A doctrine of war is made up of the principles of war which, having passed through the critical and constructive mind of man, or a number of men, have become a general body of instruction, by the light of which are solved the concrete problems of war.—Unsigned article in Edinburgh Review.
History teaches that war is inevitable. It is the teaching of the Bible, both of the old and new dispensations. From Genesis to Revelations, war is the all-inspiring theme of prophets, priests, and kings. Even He who was no disturber of the people said: "Where a strong man armed keepeth his palace, his goods are in peace; but when a stronger than he come upon him and overcome him, he taketh from him his armor wherein he trusted, and divideth the spoils." It is axiomatic that a nation that will not fight becomes a prey to those that will. "Without the fighting instinct," says one, "men become soft and effeminate." This was the condition of Prussia after Frederick the Great until Waterloo. It was Bismarck who declared that a nation could only be held together by blood and iron and not by declamations and resolutions.
A great peace advocate has recently said:
Peace means infinitely more than the absence of war. It means order and security and fair dealing and mutual good-will.
All noble and generous hearts long to .put an end to war. But you cannot put an end to war unless you provide something better to take its place.
The abolition of war is not the first thing. The preparation of peace is the first thing. Conciliation and arbitration and firm agreements to uphold justice must precede disarmament.
What the world wants is a positive, creative, constructive peace—it wants peace with power.
In his latest volume, "Jena to Eylau," Field Marshal Von der Goltz says:
A nation which desires happiness must also be powerful and skilled in arms. It must neither renounce its passionate love for the fatherland, nor lose its power to regard war as an earnest, bitter thing and a historical necessity. As long as the process of reconstructing states proceeds with the changing seasons, as long as human development does not stand still, so long will there be war. But those who do not wish to be ruined by it, must prepare in peace-time to endure the stern-armed contest with opponents and rivals.
As civilization spreads, and the triumphs of art and science improve, and broaden, and uplift the conditions of mankind, there is a tendency to believe that war recedes and will eventually vanish—perhaps in one hundred, or, it may be, in two hundred years. The most advanced of the prophets of the millenium admit that until the battle flags are furled, nations must be prepared for eventualities, as the phrase goes; others, however, who view war as the legacy of a barbarous age, point to the Hague as the court of last resort. But, "Woe betide the cabinet," quotes Von der Goltz, "which, half-hearted in its policy, and fettered in its ideas of war, meets an opponent whose crudely elemental principles acknowledge no law but that of inborn strength."
Every war in the past can be traced to commercial rivalry, or as a recent writer puts it: "Supported by history, it can be said in general that all wars between nations, all civil upheavals, all mighty social. violences of whatever nature, have had at base, whether apparent or obscure, an economic grievance or a commercial ambition. . . . At the base of every real revolution is a loaf of bread, and commerce is a latent war." Disagreements in economic questions concerning commerce and tariffs doubtless can be adjudicated, but the world knows that there are certain questions affecting the life of a state which cannot be submitted to arbitration; one writer says "nothing of vital importance ever will be." We know that the United States would never send to the Hague tribunal a controversy involving the Monroe Doctrine, or our control of the Panama Canal; that England would not tolerate any outside dictation regarding her policy in Egypt; and Austria would not permit interference with her position in Bosnia. And so, at the beginning of the twentieth century, when peace leagues and peace congresses and arbitration treaties are as plentiful as the leaves in Vallambrosa, "war runs its course through a whole neighborhood of nations much as a contagious disease would run through a neighborhood of individuals"; the earth is stained with the blood of contending armies, and there are wars and rumors of war as in the days of the King of Israel, who blessed the Lord because he had taught his hands to war and his fingers to fight. "War," writes the ancient Heraclitus of Ephesus, "is the father of all things," and Lord Bason said: Wars are suits of appeal to the tribunal of God's justice when there are no superiors on earth to determine the cause. The only uncertainty concerning war is its hour of coming. The cloud of it constantly overhangs, like "a cloud of winter noons over the vanishing sun." Hence the gospel of preparation; and therefore the highest aim of statecraft is to maintain the nation in readiness and strength, as guarantees of peace. Says Treitschke, the German philosopher: "Among all political sins, the sin of feebleness is the most contemptible; it is the political sin against the Holy Ghost"; and Frederick the Great said that negotiations without arms are like music books without instruments.
Preparation for war is not restricted to building navies and organizing armies; it is based essentially upon the most effectual methods of using our armed forces in the presence of a hostile force and this preparation can only be acquired by long and serious study of the history of wars and the lives of great leaders. Von Moltke says: "A general staff cannot be improvised in the outbreak of war. . . . It must have been prepared long before, during peace, and must be in practical working, and in constant touch with the troops. But that is not enough. The general staff must know who its future commander will be. Must be in close touch with him and acquire his confidence, without which its position is untenable."
