What it was really like to fight in a medieval battle

From the moment dawn broke over a medieval battlefield, the air filled with tension.

Long before the first sword was drawn or arrow loosed, soldiers had endured a nervous night; they often slept in the open or took refuge inside cramped tents, if they held rank.

Many suffered from lack of food or clean water. Some vomited from fear. Others sought calm by praying or by reciting promises to saints or family.

Few went into battle feeling prepared. Most knew that they were about to witness and possibly suffer terrible violence. 

Once the armies began to form up, the true chaos of medieval warfare unfolded.

Trumpets or horns summoned men into formation, but shouting, confusion, and the sounds of horses or rattling equipment often drowned out commands.

Infantry lined up in tight blocks with shields locked, while archers took positions on the flanks or behind protective stakes that had been hammered into the earth.

Heavy cavalry rode powerful horses, and they waited for the signal to charge.

These warhorses, known as destriers, were bred and trained specifically for battle, and they delivered powerful charges against uncoordinated or lightly armed troops, though they proved less effective against tightly packed formations.

The noise of men shouting, weapons clanging, and horses snorting created a deafening racket.

Many soldiers had little idea what the overall plan entailed. They followed the men in front or obeyed their captain’s orders, often without knowing where the enemy was positioned. 

The opening phase of battle usually began with a missile exchange. Archers, crossbowmen, and slingers fired into the enemy ranks, because they hoped to thin those ranks or break formations.

At battles such as Agincourt in 1415, English longbowmen loosed thousands of arrows that darkened the sky and disrupted the enemy’s advance; mud, poor coordination, and the narrowness of the battlefield further hindered that advance.

The impact of those volleys proved terrifying. Arrows struck shields, helmets, and flesh with sickening force.

Some men died instantly. Others screamed when bolts pierced their limbs or lodged in joints.

Soldiers understood that standing still under fire meant suppressing the sight of men collapsing nearby, unable to move or breathe.

Many blocked arrows with shields or helmets, but others fell before they could raise a weapon. 

When the infantry advanced, the pace quickened and the lines began to lose their shape.

Men ran, stumbled, or crashed into one another as they moved across uneven terrain.

The ground quickly turned muddy, especially if it had rained, and soldiers slipped or tripped over rocks, bodies, or discarded gear.

The Battle of Towton in 1461 saw such conditions; men fought in snow and muddied fields that became increasingly dangerous underfoot.

Later accounts described the snow as bloodied and knee-deep. Breath proved difficult beneath heavy helmets, especially for those wearing padded gambesons or mail.

Most carried swords, axes, or spears, but many turned to daggers when the fighting drew too close.

Some wielded particular weapons such as pollaxes and war hammers that had been designed to pierce armour or crush bones.

Falchions also appeared, though they saw less frequent use in battle than more standard swords or spears.

The weight of armour protected some, but it also limited movement. Fighting in a press of men often meant swinging blindly or thrusting forward with little control. 

Once the lines met, the slaughter turned personal. Soldiers grappled with their enemies at arm’s length, often unable to see clearly through the narrow eye-slits of their helmets.

Blood spattered from hacked limbs and crushed skulls. The clatter of blades striking shields and the sound of steel biting into bone echoed around the battlefield.

Many men screamed for help or mercy. Some were dragged down and trampled, crushed under the weight of friends and enemies alike.

The smell of sweat, blood, and human waste overwhelmed the senses. Those who panicked had little chance of escape.

Discipline collapsed as units broke apart, and victory often went to those who held their nerve. 

Cavalry charges brought a different form of horror. A wall of armoured knights and destriers thundered across the field, their lances angled forward in a deadly row.

Infantry caught in the open had little time to react. Those who stood firm behind stakes or pikes might repel the charge, but others were shattered on impact.

A charging horse could break bones or hurl a man across the field. The lances punched through shields, tearing into chests and shoulders.

Some horses fell, throwing their riders into the melee. Others trampled wounded men and ground them into the dirt.

The cost of raising and equipping a mounted knight was very high, and these elite warriors often trained from youth to control both weapon and horse in battle.

Nevertheless, by the later Middle Ages, professional infantry and mercenaries formed an increasingly large part of many armies. 

Sadly, commanders on the field rarely had full control once the battle began.

Signals sent by flags or trumpets were often missed or misunderstood. Once fighting started, leaders had to rely on messengers, who could be cut down or delayed.

Some commanders, such as Edward III at Crécy in 1346, positioned themselves on higher ground to observe and issue orders.

Others entered the battle themselves, directing their troops from the front.

Regardless of the system, most soldiers acted on instinct or direct orders from their immediate superiors.

Mercenary groups like the Routiers, hired for their experience, often fought with dogged determination, though they were also well known for looting and lacked the formal discipline of trained household troops or well-drilled levies. 

Those who fell in battle met a range of fates. Some died quickly from blows to the head or chest.

Others lay wounded for hours during which they cried for water or medical aid.

Medieval medicine offered little beyond basic first aid. Arrows were pulled out, wounds stitched or cauterised, but many died from infection in the days that followed.

Surgeons used saws, tongs, and knives to perform amputations, usually without pain relief.

Guy de Chauliac's Chirurgia Magna, written in 1363, offered some guidance, but even the best surgeons could do little for shattered limbs or blood infection.

In their stead, priests wandered the field and offered last rites or comfort to those who were dying. 

Victory did not always bring safety, though. Pursuit often followed, with victors cutting down retreating foes to ensure they would not regroup.

Prisoners of high status were taken for ransom, but common soldiers were usually killed.

After the battle, the field became a place of looting. Armour, weapons, and valuables were stripped from the dead.

Some soldiers stole from corpses, while others buried friends or searched for lost comrades.

Contemporary codes of chivalry technically forbade certain acts, but few were punished.

The stench of death lingered for days. Ravens and dogs picked at the remains. At Visby in 1361, archaeologists later found mass graves filled with bodies that showed wounds to the face and legs, which was where armour was weakest.

Remarkably, many of these bodies were buried, still wearing their armour, so that the injuries could be preserved for modern study. 

By the end of the day, those who survived felt more relief than triumph. Their bodies ached, their hands trembled, and many wept in silence.

Fighting in a medieval battle proved brutal through relentless violence, draining all reserves of strength and instilling profound terror.

Few forgot what they saw or endured. Even fewer wished to face it again.