Sometimes—all this effort to make a man a soldier who does not possess the necessary elements, is attempted through the "Plattsburg system" of intensive training with the same result— Again it may be tried through numerous service schools—the General Staff—the War College course, etc. But—eventually and inevitably without some one or all of these basic elements to build on—to unfold, develop and train whatever of the military spirit that there is in him, it will become necessary, sooner or later to eliminate him from the game—i. e., to "Can" him. The writer has scarcely ever seen it fail— And when there has been any exception to the rule through political pull or favoritism—and this incompetent, would-be professional soldier is retained, disaster has been written all over the pages of his unfortunate military career. All of our wars—the Civil War—Spanish-American—and now our great World War have clearly demonstrated this. It is pitiful therefore to see men struggling along in uniform—absolutely incapable of acquiring battle instinct or battle sense (simply because they cannot be taught) and the requisites for a rough and tumble soldier in the field, capable of commanding men under all circumstances of the emergencies and crises continually arising to test out a man's military resources—and his ready adaptation to the problems before him, etc.—because of the lack of just those elements that go to make up the ever ready soldier. The education of such men along military—but, more especially along the line of battle problems is an offense to the nostrils and a clear violation of common sense, besides giving most battle-service soldiers an indescribable weariness.
Courage Alone Not Effective
Courage, either in the Army or civil life, is a cheap commodity. Almost every soldier should and does possess it to a certain degree. All combative animals have it more or less. It certainly is not a rare virtue in our service. The man who does not possess it is an exception to the rule— The point is, however, whether he has that amount of physical and moral courage to a degree which, without common sense and the military spirit—would make his acts a military success. The writer thinks not— Too much stress has been laid on the mere physical brute courage of the soldier. Without it is combined with good military sense—it is doubtful if possessing courage alone could ever make a success of anything in which any of the military elements cited enter as a factor. Nothing so surprises a man of mediocre caliber—one who has been mistakenly or wrongfully steered into a military career without there being the slightest evidence of his fitness for it—one who has been stuffed full of the theory of war and of battle conditions, as to—suddenly butt up against the real article—a genuine wild-cat battle with all of its quickly varying conditions and phases. And by such a battle I do not mean one afar off; at some observation or listening post within sound of the guns—or in some bomb proof or sheltered dug out—where he can talk over the telephone; or look upon it as he would a moving picture—but directly on, or right in rear of an infantry battle-line under direct rifle, shrapnel, canister, or machine-gun fire—a bullet-swept field—such as many of us Civil War men saw on the battle-field of Fredericksburg, Va., Dec. 13-14, 1862. One hundred and fifty yards from the "Sunken Road"—at the foot of "Maryes Heights". With no cover except the shell-mangled, disemboweled bodies which we rolled up in front of us and used for breast works, behind which we sought the only shelter we had for 30 long winter hours in the half frozen mud—the plane of fire just grazing our heads on that bullet-swept terrain—and the bodies being whipped, frazzled and torn to pieces in front of our noses by terrific rifle and shrapnel fire as we vainly endeavored to relieve our weary frames by turning over from right to left or on our backs and stomachs.
That was a battle-field where the soldier not only had to use his courage, his wits and common sense, but all of his resources. He will doubtless discover in a few minutes that this situation and this crisis was not included in what he has studied and booked up as theoretical battle knowledge and does not apply or fit in to any battle scheme that has been—without consulting him—staged on his front—and particularly to such a frightful and perilous situation. Right here will come in his aptitude and true merit as a soldier—and his real practical test out. It applies to any other military problem where the element of common sense must enter as a determining factor. It enters into all walks of business where business sense is so absolutely necessary. It entered into this problem of the pursuit of deserters. All of our varied campaign and battle service, and experience and knowledge gained during that great Civil War—and our practical activities in scouting and campaigning after wild, hostile Indians subsequent to that war entered into this chase and capture, asMilitary factors—without which we would have been as helpless as two children.
Who could look ahead into that long, trackless, desolate hundred miles of thinly settled country—almost a wilderness—with small towns more than 40 miles apart—in the midst of a bitter cold tempest of rain, snow, sleet and ice—and rely upon any Service School scheme of study, or War College papers and compositions upon obsolete campaigns and battles—or any extended use of war games—annual maneuvers or sham battles, etc., things that many of our young officers have been fed upon for years to fit them for great wars, emergencies, crises, etc.—and predicted any success for either Lawton or the writer? Any experience (?) gained in such theoretical military knowledge as would fit into such a case—would have been about as effective for Lawton and myself as our study of the Sanskrit and Chinese languages.
