Few armies in history have a reputation as
fearsome as those of the Mongol Empire. During the height of the empire, the Mongol
Horde carried a well-earned reputation for invincibility, inflicting devastation upon
enemy armies and cities. So thorough was this carnage that many writers
who experienced it firsthand could only describe it as a punishment sent by Heaven: for how
else could one explain how so many cities and armies fell so quickly? In this video, we will attempt to explain
various aspects of the medieval Mongol military, and provide insight as to what made the horsemen
of the Great Khan so successful, including the overview of the tactics, logistics, siegecraft,
recruitment and more! Did you know that we have a whole podcast
dedicated to the History of the Mongols? Because we do! And you can find the link to it in the description
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for their horse archers, the byproduct of their lifestyle. In the great grass seas of the Eurasian steppe,
the Mongols and other nomads spent their entire lives on horseback, learning to ride before
they could walk in order to manage their great herds of sheep, goat, oxen, camels, and horses. A lifetime in the saddle in the often-harsh
conditions of Inner Asia left the nomads excellent riders with incredible endurance, able to
endure hardships beyond that of sedentary peoples. Each Mongol learned to shoot and construct
their bows and arrows from a young age, beginning with a child’s bow to hunt marmots and small
mammals, gradually increasing the strength of the bow until able to master the powerful,
composite recurve war bow. Highly mobile, deadly at range, and strategically
swift compared to infantry armies, the horse archer, when used properly, could be the master
of the medieval battlefield. Many aspects of the above description of nomadic
life and warfare as mounted archers, are easily recognizable to a scholar of earlier nomadic
steppe peoples like the Xiongnu and Scythians. This Chinese description of the Xiongnu in
the 2nd century BC is just as applicable to the Mongols well over a thousand years later:
“The little boys start out by learning to ride sheep and shoot birds and rats with a
bow and arrow, and when they get a little older they shoot foxes and hares, which are
used for food. Thus, all the young men are able to use a
bow and act as armed cavalry in time of war. It is their custom to herd their flocks in
times of peace and make their living by hunting, but in periods of crisis they take up arms
and go off on plundering and marauding expeditions. This seems to be their inborn nature. For long-range weapons they use bows and arrows,
and swords and spears at close range. If the battle is going well for them they
will advance, but if not, they will retreat, for they do not consider it a disgrace to
run away. Their only concern is self-advantage, and
they know nothing of propriety or righteousness.” For these earlier peoples, many of the same
basic tenets of mounted warfare were utilized by both them and the Mongols, such as hit
and run tactics, envelopment, and the infamous feigned retreat. Contemporaries to these earlier peoples remark
on their endurance and hardiness, their skill as horsemen, and the danger of their arrows. There are however, several aspects in which
the Mongol warrior found himself better equipped than his forebears, in the form of several
technological advancements to their tack and weapons. The Scythians, for instance, had only soft
padded saddles for their mounts. Essentially two leather pads held to the horse
with a girth strap, it provided minimal shock absorption for the rider and little for him
to maintain his place beyond his thighs. The Xiongnu and Huns were better supplied
with the development of the treed saddle, a sturdy wooden frame cushioned for the rider. It was a more secure base for the archer to
shoot from, which also made it more difficult to unhorse him. Leaning into the front of these saddles lifted
them, allowing the hips to absorb more of the shocks from riding and reduce jostling
from the horse’s movement. What these early riders lacked, from the Xiongnu
and Huns to the Parthians and the Romans, was the paired stirrup. When the stirrup emerged is a matter of controversy-
the earliest stirrups were made of materials like wood which do not preserve well archaeologically. But it seems likely the stirrup, in a form
easily recognizable today, was developed around the third century AD in northern China or
Mongolia, spreading west via Turkic tribes, arriving in Europe with the Avars by the sixth
century. Stirrups provided several advantages: they
provided a much more secure platform, allowing the rider to raise himself in the saddle for
extra leverage and reach in close combat, or for the horse archer to stand and use his
leg and core muscles to help draw heavier bows. Further, the knees could better absorb the
jolts from the horse’s movement and guide the horse in the heat of battle. Outside of combat the benefits were more significant,
particularly for the nomad. Needing to be on horseback all day while tending
their herds, the stirrup helps take pressure off of the horse’s back. A skilled rider on a strong horse could now
travel further and longer. When coupled with multiple remounts, the distance
horsemen could march rose dramatically. The famed weapon of the horse archer was their
composite bows. Rather than a self-bow, such as the Welsh
longbow, which is made from a single piece of wood, the composite bow was made from layers
of wood, horn and sinew. The horn and sinew increased the strength
of the bow, transferring more energy to the arrow. Most composite bows of the steppe world were
also recurved, the “ears” of the bows storing yet more energy while providing leverage
to aid the archer. Whereas a self-bow’s strength can only be
increased by making the bow larger or the archer stronger, the recurve composite bow
remains relatively short without sacrificing power. The shorter bow made it more maneuverable
on horseback, allowing Mongol warriors to even travel with heavier and lighter bows
on them as the situation required. The composite bow was however in danger of
warping from prolonged exposure to humidity; not an issue in the generally dry steppes
of Central Asia, but in wetter climates dangerous to the bow’s health. To offset this, bows of the Xiongnu and Huns
had the ends of their limbs strengthened with bone plates to reduce warping, but this made
the bow heavier and decreased arrow velocity. In contrast, Mongol bows of the conquest era
lacked bone plates, transferring more energy to the arrows and granting them greater penetrative
power and range, but making them more susceptible to climate changes, perhaps accounting in
part for reduced Mongol military effectiveness in South East Asia and Europe. Despite some modern claims, the Mongol conquests
were not a result of a technological innovation in horse archery, as the technology itself
had changed little once these above-mentioned developments were completed by the 4-5th centuries
AD. For that, we must look to the military leadership
of the Mongols and their innovations upon existing steppe traditions. Beyond these technological changes, the Mongol
army of the 13th century shared many traits with steppe armies of the preceding centuries. The method of organizing armies using the
decimal system was present among the Xiongnu: the highest commanders led divisions nominally
of 10,000, while the smallest were squads of just 10 men who operated together. Traditionally this system was based within
the tribe, but it was the innovation of Chinggis Khan to largely break down the tribes of Mongolia
and almost entirely replace them with the decimal system, removing minor chiefs and
Khans from power to ensure no alternatives to his rule. Earlier steppe confederations like the Xiongnu
generally had an important imperial bodyguard and retinue which often provided a number
of the major leaders and generals of the empire. For the Mongols, this was originally the nököd
of Temujin, the basis for the famed keshig, which he expanded upon when he took the title
of Chinggis Khan in 1206. The keshig under the Mongols evolved beyond
just bodyguards, but into a general staff, where top officers learned the ropes of command. From there they were appointed not only to
lead armies, but to conquer and govern regions as the Mongol Empire expanded, and acted as
important administrators. Sons of the royal families of subject kingdoms
were taken into the keshig as hostages, to help secure the loyalty of their dynasty,
but also to be essentially indoctrinated in Mongol imperial destiny. Going through trials alongside the Mongols
and amply rewarded, when they returned to their homelands they were loyal servants of
the Khan who helped to uphold his rule. The following example should prove illustrative
of how Chinggis Khan innovated upon and evolved, rather than invented, traditional nomadic
lifestyle and tactics. All nomadic horsemen learned to hunt from
a young age; a means to protect their herds from predators and provide extra sustenance
for their families. It also proved an excellent means to practice
for war. For the Khitans of the Liao Dynasty and the
Mongols, large scale hunting expeditions served as training for unit operations. In an operation called nerge by the Mongols,
an army of horsemen would form a rough circle, at times several days journey in diameter,
gradually tightening and driving all game before them into an arena, where the nobility
would take their pick of the hunt before leaving the rest to the men. While simple on paper, organizing this properly
took considerable skill. Given the size of the operation, a time table
was set for each group, operating in their military units, to reach their destination
and begin to push the game forward. To prevent animals from escaping, the various
units had to be in contact and be coordinating to prevent holes in the line which would allow
herds to slip through their grasp; allowing animals to escape resulted in punishments. Following orders, meeting time tables, unit
tactics, and discipline were the basic building blocks of Mongol successes, and what allowed
their armies to outmaneuver their foes. While large scale hunting expeditions were
practiced across the Eurasian steppe, and its rules applied to warfare and battles,
under the Mongols the nerge itself became a military strategy. Time and time again a nerge was set over an
entire region, designating a major city to be the meeting point. Mongol units would spread across the region,
attacking small towns and villages, driving the rural populations towards the major city
as the nerge tightened. Refugees fled into the city, not just overwhelming
its resources and thus reducing the length of the siege it could withstand, but also
sewing chaos and confusion, for the terrified population brought stories of Mongol atrocities
and spread fear, increasing the chance the city would submit rather than face Mongol
wrath. At the founding of the Mongol Empire in 1206,
perhaps the entirety of the Mongol army was lightly armoured horse archers, made up of
the Mongolian and Turkic tribes who had submitted or been conquered up to that point. The keshig may have had heavier armour, but
were still armed with their powerful bows, closing with the enemy only once they had
been weakened by arrows. Chinggis Khan understood well the effectiveness
of this force in the open field, but upon his first campaign against a sedentary society,
that being the Tangut Kingdom of Xi Xia in 1209, he found that unless he could draw the
enemy from their walls through a feigned retreat or starve them out, that fortifications could
prove impassable. With his invasion of the Jurchen Jin Dynasty
in 1211, a solution presented itself in the mass defections of Jin forces to his army. Not just Khitans, a Mongolic people who loathed
the Jin and were themselves skilled horse archers, but also numerous Han Chinese, who
provided the Mongols with infantry, crossbowmen, and numbers. More significant was the defection of Chinese
catapult specialists and engineers; one of whom, Xue Talahai, defected to the Mongols
early in the invasion, and was rewarded handsomely for sharing his knowledge, teams, and experience. Further capture of Chinese engineers, stonemasons,
and carpenters brought further knowledge of how to attack cities and build siege equipment. This adoption of warriors and knowledge of
defectors, vassals, and captives proved perhaps the greatest deviation from earlier nomadic
empires. In order to conquer not just the fringes of
sedentary states, as per earlier nomadic empires, but the sedentary state itself, the Mongols
required the manpower and knowledge of those sedentary societies. Each culture the Mongols encountered, and
conquered, provided them new resources and tools for their arsenal. With the Mongols themselves remaining primarily
light horse archers, they used Northern Chinese and Iranian infantry and siege engineers,
Southern Chinese and Korean naval knowledge, Khitan, Jurchen and Turkic horse archers,
Armenian and Georgian heavy cavalry, and more. Within a few years of the start of the Mongol
conquests, the Mongol leadership and Mongol-Turkic army core of horse archers was supported by
a large, heterogeneous army. Able to pick the most effective tactics, weapons,
armours, and warriors from the cultures of Eurasia, the Mongolian army was thus able
to adapt to a variety of situations, well beyond what earlier nomadic empires could
accomplish. It was the job of subject peoples to fill
the military roles the Mongols themselves either could not fill, or had no interest
in filling themselves. The poor Khwarezmian defense in 1220 can be
explained in part as the Khwarezm-shah Muhammad anticipating pillaging horse archers, not
