The Unknown Warrior E-Book

Richard Osgood

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2005

Beschreibung

A tale of the 'poor bloody infantry' and what we glean of their lot from prehistory right through to World War I. This book compares the life of the soldier across time and cultures. It includes the great battles of medieval Europe.

Leseprobe

THE

UNKNOWN

WARRIOR

THE

UNKNOWN

WARRIOR

ANARCHAEOLOGY OF THECOMMONSOLDIER

RICHARD OSGOOD

First published in the United Kingdom in 2005 by Sutton Publishing Limited

The History Press The Mill, Brimscombe Port Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QGwww.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2013

All rights reserved

© Richard Osgood, 2005, 2013

The right of Richard Osgood to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 9546 0

Original typesetting by The History Press

For Katherine Freya

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1. The Dawning of the Arms Race: Bronze Age Warriors

2. Under the Eagle’s Wings: In the Service of the Roman Legions

3. Heroes of the Chronicles and Sagas: Anglo-Saxon and Viking Warriors

4. Chivalry’s Price: Footsoldiers of the Middle Ages

5. The Flash of Powder: War in the Tudor and Stuart Period

6. The Revolution of Industry: Soldiers of the Nineteenth Century

7. Marching to Hell: The Poor Bloody Infantry in the First World War

Conclusion

Glossary

References

Recommended Websites

Acknowledgements

First, I acknowledge the great help that has been given to me by my friend and archaeological colleague Martin Brown, during the preparation of this work. Secondly, I would like to extend my thanks to the following individuals and groups for their assistance:

Bronze Age Britain Professor Mike Parker Pearson, for discussions on this topic over the years; Gail Boyle, of Bristol Museum, for helping with Tormarton; Ruth Pelling, for archaeobotanical information; Professor John Evans, for his kind donation of the Stonehenge images.

Early Roman Period Dr Eberhard Sauer, for information on his work at Alchester; Dr Simon James, for advice on matters pertaining to Dura Europos; Dr Susanne Wilbers-Rost and Kalkriese Museum, for information on the site of the demise of the Varus Legions; Professor Mark Robinson, for information on diet; Oxford Archaeology and English Heritage for Carlisle artefacts; Dr Martin Henig on matters religious.

Anglo-Saxon and Viking Era Dr Chris Knüsel and the Late Sonia Chadwick-Hawkes, for details of the Eccles skeletons; Dr Paul Budd, for information on the scientific studies of the Riccall burials; Professor Martin Biddle, for help with Repton; Dr Andrew Reynolds for matters Saxon.

Medieval Period Dr Chris Knüsel, for information on the work at Towton; all those connected with Visby, including Professor Ebba During and Marie Flemström; Siv Falk and Annica Ewing of the Statens Historiska Museum; the Royal College of Physicians, Edinburgh, for providing details of Soutra; Martin Brown and Lucy Sibun, for discussing the Lewes burials; Chris Daniell, for work on the Fishergate bodies.

Tudor and Stuart Ages Dave Allen and Alan Turton, for discussing the Basing House skull with me many moons ago; Glenn Foard, for comments made at a conference at the National Army Museum.

Nineteenth Century Tony Pollard, Ian Knight and Adrian Greaves, for their information on archaeological work in connection with the Zulu War; Phil Freeman, who gave me important information about his work in the Crimea; Professors Rimantas Jankauskas (burials of the Grand Armeé, Vilnius) and Barry Cunliffe (prisoner-of-war camp, Portchester), who provided assistance with matters Napoleonic; Mario Espinola, whose work on Centreville was vital to my understanding of aspects of the American Civil War – to him I also extend my thanks in pointing out other resources, both of excavation information and relevant literature.

First World War Information on the archaeology of the First World War was obtained from several sources, including discussions at conferences, emails and telephone calls. Alastair Fraser and Andy Robertshaw provided details about their excavations at Auchonvillers; Alain Jacques provided similar knowledge about Arras. Aurel Sercu afforded me information about The Diggers work in Flanders, assisted by Paul Reed and John Hayes Fisher; Rob Janaway discussed the findings of Belgian material with me. Evidence for practice trenches was provided by Paul Sidebottom and Peter Beckett; Bob Moore helped with evidence about prisoners of war. Martin Brown was always generous in keeping me abreast of his exciting work at Serre and of practice trenches on Defence Estates that lay outside Salisbury Plain. Richard Petty was kind enough to let me photograph his family’s collection of trench art. Using the Internet, I was able to ask many people questions about First World War archaeology – Nils Fabiansson and members of the Great War Forum were especially helpful.

Introduction

The principal results we obtain from the whole of these considerations are:

1. That infantry is the chief arm, to which the other two are subordinate.

2. That by the exercise of great skill and energy in command, the want of the two subordinate arms may in some measure be compensated for, provided we are much stronger in infantry; and the better the infantry the easier this may be done.

