If artillery did not have a greater range than the rifle, we could not risk separating it far from its support, as it would have to wait until the enemy was but four or five hundred paces away to fire on him. But the more its range is increased, the further away it can be placed from its support.
The greater the range of artillery, the greater freedom of action from the different arms, which no longer have to be side by side to give mutual support.
The greater the range of artillery, the easier it is to concentrate its fire. Two batteries fifteen hundred meters apart can concentrate on a point twelve hundred meters in front of and between them. Before the range was so long they had to be close together, and the terrain did not always lend itself to this.
Furthermore, do not support a piece by placing infantry just behind or alongside of it, as is done three-quarters of the time at maneuvers. On the contrary hide the infantry to the right or left and far behind, cover it without worrying too much about distance and let the artillery call for help if they think that the piece is in danger of being lost. Why should infantry be placed too close, and consequently have its advance demoralized? This will throw away the greatest advantage that we Frenchmen have in defense, that of defending ourselves by advancing, with morale unimpaired, because we have not suffered heavy losses at a halt. There is always time to run to the defense of artillery. To increase the moral effect advance your supports in formation. Skirmishers can also be swiftly scattered among the batteries. These skirmishers, in the midst of the guns will not have to fear cavalry. Even if they are assailed by infantry it will not be such a terrible thing. The engagement will merely be one between skirmishers, and they will be able to take cover behind the pieces, firing against the enemy who is coming up in the open.
Guibert, I believe, held that artillery should not worry whether it was supported or not; that it should fire up to the last minute, and finally abandon the pieces, which supporting troops might or might not recapture. These supporting troops should not be too close. It is easier to defend pieces, to take them back even, by advancing on an enemy dispersed among them, than to defend them by standing fast after having participated in the losses suffered by the artillery under fire. (Note the English in Spain. The system of having artillery followed by infantry platoons is absurd.)
Artillery in battle has its men grouped around the pieces, stationary assembly points, broadly distributed, each one having its commander and its cannoneers, who are always the same. Thus there is in effect a roll call each time artillery is put into battery. Artillery carries its men with it; they cannot be lost nor can they hide. If the officer is brave, his men rarely desert him. Certainly, in all armies, it is in the artillery that the soldier can best perform his duty.
As General Leboeuf tells us, four batteries of artillery can be maneuvered, not more. That is all right. Here is the thing in a nut-shell. Four battalions is a big enough command for a colonel. A general has eight battalions. He gets orders, "General, do so and so." He orders, "Colonel, do so and so." So that without any maneuvers being laid down for more than four battalions, as many battalions as you like can be maneuvered and drilled.
There are plenty of carefree generals, who are never worried nor harassed. They do not bother about anything. They say, "I advance. Follow me." The result is an incredible disorder in the advance of columns. If ten raiders should fall on the column with a shout, this disorder would become a rout, a disaster. But these gentlemen never bother with such an eventuality. They are the great men of the day, until the moment that some disaster overwhelms them.
Cavalry is no more difficult to work with than infantry. According to some military authors, a cavalry general ought to have the wisdom of the phoenix. The perfect one should have. So should the perfect infantry general. Man on horseback and man afoot is always the same man. Only, the infantry general rarely has to account for the losses in his command, which may have been due to faulty or improper handling. The cavalry general does have to do this. (We shall lay aside the reasons why.) The infantry general has six chances for real battle to one for the cavalry general. These are the two reasons why, from the beginning of a war, more initiative is found in infantry than in cavalry generals. General Bugeaud might have made a better cavalry general than an infantry general. Why? Because he had immediate decision and firm resolution. There is more need for resolution in the infantryman than in the cavalryman. Why? There are many reasons, which are matters of opinion.
In short, the infantryman is always more tired than the cavalryman. His morale is therefore harder to keep up. I believe therefore that a good infantry general is rarer than one of cavalry. Also, the resolution of an infantry general does not have to last for a moment only; it has to endure for a long, long time.
Good artillery generals are common. They are less concerned with morale than with other things, such as material results. They have less need to bother about the morale of their troops, as combat discipline is always better with them than with the other arms. This is shown elsewhere.
Brigadier generals ought to be in their prescribed places. Very well, but the most of them are not and never have been. They were required to be in place at the battle of Moscow, but, as they were so ordered there, it is evident that they were not habitually in place. They are men; and their rank, it seems to them, ought to diminish rather than increase the risks they have to run. And, then, in actual engagement, where is their prescribed place?