a large, disciplined army, ably utilizing siege weapons and technology. The Mongols also showed themselves willing
to use gunpowder weapons in their wars in China. The Mongol Empire fractured in the second
half of the 13th century. Debate rages as to how the Mongolian military
in each independent Khanate continued to develop, and to what extent they were influenced by
local military tradition. Generally, the debate steers towards questioning
if the Mongols converted to heavier forms of cavalry. The presence of true Mongolian heavy cavalry
in the early years of the empire is not universally accepted, with it often said that the small
Mongolian horse lacked the strength to carry heavy armour. In the Ilkhanate, scholars like A.P. Martinez
have suggested the Mongols adopted medium or heavy cavalry to better contend with Mamluk
forces, and artwork from the Ilkhanate shows a preponderance of heavily armoured Mongolian
forces. An aspect of this argument is that the Mongols
even began to sedentarize in the Ilkhanate, abandoning nomadism altogether, while their
horses mixed with larger Persian breeds in order to carry the greater weight of armour,
but making them less suited to the open steppe. Other scholars such as Reuven Amitai have
found the argument unconvincing, suggesting that it remained the job of oft-mentioned
Armenian and Georgian vassals to act as heavy cavalry while the Mongols themselves continued
as light horse archers. Similar arguments have been put forth for
the Mongols within the Yuan Dynasty, where it has been suggested that Mongol troops adorned
heavier armour taken from stores of the fallen Song Dynasty. In the territories of the Golden Horde and
Chagatai Khanate, where Turkic influence and access to the steppes was greatest, there
can be no doubt in the continued predominance of light horse archers. By the latter half of the 14th century, it
was lightly armoured Chagatayid horse archers which Temur led to begin his conquests. Much like Chinggis Khan, Temur incorporated
outsiders into his army to utilize their skills and knowledge, overcoming the deficiencies
that came from an army entirely of horse archers. Despite a growth in the percentage of heavy
cavalry in Central Asia, in the steppe, heavy armour remained difficult and expensive to
manufacture and maintain, especially for the average nomad. The vast majority of post-Mongol successor
states, from the Northern Yuan, the Timurids, the Kazakhs, to the Crimean Khanate, saw their
warriors continue to fight in a fashion recognizable not just to the Mongols of the 13th century,
but to the Gokturks of the 7th century, the Huns of the 4th century, to the Xiongnu and
even the Scythians. The Mongol conquests were not a result of
a sudden transformation in the technology and lifestyle of nomadism, but of skilled
leadership innovating upon existing customs and taking advantage of the tools of both
nomadic and sedentary cultures. While the Mongol army of the 13th century
is often presented as a vast disorganized horde overwhelming its foes through sheer
numbers, this could not be further from reality. The army of the Great Khans was a well disciplined
and strictly organized host, with a level of complexity which was part of the key to
Mongol military successes across Eurasia. Most Turkic and Mongolic nomadic armies of
the great Eurasian steppe were organized through the decimal system, dating back to the time
of the Xiongnu. In this system, warriors were grouped in multiples
of ten; 10, 100, 1,000, up to 10,000. These divisions were kept within tribal lines:
men from one tribe would not make up a decimal unit with men from another tribe. It was the innovation of Chinggis Khan during
his unification of the Mongols to largely break down these tribal ties. With few exceptions of tribes like the Onggut
who showed their loyalty, Chinggis Khan dissolved the old tribal organization and reformed the
Mongol tribes into these decimals units for social organization. As new nomadic tribes were added to his empire,
Chinggis was able to likewise integrate their warriors among these units. All new recruits of this system were held
to the same rigid standards of discipline set out by Chinggis Khan, mandating strict
adherence to the orders of the commander; non-Mongol nomads even had to shave their
heads in a distinctive Mongol hairstyle. Instead of a confederation of tribes agreeing
to follow a single leader, by the time Chinggis Khan began attacking sedentary powers in 1209,
he was followed by a host which had assumed the ‘Mongol’ identity, a unified single
entity. By largely removing the original tribal allegiances
and the old tribal chiefs from power, Chinggis ensured all ties of loyalty led directly to
him, and that tribal feuding would not be able to tear apart his empire. Further, Chinggis Khan extended this decimal
system to their families as well. Each unit from 10 men to 1,000 had its corresponding
‘civilian’ unit made up of their families, supplying much of the equipment and serving
as the new basis for taxation. The base unit of the Mongol decimal system
was the arban, or ten lightly armoured horse archers, supplying their own bows and horses. The smallest organizational unit, it was quite
comparable to the similarly sized contubernium of the Roman legions. These were men who had to live, train, hunt,
and fight together, a unit designed to be self-sufficient and move on its own as necessary. Carried with these ten men were their spare
horses, tools for repairing equipment and clothes, cooking utensils, and other supplies. Often, they traveled with a felt tent (ger,
or in Turkish, yurt) for shelter, as well as goats, sheep, or even cattle or camels
for hauling a cart with their extra equipment. Down to its lowest levels, the Mongol army
was intended to be as self-sufficient and mobile as possible, so when travelling long
distances or designating a meeting point, each unit could move on its own. Building on this foundation, Mongol army units
could move independently to surround larger, less maneuverable enemy armies. Discipline for the arban was strict: should
one man within the arban flee a battle, then the other 9 men would be put to death. With the intention that strong bonds of loyalty
would build between them, such a threat was a burden few were willing to bear. More important than draconian punishment was
reward. Men could be expected to be rewarded for meritorious
service. One of Chinggis Khan’s promulgations was
to forbid looting until after the battle was won; only then would all the loot be collected,
tallied and distributed among the soldiers. This ensured the army would not break down
into men scrambling for loot and allow the enemy to escape, and that every soldier could
now earn a share for his service. Further, the widows and children of fallen
soldiers were cared for as well. From his own difficult childhood, Chinggis
Khan knew what social upheaval was caused by the abandonment of families. By keeping soldiers content with the knowledge
their families would be protected, Chinggis Khan prevented the societal infighting that
could tear his union apart and reduce the effectiveness of his armies. It was the efforts at this level which instilled
the fierce Mongol discipline and loyalty to their commanders noted by all of the medieval
authors who encountered them. Ten arbans formed a jagun, 100 men. 10 of these formed a minggan, or 1,000 men,
and 10 minggans formed the most famous unit, the tumen, 10,000 men. While the tumen is more well-known, the minggan
was the more important and common in terms of administration and command. When Chinggis Khan declared the Mongol Empire
in 1206, the Secret History of the Mongols, the chronicle written for the imperial family
after his death, informs us of 95 minggans, and who was assigned to command each of them. The numbers of each minggan were only nominally
1,000: some would be greater and some lesser, due to the realities of battlefield losses
or incorporation of new tribes. Nonetheless, it allows us to estimate the
Mongol army in 1206 had about 95,000 men, soon enlarged with the submission of neighbouring
tribes over the following years. Based off this number, assuming a ratio of
warriors to the general population of 1:4 or 1:5, the population of the region has been
estimated at around 600-800,000 people, with higher estimates of 1 million; similar figures
for the region at the beginning of the 20th century. Nomadic societies did not distinguish between
warriors and civilians: all men between the ages of 15-60 could be called up for war,
and since all nomads learned to ride a horse and shoot a bow, each had the skills for war. Compared to sedentary societies in China,
Europe, and the Islamic world, a far greater portion of the male population could be considered
warriors, and called up for battle. This is how the comparatively small population
of Mongolia could raise armies large enough to combat the great strength of the Jurchen
Jin Dynasty. Each division was given considerable freedom
in how they achieved their goals. Aside from setting the target and the timeline
to accomplish the task, interference from higher command was minimal. Numerous Mongol commanders consistently operated
independently from the Great Khan, separated at times by thousands of kilometres. In the early 1220s, picked generals like Jebe
and Subutai in the western steppe and Mukhali in North China campaigned independently of
Chinggis Khan, at that time conquering the Khwarezmian Empire. Unlike Temur, who never let a campaign be
led by anyone but himself, the military system of the Great Khans allowed them to place complete
trust in their commanders, who routinely led armies across the continent and returned without
hint of seeking independence. The Mongol high command was a flexible and
very experienced body. The men chosen to lead the imperial armies
at the beginning of the conquests had fought alongside Chinggis Khan for years, joining
him when he was a minor warlord and sticking beside him throughout his early trials. These were the nököd, followers who had
risen through the ranks, proving not just their loyalty but their ability. Their background on the steppe hierarchy was
diverse: some his distant relations, some members of the original steppe aristocracy,
while others were simple herders who had shown military ability or aided the Khan. Their elevation and position relied on the
Khan’s continued favour, making them utterly loyal to him. With the declaration of the Mongol empire
in 1206, perhaps the most important institution of the Mongolian military was the keshik,
the imperial bodyguard. Established in 1204 and carrying over many
members of the nököd, the keshik was expanded to 10,000 men in 1206. Made up of younger sons and brothers of the
commanders of 10, 1000 and 10,000, sons of subject rulers, and worthy commoners, the
keshik served as the Khan’s bodyguard, elite units, royal household, and much of the imperial
administration. The keshik was divided into three main groups:
8,000 turaq’ut, who protected the Khan during the day, 1000 quiverbearers - qorchi - the
only men who could wear arrow quivers in the presence of the Khan, and an elite unit of
1,000 called kebte’üd who guarded the Khan at night, and only fought on the battlefield
if the Khan himself was present. Within the dayguard was a further thousand-man
unit of braves, or bahadurs in Mongolian, who formed the heavily armoured vanguard of
the keshik. Discipline was strict: no one approached the
Khan’s person without first being searched and vetted by the keshik. All keshik commanders outranked commanders
of equivalent sized units in the regular army. The keshik also served as a military college. The young men brought into the keshik learned
the ropes of command, and the necessities of strategy, tactics, logistics, and training,
so they could be appointed to lead minggans and armies. Many a well-known Mongol general had earned
his position through meritorious service in the keshik, such as Chormaqun, Baiju, Kitbuqa,
and Subutai. Qarachar Noyan, the ancestor of Temur, served
in the keshik of Chinggis Khan, and later, his son Chagatai. Aside from the purely military role, the keshik
also acted as the closest servants of the Khan. Numerous offices of the keshik are named,
the Khan’s elite bodyguards also maintaining his personal herds, equipment, weapons, clothing,
camp, and musical instruments, organizing hunts, and preparing his meals. One office was specifically for the collection
of items and animals left behind when the imperial camp moved, while another was for
holding a parasol over the Khan. The keshik also served as the most important
administrators of the empire, with the chief judges, military leaders, governors and confidants
of the Khan being members of the keshik. Members of Mongke Khan’s keshik like Menggeser
and Bulgai were the most powerful figures of the empire below the Great Khan himself:
the senior ministers, judges of state, as well as head of the imperial guard. Due to its close proximity to the Khan and
the lead princes of the empire, it was therefore a highly prestigious, and valuable, position
to gain. As the keshik was made up of sons of commanders
and vassal lords, they were invariably hostages to ensure the loyalty of their families. Those of foreign royalty, when they returned
to their homeland, were expected to serve as loyal servants of the Khan upholding his
rule. Richly rewarded and their positions hereditary,
the keshik was a reliable and powerful arm of the Great Khan’s military and government. At the highest level, the Mongol army was
organized into ‘wings,’ associated with directions within Mongolia. The army of the Left Wing of Eastern Mongolia
- jun-qar - the army of the Right Wing in western Mongolia - bara’un-qar - and the
Army of the Centre, the Imperial ordu, which the keshik and the Khan’s personal troops
