We now know the morale and mechanism of ancient fighting; the word mêlée employed by the ancients was many times stronger than the idea to be expressed; it meant a crossing of arms, not a confusion of men.
The results of battles, such as losses, suffice to demonstrate this, and an instant of reflection makes us see the error of the word mêlée. In pursuit it was possible to plunge into the midst of the fugitives, but in combat every one had too much need for the next man, for his neighbor, who was guarding his flanks and his back, to let himself be killed out of sheer wantonness by a sure blow from within the ranks of the enemy.22
In the confusion of a real mêlée, Caesar at Pharsalus, and Hannibal at Cannae, would have been conquered. Their shallow ranks, penetrated by the enemy, would have had to fight two against one, they would even have been taken in rear in consequence of the breaking of their ranks.
Also has there not been seen, in troops equally reliable and desperate, that mutual weariness which brings about, with tacit accord, falling back for a breathing spell on both sides in order again to take up the battle?
How can this be possible with a mêlée?
With the confusion and medley of combatants, there might be a mutual extermination, but there would not be any victors. How would they recognize each other? Can you conceive two mixed masses of men or groups, where every one occupied in front can be struck with impunity from the side or from behind? That is mutual extermination, where victory belongs only to survivors; for in the mix-up and confusion, no one can flee, no one knows where to flee.
After all, are not the losses we have seen on both sides demonstration that there was no real mêlée?
The word is, therefore, too strong; the imagination of painters' and poets' has created the mêlée.
This is what happened:
At a charging distance troops marched towards the enemy with all the speed compatible with the necessity for fencing and mutual aid. Quite often, the moral impulse, that resolution to go to the end, manifested itself at once in the order and freedom of gait. That impulse alone put to flight a less resolute adversary.
It was customary among good troops to have a clash, but not the blind and headlong onset of the mass; the preoccupation23of the rank was very great, as the behavior of Caesar's troops at Pharsalus shows in their slow march, timed by the flutes of Lacedaemonian battalions. At the moment of getting close to the enemy, the dash slackened of its own accord, because the men of the first rank, of necessity and instinctively, assured themselves of the position of their supports, their neighbors in the same line, their comrades in the second, and collected themselves together in order to be more the masters of their movements to strike and parry. There was a contact of man with man; each took the adversary in front of him and attacked him, because by penetrating into the ranks before having struck him down, he risked being wounded in the side by losing his flank supports. Each one then hit his man with his shield, expecting to make him lose his equilibrium, and at the instant he tried to recover himself landed the blow. The men in the second line, back of the intervals necessary for fencing in the first, were ready to protect their sides against any one that advanced between them and were prepared to relieve tired warriors. It was the same in the third line, and so on.
Every one being supported on either side, the first encounter was rarely decisive, and the fencing, the real combat at close quarters, began.
If men of the first line were wounded quickly, if the other ranks were not in a hurry to relieve or replace them, or if there was hesitation, defeat followed. This happened to the Romans in their first encounters with the Gauls. The Gaul, with his shield, parried the first thrust, brought his big iron sword swooping down with fury upon the top of the Roman shield, split it and went after the man. The Romans, already hesitating before the moral impulse of the Gauls, their ferocious yells, their nudeness, an indication of a contempt for wounds, fell then in a greater number than their adversaries and demoralization followed. Soon they accustomed themselves to this valorous but not tenacious spirit of their enemies, and when they had protected the top of their shields with an iron band, they no longer fell, and the rôles were changed.
The Gauls, in fact, were unable either to hold their ground against the better arms and the thrusts of the Romans, or against their individual superior tenacity, increased nearly tenfold by the possible relay of eight ranks of the maniple. The maniples were self-renewing. Whereas with the Gauls the duration of the combat was limited to the strength of a single man, on account of the difficulties of close or tumultuous ranks, and the impossibility of replacing losses when they were fighting at close quarters.
If the weapons were nearly alike, preserving ranks and thereby breaking down, driving back and confusing the ranks of the enemy, was to conquer. The man in disordered, broken lines, no longer felt himself supported, but vulnerable everywhere, and he fled. It is true that it is hardly possible to break hostile lines without doing the same with one's own. But the one who breaks through first, has been able to do so only by making the foe fall back before his blows, by killing or wounding. He has thereby raised his courage and that of his neighbor. He knows, he sees where he is marching; whilst the adversary overtaken as a consequence of the retreat or the fall of the troops that were flanking him, is surprised. He sees himself exposed on the flank. He falls back on a line with the rank in rear in order to regain support. But the lines in the rear give way to the retreat of the first. If the withdrawal has a certain duration, terror comes as a result of the blows which drive back and mow down the first line. If, to make room for those pushed back, the last lines turn their backs, there is small chance that they will face the front again. Space has tempted them. They will not return to the fight.
Then by that natural instinct of the soldier to worry, to assure himself of his supports, the contagion of flight spreads from the last ranks to the first. The first, closely engaged, has been held to the fight in the meantime, under pain of immediate death. There is no need to explain what follows; it is butchery. (Caedes).
But to return to combat.
It is evident that the formation of troops in a straight line, drawn close together, existed scarcely an instant. Moreover each group of files formed in action was connected with the next group; the groups, like the individuals, were always concerned about their support. The fight took place along the line of contact of the first ranks of the army, a straight line, broken, curved, and bent in different directions according to the various chances of the action at such or such a point, but always restricting and separating the combatants of the two sides. Once engaged on that line, it was necessary to face the front under pain of immediate death. Naturally and necessarily every one in these first ranks exerted all his energy to defend his life.
At no point did the line become entangled as long as there was fighting, for, general or soldier, the effort of each one was to keep up the continuity of support all along the line, and to break or cut that of the enemy, because victory then followed.
We see then that between men armed with swords, it was possible to have, and there was, if the combat was serious, penetration of one mass into the other, but never confusion, or a jumble of ranks, by the men forming these masses.24
Sword to sword combat was the most deadly. It presented the most sudden changes, because it was the one in which the individual valor and dexterity of the combatant had the greatest and most immediate influence. Other methods of combat were simpler.
Let us compare pikes and broadswords.
