CLOSE
Original image
Wikimedia Commons

Ruse of War: 6 Sneaky But Brilliant Strategies

Original image
Wikimedia Commons

War can be tricky—especially when done correctly. It's called Ruse of War, the act of clever tactic or deception on the battlefield. Think Trojan Horse, but less ridiculous. (“After a 10-year siege, the Greeks have given up and disappeared and look—they felt so bad they totally left us a present!”)

Here are six commanders who were dealt bad hands, but bluffed and ended up flush. Some of the more ancient accounts are, of course, tough to verify. But even if time has padded these stories into legends, it doesn’t make the tactical strategies any less astounding.

1. Persians Without Noses, a Threat Still Poses.

Around 500 years BC, Darius the Great was sweeping through Asia and Africa, conquering everything. He was spread thin, so revolts popped up everywhere. Darius and his armies were able to stamp them all down, except one: Babylon. Babylon was so well barricaded that Darius, though he sat outside with his armies for a year and a half, couldn’t get in. Enter Persian noble Zopyrus, and his brilliant, disgusting plan to take Babylon.

One morning the Babylonians rose to see the high ranking Persian at their gates, soaked in his own blood, whipped, with his ears and nose hacked off. He screamed that Darius had done this to him for failing to capture their city, and that now his rage was so great he wished to defect and help Babylon defeat the brutal Darius.

And … they totally bought it. Zopyrus had cut off his own nose and ears and arranged his own whipping, all with Darius’ knowledge. Zopyrus Rhinotmetus (no-nose) quickly rose in the ranks of the Babylonian army, and just as quickly weakened the city's defenses. Darius soon recaptured the city, and reportedly festooned Zopyrus with great titles and wealth.

2. The Most Awesome Tea-Partier Ever

In the 3rd century, China was a mess. There were three different kingdoms—the Shu, Wei, and Wu—fighting to gain control over all of China. Chu-ko Liang was a valuable, high ranking official of the Shu people. One of his many responsibilities was to protect the city of Hsi from the oncoming Wei invasion. But he didn’t have enough soldiers to match the Wei onslaught, nor was Hsi fortified enough to wait out a siege. So, Liang got clever.

He opened all the gates of his city. He sent his best soldiers high into the mountains, out of sight. He ordered the people of his town to carry on as normal. Then, as the scouts for the Wei army approached, he climbed to the ramparts of the wall, burned some incense, had tea and played his lute. The Wei knew Liang was no idiot, in fact he had a reputation for being quite slippery. They suspected a trap, and went around the city, leaving it unharmed. As they skirted the town, they walked into the ambush Liang had previously set in the mountains, and were defeated.

3. Cowards at Cowpens

Militia men of the American Revolution weren’t trained soldiers. They were farmers and family men called to take up arms against the British. They were renowned for, well … not knowing what they were doing and running away a lot. At the Battle of Cowpens, Colonel Dan Morgan used this inglorious reputation to kick some Redcoat pantaloons.

Morgan’s regiments weren’t made up only of hapless militia men. He also had trained soldiers and riflemen. Taking position on and around a small hill at the border of South and North Carolina, Morgan put a line of trained shooters in front of a ragtag line of militia men. The British began a front assault, and were driven back by the sharpshooters, who then got up and ran behind the hill. The British charged again, this time against the scraggly militia men. The militia men appeared extremely weak when they each only fired two rounds, turned and ran. Bolstered by the retreat of the ill-trained American cowards, the British charged. Their line lost its cohesion on the hill, and they ran straight into the waiting fire of all the rest of Morgan’s men, including the ones that had gone around the back of the British. The British premature belief that they were winning led to them being completely enveloped by enemy fire, with over 900 Redcoats killed or captured.

4. “A SWORD FOR THE LORD!”

To defend their homeland, Gideon the Israelite raised a volunteer army of 32,000 to battle the Midianites (interlopers who were trying to move into Israelite turf) according to the Biblical account. But he only needed 10,000. Actually, the most powerful part of his ruse required significantly less. Gideon had 300 of his soldiers surround the Midianite’s valley encampment on three sides, every side but the east (that’s where he put the other 9700, waiting in ambush). He equipped them with hundreds of horns (the kind individual armies sounded before charging), torches, and incendiary pots. Then late at night, all at once, he had the 300 blow the war trumpets, light the torches, hurl the pots into the encampment and scream, “'A sword for the Lord and for Gideon!” The Midianites had no idea how many violent religious zealots were descending on them, but if the horns were any indication, it was all of them. They panicked and ran to the only side of the valley without torches and terror, the east. There they were promptly slaughtered by soldiers, who were waiting with their swords for the Lord and Gideon. 