were associated with. The heads of each of these divisions were
the closest, most trusted followers of Chinggis Khan. Together, these formed the Mongolian regular
army. Under this system, there was a dual level
of elites: the altan urugh, the family and descendants of Chinggis Khan, and the qarachu,
the noyans, commanders, appointed often from humble beginnings to lead armies. Working alongside the regular army was the
tamma. First mentioned during the reign of Ogedai,
the tamma was something of an occupation force. Made up of a large percentage of non-Mongol
troops and officers, and generally drawn from the various minggans, it was often commanded
by a member of the keshik called a tammachi. The tamma was placed on the frontiers of the
Mongol Empire, a largely cavalry force which would situate itself in the best available
pasture. They were a consolidating force which would
move with the frontier as the empire expanded; unlike the great invasions which saw the Mongols
rapidly pass through a region and depart, the tamma was intended to spend years in the
region, and if necessary, set up permanently. Acting as temporary military governors, behind
the advance of the tamma the permanent civilian administration would be established, and the
region thus fully incorporated into the Mongol empire. Crushing what remained of local resistance,
the tamma raided, extorted, and subjugated the independent powers on the Empire’s borders. One tammachi, Chormaqun, completed the subjugation
of the former Khwarezmian territory, Iran, and into the Caucasus during his deployment. Since the Mongols did not rebuild the fortifications
they destroyed, the tamma also acted as the empire’s borderguard, desolating and patrolling
the borders as necessary to protect the empire from attack. The tamma comprised two main forces: the main
body, situated in several camps in the pasture, and an advance force of scouts posted closer
to cities and between the camps called alginchi. As the empire expanded, greater numbers of
sedentary peoples were incorporated into the military. These roles could be shockingly inhumane,
such as the hashar. The hashar, so called in the Persian sources,
was a forced levy of local peoples, driven before the Mongols as living shields against
enemy arrows, to push siege equipment, and fill in enemy moats with dirt or their own
bodies. This was particularly common in Chinggis Khan’s
campaigns in North China and against the Khwarezmian Empire. Yet, the Mongols also learned relatively quickly
that sedentary peoples could provide knowledge, military roles, and manpower the Mongols themselves
lacked. It was most notably in the form of Chinese
siege engineers, but within a few years of the invasion of the Jurchen Jin, more Han
Chinese were fighting for the Mongols than there were Mongols fighting in north China. Likewise, as the Mongols expanded westwards,
subject peoples served them in a variety of supplementary roles. The Mongols, primarily lightly armoured horse
archers, were more than happy to allow their subjects to take on more vulnerable positions
on the battlefield. These same groups also served the Mongols
in other roles, especially as labour or manning local garrisons. These local forces, the cherig, are what Mongolian
regional governors had to rely upon to put down local uprisings, as Mongol horsemen were
utilized for the expansion of the empire. Sedentary kingdoms not destroyed in the initial
invasions had to provide their own armies and commanders to serve alongside and under
the Mongols, such as the Tangut Kingdom and Armenian Cilicia. While continuing to fight in their traditional
manner, and not directly incorporated into the Mongol army, they had to follow the commands
of a Mongolian general. In the 12th century Mongolian steppe, warfare
was between forces of highly mobile horse archers, though a few forts were scattered
across the region, largely left over from the rule of the Khitan Liao Dynasty. With raids on China uncommon in this period,
there was little opportunity for up and coming warlords like the young Temujin to learn how
to assault fortified sites. With the declaration of the Mongol Empire
in 1206 and consolidation of his rule over the region, Temujin, now taking the title
of Chinggis Khan, could begin new assaults on China. His first target was not the immense Jurchen
ruled Jin Dynasty, but its vassal, the Tangut Xi Xia Kingdom. Here, the newly formed Mongol Empire had its
first test against cities and forts. Lacking siege equipment, the Mongols could
rely on only three tactics. The first was the simplest: a blockade to
attempt to starve the city into submission. The second was the feigned retreat; appearing
to panic before the walls, the Mongols could trick the garrison into running out to pursue
them or collect seemingly abandoned animals, goods and slaves, only for the Mongols to
suddenly fall upon them. The final was the most complicated, used first
against the Tangut capital, modern day Yinchuan. A nearby river would be dammed or redirected,
forcing the waters towards the city. Chinese walls made of rammed earth would be
undermined, and when the water stagnated it spread disease throughout the city. The first attempt against the Tangut was not
a smashing success, for the Mongols accidentally flooded their own camp in the process. Still, by 1210 Chinggis Khan succeeded in
taking the submission of the Tangut, and these three tactics were to be utilized again and
again. The next lesson in the sieging of cities came
in 1211, when Chinggis Khan led his armies against the Jin Dynasty. The Jin’s border defences, the predecessor
to the more famous Great Wall of the Ming Dynasty, ran through modern Inner Mongolia’s
steppeland, consisting of a long ditch and earthen wall; this was bypassed as the tribes
manning them submitted to Chinggis Khan and let him through. Over their first year of battle against the
Jin, the Mongols routinely won in dramatic field battles, like Yehuling, and devastated
the countryside, but cities, towns, and forts could only be taken when the garrisons were
drawn into feigned retreats. As Mongol victories over the Jin armies mounted
and the dynasty increasingly looked like it was losing the Mandate of Heaven, a steady
flood of defections of Khitan, Jurchens, and Chinese provided Chinggis Khan the secrets
to the ancient Chinese arts of taking cities. Some of these were basic tools: woodworkers
constructed simple rams, ladders, and mobile shelters which could be used to approach the
walls. Vast numbers of defected or press-ganged Chinese
infantry could climb ladders and push siege equipment. More valuable were actual siege specialists
and engineers, who provided the specialized tools of taking cities. Large wheeled scaling ladders, including the
folding cloud ladder, provided quick means for large groups of men to mount the walls. A large wooden screen held onto a mobile arm
provided cover for these scaling ladders from enemy arrows. Some of the most effective were the ranged
weapons, catapults and ‘ox-bows’. The Chinese used a traction catapult: teams
of men would pull on ropes attached to one end of the arm of the catapult, thus propelling
its projectile through manpower. The ox-bow was essentially a large crossbow,
used to pick the defenders off the walls. These tools and the experience to build them
were adopted by the Mongols quickly. Cities would now fall to them with regularity,
and by 1215, after a protracted and bloody siege, they took the Jin capital of Zhongdu,
modern Beijing. When taking a city that had refused to submit
to them, such as Zhongdu, another tool was employed: massacres. The intention was to spread a simple message. Cities which immediately surrendered were
treated relatively leniently, generally needing to only send tribute, perhaps supply soldiers
or tear down their fortifications. Cities which tried to resist were severely
punished, especially if through their resistance they brought on Mongol losses or killed a
Mongol prince. In which case, the destruction was thorough,
the slaughter indiscriminate. Individuals of skill, such as artisans, engineers,
and craftsmen, were spared, sent elsewhere for service to the Great Khan. Some women and children were taken as slaves
and the remainder of the citizenry slaughtered. Slaughter allowed the Mongol troops to exert
their pent-up frustration at a long siege, but generally the Mongols viewed it as a practical
necessity. They lacked the numbers to provide garrisons
for every city, and didn’t want to engage in lengthy sieges for every settlement. The fear of the consequences that would come
from resistance was just as effective a tool as the most powerful catapult. Horrific atrocities, such as building towers
of severed heads, to intentionally exaggerate the numbers killed in cities, all served to
buttress an image of the Mongols as an unstoppable and implacable foe. Many cities would simply submit rather than
face such an existential threat. The war against the Khwarezmian Empire provided
the next greatest evolution of Mongol siege techniques. Muhammad II Khwarezm-shah’s defensive strategy
against the Mongols consisted of maintaing garrisons across his empire’s northeastern
frontier, based on the simple, but sadly mistaken, calculation that the Mongols lacked the means
to take cities. Chinggis Khan brought with him teams of Chinese
siege engineers to construct his weapons, and by then his army was well versed in the
art of the siege. With access to large teams of engineers, Chinggis
Khan would array vast groups of catapults to concentrate on a single section of the
enemy wall, firing day and night in an incessant barrage, demoralizing the defenders and grounding
the fortifications to dust, or bringing pots of naphtha into the city to spread fire and
chaos. Mongol troops protected by mobile shelters
would advance on the walls, using their excellent archery to pick off any defender foolish enough
to stick his head over the crenellations. Feigned retreats repeatedly drew overconfident
garrisons out to be slaughtered. The Khwarezm-shah’s decisions to leave each
city to its own defence allowed them all to be picked off one by one. Fear and demoralization were refined as tools
of conquest - a psychological assault as well as physical. Massacres and absolute destruction rewarded
cities which held out like Urgench, or rose up after previously submitting like Merv and
Nishapur. Attacking the rural and lesser settlements
around a major city and driving the refugees into the city brought panic and exaggerated
stories of Mongol prowess, and also stressed the city’s resources. The flight of Khwarezm-shah Muhammad, hounded
to his death by Jebe and Subutai, prevented the Khwarezmian leadership from becomign a
rallying point to organize a defense. Fake letters were allowed to be intercepted
by the Khwarezmians, claiming the Khwarezm-shah’s mother was in cooperation with Chinggis Khan,
which wrought further disunity. Another gruesome method was called the hashar
in the Persian sources. This was the forced levy: captive townsfolk
were forced at spearpoint before the Mongol army, making it appear larger than it was. During a siege, they were forced against the
walls, taking the most vulnerable positions as veritable meat-shields: soaking up enemy
arrows while pushing siege equipment or filling in moats, often with their own bodies. The defenders were forced into the mental
torment of having to fire on people from neighbouring cities, or allow them to advance the Mongol
siege. The more valuable Mongol and Turkic horsemen
were thus protected from the menial labour, and could keep their strength for the actual
fighting. When Chinggis Khan returned to the Tangut
Kingdom in 1226 for his final campaign, his army was well hardened at siege warfare. The Tangut cities now fell in quick succession,
and when Chinggis died in August 1227, the Tangut capital was razed to join him. Mongol siege abilities continued to advance
under Chinggis’ son and successor, Ogedai. In north China, the Jurchen Jin were finally
reduced. The Jin capital of Kaifeng was taken through
a difficult year long siege, in which it seems early gunpowder bombs were used by both sides. The Jin dropped them onto mobile shelters
protecting sappers attempting to undermine the walls, while the Mongols used catapults
to lob them into the city. Some historians, most notably Dr. Stephen
Haw, point to the possible use of early cannons during this fighting, but the evidence is
controversial.The Mongols do not seem to have used gunpowder weapons outside of fighting
in China and Japan. Mongol sieges in Korea met with surprising
difficulty. At Kuju in late 1231, multiple assaults on
the city were repulsed: one commander with a few picked men drove off repeated attacks
by the Mongol vanguard. Attacks were launched on the walls day and
night: carts of dry grass and wood were pushed to the gates to burn them, only to be destroyed
by Korean catapults; a shelter built before the walls to protect sappers was destroyed
when the Koreans dug holes through their own walls to pour molten iron onto it. Scaling ladders were toppled by Korean polearms. Bundles of sticks soaked allegedly in human
fat, set aflame and hurled into the city, could not be put out with water, but were
smothered with mud and earth. One set of catapults was repulsed by Korean
counter artillery; another through constant barrage breached the wall 50 times, and 50
times the defenders filled the gaps. After a month without headway, the siege was
called off, the city deemed to be protected by heaven. A spirited resistance, as the Mongols faced
throughout Korea, could hamper even their efforts. In Rus' principalities, the armies of Batu
and Subtuai were met with much greater success. The wooden walls of the low-lying Rus’ cities
were easy prey for the warriors of the Great Khan. Palisades were erected around the cities to