(Von Clausewitz, On War)

As I write this, apart from the obvious bustle of the office – of colleagues, computers, printers and photocopiers – the only sounds I can hear are the sounds from the open window: the shrill warbling of a skylark. That is apart from the occasional whistle as a shell passes overhead and thuds into the earth some miles away with the resulting percussion rattling the same window. To my untuned ear I could not tell you whether this is the twenty-first-century equivalent of a ‘Jack Johnson’, a ‘Minnie’ or a ‘Whizz-bang’ and I marvel at the infantrymen who, within a short space of time, were able to distinguish such variances; an ability that could be life-saving.

I have just returned from a site visit to a set of Australian practice trenches from the First World War. Though these were backfilled in the 1920s, elements of the material that filled them are still being brought to the surface by burrowing animals. Hence, pieces of rusting metal, Bovril jars, Camp coffee bottles and an Anzora bottle now adorn my desk, much to the bewilderment of several workmates. Yet this is the fabric of humanity that fascinates me – the residue of life (anthropology if you like); for, where books will inform the reader of the outcome of a selected battle, the history of particular regiments or the lives of great generals, little time is dedicated to the average fighting soldier – the ‘Poor Bloody Infantry’.

This, I believe, is where archaeology is invaluable, for it can inform us of the lives of those who did the fighting. How much has ever been written on what was eaten by men when training, or on the replication of conditions they could have expected to experience? Archaeology informs us of the lives of these men and women involved in combat, with the main bias being survival conditions. It can tell us about the actual weapons that were used in fighting, rather than those simply depicted in paintings or in an ideal inventory of weaponry of the age. It can tell us of the diseases suffered by these people, their living conditions and the assistance they could hope for when wounded. Survey and excavation can show us how footsoldiers passed their time when not fighting and can perhaps reinforce our impression that, even centuries ago, their acts were not so very different from those of troops today. Soldiers throughout history have, for example, left a trace of their presence; they have carved their names and messages into buildings and monuments. Perhaps the very fact that their lives are lived closer to death than many other people’s renders a desire to leave a physical trace that much stronger. Even today, soldiers will add their names, or those of their regiments, to the walls of barracks and training facilities.

Traces of warfare in the archaeological record seem to have become a much-examined subject in recent years – the topic of many conferences, journal titles, monographs, television programmes and archaeological research designs. There is a profusion of Internet sites dedicated to this sphere alone. As a consequence, I have been fortunate to draw upon the splendid work of a wide range of people when assembling this book.

I have decided to concentrate on the fighting soldiers – the infantrymen – as they are the ones who are vital in any combat to take land and hold it. Wherever possible I have avoided recourse to historical references as it is the archaeology I wish to examine – after all, who is to say that written histories are unbiased? At least the archaeological resource favours no side or individual, and I hope that the work will illuminate the rich resource we can turn to when we question events that occurred many years ago. The only writings I want to dwell on in this study will be either the graffiti of the troops or the physical writings (and writing equipment) present in archaeological deposits. The amount of information available will vary from chapter to chapter – after all, there is nothing by way of epigraphic source for the Bronze Age, whereas there is much for the First World War – and thus the chapters differ in length.

I would also not be so foolish to claim that this work is all-encompassing. For each chapter I have tried to provide a flavour of the evidence available within the time period rather than to collate everything relevant to each epoch. Furthermore, one will also be aware that most of the chapters have a distinctly ‘British-Isles-centric’ feel to them, or at least to wars in which Britain had an interest. This seems sensible to me, as it would at least give an idea of evolution of tactic and of equipment within a country that has been engaged in much warfare from prehistoric times to the present day. That being said, we are still able to draw in examples from North America, Western and Northern Europe, South Africa and Syria, so, hopefully, the work does not prove to be too insular.

In the following chapters, we will examine the Bronze Age warrior in Britain, the legionary of the early Roman Empire, the Anglo-Saxon warrior and his Viking counterpart, the regular and peasant forces of the Medieval era, footsoldiers of the Tudor and Civil War period of Britain, those who fought in the Napoleonic and Victorian eras and the American Civil War and, finally, the infantrymen of the First World War.