The close formation of men armed with pikes was irresistible so long as it was maintained. A forest of pikes fifteen to eighteen feet long kept you at a distance.25On the other hand it was easy to kill off the cavalry and light infantry about the phalanx, which was an unwieldy mass marching with a measured step, and which a mobile body of troops could always avoid. Openings in the phalanx might be occasioned by marching, by the terrain, by the thousand accidents of struggle, by the individual assault of brave men, by the wounded on the ground creeping under the high held pikes and cutting at the legs of the front rank. Men in the phalanx could scarcely see and even the first two lines hardly had a free position for striking. The men were armed with long lances, useless at close quarters, good only for combat at shaft's length (Polybius). They were struck with impunity by the groups26which threw themselves into the intervals. And then, once the enemy was in the body of the phalanx, morale disappeared and it became a mass without order, a flock of panic-stricken sheep falling over each other.
In a mob hard-pressed men prick with their knives those who press them. The contagion of fear changes the direction of the human wave; it bends back upon itself and breaks to escape danger. If, then, the enemy fled before the phalanx there was no mêlée. If he gave way tactically before it and availing himself of gaps penetrated it by groups, still there was no mêlée or mixture of ranks. The wedge entering into a mass does not become intermingled with it.
With a phalanx armed with long pikes against a similar phalanx there was still less confusion. They were able to stand for a long time, if the one did not take the other in flank or in rear by a detached body of troops. In all ancient combat, even in victory achieved by methods which affected the morale, such methods are always effective, for man does not change.
It is unnecessary to repeat that in ancient conflicts, demoralization and flight began in the rear ranks.
We have tried to analyze the fight of infantry of the line because its action alone was decisive in ancient combat. The light infantry of both sides took to flight, as Thucydides states. They returned later to pursue and massacre the vanquished.27
In cavalry against cavalry, the moral effect of a mass charging in good order was of the greatest influence. We rarely see two cavalry organizations, neither of which breaks before such reciprocal action. Such action was seen on the Tecinus and at Cannae, engagements cited merely because they are very rare exceptions. And even in these cases there was no shock at full speed, but a halt face to face and then an engagement.
The hurricanes of cavalry of those days were poetic figures. They had no reality. In an encounter at full speed, men and horses would be crushed, and neither men nor horses wished such an encounter. The hands of the cavalrymen reined back, the instinct of men and horses was to slacken, to stop, if the enemy himself did not stop, and to make an about if he continued to advance. And if ever they met, the encounter was so weakened by the hands of the men, the rearing of the horses, the swinging of heads, that it was a face to face stop. Some blows were exchanged with the sword or the lance, but the equilibrium was too unstable, mutual support too uncertain for real sword play. Man felt himself too isolated. The moral pressure was too strong. Although not deadly, the combat lasted but a second, precisely because man felt himself, saw himself, alone and surrounded. The first men, who believed themselves no longer supported, could no longer endure uneasiness: they wheeled about and the rest followed. Unless the enemy had also turned, he then pursued at his pleasure until checked by other cavalry, which pursued him in turn.
There never was an encounter between cavalry and infantry. The cavalry harassed with its arrows, with the lance perhaps, while passing rapidly, but it never attacked.
Close conflict on horseback did not exist. And to be sure, if the horse by adding so much to the mobility of man gave him the means of menacing and charging with swiftness, it permitted him to escape with like rapidity when his menace did not shake the enemy. Man by using the horse, pursuant to his natural inclination and sane reasoning, could do as much damage as possible while risking the least possible. To riders without stirrups or saddle, for whom the throwing of the javelin was a difficult matter (Xenophon), combat was but a succession of reciprocal harassings, demonstrations, menaces, skirmishes with arrows. Each cavalry sought an opportunity to surprise, to intimidate, to avail itself of disorder, and to pursue either the cavalry or the infantry. Then "vae victis;" the sword worked.
Man always has had the greatest fear of being trampled upon by horses. That fear has certainly routed a hundred thousand times more men than the real encounter. This was always more or less avoided by the horse, and no one was knocked down. When two ancient cavalry forces wanted really to fight, were forced to it, they fought on foot (Note the Tecinus, Cannae, examples of Livy). I find but little real fighting on horseback in all antiquity like that of Alexander the Great at the passage of the Granicus. Was even that fighting? His cavalry which traversed a river with steep banks defended by the enemy, lost eighty-five men; the Persian cavalry one thousand; and both were equally well armed!
The fighting of the Middle Ages revived the ancient battles except in science. Cavalrymen attacked each other perhaps more than the ancient cavalry did, for the reason that they were invulnerable: it was not sufficient to throw them down; it was necessary to kill when once they were on the ground. They knew, however, that their fighting on horseback was not important so far as results were concerned, for when they wished really to battle, they fought on foot. (Note the combat of the Thirty, Bayard, etc.)
The victors, arrayed in iron from head to foot, lost no one, the peasants did not count. If the vanquished was taken, he was not massacred, because chivalry had established a fraternity of arms between noblemen, the mounted warriors of different nations, and ransom replaced death.
If we have spoken especially of the infantry fight, it is because it was the most serious. On foot, on horseback, on the bridge of a vessel, at the moment of danger, the same man is always found. Any one who knows him well, deduces from his action in the past what his action will be in the future.
UNDER WHAT CONDITIONS REAL COMBATANTS ARE OBTAINED AND HOW THE FIGHTING OF OUR DAYS, IN ORDER TO BE WELL DONE, REQUIRES THEM TO BE MORE DEPENDABLE THAN IN ANCIENT COMBAT
Let us repeat now, what we said at the beginning of this study. Man does not enter battle to fight, but for victory. He does everything that he can to avoid the first and obtain the second. The continued improvement of all appliances of war has no other goal than the annihilation of the enemy. Absolute bravery, which does not refuse battle even on unequal terms, trusting only to God or to destiny, is not natural in man; it is the result of moral culture. It is infinitely rare, because in the face of danger the animal sense of self-preservation always gains the upper hand. Man calculates his chances, with what errors we are about to see.
