"PARIS, October 12, 1903.
"Sir,
"Herewith are some random biographical notes on the author of 'Etudes sur le Combat' which you requested of me.
"My brother entered Saint-Cyr quite late, at twenty-one years, which was I believe the age limit at that time. This was not his initial preference. He had a marked preference for a naval career, in which adventure seemed to offer an opportunity for his activity, and which he would have entered if the circumstances had so permitted. His childhood was turbulent and somewhat intractable; but, attaining adolescence, he retained from his former violence a very pronounced taste for physical exercise, especially for gymnastics, little practiced then, to which he was naturally inclined by his agility and muscular strength.
"He was successful in his classes, very much so in studies which were to his taste, principally French composition. In this he rose above the usual level of schoolboy exercises when the subject interested him. Certain other branches that were uninteresting or distasteful to him, as for instance Latin Grammar, he neglected. I do not remember ever having seen him attend a distribution of prizes, although he was highly interested, perhaps because he was too interested. On these occasions, he would disappear generally after breakfast and not be seen until evening. His bent was toward mechanical notions and handiwork. He was not uninterested in mathematics but his interest in this was ordinary. He was nearly refused entrance to Saint-Cyr. He became confused before the examiners and the results of the first part of the tests were almost negligible. He consoled himself with his favorite maxim as a young man: 'Onward philosophy.' Considering the first test as over and done with, he faced the second test with perfect indifference. This attitude gave him another opportunity and he came out with honors. As he had done well with the written test on 'Hannibal's Campaigns,' he was given a passing grade.
"At school he was liked by all his comrades for his good humor and frank and sympathetic character. Later, in the regiment, he gained naturally and without effort the affection of his equals and the respect of his subordinates. The latter were grateful to him for the real, cordial and inspiring interest he showed in their welfare, for he was familiar with the details of the service and with the soldier's equipment. He would not compromise on such matters and prevaricators who had to do with him did not emerge creditably.
"It can be said that after reaching manhood he never lied. The absolute frankness from which he never departed under any circumstances gave him prestige superior to his rank. A mere Lieutenant, he voted 'No' to the Coup d'Etat of December 2, and was admonished by his colonel who was sorry to see him compromise thus his future. He replied with his usual rectitude: 'Colonel, since my opinion was asked for, I must suppose that it was wanted.'
"On the eve of the Crimean war, his regiment, (67th) not seeming destined to take the field, he asked for and obtained a transfer to the light infantry (9th Battalion). It was with this battalion that he served in the campaign. When it commenced, he made his first appearance in the fatal Dobrutscha expedition. This was undertaken in a most unhealthy region, on the chance of finding there Cossacks who would have furnished matter for a communiqué. No Cossacks were found, but the cholera was. It cut down in a few hours, so as to speak, a large portion of the total strength. My brother, left with the rear guard to bury the dead, burn their effects and bring up the sick, was in his turn infected. The attack was very violent and he recovered only because he would not give in to the illness. Evacuated to the Varna hospital, he was driven out the first night by the burning of the town and was obliged to take refuge in the surrounding fields where the healthfulness of the air gave him unexpected relief. Returned to France as a convalescent, he remained there until the month of December (1854). He then rejoined his regiment and withstood to the end the rigors of the winter and the slowness of the siege.
"Salle's division to which the Trochu brigade belonged, and in which my brother served, was charged with the attack on the central bastion. This operation was considered a simple diversion without a chance of success. My brother, commanding the storming column of his battalion, had the good fortune to come out safe and sound from the deadly fire to which he was exposed and which deprived the battalion of several good officers. He entered the bastion with a dozen men. All were naturally made prisoners after a resistance which would have cost my brother his life if the bugler at his side had not warded off a saber blow at his head. Upon his return from captivity, in the first months of 1856, he was immediately made major in the 100th Regiment of the Line, at the instance of General Trochu who regarded him highly. He was called the following year to the command of the 16th Battalion of Foot Chasseurs. He served with this battalion during the Syrian campaign where there was but little serious action.
