While the exact casualty figures are subject to debate (as are the total numbers of soldiers on both sides), the disproportionate ratio overall is not in question. In pre-gunpowder battles, the majority of casualties that were inflicted would occur when one side had broken and their troops were fleeing (and therefore more easily killed).

As for the question of French tactics in both battles, they were not really as similar as they are portrayed. The elevation of these two engagements to the pantheon of English national mythology has resulted in a popular memory that does not match the historical reality very well. Far from the arrogant and posturing fops often portrayed by fiction, most accounts of Crecy and Agincourt indicate that the French took their opponents quite seriously and carefully considered their available options. However, their planning was often made completely irrelevant by the immediate circumstances of each battle, which I will explain in more detail below.

1346: Prior to the Battle of Crecy, the English and French armies were engaged in a game of cat-and-mouse. Due to the inherent difficulties of medieval reconnaissance, the French had a difficult time determining the exact location of Edward III's forces and were unable to catch him before he could cross the Somme. The French were also unable to pursue him across the Somme immediately due to the tide coming into the estuary. By the time that the French finally crossed the river and caught up to the English, Edward had already resupplied his men by looting the locals and had picked his ground to fight on. French scouts seem to have misidentified the exact location of the English, who were closer than the initial reports suggested.

The second French scouting party accurately identified the English position, which was alarmingly close. Many French aristocrats suggested that the army halt for the day, collect themselves, and wait to engage the English on their own terms. The French forces had been moving all day, their baggage train was way back in the columns of marching troops, and their individual contingents were somewhat scattered. But due to the disorder of the French march, some units were advancing on the English and either would not halt or could not halt. King Philip felt that he had to make the decision to attack with all available troops immediately, or otherwise the English could easily grind up the disordered French army piece by piece. Still, the French did not just charge blindly. Philip ordered his crossbows to advance and engage the English archers, which was in theory a good decision. However, due to the aforementioned advance, the French crossbows did not have their pavises with them (they were stuck in the baggage train). The French crossbows were cut to pieces without much effort, and their attempted withdrawal got in the way of the French cavalry and footmen advancing from behind. By the time French troops actually engaged with the English, their troops were entirely at the mercy of English archers, utterly disorganized, tired from the day's march, and without a real tactical plan. The subsequent crushing defeat - "Never had a greater misfortune befallen Christians," lamented Jean Le Bel- is not much of a shock, given the circumstances.

At Agincourt, the French proceeded very differently. By 1415, French soldiers were well-experienced in fighting English forces. Their tactical plans for Agincourt (which have survived in quite detailed form) called for two flanking forces of handpicked, experienced cavalry to assault the side of the English army and clear out English archers. Bowmen up the center would soften up the English lines and weaken them prior to an overwhelming advance from the French army (which had a larger proportion of men-at-arms). Like at Crecy, this planning went awry in the actual execution due to other factors. Unlike at Crecy, the French had now learned their lesson and had decided to wait to engage the English. While both armies were in full formation, the French were waiting out the English (who were poorly supplied and in bad condition from a long and arduous campaign). French soldiers arrived on the field and took their time to eat, drink, and organize themselves before advancing on the English position. They were in no hurry to assault prepared English positions. As long as they remained out of bowshot, the English could do nothing.

Henry V, an experienced and clever soldier, waited long enough for the French to get comfortable before ordering a sudden and rapid advance. English soldiers quickly replanted their stakes into the soft ground of the field to protect themselves as they moved within that critical bowshot distance. The French, who had become disordered as they dismounted, ate, and conversed, were unable to reassemble in time to respond. The elite cavalry groups, which were supposed to take out the archers, attacked too late. By the time they managed to move (in a much smaller unit than had originally been intended), they were advancing into a hail of arrows and a field of planted stakes. The ineffectual cavalry assault was followed by a complete failure to utilize skirmishers. The archers appear to have either not moved up far enough to make themselves useful or had been accidentally jostled to the back as the eager, reinforced French vanguard pushed up. The end result was that a somewhat disordered French attack would be advancing into the teeth of a prepared, unbroken English line. This led to similar calamitous results as Crecy.

While the French did make a number of mistakes, their defeats at both Crecy and Agincourt are much more complicated than simply ascribing them to hubris. The myth of the arrogant French knight, sneering at the heroic and outmatched English peasantry, emerged as a convenient narrative for a number of perspectives. For medieval French chroniclers, French aristocratic hubris showed that the defeats were a result of sinful behavior being punished by God Almighty (and therefore not a failure of French arms). For later English nationalists, the arrogant French knight served as a counterpoint to the stalwart English yeoman, taken as an embodiment of middle-class English virtue. For Whiggish military historians who saw historical changes as the result of technological shifts, the French defeats at Crecy and Agincourt showed that the French had failed to adapt to "new" technologies and tactics that had outpaced a supposed medieval reliance on the frontal cavalry charge. But these narratives do not provide a real understanding of what actually happened at these battles and serve to actively obscure how medieval warfare actually functioned.