Now, man has a horror of death. In the bravest, a great sense of duty, which they alone are capable of understanding and living up to, is paramount. But the mass always cowers at sight of the phantom, death. Discipline is for the purpose of dominating that horror by a still greater horror, that of punishment or disgrace. But there always comes an instant when natural horror gets an upper hand over discipline, and the fighter flees. "Stop, stop, hold out a few minutes, an instant more, and you are victor! You are not even wounded yet,—if you turn your back you are dead!" He does not hear, he cannot hear any more. He is full of fear. How many armies have sworn to conquer or perish? How many have kept their oaths? An oath of sheep to stand up against wolves. History shows, not armies, but firm souls who have fought unto death, and the devotion of Thermopylae is therefore justly immortal.
Here we are again brought to the consideration of essential truths, enunciated by many men, now forgotten or unknown.
To insure success in the rude test of conflict, it is not sufficient to have a mass composed of valiant men like the Gauls or the Germans.
The mass needs, and we give it, leaders who have the firmness and decision of command proceeding from habit and an entire faith in their unquestionable right to command as established by tradition, law and society.
We add good arms. We add methods of fighting suitable to these arms and those of the enemy and which do not overtax the physical and moral forces of man. We add also a rational decentralization that permits the direction and employment of the efforts of all even to the last man.
We animate with passion, a violent desire for independence, a religious fanaticism, national pride, a love of glory, a madness for possession. An iron discipline, which permits no one to escape action, secures the greatest unity from top to bottom, between all the elements, between the commanding officers, between the commanding officers and men, between the soldiers.
Have we then a solid army? Not yet. Unity, that first and supreme force of armies, is sought by enacting severe laws of discipline supported by powerful passions. But to order discipline is not enough. A vigilance from which no one may escape in combat should assure the maintenance of discipline. Discipline itself depends on moral pressure which actuates men to advance from sentiments of fear or pride. But it depends also on surveillance, the mutual supervision of groups of men who know each other well.
A wise organization insures that the personnel of combat groups changes as little as possible, so that comrades in peace time maneuvers shall be comrades in war. From living together, and obeying the same chiefs, from commanding the same men, from sharing fatigue and rest, from coöperation among men who quickly understand each other in the execution of warlike movements, may be bred brotherhood, professional knowledge, sentiment, above all unity. The duty of obedience, the right of imposing discipline and the impossibility of escaping from it, would naturally follow.
And now confidence appears.
It is not that enthusiastic and thoughtless confidence of tumultous or unprepared armies which goes up to the danger point and vanishes rapidly, giving way to a contrary sentiment, which sees treason everywhere. It is that intimate confidence, firm and conscious, which does not forget itself in the heat of action and which alone makes true combatants.
Then we have an army; and it is no longer difficult to explain how men carried away by passions, even men who know how to die without flinching, without turning pale, really strong in the presence of death, but without discipline, without solid organization, are vanquished by others individually less valiant, but firmly, jointly and severally combined.
One loves to picture an armed mob upsetting all obstacles and carried away by a blast of passion.
There is more imagination than truth in that picture. If the struggle depended on individuals, the courageous, impassioned men, composing the mob would have more chance of victory. But in any body of troops, in front of the enemy, every one understands that the task is not the work of one alone, that to complete it requires team work. With his comrades in danger brought together under unknown leaders, he feels the lack of union, and asks himself if he can count on them. A thought of mistrust leads to hesitation. A moment of it will kill the offensive spirit.
Unity and confidence cannot be improvised. They alone can create that mutual trust, that feeling of force which gives courage and daring. Courage, that is the temporary domination of will over instinct, brings about victory.
Unity alone then produces fighters. But, as in everything, there are degrees of unity. Let us see whether modern is in this respect less exacting than ancient combat.
In ancient combat there was danger only at close quarters. If the troops had enough morale (which Asiatic hordes seldom had) to meet the enemy at broadsword's length, there was an engagement. Whoever was that close knew that he would be killed if he turned his back; because, as we have seen, the victors lost but few and the vanquished were exterminated. This simple reasoning held the men and made them fight, if it was but for an instant.
Neglecting the exceptional and very rare circumstances, which may bring two forces together, action to-day is brought on and fought out from afar. Danger begins at great distances, and it is necessary to advance for a long time under fire which at each step becomes heavier. The vanquished loses prisoners, but often, in dead and in wounded, he does not lose more than the victor.
Ancient combat was fought in groups close together, within a small space, in open ground, in full view of one another, without the deafening noise of present day arms. Men in formation marched into an action that took place on the spot and did not carry them thousands of feet away from the starting point. The surveillance of the leaders was easy, individual weakness was immediately checked. General consternation alone caused flight.
To-day fighting is done over immense spaces, along thinly drawn out lines broken every instant by the accidents and the obstacles of the terrain. From the time the action begins, as soon as there are rifle shots, the men spread out as skirmishers or, lost in the inevitable disorder of a rapid march,28escape the supervision of their commanding officers. A considerable number conceal themselves;29they get away from the engagement and diminish by just so much the material and moral effect and confidence of the brave ones who remain. This can bring about defeat.
But let us look at man himself in ancient combat and in modern. In ancient combat:—I am strong, apt, vigorous, trained, full of calmness, presence of mind; I have good offensive and defensive weapons and trustworthy companions of long standing. They do not let me be overwhelmed without aiding me. I with them, they with me, we are invincible, even invulnerable. We have fought twenty battles and not one of us remained on the field. It is necessary to support each other in time; we see it clearly; we are quick to replace ourselves, to put a fresh combatant in front of a fatigued adversary. We are the legions of Marius, fifty thousand who have held out against the furious avalanches of the Cimbri. We have killed one hundred and forty thousand, taken prisoner sixty thousand, while losing but two or three hundred of our inexperienced soldiers.
To-day, as strong, firm, trained, and courageous as I am, I can never say; I shall return. I have no longer to do with men, whom I do not fear, I have to do with fate in the form of iron and lead. Death is in the air, invisible and blind, whispering, whistling. As brave, good, trustworthy, and devoted as my companions may be, they do not shield me. Only,—and this is abstract and less immediately intelligible to all than the material support of ancient combat,—only I imagine that the more numerous we are who run a dangerous risk, the greater is the chance for each to escape therefrom. I also know that, if we have that confidence which none of us should lack in action, we feel, and we are, stronger. We begin more resolutely, are ready to keep up the struggle longer, and therefore finish it more quickly.
