Nobody ever told the South Sea savage about the nature of air in motion. He had never heard of wind and therefore could not imagine its effects. Thus when he heard strange noises in the treetops and there was a howling around certain headlands, while other headlands were silent, he could believe only that the spirits were at work. He would strain his ear to hear what they had to say to him, and never being able to understand, he would become all the more fearful.
It all sounds pretty silly. And yet civilization is a great deal like that. We pride ourselves today in saying, particularly within the western nations, that men and women are better informed than ever before in the history of the world. What we really mean by that is that they are overburdened with more kinds of fragmentary information than any people of the past. They know just enough about many major questions of the day that either they are driven to the making of fearful guesses about the unknown, or they try to close their minds to the subject, vainly seeking consolation in the half-truth, "What I don't know can't hurt me."
Therein lies a great part of the problem. For it is a fair statement that if all of the mystery could be stripped from such a complex topic as the nature of atomic power, so that men everywhere would understand it, universal fear would be displaced by universal confidence that something could be done, and society would be well along the road toward its control.
In World War I, the men who had the least fear of the effects of gas warfare were the gas officers who understood their subject right down to the last detail of the decontamination process and the formula for dichlorethylsulphide (mustard gas). The man to whom the dangers of submarine warfare seem least fearsome is the submariner. Of all hands along the battle line, the first aid man has the greatest calm and confidence inthe face of fire, largely because he has seen the miracles worked by modern medicine in the restoring of grievously wounded men. The general or the admiral who is most familiar with the mettle of his subordinate commands will also have the most relaxed mind under battle pressure.
This leads to a point, which it is better to state here than anywhere else. In all military instruction pertaining to the weapons and techniques of war, the basis of sound indoctrination is the teaching that weapons when rightly used will invariably produce victory, and preventive measures, when promptly and thoroughly taken, will invariably conserve the operational integrity of the defense. It is wrong,dead wrong, to start, or carry along, on the opposite track, and try to persuade men to do the right thing, by dwelling on the awful consequence of doing the wrong thing. Confidence, not fear, is the keynote of a strong and convictive doctrine.
In war, in the absence of information, man's natural promptings alternate between unreasoning fears that the worst is likely to happen, and the wishful thought that all danger is remote. Either impulse is a barrier to the growth of that condition of alert confidence which comes to men when they have a realization of their own strength and a reasonably clear concept of the general situation.
Man is a peculiar animal. He is no more prone to think about himself as the central figure amid general disaster than he is to dwell morbidly upon thoughts of his own death. Left in the dark, he will get a certain comfort out of that darkness, at the same time that it clouds his mind and freezes his action. Disturbed by bad dreams about what might happen, he nonetheless will not plan an effective use of his own resources against that which is very likely to happen. Only when he is given a clear view of the horizon, and is made animated by the general purpose in all that moves around him, does he understand the direction in which he should march, and taking hold, begin to do the required thing.
It is almost gratuitous that this even needs to be stated. No high commander would think of moving deliberately into thefog of war if he was without knowledge of either the enemy or friendly situation. Even to imagine such a contingency is paralyzing. But in their nervous and spiritual substance, admirals and generals are no different than the green men who have come most recently to their forces. Such men can not stand alone any more than can the recruit. They draw their moral strength and their ability to contend intelligently against adverse circumstance largely from what is told them by the men who surround them. That is why they have their staffs. They could not command even themselves if they were deprived of all information.
Toward the assuring of competent, collected action, the first great step is to remove the mystery. This is a process which must be mastered in peacetime, if it is to stand the multiplied strains of war. What mystery? Let it be said that it surrounds the average file on every hand, even though the average junior officer does not realize it, while at the same time he himself is completely mystified by much that transpires above him. For example, we all like to throw big words about, to air our professional erudition; and we do not understand that to the man who does not know their meaning, the effect is a blackout which makes even the simplest object seem formidable. To illustrate, we can take the word "bivouac," common enough in military parlance, but rare in civilian speech. When green men are told, "We are going into bivouac," and they are not sufficiently grounded in the service to know that this means simply going into camp for the night without shelter, their instinctive first thought is, "This is another complex military process that will probably catch me short." Similarly if told that they are detailed "on a reconnaissance mission along the line of communications with a liaison function," they could not fail to be "flummoxed." And if then instructed to take a BAR up to the MLR and follow SOP in covering a simulated SFC party, they wouldn't be far from justified if they blew their tops, and ran shrieking from the place.