"Back again in France, his promotion to the grade of lieutenant-colonel, notwithstanding his excellent ratings and his place on the promotion list, was long retarded by the ill-will of Marshal Randon, the Minister of War. Marshal Randon complained of his independent character and bore him malice from an incident relative to the furnishing of shoes intended for his battalion. My brother, questioned by Marshal Niel about the quality of the lot of shoes, had frankly declared it bad.
"Promoted finally to lieutenant-colonel in the 55th in Algeria, he took the field there in two campaigns, I believe. Appointed colonel of the 10th of the Line in February, 1869, he was stationed at Lorient and at Limoges during the eighteen months before the war with Germany. He busied himself during this period with the preparation of his work, soliciting from all sides first-hand information. It was slow in coming in, due certainly to indifference rather than ill-will. He made several trips to Paris for the purpose of opening the eyes of those in authority to the defective state of the army and the perils of the situation. Vain attempts! 'They take all that philosophically,' he used to say.
"Please accept, Sir, with renewed acknowledgements of gratitude, the expression of my most distinguished sentiments.
"P. S. As to the question of atavism in which you showed some interest in our first conversation, I may say that our paternal line does not in my knowledge include any military man. The oldest ancestor I know of, according to an album of engravings by Albert Dürer, recovered in a garret, was a gold and silversmith at Limoges towards the end of the sixteenth century. His descendants have always been traders down to my grandfather who, from what I have heard said, did not in the least attend to his trade. The case is different with my mother's family which came from Lorraine. Our great-grandfather was a soldier, our grandfather also, and two, at least, of my mother's brothers gave their lives on the battlefields of the First Empire. At present, the family has two representatives in the army, the one a son of my brother's, the other a first cousin, once removed, both bearing our name.
Ardant du Picq (Charles-Jean-Jacques-Joseph), was born October 19, 1821 at Périgueux (Dordogne). Entered the service as a student of the Special Military School, November 15, 1842.
Sub-Lieutenant in the 67th Regiment of the Line, October 1, 1844.
Lieutenant, May 15, 1848.
Captain, August 15, 1852.
Transferred to the 9th Battalion of Foot Chasseurs, December 25, 1853.
Major of the 100th Regiment of the Line, February 15, 1856.
Transferred to the 16th Battalion of Chasseurs, March 17, 1856.
Transferred to the 37th Regiment of the Line, January 23, 1863.
Lieutenant Colonel of the 55th Regiment of the Line, January 16, 1864.
Colonel of the 10th Regiment of Infantry of the Line, February 27, 1869.
Died from wounds at the military hospital in Metz, August 18, 1870.
Orient, March 29, 1854 to May 27, 1856. Was taken prisoner of war at the storming of the central bastion (Sebastopol) September 8, 1855; returned from enemy's prisons December 13, 1855.
Served in the Syrian campaign from August 6, 1860 to June 18, 1861; in Africa from February 24, 1864 to April 14, 1866; in Franco-German war, from July 15, 1870 to August 18, 1870.
Wounded—a comminute fracture of the right thigh, a torn gash in the left thigh, contusion of the abdomen—by the bursting of a projectile, August 15, 1870, Longeville-les-Metz (Moselle).
Chevalier of the Imperial Order of the Legion of Honor, Dec. 29, 1860.
Officer of the Imperial Order of the Legion of Honor, September 10, 1868.
Received the medal of H. M. the Queen of England.
Received the medal for bravery in Sardinia.
Authorized to wear the decoration of the fourth class of the Ottoman Medjidie order.
On the 22nd of July, the three active battalions of the 10th Regiment of Infantry of the Line left Limoges and Angoulême by rail arriving on the 23rd at the camp at Châlons, where the 6th Corps of the Rhine Army was concentrating and organizing, under the command of Marshal Canrobert. The regiment, within this army corps, belonged to the 1st Brigade (Pechot) of the 1st Division (Tixier).
The organization on a war footing of the 10th Regiment of Infantry of the Line, begun at Limoges, was completed at the Châlons camp.
