The Trojan squadrons flanked by officers drew up and sortied, in a din of arms and shouting voices – wave on wave, like cranes in clamorous lines before the face of heaven, beating away from winter’s gloom and storms, over the streams of Ocean, hoarsely calling, to bring a slaughter on the Pygmy warriors – cranes at dawn descending, beaked in cruel attack.
-- Illiad, The - Homer -