It was a problem based purely upon military experience gained by hard knocks and campaigns and in battles—seasoned up with plenty of good, sound horse sense—combined with our battle discipline and morale; courage, resourcefulness and powers of endurance entered, of course, as factors. These were our guides. One's complete education, and years of the most violent intensive training ever devised by any military machine of West Point Manufacture would have accomplished absolutely nothing along the lines we worked to secure the unqualified success—that was expected and demanded of us by such an exacting soldier as Mackenzie. There was nothing the writer had so laboriously studied and learned in his course at West Point that could by any construction or stretch of the imagination, have fitted in, or been of the slightest use in this problem. No Mathematics—No Algebra with its "Binomial Theorem;" no plane Geometry with its fascinating "Pons Asinorum"; No Trigonometry with its sines and co-sines; no Descriptive or Analytical Geometry with planes of reference, etc. No Calculus with its integrations and differentiations; or equations "A" and "B". No Spherical Astronomy with its "Polaris"—or projections of the Eclipse; No Optics or Acoustics. No spectral Analysis. No trays of Minerals—with the blow pipe and testing acids to determine "Fools Gold" or Iron Pyrites from the real article, would have fitted one for the real acid test when the most critical stage of the game—confronted him. Neither would the perfect tactical drills—magnificent parades and inspections which have so delighted foreign visitors and the American people who have a right to be so proud—as the writer is himself—of our great National Military Academy—probably the finest Academy in the world— But—and here comes the crux of one's best endeavors along military lines where complete success is the goal—the education the writer gained during that Civil War—the daily experience—the frequent campaign and battle tests—the self control—the patience—the confidence—the discipline and morale, tried out as in a crucible—the strength, steadiness and tenacity of purpose under battle conditions—with rifle, shrapnel and canister fire—for there were no machine guns or grenades in those days—in such battles as Bull Run—Antietam, Fredericksburg—Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, etc., and the influences which they wrought upon one's character in later years to deal with things that to some men would appear to be simply impossible—all these combined with the true military spirit—and good, common sense were the determining factors in that strange adventure so far as they are able to guide us in this mysterious and complex game of life—or can enter into the human problems in which we engage and are ever attempting to solve to our satisfaction and credit. Such was the philosophy and logical reasoning of we two "hold overs" of the Civil War, as we plodded our weary way across the black prairies—in the howling "Norther"—in our pursuit of these deserters. Little or no thought was given to the training received at the Military Academy beyond a well nourished pride in its motto of "Honor—Duty—Country"—the balance was in our pride as battle-service soldiers of the Civil War—and all of our knowledge and experience gained thereby—but especially so far as the writer was concerned to a short period of service at a huge conscript and "substitute" camp[B] where he acted as a provost guard—and as a young detective among many deserters from every Army and Navy in the world—hardened and desperate criminals of the worst description—intent on receiving a large bounty only to desert at the first opportunity and enlisting at another rendezvous—repeating this trick ad libitum. Here was real human character depicted in its worst forms of iniquity—depravity—greed—selfishness—low cunning—trickery, treachery—atrocity—and the most desperate crimes—not stopping short of black-jacking—garroting—sand-bagging—robbery and frequent murders. To mingle with them was to know their types—their methods—habits, resources, etc. All this knowledge was of incalculable value to the writer when the plunge was made into darkness and the depths of an uncertainty—of an adventure the outcome of which could be but problematical or only to be guessed at.
[B] Note—Men who had been paid large bounties during the draft period to take the place of men who werelongon money, but wereshort on gall—and who had no stomach for a fight of any kind.
