Historians Reassess Battle of Agincourt

By James Glanz

The New York Times
October 25, 2009

Maisoncelle, France — The heavy clay-laced mud behind the cattle pen on Antoine Renault’s farm looks as treacherous as it must have been nearly 600 years ago, when King Henry V rode from a spot near here to lead a sodden and exhausted English Army against a French force that was said to outnumber his by as much as five to one.

No one can ever take away the shocking victory by Henry and his “band of brothers,” as Shakespeare would famously call them, on St. Crispin’s Day, Oct. 25, 1415. They devastated a force of heavily armored French nobles who had gotten bogged down in the region’s sucking mud, riddled by thousands of arrows from English longbowmen and outmaneuvered by common soldiers with much lighter gear. It would become known as the Battle of Agincourt.

But Agincourt’s status as perhaps the greatest victory against overwhelming odds in military history — and a keystone of the English self-image — has been called into doubt by a group of historians in Britain and France who have painstakingly combed an array of military and tax records from that time and now take a skeptical view of the figures handed down by medieval chroniclers.

The historians have concluded that the English could not have been outnumbered by more than about two to one. And depending on how the math is carried out, Henry may well have faced something closer to an even fight, said Anne Curry, a professor at the University of Southampton who is leading the study.

Those cold figures threaten an image of the battle that even professional researchers and academics have been reluctant to challenge in the face of Shakespearean prose and centuries of English pride, Ms. Curry said.

“It’s just a myth, but it’s a myth that’s part of the British psyche,” Ms. Curry said.

The work, which has received both glowing praise and sharp criticism from other historians in the United States and Europe, is the most striking of the revisionist accounts to emerge from a new science of military history. The new accounts tend to be not only more quantitative but also more attuned to political, cultural and technological factors, and focus more on the experience of the common soldier than on grand strategies and heroic deeds.

The approach has drastically changed views on everything from Roman battles with Germanic tribes, to Napoleon’s disastrous occupation of Spain, to the Tet offensive in the Vietnam War. But the most telling gauge of the respect being given to the new historians and their penchant for tearing down established wisdom is that it has now become almost routine for American commanders to call on them for advice on strategy and tactics in Afghanistan, Iraq and other present-day conflicts.

The most influential example is the “Counterinsurgency Field Manual” adopted in 2006 by the United States Army and Marines and smack in the middle of the debate over whether to increase troop levels in Afghanistan.

Gen. David H. Petraeus, who oversees the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as the head of the United States Central Command, drew on dozens of academic historians and other experts to create the manual. And he named Conrad Crane, director of the United States Army Military History Institute at the Army War College, as the lead writer.

Drawing on dozens of historical conflicts, the manual’s prime conclusion is the assertion that insurgencies cannot be defeated without protecting and winning over the general population, regardless of how effective direct strikes on enemy fighters may be.

Mr. Crane said that some of his own early historical research involved a comparison of strategic bombing campaigns with attacks on civilians by rampaging armies during the Hundred Years’ War, when England tried and ultimately failed to assert control over continental France. Agincourt was perhaps the most stirring victory the English would ever achieve on French soil during the conflict.

The Hundred Years’ War never made it into the field manual — the name itself may have served as a deterrent — but after sounding numerous cautions on the vast differences in time, technology and political aims, historians working in the area say that there are some uncanny parallels with contemporary foreign conflicts.

For one thing, by the time Henry landed near the mouth of the Seine on Aug. 14, 1415, and began a rather uninspiring siege of a town called Harfleur, France was on the verge of a civil war, with factions called the Burgundians and the Armagnacs at loggerheads. Henry would eventually forge an alliance with the Burgundians, who in today’s terms would become his “local security forces” in Normandy, and he cultivated the support of local merchants and clerics, all practices that would have been heartily endorsed by the counterinsurgency manual.

“I’m not one who sees history repeating itself, but I think a lot of attitudes do,” said Kelly DeVries, a professor of history at Loyola College in Maryland who has written extensively on medieval warfare. Mr. DeVries said that fighters from across the region began filtering toward the Armagnac camp as soon as Henry became allied with their enemies. “Very much like Al Qaeda in Iraq, there were very diverse forces coming from very, very different places to fight,” Mr. DeVries said.