trap the townsfolk, protect the besiegers, and cover their actions. Catapult teams acting in unison made multiple
breaches in the walls and spread fire in the cities. Few held out more than a few weeks. In the eastern half of the Hungarian kingdom,
where fortified sites were made of wood in the easily accessible terrain of the Great
Hungarian Plain, the Mongols were unstoppable. Depopulation in these areas reached as high
as 70% by some estimates. To ensure the population of a given site was
reduced, the Mongols would leave for a few days after taking the city. Those who had survived would come out from
their hiding places in search of food or to begin to repair the damage. With their guard let down, Mongols riders
would suddenly return and fall upon them, repeating this process until no more came
out from hiding. In the more densely populated and rugged western
half of Hungary past the Danube, where the major sites were protected by hard to access
stone fortifications, the Mongols found their progress slowed. At Esztergom in early 1242, Hungary’s main
political centre, Hungarian prisoners were forced to build a screen of bundles of twigs
before the city’s moat to cover 30 siege engines. Once the catapults had brought down the city’s
towers and part of the walls, they began to hurl bags of dirt into the moat, the garrison
unable to clear it due to the precision of Mongol archers. With it apparent the city was to be breached,
the townsfolk set fire to the suburbs, destroyed or hid anything of value then retreated to
the citadel. A furious Batu, denied his prize, was unable
to take the stone citadel. An able defence led by Simon the Spaniard
commanding teams of balistarius, referring either to crossbowmen or counter siege engines,
kept the Mongols from breaching the citadel. Batu pulled back from Esztergom, leaving nothing
standing of the city but the citadel. Further difficulties were had at Szekesfehervar. The outer part of the city and its suburbs
were razed by the Mongols, but again the stone citadel, defended by Hospitallar knights and
their own counter artillery, resisted the Mongol assaults. After a few days the siege was lifted, and
soon the Mongols began a slow withdrawal from Europe. For more on the reasons for Mongol withdrawal
from Europe, you can check out episode 19 of our podcast on the Mongols, but it seems
that stone castles, built on hard to access sites, proved difficult for the Chinese style
catapults the Mongols used, with their crews reduced by enemy counter artillery. The withdrawal in 1242 may have begun as a
temporary retreat to prepare reinforcements and more catapults, only for political matters
relating to the death of Ogedai Khan to keep them from immediately returning. When Hulegu set on his campaign against the
Nizari Assassins and the Caliph in the 1250s, he was met with a variety of well defended
sites. The Nizari strongholds were cunningly designed,
nearly impregnable mountain fortresses. Most fell through negotiated surrender thanks
to the capture of the Nizari Imam. Some resisted, and were so strong they only
fell after lengthy blockades. Lammasar, near Alamut, fell after a year,
and Girdkuh, on the eastern edge of the Elburz mountains, withstood a Mongol siege for 15
years! Unable to bring their large teams of catapults
to bear upon them, such sites could hold out as long as their food stores did. For more accessible locales like Baghdad,
built in the great Mesopotamian floodplain, there was little chance for the isolated and
outnumbered defenders. There, huge teams of catapults could work
in unison unceasingly against designated sections of the walls. After only a few days of this, the walls of
Baghdad were breached and the Mongols were in the city. At the start of 1260 Hulegu, assisted by troops
from Georgia, Armenian Cilicia, the Principality of Antioch and County of Tripoli took Aleppo,
despite its well maintained and sturdy fortifications, sending shockwaves across the Ayyubid princes
of Syria. It’s quite possible that this close cooperation
with the Crusader kingdoms brought the next evolution to Mongol siege technology, in the
form of the counterweight trebuchet. Able to launch projectiles further and harder
than a traction catapult, the trebuchet used weight and gravity to replace teams of men
pulling on ropes. Having spread across Europe and carried to
the region by the Crusader kingdoms, the Mongols carried it even further. For the siege of Xiangyang, Kublai Khan requested
Hulegu’s son and successor, Abaqa, to provide him with Arab engineers capable of building
these fearsome weapons. Thus did engineers make the long trek across
Mongol dominated Eurasia to bring the trebuchet to the Great Khan in China. Xiangyang and its sister city of Fancheng
were defended by huge walls and moats so wide the traction catapults were powerless against
them. Possibly, as identified by Stephen Haw, the
defending Song Dynasty forces used some sort of cannon mounted on small boats to break
the Mongol blockade and allow the cities to be continually resupplied by river. The siege dragged on for five years until
the arrival of these trebuchets. Greatly outranging the defensive weapons within
the cities, they broke both the walls and the spirit of the defenders. Having once picked up their first siege weapons
in China, the Mongols returned with the most advanced weapons of the age. Yet the fall of Xiangyang and the Song Dynasty
by the end of the decade also became the highwater mark of successful Mongol conquests. Successful sieges in their ensuing campaigns
did not translate into strategic successes, and in wars against the Mamluks and Delhi
Sultanate, hot weather, strong fortresses, and able defense stood defiant against Mongol
efforts. As catapults and other complicated siege machines
became a smaller part of the armies after the end of the unified Mongol empire, and
they had less access to the vast reserves of manpower to send as fodder and to man large
numbers of catapults, the successor Khanates could not repeat the many victories in siege
warfare their grandfathers had enjoyed. Lacking in both political will and unity,
they could not develop means to overcome their gradual deficiencies in siege warfare, though
the heirs of Chinggis Khan remained yet deadly in open battle. The strength of the Mongol army rested on
the same skill sets of all steppe nomads: mobility and deadly long-range fire power. Doctrine for all horse archers was simple:
to maximize damage to the enemy from as far away as possible for as long as possible,
only closing once they had been sufficiently demoralized, their formations broken by an
unceasing rain of arrows, or tricked into leaving their lines in an effort to pursue
the horsemen. The Mongols did not invent these techniques,
but they did apply them at a scale beyond the mightiest of previous steppe empires,
adapting them as necessary for a variety of situations. Mongolian and steppe nomadic army tactics
evolved out of the routines of daily life. Each warrior on horseback had several remounts,
armed with two or more bows and several quivers of arrows. This was the bare minimum to be a combatant,
and effective enough for most situations. Riding a horse from their earliest years and
learning to draw and hunt with a bow from almost as early, by adulthood every Mongol
had a lifetime of experience shooting from horseback. Nearly every medieval writer comments on the
Mongols’ ensuing hardiness and stamina; the Mongols were able to endure hardship that
made the armies of the sedentary world buckle. Peerless archers and expert riders, any commander
would be a fool to not take advantage of such an army. The Mongol army was not trained, as much as
it was grown. The basic tactics evolved out of two tools:
excellent bows and a massive supply of horses. Every Mongol was armed with a composite recurve
bow which they made themselves. Incredibly powerful, these bows could send
arrows immense distances. One stone inscription from early 13th century
Mongolia records that Chinggis Khan’s nephew Yisungge sent an arrow almost 530 metres. This was likely a specially made light arrow
designed for distance, and lacked any meaningful penetrative power at that range. Actual effective combat range is debated;
Historian Timothy May suggests it was anything under 170 metres, while John Masson Smith
Jr. puts 30 metres as the optimum distance to maximize accuracy and penetration. Regardless of the range, medieval authors
consistently describe the Mongols as frighteningly accurate with their bows. In the Caucasus, where contact was easily
made with several Turkic peoples proficient in horse archery, one Armenian chronicler
specifically designated the Mongols as the Nation of Archers. Alongside the power of their bows, the horse
was the other vital component of Mongolian tactics. Every nomad of the great Eurasian steppe rode
a horse, where vast grasslands provided the ideal environment for rearing them. The Mongol horse is smaller than those of
sedentary regions, weighing under 300 kg and rarely more than 14 hands or 142 cm high at
the withers. Unlike the grain and fodder fed horses of
China, Europe or the Islamic world, the Mongolian horses lived almost exclusively off of the
abundant grasses of the steppe. So prime is this grassland that even today
Mongolia’s horses outnumber the country’s humans, and account for over 6% of the world’s
horse population. When on campaign each rider brought 5 or more
horses with him, riding one a day and letting it rest for the following days while he rode
the others. Like their riders, the Mongolian horses were
hardy, surviving in conditions deadly for larger breeds. Sure footed, well trained, and obedient, though
not the fastest, the Mongolian horse was a reliable platform for battle. Campaigning and entering battle with strings
of remounts provided the Mongols strategic opportunities unavailable to their enemies. This proficiency with a bow and easy access
to great quantities of horses were the building blocks of the Mongols’ deadliness in battle. Usually facing off against armies that could
not amass any comparative number of horses or skilled bowmen, the Mongols enjoyed far
greater striking power and mobility, their tactics maximizing this advantage and minimizing
the need for prolonged close quarter contact with the enemy. Perhaps the most recognizable manifestation
of this was the caracole, what historian Timothy May believes is meant by the shi’uchi, ‘chisel’
attack mentioned in the Secret History of the Mongols. Waves of Mongols, organized in their decimal
units -arban, jaghun or even minggan - would ride towards the enemy, shooting arrows as
they approached. At a set distance -perhaps the 30 metres or
less suggested by John Masson Smith- the wave would pull away. As this wave fell back, the riders would turn
in the saddle and fire backwards, the famous ‘Parthian shot.’ With one wave falling back out of range and
to safety to rest men and grab remounts, another wave advanced and carried out the same process,
resulting in a continuous barrage of arrows. To do this successfully is tremendously difficult. It requires extensive training to not result
in hundreds of men and horses crashing into each other or sending arrows into each other’s
backs. In order to function smoothly, each wave needs
to know when the other is advancing or falling back and move accordingly, so as to not obstruct
the forthcoming waves. When operating effectively, it was extraordinarily
effective. For those subject to the Mongol caracole,
it was an immense psychological attack alongside the storm of arrows. By nature, humans do not generally enjoy having
large groups of horses run towards them- having it occur repeatedly brings on the additional
anxiety of not knowing which wave might not turn away but ride directly into their lines. All the while, arrows with shocking accuracy
and power pick away at the other men in the line, whittling down both numbers and resolve. To someone on foot, the successive waves of
horsemen would be impossible to count, appearing endless. Even well-trained men would struggle to fight
their instincts to flee or charge out at the enemy in anger, both options aligning exactly
with Mongol desires. If the enemy began to rout under the arrow
fire, then instead of pulling back one wave would instead charge into the enemy, falling
upon fleeing men and taking advantage of the opening in the line. An enemy army in the midst of flight would
be unable to resist, allowing the Mongols to ride them down much easier. If instead the enemy, especially proud cavalrymen,
attempted to charge the Mongol caracole, then this allowed the Mongols to employ the favourite
ploy of all steppe warriors: the feigned retreat. A feigned retreat is easy enough on paper
but difficult to execute in practice. When an enemy ran after the Mongols, the Mongols
would appear to flee, panicked by the charge of the very brave and well armoured enemy
horsemen. There was a real danger of the feigned rout
turning into a real one if the enemy horsemen reached the Mongols; their often superior
armour and training would allow them to wreak havoc on more lightly armoured Mongols. If orchestrated properly however, the fleeing
Mongols took their pursuers to ground of their choosing, where other Mongol units waited
in preparation. Archers picked off the isolated enemy, and
heavy cavalry delivered the final blow to the stragglers. If this had been all the enemy cavalry, the
Mongols could then easily surround the surviving infantry and pick them off at their leisure. The feigned retreat was employed again and
again across Eurasia; against fortresses, where garrisons were tricked into coming out
from their walls to chase fleeing nomads; to epic, nine-day pursuits. The most famous was that which Subutai employed
against the Rus’ and Qipchaq at the Kalka River. Perhaps not quite the master plan it is often