When one occupies a high command there are many things which he does not see. The general-in-chief, even a division commander, can only escape this failing by great activity, moved by strict conscientiousness and aided by clairvoyance. This failing extends to those about him, to his heads of services. These men live well, sleep well; the same must be true of all! They have picked, well-conditioned horses; the roads are excellent! They are never sick; the doctors must be exaggerating sickness! They have attendants and doctors; everybody must be well looked after! Something happens which shows abominable negligence, common enough in war. With a good heart and a full belly they say, "But this is infamous, unheard of! It could not have happened! It is impossible! etc."
To-day there is a tendency, whose cause should be sought, on the part of superiors to infringe on the authority of inferiors. This is general. It goes very high and is furthered by the mania for command, inherent in the French character. It results in lessening the authority of subordinate officers in the minds of their soldiers. This is a grave matter, as only the firm authority and prestige of subordinate officers can maintain discipline. The tendency is to oppress subordinates; to want to impose on them, in all things, the views of the superior; not to admit of honest mistakes, and to reprove them as faults; to make everybody, even down to the private, feel that there is only one infallible authority. A colonel, for instance, sets himself up as the sole authority with judgment and intelligence. He thus takes all initiative from subordinate officers, and reduces them to a state of inertia, coming from their lack of confidence in themselves and from fear of being severely reproved. How many generals, before a regiment, think only of showing how much they know! They lessen the authority of the colonel. That is nothing to them. They have asserted their superiority, true or false; that is the essential. With cheeks puffed out, they leave, proud of having attacked discipline.
This firm hand which directs so many things is absent for a moment. All subordinate officers up to this moment have been held with too strong a hand, which has kept them in a position not natural to them. Immediately they are like a horse, always kept on a tight rein, whose rein is loosened or missing. They cannot in an instant recover that confidence in themselves, that has been painstakingly taken away from them without their wishing it. Thus, in such a moment conditions become unsatisfactory, the soldier very quickly feels that the hand that holds him vacillates.
"Ask much, in order to obtain a little," is a false saying, a source of errors, an attack on discipline. One ought to obtain what one asks. It is only necessary to be moderately reasonable and practical.
In following out this matter, one is astonished at the lack of foresight found in three out of four officers. Why? Is there anything so difficult about looking forward a little? Are three-quarters of the officers so stupid? No! It is because their egoism, generally frankly acknowledged, allow them to think only of who is looking at them. They think of their troops by chance perhaps, or because they have to. Their troops are never their preoccupation, consequently they do not think about them at all. A major in command of an organization in Mexico, on his first march in a hot country, started without full canteens, perhaps without canteens at all, without any provision for water, as he might march in France. No officer in his battalion called his attention to the omission, nor was more foresighted than he. In this first march, by an entire lack of foresight in everything, he lost, in dead, half of his command. Was he reduced? No! He was made a lieutenant-colonel.
Officers of the general staff learn to order, not to command. "Sir, I order," a popular phrase, applies to them.
The misfortune is not that there is a general staff, but that it has achieved command. For it always has commanded, in the name of its commanders it is true, and never obeyed, which is its duty. It commands in fact. So be it! But just the same it is not supposed to.
Is it the good quality of staffs or that of combatants that makes the strength of armies? If you want good fighting men, do everything to excite their ambition, to spare them, so that people of intelligence and with a future will not despise the line but will elect to serve in it. It is the line that gives you your high command, the line only, and very rarely the staff. The staff, however, dies infrequently, which is something. Do they say that military science can only be learned in the general staff schools? If you really want to learn to do your work, go to the line.
To-day, nobody knows anything unless he knows how to argue and chatter. A peasant knows nothing, he is a being unskilled even in cultivating the soil. But the agriculturist of the office is a farmer emeritus, etc. Is it then believed that there is ability only in the general staff? There is the assurance of the scholar there, of the pedagogue who has never practiced what he preaches. There is book learning, false learning when it treats of military matters. But knowledge of the real trade of a soldier, knowledge of what is possible, knowledge of blows given and received, all these are conspicuously absent.
