Free The Last Full Measure by Michael Stephenson Page B

and bloody, what of the warrior from the opposite end of the social and economic scale? How did the knight fight and die?
    One of the most significant differences—in both combat and death—between the noble warrior and the common soldier was identity. The medieval knight’s surname was a specific identifier, whereas the common soldier had a generic surname very oftendrawn from his trade—Tanner, Cooper, Fletcher, et cetera. Similarly, the medieval samurai had surnames, whereas the common soldier, the
ashigaru
(literally, “light feet,” meaning unarmored), had none. In the time before 1587, when it was possible for an
ashigaru
to fight his way into samurai status, his first acquisition was a surname. 2
    By the mid-twelfth century, the heraldic symbols painted onto the knight’s shield proclaimed him uniquely, unlike the signifiers of generic tribal membership with which common soldiers’ shields were decorated. The knight’s symbol also told the story of his ancestral history and proclaimed his position in the world. Of course, the heraldic advertising had one decided disadvantage in that it attracted the attention of the enemy—either those intent on capture and ransom or those somewhat more homicidally inclined who wished to decapitate (often literally) their opponent’s command structure and thereby demoralize his army. The
horo
, a ballooning capelike cloak worn by elite samurai, advertised not only his identity but also his role as a key battlefield messenger (roughly equivalent to an aide-de-camp). As a particularly conspicuous target (similar to the standard-bearer in the Western tradition) it also increased his risk and would serve as the receptacle of his severed head should he be killed in battle. It not only invited attack but, ironically, served to guarantee that its wearer’s body would be treated with respect.
    In an echo of the Homeric proclamation, knights would on occasion ride out to pronounce their lineage and seek an opponent of similar caste. Like their European counterparts, the samurai were fixated by lineage and determined to establish their status before battle. In the first clash between the Taira and Minamoto clans on July 29, 1156, two samurai approached an opponent and declared: “We are Oba Kageyoshi and Saburo Kagechika, descendants of Kamakura Gongoro Kagemasa, who when he was sixteen years old … went out in the van of battle and was hit inthe left eye by an arrow.… The arrow tore his eye out and left it hanging on the plate of his helmet, but he sent an arrow in reply and killed his enemy.” Quite a declaration before even one blow has been exchanged. 3
    One of the paradoxes of both knight and samurai is that the passion to establish identity through heraldry and proclamation is countered by the anonymity of armor. For example, the close resemblance between the Viking helmet and face mask of the Sutton Hoo burial trove and a samurai mask, complete with its false mustaches, is striking. Other examples of “hiding” identity behind decoration are seen, for example, in the painted faces of North American Indian warriors and the “Huron” haircuts and painted faces of American airborne warriors going into Normandy on D-Day. All chose an adopted identity, terrifying to the beholder and reassuring to the wearer. It is as though the battleground is a theater, and to step into a role, to become a character, makes the warrior’s task easier.
    The knight was a warrior designed to fight warriors of a similar caste. The mode of fighting—the technology (the most advanced of his day) and the method (drummed in by training since a tender age)—was intended to be not only practically effective but symbolically charged. The way he fought was meant both to overcome his enemy and to proclaim his status. The high stylization of combat (the way the knight was trained in specific techniques; the weaponry and armor that distinguished him; the protocols of combat he was honor-bound to