We finish it! But in order to finish it, it is necessary to advance, to attack the enemy,30and infantryman or troopers, we are naked against iron, naked against lead, which cannot miss at close range. Let us advance in any case, resolutely. Our adversary will not stand at the point-blank range of our rifle, for the attack is never mutual, we are sure of that. We have been told so a thousand times. We have seen it. But what if matters should change now! Suppose the enemy stands at point-blank range! What of that?
How far this is from Roman confidence!
In another place we have shown that in ancient times to retire from action was both a difficult and perilous matter for the soldier. To-day the temptation is much stronger, the facility greater and the peril less.
Now, therefore, combat exacts more moral cohesion, greater unity than previously. A last remark on the difficulty of obtaining it will complete the demonstration.
Since the invention of fire arms, the musket, the rifle, the cannon, the distances of mutual aid and support have increased among the different arms.31
Besides, the facility of communications of all kinds permits the assembling on a given territory of enormous forces. For these reasons, as we have stated, battle fields have become immense.
Supervision becomes more and more difficult. Direction being more distant tends more often to escape from the supreme commanders and the subordinate leaders. The certain and inevitable disorder, which a body of troops always presents in action, is with the moral effect of modern appliances, becoming greater every day. In the midst of the confusion and the vacillation of firing lines, men and commanding officers often lose each other.
Troops immediately and hotly engaged, such as companies and squads, can maintain themselves only if they are well-organized and serve as supports or rallying points to those out of place. Battles tend to become now, more than they have ever been, the battles of men.
This ought not to be true! Perhaps. But the fact is that it is true.
Not all troops are immediately or hotly engaged in battle. Commanding officers always try to keep in hand, as long as possible, some troops capable of marching, acting at any moment, in any direction. To-day, like yesterday, like to-morrow, the decisive action is that of formed troops. Victory belongs to the commander who has known how to keep them in good order, to hold them, and to direct them.
That is incontrovertible.
But commanders can hold out decisive reserves only if the enemy has been forced to commit his.
In troops which do the fighting, the men and the officers closest to them, from corporal to battalion commander, have a more independent action than ever. As it is alone the vigor of that action, more independent than ever of the direction of higher commanders, which leaves in the hands of higher commanders available forces which can be directed at a decisive moment, that action becomes more preponderant than ever. Battles, now more than ever, are battles of men, of captains. They always have been in fact, since in the last analysis the execution belongs to the man in ranks. But the influence of the latter on the final result is greater than formerly. From that comes the maxim of to-day: The battles of men.
Outside of the regulations on tactics and discipline, there is an evident necessity for combating the hazardous predominance of the action of the soldier over that of the commander. It is necessary to delay as long as possible, that instant which modern conditions tend to hasten—the instant when the soldier gets from under the control of the commander.
This completes the demonstration of the truth stated before: Combat requires to-day, in order to give the best results, a moral cohesion, a unity more binding than at any other time.32It is as true as it is clear, that, if one does not wish bonds to break, one must make them elastic in order to strengthen them.
PURPOSE OF THIS STUDY WHAT WOULD BE NECESSARY TO COMPLETE IT
Any other deductions on this subject must come from the meditations of the reader. To be of value in actual application such deductions should be based upon study of modern combat, and that study cannot be made from the accounts of historians alone.
The latter show the action of troop units only in a general way. Action in detail and the individual action of the soldier remain enveloped in a cloud of dust, in narratives as in reality. Yet these questions must be studied, for the conditions they reveal should be the basis of all fighting methods, past, present and future.
Where can data on these questions be found?
We have very few records portraying action as clearly as the report on the engagement at the Pont de l'Hôpital by Colonel Bugeaud. Such stories in even greater detail, for the smallest detail has its importance, secured from participants and witnesses who knew how to see and knew how to remember, are what is necessary in a study of the battle of to-day.
The number of killed, the kind and the character of wounds, often tell more than the longest accounts. Sometimes they contradict them. We want to know how man in general and the Frenchman in particular fought yesterday. Under the pressure of danger, impelled by the instinct for self-preservation, did he follow, make light of, or forget the methods prescribed or recommended? Did he fight in the manner imposed upon him, or in that indicated to him by his instinct or by his knowledge of warfare?
When we have the answers to these questions we shall be very near to knowing how he will conduct himself to-morrow, with and against appliances far more destructive to-day than those of yesterday. Even now, knowing that man is capable only of a given quantity of terror, knowing that the moral effect of destruction is in proportion to the force applied, we are able to predict that, to-morrow less than ever will studied methods be practicable. Such methods are born of the illusions of the field of fire and are opposed to the teachings of our own experience. To-morrow, more than ever, will the individual valor of the soldier and of small groups, be predominant. This valor is secured by discipline.
The study of the past alone can give us a true perception of practical methods, and enable us to see how the soldier will inevitably fight to-morrow.
So instructed, so informed, we shall not be confused; because we shall be able to prescribe beforehand such methods of fighting, such organization, such dispositions as are seen to be inevitable. Such prescriptions may even serve to regulate the inevitable. At any rate they will serve to reduce the element of chance by enabling the commanding officer to retain control as long as possible, and by releasing the individual only at the moment when instinct dominates him.
This is the only way to preserve discipline, which has a tendency to go to pieces by tactical disobedience at the moment of greatest necessity.
It should be understood that the prescriptions in question have to do with dispositions before action; with methods of fighting, and not with maneuvers.
Maneuvers are the movements of troops in the theater of action, and they are the swift and ordered movement on the scene of action of tactical units of all sizes. They do not constitute action. Action follows them.
Confusion in many minds between maneuvers and action brings about doubt and mistrust of our regulation drills. These are good, very good as far as they go, inasmuch as they give methods of executing all movements, of taking all possible formations with rapidity and good order.