Slowness of promotion in the general staff as compared to its rapidity in the line might make many men of intelligence, of head and heart, pass the general staff by and enter the line to make their own way. To be in the line would not then be a brevet of imbecility. But to-day when general staff officers rank the best of the line, the latter are discouraged and rather than submit to this situation, all who feel themselves fitted for advancement want to be on the general staff. So much the better? So much the worse. Selection is only warranted by battle.
How administrative deceits, in politics or elsewhere, falsify the conclusions drawn from a fact!
In the Crimea one hundred per cent. of the French operated upon succumbed, while only twenty-seven per cent. of the English operated upon died. That was attributed to the difference in temperament! The great cause of this discrepancy was the difference in care. Our newspapers followed the self-satisfied and rosy statements given out by our own supply department. They pictured our sick in the Crimea lying in beds and cared for by sisters of charity. The fact is that our soldiers never had sheets, nor mattresses, nor the necessary changes of clothes in the hospitals; that half, three-quarters, lay on mouldy straw, on the ground, under canvass. The fact is, that such were the conditions under which typhus claimed twenty-five to thirty thousand of our sick after the siege; that thousands of pieces of hospital equipment were offered by the English to our Quartermaster General, and that he refused them! Everybody ought to have known that he would! To accept such equipment was to acknowledge that he did not have it. And he ought to have had it. Indeed he did according to the newspapers and the Quartermaster reports. There were twenty-five beds per hospital so that it could be said, "We have beds!" Each hospital had at this time five hundred or more sick.
These people are annoyed if they are called hypocrites. While our soldiers were in hospitals, without anything, so to speak, the English had big, well-ventilated tents, cots, sheets, even night stands with urinals. And our men had not even a cup to drink from! Sick men were cared for in the English hospitals. They might have been in ours, before they died, which they almost always did.
It is true that we had the typhus and the English had not. That was because our men in tents had the same care as in our hospitals, and the English the same care as in their hospitals.
Read the war reports of supply departments and then go unexpectedly to verify them in the hospitals and storehouses. Have them verified by calling up and questioning the heads of departments, but question them conscientiously, without dictating the answers. In the Crimea, in May of the first year, we were no better off than the English who complained so much, Who has dared to say, however, that from the time they entered the hospital to the time that they left it, dead, evacuated, or cured, through fifteen or twenty days of cholera or typhus, our men lay on the same plank, in the same shoes, drawers, shirts and clothing that they brought in with them? They were in a state of living putrefaction that would by itself have killed well men! The newspapers chanted the praises of the admirable French administration. The second winter the English had no sick, a smaller percentage than in London. But to the eternal shame of the French command and administration we lost in peace time, twenty-five to thirty thousand of typhus and more than one thousand frozen to death. Nevertheless, it appeared that we had the most perfect administration in the world, and that our generals, no less than our administration, were full of devoted solicitude to provide all the needs of the soldier. That is an infamous lie, and is known as such, let us hope.
The Americans have given us a good example. The good citizens have gone themselves to see how their soldiers were treated and have provided for them themselves. When, in France, will good citizens lose faith in this best of administrations which is theirs? When will they, confident in themselves, do spontaneously, freely, what their administration cannot and never will be able to do?
The first thing disorganized in an army is the administration. The simplest foresight, the least signs even of order disappear in a retreat. (Note Russia-Vilna).
In the Crimea, and everywhere more or less, the doctor's visit was without benefit to the patient. It was made to keep up his spirits, but could not be followed by care, due to lack of personnel and material. After two or three hours of work, the doctor was exhausted.
In a sane country the field and permanent hospitals ought to be able to handle one-fifth of the strength at least. The hospital personnel of to-day should be doubled. It is quickly cut down, and it ought to have time, not only to visit the sick, but to care for them, feed them, dose and dress them, etc.
SOCIAL AND MILITARY INSTITUTIONS. NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS.
Man's admiration for the great spectacles of nature is the admiration for force. In the mountains it is mass, a force, that impresses him, strikes him, makes him admire. In the calm sea it is the mysterious and terrible force that he divines, that he feels in that enormous liquid mass; in the angry sea, force again. In the wind, in the storm, in the vast depth of the sky, it is still force that he admires.
All these things astounded man when he was young. He has become old, and he knows them. Astonishment has turned to admiration, but always it is the feeling of a formidable force which compels his admiration. This explains his admiration for the warrior.