But first Henry would have his chance at Agincourt. After taking Harfleur, he marched rapidly north and crossed the Somme River, his army depleted by dysentery and battle losses and growing hungry and fatigued.

At the same time, the fractious French forces hastily gathered to meet him.

It is here that historians themselves begin fighting, and several take exception to the new scholarship by Ms. Curry’s team.

Based on chronicles that he considers to be broadly accurate, Clifford J. Rogers, a professor of history at the United States Military Academy at West Point, argues that Henry was in fact vastly outnumbered. For the English, there were about 1,000 so-called men-at-arms in heavy steel armor from head to toe and 5,000 lightly armored men with longbows. The French assembled roughly 10,000 men-at-arms, each with an attendant called a gros valet who could also fight, and around 4,000 men with crossbows and other fighters.

Although Mr. Rogers writes in a recent paper that the French crossbowmen were “completely outclassed” by the English archers, who could send deadly volleys farther and more frequently, the grand totals would result in a ratio of four to one, close to the traditional figures. Mr. Rogers said in an interview that he regarded the archival records as too incomplete to substantially change those estimates.

Still, several French historians said in interviews this month that they seriously doubted that France, riven by factional strife and drawing from a populace severely depleted by the plague, could have raised an army that large in so short a time. The French king, Charles VI, was also suffering from bouts of insanity.

“It was not the complete French power at Agincourt,” said Bertrand Schnerb, a professor of medieval history at the University of Lille, who estimated that there were 12,000 to 15,000 French soldiers.

Ms. Curry, the Southampton historian, said she was comfortable with something close to that lower figure, based on her reading of historical archives, including military pay records, muster rolls, ships’ logs, published rosters of the wounded and dead, wartime tax levies and other surviving documents.

On the English side, Ms. Curry calculates that Henry probably had at least 8,680 soldiers with him on his march to Agincourt. She names thousands of the likely troopers, from Adam Adrya, a man-at-arms, to Philip Zevan, an archer.

And an extraordinary online database listing around a quarter-million names of men who served in the Hundred Years’ War, compiled by Ms. Curry and her collaborators at the universities in Southampton and Reading, shows that whatever the numbers, Henry’s army really was a band of brothers: many of the soldiers were veterans who had served on multiple campaigns together.

“You see tremendous continuity with people who knew and trusted each other,” Ms. Curry said.

That trust must have come in handy after Henry, through a series of brilliant tactical moves, provoked the French cavalry — mounted men-at-arms — into charging the masses of longbowmen positioned on the English flanks in a relatively narrow field between two sets of woods that still exist not far from Mr. Renault’s farm in Maisoncelle.

The series of events that followed as the French men-at-arms slogged through the muddy, tilled fields behind the cavalry were quick and murderous.

Volley after volley of English arrow fire maddened the horses, killed many of the riders and forced the advancing men-at-arms into a mass so dense that many of them could not even lift their arms.

When the heavily armored French men-at-arms fell wounded, many could not get up and simply drowned in the mud as other men stumbled over them. And as order on the French lines broke down completely and panic set in, the much nimbler archers ran forward, killing thousands by stabbing them in the neck, eyes, armpits and groin through gaps in the armor, or simply ganged up and bludgeoned the Frenchmen to death.

“The situation was beyond grisly; it was horrific in the extreme,” Mr. Rogers wrote in his paper.

King Henry V had emerged victorious, and as some historians see it, the English crown then mounted a public relations effort to magnify the victory by exaggerating the disparity in numbers.

Whatever the magnitude of the victory, it would not last. The French populace gradually soured on the English occupation as the fighting continued and the civil war remained unresolved in the decades after Henry’s death in 1422, Mr. Schnerb said.

“They came into France saying, ‘You Frenchmen have civil war, and now our king is coming to give you peace,’ ” Mr. Schnerb said. “It was a failure.”