presented as, Subutai may have been genuinely fleeing before the Rus’ and Qipchaq following
the death of his friend and mentor Jebe while scouting the enemy army, as suggested in a
recent article by historian Stephen Pow. Pursued across the steppe, Subutai saw the
enemy formation lose structure, the faster Cuman-Qipchaqs gaining ahead of their Rus’
allies. Turning back to face them, on the Kalka River
Subutai brought the full might of his army against only a portion of the enemy- first
the Qipchap, who broke and ran into the oncoming Rus’. With their advance halted, Mongol arrows now
fell upon them. Order was lost, the Rus’ began to flee,
and Subutai carried the day, annihilating the enemy army. In the event that the enemy did not pursue
or rout, but instead held their position in orderly formation, the Mongols had another
option; simply moving on. More mobile than their enemies and always
fighting in enemy territory, the Mongols could pull away and ravage the surrounding countryside,
disheartening the enemy army by slaughtering the local population, filling the sky with
the smoke of burning homes, or cutting off enemy access to water or resources. Defections and panic set in as refugees fled
to the army with stories of Mongol brutality. A stationary foe or one holding up in a wagon
fort as the Hungarians did at Mohi in 1241, was soon trapped in a nerge, a Mongolian hunting
circle. Cordoning off the area, the Mongols would
surround and gradually close in on the foe, cutting off avenues of escape and driving
panicked villages towards the target. At the strategic level or while hunting, strict
orders allowed nothing to leave the circle alive. But on the tactical level, the nerge had a
devious trick. A gap would be left in the steadily closing
circle, apparently overlooked by the overeager Mongols. To those on foot, it seemed a silver lining. The Mongols understood the psychology of men
and animals; when cornered with nowhere to run, they fight to the death. Provided a means to see another day, either
tiger or man will seize the chance to live. And by doing so, they did exactly what the
Mongols wanted. At Mohi, when the Hungarians fled through
the gap in the line, the Mongols formed up beside the fleeing enemy, whose formation
and sense to resist was long since abandoned. Once the foe was suitably bedraggled and exhausted,
only then did the Mongols fall on them, minimizing harm to themselves but ensuring few, if any,
escaped their clutches. Contrary to some depictions, heavy cavalry
was used by the Mongols, though Asian cavalry differed from the heavy shock lancers imagined
in Europe when the term is mentioned. For the Mongols, their own heavy armoured
cavalry was a minority, more usually utilizing subject peoples in this role. For the majority of Asian heavy cavalry, from
China, Iran, and the Turkic and Mongolian tribes of Central Asia, the primary weapon
of heavy cavalry was still the bow, even when both horse and rider were fully armoured. In the steppe, heavy armour was harder to
procure with limited access to smiths and raw materials. The more common armour varieties reflected
this, created from materials the Mongols had ready access to: felt and leather. Perhaps the most well-known was the hatanga
del, a sort of thick, gambeson-like coat of thickly layered felt. Increasingly over the 13th century, the hatanga
was secured with metal plates within it for a brigandine. For man and horse protection laminar was favoured,
long layered bands of leather laced together. The most expensive was lamellar, consisting
of individual metal plates sewn together in rows. Flexible, the armour was designed to fold
over the legs while on horseback, though the arms and hands were left exposed to not encumber
usage of the bow. The Mongols considered lamellar better protection
against arrows than maille, as well as easier for nomads to both produce and maintain. Mongolian heavy cavalry was intended to be
a decisive finishing blow against enemies weakened by arrow fire or drawn into feigned
retreats, rather than engage in any sort of prolonged melee. With their smaller horses, the Mongols had
to be careful to not overexert the animals, especially when fully armoured, and heavy
cavalry charges were likely limited affairs in the early days of the conquests. As more subject peoples were added to the
Mongol army, their own heavy cavalry could take on these vulnerable close quarter roles,
leaving the valuable Mongolian and Turkic horse archers safe to pick off the enemy from
a distance. While fighting in China, Khitan, Jurchen and
Tangut heavy cavalry were regularly employed by the Mongols, while in the Ilkhanate, Armenian
and Georgian heavy cavalry were at the forefront of the Mongol wars in the region, particularly
against the Mamluks. For extraordinary situations, the Mongols
applied unorthodox tactics. At Mohi in 1241, the initial effort to storm
the bridge was accompanied by Subutai attempting to build a bridge further downriver in an
effort to flank the Hungarian army. When the Hungarians successfully resisted
the attempt to force the bridge, the Mongols pulled back, and early the following morning,
brought up catapults and “shelled” the guards left on the Hungarian side of the bridge. This was quickly followed up with a cavalry
charge. The bridge over the Sajo River was taken and
the Hungarian camp encircled. While fighting off a Burmese invasion into
Mongol controlled Yunnan in 1277, the sight and scent of the Burmese elephants frightened
the Mongol horses. The Mongol commander quickly ordered his men
to the treeline to tie them to the tree trunks. Dismounted, the Mongols advanced on foot and
sent volleys of arrows into the elephants. Under the incessant barrage the elephants
panicked, crashing through the Burmese lines before leaving the battlefield. While part of the Mongol force continued providing
covering fire, detachments filed back to the trees to remount their horses, continuing
in this order until they were all on horseback. Where the Mongols’ tactical ability failed
them was in environments too unsuited to cavalry maneuvers- the humid jungles of southeastern
Asia perhaps the greatest example of this. The conquest of the Song Dynasty was only
completed with the massive conscription of Chinese soldiers and creation of a fleet to
challenge the Song on the vital rivers of south China. In Syria, historians like John Masson Smith
have argued the region lacked the pasture capacity to provide for the vast horse herds
the Mongols liked to bring with them, forcing them to advance with smaller forces the Mamluks
could overcome. In straight tactical engagements, the Mongols
performed their poorest against those who fought in similar fashion to themselves. Chinggis Khan’s only defeats were against
other tribes of the Mongolian steppe, and it seems he considered the nomadic Turks of
the western steppe, the Cuman-Qipchaqs, to be the greatest single foe against Mongol
expansion. The Mamluk sultanate of Egypt and the Sultanate
of Delhi both employed Turkic horse archers, often Cuman-Qipchaps bought as slaves, to
great effect against the Mongols. Essentially, these were armies which could
recognize feigned retreats and nomadic ploys, and force the Mongols into engagements which
minimized their superiority in horse numbers. An army is only as effective as its ability
to feed and supply its own men, and the armies of the Mongol Empire were no exception. As with so much of the Mongol military, popular
depictions of the logistical capabilities of the 13th century Mongol army are a mix
of hyperbole and exaggerated claims of Mongol feats. Quite rightly, most discussions of the Mongols’
logistical ability has focused on their lives as nomads, and how they utilized their animals
herds- sheep, goats, oxen, camels and horses. As pastoral nomads, their very lives provided
them excellent experience in the skills of strategic logistics. Every seasonal movement had to be well planned
and organized, for timing of the weather and pasture availability. Pasture had to be carefully managed to avoid
overgrazing, the animals kept in the right proportions for water usage and avoiding its
contamination. Pastures for winter grazing needed to be secured
and avoided. Lacking sufficient alternative fodder, the
animals needed to be able to provide for themselves by eating through the snow; the sheep, goats
and oxen following behind the horses as they instinctively dug through the snow with nose
and hoof. In turn, each animal provided milk, meat,
felt, clothing, and more, providing nomads much of their requirements to survive. Each nomad had to learn how many animals were
necessary to survive off of, and had a lifetime of experiencing moving vast herds of livestock
from horseback over great distances. Any Mongol who survived to adulthood knew
how to withstand harsh environments, live off little, make use of every part of the
animal and take advantage of local resources; all valuable skills for any army on the march. As stated, the Mongols did not provide fodder
for their herds, subsisting them almost entirely off of grasses. In the great Eurasian steppes, this provided
any nomadic people an immense advantage, not requiring the difficult and lengthy procurement
of grain supplies for troops and horses. Larger horse breeds of sedentary societies,
for example, cannot maintain body weight and strength enough to campaign from only grass
alone, and require regular feeding of hay or preferably, grain. For the smaller horses of the Eurasian Steppe,
grass provided their necessary nutritional intake. With no shortage of grass in the steppe, it
was also much easier to field immense herds of horses; far more than any sedentary rival
power could compare to. A single Mongol warrior could go on campaign
with 5 or more remounts, rotating between the horses so as not to overexert a single
animal. While the vast herds of their animals were
a key aspect of everyday life in Mongolia, the five snouts were rarely all brought on
campaign. Sheep and goats simply cannot travel as quickly
or as long as horses; 5 kilometres per day, or 3 miles, is a reliable speed with these
animals. Depending on the campaign and as conditions
allowed, we sometimes see instead a central, slower moving army, which may have sheep,
goats, supply and tool carts pulled by oxen, and some families, a base camp called an ordu,
generally commanded by the Khan’s, or a general’s, wife in his absence. The warriors would ride separately in flying
columns well ahead of the ordu. Travelling with only their horses, these columns
could strike with greater speed before returning to this slower main body, to resupply on those
things which they could not have carried with them. This would mean stocking up on staples of
the Mongol diet to carry back with them for the next stretch of the ‘horse only’ part
of the attack. A group of 10 men, an arban, would stock up
on strips of dried meat, borts, or dried milk curds called aaruul or cheeses called eezgii. The arbans returning out to campaign carried
this among themselves and their spare horses, which themselves were a source of nutrition
for the Mongols. Mares were preferred, as both their milk and
blood could be drunk, providing nutritional value when other alternatives were scarce. If the horse died on the march, then it would
be cut up on the spot for its meat to be reused; even the bones would be used for a broth called
shulen, thickened with millet and whatever pieces of meat and vegetables could be collected. These meals were augmented by hunting when
he could, be it big game, enemy livestock or marmot- a useful practice to keep their
archery skills sharp as well. Little was wasted, and numerous primary sources
remark, often with disgust, at the willingness of the Mongols to eat anything. But the Mongols knew quite well that picky
eaters did not last long in the cold winter. Yet even in the steppe the supplying of so
many animals was not without issue, especially at the end of winter or in drier years. When campaigning against their enemies, this
became an even greater struggle, for there was simply not the same expanses of grassland
to rely upon the further they rode from the steppes. In order to overcome this, the Mongols relied
on an exceptionally predatory foraging strategy. Mongol armies travelled in divisions and smaller
units, spreading themselves out across the countryside, feeding their horses on both
the smaller areas of grassland, and local grain stores, while the riders would feed
themselves on the peasants’ harvests. This would also play into their strategy of
harassing and driving the peasants from farms and rural villages towards major urban centers,
spreading fear and straining the enemy’s resources. It also had an advantage of making it difficult
to react to Mongol armies; for the defenders, reports would come in of Mongols everywhere,
coming and going in each direction. The chaos of the panic-stricken flights of
the peasants would have certainly brought with them exaggerated stories of the scale
of the enemy forces, sowing always further confusion. This takes us to one of the most popular myths
of the Mongols, that they were a shockingly fast force, a lightning bolt from the steppes. This is a result partly of the intentional
confusion caused by the Mongols; when they were striking cities hundreds of kilometres
apart, it would seem they were crossing great distances at lightning speeds. But calculations by John Masson Smith Jr.,
noting, when available, the rough length of time and distance travelled by the Mongolian
armies, found there could be great variation in the speed at which they travelled. The greatest speed recorded was the great
invasion of western Eurasia under Batu and Subutai in the 1230s; their journey from Qaraqorum
to the Volga River, nearly 5000 kilometres over an estimated six months, made an average