The battalions were brought up to seven hundred and twenty men, and the regiment counted twenty-two hundred and ten present, not including the band, the sappers and the headquarters section, which raised the effectives to twenty-three hundred men.
The troops of the 6th Corps were soon organized and Marshal Canrobert reviewed them on the 31st of July.
On August 5th, the division received orders to move to Nancy. It was placed on nine trains, of which the first left at 6 A. M. Arriving in the evening at its destination, the 1st brigade camped on the Leopold Racetrack, and the 10th Regiment established itself on the Place de la Grève.
The defeats of Forbach and Reichshofen soon caused these first plans to be modified. The 6th Corps was ordered to return to the Châlons camp. The last troops of the 2d Brigade, held up at Toul and Commercy, were returned on the same trains.
The 1st Brigade entrained at Nancy, on the night of August 8th, arriving at the Châlons camp on the afternoon of August 8th.
The 6th Corps, however, was to remain but a few days in camp. On the 10th it received orders to go to Metz. On the morning of the 11th the regiment was again placed on three successive trains. The first train carrying the staff and the 1st Battalion, arrived at Metz without incident. The second train, transporting the 2d Battalion and four companies of the 3d was stopped at about 11 P.M. near the Frouard branch.
The telegraph line was cut by a Prussian party near Dieulouard, for a length of two kilometers, and it was feared the road was damaged.
In order not to delay his arrival at Metz, nor the progress of the trains following, Major Morin at the head of the column, directed his commands to detrain and continue to Metz.
He caused the company at the head of the train to alight (6th Company, 2d Battalion, commanded by Captain Valpajola) and sent it reconnoitering on the road, about three hundred meters in advance of the train. All precautions were taken to assure the security of the train, which regulated its progress on that of the scouts.
After a run of about eight kilometers in this way, at Marbache station, all danger having disappeared and communication with Metz having been established, the train resumed its regulation speed. In consequence of the slowing up of the second column, the third followed at a short distance until it also arrived. On the afternoon of the 12th, the regiment was entirely united.
The division of which it was a part was sent beyond Montigny and it camped there as follows:
The 9th Chasseurs and 4th Regiment of the Line, ahead of the Thionville railroad, the right on the Moselle, the left on the Pont-à-Mousson highway; the 10th Regiment of the Line, the right supported at the branch of the Thionville and Nancy lines, the left in the direction of Saint-Privat, in front of the Montigny repair shops of the Eastern Railroad lines.
The regiment was thus placed in the rear of a redoubt under construction. The company of engineers was placed at the left of the 10th near the earth-works on which it was to work.
Along the ridge of the plateau, toward the Seille, was the 2d Brigade, which rested its left on the river and its right perpendicular to the Saint-Privat road, in rear of the field-work of this name. The divisional batteries were behind it.
The division kept this position August 13th and during the morning of the 14th. In the afternoon, an alarm made the division take arms, during the engagement that took place on the side of Vallières and Saint-Julien (battle of Borny). The regiment immediately occupied positions on the left of the village of Montigny.
At nightfall, the division retired to the rear of the railroad cut, and received orders to hold itself in readiness to leave during the night.
The regiment remained thus under arms, the 3d Battalion (Major Deschesnes), passing the night on grand guard in front of the Montigny redoubt.
Before daybreak, the division marched over the bank of the Thionville railroad, crossed the Moselle, and, marching towards Gravelotte, descended into the plain south of Longeville-les-Metz, where the principal halt was made and coffee prepared.
Scarcely had stacks been made, and the men set to making fires, about 7 A.M. when shells exploded in the midst of the troops. The shots came from the Bradin farm, situated on the heights of Montigny, which the division had just left the same morning, and which a German cavalry reconnaissance patrol supported by two pieces had suddenly occupied.
The Colonel had arms taken at once and disposed the regiment north of the road which, being elevated, provided sufficient cover for defilading the men.
