equipment, and men needed to be transported to the war zone, and many of the Mari letters deal with the problems of military transportation. Ancient commanders recognized that the type of transport used was in some ways determined by ecology and terrain. Hammurabi made the following observation: “The means [of transportation] of your land [the city of Mari in Syria] is donkeys and carts; the means [of transportation] of this land [Babylon] is boats” (L 379).
As Hammurabi noted, the transportation of supplies in ancient Mesopotamia was done by human porter (L 178), donkey (L 271), cart (L 223), or boat (maturrum) (WM 143–4). One caravan included 300 men and 300 donkeys; another thirty men and 60 donkeys (L 365). A commander received a shipment of flour, but complained: “sixty donkey-loads of flour … are not enough. They must provide us with 100 donkey-loads of flour” (L 454). Was the failure to send 100 donkey-loads because of a lack of flour, or of donkeys? Lack of transport was a frequent problem. One commander complained that “the baggage of my lord has been left behind in Saggaratum … because of the lack of porters” (L 178). If he was relying on human porters he obviously had no pack animals or carts. Heavy baggage was frequently left behind or taken on different routes to allow the army to move faster (ARM 1.35; WM 142–3).
Boats were frequently used to transport both men and supplies by river (L 184, 223, 324). One quartermaster sent this order: “Load onto ships 3125 bushels of barley, 313 bushels of flour and 313 bushels of billitum, at the rate of 156 bushels [per boat] and send it downstream.… This grain is the regular barley ration for the fortress Yabliya” (ARM 13.33, WM 141). Boats were often simply requisitioned from the local population (L 505): “he must seize ten small-boats on the right bank [of the river] and ten small-boats on the left bank upstream from Dir and collect for me as many boats as there are, be it from the palace or be it from the commoners” (L 203). Another general “gathered together as many boats and small-boats as there were available to bring up grain” (L 309). Soldiers would disrupt the river traffic of their enemies to prevent shipment of supplies (L 278). When moving upstream against the current or wind, boats would sometimes be pulled by men on the shore (L 185). Combat from boats is not mentioned in the letters, but presumably did occur.
Fairly large forces could be moved by ship; 6000 men are mentioned with ships, but it is likely that many of these walked on shore alongside the fleet in the river (L 320). Another force of 5000 men was accompanied by 600 “small-boats” (L 381, 514; ARM 6.68), about eight men per boat; clearly more or less the entire army could have been moved by river in a fleet that size. On the other hand, another army of 5000 men had only 120 “small-boats” (L 384) – about forty-two men per boat. This force seems to have marched by foot and had the boats bring their supplies and equipment (L 383). Troops are described as crossing rivers, presumably by boat (L 323). An army of Hammurabi, which was covering an enemy army besieging the city of Upi, withdrew by boat (L 324). Boats were also used to transport sick and wounded soldiers (L 281).
Boats could be expensive, and prices fluctuated wildly as war brought soaring demand for a limited number of ships. Depending on the size and circumstances, a boat could cost from 10 to 30 shekels of silver (L 407).22 Furthermore, the price of a boat varied, depending on whether one was going up or down stream. One commander complained: “Once I buy a boat here for ten shekels of silver, will it then not be worth [only] one shekel in Mari?” (L 407). Carts were likewise sometimes in short supply, especially at harvest time when everyone needed as many carts as possible (L 413).
Trips could be slowed by lack of supplies and logistical difficulties. One commander reported on the logistics of his operation:
On the third day of the month of Kinunum … we started out from [the city of] Rapiqum and went to [the city of] Harbe [in one day]. We stayed five days in Harbe [fourth through ninth of Kinunum], until the troops had secured their travel provisions. We started out from Harbe and reached Yabliya in one day. The tenth [day] of the month of Kinunum was in progress when we set to fortifying Yabliya.… We brought the grain, belongings, and gear that we shipped [by boat] upstream from Rapiqum into Harbe.
(L 383)
Here a journey of less than two days actually took seven days to complete because the troops had to wait for extra supplies. The army seems to have marched on foot, while the supplies and equipment were brought by boat. It is not clear if the five-day delay at Harbe was because the soldiers were collecting supplies from the countryside or were waiting for the river fleet to catch up with them.
The army on campaign
There are no detailed narrative accounts of Mesopotamian armies on campaign (harrānum). A coherent picture must be cobbled together from scattered bits of information in the military dispatches. There is none the less enough information to give us a broad picture of life on campaign.