With this generous and noble spirit of union in a line of veteran troops, covered with scars and thoroughly inured to war, we must not compare the self-esteem and vanity of a standing army, held together merely by the glue of service-regulations and a drill book; a certain plodding earnestness and strict discipline may keep up military virtue for a long time, but can never create it; these things therefore have a certain value, but must not be overrated. (Von Clausewitz, 1997: 157)

New work seems constantly to be emerging on the subject of the archaeology of war and hopefully this will enable us better to understand the gamut of emotions felt by infanteers from training to combat. We all feel we know about various wars as a result, perhaps, of poetry, writings, paintings and even films. Archaeology, far from being a mere handmaiden of history, can actually add new tones to the canvas or even redesign the painting, providing aspects of detail unavailable to the historian. In discussing this subject with friends and colleagues, I have had many stimulating debates with serving soldiers, archaeologists and historians and feel that we are able to say far more through archaeology than simply ‘soldiers smoked and drank’ (something suggested to me by a historian friend)

We have access to the life of the building blocks of the army. We can see how the soldiers lived, how and where they prayed for life, how they fought, what weapons were used, how they adapted their tools, how they strayed from the military manuals of the age as they realised such dictates were unrealistic, how they aspired to pass their free time and how they actually spent these hours.

Without wishing to sound trite, the following chapters also reveal the horrors suffered by many in combat, from the Bronze Age to the First World War. I hope I have avoided a mawkish or voyeuristic feel to this book, but I have included combat victims in each chapter as they reinforce the fundamental aim of warfare: to defeat, and often to kill, one’s enemy. Combat victims reveal so much of the warfare of each period – wounds and diseases suffered, medical treatment, weapons used, armour worn, deities worshipped – that to write a book without recourse to such an assemblage would be foolish. These people were all human beings, who died probably in pain and great fear and thus they reveal the full horror of warfare far more eloquently than I can. Although archaeological work has enabled names to be established for some of those found on the battlefields of the First World War (Brown, 2005), all the people included in this volume are unknown – be they a regular soldier or a peasant fighting for their town against a foreign army. The fact that they are ‘unknown’ does not make their testimony more important, but perhaps adds to the poignancy.

The final example, Unknown Warrior 14 (see Chapter 7), does not involve archaeology, but cannot be excluded, because he is the inspiration for the work and title of this book – he is the ‘Unknown Warrior’ killed on the Western Front and buried now in Westminster Abbey, London. He says a great deal about our psyche and desire to commemorate and is essential on an emotional level rather than for what his death and burial can tell us in an archaeological sense.

Richard Osgood

Army Training Estate

Salisbury Plain

ONE

The Dawning of the Arms Race: Bronze Age Warriors

The greatnesse and numeroussnesse of the Barrows (the beds of Honour where now so many Heroes lie buried in Oblivion) doe speak plainly to us, that Death and Slaughter once rag’d here and there were scenes, where terrible Battles were fought …

(John Aubrey, ‘Monumenta Britannica’)

Warfare was not something that came with the Roman legions, interrupting the otherwise peaceful lives of folk in the British Isles. There is evidence of combat in earlier periods – the Neolithic, for example, saw attacks on Crickley Hill in Gloucestershire, and Hambledon Hill in Dorset (Mercer, 1999). But it was the European Bronze Age that saw the Continent’s first arms race: the rise of a panoply of deadly arms, prestigious pieces of armour and competition surrounding the movements of goods. It is from this point that I began looking at the archaeology of combat, and for that reason, and to illustrate the long history of warfare in Britain, I have included this chapter on part of the prehistoric sequence of the development of the British Isles. It also serves as an introduction to the elements we shall look at from the historic periods in later chapters.

Traces of the Bronze Age arms race can be seen alongside the burials of those who, in death, wished to be portrayed as warriors, and also those who had suffered from this weapon technology in life. Fortified centres, the precursors of many of the well-known Iron Age hill forts, were created, and the archaeological record also shows the possible modes of transport of the infantry. This was a period of infantry – horses did not appear in any numbers in the British Isles until probably the end of the Late Bronze Age, but when they did, their presence was significant and they were revered. A recent Optical Stimulated Luminescence (OSL) date obtained from the chalk hill carving of the horse at Uffington in Oxfordshire was Late Bronze Age. Furthermore, decorative pieces of horse gear were made in the Late Bronze Age, around 700 BC, with some examples from Britain having been destroyed by weapons, as part of a votive act, in a similar fashion to the destruction of Late Bronze Age swords (Osgood, 1995). If, by the close of the period, the infantry was able to use the horse to add to its mobility, even if fighting was on foot, its other major means of transport was the boat.

Movement of war bands by boat was along the same riverine routes as trade goods and these boats enabled people to travel long distances. Bronze Age boats have been found at places such as Dover, Kent, and North Ferriby, Humberside. Rock carvings in Denmark from this period depict warriors, sometimes fighting, on board large vessels (Osgood and Monks, 2000: 31). Another example of the possible depiction of a Late Bronze Age to Early Iron Age raiding party using a boat to bring the warriors to their point of fighting was found at Roos Carr in Humberside. A wooden model of a number of warriors with round shields, clubs and phalluses was found here (Osgood, 1999b; Osgood and Monks, 2000: 34–5).