The study of war naturally suggests at once German authorities, not only because German officers have been the most prolific writers on the subject, but because, generally speaking, it is a fetichism to refer excellence in military training and preparation to German standards; this is well enough, but foreign writers have sounded a note of warning, and if the detailed accounts of the Kaiser maneuvers as reported in London newspapers are to be accepted, we will perhaps be inclined to moderate our enthusiasm for German administration and organization, and not burn all our candles at the Teutonic shrine. Describing the operations of the "Blue" army, on the plains of Silesia, the correspondent of the Daily Mail laconically says: It is difficult not to feel that Von der Goltz was taken undue advantage of in peace conditions; that the Blue commander's robust belief in the capacity of a thin line of troops to maintain a frontal action, and in the opportunity which this retaining power affords to move reserves for the decisive action on the wings." He points out that maneuver organization is not necessarily war organization, and although the troops had the latest equipments, ladder observation wagons for the artillery, traveling kitchens and aeroplanes, yet no means were taken to conceal the movement of troops, which in dry weather was betrayed by thick clouds of dust, as smoke betrays the presence of a ship at sea.
Besides, Berlin has not yet recovered from the shock of the Turkish defeats in the recent wars after a long training of the Turkish Army by officers of the German staff, but the latter have comfort in the reflection that the battles of Harbin and Mukden were won by an army moulded by German thought and in the German doctrine.
But there are other systems and other doctrines of war. The French have developed a school of thought radically different from the teachings of Moltke, and the French Army preens itself on the recent successes of the Greeks, whose army had been trained for months by French officers under General Eydoux.
English methods appear to be a composite application of the French and German doctrines.
This paper is not an attempt to enunciate a doctrine of war; that would be an unwarrantable presumption; it is desired only to emphasize the fact that there is such a thing, and that a doctrine of war is a necessity for every state that may be forced into an armed conflict with a first-class power. In the United States we have as yet no doctrine of war, and it is to be remembered that whether we borrow one or work one out for ourselves, its truth can only be established by the supreme test of modern war. Not until then can we learn "where theory and practice converge" and find an answer to the question asked by Von Hardeman a century ago, Was theory made for practice, or was practice made for theory?
In two brilliant but unsigned articles which appeared in the Edinburgh Review a year or so ago, the doctrine of war is discussed under the captions of "The British Army and Modern Conceptions of War," and "The Place of Doctrine of War." The writer points out that there are three fundamental principles of any doctrine of war; and although he is writing particularly of the army, it will be seen that these principles are equally applicable to the fleet:
1. The commander-in-chief must have a definite idea of what he wants to do.
2. That separate armies and even the corps when separate from the army must be amenable to his intentions.
3. He must possess over the minds of his subordinate commanders a mastery sufficient to insure his conception being carried out.
It is almost commonplace to observe that the first essential of success must be unity of thought between the commander-in-chief and his subordinate commanders. The latter must know how their chief would have them act under diverse circumstances as they arise, whether they are in his presence or not, because the fate of battles and campaigns depends largely upon the ability of subordinates to comprehend and execute the ideas and wishes of the commander-in-chief. To some men it is necessary to explain every detail; others of quicker wit easily grasp the situation on mere outlines. It is said that to Lannes and Davoust, Napoleon had only to indicate his plans, but upon many of the other marshals he could only rely when they were immediately under his eyes; "even Ney, 'the bravest of the brave,' lacked the capacity for broad views and correct application of strategical conditions"; and Napoleon's final overthrow is now attributed to the failure of his marshals. It was because there was no unity of thought, in this sense, that Chancellorsville was lost to the Federals, and it was because the veteran Steinmetz was incapable of following the workings of the mind of the crown prince that he was overwhelmed at Gravelotte. It was unity of thought and clear understanding that won for Nelson Trafalgar and the Nile, and for Farragut the battle of Mobile Bay.
Unfortunately, in this country the study of war attracts but little attention from the general public, and the profession of arms is not seriously considered. This is because we are not a military people. Not for an instant would we tolerate compulsory training. We deprecate a large army, and we are content with a navy that is inadequate to maintain the effectiveness of the two great policies for which we are most insistent. Our thoughts and ideals are mainly commercial, and the keys of the temple of Janus hang in the stock exchange. These are facts that inevitably invite collision with other nations, and as Lord Roberts said in a speech last year, referring to the relations between England and Germany, "No one can say when the crisis will come, but it will be within a period of time indicated by the convergence of the lines of destiny, which may at any moment be accelerated by some misunderstanding or by some conflict with the friend or ally of either country."