Scouting and spies (MM 37–42; WM 116–18)
Scouts are frequently mentioned as both spying on the enemy and openly observing enemy movements. When enemy troops were seen operating in a hostile fashion, a king might send a letter of ultimatum: “Withdraw your troops that are with Atamrum and withdraw your encampment that is settled in my district!” (L 338). But even in the course of such ultimatums military vigilance was never relaxed: “The scouts must stay on the right bank [of the river] from Appan to Niattum-Burtum, and anyone who is headed toward … an [enemy] encampment, [the scouts] must arrest” for interrogation (L 198–9). Armies operating in unknown areas used local people for scouts and guides (L 391, 397, 470). Spies were sent into enemy camps during sieges to discover enemy plans (L 359).
Spies and informers would frequently report on the movement and plans of enemy kings (L 291, 303, 503), but despite such efforts the fog of war is everywhere apparent in the Mari military dispatches (L 364). Agents were frequently called the king's “eyes” and “ears”, while enemy informers were called “tongues” (WM 116). One report states that “[the enemy] general La-Awil-Addu went out from Shubat-Enlil together with three thousand Eshnunakena troops. Perhaps he is headed for Ashnakkum, perhaps for Shuruzum. Who would know?” (L 313). Another report claims La-Awil-Addu had 5000 men instead of 3000, but still cannot say where he is bound (L 313). Yet another report is similar: “I do not know whether those [enemy] troops are headed for laying siege to Andarig or else to Karana. I will [make] a determination of [where] they are headed [and report later]” (L 336). Mesopotamian commanders recognized the problem of uncertain intelligence, and refused to commit themselves to battle without proper information. “Within five days we will see a [more] complete report. And in view of that report that we see, we will consult and act. As long as we do not understand the details of the situation, I will not dispatch any troops!” (L 475, 477).
Enemy spies naturally tried to infiltrate an army, and could undermine the plans of a general. One report mentions the discovery of men at the court of Zimri-Lim who had been sending information to the enemy (L 295). An allied force of 2000 Mariote and 3000 Babylonian troops went on campaign against Eshnuna, but were thwarted because a spy revealed their plans to the enemy: “A secret agent went out [from the enemy], and the enemy got hold of the news about them, and the troops returned [from their campaign] empty-handed.… How can 5000 troops return empty-handed to camp?” (L 458). One captured enemy spy was kept bound in prison (L 319).
Raids
Raids are frequently mentioned in the Mari letters (L 332–3). The purpose of many raids was simply plunder. Capturing enemy livestock was common,23 as well as taking human prisoners for slaves (L 309, 349). Grain was also plundered (L 362); however, since it was bulky and difficult to move rapidly, it might simply be burned (L 458, 511). Orchards were also cut down (L 479). Thus, in addition to plunder, raids were intended to undermine the enemy's will and capacity to resist. When enemy armies attacked, it caused a cessation of both communication and commerce between cities: “The land is stirred up [by the enemy invasion] and the routes are cut” (L 410); this would naturally disrupt economic exchange. When a marauding enemy was raiding the countryside, the people would flee to the nearest fortress city for protection (L 361).
Borders were closely guarded against raids and incursions (L 233). King Zimri-Lim instructed one of his commanders:
Do not neglect guarding the district and guarding against expeditions of the enemy. As for the Hanean [nomad chief] Yahsib-El, together with his troops – employ them forthrightly [in exchange] for grain, and let them strengthen the [boundary defenses] of the district. Let the border guards depart [the city for duty at their outposts]. They must not let the enemy pass freely through the interior of the land.
(L 229)
Some raids were small affairs, capturing only thirty people (L 384) or “two Sutean women and three donkeys” (L 385). Another raid “captured thirty men and women [and] fifty head of cattle. They killed two men and one woman.… A rescue detachment of seventy troops of the city of Nusar went in pursuit. The enemy killed twenty troops from among them” (L 397).
Other raids could be much larger and more destructive (L 399). A successful raid netted “forty men and women, 100 cattle and 2000 sheep” (L 398, 511). Another large-scale raid brought widespread devastation:
[Sasiya, the king of] the Turukkean [highlanders] raided the land of Ekallatum on the other [east] side of the [Tigris] river and went [all the way] to Kurdishatum. They took the sheep of [the king] Ishme-Dagan, all of them. There was nothing left for miles. They carried off [the inhabitants] of four of his cities [as slaves] and defeated 500 soldiers [of the king].
