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diff --git a/1946-h/1946-h.htm b/1946-h/1946-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f688cb --- /dev/null +++ b/1946-h/1946-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,34892 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>On War, by General Carl von Clausewitz</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { background:#faebd0; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 175%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} +h4 {font-size: 110%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.asterism {text-align: center; + font-size: 150%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On War, by Carl von Clausewitz + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: On War + +Author: Carl von Clausewitz + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1946] +[Last updated: January 10, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON WAR *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>On War</h1> + +<h2>by General Carl von Clausewitz</h2> + +<h3>TRANSLATED BY COLONEL J.J. GRAHAM</h3> + +<h4>1874 was 1st edition of this translation. 1909 was the London reprinting.</h4> + +<h4>NEW AND REVISED EDITION WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY<br/> +COLONEL F.N. MAUDE C.B. (LATE R.E.)</h4> + +<h4>EIGHTH IMPRESSION IN THREE VOLUMES</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Contents</h3> + +<table summary=""> + +<tr> +<td></td><td><a href="#pref01">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td></td><td><a href="#pref02">PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td></td><td><a href="#pref03">NOTICE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td></td><td><a href="#pref04">THE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><br/><br/></td><td><a href="#pref05">BRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL CLAUSEWITZ</a><br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part01"><b>BOOK I.</b></a></td><td><b>ON THE NATURE OF WAR</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>What is War?</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>Ends and Means in War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>The Genius for War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>Of Danger in War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Of Bodily Exertion in War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>Information in War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td>Friction in War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br/><br/></td><td>Concluding Remarks, Book I<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part02"><b>BOOK II.</b></a></td><td><b>ON THE THEORY OF WAR</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap09">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>Branches of the Art of War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap10">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>On the Theory of War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap11">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>Art or Science of War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap12">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>Methodicism</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap13">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Criticism</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap14">CHAPTER VI.</a><br/><br/></td><td>On Examples<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part03"><b>BOOK III.</b></a></td><td><b>OF STRATEGY IN GENERAL</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap15">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>Strategy</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap16">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>Elements of Strategy</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap17">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>Moral Forces</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap18">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>The Chief Moral Powers</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap19">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Military Virtue of an Army</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap20">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>Boldness</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap21">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td>Perseverance</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap22">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td><td>Superiority of Numbers</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap23">CHAPTER IX.</a></td><td>The Surprise</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap24">CHAPTER X.</a></td><td>Stratagem</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XI.</a></td><td>Assembly of Forces in Space</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XII.</a></td><td>Assembly of Forces in Time</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td><td>Strategic Reserve</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td><td>Economy of Forces</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XV.</a></td><td>Geometrical Element</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td><td>On the Suspension of the Act in War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td><td>On the Character of Modern War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br/><br/></td><td>Tension and Rest<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part04"><b>BOOK IV.</b></a></td><td><b>THE COMBAT</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap33">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>Introductory</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap34">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>Character of a Modern Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap35">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>The Combat in General</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap36">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>The Combat in General (<i>continuation</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap37">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>On the Signification of the Combat</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap38">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>Duration of Combat</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap39">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td>Decision of the Combat</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap40">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td><td>Mutual Understanding as to a Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap41">CHAPTER IX.</a></td><td>The Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap42">CHAPTER X.</a></td><td>Effects of Victory</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap43">CHAPTER XI.</a></td><td>The Use of the Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap44">CHAPTER XII.</a></td><td>Strategic Means of Utilising Victory</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap45">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td><td>Retreat After a Lost Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap46">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br/><br/></td><td>Night Fighting<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part05"><b>BOOK V.</b></a></td><td><b>MILITARY FORCES</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap47">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>General Scheme</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap48">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>Theatre of War, Army, Campaign</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap49">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>Relation of Power</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap50">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>Relation of the Three Arms</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap51">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Order of Battle of an Army</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap52">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>General Disposition of an Army</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap53">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td>Advanced Guard and Out-Posts</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap54">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td><td>Mode of Action of Advanced Corps</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap55">CHAPTER IX.</a></td><td>Camps</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap56">CHAPTER X.</a></td><td>Marches</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap57">CHAPTER XI.</a></td><td>Marches (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap58">CHAPTER XII.</a></td><td>Marches (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap59">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td><td>Cantonments</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap60">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td><td>Subsistence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap61">CHAPTER XV.</a></td><td>Base of Operations</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap62">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td><td>Lines of Communication</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap63">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td><td>On Country and Ground</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap64">CHAPTER XVIII.</a><br/><br/></td><td>Command of Ground<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part06"><b>BOOK VI.</b></a></td><td><b>DEFENCE</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap65">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>Offence and Defence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap66">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Tactics</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap67">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Strategy</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap68">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>Convergence of Attack and Divergence of Defence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap69">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Character of Strategic Defensive</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap70">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>Extent of the Means of Defence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap71">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td>Mutual Action and Reaction of Attack and Defence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap72">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td><td>Methods of Resistance</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap73">CHAPTER IX.</a></td><td>Defensive Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap74">CHAPTER X.</a></td><td>Fortresses</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap75">CHAPTER XI.</a></td><td>Fortresses (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap76">CHAPTER XII.</a></td><td>Defensive Position</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap77">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td><td> Strong Positions and Entrenched Camps</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap78">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td><td>Flank Positions</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap79">CHAPTER XV.</a></td><td>Defence of Mountains</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap80">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td><td>Defence of Mountains (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap81">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td><td>Defence of Mountains (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap82">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td><td>Defence of Streams and Rivers</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap83">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td><td>Defence of Streams and Rivers (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap84">CHAPTER XX.</a></td><td>A. Defence of Swamps</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap85">CHAPTER XX.</a></td><td>B. Inundations</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap86">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td><td>Defence of Forests</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap87">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td><td>The Cordon</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap88">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td><td>Key of the Country</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap89">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td><td>Operating Against a Flank</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap90">CHAPTER XXV.</a></td><td>Retreat into the Interior of the Country</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap91">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></td><td>Arming the Nation</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap92">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></td><td>Defence of a Theatre of War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap93">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></td><td>Defence of a Theatre of War (<i>continued</i>)</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap94">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></td><td>Defence of a Theatre of War (<i>continued</i>)—Successive Resistance</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap95">CHAPTER XXX.</a><br/><br/></td><td>Defence of a Theatre of War (<i>continued</i>)—When No Decision is Sought For<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part07"><b>BOOK VII.</b></a></td><td><b>THE ATTACK</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap96">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>The Attack in Relation to the Defence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap97">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>Nature of the Strategical Attack</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap98">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>On the Objects of Strategical Attack</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap99">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>Decreasing Force of the Attack</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap100">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Culminating Point of the Attack</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap101">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>Destruction of the Enemy’s Armies</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap102">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td>The Offensive Battle</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap103">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td><td>Passage of Rivers</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap104">CHAPTER IX.</a></td><td>Attack on Defensive Positions</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap105">CHAPTER X.</a></td><td>Attack on an Entrenched Camp</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap106">CHAPTER XI.</a></td><td>Attack on a Mountain Range</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap107">CHAPTER XII.</a></td><td>Attack on Cordon Lines</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap108">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td><td>Manœuvering</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap109">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td><td>Attack on Morasses, Inundations, Woods</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap110">CHAPTER XV.</a></td><td>Attack on a Theatre of War with the View to a Decision</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap111">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td><td>Attack on a Theatre of War without the View to a Great Decision</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap112">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td><td>Attack on Fortresses</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap113">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td><td>Attack on Convoys</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap114">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td><td>Attack on the Enemy’s Army in its Cantonments</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap115">CHAPTER XX.</a></td><td>Diversion</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap116">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td><td>Invasion</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap117">CHAPTER XXII.</a><br/><br/></td><td>On the Culminating Point of Victory<br/><br/></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#part08"><b>BOOK VIII.</b></a></td><td><b>PLAN OF WAR</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap118">CHAPTER I.</a></td><td>Introduction</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap119">CHAPTER II.</a></td><td>Absolute and Real War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap120">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>A. Interdependence of the Parts in a War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap121">CHAPTER III.</a></td><td>B. On the Magnitude of the Object of the War and the Efforts to be Made</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap122">CHAPTER IV.</a></td><td>Ends in War More Precisely Defined—Overthrow of the Enemy</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap123">CHAPTER V.</a></td><td>Ends in War More Precisely Defined (<i>continued</i>)—Limited Object</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap124">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>A. Influence of the Political Object on the Military Object</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap125">CHAPTER VI.</a></td><td>B. War as an Instrument of Policy</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap126">CHAPTER VII.</a></td><td> Limited Object—Offensive War</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap127">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td><td>Limited Object—Defence</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap128">CHAPTER IX.</a></td><td>Plan of War When the Destruction of the Enemy is the Object</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="pref01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h3> + +<p> +The Germans interpret their new national colours—black, red, and +white—by the saying, “Durch Nacht und Blut zur licht.” +(“Through night and blood to light”), and no work yet written +conveys to the thinker a clearer conception of all that the red streak in their +flag stands for than this deep and philosophical analysis of “War” +by Clausewitz. +</p> + +<p> +It reveals “War,” stripped of all accessories, as the exercise of +force for the attainment of a political object, unrestrained by any law save +that of expediency, and thus gives the key to the interpretation of German +political aims, past, present, and future, which is unconditionally necessary +for every student of the modern conditions of Europe. Step by step, every event +since Waterloo follows with logical consistency from the teachings of Napoleon, +formulated for the first time, some twenty years afterwards, by this remarkable +thinker. +</p> + +<p> +What Darwin accomplished for Biology generally Clausewitz did for the +Life-History of Nations nearly half a century before him, for both have proved +the existence of the same law in each case, viz., “The survival of the +fittest”—the “fittest,” as Huxley long since pointed +out, not being necessarily synonymous with the ethically “best.” +Neither of these thinkers was concerned with the ethics of the struggle which +each studied so exhaustively, but to both men the phase or condition presented +itself neither as moral nor immoral, any more than are famine, disease, or +other natural phenomena, but as emanating from a force inherent in all living +organisms which can only be mastered by understanding its nature. It is in that +spirit that, one after the other, all the Nations of the Continent, taught by +such drastic lessons as Königgrätz and Sedan, have accepted the lesson, with +the result that to-day Europe is an armed camp, and <i>peace is maintained by the +equilibrium of forces, and will continue just as long as this equilibrium +exists, and no longer.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Whether this state of equilibrium is in itself a good or desirable thing may be +open to argument. I have discussed it at length in my “War and the +World’s Life”; but I venture to suggest that to no one would a +renewal of the era of warfare be a change for the better, as far as existing +humanity is concerned. Meanwhile, however, with every year that elapses the +forces at present in equilibrium are changing in magnitude—the pressure +of populations which have to be fed is rising, and an explosion along the line +of least resistance is, sooner or later, inevitable. +</p> + +<p> +As I read the teaching of the recent Hague Conference, no responsible +Government on the Continent is anxious to form in themselves that line of least +resistance; <i>they</i> know only too well what War would mean; and we alone, +absolutely unconscious of the trend of the dominant thought of Europe, are +pulling down the dam which may at any moment let in on us the flood of +invasion. +</p> + +<p> +Now no responsible man in Europe, perhaps least of all in Germany, thanks us +for this voluntary destruction of our defences, for all who are of any +importance would very much rather end their days in peace than incur the burden +of responsibility which War would entail. But they realise that the gradual +dissemination of the principles taught by Clausewitz has created a condition of +molecular tension in the minds of the Nations they govern analogous to the +“critical temperature of water heated above boiling-point under +pressure,” which may at any moment bring about an explosion which they +will be powerless to control. +</p> + +<p> +The case is identical with that of an ordinary steam boiler, delivering so and +so many pounds of steam to its engines as long as the envelope can contain the +pressure; but let a breach in its continuity arise—relieving the boiling +water of all restraint—and in a moment the whole mass flashes into +vapour, developing a power no work of man can oppose. +</p> + +<p> +The ultimate consequences of defeat no man can foretell. The only way to avert +them is to ensure victory; and, again following out the principles of +Clausewitz, victory can only be ensured by the creation in peace of an +organisation which will bring every available man, horse, and gun (or ship and +gun, if the war be on the sea) in the shortest possible time, and with the +utmost possible momentum, upon the decisive field of action—which in turn +leads to the final doctrine formulated by Von der Goltz in excuse for the +action of the late President Kruger in 1899: +</p> + +<p> +“The Statesman who, knowing his instrument to be ready, and seeing War +inevitable, hesitates to strike first is guilty of a crime against his +country.” +</p> + +<p> +It is because this sequence of cause and effect is absolutely unknown to our +Members of Parliament, elected by popular representation, that all our efforts +to ensure a lasting peace by securing <i>efficiency with economy</i> in our National +Defences have been rendered nugatory. +</p> + +<p> +This estimate of the influence of Clausewitz’s sentiments on contemporary +thought in Continental Europe may appear exaggerated to those who have not +familiarised themselves with M. Gustav de Bon’s exposition of the laws +governing the formation and conduct of crowds I do not wish for one minute to +be understood as asserting that Clausewitz has been conscientiously studied and +understood in <i>any</i> Army, not even in the Prussian, but his work has been the +ultimate foundation on which every drill regulation in Europe, except our own, +has been reared. It is this ceaseless repetition of his fundamental ideas to +which one-half of the male population of every Continental Nation has been +subjected for two to three years of their lives, which has tuned their minds to +vibrate in harmony with his precepts, and those who know and appreciate this +fact at its true value have only to strike the necessary chords in order to +evoke a response sufficient to overpower any other ethical conception which +those who have not organised their forces beforehand can appeal to. +</p> + +<p> +The recent set-back experienced by the Socialists in Germany is an illustration +of my position. The Socialist leaders of that country are far behind the +responsible Governors in their knowledge of the management of crowds. The +latter had long before (in 1893, in fact) made their arrangements to prevent +the spread of Socialistic propaganda beyond certain useful limits. As long as +the Socialists only threatened capital they were not seriously interfered with, +for the Government knew quite well that the undisputed sway of the employer was +not for the ultimate good of the State. The standard of comfort must not be +pitched too low if men are to be ready to die for their country. But the moment +the Socialists began to interfere seriously with the discipline of the Army the +word went round, and the Socialists lost heavily at the polls. +</p> + +<p> +If this power of predetermined reaction to acquired ideas can be evoked +successfully in a matter of internal interest only, in which the “obvious +interest” of the vast majority of the population is so clearly on the +side of the Socialist, it must be evident how enormously greater it will prove +when set in motion against an external enemy, where the “obvious +interest” of the people is, from the very nature of things, as manifestly +on the side of the Government; and the Statesman who failed to take into +account the force of the “resultant thought wave” of a crowd of +some seven million men, all trained to respond to their ruler’s call, +would be guilty of treachery as grave as one who failed to strike when he knew +the Army to be ready for immediate action. +</p> + +<p> +As already pointed out, it is to the spread of Clausewitz’s ideas that +the present state of more or less immediate readiness for war of all European +Armies is due, and since the organisation of these forces is uniform this +“more or less” of readiness exists in precise proportion to the +sense of duty which animates the several Armies. Where the spirit of duty and +self-sacrifice is low the troops are unready and inefficient; where, as in +Prussia, these qualities, by the training of a whole century, have become +instinctive, troops really are ready to the last button, and might be poured +down upon any one of her neighbours with such rapidity that the very first +collision must suffice to ensure ultimate success—a success by no means +certain if the enemy, whoever he may be, is allowed breathing-time in which to +set his house in order. +</p> + +<p> +An example will make this clearer. In 1887 Germany was on the very verge of War +with France and Russia. At that moment her superior efficiency, the consequence +of this inborn sense of duty—surely one of the highest qualities of +humanity—was so great that it is more than probable that less than six +weeks would have sufficed to bring the French to their knees. Indeed, after the +first fortnight it would have been possible to begin transferring troops from +the Rhine to the Niemen; and the same case may arise again. But if France and +Russia had been allowed even ten days’ warning the German plan would have +been completely defeated. France alone might then have claimed all the efforts +that Germany could have put forth to defeat her. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there are politicians in England so grossly ignorant of the German reading +of the Napoleonic lessons that they expect that Nation to sacrifice the +enormous advantage they have prepared by a whole century of self-sacrifice and +practical patriotism by an appeal to a Court of Arbitration, and the further +delays which must arise by going through the medieval formalities of recalling +Ambassadors and exchanging ultimatums. +</p> + +<p> +Most of our present-day politicians have made their money in business—a +“form of human competition greatly resembling War,” to paraphrase +Clausewitz. Did they, when in the throes of such competition, send formal +notice to their rivals of their plans to get the better of them in commerce? +Did Mr. Carnegie, the arch-priest of Peace at any price, when he built up the +Steel Trust, notify his competitors when and how he proposed to strike the +blows which successively made him master of millions? Surely the Directors of a +Great Nation may consider the interests of their shareholders—i.e., the +people they govern—as sufficiently serious not to be endangered by the +deliberate sacrifice of the preponderant position of readiness which +generations of self-devotion, patriotism and wise forethought have won for +them? +</p> + +<p> +As regards the strictly military side of this work, though the recent +researches of the French General Staff into the records and documents of the +Napoleonic period have shown conclusively that Clausewitz had never grasped the +essential point of the Great Emperor’s strategic method, yet it is +admitted that he has completely fathomed the spirit which gave life to the +form; and notwithstanding the variations in application which have resulted +from the progress of invention in every field of national activity (not in the +technical improvements in armament alone), this spirit still remains the +essential factor in the whole matter. Indeed, if anything, modern appliances +have intensified its importance, for though, with equal armaments on both +sides, the form of battles must always remain the same, the facility and +certainty of combination which better methods of communicating orders and +intelligence have conferred upon the Commanders has rendered the control of +great masses immeasurably more certain than it was in the past. +</p> + +<p> +Men kill each other at greater distances, it is true—but killing is a +constant factor in all battles. The difference between “now and +then” lies in this, that, thanks to the enormous increase in range (the +essential feature in modern armaments), it is possible to concentrate by +surprise, on any chosen spot, a man-killing power fully twentyfold greater than +was conceivable in the days of Waterloo; and whereas in Napoleon’s time +this concentration of man-killing power (which in his hands took the form of +the great case-shot attack) depended almost entirely on the shape and condition +of the ground, which might or might not be favourable, nowadays such +concentration of fire-power is almost independent of the country altogether. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, at Waterloo, Napoleon was compelled to wait till the ground became firm +enough for his guns to gallop over; nowadays every gun at his disposal, and +five times that number had he possessed them, might have opened on any point in +the British position he had selected, as soon as it became light enough to see. +</p> + +<p> +Or, to take a more modern instance, viz., the battle of St. Privat-Gravelotte, +August 18, 1870, where the Germans were able to concentrate on both wings +batteries of two hundred guns and upwards, it would have been practically +impossible, owing to the section of the slopes of the French position, to carry +out the old-fashioned case-shot attack at all. Nowadays there would be no +difficulty in turning on the fire of two thousand guns on any point of the +position, and switching this fire up and down the line like water from a +fire-engine hose, if the occasion demanded such concentration. +</p> + +<p> +But these alterations in method make no difference in the truth of the picture +of War which Clausewitz presents, with which every soldier, and above all every +Leader, should be saturated. +</p> + +<p> +Death, wounds, suffering, and privation remain the same, whatever the weapons +employed, and their reaction on the ultimate nature of man is the same now as +in the struggle a century ago. It is this reaction that the Great Commander has +to understand and prepare himself to control; and the task becomes ever greater +as, fortunately for humanity, the opportunities for gathering experience become +more rare. +</p> + +<p> +In the end, and with every improvement in science, the result depends more and +more on the character of the Leader and his power of resisting “the +sensuous impressions of the battlefield.” Finally, for those who would +fit themselves in advance for such responsibility, I know of no more inspiring +advice than that given by Krishna to Arjuna ages ago, when the latter trembled +before the awful responsibility of launching his Army against the hosts of the +Pandav’s: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +This Life within all living things, my Prince,<br/> +Hides beyond harm. Scorn thou to suffer, then,<br/> +For that which cannot suffer. Do thy part!<br/> +Be mindful of thy name, and tremble not.<br/> +Nought better can betide a martial soul<br/> +Than lawful war. Happy the warrior<br/> +To whom comes joy of battle....<br/> +. . . But if thou shunn'st<br/> +This honourable field—a Kshittriya—<br/> +If, knowing thy duty and thy task, thou bidd'st<br/> +Duty and task go by—that shall be sin!<br/> +And those to come shall speak thee infamy<br/> +From age to age. But infamy is worse<br/> +For men of noble blood to bear than death!<br/> +. . . . . .<br/> +Therefore arise, thou Son of Kunti! Brace<br/> +Thine arm for conflict; nerve thy heart to meet,<br/> +As things alike to thee, pleasure or pain,<br/> +Profit or ruin, victory or defeat.<br/> +So minded, gird thee to the fight, for so<br/> +Thou shalt not sin!<br/> +</p> + +<p> +COL. F. N. MAUDE, C.B., <i>late</i> R.E. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="pref02"></a>PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION</h3> + +<p> +It will naturally excite surprise that a preface by a female hand should +accompany a work on such a subject as the present. For my friends no +explanation of the circumstance is required; but I hope by a simple relation of +the cause to clear myself of the appearance of presumption in the eyes also of +those to whom I am not known. +</p> + +<p> +The work to which these lines serve as a preface occupied almost entirely the +last twelve years of the life of my inexpressibly beloved husband, who has +unfortunately been torn too soon from myself and his country. To complete it +was his most earnest desire; but it was not his intention that it should be +published during his life; and if I tried to persuade him to alter that +intention, he often answered, half in jest, but also, perhaps, half in a +foreboding of early death: “<i>Thou</i> shalt publish it.” These words +(which in those happy days often drew tears from me, little as I was inclined +to attach a serious meaning to them) make it now, in the opinion of my friends, +a duty incumbent on me to introduce the posthumous works of my beloved husband, +with a few prefatory lines from myself; and although here may be a difference +of opinion on this point, still I am sure there will be no mistake as to the +feeling which has prompted me to overcome the timidity which makes any such +appearance, even in a subordinate part, so difficult for a woman. +</p> + +<p> +It will be understood, as a matter of course, that I cannot have the most +remote intention of considering myself as the real editress of a work which is +far above the scope of my capacity: I only stand at its side as an affectionate +companion on its entrance into the world. This position I may well claim, as a +similar one was allowed me during its formation and progress. Those who are +acquainted with our happy married life, and know how we shared <i>everything</i> with +each other—not only joy and sorrow, but also every occupation, every +interest of daily life—will understand that my beloved husband could not +be occupied on a work of this kind without its being known to me. Therefore, no +one can like me bear testimony to the zeal, to the love with which he laboured +on it, to the hopes which he bound up with it, as well as the manner and time +of its elaboration. His richly gifted mind had from his early youth longed for +light and truth, and, varied as were his talents, still he had chiefly directed +his reflections to the science of war, to which the duties of his profession +called him, and which are of such importance for the benefit of States. +Scharnhorst was the first to lead him into the right road, and his subsequent +appointment in 1810 as Instructor at the General War School, as well as the +honour conferred on him at the same time of giving military instruction to +H.R.H. the Crown Prince, tended further to give his investigations and studies +that direction, and to lead him to put down in writing whatever conclusions he +arrived at. A paper with which he finished the instruction of H.R.H. the Crown +Prince contains the germ of his subsequent works. But it was in the year 1816, +at Coblentz, that he first devoted himself again to scientific labours, and to +collecting the fruits which his rich experience in those four eventful years +had brought to maturity. He wrote down his views, in the first place, in short +essays, only loosely connected with each other. The following, without date, +which has been found amongst his papers, seems to belong to those early days. +</p> + +<p> +“In the principles here committed to paper, in my opinion, the chief +things which compose Strategy, as it is called, are touched upon. I looked upon +them only as materials, and had just got to such a length towards the moulding +them into a whole. +</p> + +<p> +“These materials have been amassed without any regularly preconceived +plan. My view was at first, without regard to system and strict connection, to +put down the results of my reflections upon the most important points in quite +brief, precise, compact propositions. The manner in which Montesquieu has +treated his subject floated before me in idea. I thought that concise, +sententious chapters, which I proposed at first to call grains, would attract +the attention of the intelligent just as much by that which was to be developed +from them, as by that which they contained in themselves. I had, therefore, +before me in idea, intelligent readers already acquainted with the subject. But +my nature, which always impels me to development and systematising, at last +worked its way out also in this instance. For some time I was able to confine +myself to extracting only the most important results from the essays, which, to +attain clearness and conviction in my own mind, I wrote upon different +subjects, to concentrating in that manner their spirit in a small compass; but +afterwards my peculiarity gained ascendency completely—I have developed +what I could, and thus naturally have supposed a reader not yet acquainted with +the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“The more I advanced with the work, and the more I yielded to the spirit +of investigation, so much the more I was also led to system; and thus, then, +chapter after chapter has been inserted. +</p> + +<p> +“My ultimate view has now been to go through the whole once more, to +establish by further explanation much of the earlier treatises, and perhaps to +condense into results many analyses on the later ones, and thus to make a +moderate whole out of it, forming a small octavo volume. But it was my wish +also in this to avoid everything common, everything that is plain of itself, +that has been said a hundred times, and is generally accepted; for my ambition +was to write a book that would not be forgotten in two or three years, and +which any one interested in the subject would at all events take up more than +once.” +</p> + +<p> +In Coblentz, where he was much occupied with duty, he could only give +occasional hours to his private studies. It was not until 1818, after his +appointment as Director of the General Academy of War at Berlin, that he had +the leisure to expand his work, and enrich it from the history of modern wars. +This leisure also reconciled him to his new avocation, which, in other +respects, was not satisfactory to him, as, according to the existing +organisation of the Academy, the scientific part of the course is not under the +Director, but conducted by a Board of Studies. Free as he was from all petty +vanity, from every feeling of restless, egotistical ambition, still he felt a +desire to be really useful, and not to leave inactive the abilities with which +God had endowed him. In active life he was not in a position in which this +longing could be satisfied, and he had little hope of attaining to any such +position: his whole energies were therefore directed upon the domain of +science, and the benefit which he hoped to lay the foundation of by his work +was the object of his life. That, notwithstanding this, the resolution not to +let the work appear until after his death became more confirmed is the best +proof that no vain, paltry longing for praise and distinction, no particle of +egotistical views, was mixed up with this noble aspiration for great and +lasting usefulness. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he worked diligently on, until, in the spring of 1830, he was appointed to +the artillery, and his energies were called into activity in such a different +sphere, and to such a high degree, that he was obliged, for the moment at +least, to give up all literary work. He then put his papers in order, sealed up +the separate packets, labelled them, and took sorrowful leave of this +employment which he loved so much. He was sent to Breslau in August of the same +year, as Chief of the Second Artillery District, but in December recalled to +Berlin, and appointed Chief of the Staff to Field-Marshal Count Gneisenau (for +the term of his command). In March 1831, he accompanied his revered Commander +to Posen. When he returned from there to Breslau in November after the +melancholy event which had taken place, he hoped to resume his work and perhaps +complete it in the course of the winter. The Almighty has willed it should be +otherwise. On the 7th November he returned to Breslau; on the 16th he was no +more; and the packets sealed by himself were not opened until after his death. +</p> + +<p> +The papers thus left are those now made public in the following volumes, +exactly in the condition in which they were found, without a word being added +or erased. Still, however, there was much to do before publication, in the way +of putting them in order and consulting about them; and I am deeply indebted to +several sincere friends for the assistance they have afforded me, particularly +Major O’Etzel, who kindly undertook the correction of the Press, as well +as the preparation of the maps to accompany the historical parts of the work. I +must also mention my much-loved brother, who was my support in the hour of my +misfortune, and who has also done much for me in respect of these papers; +amongst other things, by carefully examining and putting them in order, he +found the commencement of the revision which my dear husband <i>wrote in the year</i> +1827, and mentions in the <i>Notice</i> hereafter annexed as a work he had in view. +This revision has been inserted in the place intended for it in the first book +(for it does not go any further). +</p> + +<p> +There are still many other friends to whom I might offer my thanks for their +advice, for the sympathy and friendship which they have shown me; but if I do +not name them all, they will, I am sure, not have any doubts of my sincere +gratitude. It is all the greater, from my firm conviction that all they have +done was not only on my own account, but for the friend whom God has thus +called away from them so soon. +</p> + +<p> +If I have been highly blessed as the wife of such a man during one and twenty +years, so am I still, notwithstanding my irreparable loss, by the treasure of +my recollections and of my hopes, by the rich legacy of sympathy and friendship +which I owe the beloved departed, by the elevating feeling which I experience +at seeing his rare worth so generally and honourably acknowledged. +</p> + +<p> +The trust confided to me by a Royal Couple is a fresh benefit for which I have +to thank the Almighty, as it opens to me an honourable occupation, to which +I devote myself. May this occupation be blessed, and may the dear little Prince +who is now entrusted to my care, some day read this book, and be animated by it +to deeds like those of his glorious ancestors. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Written at the Marble Palace, Potsdam, 30th June, 1832. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +MARIE VON CLAUSEWITZ,<br/> +<i>Born</i> Countess Brühl,<br/> +Oberhofmeisterinn to H.R.H. the Princess William. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="pref03"></a>NOTICE</h3> + +<p> +I look upon the first six books, of which a fair copy has now been made, as +only a mass which is still in a manner without form, and which has yet to be +again revised. In this revision the two kinds of War will be everywhere kept +more distinctly in view, by which all ideas will acquire a clearer meaning, a +more precise direction, and a closer application. The two kinds of War are, +first, those in which the object is the <i>overthrow of the enemy</i>, whether it be +that we aim at his destruction, politically, or merely at disarming him and +forcing him to conclude peace on our terms; and next, those in which our object +is <i>merely to make some conquests on the frontiers of his country</i>, either for +the purpose of retaining them permanently, or of turning them to account as +matter of exchange in the settlement of a peace. Transition from one kind to +the other must certainly continue to exist, but the completely different nature +of the tendencies of the two must everywhere appear, and must separate from +each other things which are incompatible. +</p> + +<p> +Besides establishing this real difference in Wars, another practically +necessary point of view must at the same time be established, which is, that +<i>War is only a continuation of State policy by other means</i>. This point of view +being adhered to everywhere, will introduce much more unity into the +consideration of the subject, and things will be more easily disentangled from +each other. Although the chief application of this point of view does not +commence until we get to the eighth book, still it must be completely developed +in the first book, and also lend assistance throughout the revision of the +first six books. Through such a revision the first six books will get rid of a +good deal of dross, many rents and chasms will be closed up, and much that is +of a general nature will be transformed into distinct conceptions and forms. +</p> + +<p> +The seventh book—on attack—for the different chapters of which +sketches are already made, is to be considered as a reflection of the sixth, +and must be completed at once, according to the above-mentioned more distinct +points of view, so that it will require no fresh revision, but rather may serve +as a model in the revision of the first six books. +</p> + +<p> +For the eighth book—on the <i>Plan of a War</i>, that is, of the organisation of +a whole War in general—several chapters are designed, but they are not at +all to be regarded as real materials, they are merely a track, roughly cleared, +as it were, through the mass, in order by that means to ascertain the points of +most importance. They have answered this object, and I propose, on finishing +the seventh book, to proceed at once to the working out of the eighth, where +the two points of view above mentioned will be chiefly affirmed, by which +everything will be simplified, and at the same time have a spirit breathed into +it. I hope in this book to iron out many creases in the heads of strategists +and statesmen, and at least to show the object of action, and the real point to +be considered in War. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when I have brought my ideas clearly out by finishing this eighth book, +and have properly established the leading features of War, it will be easier +for me to carry the spirit of these ideas in to the first six books, and to +make these same features show themselves everywhere. Therefore I shall defer +till then the revision of the first six books. +</p> + +<p> +Should the work be interrupted by my death, then what is found can only be +called a mass of conceptions not brought into form; but as these are open to +endless misconceptions, they will doubtless give rise to a number of crude +criticisms: for in these things, every one thinks, when he takes up his pen, +that whatever comes into his head is worth saying and printing, and quite as +incontrovertible as that twice two make four. If such a one would take the +pains, as I have done, to think over the subject, for years, and to compare his +ideas with military history, he would certainly be a little more guarded in his +criticism. +</p> + +<p> +Still, notwithstanding this imperfect form, I believe that an impartial reader +thirsting for truth and conviction will rightly appreciate in the first six +books the fruits of several years’ reflection and a diligent study of +War, and that, perhaps, he will find in them some leading ideas which may bring +about a revolution in the theory of War. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<i>Berlin</i>, 10<i>th July</i>, 1827. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Besides this notice, amongst the papers left the following unfinished +memorandum was found, which appears of very recent date: +</p> + +<p> +The manuscript on the conduct of the <i>Grande Guerre</i>, which will be found after +my death, in its present state can only be regarded as a collection of +materials from which it is intended to construct a theory of War. With the +greater part I am not yet satisfied; and the sixth book is to be looked at as a +mere essay: I should have completely remodelled it, and have tried a different +line. +</p> + +<p> +But the ruling principles which pervade these materials I hold to be the right +ones: they are the result of a very varied reflection, keeping always in view +the reality, and always bearing in mind what I have learnt by experience and by +my intercourse with distinguished soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +The seventh book is to contain the attack, the subjects of which are thrown +together in a hasty manner: the eighth, the plan for a War, in which I would +have examined War more especially in its political and human aspects. +</p> + +<p> +The first chapter of the first book is the only one which I consider as +completed; it will at least serve to show the manner in which I proposed to +treat the subject throughout. +</p> + +<p> +The theory of the <i>Grande Guerre</i>, or Strategy, as it is called, is beset with +extraordinary difficulties, and we may affirm that very few men have clear +conceptions of the separate subjects, that is, conceptions carried up to their +full logical conclusions. In real action most men are guided merely by the tact +of judgment which hits the object more or less accurately, according as they +possess more or less genius. +</p> + +<p> +This is the way in which all great Generals have acted, and therein partly lay +their greatness and their genius, that they always hit upon what was right by +this tact. Thus also it will always be in action, and so far this tact is amply +sufficient. But when it is a question, not of acting oneself, but of convincing +others in a consultation, then all depends on clear conceptions and +demonstration of the inherent relations, and so little progress has been made +in this respect that most deliberations are merely a contention of words, +resting on no firm basis, and ending either in every one retaining his own +opinion, or in a compromise from mutual considerations of respect, a middle +course really without any value.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Herr Clausewitz evidently had before his mind the endless consultations at +the Headquarters of the Bohemian Army in the Leipsic Campaign 1813. +</p> + +<p> +Clear ideas on these matters are therefore not wholly useless; besides, the +human mind has a general tendency to clearness, and always wants to be +consistent with the necessary order of things. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to the great difficulties attending a philosophical construction of the +Art of War, and the many attempts at it that have failed, most people have come +to the conclusion that such a theory is impossible, because it concerns things +which no standing law can embrace. We should also join in this opinion and give +up any attempt at a theory, were it not that a great number of propositions +make themselves evident without any difficulty, as, for instance, that the +defensive form, with a negative object, is the stronger form, the attack, with +the positive object, the weaker—that great results carry the little ones +with them—that, therefore, strategic effects may be referred to certain +centres of gravity—that a demonstration is a weaker application of force +than a real attack, that, therefore, there must be some special reason for +resorting to the former—that victory consists not merely in the conquest +on the field of battle, but in the destruction of armed forces, physically and +morally, which can in general only be effected by a pursuit after the battle is +gained—that successes are always greatest at the point where the victory +has been gained, that, therefore, the change from one line and object to +another can only be regarded as a necessary evil—that a turning movement +is only justified by a superiority of numbers generally or by the advantage of +our lines of communication and retreat over those of the enemy—that flank +positions are only justifiable on similar grounds—that every attack +becomes weaker as it progresses. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="pref04"></a>THE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR</h3> + +<p> +That the conception of the scientific does not consist alone, or chiefly, in +system, and its finished theoretical constructions, requires nowadays no +exposition. System in this treatise is not to be found on the surface, and +instead of a finished building of theory, there are only materials. +</p> + +<p> +The scientific form lies here in the endeavour to explore the nature of +military phenomena to show their affinity with the nature of the things of +which they are composed. Nowhere has the philosophical argument been evaded, +but where it runs out into too thin a thread the Author has preferred to cut it +short, and fall back upon the corresponding results of experience; for in the +same way as many plants only bear fruit when they do not shoot too high, so in +the practical arts the theoretical leaves and flowers must not be made to +sprout too far, but kept near to experience, which is their proper soil. +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably it would be a mistake to try to discover from the chemical +ingredients of a grain of corn the form of the ear of corn which it bears, as +we have only to go to the field to see the ears ripe. Investigation and +observation, philosophy and experience, must neither despise nor exclude one +another; they mutually afford each other the rights of citizenship. +Consequently, the propositions of this book, with their arch of inherent +necessity, are supported either by experience or by the conception of War +itself as external points, so that they are not without abutments.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) That this is not the case in the works of many military writers especially +of those who have aimed at treating of War itself in a scientific manner, is +shown in many instances, in which by their reasoning, the pro and contra +swallow each other up so effectually that there is no vestige of the tails even +which were left in the case of the two lions. +</p> + +<p> +It is, perhaps, not impossible to write a systematic theory of War full of +spirit and substance, but ours hitherto, have been very much the reverse. To +say nothing of their unscientific spirit, in their striving after coherence and +completeness of system, they overflow with commonplaces, truisms, and twaddle +of every kind. If we want a striking picture of them we have only to read +Lichtenberg’s extract from a code of regulations in case of fire. +</p> + +<p> +If a house takes fire, we must seek, above all things, to protect the right +side of the house standing on the left, and, on the other hand, the left side +of the house on the right; for if we, for example, should protect the left side +of the house on the left, then the right side of the house lies to the right of +the left, and consequently as the fire lies to the right of this side, and of +the right side (for we have assumed that the house is situated to the left of +the fire), therefore the right side is situated nearer to the fire than the +left, and the right side of the house might catch fire if it was not protected +before it came to the left, which is protected. Consequently, something might +be burnt that is not protected, and that sooner than something else would be +burnt, even if it was not protected; consequently we must let alone the latter +and protect the former. In order to impress the thing on one’s mind, we +have only to note if the house is situated to the right of the fire, then it is +the left side, and if the house is to the left it is the right side. +</p> + +<p> +In order not to frighten the intelligent reader by such commonplaces, and to +make the little good that there is distasteful by pouring water upon it, the +Author has preferred to give in small ingots of fine metal his impressions and +convictions, the result of many years’ reflection on War, of his +intercourse with men of ability, and of much personal experience. Thus the +seemingly weakly bound-together chapters of this book have arisen, but it is +hoped they will not be found wanting in logical connection. Perhaps soon a +greater head may appear, and instead of these single grains, give the whole in +a casting of pure metal without dross. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="pref05"></a>BRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL CLAUSEWITZ<br/> +(BY TRANSLATOR)</h3> + +<p> +The Author of the work here translated, General Carl Von Clausewitz, was born +at Burg, near Magdeburg, in 1780, and entered the Prussian Army as Fahnenjunker +(<i>i.e.</i>, ensign) in 1792. He served in the campaigns of 1793-94 on the Rhine, +after which he seems to have devoted some time to the study of the scientific +branches of his profession. In 1801 he entered the Military School at Berlin, +and remained there till 1803. During his residence there he attracted the +notice of General Scharnhorst, then at the head of the establishment; and the +patronage of this distinguished officer had immense influence on his future +career, and we may gather from his writings that he ever afterwards continued +to entertain a high esteem for Scharnhorst. In the campaign of 1806 he served +as Aide-de-camp to Prince Augustus of Prussia; and being wounded and taken +prisoner, he was sent into France until the close of that war. On his return, +he was placed on General Scharnhorst’s Staff, and employed in the work +then going on for the reorganisation of the Army. He was also at this time +selected as military instructor to the late King of Prussia, then Crown Prince. +In 1812 Clausewitz, with several other Prussian officers, having entered the +Russian service, his first appointment was as Aide-de-camp to General Phul. +Afterwards, while serving with Wittgenstein’s army, he assisted in +negotiating the famous convention of Tauroggen with York. Of the part he took +in that affair he has left an interesting account in his work on the +“Russian Campaign.” It is there stated that, in order to bring the +correspondence which had been carried on with York to a termination in one way +or another, the Author was despatched to York’s headquarters with two +letters, one was from General d’Auvray, the Chief of the Staff of +Wittgenstein’s army, to General Diebitsch, showing the arrangements made +to cut off York’s corps from Macdonald (this was necessary in order to +give York a plausible excuse for seceding from the French); the other was an +intercepted letter from Macdonald to the Duke of Bassano. With regard to the +former of these, the Author says, “it would not have had weight with a +man like York, but for a military justification, if the Prussian Court should +require one as against the French, it was important.” +</p> + +<p> +The second letter was calculated at the least to call up in General +York’s mind all the feelings of bitterness which perhaps for some days +past had been diminished by the consciousness of his own behaviour towards the +writer. +</p> + +<p> +As the Author entered General York’s chamber, the latter called out to +him, “Keep off from me; I will have nothing more to do with you; your +d——d Cossacks have let a letter of Macdonald’s pass through +them, which brings me an order to march on Piktrepohnen, in order there to +effect our junction. All doubt is now at an end; your troops do not come up; +you are too weak; march I must, and I must excuse myself from further +negotiation, which may cost me my head.” The Author said that he would +make no opposition to all this, but begged for a candle, as he had letters to +show the General, and, as the latter seemed still to hesitate, the Author +added, “Your Excellency will not surely place me in the embarrassment of +departing without having executed my commission.” The General ordered +candles, and called in Colonel von Roeder, the chief of his staff, from the +ante-chamber. The letters were read. After a pause of an instant, the General +said, “Clausewitz, you are a Prussian, do you believe that the letter of +General d’Auvray is sincere, and that Wittgenstein’s troops will +really be at the points he mentioned on the 31st?” The Author replied, +“I pledge myself for the sincerity of this letter upon the knowledge I +have of General d’Auvray and the other men of Wittgenstein’s +headquarters; whether the dispositions he announces can be accomplished as he +lays down I certainly cannot pledge myself; for your Excellency knows that in +war we must often fall short of the line we have drawn for ourselves.” +The General was silent for a few minutes of earnest reflection; then he held +out his hand to the Author, and said, “You have me. Tell General +Diebitsch that we must confer early to-morrow at the mill of Poschenen, and +that I am now firmly determined to separate myself from the French and their +cause.” The hour was fixed for 8 A.M. After this was settled, the General +added, “But I will not do the thing by halves, I will get you Massenbach +also.” He called in an officer who was of Massenbach’s cavalry, and +who had just left them. Much like Schiller’s Wallenstein, he asked, +walking up and down the room the while, “What say your regiments?” +The officer broke out with enthusiasm at the idea of a riddance from the French +alliance, and said that every man of the troops in question felt the same. +</p> + +<p> +“You young ones may talk; but my older head is shaking on my +shoulders,” replied the General.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) “Campaign in Russia in 1812”; translated from the German of +General Von Clausewitz (by Lord Ellesmere). +</p> + +<p> +After the close of the Russian campaign Clausewitz remained in the service of +that country, but was attached as a Russian staff officer to Blücher’s +headquarters till the Armistice in 1813. +</p> + +<p> +In 1814, he became Chief of the Staff of General Walmoden’s Russo-German +Corps, which formed part of the Army of the North under Bernadotte. His name is +frequently mentioned with distinction in that campaign, particularly in +connection with the affair of Goehrde. +</p> + +<p> +Clausewitz re-entered the Prussian service in 1815, and served as Chief of the +Staff to Thielman’s corps, which was engaged with Grouchy at Wavre, on +the 18th of June. +</p> + +<p> +After the Peace, he was employed in a command on the Rhine. In 1818, he became +Major-General, and Director of the Military School at which he had been +previously educated. +</p> + +<p> +In 1830, he was appointed Inspector of Artillery at Breslau, but soon after +nominated Chief of the Staff to the Army of Observation, under Marshal +Gneisenau on the Polish frontier. +</p> + +<p> +The latest notices of his life and services are probably to be found in the +memoirs of General Brandt, who, from being on the staff of Gneisenau’s +army, was brought into daily intercourse with Clausewitz in matters of duty, +and also frequently met him at the table of Marshal Gneisenau, at Posen. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst other anecdotes, General Brandt relates that, upon one occasion, the +conversation at the Marshal’s table turned upon a sermon preached by a +priest, in which some great absurdities were introduced, and a discussion arose +as to whether the Bishop should not be made responsible for what the priest had +said. This led to the topic of theology in general, when General Brandt, +speaking of himself, says, “I expressed an opinion that theology is only +to be regarded as an historical process, as a <i>moment</i> in the gradual development +of the human race. This brought upon me an attack from all quarters, but more +especially from Clausewitz, who ought to have been on my side, he having been +an adherent and pupil of Kiesewetter’s, who had indoctrinated him in the +philosophy of Kant, certainly diluted—I might even say in homœopathic +doses.” This anecdote is only interesting as the mention of Kiesewetter +points to a circumstance in the life of Clausewitz that may have had an +influence in forming those habits of thought which distinguish his writings. +</p> + +<p> +“The way,” says General Brandt, “in which General Clausewitz +judged of things, drew conclusions from movements and marches, calculated the +times of the marches, and the points where decisions would take place, was +extremely interesting. Fate has unfortunately denied him an opportunity of +showing his talents in high command, but I have a firm persuasion that as a +strategist he would have greatly distinguished himself. As a leader on the +field of battle, on the other hand, he would not have been so much in his right +place, from a <i>manque d’habitude du commandement</i>, he wanted the art +<i>d’enlever les troupes</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +After the Prussian Army of Observation was dissolved, Clausewitz returned to +Breslau, and a few days after his arrival was seized with cholera, the seeds of +which he must have brought with him from the army on the Polish frontier. His +death took place in November 1831. +</p> + +<p> +His writings are contained in nine volumes, published after his death, but his +fame rests most upon the three volumes forming his treatise on +“War.” In the present attempt to render into English this portion +of the works of Clausewitz, the translator is sensible of many deficiencies, +but he hopes at all events to succeed in making this celebrated treatise better +known in England, believing, as he does, that so far as the work concerns the +interests of this country, it has lost none of the importance it possessed at +the time of its first publication. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +J. J. GRAHAM (<i>Col.</i>) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part01"></a>BOOK I.<br/>ON THE NATURE OF WAR</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>What is War?</h3> + +<h4>1. INTRODUCTION.</h4> + +<p> +We propose to consider first the single elements of our subject, then each +branch or part, and, last of all, the whole, in all its +relations—therefore to advance from the simple to the complex. But it is +necessary for us to commence with a glance at the nature of the whole, because +it is particularly necessary that in the consideration of any of the parts +their relation to the whole should be kept constantly in view. +</p> + +<h4> +2. DEFINITION. +</h4> + +<p> +We shall not enter into any of the abstruse definitions of War used by +publicists. We shall keep to the element of the thing itself, to a duel. War is +nothing but a duel on an extensive scale. If we would conceive as a unit the +countless number of duels which make up a War, we shall do so best by supposing +to ourselves two wrestlers. Each strives by physical force to compel the other +to submit to his will: each endeavours to throw his adversary, and thus render +him incapable of further resistance. +</p> + +<p> +<i>War therefore is an act of violence intended to compel our opponent to fulfil +our will.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Violence arms itself with the inventions of Art and Science in order to contend +against violence. Self-imposed restrictions, almost imperceptible and hardly +worth mentioning, termed usages of International Law, accompany it without +essentially impairing its power. Violence, that is to say, physical force (for +there is no moral force without the conception of States and Law), is therefore +the <i>means;</i> the compulsory submission of the enemy to our will is the ultimate +object. In order to attain this object fully, the enemy must be disarmed, and +disarmament becomes therefore the immediate <i>object</i> of hostilities in theory. It +takes the place of the final object, and puts it aside as something we can +eliminate from our calculations. +</p> + +<h4> +3. UTMOST USE OF FORCE. +</h4> + +<p> +Now, philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skilful method of disarming +and overcoming an enemy without great bloodshed, and that this is the proper +tendency of the Art of War. However plausible this may appear, still it is an +error which must be extirpated; for in such dangerous things as War, the errors +which proceed from a spirit of benevolence are the worst. As the use of +physical power to the utmost extent by no means excludes the co-operation of +the intelligence, it follows that he who uses force unsparingly, without +reference to the bloodshed involved, must obtain a superiority if his adversary +uses less vigour in its application. The former then dictates the law to the +latter, and both proceed to extremities to which the only limitations are those +imposed by the amount of counter-acting force on each side. +</p> + +<p> +This is the way in which the matter must be viewed and it is to no purpose, it +is even against one’s own interest, to turn away from the consideration +of the real nature of the affair because the horror of its elements excites +repugnance. +</p> + +<p> +If the Wars of civilised people are less cruel and destructive than those of +savages, the difference arises from the social condition both of States in +themselves and in their relations to each other. Out of this social condition +and its relations War arises, and by it War is subjected to conditions, is +controlled and modified. But these things do not belong to War itself; they are +only given conditions; and to introduce into the philosophy of War itself a +principle of moderation would be an absurdity. +</p> + +<p> +Two motives lead men to War: instinctive hostility and hostile intention. In +our definition of War, we have chosen as its characteristic the latter of these +elements, because it is the most general. It is impossible to conceive the +passion of hatred of the wildest description, bordering on mere instinct, +without combining with it the idea of a hostile intention. On the other hand, +hostile intentions may often exist without being accompanied by any, or at all +events by any extreme, hostility of feeling. Amongst savages views emanating +from the feelings, amongst civilised nations those emanating from the +understanding, have the predominance; but this difference arises from attendant +circumstances, existing institutions, &c., and, therefore, is not to be +found necessarily in all cases, although it prevails in the majority. In short, +even the most civilised nations may burn with passionate hatred of each other. +</p> + +<p> +We may see from this what a fallacy it would be to refer the War of a civilised +nation entirely to an intelligent act on the part of the Government, and to +imagine it as continually freeing itself more and more from all feeling of +passion in such a way that at last the physical masses of combatants would no +longer be required; in reality, their mere relations would suffice—a kind +of algebraic action. +</p> + +<p> +Theory was beginning to drift in this direction until the facts of the last +War(*) taught it better. If War is an <i>act</i> of force, it belongs necessarily also +to the feelings. If it does not originate in the feelings, it <i>reacts</i>, more or +less, upon them, and the extent of this reaction depends not on the degree of +civilisation, but upon the importance and duration of the interests involved. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Clausewitz alludes here to the “Wars of Liberation,” +1813, 14, 15. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, if we find civilised nations do not put their prisoners to death, do +not devastate towns and countries, this is because their intelligence exercises +greater influence on their mode of carrying on War, and has taught them more +effectual means of applying force than these rude acts of mere instinct. The +invention of gunpowder, the constant progress of improvements in the +construction of firearms, are sufficient proofs that the tendency to destroy +the adversary which lies at the bottom of the conception of War is in no way +changed or modified through the progress of civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore repeat our proposition, that War is an act of violence pushed to +its utmost bounds; as one side dictates the law to the other, there arises a +sort of reciprocal action, which logically must lead to an extreme. This is the +first reciprocal action, and the first extreme with which we meet (<i>first +reciprocal action</i>). +</p> + +<h4> +4. THE AIM IS TO DISARM THE ENEMY. +</h4> + +<p> +We have already said that the aim of all action in War is to disarm the enemy, +and we shall now show that this, theoretically at least, is indispensable. +</p> + +<p> +If our opponent is to be made to comply with our will, we must place him in a +situation which is more oppressive to him than the sacrifice which we demand; +but the disadvantages of this position must naturally not be of a transitory +nature, at least in appearance, otherwise the enemy, instead of yielding, will +hold out, in the prospect of a change for the better. Every change in this +position which is produced by a continuation of the War should therefore be a +change for the worse. The worst condition in which a belligerent can be placed +is that of being completely disarmed. If, therefore, the enemy is to be reduced +to submission by an act of War, he must either be positively disarmed or placed +in such a position that he is threatened with it. From this it follows that the +disarming or overthrow of the enemy, whichever we call it, must always be the +aim of Warfare. Now War is always the shock of two hostile bodies in collision, +not the action of a living power upon an inanimate mass, because an absolute +state of endurance would not be making War; therefore, what we have just said +as to the aim of action in War applies to both parties. Here, then, is another +case of reciprocal action. As long as the enemy is not defeated, he may defeat +me; then I shall be no longer my own master; he will dictate the law to me as I +did to him. This is the second reciprocal action, and leads to a second extreme +(<i>second reciprocal action</i>). +</p> + +<h4> +5. UTMOST EXERTION OF POWERS. +</h4> + +<p> +If we desire to defeat the enemy, we must proportion our efforts to his powers +of resistance. This is expressed by the product of two factors which cannot be +separated, namely, <i>the sum of available means</i> and <i>the strength of the Will</i>. The +sum of the available means may be estimated in a measure, as it depends +(although not entirely) upon numbers; but the strength of volition is more +difficult to determine, and can only be estimated to a certain extent by the +strength of the motives. Granted we have obtained in this way an approximation +to the strength of the power to be contended with, we can then take of our own +means, and either increase them so as to obtain a preponderance, or, in case we +have not the resources to effect this, then do our best by increasing our means +as far as possible. But the adversary does the same; therefore, there is a new +mutual enhancement, which, in pure conception, must create a fresh effort +towards an extreme. This is the third case of reciprocal action, and a third +extreme with which we meet (<i>third reciprocal action</i>). +</p> + +<h4> +6. MODIFICATION IN THE REALITY. +</h4> + +<p> +Thus reasoning in the abstract, the mind cannot stop short of an extreme, +because it has to deal with an extreme, with a conflict of forces left to +themselves, and obeying no other but their own inner laws. If we should seek to +deduce from the pure conception of War an absolute point for the aim which we +shall propose and for the means which we shall apply, this constant reciprocal +action would involve us in extremes, which would be nothing but a play of ideas +produced by an almost invisible train of logical subtleties. If, adhering +closely to the absolute, we try to avoid all difficulties by a stroke of the +pen, and insist with logical strictness that in every case the extreme must be +the object, and the utmost effort must be exerted in that direction, such a +stroke of the pen would be a mere paper law, not by any means adapted to the +real world. +</p> + +<p> +Even supposing this extreme tension of forces was an absolute which could +easily be ascertained, still we must admit that the human mind would hardly +submit itself to this kind of logical chimera. There would be in many cases an +unnecessary waste of power, which would be in opposition to other principles of +statecraft; an effort of Will would be required disproportioned to the proposed +object, which therefore it would be impossible to realise, for the human will +does not derive its impulse from logical subtleties. +</p> + +<p> +But everything takes a different shape when we pass from abstractions to +reality. In the former, everything must be subject to optimism, and we must +imagine the one side as well as the other striving after perfection and even +attaining it. Will this ever take place in reality? It will if, +</p> + +<p> +(1) War becomes a completely isolated act, which arises suddenly, and is in no +way connected with the previous history of the combatant States. +</p> + +<p> +(2) If it is limited to a single solution, or to several simultaneous +solutions. +</p> + +<p> +(3) If it contains within itself the solution perfect and complete, free from +any reaction upon it, through a calculation beforehand of the political +situation which will follow from it. +</p> + +<h4> +7. WAR IS NEVER AN ISOLATED ACT. +</h4> + +<p> +With regard to the first point, neither of the two opponents is an abstract +person to the other, not even as regards that factor in the sum of resistance +which does not depend on objective things, viz., the Will. This Will is not an +entirely unknown quantity; it indicates what it will be to-morrow by what it is +to-day. War does not spring up quite suddenly, it does not spread to the full +in a moment; each of the two opponents can, therefore, form an opinion of the +other, in a great measure, from what he is and what he does, instead of judging +of him according to what he, strictly speaking, should be or should do. But, +now, man with his incomplete organisation is always below the line of absolute +perfection, and thus these deficiencies, having an influence on both sides, +become a modifying principle. +</p> + +<h4> +8. WAR DOES NOT CONSIST OF A SINGLE INSTANTANEOUS BLOW. +</h4> + +<p> +The second point gives rise to the following considerations:— +</p> + +<p> +If War ended in a single solution, or a number of simultaneous ones, then +naturally all the preparations for the same would have a tendency to the +extreme, for an omission could not in any way be repaired; the utmost, then, +that the world of reality could furnish as a guide for us would be the +preparations of the enemy, as far as they are known to us; all the rest would +fall into the domain of the abstract. But if the result is made up from several +successive acts, then naturally that which precedes with all its phases may be +taken as a measure for that which will follow, and in this manner the world of +reality again takes the place of the abstract, and thus modifies the effort +towards the extreme. +</p> + +<p> +Yet every War would necessarily resolve itself into a single solution, or a sum +of simultaneous results, if all the means required for the struggle were raised +at once, or could be at once raised; for as one adverse result necessarily +diminishes the means, then if all the means have been applied in the first, a +second cannot properly be supposed. All hostile acts which might follow would +belong essentially to the first, and form, in reality only its duration. +</p> + +<p> +But we have already seen that even in the preparation for War the real world +steps into the place of mere abstract conception—a material standard into +the place of the hypotheses of an extreme: that therefore in that way both +parties, by the influence of the mutual reaction, remain below the line of +extreme effort, and therefore all forces are not at once brought forward. +</p> + +<p> +It lies also in the nature of these forces and their application that they +cannot all be brought into activity at the same time. These forces are <i>the +armies actually on foot, the country</i>, with its superficial extent and its +population, <i>and the allies</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In point of fact, the country, with its superficial area and the population, +besides being the source of all military force, constitutes in itself an +integral part of the efficient quantities in War, providing either the theatre +of war or exercising a considerable influence on the same. +</p> + +<p> +Now, it is possible to bring all the movable military forces of a country into +operation at once, but not all fortresses, rivers, mountains, people, +&c.—in short, not the whole country, unless it is so small that it +may be completely embraced by the first act of the War. Further, the +co-operation of allies does not depend on the Will of the belligerents; and +from the nature of the political relations of states to each other, this +co-operation is frequently not afforded until after the War has commenced, or +it may be increased to restore the balance of power. +</p> + +<p> +That this part of the means of resistance, which cannot at once be brought into +activity, in many cases, is a much greater part of the whole than might at +first be supposed, and that it often restores the balance of power, seriously +affected by the great force of the first decision, will be more fully shown +hereafter. Here it is sufficient to show that a complete concentration of all +available means in a moment of time is contradictory to the nature of War. +</p> + +<p> +Now this, in itself, furnishes no ground for relaxing our efforts to accumulate +strength to gain the first result, because an unfavourable issue is always a +disadvantage to which no one would purposely expose himself, and also because +the first decision, although not the only one, still will have the more +influence on subsequent events, the greater it is in itself. +</p> + +<p> +But the possibility of gaining a later result causes men to take refuge in that +expectation, owing to the repugnance in the human mind to making excessive +efforts; and therefore forces are not concentrated and measures are not taken +for the first decision with that energy which would otherwise be used. Whatever +one belligerent omits from weakness, becomes to the other a real objective +ground for limiting his own efforts, and thus again, through this reciprocal +action, extreme tendencies are brought down to efforts on a limited scale. +</p> + +<h4> +9. THE RESULT IN WAR IS NEVER ABSOLUTE. +</h4> + +<p> +Lastly, even the final decision of a whole War is not always to be regarded as +absolute. The conquered State often sees in it only a passing evil, which may +be repaired in after times by means of political combinations. How much this +must modify the degree of tension, and the vigour of the efforts made, is +evident in itself. +</p> + +<h4> +10. THE PROBABILITIES OF REAL LIFE TAKE THE PLACE OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF THE +EXTREME AND THE ABSOLUTE. +</h4> + +<p> +In this manner, the whole act of War is removed from the rigorous law of forces +exerted to the utmost. If the extreme is no longer to be apprehended, and no +longer to be sought for, it is left to the judgment to determine the limits for +the efforts to be made in place of it, and this can only be done on the data +furnished by the facts of the real world by the LAWS OF PROBABILITY. Once the +belligerents are no longer mere conceptions, but individual States and +Governments, once the War is no longer an ideal, but a definite substantial +procedure, then the reality will furnish the data to compute the unknown +quantities which are required to be found. +</p> + +<p> +From the character, the measures, the situation of the adversary, and the +relations with which he is surrounded, each side will draw conclusions by the +law of probability as to the designs of the other, and act accordingly. +</p> + +<h4> +11. THE POLITICAL OBJECT NOW REAPPEARS. +</h4> + +<p> +Here the question which we had laid aside forces itself again into +consideration (see No. 2), viz., the political object of the War. The law of +the extreme, the view to disarm the adversary, to overthrow him, has hitherto +to a certain extent usurped the place of this end or object. Just as this law +loses its force, the political must again come forward. If the whole +consideration is a calculation of probability based on definite persons and +relations, then the political object, being the original motive, must be an +essential factor in the product. The smaller the sacrifice we demand from ours, +the smaller, it may be expected, will be the means of resistance which he will +employ; but the smaller his preparation, the smaller will ours require to be. +Further, the smaller our political object, the less value shall we set upon it, +and the more easily shall we be induced to give it up altogether. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, therefore, the political object, as the original motive of the War, will +be the standard for determining both the aim of the military force and also the +amount of effort to be made. This it cannot be in itself, but it is so in +relation to both the belligerent States, because we are concerned with +realities, not with mere abstractions. One and the same political object may +produce totally different effects upon different people, or even upon the same +people at different times; we can, therefore, only admit the political object +as the measure, by considering it in its effects upon those masses which it is +to move, and consequently the nature of those masses also comes into +consideration. It is easy to see that thus the result may be very different +according as these masses are animated with a spirit which will infuse vigour +into the action or otherwise. It is quite possible for such a state of feeling +to exist between two States that a very trifling political motive for War may +produce an effect quite disproportionate—in fact, a perfect explosion. +</p> + +<p> +This applies to the efforts which the political object will call forth in the +two States, and to the aim which the military action shall prescribe for +itself. At times it may itself be that aim, as, for example, the conquest of a +province. At other times the political object itself is not suitable for the +aim of military action; then such a one must be chosen as will be an equivalent +for it, and stand in its place as regards the conclusion of peace. But also, in +this, due attention to the peculiar character of the States concerned is always +supposed. There are circumstances in which the equivalent must be much greater +than the political object, in order to secure the latter. The political object +will be so much the more the standard of aim and effort, and have more +influence in itself, the more the masses are indifferent, the less that any +mutual feeling of hostility prevails in the two States from other causes, and +therefore there are cases where the political object almost alone will be +decisive. +</p> + +<p> +If the aim of the military action is an equivalent for the political object, +that action will in general diminish as the political object diminishes, and in +a greater degree the more the political object dominates. Thus it is explained +how, without any contradiction in itself, there may be Wars of all degrees of +importance and energy, from a War of extermination down to the mere use of an +army of observation. This, however, leads to a question of another kind which +we have hereafter to develop and answer. +</p> + +<h4> +12. A SUSPENSION IN THE ACTION OF WAR UNEXPLAINED BY ANYTHING SAID AS YET. +</h4> + +<p> +However insignificant the political claims mutually advanced, however weak the +means put forth, however small the aim to which military action is directed, +can this action be suspended even for a moment? This is a question which +penetrates deeply into the nature of the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Every transaction requires for its accomplishment a certain time which we call +its duration. This may be longer or shorter, according as the person acting +throws more or less despatch into his movements. +</p> + +<p> +About this more or less we shall not trouble ourselves here. Each person acts +in his own fashion; but the slow person does not protract the thing because he +wishes to spend more time about it, but because by his nature he requires more +time, and if he made more haste would not do the thing so well. This time, +therefore, depends on subjective causes, and belongs to the length, so called, +of the action. +</p> + +<p> +If we allow now to every action in War this, its length, then we must assume, +at first sight at least, that any expenditure of time beyond this length, that +is, every suspension of hostile action, appears an absurdity; with respect to +this it must not be forgotten that we now speak not of the progress of one or +other of the two opponents, but of the general progress of the whole action of +the War. +</p> + +<h4> +13. THERE IS ONLY ONE CAUSE WHICH CAN SUSPEND THE ACTION, AND THIS SEEMS TO BE +ONLY POSSIBLE ON ONE SIDE IN ANY CASE. +</h4> + +<p> +If two parties have armed themselves for strife, then a feeling of animosity +must have moved them to it; as long now as they continue armed, that is, do not +come to terms of peace, this feeling must exist; and it can only be brought to +a standstill by either side by one single motive alone, which is, THAT HE WAITS +FOR A MORE FAVOURABLE MOMENT FOR ACTION. Now, at first sight, it appears that +this motive can never exist except on one side, because it, eo ipso, must be +prejudicial to the other. If the one has an interest in acting, then the other +must have an interest in waiting. +</p> + +<p> +A complete equilibrium of forces can never produce a suspension of action, for +during this suspension he who has the positive object (that is, the assailant) +must continue progressing; for if we should imagine an equilibrium in this way, +that he who has the positive object, therefore the strongest motive, can at the +same time only command the lesser means, so that the equation is made up by the +product of the motive and the power, then we must say, if no alteration in this +condition of equilibrium is to be expected, the two parties must make peace; +but if an alteration is to be expected, then it can only be favourable to one +side, and therefore the other has a manifest interest to act without delay. We +see that the conception of an equilibrium cannot explain a suspension of arms, +but that it ends in the question of the EXPECTATION OF A MORE FAVOURABLE +MOMENT. +</p> + +<p> +Let us suppose, therefore, that one of two States has a positive object, as, +for instance, the conquest of one of the enemy’s provinces—which is +to be utilised in the settlement of peace. After this conquest, his political +object is accomplished, the necessity for action ceases, and for him a pause +ensues. If the adversary is also contented with this solution, he will make +peace; if not, he must act. Now, if we suppose that in four weeks he will be in +a better condition to act, then he has sufficient grounds for putting off the +time of action. +</p> + +<p> +But from that moment the logical course for the enemy appears to be to act that +he may not give the conquered party THE DESIRED time. Of course, in this mode +of reasoning a complete insight into the state of circumstances on both sides +is supposed. +</p> + +<h4> +14. THUS A CONTINUANCE OF ACTION WILL ENSUE WHICH WILL ADVANCE TOWARDS A +CLIMAX. +</h4> + +<p> +If this unbroken continuity of hostile operations really existed, the effect +would be that everything would again be driven towards the extreme; for, +irrespective of the effect of such incessant activity in inflaming the +feelings, and infusing into the whole a greater degree of passion, a greater +elementary force, there would also follow from this continuance of action a +stricter continuity, a closer connection between cause and effect, and thus +every single action would become of more importance, and consequently more +replete with danger. +</p> + +<p> +But we know that the course of action in War has seldom or never this unbroken +continuity, and that there have been many Wars in which action occupied by far +the smallest portion of time employed, the whole of the rest being consumed in +inaction. It is impossible that this should be always an anomaly; suspension of +action in War must therefore be possible, that is no contradiction in itself. +We now proceed to show how this is. +</p> + +<h4> +15. HERE, THEREFORE, THE PRINCIPLE OF POLARITY IS BROUGHT INTO REQUISITION. +</h4> + +<p> +As we have supposed the interests of one Commander to be always antagonistic to +those of the other, we have assumed a true <i>polarity</i>. We reserve a fuller +explanation of this for another chapter, merely making the following +observation on it at present. +</p> + +<p> +The principle of polarity is only valid when it can be conceived in one and the +same thing, where the positive and its opposite the negative completely destroy +each other. In a battle both sides strive to conquer; that is true polarity, +for the victory of the one side destroys that of the other. But when we speak +of two different things which have a common relation external to themselves, +then it is not the things but their relations which have the polarity. +</p> + +<h4> +16. ATTACK AND DEFENCE ARE THINGS DIFFERING IN KIND AND OF UNEQUAL FORCE. +POLARITY IS, THEREFORE, NOT APPLICABLE TO THEM. +</h4> + +<p> +If there was only one form of War, to wit, the attack of the enemy, therefore +no defence; or, in other words, if the attack was distinguished from the +defence merely by the positive motive, which the one has and the other has not, +but the methods of each were precisely one and the same: then in this sort of +fight every advantage gained on the one side would be a corresponding +disadvantage on the other, and true polarity would exist. +</p> + +<p> +But action in War is divided into two forms, attack and defence, which, as we +shall hereafter explain more particularly, are very different and of unequal +strength. Polarity therefore lies in that to which both bear a relation, in the +decision, but not in the attack or defence itself. +</p> + +<p> +If the one Commander wishes the solution put off, the other must wish to hasten +it, but only by the same form of action. If it is A’s interest not to +attack his enemy at present, but four weeks hence, then it is B’s +interest to be attacked, not four weeks hence, but at the present moment. This +is the direct antagonism of interests, but it by no means follows that it would +be for B’s interest to attack A at once. That is plainly something +totally different. +</p> + +<h4> +17. THE EFFECT OF POLARITY IS OFTEN DESTROYED BY THE SUPERIORITY OF THE DEFENCE +OVER THE ATTACK, AND THUS THE SUSPENSION OF ACTION IN WAR IS EXPLAINED. +</h4> + +<p> +If the form of defence is stronger than that of offence, as we shall hereafter +show, the question arises, Is the advantage of a deferred decision as great on +the one side as the advantage of the defensive form on the other? If it is not, +then it cannot by its counter-weight over-balance the latter, and thus +influence the progress of the action of the War. We see, therefore, that the +impulsive force existing in the polarity of interests may be lost in the +difference between the strength of the offensive and the defensive, and thereby +become ineffectual. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, that side for which the present is favourable, is too weak to be +able to dispense with the advantage of the defensive, he must put up with the +unfavourable prospects which the future holds out; for it may still be better +to fight a defensive battle in the unpromising future than to assume the +offensive or make peace at present. Now, being convinced that the superiority +of the defensive(*) (rightly understood) is very great, and much greater than +may appear at first sight, we conceive that the greater number of those periods +of inaction which occur in war are thus explained without involving any +contradiction. The weaker the motives to action are, the more will those +motives be absorbed and neutralised by this difference between attack and +defence, the more frequently, therefore, will action in warfare be stopped, as +indeed experience teaches. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) It must be remembered that all this antedates by some years the +introduction of long-range weapons. +</p> + +<h4> +18 A SECOND GROUND CONSISTS IN THE IMPERFECT KNOWLEDGE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. +</h4> + +<p> +But there is still another cause which may stop action in War, viz., an +incomplete view of the situation. Each Commander can only fully know his own +position; that of his opponent can only be known to him by reports, which are +uncertain; he may, therefore, form a wrong judgment with respect to it upon +data of this description, and, in consequence of that error, he may suppose +that the power of taking the initiative rests with his adversary when it lies +really with himself. This want of perfect insight might certainly just as often +occasion an untimely action as untimely inaction, and hence it would in itself +no more contribute to delay than to accelerate action in War. Still, it must +always be regarded as one of the natural causes which may bring action in War +to a standstill without involving a contradiction. But if we reflect how much +more we are inclined and induced to estimate the power of our opponents too +high than too low, because it lies in human nature to do so, we shall admit +that our imperfect insight into facts in general must contribute very much to +delay action in War, and to modify the application of the principles pending +our conduct. +</p> + +<p> +The possibility of a standstill brings into the action of War a new +modification, inasmuch as it dilutes that action with the element of time, +checks the influence or sense of danger in its course, and increases the means +of reinstating a lost balance of force. The greater the tension of feelings +from which the War springs, the greater therefore the energy with which it is +carried on, so much the shorter will be the periods of inaction; on the other +hand, the weaker the principle of warlike activity, the longer will be these +periods: for powerful motives increase the force of the will, and this, as we +know, is always a factor in the product of force. +</p> + +<h4> +19. FREQUENT PERIODS OF INACTION IN WAR REMOVE IT FURTHER FROM THE ABSOLUTE, +AND MAKE IT STILL MORE A CALCULATION OF PROBABILITIES. +</h4> + +<p> +But the slower the action proceeds in War, the more frequent and longer the +periods of inaction, so much the more easily can an error be repaired; +therefore, so much the bolder a General will be in his calculations, so much +the more readily will he keep them below the line of the absolute, and build +everything upon probabilities and conjecture. Thus, according as the course of +the War is more or less slow, more or less time will be allowed for that which +the nature of a concrete case particularly requires, calculation of probability +based on given circumstances. +</p> + +<h4> +20. THEREFORE, THE ELEMENT OF CHANCE ONLY IS WANTING TO MAKE OF WAR A GAME, AND +IN THAT ELEMENT IT IS LEAST OF ALL DEFICIENT. +</h4> + +<p> +We see from the foregoing how much the objective nature of War makes it a +calculation of probabilities; now there is only one single element still +wanting to make it a game, and that element it certainly is not without: it is +chance. There is no human affair which stands so constantly and so generally in +close connection with chance as War. But together with chance, the accidental, +and along with it good luck, occupy a great place in War. +</p> + +<h4> +21. WAR IS A GAME BOTH OBJECTIVELY AND SUBJECTIVELY. +</h4> + +<p> +If we now take a look at the <i>subjective nature</i> of War, that is to say, at those +conditions under which it is carried on, it will appear to us still more like a +game. Primarily the element in which the operations of War are carried on is +danger; but which of all the moral qualities is the first in danger? <i>Courage</i>. +Now certainly courage is quite compatible with prudent calculation, but still +they are things of quite a different kind, essentially different qualities of +the mind; on the other hand, daring reliance on good fortune, boldness, +rashness, are only expressions of courage, and all these propensities of the +mind look for the fortuitous (or accidental), because it is their element. +</p> + +<p> +We see, therefore, how, from the commencement, the absolute, the mathematical +as it is called, nowhere finds any sure basis in the calculations in the Art of +War; and that from the outset there is a play of possibilities, probabilities, +good and bad luck, which spreads about with all the coarse and fine threads of +its web, and makes War of all branches of human activity the most like a +gambling game. +</p> + +<h4> +22. HOW THIS ACCORDS BEST WITH THE HUMAN MIND IN GENERAL. +</h4> + +<p> +Although our intellect always feels itself urged towards clearness and +certainty, still our mind often feels itself attracted by uncertainty. Instead +of threading its way with the understanding along the narrow path of +philosophical investigations and logical conclusions, in order, almost +unconscious of itself, to arrive in spaces where it feels itself a stranger, +and where it seems to part from all well-known objects, it prefers to remain +with the imagination in the realms of chance and luck. Instead of living yonder +on poor necessity, it revels here in the wealth of possibilities; animated +thereby, courage then takes wings to itself, and daring and danger make the +element into which it launches itself as a fearless swimmer plunges into the +stream. +</p> + +<p> +Shall theory leave it here, and move on, self-satisfied with absolute +conclusions and rules? Then it is of no practical use. Theory must also take +into account the human element; it must accord a place to courage, to boldness, +even to rashness. The Art of War has to deal with living and with moral forces, +the consequence of which is that it can never attain the absolute and positive. +There is therefore everywhere a margin for the accidental, and just as much in +the greatest things as in the smallest. As there is room for this accidental on +the one hand, so on the other there must be courage and self-reliance in +proportion to the room available. If these qualities are forthcoming in a high +degree, the margin left may likewise be great. Courage and self-reliance are, +therefore, principles quite essential to War; consequently, theory must only +set up such rules as allow ample scope for all degrees and varieties of these +necessary and noblest of military virtues. In daring there may still be wisdom, +and prudence as well, only they are estimated by a different standard of value. +</p> + +<h4> +23. WAR IS ALWAYS A SERIOUS MEANS FOR A SERIOUS OBJECT. ITS MORE PARTICULAR +DEFINITION. +</h4> + +<p> +Such is War; such the Commander who conducts it; such the theory which rules +it. But War is no pastime; no mere passion for venturing and winning; no work +of a free enthusiasm: it is a serious means for a serious object. All that +appearance which it wears from the varying hues of fortune, all that it +assimilates into itself of the oscillations of passion, of courage, of +imagination, of enthusiasm, are only particular properties of this means. +</p> + +<p> +The War of a community—of whole Nations, and particularly of civilised +Nations—always starts from a political condition, and is called forth by +a political motive. It is, therefore, a political act. Now if it was a perfect, +unrestrained, and absolute expression of force, as we had to deduct it from its +mere conception, then the moment it is called forth by policy it would step +into the place of policy, and as something quite independent of it would set it +aside, and only follow its own laws, just as a mine at the moment of explosion +cannot be guided into any other direction than that which has been given to it +by preparatory arrangements. This is how the thing has really been viewed +hitherto, whenever a want of harmony between policy and the conduct of a War +has led to theoretical distinctions of the kind. But it is not so, and the idea +is radically false. War in the real world, as we have already seen, is not an +extreme thing which expends itself at one single discharge; it is the operation +of powers which do not develop themselves completely in the same manner and in +the same measure, but which at one time expand sufficiently to overcome the +resistance opposed by inertia or friction, while at another they are too weak +to produce an effect; it is therefore, in a certain measure, a pulsation of +violent force more or less vehement, consequently making its discharges and +exhausting its powers more or less quickly—in other words, conducting +more or less quickly to the aim, but always lasting long enough to admit of +influence being exerted on it in its course, so as to give it this or that +direction, in short, to be subject to the will of a guiding intelligence., if +we reflect that War has its root in a political object, then naturally this +original motive which called it into existence should also continue the first +and highest consideration in its conduct. Still, the political object is no +despotic lawgiver on that account; it must accommodate itself to the nature of +the means, and though changes in these means may involve modification in the +political objective, the latter always retains a prior right to consideration. +Policy, therefore, is interwoven with the whole action of War, and must +exercise a continuous influence upon it, as far as the nature of the forces +liberated by it will permit. +</p> + +<h4> +24. WAR IS A MERE CONTINUATION OF POLICY BY OTHER MEANS. +</h4> + +<p> +We see, therefore, that War is not merely a political act, but also a real +political instrument, a continuation of political commerce, a carrying out of +the same by other means. All beyond this which is strictly peculiar to War +relates merely to the peculiar nature of the means which it uses. That the +tendencies and views of policy shall not be incompatible with these means, the +Art of War in general and the Commander in each particular case may demand, and +this claim is truly not a trifling one. But however powerfully this may react +on political views in particular cases, still it must always be regarded as +only a modification of them; for the political view is the object, War is the +means, and the means must always include the object in our conception. +</p> + +<h4> +25. DIVERSITY IN THE NATURE OF WARS. +</h4> + +<p> +The greater and the more powerful the motives of a War, the more it affects the +whole existence of a people. The more violent the excitement which precedes the +War, by so much the nearer will the War approach to its abstract form, so much +the more will it be directed to the destruction of the enemy, so much the +nearer will the military and political ends coincide, so much the more purely +military and less political the War appears to be; but the weaker the motives +and the tensions, so much the less will the natural direction of the military +element—that is, force—be coincident with the direction which the +political element indicates; so much the more must, therefore, the War become +diverted from its natural direction, the political object diverge from the aim +of an ideal War, and the War appear to become political. +</p> + +<p> +But, that the reader may not form any false conceptions, we must here observe +that by this natural tendency of War we only mean the philosophical, the +strictly logical, and by no means the tendency of forces actually engaged in +conflict, by which would be supposed to be included all the emotions and +passions of the combatants. No doubt in some cases these also might be excited +to such a degree as to be with difficulty restrained and confined to the +political road; but in most cases such a contradiction will not arise, because +by the existence of such strenuous exertions a great plan in harmony therewith +would be implied. If the plan is directed only upon a small object, then the +impulses of feeling amongst the masses will be also so weak that these masses +will require to be stimulated rather than repressed. +</p> + +<h4> +26. THEY MAY ALL BE REGARDED AS POLITICAL ACTS. +</h4> + +<p> +Returning now to the main subject, although it is true that in one kind of War +the political element seems almost to disappear, whilst in another kind it +occupies a very prominent place, we may still affirm that the one is as +political as the other; for if we regard the State policy as the intelligence +of the personified State, then amongst all the constellations in the political +sky whose movements it has to compute, those must be included which arise when +the nature of its relations imposes the necessity of a great War. It is only if +we understand by policy not a true appreciation of affairs in general, but the +conventional conception of a cautious, subtle, also dishonest craftiness, +averse from violence, that the latter kind of War may belong more to policy +than the first. +</p> + +<h4> +27. INFLUENCE OF THIS VIEW ON THE RIGHT UNDERSTANDING OF MILITARY HISTORY, AND +ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF THEORY. +</h4> + +<p> +We see, therefore, in the first place, that under all circumstances War is to +be regarded not as an independent thing, but as a political instrument; and it +is only by taking this point of view that we can avoid finding ourselves in +opposition to all military history. This is the only means of unlocking the +great book and making it intelligible. Secondly, this view shows us how Wars +must differ in character according to the nature of the motives and +circumstances from which they proceed. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the first, the grandest, and most decisive act of judgment which the +Statesman and General exercises is rightly to understand in this respect the +War in which he engages, not to take it for something, or to wish to make of it +something, which by the nature of its relations it is impossible for it to be. +This is, therefore, the first, the most comprehensive, of all strategical +questions. We shall enter into this more fully in treating of the plan of a +War. +</p> + +<p> +For the present we content ourselves with having brought the subject up to this +point, and having thereby fixed the chief point of view from which War and its +theory are to be studied. +</p> + +<h4> +28. RESULT FOR THEORY. +</h4> + +<p> +War is, therefore, not only chameleon-like in character, because it changes its +colour in some degree in each particular case, but it is also, as a whole, in +relation to the predominant tendencies which are in it, a wonderful trinity, +composed of the original violence of its elements, hatred and animosity, which +may be looked upon as blind instinct; of the play of probabilities and chance, +which make it a free activity of the soul; and of the subordinate nature of a +political instrument, by which it belongs purely to the reason. +</p> + +<p> +The first of these three phases concerns more the people the second, more the +General and his Army; the third, more the Government. The passions which break +forth in War must already have a latent existence in the peoples. The range +which the display of courage and talents shall get in the realm of +probabilities and of chance depends on the particular characteristics of the +General and his Army, but the political objects belong to the Government alone. +</p> + +<p> +These three tendencies, which appear like so many different law-givers, are +deeply rooted in the nature of the subject, and at the same time variable in +degree. A theory which would leave any one of them out of account, or set up +any arbitrary relation between them, would immediately become involved in such +a contradiction with the reality, that it might be regarded as destroyed at +once by that alone. +</p> + +<p> +The problem is, therefore, that theory shall keep itself poised in a manner +between these three tendencies, as between three points of attraction. +</p> + +<p> +The way in which alone this difficult problem can be solved we shall examine in +the book on the “Theory of War.” In every case the conception of +War, as here defined, will be the first ray of light which shows us the true +foundation of theory, and which first separates the great masses and allows us +to distinguish them from one another. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>Ends and Means in War</h3> + +<p> +Having in the foregoing chapter ascertained the complicated and variable nature +of War, we shall now occupy ourselves in examining into the influence which +this nature has upon the end and means in War. +</p> + +<p> +If we ask, first of all, for the object upon which the whole effort of War is +to be directed, in order that it may suffice for the attainment of the +political object, we shall find that it is just as variable as are the +political object and the particular circumstances of the War. +</p> + +<p> +If, in the next place, we keep once more to the pure conception of War, then we +must say that the political object properly lies out of its province, for if +War is an act of violence to compel the enemy to fulfil our will, then in every +case all depends on our overthrowing the enemy, that is, disarming him, and on +that alone. This object, developed from abstract conceptions, but which is also +the one aimed at in a great many cases in reality, we shall, in the first +place, examine in this reality. +</p> + +<p> +In connection with the plan of a campaign we shall hereafter examine more +closely into the meaning of disarming a nation, but here we must at once draw a +distinction between three things, which, as three general objects, comprise +everything else within them. They are the <i>military power, the country</i>, and <i>the +will of the enemy</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The military power must be destroyed, that is, reduced to such a state as not +to be able to prosecute the War. This is the sense in which we wish to be +understood hereafter, whenever we use the expression “destruction of the +enemy’s military power.” +</p> + +<p> +The <i>country</i> must be conquered, for out of the country a new military force may +be formed. +</p> + +<p> +But even when both these things are done, still the War, that is, the hostile +feeling and action of hostile agencies, cannot be considered as at an end as +long as the <i>will</i> of the enemy is not subdued also; that is, its Government and +its Allies must be forced into signing a peace, or the people into submission; +for whilst we are in full occupation of the country, the War may break out +afresh, either in the interior or through assistance given by Allies. No doubt, +this may also take place after a peace, but that shows nothing more than that +every War does not carry in itself the elements for a complete decision and +final settlement. +</p> + +<p> +But even if this is the case, still with the conclusion of peace a number of +sparks are always extinguished which would have smouldered on quietly, and the +excitement of the passions abates, because all those whose minds are disposed +to peace, of which in all nations and under all circumstances there is always a +great number, turn themselves away completely from the road to resistance. +Whatever may take place subsequently, we must always look upon the object as +attained, and the business of War as ended, by a peace. +</p> + +<p> +As protection of the country is the primary object for which the military force +exists, therefore the natural order is, that first of all this force should be +destroyed, then the country subdued; and through the effect of these two +results, as well as the position we then hold, the enemy should be forced to +make peace. Generally the destruction of the enemy’s force is done by +degrees, and in just the same measure the conquest of the country follows +immediately. The two likewise usually react upon each other, because the loss +of provinces occasions a diminution of military force. But this order is by no +means necessary, and on that account it also does not always take place. The +enemy’s Army, before it is sensibly weakened, may retreat to the opposite +side of the country, or even quite outside of it. In this case, therefore, the +greater part or the whole of the country is conquered. +</p> + +<p> +But this object of War in the abstract, this final means of attaining the +political object in which all others are combined, the <i>disarming the enemy</i>, is +rarely attained in practice and is not a condition necessary to peace. +Therefore it can in no wise be set up in theory as a law. There are innumerable +instances of treaties in which peace has been settled before either party could +be looked upon as disarmed; indeed, even before the balance of power had +undergone any sensible alteration. Nay, further, if we look at the case in the +concrete, then we must say that in a whole class of cases, the idea of a +complete defeat of the enemy would be a mere imaginative flight, especially +when the enemy is considerably superior. +</p> + +<p> +The reason why the object deduced from the conception of War is not adapted in +general to real War lies in the difference between the two, which is discussed +in the preceding chapter. If it was as pure theory gives it, then a War between +two States of very unequal military strength would appear an absurdity; +therefore impossible. At most, the inequality between the physical forces might +be such that it could be balanced by the moral forces, and that would not go +far with our present social condition in Europe. Therefore, if we have seen +Wars take place between States of very unequal power, that has been the case +because there is a wide difference between War in reality and its original +conception. +</p> + +<p> +There are two considerations which as motives may practically take the place of +inability to continue the contest. The first is the improbability, the second +is the excessive price, of success. +</p> + +<p> +According to what we have seen in the foregoing chapter, War must always set +itself free from the strict law of logical necessity, and seek aid from the +calculation of probabilities; and as this is so much the more the case, the +more the War has a bias that way, from the circumstances out of which it has +arisen—the smaller its motives are, and the excitement it has +raised—so it is also conceivable how out of this calculation of +probabilities even motives to peace may arise. War does not, therefore, always +require to be fought out until one party is overthrown; and we may suppose +that, when the motives and passions are slight, a weak probability will suffice +to move that side to which it is unfavourable to give way. Now, were the other +side convinced of this beforehand, it is natural that he would strive for this +probability only, instead of first wasting time and effort in the attempt to +achieve the total destruction of the enemy’s Army. +</p> + +<p> +Still more general in its influence on the resolution to peace is the +consideration of the expenditure of force already made, and further required. +As War is no act of blind passion, but is dominated by the political object, +therefore the value of that object determines the measure of the sacrifices by +which it is to be purchased. This will be the case, not only as regards extent, +but also as regards duration. As soon, therefore, as the required outlay +becomes so great that the political object is no longer equal in value, the +object must be given up, and peace will be the result. +</p> + +<p> +We see, therefore, that in Wars where one side cannot completely disarm the +other, the motives to peace on both sides will rise or fall on each side +according to the probability of future success and the required outlay. If +these motives were equally strong on both sides, they would meet in the centre +of their political difference. Where they are strong on one side, they might be +weak on the other. If their amount is only sufficient, peace will follow, but +naturally to the advantage of that side which has the weakest motive for its +conclusion. We purposely pass over here the difference which the <i>positive</i> and +<i>negative</i> character of the political end must necessarily produce practically; +for although that is, as we shall hereafter show, of the highest importance, +still we are obliged to keep here to a more general point of view, because the +original political views in the course of the War change very much, and at last +may become totally different, <i>just because they are determined by results and +probable events</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Now comes the question how to influence the probability of success. In the +first place, naturally by the same means which we use when the object is the +subjugation of the enemy, by the destruction of his military force and the +conquest of his provinces; but these two means are not exactly of the same +import here as they would be in reference to that object. If we attack the +enemy’s Army, it is a very different thing whether we intend to follow up +the first blow with a succession of others, until the whole force is destroyed, +or whether we mean to content ourselves with a victory to shake the +enemy’s feeling of security, to convince him of our superiority, and to +instil into him a feeling of apprehension about the future. If this is our +object, we only go so far in the destruction of his forces as is sufficient. In +like manner, the conquest, of the enemy’s provinces is quite a different +measure if the object is not the destruction of the enemy’s Army. In the +latter case the destruction of the Army is the real effectual action, and the +taking of the provinces only a consequence of it; to take them before the Army +had been defeated would always be looked upon only as a necessary evil. On the +other hand, if our views are not directed upon the complete destruction of the +enemy’s force, and if we are sure that the enemy does not seek but fears +to bring matters to a bloody decision, the taking possession of a weak or +defenceless province is an advantage in itself, and if this advantage is of +sufficient importance to make the enemy apprehensive about the general result, +then it may also be regarded as a shorter road to peace. +</p> + +<p> +But now we come upon a peculiar means of influencing the probability of the +result without destroying the enemy’s Army, namely, upon the expeditions +which have a direct connection with political views. If there are any +enterprises which are particularly likely to break up the enemy’s +alliances or make them inoperative, to gain new alliances for ourselves, to +raise political powers in our own favour, &c. &c., then it is easy to +conceive how much these may increase the probability of success, and become a +shorter way towards our object than the routing of the enemy’s forces. +</p> + +<p> +The second question is how to act upon the enemy’s expenditure in +strength, that is, to raise the price of success. +</p> + +<p> +The enemy’s outlay in strength lies in the <i>wear and tear</i> of his forces, +consequently in the <i>destruction</i> of them on our part, and in the <i>loss</i> of +<i>provinces</i>, consequently the <i>conquest</i> of them by us. +</p> + +<p> +Here, again, on account of the various significations of these means, so +likewise it will be found that neither of them will be identical in its +signification in all cases if the objects are different. The smallness in +general of this difference must not cause us perplexity, for in reality the +weakest motives, the finest shades of difference, often decide in favour of +this or that method of applying force. Our only business here is to show that, +certain conditions being supposed, the possibility of attaining our purpose in +different ways is no contradiction, absurdity, nor even error. +</p> + +<p> +Besides these two means, there are three other peculiar ways of directly +increasing the waste of the enemy’s force. The first is <i>invasion</i>, that is +<i>the occupation of the enemy’s territory, not with a view to keeping it</i>, +but in order to levy contributions upon it, or to devastate it. +</p> + +<p> +The immediate object here is neither the conquest of the enemy’s +territory nor the defeat of his armed force, but merely to <i>do him damage in a +general way</i>. The second way is to select for the object of our enterprises +those points at which we can do the enemy most harm. Nothing is easier to +conceive than two different directions in which our force may be employed, the +first of which is to be preferred if our object is to defeat the enemy’s +Army, while the other is more advantageous if the defeat of the enemy is out of +the question. According to the usual mode of speaking, we should say that the +first is primarily military, the other more political. But if we take our view +from the highest point, both are equally military, and neither the one nor the +other can be eligible unless it suits the circumstances of the case. The third, +by far the most important, from the great number of cases which it embraces, is +the <i>wearing out</i> of the enemy. We choose this expression not only to explain our +meaning in few words, but because it represents the thing exactly, and is not +so figurative as may at first appear. The idea of wearing out in a struggle +amounts in practice to <i>a gradual exhaustion of the physical powers and of the +will by the long continuance of exertion</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if we want to overcome the enemy by the duration of the contest, we must +content ourselves with as small objects as possible, for it is in the nature of +the thing that a great end requires a greater expenditure of force than a small +one; but the smallest object that we can propose to ourselves is simple passive +resistance, that is a combat without any positive view. In this way, therefore, +our means attain their greatest relative value, and therefore the result is +best secured. How far now can this negative mode of proceeding be carried? +Plainly not to absolute passivity, for mere endurance would not be fighting; +and the defensive is an activity by which so much of the enemy’s power +must be destroyed that he must give up his object. That alone is what we aim at +in each single act, and therein consists the negative nature of our object. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt this negative object in its single act is not so effective as the +positive object in the same direction would be, supposing it successful; but +there is this difference in its favour, that it succeeds more easily than the +positive, and therefore it holds out greater certainty of success; what is +wanting in the efficacy of its single act must be gained through time, that is, +through the duration of the contest, and therefore this negative intention, +which constitutes the principle of the pure defensive, is also the natural +means of overcoming the enemy by the duration of the combat, that is of wearing +him out. +</p> + +<p> +Here lies the origin of that difference of <i>Offensive</i> and <i>Defensive</i>, the +influence of which prevails throughout the whole province of War. We cannot at +present pursue this subject further than to observe that from this negative +intention are to be deduced all the advantages and all the stronger forms of +combat which are on the side of the <i>Defensive</i>, and in which that +philosophical-dynamic law which exists between the greatness and the certainty +of success is realised. We shall resume the consideration of all this +hereafter. +</p> + +<p> +If then the negative purpose, that is the concentration of all the means into a +state of pure resistance, affords a superiority in the contest, and if this +advantage is sufficient to <i>balance</i> whatever superiority in numbers the +adversary may have, then the mere <i>duration</i> of the contest will suffice +gradually to bring the loss of force on the part of the adversary to a point at +which the political object can no longer be an equivalent, a point at which, +therefore, he must give up the contest. We see then that this class of means, +the wearing out of the enemy, includes the great number of cases in which the +weaker resists the stronger. +</p> + +<p> +Frederick the Great, during the Seven Years’ War, was never strong enough +to overthrow the Austrian monarchy; and if he had tried to do so after the +fashion of Charles the Twelfth, he would inevitably have had to succumb +himself. But after his skilful application of the system of husbanding his +resources had shown the powers allied against him, through a seven years’ +struggle, that the actual expenditure of strength far exceeded what they had at +first anticipated, they made peace. +</p> + +<p> +We see then that there are many ways to one’s object in War; that the +complete subjugation of the enemy is not essential in every case; that the +destruction of the enemy’s military force, the conquest of the +enemy’s provinces, the mere occupation of them, the mere invasion of +them—enterprises which are aimed directly at political +objects—lastly, a passive expectation of the enemy’s blow, are all +means which, each in itself, may be used to force the enemy’s will +according as the peculiar circumstances of the case lead us to expect more from +the one or the other. We could still add to these a whole category of shorter +methods of gaining the end, which might be called arguments ad hominem. What +branch of human affairs is there in which these sparks of individual spirit +have not made their appearance, surmounting all formal considerations? And +least of all can they fail to appear in War, where the personal character of +the combatants plays such an important part, both in the cabinet and in the +field. We limit ourselves to pointing this out, as it would be pedantry to +attempt to reduce such influences into classes. Including these, we may say +that the number of possible ways of reaching the object rises to infinity. +</p> + +<p> +To avoid under-estimating these different short roads to one’s purpose, +either estimating them only as rare exceptions, or holding the difference which +they cause in the conduct of War as insignificant, we must bear in mind the +diversity of political objects which may cause a War—measure at a glance +the distance which there is between a death struggle for political existence +and a War which a forced or tottering alliance makes a matter of disagreeable +duty. Between the two innumerable gradations occur in practice. If we reject +one of these gradations in theory, we might with equal right reject the whole, +which would be tantamount to shutting the real world completely out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +These are the circumstances in general connected with the aim which we have to +pursue in War; let us now turn to the means. +</p> + +<p> +There is only one single means, it is the <i>Fight</i>. However diversified this may +be in form, however widely it may differ from a rough vent of hatred and +animosity in a hand-to-hand encounter, whatever number of things may introduce +themselves which are not actual fighting, still it is always implied in the +conception of War that all the effects manifested have their roots in the +combat. +</p> + +<p> +That this must always be so in the greatest diversity and complication of the +reality is proved in a very simple manner. All that takes place in War takes +place through armed forces, but where the forces of War, <i>i.e.