daily speed of around 27 kilometres per day. This part of the journey, with little campaigning
and nothing but grassland before them, was made with the greatest haste. In Smith’s calculations, the average kilometres
per day for other campaigns with available data was around 22-24 kilometres per day. Smith suggests that the speed made by Batu
and Subutai was the maximum top speed for an army based on steppe horses in ideal conditions. Time in the day needed to be given for the
horses to graze and sleep, and as it takes longer for horses to meet their daily feed
requirements via grazing rather than grain, this puts a cap on the top speed of these
armies. And yet such ideal conditions would not be
met elsewhere. Smith is also able to make calculations for
much of Hulegu’s route during his march in the 1250s. At the fastest part of his journey from Karakorum
to Almaliq, Hulegu covered approximately 2697 kilometres in some six months, some 15 kilometres
per day. Across Transoxiana and Iran, Hulegu rarely
made such speeds again, usually between 6 and 9 kilometres per day depending, and often
halting for months at a time. For Hulegu, the campaign was much more methodical
than the immense tidal waves they are often depicted as. The sources describe Hulegu marching in the
mornings, then allowing horses to graze over the afternoon and sleep through the night,
while his own men rested and drank. It’s important to note that for armies like
Hulegu’s, often estimated around some 70-150,000 men, only a part of the force was actually
Mongolian. Aside from fellow nomadic peoples like the
steppe Turkic tribes who would handle the journey similarly, semi-nomadic Khitans and
Jurchen accompanied them, as did Tanguts, Northern Chinese, especially as engineers,
and other subject people along the route through Transoxiana and Iran. Such huge and varied armies could not live
off of Mongol mare’s milk and blood. Instead, such campaigns took advantage of
the ever-developing administration of the Mongol Empire. By the time of Hulegu’s expedition, Great
Khan Mongke ordered vast depots of supplies to be made for his brother’s army along
the route, immense hills of skins of flour and wine produced from across western Asia. All pastures that Hulegu’s armies may need
were to be cleared and let fallow for their horses. Roads were cleared, bridges built and mended
or ferries prepared to aid in their passage, both for the men and the many carts travelling
with them, carrying supplies, weapons, and tools to construct siege machines. As Hulegu marched across Asia, he met with
Mongol appointed governors and vassals, who had to help arrange more supplies for the
army. Marches had to be carefully timed, aiming
to avoid the harshest summer weathers and take advantage of pasture availability. While it is popular to think of the Mongols
living and fighting purely from their horses, by the time of their great campaigns they
needed supplies as much as everyone else. These marches were generally made without
the families of the warriors. Even for Hulegu himself, most of his wives
were only able to arrive in the Ilkhanate by the end of the 1260s; only then did they
learn of Hulegu’s death in 1265. If even for a royal prince it was hard to
bring his wives with him, then a great many Mongolian families were permanently separated
by the campaigns. For tamma garrisons, stationed on the frontiers
of the empire, such a consequence was outright stated. Travelling without their original families,
in the regions where these tamma forces were based such as parts of modern Afghanistan
and Azerbaijan, these men took local wives and mixed with the local cultures. The family separation policy of the Khans
accounts in part for the rapid absorption of the Mongols into the Turkic and Farsi peoples
in the west of the empire. Much of the aforementioned comments are also
reflected in the arming of the Mongol soldiers. For their base equipment, each Mongol was
expected to produce and maintain his own weapons; building his own bows and arrows, his own
saddle and the like. At the start of the conquests, blacksmithing
in Mongolia was difficult but not impossible. Access to the raw materials was a great hurdle
and often relied on trading with the Chinese dynasties to their south. For these reasons, specialized equipment such
as swords and full sets of metal armours would have been uncommon and restricted to those
with the wealth and means to afford them. If the average Mongol trooper had a metal
weapon, it was likely cheaper yet effective, such as maces and spears, or if metal armour,
perhaps nothing more than a helmet. As the empire expanded, so too did their access
to more varied weapons and armours. A great many Mongols must simply have repurposed
looted equipment. After a battle, Chinggis Khan’s orders were
to collect and redistribute the weapons and armour of the defeated enemy forces, though
doubtless the Mongol elite and bodyguards were given priority in this. From both conquest and tribute, as well as
the forced migrations of artisans and craftsmen, the Mongols gained reliable access to great
numbers of blacksmiths and the raw materials necessary for their crafts. On the eve of the invasion of the Khwarezmian
Empire, one of the rising members of Chinggis Khan’s entourage and a great minister of
the Mongol Empire, Chinqai, founded Chinqai Balasaghun, meaning Chinqai’s City, in western
Mongolia. Made of mainly captured and relocated Chinese
craftsmen, Chinqai turned this into one of several “manufacturing centres” in Mongolia. Both a farming settlement and weapons production
facility, it supplied Chinggis’ host as they moved west for the invasion of Khwarezm. Even the imperial capital, Karakorum, had
smithies and arms producers. It is unclear to what extent these finished
products actually made their way to the regular soldiers, outside of arrow production. By providing their warriors millions of iron
tipped arrows, the Khans would have been giving them the most effective, and deadliest, assistance
they could. No evidence seems to indicate there was ever
a concerted effort to armour the vast majority of Mongol troops or provide them a regular
kit, though the soldiers were expected to have some base equipment such as knives, bows,
ropes, sewing kits and other basic tools. The Franciscan Friar William of Rubruck, during
his return journey to Europe from the court of the Grand Khan in the early 1250s, had
only two of the twenty Mongols assigned to protect him armoured; both were in hauberks
of maille from the Alans of the Northern Caucasus, according to Rubruck. Other travellers such as John de Plano Carpini
and Marco Polo also indicate that outside of the Khan’s keshig, little effort was
made to furnish the regular army with equipment. Communication between their forces was an
important tool of the Khans. In this, they developed one of history’s
most famous postal systems, the yam. Situated on average roughly 30 kilometres
apart, the yam stations, also known as ortoo, were locally supplied relay stations which
snaked across the whole of the Mongol Empire. The communities the ortoo were situated in
provided foodstuffs and animals; messengers bearing either written or verbal communication,
would ride furiously to each station. There they would be resupplied, fed, jump
onto fresh horses and be on their way to bear messages to and fro. Each user was provided a passport, called
gerege in Mongolian or paiza in Chinese. The highest level of the gerege, the golden
‘tiger-head,’ bore the name of Chinggis Khan and stated: “By the name of Chinggis
Khan, endowed by Eternal Blue Heaven: This man is empowered to act with the same freedom
as I myself should exercise, had I come in person.” Below it would list what supplies this level
of passport provided the bearer. The yam system may have been brought to Chinggis
Khan’s attention by defectors from the Jin Empire, be they Chinese, Jurchen or Khitan,
or they may have organically emerged out of necessity of retaining some semblance of authority
over the ever-growing empire. No matter the origin, Chinggis Khan had recognized
the utility of such a system by the 1210s. The yam was expanded over the course of the
thirteenth century, particularly under Ogedai and Mongke, but continually disrupted and
a source of frustration for the locals, who had to both supply the yam, and the greedy
officials and merchants taking advantage of their ‘generosity.’ In much of the empire its presence was marginal
even at the height of the authority of the Great Khans. Yet it provided means to connect far flung
sections of the empire and retain contact between the various, long ranging armies carrying
out the Khan’s will. Via the yam, orders could be relayed across
the empire to organize timetables, such as the new censuses carried out on the orders
of Mongke, and then the demands for troops and supplies to be mobilized. Because of this, Hulegu was able to meet up
with more contingents and successfully stocked food depots without needless delays. By the time he reached the Hashashin fortress
of Maymundiz, so successfully had the yam stations been able to line up the campaign
that forces sent from the Jochid ulus were able to cross the Caucasus and unite with
Hulegu in northern Iran for the fall of these fortresses: both armies have marched on opposite
sides of the Caspian Sea. While films and video games like Ghost of
Tsushima often show the Mongol conquests undertaken by forces entirely consisting of the Mongols,
this is a gross simplification. The majority of the army serving the Great
Khans was multi-ethnic and not made up only of nomads. Even during his war for the unification of
Mongolia, the warlord Temujin was relying on troops of different backgrounds. While all were nomads practicing the same
horseback archery, not all were speakers of Mongolian languages. Many were Turkic peoples, some of whom were
even Eastern Christians, popularly called Nestorians. For horsemen of the steppe, these sorts of
‘ethnic’ distinctions were fluid; tribal names generally served to mark lineages both
real and imagined, and political loyalties which could shift as necessary. So once these Turkic groups submitted to Temujin,
and especially once he took the title of Chinggis Khan, these tribes would signify their loyalty
by deeming themselves Mongols as well, usually involving the adoption of Mongolian hairstyles
and clothing. For any nomadic steppe confederation, this
is not a unique process: from the Huns to the Gokturks, such an approach can be seen
again and again. Following the declaration of the empire in
1206, Chinggis Khan rapidly began to expand the Mongol ulus, incorporating neighboring
peoples into his army, many of whom were speakers of Turkic languages, who were nomadic, semi-nomadic,
and even agriculturists; the forest peoples around lake Baikal, the Kirghiz of the Yenisei
River Valley, the Uighurs of Xinjiang, the Qarluqs of Almaliq and the Onggut in what
is now Inner Mongolia. Some, like the Uighurs, had a great role in
the emerging administrative system. It was from the Uighurs that Chinggis Khan
adopted a script for the Mongolian language, still in use today in Inner Mongolia. While Chinggis was incorporating these peoples
into his army, it was fundamentally not changing the army itself, for it was their cavalrymen
he incorporated. For his early campaigns in the steppe, infantry
was too great a liability. However, once Chinggis Khan began to take
his war to the more powerful sedentary kingdoms in what is now China, he required a shift
in his operational thinking. Fighting against the Tangut Kingdom, his horsemen
had little offensive capability against city walls. Dominating in the field battle, they lacked
the knowledge to besiege cities effectively. For this, he would need to incorporate sedentary
peoples into his forces. While Chinggis Khan won his first significant
field battles against the Jurchen Jin Dynasty through the might of his horsemen and their
arrows, he understood that to make any lasting gains, he would need to utilize the very inhabitants
of the Jin Empire against their Jurchen masters. Within the Jin Dynasty were three primary
groups: the Jurchen, a Tungusic people hailing from Manchuria and ancestors of the Manchu,
who made up the ruling elite of the dynasty; the Khitans, a people related to the Mongols
who a century prior had ruled north China and Mongolia during the Liao Dynasty, until
being conquered by the Jurchen; and the Northern Chinese, who made up the vast majority of
the population. Even before the invasion began, the Khitans,
who made up much of the Jin Dynasty’s military, were defecting to Chinggis Khan, providing
intelligence and horsemen. Having been treated as second-class since
the Jurchen conquest and denied advancement in the military, there was long-simmering
antagonism between the Khitan leaders and the Jin. The Jin rulers, fearful of a Khitan revolt
in the face of the Mongol attacks in 1211, had sent Jurchen colonists among them in an
attempt to subdue them; the effort backfired monstrously, creating the revolt they so feared
and resulting in a restored ‘Liao Dynasty,’ which immediately submitted to Chinggis Khan
and provided more Khitan forces to aid in his conquest. Not only were they men and horses for the
Great Khan, but they also took the same resources away from the Jin Emperor and stretched their
forces even thinner. While they were undoubtedly important for
the fighting in China, we know Khitan horsemen would accompany the Mongols in the west. In late 1218 or early 1219, when Jochi and
Sübe’etei were returning through Kazakhstan from hunting down Merkit refugees near the
Caspian Sea, they were attacked by the Khwarezm-Shah Muhammad II. In the fighting Jochi was injured and nearly
overtaken by Khwarezmian troops, until he was rescued by a timely charge of a Khitan