The warrior is the ideal of the primitive man, of the savage, of the barbarian. The more people rise in moral civilization, the lower this ideal falls. But with the masses everywhere the warrior still is and for a long time will be the height of their ideals. This is because man loves to admire the force and bravery that are his own attributes. When that force and bravery find other means to assert themselves, or at least when the crowd is shown that war does not furnish the best examples of them, that there are truer and more exalted examples, this ideal will give way to a higher one.
Nations have an equal sovereignty based on their existence as states. They recognize no superior jurisdiction and call on force to decide their differences. Force decides. Whether or not might was right, the weaker bows to necessity until a more successful effort can be made. (Prud'homme). It is easy to understand Gregory VII's ideas on the subject.
In peace, armies are playthings in the hands of princes. If the princes do not know anything about them, which is usually the case, they disorganize them. If they understand them, like the Prince of Prussia, they make their armies strong for war.
The King of Prussia and the Prussian nobility, threatened by democracy, have had to change the passion for equality in their people into a passion for domination over foreign nations. This is easily done, when domination is crowned with success, for man, who is merely the friend of equality is the lover of domination. So that he is easily made to take the shadow for the substance. They have succeeded. They are forced to continue with their system. Otherwise their status as useful members of society would be questioned and they would perish as leaders in war. Peace spells death to a nobility. Consequently nobles do not desire it, and stir up rivalries among peoples, rivalries which alone can justify their existence as leaders in war, and consequently as leaders in peace. This is why the military spirit is dead in France. The past does not live again. In the spiritual as in the physical world, what is dead is dead. Death comes only with the exhaustion of the elements, the conditions which are necessary for life. For these reasons revolutionary wars continued into the war with Prussia. For these reasons if we had been victorious we would have found against us the countries dominated by nobilities, Austria, Russia, England. But with us vanquished, democracy takes up her work in all European countries, protected in the security which victory always gives to victors. This work is slower but surer than the rapid work of war, which, exalting rivalries, halts for a moment the work of democracy within the nations themselves. Democracy then takes up her work with less chance of being deterred by rivalry against us. Thus we are closer to the triumph of democracy than if we had been victors. French democracy rightfully desires to live, and she does not desire to do so at the expense of a sacrifice of national pride. Then, since she will still be surrounded for a long time by societies dominated by the military element, by the nobility, she must have a dependable army. And, as the military spirit is on the wane in France, it must be replaced by having noncommissioned officers and officers well paid. Good pay establishes position in a democracy, and to-day none turn to the army, because it is too poorly paid. Let us have well paid mercenaries. By giving good pay, good material can be secured, thanks to the old warrior strain in the race. This is the price that must be paid for security.
The soldier of our day is a merchant. So much of my flesh, of my blood, is worth so much. So much of my time, of my affections, etc. It is a noble trade, however, perhaps because man's blood is noble merchandise, the finest that can be dealt in.
M. Guizot says "Get rich!" That may seem cynical to prudes, but it is truly said. Those who deny the sentiment, and talk to-day so loftily, what do they advise? If not by words, then by example they counsel the same thing; and example is more contagious. Is not private wealth, wealth in general, the avowed ambition sought by all, democrats and others? Let us be rich, that is to say, let us be slaves of the needs that wealth creates.
The Invalides in France, the institutions for pensioners, are superb exhibits of pomp and ostentation. I wish that their founding had been based on ideas of justice and Christianity and not purely on military-political considerations. But the results are disastrous to morality. This collection of weaklings is a school of depravity, where the invalided soldier loses in vice his right to respect.
Some officers want to transform regiments into permanent schools for officers of all ranks, with a two-hour course each day in law, military art, etc. There is little taste for military life in France; such a procedure would lessen it. The leisure of army life attracts three out of four officers, laziness, if you like. But such is the fact. If you make an officer a school-boy all his life he will send his profession to the devil, if he can. And those who are able to do so, will in general be those who have received the best education. An army is an extraordinary thing, but since it is necessary, there should be no astonishment that extraordinary means must be taken to keep it up; such as offering in peace time little work and a great deal of leisure. An officer is a sort of aristocrat, and in France we have no finer ideal of aristocratic life than one of leisure. This is not a proof of the highest ideals, nor of firmness of character. But what is to be done about it?