</i>, armed men, are +applied, there the idea of fighting must of necessity be at the foundation. +</p> + +<p> +All, therefore, that relates to forces of War—all that is connected with +their creation, maintenance, and application—belongs to military +activity. +</p> + +<p> +Creation and maintenance are obviously only the means, whilst application is +the object. +</p> + +<p> +The contest in War is not a contest of individual against individual, but an +organised whole, consisting of manifold parts; in this great whole we may +distinguish units of two kinds, the one determined by the subject, the other by +the object. In an Army the mass of combatants ranges itself always into an +order of new units, which again form members of a higher order. The combat of +each of these members forms, therefore, also a more or less distinct unit. +Further, the motive of the fight; therefore its object forms its unit. +</p> + +<p> +Now, to each of these units which we distinguish in the contest we attach the +name of combat. +</p> + +<p> +If the idea of combat lies at the foundation of every application of armed +power, then also the application of armed force in general is nothing more than +the determining and arranging a certain number of combats. +</p> + +<p> +Every activity in War, therefore, necessarily relates to the combat either +directly or indirectly. The soldier is levied, clothed, armed, exercised, he +sleeps, eats, drinks, and marches, all <i>merely to fight at the right time and +place</i>. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, all the threads of military activity terminate in the combat, we +shall grasp them all when we settle the order of the combats. Only from this +order and its execution proceed the effects, never directly from the conditions +preceding them. Now, in the combat all the action is directed to the +<i>destruction</i> of the enemy, or rather of <i>his fighting powers</i>, for this lies in +the conception of combat. The destruction of the enemy’s fighting power +is, therefore, always the means to attain the object of the combat. +</p> + +<p> +This object may likewise be the mere destruction of the enemy’s armed +force; but that is not by any means necessary, and it may be something quite +different. Whenever, for instance, as we have shown, the defeat of the enemy is +not the only means to attain the political object, whenever there are other +objects which may be pursued as the aim in a War, then it follows of itself +that such other objects may become the object of particular acts of Warfare, +and therefore also the object of combats. +</p> + +<p> +But even those combats which, as subordinate acts, are in the strict sense +devoted to the destruction of the enemy’s fighting force need not have +that destruction itself as their first object. +</p> + +<p> +If we think of the manifold parts of a great armed force, of the number of +circumstances which come into activity when it is employed, then it is clear +that the combat of such a force must also require a manifold organisation, a +subordinating of parts and formation. There may and must naturally arise for +particular parts a number of objects which are not themselves the destruction +of the enemy’s armed force, and which, while they certainly contribute to +increase that destruction, do so only in an indirect manner. If a battalion is +ordered to drive the enemy from a rising ground, or a bridge, &c., then +properly the occupation of any such locality is the real object, the +destruction of the enemy’s armed force which takes place only the means +or secondary matter. If the enemy can be driven away merely by a demonstration, +the object is attained all the same; but this hill or bridge is, in point of +fact, only required as a means of increasing the gross amount of loss inflicted +on the enemy’s armed force. It is the case on the field of battle, much +more must it be so on the whole theatre of war, where not only one Army is +opposed to another, but one State, one Nation, one whole country to another. +Here the number of possible relations, and consequently possible combinations, +is much greater, the diversity of measures increased, and by the gradation of +objects, each subordinate to another the first means employed is further apart +from the ultimate object. +</p> + +<p> +It is therefore for many reasons possible that the object of a combat is not +the destruction of the enemy’s force, that is, of the force immediately +opposed to us, but that this only appears as a means. But in all such cases it +is no longer a question of complete destruction, for the combat is here nothing +else but a measure of strength—has in itself no value except only that of +the present result, that is, of its decision. +</p> + +<p> +But a measuring of strength may be effected in cases where the opposing sides +are very unequal by a mere comparative estimate. In such cases no fighting will +take place, and the weaker will immediately give way. +</p> + +<p> +If the object of a combat is not always the destruction of the enemy’s +forces therein engaged—and if its object can often be attained as well +without the combat taking place at all, by merely making a resolve to fight, +and by the circumstances to which this resolution gives rise—then that +explains how a whole campaign may be carried on with great activity without the +actual combat playing any notable part in it. +</p> + +<p> +That this may be so military history proves by a hundred examples. How many of +those cases can be justified, that is, without involving a contradiction and +whether some of the celebrities who rose out of them would stand criticism, we +shall leave undecided, for all we have to do with the matter is to show the +possibility of such a course of events in War. +</p> + +<p> +We have only one means in War—the battle; but this means, by the infinite +variety of paths in which it may be applied, leads us into all the different +ways which the multiplicity of objects allows of, so that we seem to have +gained nothing; but that is not the case, for from this unity of means proceeds +a thread which assists the study of the subject, as it runs through the whole +web of military activity and holds it together. +</p> + +<p> +But we have considered the destruction of the enemy’s force as one of the +objects which maybe pursued in War, and left undecided what relative importance +should be given to it amongst other objects. In certain cases it will depend on +circumstances, and as a general question we have left its value undetermined. +We are once more brought back upon it, and we shall be able to get an insight +into the value which must necessarily be accorded to it. +</p> + +<p> +The combat is the single activity in War; in the combat the destruction of the +enemy opposed to us is the means to the end; it is so even when the combat does +not actually take place, because in that case there lies at the root of the +decision the supposition at all events that this destruction is to be regarded +as beyond doubt. It follows, therefore, that the destruction of the +enemy’s military force is the foundation-stone of all action in War, the +great support of all combinations, which rest upon it like the arch on its +abutments. All action, therefore, takes place on the supposition that if the +solution by force of arms which lies at its foundation should be realised, it +will be a favourable one. The decision by arms is, for all operations in War, +great and small, what cash payment is in bill transactions. However remote from +each other these relations, however seldom the realisation may take place, +still it can never entirely fail to occur. +</p> + +<p> +If the decision by arms lies at the foundation of all combinations, then it +follows that the enemy can defeat each of them by gaining a victory on the +field, not merely in the one on which our combination directly depends, but +also in any other encounter, if it is only important enough; for every +important decision by arms—that is, destruction of the enemy’s +forces—reacts upon all preceding it, because, like a liquid element, they +tend to bring themselves to a level. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, the destruction of the enemy’s armed force appears, therefore, +always as the superior and more effectual means, to which all others must give +way. +</p> + +<p> +It is, however, only when there is a supposed equality in all other conditions +that we can ascribe to the destruction of the enemy’s armed force the +greater efficacy. It would, therefore, be a great mistake to draw the +conclusion that a blind dash must always gain the victory over skill and +caution. An unskilful attack would lead to the destruction of our own and not +of the enemy’s force, and therefore is not what is here meant. The +superior efficacy belongs not to the <i>means</i> but to the <i>end</i>, and we are only +comparing the effect of one realised purpose with the other. +</p> + +<p> +If we speak of the destruction of the enemy’s armed force, we must +expressly point out that nothing obliges us to confine this idea to the mere +physical force; on the contrary, the moral is necessarily implied as well, +because both in fact are interwoven with each other, even in the most minute +details, and therefore cannot be separated. But it is just in connection with +the inevitable effect which has been referred to, of a great act of destruction +(a great victory) upon all other decisions by arms, that this moral element is +most fluid, if we may use that expression, and therefore distributes itself the +most easily through all the parts. +</p> + +<p> +Against the far superior worth which the destruction of the enemy’s armed +force has over all other means stands the expense and risk of this means, and +it is only to avoid these that any other means are taken. That these must be +costly stands to reason, for the waste of our own military forces must, <i>ceteris +paribus</i>, always be greater the more our aim is directed upon the destruction of +the enemy’s power. +</p> + +<p> +The danger lies in this, that the greater efficacy which we seek recoils on +ourselves, and therefore has worse consequences in case we fail of success. +</p> + +<p> +Other methods are, therefore, less costly when they succeed, less dangerous +when they fail; but in this is necessarily lodged the condition that they are +only opposed to similar ones, that is, that the enemy acts on the same +principle; for if the enemy should choose the way of a great decision by arms, +<i>our means must on that account be changed against our will, in order to +correspond with his</i>. Then all depends on the issue of the act of destruction; +but of course it is evident that, <i>ceteris paribus</i>, in this act we must be at a +disadvantage in all respects because our views and our means had been directed +in part upon other objects, which is not the case with the enemy. Two different +objects of which one is not part, the other exclude each other, and therefore a +force which may be applicable for the one may not serve for the other. If, +therefore, one of two belligerents is determined to seek the great decision by +arms, then he has a high probability of success, as soon as he is certain his +opponent will not take that way, but follows a different object; and every one +who sets before himself any such other aim only does so in a reasonable manner, +provided he acts on the supposition that his adversary has as little intention +as he has of resorting to the great decision by arms. +</p> + +<p> +But what we have here said of another direction of views and forces relates +only to other <i>positive objects</i>, which we may propose to ourselves in War, +besides the destruction of the enemy’s force, not by any means to the +pure defensive, which may be adopted with a view thereby to exhaust the +enemy’s forces. In the pure defensive the positive object is wanting, and +therefore, while on the defensive, our forces cannot at the same time be +directed on other objects; they can only be employed to defeat the intentions +of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +We have now to consider the opposite of the destruction of the enemy’s +armed force, that is to say, the preservation of our own. These two efforts +always go together, as they mutually act and react on each other; they are +integral parts of one and the same view, and we have only to ascertain what +effect is produced when one or the other has the predominance. The endeavour to +destroy the enemy’s force has a positive object, and leads to positive +results, of which the final aim is the conquest of the enemy. The preservation +of our own forces has a negative object, leads therefore to the defeat of the +enemy’s intentions, that is to pure resistance, of which the final aim +can be nothing more than to prolong the duration of the contest, so that the +enemy shall exhaust himself in it. +</p> + +<p> +The effort with a positive object calls into existence the act of destruction; +the effort with the negative object awaits it. +</p> + +<p> +How far this state of expectation should and may be carried we shall enter into +more particularly in the theory of attack and defence, at the origin of which +we again find ourselves. Here we shall content ourselves with saying that the +awaiting must be no absolute endurance, and that in the action bound up with it +the destruction of the enemy’s armed force engaged in this conflict may +be the aim just as well as anything else. It would therefore be a great error +in the fundamental idea to suppose that the consequence of the negative course +is that we are precluded from choosing the destruction of the enemy’s +military force as our object, and must prefer a bloodless solution. The +advantage which the negative effort gives may certainly lead to that, but only +at the risk of its not being the most advisable method, as that question is +dependent on totally different conditions, resting not with ourselves but with +our opponents. This other bloodless way cannot, therefore, be looked upon at +all as the natural means of satisfying our great anxiety to spare our forces; +on the contrary, when circumstances are not favourable, it would be the means +of completely ruining them. Very many Generals have fallen into this error, and +been ruined by it. The only necessary effect resulting from the superiority of +the negative effort is the delay of the decision, so that the party acting +takes refuge in that way, as it were, in the expectation of the decisive +moment. The consequence of that is generally <i>the postponement of the action</i> as +much as possible in time, and also in space, in so far as space is in +connection with it. If the moment has arrived in which this can no longer be +done without ruinous disadvantage, then the advantage of the negative must be +considered as exhausted, and then comes forward unchanged the effort for the +destruction of the enemy’s force, which was kept back by a counterpoise, +but never discarded. +</p> + +<p> +We have seen, therefore, in the foregoing reflections, that there are many ways +to the aim, that is, to the attainment of the political object; but that the +only means is the combat, and that consequently everything is subject to a +supreme law: which is the <i>decision by arms;</i> that where this is really demanded +by one, it is a redress which cannot be refused by the other; that, therefore, +a belligerent who takes any other way must make sure that his opponent will not +take this means of redress, or his cause may be lost in that supreme court; +hence therefore the destruction of the enemy’s armed force, amongst all +the objects which can be pursued in War, appears always as the one which +overrules all others. +</p> + +<p> +What may be achieved by combinations of another kind in War we shall only learn +in the sequel, and naturally only by degrees. We content ourselves here with +acknowledging in general their possibility, as something pointing to the +difference between the reality and the conception, and to the influence of +particular circumstances. But we could not avoid showing at once that the +<i>bloody solution of the crisis</i>, the effort for the destruction of the +enemy’s force, is the firstborn son of War. If when political objects are +unimportant, motives weak, the excitement of forces small, a cautious commander +tries in all kinds of ways, without great crises and bloody solutions, to twist +himself skilfully into a peace through the characteristic weaknesses of his +enemy in the field and in the Cabinet, we have no right to find fault with him, +if the premises on which he acts are well founded and justified by success; +still we must require him to remember that he only travels on forbidden tracks, +where the God of War may surprise him; that he ought always to keep his eye on +the enemy, in order that he may not have to defend himself with a dress rapier +if the enemy takes up a sharp sword. +</p> + +<p> +The consequences of the nature of War, how ends and means act in it, how in the +modifications of reality it deviates sometimes more, sometimes less, from its +strict original conception, fluctuating backwards and forwards, yet always +remaining under that strict conception as under a supreme law: all this we must +retain before us, and bear constantly in mind in the consideration of each of +the succeeding subjects, if we would rightly comprehend their true relations +and proper importance, and not become involved incessantly in the most glaring +contradictions with the reality, and at last with our own selves. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>The Genius for War</h3> + +<p> +Every special calling in life, if it is to be followed with success, requires +peculiar qualifications of understanding and soul. Where these are of a high +order, and manifest themselves by extraordinary achievements, the mind to which +they belong is termed GENIUS. +</p> + +<p> +We know very well that this word is used in many significations which are very +different both in extent and nature, and that with many of these significations +it is a very difficult task to define the essence of Genius; but as we neither +profess to be philosopher nor grammarian, we must be allowed to keep to the +meaning usual in ordinary language, and to understand by “genius” a +very high mental capacity for certain employments. +</p> + +<p> +We wish to stop for a moment over this faculty and dignity of the mind, in +order to vindicate its title, and to explain more fully the meaning of the +conception. But we shall not dwell on that (genius) which has obtained its +title through a very great talent, on genius properly so called, that is a +conception which has no defined limits. What we have to do is to bring under +consideration every common tendency of the powers of the mind and soul towards +the business of War, the whole of which common tendencies we may look upon as +the ESSENCE OF MILITARY GENIUS. We say “common,” for just therein +consists military genius, that it is not one single quality bearing upon War, +as, for instance, courage, while other qualities of mind and soul are wanting +or have a direction which is unserviceable for War, but that it is AN +HARMONIOUS ASSOCIATION OF POWERS, in which one or other may predominate, but +none must be in opposition. +</p> + +<p> +If every combatant required to be more or less endowed with military genius, +then our armies would be very weak; for as it implies a peculiar bent of the +intelligent powers, therefore it can only rarely be found where the mental +powers of a people are called into requisition and trained in many different +ways. The fewer the employments followed by a Nation, the more that of arms +predominates, so much the more prevalent will military genius also be found. +But this merely applies to its prevalence, by no means to its degree, for that +depends on the general state of intellectual culture in the country. If we look +at a wild, warlike race, then we find a warlike spirit in individuals much more +common than in a civilised people; for in the former almost every warrior +possesses it, whilst in the civilised whole, masses are only carried away by it +from necessity, never by inclination. But amongst uncivilised people we never +find a really great General, and very seldom what we can properly call a +military genius, because that requires a development of the intelligent powers +which cannot be found in an uncivilised state. That a civilised people may also +have a warlike tendency and development is a matter of course; and the more +this is general, the more frequently also will military spirit be found in +individuals in their armies. Now as this coincides in such case with the higher +degree of civilisation, therefore from such nations have issued forth the most +brilliant military exploits, as the Romans and the French have exemplified. The +greatest names in these and in all other nations that have been renowned in War +belong strictly to epochs of higher culture. +</p> + +<p> +From this we may infer how great a share the intelligent powers have in +superior military genius. We shall now look more closely into this point. +</p> + +<p> +War is the province of danger, and therefore courage above all things is the +first quality of a warrior. +</p> + +<p> +Courage is of two kinds: first, physical courage, or courage in presence of +danger to the person; and next, moral courage, or courage before +responsibility, whether it be before the judgment-seat of external authority, +or of the inner power, the conscience. We only speak here of the first. +</p> + +<p> +Courage before danger to the person, again, is of two kinds. First, it may be +indifference to danger, whether proceeding from the organism of the individual, +contempt of death, or habit: in any of these cases it is to be regarded as a +permanent condition. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, courage may proceed from positive motives, such as personal pride, +patriotism, enthusiasm of any kind. In this case courage is not so much a +normal condition as an impulse. +</p> + +<p> +We may conceive that the two kinds act differently. The first kind is more +certain, because it has become a second nature, never forsakes the man; the +second often leads him farther. In the first there is more of firmness, in the +second, of boldness. The first leaves the judgment cooler, the second raises +its power at times, but often bewilders it. The two combined make up the most +perfect kind of courage. +</p> + +<p> +War is the province of physical exertion and suffering. In order not to be +completely overcome by them, a certain strength of body and mind is required, +which, either natural or acquired, produces indifference to them. With these +qualifications, under the guidance of simply a sound understanding, a man is at +once a proper instrument for War; and these are the qualifications so generally +to be met with amongst wild and half-civilised tribes. If we go further in the +demands which War makes on it, then we find the powers of the understanding +predominating. War is the province of uncertainty: three-fourths of those +things upon which action in War must be calculated, are hidden more or less in +the clouds of great uncertainty. Here, then, above all a fine and penetrating +mind is called for, to search out the truth by the tact of its judgment. +</p> + +<p> +An average intellect may, at one time, perhaps hit upon this truth by accident; +an extraordinary courage, at another, may compensate for the want of this tact; +but in the majority of cases the average result will always bring to light the +deficient understanding. +</p> + +<p> +War is the province of chance. In no sphere of human activity is such a margin +to be left for this intruder, because none is so much in constant contact with +him on all sides. He increases the uncertainty of every circumstance, and +deranges the course of events. +</p> + +<p> +From this uncertainty of all intelligence and suppositions, this continual +interposition of chance, the actor in War constantly finds things different +from his expectations; and this cannot fail to have an influence on his plans, +or at least on the presumptions connected with these plans. If this influence +is so great as to render the pre-determined plan completely nugatory, then, as +a rule, a new one must be substituted in its place; but at the moment the +necessary data are often wanting for this, because in the course of action +circumstances press for immediate decision, and allow no time to look about for +fresh data, often not enough for mature consideration. +</p> + +<p> +But it more often happens that the correction of one premise, and the knowledge +of chance events which have arisen, are not sufficient to overthrow our plans +completely, but only suffice to produce hesitation. Our knowledge of +circumstances has increased, but our uncertainty, instead of having diminished, +has only increased. The reason of this is, that we do not gain all our +experience at once, but by degrees; thus our determinations continue to be +assailed incessantly by fresh experience; and the mind, if we may use the +expression, must always be “under arms.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, if it is to get safely through this perpetual conflict with the +unexpected, two qualities are indispensable: in the first place an intellect +which, even in the midst of this intense obscurity, is not without some traces +of inner light, which lead to the truth, and then the courage to follow this +faint light. The first is figuratively expressed by the French phrase <i>coup +d’œil</i>. The other is <i>resolution</i>. As the battle is the feature in War to +which attention was originally chiefly directed, and as time and space are +important elements in it, more particularly when cavalry with their rapid +decisions were the chief arm, the idea of rapid and correct decision related in +the first instance to the estimation of these two elements, and to denote the +idea an expression was adopted which actually only points to a correct judgment +by eye. Many teachers of the Art of War then gave this limited signification as +the definition of <i>coup d’œil</i>. But it is undeniable that all able +decisions formed in the moment of action soon came to be understood by the +expression, as, for instance, the hitting upon the right point of attack, +&c. It is, therefore, not only the physical, but more frequently the mental +eye which is meant in <i>coup d’œil</i>. Naturally, the expression, like the +thing, is always more in its place in the field of tactics: still, it must not +be wanting in strategy, inasmuch as in it rapid decisions are often necessary. +If we strip this conception of that which the expression has given it of the +over-figurative and restricted, then it amounts simply to the rapid discovery +of a truth which to the ordinary mind is either not visible at all or only +becomes so after long examination and reflection. +</p> + +<p> +Resolution is an act of courage in single instances, and if it becomes a +characteristic trait, it is a habit of the mind. But here we do not mean +courage in face of bodily danger, but in face of responsibility, therefore, to +a certain extent against moral danger. This has been often called <i>courage +d’esprit</i>, on the ground that it springs from the understanding; +nevertheless, it is no act of the understanding on that account; it is an act +of feeling. Mere intelligence is still not courage, for we often see the +cleverest people devoid of resolution. The mind must, therefore, first awaken +the feeling of courage, and then be guided and supported by it, because in +momentary emergencies the man is swayed more by his feelings than his thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +We have assigned to resolution the office of removing the torments of doubt, +and the dangers of delay, when there are no sufficient motives for guidance. +Through the unscrupulous use of language which is prevalent, this term is often +applied to the mere propensity to daring, to bravery, boldness, or temerity. +But, when there are <i>sufficient motives</i> in the man, let them be objective or +subjective, true or false, we have no right to speak of his resolution; for, +when we do so, we put ourselves in his place, and we throw into the scale +doubts which did not exist with him. +</p> + +<p> +Here there is no question of anything but of strength and weakness. We are not +pedantic enough to dispute with the use of language about this little +misapplication, our observation is only intended to remove wrong objections. +</p> + +<p> +This resolution now, which overcomes the state of doubting, can only be called +forth by the intellect, and, in fact, by a peculiar tendency of the same. We +maintain that the mere union of a superior understanding and the necessary +feelings are not sufficient to make up resolution. There are persons who +possess the keenest perception for the most difficult problems, who are also +not fearful of responsibility, and yet in cases of difficulty cannot come to a +resolution. Their courage and their sagacity operate independently of each +other, do not give each other a hand, and on that account do not produce +resolution as a result. The forerunner of resolution is an act of the mind +making evident the necessity of venturing, and thus influencing the will. This +quite peculiar direction of the mind, which conquers every other fear in man by +the fear of wavering or doubting, is what makes up resolution in strong minds; +therefore, in our opinion, men who have little intelligence can never be +resolute. They may act without hesitation under perplexing circumstances, but +then they act without reflection. Now, of course, when a man acts without +reflection he cannot be at variance with himself by doubts, and such a mode of +action may now and then lead to the right point; but we say now as before, it +is the average result which indicates the existence of military genius. Should +our assertion appear extraordinary to any one, because he knows many a resolute +hussar officer who is no deep thinker, we must remind him that the question +here is about a peculiar direction of the mind, and not about great thinking +powers. +</p> + +<p> +We believe, therefore, that resolution is indebted to a special direction of +the mind for its existence, a direction which belongs to a strong head rather +than to a brilliant one. In corroboration of this genealogy of resolution we +may add that there have been many instances of men who have shown the greatest +resolution in an inferior rank, and have lost it in a higher position. While, +on the one hand, they are obliged to resolve, on the other they see the dangers +of a wrong decision, and as they are surrounded with things new to them, their +understanding loses its original force, and they become only the more timid the +more they become aware of the danger of the irresolution into which they have +fallen, and the more they have formerly been in the habit of acting on the spur +of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +From the <i>coup d’œil</i> and resolution we are naturally to speak of its +kindred quality, <i>presence of mind</i>, which in a region of the unexpected like War +must act a great part, for it is indeed nothing but a great conquest over the +unexpected. As we admire presence of mind in a pithy answer to anything said +unexpectedly, so we admire it in a ready expedient on sudden danger. Neither +the answer nor the expedient need be in themselves extraordinary, if they only +hit the point; for that which as the result of mature reflection would be +nothing unusual, therefore insignificant in its impression on us, may as an +instantaneous act of the mind produce a pleasing impression. The expression +“presence of mind” certainly denotes very fitly the readiness and +rapidity of the help rendered by the mind. +</p> + +<p> +Whether this noble quality of a man is to be ascribed more to the peculiarity +of his mind or to the equanimity of his feelings, depends on the nature of the +case, although neither of the two can be entirely wanting. A telling repartee +bespeaks rather a ready wit, a ready expedient on sudden danger implies more +particularly a well-balanced mind. +</p> + +<p> +If we take a general view of the four elements composing the atmosphere in +which War moves, of <i>danger, physical effort, uncertainty</i>, and <i>chance</i>, it is +easy to conceive that a great force of mind and understanding is requisite to +be able to make way with safety and success amongst such opposing elements, a +force which, according to the different modifications arising out of +circumstances, we find termed by military writers and annalists as <i>energy, +firmness, staunchness, strength of mind and character</i>. All these manifestations +of the heroic nature might be regarded as one and the same power of volition, +modified according to circumstances; but nearly related as these things are to +each other, still they are not one and the same, and it is desirable for us to +distinguish here a little more closely at least the action of the powers of the +soul in relation to them. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, to make the conception clear, it is essential to observe +that the weight, burden, resistance, or whatever it may be called, by which +that force of the soul in the General is brought to light, is only in a very +small measure the enemy’s activity, the enemy’s resistance, the +enemy’s action directly. The enemy’s activity only affects the +General directly in the first place in relation to his person, without +disturbing his action as Commander. If the enemy, instead of two hours, resists +for four, the Commander instead of two hours is four hours in danger; this is a +quantity which plainly diminishes the higher the rank of the Commander. What is +it for one in the post of Commander-in-Chief? It is nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, although the opposition offered by the enemy has a direct effect on +the Commander through the loss of means arising from prolonged resistance, and +the responsibility connected with that loss, and his force of will is first +tested and called forth by these anxious considerations, still we maintain that +this is not the heaviest burden by far which he has to bear, because he has +only himself to settle with. All the other effects of the enemy’s +resistance act directly upon the combatants under his command, and through them +react upon him. +</p> + +<p> +As long as his men full of good courage fight with zeal and spirit, it is +seldom necessary for the Chief to show great energy of purpose in the pursuit +of his object. But as soon as difficulties arise—and that must always +happen when great results are at stake—then things no longer move on of +themselves like a well-oiled machine, the machine itself then begins to offer +resistance, and to overcome this the Commander must have a great force of will. +By this resistance we must not exactly suppose disobedience and murmurs, +although these are frequent enough with particular individuals; it is the whole +feeling of the dissolution of all physical and moral power, it is the +heartrending sight of the bloody sacrifice which the Commander has to contend +with in himself, and then in all others who directly or indirectly transfer to +him their impressions, feelings, anxieties, and desires. As the forces in one +individual after another become prostrated, and can no longer be excited and +supported by an effort of his own will, the whole inertia of the mass gradually +rests its weight on the Will of the Commander: by the spark in his breast, by +the light of his spirit, the spark of purpose, the light of hope, must be +kindled afresh in others: in so far only as he is equal to this, he stands +above the masses and continues to be their master; whenever that influence +ceases, and his own spirit is no longer strong enough to revive the spirit of +all others, the masses drawing him down with them sink into the lower region of +animal nature, which shrinks from danger and knows not shame. These are the +weights which the courage and intelligent faculties of the military Commander +have to overcome if he is to make his name illustrious. They increase with the +masses, and therefore, if the forces in question are to continue equal to the +burden, they must rise in proportion to the height of the station. +</p> + +<p> +Energy in action expresses the strength of the motive through which the action +is excited, let the motive have its origin in a conviction of the +understanding, or in an impulse. But the latter can hardly ever be wanting +where great force is to show itself. +</p> + +<p> +Of all the noble feelings which fill the human heart in the exciting tumult of +battle, none, we must admit, are so powerful and constant as the soul’s +thirst for honour and renown, which the German language treats so unfairly and +tends to depreciate by the unworthy associations in the words <i>Ehrgeiz</i> (greed of +honour) and <i>Ruhmsucht</i> (hankering after glory). No doubt it is just in War that +the abuse of these proud aspirations of the soul must bring upon the human race +the most shocking outrages, but by their origin they are certainly to be +counted amongst the noblest feelings which belong to human nature, and in War +they are the vivifying principle which gives the enormous body a spirit. +Although other feelings may be more general in their influence, and many of +them—such as love of country, fanaticism, revenge, enthusiasm of every +kind—may seem to stand higher, the thirst for honour and renown still +remains indispensable. Those other feelings may rouse the great masses in +general, and excite them more powerfully, but they do not give the Leader a +desire to will more than others, which is an essential requisite in his +position if he is to make himself distinguished in it. They do not, like a +thirst for honour, make the military act specially the property of the Leader, +which he strives to turn to the best account; where he ploughs with toil, sows +with care, that he may reap plentifully. It is through these aspirations we +have been speaking of in Commanders, from the highest to the lowest, this sort +of energy, this spirit of emulation, these incentives, that the action of +armies is chiefly animated and made successful. And now as to that which +specially concerns the head of all, we ask, Has there ever been a great +Commander destitute of the love of honour, or is such a character even +conceivable? +</p> + +<p> +<i>Firmness</i> denotes the resistance of the will in relation to the force of a +single blow, <i>staunchness</i> in relation to a continuance of blows. Close as is the +analogy between the two, and often as the one is used in place of the other, +still there is a notable difference between them which cannot be mistaken, +inasmuch as firmness against a single powerful impression may have its root in +the mere strength of a feeling, but staunchness must be supported rather by the +understanding, for the greater the duration of an action the more systematic +deliberation is connected with it, and from this staunchness partly derives its +power. +</p> + +<p> +If we now turn to <i>strength of mind or soul</i>, then the first question is, What +are we to understand thereby? +</p> + +<p> +Plainly it is not vehement expressions of feeling, nor easily excited passions, +for that would be contrary to all the usage of language, but the power of +listening to reason in the midst of the most intense excitement, in the storm +of the most violent passions. Should this power depend on strength of +understanding alone? We doubt it. The fact that there are men of the greatest +intellect who cannot command themselves certainly proves nothing to the +contrary, for we might say that it perhaps requires an understanding of a +powerful rather than of a comprehensive nature; but we believe we shall be +nearer the truth if we assume that the power of submitting oneself to the +control of the understanding, even in moments of the most violent excitement of +the feelings, that power which we call <i>self-command</i>, has its root in the heart +itself. It is, in point of fact, another feeling, which in strong minds +balances the excited passions without destroying them; and it is only through +this equilibrium that the mastery of the understanding is secured. This +counterpoise is nothing but a sense of the dignity of man, that noblest pride, +that deeply-seated desire of the soul always to act as a being endued with +understanding and reason. We may therefore say that a strong mind is one which +does not lose its balance even under the most violent excitement. +</p> + +<p> +If we cast a glance at the variety to be observed in the human character in +respect to feeling, we find, first, some people who have very little +excitability, who are called phlegmatic or indolent. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, some very excitable, but whose feelings still never overstep certain +limits, and who are therefore known as men full of feeling, but sober-minded. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, those who are very easily roused, whose feelings blaze up quickly and +violently like gunpowder, but do not last. +</p> + +<p> +Fourthly, and lastly, those who cannot be moved by slight causes, and who +generally are not to be roused suddenly, but only gradually; but whose feelings +become very powerful and are much more lasting. These are men with strong +passions, lying deep and latent. +</p> + +<p> +This difference of character lies probably close on the confines of the +physical powers which move the human organism, and belongs to that amphibious +organisation which we call the nervous system, which appears to be partly +material, partly spiritual. With our weak philosophy, we shall not proceed +further in this mysterious field. But it is important for us to spend a moment +over the effects which these different natures have on, action in War, and to +see how far a great strength of mind is to be expected from them. +</p> + +<p> +Indolent men cannot easily be thrown out of their equanimity, but we cannot +certainly say there is strength of mind where there is a want of all +manifestation of power. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, it is not to be denied that such men have a certain peculiar +aptitude for War, on account of their constant equanimity. They often want the +positive motive to action, impulse, and consequently activity, but they are not +apt to throw things into disorder. +</p> + +<p> +The peculiarity of the second class is that they are easily excited to act on +trifling grounds, but in great matters they are easily overwhelmed. Men of this +kind show great activity in helping an unfortunate individual, but by the +distress of a whole Nation they are only inclined to despond, not roused to +action. +</p> + +<p> +Such people are not deficient in either activity or equanimity in War; but they +will never accomplish anything great unless a great intellectual force +furnishes the motive, and it is very seldom that a strong, independent mind is +combined with such a character. +</p> + +<p> +Excitable, inflammable feelings are in themselves little suited for practical +life, and therefore they are not very fit for War. They have certainly the +advantage of strong impulses, but that cannot long sustain them. At the same +time, if the excitability in such men takes the direction of courage, or a +sense of honour, they may often be very useful in inferior positions in War, +because the action in War over which commanders in inferior positions have +control is generally of shorter duration. Here one courageous resolution, one +effervescence of the forces of the soul, will often suffice. A brave attack, a +soul-stirring hurrah, is the work of a few moments, whilst a brave contest on +the battle-field is the work of a day, and a campaign the work of a year. +</p> + +<p> +Owing to the rapid movement of their feelings, it is doubly difficult for men +of this description to preserve equilibrium of the mind; therefore they +frequently lose head, and that is the worst phase in their nature as respects +the conduct of War. But it would be contrary to experience to maintain that +very excitable spirits can never preserve a steady equilibrium—that is to +say, that they cannot do so even under the strongest excitement. Why should +they not have the sentiment of self-respect, for, as a rule, they are men of a +noble nature? This feeling is seldom wanting in them, but it has not time to +produce an effect. After an outburst they suffer most from a feeling of inward +humiliation. If through education, self-observance, and experience of life, +they have learned, sooner or later, the means of being on their guard, so that +at the moment of powerful excitement they are conscious betimes of the +counteracting force within their own breasts, then even such men may have great +strength of mind. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, those who are difficult to move, but on that account susceptible of +very deep feelings, men who stand in the same relation to the preceding as red +heat to a flame, are the best adapted by means of their Titanic strength to +roll away the enormous masses by which we may figuratively represent the +difficulties which beset command in War. The effect of their feelings is like +the movement of a great body, slower, but more irresistible. +</p> + +<p> +Although such men are not so likely to be suddenly surprised by their feelings +and carried away so as to be afterwards ashamed of themselves, like the +preceding, still it would be contrary to experience to believe that they can +never lose their equanimity, or be overcome by blind passion; on the contrary, +this must always happen whenever the noble pride of self-control is wanting, or +as often as it has not sufficient weight. We see examples of this most +frequently in men of noble minds belonging to savage nations, where the low +degree of mental cultivation favours always the dominance of the passions. But +even amongst the most civilised classes in civilised States, life is full of +examples of this kind—of men carried away by the violence of their +passions, like the poacher of old chained to the stag in the forest. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore say once more a strong mind is not one that is merely susceptible +of strong excitement, but one which can maintain its serenity under the most +powerful excitement, so that, in spite of the storm in the breast, the +perception and judgment can act with perfect freedom, like the needle of the +compass in the storm-tossed ship. +</p> + +<p> +By the term <i>strength of character</i>, or simply <i>character</i>, is denoted tenacity of +conviction, let it be the result of our own or of others’ views, and +whether they are principles, opinions, momentary inspirations, or any kind of +emanations of the understanding; but this kind of firmness certainly cannot +manifest itself if the views themselves are subject to frequent change. This +frequent change need not be the consequence of external influences; it may +proceed from the continuous activity of our own mind, in which case it +indicates a characteristic unsteadiness of mind. Evidently we should not say of +a man who changes his views every moment, however much the motives of change +may originate with himself, that he has character. Only those men, therefore, +can be said to have this quality whose conviction is very constant, either +because it is deeply rooted and clear in itself, little liable to alteration, +or because, as in the case of indolent men, there is a want of mental activity, +and therefore a want of motives to change; or lastly, because an explicit act +of the will, derived from an imperative maxim of the understanding, refuses any +change of opinion up to a certain point. +</p> + +<p> +Now in War, owing to the many and powerful impressions to which the mind is +exposed, and in the uncertainty of all knowledge and of all science, more +things occur to distract a man from the road he has entered upon, to make him +doubt himself and others, than in any other human activity. +</p> + +<p> +The harrowing sight of danger and suffering easily leads to the feelings +gaining ascendency over the conviction of the understanding; and in the +twilight which surrounds everything a deep clear view is so difficult that a +change of opinion is more conceivable and more pardonable. It is, at all times, +only conjecture or guesses at truth which we have to act upon. This is why +differences of opinion are nowhere so great as in War, and the stream of +impressions acting counter to one’s own convictions never ceases to flow. +Even the greatest impassibility of mind is hardly proof against them, because +the impressions are powerful in their nature, and always act at the same time +upon the feelings. +</p> + +<p> +When the discernment is clear and deep, none but general principles and views +of action from a high standpoint can be the result; and on these principles the +opinion in each particular case immediately under consideration lies, as it +were, at anchor. But to keep to these results of bygone reflection, in +opposition to the stream of opinions and phenomena which the present brings +with it, is just the difficulty. Between the particular case and the principle +there is often a wide space which cannot always be traversed on a visible chain +of conclusions, and where a certain faith in self is necessary and a certain +amount of scepticism is serviceable. Here often nothing else will help us but +an imperative maxim which, independent of reflection, at once controls it: that +maxim is, in all doubtful cases to adhere to the first opinion, and not to give +it up until a clear conviction forces us to do so. We must firmly believe in +the superior authority of well-tried maxims, and under the dazzling influence +of momentary events not forget that their value is of an inferior stamp. By +this preference which in doubtful cases we give to first convictions, by +adherence to the same our actions acquire that stability and consistency which +make up what is called character. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to see how essential a well-balanced mind is to strength of +character; therefore men of strong minds generally have a great deal of +character. +</p> + +<p> +Force of character leads us to a spurious variety of it—OBSTINACY. +</p> + +<p> +It is often very difficult in concrete cases to say where the one ends and the +other begins; on the other hand, it does not seem difficult to determine the +difference in idea. +</p> + +<p> +Obstinacy is no fault of the understanding; we use the term as denoting a +resistance against our better judgment, and it would be inconsistent to charge +that to the understanding, as the understanding is the power of judgment. +Obstinacy is A FAULT OF THE FEELINGS or heart. This inflexibility of will, this +impatience of contradiction, have their origin only in a particular kind of +egotism, which sets above every other pleasure that of governing both self and +others by its own mind alone. We should call it a kind of vanity, were it not +decidedly something better. Vanity is satisfied with mere show, but obstinacy +rests upon the enjoyment of the thing. +</p> + +<p> +We say, therefore, force of character degenerates into obstinacy whenever the +resistance to opposing judgments proceeds not from better convictions or a +reliance upon a trustworthy maxim, but from a feeling of opposition. If this +definition, as we have already admitted, is of little assistance practically, +still it will prevent obstinacy from being considered merely force of character +intensified, whilst it is something essentially different—something which +certainly lies close to it and is cognate to it, but is at the same time so +little an intensification of it that there are very obstinate men who from want +of understanding have very little force of character. +</p> + +<p> +Having in these high attributes of a great military Commander made ourselves +acquainted with those qualities in which heart and head co-operate, we now come +to a speciality of military activity which perhaps may be looked upon as the +most marked if it is not the most important, and which only makes a demand on +the power of the mind without regard to the forces of feelings. It is the +connection which exists between War and country or ground. +</p> + +<p> +This connection is, in the first place, a permanent condition of War, for it is +impossible to imagine our organised Armies effecting any operation otherwise +than in some given space; it is, secondly, of the most decisive importance, +because it modifies, at times completely alters, the action of all forces; +thirdly, while on the one hand it often concerns the most minute features of +locality, on the other it may apply to immense tracts of country. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner a great peculiarity is given to the effect of this connection of +War with country and ground. If we think of other occupations of man which have +a relation to these objects, on horticulture, agriculture, on building houses +and hydraulic works, on mining, on the chase, and forestry, they are all +confined within very limited spaces which may be soon explored with sufficient +exactness. But the Commander in War must commit the business he has in hand to +a corresponding space which his eye cannot survey, which the keenest zeal +cannot always explore, and with which, owing to the constant changes taking +place, he can also seldom become properly acquainted. Certainly the enemy +generally is in the same situation; still, in the first place, the difficulty, +although common to both, is not the less a difficulty, and he who by talent and +practice overcomes it will have a great advantage on his side; secondly, this +equality of the difficulty on both sides is merely an abstract supposition +which is rarely realised in the particular case, as one of the two opponents +(the defensive) usually knows much more of the locality than his adversary. +</p> + +<p> +This very peculiar difficulty must be overcome by a natural mental gift of a +special kind which is known by the—too restricted—term of <i>Ortsinn</i> +sense of locality. It is the power of quickly forming a correct geometrical +idea of any portion of country, and consequently of being able to find +one’s place in it exactly at any time. This is plainly an act of the +imagination. The perception no doubt is formed partly by means of the physical +eye, partly by the mind, which fills up what is wanting with ideas derived from +knowledge and experience, and out of the fragments visible to the physical eye +forms a whole; but that this whole should present itself vividly to the reason, +should become a picture, a mentally drawn map, that this picture should be +fixed, that the details should never again separate themselves—all that +can only be effected by the mental faculty which we call imagination. If some +great poet or painter should feel hurt that we require from his goddess such an +office; if he shrugs his shoulders at the notion that a sharp gamekeeper must +necessarily excel in imagination, we readily grant that we only speak here of +imagination in a limited sense, of its service in a really menial capacity. +But, however slight this service, still it must be the work of that natural +gift, for if that gift is wanting, it would be difficult to imagine things +plainly in all the completeness of the visible. That a good memory is a great +assistance we freely allow, but whether memory is to be considered as an +independent faculty of the mind in this case, or whether it is just that power +of imagination which here fixes these things better on the memory, we leave +undecided, as in many respects it seems difficult upon the whole to conceive +these two mental powers apart from each other. +</p> + +<p> +That practice and mental acuteness have much to do with it is not to be denied. +Puysegur, the celebrated Quartermaster-General of the famous Luxemburg, used to +say that he had very little confidence in himself in this respect at first, +because if he had to fetch the <i>parole</i> from a distance he always lost his way. +</p> + +<p> +It is natural that scope for the exercise of this talent should increase along +with rank. If the hussar and rifleman in command of a patrol must know well all +the highways and byways, and if for that a few marks, a few limited powers of +observation, are sufficient, the Chief of an Army must make himself familiar +with the general geographical features of a province and of a country; must +always have vividly before his eyes the direction of the roads, rivers, and +hills, without at the same time being able to dispense with the narrower +“sense of locality” (<i>Ortsinn</i>). No doubt, information of various kinds +as to objects in general, maps, books, memoirs, and for details the assistance +of his Staff, are a great help to him; but it is nevertheless certain that if +he has himself a talent for forming an ideal picture of a country quickly and +distinctly, it lends to his action an easier and firmer step, saves him from a +certain mental helplessness, and makes him less dependent on others. +</p> + +<p> +If this talent then is to be ascribed to imagination, it is also almost the +only service which military activity requires from that erratic goddess, whose +influence is more hurtful than useful in other respects. +</p> + +<p> +We think we have now passed in review those manifestations of the powers of +mind and soul which military activity requires from human nature. Everywhere +intellect appears as an essential co-operative force; and thus we can +understand how the work of War, although so plain and simple in its effects, +can never be conducted with distinguished success by people without +distinguished powers of the understanding. +</p> + +<p> +When we have reached this view, then we need no longer look upon such a natural +idea as the turning an enemy’s position, which has been done a thousand +times, and a hundred other similar conceptions, as the result of a great effort +of genius. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly one is accustomed to regard the plain honest soldier as the very +opposite of the man of reflection, full of inventions and ideas, or of the +brilliant spirit shining in the ornaments of refined education of every kind. +This antithesis is also by no means devoid of truth; but it does not show that +the efficiency of the soldier consists only in his courage, and that there is +no particular energy and capacity of the brain required in addition to make a +man merely what is called a true soldier. We must again repeat that there is +nothing more common than to hear of men losing their energy on being raised to +a higher position, to which they do not feel themselves equal; but we must also +remind our readers that we are speaking of pre-eminent services, of such as +give renown in the branch of activity to which they belong. Each grade of +command in War therefore forms its own stratum of requisite capacity of fame +and honour. +</p> + +<p> +An immense space lies between a General—that is, one at the head of a +whole War, or of a theatre of War—and his Second in Command, for the +simple reason that the latter is in more immediate subordination to a superior +authority and supervision, consequently is restricted to a more limited sphere +of independent thought. This is why common opinion sees no room for the +exercise of high talent except in high places, and looks upon an ordinary +capacity as sufficient for all beneath: this is why people are rather inclined +to look upon a subordinate General grown grey in the service, and in whom +constant discharge of routine duties has produced a decided poverty of mind, as +a man of failing intellect, and, with all respect for his bravery, to laugh at +his simplicity. It is not our object to gain for these brave men a better +lot—that would contribute nothing to their efficiency, and little to +their happiness; we only wish to represent things as they are, and to expose +the error of believing that a mere bravo without intellect can make himself +distinguished in War. +</p> + +<p> +As we consider distinguished talents requisite for those who are to attain +distinction, even in inferior positions, it naturally follows that we think +highly of those who fill with renown the place of Second in Command of an Army; +and their seeming simplicity of character as compared with a polyhistor, with +ready men of business, or with councillors of state, must not lead us astray as +to the superior nature of their intellectual activity. It happens sometimes +that men import the fame gained in an inferior position into a higher one, +without in reality deserving it in the new position; and then if they are not +much employed, and therefore not much exposed to the risk of showing their weak +points, the judgment does not distinguish very exactly what degree of fame is +really due to them; and thus such men are often the occasion of too low an +estimate being formed of the characteristics required to shine in certain +situations. +</p> + +<p> +For each station, from the lowest upwards, to render distinguished services in +War, there must be a particular genius. But the title of genius, history and +the judgment of posterity only confer, in general, on those minds which have +shone in the highest rank, that of Commanders-in-Chief. The reason is that +here, in point of fact, the demand on the reasoning and intellectual powers +generally is much greater. +</p> + +<p> +To conduct a whole War, or its great acts, which we call campaigns, to a +successful termination, there must be an intimate knowledge of State policy in +its higher relations. The conduct of the War and the policy of the State here +coincide, and the General becomes at the same time the Statesman. +</p> + +<p> +We do not give Charles XII. the name of a great genius, because he could not +make the power of his sword subservient to a higher judgment and +philosophy—could not attain by it to a glorious object. We do not give +that title to Henry IV. (of France), because he did not live long enough to set +at rest the relations of different States by his military activity, and to +occupy himself in that higher field where noble feelings and a chivalrous +disposition have less to do in mastering the enemy than in overcoming internal +dissension. +</p> + +<p> +In order that the reader may appreciate all that must be comprehended and +judged of correctly at a glance by a General, we refer to the first chapter. We +say the General becomes a Statesman, but he must not cease to be the General. +He takes into view all the relations of the State on the one hand; on the +other, he must know exactly what he can do with the means at his disposal. +</p> + +<p> +As the diversity, and undefined limits, of all the circumstances bring a great +number of factors into consideration in War, as the most of these factors can +only be estimated according to probability, therefore, if the Chief of an Army +does not bring to bear upon them a mind with an intuitive perception of the +truth, a confusion of ideas and views must take place, in the midst of which +the judgment will become bewildered. In this sense, Buonaparte was right when +he said that many of the questions which come before a General for decision +would make problems for a mathematical calculation not unworthy of the powers +of Newton or Euler. +</p> + +<p> +What is here required from the higher powers of the mind is a sense of unity, +and a judgment raised to such a compass as to give the mind an extraordinary +faculty of vision which in its range allays and sets aside a thousand dim +notions which an ordinary understanding could only bring to light with great +effort, and over which it would exhaust itself. But this higher activity of the +mind, this glance of genius, would still not become matter of history if the +qualities of temperament and character of which we have treated did not give it +their support. +</p> + +<p> +Truth alone is but a weak motive of action with men, and hence there is always +a great difference between knowing and action, between science and art. The man +receives the strongest impulse to action through the feelings, and the most +powerful succour, if we may use the expression, through those faculties of +heart and mind which we have considered under the terms of resolution, +firmness, perseverance, and force of character. +</p> + +<p> +If, however, this elevated condition of heart and mind in the General did not +manifest itself in the general effects resulting from it, and could only be +accepted on trust and faith, then it would rarely become matter of history. +</p> + +<p> +All that becomes known of the course of events in War is usually very simple, +and has a great sameness in appearance; no one on the mere relation of such +events perceives the difficulties connected with them which had to be overcome. +It is only now and again, in the memoirs of Generals or of those in their +confidence, or by reason of some special historical inquiry directed to a +particular circumstance, that a portion of the many threads composing the whole +web is brought to light. The reflections, mental doubts, and conflicts which +precede the execution of great acts are purposely concealed because they affect +political interests, or the recollection of them is accidentally lost because +they have been looked upon as mere scaffolding which had to be removed on the +completion of the building. +</p> + +<p> +If, now, in conclusion, without venturing upon a closer definition of the +higher powers of the soul, we should admit a distinction in the intelligent +faculties themselves according to the common ideas established by language, and +ask ourselves what kind of mind comes closest to military genius, then a look +at the subject as well as at experience will tell us that searching rather than +inventive minds, comprehensive minds rather than such as have a special bent, +cool rather than fiery heads, are those to which in time of War we should +prefer to trust the welfare of our women and children, the honour and the +safety of our fatherland. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>Of Danger in War</h3> + +<p> +Usually before we have learnt what danger really is, we form an idea of it +which is rather attractive than repulsive. In the intoxication of enthusiasm, +to fall upon the enemy at the charge—who cares then about bullets and men +falling? To throw oneself, blinded by excitement for a moment, against cold +death, uncertain whether we or another shall escape him, and all this close to +the golden gate of victory, close to the rich fruit which ambition thirsts +for—can this be difficult? It will not be difficult, and still less will +it appear so. But such moments, which, however, are not the work of a single +pulse-beat, as is supposed, but rather like doctors’ draughts, must be +taken diluted and spoilt by mixture with time—such moments, we say, are +but few. +</p> + +<p> +Let us accompany the novice to the battle-field. As we approach, the thunder of +the cannon becoming plainer and plainer is soon followed by the howling of +shot, which attracts the attention of the inexperienced. Balls begin to strike +the ground close to us, before and behind. We hasten to the hill where stands +the General and his numerous Staff. Here the close striking of the cannon balls +and the bursting of shells is so frequent that the seriousness of life makes +itself visible through the youthful picture of imagination. Suddenly some one +known to us falls—a shell strikes amongst the crowd and causes some +involuntary movements—we begin to feel that we are no longer perfectly at +ease and collected; even the bravest is at least to some degree confused. Now, +a step farther into the battle which is raging before us like a scene in a +theatre, we get to the nearest General of Division; here ball follows ball, and +the noise of our own guns increases the confusion. From the General of Division +to the Brigadier. He, a man of acknowledged bravery, keeps carefully behind a +rising ground, a house, or a tree—a sure sign of increasing danger. Grape +rattles on the roofs of the houses and in the fields; cannon balls howl over +us, and plough the air in all directions, and soon there is a frequent +whistling of musket balls. A step farther towards the troops, to that sturdy +infantry which for hours has maintained its firmness under this heavy fire; +here the air is filled with the hissing of balls which announce their proximity +by a short sharp noise as they pass within an inch of the ear, the head, or the +breast. +</p> + +<p> +To add to all this, compassion strikes the beating heart with pity at the sight +of the maimed and fallen. The young soldier cannot reach any of these different +strata of danger without feeling that the light of reason does not move here in +the same medium, that it is not refracted in the same manner as in speculative +contemplation. Indeed, he must be a very extraordinary man who, under these +impressions for the first time, does not lose the power of making any +instantaneous decisions. It is true that habit soon blunts such impressions; in +half in hour we begin to be more or less indifferent to all that is going on +around us: but an ordinary character never attains to complete coolness and the +natural elasticity of mind; and so we perceive that here again ordinary +qualities will not suffice—a thing which gains truth, the wider the +sphere of activity which is to be filled. Enthusiastic, stoical, natural +bravery, great ambition, or also long familiarity with danger—much of all +this there must be if all the effects produced in this resistant medium are not +to fall far short of that which in the student’s chamber may appear only +the ordinary standard. +</p> + +<p> +Danger in War belongs to its friction; a correct idea of its influence is +necessary for truth of perception, and therefore it is brought under notice +here. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Of Bodily Exertion in War</h3> + +<p> +If no one were allowed to pass an opinion on the events of War, except at a +moment when he is benumbed by frost, sinking from heat and thirst, or dying +with hunger and fatigue, we should certainly have fewer judgments correct +<i>objectively;</i> but they would be so, <i>subjectively</i>, at least; that is, they would +contain in themselves the exact relation between the person giving the judgment +and the object. We can perceive this by observing how modestly subdued, even +spiritless and desponding, is the opinion passed upon the results of untoward +events by those who have been eye-witnesses, but especially if they have been +parties concerned. This is, according to our view, a criterion of the influence +which bodily fatigue exercises, and of the allowance to be made for it in +matters of opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst the many things in War for which no tariff can be fixed, bodily effort +may be specially reckoned. Provided there is no waste, it is a coefficient of +all the forces, and no one can tell exactly to what extent it may be carried. +But what is remarkable is, that just as only a strong arm enables the archer to +stretch the bowstring to the utmost extent, so also in War it is only by means +of a great directing spirit that we can expect the full power latent in the +troops to be developed. For it is one thing if an Army, in consequence of great +misfortunes, surrounded with danger, falls all to pieces like a wall that has +been thrown down, and can only find safety in the utmost exertion of its bodily +strength; it is another thing entirely when a victorious Army, drawn on by +proud feelings only, is conducted at the will of its Chief. The same effort +which in the one case might at most excite our pity must in the other call +forth our admiration, because it is much more difficult to sustain. +</p> + +<p> +By this comes to light for the inexperienced eye one of those things which put +fetters in the dark, as it were, on the action of the mind, and wear out in +secret the powers of the soul. +</p> + +<p> +Although here the question is strictly only respecting the extreme effort +required by a Commander from his Army, by a leader from his followers, +therefore of the spirit to demand it and of the art of getting it, still the +personal physical exertion of Generals and of the Chief Commander must not be +overlooked. Having brought the analysis of War conscientiously up to this +point, we could not but take account also of the weight of this small remaining +residue. +</p> + +<p> +We have spoken here of bodily effort, chiefly because, like danger, it belongs +to the fundamental causes of friction, and because its indefinite quantity +makes it like an elastic body, the friction of which is well known to be +difficult to calculate. +</p> + +<p> +To check the abuse of these considerations, of such a survey of things which +aggravate the difficulties of War, nature has given our judgment a guide in our +sensibilities, just as an individual cannot with advantage refer to his +personal deficiencies if he is insulted and ill-treated, but may well do so if +he has successfully repelled the affront, or has fully revenged it, so no +Commander or Army will lessen the impression of a disgraceful defeat by +depicting the danger, the distress, the exertions, things which would immensely +enhance the glory of a victory. Thus our feeling, which after all is only a +higher kind of judgment, forbids us to do what seems an act of justice to which +our judgment would be inclined. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>Information in War</h3> + +<p> +By the word “information” we denote all the knowledge which we have +of the enemy and his country; therefore, in fact, the foundation of all our +ideas and actions. Let us just consider the nature of this foundation, its want +of trustworthiness, its changefulness, and we shall soon feel what a dangerous +edifice War is, how easily it may fall to pieces and bury us in its ruins. For +although it is a maxim in all books that we should trust only certain +information, that we must be always suspicious, that is only a miserable book +comfort, belonging to that description of knowledge in which writers of systems +and compendiums take refuge for want of anything better to say. +</p> + +<p> +Great part of the information obtained in War is contradictory, a still greater +part is false, and by far the greatest part is of a doubtful character. What is +required of an officer is a certain power of discrimination, which only +knowledge of men and things and good judgment can give. The law of probability +must be his guide. This is not a trifling difficulty even in respect of the +first plans, which can be formed in the chamber outside the real sphere of War, +but it is enormously increased when in the thick of War itself one report +follows hard upon the heels of another; it is then fortunate if these reports +in contradicting each other show a certain balance of probability, and thus +themselves call forth a scrutiny. It is much worse for the inexperienced when +accident does not render him this service, but one report supports another, +confirms it, magnifies it, finishes off the picture with fresh touches of +colour, until necessity in urgent haste forces from us a resolution which will +soon be discovered to be folly, all those reports having been lies, +exaggerations, errors, &c. &c. In a few words, most reports are false, +and the timidity of men acts as a multiplier of lies and untruths. As a general +rule, every one is more inclined to lend credence to the bad than the good. +Every one is inclined to magnify the bad in some measure, and although the +alarms which are thus propagated like the waves of the sea subside into +themselves, still, like them, without any apparent cause they rise again. Firm +in reliance on his own better convictions, the Chief must stand like a rock +against which the sea breaks its fury in vain. The <i>rôle</i> is not easy; he who is +not by nature of a buoyant disposition, or trained by experience in War, and +matured in judgment, may let it be his rule to do violence to his own natural +conviction by inclining from the side of fear to that of hope; only by that +means will he be able to preserve his balance. This difficulty of seeing things +correctly, which is one of the greatest sources of friction in War, makes +things appear quite different from what was expected. The impression of the +senses is stronger than the force of the ideas resulting from methodical +reflection, and this goes so far that no important undertaking was ever yet +carried out without the Commander having to subdue new doubts in himself at the +time of commencing the execution of his work. Ordinary men who follow the +suggestions of others become, therefore, generally undecided on the spot; they +think that they have found circumstances different from what they had expected, +and this view gains strength by their again yielding to the suggestions of +others. But even the man who has made his own plans, when he comes to see +things with his own eyes will often think he has done wrong. Firm reliance on +self must make him proof against the seeming pressure of the moment; his first +conviction will in the end prove true, when the foreground scenery which fate +has pushed on to the stage of War, with its accompaniments of terrific objects, +is drawn aside and the horizon extended. This is one of the great chasms which +separate <i>conception</i> from <i>execution</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>Friction in War</h3> + +<p> +As long as we have no personal knowledge of War, we cannot conceive where those +difficulties lie of which so much is said, and what that genius and those +extraordinary mental powers required in a General have really to do. All +appears so simple, all the requisite branches of knowledge appear so plain, all +the combinations so unimportant, that in comparison with them the easiest +problem in higher mathematics impresses us with a certain scientific dignity. +But if we have seen War, all becomes intelligible; and still, after all, it is +extremely difficult to describe what it is which brings about this change, to +specify this invisible and completely efficient factor. +</p> + +<p> +Everything is very simple in War, but the simplest thing is difficult. These +difficulties accumulate and produce a friction which no man can imagine exactly +who has not seen War, Suppose now a traveller, who towards evening expects to +accomplish the two stages at the end of his day’s journey, four or five +leagues, with post-horses, on the high road—it is nothing. He arrives now +at the last station but one, finds no horses, or very bad ones; then a hilly +country, bad roads; it is a dark night, and he is glad when, after a great deal +of trouble, he reaches the next station, and finds there some miserable +accommodation. So in War, through the influence of an infinity of petty +circumstances, which cannot properly be described on paper, things disappoint +us, and we fall short of the mark. A powerful iron will overcomes this +friction; it crushes the obstacles, but certainly the machine along with them. +We shall often meet with this result. Like an obelisk towards which the +principal streets of a town converge, the strong will of a proud spirit stands +prominent and commanding in the middle of the Art of War. +</p> + +<p> +Friction is the only conception which in a general way corresponds to that +which distinguishes real War from War on paper. The military machine, the Army +and all belonging to it, is in fact simple, and appears on this account easy to +manage. But let us reflect that no part of it is in one piece, that it is +composed entirely of individuals, each of which keeps up its own friction in +all directions. Theoretically all sounds very well: the commander of a +battalion is responsible for the execution of the order given; and as the +battalion by its discipline is glued together into one piece, and the chief +must be a man of acknowledged zeal, the beam turns on an iron pin with little +friction. But it is not so in reality, and all that is exaggerated and false in +such a conception manifests itself at once in War. The battalion always remains +composed of a number of men, of whom, if chance so wills, the most +insignificant is able to occasion delay and even irregularity. The danger which +War brings with it, the bodily exertions which it requires, augment this evil +so much that they may be regarded as the greatest causes of it. +</p> + +<p> +This enormous friction, which is not concentrated, as in mechanics, at a few +points, is therefore everywhere brought into contact with chance, and thus +incidents take place upon which it was impossible to calculate, their chief +origin being chance. As an instance of one such chance: the weather. Here the +fog prevents the enemy from being discovered in time, a battery from firing at +the right moment, a report from reaching the General; there the rain prevents a +battalion from arriving at the right time, because instead of for three it had +to march perhaps eight hours; the cavalry from charging effectively because it +is stuck fast in heavy ground. +</p> + +<p> +These are only a few incidents of detail by way of elucidation, that the reader +may be able to follow the author, for whole volumes might be written on these +difficulties. To avoid this, and still to give a clear conception of the host +of small difficulties to be contended with in War, we might go on heaping up +illustrations, if we were not afraid of being tiresome. But those who have +already comprehended us will permit us to add a few more. +</p> + +<p> +Activity in War is movement in a resistant medium. Just as a man immersed in +water is unable to perform with ease and regularity the most natural and +simplest movement, that of walking, so in War, with ordinary powers, one cannot +keep even the line of mediocrity. This is the reason that the correct theorist +is like a swimming master, who teaches on dry land movements which are required +in the water, which must appear grotesque and ludicrous to those who forget +about the water. This is also why theorists, who have never plunged in +themselves, or who cannot deduce any generalities from their experience, are +unpractical and even absurd, because they only teach what every one +knows—how to walk. +</p> + +<p> +Further, every War is rich in particular facts, while at the same time each is +an unexplored sea, full of rocks which the General may have a suspicion of, but +which he has never seen with his eye, and round which, moreover, he must steer +in the night. If a contrary wind also springs up, that is, if any great +accidental event declares itself adverse to him, then the most consummate +skill, presence of mind, and energy are required, whilst to those who only look +on from a distance all seems to proceed with the utmost ease. The knowledge of +this friction is a chief part of that so often talked of, experience in War, +which is required in a good General. Certainly he is not the best General in +whose mind it assumes the greatest dimensions, who is the most over-awed by it +(this includes that class of over-anxious Generals, of whom there are so many +amongst the experienced); but a General must be aware of it that he may +overcome it, where that is possible, and that he may not expect a degree of +precision in results which is impossible on account of this very friction. +Besides, it can never be learnt theoretically; and if it could, there would +still be wanting that experience of judgment which is called tact, and which is +always more necessary in a field full of innumerable small and diversified +objects than in great and decisive cases, when one’s own judgment may be +aided by consultation with others. Just as the man of the world, through tact +of judgment which has become habit, speaks, acts, and moves only as suits the +occasion, so the officer experienced in War will always, in great and small +matters, at every pulsation of War as we may say, decide and determine suitably +to the occasion. Through this experience and practice the idea comes to his +mind of itself that so and so will not suit. And thus he will not easily place +himself in a position by which he is compromised, which, if it often occurs in +War, shakes all the foundations of confidence and becomes extremely dangerous. +</p> + +<p> +It is therefore this friction, or what is so termed here, which makes that +which appears easy in War difficult in reality. As we proceed, we shall often +meet with this subject again, and it will hereafter become plain that besides +experience and a strong will, there are still many other rare qualities of the +mind required to make a man a consummate General. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Concluding Remarks, Book I</h3> + +<p> +Those things which as elements meet together in the atmosphere of War and make +it a resistant medium for every activity we have designated under the terms +danger, bodily effort (exertion), information, and friction. In their impedient +effects they may therefore be comprehended again in the collective notion of a +general friction. Now is there, then, no kind of oil which is capable of +diminishing this friction? Only one, and that one is not always available at +the will of the Commander or his Army. It is the habituation of an Army to War. +</p> + +<p> +Habit gives strength to the body in great exertion, to the mind in great +danger, to the judgment against first impressions. By it a valuable +circumspection is generally gained throughout every rank, from the hussar and +rifleman up to the General of Division, which facilitates the work of the Chief +Commander. +</p> + +<p> +As the human eye in a dark room dilates its pupil, draws in the little light +that there is, partially distinguishes objects by degrees, and at last knows +them quite well, so it is in War with the experienced soldier, whilst the +novice is only met by pitch dark night. +</p> + +<p> +Habituation to War no General can give his Army at once, and the camps of +manœuvre (peace exercises) furnish but a weak substitute for it, weak in +comparison with real experience in War, but not weak in relation to other +Armies in which the training is limited to mere mechanical exercises of +routine. So to regulate the exercises in peace time as to include some of these +causes of friction, that the judgment, circumspection, even resolution of the +separate leaders may be brought into exercise, is of much greater consequence +than those believe who do not know the thing by experience. It is of immense +importance that the soldier, high or low, whatever rank he has, should not have +to encounter in War those things which, when seen for the first time, set him +in astonishment and perplexity; if he has only met with them one single time +before, even by that he is half acquainted with them. This relates even to +bodily fatigues. They should be practised less to accustom the body to them +than the mind. In War the young soldier is very apt to regard unusual fatigues +as the consequence of faults, mistakes, and embarrassment in the conduct of the +whole, and to become distressed and despondent as a consequence. This would not +happen if he had been prepared for this beforehand by exercises in peace. +</p> + +<p> +Another less comprehensive but still very important means of gaining +habituation to War in time of peace is to invite into the service officers of +foreign armies who have had experience in War. Peace seldom reigns over all +Europe, and never in all quarters of the world. A State which has been long at +peace should, therefore, always seek to procure some officers who have done +good service at the different scenes of Warfare, or to send there some of its +own, that they may get a lesson in War. +</p> + +<p> +However small the number of officers of this description may appear in +proportion to the mass, still their influence is very sensibly felt.(*) Their +experience, the bent of their genius, the stamp of their character, influence +their subordinates and comrades; and besides that, if they cannot be placed in +positions of superior command, they may always be regarded as men acquainted +with the country, who may be questioned on many special occasions. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The War of 1870 furnishes a marked illustration. Von Moltke and von Goeben, +not to mention many others, had both seen service in this manner, the former in +Turkey and Syria, the latter in Spain—EDITOR. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part02"></a>BOOK II.<br/>ON THE THEORY OF WAR</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>Branches of the Art of War</h3> + +<p> +War in its literal meaning is fighting, for fighting alone is the efficient +principle in the manifold activity which in a wide sense is called War. But +fighting is a trial of strength of the moral and physical forces by means of +the latter. That the moral cannot be omitted is evident of itself, for the +condition of the mind has always the most decisive influence on the forces +employed in War. +</p> + +<p> +The necessity of fighting very soon led men to special inventions to turn the +advantage in it in their own favour: in consequence of these the mode of +fighting has undergone great alterations; but in whatever way it is conducted +its conception remains unaltered, and fighting is that which constitutes War. +</p> + +<p> +The inventions have been from the first weapons and equipments for the +individual combatants. These have to be provided and the use of them learnt +before the War begins. They are made suitable to the nature of the fighting, +consequently are ruled by it; but plainly the activity engaged in these +appliances is a different thing from the fight itself; it is only the +preparation for the combat, not the conduct of the same. That arming and +equipping are not essential to the conception of fighting is plain, because +mere wrestling is also fighting. +</p> + +<p> +Fighting has determined everything appertaining to arms and equipment, and +these in turn modify the mode of fighting; there is, therefore, a reciprocity +of action between the two. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the fight itself remains still an entirely special activity, more +particularly because it moves in an entirely special element, namely, in the +element of danger. +</p> + +<p> +If, then, there is anywhere a necessity for drawing a line between two +different activities, it is here; and in order to see clearly the importance of +this idea, we need only just to call to mind how often eminent personal fitness +in one field has turned out nothing but the most useless pedantry in the other. +</p> + +<p> +It is also in no way difficult to separate in idea the one activity from the +other, if we look at the combatant forces fully armed and equipped as a given +means, the profitable use of which requires nothing more than a knowledge of +their general results. +</p> + +<p> +The Art of War is therefore, in its proper sense, the art of making use of the +given means in fighting, and we cannot give it a better name than the +“<i>Conduct of War</i>.” On the other hand, in a wider sense all +activities which have their existence on account of War, therefore the whole +creation of troops, that is levying them, arming, equipping, and exercising +them, belong to the Art of War. +</p> + +<p> +To make a sound theory it is most essential to separate these two activities, +for it is easy to see that if every act of War is to begin with the preparation +of military forces, and to presuppose forces so organised as a primary +condition for conducting War, that theory will only be applicable in the few +cases to which the force available happens to be exactly suited. If, on the +other hand, we wish to have a theory which shall suit most cases, and will not +be wholly useless in any case, it must be founded on those means which are in +most general use, and in respect to these only on the actual results springing +from them. +</p> + +<p> +The conduct of War is, therefore, the formation and conduct of the fighting. If +this fighting was a single act, there would be no necessity for any further +subdivision, but the fight is composed of a greater or less number of single +acts, complete in themselves, which we call combats, as we have shown in the +first chapter of the first book, and which form new units. From this arises the +totally different activities, that of the <i>formation</i> and <i>conduct</i> of these single +combats in themselves, and the <i>combination</i> of them with one another, with a +view to the ultimate object of the War. The first is called <i>tactics</i>, the other +<i>strategy</i>. +</p> + +<p> +This division into tactics and strategy is now in almost general use, and every +one knows tolerably well under which head to place any single fact, without +knowing very distinctly the grounds on which the classification is founded. But +when such divisions are blindly adhered to in practice, they must have some +deep root. We have searched for this root, and we might say that it is just the +usage of the majority which has brought us to it. On the other hand, we look +upon the arbitrary, unnatural definitions of these conceptions sought to be +established by some writers as not in accordance with the general usage of the +terms. +</p> + +<p> +According to our classification, therefore, tactics <i>is the theory of the use of +military forces in combat</i>. Strategy <i>is the theory of the use of combats for the +object of the War</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The way in which the conception of a single, or independent combat, is more +closely determined, the conditions to which this unit is attached, we shall +only be able to explain clearly when we consider the combat; we must content +ourselves for the present with saying that in relation to space, therefore in +combats taking place at the same time, the unit reaches just as far as <i>personal +command</i> reaches; but in regard to time, and therefore in relation to combats +which follow each other in close succession, it reaches to the moment when the +crisis which takes place in every combat is entirely passed. +</p> + +<p> +That doubtful cases may occur, cases, for instance, in which several combats +may perhaps be regarded also as a single one, will not overthrow the ground of +distinction we have adopted, for the same is the case with all grounds of +distinction of real things which are differentiated by a gradually diminishing +scale. There may, therefore, certainly be acts of activity in War which, +without any alteration in the point of view, may just as well be counted +strategic as tactical; for example, very extended positions resembling a chain +of posts, the preparations for the passage of a river at several points, +&c. +</p> + +<p> +Our classification reaches and covers only the <i>use of the military force</i>. But +now there are in War a number of activities which are subservient to it, and +still are quite different from it; sometimes closely allied, sometimes less +near in their affinity. All these activities relate to the <i>maintenance of the +military force</i>. In the same way as its creation and training precede its use, +so its maintenance is always a necessary condition. But, strictly viewed, all +activities thus connected with it are always to be regarded only as +preparations for fighting; they are certainly nothing more than activities +which are very close to the action, so that they run through the hostile act +alternate in importance with the use of the forces. We have therefore a right +to exclude them as well as the other preparatory activities from the Art of War +in its restricted sense, from the conduct of War properly so called; and we are +obliged to do so if we would comply with the first principle of all theory, the +elimination of all heterogeneous elements. Who would include in the real +“conduct of War” the whole litany of subsistence and +administration, because it is admitted to stand in constant reciprocal action +with the use of the troops, but is something essentially different from it? +</p> + +<p> +We have said, in the third chapter of our first book, that as the fight or +combat is the only directly effective activity, therefore the threads of all +others, as they end in it, are included in it. By this we meant to say that to +all others an object was thereby appointed which, in accordance with the laws +peculiar to themselves, they must seek to attain. Here we must go a little +closer into this subject. +</p> + +<p> +The subjects which constitute the activities outside of the combat are of +various kinds. +</p> + +<p> +The one part belongs, in one respect, to the combat itself, is identical with +it, whilst it serves in another respect for the maintenance of the military +force. The other part belongs purely to the subsistence, and has only, in +consequence of the reciprocal action, a limited influence on the combats by its +results. The subjects which in one respect belong to the fighting itself are +<i>marches, camps</i>, and <i>cantonments</i>, for they suppose so many different situations +of troops, and where troops are supposed there the idea of the combat must +always be present. +</p> + +<p> +The other subjects, which only belong to the maintenance, are <i>subsistence, care +of the sick</i>, the <i>supply and repair of arms and equipment</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Marches are quite identical with the use of the troops. The act of marching in +the combat, generally called manoeuvring, certainly does not necessarily +include the use of weapons, but it is so completely and necessarily combined +with it that it forms an integral part of that which we call a combat. But the +march outside the combat is nothing but the execution of a strategic measure. +By the strategic plan is settled <i>when, where, and with what forces</i> a battle is +to be delivered—and to carry that into execution the march is the only +means. +</p> + +<p> +The march outside of the combat is therefore an instrument of strategy, but not +on that account exclusively a subject of strategy, for as the armed force which +executes it may be involved in a possible combat at any moment, therefore its +execution stands also under tactical as well as strategic rules. If we +prescribe to a column its route on a particular side of a river or of a branch +of a mountain, then that is a strategic measure, for it contains the intention +of fighting on that particular side of the hill or river in preference to the +other, in case a combat should be necessary during the march. +</p> + +<p> +But if a column, instead of following the road through a valley, marches along +the parallel ridge of heights, or for the convenience of marching divides +itself into several columns, then these are tactical arrangements, for they +relate to the manner in which we shall use the troops in the anticipated +combat. +</p> + +<p> +The particular order of march is in constant relation with readiness for +combat, is therefore tactical in its nature, for it is nothing more than the +first or preliminary disposition for the battle which may possibly take place. +</p> + +<p> +As the march is the instrument by which strategy apportions its active +elements, the combats, but these last often only appear by their results and +not in the details of their real course, it could not fail to happen that in +theory the instrument has often been substituted for the efficient principle. +Thus we hear of a decisive skilful march, allusion being thereby made to those +combat-combinations to which these marches led. This substitution of ideas is +too natural and conciseness of expression too desirable to call for alteration, +but still it is only a condensed chain of ideas in regard to which we must +never omit to bear in mind the full meaning, if we would avoid falling into +error. +</p> + +<p> +We fall into an error of this description if we attribute to strategical +combinations a power independent of tactical results. We read of marches and +manœuvres combined, the object attained, and at the same time not a word about +combat, from which the conclusion is drawn that there are means in War of +conquering an enemy without fighting. The prolific nature of this error we +cannot show until hereafter. +</p> + +<p> +But although a march can be regarded absolutely as an integral part of the +combat, still there are in it certain relations which do not belong to the +combat, and therefore are neither tactical nor strategic. To these belong all +arrangements which concern only the accommodation of the troops, the +construction of bridges, roads, &c. These are only conditions; under many +circumstances they are in very close connection, and may almost identify +themselves with the troops, as in building a bridge in presence of the enemy; +but in themselves they are always activities, the theory of which does not form +part of the theory of the conduct of War. +</p> + +<p> +Camps, by which we mean every disposition of troops in concentrated, therefore +in battle order, in contradistinction to cantonments or quarters, are a state +of rest, therefore of restoration; but they are at the same time also the +strategic appointment of a battle on the spot, chosen; and by the manner in +which they are taken up they contain the fundamental lines of the battle, a +condition from which every defensive battle starts; they are therefore +essential parts of both strategy and tactics. +</p> + +<p> +Cantonments take the place of camps for the better refreshment of the troops. +They are therefore, like camps, strategic subjects as regards position and +extent; tactical subjects as regards internal organisation, with a view to +readiness to fight. +</p> + +<p> +The occupation of camps and cantonments no doubt usually combines with the +recuperation of the troops another object also, for example, the covering a +district of country, the holding a position; but it can very well be only the +first. We remind our readers that strategy may follow a great diversity of +objects, for everything which appears an advantage may be the object of a +combat, and the preservation of the instrument with which War is made must +necessarily very often become the object of its partial combinations. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, in such a case strategy ministers only to the maintenance of the +troops, we are not on that account out of the field of strategy, for we are +still engaged with the use of the military force, because every disposition of +that force upon any point Whatever of the theatre of War is such a use. +</p> + +<p> +But if the maintenance of the troops in camp or quarters calls forth activities +which are no employment of the armed force, such as the construction of huts, +pitching of tents, subsistence and sanitary services in camps or quarters, then +such belong neither to strategy nor tactics. +</p> + +<p> +Even entrenchments, the site and preparation of which are plainly part of the +order of battle, therefore tactical subjects, do not belong to the theory of +the conduct of War so far as respects the <i>execution of their construction</i> the +knowledge and skill required for such work being, in point of fact, qualities +inherent in the nature of an organised Army; the theory of the combat takes +them for granted. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst the subjects which belong to the mere keeping up of an armed force, +because none of the parts are identified with the combat, the victualling of +the troops themselves comes first, as it must be done almost daily and for each +individual. Thus it is that it completely permeates military action in the +parts constituting strategy—we say parts constituting strategy, because +during a battle the subsistence of troops will rarely have any influence in +modifying the plan, although the thing is conceivable enough. The care for the +subsistence of the troops comes therefore into reciprocal action chiefly with +strategy, and there is nothing more common than for the leading strategic +features of a campaign and War to be traced out in connection with a view to +this supply. But however frequent and however important these views of supply +may be, the subsistence of the troops always remains a completely different +activity from the use of the troops, and the former has only an influence on +the latter by its results. +</p> + +<p> +The other branches of administrative activity which we have mentioned stand +much farther apart from the use of the troops. The care of sick and wounded, +highly important as it is for the good of an Army, directly affects it only in +a small portion of the individuals composing it, and therefore has only a weak +and indirect influence upon the use of the rest. The completing and replacing +articles of arms and equipment, except so far as by the organism of the forces +it constitutes a continuous activity inherent in them—takes place only +periodically, and therefore seldom affects strategic plans. +</p> + +<p> +We must, however, here guard ourselves against a mistake. In certain cases +these subjects may be really of decisive importance. The distance of hospitals +and depôts of munitions may very easily be imagined as the sole cause of very +important strategic decisions. We do not wish either to contest that point or +to throw it into the shade. But we are at present occupied not with the +particular facts of a concrete case, but with abstract theory; and our +assertion therefore is that such an influence is too rare to give the theory of +sanitary measures and the supply of munitions and arms an importance in theory +of the conduct of War such as to make it worth while to include in the theory +of the conduct of War the consideration of the different ways and systems which +the above theories may furnish, in the same way as is certainly necessary in +regard to victualling troops. +</p> + +<p> +If we have clearly understood the results of our reflections, then the +activities belonging to War divide themselves into two principal classes, into +such as are only “<i>preparations for War</i>” and into the “<i>War +itself.</i>” This division must therefore also be made in theory. +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge and applications of skill in the preparations for War are engaged +in the creation, discipline, and maintenance of all the military forces; what +general names should be given to them we do not enter into, but we see that +artillery, fortification, elementary tactics, as they are called, the whole +organisation and administration of the various armed forces, and all such +things are included. But the theory of War itself occupies itself with the use +of these prepared means for the object of the war. It needs of the first only +the results, that is, the knowledge of the principal properties of the means +taken in hand for use. This we call “The Art of War” in a limited +sense, or “Theory of the Conduct of War,” or “Theory of the +Employment of Armed Forces,” all of them denoting for us the same thing. +</p> + +<p> +The present theory will therefore treat the combat as the real contest, +marches, camps, and cantonments as circumstances which are more or less +identical with it. The subsistence of the troops will only come into +consideration like <i>other given circumstances</i> in respect of its results, not as +an activity belonging to the combat. +</p> + +<p> +The Art of War thus viewed in its limited sense divides itself again into +tactics and strategy. The former occupies itself with the form of the separate +combat, the latter with its use. Both connect themselves with the circumstances +of marches, camps, cantonments only through the combat, and these circumstances +are tactical or strategic according as they relate to the form or to the +signification of the battle. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt there will be many readers who will consider superfluous this careful +separation of two things lying so close together as tactics and strategy, +because it has no direct effect on the conduct itself of War. We admit, +certainly that it would be pedantry to look for direct effects on the field of +battle from a theoretical distinction. +</p> + +<p> +But the first business of every theory is to clear up conceptions and ideas +which have been jumbled together, and, we may say, entangled and confused; and +only when a right understanding is established, as to names and conceptions, +can we hope to progress with clearness and facility, and be certain that author +and reader will always see things from the same point of view. Tactics and +strategy are two activities mutually permeating each other in time and space, +at the same time essentially different activities, the inner laws and mutual +relations of which cannot be intelligible at all to the mind until a clear +conception of the nature of each activity is established. +</p> + +<p> +He to whom all this is nothing, must either repudiate all theoretical +consideration, <i>or his understanding has not as yet been pained</i> by the confused +and perplexing ideas resting on no fixed point of view, leading to no +satisfactory result, sometimes dull, sometimes fantastic, sometimes floating in +vague generalities, which we are often obliged to hear and read on the conduct +of War, owing to the spirit of scientific investigation having hitherto been +little directed to these subjects. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>On the Theory of War</h3> + +<h4> +1. THE FIRST CONCEPTION OF THE “ART OF WAR” WAS MERELY THE +PREPARATION OF THE ARMED FORCES. +</h4> + +<p> +Formerly by the term “Art of War,” or “Science of War,” +nothing was understood but the totality of those branches of knowledge and +those appliances of skill occupied with material things. The pattern and +preparation and the mode of using arms, the construction of fortifications and +entrenchments, the organism of an army and the mechanism of its movements, were +the subject; these branches of knowledge and skill above referred to, and the +end and aim of them all was the establishment of an armed force fit for use in +War. All this concerned merely things belonging to the material world and a +one-sided activity only, and it was in fact nothing but an activity advancing +by gradations from the lower occupations to a finer kind of mechanical art. The +relation of all this to War itself was very much the same as the relation of +the art of the sword cutler to the art of using the sword. The employment in +the moment of danger and in a state of constant reciprocal action of the +particular energies of mind and spirit in the direction proposed to them was +not yet even mooted. +</p> + +<h4> +2. TRUE WAR FIRST APPEARS IN THE ART OF SIEGES. +</h4> + +<p> +In the art of sieges we first perceive a certain degree of guidance of the +combat, something of the action of the intellectual faculties upon the material +forces placed under their control, but generally only so far that it very soon +embodied itself again in new material forms, such as approaches, trenches, +counter-approaches, batteries, &c., and every step which this action of the +higher faculties took was marked by some such result; it was only the thread +that was required on which to string these material inventions in order. As the +intellect can hardly manifest itself in this kind of War, except in such +things, so therefore nearly all that was necessary was done in that way. +</p> + +<h4> +3. THEN TACTICS TRIED TO FIND ITS WAY IN THE SAME DIRECTION. +</h4> + +<p> +Afterwards tactics attempted to give to the mechanism of its joints the +character of a general disposition, built upon the peculiar properties of the +instrument, which character leads indeed to the battle-field, but instead of +leading to the free activity of mind, leads to an Army made like an automaton +by its rigid formations and orders of battle, which, movable only by the word +of command, is intended to unwind its activities like a piece of clockwork. +</p> + +<h4> +4. THE REAL CONDUCT OF WAR ONLY MADE ITS APPEARANCE INCIDENTALLY AND INCOGNITO. +</h4> + +<p> +The conduct of War properly so called, that is, a use of the prepared means +adapted to the most special requirements, was not considered as any suitable +subject for theory, but one which should be left to natural talents alone. By +degrees, as War passed from the hand-to-hand encounters of the middle ages into +a more regular and systematic form, stray reflections on this point also forced +themselves into men’s minds, but they mostly appeared only incidentally +in memoirs and narratives, and in a certain measure incognito. +</p> + +<h4> +5. REFLECTIONS ON MILITARY EVENTS BROUGHT ABOUT THE WANT OF A THEORY. +</h4> + +<p> +As contemplation on War continually increased, and its history every day +assumed more of a critical character, the urgent want appeared of the support +of fixed maxims and rules, in order that in the controversies naturally arising +about military events the war of opinions might be brought to some one point. +This whirl of opinions, which neither revolved on any central pivot nor +according to any appreciable laws, could not but be very distasteful to +people’s minds. +</p> + +<h4> +6. ENDEAVOURS TO ESTABLISH A POSITIVE THEORY. +</h4> + +<p> +There arose, therefore, an endeavour to establish maxims, rules, and even +systems for the conduct of War. By this the attainment of a positive object was +proposed, without taking into view the endless difficulties which the conduct +of War presents in that respect. The conduct of War, as we have shown, has no +definite limits in any direction, while every system has the circumscribing +nature of a synthesis, from which results an irreconcileable opposition between +such a theory and practice. +</p> + +<h4> +7. LIMITATION TO MATERIAL OBJECTS. +</h4> + +<p> +Writers on theory felt the difficulty of the subject soon enough, and thought +themselves entitled to get rid of it by directing their maxims and systems only +upon material things and a one-sided activity. Their aim was to reach results, +as in the science for the preparation for War, entirely certain and positive, +and therefore only to take into consideration that which could be made matter +of calculation. +</p> + +<h4> +8. SUPERIORITY OF NUMBERS. +</h4> + +<p> +The superiority in numbers being a material condition, it was chosen from +amongst all the factors required to produce victory, because it could be +brought under mathematical laws through combinations of time and space. It was +thought possible to leave out of sight all other circumstances, by supposing +them to be equal on each side, and therefore to neutralise one another. This +would have been very well if it had been done to gain a preliminary knowledge +of this one factor, according to its relations, but to make it a rule for ever +to consider superiority of numbers as the sole law; to see the whole secret of +the Art of War in the formula, <i>in a certain time, at a certain point, to bring +up superior masses</i>—was a restriction overruled by the force of realities. +</p> + +<h4> +9. VICTUALLING OF TROOPS. +</h4> + +<p> +By one theoretical school an attempt was made to systematise another material +element also, by making the subsistence of troops, according to a previously +established organism of the Army, the supreme legislator in the higher conduct +of War. In this way certainly they arrived at definite figures, but at figures +which rested on a number of arbitrary calculations, and which therefore could +not stand the test of practical application. +</p> + +<h4> +10. BASE. +</h4> + +<p> +An ingenious author tried to concentrate in a single conception, that of a +BASE, a whole host of objects amongst which sundry relations even with +immaterial forces found their way in as well. The list comprised the +subsistence of the troops, the keeping them complete in numbers and equipment, +the security of communications with the home country, lastly, the security of +retreat in case it became necessary; and, first of all, he proposed to +substitute this conception of a base for all these things; then for the base +itself to substitute its own length (extent); and, last of all, to substitute +the angle formed by the army with this base: all this was done to obtain a pure +geometrical result utterly useless. This last is, in fact, unavoidable, if we +reflect that none of these substitutions could be made without violating truth +and leaving out some of the things contained in the original conception. The +idea of a base is a real necessity for strategy, and to have conceived it is +meritorious; but to make such a use of it as we have depicted is completely +inadmissible, and could not but lead to partial conclusions which have forced +these theorists into a direction opposed to common sense, namely, to a belief +in the decisive effect of the enveloping form of attack. +</p> + +<h4> +11. INTERIOR LINES. +</h4> + +<p> +As a reaction against this false direction, another geometrical principle, that +of the so-called interior lines, was then elevated to the throne. Although this +principle rests on a sound foundation, on the truth that the combat is the only +effectual means in War, still it is, just on account of its purely geometrical +nature, nothing but another case of one-sided theory which can never gain +ascendency in the real world. +</p> + +<h4> +12. ALL THESE ATTEMPTS ARE OPEN TO OBJECTION. +</h4> + +<p> +All these attempts at theory are only to be considered in their analytical part +as progress in the province of truth, but in their synthetical part, in their +precepts and rules, they are quite unserviceable. +</p> + +<p> +They strive after determinate quantities, whilst in War all is undetermined, +and the calculation has always to be made with varying quantities. +</p> + +<p> +They direct the attention only upon material forces, while the whole military +action is penetrated throughout by intelligent forces and their effects. +</p> + +<p> +They only pay regard to activity on one side, whilst War is a constant state of +reciprocal action, the effects of which are mutual. +</p> + +<h4> +13. AS A RULE THEY EXCLUDE GENIUS. +</h4> + +<p> +All that was not attainable by such miserable philosophy, the offspring of +partial views, lay outside the precincts of science—and was the field of +genius, which RAISES ITSELF ABOVE RULES. +</p> + +<p> +Pity the warrior who is contented to crawl about in this beggardom of rules, +which are too bad for genius, over which it can set itself superior, over which +it can perchance make merry! What genius does must be the best of all rules, +and theory cannot do better than to show how and why it is so. +</p> + +<p> +Pity the theory which sets itself in opposition to the mind! It cannot repair +this contradiction by any humility, and the humbler it is so much the sooner +will ridicule and contempt drive it out of real life. +</p> + +<h4> +14. THE DIFFICULTY OF THEORY AS SOON AS MORAL QUANTITIES COME INTO +CONSIDERATION. +</h4> + +<p> +Every theory becomes infinitely more difficult from the moment that it touches +on the province of moral quantities. Architecture and painting know quite well +what they are about as long as they have only to do with matter; there is no +dispute about mechanical or optical construction. But as soon as the moral +activities begin their work, as soon as moral impressions and feelings are +produced, the whole set of rules dissolves into vague ideas. +</p> + +<p> +The science of medicine is chiefly engaged with bodily phenomena only; its +business is with the animal organism, which, liable to perpetual change, is +never exactly the same for two moments. This makes its practice very difficult, +and places the judgment of the physician above his science; but how much more +difficult is the case if a moral effect is added, and how much higher must we +place the physician of the mind? +</p> + +<h4> +15. THE MORAL QUANTITIES MUST NOT BE EXCLUDED IN WAR. +</h4> + +<p> +But now the activity in War is never directed solely against matter; it is +always at the same time directed against the intelligent force which gives life +to this matter, and to separate the two from each other is impossible. +</p> + +<p> +But the intelligent forces are only visible to the inner eye, and this is +different in each person, and often different in the same person at different +times. +</p> + +<p> +As danger is the general element in which everything moves in War, it is also +chiefly by courage, the feeling of one’s own power, that the judgment is +differently influenced. It is to a certain extent the crystalline lens through +which all appearances pass before reaching the understanding. +</p> + +<p> +And yet we cannot doubt that these things acquire a certain objective value +simply through experience. +</p> + +<p> +Every one knows the moral effect of a surprise, of an attack in flank or rear. +Every one thinks less of the enemy’s courage as soon as he turns his +back, and ventures much more in pursuit than when pursued. Every one judges of +the enemy’s General by his reputed talents, by his age and experience, +and shapes his course accordingly. Every one casts a scrutinising glance at the +spirit and feeling of his own and the enemy’s troops. All these and +similar effects in the province of the moral nature of man have established +themselves by experience, are perpetually recurring, and therefore warrant our +reckoning them as real quantities of their kind. What could we do with any +theory which should leave them out of consideration? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly experience is an indispensable title for these truths. With +psychological and philosophical sophistries no theory, no General, should +meddle. +</p> + +<h4> +16. PRINCIPAL DIFFICULTY OF A THEORY FOR THE CONDUCT OF WAR. +</h4> + +<p> +In order to comprehend clearly the difficulty of the proposition which is +contained in a theory for the conduct of War, and thence to deduce the +necessary characteristics of such a theory, we must take a closer view of the +chief particulars which make up the nature of activity in War. +</p> + +<h4> +17. FIRST SPECIALITY.—MORAL FORCES AND THEIR EFFECTS. (HOSTILE FEELING.) +</h4> + +<p> +The first of these specialities consists in the moral forces and effects. +</p> + +<p> +The combat is, in its origin, the expression of <i>hostile feeling</i>, but in our +great combats, which we call Wars, the hostile feeling frequently resolves +itself into merely a hostile <i>view</i>, and there is usually no innate hostile +feeling residing in individual against individual. Nevertheless, the combat +never passes off without such feelings being brought into activity. National +hatred, which is seldom wanting in our Wars, is a substitute for personal +hostility in the breast of individual opposed to individual. But where this +also is wanting, and at first no animosity of feeling subsists, a hostile +feeling is kindled by the combat itself; for an act of violence which any one +commits upon us by order of his superior, will excite in us a desire to +retaliate and be revenged on him, sooner than on the superior power at whose +command the act was done. This is human, or animal if we will; still it is so. +We are very apt to regard the combat in theory as an abstract trial of +strength, without any participation on the part of the feelings, and that is +one of the thousand errors which theorists deliberately commit, because they do +not see its consequences. +</p> + +<p> +Besides that excitation of feelings naturally arising from the combat itself, +there are others also which do not essentially belong to it, but which, on +account of their relationship, easily unite with it—ambition, love of +power, enthusiasm of every kind, &c. &c. +</p> + +<h4> +18. THE IMPRESSIONS OF DANGER. (COURAGE.) +</h4> + +<p> +Finally, the combat begets the element of danger, in which all the activities +of War must live and move, like the bird in the air or the fish in the water. +But the influences of danger all pass into the feelings, either +directly—that is, instinctively—or through the medium of the +understanding. The effect in the first case would be a desire to escape from +the danger, and, if that cannot be done, fright and anxiety. If this effect +does not take place, then it is <i>courage</i>, which is a counterpoise to that +instinct. Courage is, however, by no means an act of the understanding, but +likewise a feeling, like fear; the latter looks to the physical preservation, +courage to the moral preservation. Courage, then, is a nobler instinct. But +because it is so, it will not allow itself to be used as a lifeless instrument, +which produces its effects exactly according to prescribed measure. Courage is +therefore no mere counterpoise to danger in order to neutralise the latter in +its effects, but a peculiar power in itself. +</p> + +<h4> +19. EXTENT OF THE INFLUENCE OF DANGER. +</h4> + +<p> +But to estimate exactly the influence of danger upon the principal actors in +War, we must not limit its sphere to the physical danger of the moment. It +dominates over the actor, not only by threatening him, but also by threatening +all entrusted to him, not only at the moment in which it is actually present, +but also through the imagination at all other moments, which have a connection +with the present; lastly, not only directly by itself, but also indirectly by +the responsibility which makes it bear with tenfold weight on the mind of the +chief actor. Who could advise, or resolve upon a great battle, without feeling +his mind more or less wrought up, or perplexed by, the danger and +responsibility which such a great act of decision carries in itself? We may say +that action in War, in so far as it is real action, not a mere condition, is +never out of the sphere of danger. +</p> + +<h4> +20. OTHER POWERS OF FEELING. +</h4> + +<p> +If we look upon these affections which are excited by hostility and danger as +peculiarly belonging to War, we do not, therefore, exclude from it all others +accompanying man in his life’s journey. They will also find room here +frequently enough. Certainly we may say that many a petty action of the +passions is silenced in this serious business of life; but that holds good only +in respect to those acting in a lower sphere, who, hurried on from one state of +danger and exertion to another, lose sight of the rest of the things of life, +<i>become unused to deceit</i>, because it is of no avail with death, and so attain to +that soldierly simplicity of character which has always been the best +representative of the military profession. In higher regions it is otherwise, +for the higher a man’s rank, the more he must look around him; then arise +interests on every side, and a manifold activity of the passions of good and +bad. Envy and generosity, pride and humility, fierceness and tenderness, all +may appear as active powers in this great drama. +</p> + +<h4> +21. PECULIARITY OF MIND. +</h4> + +<p> +The peculiar characteristics of mind in the chief actor have, as well as those +of the feelings, a high importance. From an imaginative, flighty, inexperienced +head, and from a calm, sagacious understanding, different things are to be +expected. +</p> + +<h4> +22. FROM THE DIVERSITY IN MENTAL INDIVIDUALITIES ARISES THE DIVERSITY OF WAYS +LEADING TO THE END. +</h4> + +<p> +It is this great diversity in mental individuality, the influence of which is +to be supposed as chiefly felt in the higher ranks, because it increases as we +progress upwards, which chiefly produces the diversity of ways leading to the +end noticed by us in the first book, and which gives, to the play of +probabilities and chance, such an unequal share in determining the course of +events. +</p> + +<h4> +23. SECOND PECULIARITY.—LIVING REACTION. +</h4> + +<p> +The second peculiarity in War is the living reaction, and the reciprocal action +resulting therefrom. We do not here speak of the difficulty of estimating that +reaction, for that is included in the difficulty before mentioned, of treating +the moral powers as quantities; but of this, that reciprocal action, by its +nature, opposes anything like a regular plan. The effect which any measure +produces upon the enemy is the most distinct of all the data which action +affords; but every theory must keep to classes (or groups) of phenomena, and +can never take up the really individual case in itself: that must everywhere be +left to judgment and talent. It is therefore natural that in a business such as +War, which in its plan—built upon general circumstances—is so often +thwarted by unexpected and singular accidents, more must generally be left to +talent; and less use can be made of a <i>theoretical guide</i> than in any other. +</p> + +<h4> +24. THIRD PECULIARITY.—UNCERTAINTY OF ALL DATA. +</h4> + +<p> +Lastly, the great uncertainty of all data in War is a peculiar difficulty, +because all action must, to a certain extent, be planned in a mere twilight, +which in addition not unfrequently—like the effect of a fog or +moonshine—gives to things exaggerated dimensions and an unnatural +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +What this feeble light leaves indistinct to the sight talent must discover, or +must be left to chance. It is therefore again talent, or the favour of fortune, +on which reliance must be placed, for want of objective knowledge. +</p> + +<h4> +25. POSITIVE THEORY IS IMPOSSIBLE. +</h4> + +<p> +With materials of this kind we can only say to ourselves that it is a sheer +impossibility to construct for the Art of War a theory which, like a +scaffolding, shall ensure to the chief actor an external support on all sides. +In all those cases in which he is thrown upon his talent he would find himself +away from this scaffolding of theory and in opposition to it, and, however +many-sided it might be framed, the same result would ensue of which we spoke +when we said that talent and genius act beyond the law, and theory is in +opposition to reality. +</p> + +<h4> +26. MEANS LEFT BY WHICH A THEORY IS POSSIBLE (THE DIFFICULTIES ARE NOT +EVERYWHERE EQUALLY GREAT). +</h4> + +<p> +Two means present themselves of getting out of this difficulty. In the first +place, what we have said of the nature of military action in general does not +apply in the same manner to the action of every one, whatever may be his +standing. In the lower ranks the spirit of self-sacrifice is called more into +request, but the difficulties which the understanding and judgment meet with +are infinitely less. The field of occurrences is more confined. Ends and means +are fewer in number. Data more distinct; mostly also contained in the actually +visible. But the higher we ascend the more the difficulties increase, until in +the Commander-in-Chief they reach their climax, so that with him almost +everything must be left to genius. +</p> + +<p> +Further, according to a division of the subject in <i>agreement with its nature</i>, +the difficulties are not everywhere the same, but diminish the more results +manifest themselves in the material world, and increase the more they pass into +the moral, and become motives which influence the will. Therefore it is easier +to determine, by theoretical rules, the order and conduct of a battle, than the +use to be made of the battle itself. Yonder physical weapons clash with each +other, and although mind is not wanting therein, matter must have its rights. +But in the effects to be produced by battles when the material results become +motives, we have only to do with the moral nature. In a word, it is easier to +make a theory for <i>tactics</i> than for <i>strategy</i>. +</p> + +<h4> +27. THEORY MUST BE OF THE NATURE OF OBSERVATIONS NOT OF DOCTRINE. +</h4> + +<p> +The second opening for the possibility of a theory lies in the point of view +that it does not necessarily require to be a <i>direction</i> for action. As a general +rule, whenever an <i>activity</i> is for the most part occupied with the same objects +over and over again, with the same ends and means, although there may be +trifling alterations and a corresponding number of varieties of combination, +such things are capable of becoming a subject of study for the reasoning +faculties. But such study is just the most essential part of every <i>theory</i>, and +has a peculiar title to that name. It is an analytical investigation of the +subject that leads to an exact knowledge; and if brought to bear on the results +of experience, which in our case would be military history, to a thorough +familiarity with it. The nearer theory attains the latter object, so much the +more it passes over from the objective form of knowledge into the subjective +one of skill in action; and so much the more, therefore, it will prove itself +effective when circumstances allow of no other decision but that of personal +talents; it will show its effects in that talent itself. If theory investigates +the subjects which constitute War; if it separates more distinctly that which +at first sight seems amalgamated; if it explains fully the properties of the +means; if it shows their probable effects; if it makes evident the nature of +objects; if it brings to bear all over the field of War the light of +essentially critical investigation—then it has fulfilled the chief duties +of its province. It becomes then a guide to him who wishes to make himself +acquainted with War from books; it lights up the whole road for him, +facilitates his progress, educates his judgment, and shields him from error. +</p> + +<p> +If a man of expertness spends half his life in the endeavour to clear up an +obscure subject thoroughly, he will probably know more about it than a person +who seeks to master it in a short time. Theory is instituted that each person +in succession may not have to go through the same labour of clearing the ground +and toiling through his subject, but may find the thing in order, and light +admitted on it. It should educate the mind of the future leader in War, or +rather guide him in his self-instruction, but not accompany him to the field of +battle; just as a sensible tutor forms and enlightens the opening mind of a +youth without, therefore, keeping him in leading strings all through his life. +</p> + +<p> +If maxims and rules result of themselves from the considerations which theory +institutes, if the truth accretes itself into that form of crystal, then theory +will not oppose this natural law of the mind; it will rather, if the arch ends +in such a keystone, bring it prominently out; but so does this, only in order +to satisfy the philosophical law of reason, in order to show distinctly the +point to which the lines all converge, not in order to form out of it an +algebraical formula for use upon the battle-field; for even these maxims and +rules serve more to determine in the reflecting mind the leading outline of its +habitual movements than as landmarks indicating to it the way in the act of +execution. +</p> + +<h4> +28. BY THIS POINT OF VIEW THEORY BECOMES POSSIBLE, AND CEASES TO BE IN +CONTRADICTION TO PRACTICE. +</h4> + +<p> +Taking this point of view, there is a possibility afforded of a satisfactory, +that is, of a useful, theory of the conduct of War, never coming into +opposition with the reality, and it will only depend on rational treatment to +bring it so far into harmony with action that between theory and practice there +shall no longer be that absurd difference which an unreasonable theory, in +defiance of common sense, has often produced, but which, just as often, +narrow-mindedness and ignorance have used as a pretext for giving way to their +natural incapacity. +</p> + +<h4> +29. THEORY THEREFORE CONSIDERS THE NATURE OF ENDS AND MEANS—ENDS AND +MEANS IN TACTICS. +</h4> + +<p> +Theory has therefore to consider the nature of the means and ends. +</p> + +<p> +In tactics the means are the disciplined armed forces which are to carry on the +contest. The object is victory. The precise definition of this conception can +be better explained hereafter in the consideration of the combat. Here we +content ourselves by denoting the retirement of the enemy from the field of +battle as the sign of victory. By means of this victory strategy gains the +object for which it appointed the combat, and which constitutes its special +signification. This signification has certainly some influence on the nature of +the victory. A victory which is intended to weaken the enemy’s armed +forces is a different thing from one which is designed only to put us in +possession of a position. The signification of a combat may therefore have a +sensible influence on the preparation and conduct of it, consequently will be +also a subject of consideration in tactics. +</p> + +<h4> +30. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ALWAYS ATTEND THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS. +</h4> + +<p> +As there are certain circumstances which attend the combat throughout, and have +more or less influence upon its result, therefore these must be taken into +consideration in the application of the armed forces. +</p> + +<p> +These circumstances are the locality of the combat (ground), the time of day, +and the weather. +</p> + +<h4> +31. LOCALITY. +</h4> + +<p> +The locality, which we prefer leaving for solution, under the head of +“Country and Ground,” might, strictly speaking, be without any +influence at all if the combat took place on a completely level and +uncultivated plain. +</p> + +<p> +In a country of steppes such a case may occur, but in the cultivated countries +of Europe it is almost an imaginary idea. Therefore a combat between civilised +nations, in which country and ground have no influence, is hardly conceivable. +</p> + +<h4> +32. TIME OF DAY. +</h4> + +<p> +The time of day influences the combat by the difference between day and night; +but the influence naturally extends further than merely to the limits of these +divisions, as every combat has a certain duration, and great battles last for +several hours. In the preparations for a great battle, it makes an essential +difference whether it begins in the morning or the evening. At the same time, +certainly many battles may be fought in which the question of the time of day +is quite immaterial, and in the generality of cases its influence is only +trifling. +</p> + +<h4> +33. WEATHER. +</h4> + +<p> +Still more rarely has the weather any decisive influence, and it is mostly only +by fogs that it plays a part. +</p> + +<h4> +34. END AND MEANS IN STRATEGY. +</h4> + +<p> +Strategy has in the first instance only the victory, that is, the tactical +result, as a means to its object, and ultimately those things which lead +directly to peace. The application of its means to this object is at the same +time attended by circumstances which have an influence thereon more or less. +</p> + +<h4> +35. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ATTEND THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS OF STRATEGY. +</h4> + +<p> +These circumstances are country and ground, the former including the territory +and inhabitants of the whole theatre of war; next the time of the day, and the +time of the year as well; lastly, the weather, particularly any unusual state +of the same, severe frost, &c. +</p> + +<h4> +36. THESE FORM NEW MEANS. +</h4> + +<p> +By bringing these things into combination with the results of a combat, +strategy gives this result—and therefore the combat—a special +signification, places before it a particular object. But when this object is +not that which leads directly to peace, therefore a subordinate one, it is only +to be looked upon as a means; and therefore in strategy we may look upon the +results of combats or victories, in all their different significations, as +means. The conquest of a position is such a result of a combat applied to +ground. But not only are the different combats with special objects to be +considered as means, but also every higher aim which we may have in view in the +combination of battles directed on a common object is to be regarded as a +means. A winter campaign is a combination of this kind applied to the season. +</p> + +<p> +There remain, therefore, as objects, only those things which may be supposed as +leading <i>directly</i> to peace, Theory investigates all these ends and means +according to the nature of their effects and their mutual relations. +</p> + +<h4> +37. STRATEGY DEDUCES ONLY FROM EXPERIENCE THE ENDS AND MEANS TO BE EXAMINED. +</h4> + +<p> +The first question is, How does strategy arrive at a complete list of these +things? If there is to be a philosophical inquiry leading to an absolute +result, it would become entangled in all those difficulties which the logical +necessity of the conduct of War and its theory exclude. It therefore turns to +experience, and directs its attention on those combinations which military +history can furnish. In this manner, no doubt, nothing more than a limited +theory can be obtained, which only suits circumstances such as are presented in +history. But this incompleteness is unavoidable, because in any case theory +must either have deduced from, or have compared with, history what it advances +with respect to things. Besides, this incompleteness in every case is more +theoretical than real. +</p> + +<p> +One great advantage of this method is that theory cannot lose itself in +abstruse disquisitions, subtleties, and chimeras, but must always remain +practical. +</p> + +<h4> +38. HOW FAR THE ANALYSIS OF THE MEANS SHOULD BE CARRIED. +</h4> + +<p> +Another question is, How far should theory go in its analysis of the means? +Evidently only so far as the elements in a separate form present themselves for +consideration in practice. The range and effect of different weapons is very +important to tactics; their construction, although these effects result from +it, is a matter of indifference; for the conduct of War is not making powder +and cannon out of a given quantity of charcoal, sulphur, and saltpetre, of +copper and tin: the given quantities for the conduct of War are arms in a +finished state and their effects. Strategy makes use of maps without troubling +itself about triangulations; it does not inquire how the country is subdivided +into departments and provinces, and how the people are educated and governed, +in order to attain the best military results; but it takes things as it finds +them in the community of European States, and observes where very different +conditions have a notable influence on War. +</p> + +<h4> +39. GREAT SIMPLIFICATION OF THE KNOWLEDGE REQUIRED. +</h4> + +<p> +That in this manner the number of subjects for theory is much simplified, and +the knowledge requisite for the conduct of War much reduced, is easy to +perceive. The very great mass of knowledge and appliances of skill which +minister to the action of War in general, and which are necessary before an +army fully equipped can take the field, unite in a few great results before +they are able to reach, in actual War, the final goal of their activity; just +as the streams of a country unite themselves in rivers before they fall into +the sea. Only those activities emptying themselves directly into the sea of War +have to be studied by him who is to conduct its operations. +</p> + +<h4> +40. THIS EXPLAINS THE RAPID GROWTH OF GREAT GENERALS, AND WHY A GENERAL IS NOT +A MAN OF LEARNING. +</h4> + +<p> +This result of our considerations is in fact so necessary, any other would have +made us distrustful of their accuracy. Only thus is explained how so often men +have made their appearance with great success in War, and indeed in the higher +ranks even in supreme Command, whose pursuits had been previously of a totally +different nature; indeed how, as a rule, the most distinguished Generals have +never risen from the very learned or really erudite class of officers, but have +been mostly men who, from the circumstances of their position, could not have +attained to any great amount of knowledge. On that account those who have +considered it necessary or even beneficial to commence the education of a +future General by instruction in all details have always been ridiculed as +absurd pedants. It would be easy to show the injurious tendency of such a +course, because the human mind is trained by the knowledge imparted to it and +the direction given to its ideas. Only what is great can make it great; the +little can only make it little, if the mind itself does not reject it as +something repugnant. +</p> + +<h4> +41. FORMER CONTRADICTIONS. +</h4> + +<p> +Because this simplicity of knowledge requisite in War was not attended to, but +that knowledge was always jumbled up with the whole impedimenta of subordinate +sciences and arts, therefore the palpable opposition to the events of real life +which resulted could not be solved otherwise than by ascribing it all to +genius, which requires no theory and for which no theory could be prescribed. +</p> + +<h4> +42. ON THIS ACCOUNT ALL USE OF KNOWLEDGE WAS DENIED, AND EVERYTHING ASCRIBED TO +NATURAL TALENTS. +</h4> + +<p> +People with whom common sense had the upper hand felt sensible of the immense +distance remaining to be filled up between a genius of the highest order and a +learned pedant; and they became in a manner free-thinkers, rejected all belief +in theory, and affirmed the conduct of War to be a natural function of man, +which he performs more or less well according as he has brought with him into +the world more or less talent in that direction. It cannot be denied that these +were nearer to the truth than those who placed a value on false knowledge: at +the same time it may easily be seen that such a view is itself but an +exaggeration. No activity of the human understanding is possible without a +certain stock of ideas; but these are, for the greater part at least, not +innate but acquired, and constitute his knowledge. The only question therefore +is, of what kind should these ideas be; and we think we have answered it if we +say that they should be directed on those things which man has directly to deal +with in War. +</p> + +<h4> +43. THE KNOWLEDGE MUST BE MADE SUITABLE TO THE POSITION. +</h4> + +<p> +Inside this field itself of military activity, the knowledge required must be +different according to the station of the Commander. It will be directed on +smaller and more circumscribed objects if he holds an inferior, upon greater +and more comprehensive ones if he holds a higher situation. There are Field +Marshals who would not have shone at the head of a cavalry regiment, and <i>vice +versa</i>. +</p> + +<h4> +44. THE KNOWLEDGE IN WAR IS VERY SIMPLE, BUT NOT, AT THE SAME TIME, VERY EASY. +</h4> + +<p> +But although the knowledge in War is simple, that is to say directed to so few +subjects, and taking up those only in their final results, the art of execution +is not, on that account, easy. Of the difficulties to which activity in War is +subject generally, we have already spoken in the first book; we here omit those +things which can only be overcome by courage, and maintain also that the +activity of mind, is only simple, and easy in inferior stations, but increases +in difficulty with increase of rank, and in the highest position, in that of +Commander-in-Chief, is to be reckoned among the most difficult which there is +for the human mind. +</p> + +<h4> +45. OF THE NATURE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE. +</h4> + +<p> +The Commander of an Army neither requires to be a learned explorer of history +nor a publicist, but he must be well versed in the higher affairs of State; he +must know, and be able to judge correctly of traditional tendencies, interests +at stake, the immediate questions at issue, and the characters of leading +persons; he need not be a close observer of men, a sharp dissector of human +character, but he must know the character, the feelings, the habits, the +peculiar faults and inclinations of those whom he is to command. He need not +understand anything about the make of a carriage, or the harness of a battery +horse, but he must know how to calculate exactly the march of a column, under +different circumstances, according to the time it requires. These are matters +the knowledge of which cannot be forced out by an apparatus of scientific +formula and machinery: they are only to be gained by the exercise of an +accurate judgment in the observation of things and of men, aided by a special +talent for the apprehension of both. +</p> + +<p> +The necessary knowledge for a high position in military action is therefore +distinguished by this, that by observation, therefore by study and reflection, +it is only to be attained through a special talent which as an intellectual +instinct understands how to extract from the phenomena of life only the essence +or spirit, as bees do the honey from the flowers; and that it is also to be +gained by experience of life as well as by study and reflection. Life will +never bring forth a Newton or an Euler by its rich teachings, but it may bring +forth great calculators in War, such as Condé or Frederick. +</p> + +<p> +It is therefore not necessary that, in order to vindicate the intellectual +dignity of military activity, we should resort to untruth and silly pedantry. +There never has been a great and distinguished Commander of contracted mind, +but very numerous are the instances of men who, after serving with the greatest +distinction in inferior positions, remained below mediocrity in the highest, +from insufficiency of intellectual capacity. That even amongst those holding +the post of Commander-in-Chief there may be a difference according to the +degree of their plenitude of power is a matter of course. +</p> + +<h4> +46. SCIENCE MUST BECOME ART. +</h4> + +<p> +Now we have yet to consider one condition which is more necessary for the +knowledge of the conduct of War than for any other, which is, that it must pass +completely into the mind and almost completely cease to be something objective. +In almost all other arts and occupations of life the active agent can make use +of truths which he has only learnt once, and in the spirit and sense of which +he no longer lives, and which he extracts from dusty books. Even truths which +he has in hand and uses daily may continue something external to himself, If +the architect takes up a pen to settle the strength of a pier by a complicated +calculation, the truth found as a result is no emanation from his own mind. He +had first to find the data with labour, and then to submit these to an +operation of the mind, the rule for which he did not discover, the necessity of +which he is perhaps at the moment only partly conscious of, but which he +applies, for the most part, as if by mechanical dexterity. But it is never so +in War. The moral reaction, the ever-changeful form of things, makes it +necessary for the chief actor to carry in himself the whole mental apparatus of +his knowledge, that anywhere and at every pulse-beat he may be capable of +giving the requisite decision from himself. Knowledge must, by this complete +assimilation with his own mind and life, be converted into real power. This is +the reason why everything seems so easy with men distinguished in War, and why +everything is ascribed to natural talent. We say natural talent, in order +thereby to distinguish it from that which is formed and matured by observation +and study. +</p> + +<p> +We think that by these reflections we have explained the problem of a theory of +the conduct of War; and pointed out the way to its solution. +</p> + +<p> +Of the two fields into which we have divided the conduct of War, tactics and +strategy, the theory of the latter contains unquestionably, as before observed, +the greatest difficulties, because the first is almost limited to a +circumscribed field of objects, but the latter, in the direction of objects +leading directly to peace, opens to itself an unlimited field of possibilities. +Since for the most part the Commander-in-Chief has only to keep these objects +steadily in view, therefore the part of strategy in which he moves is also that +which is particularly subject to this difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Theory, therefore, especially where it comprehends the highest services, will +stop much sooner in strategy than in tactics at the simple consideration of +things, and content itself to assist the Commander to that insight into things +which, blended with his whole thought, makes his course easier and surer, never +forces him into opposition with himself in order to obey an objective truth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>Art or Science of War</h3> + +<h4>1.—USAGE STILL UNSETTLED<br/> +(POWER AND KNOWLEDGE. SCIENCE WHEN MERE KNOWING; ART, WHEN DOING, IS THE +OBJECT.) +</h4> + +<p> +The choice between these terms seems to be still unsettled, and no one seems to +know rightly on what grounds it should be decided, and yet the thing is simple. +We have already said elsewhere that “knowing” is something +different from “doing.” The two are so different that they should +not easily be mistaken the one for the other. The “doing” cannot +properly stand in any book, and therefore also Art should never be the title of +a book. But because we have once accustomed ourselves to combine in conception, +under the name of theory of Art, or simply Art, the branches of knowledge +(which may be separately pure sciences) necessary for the practice of an Art, +therefore it is consistent to continue this ground of distinction, and to call +everything Art when the object is to carry out the “doing” (being +able), as for example, Art of building; Science, when merely knowledge is the +object; as Science of mathematics, of astronomy. That in every Art certain +complete sciences may be included is intelligible of itself, and should not +perplex us. But still it is worth observing that there is also no science +without a mixture of Art. In mathematics, for instance, the use of figures and +of algebra is an Art, but that is only one amongst many instances. The reason +is, that however plain and palpable the difference is between knowledge and +power in the composite results of human knowledge, yet it is difficult to trace +out their line of separation in man himself. +</p> + +<h4> +2. DIFFICULTY OF SEPARATING PERCEPTION FROM JUDGMENT.<br/> +(ART OF WAR.) +</h4> + +<p> +All thinking is indeed Art. Where the logician draws the line, where the +premises stop which are the result of cognition—where judgment begins, +there Art begins. But more than this even the perception of the mind is +judgment again, and consequently Art; and at last, even the perception by the +senses as well. In a word, if it is impossible to imagine a human being +possessing merely the faculty of cognition, devoid of judgment or the reverse, +so also Art and Science can never be completely separated from each other. The +more these subtle elements of light embody themselves in the outward forms of +the world, so much the more separate appear their domains; and now once more, +where the object is creation and production, there is the province of Art; +where the object is investigation and knowledge Science holds sway.—After +all this it results of itself that it is more fitting to say Art of War than +Science of War. +</p> + +<p> +So much for this, because we cannot do without these conceptions. But now we +come forward with the assertion that War is neither an Art nor a Science in the +real signification, and that it is just the setting out from that +starting-point of ideas which has led to a wrong direction being taken, which +has caused War to be put on a par with other arts and sciences, and has led to +a number of erroneous analogies. +</p> + +<p> +This has indeed been felt before now, and on that it was maintained that War is +a handicraft; but there was more lost than gained by that, for a handicraft is +only an inferior art, and as such is also subject to definite and rigid laws. +In reality the Art of War did go on for some time in the spirit of a +handicraft—we allude to the times of the Condottieri—but then it +received that direction, not from intrinsic but from external causes; and +military history shows how little it was at that time in accordance with the +nature of the thing. +</p> + +<h4> +3. WAR IS PART OF THE INTERCOURSE OF THE HUMAN RACE. +</h4> + +<p> +We say therefore War belongs not to the province of Arts and Sciences, but to +the province of social life. It is a conflict of great interests which is +settled by bloodshed, and only in that is it different from others. It would be +better, instead of comparing it with any Art, to liken it to business +competition, which is also a conflict of human interests and activities; and it +is still more like State policy, which again, on its part, may be looked upon +as a kind of business competition on a great scale. Besides, State policy is +the womb in which War is developed, in which its outlines lie hidden in a +rudimentary state, like the qualities of living creatures in their germs.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The analogy has become much closer since Clausewitz’s time. Now that +the first business of the State is regarded as the development of facilities +for trade, War between great nations is only a question of time. No Hague +Conferences can avert it—EDITOR. +</p> + +<h4> +4. DIFFERENCE. +</h4> + +<p> +The essential difference consists in this, that War is no activity of the will, +which exerts itself upon inanimate matter like the mechanical Arts; or upon a +living but still passive and yielding subject, like the human mind and the +human feelings in the ideal Arts, but against a living and reacting force. How +little the categories of Arts and Sciences are applicable to such an activity +strikes us at once; and we can understand at the same time how that constant +seeking and striving after laws like those which may be developed out of the +dead material world could not but lead to constant errors. And yet it is just +the mechanical Arts that some people would imitate in the Art of War. The +imitation of the ideal Arts was quite out of the question, because these +themselves dispense too much with laws and rules, and those hitherto tried, +always acknowledged as insufficient and one-sided, are perpetually undermined +and washed away by the current of opinions, feelings, and customs. +</p> + +<p> +Whether such a conflict of the living, as takes place and is settled in War, is +subject to general laws, and whether these are capable of indicating a useful +line of action, will be partly investigated in this book; but so much is +evident in itself, that this, like every other subject which does not surpass +our powers of understanding, may be lighted up, and be made more or less plain +in its inner relations by an inquiring mind, and that alone is sufficient to +realise the idea of a THEORY. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>Methodicism</h3> + +<p> +In order to explain ourselves clearly as to the conception of method, and +method of action, which play such an important part in War, we must be allowed +to cast a hasty glance at the logical hierarchy through which, as through +regularly constituted official functionaries, the world of action is governed. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Law</i>, in the widest sense strictly applying to perception as well as action, has +plainly something subjective and arbitrary in its literal meaning, and +expresses just that on which we and those things external to us are dependent. +As a subject of cognition, <i>Law</i> is the relation of things and their effects to +one another; as a subject of the will, it is a motive of action, and is then +equivalent to <i>command</i> or <i>prohibition</i>. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Principle</i> is likewise such a law for action, except that it has not the formal +definite meaning, but is only the spirit and sense of law in order to leave the +judgment more freedom of application when the diversity of the real world +cannot be laid hold of under the definite form of a law. As the judgment must +of itself suggest the cases in which the principle is not applicable, the +latter therefore becomes in that way a real aid or guiding star for the person +acting. +</p> + +<p> +Principle is <i>objective</i> when it is the result of objective truth, and +consequently of equal value for all men; it is <i>subjective</i>, and then generally +called <i>maxim</i> if there are subjective relations in it, and if it therefore has a +certain value only for the person himself who makes it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rule</i> is frequently taken in the sense of <i>Law</i>, and then means the same as +<i>Principle</i>, for we say “no rule without exceptions,” but we do not +say “no law without exceptions,” a sign that with <i>Rule</i> we retain to +ourselves more freedom of application. +</p> + +<p> +In another meaning <i>Rule</i> is the means used of discerning a recondite truth in a +particular sign lying close at hand, in order to attach to this particular sign +the law of action directed upon the whole truth. Of this kind are all the rules +of games of play, all abridged processes in mathematics, &c. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Directions</i> and <i>instructions</i> are determinations of action which have an +influence upon a number of minor circumstances too numerous and unimportant for +general laws. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, <i>Method, mode of acting</i>, is an always recurring proceeding selected out +of several possible ones; and <i>Methodicism</i> (M<small>ETHODISMUS</small>) is that which is +determined by methods instead of by general principles or particular +prescriptions. By this the cases which are placed under such methods must +necessarily be supposed alike in their essential parts. As they cannot all be +this, then the point is that at least as many as possible should be; in other +words, that Method should be calculated on the most probable cases. Methodicism +is therefore not founded on determined particular premises, but on the average +probability of cases one with another; and its ultimate tendency is to set up +an average truth, the constant and uniform, application of which soon acquires +something of the nature of a mechanical appliance, which in the end does that +which is right almost unwittingly. +</p> + +<p> +The conception of law in relation to perception is not necessary for the +conduct of War, because the complex phenomena of War are not so regular, and +the regular are not so complex, that we should gain anything more by this +conception than by the simple truth. And where a simple conception and language +is sufficient, to resort to the complex becomes affected and pedantic. The +conception of law in relation to action cannot be used in the theory of the +conduct of War, because owing to the variableness and diversity of the +phenomena there is in it no determination of such a general nature as to +deserve the name of law. +</p> + +<p> +But principles, rules, prescriptions, and methods are conceptions indispensable +to a theory of the conduct of War, in so far as that theory leads to positive +doctrines, because in doctrines the truth can only crystallise itself in such +forms. +</p> + +<p> +As tactics is the branch of the conduct of War in which theory can attain the +nearest to positive doctrine, therefore these conceptions will appear in it +most frequently. +</p> + +<p> +Not to use cavalry against unbroken infantry except in some case of special +emergency, only to use firearms within effective range in the combat, to spare +the forces as much as possible for the final struggle—these are tactical +principles. None of them can be applied absolutely in every case, but they must +always be present to the mind of the Chief, in order that the benefit of the +truth contained in them may not be lost in cases where that truth can be of +advantage. +</p> + +<p> +If from the unusual cooking by an enemy’s camp his movement is inferred, +if the intentional exposure of troops in a combat indicates a false attack, +then this way of discerning the truth is called rule, because from a single +visible circumstance that conclusion is drawn which corresponds with the same. +</p> + +<p> +If it is a rule to attack the enemy with renewed vigour, as soon as he begins +to limber up his artillery in the combat, then on this particular fact depends +a course of action which is aimed at the general situation of the enemy as +inferred from the above fact, namely, that he is about to give up the fight, +that he is commencing to draw off his troops, and is neither capable of making +a serious stand while thus drawing off nor of making his retreat gradually in +good order. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Regulations</i> and <i>methods</i> bring preparatory theories into the conduct of War, in +so far as disciplined troops are inoculated with them as active principles. The +whole body of instructions for formations, drill, and field service are +regulations and methods: in the drill instructions the first predominate, in +the field service instructions the latter. To these things the real conduct of +War attaches itself; it takes them over, therefore, as given modes of +proceeding, and as such they must appear in the theory of the conduct of War. +</p> + +<p> +But for those activities retaining freedom in the employment of these forces +there cannot be regulations, that is, definite instructions, because they would +do away with freedom of action. Methods, on the other hand, as a general way of +executing duties as they arise, calculated, as we have said, on an average of +probability, or as a dominating influence of principles and rules carried +through to application, may certainly appear in the theory of the conduct of +War, provided only they are not represented as something different from what +they are, not as the absolute and necessary modes of action (systems), but as +the best of general forms which may be used as shorter ways in place of a +particular disposition for the occasion, at discretion. +</p> + +<p> +But the frequent application of methods will be seen to be most essential and +unavoidable in the conduct of War, if we reflect how much action proceeds on +mere conjecture, or in complete uncertainty, because one side is prevented from +learning all the circumstances which influence the dispositions of the other, +or because, even if these circumstances which influence the decisions of the +one were really known, there is not, owing to their extent and the dispositions +they would entail, sufficient time for the other to carry out all necessary +counteracting measures—that therefore measures in War must always be +calculated on a certain number of possibilities; if we reflect how numberless +are the trifling things belonging to any single event, and which therefore +should be taken into account along with it, and that therefore there is no +other means to suppose the one counteracted by the other, and to base our +arrangements only upon what is of a general nature and probable; if we reflect +lastly that, owing to the increasing number of officers as we descend the scale +of rank, less must be left to the true discernment and ripe judgment of +individuals the lower the sphere of action, and that when we reach those ranks +where we can look for no other notions but those which the regulations of the +service and experience afford, we must help them with the methodic forms +bordering on those regulations. This will serve both as a support to their +judgment and a barrier against those extravagant and erroneous views which are +so especially to be dreaded in a sphere where experience is so costly. +</p> + +<p> +Besides this absolute need of method in action, we must also acknowledge that +it has a positive advantage, which is that, through the constant repetition of +a formal exercise, a readiness, precision, and firmness is attained in the +movement of troops which diminishes the natural friction, and makes the machine +move easier. +</p> + +<p> +Method will therefore be the more generally used, become the more +indispensable, the farther down the scale of rank the position of the active +agent; and on the other hand, its use will diminish upwards, until in the +highest position it quite disappears. For this reason it is more in its place +in tactics than in strategy. +</p> + +<p> +War in its highest aspects consists not of an infinite number of little events, +the diversities in which compensate each other, and which therefore by a better +or worse method are better or worse governed, but of separate great decisive +events which must be dealt with separately. It is not like a field of stalks, +which, without any regard to the particular form of each stalk, will be mowed +better or worse, according as the mowing instrument is good or bad, but rather +as a group of large trees, to which the axe must be laid with judgment, +according to the particular form and inclination of each separate trunk. +</p> + +<p> +How high up in military activity the admissibility of method in action reaches +naturally determines itself, not according to actual rank, but according to +things; and it affects the highest positions in a less degree, only because +these positions have the most comprehensive subjects of activity. A constant +order of battle, a constant formation of advance guards and outposts, are +methods by which a General ties not only his subordinates’ hands, but +also his own in certain cases. Certainly they may have been devised by himself, +and may be applied by him according to circumstances, but they may also be a +subject of theory, in so far as they are based on the general properties of +troops and weapons. On the other hand, any method by which definite plans for +wars or campaigns are to be given out all ready made as if from a machine are +absolutely worthless. +</p> + +<p> +As long as there exists no theory which can be sustained, that is, no +enlightened treatise on the conduct of War, method in action cannot but +encroach beyond its proper limits in high places, for men employed in these +spheres of activity have not always had the opportunity of educating +themselves, through study and through contact with the higher interests. In the +impracticable and inconsistent disquisitions of theorists and critics they +cannot find their way, their sound common sense rejects them, and as they bring +with them no knowledge but that derived from experience, therefore in those +cases which admit of, and require, a free individual treatment they readily +make use of the means which experience gives them—that is, an imitation +of the particular methods practised by great Generals, by which a method of +action then arises of itself. If we see Frederick the Great’s Generals +always making their appearance in the so-called oblique order of battle, the +Generals of the French Revolution always using turning movements with a long, +extended line of battle, and Buonaparte’s lieutenants rushing to the +attack with the bloody energy of concentrated masses, then we recognise in the +recurrence of the mode of proceeding evidently an adopted method, and see +therefore that method of action can reach up to regions bordering on the +highest. Should an improved theory facilitate the study of the conduct of War, +form the mind and judgment of men who are rising to the highest commands, then +also method in action will no longer reach so far, and so much of it as is to +be considered indispensable will then at least be formed from theory itself, +and not take place out of mere imitation. However pre-eminently a great +Commander does things, there is always something subjective in the way he does +them; and if he has a certain manner, a large share of his individuality is +contained in it which does not always accord with the individuality of the +person who copies his manner. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, it would neither be possible nor right to banish subjective +methodicism or manner completely from the conduct of War: it is rather to be +regarded as a manifestation of that influence which the general character of a +War has upon its separate events, and to which satisfaction can only be done in +that way if theory is not able to foresee this general character and include it +in its considerations. What is more natural than that the War of the French +Revolution had its own way of doing things? and what theory could ever have +included that peculiar method? The evil is only that such a manner originating +in a special case easily outlives itself, because it continues whilst +circumstances imperceptibly change. This is what theory should prevent by lucid +and rational criticism. When in the year 1806 the Prussian Generals, Prince +Louis at Saalfeld, Tauentzien on the Dornberg near Jena, Grawert before and +Ruechel behind Kappellendorf, all threw themselves into the open jaws of +destruction in the oblique order of Frederick the Great, and managed to ruin +Hohenlohe’s Army in a way that no Army was ever ruined, even on the field +of battle, all this was done through a manner which had outlived its day, +together with the most downright stupidity to which methodicism ever led. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Criticism</h3> + +<p> +The influence of theoretical principles upon real life is produced more through +criticism than through doctrine, for as criticism is an application of abstract +truth to real events, therefore it not only brings truth of this description +nearer to life, but also accustoms the understanding more to such truths by the +constant repetition of their application. We therefore think it necessary to +fix the point of view for criticism next to that for theory. +</p> + +<p> +From the simple narration of an historical occurrence which places events in +chronological order, or at most only touches on their more immediate causes, we +separate the CRITICAL. +</p> + +<p> +In this CRITICAL three different operations of the mind may be observed. +</p> + +<p> +First, the historical investigation and determining of doubtful facts. This is +properly historical research, and has nothing in common with theory. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, the tracing of effects to causes. This is the REAL CRITICAL INQUIRY; +it is indispensable to theory, for everything which in theory is to be +established, supported, or even merely explained, by experience can only be +settled in this way. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, the testing of the means employed. This is criticism, properly +speaking, in which praise and censure is contained. This is where theory helps +history, or rather, the teaching to be derived from it. +</p> + +<p> +In these two last strictly critical parts of historical study, all depends on +tracing things to their primary elements, that is to say, up to undoubted +truths, and not, as is so often done, resting half-way, that is, on some +arbitrary assumption or supposition. +</p> + +<p> +As respects the tracing of effect to cause, that is often attended with the +insuperable difficulty that the real causes are not known. In none of the +relations of life does this so frequently happen as in War, where events are +seldom fully known, and still less motives, as the latter have been, perhaps +purposely, concealed by the chief actor, or have been of such a transient and +accidental character that they have been lost for history. For this reason +critical narration must generally proceed hand in hand with historical +investigation, and still such a want of connection between cause and effect +will often present itself, that it does not seem justifiable to consider +effects as the necessary results of known causes. Here, therefore must occur, +that is, historical results which cannot be made use of for teaching. All that +theory can demand is that the investigation should be rigidly conducted up to +that point, and there leave off without drawing conclusions. A real evil +springs up only if the known is made perforce to suffice as an explanation of +effects, and thus a false importance is ascribed to it. +</p> + +<p> +Besides this difficulty, critical inquiry also meets with another great and +intrinsic one, which is that the progress of events in War seldom proceeds from +one simple cause, but from several in common, and that it therefore is not +sufficient to follow up a series of events to their origin in a candid and +impartial spirit, but that it is then also necessary to apportion to each +contributing cause its due weight. This leads, therefore, to a closer +investigation of their nature, and thus a critical investigation may lead into +what is the proper field of theory. +</p> + +<p> +The critical CONSIDERATION, that is, the testing of the means, leads to the +question, Which are the effects peculiar to the means applied, and whether +these effects were comprehended in the plans of the person directing? +</p> + +<p> +The effects peculiar to the means lead to the investigation of their nature, +and thus again into the field of theory. +</p> + +<p> +We have already seen that in criticism all depends upon attaining to positive +truth; therefore, that we must not stop at arbitrary propositions which are not +allowed by others, and to which other perhaps equally arbitrary assertions may +again be opposed, so that there is no end to pros and cons; the whole is +without result, and therefore without instruction. +</p> + +<p> +We have seen that both the search for causes and the examination of means lead +into the field of theory; that is, into the field of universal truth, which +does not proceed solely from the case immediately under examination. If there +is a theory which can be used, then the critical consideration will appeal to +the proofs there afforded, and the examination may there stop. But where no +such theoretical truth is to be found, the inquiry must be pushed up to the +original elements. If this necessity occurs often, it must lead the historian +(according to a common expression) into a labyrinth of details. He then has his +hands full, and it is impossible for him to stop to give the requisite +attention everywhere; the consequence is, that in order to set bounds to his +investigation, he adopts some arbitrary assumptions which, if they do not +appear so to him, do so to others, as they are not evident in themselves or +capable of proof. +</p> + +<p> +A sound theory is therefore an essential foundation for criticism, and it is +impossible for it, without the assistance of a sensible theory, to attain to +that point at which it commences chiefly to be instructive, that is, where it +becomes demonstration, both convincing and sans réplique. +</p> + +<p> +But it would be a visionary hope to believe in the possibility of a theory +applicable to every abstract truth, leaving nothing for criticism to do but to +place the case under its appropriate law: it would be ridiculous pedantry to +lay down as a rule for criticism that it must always halt and turn round on +reaching the boundaries of sacred theory. The same spirit of analytical inquiry +which is the origin of theory must also guide the critic in his work; and it +can and must therefore happen that he strays beyond the boundaries of the +province of theory and elucidates those points with which he is more +particularly concerned. It is more likely, on the contrary, that criticism +would completely fail in its object if it degenerated into a mechanical +application of theory. All positive results of theoretical inquiry, all +principles, rules, and methods, are the more wanting in generality and positive +truth the more they become positive doctrine. They exist to offer themselves +for use as required, and it must always be left for judgment to decide whether +they are suitable or not. Such results of theory must never be used in +criticism as rules or norms for a standard, but in the same way as the person +acting should use them, that is, merely as aids to judgment. If it is an +acknowledged principle in tactics that in the usual order of battle cavalry +should be placed behind infantry, not in line with it, still it would be folly +on this account to condemn every deviation from this principle. Criticism must +investigate the grounds of the deviation, and it is only in case these are +insufficient that it has a right to appeal to principles laid down in theory. +If it is further established in theory that a divided attack diminishes the +probability of success, still it would be just as unreasonable, whenever there +is a divided attack and an unsuccessful issue, to regard the latter as the +result of the former, without further investigation into the connection between +the two, as where a divided attack is successful to infer from it the fallacy +of that theoretical principle. The spirit of investigation which belongs to +criticism cannot allow either. Criticism therefore supports itself chiefly on +the results of the analytical investigation of theory; what has been made out +and determined by theory does not require to be demonstrated over again by +criticism, and it is so determined by theory that criticism may find it ready +demonstrated. +</p> + +<p> +This office of criticism, of examining the effect produced by certain causes, +and whether a means applied has answered its object, will be easy enough if +cause and effect, means and end, are all near together. +</p> + +<p> +If an Army is surprised, and therefore cannot make a regular and intelligent +use of its powers and resources, then the effect of the surprise is not +doubtful.—If theory has determined that in a battle the convergent form +of attack is calculated to produce greater but less certain results, then the +question is whether he who employs that convergent form had in view chiefly +that greatness of result as his object; if so, the proper means were chosen. +But if by this form he intended to make the result more certain, and that +expectation was founded not on some exceptional circumstances (in this case), +but on the general nature of the convergent form, as has happened a hundred +times, then he mistook the nature of the means and committed an error. +</p> + +<p> +Here the work of military investigation and criticism is easy, and it will +always be so when confined to the immediate effects and objects. This can be +done quite at option, if we abstract the connection of the parts with the +whole, and only look at things in that relation. +</p> + +<p> +But in War, as generally in the world, there is a connection between everything +which belongs to a whole; and therefore, however small a cause may be in +itself, its effects reach to the end of the act of warfare, and modify or +influence the final result in some degree, let that degree be ever so small. In +the same manner every means must be felt up to the ultimate object. +</p> + +<p> +We can therefore trace the effects of a cause as long as events are worth +noticing, and in the same way we must not stop at the testing of a means for +the immediate object, but test also this object as a means to a higher one, and +thus ascend the series of facts in succession, until we come to one so +absolutely necessary in its nature as to require no examination or proof. In +many cases, particularly in what concerns great and decisive measures, the +investigation must be carried to the final aim, to that which leads immediately +to peace. +</p> + +<p> +It is evident that in thus ascending, at every new station which we reach a new +point of view for the judgment is attained, so that the same means which +appeared advisable at one station, when looked at from the next above it may +have to be rejected. +</p> + +<p> +The search for the causes of events and the comparison of means with ends must +always go hand in hand in the critical review of an act, for the investigation +of causes leads us first to the discovery of those things which are worth +examining. +</p> + +<p> +This following of the clue up and down is attended with considerable +difficulty, for the farther from an event the cause lies which we are looking +for, the greater must be the number of other causes which must at the same time +be kept in view and allowed for in reference to the share which they have in +the course of events, and then eliminated, because the higher the importance of +a fact the greater will be the number of separate forces and circumstances by +which it is conditioned. If we have unravelled the causes of a battle being +lost, we have certainly also ascertained a part of the causes of the +consequences which this defeat has upon the whole War, but only a part, because +the effects of other causes, more or less according to circumstances, will flow +into the final result. +</p> + +<p> +The same multiplicity of circumstances is presented also in the examination of +the means the higher our point of view, for the higher the object is situated, +the greater must be the number of means employed to reach it. The ultimate +object of the War is the object aimed at by all the Armies simultaneously, and +it is therefore necessary that the consideration should embrace all that each +has done or could have done. +</p> + +<p> +It is obvious that this may sometimes lead to a wide field of inquiry, in which +it is easy to wander and lose the way, and in which this difficulty +prevails—that a number of assumptions or suppositions must be made about +a variety of things which do not actually appear, but which in all probability +did take place, and therefore cannot possibly be left out of consideration. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte, in 1797,(*) at the head of the Army of Italy, advanced from +the Tagliamento against the Archduke Charles, he did so with a view to force +that General to a decisive action before the reinforcements expected from the +Rhine had reached him. If we look, only at the immediate object, the means were +well chosen and justified by the result, for the Archduke was so inferior in +numbers that he only made a show of resistance on the Tagliamento, and when he +saw his adversary so strong and resolute, yielded ground, and left open the +passages, of the Norican Alps. Now to what use could Buonaparte turn this +fortunate event? To penetrate into the heart of the Austrian empire itself, to +facilitate the advance of the Rhine Armies under Moreau and Hoche, and open +communication with them? This was the view taken by Buonaparte, and from this +point of view he was right. But now, if criticism places itself at a higher +point of view—namely, that of the French Directory, which body could see +and know that the Armies on the Rhine could not commence the campaign for six +weeks, then the advance of Buonaparte over the Norican Alps can only be +regarded as an extremely hazardous measure; for if the Austrians had drawn +largely on their Rhine Armies to reinforce their Army in Styria, so as to +enable the Archduke to fall upon the Army of Italy, not only would that Army +have been routed, but the whole campaign lost. This consideration, which +attracted the serious attention of Buonaparte at Villach, no doubt induced him +to sign the armistice of Leoben with so much readiness. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Compare <i>Hinterlassene Werke</i>, 2nd edition, vol. iv. p. 276 <i>et seq.</i> +</p> + +<p> +If criticism takes a still higher position, and if it knows that the Austrians +had no reserves between the Army of the Archduke Charles and Vienna, then we +see that Vienna became threatened by the advance of the Army of Italy. +</p> + +<p> +Supposing that Buonaparte knew that the capital was thus uncovered, and knew +that he still retained the same superiority in numbers over the Archduke as he +had in Styria, then his advance against the heart of the Austrian States was no +longer without purpose, and its value depended on the value which the Austrians +might place on preserving their capital. If that was so great that, rather than +lose it, they would accept the conditions of peace which Buonaparte was ready +to offer them, it became an object of the first importance to threaten Vienna. +If Buonaparte had any reason to know this, then criticism may stop there, but +if this point was only problematical, then criticism must take a still higher +position, and ask what would have followed if the Austrians had resolved to +abandon Vienna and retire farther into the vast dominions still left to them. +But it is easy to see that this question cannot be answered without bringing +into the consideration the probable movements of the Rhine Armies on both +sides. Through the decided superiority of numbers on the side of the +French—130,000 to 80,000—there could be little doubt of the result; +but then next arises the question, What use would the Directory make of a +victory; whether they would follow up their success to the opposite frontiers +of the Austrian monarchy, therefore to the complete breaking up or overthrow of +that power, or whether they would be satisfied with the conquest of a +considerable portion to serve as a security for peace? The probable result in +each case must be estimated, in order to come to a conclusion as to the +probable determination of the Directory. Supposing the result of these +considerations to be that the French forces were much too weak for the complete +subjugation of the Austrian monarchy, so that the attempt might completely +reverse the respective positions of the contending Armies, and that even the +conquest and occupation of a considerable district of country would place the +French Army in strategic relations to which they were not equal, then that +result must naturally influence the estimate of the position of the Army of +Italy, and compel it to lower its expectations. And this, it was no doubt which +influenced Buonaparte, although fully aware of the helpless condition of the +Archduke, still to sign the peace of Campo Formio, which imposed no greater +sacrifices on the Austrians than the loss of provinces which, even if the +campaign took the most favourable turn for them, they could not have +reconquered. But the French could not have reckoned on even the moderate treaty +of Campo Formio, and therefore it could not have been their object in making +their bold advance if two considerations had not presented themselves to their +view, the first of which consisted in the question, what degree of value the +Austrians would attach to each of the above-mentioned results; whether, +notwithstanding the probability of a satisfactory result in either of these +cases, would it be worth while to make the sacrifices inseparable from a +continuance of the War, when they could be spared those sacrifices by a peace +on terms not too humiliating? The second consideration is the question whether +the Austrian Government, instead of seriously weighing the possible results of +a resistance pushed to extremities, would not prove completely disheartened by +the impression of their present reverses. +</p> + +<p> +The consideration which forms the subject of the first is no idle piece of +subtle argument, but a consideration of such decidedly practical importance +that it comes up whenever the plan of pushing War to the utmost extremity is +mooted, and by its weight in most cases restrains the execution of such plans. +</p> + +<p> +The second consideration is of equal importance, for we do not make War with an +abstraction but with a reality, which we must always keep in view, and we may +be sure that it was not overlooked by the bold Buonaparte—that is, that +he was keenly alive to the terror which the appearance of his sword inspired. +It was reliance on that which led him to Moscow. There it led him into a +scrape. The terror of him had been weakened by the gigantic struggles in which +he had been engaged; in the year 1797 it was still fresh, and the secret of a +resistance pushed to extremities had not been discovered; nevertheless even in +1797 his boldness might have led to a negative result if, as already said, he +had not with a sort of presentiment avoided it by signing the moderate peace of +Campo Formio. +</p> + +<p> +We must now bring these considerations to a close—they will suffice to +show the wide sphere, the diversity and embarrassing nature of the subjects +embraced in a critical examination carried to the fullest extent, that is, to +those measures of a great and decisive class which must necessarily be +included. It follows from them that besides a theoretical acquaintance with the +subject, natural talent must also have a great influence on the value of +critical examinations, for it rests chiefly with the latter to throw the +requisite light on the interrelations of things, and to distinguish from +amongst the endless connections of events those which are really essential. +</p> + +<p> +But talent is also called into requisition in another way. Critical examination +is not merely the appreciation of those means which have been actually +employed, but also of all possible means, which therefore must be suggested in +the first place—that is, must be discovered; and the use of any +particular means is not fairly open to censure until a better is pointed out. +Now, however small the number of possible combinations may be in most cases, +still it must be admitted that to point out those which have not been used is +not a mere analysis of actual things, but a spontaneous creation which cannot +be prescribed, and depends on the fertility of genius. +</p> + +<p> +We are far from seeing a field for great genius in a case which admits only of +the application of a few simple combinations, and we think it exceedingly +ridiculous to hold up, as is often done, the turning of a position as an +invention showing the highest genius; still nevertheless this creative +self-activity on the part of the critic is necessary, and it is one of the +points which essentially determine the value of critical examination. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte on 30th July, 1796,(*) determined to raise the siege of Mantua, +in order to march with his whole force against the enemy, advancing in separate +columns to the relief of the place, and to beat them in detail, this appeared +the surest way to the attainment of brilliant victories. These victories +actually followed, and were afterwards again repeated on a still more brilliant +scale on the attempt to relieve the fortress being again renewed. We hear only +one opinion on these achievements, that of unmixed admiration. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Compare <i>Hinterlassene Werke</i>, 2nd edition, vol. iv. p. 107 <i>et seq</i>. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, Buonaparte could not have adopted this course on the 30th +July without quite giving up the idea of the siege of Mantua, because it was +impossible to save the siege train, and it could not be replaced by another in +this campaign. In fact, the siege was converted into a blockade, and the town, +which if the siege had continued must have very shortly fallen, held out for +six months in spite of Buonaparte’s victories in the open field. +</p> + +<p> +Criticism has generally regarded this as an evil that was unavoidable, because +critics have not been able to suggest any better course. Resistance to a +relieving Army within lines of circumvallation had fallen into such disrepute +and contempt that it appears to have entirely escaped consideration as a means. +And yet in the reign of Louis XIV. that measure was so often used with success +that we can only attribute to the force of fashion the fact that a hundred +years later it never occurred to any one even to propose such a measure. If the +practicability of such a plan had ever been entertained for a moment, a closer +consideration of circumstances would have shown that 40,000 of the best +infantry in the world under Buonaparte, behind strong lines of circumvallation +round Mantua, had so little to fear from the 50,000 men coming to the relief +under Wurmser, that it was very unlikely that any attempt even would be made +upon their lines. We shall not seek here to establish this point, but we +believe enough has been said to show that this means was one which had a right +to a share of consideration. Whether Buonaparte himself ever thought of such a +plan we leave undecided; neither in his memoirs nor in other sources is there +any trace to be found of his having done so; in no critical works has it been +touched upon, the measure being one which the mind had lost sight of. The merit +of resuscitating the idea of this means is not great, for it suggests itself at +once to any one who breaks loose from the trammels of fashion. Still it is +necessary that it should suggest itself for us to bring it into consideration +and compare it with the means which Buonaparte employed. Whatever may be the +result of the comparison, it is one which should not be omitted by criticism. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte, in February, 1814,(*) after gaining the battles at Etoges, +Champ-Aubert, and Montmirail, left Blücher’s Army, and turning upon +Schwartzenberg, beat his troops at Montereau and Mormant, every one was filled +with admiration, because Buonaparte, by thus throwing his concentrated force +first upon one opponent, then upon another, made a brilliant use of the +mistakes which his adversaries had committed in dividing their forces. If these +brilliant strokes in different directions failed to save him, it was generally +considered to be no fault of his, at least. No one has yet asked the question, +What would have been the result if, instead of turning from Blücher upon +Schwartzenberg, he had tried another blow at Blücher, and pursued him to the +Rhine? We are convinced that it would have completely changed the course of the +campaign, and that the Army of the Allies, instead of marching to Paris, would +have retired behind the Rhine. We do not ask others to share our conviction, +but no one who understands the thing will doubt, at the mere mention of this +alternative course, that it is one which should not be overlooked in criticism. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Compare <i>Hinterlassene Werke</i>, 2nd edition. vol. vii. p. 193 <i>et seq</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In this case the means of comparison lie much more on the surface than in the +foregoing, but they have been equally overlooked, because one-sided views have +prevailed, and there has been no freedom of judgment. +</p> + +<p> +From the necessity of pointing out a better means which might have been used in +place of those which are condemned has arisen the form of criticism almost +exclusively in use, which contents itself with pointing out the better means +without demonstrating in what the superiority consists. The consequence is that +some are not convinced, that others start up and do the same thing, and that +thus discussion arises which is without any fixed basis for the argument. +Military literature abounds with matter of this sort. +</p> + +<p> +The demonstration we require is always necessary when the superiority of the +means propounded is not so evident as to leave no room for doubt, and it +consists in the examination of each of the means on its own merits, and then of +its comparison with the object desired. When once the thing is traced back to a +simple truth, controversy must cease, or at all events a new result is +obtained, whilst by the other plan the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> go on for ever consuming +each other. +</p> + +<p> +Should we, for example, not rest content with assertion in the case before +mentioned, and wish to prove that the persistent pursuit of Blücher would have +been more advantageous than the turning on Schwartzenberg, we should support +the arguments on the following simple truths: +</p> + +<p> +1. In general it is more advantageous to continue our blows in one and the same +direction, because there is a loss of time in striking in different directions; +and at a point where the moral power is already shaken by considerable losses +there is the more reason to expect fresh successes, therefore in that way no +part of the preponderance already gained is left idle. +</p> + +<p> +2. Because Blücher, although weaker than Schwartzenberg, was, on account of +his enterprising spirit, the more important adversary; in him, therefore, lay +the centre of attraction which drew the others along in the same direction. +</p> + +<p> +3. Because the losses which Blücher had sustained almost amounted to a defeat, +which gave Buonaparte such a preponderance over him as to make his retreat to +the Rhine almost certain, and at the same time no reserves of any consequence +awaited him there. +</p> + +<p> +4. Because there was no other result which would be so terrific in its aspects, +would appear to the imagination in such gigantic proportions, an immense +advantage in dealing with a Staff so weak and irresolute as that of +Schwartzenberg notoriously was at this time. What had happened to the Crown +Prince of Wartemberg at Montereau, and to Count Wittgenstein at Mormant, Prince +Schwartzenberg must have known well enough; but all the untoward events on +Blücher’s distant and separate line from the Marne to the Rhine would +only reach him by the avalanche of rumour. The desperate movements which +Buonaparte made upon Vitry at the end of March, to see what the Allies would do +if he threatened to turn them strategically, were evidently done on the +principle of working on their fears; but it was done under far different +circumstances, in consequence of his defeat at Laon and Arcis, and because +Blücher, with 100,000 men, was then in communication with Schwartzenberg. +</p> + +<p> +There are people, no doubt, who will not be convinced on these arguments, but +at all events they cannot retort by saying, that “whilst Buonaparte +threatened Schwartzenberg’s base by advancing to the Rhine, +Schwartzenberg at the same time threatened Buonaparte’s communications +with Paris,” because we have shown by the reasons above given that +Schwartzenberg would never have thought of marching on Paris. +</p> + +<p> +With respect to the example quoted by us from the campaign of 1796, we should +say: Buonaparte looked upon the plan he adopted as the surest means of beating +the Austrians; but admitting that it was so, still the object to be attained +was only an empty victory, which could have hardly any sensible influence on +the fall of Mantua. The way which we should have chosen would, in our opinion, +have been much more certain to prevent the relief of Mantua; but even if we +place ourselves in the position of the French General and assume that it was +not so, and look upon the certainty of success to have been less, the question +then amounts to a choice between a more certain but less useful, and therefore +less important, victory on the one hand, and a somewhat less probable but far +more decisive and important victory, on the other hand. Presented in this form, +boldness must have declared for the second solution, which is the reverse of +what took place, when the thing was only superficially viewed. Buonaparte +certainly was anything but deficient in boldness, and we may be sure that he +did not see the whole case and its consequences as fully and clearly as we can +at the present time. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally the critic, in treating of the means, must often appeal to military +history, as experience is of more value in the Art of War than all +philosophical truth. But this exemplification from history is subject to +certain conditions, of which we shall treat in a special chapter and +unfortunately these conditions are so seldom regarded that reference to history +generally only serves to increase the confusion of ideas. +</p> + +<p> +We have still a most important subject to consider, which is, How far criticism +in passing judgments on particular events is permitted, or in duty bound, to +make use of its wider view of things, and therefore also of that which is shown +by results; or when and where it should leave out of sight these things in +order to place itself, as far as possible, in the exact position of the chief +actor? +</p> + +<p> +If criticism dispenses praise or censure, it should seek to place itself as +nearly as possible at the same point of view as the person acting, that is to +say, to collect all he knew and all the motives on which he acted, and, on the +other hand, to leave out of the consideration all that the person acting could +not or did not know, and above all, the result. But this is only an object to +aim at, which can never be reached because the state of circumstances from +which an event proceeded can never be placed before the eye of the critic +exactly as it lay before the eye of the person acting. A number of inferior +circumstances, which must have influenced the result, are completely lost to +sight, and many a subjective motive has never come to light. +</p> + +<p> +The latter can only be learnt from the memoirs of the chief actor, or from his +intimate friends; and in such things of this kind are often treated of in a +very desultory manner, or purposely misrepresented. Criticism must, therefore, +always forego much which was present in the minds of those whose acts are +criticised. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, it is much more difficult to leave out of sight that which +criticism knows in excess. This is only easy as regards accidental +circumstances, that is, circumstances which have been mixed up, but are in no +way necessarily related. But it is very difficult, and, in fact, can never be +completely done with regard to things really essential. +</p> + +<p> +Let us take first, the result. If it has not proceeded from accidental +circumstances, it is almost impossible that the knowledge of it should not have +an effect on the judgment passed on events which have preceded it, for we see +these things in the light of this result, and it is to a certain extent by it +that we first become acquainted with them and appreciate them. Military +history, with all its events, is a source of instruction for criticism itself, +and it is only natural that criticism should throw that light on things which +it has itself obtained from the consideration of the whole. If therefore it +might wish in some cases to leave the result out of the consideration, it would +be impossible to do so completely. +</p> + +<p> +But it is not only in relation to the result, that is, with what takes place at +the last, that this embarrassment arises; the same occurs in relation to +preceding events, therefore with the data which furnished the motives to +action. Criticism has before it, in most cases, more information on this point +than the principal in the transaction. Now it may seem easy to dismiss from the +consideration everything of this nature, but it is not so easy as we may think. +The knowledge of preceding and concurrent events is founded not only on certain +information, but on a number of conjectures and suppositions; indeed, there is +hardly any of the information respecting things not purely accidental which has +not been preceded by suppositions or conjectures destined to take the place of +certain information in case such should never be supplied. Now is it +conceivable that criticism in after times, which has before it as facts all the +preceding and concurrent circumstances, should not allow itself to be thereby +influenced when it asks itself the question, What portion of the circumstances, +which at the moment of action were unknown, would it have held to be probable? +We maintain that in this case, as in the case of the results, and for the same +reason, it is impossible to disregard all these things completely. +</p> + +<p> +If therefore the critic wishes to bestow praise or blame upon any single act, +he can only succeed to a certain degree in placing himself in the position of +the person whose act he has under review. In many cases he can do so +sufficiently near for any practical purpose, but in many instances it is the +very reverse, and this fact should never be overlooked. +</p> + +<p> +But it is neither necessary nor desirable that criticism should completely +identify itself with the person acting. In War, as in all matters of skill, +there is a certain natural aptitude required which is called talent. This may +be great or small. In the first case it may easily be superior to that of the +critic, for what critic can pretend to the skill of a Frederick or a +Buonaparte? Therefore, if criticism is not to abstain altogether from offering +an opinion where eminent talent is concerned, it must be allowed to make use of +the advantage which its enlarged horizon affords. Criticism must not, +therefore, treat the solution of a problem by a great General like a sum in +arithmetic; it is only through the results and through the exact coincidences +of events that it can recognise with admiration how much is due to the exercise +of genius, and that it first learns the essential combination which the glance +of that genius devised. +</p> + +<p> +But for every, even the smallest, act of genius it is necessary that criticism +should take a higher point of view, so that, having at command many objective +grounds of decision, it may be as little subjective as possible, and that the +critic may not take the limited scope of his own mind as a standard. +</p> + +<p> +This elevated position of criticism, its praise and blame pronounced with a +full knowledge of all the circumstances, has in itself nothing which hurts our +feelings; it only does so if the critic pushes himself forward, and speaks in a +tone as if all the wisdom which he has obtained by an exhaustive examination of +the event under consideration were really his own talent. Palpable as is this +deception, it is one which people may easily fall into through vanity, and one +which is naturally distasteful to others. It very often happens that although +the critic has no such arrogant pretensions, they are imputed to him by the +reader because he has not expressly disclaimed them, and then follows +immediately a charge of a want of the power of critical judgment. +</p> + +<p> +If therefore a critic points out an error made by a Frederick or a Buonaparte, +that does not mean that he who makes the criticism would not have committed the +same error; he may even be ready to grant that had he been in the place of +these great Generals he might have made much greater mistakes; he merely sees +this error from the chain of events, and he thinks that it should not have +escaped the sagacity of the General. +</p> + +<p> +This is, therefore, an opinion formed through the connection of events, and +therefore through the RESULT. But there is another quite different effect of +the result itself upon the judgment, that is if it is used quite alone as an +example for or against the soundness of a measure. This may be called JUDGMENT +ACCORDING TO THE RESULT. Such a judgment appears at first sight inadmissible, +and yet it is not. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte marched to Moscow in 1812, all depended upon whether the taking +of the capital, and the events which preceded the capture, would force the +Emperor Alexander to make peace, as he had been compelled to do after the +battle of Friedland in 1807, and the Emperor Francis in 1805 and 1809 after +Austerlitz and Wagram; for if Buonaparte did not obtain a peace at Moscow, +there was no alternative but to return—that is, there was nothing for him +but a strategic defeat. We shall leave out of the question what he did to get +to Moscow, and whether in his advance he did not miss many opportunities of +bringing the Emperor Alexander to peace; we shall also exclude all +consideration of the disastrous circumstances which attended his retreat, and +which perhaps had their origin in the general conduct of the campaign. Still +the question remains the same, for however much more brilliant the course of +the campaign up to Moscow might have been, still there was always an +uncertainty whether the Emperor Alexander would be intimidated into making +peace; and then, even if a retreat did not contain in itself the seeds of such +disasters as did in fact occur, still it could never be anything else than a +great strategic defeat. If the Emperor Alexander agreed to a peace which was +disadvantageous to him, the campaign of 1812 would have ranked with those of +Austerlitz, Friedland, and Wagram. But these campaigns also, if they had not +led to peace, would in all probability have ended in similar catastrophes. +Whatever, therefore, of genius, skill, and energy the Conqueror of the World +applied to the task, this last question addressed to fate(*) remained always +the same. Shall we then discard the campaigns of 1805, 1807, 1809, and say on +account of the campaign of 1812 that they were acts of imprudence; that the +results were against the nature of things, and that in 1812 strategic justice +at last found vent for itself in opposition to blind chance? That would be an +unwarrantable conclusion, a most arbitrary judgment, a case only half proved, +because no human, eye can trace the thread of the necessary connection of +events up to the determination of the conquered Princes. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) “Frage an der Schicksal,” a familiar quotation from +Schiller.—TR. +</p> + +<p> +Still less can we say the campaign of 1812 merited the same success as the +others, and that the reason why it turned out otherwise lies in something +unnatural, for we cannot regard the firmness of Alexander as something +unpredictable. +</p> + +<p> +What can be more natural than to say that in the years 1805, 1807, 1809, +Buonaparte judged his opponents correctly, and that in 1812 he erred in that +point? On the former occasions, therefore, he was right, in the latter wrong, +and in both cases we judge by the <i>result</i>. +</p> + +<p> +All action in War, as we have already said, is directed on probable, not on +certain, results. Whatever is wanting in certainty must always be left to fate, +or chance, call it which you will. We may demand that what is so left should be +as little as possible, but only in relation to the particular case—that +is, as little as is possible in this one case, but not that the case in which +the least is left to chance is always to be preferred. That would be an +enormous error, as follows from all our theoretical views. There are cases in +which the greatest daring is the greatest wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +Now in everything which is left to chance by the chief actor, his personal +merit, and therefore his responsibility as well, seems to be completely set +aside; nevertheless we cannot suppress an inward feeling of satisfaction +whenever expectation realises itself, and if it disappoints us our mind is +dissatisfied; and more than this of right and wrong should not be meant by the +judgment which we form from the mere result, or rather that we find there. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the satisfaction which our mind +experiences at success, the pain caused by failure, proceed from a sort of +mysterious feeling; we suppose between that success ascribed to good fortune +and the genius of the chief a fine connecting thread, invisible to the +mind’s eye, and the supposition gives pleasure. What tends to confirm +this idea is that our sympathy increases, becomes more decided, if the +successes and defeats of the principal actor are often repeated. Thus it +becomes intelligible how good luck in War assumes a much nobler nature than +good luck at play. In general, when a fortunate warrior does not otherwise +lessen our interest in his behalf, we have a pleasure in accompanying him in +his career. +</p> + +<p> +Criticism, therefore, after having weighed all that comes within the sphere of +human reason and conviction, will let the result speak for that part where the +deep mysterious relations are not disclosed in any visible form, and will +protect this silent sentence of a higher authority from the noise of crude +opinions on the one hand, while on the other it prevents the gross abuse which +might be made of this last tribunal. +</p> + +<p> +This verdict of the result must therefore always bring forth that which human +sagacity cannot discover; and it will be chiefly as regards the intellectual +powers and operations that it will be called into requisition, partly because +they can be estimated with the least certainty, partly because their close +connection with the will is favourable to their exercising over it an important +influence. When fear or bravery precipitates the decision, there is nothing +objective intervening between them for our consideration, and consequently +nothing by which sagacity and calculation might have met the probable result. +</p> + +<p> +We must now be allowed to make a few observations on the instrument of +criticism, that is, the language which it uses, because that is to a certain +extent connected with the action in War; for the critical examination is +nothing more than the deliberation which should precede action in War. We +therefore think it very essential that the language used in criticism should +have the same character as that which deliberation in War must have, for +otherwise it would cease to be practical, and criticism could gain no +admittance in actual life. +</p> + +<p> +We have said in our observations on the theory of the conduct of War that it +should educate the mind of the Commander for War, or that its teaching should +guide his education; also that it is not intended to furnish him with positive +doctrines and systems which he can use like mental appliances. But if the +construction of scientific formulae is never required, or even allowable, in +War to aid the decision on the case presented, if truth does not appear there +in a systematic shape, if it is not found in an indirect way, but directly by +the natural perception of the mind, then it must be the same also in a critical +review. +</p> + +<p> +It is true as we have seen that, wherever complete demonstration of the nature +of things would be too tedious, criticism must support itself on those truths +which theory has established on the point. But, just as in War the actor obeys +these theoretical truths rather because his mind is imbued with them than +because he regards them as objective inflexible laws, so criticism must also +make use of them, not as an external law or an algebraic formula, of which +fresh proof is not required each time they are applied, but it must always +throw a light on this proof itself, leaving only to theory the more minute and +circumstantial proof. Thus it avoids a mysterious, unintelligible phraseology, +and makes its progress in plain language, that is, with a clear and always +visible chain of ideas. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly this cannot always be completely attained, but it must always be the +aim in critical expositions. Such expositions must use complicated forms of +science as sparingly as possible, and never resort to the construction of +scientific aids as of a truth apparatus of its own, but always be guided by the +natural and unbiassed impressions of the mind. +</p> + +<p> +But this pious endeavour, if we may use the expression, has unfortunately +seldom hitherto presided over critical examinations: the most of them have +rather been emanations of a species of vanity—a wish to make a display of +ideas. +</p> + +<p> +The first evil which we constantly stumble upon is a lame, totally inadmissible +application of certain one-sided systems as of a formal code of laws. But it is +never difficult to show the one-sidedness of such systems, and this only +requires to be done once to throw discredit for ever on critical judgments +which are based on them. We have here to deal with a definite subject, and as +the number of possible systems after all can be but small, therefore also they +are themselves the lesser evil. +</p> + +<p> +Much greater is the evil which lies in the pompous retinue of technical +terms—scientific expressions and metaphors, which these systems carry in +their train, and which like a rabble-like the baggage of an Army broken away +from its Chief—hang about in all directions. Any critic who has not +adopted a system, either because he has not found one to please him, or because +he has not yet been able to make himself master of one, will at least +occasionally make use of a piece of one, as one would use a ruler, to show the +blunders committed by a General. The most of them are incapable of reasoning +without using as a help here and there some shreds of scientific military +theory. The smallest of these fragments, consisting in mere scientific words +and metaphors, are often nothing more than ornamental flourishes of critical +narration. Now it is in the nature of things that all technical and scientific +expressions which belong to a system lose their propriety, if they ever had +any, as soon as they are distorted, and used as general axioms, or as small +crystalline talismans, which have more power of demonstration than simple +speech. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it has come to pass that our theoretical and critical books, instead of +being straightforward, intelligible dissertations, in which the author always +knows at least what he says and the reader what he reads, are brimful of these +technical terms, which form dark points of interference where author and reader +part company. But frequently they are something worse, being nothing but hollow +shells without any kernel. The author himself has no clear perception of what +he means, contents himself with vague ideas, which if expressed in plain +language would be unsatisfactory even to himself. +</p> + +<p> +A third fault in criticism is the <i>misuse</i> of <i>historical examples</i>, and a display +of great reading or learning. What the history of the Art of War is we have +already said, and we shall further explain our views on examples and on +military history in general in special chapters. One fact merely touched upon +in a very cursory manner may be used to support the most opposite views, and +three or four such facts of the most heterogeneous description, brought +together out of the most distant lands and remote times and heaped up, +generally distract and bewilder the judgment and understanding without +demonstrating anything; for when exposed to the light they turn out to be only +trumpery rubbish, made use of to show off the author’s learning. +</p> + +<p> +But what can be gained for practical life by such obscure, partly false, +confused arbitrary conceptions? So little is gained that theory on account of +them has always been a true antithesis of practice, and frequently a subject of +ridicule to those whose soldierly qualities in the field are above question. +</p> + +<p> +But it is impossible that this could have been the case, if theory in simple +language, and by natural treatment of those things which constitute the Art of +making War, had merely sought to establish just so much as admits of being +established; if, avoiding all false pretensions and irrelevant display of +scientific forms and historical parallels, it had kept close to the subject, +and gone hand in hand with those who must conduct affairs in the field by their +own natural genius. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>On Examples</h3> + +<p> +Examples from history make everything clear, and furnish the best description +of proof in the empirical sciences. This applies with more force to the Art of +War than to any other. General Scharnhorst, whose handbook is the best ever +written on actual War, pronounces historical examples to be of the first +importance, and makes an admirable use of them himself. Had he survived the War +in which he fell,(*) the fourth part of his revised treatise on artillery would +have given a still greater proof of the observing and enlightened spirit in +which he sifted matters of experience. +</p> + +<p> +But such use of historical examples is rarely made by theoretical writers; the +way in which they more commonly make use of them is rather calculated to leave +the mind unsatisfied, as well as to offend the understanding. We therefore +think it important to bring specially into view the use and abuse of historical +examples. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) General Scharnhorst died in 1813, of a wound received in the battle of +Bautzen or Grosz Gorchen—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably the branches of knowledge which lie at the foundation of the Art +of War come under the denomination of empirical sciences; for although they are +derived in a great measure from the nature of things, still we can only learn +this very nature itself for the most part from experience; and besides that, +the practical application is modified by so many circumstances that the effects +can never be completely learnt from the mere nature of the means. +</p> + +<p> +The effects of gunpowder, that great agent in our military activity, were only +learnt by experience, and up to this hour experiments are continually in +progress in order to investigate them more fully. That an iron ball to which +powder has given a velocity of 1000 feet in a second, smashes every living +thing which it touches in its course is intelligible in itself; experience is +not required to tell us that; but in producing this effect how many hundred +circumstances are concerned, some of which can only be learnt by experience! +And the physical is not the only effect which we have to study, it is the moral +which we are in search of, and that can only be ascertained by experience; and +there is no other way of learning and appreciating it but by experience. In the +middle ages, when firearms were first invented, their effect, owing to their +rude make, was materially but trifling compared to what it now is, but their +effect morally was much greater. One must have witnessed the firmness of one of +those masses taught and led by Buonaparte, under the heaviest and most +unintermittent cannonade, in order to understand what troops, hardened by long +practice in the field of danger, can do, when by a career of victory they have +reached the noble principle of demanding from themselves their utmost efforts. +In pure conception no one would believe it. On the other hand, it is well known +that there are troops in the service of European Powers at the present moment +who would easily be dispersed by a few cannon shots. +</p> + +<p> +But no empirical science, consequently also no theory of the Art of War, can +always corroborate its truths by historical proof; it would also be, in some +measure, difficult to support experience by single facts. If any means is once +found efficacious in War, it is repeated; one nation copies another, the thing +becomes the fashion, and in this manner it comes into use, supported by +experience, and takes its place in theory, which contents itself with appealing +to experience in general in order to show its origin, but not as a verification +of its truth. +</p> + +<p> +But it is quite otherwise if experience is to be used in order to overthrow +some means in use, to confirm what is doubtful, or introduce something new; +then particular examples from history must be quoted as proofs. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if we consider closely the use of historical proofs, four points of view +readily present themselves for the purpose. +</p> + +<p> +First, they may be used merely as an <i>explanation</i> of an idea. In every abstract +consideration it is very easy to be misunderstood, or not to be intelligible at +all: when an author is afraid of this, an exemplification from history serves +to throw the light which is wanted on his idea, and to ensure his being +intelligible to his reader. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, it may serve as an <i>application</i> of an idea, because by means of an +example there is an opportunity of showing the action of those minor +circumstances which cannot all be comprehended and explained in any general +expression of an idea; for in that consists, indeed, the difference between +theory and experience. Both these cases belong to examples properly speaking, +the two following belong to historical proofs. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, a historical fact may be referred to particularly, in order to support +what one has advanced. This is in all cases sufficient, if we have <i>only</i> to +prove the <i>possibility</i> of a fact or effect. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, in the fourth place, from the circumstantial detail of a historical +event, and by collecting together several of them, we may deduce some theory, +which therefore has its true <i>proof</i> in this testimony itself. +</p> + +<p> +For the first of these purposes all that is generally required is a cursory +notice of the case, as it is only used partially. Historical correctness is a +secondary consideration; a case invented might also serve the purpose as well, +only historical ones are always to be preferred, because they bring the idea +which they illustrate nearer to practical life. +</p> + +<p> +The second use supposes a more circumstantial relation of events, but +historical authenticity is again of secondary importance, and in respect to +this point the same is to be said as in the first case. +</p> + +<p> +For the third purpose the mere quotation of an undoubted fact is generally +sufficient. If it is asserted that fortified positions may fulfil their object +under certain conditions, it is only necessary to mention the position of +Bunzelwitz(*) in support of the assertion. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Frederick the Great’s celebrated entrenched camp in 1761. +</p> + +<p> +But if, through the narrative of a case in history, an abstract truth is to be +demonstrated, then everything in the case bearing on the demonstration must be +analysed in the most searching and complete manner; it must, to a certain +extent, develop itself carefully before the eyes of the reader. The less +effectually this is done the weaker will be the proof, and the more necessary +it will be to supply the demonstrative proof which is wanting in the single +case by a number of cases, because we have a right to suppose that the more +minute details which we are unable to give neutralise each other in their +effects in a certain number of cases. +</p> + +<p> +If we want to show by example derived from experience that cavalry are better +placed behind than in a line with infantry; that it is very hazardous without a +decided preponderance of numbers to attempt an enveloping movement, with widely +separated columns, either on a field of battle or in the theatre of +war—that is, either tactically or strategically—then in the first +of these cases it would not be sufficient to specify some lost battles in which +the cavalry was on the flanks and some gained in which the cavalry was in rear +of the infantry; and in the tatter of these cases it is not sufficient to refer +to the battles of Rivoli and Wagram, to the attack of the Austrians on the +theatre of war in Italy, in 1796, or of the French upon the German theatre of +war in the same year. The way in which these orders of battle or plans of +attack essentially contributed to disastrous issues in those particular cases +must be shown by closely tracing out circumstances and occurrences. Then it +will appear how far such forms or measures are to be condemned, a point which +it is very necessary to show, for a total condemnation would be inconsistent +with truth. +</p> + +<p> +It has been already said that when a circumstantial detail of facts is +impossible, the demonstrative power which is deficient may to a certain extent +be supplied by the number of cases quoted; but this is a very dangerous method +of getting out of the difficulty, and one which has been much abused. Instead +of one well-explained example, three or four are just touched upon, and thus a +show is made of strong evidence. But there are matters where a whole dozen of +cases brought forward would prove nothing, if, for instance, they are facts of +frequent occurrence, and therefore a dozen other cases with an opposite result +might just as easily be brought forward. If any one will instance a dozen lost +battles in which the side beaten attacked in separate converging columns, we +can instance a dozen that have been gained in which the same order was adopted. +It is evident that in this way no result is to be obtained. +</p> + +<p> +Upon carefully considering these different points, it will be seen how easily +examples may be misapplied. +</p> + +<p> +An occurrence which, instead of being carefully analysed in all its parts, is +superficially noticed, is like an object seen at a great distance, presenting +the same appearance on each side, and in which the details of its parts cannot +be distinguished. Such examples have, in reality, served to support the most +contradictory opinions. To some Daun’s campaigns are models of prudence +and skill. To others, they are nothing but examples of timidity and want of +resolution. Buonaparte’s passage across the Noric Alps in 1797 may be +made to appear the noblest resolution, but also as an act of sheer temerity. +His strategic defeat in 1812 may be represented as the consequence either of an +excess, or of a deficiency, of energy. All these opinions have been broached, +and it is easy to see that they might very well arise, because each person +takes a different view of the connection of events. At the same time these +antagonistic opinions cannot be reconciled with each other, and therefore one +of the two must be wrong. +</p> + +<p> +Much as we are obliged to the worthy Feuquieres for the numerous examples +introduced in his memoirs—partly because a number of historical incidents +have thus been preserved which might otherwise have been lost, and partly +because he was one of the first to bring theoretical, that is, abstract, ideas +into connection with the practical in war, in so far that the cases brought +forward may be regarded as intended to exemplify and confirm what is +theoretically asserted—yet, in the opinion of an impartial reader, he +will hardly be allowed to have attained the object he proposed to himself, that +of proving theoretical principles by historical examples. For although he +sometimes relates occurrences with great minuteness, still he falls short very +often of showing that the deductions drawn necessarily proceed from the inner +relations of these events. +</p> + +<p> +Another evil which comes from the superficial notice of historical events, is +that some readers are either wholly ignorant of the events, or cannot call them +to remembrance sufficiently to be able to grasp the author’s meaning, so +that there is no alternative between either accepting blindly what is said, or +remaining unconvinced. +</p> + +<p> +It is extremely difficult to put together or unfold historical events before +the eyes of a reader in such a way as is necessary, in order to be able to use +them as proofs; for the writer very often wants the means, and can neither +afford the time nor the requisite space; but we maintain that, when the object +is to establish a new or doubtful opinion, one single example, thoroughly +analysed, is far more instructive than ten which are superficially treated. The +great mischief of these superficial representations is not that the writer puts +his story forward as a proof when it has only a false title, but that he has +not made himself properly acquainted with the subject, and that from this sort +of slovenly, shallow treatment of history, a hundred false views and attempts +at the construction of theories arise, which would never have made their +appearance if the writer had looked upon it as his duty to deduce from the +strict connection of events everything new which he brought to market, and +sought to prove from history. +</p> + +<p> +When we are convinced of these difficulties in the use of historical examples, +and at the same time of the necessity (of making use of such examples), then we +shall also come to the conclusion that the latest military history is naturally +the best field from which to draw them, inasmuch as it alone is sufficiently +authentic and detailed. +</p> + +<p> +In ancient times, circumstances connected with War, as well as the method of +carrying it on, were different; therefore its events are of less use to us +either theoretically or practically; in addition to which, military history, +like every other, naturally loses in the course of time a number of small +traits and lineaments originally to be seen, loses in colour and life, like a +worn-out or darkened picture; so that perhaps at last only the large masses and +leading features remain, which thus acquire undue proportions. +</p> + +<p> +If we look at the present state of warfare, we should say that the Wars since +that of the Austrian succession are almost the only ones which, at least as far +as armament, have still a considerable similarity to the present, and which, +notwithstanding the many important changes which have taken place both great +and small, are still capable of affording much instruction. It is quite +otherwise with the War of the Spanish succession, as the use of fire-arms had +not then so far advanced towards perfection, and cavalry still continued the +most important arm. The farther we go back, the less useful becomes military +history, as it gets so much the more meagre and barren of detail. The most +useless of all is that of the old world. +</p> + +<p> +But this uselessness is not altogether absolute, it relates only to those +subjects which depend on a knowledge of minute details, or on those things in +which the method of conducting war has changed. Although we know very little +about the tactics in the battles between the Swiss and the Austrians, the +Burgundians and French, still we find in them unmistakable evidence that they +were the first in which the superiority of a good infantry over the best +cavalry was, displayed. A general glance at the time of the Condottieri teaches +us how the whole method of conducting War is dependent on the instrument used; +for at no period have the forces used in War had so much the characteristics of +a special instrument, and been a class so totally distinct from the rest of the +national community. The memorable way in which the Romans in the second Punic +War attacked the Carthaginan possessions in Spain and Africa, while Hannibal +still maintained himself in Italy, is a most instructive subject to study, as +the general relations of the States and Armies concerned in this indirect act +of defence are sufficiently well known. +</p> + +<p> +But the more things descend into particulars and deviate in character from the +most general relations, the less we can look for examples and lessons of +experience from very remote periods, for we have neither the means of judging +properly of corresponding events, nor can we apply them to our completely +different method of War. +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately, however, it has always been the fashion with historical writers +to talk about ancient times. We shall not say how far vanity and charlatanism +may have had a share in this, but in general we fail to discover any honest +intention and earnest endeavour to instruct and convince, and we can therefore +only look upon such quotations and references as embellishments to fill up gaps +and hide defects. +</p> + +<p> +It would be an immense service to teach the Art of War entirely by historical +examples, as Feuquieres proposed to do; but it would be full work for the whole +life of a man, if we reflect that he who undertakes it must first qualify +himself for the task by a long personal experience in actual War. +</p> + +<p> +Whoever, stirred by ambition, undertakes such a task, let him prepare himself +for his pious undertaking as for a long pilgrimage; let him give up his time, +spare no sacrifice, fear no temporal rank or power, and rise above all feelings +of personal vanity, of false shame, in order, according to the French code, to +speak <i>the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth.</i> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part03"></a>BOOK III.<br/>OF STRATEGY IN GENERAL</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>Strategy</h3> + +<p> +In the second chapter of the second book, Strategy has been defined as +“the employment of the battle as the means towards the attainment of the +object of the War.” Properly speaking it has to do with nothing but the +battle, but its theory must include in this consideration the instrument of +this real activity—the armed force—in itself and in its principal +relations, for the battle is fought by it, and shows its effects upon it in +turn. It must be well acquainted with the battle itself as far as relates to +its possible results, and those mental and moral powers which are the most +important in the use of the same. +</p> + +<p> +Strategy is the employment of the battle to gain the end of the War; it must +therefore give an aim to the whole military action, which must be in accordance +with the object of the War; in other words, Strategy forms the plan of the War, +and to this end it links together the series of acts which are to lead to the +final decision, that, is to say, it makes the plans for the separate campaigns +and regulates the combats to be fought in each. As these are all things which +to a great extent can only be determined on conjectures some of which turn out +incorrect, while a number of other arrangements pertaining to details cannot be +made at all beforehand, it follows, as a matter of course, that Strategy must +go with the Army to the field in order to arrange particulars on the spot, and +to make the modifications in the general plan, which incessantly become +necessary in War. Strategy can therefore never take its hand from the work for +a moment. +</p> + +<p> +That this, however, has not always been the view taken is evident from the +former custom of keeping Strategy in the cabinet and not with the Army, a thing +only allowable if the cabinet is so near to the Army that it can be taken for +the chief head-quarters of the Army. +</p> + +<p> +Theory will therefore attend on Strategy in the determination of its plans, or, +as we may more properly say, it will throw a light on things in themselves, and +on their relations to each other, and bring out prominently the little that +there is of principle or rule. +</p> + +<p> +If we recall to mind from the first chapter how many things of the highest +importance War touches upon, we may conceive that a consideration of all +requires a rare grasp of mind. +</p> + +<p> +A Prince or General who knows exactly how to organise his War according to his +object and means, who does neither too little nor too much, gives by that the +greatest proof of his genius. But the effects of this talent are exhibited not +so much by the invention of new modes of action, which might strike the eye +immediately, as in the successful final result of the whole. It is the exact +fulfilment of silent suppositions, it is the noiseless harmony of the whole +action which we should admire, and which only makes itself known in the total +result. Inquirer who, tracing back from the final result, does not perceive the +signs of that harmony is one who is apt to seek for genius where it is not, and +where it cannot be found. +</p> + +<p> +The means and forms which Strategy uses are in fact so extremely simple, so +well known by their constant repetition, that it only appears ridiculous to +sound common sense when it hears critics so frequently speaking of them with +high-flown emphasis. Turning a flank, which has been done a thousand times, is +regarded here as a proof of the most brilliant genius, there as a proof of the +most profound penetration, indeed even of the most comprehensive knowledge. Can +there be in the book-world more absurd productions?(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) This paragraph refers to the works of Lloyd, Bülow, indeed to all the +eighteenth-century writers, from whose influence we in England are not even yet +free.—ED. +</p> + +<p> +It is still more ridiculous if, in addition to this, we reflect that the same +critic, in accordance with prevalent opinion, excludes all moral forces from +theory, and will not allow it to be concerned with anything but the material +forces, so that all must be confined to a few mathematical relations of +equilibrium and preponderance, of time and space, and a few lines and angles. +If it were nothing more than this, then out of such a miserable business there +would not be a scientific problem for even a schoolboy. +</p> + +<p> +But let us admit: there is no question here about scientific formulas and +problems; the relations of material things are all very simple; the right +comprehension of the moral forces which come into play is more difficult. +Still, even in respect to them, it is only in the highest branches of Strategy +that moral complications and a great diversity of quantities and relations are +to be looked for, only at that point where Strategy borders on political +science, or rather where the two become one, and there, as we have before +observed, they have more influence on the “how much” and “how +little” is to be done than on the form of execution. Where the latter is +the principal question, as in the single acts both great and small in War, the +moral quantities are already reduced to a very small number. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, then, in Strategy everything is very simple, but not on that account very +easy. Once it is determined from the relations of the State what should and may +be done by War, then the way to it is easy to find; but to follow that way +straightforward, to carry out the plan without being obliged to deviate from it +a thousand times by a thousand varying influences, requires, besides great +strength of character, great clearness and steadiness of mind, and out of a +thousand men who are remarkable, some for mind, others for penetration, others +again for boldness or strength of will, perhaps not one will combine in himself +all those qualities which are required to raise a man above mediocrity in the +career of a general. +</p> + +<p> +It may sound strange, but for all who know War in this respect it is a fact +beyond doubt, that much more strength of will is required to make an important +decision in Strategy than in tactics. In the latter we are hurried on with the +moment; a Commander feels himself borne along in a strong current, against +which he durst not contend without the most destructive consequences, he +suppresses the rising fears, and boldly ventures further. In Strategy, where +all goes on at a slower rate, there is more room allowed for our own +apprehensions and those of others, for objections and remonstrances, +consequently also for unseasonable regrets; and as we do not see things in +Strategy as we do at least half of them in tactics, with the living eye, but +everything must be conjectured and assumed, the convictions produced are less +powerful. The consequence is that most Generals, when they should act, remain +stuck fast in bewildering doubts. +</p> + +<p> +Now let us cast a glance at history—upon Frederick the Great’s +campaign of 1760, celebrated for its fine marches and manœuvres: a perfect +masterpiece of Strategic skill as critics tell us. Is there really anything to +drive us out of our wits with admiration in the King’s first trying to +turn Daun’s right flank, then his left, then again his right, &c.? +Are we to see profound wisdom in this? No, that we cannot, if we are to decide +naturally and without affectation. What we rather admire above all is the +sagacity of the King in this respect, that while pursuing a great object with +very limited means, he undertook nothing beyond his powers, and <i>just enough</i> to +gain his object. This sagacity of the General is visible not only in this +campaign, but throughout all the three Wars of the Great King! +</p> + +<p> +To bring Silesia into the safe harbour of a well-guaranteed peace was his +object. +</p> + +<p> +At the head of a small State, which was like other States in most things, and +only ahead of them in some branches of administration; he could not be an +Alexander, and, as Charles XII, he would only, like him, have broken his head. +We find, therefore, in the whole of his conduct of War, a controlled power, +always well balanced, and never wanting in energy, which in the most critical +moments rises to astonishing deeds, and the next moment oscillates quietly on +again in subordination to the play of the most subtle political influences. +Neither vanity, thirst for glory, nor vengeance could make him deviate from his +course, and this course alone it is which brought him to a fortunate +termination of the contest. +</p> + +<p> +These few words do but scant justice to this phase of the genius of the great +General; the eyes must be fixed carefully on the extraordinary issue of the +struggle, and the causes which brought about that issue must be traced out, in +order thoroughly to understand that nothing but the King’s penetrating +eye brought him safely out of all his dangers. +</p> + +<p> +This is one feature in this great Commander which we admire in the campaign of +1760—and in all others, but in this especially—because in none did +he keep the balance even against such a superior hostile force, with such a +small sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +Another feature relates to the difficulty of execution. Marches to turn a +flank, right or left, are easily combined; the idea of keeping a small force +always well concentrated to be able to meet the enemy on equal terms at any +point, to multiply a force by rapid movement, is as easily conceived as +expressed; the mere contrivance in these points, therefore, cannot excite our +admiration, and with respect to such simple things, there is nothing further +than to admit that they are simple. +</p> + +<p> +But let a General try to do these things like Frederick the Great. Long +afterwards authors, who were eyewitnesses, have spoken of the danger, indeed of +the imprudence, of the King’s camps, and doubtless, at the time he +pitched them, the danger appeared three times as great as afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +It was the same with his marches, under the eyes, nay, often under the cannon +of the enemy’s Army; these camps were taken up, these marches made, not +from want of prudence, but because in Daun’s system, in his mode of +drawing up his Army, in the responsibility which pressed upon him, and in his +character, Frederick found that security which justified his camps and marches. +But it required the King’s boldness, determination, and strength of will +to see things in this light, and not to be led astray and intimidated by the +danger of which thirty years after people still wrote and spoke. Few Generals +in this situation would have believed these simple strategic means to be +practicable. +</p> + +<p> +Again, another difficulty in execution lay in this, that the King’s Army +in this campaign was constantly in motion. Twice it marched by wretched +cross-roads, from the Elbe into Silesia, in rear of Daun and pursued by Lascy +(beginning of July, beginning of August). It required to be always ready for +battle, and its marches had to be organised with a degree of skill which +necessarily called forth a proportionate amount of exertion. Although attended +and delayed by thousands of waggons, still its subsistence was extremely +difficult. In Silesia, for eight days before the battle of Leignitz, it had +constantly to march, defiling alternately right and left in front of the +enemy:—this costs great fatigue, and entails great privations. +</p> + +<p> +Is it to be supposed that all this could have been done without producing great +friction in the machine? Can the mind of a Commander elaborate such movements +with the same ease as the hand of a land surveyor uses the astrolabe? Does not +the sight of the sufferings of their hungry, thirsty comrades pierce the hearts +of the Commander and his Generals a thousand times? Must not the murmurs and +doubts which these cause reach his ear? Has an ordinary man the courage to +demand such sacrifices, and would not such efforts most certainly demoralise +the Army, break up the bands of discipline, and, in short, undermine its +military virtue, if firm reliance on the greatness and infallibility of the +Commander did not compensate for all? Here, therefore, it is that we should pay +respect; it is these miracles of execution which we should admire. But it is +impossible to realise all this in its full force without a foretaste of it by +experience. He who only knows War from books or the drill-ground cannot realise +the whole effect of this counterpoise in action; <i>we beg him, therefore, to +accept from us on faith and trust all that he is unable to supply from any +personal experiences of his own.</i> +</p> + +<p> +This illustration is intended to give more clearness to the course of our +ideas, and in closing this chapter we will only briefly observe that in our +exposition of Strategy we shall describe those separate subjects which appear +to us the most important, whether of a moral or material nature; then proceed +from the simple to the complex, and conclude with the inner connection of the +whole act of War, in other words, with the plan for a War or campaign. +</p> + +<h4> +OBSERVATION. +</h4> + +<p class="letter"> +In an earlier manuscript of the second book are the following passages endorsed +by the author himself <i>to be used for the first Chapter of the second Book:</i> the +projected revision of that chapter not having been made, the passages referred +to are introduced here in full. +</p> + +<p> +By the mere assemblage of armed forces at a particular point, a battle there +becomes possible, but does not always take place. Is that possibility now to be +regarded as a reality and therefore an effective thing? Certainly, it is so by +its results, and these effects, whatever they may be, can never fail. +</p> + +<h4> +1. POSSIBLE COMBATS ARE ON ACCOUNT OF THEIR RESULTS TO BE LOOKED UPON AS REAL +ONES. +</h4> + +<p> +If a detachment is sent away to cut off the retreat of a flying enemy, and the +enemy surrenders in consequence without further resistance, still it is through +the combat which is offered to him by this detachment sent after him that he is +brought to his decision. +</p> + +<p> +If a part of our Army occupies an enemy’s province which was undefended, +and thus deprives the enemy of very considerable means of keeping up the +strength of his Army, it is entirely through the battle which our detached body +gives the enemy to expect, in case he seeks to recover the lost province, that +we remain in possession of the same. +</p> + +<p> +In both cases, therefore, the mere possibility of a battle has produced +results, and is therefore to be classed amongst actual events. Suppose that in +these cases the enemy has opposed our troops with others superior in force, and +thus forced ours to give up their object without a combat, then certainly our +plan has failed, but the battle which we offered at (either of) those points +has not on that account been without effect, for it attracted the enemy’s +forces to that point. And in case our whole undertaking has done us harm, it +cannot be said that these positions, these possible battles, have been attended +with no results; their effects, then, are similar to those of a lost battle. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner we see that the destruction of the enemy’s military +forces, the overthrow of the enemy’s power, is only to be done through +the effect of a battle, whether it be that it actually takes place, or that it +is merely offered, and not accepted. +</p> + +<h4> +2. TWOFOLD OBJECT OF THE COMBAT. +</h4> + +<p> +But these effects are of two kinds, direct and indirect they are of the latter, +if other things intrude themselves and become the object of the +combat—things which cannot be regarded as the destruction of +enemy’s force, but only leading up to it, certainly by a circuitous road, +but with so much the greater effect. The possession of provinces, towns, +fortresses, roads, bridges, magazines, &c., may be the <i>immediate</i> object of +a battle, but never the ultimate one. Things of this description can never be, +looked upon otherwise than as means of gaining greater superiority, so as at +last to offer battle to the enemy in such a way that it will be impossible for +him to accept it. Therefore all these things must only be regarded as +intermediate links, steps, as it were, leading up to the effectual principle, +but never as that principle itself. +</p> + +<h4> +3. EXAMPLE. +</h4> + +<p> +In 1814, by the capture of Buonaparte’s capital the object of the War was +attained. The political divisions which had their roots in Paris came into +active operation, and an enormous split left the power of the Emperor to +collapse of itself. Nevertheless the point of view from which we must look at +all this is, that through these causes the forces and defensive means of +Buonaparte were suddenly very much diminished, the superiority of the Allies, +therefore, just in the same measure increased, and any further resistance then +became <i>impossible</i>. It was this impossibility which produced the peace with +France. If we suppose the forces of the Allies at that moment diminished to a +like extent through external causes;—if the superiority vanishes, then at +the same time vanishes also all the effect and importance of the taking of +Paris. +</p> + +<p> +We have gone through this chain of argument in order to show that this is the +natural and only true view of the thing from which it derives its importance. +It leads always back to the question, What at any given moment of the War or +campaign will be the probable result of the great or small combats which the +two sides might offer to each other? In the consideration of a plan for a +campaign, this question only is decisive as to the measures which are to be +taken all through from the very commencement. +</p> + +<h4> +4. WHEN THIS VIEW IS NOT TAKEN, THEN A FALSE VALUE IS GIVEN TO OTHER THINGS. +</h4> + +<p> +If we do not accustom ourselves to look upon War, and the single campaigns in a +War, as a chain which is all composed of battles strung together, one of which +always brings on another; if we adopt the idea that the taking of a certain +geographical point, the occupation of an undefended province, is in itself +anything; then we are very likely to regard it as an acquisition which we may +retain; and if we look at it so, and not as a term in the whole series of +events, we do not ask ourselves whether this possession may not lead to greater +disadvantages hereafter. How often we find this mistake recurring in military +history. +</p> + +<p> +We might say that, just as in commerce the merchant cannot set apart and place +in security gains from one single transaction by itself, so in War a single +advantage cannot be separated from the result of the whole. Just as the former +must always operate with the whole bulk of his means, just so in War, only the +sum total will decide on the advantage or disadvantage of each item. +</p> + +<p> +If the mind’s eye is always directed upon the series of combats, so far +as they can be seen beforehand, then it is always looking in the right +direction, and thereby the motion of the force acquires that rapidity, that is +to say, willing and doing acquire that energy which is suitable to the matter, +and which is not to be thwarted or turned aside by extraneous influences.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The whole of this chapter is directed against the theories of the Austrian +Staff in 1814. It may be taken as the foundation of the modern teaching of the +Prussian General Staff. See especially von Kämmer.—E<small>D</small>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>Elements of Strategy</h3> + +<p> +The causes which condition the use of the combat in Strategy may be easily +divided into elements of different kinds, such as the moral, physical, +mathematical, geographical and statistical elements. +</p> + +<p> +The first class includes all that can be called forth by moral qualities and +effects; to the second belong the whole mass of the military force, its +organisation, the proportion of the three arms, &c. &c.; to the third, +the angle of the lines of operation, the concentric and eccentric movements in +as far as their geometrical nature has any value in the calculation; to the +fourth, the influences of country, such as commanding points, hills, rivers, +woods, roads, &c. &c.; lastly, to the fifth, all the means of supply. +The separation of these things once for all in the mind does good in giving +clearness and helping us to estimate at once, at a higher or lower value, the +different classes as we pass onwards. For, in considering them separately, many +lose of themselves their borrowed importance; one feels, for instance, quite +plainly that the value of a base of operations, even if we look at nothing in +it but its relative position to the line of operations, depends much less in +that simple form on the geometrical element of the angle which they form with +one another, than on the nature of the roads and the country through which they +pass. +</p> + +<p> +But to treat upon Strategy according to these elements would be the most +unfortunate idea that could be conceived, for these elements are generally +manifold, and intimately connected with each other in every single operation of +War. We should lose ourselves in the most soulless analysis, and as if in a +horrid dream, we should be for ever trying in vain to build up an arch to +connect this base of abstractions with facts belonging to the real world. +Heaven preserve every theorist from such an undertaking! We shall keep to the +world of things in their totality, and not pursue our analysis further than is +necessary from time to time to give distinctness to the idea which we wish to +impart, and which has come to us, not by a speculative investigation, but +through the impression made by the realities of War in their entirety. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>Moral Forces</h3> + +<p> +We must return again to this subject, which is touched upon in the third +chapter of the second book, because the moral forces are amongst the most +important subjects in War. They form the spirit which permeates the whole being +of War. These forces fasten themselves soonest and with the greatest affinity +on to the Will which puts in motion and guides the whole mass of powers, +uniting with it as it were in one stream, because this is a moral force itself. +Unfortunately they will escape from all book-analysis, for they will neither be +brought into numbers nor into classes, and require to be both seen and felt. +</p> + +<p> +The spirit and other moral qualities which animate an Army, a General, or +Governments, public opinion in provinces in which a War is raging, the moral +effect of a victory or of a defeat, are things which in themselves vary very +much in their nature, and which also, according as they stand with regard to +our object and our relations, may have an influence in different ways. +</p> + +<p> +Although little or nothing can be said about these things in books, still they +belong to the theory of the Art of War, as much as everything else which +constitutes War. For I must here once more repeat that it is a miserable +philosophy if, according to the old plan, we establish rules and principles +wholly regardless of all moral forces, and then, as soon as these forces make +their appearance, we begin to count exceptions which we thereby establish as it +were theoretically, that is, make into rules; or if we resort to an appeal to +genius, which is above all rules, thus giving out by implication, not only that +rules were only made for fools, but also that they themselves are no better +than folly. +</p> + +<p> +Even if the theory of the Art of War does no more in reality than recall these +things to remembrance, showing the necessity of allowing to the moral forces +their full value, and of always taking them into consideration, by so doing it +extends its borders over the region of immaterial forces, and by establishing +that point of view, condemns beforehand every one who would endeavour to +justify himself before its judgment seat by the mere physical relations of +forces. +</p> + +<p> +Further out of regard to all other so-called rules, theory cannot banish the +moral forces beyond its frontier, because the effects of the physical forces +and the moral are completely fused, and are not to be decomposed like a metal +alloy by a chemical process. In every rule relating to the physical forces, +theory must present to the mind at the same time the share which the moral +powers will have in it, if it would not be led to categorical propositions, at +one time too timid and contracted, at another too dogmatical and wide. Even the +most matter-of-fact theories have, without knowing it, strayed over into this +moral kingdom; for, as an example, the effects of a victory cannot in any way +be explained without taking into consideration the moral impressions. And +therefore the most of the subjects which we shall go through in this book are +composed half of physical, half of moral causes and effects, and we might say +the physical are almost no more than the wooden handle, whilst the moral are +the noble metal, the real bright-polished weapon. +</p> + +<p> +The value of the moral powers, and their frequently incredible influence, are +best exemplified by history, and this is the most generous and the purest +nourishment which the mind of the General can extract from it.—At the +same time it is to be observed, that it is less demonstrations, critical +examinations, and learned treatises, than sentiments, general impressions, and +single flashing sparks of truth, which yield the seeds of knowledge that are to +fertilise the mind. +</p> + +<p> +We might go through the most important moral phenomena in War, and with all the +care of a diligent professor try what we could impart about each, either good +or bad. But as in such a method one slides too much into the commonplace and +trite, whilst real mind quickly makes its escape in analysis, the end is that +one gets imperceptibly to the relation of things which everybody knows. We +prefer, therefore, to remain here more than usually incomplete and rhapsodical, +content to have drawn attention to the importance of the subject in a general +way, and to have pointed out the spirit in which the views given in this book +have been conceived. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>The Chief Moral Powers</h3> + +<p> +These are <i>The Talents of the Commander; The Military Virtue of the Army; Its +National feeling</i>. Which of these is the most important no one can tell in a +general way, for it is very difficult to say anything in general of their +strength, and still more difficult to compare the strength of one with that of +another. The best plan is not to undervalue any of them, a fault which human +judgment is prone to, sometimes on one side, sometimes on another, in its +whimsical oscillations. It is better to satisfy ourselves of the undeniable +efficacy of these three things by sufficient evidence from history. +</p> + +<p> +It is true, however, that in modern times the Armies of European states have +arrived very much at a par as regards discipline and fitness for service, and +that the conduct of War has—as philosophers would say—naturally +developed itself, thereby become a method, common as it were to all Armies, so +that even from Commanders there is nothing further to be expected in the way of +application of special means of Art, in the limited sense (such as Frederick +the Second’s oblique order). Hence it cannot be denied that, as matters +now stand, greater scope is afforded for the influence of National spirit and +habituation of an army to War. A long peace may again alter all this.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Written shortly after the Great Napoleonic campaigns. +</p> + +<p> +The national spirit of an Army (enthusiasm, fanatical zeal, faith, opinion) +displays itself most in mountain warfare, where every one down to the common +soldier is left to himself. On this account, a mountainous country is the best +campaigning ground for popular levies. +</p> + +<p> +Expertness of an Army through training, and that well-tempered courage which +holds the ranks together as if they had been cast in a mould, show their +superiority in an open country. +</p> + +<p> +The talent of a General has most room to display itself in a closely +intersected, undulating country. In mountains he has too little command over +the separate parts, and the direction of all is beyond his powers; in open +plains it is simple and does not exceed those powers. +</p> + +<p> +According to these undeniable elective affinities, plans should be regulated. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Military Virtue of an Army</h3> + +<p> +This is distinguished from mere bravery, and still more from enthusiasm for the +business of War. The first is certainly a necessary constituent part of it, but +in the same way as bravery, which is a natural gift in some men, may arise in a +soldier as a part of an Army from habit and custom, so with him it must also +have a different direction from that which it has with others. It must lose +that impulse to unbridled activity and exercise of force which is its +characteristic in the individual, and submit itself to demands of a higher +kind, to obedience, order, rule, and method. Enthusiasm for the profession +gives life and greater fire to the military virtue of an Army, but does not +necessarily constitute a part of it. +</p> + +<p> +War is a special business, and however general its relations may be, and even +if all the male population of a country, capable of bearing arms, exercise this +calling, still it always continues to be different and separate from the other +pursuits which occupy the life of man.—To be imbued with a sense of the +spirit and nature of this business, to make use of, to rouse, to assimilate +into the system the powers which should be active in it, to penetrate +completely into the nature of the business with the understanding, through +exercise to gain confidence and expertness in it, to be completely given up to +it, to pass out of the man into the part which it is assigned to us to play in +War, that is the military virtue of an Army in the individual. +</p> + +<p> +However much pains may be taken to combine the soldier and the citizen in one +and the same individual, whatever may be done to nationalise Wars, and however +much we may imagine times have changed since the days of the old Condottieri, +never will it be possible to do away with the individuality of the business; +and if that cannot be done, then those who belong to it, as long as they belong +to it, will always look upon themselves as a kind of guild, in the regulations, +laws and customs in which the “Spirit of War” by preference finds +its expression. And so it is in fact. Even with the most decided inclination to +look at War from the highest point of view, it would be very wrong to look down +upon this corporate spirit (<i>esprit de corps</i>) which may and should exist +more or less in every Army. This corporate spirit forms the bond of union +between the natural forces which are active in that which we have called +military virtue. The crystals of military virtue have a greater affinity for +the spirit of a corporate body than for anything else. +</p> + +<p> +An Army which preserves its usual formations under the heaviest fire, which is +never shaken by imaginary fears, and in the face of real danger disputes the +ground inch by inch, which, proud in the feeling of its victories, never loses +its sense of obedience, its respect for and confidence in its leaders, even +under the depressing effects of defeat; an Army with all its physical powers, +inured to privations and fatigue by exercise, like the muscles of an athlete; +an Army which looks upon all its toils as the means to victory, not as a curse +which hovers over its standards, and which is always reminded of its duties and +virtues by the short catechism of one idea, namely the <i>honour of its +arms;</i>—Such an Army is imbued with the true military spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Soldiers may fight bravely like the Vendéans, and do great things like +the Swiss, the Americans, or Spaniards, without displaying this military +virtue. A Commander may also be successful at the head of standing Armies, like +Eugene and Marlborough, without enjoying the benefit of its assistance; we must +not, therefore, say that a successful War without it cannot be imagined; and we +draw especial attention to that point, in order the more to individualise the +conception which is here brought forward, that the idea may not dissolve into a +generalisation and that it may not be thought that military virtue is in the +end everything. It is not so. Military virtue in an Army is a definite moral +power which may be supposed wanting, and the influence of which may therefore +be estimated—like any instrument the power of which may be calculated. +</p> + +<p> +Having thus characterised it, we proceed to consider what can be predicated of +its influence, and what are the means of gaining its assistance. +</p> + +<p> +Military virtue is for the parts, what the genius of the Commander is for the +whole. The General can only guide the whole, not each separate part, and where +he cannot guide the part, there military virtue must be its leader. A General +is chosen by the reputation of his superior talents, the chief leaders of large +masses after careful probation; but this probation diminishes as we descend the +scale of rank, and in just the same measure we may reckon less and less upon +individual talents; but what is wanting in this respect military virtue should +supply. The natural qualities of a warlike people play just this part: <i>bravery, +aptitude, powers of endurance</i> and <i>enthusiasm.</i> +</p> + +<p> +These properties may therefore supply the place of military virtue, and <i>vice +versa</i>, from which the following may be deduced: +</p> + +<p> +1. Military virtue is a quality of standing Armies only, but they require it +the most. In national risings its place is supplied by natural qualities, which +develop themselves there more rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +2. Standing Armies opposed to standing Armies, can more easily dispense with +it, than a standing Army opposed to a national insurrection, for in that case, +the troops are more scattered, and the divisions left more to themselves. But +where an Army can be kept concentrated, the genius of the General takes a +greater place, and supplies what is wanting in the spirit of the Army. +Therefore generally military virtue becomes more necessary the more the theatre +of operations and other circumstances make the War complicated, and cause the +forces to be scattered. +</p> + +<p> +From these truths the only lesson to be derived is this, that if an Army is +deficient in this quality, every endeavour should be made to simplify the +operations of the War as much as possible, or to introduce double efficiency in +the organisation of the Army in some other respect, and not to expect from the +mere name of a standing Army, that which only the veritable thing itself can +give. +</p> + +<p> +The military virtue of an Army is, therefore, one of the most important moral +powers in War, and where it is wanting, we either see its place supplied by one +of the others, such as the great superiority of generalship or popular +enthusiasm, or we find the results not commensurate with the exertions +made.—How much that is great, this spirit, this sterling worth of an +army, this refining of ore into the polished metal, has already done, we see in +the history of the Macedonians under Alexander, the Roman legions under Cesar, +the Spanish infantry under Alexander Farnese, the Swedes under Gustavus +Adolphus and Charles XII, the Prussians under Frederick the Great, and the +French under Buonaparte. We must purposely shut our eyes against all historical +proof, if we do not admit, that the astonishing successes of these Generals and +their greatness in situations of extreme difficulty, were only possible with +Armies possessing this virtue. +</p> + +<p> +This spirit can only be generated from two sources, and only by these two +conjointly; the first is a succession of campaigns and great victories; the +other is, an activity of the Army carried sometimes to the highest pitch. Only +by these, does the soldier learn to know his powers. The more a General is in +the habit of demanding from his troops, the surer he will be that his demands +will be answered. The soldier is as proud of overcoming toil, as he is of +surmounting danger. Therefore it is only in the soil of incessant activity and +exertion that the germ will thrive, but also only in the sunshine of victory. +Once it becomes a <i>strong tree</i>, it will stand against the fiercest storms of +misfortune and defeat, and even against the indolent inactivity of peace, at +least for a time. It can therefore only be created in War, and under great +Generals, but no doubt it may last at least for several generations, even under +Generals of moderate capacity, and through considerable periods of peace. +</p> + +<p> +With this generous and noble spirit of union in a line of veteran troops, +covered with scars and thoroughly inured to War, we must not compare the +self-esteem and vanity of a standing Army,(*) held together merely by the glue +of service-regulations and a drill book; a certain plodding earnestness and +strict discipline may keep up military virtue for a long time, but can never +create it; these things therefore have a certain value, but must not be +over-rated. Order, smartness, good will, also a certain degree of pride and +high feeling, are qualities of an Army formed in time of peace which are to be +prized, but cannot stand alone. The whole retains the whole, and as with glass +too quickly cooled, a single crack breaks the whole mass. Above all, the +highest spirit in the world changes only too easily at the first check into +depression, and one might say into a kind of rhodomontade of alarm, the French +<i>sauve que peut</i>.—Such an Army can only achieve something through its +leader, never by itself. It must be led with double caution, until by degrees, +in victory and hardships, the strength grows into the full armour. Beware then +of confusing the SPIRIT of an Army with its temper. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Clausewitz is, of course, thinking of the long-service standing armies of +his own youth. Not of the short-service standing armies of to-day (EDITOR). +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>Boldness</h3> + +<p> +The place and part which boldness takes in the dynamic system of powers, where +it stands opposed to Foresight and prudence, has been stated in the chapter on +the certainty of the result in order thereby to show, that theory has no right +to restrict it by virtue of its legislative power. +</p> + +<p> +But this noble impulse, with which the human soul raises itself above the most +formidable dangers, is to be regarded as an active principle peculiarly +belonging to War. In fact, in what branch of human activity should boldness +have a right of citizenship if not in War? +</p> + +<p> +From the transport-driver and the drummer up to the General, it is the noblest +of virtues, the true steel which gives the weapon its edge and brilliancy. +</p> + +<p> +Let us admit in fact it has in War even its own prerogatives. Over and above +the result of the calculation of space, time, and quantity, we must allow a +certain percentage which boldness derives from the weakness of others, whenever +it gains the mastery. It is therefore, virtually, a creative power. This is not +difficult to demonstrate philosophically. As often as boldness encounters +hesitation, the probability of the result is of necessity in its favour, +because the very state of hesitation implies a loss of equilibrium already. It +is only when it encounters cautious foresight—which we may say is just as +bold, at all events just as strong and powerful as itself—that it is at a +disadvantage; such cases, however, rarely occur. Out of the whole multitude of +prudent men in the world, the great majority are so from timidity. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst large masses, boldness is a force, the special cultivation of which can +never be to the detriment of other forces, because the great mass is bound to a +higher will by the frame-work and joints of the order of battle and of the +service, and therefore is guided by an intelligent power which is extraneous. +Boldness is therefore here only like a spring held down until its action is +required. +</p> + +<p> +The higher the rank the more necessary it is that boldness should be +accompanied by a reflective mind, that it may not be a mere blind outburst of +passion to no purpose; for with increase of rank it becomes always less a +matter of self-sacrifice and more a matter of the preservation of others, and +the good of the whole. Where regulations of the service, as a kind of second +nature, prescribe for the masses, reflection must be the guide of the General, +and in his case individual boldness in action may easily become a fault. Still, +at the same time, it is a fine failing, and must not be looked at in the same +light as any other. Happy the Army in which an untimely boldness frequently +manifests itself; it is an exuberant growth which shows a rich soil. Even +foolhardiness, that is boldness without an object, is not to be despised; in +point of fact it is the same energy of feeling, only exercised as a kind of +passion without any co-operation of the intelligent faculties. It is only when +it strikes at the root of obedience, when it treats with contempt the orders of +superior authority, that it must be repressed as a dangerous evil, not on its +own account but on account of the act of disobedience, for there is nothing <i>in +War</i> which is of <i>greater importance than obedience</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will readily agree with us that, supposing an equal degree of +discernment to be forthcoming in a certain number of cases, a thousand times as +many of them will end in disaster through over-anxiety as through boldness. +</p> + +<p> +One would suppose it natural that the interposition of a reasonable object +should stimulate boldness, and therefore lessen its intrinsic merit, and yet +the reverse is the case in reality. +</p> + +<p> +The intervention of lucid thought or the general supremacy of mind deprives the +emotional forces of a great part of their power. On that account <i>boldness +becomes of rarer occurrence the higher we ascend the scale of rank</i>, for whether +the discernment and the understanding do or do not increase with these ranks +still the Commanders, in their several stations as they rise, are pressed upon +more and more severely by objective things, by relations and claims from +without, so that they become the more perplexed the lower the degree of their +individual intelligence. This so far as regards War is the chief foundation of +the truth of the French proverb:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Tel brille au second qui s’éclipse au premier.” +</p> + +<p> +Almost all the Generals who are represented in history as merely having +attained to mediocrity, and as wanting in decision when in supreme command, are +men celebrated in their antecedent career for their boldness and decision.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Beaulieu, Benedek, Bazaine, Buller, Melas, Mack. &c. &c. +</p> + +<p> +In those motives to bold action which arise from the pressure of necessity we +must make a distinction. Necessity has its degrees of intensity. If it lies +near at hand, if the person acting is in the pursuit of his object driven into +great dangers in order to escape others equally great, then we can only admire +his resolution, which still has also its value. If a young man to show his +skill in horsemanship leaps across a deep cleft, then he is bold; if he makes +the same leap pursued by a troop of head-chopping Janissaries he is only +resolute. But the farther off the necessity from the point of action, the +greater the number of relations intervening which the mind has to traverse; in +order to realise them, by so much the less does necessity take from boldness in +action. If Frederick the Great, in the year 1756, saw that War was inevitable, +and that he could only escape destruction by being beforehand with his enemies, +it became necessary for him to commence the War himself, but at the same time +it was certainly very bold: for few men in his position would have made up +their minds to do so. +</p> + +<p> +Although Strategy is only the province of Generals-in-Chief or Commanders in +the higher positions, still boldness in all the other branches of an Army is as +little a matter of indifference to it as their other military virtues. With an +Army belonging to a bold race, and in which the spirit of boldness has been +always nourished, very different things may be undertaken than with one in +which this virtue, is unknown; for that reason we have considered it in +connection with an Army. But our subject is specially the boldness of the +General, and yet we have not much to say about it after having described this +military virtue in a general way to the best of our ability. +</p> + +<p> +The higher we rise in a position of command, the more of the mind, +understanding, and penetration predominate in activity, the more therefore is +boldness, which is a property of the feelings, kept in subjection, and for that +reason we find it so rarely in the highest positions, but then, so much the +more should it be admired. Boldness, directed by an overruling intelligence, is +the stamp of the hero: this boldness does not consist in venturing directly +against the nature of things, in a downright contempt of the laws of +probability, but, if a choice is once made, in the rigorous adherence to that +higher calculation which genius, the tact of judgment, has gone over with the +speed of lightning. The more boldness lends wings to the mind and the +discernment, so much the farther they will reach in their flight, so much the +more comprehensive will be the view, the more exact the result, but certainly +always only in the sense that with greater objects greater dangers are +connected. The ordinary man, not to speak of the weak and irresolute, arrives +at an exact result so far as such is possible without ocular demonstration, at +most after diligent reflection in his chamber, at a distance from danger and +responsibility. Let danger and responsibility draw close round him in every +direction, then he loses the power of comprehensive vision, and if he retains +this in any measure by the influence of others, still he will lose his power of +<i>decision</i>, because in that point no one can help him. +</p> + +<p> +We think then that it is impossible to imagine a distinguished General without +boldness, that is to say, that no man can become one who is not born with this +power of the soul, and we therefore look upon it as the first requisite for +such a career. How much of this inborn power, developed and moderated through +education and the circumstances of life, is left when the man has attained a +high position, is the second question. The greater this power still is, the +stronger will genius be on the wing, the higher will be its flight. The risks +become always greater, but the purpose grows with them. Whether its lines +proceed out of and get their direction from a distant necessity, or whether +they converge to the keystone of a building which ambition has planned, whether +Frederick or Alexander acts, is much the same as regards the critical view. If +the one excites the imagination more because it is bolder, the other pleases +the understanding most, because it has in it more absolute necessity. +</p> + +<p> +We have still to advert to one very important circumstance. +</p> + +<p> +The spirit of boldness can exist in an Army, either because it is in the +people, or because it has been generated in a successful War conducted by able +Generals. In the latter case it must of course be dispensed with at the +commencement. +</p> + +<p> +Now in our days there is hardly any other means of educating the spirit of a +people in this respect, except by War, and that too under bold Generals. By it +alone can that effeminacy of feeling be counteracted, that propensity to seek +for the enjoyment of comfort, which cause degeneracy in a people rising in +prosperity and immersed in an extremely busy commerce. +</p> + +<p> +A Nation can hope to have a strong position in the political world only if its +character and practice in actual War mutually support each other in constant +reciprocal action. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>Perseverance</h3> + +<p> +The reader expects to hear of angles and lines, and finds, instead of these +citizens of the scientific world, only people out of common life, such as he +meets with every day in the street. And yet the author cannot make up his mind +to become a hair’s breadth more mathematical than the subject seems to +him to require, and he is not alarmed at the surprise which the reader may +show. +</p> + +<p> +In War more than anywhere else in the world things happen differently to what +we had expected, and look differently when near, to what they did at a +distance. With what serenity the architect can watch his work gradually rising +and growing into his plan. The doctor although much more at the mercy of +mysterious agencies and chances than the architect, still knows enough of the +forms and effects of his means. In War, on the other hand, the Commander of an +immense whole finds himself in a constant whirlpool of false and true +information, of mistakes committed through fear, through negligence, through +precipitation, of contraventions of his authority, either from mistaken or +correct motives, from ill will, true or false sense of duty, indolence or +exhaustion, of accidents which no mortal could have foreseen. In short, he is +the victim of a hundred thousand impressions, of which the most have an +intimidating, the fewest an encouraging tendency. By long experience in War, +the tact is acquired of readily appreciating the value of these incidents; high +courage and stability of character stand proof against them, as the rock +resists the beating of the waves. He who would yield to these impressions would +never carry out an undertaking, and on that account <i>perseverance</i> in the +proposed object, as long as there is no decided reason against it, is a most +necessary counterpoise. Further, there is hardly any celebrated enterprise in +War which was not achieved by endless exertion, pains, and privations; and as +here the weakness of the physical and moral man is ever disposed to yield, only +an immense force of will, which manifests itself in perseverance admired by +present and future generations, can conduct to our goal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Superiority of Numbers</h3> + +<p> +This is in tactics, as well as in Strategy, the most general principle of +victory, and shall be examined by us first in its generality, for which we may +be permitted the following exposition: +</p> + +<p> +Strategy fixes the point where, the time when, and the numerical force with +which the battle is to be fought. By this triple determination it has therefore +a very essential influence on the issue of the combat. If tactics has fought +the battle, if the result is over, let it be victory or defeat, Strategy makes +such use of it as can be made in accordance with the great object of the War. +This object is naturally often a very distant one, seldom does it lie quite +close at hand. A series of other objects subordinate themselves to it as means. +These objects, which are at the same time means to a higher purpose, may be +practically of various kinds; even the ultimate aim of the whole War may be a +different one in every case. We shall make ourselves acquainted with these +things according as we come to know the separate objects which they come, in +contact with; and it is not our intention here to embrace the whole subject by +a complete enumeration of them, even if that were possible. We therefore let +the employment of the battle stand over for the present. +</p> + +<p> +Even those things through which Strategy has an influence on the issue of the +combat, inasmuch as it establishes the same, to a certain extent decrees them, +are not so simple that they can be embraced in one single view. For as Strategy +appoints time, place and force, it can do so in practice in many ways, each of +which influences in a different manner the result of the combat as well as its +consequences. Therefore we shall only get acquainted with this also by degrees, +that is, through the subjects which more closely determine the application. +</p> + +<p> +If we strip the combat of all modifications which it may undergo according to +its immediate purpose and the circumstances from which it proceeds, lastly if +we set aside the valour of the troops, because that is a given quantity, then +there remains only the bare conception of the combat, that is a combat without +form, in which we distinguish nothing but the number of the combatants. +</p> + +<p> +This number will therefore determine victory. Now from the number of things +above deducted to get to this point, it is shown that the superiority in +numbers in a battle is only one of the factors employed to produce victory that +therefore so far from having with the superiority in number obtained all, or +even only the principal thing, we have perhaps got very little by it, according +as the other circumstances which co-operate happen to vary. +</p> + +<p> +But this superiority has degrees, it may be imagined as twofold, threefold or +fourfold, and every one sees, that by increasing in this way, it must (at last) +overpower everything else. +</p> + +<p> +In such an aspect we grant, that the superiority in numbers is the most +important factor in the result of a combat, only it must be sufficiently great +to be a counterpoise to all the other co-operating circumstances. The direct +result of this is, that the greatest possible number of troops should be +brought into action at the decisive point. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the troops thus brought are sufficient or not, we have then done in +this respect all that our means allowed. This is the first principle in +Strategy, therefore in general as now stated, it is just as well suited for +Greeks and Persians, or for Englishmen and Mahrattas, as for French and +Germans. But we shall take a glance at our relations in Europe, as respects +War, in order to arrive at some more definite idea on this subject. +</p> + +<p> +Here we find Armies much more alike in equipment, organisation, and practical +skill of every kind. There only remains a difference in the military virtue of +Armies, and in the talent of Generals which may fluctuate with time from side +to side. If we go through the military history of modern Europe, we find no +example of a Marathon. +</p> + +<p> +Frederick the Great beat 80,000 Austrians at Leuthen with about 30,000 men, and +at Rosbach with 25,000 some 50,000 allies; these are however the only instances +of victories gained against an enemy double, or more than double in numbers. +Charles XII, in the battle of Narva, we cannot well quote, for the Russians +were at that time hardly to be regarded as Europeans, also the principal +circumstances, even of the battle, are too little known. Buonaparte had at +Dresden 120,000 against 220,000, therefore not the double. At Kollin, Frederick +the Great did not succeed, with 30,000 against 50,000 Austrians, neither did +Buonaparte in the desperate battle of Leipsic, where he was 160,000 strong, +against 280,000. +</p> + +<p> +From this we may infer, that it is very difficult in the present state of +Europe, for the most talented General to gain a victory over an enemy double +his strength. Now if we see double numbers prove such a weight in the scale +against the greatest Generals, we may be sure, that in ordinary cases, in small +as well as great combats, an important superiority of numbers, but which need +not be over two to one, will be sufficient to ensure the victory, however +disadvantageous other circumstances may be. Certainly, we may imagine a defile +which even tenfold would not suffice to force, but in such a case it can be no +question of a battle at all. +</p> + +<p> +We think, therefore, that under our conditions, as well as in all similar ones, +the superiority at the decisive point is a matter of capital importance, and +that this subject, in the generality of cases, is decidedly the most important +of all. The strength at the decisive point depends on the absolute strength of +the Army, and on skill in making use of it. +</p> + +<p> +The first rule is therefore to enter the field with an Army as strong as +possible. This sounds very like a commonplace, but still it is really not so. +</p> + +<p> +In order to show that for a long time the strength of forces was by no means +regarded as a chief point, we need only observe, that in most, and even in the +most detailed histories of the Wars in the eighteenth century, the strength of +the Armies is either not given at all, or only incidentally, and in no case is +any special value laid upon it. Tempelhof in his history of the Seven +Years’ War is the earliest writer who gives it regularly, but at the same +time he does it only very superficially. +</p> + +<p> +Even Massenbach, in his manifold critical observations on the Prussian +campaigns of 1793-94 in the Vosges, talks a great deal about hills and valleys, +roads and footpaths, but does not say a syllable about mutual strength. +</p> + +<p> +Another proof lies in a wonderful notion which haunted the heads of many +critical historians, according to which there was a certain size of an Army +which was the best, a normal strength, beyond which the forces in excess were +burdensome rather than serviceable.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Tempelhof and Montalembert are the first we recollect as examples—the +first in a passage of his first part, page 148; the other in his correspondence +relative to the plan of operations of the Russians in 1759. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, there are a number of instances to be found, in which all the available +forces were not really brought into the battle,(*) or into the War, because the +superiority of numbers was not considered to have that importance which in the +nature of things belongs to it. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The Prussians at Jena, 1806. Wellington at Waterloo. +</p> + +<p> +If we are thoroughly penetrated with the conviction that with a considerable +superiority of numbers everything possible is to be effected, then it cannot +fail that this clear conviction reacts on the preparations for the War, so as +to make us appear in the field with as many troops as possible, and either to +give us ourselves the superiority, or at least to guard against the enemy +obtaining it. So much for what concerns the absolute force with which the War +is to be conducted. +</p> + +<p> +The measure of this absolute force is determined by the Government; and +although with this determination the real action of War commences, and it forms +an essential part of the Strategy of the War, still in most cases the General +who is to command these forces in the War must regard their absolute strength +as a given quantity, whether it be that he has had no voice in fixing it, or +that circumstances prevented a sufficient expansion being given to it. +</p> + +<p> +There remains nothing, therefore, where an absolute superiority is not +attainable, but to produce a relative one at the decisive point, by making +skilful use of what we have. +</p> + +<p> +The calculation of space and time appears as the most essential thing to this +end—and this has caused that subject to be regarded as one which embraces +nearly the whole art of using military forces. Indeed, some have gone so far as +to ascribe to great strategists and tacticians a mental organ peculiarly +adapted to this point. +</p> + +<p> +But the calculation of time and space, although it lies universally at the +foundation of Strategy, and is to a certain extent its daily bread, is still +neither the most difficult, nor the most decisive one. +</p> + +<p> +If we take an unprejudiced glance at military history, we shall find that the +instances in which mistakes in such a calculation have proved the cause of +serious losses are very rare, at least in Strategy. But if the conception of a +skilful combination of time and space is fully to account for every instance of +a resolute and active Commander beating several separate opponents with one and +the same army (Frederick the Great, Buonaparte), then we perplex ourselves +unnecessarily with conventional language. For the sake of clearness and the +profitable use of conceptions, it is necessary that things should always be +called by their right names. +</p> + +<p> +The right appreciation of their opponents (Daun, Schwartzenberg), the audacity +to leave for a short space of time a small force only before them, energy in +forced marches, boldness in sudden attacks, the intensified activity which +great souls acquire in the moment of danger, these are the grounds of such +victories; and what have these to do with the ability to make an exact +calculation of two such simple things as time and space? +</p> + +<p> +But even this ricochetting play of forces, “when the victories at Rosbach +and Montmirail give the impulse to victories at Leuthen and Montereau,” +to which great Generals on the defensive have often trusted, is still, if we +would be clear and exact, only a rare occurrence in history. +</p> + +<p> +Much more frequently the relative superiority—that is, the skilful +assemblage of superior forces at the decisive point—has its foundation in +the right appreciation of those points, in the judicious direction which by +that means has been given to the forces from the very first, and in the +resolution required to sacrifice the unimportant to the advantage of the +important—that is, to keep the forces concentrated in an overpowering +mass. In this, Frederick the Great and Buonaparte are particularly +characteristic. +</p> + +<p> +We think we have now allotted to the superiority in numbers the importance +which belongs to it; it is to be regarded as the fundamental idea, always to be +aimed at before all and as far as possible. +</p> + +<p> +But to regard it on this account as a necessary condition of victory would be a +complete misconception of our exposition; in the conclusion to be drawn from it +there lies nothing more than the value which should attach to numerical +strength in the combat. If that strength is made as great as possible, then the +maxim is satisfied; a review of the total relations must then decide whether or +not the combat is to be avoided for want of sufficient force.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Owing to our freedom from invasion, and to the condition which arise in our +Colonial Wars, we have not yet, in England, arrived at a correct appreciation +of the value of superior numbers in War, and still adhere to the idea of an +Army just “big enough,” which Clausewitz has so unsparingly +ridiculed. (EDITOR.) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>The Surprise</h3> + +<p> +From the subject of the foregoing chapter, the general endeavour to attain a +relative superiority, there follows another endeavour which must consequently +be just as general in its nature: this is the <i>surprise</i> of the enemy. It lies +more or less at the foundation of all undertakings, for without it the +preponderance at the decisive point is not properly conceivable. +</p> + +<p> +The surprise is, therefore, not only the means to the attainment of numerical +superiority; but it is also to be regarded as a substantive principle in +itself, on account of its moral effect. When it is successful in a high degree, +confusion and broken courage in the enemy’s ranks are the consequences; +and of the degree to which these multiply a success, there are examples enough, +great and small. We are not now speaking of the particular surprise which +belongs to the attack, but of the endeavour by measures generally, and +especially by the distribution of forces, to surprise the enemy, which can be +imagined just as well in the defensive, and which in the tactical defence +particularly is a chief point. +</p> + +<p> +We say, surprise lies at the foundation of all undertakings without exception, +only in very different degrees according to the nature of the undertaking and +other circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +This difference, indeed, originates in the properties or peculiarities of the +Army and its Commander, in those even of the Government. +</p> + +<p> +Secrecy and rapidity are the two factors in this product and these suppose in +the Government and the Commander-in-Chief great energy, and on the part of the +Army a high sense of military duty. With effeminacy and loose principles it is +in vain to calculate upon a surprise. But so general, indeed so indispensable, +as is this endeavour, and true as it is that it is never wholly unproductive of +effect, still it is not the less true that it seldom succeeds to a <i>remarkable</i> +degree, and this follows from the nature of the idea itself. We should form an +erroneous conception if we believed that by this means chiefly there is much to +be attained in War. In idea it promises a great deal; in the execution it +generally sticks fast by the friction of the whole machine. +</p> + +<p> +In tactics the surprise is much more at home, for the very natural reason that +all times and spaces are on a smaller scale. It will, therefore, in Strategy be +the more feasible in proportion as the measures lie nearer to the province of +tactics, and more difficult the higher up they lie towards the province of +policy. +</p> + +<p> +The preparations for a War usually occupy several months; the assembly of an +Army at its principal positions requires generally the formation of depôts and +magazines, and long marches, the object of which can be guessed soon enough. +</p> + +<p> +It therefore rarely happens that one State surprises another by a War, or by +the direction which it gives the mass of its forces. In the seventeenth and +eighteenth centuries, when War turned very much upon sieges, it was a frequent +aim, and quite a peculiar and important chapter in the Art of War, to invest a +strong place unexpectedly, but even that only rarely succeeded.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Railways, steamships, and telegraphs have, however, enormously modified the +relative importance and practicability of surprise. (EDITOR.) +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, with things which can be done in a day or two, a surprise is +much more conceivable, and, therefore, also it is often not difficult thus to +gain a march upon the enemy, and thereby a position, a point of country, a +road, &c. But it is evident that what surprise gains in this way in easy +execution, it loses in the efficacy, as the greater the efficacy the greater +always the difficulty of execution. Whoever thinks that with such surprises on +a small scale, he may connect great results—as, for example, the gain of +a battle, the capture of an important magazine—believes in something +which it is certainly very possible to imagine, but for which there is no +warrant in history; for there are upon the whole very few instances where +anything great has resulted from such surprises; from which we may justly +conclude that inherent difficulties lie in the way of their success. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, whoever would consult history on such points must not depend on +sundry battle steeds of historical critics, on their wise dicta and +self-complacent terminology, but look at facts with his own eyes. There is, for +instance, a certain day in the campaign in Silesia, 1761, which, in this +respect, has attained a kind of notoriety. It is the 22nd July, on which +Frederick the Great gained on Laudon the march to Nossen, near Neisse, by +which, as is said, the junction of the Austrian and Russian armies in Upper +Silesia became impossible, and, therefore, a period of four weeks was gained by +the King. Whoever reads over this occurrence carefully in the principal +histories,(*) and considers it impartially, will, in the march of the 22nd +July, never find this importance; and generally in the whole of the fashionable +logic on this subject, he will see nothing but contradictions; but in the +proceedings of Laudon, in this renowned period of manœuvres, much that is +unaccountable. How could one, with a thirst for truth, and clear conviction, +accept such historical evidence? +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Tempelhof, The Veteran, Frederick the Great. Compare also (Clausewitz) +“<i>Hinterlassene Werke</i>,” vol. x., p. 158. +</p> + +<p> +When we promise ourselves great effects in a campaign from the principle of +surprising, we think upon great activity, rapid resolutions, and forced +marches, as the means of producing them; but that these things, even when +forthcoming in a very high degree, will not always produce the desired effect, +we see in examples given by Generals, who may be allowed to have had the +greatest talent in the use of these means, Frederick the Great and Buonaparte. +The first when he left Dresden so suddenly in July 1760, and falling upon +Lascy, then turned against Dresden, gained nothing by the whole of that +intermezzo, but rather placed his affairs in a condition notably worse, as the +fortress Glatz fell in the meantime. +</p> + +<p> +In 1813, Buonaparte turned suddenly from Dresden twice against Blücher, to say +nothing of his incursion into Bohemia from Upper Lusatia, and both times +without in the least attaining his object. They were blows in the air which +only cost him time and force, and might have placed him in a dangerous position +in Dresden. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, even in this field, a surprise does not necessarily meet with great +success through the mere activity, energy, and resolution of the Commander; it +must be favoured by other circumstances. But we by no means deny that there can +be success; we only connect with it a necessity of favourable circumstances, +which, certainly do not occur very frequently, and which the Commander can +seldom bring about himself. +</p> + +<p> +Just those two Generals afford each a striking illustration of this. We take +first Buonaparte in his famous enterprise against Blücher’s Army in +February 1814, when it was separated from the Grand Army, and descending the +Marne. It would not be easy to find a two days’ march to surprise the +enemy productive of greater results than this; Blücher’s Army, extended +over a distance of three days’ march, was beaten in detail, and suffered +a loss nearly equal to that of defeat in a great battle. This was completely +the effect of a surprise, for if Blücher had thought of such a near +possibility of an attack from Buonaparte(*) he would have organised his march +quite differently. To this mistake of Blücher’s the result is to be +attributed. Buonaparte did not know all these circumstances, and so there was a +piece of good fortune that mixed itself up in his favour. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Blücher believed his march to be covered by Pahlen’s Cossacks, but +these had been withdrawn without warning to him by the Grand Army Headquarters +under Schwartzenberg. +</p> + +<p> +It is the same with the battle of Liegnitz, 1760. Frederick the Great gained +this fine victory through altering during the night a position which he had +just before taken up. Laudon was through this completely surprised, and lost 70 +pieces of artillery and 10,000 men. Although Frederick the Great had at this +time adopted the principle of moving backwards and forwards in order to make a +battle impossible, or at least to disconcert the enemy’s plans, still the +alteration of position on the night of the 14-15 was not made exactly with that +intention, but as the King himself says, because the position of the 14th did +not please him. Here, therefore, also chance was hard at work; without this +happy conjunction of the attack and the change of position in the night, and +the difficult nature of the country, the result would not have been the same. +</p> + +<p> +Also in the higher and highest province of Strategy there are some instances of +surprises fruitful in results. We shall only cite the brilliant marches of the +Great Elector against the Swedes from Franconia to Pomerania and from the Mark +(Brandenburg) to the Pregel in 1757, and the celebrated passage of the Alps by +Buonaparte, 1800. In the latter case an Army gave up its whole theatre of war +by a capitulation, and in 1757 another Army was very near giving up its theatre +of war and itself as well. Lastly, as an instance of a War wholly unexpected, +we may bring forward the invasion of Silesia by Frederick the Great. Great and +powerful are here the results everywhere, but such events are not common in +history if we do not confuse with them cases in which a State, for want of +activity and energy (Saxony 1756, and Russia, 1812), has not completed its +preparations in time. +</p> + +<p> +Now there still remains an observation which concerns the essence of the thing. +A surprise can only be effected by that party which gives the law to the other; +and he who is in the right gives the law. If we surprise the adversary by a +wrong measure, then instead of reaping good results, we may have to bear a +sound blow in return; in any case the adversary need not trouble himself much +about our surprise, he has in our mistake the means of turning off the evil. As +the offensive includes in itself much more positive action than the defensive, +so the surprise is certainly more in its place with the assailant, but by no +means invariably, as we shall hereafter see. Mutual surprises by the offensive +and defensive may therefore meet, and then that one will have the advantage who +has hit the nail on the head the best. +</p> + +<p> +So should it be, but practical life does not keep to this line so exactly, and +that for a very simple reason. The moral effects which attend a surprise often +convert the worst case into a good one for the side they favour, and do not +allow the other to make any regular determination. We have here in view more +than anywhere else not only the chief Commander, but each single one, because a +surprise has the effect in particular of greatly loosening unity, so that the +individuality of each separate leader easily comes to light. +</p> + +<p> +Much depends here on the general relation in which the two parties stand to +each other. If the one side through a general moral superiority can intimidate +and outdo the other, then he can make use of the surprise with more success, +and even reap good fruit where properly he should come to ruin. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/>Stratagem</h3> + +<p> +Stratagem implies a concealed intention, and therefore is opposed to +straightforward dealing, in the same way as wit is the opposite of direct +proof. It has therefore nothing in common with means of persuasion, of +self-interest, of force, but a great deal to do with deceit, because that +likewise conceals its object. It is itself a deceit as well when it is done, +but still it differs from what is commonly called deceit, in this respect that +there is no direct breach of word. The deceiver by stratagem leaves it to the +person himself whom he is deceiving to commit the errors of understanding which +at last, flowing into <i>one</i> result, suddenly change the nature of things in his +eyes. We may therefore say, as nit is a sleight of hand with ideas and +conceptions, so stratagem is a sleight of hand with actions. +</p> + +<p> +At first sight it appears as if Strategy had not improperly derived its name +from stratagem; and that, with all the real and apparent changes which the +whole character of War has undergone since the time of the Greeks, this term +still points to its real nature. +</p> + +<p> +If we leave to tactics the actual delivery of the blow, the battle itself, and +look upon Strategy as the art of using this means with skill, then besides the +forces of the character, such as burning ambition which always presses like a +spring, a strong will which hardly bends &c. &c., there seems no +subjective quality so suited to guide and inspire strategic activity as +stratagem. The general tendency to surprise, treated of in the foregoing +chapter, points to this conclusion, for there is a degree of stratagem, be it +ever so small, which lies at the foundation of every attempt to surprise. +</p> + +<p> +But however much we feel a desire to see the actors in War outdo each other in +hidden activity, readiness, and stratagem, still we must admit that these +qualities show themselves but little in history, and have rarely been able to +work their way to the surface from amongst the mass of relations and +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +The explanation of this is obvious, and it is almost identical with the subject +matter of the preceding chapter. +</p> + +<p> +Strategy knows no other activity than the regulating of combat with the +measures which relate to it. It has no concern, like ordinary life, with +transactions which consist merely of words—that is, in expressions, +declarations, &c. But these, which are very inexpensive, are chiefly the +means with which the wily one takes in those he practises upon. +</p> + +<p> +That which there is like it in War, plans and orders given merely as +make-believers, false reports sent on purpose to the enemy—is usually of +so little effect in the strategic field that it is only resorted to in +particular cases which offer of themselves, therefore cannot be regarded as +spontaneous action which emanates from the leader. +</p> + +<p> +But such measures as carrying out the arrangements for a battle, so far as to +impose upon the enemy, require a considerable expenditure of time and power; of +course, the greater the impression to be made, the greater the expenditure in +these respects. And as this is usually not given for the purpose, very few +demonstrations, so-called, in Strategy, effect the object for which they are +designed. In fact, it is dangerous to detach large forces for any length of +time merely for a trick, because there is always the risk of its being done in +vain, and then these forces are wanted at the decisive point. +</p> + +<p> +The chief actor in War is always thoroughly sensible of this sober truth, and +therefore he has no desire to play at tricks of agility. The bitter earnestness +of necessity presses so fully into direct action that there is no room for that +game. In a word, the pieces on the strategical chess-board want that mobility +which is the element of stratagem and subtility. +</p> + +<p> +The conclusion which we draw, is that a correct and penetrating eye is a more +necessary and more useful quality for a General than craftiness, although that +also does no harm if it does not exist at the expense of necessary qualities of +the heart, which is only too often the case. +</p> + +<p> +But the weaker the forces become which are under the command of Strategy, so +much the more they become adapted for stratagem, so that to the quite feeble +and little, for whom no prudence, no sagacity is any longer sufficient at the +point where all art seems to forsake him, stratagem offers itself as a last +resource. The more helpless his situation, the more everything presses towards +one single, desperate blow, the more readily stratagem comes to the aid of his +boldness. Let loose from all further calculations, freed from all concern for +the future, boldness and stratagem intensify each other, and thus collect at +one point an infinitesimal glimmering of hope into a single ray, which may +likewise serve to kindle a flame. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>Assembly of Forces in Space</h3> + +<p> +The best Strategy is <i>always to be very strong</i>, first generally then at the +decisive point. Therefore, apart from the energy which creates the Army, a work +which is not always done by the General, there is no more imperative and no +simpler law for Strategy than to <i>keep the forces concentrated</i>.—No portion +is to be separated from the main body unless called away by some urgent +necessity. On this maxim we stand firm, and look upon it as a guide to be +depended upon. What are the reasonable grounds on which a detachment of forces +may be made we shall learn by degrees. Then we shall also see that this +principle cannot have the same general effects in every War, but that these are +different according to the means and end. +</p> + +<p> +It seems incredible, and yet it has happened a hundred times, that troops have +been divided and separated merely through a mysterious feeling of conventional +manner, without any clear perception of the reason. +</p> + +<p> +If the concentration of the whole force is acknowledged as the norm, and every +division and separation as an exception which must be justified, then not only +will that folly be completely avoided, but also many an erroneous ground for +separating troops will be barred admission. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>Assembly of Forces in Time</h3> + +<p> +We have here to deal with a conception which in real life diffuses many kinds +of illusory light. A clear definition and development of the idea is therefore +necessary, and we hope to be allowed a short analysis. +</p> + +<p> +War is the shock of two opposing forces in collision with each other, from +which it follows as a matter of course that the stronger not only destroys the +other, but carries it forward with it in its movement. This fundamentally +admits of no successive action of powers, but makes the simultaneous +application of all forces intended for the shock appear as a primordial law of +War. +</p> + +<p> +So it is in reality, but only so far as the struggle resembles also in practice +a mechanical shock, but when it consists in a lasting, mutual action of +destructive forces, then we can certainly imagine a successive action of +forces. This is the case in tactics, principally because firearms form the +basis of all tactics, but also for other reasons as well. If in a fire combat +1000 men are opposed to 500, then the gross loss is calculated from the amount +of the enemy’s force and our own; 1000 men fire twice as many shots as +500, but more shots will take effect on the 1000 than on the 500 because it is +assumed that they stand in closer order than the other. If we were to suppose +the number of hits to be double, then the losses on each side would be equal. +From the 500 there would be for example 200 disabled, and out of the body of +1000 likewise the same; now if the 500 had kept another body of equal number +quite out of fire, then both sides would have 800 effective men; but of these, +on the one side there would be 500 men quite fresh, fully supplied with +ammunition, and in their full vigour; on the other side only 800 all alike +shaken in their order, in want of sufficient ammunition and weakened in +physical force. The assumption that the 1000 men merely on account of their +greater number would lose twice as many as 500 would have lost in their place, +is certainly not correct; therefore the greater loss which the side suffers +that has placed the half of its force in reserve, must be regarded as a +disadvantage in that original formation; further it must be admitted, that in +the generality of cases the 1000 men would have the advantage at the first +commencement of being able to drive their opponent out of his position and +force him to a retrograde movement; now, whether these two advantages are a +counterpoise to the disadvantage of finding ourselves with 800 men to a certain +extent disorganised by the combat, opposed to an enemy who is not materially +weaker in numbers and who has 500 quite fresh troops, is one that cannot be +decided by pursuing an analysis further, we must here rely upon experience, and +there will scarcely be an officer experienced in War who will not in the +generality of cases assign the advantage to that side which has the fresh +troops. +</p> + +<p> +In this way it becomes evident how the employment of too many forces in combat +may be disadvantageous; for whatever advantages the superiority may give in the +first moment, we may have to pay dearly for in the next. +</p> + +<p> +But this danger only endures as long as the disorder, the state of confusion +and weakness lasts, in a word, up to the crisis which every combat brings with +it even for the conqueror. Within the duration of this relaxed state of +exhaustion, the appearance of a proportionate number of fresh troops is +decisive. +</p> + +<p> +But when this disordering effect of victory stops, and therefore only the moral +superiority remains which every victory gives, then it is no longer possible +for fresh troops to restore the combat, they would only be carried along in the +general movement; a beaten Army cannot be brought back to victory a day after +by means of a strong reserve. Here we find ourselves at the source of a highly +material difference between tactics and strategy. +</p> + +<p> +The tactical results, the results within the four corners of the battle, and +before its close, lie for the most part within the limits of that period of +disorder and weakness. But the strategic result, that is to say, the result of +the total combat, of the victories realised, let them be small or great, lies +completely (beyond) outside of that period. It is only when the results of +partial combats have bound themselves together into an independent whole, that +the strategic result appears, but then, the state of crisis is over, the forces +have resumed their original form, and are now only weakened to the extent of +those actually destroyed (placed <i>hors de combat</i>). +</p> + +<p> +The consequence of this difference is, that tactics can make a continued use of +forces, Strategy only a simultaneous one.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) See chaps. xiii., and xiv., Book III and chap. xxix. Book V.—TR. +</p> + +<p> +If I cannot, in tactics, decide all by the first success, if I have to fear the +next moment, it follows of itself that I employ only so much of my force for +the success of the first moment as appears sufficient for that object, and keep +the rest beyond the reach of fire or conflict of any kind, in order to be able +to oppose fresh troops to fresh, or with such to overcome those that are +exhausted. But it is not so in Strategy. Partly, as we have just shown, it has +not so much reason to fear a reaction after a success realised, because with +that success the crisis stops; partly all the forces strategically employed are +not necessarily weakened. Only so much of them as have been tactically in +conflict with the enemy’s force, that is, engaged in partial combat, are +weakened by it; consequently, only so much as was unavoidably necessary, but by +no means all which was strategically in conflict with the enemy, unless tactics +has expended them unnecessarily. Corps which, on account of the general +superiority in numbers, have either been little or not at all engaged, whose +presence alone has assisted in the result, are after the decision the same as +they were before, and for new enterprises as efficient as if they had been +entirely inactive. How greatly such corps which thus constitute our excess may +contribute to the total success is evident in itself; indeed, it is not +difficult to see how they may even diminish considerably the loss of the forces +engaged in tactical, conflict on our side. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, in Strategy the loss does not increase with the number of the +troops employed, but is often diminished by it, and if, as a natural +consequence, the decision in our favor is, by that means, the more certain, +then it follows naturally that in Strategy we can never employ too many forces, +and consequently also that they must be applied simultaneously to the immediate +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +But we must vindicate this proposition upon another ground. We have hitherto +only spoken of the combat itself; it is the real activity in War, but men, +time, and space, which appear as the elements of this activity, must, at the +same time, be kept in view, and the results of their influence brought into +consideration also. +</p> + +<p> +Fatigue, exertion, and privation constitute in War a special principle of +destruction, not essentially belonging to contest, but more or less inseparably +bound up with it, and certainly one which especially belongs to Strategy. They +no doubt exist in tactics as well, and perhaps there in the highest degree; but +as the duration of the tactical acts is shorter, therefore the small effects of +exertion and privation on them can come but little into consideration. But in +Strategy on the other hand, where time and space, are on a larger scale, their +influence is not only always very considerable, but often quite decisive. It is +not at all uncommon for a victorious Army to lose many more by sickness than on +the field of battle. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, we look at this sphere of destruction in Strategy in the same +manner as we have considered that of fire and close combat in tactics, then we +may well imagine that everything which comes within its vortex will, at the end +of the campaign or of any other strategic period, be reduced to a state of +weakness, which makes the arrival of a fresh force decisive. We might therefore +conclude that there is a motive in the one case as well as the other to strive +for the first success with as few forces as possible, in order to keep up this +fresh force for the last. +</p> + +<p> +In order to estimate exactly this conclusion, which, in many cases in practice, +will have a great appearance of truth, we must direct our attention to the +separate ideas which it contains. In the first place, we must not confuse the +notion of reinforcement with that of fresh unused troops. There are few +campaigns at the end of which an increase of force is not earnestly desired by +the conqueror as well as the conquered, and indeed should appear decisive; but +that is not the point here, for that increase of force could not be necessary +if the force had been so much larger at the first. But it would be contrary to +all experience to suppose that an Army coming fresh into the field is to be +esteemed higher in point of moral value than an Army already in the field, just +as a tactical reserve is more to be esteemed than a body of troops which has +been already severely handled in the fight. Just as much as an unfortunate +campaign lowers the courage and moral powers of an Army, a successful one +raises these elements in their value. In the generality of cases, therefore, +these influences are compensated, and then there remains over and above as +clear gain the habituation to War. We should besides look more here to +successful than to unsuccessful campaigns, because when the greater probability +of the latter may be seen beforehand, without doubt forces are wanted, and, +therefore, the reserving a portion for future use is out of the question. +</p> + +<p> +This point being settled, then the question is, Do the losses which a force +sustains through fatigues and privations increase in proportion to the size of +the force, as is the case in a combat? And to that we answer “No.” +</p> + +<p> +The fatigues of War result in a great measure from the dangers with which every +moment of the act of War is more or less impregnated. To encounter these +dangers at all points, to proceed onwards with security in the execution of +one’s plans, gives employment to a multitude of agencies which make up +the tactical and strategic service of the Army. This service is more difficult +the weaker an Army is, and easier as its numerical superiority over that of the +enemy increases. Who can doubt this? A campaign against a much weaker enemy +will therefore cost smaller efforts than against one just as strong or +stronger. +</p> + +<p> +So much for the fatigues. It is somewhat different with the privations; they +consist chiefly of two things, the want of food, and the want of shelter for +the troops, either in quarters or in suitable camps. Both these wants will no +doubt be greater in proportion as the number of men on one spot is greater. But +does not the superiority in force afford also the best means of spreading out +and finding more room, and therefore more means of subsistence and shelter? +</p> + +<p> +If Buonaparte, in his invasion of Russia in 1812, concentrated his Army in +great masses upon one single road in a manner never heard of before, and thus +caused privations equally unparalleled, we must ascribe it to his maxim <i>that it +is impossible to be too strong at the decisive point</i>. Whether in this instance +he did not strain the principle too far is a question which would be out of +place here; but it is certain that, if he had made a point of avoiding the +distress which was by that means brought about, he had only to advance on a +greater breadth of front. Room was not wanted for the purpose in Russia, and in +very few cases can it be wanted. Therefore, from this no ground can be deduced +to prove that the simultaneous employment of very superior forces must produce +greater weakening. But now, supposing that in spite of the general relief +afforded by setting apart a portion of the Army, wind and weather and the toils +of War had produced a diminution even on the part which as a spare force had +been reserved for later use, still we must take a comprehensive general view of +the whole, and therefore ask, Will this diminution of force suffice to +counterbalance the gain in forces, which we, through our superiority in +numbers, may be able to make in more ways than one? +</p> + +<p> +But there still remains a most important point to be noticed. In a partial +combat, the force required to obtain a great result can be approximately +estimated without much difficulty, and, consequently, we can form an idea of +what is superfluous. In Strategy this may be said to be impossible, because the +strategic result has no such well-defined object and no such circumscribed +limits as the tactical. Thus what can be looked upon in tactics as an excess of +power, must be regarded in Strategy as a means to give expansion to success, if +opportunity offers for it; with the magnitude of the success the gain in force +increases at the same time, and in this way the superiority of numbers may soon +reach a point which the most careful economy of forces could never have +attained. +</p> + +<p> +By means of his enormous numerical superiority, Buonaparte was enabled to reach +Moscow in 1812, and to take that central capital. Had he by means of this +superiority succeeded in completely defeating the Russian Army, he would, in +all probability, have concluded a peace in Moscow which in any other way was +much less attainable. This example is used to explain the idea, not to prove +it, which would require a circumstantial demonstration, for which this is not +the place.