All this applied to Lawton, who, although he was not a graduate of West Point, had had the same campaign and battle experience as the writer—and as Lieut. Colonel Commanding the 30th Indian Volunteer Infantry had developed in him all of the necessary elements at Chickamauga—Missionary Ridge—Dalton—Resaca—Kenesaw Mountain and in his march with Sherman "from Atlanta to the sea"—which, as essential factors would fit into our problem—and which, many years later, he fully exemplified in the Philippines by his push, energy, iron will, resourcefulness, well-balanced judgment and quick, decisive action which strongly marked every movement in his campaigns, and characterized him as the personification of an ever ready and perfectly trained—although notintensivelytrained—soldier—the magnificent soldier without frills, furbelows, fuss or feathers—that he was—
Training of the "Rough Riders"
Too much stress has been given to a long, intensive training as absolutely necessary to fit men to become good, reliable battle-service soldiers, or to enable them to tackle either purely military problems, or such problems as confronted us in our long, exhaustive pursuit of those deserters. Perfection of drill and military training is one thing through a continuous and harassing barrack or field training. To fit men to become alert, resourceful, obedient soldiers for quick and ready service through discipline and a minimum of tactical drill is altogether another thing when a war is fully on. Theodore Roosevelt in his Autobiography (p. 250) says: "The reason why it takes so long to turn the average citizen, etc., into a good infantryman or cavalryman is because it takes a long while to teach the average untrained man how to shoot, to march, to take care of himself in the open, to be alert, resourceful, cool, daring and resolute, and to fit himself to act on his own responsibility (individual initiative). If he already possesses these qualities there is very little difficulty in making him a good soldier (nor should it take a long time). All the drill necessary to enable him to march and to fight is of a simple character.Parade ground and barrack square maneuvers are of no earthly consequence in real war.When men can readily change from line to column, and column to line, can form front in any direction, and assemble andscatter(deploy), and can do other things with speed and precision they have got a fairly good grasp on the essentials."
No amount of long drawn out drill will give him battle instinct or battle sense; not until he goes in under fire and faces up to what he sooner or later has got to encounter,—drill or no drill—does he acquire it.
Leaving out the non-essentials and endless repetitions of drill during a war crisis (and by the non-essentials the writer means a cut and dried program from 5.00 A. M. to 10 P. M., with "manual of arms by the count"—all dress parades, reviews and other ceremonies, marching or "hiking" with a full infantry pack in a temperature of 109° in the shade, to see how men canintensivelyendure such heat, or, in other words, a persistent effort to break these men down and determine whether they have any courage, endurance or guts)—it should take less than three months to make an alert, steadfast, reliable and efficient battle soldier in time of war, and not more than six months in time of peace if more perfection is arrived at, unless it is desired to specialize in artillery, engineering and the Scientific Corps. Much less time was taken during the Civil War. Most of these intensive training sharps and cranks harp incessantly about the absolute necessity for a long period of "discipline". The writer is nearly a crank on that subject, for discipline is the real, true and vital basis on which to build for a battle soldier. Then employ most of the few weeks, taken as a limit for training, in discipline alone—making that the one objective upon which to concentrate the intensive effort, devoting the balance of the time to sufficient tactical drill to readily handle them under fire, and no more, or until the first deployment and the shrapnel or machine gun fire of battle demonstrates the fact that any and all tactical formations whether perfect or more loosely co-ordinated are soon broken up. Any more tactical drill than is sufficient for such a purpose in time of war—when all preparation must necessarily be hastened—is simply a mere repetition looking to more perfect formations and movements and therefore a sheer waste of time and effort.