These are horrible examples, put forward only to illuminate a fairly simple point. Exaggerated though they may be, something of the same sort happens in almost every installation nearly every day. The difference is only in degree.Every man in the service has an inalienable right to work and to think in the clear.He is entitled to the why and the wherefore of whatever he is expected to do, as well as the what and the how. His efficiency, his confidence and his enthusiasm will wax strong in almost the precise measure that his superior imparts to him everything he knows about a duty which can be of possible benefit to the man. Furthermore, this is a two-way current. Any officer who believes in the importance of giving full information in a straight-forward manner, and continues to act on that principle, will over the long run get back more than he gives. But the chump who incontinently brushes off his subordinates because he thinks his time is too valuable to spend any great part of it putting them on the right track dooms himself to work in a vacuum. He is soon spotted for what he is, and if his superiors can't set him straight, they will shrug him aside.
These are pretty much twentieth century concepts of how force is articulated from top to bottom of a chain of command. Yet the ideas are as old as the ages. Ecclesiastes is filled with phrases pointing up that clarification is the way of strength and of unity. "All go unto one place." "Two are better than one." "Woe to him that is alone when he falleth." "A threefold cord is not quickly broken." "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." "Folly is set in great dignity." "Truly the light is sweet." Great commanders of the past have reflected that knowledge is the source of the simplifying and joining of all action and have pondered how better to resolve the problem. But it is only in our time that this great principle in military doctrine has become rooted deep enough to stay, because the technological complexity of modern war is such as to permit of no other course.
It is folly to attempt to oversimplify that which is of its nature complex. War cannot be made less intricate by conjuring everyone to return to kindergarten and henceforth use only one-syllable words. No such counsel is here intended. Theone thought worth keeping is that the military system, as we know it, will prove far more workable, and its members will each become a stronger link in the chain of force, if all hands work a little more carefully toward the growth of a common awareness of all terminology, all process and all purpose.
Once pronounced, the object also requires to be seen in due proportion. The principle does not entail that a corporal must perforce know everything about operation of a company which concerns his captain, to be happy and efficient in his own job. But it does set forth that he is entitled to have all information which relates to his personal situation, his prospects and his action which it is within his captain's power to give him. A coxswain is not interchangeable with a fleet admiral. To "bigot" him (make available complete detail of a total plan) on an operation would perhaps produce no better or worse effect than a slight headache. But if he is at sea—in both senses of that term—with no knowledge of where he is going or of his chances of pulling through, and having been told of what will be expected of him personally at the target, still has no picture of the support which will be grouped around him, he is apt to be as thoroughly miserable and demoralized as were the sailors under Columbus, when sailing on and on, they came to fear that they would override the horizon and go tumbling into space.
Lt. Gen. Sir Frederick Morgan wrote of the policy applied at his COSSAC planning headquarters during World War II: "Right down to the cook, they were told what had happened, what was happening, along with their part in it, and what it was proposed to do next."
Paraphrasing Montaigne, President Roosevelt told the American people during a great national crisis that the main thing they need fear was fear itself. In matters great and small, the fears of men arise chiefly from those matters they have not been given to understand. Fear can be checked, whipped and driven from the field when men are kept informed.
The dynamics of the information principle lies in this simple truth. We look at the object through the wrong end of thetelescope when in the military service we think of information only as instruction in the cause of country, the virtues of the free society and the record of our arms, in the hope that we will make strong converts. These are among the things that every American needs to know, but of themselves they will not turn an average American male into an intelligent, aggressive fighter. Invigorated action is the product of the free and well-informed mind. The "will to do" comes of the confidence that one's knowledge of what requires doing is equal to that of any other man present.