Both in the army and navy a period of intellectual activity has begun in the study of the art of war, and the War College is no longer regarded with indifference. Every military man who may be called upon to take part in the higher leading is beginning to ask the question: Of what use is armament, if there is not trained intelligence to make the best use of it? This does not refer to the mere technical skill of handling ships or to the exercises in the minor tactics of the fleet. What is suggested is the study of the great problems of strategy and grand tactics. As these are inseparable from national policy, it is apparent that a knowledge of world politics is indispensable, and thus a broad and attractive field is at once opened to the student who would learn of the very foundations of his profession. It is inadmissible to argue that in these progressive days a man can trust to so-called common-sense to help him in his crowded hour; or to supposed traits of congenital generalship, unless he has indeed the elemental military genius of Napoleon, or the generalship of Lee. The man who has only a superficial knowledge of chess, the oldest of all war games, would be a fool to imagine that he could defeat a Paul Morphy, but it is not less absurd, and it is more unreasonable, for an untrained commander-in-chief to expect success if his opponent is skilled in the art and science and history of war—other things being equal of course. Success, says Von der Goltz, is not to be obtained by an extempore effort. Experience, which alone demonstrates its possibility, is indispensable for its achievement.
To borrow another suggestion from the Edinburgh article, let us imagine two hostile fleets meeting. The "A" fleet is thoroughly drilled and imbued with a doctrine of war. The “B" fleet has no doctrine. It follows then, that in the "A" fleet will be harmonious co-operation and unity of thought, while in the "B" fleet the second and third principles of command can never be realized. "It requires no demonstration to show the side that has the odds. In the problem of war the mind of the opponent is always the ‘x’ of the equation, and when there is no doctrine another unknown quantity is introduced, 'y' or ‘z,' the mind of the other hostile leader who does not know what appreciation to give to the situation upon which he may have to depend."
It will be to his advantage if the commander-in-chief be at least fairly familiar with the methods of his opponent. Information of this kind may not always be obtained, nay, it may never be known; but the attempt to get it may be made by the attachés. Indeed, in these days, when there are but few secrets of materiél, it would seem that the most fertile field of usefulness for an attaché is the study and observation of the personal characteristics of the officers of the service in the country to which he is accredited, and his urgent endeavor should be to acquire knowledge of the personnel of that service. In the Civil War it was the intimate knowledge that the leaders had of their opponents that often decided the fate of the campaigns. For instance, during the Fredericksburg campaign, Longstreet's and Jackson's Corps were for several days 150 miles apart, and the united Federal Army was practically between them. But Lee and Jackson presumed largely on Burnside's want of enterprise. Major Steele says: "The best part of Lee's strategy appears to have been his understanding of the characters of his enemy's commanders and the use he made of it."
This illustration clearly indicates the importance of the personal equation in military operations, and the personal influence of character. Great leaders are men to whom subordinates are attached by a devotion which is ready to respond to any demand and to yield any sacrifice. Such personal devotion of men to leaders is notable in the histories of Napoleon and Lee. Paul Jones decided the fate of the battle of the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis when he jumped to the quarter-deck and encouraged in his own person his officers and men to fight courageously. His orderly, describing the scene at this moment, writes: "Every man whose wounds permitted him to stand up pressed forward to the post of danger, and the commodore had but to look at a man to make him brave. Such was the power of one heart who knew no fear! Such the influence of one soul that knew the meaning of no other word than conquest." This recalls the quotation applied to him by the Duchess of Chartres, "Wrathful Achilles of the Ocean." (L'Achille fougereux de l'Ocean.)
On this subject Henderson says:
War is more of a struggle between two human intelligences than between two masses of armed men; and the great general does not give his first attention to numbers, to armament, to position. He looks beyond these, beyond his own troops, and across the enemy's lines, without stopping to estimate their strength or to examine the ground until he comes to the quarters occupied by the enemy's leader, and then he puts himself in that leader's place, and with that officer's eyes and mind he looks at the situation; he realizes his weakness, tactical, strategical, and political; he detects the points for the security of which he is most apprehensive; he considers what his action will be if he is attacked here or threatened there, and he then learns for himself, looking at things from his enemy's point of view, whether or no apparent risks are not absolutely safe.
To return to the study of history of war: Napoleon declared it was only by the study of the campaigns of the great captains, Caesar, Hannibal, Marlborough, that one can expect to become a great general. He himself was an earnest student of the art of war, and it was his intimate knowledge and familiarity with the campaigns of Marshal Maillebois that enabled him to successively defeat the Austrians and Italians under Beaulieu in 1796, when he first won fame. It is one of the most curious coincidences in history that shortly after he was appointed to the command of the Army of Italy Napoleon found himself practically in the situation of Maillebois fifty years before. The story is told by General Pierron in his brochure, "How the Genius of Napoleon was Formed." The striking feature however of the narrative is in the anti-climax of the campaign, when a situation presented itself not covered by the record of Maillebois' experience. It became imperative that not only the initiative must be taken, but that action must be prompt and original. He no longer had the experience of either Maillebois or Bourcet to guide him, and for the first time he was thrown upon his own resources. According to Pierron, he did not respond to the situation. Contemporaneous witnesses, says Pierron, are unanimous upon this point, and adds "il a été tout d'abord décontenancé." His first thought was to retreat, and he ordered Augereau to abandon his lines and to fall back upon Rosabella and to destroy the bridges of Porto Lignano. When Bonaparte met Augereau at Rosabella, the latter protested against retreating and insisted upon attacking. Berthier, the chief of staff, remarked that the marshal did not know the position of the enemy, to which Augereau replied that he knew the position better than Berthier. Bonaparte then turned to Augereau and asked, "What do you think we should do to save the army?" Evidently it was no longer a question of only retreating but of escaping annihilation. It is an historical fact that Augereau's advice was accepted, but in his report of the operations, Napoleon does not mention Augereau's name, although it was to him he owed the conception of his fine movement on interior lines, by which he placed his forces between the two divisions of the Austrians and defeated them in detail, but as Von der Goltz points out, he who bears the responsibility is entitled to the glory, however much he may have made are of another's ideas. This is perhaps the only time that Napoleon ever doubted himself, at least so far as his land campaigns are concerned—he certainly was at sea in his conduct of the campaign of Trafalgar, for even his greatness as a soldier did not qualify him for sea strategy.
This story—si non vero, é ben trovato—emphasizes the importance of the antecedent study of war, and the value of "recollection" which Napoleon once declared was what others mistook in him for inspiration.
In the United States there have been writers on strategy and tactics, but no one has yet evolved a definite and concrete scheme for the conduct of war—not war plans in the ordinary sense of the word, or essays on administration or policy, but a doctrine that will teach that essential oneness in thought between the leader and his subordinates which insures harmony and co-operation in the presence of the enemy. There may be scores of war-plans in the portfolios of the general staff, and yet no doctrine. It was General Langlois who said, "better have doctrine without text, than text without doctrine."
Colonel Henderson, in his "Life of Stonewall Jackson," says:
It was not until 1866 and 1870 that the preponderating influence of the trained mind was made manifest. . . . . The history of modern warfare records no defeats so swift and so complete as those of Königgratz and Sedan. . . . . Both the Austrian and French armies were organized and trained under the old system. Courage, experience and professional pride they possessed in abundance. Man for man, in all virile qualities, neither officers nor men were inferior to their foe. But one thing their general lacked, and that was education for war. Strategy was almost a sealed book to them; organization a matter of secondary importance.
The Prussians were the first to recognize the fact that intellect and education play a more prominent part than stamina and courage, although history has proved it on countless battlefields. Sailors should not forget that Themistocles with 310 sail defeated the fleet of Xerxes of 600 ships; Tromp's victory over Oquendo, twice his strength; the battle of Camperdown, where, although the forces were numerically equal, the victory was gained by superior skill in the method of attack, and the Dutch Admiral declared that Duncan's strategy ruined him. The battles of the Nile, Trafalgar, Lake Erie, Lake Champlain, Stewart's capture of the Cyane and Levant, Navarino, and in our times, the battle of Lissa, and the naval battles of the Russo-Japanese War are all examples of the everlasting truth that the battle is not always to the strong.
After their crushing defeat by Napoleon at Jena and Auerstadt, the Prussians began a systematic study of the causes and conditions that led to their overthrow. They established a school for the study of war at Berlin, under the celebrated Scharnhorst, the son of a Hanoverian peasant, who was brought into the Prussian service by Lecoq. Not until after Sedan did the French recognize the value of an educated army, nor did the English until after the disasters of the Boer War. General Langlois attributes the English failure in South Africa to "lack of consistent and coherent tactical and strategical education, a doctrine of war infusing with life the whole body of an army, without which the most admirable texts and precepts enshrined in regulations are but dead bones and dry dust."
THE GERMAN DOCTRINE OF WAR
As the essays in the Edinburgh Review may not be accessible it is proposed to draw freely upon them in the following outlines of the German and French doctrines.
It is said that Frederick the Great gave orders which were like words of command; he moved his army as if it were a company and his orders were transmitted by numerous aides. This was the extreme limit of one-man control over large bodies in the field. The lines were rigid, inflexible, and compact. Initiative was at low tide. The change in weapons forced a new system—semper mutabile should refer to weapons—of tactics, strategy, and control. At the beginning of the nineteenth century the range of the Austrian musket was 200 to 300 yards and each man carried 60 rounds; the 12-pounder guns ranged 1500 yards, and 500 with case shot. At Eylau "dense sheets of case-shot, fired at 80 paces distance, swept the approaching French masses." At Waterloo the French infantry used a flint-lock having a range of 180 yards. Each man carried 50 rounds, but in wet weather only 1 in 15 rounds was relied on. Trained infantry was suffered to fire two rounds per minute. The six-pounder was the standard field gun.
Armies moved from 7 to 8 miles per day, thus preventing concentration. Wars were wars of position. The short range of the guns made it necessary for the opposing armies to get as close to each other as possible. The counterpart of this in the navy was the yard-arm to yard-arm action.
Note here the difference in the maneuvers of army and navy in a general engagement, the same in principle to-day as yesterday. An army moving slowly and coming in contact with a regiment or a division will require perhaps five hours to envelop and destroy it. It will require a day perhaps to destroy similarly a corps, and should an army come in contact with another army, it may be several days before either is in a position to attack. Then the battle is fought standing, until a retreat is commenced. Now on the sea two hostile fleets on sighting each other, if not already in battle formation, take it up at once. The next move is to make the approach; and open the battle at 12,000 or 14,000 yards: then the fight is made at a speed of fifteen knots. Reserves cannot be utilized at sea as on shore for this very reason. Imagine that our fleet brings the enemy's fleet to action, and our admiral bolds off a division of battleships at a distance of six miles. As the fight proceeds—a running fight—the admiral wishes to throw in his reinforcements, and he signals his reserves to join, even with increased speed, the reserve ships will be a long—a prohibitive—time in getting in position, in overtaking or coming up with the main body. On the other hand, on shore a flanking movement or turning movement is accomplished by a mobile force around a stationary force. Thus it is clear that the sea action must be fought with all ships at the same time.
The German doctrine of war was expounded by Clausewitz, "who was the first to apply pure thought to the work of war." The greatest stress was laid upon the advantages of initiative, and it was based upon the principle that the destruction of the enemy's main army is the one true goal of warlike effort, and that it is to be brought about by the application of superior force at the decisive time. This comes very near being identical, in meaning at least, with the theory of war as expounded by General Bedford Forrest. Corbett's observation, that "the admiral who has no wider outlook than to regard the enemy's fleet as his primary objective will miss his true relation to the other forces which are working for a successful issue after the war," is not opposed to this dictum, although upon first reading it appears to be, because we are reminded that France did not accept peace until ten years after Trafalgar, nor did England obtain peace with Spain until fifteen years after the defeat of the Spanish Armada.
The German tactics of to-day are based on the immunity of "fronts" against purely frontal attacks and the increased weakness of the flanks, caused by long range weapons, which permit an assailant to bring to bear a strong converging fire. If the fire is converged on the flanks, then the latter will crumble toward the center and the whole be destroyed, because the conclusion is reached that the flanks are the objective, and the forward movement of the army should be so effected as to more readily attack and overlap the enemy's wings.
Hence the German method of applying the superior force at the decisive point at the decisive time is to concentrate in the battle-field separate bodies which have been more or less separated according to the topography. This is a method which will not probably appeal to most officers: In the first place it involves separation at the start, and the success depends upon each body arriving at the appointed place at the appointed time, which history proves to be a dangerous experiment with an active and alert foe; it places the commander-in-chief in the hands of his column commander, and the difficulty if not-the impossibility of rectifying a mistake in directions.
Thus separated from the commander-in-chief and from each other, success can only be had by the spirit of co-operation and enterprise, and such initiative of the leaders of the separate columns that they will not hesitate to attack the enemy wherever found. This of course means bold and intelligent handling of the separate bodies by resourceful and able commanders. Good results can only be obtained from this method of war by an army whose peace training has arrived at the cultivation of a spirit of self-reliance, energy and bold initiative and has produced by this a very high average of leadership throughout the whole army. The German general staff aims to produce not one Napoleon, but "to make of every corps and division commander a worthy peer of Constantin Von Alvensleben and of Hiller von Gartringen; men who will use the perfect instrument placed in their hands with the energy and intelligent initiative shown by the leaders of the Third Corps at Mars le-Tour, and of the First Division of the Guard at Königgratz.
Henderson says that the study of war had done far more for Prussia than educating its soldiers and producing a sound system of organization. It led to the establishment of a sound system of command. It was based on three facts: An army cannot effectively be controlled by direct orders from headquarters; the man on the spot is the best judge of the situation; intelligent cooperation is of infinitely more value than mechanical obedience. Von Moltke, the disciple of Scharnhorst, was the father of this school. His whole life of more than eighty years was devoted to the ambition of seeing his country wipe out the bitter recollection of the disasters of the double battle of Jena-Auerstadt, and of Friedland. He lived to realize that ambition.
Few events in history are more dramatic than Bismarck's dinner party at Berlin, when the King's despatch from Ems was received, informing him of the visit of Benedetti. Moltke and Von Roon were his guests. All the clap-trap of tragedy is at hand. The mis-en-scene is perfect. The hotel particulier, the stupid decorations, the three leaders of the Prussian Kingdom. Enter messenger and delivers to Bismarck the fateful telegram. Bismarck reads it, with a pencil annotates it, and then to his guests he reads first the original, and then the telegram as he has changed the sense of it. The revision acts like an electric current. "It is the call to arms," exclaims Moltke, and more wine is ordered, and the dinner which began in gloomy forebodings ends in hochs for the Vaterland. The next morning the populace in Paris are shouting "à Berlin."
A few hours after the dinner in Berlin there is a luncheon, also à trois, at the Tuilleries. Present, the Emperor, the Empress, and the Prime Minister. The conversation was all of war, which Ollivier tried in vain to resist. The Emperor, who was ill, took but little part in the discussion, but the Empress was insistent and declared that there must be war, and that it was her war (C'est ma guerrè), and the Minister returned immediately to the Chambers, to make his famous war speech, which in the months and years to come was unjustly turned into a shaft of ridicule against him.
Another picture is drawn by Russell in his description of the battle of Sedan six weeks later. The old field marshal is standing with his king and with Bismarck near a pine wood overlooking the battlefield. "Moltke, when not looking through his glass, or at the map, stood in a curious musing attitude with his right hand to the side of his face, the elbow resting on the left hand crossed toward his hip." Russell was fascinated, he declares, as he watched "the three terrible fates before whose eyes the power of Imperial France was being broken to atoms." If ever since the days of Simeon, a man was ready to intone his nunc dimittis, surely it was Von Moltke in January, 1871, when the Kaiser Wilhelm signed the Treaty of Peace in the Palace at Versailles.
The French system of war, evolved from the studies of Langlois and others, is antithetical to the German system. It is based upon Napoleon's methods. They conceive that "battle comprises two distinct operations, the action of a detachment of all arms called the advance guard, including an unusually large proportion of cavalry, whose role is to discover the enemy's disposition, to fix him by fighting, without itself being destroyed, and by so holding him to give the commander-in-chief a target for the' decisive attack by the mass of the army, held back under his immediate control until, his position formed on a sure basis of ascertained facts, the moment has come to overwhelm that portion of the hostile army whose destruction will most vitally affect the situation."
In a lecture on the spirit of the new French strategy, Colonel Maude (R. E.) points out the difference between the German and French systems, which is based, the one on linear formation, the other on the deep formation. The linear formation is the parallel advance of more or less equal columns with no large .reserve and no strategical advanced guard. It moves on a broad front and is directed against the area in which the enemy is concentrating. Each officer and man is imbued with the spirit of initiative, of attacking always, attacking everywhere, and attacking everything. The formation is suitable when the force is in superior numbers and when it is not opposed by a general of the genius stamp of Napoleon.
With the deep formation, the army employing it must have mobility; the troops must hold some days without their supply trains; they must be able to bivouac and billet and requisition; they must be able to march far and march continuously, and they must have a very broad base with alternative lines of communication prepared beforehand, but above all they must have a commander who is able to make a plan quickly, and make a good plan. The essence of making a good plan depends upon the information that his cavalry get, and if his cavalry gets this information quickly.
Colonel Maude states that Napoleon's method of war changed at the outbreak of war with Austria and Russia in August, 1805, and that after twenty years of careful investigation the French general staff finally found the key to it in a single sentence, occurring in a letter written by Napoleon to Soult on October 5, 1806, in which he first declares his intention of marching in a "battalion square" of 200,000 men through the heart of the Prussian monarchy. By "battalion carré" he meant the grouping of army corps in such a manner that no matter from which direction the enemy approached him, the long marching columns would have time to deploy for action, and by their resistance gain further time for their comrades to come to their assistance; and the essential condition of success, when using the square formation, is the absolute necessity of first securing a fixed point about which to maneuver. Hence his maxim, "On ne maneuver pas qu'autour d'un point fixe." The French conclusions were that, while Clausewitz was correct in his idea of Napoleon's object, his later disciples had confused and misunderstood Napoleon's conception of war and his methods of making it, and that the German successes in 1866 and 1870 were due not so much to strategy and ideal training as to the fact that the German armies were better equipped, better prepared, and surpassed in activity, push and driving power which was so lamentably seen missing in their enemies. The German leaders were better, but their strategy, so the French staff contend, was doubtful and their battle tactics dangerous.
In the French system the leadership of the battle is thrown upon two men. The commander of the advanced guard must know just how long to hold the enemy until the commander-in-chief is ready to strike, and while driving the enemy upon him, must time his retreat so as to avoid being overwhelmed. The commander-in-chief must know just when to strike the decisive blow, not too soon lest he strike the air, not too late lest he will be crushed and strangled.
General Upton tersely sums up Napoleon's "way" in these words: "Throughout his career it was the constant aim of Napoleon, both in strategy and tactics, to pierce the enemy's center, and then, falling upon his wings, destroy him in detail."
France has not neglected the lessons of 1870. A contemporary writer states that the French army is to-day efficient and prepared; that the officers are thorough, untiring, and conscientious; there is no arrogance or flaunting luxury; no elite regiments; nor is there any symptom of vain-glory, or any false sense of security.
Then there is the doctrine of no-doctrine, about which little need be said here.
The war between Russia and Japan and the Boer War are brilliant examples of the triumph of doctrine over the doctrine of no-doctrine. The Russians had no system of war; the Japanese, on the other hand, had been trained in German methods and were infused with the German conception of war. General Kuropatkin reiterates time and again the divergence of views held by his subordinate commanders as to the training and handling of troops. The want of a doctrine of war was undoubtedly contributory to defeat in both cases; "a sound, comprehensive, all-pervading doctrine of war is as important to an army as its organization; that it is the soul without which an army is but so much inert matter. This is equally applicable to the navy; we have only to substitute the word "fleet" for "army." In the report of the German general staff on the Boer War, the opinion is expressed that the British Army failed because "its military education was unsound, in that it was not infused with the essential principles of war deduced from history; that the leaders, superior and subordinate, had no mental grasp of the requirements of modern battle."
This is indeed a severe arraignment. It is the danger signal of the watchman on the tower: "Whosoever heareth the sound of the trumpet and taketh not warning; if the sword come, and take him away, his blood shall be on his own head."
Where, then, can we hope to work out our own doctrine of war? It is the aim and purpose of the War College to answer the question, by training along lines of reading and study on the subject of war; by the solution of problems on tactics and strategy; by cultivating a taste for the literature of national policies and international law. No student can take such a course of preparation seriously without being impressed with its vital necessity; he may go to scoff, but he will remain to pray. Napoleon said: "If I always appear to be prepared, it is because before entering on any undertaking I have meditated for long, and have foreseen what may occur."
The study of war should begin early in life when the mind is plastic and receptive, and when impressions are quickly received and long retained. For this reason the student officers at the War College should be selected from the younger officers of the service so far as possible, and those who have a talent or genius for that special study will be soon discovered and may be trained accordingly.
The need of this fundamental education was first recognized in the United States Navy more than thirty years ago by Rear Admiral Luce, and it was his insistence, perseverance and faith that finally led to the establishment of the War College, and then after its birth, under inauspicious circumstances, it was he whose nursing and fostering care, assisted by a few other enthusiastic officers, finally brought the foundling through its precarious infancy. It had difficulty in existing, and its sponsors received but little encouragement. For example: During its first year the founder of the War College happened to be on a board. A member of the board said to him: "What is that new-fangled thing you have got up there at Newport?" "What do you mean, the training station?" "Oh, no, that other thing." "You mean the War College?" "Yes, that's it; what is it for?" "Well, the object of the War College is to teach the art of war." "What! the art of war! Well, I'll be damned."
Another officer of high rank and distinguished service said: "You say you teach naval history and strategy and tactics; well, you have got Cooper and you have the Tactical Signal Book; what more do you want?"
The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now he calleth all men to repent.
This was the ordinary attitude at the time, and under the circumstances it was natural. The United States had never been in a war which involved over-sea operations, such as had confronted the English and French in their centuries of struggle; therefore, questions in strategy and logistics, which necessarily precede trans-oceanic campaigns, had never been presented to these men. They were graduates of a war which had not been hampered with the problems of a struggle with a foreign state; their work was in a more restricted area—in the rivers and bays, and bayous of their own shores. It was hard work and there was stiff fighting, whether of ironclads against non-descript craft, or forcing the passage of forts, or attacking sea-coast fortifications. It is therefore not surprising that those hardy fighters, to whom there were none superior, scoffed at the idea of learning war in a school. But yet the principles of strategy and tactics cried aloud in every one of their own operations, unheeded and unheard, but nevertheless as much present as they have been in every battle since Gideon, in the Valley of Armageddon, with his three hundred picked men, defeated the hosts of the Midianites in the battle of Moreh Hill in the year before Christ 1249. The lamps, the broken pitchers, and the battle-cry of Israel are fraught with lessons for us to-day.
This attitude of the higher officers towards the War College in its beginning extended to the department, but the apathy of the latter, although by no means so marked, had naturally a deterrent effect upon its development. This may be explained, however, by the fact that at that time and for some years afterwards the navy was passing through an era of transition which taxed the energies and resources of the department to the utmost; and so the War College, situated at a distance, did not receive the encouragement it would have had otherwise. When Montcalm sent de Bourgainville to Paris to represent the desperate situation in Canada, and to beg for reinforcements, the Ministry replied: "Quand la maison est en feu on ne peut pas faire attention a l'ecurie"; and so Canada was left to her own resources and eventually fell into the hands of the English. There were too many other irons to be heated in Washington, and the War College remained more or less neglected.
It will be doubtless argued that in the navy we have no unity of thought on war, Tot homines; quot sententiae. But on this particular subject all will doubtless be content to follow the guides who have given years of thought and study to the problems of war. From this point of view the importance of the War College cannot be overrated. It is a serious study demanding strict application and especially a thorough digestion, for danger lurks in little knowledge. This suggests a story. During the Civil War an officer was dismissed from the navy for permitting a Confederate vessel to get through his blockading line. Commenting on this, a high authority states that the officer had a "smattering" of international law, and while he was trying to make up his mind if he had the right to stop a ship flying neutral colors, the latter passed him. The failure of the blockader was not entirely due to the fact that he knew only a little law, but that he did not know enough; it would have been better had he known none at all.
The question is: How are we to learn the art of war? Lord Seaton replies: "Fighting, and a damned deal of it." Napoleon said: "Only by the study of the campaigns of the world's great captains," and apropos of this opinion may be quoted McDougall's words: "It is not pretended that study will make a dull man brilliant, nor confer resolution and rapid decision on one who is timid and irresolute by nature, but the quick, the resolute, the daring, deciding and acting rapidly, as is their nature, will be all the more likely to decide and act correctly in preparation, as they have studied the art they are called upon to practice." And a distinguished Confederate general wrote of military leaders in general: "Conscientious study will not perhaps make them great, but it will make them respectable; and when the responsibility of command comes, they will not disgrace the flag, injure their cause, nor murder their men."
He is a bold man who denies the real need of conscientious study of this important subject as a preparation for the highest commands. Studies of history, war, world politics, and international law, strategy, tactics, and the war game comprise the postgraduate course the War College offers to the willing student. But the college teaches, by attrition, by inspiration, call it by any other name you will, something that is not found in books. It points out standards and ideals which are the essentials of military service. It teaches that the military hierarchy, not military feudalism, established by centuries of fighting on sea and land, imposes obligations equally binding on officer and man; that without the distinctions of rank, discipline is impossible, and military science impotent.
In the recent conference at the War College expressions of opinion were requested on loyalty, initiative and decision of character, and the contributors to this symposius were practically of every rank in the navy and marine corps, as well as of the army. It is a healthy sign of the times, as well as refreshing and encouraging, to read the views that were presented for discussion; they strengthen faith in a service in a day when there are those who believe that our ideals are waning, and that they do not measure up to the standards of the old sea-captains—untitled knights of the blue ocean, to use General Porter's fine phrase.
Only this mental training can complete and round out the education of an officer; without it, the splendid virtues of coolness, resource, presence of mind, and even the power of bearing responsibility, must be dimmed. To attain it means hard work, but it is our reasonable service. It is well to remember that "men who have achieved are those who have done more than was expected of them; they have overcome discouragement and obstacles; they have made mistakes, but have retrieved them nobly; they have disregarded the warnings of the timid and the criticism of the envious, choosing rather to heed the inner voices. They have felt their strength even as the eagle knows the strength of his wings."
In the words of Lowell,
God give us peace! Not such as lulls to sleep.
But sword on thigh, and brow with purpose knit!
And let our Ship of State to harbor sweep,
Her ports all up, her battle-lanterns lit,
And her leashed thunders, gathering for their leap!
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
New York Sun editorials.
Jena to Eylau—Von der Goltz.
MSS. Captain McCarthy Little, U. S. N.
Imperial Defence—Wilkinson.
Edinburgh Review.
Journal of the Royal Artillery.
Germany in the Next War—Von Bernhardi.
Biography of Dr. William Russell.
Life of Stonewall Jackson—Henderson.
American Campaigns—Steele.
The Orient Question—Prince Lazarovich Hrebelianovich.
The Sailor Whom England Feared—Crawford.
The Trafalgar Campaign—Corbett.
Germany and the Germans—Collier.
Archives of War College.