Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1190: Spartan Landing Operation (2)

Although both locations were highly defensible, the fortresses there had been built decades ago during the great Messenian rebellion. In the intervening years, the Messenians had remained largely docile. Without any major uprisings—during the Peloponnesian War, the Messenian helots had mostly chosen to flee with the aid of the Athenians rather than fight—the two fortresses had fallen into severe disrepair.

Sparta had only begun urgent repairs recently, following the Daionian Army's invasion of Messenia. Rushed as the work was, the fortifications still felt inadequate. Now, facing a fierce assault by an enemy force over ten times the size of the garrison, he could not help but worry. Thus, even with a massive Daionian landing imminent, he still detached two hundred soldiers each to urgently reinforce the two fortresses.

Meanwhile, the Daonian Fleet Infantry waiting just off the coast began their advance toward the shore.

Under normal circumstances, Theonian Military Law dictated that a fleet infantry commander like Cephisodorus should direct the battle from the rear. A landing operation, however, was an exception. Given the unpredictable sea conditions, transport logistics, and the challenge of reorganizing troops on the beachhead, Cephisodorus had decided to commit all the Daonian Fleet Infantry to the shallows at once. Sitting safely in the rear served no purpose. It was far better to lead from the front, boosting morale and fighting for every possible advantage in a difficult situation. Thus, just like his men, Cephisodorus wore leather armor, slung a leather shield and helmet over his back, and swam toward the shore using the breaststroke.

While Greek fishermen were naturally strong swimmers—and made up the bulk of the fleet infantry—this standard breaststroke technique had been taught to them by Davos. Its primary purpose was to ensure that armed troops could swim as quietly and effortlessly as possible.

Right now, the fleet infantry barely had to paddle. Like logs adrift on the sea, they let the incoming tide carry them steadily toward the coast.

From the perspective of the Spartans on the shore, a thick black tideline stretching across the Laconian Gulf was rapidly surging right at them.

Once the water grew shallow enough, the soldiers of the Daonian Fleet Infantry began to stand up.

Cephisodorus was getting on in years; standing up in the surf left him slightly winded and cold. Yet, just like the men around him, he swiftly donned his leather helmet, unslung his leather shield, drew his short sword, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Form ranks!"

Eudamidas was shocked by how swiftly the Theonians assembled. His plan to launch an assault while they were disorganized on the beach instantly vanished. He immediately realized the Theonians had come fully prepared, intending to exploit the absence of the Spartan main force and throw everything they had into an invasion of Spartan territory.

‘I will never let your scheme succeed!’ Eudamidas swung his spear forward forcefully and roared, "Attack!"

Spurred on by Eudamidas, the Spartan army charged. As they stepped onto the soft beach again, dozens of stone projectiles whistled through the air toward them once more. Panic rippled through the ranks of the helots, but harsh screams from the Spartan officers forced them to keep running. It was not until the stone barrage slammed into the ground behind them that the helots finally dared to breathe.

Cephisodorus led his men in a steady advance. With the seawater washing up to their waists, running was impossible, but the incoming tide helped push them forward without too much resistance. Just as the water level dropped from their waists down to their ankles, finally freeing their legs to move normally, the enemy crashed into them.

The Daonian Fleet Infantry had no javelins to hurl in a volley, nor long shields to form a defensive wall. Armed only with leather shields and short swords, they had no choice but to brace themselves and meet the charge head-on.

A Spartan army consisting of nearly three hundred Spartan Warriors, over five hundred Spartan veterans, two thousand perioikoi, and over four thousand helots collided with nine thousand Daonian Fleet Infantry. (The Daunian 1st Fleet possessed nearly 280 Corvus Warships, each carrying a complement of forty fleet infantry. Though they had suffered over a thousand casualties in the previous landing operation, Secilian had not hesitated to deploy every marine from his force of over ten thousand.) The two armies finally clashed in a brutal melee along the shoreline.

Xenophon scaled the watchtower behind the beach, nervously looking down at the unfolding battle. He knew all too well that this single engagement would decide the life or death of Sparta. His hands twitched with the urge to snatch the Bows and Arrows from a nearby archer and fire at the Theonians himself.

...

After the battle dragged on for some time, the situation shifted noticeably. Spearheaded by the Spartan Warriors and veterans, the right wing leveraged the martial prowess of the Spartan Warriors and the overwhelming power of their heavy infantry to gain the upper hand. They continuously drove back the Daonian Fleet Infantry's left wing, forcing them straight back into the sea.

In the center, the forces made up mostly of perioikoi also held a slight, temporary advantage. After all, the perioikoi had frequently fought alongside the Spartans and possessed a wealth of combat experience. Though clad only in simple pointed bronze helmets and leather armor, they carried spears and sturdy bronze shields, giving them far better defense than the Daonian Fleet Infantry. Supported by covering fire from the watchtower archers, they inflicted heavy losses on their weakly defended opponents.

Only on the left wing was the situation reversed. Here, the almost completely unarmored helots, equipped with nothing but a single spear, were locked in combat with fleet infantry clad in leather armor and helmets, wielding leather shields and short swords. The helots steadily lost ground. Even with Spartan veterans scattered among their ranks trying to hold the line, and archers providing covering fire from the rear watchtowers, the left wing continuously retreated under the pressure. As a result, the battle line—originally running straight east to west—gradually deformed into a diagonal northeast-to-southwest slant.

While Xenophon sweated in anxiety for the Spartan army up in the watchtower, Secilian was pacing the deck of his Flagship in an absolute frenzy. Listening to the masthead lookout's reports of the worsening battle, he roared, "Where are the fleet infantry who landed yesterday?! Why haven't they shown up yet?!"

"They might... they might have run into some trouble..." the Flagship's captain answered cautiously.

"Damn it! Of course something goes wrong at the critical moment!" Secilian spat furiously. Helpless to do anything else, he ordered, "Then... send in the reserves immediately!"

"Yes, sir!"

During the military council the day prior, spurred on by the fleet infantry commander Cephisodorus, the other squadron captains had voiced numerous suggestions. One of their key proposals was this: since the fleet infantry were at a stark disadvantage in a frontal clash with heavy infantry, could they request the Seventh Legion—currently stationed in Messenia—to detach a portion of heavy infantry from their two battalions to support the landing operation?

After some debate, the council had refined the idea: they would invite the Daionian troops garrisoned in Messenia to launch an attack on Sparta from the east, while simultaneously requesting them to send three hundred heavy infantry to join the landing operation.

Secilian had originally held them back as a reserve, quietly hoping his Daonian Fleet Infantry could win the battle on their own. Now, however, seeing the battle line at a disadvantage and fearing defeat, he was forced to deploy them.

Down below, the crew of the First Fleet had hastily constructed several five-meter-square wooden rafts. On each raft, a single sailor worked a wooden oar while three or four soldiers of the Seventh Legion—clad entirely in their signature Black Helmets and Black Armor—stood firmly in the center. These rafts slid easily through the gaps between the anchored Warships. Because the rafts had a much shallower draft than ordinary boats, the surging tide carried them smoothly over the defensive perimeter of Anti-Ship Wooden Stakes. One by one, they rowed rapidly toward the struggling left wing of the fleet infantry...

‘Oh gods, Theonian reinforcements!’ Xenophon panicked as he watched the scene unfold from the watchtower. Sparta had absolutely no spare soldiers left to repel a fresh wave of enemies. What could they do?!

Xenophon paced frantically. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a group of helots hauling supplies back in the camp. Desperate enough to try anything, he scrambled down the watchtower and sprinted toward the encampment, intent on organizing these laborers to reinforce the faltering Spartan army ahead.

The dozen Spartan veterans assigned to guard the helots in the camp quickly grasped the dire situation and agreed to Xenophon's plan. But an immediate problem arose: even if they managed to organize these hundred-odd helots into a fighting unit, the helots had no weapons. How were they supposed to fight?

The Spartans maintained strict control over their helots. Even the helots designated for combat were only handed weapons right before marching onto the battlefield. With the army already deployed to fight and so many helots left behind in the camp, it was naturally impossible for the Spartans to have left any spare weapons lying around.

A frantic search of the camp turned up barely a dozen snapped spears. With no other choice, Xenophon ordered the helots to rip out the wooden support poles of the tents. Through a desperate mix of promises and threats, he finally forced the reluctant helots to follow him toward the Spartan army's right wing.

Earlier, the furious assault of the Spartan Warriors had inflicted casualties on the left wing of the Daonian Fleet Infantry. Fighting for their honor and the survival of the entire fleet infantry force, they had been forced to give ground continuously just to relieve the overwhelming pressure. However, the further they retreated into the deeper waters, the more the Spartan offensive weakened. The reason was simple: the surging tide and soft seabed heavily impacted the heavily armored, somewhat clumsy Spartan Warriors. They were forced to expend precious energy just to maintain their balance, whereas the fleet infantry were entirely accustomed to it.

Under these conditions, the left wing of the fleet infantry gradually managed to claw back some of their lost ground.

Then, the soldiers of the Seventh Legion arrived one after another, immediately launching an attack on the flank of the Spartan Warriors.

Caught in a pincer, the Spartan Warriors did not flinch, fighting on with unrelenting bravery. They knew all too well that their homeland lay right behind them; they absolutely could not retreat.

Xenophon led the helots sprinting across the beach, rushing desperately to reinforce the right wing. Shrouded by the roar of the tide, the sounds of slaughter, and the shrieks of the dying on the battlefield, his mind was consumed entirely by anxiety. He was completely deaf to the frantic screams of the archer in the watchtower just a short distance away: "More enemy reinforcements! To the east! To the east!!..."