This is the controlling idea and all constructive planning and work in the field of information is shaped around it.
Among the ever-pressing problems of the commander, and equally of the young officer schooling himself to the ways of the service, is the seeking of means to break down the natural timidity and reticence of the great majority of men.
This he can never do unless he is sufficient master of himself that he can come out of his own shell and give his men a chance to understand him as a human being rather than as an autocrat giving orders. Nothing more unfortunate can happen to an officer than to come to be regarded by his subordinates as unapproachable, for such a reputation isolates him from the main problems of command responsibility as well as its chief rewards. So holding himself, he will never be able to see his forces in their true light, and will either have to exercise snap judgment upon the main problems within his own sphere, or take the word of others as to the factors on which promotions, rewards and punishments are based within the unit.
When the block is due to an officer's own reticence, mistaken ideas about the requirements of his position, or feeling of strangeness toward his fellows, the only cure for him is to dive head-first into the cold, clear water, like a boy at the old swimming hole in the early spring. Thereby he will grow in self-confidence even as he progresses in knowledge of the character of his men and of human nature in general.
If an officer is senior, and is still somewhat on the bashful side, by watching the manner of his own seniors when he gets counsel, and thawing toward his immediate juniors, thereby increasing his receptiveness toward them, there will occur a chain reaction to the bottom level.
The block, however, is not always of the mind and heart. No man can help his own face, but it can sometimes be a barrier to communication. One commander in European Theater was told by his Executive that his subordinates were fearful to approachhim because of his perpetual scowl. He assembled his officers and he said to them: "I have been told that my looks are forbidding. The mirror reminds me of that every morning. Years ago I was in a grenade explosion, and a consequent eye injury and strain have done to me what you have to see every time we get together. But if you cannot look beyond the face, and judge my disposition by all else that you see of me in our work together, you do not yet have the full perception that is commensurate with your responsibility."
The too-formal manner, the overrigid attitude, the disposition to deal with any human problem by-the-numbers as if it were only one more act in organizational routine, can have precisely the same chilling effect upon men as came of this officer's scowl. Though no man may move wholly out of his own nature, a cheerfulness of manner in the doing of work is altogether within any individual's capabilities, and is the highest-test lubricant of his human relationships.
As a further safeguard against making himself inaccessible, the officer needs to make an occasional check on the procedures which have been established by his immediate subordinates. At all levels of command it is the pet task of those "nearest the throne" to think up new ways to keep all hands from "bothering the old man." However positive an order to the contrary, they will not infrequently contrive to circumvent it, mistakenly believing that by this act they save him from himself. Many a compassionate commander leads an unwontedly lonely life because of the peculiar solicitude of his staff in this matter and his own failure to discover what is happening to him. In this way the best of intentions may be thwarted. There is no sure cure for the evil but personal reconnaissance.
It is never a waste of time for the commander, or for any officer, to talk to his people about their personal problems. More times than not, the problem will seem small to him, but so long as it looms large to the man, it cannot be dismissed with a wave of the hand. Ridicule, sarcasm and the brush-off are equally inexcusable in any situation where one individual takes another into his confidence on any matter which doesnot involve bad faith on the part of the petitioner. Even then, if the man imparts that which shows that his own conduct has been reprehensible or that he would enlist the support of his superior in some unworthy act, it is better to hear him through and then skin him, than to treat what he says in the offhand manner. An officer will grow in the esteem of his men only as he treats their affairs with respect. The policy of patience and goodwill pays off tenfold because what happens to one man is soon known to the others.
In this particular there has been a radical change within the services during the current century, simply because of broader understanding of human relationships. In the Old Army, the man could get through to his commander only if he could satisfy the First Sergeant as to the nature of his business; this was a roadblock for the man who either was afraid of the First Sergeant, or was loath to let the latter know about his affairs. Custom dies hard and this one has not been entirely uprooted. But the distance we have traveled toward humanizing all command principles is best reflected by the words of General Eisenhower in "Command in Europe": "Hundreds of broken-hearted fathers, mothers, and sweethearts wrote me personal letters begging for some hope that a loved one might still be alive, or for additional detail as to the manner of his death. Every one of these I answered."