It seems that warfare was the preserve of those at the upper end of society, who had access to such prestige goods as bronze shields, helmets and weapons. Fighting at the start of the period, using the rapier, was specialised and probably accomplished only by champions; later, war bands and raiding parties would fight. It is possible that the archaeological record holds evidence for the more ‘showy’ elements of the arms of these warriors and that clubs and staves have not survived. Although such raiding was undertaken by a specialised group, other Bronze Age people would have had to fight if their settlement was raided or attacked. What we are seeing is perhaps only a sample of material related to combat, and the so-called common soldier was probably a member of an important class of society. In this chapter I shall avoid too much analysis of the typologies of weaponry as other scholars have dedicated large works to this subject and our study is, among other things, to look at the types of weaponry available to the warrior in this period.

WEAPONRY

With the Bronze Age in the British Isles spanning 1,500 years, it is not surprising that weaponry and its use changed over this time. At the start of the period, the bow and arrow was probably the main weapon of choice. Arrowheads and archer’s wristguards were essential elements of the Beaker Culture burial package, and there is evidence of the effectiveness of flint arrowheads. Daggers are present in many burial contexts, but it was not until the emergence in the Middle Bronze Age of the rapier – a long, slender, stabbing bronze weapon – that we see the introduction of the hand weapon proper. Rapiers required precision and training was necessary; they were the weapon of ‘champions’. Tears in the handle rivets of such objects indicate that a slashing motion was more natural and show how occasionally the rapier was used incorrectly.

Swords appear in the Late Bronze Age and have been found throughout the British Isles. Bridgford (1997) has examined large numbers of Irish examples and noted that the edge damage displayed is consistent with the swords having been used in combat. By the end of the Bronze Age, a type of sword had emerged that employed the classic leaf-shaped sword’s slashing attributes with a tapering end more useful for stabbing (the rapier’s strong point). The ‘Carp’s Tongue’ sword has been found along the Atlantic fringe of northern Europe, including the British Isles (Cunliffe, 2001: 280–1). To date, swords have not been associated with any palaeopathological evidence of violence, but it seems safe to assume that these objects, although of great value, prestige and beauty, also had a functional aspect and would have been used in violent raids. Their importance within a votive setting has been demonstrated by Pryor (1991: fig. 11), whose work at Flag Fen, near Peterborough, has shown that they were deposited, along with other weapons and bronzes, in the water as religious offerings. Swords deposited in such a manner could be broken prior to their sacrifice, perhaps symbolising the ‘killing’ of an object imbued with power.

In addition to the sword and its predecessor, the rapier, the spear was present for much of the Bronze Age. This is not the place to discuss the many varieties of spear and the huge range in sizes, shapes and methods of fixing the spearhead to the shaft. Suffice it to say that the spear, along with the flint arrowhead, is the main weapon for which we have evidence for its use in combat. A Bronze Age shield from Long Wittenham in Oxfordshire had been stabbed by such a weapon and there are two sites that have yielded examples of skeletons with spear wounds, which we shall discuss below, both of which were subject to violent stabs with the weapon. In an earlier work (Osgood, 1998), I tried to evaluate whether one could distinguish between the throwing and thrusting types of spear and came to the conclusion that, although some were better suited as javelins and others for stabbing, the weapon would have been used for whatever purpose it was required. If the warrior had had a javelin-sized weapon in close combat, he would still have tried to use it to stab his opponent. Some spears were for show rather than practical use; the Wandle Park spear was over 80cm long (Osgood and Monks, 2000: 25).

One particular spear, found at North Ferriby, Humberside, was broad-bladed and had pegs at the base of the blade, on the spear shaft, to fix it in place. Bartlett and Hawkes believed that this might have acted as some form of harpoon with the shaft breaking from the spear when it hit its target. The heavy shaft was attached only by a thread and thus encumbered the warrior whose shield it had struck. If, indeed, this was how it was used, the spear employed tactics that the Romans would find successful with the pilum centuries later (Bartlett and Hawkes, 1965: 372–3).

Axes were present throughout the Bronze Age, from the early flat axes carved onto one of the trilithons of Stonehenge to the socketed axes and palstaves from the end of the period. The latter were sometimes found in substantial hoards (Cunliffe, 2001: 289). Axes were important items of equipment, but how far were they weapons? I believe that, rather like the daggers of the period, the warrior would use them if they were the only tool to hand. The rapier, sword and spear are the weapons for which we have physical evidence of their use in fighting and, while the axe was certainly an important object, we have no definite evidence of its use in combat.

A final note on the weaponry of the period must include a comment on the objects which might have been used, but which do not survive in the archaeological record. It is likely that wooden clubs and staffs or staves would have been used in fighting. As these are made of organic material rather than precious metals, we do not find them preserved in the soil – the fact that the raw materials for such weapons were readily available would have meant that anyone needing to defend a hut or village would have owned such an object. No elements of prestige were involved with their ownership and thus they would not have been solely the reserve of the Bronze Age warrior, though they could have been quite functional.