Prince in his keshig. Perhaps the most significant addition to the
Mongol war effort in China was the mass incorporation of Northern Chinese into the Khan’s army. It was the adoption of Chinese infantry and
siege engineers which allowed the Mongols to learn the ways of siege warfare, and have
the manpower to experiment with it. The Mongol leadership always wanted to avoid
expending the valuable lives of their nomadic horsearchers. Each one was a lifetime’s investment and
hugely effective in the open field; to use them to push siege equipment was simply to
waste them. The Mongols recognized this early on, and
it was for these tasks they employed their ever-growing new Chinese army. From pushing siege equipment to filling in
moats, to manning catapults and scaling ladders, tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands,
of Chinese were brought into the Mongol army within years of the start of the conquest. Many were undoubtably forced, driven before
the Mongols as a veritable human wave to absorb the arrows of the defenders. But it cannot be dismissed that many willingly
joined the Mongols, particularly once it seemed the Jin Dynasty had lost the Mandate of Heaven,
the right to rule China, when they abandoned their capital of Zhongdu in 1215. By the time Chinggis Khan took his forces
west in 1219 against the Khwarezmian Empire, there were more Chinese fighting on behalf
of the Mongols in China, than there were Mongols fighting in China. While some of these Chinese forces were under
the command of Mongol, Turkic, Khitan or Uighur officers, many were led by Chinese warlords
and militia leaders who sided with the Khans, like Shih Tienzi or Cheng Jou. These were men who not only willingly served
the Khan of Khans, but did so with extraordinary loyalty; Shih Tienzi and his family would
remain prominent military leaders under the Mongols until the reign of Khubilai Khan,
and Cheng Jou was the most trusted lieutenant of the brilliant Mongol commander Mukhali. With Chinggis Khan absent fighting the Khwarezmian
Empire, Mukhali was left as a viceroy to keep the Jin Dynasty occupied until the Khan should
return. From 1217 until his death in 1223, Mukhali
led a stunning, highly mobile campaign throughout the reduced Jin Empire. Cities after cities were taken and retaken,
while Mukhali drove his armies to within striking distance of the new Jin capital at Kaifeng. While Mukhali’s main force was Turkic and
Mongolian horsemen augmented by Tangut cavalry, in other provinces in China Mukhali left command
to officers like Cheng Jou, who fiercely fought against the Jin to expand the Mongol Empire. Neither the Jurchen nor the Mongols were Chinese;
yet in much of the increasingly ruined Jin Empire, the fighting was being undertaken
almost exclusively between the Chinese subjects of both states. In the area around the Shandong peninusla
this became particularly confusing. Here, an uprising against Jin rule broke out,
known as the Red Coats. Here, loosely aligned warlords -some independent,
some aligned with the Mongols, some aligned with the Song Dynasty, and all hating the
Jin- fought themselves, the Mongols, the Song and the Jin. Some, like Li Quan, joined the Mongols and
on their behalf, fought the Jin and the Song for decades, earning high status and rewards
from the Mongol government. Li Quan’s son, Li Tan, lasted as a prominent
regional warlord until he revolted against Khubilai Khan in 1262, likely on account of
Song bribes and their empty promises. Only in reaction to this, did the Mongols
crack down on the power of the Chinese warlords in their service. Despite the restriction of their independence,
the Chinese in Mongol service only increased in importance as their war into the more humid,
less horse friendly climate of southern China advanced. Against the Song Dynasty, a vast army and
riverine navy of Chinese was assembled, serving alongside a core of Mongol horsemen and often
under the command of Mongols and Central Asian Persians and Turks. By the end of the war against the Song Dynasty,
during the pursuit of the fleeing boy emperors to the island of Yaishan, the combined Mongol-Chinese
army was under the supreme command of a northern Chinese, Zhang Hongfan, assisted by a Uighur,
Ariq Khaya, and a Central Asian Muslim, Omar. The Mongol conquest of China could not have
been completed without the manpower of the Chinese, or their military skill for taking
cities. The Mongols made heavy use of Chinese manpower;
cities in Mongolia like Karakorum and Chinqai Balasaghun were built using labourers from
China. Chinqai Balasaghun served as an industrial
and farming hub, manned by Chinese, to help supply Mongol armies as they passed through
western Mongolia on campaign. When planning the great western invasion in
the 1230s, the Mongols consdered sending west a vast army of Chinese infantry with them. This was dismissed early on in the proceedings,
deeming them unsuitable to such a journey. However, Chinese siege engineers were brought
with the Mongol armies on Chinggis Khan’s invasion of Khwarezm, almost certainly with
Batu and Sübe’etei’s 1230s western campaign, and with Hulegu in the 1250s- thousands of
them and their families to assist him in taking the remaining fortresses of the islamic world. But the Chinese were not the only ones brought
into use in the Mongol armies in the west. As the Mongols advanced across the western
steppe, many of the local Turkic tribes were absorbed into their forces. During Jebe Noyan’s swift conquest of the
Qara-Khitai, the local garrisons largely submitted to their new Mongol masters without issue,
but there is not substantial evidence to suggest they accompanied Chinggis Khan against Khwarezm. In the Khwarezmian Empire, much of the military
were Turkic Qipchaq tribes, a great number of whom freely abandoned their posts to join
the Mongols upon invitation and fight against their former employers. We have already noted Chinggis Khan’s mass
employment of forced levies, driving the local population before his armies much as he had
done in China. With his forces now experienced in siege warfare
from the fighting in China, there was less of a need for defections, as long as the Mongols
could use the locals in the most vulnerable positions. After Chinggis’ bloody campaign ended however,
the Mongols were more amenable to utilizing the locals militarily, generally for garrisoning
cities. Regional commanders appointed by the Mongols
would not have had access to substantial numbers of nomadic troops. Therefore, when rebellions did rise up after
the conquest, the initial responding force would not be Mongols from the steppe, but
locally raised militia. The western invasion of Batu and Sübe’etei
provides a few notable mentions of foreign troops in Mongol employ; the heavy usage of
catapults against the Rus’ cities suggests the presence of Chinese siege engineers; we
have Tanguts taking part in the siege of the Alan capital of Magas, alongside many Alans
newly conscripted to the Mongol army; when a Mongol raiding party was captured in Austria,
the Austrians were surprised to find an Englishman in their employ, a man who had apparently
served as interpreter and envoy on behalf of the Mongols. Men were also taken in the opposite direction
as well; Rus’, Qipchaq, and Alan men were carried east to serve in the Mongol military,
often filling the role of bodyguards. The general assumption seems to have been
that transplacing these men like this ensured their loyalty. A young Qipchaq warrior would be unlikely
to learn Chinese well enough to start taking bribes or escape on his own, and therefore
be forced to remain utterly loyal to the Khan. After the end of Mongol imperial unity, the
reliance on non-Mongols became even greater. In the Ilkhanate made heavy usage of Georgians
and Armenians from Cilicia and beyond, largely as heavy cavalry, who often took a primary
role in their many battles against the Mamluk Sultanate. While some have suggested this was due to
the superiority of the Caucasian heavy horse, it may just be again the Mongol inclination
to place their foreign, expendable troops into the most vulnerable positions, and thus
save their own men. Khubilai Khan’s foreign ventures towards
the end of his life demonstrate the reliance on non-Mongols for roles his horsemen could
not fill. Leaving many of the Mongols to guard major
sites, particularly on his border with the Central Asian Khanates, Khubilai’s famous
and often disastrous overseas attacks were usually made up of Chinese troops, augmented
by the people inhabiting the part of his empire in the closest direction to that which he
wanted to strike. For the invasion of Japan, Koreans built and
manned much of the ships that made up the navy, especially in the first invasion, while
northern Chinese, Jurchens and Khitans, as well as Mongols, made up the varied assaulting
forces. For the invasions of Dai Viet, Champa and
Pagan, Mongols fought alongside former Song troops, as well as men raised from Yunnan
and the small kingdoms on the late-Song Dynasty’s southwestern border. The navies supporting the Vietnamese invasions
and attacks on Java were ships raised from southern Chinese manned by Chinese crews;
for the attack on Java, the command was just as varied. The army was led by a former Song commander,
Gao Xing, the navy commanded by a Uighur, Yiqmis, and the total force was under the
overall command of a Mongol named Shi Bi. The Mongol army was never a homogenous body. Aside from these most obvious mentions we
have made, there were thousands upon thousands of men from across Eurasia who served the
Mongols in less exciting roles. Local scouts to show them routes; smiths and
artisans from Central Asia carried with the force to help produce and maintain weapons
and supplies needed for the daily function of the army; physicians from China who must
have set broken bones and mended wounds from Korea to Afghanistan. While the Mongols themselves provided the
necessary edge in direct warfare, it was the vast support system and ability to draw on
the knowledge and traditions of peoples across Eurasia which allowed the Mongols to expand
beyond the Eurasian steppe. The rapid expansion of the Mongol Empire in
the thirteenth century cannot be attributed to a single new military invention providing
technological supremacy over their enemies. Still, the Mongols were adept in employing
the tools of their foes. As historian Timothy May wrote, “the Mongols
rarely met a weapon they did not like.” But what was the role of the Mongols in the
transmission of gunpowder and gunpowder weapons over the 13th and 14th centuries? For some historians, like J.J. Saunders or Kate Raphael, the idea of the
Mongols as both users of gunpowder and transmitters of its knowledge to the west is a total negative
or extremely unlikely. But the great British sinologist Joseph Needham
demonstrated thoroughly that the Mongols used a variety of gunpowder weapons during their
wars in China, while more recent historians such as Iqtidar Alam Khan, Thomas T. Allsen
and Stephen G. Haw, have argued that the Mongols carried a number of gunpowder weapons, such
as bombs, fire-lances and rockets, west in their conquests over the rest of Eurasia. The first recipe for gunpowder appears during
the Tang Dynasty in the 8th century CE, in a Taoist work urging alchemists not to mix
saltpetre (potassium nitrate), sulphur and carbon-rich materials like coal, and to especially
not add arsenic to the mixture, as the result would light aflame. The Chinese quickly found the energy produced
by these materials quite mesmerizing when used in fireworks display, and in civil engineering
projects and mining. Contrary to some popular sentiments that the
Chinese only used it for peaceful purposes, it did not take long for it to be turned to
warfare. By 1044, possibly in reaction to military
defeats against the Tangut Xi Xia, the Song Dynasty was presented a collection of nine
kinds of gunpowder weapons and three distinct gunpowder recipes in the Wujing Zongyao. This technology advanced under the Song Dynasty,
which faced a collection of ever-more fearsome foes on its northern borders. These weapons took a number of forms. Bombs thrown from catapults (huopao), enclosed
in pottery or fragmenting metal shells. Arrows (huojian) with incendiary packages
strapped to them, launched from bows or massive mounted crossbows, developing into early rockets
over the twelfth century. Most infamous was the fire-lance (huojiang):
a bamboo or metal tube capable of shooting a jet of flame three metres in length, sometimes
with shrapnel and toxic materials packed into the tube to form a terrifying, flame-spouting
shotgun. some to explode and throw armour piercing
shrapnel, some to spread flame and destroy buildings, with others to have a choking,
blinding gas dispersed by the explosion to envelop and confuse the enemy. The Song Dynasty government was so terrified
of their foes acquiring them- that it prohibited the sale of any of the materials composing
gunpowder to the Khitan Liao Dynasty or Tangut Xi Xia in the 11th century. Both lacked access to natural reserves of
saltpetre producing lands. But with the Jurchen conquest of the Liao
and Northern Song in the early 12th century, the newly formed Jin Dynasty seized not only
stores of these weapons, but the knowledge and resources to produce their own. The first textual references to fire-lances,
rockets, and new kinds of bombs appear as Song forces desperately resisted Jin invasions. When Chinggis Khan invaded the Jin Dynasty
in 1211, whole companies of Chinese siege engineers entered into his service, bringing
with them knowledge to construct Chinese siege machines. One such Chinese siege specialist who willingly
deserted, Guo Baoyu, accompanied Chinggis Khan west on his campaign against the Khwarezmian
Empire. According to his biography in the Yuanshi,