It is not necessary that an officer wet-nurse his men in order to serve well in the role of counsel. His door should be open, but he does not play the part either of a father confessor or of a hotel greeter. Neither great solemnity nor effusiveness are called for, but mainly serious attention to the problem, and then straight-forward advice or decision, according to the nature of the case,and provided that from his own knowledge and experience he feels qualified to give it. If not, it is wiser to defer than to offer a half-baked opinion. To consider for a time, and to seek light from others, whether higher authority or one's closer associates, is the sound alternative when there is a great deal at stake for the man and the problem is too complex for its solution to be readily apparent. The spirit in whichthis work should be undertaken is nowhere more clearly indicated than in the words of Schuyler D. Hoslett who in his book, "Human Factor in Management," said this: "Counseling is advising an individual on his problem to the extent that an attempt is made to help him understand it so he may carry out a plan for its solution. It is a process which stimulates the individual's ability for self-direction."
Family affairs, frictions within the organization, personal entanglements which prey upon the mind, frustrations and anxieties of varying kind, the sense of failure and other nameless fears which are rooted deep in the consciousness of nearly every individual, are the more general subjects in counseling.
Whatever impairs the man that he wishes to take up with his officer becomes ipso facto the officer's rightful business. Equally so, on the positive side, when his only desire is to bring forward something that he believes would serve the interests of organization, he should be heard.
In either case, the perfecting of counsel develops around two controlling ideas, stated in the order of their importance: (1) what is in the best interests of the unit, and (2) what is for the good of the man. In this particular, the officer as counselor is rarely in the role of a disinterested party. Unlike the preacher, the lawyer, the teacher or the best friend, he has to look beyond what is beneficial simply to the spiritual, mental and moral need of one individual. There is an abiding necessity to equate the personal problem to the whole philosophy within which a command operates.To keep in mind that every individual has his breaking point is everlastingly important. But to remember that the unit is also made of brittle stuff is not less so.
When undue personal favors are granted, when precedents are set without weighing the possible effects upon all concerned, when men are incontinently urged, or even sympathetically humored by their superiors toward the taking of a weak personal course, the ties of the organization are injured, tension within it mounts and the ranks lose respect for the manhood of their leaders.
All things are to be viewed in moderation, and with compassion, but with a fine balance toward the central purpose. Let us take one example. Within a given command, at a particular time, leaves have been made so restricted, for command reasons, that there must be a showing of genuine urgency. One man comes forward and says that he is so sick for the sight of home that he can no longer take duty. As certainly as his superior tries to facilitate this man's purpose because of fear that he will break, the superior will be harassed by other requests with no better basis, and if they are not granted, there will be general discontent. On the other hand, suppose another man comes forward. A wire from home has informed him that his mother is dying. If the superior will not go to bat on such a case, he will win the deserved contempt of the same men who were ready to take advantage of the other opening, but in this instance would seek nothing for themselves.
To know the record, the character and the measure of goodwill of the subject is all-important in counseling. It puts the matter in much too dim a light to say that after the call comes, the officer should check up on these points so that he can deal knowledgeably with the man. That is his first order of business within the unit—to learn all that he can about the main characteristics of his men. This general duty precedes the detail work of counseling. Under normal circumstances, no officer is likely to have more than 250 men in his immediate charge. There are exceptions, but this is broadly the rule. It is by no means an excessive task for one individual to learn the names and a great part of the history of the men he sees daily, when not knowing them means that he has neglected the heart of operations.
What the man says of himself, in relation to the problem, deserves always to be judged according to his own record. If he has proved himself utterly faithful, action can be taken on the basis of his word. If he is known to be a corner-cutter and a cheat, his case, though listened-to with interest and sympathy, needs to be taken with a grain of salt, pending further investigation.