ARMOUR

In France, several breastplates of thin, beaten bronze sheet have been found. The Marmesse cuirass is a wonderful piece of workmanship although, with no evidence for any backing of, say, tough leather, it is unlikely to have provided much protection to its wearer (Osgood and Monks, 2000: 28–9). To date, no such corselet has been recovered in Britain and our evidence of armoured protection used by the warrior is limited to the find of a few studs and the crest of what would have been a couple of helmets from Flag Fen (Pryor, 1991: 115).

Many Bronze Age shields have been recovered from the British Isles, such as those from the River Trent, Nottinghamshire, and Coveney Fen, Cambridgeshire. Some of these seem to have been for purely ceremonial purpose; the ‘Yetholm’ type shield from South Cadbury, for example (Coles et al., 1999), was so thin that it could have been punched through with a fist. Indeed, it seems to have been ritually destroyed or ‘killed’ by being stabbed when on the floor. Did this act and the shield’s deposition at this hill fort represent the defeat of its owner in combat? This shield would have served little practical use unless it was part of a ploy to cow one’s enemies into submission as a result of facing a warrior of great prestige. Some of the metal shields had been used for fighting at some point. The ‘Nipperwiese’ type shield from Long Wittenham, Oxfordshire, c. 396mm diameter and 1–1.25mm thick, had a number of perforations caused by spearheads that left tell-tale traces through their lozenge-shaped cross-sections. This shield also seems to have been hammered flat in another area to beat out the damage of a separate engagement (Needham, 1979).

Occasionally, survival conditions permit the presence of materials that would otherwise decay. Examples of this come from waterlogged contexts in Ireland. Here we have some important evidence pertaining to shields. At Kilmahamogue, County Antrim, a wooden mould for a leather shield has been found – a radiocarbon date for this object of 1950–1540 BC (Early to Middle Bronze Age) was obtained. Wooden shields have been found in Ireland, too, at Annandale and Cloonlara (from the eighth century BC), and a leather example from Clonbrin. This latter Irish example is 50cm in diameter and 5–6mm thick, with the handle stitched onto the back of the shield, the warrior’s hand fitting under a raised part of the shield that acted as the boss (for these shields, see Coles, 1962).

In a now famous piece of experimental work, John Coles replicated both a metal and a leather Bronze Age shield and examined the efficacy of their defence against the blows struck by a replica Late Bronze Age sword. The metal shield was cut almost in half by the sword’s blow, whereas the leather shield was found to possess far better defensive properties (Coles, 1962: 184–5; Harding, 1999a: 89). As the Long Wittenham shield shows, metal shields were used on occasion, but, for practical warfare, the Bronze Age warrior was likely to have been equipped with wooden or leather shield – the bronze examples being used more for display.

PRACTICE AND DISCIPLINE

We have no remains that relate to anything resembling a training camp or training feature in the Bronze Age, nonetheless the weaponry used will have required a modicum of experience; the rapier is a weapon that needs practice if it is to be used effectively. Furthermore, anyone who has picked up a Bronze Age sword would probably be surprised at how small the handles seem – the way of holding such a weapon was to have some of the fingers on the handle, but others closer to the blade of the sword, on the small ‘ricasso’ notch just below the handle. This is something that would take some getting used to if one was to wield a sword to the desired effect.

THE LIFE OF THE SOLDIER

In the following chapters we shall look at elements of the soldier’s life – his pastimes, religion, the food he ate, the availability of alcoholic drink and its significance, and his enjoyment of tobacco. Unfortunately, this is not possible within the context of the Bronze Age, as it is rare to find conclusive evidence of military settlement or of those engaged in combat. Evidence of warfare is often isolated. We might find food traces in a Late Bronze Age midden (such as Chisenbury on Salisbury Plain), or within the confines of a defended settlement, but this is not the same as, say, a latrine in a fort. We cannot be sure of the diet being specifically martial. Further work also needs to be done to analyse human bones, as the information such analysis can provide on diets could be applied to those we think are combat victims.

Drinking

If we are indeed looking at an elite form of warfare in the Early Bronze Age, followed by warriors collected in loose war bands, can we see any parallels in succeeding chapters for obligations that would ensure alliance? In the Saxon and Norse eras there is constant literary evidence for warriors being provided with hospitality and rewards by their leaders and rulers in return for their service. Those who were at the top were known by such terms as ‘ring-givers’ and we see throughout the epic poem Beowulf references to drink being taken in the great halls. By building up ties and obligation, so one could ensure service. Gift-giving and reciprocity is well known in the anthropological record and there is a possibility that this is what we are seeing occasionally in the archaeological record.