when the Mongols attempted to force a crossing of the Amu Darya, a number of Khwarezmian
ships blocked their path. Guo Baoyu ordered a volley of huojian to be
launched against the fleet. The ships were all set aflame, allowing the
Mongols passage. While huojian originally and literally meant
fire arrows, according to Joseph Needham, Jixing Pan, and Thomas Allsen, over the twelfth
century the term came to signify rockets, when powdered gunpowder mixtures with higher
percentages of saltpetre, charcoal and less sulphur made for effective rocket propellants. While Chinggis Khan certainly brought Chinese
siege engineers westwards with him, gunpowder was not a key component of his tactics. Likely, Chinggis lacked the resources to manufacture
gunpowder and gunpowder weapons, and if he was making use of them, it was in limited
quantities and quickly depleted. After Chinggis Khan’s death in 1227, his
son and successor Ogedai completed the war with the Jin Dynasty, in the process acquiring
greater experience with gunpowder weapons, as well as the natural and manpower resources
to produce them. In 1231, for instance, the Jin utilized a
new development in bomb technology, the heaven-shaking thunder-bomb (zhen tien lei), to sink Mongol
ships in a naval engagement. These were bombs with high nitrate content
encased in a cast-iron shell. When set off, they created a monstrous noise
like thunder, splintering the iron shell into a wave of armour and flesh tearing shrapnel,
an early fragmentation grenade. In 1232, the great Mongol general Subedei
besieged the Jin capital of Kaifeng, in a year-long siege in which both sides utilized
gunpowder weapons. Subedei’s catapults launched bombs into
the city, while the Jin defenders annihilated mobile shelters pushed up to the walls by
dropping thundercrash bombs on them via an iron chain. The defenders also employed a number of ‘flying-fire-spears’
(feihuojiang). Depending on the interpretation, these were
fire-lances packed with wads of shrapnel and arrows which when fired acted like a flaming
shot gun, while others like Jixing Pan suggest these were rockets. At one point in the siege, a Jin commander
took 450 men armed with flying fire-lances into the Mongol encampment, a surprise attack
resulting in hundreds of Mongol troops killed or drowned then they tried to flee. It was remarked that the thundercrash bombs
and flying-fire-lances were the only two weapons the Mongols feared. Yet, these devices could not arrest the fate
of the dynasty. The reliability of these weapons was questionable. Different proportions of the chemicals, might
result in a device going off early, too late, or not at all. The range of these weapons was short, and
they were best utilized in the defense, in situations where their effect on enemy morale
could be maximized. These bombs were not yet the secret to destroying
city walls, though they could damage wooden structures, towers or gates along the battlements. Regardless, they were a frightful weapon when
used properly. Thus, it seems unusual that Subedei, the commander
of the final campaigns against the Jin who faced these gunpowder weapons, made little
use of them in the great western campaign begun a few years later. Though specialized Chinese artillery was employed
against the Alans of the north Caucasus, Rus’ principalities and Hungarians, there is little
direct indication of the use of gunpowder weaponry in the west. Many of the mostly wooden cities of the Rus’
principalities were burned, but the Rus’ sources generally offer no description of
how this occurred. A possible indication is supplied by the Franciscan
friar John de Plano Carpini, who travelled through the Rus’ principalities late in
the 1240s bearing messages from the Pope to the Great Khan. In his report Carpini very accurately describes
Mongol battle and siege tactics, with the intention that his observations would help
prepare Christendom against further attacks. He wrote that the Mongols threw Greek fire
onto cities, in addition to melted down fat from prisoners, a combination which was very
difficult to extinguish. As the Mongols, as far as is known, did not
use Greek Fire, it seems that Carpini attempted to describe an incendiary of unusual properties
using cultural terms he was familiar with. As Carpini’s knowledge of Mongol siege tactics
came from survivors in the Rus’ territories, it seems to imply that a special type of fire-causing
weapon was used against the Rus’: quite possible gunpowder weapons Subedei had brought
from China. The famous smoke screen employed by Mongol
forces at the battle of Liegnitz in Poland in April 1241 may also have been a type of
gunpowder weapon, as suggested by Stephen Haw. Devices to deploy toxic smoke and smoke screens
have been used in Chinese warfare since at least the 4th century CE, but during the Song
Dynasty more effective versions were developed with gunpowder. In easily shatterable pottery containers,
these weapons were packed with poisons, foul-smelling ingredients, shrapnel, arsenic and lime. Dispersed by the force of the explosion, these
bombs unleashed a cloud or fog of painful gas which blinded, disoriented and confused
enemy forces- very similar to the smoke weapon described at Liegnitz. Not understanding it was a gunpowder weapon,
either a bomb via a small catapult or modified fire-lance, the Poles focused on the most
visible ‘tool’ as the origins of the smoke, mistakenly identifying a Mongolian horse-hair
standard as the device. Lacking words for these new devices, which
the Mongols were unwilling to let non-military individuals examine, it is hard to determine
when a medieval author is using a familiar term, such as Greek Fire or Naptha, to refer
to a new technology which served a similar purpose. In some cases, it is even hard to tell if
it is just a dramatic description. Such is the case of the Persian writer Juvaini’s
account of Hulegu’s campaign in the 1250s, to which he was a direct eye-witness. Juvaini writes of how Hulegu was provided
by his brother, the Grand Khan Mongke, a thousand households of Chinese catapultmen, as well
as naptha throwers. At the siege of the Nizari Assassin fortress
of Maymun Diz, Juvaini mentions a large crossbow-like weapon deployed by Hulegu’s Chinese siege
engineers, which he called an ox-bow, a direct translation of the Chinese term for the weapon
ba niu nu. Juvaini writes that it delivered meteoric
shafts which burnt the enemy, in comparison to stones lobbed by the defenders, which did
little but harm a single person. These ox-bows in Chinese warfare, as described
by the Wujing Zongyao, could have gunpowder packages attached to the bolts, and were used
in the same manner as Juvaini describes. While some historians like Stephen Haw see
this as a clear usage of gunpowder, it must be remarked that Juvaini’s tendency for
over-flowery language makes it difficult to gauge how literal this passage must be taken,
though he was an eye-witness to the siege. Generally, it seems that gunpowder was little
used in the Mongols’ western campaigns. Likely difficulties in travelling with it
prevented them from taking great quantities of it, and at the time of the conquests there
was not sufficient knowledge in the west that allowed them to procure more supplies. The matter was very different in the continuing
Mongol wars in China, where under Khubilai Khan bombs were a main component of the wars
against the Song Dynasty, which also employed them. Thousands of bombs were made every month in
the Song Dynasty, though getting them to where they needed to be was another matter. One Song official in 1257 inspecting the border
arsenals lamented how poorly supplied these vulnerable sites were in these weapons, and
how repeated requests to the central government were fruitless. The Song continued to throw whatever they
could against the Mongols as they advanced deeper into southern China, but by then the
Mongols not only had ample supplies of these weapons for war in China, but manpower reserves,
a powerful military structure and a leadership hell-bent on overrunning the south, driven
by the energetic Khubilai who believed in the eventuality of his conquest. Khubilai’s great general Bayan set up ranks
upon ranks of huopao during his drive to Hangzhou, lobbing stones to pound down the walls, gunpowder
bombs to annihilate gates and towers and terrify the defenders within. Against such an implacable foe, the last of
Song resistance was ground to dust. It appears that an advance in gunpowder weapons
was made sometime in the late thirteenth century. Near the ruins of Khubilai’s summer capital
of Shangdu, the earliest confirmed cannon has been found. Bearing a serial number and an inscription
in the ‘Phags-pa script dating it to 1298, weighing 6 kilograms (13 lb 11 oz) and just
under 35 cm (approx. 14 in) in length, it suggests a product of
considerable experimentation and systemization. Much more primitive and rougher versions have
been found that seem to date to the last years of the Tangut Xi Xia Dynasty, crushed in 1227
by Chinggis Khan. It is probable that the evolution of fire-lances
from bamboo to metal tubes was a stepping stone to larger metal tubes capable of larger
gunpowder charges and projectiles, brought on by the emergency of the Mongol invasions. Only in the last years of the 13th century
did these models reach a level of standardization and sophistication to become true bombards,
and more and more sophisticated models are known from over the fourteenth century. There are a few passages from 13th and 14th
century Chinese texts which may indicate the usage of these cannons, usually in naval engagements;
where muzzle flashes seem to be described when Mongol ships fire upon fleeing Jin ships,
or with small vessels at the blockade of Xiangyang bearing huopao, but from ships too small for
catapult. Much like the western texts, the Chinese did
not yet have a name for this new technology though. Calling them huopao, the same name for the
catapults which threw gunpowder bombs, it is impossible to know, unless a description
is given, which texts refer to bombs, and which to early cannons. From 1288 we have perhaps the earliest description
of small hand-held guns or cannons. In the war against his rebel cousin Nayan,
Khubilai Khan led his army against Nayan himself, but attacked from multiple fronts. One such operation was led by a Jurchen commander
in Khubilai’s service, Li Ting. Using the word for fire-catapult or cannon,
huopao, Li Ting and his small squad of Korean soldiers one night snuck into an encampment
of Nayan’s men in Manchuria and set off these weapons to great effect. From the context, it is clear that these weapons
are too small and mobile to be catapults. In further support of this interpretation,
it appears one of these actual weapons was found. Discovered in 1970 in Heilongjiang province,
near where Li Ting’s troops fought Nayan, a small bronze cannon or handgun has been
discovered from an archaeological site supporting a late thirteenth century context. Weighing 3 and a half kilograms, 34 cm in
length, with a bore of 2 and a half centimeters, these were small, anti-personnel weapons. Not much use against walls, but devastating
against men and horses. The Yuan Dynasty continued to produce cannon
over the fourteenth century. One well known example from 1332 bears an
inscription with its date and purpose of manufacture, intended to be used on board a ship for suppression
of rebels. By the rise of Zhu Yuanzhang and the Ming
Dynasty in the late fourteenth century, cannons and other firearms were standard features
of Chinese armies. So did the Mongols spread gunpowder westwards? Recipes for gunpowder and even the first gunpowder
weapons appear in Europe, the Islamic World and India late in the thirteenth century and
early fourteenth centuries, after the Mongol expansions. However, the diffusion is difficult to track
due to the already mentioned ambiguities in terminology. It’s likely the Mongol armies did not travel
with great quantities of powder and were reluctant to share its knowledge. It is notable though that when perhaps the
earliest recipe for gunpowder is recorded in Arabic in 1280 by Hasan al-Rammah, he records
the ingredients as being Chinese in origin, with saltpetre for instance called Chinese
snow, or rockets as Chinese arrows. A common word for gunpowder in Arabic and
Persian meant drug, a literal translation of the Chinese huoyao, fire-drug which implies
that knowledge was transmitted directly from Chinese engineers in Mongol service. By the start of the fourteenth century, fireworks
appear as objects of regular entertainment in the Ilkhanate. Many diplomats, travellers, priests and merchants
made the trek from Europe across the Mongol Empire and back, and many brought gifts from
the Khans with them, or observed closely the Mongol army in an attempt to learn its secrets. The Franciscan friar, William of Rubruck,
spent time with a European goldsmith in Mongol service, William Buchier, the man who made
the famous Silver Tree of Karakorum. Buchier appears to have worked often in conjunction
with Chinese artisans in his work for the Mongols. Though Rubruck does not describe gunpowder,
he did meet, while back in Paris, the first European who did: Roger Bacon, who later describes
with amazement his experience viewing Chinese firecrackers going off in Europe. Even if the Mongol army itself did not directly
or intentionally transfer gunpowder, or use it in quantities to replace their own bows
and arrows, they opened the pathways that allowed its knowledge to move across the Eurasian
continent. Over the early decades of the fourteenth century,
fearsome hand guns and bombards became regular features of battlefield across the continent,
the secret to gunpowder no longer restricted to Chinese dynasties. More videos on Mongol history are on the way,
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