He himself, stood in the road to put heart into his troops by his attitude, they having been a little startled by this surprise and the baptism of fire which they received under such disadvantageous circumstances.
Suddenly, a shell burst over the road, a few feet from the Colonel, and mutilated his legs in a frightful manner.
The same shell caused other ravages in the ranks of the 10th. The commander of the 3d Battalion, Major Deschesnes, was mortally wounded, Captain Reboulet was killed, Lieutenant Pone (3d Battalion, 1st Company), and eight men of the regiment were wounded. The Colonel was immediately taken to the other side of the highway into the midst of his soldiers and a surgeon called, those of the regiment being already engaged in caring for the other victims of the terrible shot.
In the meantime, Colonel Ardant du Picq asked for Lieut.-Colonel Doleac, delivered to him his saddlebags containing important papers concerning the regiment and gave him his field glasses. Then, without uttering the least sound of pain, notwithstanding the frightful injury from which he must have suffered horribly, he said with calmness: "My regret is to be struck in this way, without having been able to lead my regiment on the enemy."
They wanted him to take a little brandy, he refused and accepted some water which a soldier offered him.
A surgeon arrived finally. The Colonel, showing him his right leg open in two places, made with his hand the sign of amputating at the thigh, saying: "Doctor, it is necessary to amputate my leg here."
At this moment, a soldier wounded in the shoulder, and placed near the Colonel, groaned aloud. Forgetting his own condition, the Colonel said immediately to the surgeon: "See first, doctor, what is the matter with this brave man; I can wait."
Because of the lack of instruments it was not possible to perform the amputation on the ground, as the Colonel desired, so this much deplored commander was transported to the Metz hospital.
Four days later (19th of August), Colonel Ardant du Picq died like a hero of old, without uttering the least complaint. Far from his regiment, far from his family, he uttered several times the words which summed up his affections: "My wife, my children, my regiment, adieu!"
Battle is the final objective of armies and man is the fundamental instrument in battle. Nothing can wisely be prescribed in an army—its personnel, organization, discipline and tactics, things which are connected like the fingers of a hand—without exact knowledge of the fundamental instrument, man, and his state of mind, his morale, at the instant of combat.
It often happens that those who discuss war, taking the weapon for the starting point, assume unhesitatingly that the man called to serve it will always use it as contemplated and ordered by the regulations. But such a being, throwing off his variable nature to become an impassive pawn, an abstract unit in the combinations of battle, is a creature born of the musings of the library, and not a real man. Man is flesh and blood; he is body and soul. And, strong as the soul often is, it can not dominate the body to the point where there will not be a revolt of the flesh and mental perturbation in the face of destruction.
The human heart, to quote Marshal de Saxe, is then the starting point in all matters pertaining to war.
Let us study the heart, not in modern battle, complicated and not readily grasped, but in ancient battle. For, although nowhere explained in detail, ancient battle was simple and clear.
Centuries have not changed human nature. Passions, instincts, among them the most powerful one of self-preservation, may be manifested in various ways according to the time, the place, the character and temperament of the race. Thus in our times we can admire, under the same conditions of danger, emotion and anguish, the calmness of the English, the dash of the French, and that inertia of the Russians which is called tenacity. But at bottom there is always found the same man. It is this man that we see disposed of by the experts, by the masters, when they organize and discipline, when they order detailed combat methods and take general dispositions for action. The best masters are those who know man best, the man of today and the man of history. This knowledge naturally comes from a study of formations and achievements in ancient war.
The development of this work leads us to make such an analysis, and from a study of combat we may learn to know man.
Let us go even back of ancient battle, to primeval struggle. In progressing from the savage to our times we shall get a better grasp of life.
And shall we then know as much as the masters? No more than one is a painter by having seen the methods of painting. But we shall better understand these able men and the great examples they have left behind them.
We shall learn from them to distrust mathematics and material dynamics as applied to battle principles. We shall learn to beware of the illusions drawn from the range and the maneuver field.