From the fact that military spirit is lacking in our nation (and officers are with greater difficulty than ever recruited in France) it does not follow that we shall not have to engage in war. Perhaps the contrary is true.
It is not patriotic to say that the military spirit is dead in France? The truth is always patriotic. The military spirit died with the French nobility, perished because it had to perish, because it was exhausted, at the end of its life. That only dies which has no longer the sap of life, and can no longer live. If a thing is merely sick it can return to health. But who can say that of the French nobility? An aristocracy, a nobility that dies, dies always by its own fault; because it no longer performs its duties; because it fails in its task; because its functions are of no more value to the state; because there is no longer any reason for its existence in a society, whose final tendency is to suppress its functions.
After 1789 had threatened our patriotism, the natural desire for self-protection revived the military spirit in the nation and in the army. The Empire developed this movement, changed the defensive military spirit to the offensive, and used it with increasing effect up to 1814 or 1815. The military spirit of the July Restoration was a reminiscence, a relic of the Empire, a form of opposition to government by liberalism instead of democracy. It was really the spirit of opposition and not the military spirit, which is essentially conservative.
There is no military spirit in a democratic society, where there is no aristocracy, no military nobility. A democratic society is antagonistic to the military spirit.
The military spirit was unknown to the Romans. They made no distinction between military and civil duties. I think that the military air dates from the time that the profession of arms became a private profession, from the time of the bravos, the Italian condottieri, who were more terrifying to civilians than to the enemy. When the Romans said "cedant arma togae," they did not refer to civil officials and soldiers; the civil officials were then soldiers in their turn; professional soldiers did not exist. They meant "might gives way to right."
Machiavelli quotes a proverb, "War makes thieves and peace has them hanged" The Spaniards in Mexico, which has been in rebellion for forty years, are more or less thieves. They want to continue to ply the trade. Civil authority exists no longer with them, and they would look on obedience to such an authority as shameful. It is easy to understand the difficulty of organizing a peaceful government in such a country. Half the population would have to hang the other half. The other half does not want to be hanged.
We are a democratic society; we become less and less military. The Prussian, Russian, Austrian aristocracies which alone make the military spirit of those states, feel in our democratic society an example which threatens their existence, as nobility, as aristocracy. They are our enemies and will be until they are wiped, out, until the Russian, Austrian and Prussian states become democratic societies, like ours. It is a matter of time.
The Prussian aristocracy is young. It has not been degenerated by wealth, luxury and servility of the court. The Prussian court is not a court in the luxurious sense of the word. There is the danger.
Meanwhile Machiavellian doctrines not being forbidden to aristocracies, these people appeal to German Jingoism, to German patriotism, to all the passions which move one people who are jealous of another. All this is meant to hide under a patriotic exterior their concern for their own existence as an aristocracy, as a nobility.
The real menace of the day is czarism, stronger than the czars themselves, which calls for a crusade to drive back Russia and the uncultured Slav race.
It is time that we understood the lack of power in mob armies; that we recall to mind the first armies of the revolution that were saved from instant destruction only by the lack of vigor and decision in European cabinets and armies. Look at the examples of revolutionaries of all times, who have all to gain and cannot hope for mercy. Since Spartacus, have they not always been defeated? An army is not really strong unless it is developed from a social institution. Spartacus and his men were certainly terrible individual fighters. They were gladiators used to struggle and death. They were prisoners, barbarian slaves enraged by their loss of liberty, or escaped serfs, all men who could not hope for mercy. What more terrible fighters could be imagined? But discipline, leadership, all was improvised and could not have the firm discipline coming down from the centuries and drawn from the social institutions of the Romans. They were conquered. Time, a long time, is needed to give to leaders the habit of command and confidence in their authority—to the soldiers confidence in their leaders and in their fellows. It is not enough to order discipline. The officers must have the will to enforce it, and its vigorous enforcement must instill subordination in the soldiers. It must make them fear it more than they fear the enemy's blows.
How did Montluc fight, in an aristocratic society? Montluc shows us, tells us. He advanced in the van of the assault, but in bad places he pushed in front of him a soldier whose skin was not worth as much as was his. He had not the slightest doubt or shame about doing this. The soldier did not protest, the propriety of the act was so well established. But you, officers, try that in a democratic army, such as we have commenced to have, such as we shall later have!