Both Theodore Roosevelt and General Leonard Wood were then right in their grasp of the situation and summing up of five weeks oftrainingandbattle activitiesof the "Rough Riders". Neither had had any military training, either theoretical or practical—one having been a college student, writer, ranchman, police commissioner, Secretary of the Navy, etc., while the other had been a medical officer. Both, however, had been out in the open under the stars, were alert, self-reliant, versatile, many-sided, broad-guaged, tense, strenuous, level-headed, far-sighted, sagacious, but withal, endowed with a large stock of good judgment and plenty of good, sound horse sense. Neither had drilled a troop of cavalry—much less a regiment—but they had had some good regular officers and old non-commissioned officers assigned to start them off, and furthermore, in the face of a war, then on, and quick preparation for immediate battle service absolutely necessary, both saw at a glance what every good soldier—whether theoretical or otherwise—should see, that there was no time to waste in the mere niceties of a perfect tactical drill; that all of the non-essentials would have to be cut out—and the one essential, which they kept steadily in view, in dealing with and licking into shape such a body of men as the "Rough Riders" were, and which they were so suddenly called upon to organize and put into battle—wasdiscipline, morediscipline, and thensome; to control the unruly elements, eliminate the really vicious, and administer the severest punishment, tempered with justice and mercy, for any and every infraction of the disciplinary laws governing any large bodies of men trying to adjust themselves to the novelty of control by superior authority appointed by the Government to hold them in check, and to give them just sufficient tactical drill to get them into and out of a battle mess, in a fairly orderly fashion. The "Rough Riders" had been gathered from the "four corners of the earth." What good could six months or a year, or even longer, of hard drill or long drawn out intensive training have done these men with war already on? They would soon have "bucked"—grown disgusted—gone stale—lost their spirit and enthusiasm—their morale and force, and given their officers no end of trouble by their restlessness and eagerness to try out their mettle and "get in". They needed plenty of hard discipline and proper guidance daily, and Theodore Roosevelt says theygot it. They already possessed most of the other qualifications which he so clearly enumerates. They needed to be taught prompt obedience to lawful authority, and they soon found that out and who were their leaders. What more did they need to fit them for battle than what he so concisely states in the way of tactical drill, to enable them to get on and off a battle-field, and the courage-born stimulus of good competent officers and non-commissioned officers? Most of them already knew the use of arms, and nobody ever stands up on a battle line and exercises in the manual of arms, either "by the count" or "at will". There was no time to put them into large cantonments with other troops and intensively train them according to a War College prescribed schedule.Everything had to be sacrificed to time.
The late Col. Arthur Wagner, U. S. Army, is reported to have said shortly after the Spanish-American war, when asked what his experience had been at Santiago—"There was nothing I saw there that fitted into my text books in any way."
No cut and dried plans such as might be worked out in a Staff War College to fit into every program could be used, unless, perchance, the conditions which we were constantly meeting fitted into such plans—which they seldom do—and we could not afford to fall back on any "perchances", necessitating, as they would, the rapid changing of such plans, in the face of a situation or crisis which might and did demand immediate and decisive action.
The query then naturally arises—of what vital or practical use is much of these enforced student theoretical courses at Leavenworth and the Staff War College, especially in feeding up officers—who have no special aptitude for the profession—on sham battles and sham war maneuvers, if, after stacking up hundreds of these worked out war problems, such as four or five different plans for the invasion of Mexico, and the same number for the invasion of Canada, it shall be found that just at that particular time the conditions bear no relation whatever to, or fit into these carefully worked out and elaborate plans, all of which may, and probably will have to be hurriedly changed, when there is little or no time to do so, just as the crisis of a sudden campaign is forced upon us or is quickly culminating. Any commanding officer of our army who cannot then quickly change that cut and dried plan thrust into his hands by the War Department, and in the face of sudden and almost insurmountable obstacles, and all of these conditions entirely foreign to such plans, to work out in front of an enemy already mobilized for battle—why—his name is—MUD!!
In all measures of this kind we felt compelled to take relating to these deserters, the exigencies we had to face at any moment and the plan we hastily made to fit into them, proved to be the deciding factor. Such a thing as pursuing those deserters under any cut and dried programme would have been not only ridiculous, but a blithering farce. That is why, with a man of Mackenzie's horse sense, we were left to perfect freedom of action, and our own independence or individual initiative. Therefore, while it may seem almost treason for a graduate of West Point to declare it, nothing that the writer had ever learned there was of the slightest value to him in trailing these men. It was a problem absolutely separate from the ordinary military processes, and governed entirely by other factors than those to which an education at the Military Academy had any relation.
Intensive Training as a Fine Art (?)
The writer's son, a Major of Infantry (a temporary Lieut-Colonel), took over to France a training battalion of the Sixteenth U. S. Infantry from Syracuse, N. Y., in November, 1917. He was trained in the Toul Sector by a Major Rasmussen of the Canadian Infantry (later killed by an H. E. shell). He says that a few weeks of practical trench training and hand grenade work, etc., was of more value to him than months of such training as he had had in the Syracuse Camp.
