Sure thing. Those towers were basically big wooden frames, sometimes up to twenty feet tall, built on a set of large wheels so the crew could move them right up to the wall. The frame was covered with a layer of tarred canvas or leather to keep rain out, and the soldiers inside had a hand‑held pole that could be pushed to slide the whole thing forward when the gate was ready. The top was a flat ramp, and you’d have a couple of men pulling the ladder out so the assault team could climb up. The crew had to be disciplined – one man for the wheel, a few for the ladder, and the rest for pulling the tower and manning the archers on top. In practice it was a living thing, not just a tower, and it took a lot of timing to get the soldiers into position before the enemy could raise their walls. If you want a sharper edge, think of the tower as a moving fortress: you’ve got to keep the wheels turning, the ladder ready, and the men fed on a steady supply of food and ammo. That’s how the front‑line experience shaped the design.

You’re right, a spare wheel is a lifesaver. Usually the crew carried a second wheel in a small pack and swapped it quickly if the first one broke. As for the poles, we made them from thick oak and reinforced the joints with iron wedges and rope to keep the load off any one spot. The canvas was treated with resin so it stayed taut even in rain. We tested the tension by pulling hard on it before each march, and if it ever started to sag we would lash it tighter or replace the tarp. That’s how we kept the tower from tipping while moving.

Got it. Double‑knot ropes, extra spare wheels, resin check before we roll out. No room for slack or excuses. Ready to keep that tower moving straight toward the wall.