In danger the officer is no better than the soldier. The soldier is willing enough to advance, but behind his officer. Also, his comrades' skin is no more precious than is his, they must advance too. This very real concern about equality in danger, which seeks equality only, brings on hesitation and not resolution. Some fools may break their heads in closing in, but the remainder will fire from a distance. Not that this will cause fewer losses, far from it.
Italy will never have a really firm army. The Italians are too civilized, too fine, too democratic in a certain sense of the word. The Spaniards are the same. This may cause laughter, but it is true. The French are indeed worthy sons of their fathers, the Gauls. War, the most solemn act in the life of a nation, the gravest of acts, is a light thing to them. The good Frenchman lets himself be carried away, inflamed by the most ridiculous feats of arms into the wildest enthusiasm. Moreover he interprets the word "honor" in a fashion all his own. An expedition is commenced without sufficient reason, and good Frenchmen, who do not know why the thing is done, disapprove. But presently blood is spilled. Good sense and justice dictate that this spilled blood should taint those responsible for an unjust enterprise. But jingoism says "French blood has been spilled: Honor is at stake!" And millions of gold, which is the unit of labor, millions of men, are sacrificed to a ridiculous high-sounding phrase.
Whence comes this tendency toward war which characterizes above all the good citizen, the populace, who are not called upon personally to participate? The military man is not so easily swayed. Some hope for promotion or pension, but even they are sobered by their sense of duty. It comes from the romance that clothes war and battle, and that has with us ten times more than elsewhere, the power of exciting enthusiasm in the people. It would be a service to humanity and to one's people to dispell this illusion, and to show what battles are. They are buffooneries, and none the less buffooneries because they are made terrible by the spilling of blood. The actors, heroes in the eyes of the crowd, are only poor folk torn between fear, discipline and pride. They play some hours at a game of advance and retreat, without ever meeting, closing with, even seeing closely, the other poor folks, the enemy, who are as fearful as they but who are caught in the same web of circumstance.
What should be considered is how to organize an army in a country in which there is at the same time national and provincial feeling. Such a country is France, where there is no longer any necessity for uniting national and provincial feeling by mixing up the soldiers. In France, will the powerful motif of pride, which comes from the organization of units from particular provinces, be useful? From the fusion of varying elements comes the character of our troops, which is something to be considered. The make-up of the heavy cavalry should be noted. It has perhaps too many Germans and men from the northern provinces.
French sociability creates cohesion in French troops more quickly than could be secured in troops in other nations. Organization and discipline have the same purpose. With a proud people like the French, a rational organization aided by French sociability can often secure desired results without it being necessary to use the coercion of discipline.
Marshal de Gouvion-Saint Cyr said, "Experienced soldiers know and others ought to know that French soldiers once committed to the pursuit of the enemy will not return to their organization that day until forced back into it by the enemy. During this time they must be considered as lost to the rest of the army."
At the beginning of the Empire, officers, trained in the wars of the Revolution by incessant fighting, possessed great firmness. No one would wish to purchase such firmness again at the same price. But in our modern wars the victor often loses more than the vanquished, apart from the temporary loss in prisoners. The losses exceed the resources in good men, and discourage the exhausted, who appear to be very numerous, and those who are skilled in removing themselves from danger. Thus we fall into disorder. The Duke of Fezensac, testifying of other times, shows us the same thing that happens to-day. Also to-day we depend only on mass action, and at that game, despite the cleverest strategic handling, we must lose all, and do.
French officers lack firmness but have pride. In the face of danger they lack composure, they are disconcerted, breathless, hesitant, forgetful, unable to think of a way out. They call, "Forward, forward." This is one of the reasons why handling a formation in line is difficult, especially since the African campaigns where much is left to the soldier.
The formation in rank is then an ideal, unobtainable in modern war, but toward which we should strive. But we are getting further away from it. And then, when habit loses its hold, natural instinct resumes its empire. The remedy lies in an organization which will establish cohesion by the mutual acquaintanceship of all. This will make possible mutual surveillance, which has such power over French pride.
It might be said that there are two kinds of war, that in open country, and in the plain, and that of posts garrisoning positions in broken country. In a great war, with no one occupying positions, we should be lost immediately. Marshal Saxe knew us well when he said that the French were best for a war of position. He recognized the lack of stability in the ranks.