World War II officers had to abide by this standard in dealing with the general malaise which arose out of redeployment. When a man came forward and said that he couldn't take it any more, and the commander knew that he had always been a highly dutiful individual, it became the commander's job to attempt to get the man home. But when a second man came forward with the same story, and the record showed that he had always shirked his work, the question was whether he should be given the final chance to shirk it again. To favor the first man meant furthering discipline; his comrades recognized it as a fair deal. To turn back the second man was equally constructive to the same end. In a general situation of unique pressure, commanders found that these principles worked.
Many of the problems on which men seek advice of their officers are of a legal nature; unless an officer is versed in the law, the inquiry must be channeled to a qualified source. Other problems are of a kind that use should be made of the home services of such an organization as the Red Cross. A knowledge of the limits beyond which the help of a special office or agency must be sought is therefore as important to the officer-consultant as an ability to give the man full information about the whereabouts and use of these facilities.
The Red Cross is usually an effective agent in checking the facts of a home situation and returning the data. But at the end of the line where officer and man sit together, its resources for helping the individual (when what is needed mainly is advice on a human equation) are not likely to be any better than what his military superiors can do for him. In any time of crisis, the normal human being can draw strength and composure far more surely from a person he well knows than from a stranger.
There is this illustration. During World War II, many a man overseas got word that his home had been broken up. The counselor could talk the thing out with him, learn whether a reconciliation was the one most important thing, or whether the man was groping his way, looking for a friend who could help him see the matter in proportion, and weigh, among other things, his duty to himself. The Red Cross could check the facts of the home situation. But the man's readjustment depended in the main on what was done by those who were closest to him.
Sooner or later every commander has to deal with some refraction of this kind of problem. When it comes, moralizing and generalizing about the weakness of human nature does no good whatever. To call the man a fool is as invidious as to waste indignation upon the cause of his misfortune. Likewise, any frontal approach to the problem, such as telling the man, "Here's what you should do," should be shunned, or used most sparingly. The more effective attitude can be expressed in these words: "If it had happened to me instead of to you, and I were in your same situation, here are the things I would consider, and here are the points to which I would give greatest weight." To tell any subject to brace up and be a man is a plain inference that he is not one. To reflect with him on the things which manhood requires is the gentle way toward stirring his self-respect. So doing, a counselor renews his own character.Also worth remembering is that in any man's dark hour, a pat on the back and an earnest handclasp may work a small miracle.
There is much counseling over the subject of transfer. Herein lies an exception to a general rule, for in this case the good of the man takes precedence over the good of organization. No conscientious officer likes to see a good man depart from his organization. Nevertheless, the service is not in competition with itself, and it advances as a whole in the measure that all men find the niche where they can serve most efficiently, and with the greatest satisfaction. There are officers who hold to every able subordinate like grim death, seeing no better way to advance their personal fortunes. This is a sign of moral weakness, not of strength, and its inevitable fruit is discontent within the organization.The sign of superiority in any officer, at whatever level, is his confidence that he can make another good man to fill any vacancy.When it is self-evident that a man can better himself and profit the service through transfer, it is contrary to all principle to deny him that right. This does not mean that the unit's exit door should be kept open, but only that it should be ready to yield upon a showing of competent proof. It is notunusual that when the pressure mounts and war danger rises, many a man develops a sudden conviction that he would be more useful in a noncombat arm. The officer body itself is not unsusceptible to the same temptation. Unless the great majority are held to that line of duty which they had accepted in less dangerous circumstance, the service would soon cease to have fighting integrity. But it makes no point to keep men in a combat arm or service who are quite obviously morally and physically unequipped for its rigor, and it is equally wasteful to deny some other arm or service the use of a specialist whose skills fill it particularly. Some of the ablest commanders in our service have abided by this rule: They never denied the man who had a legitimate reason for transfer, and they never shuffled off their lemons and goldbricks under a false label. Though seemingly idealistic, the rule is also practical. The time wasted in excessive worry over a discard is sometimes better spent by concentrating on the value of trumps.