5. Bore Them to Death

Philip II of Macedon had conquered enough ground by 338 BC to establish the state of Macedonia. Many parts of the newly conquered kingdom didn’t like being conquered, particularly Athens and Thebes, which raised 50,000 rebels to fight off Philip’s 32,000 trained soldiers at the Battle of Chaeronea. Philip was outnumbered, but his men were professionals, and the rebels were angry countrymen spoiling for a fight.

The first thing Philip did was nothing. He took an interminable time to set up his lines for the battle as the rebels waited for him to make the first move. Meanwhile they stood, their bloodlust cooling as their skin baked in the sun. Then the battle began. The rebels had staked out a highly desirable position that Philip needed to remove them from. So he sent his men into battle, and then had them retreat almost immediately, as if unable to bear the rebel attack. The rebels chased them back to their “line,” not noticing that line was slowly moving, and so were they. Soon they were drawn completely away from the high ground they’d occupied. Philip kept doing this until the rebels were exhausted, bereft of spirit, and in open air. His trained soldiers then quickly stopped playing with their food and killed half the rebel army.

6. “P’ang Chuan Dies Under This Tree.”

Meanwhile in 4th century BC China,  the Han dynasty was under attack. The King of Ch’i sent an army westward to help the Han army resist the Wei. It wasn’t considered that much of a help. The Ch’i had a reputation for being total whiny pantywaists and for desertion, weakness, and all around lameness. When the commander of the Wei army, P’ang Chuang, heard they were coming, he went home for a vacation.

This unit of Ch’i was a little different, though. Marching with them as an advisor was Sun Pin, a descendant of Sun-Tzu. You might have heard of Sun-Tzu—he wrote a little book called The Art of War, the oldest, and arguably the most brilliant, military treatise in the world. Like Dan Morgan, Sun Pin knew that a bad reputation can be a good thing. The Wei believed the Ch’i army was full of weaklings who got sick or died or deserted. So Sun Pin gratified that belief. Each night the army marched, they lit fewer and fewer campfires. When the Wei saw that the Ch’i had lost half their pathetic army, they smugly settled on a quick direct attack, using only light infantry.

The legend goes, when the Ch’i set up their ambush, the spring for their trap was a message written on a tree: “P’ang Chuan Dies Under This Tree.” P’ang Chuan was called to the tree in the dark, and lit a torch to read it. This triggered a hailstorm of arrows from the Ch’i, an onslaught that the Wei were not prepared to handle. P’ang Chuan slit his own throat under the tree in his defeat. 

This article was sourced mainly from Duncan & Nofi's Book, Victory and Deceit.

Original image
Hamilton Broadway
arrow
Food
A Hamilton-Themed Cookbook is Coming
Original image
Hamilton Broadway

Fans of Broadway hit Hamilton will soon be able to dine like the Founding Fathers: As Eater reports, a new Alexander Hamilton-inspired cookbook is slated for release in fall 2017.

Cover art for Laura Kumin's forthcoming cookbook
Amazon

Called The Hamilton Cookbook: Cooking, Eating, and Entertaining in Hamilton’s World, the recipe collection by author Laura Kumin “takes you into Hamilton’s home and to his table, with historical information, recipes, and tips on how you can prepare food and serve the food that our founding fathers enjoyed in their day,” according to the Amazon description. It also recounts Hamilton’s favorite dishes, how he enjoyed them, and which ingredients were used.

Recipes included are cauliflower florets two ways, fried sausages and apples, gingerbread cake, and apple pie. (Cue the "young, scrappy, and hungry" references.) The cookbook’s official release is on November 21—but until then, you can stave off your appetite for all things Hamilton-related by downloading the musical’s new app.

arrow
History
The Man Who First Made Childbirth Pain-Free

The Wood Library Museum of Anesthesiology in Schaumburg, Illinois—a sprawling exurb of Chicago—is home to an obstetric treasure: a plaster cast of a newborn infant’s head. The bust shows the trauma of birth, the infant's head squeezed to a blunted point. The cast was made on January 19, 1847 by Sir James Y. Simpson in Edinburgh, Scotland, for a very special reason: It commemorates the first time that modern anesthesia was used to ease the pain of childbirth.