The writer had a son-in-law who had had fifteen years' experience in the field as a Civil Engineer with the largest company in St. Louis—surveying, platting, laying out suburban tracts, including road building, sewer and culvert construction, etc. He lacked the elements of military engineering, pontoon bridge building, military trenches, with barbed wire placing, hand grenade work, etc. He entered the Fort Riley Training Camp in May, 1917, was transferred to Leavenworth, thence to Camp Meade, Washington Barracks, Laurel, Md., and then to Camp Lee, Va., where he was employed digging trenches for the third or fourth time, and building pontoonland bridges, when he had made a record throwing bridges again and again with his company across the Eastern Branch of the Potomac river. His skin was almost trained off his body. He lost his spirit and enthusiasm, became absolutely disgusted, but finally, through a "pull" at Headquarters, A. E. F., he got "over" in March, 1918. Was immediately assigned as a Captain of the 101st Pioneer Regiment, 26th N. E. ("Yankee") Division, and after some moresector trainingwas in the Chateau Thierry and St. Mihiel drives and "made good" under Colonel George Bunnel (a graduate of West Point, who was a practical soldier,) as a pioneer engineer on the battle line, opening the roads for the Infantry and Artillery, cutting barbed wire, etc.No more army for him!But for my earnest protest and advice he would have resigned in disgust several times.
When the word goes forth from our intensive trainers and sham battle heroes that it takes nearly a year to make of such a man an efficient engineer in the field, when for practical road building, rough pioneer work under fire, and all round resourcefulness he could give many of our West Point graduates "cards and spades", most of such enforced training, which the writer has knowledge of, is a disgrace, and the would-be trainers should be "canned" before they reach a battle line.
The writer was credibly informed that some of the so called intensive training took this form. A lot of condemned rifle cartridges from one of the arsenals was sent to Camp Meade, Maryland, and, on the score of economy, it is presumed, they were issued for target practice on the range. Some of the officers knew of the danger in their use and protested—as it was "slow fire" ammunition— But they were directed to instruct their men to "hold on" to the target so many seconds (20 more or less) to compensate for the time lost. Several men were badly injured (burned) by the "back fire" upon throwing the bolt. The ammunition was still used under protest—Fine training for sharpshooters. Any battle soldier knows that these officers would have been fully justified in refusing to obey such orders—when it had become known what risks were involved—even life itself. These cartridges were not only absolutely useless for such training—but it was little less than a crime for any officer to compel his subordinates to expend such dangerous ammunition. It was reported that the men seized the balance and either buried or otherwise destroyed it. What a travesty on preparing men for battle! Ifsuch intensive trainingwas employed in these Cantonments to fit men for fighting, with a war already on, what could be expected of the Instructors, employed in that kind of work, who had got to taste the joy of battle? This matter was not made public, but was either concealed, camouflaged or treated so lightly as to suggest a case of "whitewash." Men were sent on "hikes" over hard, frozen roads, covered with snow and ice—in old, worn out shoes—their feet nearly bare; all under protest from their new, untried officers—who naturally wondered at such training and the necessity for it,—also the risk in the face of an epidemic of "flu"—
The True Test-Out—Acquiring the Fighting Sense
The writer, the youngest of four brothers, was mustered into the volunteer service, Aug. 5, 1862, at the age of 16 years, having been rejected the year before on account of age and an over supply of men. His regiment, the Twenty-second Mass. Vol. Infantry (Henry Wilson Regiment), was a fighting regiment from Boston and vicinity. Only 45 Union Infantry regiments lost 200 and upwards in killed and died of wounds on the field during the Civil War. The Twenty-second lost 216 and stands 27 in that list. In a list of all Union Infantry regiments that lost over 10 per cent in killed on the field, it stands number 13—with a percentage of 15.5 per cent—and, based upon a maximum percentage of enrollment (1393 men), it stands number 16—("Fox's Regimental Losses")— Its service was in the First Brigade—First Division—Fifth Corps, Army of the Potomac. We recruits arrived on Arlington Heights to join this fighting regiment, en route (whereabouts not located) from the "seven days' battles" on the Peninsula. The officer in charge of us had given us no drills—no training of any kind. He was returning from leave, and spent most of his timerusticatingaround the "Old Willard". We joined the regiment at Halls Hill, Va. (near Falls Church), bivouacked in a battle line as it was marching into the defences of W—— from the second battle of Bull Run. The noise of battle was on; a spluttering picket firing was in evidence a few hundred yards from us. During our stay here of two days—a first class drill sergeant gave us an hour each day in the "facings" and the use of our guns, which had been issued to us at midnight of Aug. 