To this end, the Beaker Culture ‘package’ is especially interesting. Decorated ceramic drinking vessels – the ‘Beaker’ – are often found in burial assemblages within barrows associated with items of warrior paraphernalia, such as arrowheads and archers’ wristguards. Occasionally, a site such as Barrow Hills (Barclay and Halpin, 1999) produces elements such as gold ‘basket earrings’ (or hair decorations), and very occasionally a fabulously rich burial is found, such as the Amesbury Archer excavated by Wessex Archaeology, with all of the above items and more, including a bronze dagger (see Wessex Archaeology, 2004b).

There is also the possibility that the inhumed were accompanied by leather jerkins and ornamental belts as part of the warrior’s costume, such as those depicted on stelae in Switzerland (Osgood and Monks, 2000: 84). Why would a ceramic vessel be included in the same package as items reflecting a martial character – the arrowheads, wristguard, dagger – or of great wealth in gold and bronze?

Although a new type of vessel, the technology behind the ceramic beaker was not new. It is possible that we are seeing the ceramic vessel as part of the martial package – the symbol of obligation, feasting and bonding through drinking, like the warriors depicted in the Saxon chronicles, epic poems and Norse sagas. Strong liquor does indeed seem to have been part of a status assemblage: ‘Some of the interments in Scottish graves appear to have been accompanied by vessels containing fermented drinks, as indicated by the analysis of scrapings taken from a beaker found at Methilhill, Ashgrove, Fife, and a food vessel from North Mains, Strathallan, Perthshire’ (Clarke et al., 1985: 201).

Sherratt (1994: 253) thinks that bell-beakers began as a variant of corded ware drinking vessels, as the latter tradition in northern Europe saw an assemblage accompanied with stone battle axes, as opposed to the archery equipment of the Beaker package. He writes: ‘These vessels suggest individual hospitality rather than the great communal ceremonies at gathering places, which had hitherto dominated the ritual life of Western Europe.’ Such hospitality could still be used to reinforce ties and bonds between warriors in local elites – perhaps the alcoholic drinks would also provide a form of Dutch courage to warriors, too.

Writings

In the following chapters we shall see many interesting facets connected to writing and the infantry: inscriptions – often of the owner’s name – on weaponry, graffiti scratched by soldiers in buildings, and letters describing conditions found at fortress sites. In Bronze Age Britain there is no such resource. Carvings have been found that reflect the importance of weaponry or ‘prestige goods’, such as the extensive carvings of axes on one of the Stonehenge trilithons recently highlighted by a programme of laser-scanning. Unfortunately we have no writings – it is probably safe to suggest that the warrior of the British Bronze Age was illiterate.

Although there are no writings, there are depictions of warriors and the panoply of arms, which are as expressive. These are present throughout northern Europe – with many examples in Scandinavia. Here, spears, shields, swords and helmets are all depicted and there are images of combat on ships. In Britain there are possible rock carvings of shields in Ireland – Harrison (2004) has recently examined these carvings in depth.

Accommodation

As we have no regimental system in the Bronze Age and as those that did the fighting in this period would have used the same style of huts and enclosures as other members of society, it is next to impossible to differentiate something approximating a ‘barracks’ in the archaeological record. Bronze Age huts have been found, sometimes in walled enclosures like those from Grimspound on Dartmoor, Devon, and sometimes with fences such as Blackpatch, Sussex, and Trethellen Farm, Cornwall, but the main areas worth looking at are the large fortified centres or ‘hill forts’ of Bronze Age date.

In earlier publications (Osgood, 1998: 55–67; Osgood and Monks, 2000: 10–15) I have summarised some of the evidence for the emergence of these structures in Britain and Ireland. Many early hill forts were sited to dominate passes and to protect trading routes, primarily rivers, and areas of production – Dinorben in Wales controlled the routes to Ireland and the region’s gold industry. The ramparts of these fortified sites could be elaborate affairs. The various phases of timber palisades and ditches at Rams Hill, Berkshire, for example, date from 1410–1047 BC (Bradley and Ellison, 1975). Although these forts had substantial defences, the size of the population within would have been too small to garrison the entire perimeter. Perhaps this indicates that, in turn, raiding parties would have been too small to mount any form of siege and that the fortifications were more than adequate to provide protection to a tribal grouping when threatened. Perhaps warfare was so formalised that the gateway was generally the focus of the attack. At some point, the Late Bronze Age warrior is likely to have resided, even if only for a very short time, in one of these fortifications.

