Alexander caring for the wounded and the dead

Battlefields always revolve around numbers and tactical moves. The human aspect is generally left out, simply because it is an inevitable by-product of war. Modern warfare is far more clinical, and statistics of the number of dead and wounded are kept pretty accurately.

In antiquity, the situation was entirely different. A person’s life was of little value. Men died in battle, women died in childbirth, and if they managed to escape that fate, they could fall victim to raids from a neighboring town and finally die as a slave. Not the happiest prospect for any being, unless you belonged to the upper class of society. But still.

The Greeks considered that dying on the battlefield was an honorable death, but they were not ready to sacrifice their lives for that sole purpose.

When I watched Oliver Stone’s picture of the aftermath of the Battle of Gaugamela with hundreds and thousands of corpses spread over the battlefield, I remembered a similar shot of Atlanta in the movie Gone with the Wind. In both scenarios, I wondered about the smell of the decaying bodies of men and beasts, the puddles of blood and excrement, the buzzing of the flies, and the vultures uttering their guttural screams. There is nothing glorious left on a battlefield after the victory is claimed by one party.

Following Alexander on his major confrontations at the Granicus, at Issus, at Gaugamela, and on the Hydaspes, our sources from antiquity wind up producing the strangest figures when it comes to counting the dead. Numbers on either side have been distorted. They were either to make the losses on the enemy’s side much higher than they were or to reduce the casualties on Alexander’s side to a questionable minimum. It is impossible to verify any of the information that has reached us through Arrian, Plutarch, Diodorus, Curtius, or Justin, more so because it was penned down centuries after the facts.

As to the wounded, it seems they were not accounted for, or only in exceptional cases. Counting the dead on a battlefield did not equate to the ultimate number of casualties. Many of the wounded were bound to die afterward. 

Hygiene is a foreign word in antiquity, and if there was any basic knowledge, it was a far cry from our modern concept. We should remember, however, that Alexander had a great interest in medicine and learned from Aristotle everything he could. Healing illnesses with plants and specific concoctions was one aspect but stitching the soldiers’ cuts back together and cleaning their wounds was another.

If we consider the many cases of trepanation that were successfully carried out since the Neolithic, we must admit that the knowledge available in antiquity is far beyond what we might think. Philip, Alexander’s father, lost an eye and survived the operation quite well. So did Antigonus Monophthalmus. Speaking of eyes, it is known that cataract surgeries were performed as early as 4,000 BC by the Egyptians. The list of medical wonders is probably endless, but the point I am trying to make is that the physicians in Alexander’s army were far more knowledgeable than we may believe. Cleanliness certainly was one of the main requirements. 

Early last century, for instance, it was essential to wash a bleeding wound with water and soap. This has been done for centuries and may well have been applied by the caretakers in antiquity. In my own youth, when a wound was infected, it was to be soaked repeatedly in hot water and soda. The ancients may well have used something similar to soda. The technique of cauterization was known long before the early trappers in the American West, and that knowledge was inherited from earlier generations. A hot knife, dagger, or even a sword would seal the wound and kill the bacteria at the same time.

It has been reported that Alexander visited the wounded after the battle. Going from one soldier to the next, he listened to their report, how they had been injured, acknowledged their courage, and showed them respect. I am sure that the king checked their wounds and how they were treated. The caretakers and physicians were watched closely by Alexander because he, himself, had considerable knowledge of healthcare and medicine. In the end, he gave his soldiers and the caretakers a huge boost in morale. There cannot have been a better medicine than that. In the end, this may well be the secret to justify the low rates of mortality among the Macedonian troops.

What about the wounded enemies, one might wonder? Well, I don’t think that the Macedonians were inclined to show much pity, if any, to their adversaries. They were not in for half measures, just as Alexander wasn’t. For them, the enemy had to be eliminated. I would doubt if any of the wounded were left behind with some breath in their lungs. 

When the enemy, however, asked to retrieve their dead to give them a proper burial, Alexander did not refuse. We’ll remember how he even sent the body of Darius III back to his mother to accomplish the funeral according to Persian customs. On an earlier occasion, at Issus, the king had also given the Queen Mother permission to bury the Persians from the battlefield. The recovery of wounded enemy soldiers is never mentioned.

The soldiers who died in Alexander’s service always received an appropriate burial with full honors. After the Battle of the Granicus, Alexander instructed Lysippos to create a bronze memorial for the 25 cavalrymen who had fallen on the battlefield. For several centuries, it stood in Dion, the sanctuary of Macedonia.

The list of lavish and expensive burials is a long one. I relied on Frank Holt’s account, as mentioned in his book “The Treasures of Alexander the Great”. For the soldiers as a group, there was a burial at Issus in 333 BC, Ecbatana in 330 BC, on the Polytimetus River in 329 BC, and Sangala in 326 BC. Personal and more elaborated funerals took place in honor of his generals/companions, Hector in Egypt in 331 BC, Nicanor in Alexandria Ariana in 330 BC, Philip and Erigyius in Sogdiana in 327 BC, Demaratus in 327 BC, and Coenus on the Hydaspes River in 326 BC. Also to be mentioned is the gymnosophist and sophist Calanus from Taxila, who immolated himself in Susa in 324 BC. Last but certainly not least was the expensive funeral pyre that Alexander had built for his dearest Hephaistion who died in Ecbatana in 324 BC.

Clearly, nothing was too good for the dead.

[The picture of the battlefield is from Oliver Stones' movie Alexander]