(L 362)
He was encroaching on my land. And I wrote you for troops but you did not give me troops. Yet you gave troops to another place.
(L 332)
Expeditions were sent out from cities to try to rescue captured slaves or animals (L 384, 387, 458, 467); presumably a raiding party would move slowly when herding captured sheep and could be more easily ambushed. On the other hand, many rescue expeditions failed (L 398). In such cases war-slaves could be ransomed; a family paid twenty-three shekels (184 grams) of silver to ransom their captured brother (L 360). On the other hand, there could be haggling for the ransom price. A man offered 67 shekels of silver for his son, but the captor demanded 100. The father couldn't raise the additional money, and in the end the son was tortured to death (L 366). Sometimes prisoners managed to escape, showing up at their home town naked and starving (L 487). The Law Code of Hammurabi has an interesting clause relating to the ransoming of captured soldiers:
If a merchant has ransomed either a private soldier (rēdūm) or a marine (bā’irum), who was captured in a campaign of the king, and has enabled him to reach his [home] city, if there is sufficient to [repay the merchant the] ransom in his house, he himself shall ransom himself; if there is not sufficient to ransom him in his house, he shall be ransomed from the [temple] estate of his city-god; if there is not sufficient to ransom him in the estate of his city-god, the state shall ransom him, since his own field, orchard and house may not be ceded for his ransom.
(LC 87)
Thus the state had the ultimate obligation to ransom prisoners of war.
As in all other times in history the devastation caused by raids and plunder, along with the disruption of the agricultural cycle and the displacement of populations, frequently brought famine in the wake of war. Hungry people were seen wandering the countryside in search of food (L 309). There was sometimes little difference between planned, government-sponsored raids and mere marauding and brigandage by soldiers. Hungry soldiers and nomads might simply take to murdering the peasants, pillaging the countryside, and alienating the people, though such practices were usually counterproductive: “The Turukku [highlanders] could hardly have taken along food for even five days.… They sacked [a village], and this land, which had [once] been sympathetic to them, is hardened and become hostile to them. Now the Turukku are constantly hungry” (MM 11).
Battle
The importance of strategy and battle tactics was emphasized in a letter from Shamshi-Adad to his son, “You think up stratagems to beat the enemy and to maneuver for position against him. But the enemy will likewise try to think up stratagems and to maneuver for position against you, just as two wrestlers use tricks against each other” (ARM 1.5; MM 43; WM 171). Unfortunately, detailed descriptions of field battles are relatively rare in the Mari letters. Often we are simply given a terse report: “The troops of the land of Mutiabal, all of them … drew up in battle formation. Hammurabi gave battle and defeated them” (L 321). Victory in battle was always attributed to the gods: “Today the god of my lord went in front of the army of my lord, and the spear of fiend and foe has been broken!” (L 334).
Generally speaking, when facing a stronger enemy, an army would withdraw to a fortified city or camp rather than engage in open battle (L 329). When battles are described, they are sometimes an attempt to drive off a besieging army. In this sense it may be that Middle Bronze warfare in Mesopotamia was broadly parallel to late medieval warfare in western Europe, where raids, sieges, and attempts to rescue besieged cities were more frequent than efforts to defeat an enemy field army in open battle.
One Mari commander, Yanuh-Samar, reported the following engagement, showing how armies maneuvered back and forth before battle.
I [Yanuh-Samar, general of Mari] equipped 500 troops of Huziran and dispatched them to [fight the enemy at] Mariyatum. On the second day a rescue detachment [of the enemy] came from Kahat.… Seven hundred Kahatean troops came to the rescue.… [But later they] retreated [back] to their city. As the Kahateans [retreated] on the road to Kahat, [I sent] 100 troops of [commander] Ishhi-Addu [from Mari] and 150 troops of Huziran [a vassal of Mari], 250 troops [total] with Ishhi-Addu at their head with the order: “Go! Lay an ambush for the [retreating Kahatean] troops toward [the city of] Pardu.” They took [a back route] and came out toward Pardu to meet the Kahateans and fought, and the servants of my lord pushed the Kahateans back, and [the Kahateans] abandoned six corpses. All of them [the soldiers allied with Mari] seized one [prisoner of war] alive. And the troops are back alive. Of the 200 [of our troops in the battle] – they were not more numerous than that – not one was missing. The Kahateans were defeated good. The Servants of my lord were victorious.