There, experience is with the calm, settled, unfatigued, attentive, obedient soldier, with an intelligent and tractable man-instrument in short, and not with the nervous, easily swayed, moved, troubled, distrait, excited, restless being, not even under self-control, who is the fighting man from general to private. There are strong men, exceptions, but they are rare.
These illusions, nevertheless, stubborn and persistent, always repair the very next day the most damaging injuries inflicted on them by experience. Their least dangerous effect is to lead to prescribing the impractical, as if ordering the impractical were not really an attack on discipline, and did not result in disconcerting officers and men by the unexpected and by surprise at the contrast between battle and the theories of peacetime training.
Battle, of course, always furnishes surprises. But it furnishes less in proportion as good sense and the recognition of truth have had their effect on the training of the fighting man, and are disseminated in the ranks. Let us then study man in battle, for it is he who really fights.
Man does not enter battle to fight, but for victory. He does everything that he can to avoid the first and obtain the second.
War between savage tribes, between Arabs, even today,1is a war of ambush by small groups of men of which each one, at the moment of surprise, chooses, not his adversary, but his victim, and is an assassin. Because the arms are similar on both sides, the only way of giving the advantage to one side is by surprise. A man surprised, needs an instant to collect his thoughts and defend himself; during this instant he is killed if he does not run away.
The surprised adversary does not defend himself, he tries to flee. Face to face or body to body combat with primitive arms, ax or dagger, so terrible among enemies without defensive arms, is very rare. It can take place only between enemies mutually surprised and without a chance of safety for any one except in victory. And still ... in case of mutual surprise, there is another chance of safety; that of falling back, of flight on the part of one or the other; and that chance is often seized. Here is an example, and if it does not concern savages at all, but soldiers of our days, the fact is none the less significant. It was observed by a man of warlike temperament who has related what he saw with his own eyes, although he was a forced spectator, held to the spot by a wound.
During the Crimean War, on a day of heavy fighting, two detachments of soldiers, A and B, coming around one of the mounds of earth that covered the country and meeting unexpectedly face to face, at ten paces, stopped thunderstruck. Then, forgetting their rifles, they threw stones and withdrew. Neither of the two groups had a decided leader to lead it to the front, and neither of the two dared to shoot first for fear that the other would at the same time bring his own arm to his shoulder. They were too near to hope to escape, or so they thought at least, although in reality, reciprocal firing, at such short ranges, is almost always too high. The man who would fire sees himself already killed by the return fire. He throws stones, and not with great force, to avoid using his rifle, to distract the enemy, to occupy the time, until flight offers him some chance of escaping at point-blank range.
This agreeable state of affairs did not last long, a minute perhaps. The appearance of a troop B on one flank determined the flight of A, and then the opposing group fired.
Surely, the affair is ridiculous and laughable.
Let us see, however. In a thick forest, a lion and a tiger meet face to face at a turn in the trail. They stop at once, rearing and ready to spring. They measure each other with their eyes, there is a rumbling in their throats. The claws move convulsively, the hair stands up. With tails lashing the ground, and necks stretched, ears flattened, lips turned up, they show their formidable fangs in that terrible threatening grimace of fear characteristic of felines.
Unseen, I shudder.
The situation is disagreeable for both: movement ahead means the death of a beast. Of which? Of both perhaps.
Slowly, quite slowly, one leg, bent for the leap, bending still, moves a few inches to the rear. Gently, quite gently, a fore paw follows the movement. After a stop, slowly, quite slowly, the other legs do the same, and both beasts, insensibly, little by little, and always facing, withdraw, up to the moment where their mutual withdrawal has created between them an interval greater than can be traversed in a bound. Lion and tiger turn their backs slowly and, without ceasing to observe, walk freely. They resume without haste their natural gaits, with that sovereign dignity characteristic of great seigneurs. I have ceased to shudder, but I do not laugh.
There is no more to laugh at in man in battle, because he has in his hands a weapon more terrible than the fangs and claws of lion or tiger, the rifle, which instantly, without possible defense, sends one from life into death. It is evident that no one close to his enemy is in a hurry to arm himself, to put into action a force which may kill him. He is not anxious to light the fuse that is to blow up the enemy, and himself at the same time.
