Bullseye

Photo by Simon A. Eugster. 30 January 2012.

The advent of the bow and arrow revolutionized warfare, and this devastating missile weapon proved a decisive factor in battles, such as Agincourt in 1415. But mastering archery was a trial-and-error process, punctuated by humiliation, frustration, and unintentional perforation. The western world owes a great debt to a little-known Roman soldier named Davidicus Marcus Grammicus Bacchus Auricus –known to his friends as “Dave”- for a major tactical advance.

Mustered into the formidable Roman Army circa 300 B.C., Dave was assigned to the fledgling archery unit. At their first engagement against the Gauls, the archers were assembled in front of the other soldiers, and arranged six rows deep. As the blue-painted faces of their fearsome foes rose into view over a hillside, the commander of the archery unit, Imbecilius Maximus, gave the order. “Ready. Shoot!” Notice the conspicuous absence of the word “aim.” As they were trained, the obedient archers pointed their bows straight ahead and let loose. Dave, fortunate to be in the sixth row, was alarmed when most of the preceding five rows toppled down dead. The remaining dozen or so archers turned and fled, realizing that bows and arrows were ineffective in hand-to-hand combat against war clubs and battleaxes. Their comrades behind them, though slightly better armed, followed suit.

After a nearly identical fiasco a week later, Dave approached his confused commander with an idea. To reduce the 90% casualty rate, as well as the terrible morale of the archers, Dave suggested that instead of firing their weapons straight ahead, and usually into the backs of the men in front of them, the archers might try to aim their shots into the air, bypassing the Roman archers and hitting the enemy instead.

But true to his name, Imbecilius Maximus instructed his men to point their weapons skyward 180°. After reaching apogee, the projectiles simply plummeted back down, resulting in deaths, injuries, and several instances of blindness.

“With all due respect, Captain, I think that you misunderstood me,” Dave told his commander, with as much deference as he could. “We should try arcing the shots, so that the arrows come down on our foes, not us.”

Trigonometry was not the captain’s strong point –in fact, nothing was- so at the start of the next engagement, his archers fired their arrows at a 135º angle. Dozens of twangs sounded, followed by an ominous whistling as the wooden shafts sped airborne toward their targets . . .then landed harmlessly 10 feet behind them. The Gauls grinned ghoulishly. Then charged.

          

Even the foot soldiers and cavalry took a beating. The emperor was furious. Imbecilius was confused. Dave was scared. But he tried one last suggestion.

            

“I propose a slightly sharper angle,” he told his beleaguered captain. 

“Like this,” he demonstrated a 120° arc.

           

 Imbecilius was impressed, and also amenable.

            “Do you think that the five remaining archers can manage that?” he asked Dave.

            Dave scratched his head. “The five remaining. Yeah, about that . . .”

            The captain quickly recruited –or shanghaied- 35 new archers, whom he tasked Dave with training. At the next battle with the intrepid blue barbarians, the archers let loose a deadly volley –and a perfect 120° arc. 39 of the attackers fell dead –ironically, Dave missed- and the second salvo took out another 30. Then the archers stepped aside to make way for the cavalry and the foot soldiers, who dispatched another fourscore of the stunned enemy.

            Dave stood on the bloodstained grass, proud of his ingenuity. He had saved the day. If he had been paying closer attention, he might have saved himself from a lone Gaul skirmisher, who snuck up behind Dave and clobbered him with a spiked mace.

            Sadly, Captain Imbecilius Maximus garnered all the glory. He was promoted to Centurion, but shortly thereafter, killed in battle.

            If you harbor any lingering doubts as to the veracity of my claim that Davidicus Marcus Grammicus Bacchus Auricus was the father of modern archery, look it up in Gibbons’ Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume I, Part III. (You’re not really going to bother, are you)?