The competition for trade routes and prestige goods could lead to conflict between societies and individuals, particularly when added to the claims for land through division of the landscape that occurred from the Middle Bronze Age onwards with the cutting of huge linear ditches. These could run for many kilometres – like those on Quarley Hill, Hampshire, and the massive ditches that survive on Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire. Some ditches are still impressively deep, such as the double-ditches running up to Sidbury Hill and the example that skirts the huge longbarrow, known as ‘Old Ditch longbarrow’, close to Tilshead on Salisbury Plain. Digging these ditches, without recourse to metal tools, would have been a huge task in terms of the organisation of labour and must have been undertaken for major reasons, not simply to provide cattle ranches. These ditches are an important statement in the soil – an expression of land ownership and power, and thus territory. The ownership of territory is a source of dispute and thus potential conflict.

MEMORIAL AND BURIAL

The most visible elements of memorial in the Bronze Age are the burial mounds, the tumuli or round barrows that we see from the earlier part of the period. These mounds are often located by an early Beaker burial mound with a grouping or ‘cemetery’ of barrows then being created. Some of the more dramatic of these cemeteries are to be found on Salisbury Plain, close to Stonehenge. Silk Hill, Snail Down, King’s Barrow Ridge and Normanton Down all have collections of round barrows and, from what we can glean from the excavation notes of the antiquarians who dug into them, many contained elements of weaponry. Some have been given names evoking the burial package of those inhumed, such as the Hunter’s Barrow at Snail Down. As we shall see in Chapter 3, these barrows were often the focus for burials carried out by later societies, particularly in the Anglo-Saxon period, and were where people with weaponry were interred.

Despite the fact that we get weaponry from these burial mounds, prestige goods and an expression of a possible martial character of the deceased, it is rare to find proof positive of their involvement in warfare. As far as the commemoration of an individual warrior is concerned, the barrows are our most likely source of evidence, but must remain inconclusive. Unfortunately, John Aubrey’s comments in the introduction to this chapter are thus impossible to corroborate.

After burials in barrows, there was a period of cremation. Cemeteries of urns have been found across Europe, but they are disastrous in terms of our chances of finding pathology to indicate combat. By the Late Bronze Age, burials were rarer still. We might find the odd body as a chance discovery following the individual’s burial outside the normal realm of a cemetery – such as at Tormarton, see pages 13–15 – but these are rare. Were bodies excarnated and their bones deposited in rivers or lakes as water became an important religious context (as Flag Fen has shown)? Several skulls of probable Bronze Age date recovered from the River Thames in London might hint that this is the case.

THE FALLEN

Despite the changes in modes of burial in this period, there are burials from the Early Bronze Age through to the Late Bronze Age that bear testament to violence. One must be careful to remember that weapon injuries might have been the result of a myriad of actions and may not even have been inflicted while the individual was alive (Stead, 1991); nevertheless, combat is probably the best explanation for the causes of death for the people described below and in the following pages.

Excavations by Oxford Archaeology at the site of Barrow Hills, Radley, Oxfordshire, produced a fine Beaker assemblage from a crouched inhumation in the central grave, F203. The skeleton was accompanied by many grave goods – a drinking vessel or ‘beaker’ from which the package gets its name, a bone awl, a fragment of iron pyrites, a bronze awl, an antler spatula, several flint flakes and scrapers, and five barbed and tanged arrowheads near the foot of the burial, perhaps once within a quiver (Barclay and Halpin, 1999: 140–1). A further flint arrowhead was discovered lying in the ribcage, next to the vertebrae of the man who was buried here, with both of the barbs broken, and there was an impact fracture at the tip of the weapon. The authors believed that its presence in this location suggested the cause of the individual’s death (ibid.: 140).

Another discovery in Oxfordshire gives evidence of fighting in the later Bronze Age. Work at Queenford Farm, Dorchester-on-Thames, in 1901, uncovered parts of a human skeleton – the frontal bones of the skull, and parts of a pelvis. The latter had been pierced by a triangular-bladed, basal looped spearhead, which had broken off in the wound when the attacker tried to recover his precious spear. The force of the stabbing and attempt to recover the weapon had not only broken the spear, but seems also to have twisted the metal. A radiocarbon date from this pelvis of 1260–990 BC was obtained – Late Bronze Age (Osgood, 1998: 21).

UNKNOWN WARRIOR 1

As we have seen at Barrow Hills, the Beaker burial assemblage proclaiming the individual to have some martial prowess or function is at times linked to actual evidence of weapon trauma. Excavations by John Evans in 1978 at the icon of British prehistory, Stonehenge, were carried out to examine the palaeoenvironmental potential of the site. As with many archaeological digs, the penultimate day provided important results. On this day the collapse of the ditch section revealed the bones of a human burial some 1–1.2m below the surface, in the ditch silts (O’Connor in Evans et al., 1984: 13). On full excavation this body was seen to be a classic Beaker burial, from the start of the Bronze Age, with some elements of the package of archery grave goods. The body was complete, although partially disturbed by the actions of a burrowing animal, hence the feet were missing and the right shoulder was displaced.