Who has not observed like instances between dogs, between dog and cat, cat and cat?
In the Polish War of 1831, two Russian and two Polish regiments of cavalry charged each other. They went with the same dash to meet one another. When close enough to recognize faces, these cavalrymen slackened their gait and both turned their backs. The Russians and Poles, at this terrible moment, recognized each other as brothers, and rather than spill fraternal blood, they extricated themselves from a combat as if it were a crime. That is the version of an eyewitness and narrator, a Polish officer.
What do you think of cavalry troops so moved by brotherly love?
But let us resume:
When people become more numerous, and when the surprise of an entire population occupying a vast space is no longer possible, when a sort of public conscience has been cultivated within society, one is warned beforehand. War is formally declared. Surprise is no longer the whole of war, but it remains one of the means in war, the best means, even to-day. Man can no longer kill his enemy without defense. He has forewarned him. He must expect to find him standing and in numbers. He must fight; but he wishes to conquer with as little risk as possible. He employs the iron shod mace against the staff, arrows against the mace, the shield against arrows, the shield and cuirass against the shield alone, the long lance against the short lance, the tempered sword against the iron sword, the armed chariot against man on foot, and so on.
Man taxes his ingenuity to be able to kill without running the risk of being killed. His bravery is born of his strength and it is not absolute. Before a stronger he flees without shame. The instinct of self-preservation is so powerful that he does not feel disgraced in obeying it, although, thanks to the defensive power of arms and armor he can fight at close quarters. Can you expect him to act in any other way? Man must test himself before acknowledging a stronger. But once the stronger is recognized, no one will face him.
Individual strength and valor were supreme in primitive combats, so much so that when its heroes were killed, the nation was conquered. As a result of a mutual and tacit understanding, combatants often stopped fighting to watch with awe and anxiety two champions struggling. Whole peoples often placed their fate in the hands of the champions who took up the task and who alone fought. This was perfectly natural. They counted their champion a superman, and no man can stand against the superman.
But intelligence rebels against the dominance of force. No one can stand against an Achilles, but no Achilles can withstand ten enemies who, uniting their efforts, act in concert. This is the reason for tactics, which prescribe beforehand proper means of organization and action to give unanimity to effort, and for discipline which insures united efforts in spite of the innate weakness of combatants.
In the beginning man battled against man, each one for himself, like a beast that hunts to kill, yet flees from that which would kill him. But now prescriptions of discipline and tactics insure unity between leader and soldier, between the men themselves. Besides the intellectual progress, is there a moral progress? To secure unity in combat, to make tactical dispositions in order to render it practically possible, we must be able to count on the devotion of all. This elevates all combatants to the level of the champions of primitive combat. Esprit appears, flight is a disgrace, for one is no longer alone in combat. There is a legion, and he who gives way quits his commanders and his companions. In all respects the combatant is worth more.
So reason shows us the strength of wisely united effort; discipline makes it possible.
Will the result be terrible fights, conflicts of extermination? No! Collective man, a disciplined body of troops formed in tactical battle order, is invincible against an undisciplined body of troops. But against a similarly disciplined body, he becomes again primitive man. He flees before a greater force of destruction when he recognizes it or when he foresees it. Nothing is changed in the heart of man. Discipline keeps enemies face to face a little longer, but cannot supplant the instinct of self-preservation and the sense of fear that goes with it.
Fear!...
There are officers and soldiers who do not know it, but they are people of rare grit. The mass shudders; because you cannot suppress the flesh. This trembling must be taken into account in all organization, discipline, arrangements, movements, maneuvers, mode of action. All these are affected by the human weakness of the soldier which causes him to magnify the strength of the enemy.
This faltering is studied in ancient combat. It is seen that of nations apt in war, the strongest have been those who, not only best have understood the general conduct of war, but who have taken human weakness into greatest account and taken the best guarantees against it. It is notable that the most warlike peoples are not always those in which military institutions and combat methods are the best or the most rational.