(L 315)
Here a battle is described in which 250 soldiers of Mari ambushed and defeated 700 enemy soldiers. There are a number of uncertainties in this narrative. Yanuh-Samar claimed his force suffered no casualties, but reports that 250 soldiers attacked and 200 returned safely; is this bad math, or a tacit admission of fifty casualties? The enemy left “six corpses” on the field; does this imply that only six men were killed, or that they managed safely to carry away the rest of their dead and wounded?24 He also reports that “all” the soldiers of Mari took one prisoner, apparently meaning that each soldier took one prisoner, making 200–250 total prisoners. Despite these ambiguities, one gets a feel from this report for both the chaos of war, and the possibility of an officer exaggerating the extent of his victory.
As in any age, the panic of troops with low morale or who were surprised could cause a quick collapse of resistance (L 346). A defeated enemy might abandon their shields and heavy equipment on the battlefield in order to flee more quickly. “Those troops [of ours] got going [in battle] and [the enemy was] pushed aside. They [the enemy Ekallateans] left their gear behind and their shields lying on the ground. [The enemy king] Ishme-Dagan got away by a hair” (L 481).
Campaigns did not always conclude with battle. One army of 5000 marched off to battle, but returned without ever encountering the enemy, to the dismay of the king, who protested, “how can 5000 troops return empty handed to the camp?” He gave them two days rest then ordered them back to battle (L 458). Armies faced each other across a major river to prevent the enemy from crossing (L 500); this could create a stand-off where enemies camped on opposite sides of a river, neither force willing to cross and engage in battle at a disadvantage (L 474, 478). Kings might also mobilize their armies, come face-to-face with the enemy, but make peace before the fighting actually began (L 478).
Prisoners
War prisoners were invariably enslaved and often shared among troops as booty (L 225, 349), or purchased from the captors by the king (L 467). After one battle, each soldier was said to have had one prisoner (L 315). Torture, mutilation, and other atrocities were sometimes inflicted upon prisoners in order to terrorize enemies. Some prisoners had their throats cut or heads severed (ARM 2.33, 48); others were impaled on stakes (ARM 13.108). Corpses might be ritually abused, with heads or other body parts being sent to the king, paraded through towns, or hung on walls of temples in triumph (ARM 2.33, 48), like the fate that befell king Saul and his son Jonathan at Beth-Shan (1 Samuel 31.8–13). One commander ordered his men to “take along two Hanean [nomads] to the border alive and mutilate them at the border. Let them go alive to the [nomad confederation of the] sons of Yamina and tell how my lord seized the city of Mishlan by force” (L 283). Another man was tortured to death in a most gruesome manner to terrorize the enemy:
He [a commander] pierced his [a prisoner's] nose and placed a nose-rope in it. He opened [wounds] in both thighs, skinned his rib-cage, cut off his ears. [The prisoner] passed through agonies. Thirty times they took him [the prisoner] around the city [to terrorize the people in the city, and then killed him].… His [the prisoner's] father was present.
(L 366)
Important prisoners were frequently executed when captured: “Let him hand [the enemy prisoner] Ashkur-Addu over to me, and then I shall cut off his head.… Now, let a god hand two or three of my enemies over to me and I shall cut off their heads” (L 298). Heads of executed kings or nobles were sent to the victorious king as trophies (L 479). The king of the Turukkean highlanders “cut off the head [of one of Ishme-Dagan's generals] and sent it to Ishme-Dagan, saying: ‘Herewith the head of one who relied on you’ ” (L 396).
Of course the fate of all prisoners was not so gruesome. Though commoners were generally enslaved, the elites could hope for prisoner exchange or ransom. Prisoners were occasionally released and resettled on their lands, as described by Samsu-iluna of Babylon after his conquest of Eshnunna:
After two months had passed, having set free and given life to the people of the land of Idamaraz who he had taken captive, and the troops of Eshnunna, as many prisoners as he had taken, he rebuilt the various fortresses of the land of Warum which he had destroyed and regathered and resettled its scattered people.