29—in a terrific thunder storm, during which we were soaked—and in a bivouac without shelter. This consisted of instructions in taking them apart, cleaning, assembling, rapid loading and sighting. We remained in reserve in the fortifications of Washington, marching hither and thither until Sept. 12—when we started, in a temperature of 98°, after a drenching night's storm, on the Antietam Campaign— There was no time for further training. We were put on the battle line—sandwiched between our Peninsula veterans of seven battles. The lines were so close that our range was practically point blank. There was no adjustment of sights—no wind guages—none of the usual methods for work on a target range. It made little difference whether the trajectory was flat or otherwise. Any boy who had ever used a shot gun could load and blaze away into the close lines. The line officers and file closers were veterans. The battle discipline was flawless— We touched elbows with men who had acquired the battle sense and instinct in the hell of rifle fire—shell—shrapnel and close up canister guns of the 12 pdr Napoleon type. A few days after a bloody reconnoissance across the river, in which one of our regiments lost 289 men killed, wounded and missing in 20 minutes, we had a few days' drill—and thatwas all we ever got. We were as good soldiers as ever marched the roads or ever went in under our battle flags—at Fredericksburg—Chancellorsville, Gettysburg—and on to the Seige of Petersburg. We needed no long, drawn-out intensive training—because there was no time to give it to us— Our superb officers all recognized that—and, as soon as we had got ourbalance, and recovered from the battle shock—we fitted into the bloody game of war without any waste of time, effort or lost motion. Our manual of arms would not have undergone the critical scrutiny of a "yearling Corporal" at West Point—or a "color man" "throwing up" for colors at guard mount—nor would our crude attempts have excited much pride in the tactical officers at a perfect West Point dress parade. Our shooting in the open at from 150 to 500 yards might also have aroused the merry laugh of a target range sharpshooter with all of his implements for making a record score. But we werenot strivingfor arecord score—just shooting into massed formations and closed up battle lines to kill—and we got there just the same with the official record as cited. That record tells the story— At midnight on May 8, 1864, near Spottsylvania C. H., in a hand to hand fight with the Sixth Alabama, the regiment captured their colors and more prisoners than were in the ranks of the Twenty-second Massachusetts. Two of these brothers, on account of their youth, refused commissions, although their father, who had spent two years at the Mil. Academy in the class of 1836, was then Chairman of the Mil. Com. of the Mass. Senate; was in daily conference with John A. Andrew, the great war Governor—and could, by a "pull" have easily secured them. One was "specially commended" for good conduct at the Battle of Fredericksburg, Va., while the other untrained brother, (Walter Carter) as Sergeant Major of the regiment, was specially mentioned in the report of the Commanding officer of the regiment for "coolness under fire, andpersonal bravery in all battles of the campaign"; (Reb. Rec—Ser—I—40: 459) this Campaign, May 4 to June 18—1864—from the Wilderness—Laurel Hill—Spottsylvania C. H. (May 8-22—under fire day and night), Jericho Mills—North Anna, Totopotomoy Creek, Bethesda Church—Cold Harbor—Jerusalem Plank Road (Norfolk and Petersburg R R—later, the spot where the Battle of the "Crater" was fought). If there was ever any better soldier than this untrained but notworld-advertisedSergeant-Major of one of the best fighting regiments in the Army of the Potomac—the writer, in nearly 60 years since those old days, has not met him. On May 10, 1864, while acting as liaison officer for the Major—commanding the left wing of the regiment, which was cut off from the right wing and in a cul de sac swept by a frightful cross fire—he was directed to cross the Brock Road (about a mile or more from Spottsylvania C. H.) and communicate to the Colonel the perilous position of the left wing. He crossed this sunken road—swept by rifle and canister fire, at close range. His blanket roll was cut in several places; his eye was burned and closed by ahot bullet—for several days— The next morning he took in on his back, from a rifle pit to save his life, a wounded comrade and friend under fire. Being a non-commissioned officer, he received no brevets—no medal of honor—no Legion of Honor, or Croix de Guerre—etc. So much for this battle-trained, but notintensivelytrained—volunteer Sergeant-Major of an Infantry fighting regiment in the old battle swept Army of our youth. And he wears nothing to indicate his record of valor—not even the "Little Bronze Button" of the G. A. R.; nothing more than the satisfaction or consciousness of having done well his part in helping to preserve the Union and making it possible for the present generation of soldiers to have a country in which to exist, and looking on with a certain degree of smug complacency at the smiling assurance with which these present day trainers of men declare that it takes from six months to a year, or even more, to fit the average American boy to be an effective battle-service soldier— So much for this so called "Intensive Training" as a fine art.