Unwilling to blame a failed counterinsurgency strategy, Shakespeare pinned the loss on poor Henry VI:

“Whose state so many had the managing, That they lost France and made his England bleed.”

Chasing buffaloes (and my comments)

Recent wrangling over normalisation, writes Abdel-Moneim Said, once again betrays the confusion of means with ends

Al-Ahram Weekly (Egypt)
8-14 October 2009

I am an American history buff and in the course of my readings I have been particularly drawn to attempts to explain why the Native Americans were defeated and confined to "reservations" by settlers hailing from Europe. One of the most commonly cited explanations holds that the American Indian tribes were divided, technologically backward, poor and superstitious by the standards of Western civilisation which had begun to bourgeon in the period following its discovery of the New World. However, I was particularly struck by another explanation which focussed on the military conduct of the tribes. According to this perspective, European settlers followed the military customs in practice in Europe, which entailed building forts and fortified camps from which they observed the hostile environment outside. The tribes, accustomed to open warfare, laid siege to these camps in the hope of forcing those inside to surrender out of fear or hunger. However, in those dull intervals of waiting, the besiegers would often catch sight of a passing herd of wild buffalo and break off the siege in order to chase after the precious quarry. These moments of relief, naturally, afforded those inside the camp the opportunity to bring in food and ammunition and to send out messages for help to other camps.

The moral here is crystal clear: departing from the original purpose, however tempting the lures, puts original goals at risk. I have frequently related this explanation of the defeat of Native Americans to my students and to those with whom I was working towards a common goal. Most recently I found myself repeating it to my colleagues in Al-Ahram who have been desperate to respond to certain political attacks which have often defied the rules of propriety and been gratuitously crude.

To me the goals have always been as clear as daylight. They are to restore Al-Ahram to its "natural" place in our country's intellectual, cultural and political sphere; to preserve the fiscal equilibrium which has been regained through many hard sacrifices; and to raise the performance of its employees to a standard commensurate with an eminent international institution. I was determined not to allow myself, or Al-Ahram, to be drawn into a media fray meant to give us a "break" from the "succession" issue by dredging up another no less familiar one — "normalisation" — with the purpose of settling old scores, obstructing the aspirations of Al-Ahram or racking up electoral campaign points. In all events, I have addressed the subject of "normalisation" innumerable times over the past three decades, in newspaper articles, on television programmes and in many public debates. Fortunately, the vast majority of my fellow "Ahramists" did not fall into the trap. They did not rush off to hunt buffaloes. In all my meetings with my colleagues we could focus on what was needed in order to achieve the goals enumerated above.

Nevertheless, during the recent clamour over normalisation I could not help but remark the sweeping nature in which some of my fellow journalists treated it. According to one commentator, the steps that have already been taken towards normalisation reflected a "backslide" in "Egyptian patriotism". Another lashed out against what he regarded as a flagrant contradiction between the current trend towards religiosity in Egyptian society and Egyptians' tendency to ignore a matter no less serious than normalisation, which is the relentless Judaisation of Jerusalem. What such statements have in common is that they take us to the brink of an insight without going further. They fail to continue along the path of philosophical and intellectual enquiry. They do not ask how and why this or that occurred, let alone probe grey areas in order to untangle the jumble of threads. In short, the clamour concealed the failure of our intellectual community to delve beneath the surface and investigate the roots of crucial questions, foremost among them the relation of war, conflict and armed violence to politics and the peaceful use of power.

This matter should have been given priority from the outset. For, as is the case with the question of the relationship between religion and the state, failure to solve it perpetuates society's anxieties and tensions, rendering it more vulnerable, making the public easy prey for the politicians' arts of toying with feelings for campaign purposes or personal fame or even to sabotage the wheels of progress and change. No one expressed the relationship between war and politics more succinctly than the Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz who, in his famous military treatise On War, wrote that war was a continuation of politics by other means. He held that a tactical military victory is per force a temporary victory if it is not crowned by a more comprehensive political aim to make it a strategic victory, and that the achievement of a political end is the chief aim of war, which is only a means towards that end, for means cannot be isolated from their ends.