(R4:389–90)
Priests, priestesses, and other religious personnel were sometimes treated with special dignity so as to not offend the gods. In a letter, King Zimri-lim of Mari wrote:
Indeed, the god Adad of Kulmish must have organized this disruption for the sake of his priestesses! On the tablet of captives that I have sent to you the priestesses of Kulmish and the priestesses of other gods are listed separately on a different tablet.… Give them clothes to wear
(ARM 10.123; MK 145).
When peace was finally established between rival kingdoms, the peace treaties could include not only the large-scale strategic issues, but a number of details concerning prisoners and refugees. A treaty between Shadlash and Neribtum (PH 53–61) from the mid-nineteenth century makes special provision for refugees – ”whoever fled from the war” – to be allowed to return and be restored to their lost land and property (PH 55). Likewise, an exchange of prisoners was mandated (PH 55).
Diplomacy (MK 150–4)
The Old Babylonian period was an age of complicated diplomatic intrigue in which kings needed to win diplomatic victories to prepare the way for military victory. In many ways Hammurabi was victorious in the overall power struggle not so much because he was the superior soldier, but because of his diplomatic finesse. Although details are often lacking, it is clear from surviving diplomatic archives such as that of Mari that diplomacy in the ancient Near East was highly sophisticated. Many kings kept permanent ambassadors at rival courts; as today, these men often served as spies as well, occasionally distributing judicious bribes. King Zimri-Lim of Mari kept two ambassador-spies at the court of Hammurabi, Ibalpiel and Ibalel (CAH 2/1:180–1). Such spies were used to gather intelligence, both about the general policies and goals of an enemy, and about the specifics of their military plans and dispositions (HTO 239–42). Their correspondence with their king demonstrates a detailed knowledge of and wide range of interests in all military matters.
Council meetings between allied princes or their diplomats were summoned to deal with mutual dangers (PH 27–8). Some used thinly veiled intimidation to coerce unwilling allies, along with occasional overt threats of war (PH 28–9). Weak rulers groveled to more powerful allies, begging assistance. One weak prince, Iluma, wrote to two of his allies: “Apart from you two, I have no brother [ally] … Save me!” (PH 29); “I have taken refuge under you in my fear” (PH 33). Yet in another letter he attempts to arrange a secret meeting with only one of the two (PH 30–1). Diplomats frequently ask each other for intelligence and gossip about other rulers, and tell each other of the plans and activities of various rivals (PH 32, 36).
As with modern diplomacy, the personalities of the rulers and their representatives were often an important factor in the success or failure of negotiations. One prince in the nineteenth century complained that he was not being treated with the honor he felt was due to him:
Is the prince who sent you superior to me? Does he have troops superior to mine? Or does he rule a land superior to mine? As he rules in his city, I rule in my city. As he is the king of Eshnunna, I am the king of the land of Urshitum. In what way is he superior to me and why does he always send his envoys here to take tribute?
(PH 79)
Of course, the very fact that such questions needed to be asked is a reflection of the relative unimportance of the king of Urshitum.
Vassal kings
Sometimes, when a city was conquered, its former king was replaced by a governor of the conqueror (L 482). On other occasions, however, a king who was defeated or forced to submit was allowed to retain his throne, but became a vassal of the conqueror. These vassals were required to take the “oath of god” that they would be loyal to their new overlord, and were expected to provide soldiers, tribute, and other services to their new master. Kings also had an obligation to provide assistance to a vassal who was under attack (WM 48); vassalage to a stronger ruler could thus be a favorable option when facing an aggressive enemy bent on overthrowing a weak king. This naturally had the potential for creating an unstable political situation, where vassals chafing at the bit of their overlords might seize any opportunity for mischief-making or rebellion. Kings might also try to undermine a rival king's vassals by supporting revolts (L 511).
A major victory in battle could cause cities to shift allegiance rapidly. One commander reported to Zimri-Lim:
I kept pulling in city after city [into our alliance], and I was making each declare a sacred oath [of loyalty to Zimri-Lim].… Now, I caused the land to change sides to my lord. May my lord be happy! And may my lord not be late [in arriving to take control]. If my lord is late, he must dispatch me troops [in his stead], any that may be dispatched, and I shall cause the land of Idamaras [and] the upper land to reject the Elamites.