Men tend to seek officer counsel when they feel discriminated against by lesser authority. When that happens, it is the duty of the officer to get at the facts, and act according to them. Complaints against any junior are always unpleasant to hear because of their air of intrigue. Tactlessly handled, without due weighing of the case from both sides, they turn one blunder into two. But no officer is well-advised if he believes that his duty automatically is to uphold the arm of a subordinate when the facts say that the latter is dead wrong. His duty is to reduce friction wherever it is caused by a misuse of power. This implies dealing discreetly with the offender instead of directly discountenancing him.
There are a few broad, common-sense rules which, when followed, will enable any officer to play his part more effectively in the counseling of men.
While these dispositions have particular value in relation to the counseling of one's subordinates, they also have some application to any situation in which men work and commune together. Men at any level do not mistake the touch of sincerity, nor fail to mark as unworthy of trust the man who pays only a superficial regard to a matter which they deem important.
For the officer already burdened with other duties, counseling may seem like a waste of time, and an activity that more properly belongs to the chaplain. The wise and understanding "padre"may sometimes counsel men on their material problems and thereby assist the officer who is over troops. But so doing, he is committing a trespass unless he acts with the commander's knowledge and consent. The commander is the foster father of the men in his organization. When he renounces this role, he neglects a trust.
That neglect cuts the fighting efficiency of the unit at its root. Finally, counseling, like all else in military life, has a combat purpose. Other things being equal, the tactical unity of men working together in combat will be in ratio to their knowledge and sympathetic understanding of each other. Whatever the cause, aloofness on the part of the officer can only produce a further withdrawal on the part of the man. Finally, the cost comes high. In battle, and out of it, the failure to act and to communicate is more often due to timidity in the individual than to fear of physical danger.
Described in cold type, the counseling process probably appears a little sticky. Actually, it is nothing of the sort. For it has been going on ever since man became civilized. It is a force in all organized human relationships, beginning in infanthood and lasting through old age. Because of the nature of a military group, and particularly because of the deriving of united strength from well-being in each of the component parts, there is much more need to regularize it and to qualify all men in a knowledge of those things which will enable them to assist a fellow in need of help. But in the military society, far more than in civil life, confidence is a two-way street. It would be almost impossible to express the collective gratitude of tens of thousands of lieutenants and ensigns who in times past have learned to rely on the friendly counsel of a veteran sergeant or petty officer, and have usually gotten it straight from the shoulder,but with respect. The breaking-in of most young officers, and the acclimating of them to their role in a command system, is due, in large measure, to support from this source. Nor are senior commanders reluctant to receive moral comfort of this same kind in periods of crisis.
When the planes of the First Tokyo Raid under Col. JamesH. Doolittle, crashed among the mountains and along the sea-coast of Eastern China, after one of the most valiant strokes in our military annals, their commander was among the few who had the added misfortune of coming to earth within the Japanese lines. By fate's mercy, he just happened to escape by walking between the enemy outposts. Farther along, he saw the wreck of another of his planes. Then he came to a third; it was smashed beyond hope. But its crew had already heard from several other parties. They too had lost their B-25's to the fog, the night and the crags. Doolittle realized then that everything was gone, lives saved yes, but otherwise the expedition was a total ruin.
The Commander sat for a long time in the cockpit of the wrecked plane, terribly depressed, thinking only of how totally he had failed.
At last one of the younger men, Sgt. Paul Leonard walked up to him and said: "What's the matter, Colonel?"
Doolittle said: "It couldn't be worse. We've lost everything. We've let the country down."
The kid said: "Why, Colonel, you've got this all wrong. You have no idea how this looks to the United States. Don't you realize that right now they're getting ready to make you a general? Why I'll make you a bet they give you the Congressional Medal."
Doolittle thanked him. He thought it was a nice thing for the boy to say. That kind of loyalty was worth having in a bad hour. The boy started to walk away; he could tell that Doolittle didn't believe a word of it. Then suddenly he turned and came on back.
"Colonel," he said, "I'd like to make a deal with you. Suppose I'm right about it and you're wrong. So they give you a star and the Congressional Medal. If that happens, will you agree to take me with you wherever you go?"