It follows that the purpose of war is to bend the will of the adversary, by military or political means, to the will of the other party. The notion is certainly not alien to Egyptian and Arab thought. But as familiar as Clausewitz may be in intellectual and military circles here, rarely has his concept of the relationship between war and politics been put into practice in treating such "core" Arab questions as the Arab-Israeli conflict. When it has it proved not only an attempt on the part of the intellectuals to evade probing the roots of the problem itself but also an evasion of the task of applying one's mind to translating theoretical principles into strategy. After all, war and violence or politics and diplomacy are not necessarily things to be glorified for their own sake; rather, they should be regarded as alternative ways to "engage" with the enemy in order to achieve strategic aims. But perhaps it is better to look at the matter another way. It is no longer possible to resolve international disputes solely through the use of military force. While some political or strategic aims can only be achieved through war, the display of might and exacting revenge are not aims that legitimise recourse to war. Hence, it is impossible to separate war from peace; they are two sides of the same coin, mutually complementary states.We can only explain the "decline in Egyptian patriotism" and the "negligence of the pious with respect to Jerusalem" in terms of the disgraceful negligence on the part of intellectuals with regard to such crucial issues as war and diplomacy, violence and peace, development and conflict. The Egyptian public should not be corralled into journalistic battles or media wars. They should not be tempted to chase "buffaloes" that have no bearing on what it takes to liberate occupied Arab territory. The history of the past half century testifies to how successful or not the Arabs have been in dealing — both peacefully and violently — with an Israeli adversary that is undeniably hostile and that has worked relentlessly against Egyptian and Arab strategic interests.

Throughout the 1950s and 1960s the premise was that the Arab-Israeli conflict was not about borders but an existential conflict. On the basis of this premise, the military instrument reigned as the critical factor between the two sides until the 1967 war, which ended in the defeat of the Arab armies and the Israeli occupation of Arab territories for years to come. The tables began to turn in 1970 with the arrival to power of Anwar El-Sadat, who set into motion a new phase of military preparations. However, preparing for an offensive war took considerable time and effort, especially since Egypt did not produce its own arms but relied almost exclusively on outside powers (the USSR, to be precise). Under such conditions, the procuring of arms was inevitably subordinated to political considerations between Egypt and its suppliers at a time when international and regional balances of power favoured Israel and when the Egyptian economy was in severe straits.

Egypt's aim in the 1973 War was not to eliminate Israel. Rather, it was to break the Israeli will to make war and propel them to the negotiating table. On another level, it aimed to destroy the myth of Israeli invincibility and persuade the Israelis that they would never be able to live in peace by relying on military force. President Sadat's stroke of genius to achieve this end was a "limited offensive war" that would entail crossing the Suez Canal, breaking through the Bar Lev line and occupying the eastern bank of the canal to a depth of 15 to 18 kilometres, and causing as much attrition and damage as possible to Israeli land and air forces. The scheme brought into play another well-conceived tactic, which was to keep Israeli forces mobilised for as long as possible. Israel's demographic structure meant that Israel had to keep 20 per cent of its population (about three million at the time) mobilised during wartime. Such a ratio is unsustainable for any long period of time because of the enormous economic attrition it wreaks. The longer the war lasted, the more Israel would feel compelled to ask for a ceasefire or call for the intervention of international forces.

This war thus proved the engine to liberate our land. It is useful to take a look at the goals of the October War as outlined in Sadat's letter of 5 October to the General Commander of Egyptian Forces, Ahmed Ismail. These aims were, first, to break the stagnation in the peace process; second, to cause the greatest amount of moral and material damage to the armed forces of the enemy; and, three, to liberate the Sinai in phases, as the capacities of Egyptian forces permit. We see the political dimension of the 6 October 1973 War again in Sadat's letter to US secretary of state Henry Kissinger on 7 October 1973 (conveyed via a secret channel arranged between Sadat's national security adviser, Hafez Ismail, and president Nixon in February 1973), which clarifies the Egyptian position on war and peace as follows:

• Egypt's chief aim is not to conclude partial settlements but to achieve peace in the Middle East.
• Egypt does not intend to deepen the engagement or expand the scope of confrontation. (This point came under heavy criticism when taken out of context from Sadat's original strategy!)
• Israel must withdraw from all occupied territories. When it does, Egypt will be willing to participate in a UN peace conference of any acceptable form, whether under the auspices of the secretary- general, the permanent members of the Security Council, or any other representative body.
• Egypt agrees to the freedom of navigation in the Straits of Tiran and it accepts, as a guarantee, the presence of an international force for a limited period.
  

