In the classical period the hoplite carried on his left arm a large, round shield (the hoplon). With his right he held a thrusting spear, 8-10 feet in length. He also wore a helmet, a breastplate of stiffened linen, and greaves. The helmet limited his vision to what lay straight ahead. Finally, he commonly carried a small sword in case his spear should break (Hdt. VII 225). In battle he stood in a phalanx, shoulder to shoulder with his fellows in a "rank" (Tyrtaeus, Fr. 11 West); before and behind him were his fellows in a "file."
Opposite stood the enemy phalanx. The duty of those in the respective front ranks was to thrust with their spears upperhand (as on the Chigi Vase below) or underhand (Tyrtaeus, Fr. 10 West) at the man directly in front. The hoplon protected the hoplite's left side well and extended a bit beyond his left, but left his right exposed. A given hoplite, by taking a half-step to the right, commonly tried to move behind the protruding bit of the shield of the man on his right. The man at the right, of course, was trying to do the exact same thing with the man on his own right, and so on down the rank. Thucydides comments:
The following happens to all armies: during battles they are thrust out somewhat on their right wings, and both overlap their opponents' left side on their own right since each man out of fear places his exposed right side as much as possible behind the shield of the man stationed at his right. . . (Thuc. V 71)
As a rule, both sides attempted to push the other backwards in a sort of reverse tug-of-war (see Figure 10.1): once one side did begin to force the other backwards, that momentum was difficult to reverse (Thuc. IV 96). Since the right wing, as Thucydides explains, might come to protrude past the opposing phalanx's left, it was the right that could attempt to outflank (Thuc. V 71; Xen. Hell. IV 2, 18-19). Generals accordingly took steps to shore up their left (Thuc. l. c.), and such considerations dictated many tactics on the battlefield, which, incidentally, was almost always a plain since on broken ground the phalanx tended to lose cohesion.
While there was still experimentation in the eighth and seventh centuries (note swords rather than spears in Archilochus, Fr. 5 West; cf. Tyrtaeus, Fr. 11 West), the hoplite battle became "set" by the early sixth. Thereafter, experimentation was largely confined to lightly armed infantry and cavalry with the aim of finding ways to break the phalanx by attacks on the flank (Thuc. VII 6) or by hindering the phalanx's movement (Thuc. VI 70).
Finally, the hoplite owned his own arms (Alcaeus, Fr. 357 Lobel-Page). Since these were expensive, fighting as a hoplite implied high social status - a point of pride as the following poem by the Cretan Hybrias (Athenaeus, XV, p. 695) shows:
The great spear and the sword are my riches, and the fair shield which saves one's skin. With this I plow, with this I harvest, with this I drink the sweet wine
Figure 10.1 Two hoplite phalanxes meet circa 650 BC, on the Chigi Vase from Corinth. Note the arms - shields, helmets, corslets, greaves, and thrusting spears held upperhand. Source: Museo Etrusco di Villa Giulia, Rome, Italy. Photo © De Agostini Picture Library / The Bridgeman Art Library
From a cup; and because of this I am master of slaves. For slaves dare not hold spear and sword, and the fair shield which saves one's skin - they all fall down and kiss my knee and call me "master" and "great king."
Persians back with ease. The Athenian center, on the other hand, was itself pushed in the other direction. As the Persians on the wings began to flee, the Athenian wings themselves swung round inwards and attacked the Persian center from the rear. The Persian center, beset in front and in behind, dissolved in a rout (Hdt. VI 113). The Athenians had repulsed the Persians. In a dramatic break from hallowed practice the dead were piled into a large, collective grave over which a mound of earth was heaped - the so-called soros (see Figure 10.2).
Figure 10.2 The soros at Marathon. “There is a public memorial in Athens’ fairest suburb, and always do the Athenians there lay to rest those who have fallen in war - with the exception of those who fell at Marathon: for they deemed their valor pre-eminent and made even their tomb there. . Thuc. II 34 ). Source: Ryvinios, Http://en. wikipedia.0rg/wiki/File:Hill_where _the_Athenians_were_buried_after_the_Battle_of_Marathon. jpg (accessed 14 January 2013)
Shortly thereafter the Lacedaemonians arrived, but could do little more than to congratulate the Athenians on a job well done (Hdt. VI 120).
In the Athenians’ collective memory, Marathon always remained the battle that counted. At Marathon, but for a handful of Plataeans, the Athenians had withstood the great Persian Empire alone. The playwright Aeschylus, who won thirteen prizes for his tragedies (Vit. p. 333 Page) and who fought at Salamis as well (Ion of Chios, BNJ 392, Fr. 7), held all that cheap against his participation at Marathon. The one thing which he wanted commemorated on his grave was that he too had fought that day at Marathon (Paus. I 14).
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