To change them, to discuss them, does not advance the question one bit. They do not affect the problem of positive action. Its solution lies in the study of what took place yesterday, from which, alone, it is possible to deduce what will happen to-morrow.
This study must be made, and its result set forth. Each leader, whose worth and authority has been tested in war and recognized by armies, has done something of the sort. Of each of these even might be said, "He knew the soldier; he knew how to make use of him."
The Romans, too, had this knowledge. They obtained it from continuous experience and profound reflexion thereon.
Experience is not continuous to-day. It must be carefully gathered. Study of it should be careful and the results should stimulate reflexion, especially in men of experience. Extremes meet in many things. In ancient times at the point of the pike and sword, armies have conquered similar armies twice their size. Who knows if, in these days of perfected long-range arms of destruction, a small force might not secure, by a happy combination of good sense or genius with morale and appliances, these same heroic victories over a greater force similarly armed?33
In spite of the statements of Napoleon I, his assumption that victory is always on the side of the strongest battalions was costly.
1. Ancient and Modern Battle
I have heard philosophers reproached for studying too exclusively man in general and neglecting the race, the country, the era, so that their studies of him offer little of real social or political value. The opposite criticism can be made of military men of all countries. They are always eager to expound traditional tactics and organization suitable to the particular character of their race, always the bravest of all races. They fail to consider as a factor in the problem, man confronted by danger. Facts are incredibly different from all theories. Perhaps in this time of military reorganization it would not be out of place to make a study of man in battle and of battle itself.
The art of war is subjected to many modifications by industrial and scientific progress. But one thing does not change, the heart of man. In the last analysis, success in battle is a matter of morale. In all matters which pertain to an army, organization, discipline and tactics, the human heart in the supreme moment of battle is the basic factor. It is rarely taken into account; and often strange errors are the result. Witness the carbine, an accurate and long range weapon, which has never given the service expected of it, because it was used mechanically without considering the human heart. We must consider it!
With improvement in weapons, the power of destruction increases, the moral effect of such weapons increases, and courage to face them becomes rarer. Man does not, cannot change. What should increase with the power of material is the strength of organization, the unity of the fighting machine. Yet these are most neglected. A million men at maneuvers are useless, if a sane and reasoned organization does not assure their discipline, and thereby their reliability, that is, their courage in action.
Four brave men who do not know each other will not dare to attack a lion. Four less brave, but knowing each other well, sure of their reliability and consequently of mutual aid, will attack resolutely. There is the science of the organization of armies in a nutshell.
At any time a new invention may assure victory. Granted. But practicable weapons are not invented every day, and nations quickly put themselves on the same footing as regards armament. The determining factor, leaving aside generals of genius, and luck, is the quality of troops, that is, the organization that best assures their esprit, their reliability, their confidence, their unity. Troops, in this sense, means soldiers. Soldiers, no matter how well drilled, who are assembled haphazard into companies and battalions will never have, have never had, that entire unity which is born of mutual acquaintanceship.
In studying ancient battle, we have seen what a terrible thing battle is. We have seen that man will not really fight except under disciplinary pressure. Even before having studied modern battle, we know that the only real armies are those to which a well thought out and rational organization gives unity throughout battle. The destructive power of improved firearms becomes greater. Battle becomes more open, hindering supervision, passing beyond the vision of the commander and even of subordinate officers. In the same degree, unity should be strengthened. The organization which assures unity of the combatants should be better thought out and more rational. The power of arms increases, man and his weaknesses remain the same. What good is an army of two hundred thousand men of whom only one-half really fight, while the other one hundred thousand disappear in a hundred ways? Better to have one hundred thousand who can be counted upon.
The purpose of discipline is to make men fight in spite of themselves. No army is worthy of the name without discipline. There is no army at all without organization, and all organization is defective which neglects any means to strengthen the unity of combatants. Methods cannot be identical. Draconian discipline does not fit our customs. Discipline must be a state of mind, a social institution based on the salient virtues and defects of the nation.
Discipline cannot be secured or created in a day. It is an institution, a tradition. The commander must have confidence in his right to command. He must be accustomed to command and proud to command. This is what strengthens discipline in armies commanded by an aristocracy in certain countries.
The Prussians do not neglect the homogeneity and consequent unity of organization. They recognize its value. Hessian regiments are composed, the first year, of one-third Hessians, two-thirds Prussians, to control the racial tendencies of troops of a recently annexed country; the second year, of two-thirds Hessians, one-third Prussians; the third year, all Hessians with their own officers.
The Americans have shown us what happens in modern battle to large armies without cohesion. With them the lack of discipline and organization has had the inevitable result. Battle has been between hidden skirmishers, at long distance, and has lasted for days, until some faulty movement, perhaps a moral exhaustion, has caused one or the other of the opposing forces to give way.
In this American War, the mêlées of Agincourt are said to have reappeared, which merely means a mêlée of fugitives. But less than ever has there been close combat.
To fight from a distance is instinctive in man. From the first day he has worked to this end, and he continues to do so. It was thought that with long range weapons close combat might return. On the contrary troops keep further off before its effects.
The primitive man, the Arab, is instability incarnate. A breath, a nothing, governs him at each instant in war. The civilized man, in war, which is opposed to civilization, returns naturally to his first instincts.
With the Arab war remains a matter of agility and cunning. Hunting is his principal pastime and the pursuit of wild beasts teaches the pursuit of man. General Daumas depicts Arabs as cavaliers. What more chivalrous warfare than the night surprise and sack of a camp! Empty words!!
It is commonly said that modern war is the most recondite of things, requiring experts. War, so long as man risks his skin in it, will always be a matter of instinct.
Ancient battle resembled drill. There is no such resemblance in modern battle. This greatly disconcerts both officers and soldiers.
Ancient battles were picnics, for the victors, who lost nobody. Not so to-day.
Artillery played no part in ancient battle.
The invention of firearms has diminished losses in battle. The improvement of firearms continues to diminish losses. This looks like a paradox. But statistics prove it. Nor is it unreasonable.