Sadat's purpose was to turn the Egyptian military achievement into the best possible political advantages that Egypt could gain under a military situation characterised by parity. After the war, there followed the talks at the 101st kilometre line, the first disengagement treaty of January 1974, and the second disengagement treaty of September 1975. In retrospect Sadat's decision to travel to Jerusalem should surprise only as a daring application of Clausewitz's principle regarding the complementariness of military and political means of engagement. On 9 November 1977 Sadat declared before the People's Assembly, "I am ready to go to the ends of the earth in quest of a just peace... Indeed, I am even prepared to go to the Israeli Knesset, because we do not fear peace, nor do we fear confrontation with Israel."

As a consequence of this decision Egypt was plunged into another battle no less ferocious than the October war, even if it differed in quality. This was the battle for peace. Sadat's visit to Jerusalem put paid, before the eyes of the entire world, to the notion that Israel is surrounded by people bent on its annihilation. In the course of a few hours Sadat brought down the powerful propaganda wall that Israel had erected over three decades. Then he followed through with intensive efforts that, over the following years, brought the peace treaty with Israel on 26 March 1979, the liberation of the whole of the Sinai in 1982 and the return of Taba through international arbitration in 1989.

Many Arabs and Egyptians have never read Clausewitz. Among those who have, few understood him, and among those who understood him, even fewer put his ideas into practice. Perhaps this is because this takes moral, mental and physical energy, when it is so much easier to point the finger of accusation at others. As a result the situation remains pending in the Golan, and in Palestine the sense of disappointment is greater than ever. It is not just an appreciation of the relationship between war and politics that has been lacking in recent days. The roots of other problems have been overlooked or skilfully concealed.

Mark says:

In comparing the Native Americans who encountered the European settlers to the Arabs of today in their encounters with Israel, Abdel-Moneim Said uses an old and, in many cases, largely discredited theory about some of the reasons for the success of the settlers over Native Americans. The tribes were not necessarily "divided, technologically backward, poor and superstitious by the standards of Western civilisation." One must start with the fact that as many as 90 percent of the inhabitants of the North, Central, and South Americas died from diseases brought by Europeans — primarily smallpox and influenza. For more on the extent and levels of civilization of the Native Americans prior to and after the European invasions, I would highly recommend starting with 1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus, by Charles C. Mann, and Guns Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, by Jared M. Diamond. Both books are, by the way, pleasures to read and mostly free of academese.

Be that as it may, Abdel-Moneim Said is trying to make a point about strategy versus tactics and what I would call the "attention deficit disorder" (ADD) that plagues much of the Arab world today in general, and Said's Egypt in particular. In view of his past publications, I'm sure he would have come up with another equally apt analogy as "chasing buffalos" to illustrate his points about many Arab and Egyptian intellectuals and normalization with Israel.

Said alludes to the fact that 30 years after Egypt and Israel signed their peace treaty there are still many Egyptians who have not come to terms with its reality. This goes beyond ADD and should be described by whatever psychological term you may choose for someone who cannot cope with reality.

At the same time — again, 30 years later — there are still some Israelis and some supporters of Israel who believe that Sadat's strategy of negotiations with Israel and signing the peace treaty was nothing more than just the first stage in the "strategy of stages" to get Israel to withdraw to the pre-Six Day War boundaries in preparation for the final and fatal assault on Israel. I'm sure that some or many, if not most of the Egyptians that Said analyzes in his article would wish that this were so — even as they have disparaged and condemned and cursed Sadat for signing the peace treaty with Israel.

The degrees and extent of these respective inabilities to come to terms with reality may differ between and among Egyptians and Israelis but the term fits for both.