On getting within rifle range the rank formation tends to disappear. You hear officers who have been under fire say "When you get near the enemy, the men deploy as skirmishers despite you. The Russians group under fire. Their holding together is the huddling of sheep moved by fear of discipline and of danger." There are then two modes of conduct under fire, the French and the Russian.
The Gauls, seeing the firmness of the Roman formation, chained themselves together, making the first rank unbreakable and tying living to dead. This forbade the virtue they had not divined in the Roman formation, the replacement of wounded and exhausted by fresh men. From this replacement came the firmness which seemed so striking to the Gauls. The rank continually renewed itself.
Why does the Frenchman of to-day, in singular contrast to the Gaul, scatter under fire? His natural intelligence, his instinct under the pressure of danger causes him to deploy.
His method must be adopted. In view of the impossibility to-day of the Roman Draconian discipline which put the fear of death behind the soldier, we must adopt the soldier's method and try to put some order into it. How? By French discipline and an organization that permits of it.
Broken, covered country is adapted to our methods. The Zouaves at Magenta could not have done so well on another kind of ground.46
Above all, with modern weapons, the terrain to be advanced over must be limited in depth.
How much better modern tactics fit the impatient French character! But also how necessary it is to guard against this impatience and to keep supports and reserves under control.
It should be noted that German or Gallic cavalry was always better than Roman cavalry, which could not hold against it, even though certainly better armed. Why was this? Because decision, impetuosity, even blind courage, have more chance with cavalry than with infantry. The defeated cavalry is the least brave cavalry. (A note for our cavalry here!) It was easier for the Gauls to have good cavalry than it is for us, as fire did not bother them in the charge.
The Frenchman has more qualities of the cavalryman than of the infantryman. Yet French infantry appears to be of greater value. Why? Because the use of cavalry on the battlefield requires rare decision and the seizing of the crucial opportunity. If the cavalryman has not been able to show his worth, it is the fault of his leaders. French infantry has always been defeated by English infantry. In cavalry combat the English cavalry has always fled before the French in those terrible cavalry battles that are always flights. Is this because in war man lasts longer in the cavalry and because our cavalrymen were older and more seasoned soldiers than our infantry? This does not apply to us only. If it is true for our cavalrymen, it is also true for the English cavalrymen. The reason is that on the field of battle the rôle of the infantryman against a firm adversary requires more coolness and nerve than does the rôle of the cavalryman. It requires the use of tactics based on an understanding of the national characteristics of ourselves and of our enemies. Against the English the confidence in the charge that is implanted in our brains, was completely betrayed. The rôle of cavalry against cavalry is simpler. The French confidence in the charge makes good fighting cavalry, and the Frenchman is better fitted than any other for this role. Our cavalry charge better than any other. That is the whole thing, on the battle field it is understood. As they move faster than infantry, their dash, which has its limits, is better preserved when they get up to the enemy.
The English have always fled before our cavalry. This proves that, strong enough to hold before the moral impulse of our infantry, they were not strong enough to hold before the stronger impulse of cavalry.
We ought to be much better cavalrymen than infantrymen, because the essential in a cavalryman is a fearless impetuosity. That is for the soldier. The cavalry leader ought to use this trait without hesitation, at the same time taking measures to support it and to guard against its failings. The attack is always, even on the defensive, an evidence of resolution, and gives a moral ascendancy. Its effect is more immediate with cavalry, because the movements of cavalry are more rapid and the moral effect has less time to be modified by reflection. To insure that the French cavalry be the best in Europe, and a really good cavalry, it needs but one thing, to conform to the national temperament, to dare, to dare, and to advance.
One of the singular features of French discipline is that on the road, especially in campaign the methods of punishment for derelictions become illusory, impractical. In 1859 there were twenty-five thousand skulkers in the Army in Italy. The soldier sees this immediately and lack of discipline ensues. If our customs do not permit of Draconian discipline, let us replace that moral coercion by another. Let us insure cohesion by the mutual acquaintanceship of men and officers; let us call French sociability to our aid.
With the Romans discipline was severest and most rigidly enforced in the presence of the enemy. It was enforced by the soldiers themselves. To-day, why should not the men in our companies watch discipline and punish themselves. They alone know each other, and the maintenance of discipline is so much to their interest as to encourage them to stop skulking. The twenty-five thousand men who skulked in Italy, all wear the Italian medal. They were discharged with certificates of good conduct. This certificate, in campaign should be awarded by the squad only. In place of that, discipline must be obtained somehow, and it is placed as an additional burden on the officer. He above all has to uphold it. He is treated without regard for his dignity. He is made to do the work of the non-commissioned officer. He is used as fancy dictates.