(L 501)
In a Middle Bronze version of public opinion polling, the commander continued:
I keep pulling in [information] on the opinion of the commoners of the land, and they fall down [in reverence] before my lord [Zimri-Lim].… My lord must dispatch me 1000 or 2000 troops, and we shall pacify this land. Otherwise … they will bring up the gods and bind the land up to the [enemy king of] Zalmaqum with an oath. I am afraid the land will swear [allegiance] in its fear [of Zalmaqum], and matters will become troublesome. My lord must dispatch troops quickly.
(L 501–2)
It is important to note that the volatile public opinion of the commoners, with mixed loyalties, religious oaths, alternating fear of attack from different kings, played an important part in the realistic ability of a king to subjugate new lands or maintain control over conquered lands.
Smaller cities were often treated as feudal property, to be exchanged between rulers and given to followers and vassals (L 294, 337). Frequently the citizens of a city were unhappy with new rulers, and sometimes took matters into their own hands. When the city of Kahat was conquered by king Haya-Sumu, he installed one of his soldiers, Attaya, on the throne. There was unhappiness with this move, however, requiring that “twenty troops … attend him [to protect him from possible attacks by the citizens].… Until things calm down, those troops must attend him” (L 299–300, 440). It was always possible that rebellion was simmering beneath the surface of a vassal city. When a vassal king was ready for succession, he had to write to his overlord for permission: “He does not ascend the throne without [permission from] my lord [king Zimri-Lim]. Write to my lord! A servant of my lord must come and let him ascend [the throne]” (L 311, 317).
In times of crisis, a new king might be installed by a military coup. The city of Eshnuna was captured and looted by the Elamites, who did not feel strong enough to hold the city and thus withdrew. Thereafter, the surviving army of Eshnuna raised one of their commanders to the throne: “The Eshnunakean troops have installed a king of their own. The man who was installed to be their king, that man is a commoner.… His name is Silli-Sin. He [had previously] exercised the rank of company captain (galku)” (L 328, 506).
Alliances
A diplomat of the Mari period summarized the political realities of his age thus: “There is no king who is strong by himself: 10 or 15 kings follow Hammurabi of Babylon, as many follow Rim-Sin of Larsa, Ibalpiel of Eshnunna and Amutpiel of Qatna, while twenty kings follow Yarim-Lim [king] of Aleppo” (ANE 1:99; L 290). Political power in the Mari period was based on having as many vassals and allies as possible: “The spear of Zimri-Lim and [his nomad allies] the Hana is strong over all the land, all of it!” (L 290).
Military treaties were frequently established between rival kings, either to end a war or to create a new military alliance. Representatives of the kings would meet and discuss the terms, which were often spelled out in great detail. Terms might include trade agreements, rights of passage for merchants or armies, extradition clauses, mutual defense agreements for allied military operations, and distribution of booty after an allied victory. Then, as now, different rulers could use different interpretations of ambiguous language in order to attempt to manipulate treaties to their advantage. Rim-Sin of Larsa, for example, wrote a letter making excuses as to why he failed to provide the promised troops for a military operation with his ally Hammurabi (CAH 2/1:179). Treaties invariably involved an invocation of the gods to witness the oaths. A special religious ceremony was undertaken, usually involving a sacrifice, after which both parties swore the “oath of the gods”. Each party to the treaty received a duplicate copy of the particulars, which were deposited in temples for safekeeping (MK 126–7, 140–1).
Allies were independent kings who were treated as equals, or “brothers” in Middle Bronze diplomatic parlance. Many of the Mari tablets center on diplomatic negotiations and requests between the allies Zimri-Lim of Mari and Hammurabi of Babylon. Though allies were not required to provide each other with troops or tribute, there was a strong expectation that they would support one another in times of crisis. Allies were expected to honor requests for troops. As Hammurabi put it: “when [an allied king] requests troops from me, I will give troops to him to let him accomplish his objective. [An ally] who does not dispatch me his troops [when I request it], I will give him no troops when he writes to me for troops” (L 334, 479). Having an alliance, however, did not preclude the need for hard-nosed negotiations (L 374, 379–81). It also often meant paying for at least part of the food and wages of allied troops. The king of Eshnunna, for example, expected to be given thirty talents of silver in return for sending troops to assist his ally (PH 78).