Does war become deadlier with the improvement of weapons? Not at all. Man is capable of standing before a certain amount of terror; beyond that he flees from battle. The battle of Pharsalus lasted some four hours. Caesar broke his camp, which is done in the morning; then the formation for battle; then the battle, etc. And he says that his troops were tired, the battle having lasted up to noon. This indicates that he considered it long.
For the middle ages, consult Froissart. The knights in the Battle of the Thirty were armed for battle on foot which they preferred in a serious affair, that is to say in a restricted space. There was a halt, a rest in the combat, when the two parties became exhausted. The Bretons, at this rest, were twenty-five against thirty. The battle had lasted up to exhaustion without loss by the English! Without Montauban the battle would have been terminated by complete and mutual exhaustion and without further losses. For the greater the fatigue, the less strength remained for piercing the armor. Montauban was at the same time felon and hero; felon because he did a thing not permitted by the code of combat; hero, because, if the Bretons had not ably profited by the disorder, he would have been killed when he entered the English formation alone. At the end of the contest the Bretons had four killed, the English eight. Four of the killed were overcome by their armor.
Explain how, under Turenne, men held much longer under fire than to-day. It is perfectly simple. Man is capable of standing before only a certain amount of terror. To-day there must be swallowed in five minutes what took an hour under Turenne. An example will be given.
With the present arms, whose usage is generally known, the instruction of the soldier is of little importance. It does not make the soldier. Take as an example the case of the peasants of the Vendée. Their unity and not individual instruction made them soldiers, whose value could not be denied. Such unity was natural in people of the same village of the same commune, led in battle by their own lords, their own priests, etc.
The greater the perfection of weapons, the more dreadful becomes modern battle, and discipline becomes more difficult to maintain.
The less mobile the troops, the deadlier are battles. Bayonet attacks are not so easily made to-day, and morale consequently is less affected, man fearing man more than death. Astonishing losses seem to have been suffered without breaking by Turenne's armies. Were the casualty reports submitted by the captains of those days correct?
Frederick liked to say that three men behind the enemy were worth more than fifty in front of him, for moral effect. The field of action to-day is more extensive than in Frederick's time. Battle is delivered on more accidented terrain, as armies with great mobility do not need any particular terrain to fight on.
The nature of ancient arms required close order. Modern arms require open order, and they are at the same time of such terrible power that against them too often discipline is broken. What is the solution? Have your combatants opened out? Have them well acquainted with each other so as to have unity. Have reserves to threaten with, held with an iron hand.
Modern weapons have a terrible effect and are almost unbearable by the nervous system. Who can say that he has not been frightened in battle? Discipline in battle becomes the more necessary as the ranks become more open, and the material cohesion of the ranks not giving confidence, it must spring from a knowledge of comrades, and a trust in officers, who must always be present and seen. What man to-day advances with the confidence that rigid discipline and pride in himself gave the Roman soldier, even though the contest is no longer with man but with fate?
To-day the artillery is effective at great distances. There is much liberty of movement for the different arms. The apparent liaison between arms is lessened. This has its influence on morale. There is another advantage in reliable troops, in that they can be extended more widely, and will consequently suffer smaller losses and be in better morale for close conflict.
The further off one is, the more difficult it is to judge of the terrain. Consequently the greater is the necessity for scouting, for reconnoitering the terrain by skirmishers. This is something that the Duke of Gramont forgot at Nordlingen, and which is often forgotten; but it constitutes another important reason for the use of skirmishers.
The formation in rank is a disciplinary measure against the weakness of man in the face of danger. This weakness is greater to-day in that the moral action of weapons is more powerful, and that the material rank has the inherent lack of cohesion of open order. However, open order is necessary to economize losses and permit the use of weapons. Thus to-day there is greater necessity than ever for the rank, that is for discipline, not for the geometrical rank. It is at the same time more necessary and doubly difficult to attain.
In ancient battle unity existed, at least with the Greeks and the Romans. The soldier was known to his officer and comrades; they saw that he fought.
In modern armies where losses are as great for the victor as for the vanquished, the soldier must more often be replaced. In ancient battle the victor had no losses. To-day the soldier is often unknown to his comrades. He is lost in the smoke, the dispersion, the confusion of battle. He seems to fight alone. Unity is no longer insured by mutual surveillance. A man falls, and disappears. Who knows whether it was a bullet or the fear of advancing further that struck him! The ancient combatant was never struck by an invisible weapon and could not fall in this way. The more difficult surveillance, the more necessary becomes the individuality of companies, sections, squads. Not the least of their boasts should be their ability to stand a roll call at all times.
The ancients often avoided hand to hand conflict, so terrible were its consequences. In modern combat, there never is hand to hand conflict if one stands fast.
From day to day close combat tends to disappear. It is replaced by fire action; above all by the moral action of maneuvers. Dispersion brings us back to the necessity for the unity which was an absolute necessity in ancient battle.
Strategy is a game. The first strategist, long before Napoleon, was Horace with his three enemies.
The size of the battle field permits, less than ever, holding units together; the rôle of the general is much more difficult: many more chances are left to fate. Thus the greater the necessity for the best troops who know best their trade, who are most dependable and of greatest fortitude. To diminish the effect of luck, it is necessary to hold longer, to wait for help from a distance. Battles resolve themselves into battles of soldiers. The final decision is more difficult to obtain. There is a strange similarity in battle at one league to battle at two paces. The value of the soldier is the essential element of success. Let us strengthen the soldier by unity.
Battle has more importance than ever. Communication facilities such as the telegraph, concentration facilities such as the railroad, render more difficult such strategic surprises as Ulm and Jena. The whole forces of a country can thus be united. So united, defeat becomes irreparable, disorganization greater and more rapid.
In modern combat the mêlée really exists more than in ancient battle. This appears paradoxical. It is true nevertheless of the mêlée taken in the sense of a mixed up affair where it is infinitely difficult to see clearly.
Man, in the combat of our days, is a man who, hardly knowing how to swim, is suddenly thrown into the sea.
The good quality of troops will more than ever secure victory.
As to the comparative value of troops with cohesion and of new troops, look at the Zouaves of the Guard or the Grenadiers at Magenta, and the 55th at Solferino.34
Nothing should be neglected to make the battle order stronger, man stronger.
2. Moral Elements in Battle
When, in complete security, after dinner, in full physical and moral contentment, men consider war and battle they are animated by a noble ardor that has nothing in common with reality. How many of them, however, even at that moment, would be ready to risk their lives? But oblige them to march for days and weeks to arrive at the battle ground, and on the day of battle oblige them to wait minutes, hours, to deliver it. If they were honest they would testify how much the physical fatigue and the mental anguish that precede action have lowered their morale, how much less eager to fight they are than a month before, when they arose from the table in a generous mood.
Man's heart is as changeable as fortune. Man shrinks back, apprehends danger in any effort in which he does not foresee success. There are some isolated characters of an iron temper, who resist the tendency; but they are carried away by the great majority (Bismarck).
Examples show that if a withdrawal is forced, the army is discouraged and takes flight (Frederick). The brave heart does not change.
Real bravery, inspired by devotion to duty, does not know panic and is always the same. The bravery sprung from hot blood pleases the Frenchman more. He understands it, it appeals to his vanity; it is a characteristic of his nature. But it is passing; it fails him at times, especially when there is nothing for him to gain in doing his duty.
The Turks are full of ardor in the advance. They carry their officers with them. But they retreat with the same facility, abandoning their officers.
Mediocre troops like to be led by their shepherds. Reliable troops like to be directed, with their directors alongside of them or behind. With the former the general must be the leader on horseback; with the latter, the manager.
Warnery did not like officers to head a charge. He thought it useless to have them killed before the others. He did not place them in front and his cavalry was good.
General Leboeuf did not favor the proposed advance into battle with platoon leaders in front of the center of their platoons. The fear exists that the fall of the captain will demoralize the rest. What is the solution? Leboeuf must have known that if the officer is not in front of his command, it will advance less confidently, that, with us, all officers are almost always in advance. Practice is stronger than any theory. Therefore fit theories to it. In column, put the chiefs of platoon on the flank where they can see clearly.
Frightfulness! Witness the Turks in the Polish wars. What gave power to the Turks in their wars with Poland was not so much their real strength as their ferocity. They massacred all who resisted; they massacred without the excuse of resistance. Terror preceded them, breaking down the courage of their enemies. The necessity to win or to submit to extreme peril brought about cowardice and submission, for fear of being conquered.
Turenne said, "You tremble, body...." The instinct of self-preservation can then make the strongest tremble. But they are strong enough to overcome their emotion, the fear of advancing, without even losing their heads or their coolness. Fear with them never becomes terror; it is forgotten in the activities of command. He who does not feel strong enough to keep his heart from ever being gripped by terror, should never think of becoming an officer.
The soldiers themselves have emotion. The sense of duty, discipline, pride, the example of their officers and above all their coolness, sustain them and prevent their fear from becoming terror. Their emotion never allows them to sight, or to more than approximately adjust their fire. Often they fire into the air. Cromwell knew this very well, dependable as his troops were, when he said, "Put your trust in God and aim at their shoe laces."
What is too true is that bravery often does not at all exclude cowardice, horrible devices to secure personal safety, infamous conduct.
The Romans were not mighty men, but men of discipline and obstinacy. We have no idea of the Roman military mind, so entirely different from ours. A Roman general who had as little coolness as we have would have been lost. We have incentives in decorations and medals that would have made a Roman soldier run the gauntlet.
How many men before a lion, have the courage to look him in the face, to think of and put into practice measures of self-defense? In war when terror has seized you, as experience has shown it often does, you are as before a lion. You fly trembling and let yourself be eaten up. Are there so few really brave men among so many soldiers? Alas, yes! Gideon was lucky to find three hundred in thirty thousand.
Napoleon said, "Two Mamelukes held three Frenchmen; but one hundred French cavalry did not fear the same number of Mamelukes; three hundred vanquished the same number; one thousand French beat fifteen hundred Mamelukes. Such was the influence of tactics, order and maneuver." In ordinary language, such was the great moral influence of unity, established by discipline and made possible and effective in battle by organization and mutual support. With unity and sensible formation men of an individual value one-third less beat those who were individually their betters. That is the essential, must be the essential, point in the organization of an army. On reflection, this simple statement of Napoleon's seems to contain the whole of battle morale. Make the enemy believe that support is lacking; isolate; cut off, flank, turn, in a thousand ways make his men believe themselves isolated. Isolate in like manner his squadrons, battalions, brigades and divisions; and victory is yours. If, on account of bad organization, he does not anticipate mutual support, there is no need of such maneuver; the attack is enough.
Some men, such as Orientals, Chinese, Tartars, Mongols do not fear death. They are resigned to it at all times. Why is it that they can not stand before the armies of the western people? It is lack of organization. The instinct of self-preservation which at the last moment dominates them utterly, is not opposed by discipline. We have often seen fanatic eastern peoples, implicitly believing that death in battle means a happy and glorious resurrection, superior in numbers, give way before discipline. If attacked confidently, they are crushed by their own weight. In close combat the dagger is better than the bayonet, but instinct is too strong for such people.
What makes the soldier capable of obedience and direction in action, is the sense of discipline. This includes: respect for and confidence in his chiefs; confidence in his comrades and fear of their reproaches and retaliation if he abandons them in danger; his desire to go where others do without trembling more than they; in a word, the whole of esprit de corps. Organization only can produce these characteristics. Four men equal a lion.
Note the army organizations and tactical formations on paper are always determined from the mechanical point of view, neglecting the essential coefficient, that of morale. They are almost always wrong.
Esprit de corps is secured in war. But war becomes shorter and shorter and more and more violent. Consequently, secure esprit de corps in advance.
Mental acquaintanceship is not enough to make a good organization. A good general esprit is needed. All must work for battle and not merely live, quietly going through with drills without understanding their application. Once a man knows how to use his weapon and obey all commands there is needed only occasional drill to brush up those who have forgotten. Marches and battle maneuvers are what is needed.
The technical training of the soldier is not the most difficult. It is necessary for him to know how to use and take care of his weapon; to know how to move to the right and to the left, forward, to the rear, at command, to charge and to march with full pack. But this does not make the soldier. The Vendeans, who knew little of this, were tough soldiers.
It is absolutely necessary to change the instruction, to reduce it to the necessary minimum and to cut out all the superfluities with which peacetime laborers overload it each year. To know the essential well is better than having some knowledge of a lot of things, many of them useless. Teach this the first year, that the second, but the essential from the beginning! Also instruction should be simple to avoid the mental fatigue of long drills that disgust everybody.
Here is a significant sentence in Colonel Borbstaed's enumeration of the reasons for Prussian victory over the Austrians in 1866, "It was ... because each man, being trained, knew how to act promptly and confidently in all phases of battle." This is a fact.
To be held in a building, at every minute of the day to have every movement, every attitude under a not too intelligent surveillance is indeed to be harried. This incessant surveillance weakens the morale of both the watched and the watcher. What is the reason for this incessant surveillance which has long since exceeded shipboard surveillance? Was not that strict enough?
3. Material and Moral Effect
The effect of an army, of one organization on another, is at the same time material and moral. The material effect of an organization is in its power to destroy, the moral effect in the fear that it inspires.
In battle, two moral forces, even more than two material forces, are in conflict. The stronger conquers. The victor has often lost by fire more than the vanquished. Moral effect does not come entirely from destructive power, real and effective as it may be. It comes, above all, from its presumed, threatening power, present in the form of reserves threatening to renew the battle, of troops that appear on the flank, even of a determined frontal attack.
Material effect is greater as instruments are better (weapons, mounts, etc.), as the men know better how to use them, and as the men are more numerous and stronger, so that in case of success they can carry on longer.
With equal or even inferior power of destruction he will win who has the resolution to advance, who by his formations and maneuvers can continually threaten his adversary with a new phase of material action, who, in a word has the moral ascendancy. Moral effect inspires fear. Fear must be changed to terror in order to vanquish.
When confidence is placed in superiority of material means, valuable as they are against an enemy at a distance, it may be betrayed by the actions of the enemy. If he closes with you in spite of your superiority in means of destruction, the morale of the enemy mounts with the loss of your confidence. His morale dominates yours. You flee. Entrenched troops give way in this manner.
At Pharsalus, Pompey and his army counted on a cavalry corps turning and taking Caesar in the rear. In addition Pompey's army was twice as numerous. Caesar parried the blow, and his enemy, who saw the failure of the means of action he counted on, was demoralized, beaten, lost fifteen thousand men put to the sword (while Caesar lost only two hundred) and as many prisoners.
Even by advancing you affect the morale of the enemy. But your object is to dominate him and make him retreat before your ascendancy, and it is certain that everything that diminishes the enemy's morale adds to your resolution in advancing. Adopt then a formation which permits your destructive agency, your skirmishers, to help you throughout by their material action and to this degree diminish that of the enemy.
Armor, in diminishing the material effect that can be suffered, diminishes the dominating moral effect of fear. It is easy to understand how much armor adds to the moral effect of cavalry action, at the critical moment. You feel that thanks to his armor the enemy will succeed in getting to you.
It is to be noted that when a body actually awaits the attack of another up to bayonet distance (something extraordinarily rare), and the attacking troop does not falter, the first does not defend itself. This is the massacre of ancient battle.
Against unimaginative men, who retain some coolness and consequently the faculty of reasoning in danger, moral effect will be as material effect. The mere act of attack does not completely succeed against such troops. (Witness battles in Spain and Waterloo). It is necessary to destroy them, and we are better at this than they by our aptitude in the use of skirmishers and above all in the mad dash of our cavalry. But the cavalry must not be treated, until it comes to so consider itself, as a precious jewel which must be guarded against injury. There should be little of it, but it must be good.
"Seek and ye shall find" not the ideal but the best method that exists. In maneuvers skirmishers, who have some effect, are returned to ranks to execute fire in two ranks which never killed anybody. Why not put your skirmishers in advance? Why sound trumpet calls which they neither hear nor understand? That they do not is fortunate, for each captain has a different call sounded. Example: at Alma, the retreat, etc.35
The great superiority of Roman tactics lay in their constant endeavor to coördinate physical and moral effect. Moral effect passes; finally one sees that the enemy is not so terrible as he appeared to be. Physical effect does not. The Greeks tried to dominate. The Romans preferred to kill, and kill they did. They followed thereby the better method. Their moral effect was aided by their reliable and deadly swords.
What moral force is worth to a nation at war is shown by examples. Pichegru played the traitor; this had great influence at home and we were beaten. Napoleon came back; victory returned with him.
But at that we can do nothing without good troops, not even with a Napoleon. Witness Turenne's army after his death. It remained excellent in spite of conflict between and the inefficiency of its two leaders. Note the defensive retreat across the Rhine; the regiment in Champagne attacked in front by infantry and taken in the rear by cavalry. One of the prettiest feats of the art of war.
In modern battle, which is delivered with combatants so far apart, man has come to have a horror of man. He comes to hand to hand fighting only to defend his body or if forced to it by some fortuitous encounter. More than that! It may be said that he seeks to catch the fugitive only for fear that he will turn and fight.
Guilbert says that shock actions are infinitely rare. Here, infinity is taken in its exact mathematical sense. Guilbert reduces to nothing, by deductions from practical examples, the mathematical theory of the shock of one massed body on another. Indeed the physical impulse is nothing. The moral impulse which estimates the attacker is everything. The moral impulse lies in the perception by the enemy of the resolution that animates you. They say that the battle of Amstetten was the only one in which a line actually waited for the shock of another line charging with the bayonets. Even then the Russians gave way before the moral and not before the physical impulse. They were already disconcerted, wavering, worried, hesitant, vacillating, when the blow fell. They waited long enough to receive bayonet thrusts, even blows with the rifle (in the back, as at Inkermann).36
This done, they fled. He who calm and strong of heart awaits his enemy, has all the advantage of fire. But the moral impulse of the assailant demoralizes the assailed. He is frightened; he sets his sight no longer; he does not even aim his piece. His lines are broken without defense, unless indeed his cavalry, waiting halted, horsemen a meter apart and in two ranks, does not break first and destroy all formation.