This cohesion which we hope for in units from squad to company, need not be feared in other armies. It cannot develop to the same point and by the same methods with them as with us. Their make-up is not ours, their character is different. This individuality of squads and companies comes from the make-up of our army and from French sociability.
Is it true that the rations of men and horses are actually insufficient in campaign? This is strange economy! To neglect to increase the soldier's pay five centimes! It would better his fare and prevent making of an officer a trader in vegetables in order to properly feed his men. Yet millions are squandered each year for uniforms, geegaws, shakos, etc!
If a big army is needed, it ought to cost as little as possible. Simplicity in all things! Down with all sorts of plumes! Less amateurs! If superfluous trimmings are not cut down it will be unfortunate! What is the matter with the sailor's uniform? Insignificant and annoying details abound while vital details of proper footgear and instruction, are neglected. The question of clothing for campaign is solved by adopting smocks and greatcoats and by doing away with headquarters companies! This is the height of folly. I suppose it is because our present uniforms need specialists to keep them in condition, and smocks and greatcoats do not!
MEMORANDUM ON INFANTRY FIRE [Written in 1869 (Editor's note)]
1. Introduction
It may be said that the history of the development of infantry fire is none too plain, even though fire action to-day, in Europe, is almost the sole means of destruction used by that arm.
Napoleon said, "The only method of fire to be used in war is fire at will." Yet after such a plain statement by one who knew, there is a tendency to-day to make fire at command the basis of infantry battle tactics.
Is this correct? Experience only can determine. Experience is gained; but nothing, especially in the trade of war, is sooner forgotten than experience. So many fine things can be done, beautiful maneuvers executed, ingenious combat methods invented in the confines of an office or on the maneuver ground. Nevertheless let us try to hold to facts.
Let us consider, in the study of any kind of fire, a succinct history of small arms; let us see what kind of fire is used with each weapon, attempting at the same time to separate that which has actually happened from the written account.
2. Succinct History of the Development of Small Arms, from the Arquebus to Our Rifle
The arquebus in use before the invention of powder gave the general design to fire arms. The arquebus marks then the transition from the mechanically thrown missile to the bullet.
The tube was kept to direct the projectile, and the bow and string were replaced by a powder chamber and ignition apparatus.
This made a weapon, very simple, light and easy to charge; but the small caliber ball thrown from a very short barrel, gave penetration only at short distances.
The barrel was lengthened, the caliber increased, and a more efficient, but a less convenient arm resulted. It was indeed impossible to hold the weapon in aiming position and withstand the recoil at the moment of firing.
To lessen recoil there was attached to the bottom of the barrel a hook to catch on a fixed object at the moment of discharge. This was called a hook arquebus.
But the hook could only be used under certain circumstances. To give the arm a point of support on the body, the stock was lengthened and inclined to permit sighting. This was the petrinal or poitrinal. The soldier had in addition a forked support for the barrel.
In the musket, which followed, the stock was again modified and held against the shoulder. Further the firing mechanism was improved.
The arm had been fired by a lighted match; but with the musket, the arm becoming lighter and more portable, there came the serpentine lock, the match-lock, then the wheel-lock, finally the Spanish lock and the flint-lock.
The adoption of the flint-lock and the bayonet produced the rifle, which Napoleon regarded as the most powerful weapon that man possesses.
But the rifle in its primitive state had defects. Loading was slow; it was inaccurate, and under some circumstances it could not be fired.
How were these defects remedied?
As to the loading weakness, Gustavus Adolphus, understanding the influence on morale of rapid loading and the greater destruction caused by the more rapid fire, invented the cartridge for muskets. Frederick, or some one of his time, the name marks the period, replaced wooden by cylindrical iron ramrods. To prime more quickly a conical funnel allowed the powder to pass from the barrel into the firing-pan. These two last improvements saved time in two ways, in priming and in loading. But it was the adoption of the breech-loader that brought the greatest increase in rapidity of fire.
These successive improvements of the weapon, all tending to increase the rapidity of fire, mark the most remarkable military periods of modern times: