Destroy Carthage (17 page)
The arrival of Pyrrhus in the 3rd century drew the two
states together in common cause. While Roman manpower bled the Greek king of the strength to sustain his bid in Sicily, Carthage promised silver to help finance Rome's resistance, and ships to offset her lack of sea power. Eliminating
the Greek challenge, the combination left western supremacy
disputable between its components.
Within a few years of the departure of Pyrrhus, his fabled
prediction was historic fact.
Responsibility for the long and costly conflict known as the
First Punic War is debateable. Philinus of Agrigentum, a pro-
Carthaginian historian of the time, held the Romans to blame
for crossing troops to Sicily in contravention of a treaty forbidding such a movement. Polybius, writing later, denied that
the Romans were in breach of faith. At least it may be agreed
that, sooner or later, a clash was inevitable.
Hitherto ranked by the Greeks as barbarians, the Romans had
emerged from the widely reported onslaught of Pyrrhus with
new status and confidence. From now on there could be no
doubt that Rome was a major power. From as far as Egypt,
envoys hastened to propose pacts. Stable in government, experienced in warfare, with large reserves of disciplined manpower, she could hardly fail to disturb the equanimity of rival
states.
Economically, Carthage was a rival whose jealously protected advantages were bound to prick Rome. With naval
dominance, the Punic power might have felt complacent were
it not for the stepping-stone of Sicily, the logical extension of
Italian empire for a state without a sea force. The short hop
across the straits could be made by using ferry boats. In short,
the temptation for Rome to stake an interest in the island
was dangerously at odds with Carthage's long-held strategic
view of Sicily.
Ostensibly, the war arose from an incident. For some time
Messana had been occupied by Campanian mercenaries, the
Mamertines (after Mamers, the Oscan Mars), who had come to
Sicily originally to serve Agathocles. Settled on the straits, the
piratical Mamertines were such a nuisance to the people of
Syracuse that, about 265, the new ruler of that city, Hiero II,
decided to drive them from the island.
The Mamertines, steadfast opponents of Pyrrhus in former
days, sought help from his other ex-enemies. Both Rome and
Carthage responded with units to reinforce Messana's garrison.
When, in circumstances now uncertain, the Carthaginian commander was induced to withdraw in favour of the Roman
guard, the scene was set for 'escalation'.
Roman troops were in Messana. To eject them, Carthage
joined forces with Hiero. It was an unnatural alliance, conceived without enthusiasm, and short-lived. Syracuse had lost
her former power; Carthage had had no time to raise her
mercenaries. So far, operations were on a restricted scale.
Then, in 264, the Romans crossed reinforcements to Messana
on a fleet of rafts, raised the siege imposed by Hiero and
marched on Syracuse.
Hiero now had second thoughts. A number of Sicilian cities,
always ready to profit from upsets, had already made cause
with the Italians. Hiero took the same step, contracting an
alliance with Rome that was to endure for the rest of his long
life. It was a prudent move, placing him with Masinissa among
the few foreign kings to perceive the huge potential strength
of the Roman state.
His defection, giving Rome control of the east coast and encouraging other Siceliots to make terms with her, left Carthage
no option but to mobilize in full force. The war that ensued
was to span a generation, produce the heaviest casualties then
known to history and lead to radical strategic innovation on
both sides.
Never before had Carthage's dependence on a hired army
been tested against an enemy with so vast a reserve of fighting
men and such efficiency of mobilization. Embarrassed by the
usual delays in mustering, the Carthaginians were compelled
to adopt a defensive role in their Sicilian strongholds (Acragas,
Lilybaeum, Panormus and elsewhere) until their mercenaries
were organized.
Rome, on the other hand, was impeded by the lack of a navy
and maritime tradition. So long as Carthage's fleets were unchallenged, the well-fortified Punic ports in Sicily could withstand indefinite siege by land, their provisions assured by sea.
At the same time, the Italian coast was vulnerable to naval
raids. At last, Rome was under pressure to build a fleet.
Meanwhile, her operations centred on Acragas, an easterly
Punic base which, being inland, could be sealed off by Roman
troops. In 262, four legions were deployed in the investment.
Five months brought the city near starvation, then the full
mercenary army of Carthage arrived in Sicily. Including
Iberians, Celts and Ligurians, its strength is uncertain, but
events suggest it was fairly well matched against the Romans
at Acragas. Neither its commander, Hanno, nor the consuls
besieging the city, were eager to give battle.
Indeed, the opposed armies faced each other inactively for
fully two months while conditions in Acragas deteriorated
and the siege force itself, cut off from supplies by Hanno,
suffered. Finally, signals from the garrison notifying the critical
plight of the citizens prompted the Punic general to action.
Tactically, Acragas was a Roman victory. Hanno retired
from a day-long battle in moderate order but undoubtedly the
loser. Strategically, the outcome was more complex. For one
thing, the engagement enabled the garrison of Acragas to
evacuate without loss. For another, the Roman commanders (L.
Postumius Megellus and Q. Mamilius Vitulus) committed a resounding error in sacking the city and enslaving its Siceliot
occupants.
A great deal rested on the sympathies of the Siceliot communities, a number of which had already given valuable help
to the Romans. Now the mood changed. Widespread anger
at the treatment of the Acragans did much to consolidate support in the island for Carthage. Far from exploiting the victory
over Hanno, the Romans lost ground, on balance, during 261.
It was, however, an auspicious year for them in one field.
The date marks Rome's decision to build a fleet. So far, the
few ships she possessed had largely been provided and manned
by Italiots, the
socii navales
or 'naval allies.' Resolved at last
to take to the water, the 'landlubbers' displayed their practical
nature in a telling light.
Their models, Greek and Punic, included (according to Poly-
bius) a Carthaginian quinquereme or five-banked vessel wrecked
on the coast of southern Italy. But the finer graces of such
elegant craft were not for a people who frankly admitted their
limitations as sailors. The 120 warships which comprised the
first production order were of a species the precise likeness of
which had never been seen before.
Heavier and slower than the sleek galleys of Carthage
-
as
befitted a race which liked its feet on a solid base - these ponderous barges were peculiar for the extraordinary superstructure on their foredecks. Holding no hope of matching the
seamanship of an enemy whose customary ramming and oar-
smashing techniques demanded skilful manoeuvres, the
Romans had resolved to make sea-fighting as much like land
warfare as possible. To this end, they had equipped their
ships with draw-bridges by which the legionaries on board
could charge the crews of hostile vessels.
These bridges, four feet wide and twenty-four feet in effective length, pivoted on the base of a special foremast which
supported the operating mechanism: an unwieldly boom and
pulley system connected by rope with the far end of the boarding-bridge. Beneath this protruded a sharp spike to engage the
deck of the enemy.
From its metal beak and violent pecking action as it dropped,
the contraption came to be known as a
corvus
(crow). In battle,
the crows were dropped hopefully on any hostile deck which
came in range until the spike engaged. Then, protected by their
shields, the Roman marines would storm the grappled enemy.
The first test of the new Roman navy was a fiasco. An advance force of 17 ships sent to the Sicilian theatre was challenged by 20 Carthaginian vessels among the Lipari islands.
Here, the raw crews, recruited from elements of the
proletarii
considered undesirable by land commanders, promptly deserted and the squadron surrendered without a blow. But if the Punic seamen derided the unsightly craft of their
novice opponents, they were soon to learn a lesson familiar
in the annals of warfare: namely, that relatively crude improvisation can achieve surprising objectives if confidently
handled.
When the main Roman fleet appeared off northern Sicily,
the commander of the Carthaginian naval forces there, a little-known Hannibal, unwisely approached without caution. The
navies met off Mylae, not far from Messana. Hannibal, outnumbered in ships by the cumbersome enemy with their
curious superstructures, nevertheless engaged with sanguine
assurance, neglecting proper battle order.
The Romans, now with disciplined crews, were in two lines
under the consul Caius Duilius; in all, 143 ships. As the swift
Carthaginian vessels swung at them, aiming to rip oars and
steering paddles from bulky hulls, the Romans manned their
booms, the spiked crows poised in readiness. Unsuspectingly,
the Punic pack bore in on the first line of the enemy. Violently,
the boarding-bridges smashed down. The metal beaks rammed
home.
Desperately, the rearward Carthaginian ships veered aside
as heavily-armed legionaries poured aboard the grappled
leaders. Some of Hannibal's galleys, slipping through the first
Roman line, ran foul of the stabbing crows of the second line.
Pierced and wallowing, they too were overrun by the 80 or
so marines on each Roman ship. By the time the startled
Carthaginians broke away, 45 of their craft were lost, mostly
captured.
Mylae, celebrated in Rome by a triumphal column incorporating the figure-heads of the conquered vessels, marked the
end of Punic naval dominance. Carthaginian seamen were still
superior in professional skills, and would modify their tactics
to meet the enemy, but Rome had shown she could live in their
element, and quickly enlarged her fleet.