The skeleton was sexed as being male, from elements such as the pelvic sciatic notch and mastoid process on the skull. An examination of the bones and teeth seemed to indicate that he was between 25 and 30 years old when he died, was muscular and of general good health before death. What made the burial so interesting was its pathology. Three of his ribs bear witness to penetration injuries; the fourth left rib has cracks on its surface and a small hole containing the tip of a flint arrowhead, the rest of which was found lying by the right arm. The eleventh (left) and ninth (right) ribs also have cut grooves in them, probably resulting from a sharp projectile passing through the ribcage, and the back of the mesosternum had an embedded flint arrowhead tip. Overall, the evidence seems to suggest that ‘the man was probably shot at close range as none of the injuries show the penetration downwards that would be expected from an arrow falling in an arc’ (Evans et al., 1984: 17). A radiocarbon date (BM–1582) was obtained from the left femur of the man, a result of 2170 ± 110 BC being obtained (ibid.: 22).

A further question arises from this burial. Stonehenge was still an important monument in the Early Bronze Age, as demonstrated by satellite pictures showing the profusion of round barrows in the vicinity. Was this man, provided with rich burial goods, of high importance to the society that buried him – after all, he was within the bounds of the great ceremonial site, something that had not been achieved even by the ‘Bush Barrow Chieftain’, who had been buried close to Stonehenge, accompanied by lavish grave goods?

A stone archer’s wristguard or ‘bracer’, 110mm by 28mm, was found with the burial, with a circular perforation at either end to allow the item to be strapped to the arm or affixed to a leather backing. Three largely complete barbed and tanged flint arrowheads were also retrieved – the tip of one embedded in a rib, as we have seen. It is tempting to suggest that all three arrowheads were fired into the individual prior to death, with two of them causing soft tissue injuries hence they were lying loose on excavation. This seems especially pertinent given the presence of the other (fourth) arrow tip in the sternum. If we assume that all the arrows were embedded in the victim, he would only have been provided with a wristguard in burial. He would not have been given arrowheads, a copper dagger, gold items, or even the eponymous Beaker, and would thus have been quite poorly apparelled for someone buried in what was presumably a prestigious location. Was the fact that this man appears to have been killed in combat significant, and that his burial was one of a warrior hero in a sacred location to which his deposition might have added even more power, and was the wristguard worn by him in the fatal engagement? This is, of course, speculation, but it is a tempting scenario.

UNKNOWN WARRIOR 1

The Beaker burial from Stonehenge in Wiltshire

This is the body of a young man shot several times from behind by flint arrowheads. There is no evidence to suggest that the man was executed; he was either murdered or died in combat. His presence in a burial at Stonehenge might suggest the latter – a further indication of a martial nature being his wristguard. The man was killed at the start of the Bronze Age when representation in death as a warrior was of great importance.

UNKNOWN WARRIOR 2

In 1968 a gas pipeline was cut through fields in Tormarton, South Gloucestershire, uncovering a series of human bones. On closer examination these bones were thought to represent the remains of three individuals and were seen to have weapon injuries, including the presence of bronze spears transfixing some of the skeletal elements:

Skeleton No. 1 has in the pelvis a hole made by a lozenge-sectioned spearhead which must have been driven into the body by an attacker from the right side when the victim was either falling or had already fallen …

Skeleton No. 2, about a foot away, and in the same ditch or pit, exhibits features of even greater interest. Two of the lumbar vertebrae are stained blue-green by contact with a small Bronze Age spearhead, the blade of which was found, but the end containing the socket had broken off at the point of weakness behind the blade. This spear had pierced the spinal cord and would have caused immediate and permanent paralysis in the legs … The skull has a hole perhaps caused by a blow or wound. (R.W. Knight et al., 1972: 14)

In 1999 and 2000, the author, along with the archaeologist Dr Tyler Bell (Osgood and Bell, forthcoming), returned to this site to establish the context for these burials and to examine whether more material was present. Initial site work soon revealed that the gas pipe had, in fact, truncated a segment of a V-shaped Bronze Age linear ditch, into which the bodies had been thrown. The ditch was around 2.2m wide at the top and around 1.4–1.5m deep, of a type found in many areas of southern England in the Middle and Late Bronze Age. A great deal of skeletal material was recovered and, when combined with the collection recovered in 1968, was examined by the palaeopathologist Dr Joy Langston. She concluded that there were now at least four, and probably five, individuals represented by this sample. All were male and their ages ranged from around 11 years to late 30s.

Table 1.1. Details of the Tormarton skeletons

A radiocarbon date of 1315–1050 BC was obtained from the humerus of the oldest male; the interface of the Middle and Late Bronze Age. An interesting point is that only two of the bodies displayed weapon trauma although they were presumably all thrown into the ditch at the same time. An analysis of the mollusca within the ditch indicated that the ditch had been initially cut through recently cleared woodland and was promptly backfilled.