The writer trained for three boat races at West Point in the '60s, rowing as "stroke" in one. He was urged to take up "intensive training" in the gymnasium. He did nothing of the kind, but simply used the dumb bells and Indian Clubs in his room to limber up and harden the muscles, and after a morning plunge, took a brisk walk and run of about two miles every morning for wind. There was no "training table", and he simply took care not to take on any extra flesh when eating the "hash" and "Slumgullion" of our plainest of plain Mess Hall fare. We consulted the famous Ward brothers of Cornwall-on-Hudson—"Hank", "Josh" and "Ellis" (who has been a famous Coach for years) as to our style and effectiveness of stroke. They were simple Hudson river shad fishermen—long, lean, lank and spare as greyhounds, sinewy as whip cord—and as hard as steel nails— Every muscle was taut and tense as a racing oarsman's should be. I doubt if they ever saw the inside of a gymnasium—and laughed to scorn the idea that they had got to train in one. Rowing all day, for months, had, without developing their muscles into Sandow monstrosities—hardened them like steel—and they were, after pulling a long, swinging stroke, with quick recover, ready at all times to row for their lives. I do not recall of their ever being defeated—either abroad or in our own waters.They were our trainers.They were the finest oarsmen America ever produced. The writer saw them row the Harvard "Varsity" crew on the Charles River, and after passing them as though they were almost standing still, play with them and "loaf home". William Blaikie, Harvard's famous stroke, and later their professional "Coach," wrote after graduation, a book, "How to Get Strong". He advocated the gymnasium—the fatal trainer's paradise that has killed so many men. He died, when he had just passed his 50th year, of dilation of the heart superinduced byintensive training. He believed in enormous muscles and brute strength, rather than skill, endurance, and good form. He had overtrained and had an overworked heart. The writer was pitted against a man who was almost a duplicate of Sandow. He could have pitched me over his head. He could, with a twist of his immense arms, break a spruce oar in a racing shell. When the last few boat lengths of the long three miles loomed up—and victory for him was almost in sight—his sand gave out—his heart was almost broken and he lay down and threw up the sponge in defeat. He was "pumped out"; he had overtrained and "gone stale". He pulled "too much beef", and lacked the courage—sand—nerve and guts that wins at the most critical moment. He weighed 180 pounds. He could have been better utilized as a battering ram on a foot ball team to fall down upon some smaller player and break his back or neck. Our stroke weighed 140 pounds. Some men may train for a prize fight until they can run 15 miles without breathing hard, and then, inside of three or four minutes after entering the ring begin wheezing like an old wind-broken horse. This is due to anervous contractionof the pulmonary region, caused generally by nervous fright. They are too tense and rigid to fight effectively. The writer has seen the same thing in battle with over trained men—perfectly tense, dazed—almost speechless—from fright and nerve shock alone before they could get it under control. This does not imply that they were cowards— A man's supreme or best mental and physical efforts does not depend upon his size, his huge muscles abnormally developed by a long period of intensive training, or through his intellectuality acquired by years of school, college and university education, but, largely through thespirit,force,courage,disciplineandmoralewhich are behind his purpose—that purpose which must furnish the mainspring of his action.
This refers particularly to the soldier in hisintelligent(and by this the writer does not mean the intellectual) application of that power and those resources to the actual conditions of the problem with which he is hourly, even momentarily, confronted when on a battle line under the hell of fire. This he has got to face, not as a highly organized or perfectly educated human being, trained, or over trained to the last limit for a specific purpose, but, on hisindividual initiative, and hiscombative instinctsorfighting senses—without which no highly educated or purely intellectual human machine could long withstand the strain, for, until a man goes in under fire he cannot know, or even guess at his power and resources—his balance and morale which iron discipline combined with moderate, common sense training alone has inspired.
Many a soldier has gone into battle, and proved his bravery and battle efficiency under fire, without being a highly intellectual or even an educated man, and with no previous training that approaches any where near perfection, or that was given in these Cantonments, or, with any other feeling or inspiration than the patriotic motive which has led him to fight for a great principle, or the incentive in the performance of a duty in strict obedience to the orders of his superior officers who, if they are true, and loyal leaders, with the right stuff in them, will supply all the deficiencies that any long drawn-out intensive training so often fails in.