Doolittle made him a solemn promise. Fresh courage came to him out of the boy's tremendous earnestness.
And of course the boy was right, and the contract was kept, and all things went well until, by a savage irony, Sgt. Leonardwas killed in the last German raid against Doolittle's headquarters in Europe shortly before the war ended.
One of the illusions having greatest currency among our people is that any green member of the fighting establishment is merely an American civilian in a uniform, and that therefore, his spirit is nourished to the extent that accommodations and usages of the service most nearly duplicate what he has known elsewhere.
This belief is especially prevalent during wartime when every mother's son puts on a new suit; it is natural to think that everything in the service will better suit the boy if it smells like home. The corollary of this rather quaint idea is that military organization is therefore most perfect when it operates in the same way as the civil society.
Earlier in this book it has been suggested that these ideas need to be questioned on two broad grounds: Do not both of them run counter to the facts of encharged responsibility, and to human nature itself?
To emphasize it once again, the military officer is not alone an administrator:he is a magistrate. There are special powers given him by the President. It is within these powers that he will sit in judgment on his men and that he may punish them when they have been grievously derelict. This dual role makes his function radically different from anything encountered in civil life—to say nothing of the singleness of purpose which a fighting service is supposed to move forward.
Moreover, the military officer is dealing with men who are submitted to him in a binding relationship which by its nature is not only more compelling but more intimate than anything elsewhere in society. As much as the parent in the home, and far more than the teacher in the school or the executive in business, he is directed to center his effort primarily on the building of good character in other individuals.
One need only compare a few points of advantage and disadvantage to see why a better balanced sense of justice and fair play is required of the military officer than of his brother in civil life, and why the aim would be far too low if the fighting services did not shoot for higher standards of personnel direction than are common in the management of American business. Here are the points:
Put in these terms, the attitude of the service toward the problem of correction as a means of promoting the welfare of the general establishment obviously reposes a tremendous burst in the justice and goodwill of the average officer. It would be useless to blink the fact. But there is this to be said unalterably in favor of the military system's way of handling things: If the organization of the whole human family into an orderly unit is ever to be made possible, it will be done only because many men, of all ages and working at many different levels, develop this faculty for passing critical, impartial judgment on the conduct and deserts of those whom they lead, instead of regarding it as a special kind of wisdom, given only to the few anointed. Nor is that all. Not only the knowledge but the sense of duty in men is imperfect. In every society are men who will not obey the law of their own accord. Unless the authority which receives and interprets the law will also impose it, by force if necessary, the reign of law soon ceases. Whether an ordered society is to exist thus depends upon whether there are citizens enough, fixed with a sense of duty, to obey it and to enforce it.
At first glance, the responsibility seems extraordinarily heavy and difficult. But with broadening experience, it becomes almost second nature to an officer quickly to set a course by which to judge individual men in relation to the affairs of organization, provided that he has steered all along in the light of a few elementary principles.
Concerning reward, and equally with respect to punishments, no more pertinent words could be said than those uttered long ago by Thomas Carlyle: "What a reflection it is that we cannot bestow on an unworthy man any particle of our benevolence, our patronage or whatever resource is ours—without withdrawing it, and all that will grow out of it, from one worthy, to whom it of right belongs! We cannot, I say; impossible; it is the eternal law of things."
He said a number of important things in this one brief paragraph. There is first the thought that when any reward, such as a promotion, a commendation or a particularly choice assignment is given other than to the man who deserves it on sheer merit, some other man is robbed and the ties of organization are weakened.
Next, there is this proposition: if, in the dispensing of punishment, undue leniency is extended to an individual who has already proved that he merits no special consideration, in the next round a bum rap will be given some lesser offender who is morally deserving of a real chance. The Italians have an epigram: "The first time a dog bites a man, it's the dog's fault; the second time, it's the man's fault."