Simpson was not only a titled 1st Baronet but a gifted obstetrician. At age 28, he became Professor of Medicine and Midwifery at the University of Edinburgh. Many his senior in the medical community thought Simpson was an upstart—in fact, it's said that his middle name, "Young," was originally a derogatory taunt by his elders. In response to their jeers, Simpson adopted it for good.

Simpson initially used ether as an anesthetic in deliveries, but he soon began looking for an alternative anesthetic because of the gas's "disagreeable and very persistent smell" and the fact that it was irritating to the patients' lungs. His experimentation with chloroform—invented in the United States in 1831 by physician Samuel Guthrie—began in November 1847, with a brandy bottle and some post-dinner party research. The story goes that he presented the filled bottle to his guests to inhale. The next morning, the party were all found on the floor unconscious.

Scholars say this dramatic version of events is likely overblown, but the story illustrates the dangers of discovery. As Simpson's experiments continued, one neighbor and fellow doctor reportedly [PDF] came around to his home at 52 Queen Street every morning "just to inquire if every-one was still alive."

A drawing said to depict the effects of liquid chloroform on James Y. Simpson and his friends.
A drawing said to depict the effects of liquid chloroform on James Y. Simpson and his friends.

Eventually, Simpson got the formulation right with some help from his assistants, who were also local chemists. Over time, the delivery method also improved: Instead of a whiff of fumes from a brandy bottle, doctors developed an apparatus that resembled a glass hookah with long tubes attached to a mask. Later in the century, a soft flannel-covered, metal-handled cup or pouch placed over the nose and mouth of the patient was the preferred delivery method. The doctor—hopefully competent—doled out the anesthetic drop by drop. This method sought to reduce the risk of overdose deaths, which were a significant concern early on.

Simpson was the first to discover the anesthetic properties of chloroform, and soon began to use the drug to help women in labor. The medical community applauded his achievements, as did many women of childbearing age, but some Scottish Calvinists (and members of other religions) were not so happy. Genesis 3:16 was very clear on the matter of women suffering in childbirth as punishment for eating fruit from the Tree of Knowledge: "To the woman he said, I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children." For those who took the Bible literally, easing a woman’s pain was anathema.

Some reports from the time describe the divide between medicine and religion on this issue as an all-out revolt, while other accounts claim the religious response to anesthetizing "the curse of Eve" has been overblown by history. In general, it's fair to say the church wasn't thrilled about the use of anesthesia in labor. When Simpson introduced his discovery in 1847, the Scottish Calvinist Church proclaimed it a "Satanic invention." Pregnant women were reportedly warned by preachers: Use this “devilish treatment” and your baby will be denied a baptism.

Simpson disagreed—he didn't think women should have to suffer the pain of childbirth. He made both a scientific and biblical argument for anesthesia during labor. In a pamphlet, Answers to the Religious Objections Advanced Against the Employment of Anaesthetic Agents in Midwifery and Surgery and Obstetrics, Simpson pointed to Genesis and the deep sleep of Adam while his rib was being removed as being evidence "of our Creator himself using means to save poor human nature from the unnecessary endurance of physical pain." He went further, declaring that labor pains were caused by anatomical and biological forces (a small pelvis and a big baby caused uterine contractions)—not a result of the curse of Eve.

Public opinion changed after Queen Victoria took chloroform (applied by Dr. John Snow, famous for his work related to cholera) for the birth of her eighth child, Leopold, in 1853. The queen wrote in her diary: "Dr Snow administered that blessed chloroform and the effect was soothing, quieting and delightful beyond measure." Her final child, Princess Beatrice, was also born with the aid of anesthesia. Clearly, she approved.

Edinburgh is still proud of Simpson and of its special place in the history of anesthesia. From August 16 to 18, 2017, the Edinburgh Anesthesia Research and Education Fund will host the 31st Annual Anesthesia Festival, featuring lectures on anesthesia and pain medicine as well as drinks receptions, a private viewing of a Caravaggio, recitation of the works of Robert Burns (Scotland's most revered poet), and bagpiping.

According to the event website, the past success of the festival has led to moving the whole thing to a larger space to accommodate demand. Apparently there are a great number of people with a passion for medical history—or at least, a great deal of gratitude for the development of anesthesia.

SECTIONS

arrow
LIVE SMARTER
More from mental floss studios