It is now that hisreal intensive traininghas begun without his spirit and enthusiasm having become impaired, and he is better able to fully grasp its meaning than he would had it been daily, weekly and monthly crammed down his throat by rule, and by some theoretical trainer who had never seen a battle field—never been on one—or under fire, and who would scarcely know one if he should see it.
Our intensive training in most of these cantonments was begun backwards. Teaching men to shoot—and to shoot straight, preferably under conditions of noise, after a few days—closely simulating a real battleracket—is much more effectual as a starter—after he has been taught to knock down, clean, assemble and quickly load his rifle—and the proper use of it, than a manual of arms "by the count" (as the writer saw it) or any attempt at a perfect knowledge of the intricacies of the School of the Company, etc.
A man, unless he has been designated as a sharpshooter, or for "sniping"—or, has been ordered to remain under permanent or semi-permanent trench cover—is not satisfied to fight at from 1000 to 1200 yards—the range of a high power rifle,—for, under most atmospheric conditions and when in the smoke and confusion of battle, he cannot pick up his target, or see the object aimed at, or determine whether his fire is effective, therefore he is going to push forward to from 300 to 500yards—the range of our old muzzle loading Springfield rifles. There,in the openhe can see the enemy he is fighting—almost the whites of his eyes—and how effective his fire should be.There is the place to fight—and that was where our American lads after the Hindenberg lines were destroyed—or turned—and the Huns were driven out into open ground—in their forward rushes—were so effective in cleaning and mopping up the best troops Germany had. They could not resist close fighting. They had not been trained that way, and we ought not to dream even of training our men inlong range—trench cover fighting—except under certain conditions which are clearly indicated. Circumstances will govern those conditions.
A Brief Summary—A Record "Round-Up"
While this was not the concluding chapter, or the end of my dealings, either by way of experience or adventure with these deserters, or all that was likely to grow out of it, I felt that much of the burden had been lifted. The long chase in the howling "Norther". The novelty of our night at "Rhodes Ranch"—with seven people, including the crying baby, and the three dogs in a one room "shack" to keep us from perishing; sliding and skating over the desolate solitude, wind-swept and ice crusted; the two long, weary nights among the dens, dives and slums of Weatherford and Cleburne with my optimistic, jovial, joking—Musketeer Corporal; the all night study of the map—the one-legged, "Johnny driver" with his friendly Gettysburg battle-field reminiscing that came so near losing me the fruits of a night's hard labor—and uncertainty of plans in the early morning at the latter town;—the exciting, thrilling—almost spectacular capture of the men in the brush near Hillsboro; the bluff and threat of the wagon master; the novelty of a Texas log jail with its forbidding exterior and interior, but sheltering walls; the little, panic-stricken wagoner; the indictment of all the citizens implicated in their escape and temporary release under the stimulus of "blood money"; the "squealing" of Crafts on the concealment of the arms; the identification of the raw recruits;—the encounter with the fighting termagants at Hardin's Ranch; the hasty return of the carbines by the "old man" who would "lick you uns outen yer boots"; the commendations and warm personal thanks of Generals Mackenzie and Hardie; the letter of thanks and congratulations from the Major-General Commanding the Department of Texas; all were now over, and I could at last, heave a great sigh of relief—and for a few days, at least, indulge in a brief period of well earned rest.
It is believed that this march of over 200 miles in the dead of winter, during an unprecedented severe "Norther" (10° below zero) with sleet, snow, hail and ice almost thick enough to bear the weight of our horses, and for a part of the time in jeopardy of our lives—the capture of these ten (10) men with all of their arms and safe delivery into a military post, and the apprehension and indictment of the three (3) civilians for their share in the adventure—stands on record as the most complete and wide-sweeping "round up" of deserters, under all of the circumstances, ever known in the official Military Annals of the Department of Texas, if not in the entire United States Army— At all events, in any way it may be summed up, it was a most remarkable and "Phenomenal Capture".
Transcriber's Notes
1. Several typos have been corrected. The exception to this is when the same word was misspelled more than once (e. g. "guage").
2. The word "coup d'oeuil" uses an oe ligature in the original.