According to Carlyle, these things have the strength of a natural law. Nor is it necessary to take his word for it. Any wise and experienced military administrator will say approximately the same thing and will tell of some of the bad examples he has met along his way.... The commander who was afraid to punish anybody and by his indecision punished everybody.... The lieutenant who had such a bad conscience about his own weak handling of a bad case of indiscipline that he threw the book at the next offender and thereby spoiled a good man and gained the ill will of the company.... The old timer who smarted under excessive punishment for a trivial offense, broke under it, got into worse trouble, and became a felon.... The officer who promoted his pets instead of his good men and at last found that there were no good men left.... The skipper who condoned a small case of insolence until it swelled into a mutiny.... The fool who handled every case alike, as if he were an animal trainer instead of a builder of human character ... and so on, ad infinitum. It is a long and sorry list, but the overwhelming majority of dutiful executives in the armed services avoid these stupid blunders by following a Golden Rule policy toward their men.
If lack of obedience is the most frequent cause of service men being brought on the carpet, then as obedience is a moral quality, so should punishment be employed as a moral act, itsprime purpose being to nourish and foster obedience. Before meting punishment, it is necessary to judge a man, and judgment means to think over, to compare, to weigh probable effects on the man and on the command, and to give the offender the benefit of any reasonable doubt. Before any punishment is given, the questions must be faced: "What good will it achieve?" If the answer is none, then punishment is not in order. Punishment of a vindictive nature is a crime; when it is given uselessly, or handed out in a strictly routine manner, it is an immoral act.
But when punishment has to be awarded, the case must be handled promptly, and its issue must be stated incisively, so that there is no room for doubt that the officer is certain about his judgments. Men know when they are in the wrong, and even when it works to their disadvantage, they will feel increased respect toward the officer who knows what should be done, and states it without hemming and hawing. The showing of firmness is the first requirement in this kind of action. It is as foolish to go back on a punishment as to threaten it and not follow through. The officer who is always running around threatening to court martial his subordinates is merely avowing his own weakness, and crying that he has lost all of his moral means. Even the dullest men do not mistake vehemence and abuse for signs of strength.
To punish a body of men, for offenses committed by two or three of their number, even though the offense is obnoxious and it is impossible to put the finger on the culprits, is the act of a sadist, and is no more excusable within military organization than in civilian society. Any officer who resorts to this stupid practice will forfeit the loyalty of the best men in his command. There is no reason why it should be otherwise.
As a general rule, it is a serious error to reprimand a subordinate in the presence of any other person, because of the unnecessary hurt to his pride. But circumstances moderate the rule. If the offense for which he is being reprimanded involves injury of any sort to some other person, or persons, it may be wholly proper to apply the treatment in their presence. For example, the bully or the smart-aleck who wantonly humiliateshis own subordinates is not entitled to have his own feelings spared. However, in the presence of his own superior, an officer is always ill-advised to administer oral punishment to one of his own juniors, since the effect is to destroy confidence both up and down the line.
It is always the duty of an officer to intervene, toward the protection of his own men against any manifest injustice, whatever its source. In fact, this trust is so implicit that he should be ready to risk his professional reputation upon it, when he is convinced beyond doubt that the man is being unfairly assailed, or that due process is not being followed. Both higher authority and civil authority occasionally overreach; an officer stands as a shield protecting his men against unfair treatment from any quarter.But it is decidedly not his duty to attempt to cheat law or thwart justice for the sake of his men simply because they are his men.His job, as Shakespeare puts it, is "to unmask falsehood and bring truth to light, to wrong the wronger till he render right."
Finally, the best policy on punishments is to eliminate the frictions which are the cause of most transgressions. When a ship is happy, men do their duty. Scarcely anything will cross them up more quickly than to see rewards given with an uneven hand. Even the stinker who has no ambition but to duck work can recognize a deserving man, and will burn if that man is bypassed in favor of a bootlicker or some other lightweight.
Nothing is more vain than to give a promotion, or any reward, in the hope, or on the promise, that the character who receives it will hit the sawdust trail and suddenly reform.
Duty is the only sure proving ground. Men, like motors, should be judged on their all-around performance. There is no other way to generate the steady pull over the long grind.