Alliances and treaties were always reinforced by a shared sacrifice and mutual “oath of the gods” (MK 140–1). We have the text of an alliance treaty between Hammurabi and Zimri-Lim, illustrative of the diplomatic mentality of the age:
[By the sun god] Shamash of the sky, lord of the land, [by the storm god] Adad of the sky, lord of determination – by these gods Hammurabi, son of Sin-Muballit, king of Babylon [swore]: “From this day, as long as I live, I will be an enemy of Siwa-Palar-Huhpak [king of Elam]. I will not [assist him and] I will not write to him. Without [the agreement of] Zimri-Lim, king of Mari … I will not make peace with Siwa-Palar-Huhpak.”
(L 512–13)
Military cooperation was a key element in a successful alliance. Many of the letters discuss plans for different allied units to meet at specified times and places (L 190). Sometimes, of course, units missed their rendezvous, causing problems and confusion: “I waited three days in Terqa and no [allied] troops whatsoever were assembled … Where are the troops?” (L 191). When an enemy army approached Babylon, Hammurabi of Babylon and his then ally Rim-Sin of Larsa made a coordinated plan for mutual defense: “My troops are assembled in my land, let your troops be assembled in your land. If the enemy heads for you, my troops and small-boats will get there [to help you]. And if the enemy heads for me, your troops and your small-boats must get here” (L 322). In addition to sending troops, allies might send money and grain to support the war effort; Hammurabi sent “two talents of silver [60 kilograms] and 70 bushels [21,000 liters] of grain” to aid one of his allies (L 327).
On occasion, however, allies failed to observe the terms of the alliance. When the king of Elam invaded Mesopotamia, one of his ministers reported:
My lord [the King of Elam] wrote me: “Right now Zimri-Lim will go against you. And he will stir up the land. Write the Turukkean [highlanders], and the Turukkean will come down to you. [Then] do battle with Zimri-Lim.” And he wrote to the Turukkeans, and they did not come to him [to help fight Zimri-Lim].
(L 294)
Peace treaties
War was frequently declared and peace negotiated in the letters. As in all political systems, there often existed among ancient Mesopotamians real causes and justifications for war which were shrouded in various more or less transparent pretexts. The political order of Mesopotamia was guaranteed by taking oaths by the gods to insure proper fulfillment of treaty obligations. Violation of treaties was described in terms of violation of the oath to the gods, which was considered justification for warfare. Around 1800, “Ila-kabkabu [king of Terqa] and Yagid-Lim [king of Mari] took a grave oath by the god [Nergal] between them and Ila-kabkabu never committed a sin against Yagid-Lim [i.e. he never violated the provisions of the treaty]. It is Yagid-Lim who committed a sin against Ila-kabkabu” which led to war (PH 68). Thereafter, because of the violation of the oath to Nergal, the god “decided to punish [Yagid-Lim] and went to the side of Ila-kabkabu … [who] destroyed [Yagid-Lim's] city and defeated his son Yahdum-Lim” in battle (PH 68). Treaty or covenant violations are thus viewed as violations of oaths and commitments to the gods, who punish the violators by granting military victory to the other party of the oath and covenant.
Peacemaking was accompanied by a shared equid sacrifice and oath-taking: “I shall kill a stallion of peace between me and [the enemy king] Mutebal” (L 197). Peace was made through diplomatic councils (L 344), exchange of cities or land (L 337), sacred oath taking (L 337, 345), a ritual equid sacrifice (L 344, 351, 363), and sharing food and drink at a feast (L 345). Oaths and divination were required to accompany all treaties and alliances; bad omens from extispicy could at least temporarily derail agreements; as one diviner advised: “the sign is not right; wait for one month” (PH 31–2). Peacemaking could include an exchange of prisoners and captured plunder: “I will release to you your losses [of prisoners, booty, and captured land] that I am keeping … and you will release my losses” (L 351, 368).
The specific details of one peace treaty were recorded, requiring a mutual renunciation of feuding. The defenders required of the attackers: “Do not hunt us [for slaves], do not kill us, and do not deport us to another land!” In return the people of the city, under the new king installed by their conquerors, were similarly required: “Do not hunt him [the new king], do not kill him, and do not bring your former king back!” (L 350). These peace oaths were often taken very seriously. One allied commander refused to fight with the troops of the ally of an enemy because of a sacred peace oath sworn by his own king with the ally of the enemy king (L 346). Such circumstances could obviously very quickly become complicated: “Let eternal peace be established between us!” one treaty proclaimed (L 374) – a peace to end all wars. Unfortunately, like the rest of the world, such peace efforts were always temporary in Middle Bronze Mesopotamia.