And indeed, in warlike nations there is a good dose of vanity. They only take into account courage in their tactics. One might say that they do not desire to acknowledge weakness.
The Gaul, a fool in war, used barbarian tactics. After the first surprise, he was always beaten by the Greeks and Romans.
The Greek, a warrior, but also a politician, had tactics far superior to those of the Gauls and the Asiatics.
The Roman, a politician above all, with whom war was only a means, wanted perfect means. He had no illusions. He took into account human weakness and he discovered the legion.
But this is merely affirming what should be demonstrated.
KNOWLEDGE OF MAN MADE ROMAN TACTICS. THE SUCCESSES OF HANNIBAL, THOSE OF CAESAR
Greek tactics developed the phalanx; Roman tactics, the legion; the tactics of the barbarians employed the square phalanx, wedge or lozenge.
The mechanism of these various formations is explained in all elementary books. Polybius enters into a mechanical discussion when he contrasts the phalanx and the legion. (Book 18.)
The Greeks were, in intellectual civilization, superior to the Romans, consequently their tactics ought to have been far more rational. But such was not the case. Greek tactics proceeded from mathematical reasoning; Roman tactics from a profound knowledge of man's heart. Naturally the Greeks did not neglect morale nor the Romans mechanics,2but their primary, considerations were diverse.
What formation obtained the maximum effort from the Greek army?
What methods caused the soldiers of a Roman army to fight most effectively?
The first question admits of discussion. The Roman solved the second.
The Roman was not essentially brave. He did not produce any warrior of the type of Alexander. It is acknowledged that the valorous impetuosity of the barbarians, Gauls, Cimbri, Teutons, made him tremble. But to the glorious courage of the Greeks, to the natural bravery of the Gauls he opposed a strict sense of duty, secured by a terrible discipline in the masses. It was inspired in the officers by a sentiment of the strongest patriotism.
The discipline of the Greeks was secured by exercises and rewards; the discipline of the Romans was secured also by the fear of death. They put to death with the club; they decimated their cowardly or traitorous units.
In order to conquer enemies that terrified his men, a Roman general heightened their morale, not by enthusiasm but by anger. He made the life of his soldiers miserable by excessive work and privations. He stretched the force of discipline to the point where, at a critical instant, it must break or expend itself on the enemy. Under similar circumstances, a Greek general caused Tyrtaeus to sing.3It would have been curious to see two such forces opposed.
But discipline alone does not constitute superior tactics. Man in battle, I repeat, is a being in whom the instinct of self-preservation dominates, at certain moments, all other sentiments. Discipline has for its aim the domination of that instinct by a greater terror. But it cannot dominate it completely. I do not deny the glorious examples where discipline and devotion have elevated man above himself. But if these examples are glorious, it is because they are rare; if they are admired, it is because they are considered exceptions, and the exception proves the rule.
The determination of that instant where man loses his reasoning power and becomes instinctive is the crowning achievement in the science of combat. In general, here was the strength of the Roman tactics. In particular cases such successful determination makes Hannibals and Caesars.
Combat took place between masses in more or less deep formation commanded and supervised by leaders with a definite mission. The combat between masses was a series of individual conflicts, juxtaposed, with the front rank man alone fighting. If he fell, if he was wounded or worn out, he was replaced by the man of the second rank who had watched and guarded his flanks. This procedure continued up to the last rank. Man is always physically and morally fatigued in a hand-to-hand tournament where he employs all his energy.
These contests generally lasted but a short time. With like morale, the least fatigued always won.
During this engagement of the first two ranks, the one fighting, the other watching close at hand, the men of the rear ranks waited inactive at two paces distance for their turn in the combat, which would come only when their predecessors were killed, wounded or exhausted. They were impressed by the violent fluctuations of the struggle of the first rank. They heard the clashes of the blows and distinguished, perhaps, those that sank into the flesh. They saw the wounded, the exhausted crawl through the intervals to go to the rear. Passive spectators of danger, they were forced to await its terrible approach. These men were subjected to the poignant emotions of combat without being supported by the animation of the struggle. They were thus placed under the moral pressure of the greatest of anxieties. Often they could not stand it until their turn came; they gave way.
The best tactics, the best dispositions were those that made easiest a succession of efforts by assuring the relief by ranks of units in action, actually engaging only the necessary units and keeping the rest as a support or reserve outside of the immediate sphere of moral tension. The superiority of the Romans lay in such tactics and in the terrible discipline which prepared and assured the execution. By their resistance against fatigue which rude and continual tasks gave them and by the renewal of combatants in combat, they secured greater continuity of effort than any others.4
The Gauls did not reason. Seeing only the inflexible line, they bound themselves together, thus rendering relief impracticable. They believed, as did the Greeks, in the power of the mass and impulse of deep files, and did not understand that deep files were powerless to push the first ranks forward as they recoiled in the face of death. It is a strange error to believe that the last ranks will go to meet that which made the first ones fall back. On the contrary, the contagion of recoil is so strong that the stopping of the head means the falling back of the rear!
The Greeks, also, certainly had reserves and supports in the second half of their dense ranks. But the idea of mass dominated. They placed these supports and reserves too near, forgetting the essential, man.
The Romans believed in the power of mass, but from the moral point of view only. They did not multiply the files in order to add to the mass, but to give to the combatants the confidence of being aided and relieved. The number of ranks was calculated according to the moral pressure that the last ranks could sustain.
There is a point beyond which man cannot bear the anxiety of combat in the front lines without being engaged. The Romans did not so increase the number of ranks as to bring about this condition. The Greeks did not observe and calculate so well. They sometimes brought the number of files up to thirty-two and their last files, which in their minds, were doubtless their reserves, found themselves forcibly dragged into the material disorder of the first ones.
In the order by maniples in the Roman legion, the best soldiers, those whose courage had been proved by experience in battle, waited stoically, kept in the second and third lines. They were far enough away not to suffer wounds and not to be drawn in by the front line retiring into their intervals. Yet they were near enough to give support when necessary or to finish the job by advancing.
When the three separate and successive maniples of the first cohort were united in order to form the united battle cohort of Marius and of Caesar, the same brain placed the most reliable men in the last lines, i.e., the oldest. The youngest, the most impetuous, were in the first lines. The legion was not increased simply to make numbers or mass. Each had his turn in action, each man in his maniple, each maniple in its cohort, and, when the unit became a cohort, each cohort in the order of battle.
We have seen that the Roman theory dictated a depth of ranks to furnish successive lines of combatants. The genius of the general modified these established formations. If the men were inured to war, well-trained, reliable, tenacious, quick to relieve their file leaders, full of confidence in their general and their own comrades, the general diminished the depth of the files, did away with the lines even, in order to increase the number of immediate combatants by increasing the front. His men having a moral, and sometimes also a physical endurance superior to that of the adversary, the general knew that the last ranks of the latter would not, under pressure, hold sufficiently to relieve the first lines nor to forbid the relief of his own. Hannibal had a part of his infantry, the Africans, armed and drilled in the Roman way; his Spanish infantrymen had the long wind of the Spaniards of to-day; his Gallic soldiers, tried out by hardship, were in the same way fit for long efforts. Hannibal, strong with the confidence with which he inspired his people, drew up a line less deep by half than the Roman army and at Cannae hemmed in an army which had twice his number and exterminated it. Caesar at Pharsalus, for similar reasons, did not hesitate to decrease his depth. He faced double his strength in the army of Pompey, a Roman army like his own, and crushed it.
We have mentioned Cannae and Pharsalus, we shall study in them the mechanism and the morale of ancient combat, two things which cannot be separated. We cannot find better examples of battle more clearly and more impartially exhibited. This is due in one case to the clear presentation of Polybius, who obtained his information from the fugitives from Cannae, possibly even from some of the conquerors; in the other it is due to the impassive clearness of Caesar in describing the art of war.