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Compare Book VII., second edition, p. 56. +</p> + +<p> +All these reflections bear merely upon the idea of a successive employment of +forces, and not upon the conception of a reserve properly so called, which +they, no doubt, come in contact with throughout, but which, as we shall see in +the following chapter, is connected with some other considerations. +</p> + +<p> +What we desire to establish here is, that if in tactics the military force +through the mere duration of actual employment suffers a diminution of power, +if time, therefore, appears as a factor in the result, this is not the case in +Strategy in a material degree. The destructive effects which are also produced +upon the forces in Strategy by time, are partly diminished through their mass, +partly made good in other ways, and, therefore, in Strategy it cannot be an +object to make time an ally on its own account by bringing troops successively +into action. +</p> + +<p> +We say on “its own account,” for the influence which time, on +account of other circumstances which it brings about but which are different +from itself can have, indeed must necessarily have, for one of the two parties, +is quite another thing, is anything but indifferent or unimportant, and will be +the subject of consideration hereafter. +</p> + +<p> +The rule which we have been seeking to set forth is, therefore, that all forces +which are available and destined for a strategic object should be +<i>simultaneously</i> applied to it; and this application will be so much the more +complete the more everything is compressed into one act and into one movement. +</p> + +<p> +But still there is in Strategy a renewal of effort and a persistent action +which, as a chief means towards the ultimate success, is more particularly not +to be overlooked, it is the <i>continual development of new forces</i>. This is also +the subject of another chapter, and we only refer to it here in order to +prevent the reader from having something in view of which we have not been +speaking. +</p> + +<p> +We now turn to a subject very closely connected with our present +considerations, which must be settled before full light can be thrown on the +whole, we mean the <i>strategic reserve</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>Strategic Reserve</h3> + +<p> +A reserve has two objects which are very distinct from each other, namely, +first, the prolongation and renewal of the combat, and secondly, for use in +case of unforeseen events. The first object implies the utility of a successive +application of forces, and on that account cannot occur in Strategy. Cases in +which a corps is sent to succour a point which is supposed to be about to fall +are plainly to be placed in the category of the second object, as the +resistance which has to be offered here could not have been sufficiently +foreseen. But a corps which is destined expressly to prolong the combat, and +with that object in view is placed in rear, would be only a corps placed out of +reach of fire, but under the command and at the disposition of the General +Commanding in the action, and accordingly would be a tactical and not a +strategic reserve. +</p> + +<p> +But the necessity for a force ready for unforeseen events may also take place +in Strategy, and consequently there may also be a strategic reserve, but only +where unforeseen events are imaginable. In tactics, where the enemy’s +measures are generally first ascertained by direct sight, and where they may be +concealed by every wood, every fold of undulating ground, we must naturally +always be alive, more or less, to the possibility of unforeseen events, in +order to strengthen, subsequently, those points which appear too weak, and, in +fact, to modify generally the disposition of our troops, so as to make it +correspond better to that of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +Such cases must also happen in Strategy, because the strategic act is directly +linked to the tactical. In Strategy also many a measure is first adopted in +consequence of what is actually seen, or in consequence of uncertain reports +arriving from day to day, or even from hour to hour, and lastly, from the +actual results of the combats it is, therefore, an essential condition of +strategic command that, according to the degree of uncertainty, forces must be +kept in reserve against future contingencies. +</p> + +<p> +In the defensive generally, but particularly in the defence of certain +obstacles of ground, like rivers, hills, &c., such contingencies, as is +well known, happen constantly. +</p> + +<p> +But this uncertainty diminishes in proportion as the strategic activity has +less of the tactical character, and ceases almost altogether in those regions +where it borders on politics. +</p> + +<p> +The direction in which the enemy leads his columns to the combat can be +perceived by actual sight only; where he intends to pass a river is learnt from +a few preparations which are made shortly before; the line by which he proposes +to invade our country is usually announced by all the newspapers before a +pistol shot has been fired. The greater the nature of the measure the less it +will take the enemy by surprise. Time and space are so considerable, the +circumstances out of which the action proceeds so public and little susceptible +of alteration, that the coming event is either made known in good time, or can +be discovered with reasonable certainty. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand the use of a reserve in this province of Strategy, even if +one were available, will always be less efficacious the more the measure has a +tendency towards being one of a general nature. +</p> + +<p> +We have seen that the decision of a partial combat is nothing in itself, but +that all partial combats only find their complete solution in the decision of +the total combat. +</p> + +<p> +But even this decision of the total combat has only a relative meaning of many +different gradations, according as the force over which the victory has been +gained forms a more or less great and important part of the whole. The lost +battle of a corps may be repaired by the victory of the Army. Even the lost +battle of an Army may not only be counterbalanced by the gain of a more +important one, but converted into a fortunate event (the two days of Kulm, +August 29 and 30, 1813(*)). No one can doubt this; but it is just as clear that +the weight of each victory (the successful issue of each total combat) is so +much the more substantial the more important the part conquered, and that +therefore the possibility of repairing the loss by subsequent events diminishes +in the same proportion. In another place we shall have to examine this more in +detail; it suffices for the present to have drawn attention to the indubitable +existence of this progression. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Refers to the destruction of Vandamme’s column, which had been sent +unsupported to intercept the retreat of the Austrians and Prussians from +Dresden—but was forgotten by Napoleon.—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +If we now add lastly to these two considerations the third, which is, that if +the persistent use of forces in tactics always shifts the great result to the +end of the whole act, law of the simultaneous use of the forces in Strategy, on +the contrary, lets the principal result (which need not be the final one) take +place almost always at the commencement of the great (or whole) act, then in +these three results we have grounds sufficient to find strategic reserves +always more superfluous, always more useless, always more dangerous, the more +general their destination. +</p> + +<p> +The point where the idea of a strategic reserve begins to become inconsistent +is not difficult to determine: it lies in the SUPREME DECISION. Employment must +be given to all the forces within the space of the supreme decision, and every +reserve (active force available) which is only intended for use after that +decision is opposed to common sense. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, tactics has in its reserves the means of not only meeting +unforeseen dispositions on the part of the enemy, but also of repairing that +which never can be foreseen, the result of the combat, should that be +unfortunate; Strategy on the other hand must, at least as far as relates to the +capital result, renounce the use of these means. As A rule, it can only repair +the losses sustained at one point by advantages gained at another, in a few +cases by moving troops from one point to another; the idea of preparing for +such reverses by placing forces in reserve beforehand, can never be entertained +in Strategy. +</p> + +<p> +We have pointed out as an absurdity the idea of a strategic reserve which is +not to co-operate in the capital result, and as it is so beyond a doubt, we +should not have been led into such an analysis as we have made in these two +chapters, were it not that, in the disguise of other ideas, it looks like +something better, and frequently makes its appearance. One person sees in it +the acme of strategic sagacity and foresight; another rejects it, and with it +the idea of any reserve, consequently even of a tactical one. This confusion of +ideas is transferred to real life, and if we would see a memorable instance of +it we have only to call to mind that Prussia in 1806 left a reserve of 20,000 +men cantoned in the Mark, under Prince Eugene of Wurtemberg, which could not +possibly reach the Saale in time to be of any use, and that another force Of +25,000 men belonging to this power remained in East and South Prussia, destined +only to be put on a war-footing afterwards as a reserve. +</p> + +<p> +After these examples we cannot be accused of having been fighting with +windmills. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>Economy of Forces</h3> + +<p> +The road of reason, as we have said, seldom allows itself to be reduced to a +mathematical line by principles and opinions. There remains always a certain +margin. But it is the same in all the practical arts of life. For the lines of +beauty there are no abscissae and ordinates; circles and ellipses are not +described by means of their algebraical formulae. The actor in War therefore +soon finds he must trust himself to the delicate tact of judgment which, +founded on natural quickness of perception, and educated by reflection, almost +unconsciously seizes upon the right; he soon finds that at one time he must +simplify the law (by reducing it) to some prominent characteristic points which +form his rules; that at another the adopted method must become the staff on +which he leans. +</p> + +<p> +As one of these simplified characteristic points as a mental appliance, we look +upon the principle of watching continually over the co-operation of all forces, +or in other words, of keeping constantly in view that no part of them should +ever be idle. Whoever has forces where the enemy does not give them sufficient +employment, whoever has part of his forces on the march—that is, allows +them to lie dead—while the enemy’s are fighting, he is a bad +manager of his forces. In this sense there is a waste of forces, which is even +worse than their employment to no purpose. If there must be action, then the +first point is that all parts act, because the most purposeless activity still +keeps employed and destroys a portion of the enemy’s force, whilst troops +completely inactive are for the moment quite neutralised. Unmistakably this +idea is bound up with the principles contained in the last three chapters, it +is the same truth, but seen from a somewhat more comprehensive point of view +and condensed into a single conception. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/>Geometrical Element</h3> + +<p> +The length to which the geometrical element or form in the disposition of +military force in War can become a predominant principle, we see in the art of +fortification, where geometry looks after the great and the little. Also in +tactics it plays a great part. It is the basis of elementary tactics, or of the +theory of moving troops; but in field fortification, as well as in the theory +of positions, and of their attack, its angles and lines rule like law givers +who have to decide the contest. Many things here were at one time misapplied, +and others were mere fribbles; still, however, in the tactics of the present +day, in which in every combat the aim is to surround the enemy, the geometrical +element has attained anew a great importance in a very simple, but constantly +recurring application. Nevertheless, in tactics, where all is more movable, +where the moral forces, individual traits, and chance are more influential than +in a war of sieges, the geometrical element can never attain to the same degree +of supremacy as in the latter. But less still is its influence in Strategy; +certainly here, also, form in the disposition of troops, the shape of countries +and states is of great importance; but the geometrical element is not decisive, +as in fortification, and not nearly so important as in tactics.—The +manner in which this influence exhibits itself, can only be shown by degrees at +those places where it makes its appearance, and deserves notice. Here we wish +more to direct attention to the difference which there is between tactics and +Strategy in relation to it. +</p> + +<p> +In tactics time and space quickly dwindle to their absolute minimum. If a body +of troops is attacked in flank and rear by the enemy, it soon gets to a point +where retreat no longer remains; such a position is very close to an absolute +impossibility of continuing the fight; it must therefore extricate itself from +it, or avoid getting into it. This gives to all combinations aiming at this +from the first commencement a great efficiency, which chiefly consists in the +disquietude which it causes the enemy as to consequences. This is why the +geometrical disposition of the forces is such an important factor in the +tactical product. +</p> + +<p> +In Strategy this is only faintly reflected, on account of the greater space and +time. We do not fire from one theatre of war upon another; and often weeks and +months must pass before a strategic movement designed to surround the enemy can +be executed. Further, the distances are so great that the probability of +hitting the right point at last, even with the best arrangements, is but small. +</p> + +<p> +In Strategy therefore the scope for such combinations, that is for those +resting on the geometrical element, is much smaller, and for the same reason +the effect of an advantage once actually gained at any point is much greater. +Such advantage has time to bring all its effects to maturity before it is +disturbed, or quite neutralised therein, by any counteracting apprehensions. We +therefore do not hesitate to regard as an established truth, that in Strategy +more depends on the number and the magnitude of the victorious combats, than on +the form of the great lines by which they are connected. +</p> + +<p> +A view just the reverse has been a favourite theme of modern theory, because a +greater importance was supposed to be thus given to Strategy, and, as the +higher functions of the mind were seen in Strategy, it was thought by that +means to ennoble War, and, as it was said—through a new substitution of +ideas—to make it more scientific. We hold it to be one of the principal +uses of a complete theory openly to expose such vagaries, and as the +geometrical element is the fundamental idea from which theory usually proceeds, +therefore we have expressly brought out this point in strong relief. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/>On the Suspension of the Act in War</h3> + +<p> +If one considers War as an act of mutual destruction, we must of necessity +imagine both parties as making some progress; but at the same time, as regards +the existing moment, we must almost as necessarily suppose the one party in a +state of expectation, and only the other actually advancing, for circumstances +can never be actually the same on both sides, or continue so. In time a change +must ensue, from which it follows that the present moment is more favourable to +one side than the other. Now if we suppose that both commanders have a full +knowledge of this circumstance, then the one has a motive for action, which at +the same time is a motive for the other to wait; therefore, according to this +it cannot be for the interest of both at the same time to advance, nor can +waiting be for the interest of both at the same time. This opposition of +interest as regards the object is not deduced here from the principle of +general polarity, and therefore is not in opposition to the argument in the +fifth chapter of the second book; it depends on the fact that here in reality +the same thing is at once an incentive or motive to both commanders, namely the +probability of improving or impairing their position by future action. +</p> + +<p> +But even if we suppose the possibility of a perfect equality of circumstances +in this respect, or if we take into account that through imperfect knowledge of +their mutual position such an equality may appear to the two Commanders to +subsist, still the difference of political objects does away with this +possibility of suspension. One of the parties must of necessity be assumed +politically to be the aggressor, because no War could take place from defensive +intentions on both sides. But the aggressor has the positive object, the +defender merely a negative one. To the first then belongs the positive action, +for it is only by that means that he can attain the positive object; therefore, +in cases where both parties are in precisely similar circumstances, the +aggressor is called upon to act by virtue of his positive object. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, from this point of view, a suspension in the act of Warfare, +strictly speaking, is in contradiction with the nature of the thing; because +two Armies, being two incompatible elements, should destroy one another +unremittingly, just as fire and water can never put themselves in equilibrium, +but act and react upon one another, until one quite disappears. What would be +said of two wrestlers who remained clasped round each other for hours without +making a movement. Action in War, therefore, like that of a clock which is +wound up, should go on running down in regular motion.—But wild as is the +nature of War it still wears the chains of human weakness, and the +contradiction we see here, viz., that man seeks and creates dangers which he +fears at the same time will astonish no one. +</p> + +<p> +If we cast a glance at military history in general, we find so much the +opposite of an incessant advance towards the aim, that <i>standing still</i> and <i>doing +nothing</i> is quite plainly the <i>normal condition</i> of an Army in the midst of War, +<i>acting</i>, the <i>exception</i>. This must almost raise a doubt as to the correctness of +our conception. But if military history leads to this conclusion when viewed in +the mass the latest series of campaigns redeems our position. The War of the +French Revolution shows too plainly its reality, and only proves too clearly +its necessity. In these operations, and especially in the campaigns of +Buonaparte, the conduct of War attained to that unlimited degree of energy +which we have represented as the natural law of the element. This degree is +therefore possible, and if it is possible then it is necessary. +</p> + +<p> +How could any one in fact justify in the eyes of reason the expenditure of +forces in War, if acting was not the object? The baker only heats his oven if +he has bread to put into it; the horse is only yoked to the carriage if we mean +to drive; why then make the enormous effort of a War if we look for nothing +else by it but like efforts on the part of the enemy? +</p> + +<p> +So much in justification of the general principle; now as to its modifications, +as far as they lie in the nature of the thing and are independent of special +cases. +</p> + +<p> +There are three causes to be noticed here, which appear as innate counterpoises +and prevent the over-rapid or uncontrollable movement of the wheel-work. +</p> + +<p> +The first, which produces a constant tendency to delay, and is thereby a +retarding principle, is the natural timidity and want of resolution in the +human mind, a kind of inertia in the moral world, but which is produced not by +attractive, but by repellent forces, that is to say, by dread of danger and +responsibility. +</p> + +<p> +In the burning element of War, ordinary natures appear to become heavier; the +impulsion given must therefore be stronger and more frequently repeated if the +motion is to be a continuous one. The mere idea of the object for which arms +have been taken up is seldom sufficient to overcome this resistant force, and +if a warlike enterprising spirit is not at the head, who feels himself in War +in his natural element, as much as a fish in the ocean, or if there is not the +pressure from above of some great responsibility, then standing still will be +the order of the day, and progress will be the exception. +</p> + +<p> +The second cause is the imperfection of human perception and judgment, which is +greater in War than anywhere, because a person hardly knows exactly his own +position from one moment to another, and can only conjecture on slight grounds +that of the enemy, which is purposely concealed; this often gives rise to the +case of both parties looking upon one and the same object as advantageous for +them, while in reality the interest of one must preponderate; thus then each +may think he acts wisely by waiting another moment, as we have already said in +the fifth chapter of the second book. +</p> + +<p> +The third cause which catches hold, like a ratchet wheel in machinery, from +time to time producing a complete standstill, is the greater strength of the +defensive form. A may feel too weak to attack B, from which it does not follow +that B is strong enough for an attack on A. The addition of strength, which the +defensive gives is not merely lost by assuming the offensive, but also passes +to the enemy just as, figuratively expressed, the difference of <i>a</i> + +<i>b</i> and <i>a</i> – <i>b</i> is equal to 2<i>b</i>. Therefore it may so +happen that both parties, at one and the same time, not only feel themselves +too weak to attack, but also are so in reality. +</p> + +<p> +Thus even in the midst of the act of War itself, anxious sagacity and the +apprehension of too great danger find vantage ground, by means of which they +can exert their power, and tame the elementary impetuosity of War. +</p> + +<p> +However, at the same time these causes without an exaggeration of their effect, +would hardly explain the long states of inactivity which took place in military +operations, in former times, in Wars undertaken about interests of no great +importance, and in which inactivity consumed nine-tenths of the time that the +troops remained under arms. This feature in these Wars, is to be traced +principally to the influence which the demands of the one party, and the +condition, and feeling of the other, exercised over the conduct of the +operations, as has been already observed in the chapter on the essence and +object of War. +</p> + +<p> +These things may obtain such a preponderating influence as to make of War a +half-and-half affair. A War is often nothing more than an armed neutrality, or +a menacing attitude to support negotiations or an attempt to gain some small +advantage by small exertions, and then to wait the tide of circumstances, or a +disagreeable treaty obligation, which is fulfilled in the most niggardly way +possible. +</p> + +<p> +In all these cases in which the impulse given by interest is slight, and the +principle of hostility feeble, in which there is no desire to do much, and also +not much to dread from the enemy; in short, where no powerful motives press and +drive, cabinets will not risk much in the game; hence this tame mode of +carrying on War, in which the hostile spirit of real War is laid in irons. +</p> + +<p> +The more War becomes in this manner devitalised so much the more its theory +becomes destitute of the necessary firm pivots and buttresses for its +reasoning; the necessary is constantly diminishing, the accidental constantly +increasing. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless in this kind of Warfare, there is also a certain shrewdness, +indeed, its action is perhaps more diversified, and more extensive than in the +other. Hazard played with realeaux of gold seems changed into a game of +commerce with groschen. And on this field, where the conduct of War spins out +the time with a number of small flourishes, with skirmishes at outposts, half +in earnest half in jest, with long dispositions which end in nothing with +positions and marches, which afterwards are designated as skilful only because +their infinitesimally small causes are lost, and common sense can make nothing +of them, here on this very field many theorists find the real Art of War at +home: in these feints, parades, half and quarter thrusts of former Wars, they +find the aim of all theory, the supremacy of mind over matter, and modern Wars +appear to them mere savage fisticuffs, from which nothing is to be learnt, and +which must be regarded as mere retrograde steps towards barbarism. This opinion +is as frivolous as the objects to which it relates. Where great forces and +great passions are wanting, it is certainly easier for a practised dexterity to +show its game; but is then the command of great forces, not in itself a higher +exercise of the intelligent faculties? Is then that kind of conventional +sword-exercise not comprised in and belonging to the other mode of conducting +War? Does it not bear the same relation to it as the motions upon a ship to the +motion of the ship itself? Truly it can take place only under the tacit +condition that the adversary does no better. And can we tell, how long he may +choose to respect those conditions? Has not then the French Revolution fallen +upon us in the midst of the fancied security of our old system of War, and +driven us from Chalons to Moscow? And did not Frederick the Great in like +manner surprise the Austrians reposing in their ancient habits of War, and make +their monarchy tremble? Woe to the cabinet which, with a shilly-shally policy, +and a routine-ridden military system, meets with an adversary who, like the +rude element, knows no other law than that of his intrinsic force. Every +deficiency in energy and exertion is then a weight in the scales in favour of +the enemy; it is not so easy then to change from the fencing posture into that +of an athlete, and a slight blow is often sufficient to knock down the whole. +</p> + +<p> +The result of all the causes now adduced is, that the hostile action of a +campaign does not progress by a continuous, but by an intermittent movement, +and that, therefore, between the separate bloody acts, there is a period of +watching, during which both parties fall into the defensive, and also that +usually a higher object causes the principle of aggression to predominate on +one side, and thus leaves it in general in an advancing position, by which then +its proceedings become modified in some degree. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>On the Character of Modern War</h3> + +<p> +The attention which must be paid to the character of War as it is now made, has +a great influence upon all plans, especially on strategic ones. +</p> + +<p> +Since all methods formerly usual were upset by Buonaparte’s luck and +boldness, and first-rate Powers almost wiped out at a blow; since the Spaniards +by their stubborn resistance have shown what the general arming of a nation and +insurgent measures on a great scale can effect, in spite of weakness and +porousness of individual parts; since Russia, by the campaign of 1812 has +taught us, first, that an Empire of great dimensions is not to be conquered +(which might have been easily known before), secondly, that the probability of +final success does not in all cases diminish in the same measure as battles, +capitals, and provinces are lost (which was formerly an incontrovertible +principle with all diplomatists, and therefore made them always ready to enter +at once into some bad temporary peace), but that a nation is often strongest in +the heart of its country, if the enemy’s offensive power has exhausted +itself, and with what enormous force the defensive then springs over to the +offensive; further, since Prussia (1813) has shown that sudden efforts may add +to an Army sixfold by means of the militia, and that this militia is just as +fit for service abroad as in its own country;—since all these events have +shown what an enormous factor the heart and sentiments of a Nation may be in +the product of its political and military strength, in fine, since governments +have found out all these additional aids, it is not to be expected that they +will let them lie idle in future Wars, whether it be that danger threatens +their own existence, or that restless ambition drives them on. +</p> + +<p> +That a War which is waged with the whole weight of the national power on each +side must be organised differently in principle to those where everything is +calculated according to the relations of standing Armies to each other, it is +easy to perceive. Standing Armies once resembled fleets, the land force the sea +force in their relations to the remainder of the State, and from that the Art +of War on shore had in it something of naval tactics, which it has now quite +lost. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>Tension and Rest</h3> + +<h4><i>The Dynamic Law of War</i></h4> + +<p> +We have seen in the sixteenth chapter of this book, how, in most campaigns, +much more time used to be spent in standing still and inaction than in +activity. +</p> + +<p> +Now, although, as observed in the preceding chapter we see quite a different +character in the present form of War, still it is certain that real action will +always be interrupted more or less by long pauses; and this leads to the +necessity of our examining more closely the nature of these two phases of War. +</p> + +<p> +If there is a suspension of action in War, that is, if neither party wills +something positive, there is rest, and consequently equilibrium, but certainly +an equilibrium in the largest signification, in which not only the moral and +physical war-forces, but all relations and interests, come into calculation. As +soon as ever one of the two parties proposes to himself a new positive object, +and commences active steps towards it, even if it is only by preparations, and +as soon as the adversary opposes this, there is a tension of powers; this lasts +until the decision takes place—that is, until one party either gives up +his object or the other has conceded it to him. +</p> + +<p> +This decision—the foundation of which lies always in the +combat—combinations which are made on each side—is followed by a +movement in one or other direction. +</p> + +<p> +When this movement has exhausted itself, either in the difficulties which had +to be mastered, in overcoming its own internal friction, or through new +resistant forces prepared by the acts of the enemy, then either a state of rest +takes place or a new tension with a decision, and then a new movement, in most +cases in the opposite direction. +</p> + +<p> +This speculative distinction between equilibrium, tension, and motion is more +essential for practical action than may at first sight appear. +</p> + +<p> +In a state of rest and of equilibrium a varied kind of activity may prevail on +one side that results from opportunity, and does not aim at a great alteration. +Such an activity may contain important combats—even pitched +battles—but yet it is still of quite a different nature, and on that +account generally different in its effects. +</p> + +<p> +If a state of tension exists, the effects of the decision are always greater +partly because a greater force of will and a greater pressure of circumstances +manifest themselves therein; partly because everything has been prepared and +arranged for a great movement. The decision in such cases resembles the effect +of a mine well closed and tamped, whilst an event in itself perhaps just as +great, in a state of rest, is more or less like a mass of powder puffed away in +the open air. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, as a matter of course, the state of tension must be imagined +in different degrees of intensity, and it may therefore approach gradually by +many steps towards the state of rest, so that at the last there is a very +slight difference between them. +</p> + +<p> +Now the real use which we derive from these reflections is the conclusion that +every measure which is taken during a state of tension is more important and +more prolific in results than the same measure could be in a state of +equilibrium, and that this importance increases immensely in the highest +degrees of tension. +</p> + +<p> +The cannonade of Valmy, September 20, 1792, decided more than the battle of +Hochkirch, October 14, 1758. +</p> + +<p> +In a tract of country which the enemy abandons to us because he cannot defend +it, we can settle ourselves differently from what we should do if the retreat +of the enemy was only made with the view to a decision under more favourable +circumstances. Again, a strategic attack in course of execution, a faulty +position, a single false march, may be decisive in its consequence; whilst in a +state of equilibrium such errors must be of a very glaring kind, even to excite +the activity of the enemy in a general way. +</p> + +<p> +Most bygone Wars, as we have already said, consisted, so far as regards the +greater part of the time, in this state of equilibrium, or at least in such +short tensions with long intervals between them, and weak in their effects, +that the events to which they gave rise were seldom great successes, often they +were theatrical exhibitions, got up in honour of a royal birthday (Hochkirch), +often a mere satisfying of the honour of the arms (Kunersdorf), or the personal +vanity of the commander (Freiberg). +</p> + +<p> +That a Commander should thoroughly understand these states, that he should have +the tact to act in the spirit of them, we hold to be a great requisite, and we +have had experience in the campaign of 1806 how far it is sometimes wanting. In +that tremendous tension, when everything pressed on towards a supreme decision, +and that alone with all its consequences should have occupied the whole soul of +the Commander, measures were proposed and even partly carried out (such as the +reconnaissance towards Franconia), which at the most might have given a kind of +gentle play of oscillation within a state of equilibrium. Over these blundering +schemes and views, absorbing the activity of the Army, the really necessary +means, which could alone save, were lost sight of. +</p> + +<p> +But this speculative distinction which we have made is also necessary for our +further progress in the construction of our theory, because all that we have to +say on the relation of attack and defence, and on the completion of this +double-sided act, concerns the state of the crisis in which the forces are +placed during the tension and motion, and because all the activity which can +take place during the condition of equilibrium can only be regarded and treated +as a corollary; for that crisis is the real War and this state of equilibrium +only its reflection. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part04"></a>BOOK IV<br/>THE COMBAT</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>Introductory</h3> + +<p> +Having in the foregoing book examined the subjects which may be regarded as the +efficient elements of War, we shall now turn our attention to the combat as the +real activity in Warfare, which, by its physical and moral effects, embraces +sometimes more simply, sometimes in a more complex manner, the object of the +whole campaign. In this activity and in its effects these elements must +therefore, reappear. +</p> + +<p> +The formation of the combat is tactical in its nature; we only glance at it +here in a general way in order to get acquainted with it in its aspect as a +whole. In practice the minor or more immediate objects give every combat a +characteristic form; these minor objects we shall not discuss until hereafter. +But these peculiarities are in comparison to the general characteristics of a +combat mostly only insignificant, so that most combats are very like one +another, and, therefore, in order to avoid repeating that which is general at +every stage, we are compelled to look into it here, before taking up the +subject of its more special application. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, therefore, we shall give in the next chapter, in a few +words, the characteristics of the modern battle in its tactical course, because +that lies at the foundation of our conceptions of what the battle really is. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>Character of a Modern Battle</h3> + +<p> +According to the notion we have formed of tactics and strategy, it follows, as +a matter of course, that if the nature of the former is changed, that change +must have an influence on the latter. If tactical facts in one case are +entirely different from those in another, then the strategic, must be so also, +if they are to continue consistent and reasonable. It is therefore important to +characterise a general action in its modern form before we advance with the +study of its employment in strategy. +</p> + +<p> +What do we do now usually in a great battle? We place ourselves quietly in +great masses arranged contiguous to and behind one another. We deploy +relatively only a small portion of the whole, and let it wring itself out in a +fire-combat which lasts for several hours, only interrupted now and again, and +removed hither and thither by separate small shocks from charges with the +bayonet and cavalry attacks. When this line has gradually exhausted part of its +warlike ardour in this manner and there remains nothing more than the cinders, +it is withdrawn(*) and replaced by another. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The relief of the fighting line played a great part in the battles of the +Smooth-Bore era; it was necessitated by the fouling of the muskets, physical +fatigue of the men and consumption of ammunition, and was recognised as both +necessary and advisable by Napoleon himself.—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner the battle on a modified principle burns slowly away like wet +powder, and if the veil of night commands it to stop, because neither party can +any longer see, and neither chooses to run the risk of blind chance, then an +account is taken by each side respectively of the masses remaining, which can +be called still effective, that is, which have not yet quite collapsed like +extinct volcanoes; account is taken of the ground gained or lost, and of how +stands the security of the rear; these results with the special impressions as +to bravery and cowardice, ability and stupidity, which are thought to have been +observed in ourselves and in the enemy are collected into one single total +impression, out of which there springs the resolution to quit the field or to +renew the combat on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +This description, which is not intended as a finished picture of a modern +battle, but only to give its general tone, suits for the offensive and +defensive, and the special traits which are given, by the object proposed, the +country, &c. &c., may be introduced into it, without materially +altering the conception. +</p> + +<p> +But modern battles are not so by accident; they are so because the parties find +themselves nearly on a level as regards military organisation and the knowledge +of the Art of War, and because the warlike element inflamed by great national +interests has broken through artificial limits and now flows in its natural +channel. Under these two conditions, battles will always preserve this +character. +</p> + +<p> +This general idea of the modern battle will be useful to us in the sequel in +more places than one, if we want to estimate the value of the particular +co-efficients of strength, country, &c. &c. It is only for general, +great, and decisive combats, and such as come near to them that this +description stands good; inferior ones have changed their character also in the +same direction but less than great ones. The proof of this belongs to tactics; +we shall, however, have an opportunity hereafter of making this subject plainer +by giving a few particulars. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>The Combat in General</h3> + +<p> +The Combat is the real warlike activity, everything else is only its auxiliary; +let us therefore take an attentive look at its nature. +</p> + +<p> +Combat means fighting, and in this the destruction or conquest of the enemy is +the object, and the enemy, in the particular combat, is the armed force which +stands opposed to us. +</p> + +<p> +This is the simple idea; we shall return to it, but before we can do that we +must insert a series of others. +</p> + +<p> +If we suppose the State and its military force as a unit, then the most natural +idea is to imagine the War also as one great combat, and in the simple +relations of savage nations it is also not much otherwise. But our Wars are +made up of a number of great and small simultaneous or consecutive combats, and +this severance of the activity into so many separate actions is owing to the +great multiplicity of the relations out of which War arises with us. +</p> + +<p> +In point of fact, the ultimate object of our Wars, the political one, is not +always quite a simple one; and even were it so, still the action is bound up +with such a number of conditions and considerations to be taken into account, +that the object can no longer be attained by one single great act but only +through a number of greater or smaller acts which are bound up into a whole; +each of these separate acts is therefore a part of a whole, and has +consequently a special object by which it is bound to this whole. +</p> + +<p> +We have already said that every strategic act can be referred to the idea of a +combat, because it is an employment of the military force, and at the root of +that there always lies the idea of fighting. We may therefore reduce every +military activity in the province of Strategy to the unit of single combats, +and occupy ourselves with the object of these only; we shall get acquainted +with these special objects by degrees as we come to speak of the causes which +produce them; here we content ourselves with saying that every combat, great or +small, has its own peculiar object in subordination to the main object. If this +is the case then, the destruction and conquest of the enemy is only to be +regarded as the means of gaining this object; as it unquestionably is. +</p> + +<p> +But this result is true only in its form, and important only on account of the +connection which the ideas have between themselves, and we have only sought it +out to get rid of it at once. +</p> + +<p> +What is overcoming the enemy? Invariably the destruction of his military force, +whether it be by death, or wounds, or any means; whether it be completely or +only to such a degree that he can no longer continue the contest; therefore as +long as we set aside all special objects of combats, we may look upon the +complete or partial destruction of the enemy as the only object of all combats. +</p> + +<p> +Now we maintain that in the majority of cases, and especially in great battles, +the special object by which the battle is individualised and bound up with the +great whole is only a weak modification of that general object, or an ancillary +object bound up with it, important enough to individualise the battle, but +always insignificant in comparison with that general object; so that if that +ancillary object alone should be obtained, only an unimportant part of the +purpose of the combat is fulfilled. If this assertion is correct, then we see +that the idea, according to which the destruction of the enemy’s force is +only the means, and something else always the object, can only be true in form, +but, that it would lead to false conclusions if we did not recollect that this +destruction of the enemy’s force is comprised in that object, and that +this object is only a weak modification of it. Forgetfulness of this led to +completely false views before the Wars of the last period, and created +tendencies as well as fragments of systems, in which theory thought it raised +itself so much the more above handicraft, the less it supposed itself to stand +in need of the use of the real instrument, that is the destruction of the +enemy’s force. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly such a system could not have arisen unless supported by other false +suppositions, and unless in place of the destruction of the enemy, other things +had been substituted to which an efficacy was ascribed which did not rightly +belong to them. We shall attack these falsehoods whenever occasion requires, +but we could not treat of the combat without claiming for it the real +importance and value which belong to it, and giving warning against the errors +to which merely formal truth might lead. +</p> + +<p> +But now how shall we manage to show that in most cases, and in those of most +importance, the destruction of the enemy’s Army is the chief thing? How +shall we manage to combat that extremely subtle idea, which supposes it +possible, through the use of a special artificial form, to effect by a small +direct destruction of the enemy’s forces a much greater destruction +indirectly, or by means of small but extremely well-directed blows to produce +such paralysation of the enemy’s forces, such a command over the +enemy’s will, that this mode of proceeding is to be viewed as a great +shortening of the road? Undoubtedly a victory at one point may be of more value +than at another. Undoubtedly there is a scientific arrangement of battles +amongst themselves, even in Strategy, which is in fact nothing but the Art of +thus arranging them. To deny that is not our intention, but we assert that the +direct destruction of the enemy’s forces is everywhere predominant; we +contend here for the overruling importance of this destructive principle and +nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +We must, however, call to mind that we are now engaged with Strategy, not with +tactics, therefore we do not speak of the means which the former may have of +destroying at a small expense a large body of the enemy’s forces, but +under direct destruction we understand the tactical results, and that, +therefore, our assertion is that only great tactical results can lead to great +strategical ones, or, as we have already once before more distinctly expressed +it, <i>the tactical successes</i> are of paramount importance in the conduct of War. +</p> + +<p> +The proof of this assertion seems to us simple enough, it lies in the time +which every complicated (artificial) combination requires. The question whether +a simple attack, or one more carefully prepared, <i>i.e.</i>, more artificial, will +produce greater effects, may undoubtedly be decided in favour of the latter as +long as the enemy is assumed to remain quite passive. But every carefully +combined attack requires time for its preparation, and if a counter-stroke by +the enemy intervenes, our whole design may be upset. Now if the enemy should +decide upon some simple attack, which can be executed in a shorter time, then +he gains the initiative, and destroys the effect of the great plan. Therefore, +together with the expediency of a complicated attack we must consider all the +dangers which we run during its preparation, and should only adopt it if there +is no reason to fear that the enemy will disconcert our scheme. Whenever this +is the case we must ourselves choose the simpler, <i>i.e.</i>, quicker way, and lower +our views in this sense as far as the character, the relations of the enemy, +and other circumstances may render necessary. If we quit the weak impressions +of abstract ideas and descend to the region of practical life, then it is +evident that a bold, courageous, resolute enemy will not let us have time for +wide-reaching skilful combinations, and it is just against such a one we should +require skill the most. By this it appears to us that the advantage of simple +and direct results over those that are complicated is conclusively shown. +</p> + +<p> +Our opinion is not on that account that the simple blow is the best, but that +we must not lift the arm too far for the time given to strike, and that this +condition will always lead more to direct conflict the more warlike our +opponent is. Therefore, far from making it our aim to gain upon the enemy by +complicated plans, we must rather seek to be beforehand with him by greater +simplicity in our designs. +</p> + +<p> +If we seek for the lowest foundation-stones of these converse propositions we +find that in the one it is ability, in the other, courage. Now, there is +something very attractive in the notion that a moderate degree of courage +joined to great ability will produce greater effects than moderate ability with +great courage. But unless we suppose these elements in a disproportionate +relation, not logical, we have no right to assign to ability this advantage +over courage in a field which is called danger, and which must be regarded as +the true domain of courage. +</p> + +<p> +After this abstract view we shall only add that experience, very far from +leading to a different conclusion, is rather the sole cause which has impelled +us in this direction, and given rise to such reflections. +</p> + +<p> +Whoever reads history with a mind free from prejudice cannot fail to arrive at +a conviction that of all military virtues, energy in the conduct of operations +has always contributed the most to the glory and success of arms. +</p> + +<p> +How we make good our principle of regarding the destruction of the +enemy’s force as the principal object, not only in the War as a whole but +also in each separate combat, and how that principle suits all the forms and +conditions necessarily demanded by the relations out of which War springs, the +sequel will show. For the present all that we desire is to uphold its general +importance, and with this result we return again to the combat. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>The Combat in General (<i>continuation</i>)</h3> + +<p> +In the last chapter we showed the destruction of the enemy as the true object +of the combat, and we have sought to prove by a special consideration of the +point, that this is true in the majority of cases, and in respect to the most +important battles, because the destruction of the enemy’s Army is always +the preponderating object in War. The other objects which may be mixed up with +this destruction of the enemy’s force, and may have more or less +influence, we shall describe generally in the next chapter, and become better +acquainted with by degrees afterwards; here we divest the combat of them +entirely, and look upon the destruction of the enemy as the complete and +sufficient object of any combat. +</p> + +<p> +What are we now to understand by destruction of the enemy’s Army? A +diminution of it relatively greater than that on our own side. If we have a +great superiority in numbers over the enemy, then naturally the same absolute +amount of loss on both sides is for us a smaller one than for him, and +consequently may be regarded in itself as an advantage. As we are here +considering the combat as divested of all (other) objects, we must also exclude +from our consideration the case in which the combat is used only indirectly for +a greater destruction of the enemy’s force; consequently also, only that +direct gain which has been made in the mutual process of destruction, is to be +regarded as the object, for this is an absolute gain, which runs through the +whole campaign, and at the end of it will always appear as pure profit. But +every other kind of victory over our opponent will either have its motive in +other objects, which we have completely excluded here, or it will only yield a +temporary relative advantage. An example will make this plain. +</p> + +<p> +If by a skilful disposition we have reduced our opponent to such a dilemma, +that he cannot continue the combat without danger, and after some resistance he +retires, then we may say, that we have conquered him at that point; but if in +this victory we have expended just as many forces as the enemy, then in closing +the account of the campaign, there is no gain remaining from this victory, if +such a result can be called a victory. Therefore the overcoming the enemy, that +is, placing him in such a position that he must give up the fight, counts for +nothing in itself, and for that reason cannot come under the definition of +object. There remains, therefore, as we have said, nothing over except the +direct gain which we have made in the process of destruction; but to this +belong not only the losses which have taken place in the course of the combat, +but also those which, after the withdrawal of the conquered part, take place as +direct consequences of the same. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is known by experience, that the losses in physical forces in the course +of a battle seldom present a great difference between victor and vanquished +respectively, often none at all, sometimes even one bearing an inverse relation +to the result, and that the most decisive losses on the side of the vanquished +only commence with the retreat, that is, those which the conqueror does not +share with him. The weak remains of battalions already in disorder are cut down +by cavalry, exhausted men strew the ground, disabled guns and broken caissons +are abandoned, others in the bad state of the roads cannot be removed quickly +enough, and are captured by the enemy’s troops, during the night numbers +lose their way, and fall defenceless into the enemy’s hands, and thus the +victory mostly gains bodily substance after it is already decided. Here would +be a paradox, if it did not solve itself in the following manner. +</p> + +<p> +The loss in physical force is not the only one which the two sides suffer in +the course of the combat; the moral forces also are shaken, broken, and go to +ruin. It is not only the loss in men, horses and guns, but in order, courage, +confidence, cohesion and plan, which come into consideration when it is a +question whether the fight can be still continued or not. It is principally the +moral forces which decide here, and in all cases in which the conqueror has +lost as heavily as the conquered, it is these alone. +</p> + +<p> +The comparative relation of the physical losses is difficult to estimate in a +battle, but not so the relation of the moral ones. Two things principally make +it known. The one is the loss of the ground on which the fight has taken place, +the other the superiority of the enemy’s. The more our reserves have +diminished as compared with those of the enemy, the more force we have used to +maintain the equilibrium; in this at once, an evident proof of the moral +superiority of the enemy is given which seldom fails to stir up in the soul of +the Commander a certain bitterness of feeling, and a sort of contempt for his +own troops. But the principal thing is, that men who have been engaged for a +long continuance of time are more or less like burnt-out cinders; their +ammunition is consumed; they have melted away to a certain extent; physical and +moral energies are exhausted, perhaps their courage is broken as well. Such a +force, irrespective of the diminution in its number, if viewed as an organic +whole, is very different from what it was before the combat; and thus it is +that the loss of moral force may be measured by the reserves that have been +used as if it were on a foot-rule. +</p> + +<p> +Lost ground and want of fresh reserves, are, therefore, usually the principal +causes which determine a retreat; but at the same time we by no means exclude +or desire to throw in the shade other reasons, which may lie in the +interdependence of parts of the Army, in the general plan, &c. +</p> + +<p> +Every combat is therefore the bloody and destructive measuring of the strength +of forces, physical and moral; whoever at the close has the greatest amount of +both left is the conqueror. +</p> + +<p> +In the combat the loss of moral force is the chief cause of the decision; after +that is given, this loss continues to increase until it reaches its +culminating-point at the close of the whole act. This then is the opportunity +the victor should seize to reap his harvest by the utmost possible restrictions +of his enemy’s forces, the real object of engaging in the combat. On the +beaten side, the loss of all order and control often makes the prolongation of +resistance by individual units, by the further punishment they are certain to +suffer, more injurious than useful to the whole. The spirit of the mass is +broken; the original excitement about losing or winning, through which danger +was forgotten, is spent, and to the majority danger now appears no longer an +appeal to their courage, but rather the endurance of a cruel punishment. Thus +the instrument in the first moment of the enemy’s victory is weakened and +blunted, and therefore no longer fit to repay danger by danger. +</p> + +<p> +This period, however, passes; the moral forces of the conquered will recover by +degrees, order will be restored, courage will revive, and in the majority of +cases there remains only a small part of the superiority obtained, often none +at all. In some cases, even, although rarely, the spirit of revenge and +intensified hostility may bring about an opposite result. On the other hand, +whatever is gained in killed, wounded, prisoners, and guns captured can never +disappear from the account. +</p> + +<p> +The losses in a battle consist more in killed and wounded; those after the +battle, more in artillery taken and prisoners. The first the conqueror shares +with the conquered, more or less, but the second not; and for that reason they +usually only take place on one side of the conflict, at least, they are +considerably in excess on one side. +</p> + +<p> +Artillery and prisoners are therefore at all times regarded as the true +trophies of victory, as well as its measure, because through these things its +extent is declared beyond a doubt. Even the degree of moral superiority may be +better judged of by them than by any other relation, especially if the number +of killed and wounded is compared therewith; and here arises a new power +increasing the moral effects. +</p> + +<p> +We have said that the moral forces, beaten to the ground in the battle and in +the immediately succeeding movements, recover themselves gradually, and often +bear no traces of injury; this is the case with small divisions of the whole, +less frequently with large divisions; it may, however, also be the case with +the main Army, but seldom or never in the State or Government to which the Army +belongs. These estimate the situation more impartially, and from a more +elevated point of view, and recognise in the number of trophies taken by the +enemy, and their relation to the number of killed and wounded, only too easily +and well, the measure of their own weakness and inefficiency. +</p> + +<p> +In point of fact, the lost balance of moral power must not be treated lightly +because it has no absolute value, and because it does not of necessity appear +in all cases in the amount of the results at the final close; it may become of +such excessive weight as to bring down everything with an irresistible force. +On that account it may often become a great aim of the operations of which we +shall speak elsewhere. Here we have still to examine some of its fundamental +relations. +</p> + +<p> +The moral effect of a victory increases, not merely in proportion to the extent +of the forces engaged, but in a progressive ratio—that is to say, not +only in extent, but also in its intensity. In a beaten detachment order is +easily restored. As a single frozen limb is easily revived by the rest of the +body, so the courage of a defeated detachment is easily raised again by the +courage of the rest of the Army as soon as it rejoins it. If, therefore, the +effects of a small victory are not completely done away with, still they are +partly lost to the enemy. This is not the case if the Army itself sustains a +great defeat; then one with the other fall together. A great fire attains quite +a different heat from several small ones. +</p> + +<p> +Another relation which determines the moral value of a victory is the numerical +relation of the forces which have been in conflict with each other. To beat +many with few is not only a double success, but shows also a greater, +especially a more general superiority, which the conquered must always be +fearful of encountering again. At the same time this influence is in reality +hardly observable in such a case. In the moment of real action, the notions of +the actual strength of the enemy are generally so uncertain, the estimate of +our own commonly so incorrect, that the party superior in numbers either does +not admit the disproportion, or is very far from admitting the full truth, +owing to which, he evades almost entirely the moral disadvantages which would +spring from it. It is only hereafter in history that the truth, long suppressed +through ignorance, vanity, or a wise discretion, makes its appearance, and then +it certainly casts a lustre on the Army and its Leader, but it can then do +nothing more by its moral influence for events long past. +</p> + +<p> +If prisoners and captured guns are those things by which the victory +principally gains substance, its true crystallisations, then the plan of the +battle should have those things specially in view; the destruction of the enemy +by death and wounds appears here merely as a means to an end. +</p> + +<p> +How far this may influence the dispositions in the battle is not an affair of +Strategy, but the decision to fight the battle is in intimate connection with +it, as is shown by the direction given to our forces, and their general +grouping, whether we threaten the enemy’s flank or rear, or he threatens +ours. On this point, the number of prisoners and captured guns depends very +much, and it is a point which, in many cases, tactics alone cannot satisfy, +particularly if the strategic relations are too much in opposition to it. +</p> + +<p> +The risk of having to fight on two sides, and the still more dangerous position +of having no line of retreat left open, paralyse the movements and the power of +resistance; further, in case of defeat, they increase the loss, often raising +it to its extreme point, that is, to destruction. Therefore, the rear being +endangered makes defeat more probable, and, at the same time, more decisive. +</p> + +<p> +From this arises, in the whole conduct of the War, especially in great and +small combats, a perfect instinct to secure our own line of retreat and to +seize that of the enemy; this follows from the conception of victory, which, as +we have seen, is something beyond mere slaughter. +</p> + +<p> +In this effort we see, therefore, the first immediate purpose in the combat, +and one which is quite universal. No combat is imaginable in which this effort, +either in its double or single form, does not go hand in hand with the plain +and simple stroke of force. Even the smallest troop will not throw itself upon +its enemy without thinking of its line of retreat, and, in most cases, it will +have an eye upon that of the enemy also. +</p> + +<p> +We should have to digress to show how often this instinct is prevented from +going the direct road, how often it must yield to the difficulties arising from +more important considerations: we shall, therefore, rest contented with +affirming it to be a general natural law of the combat. +</p> + +<p> +It is, therefore, active; presses everywhere with its natural weight, and so +becomes the pivot on which almost all tactical and strategic manœuvres turn. +</p> + +<p> +If we now take a look at the conception of victory as a whole, we find in it +three elements:— +</p> + +<p> +1. The greater loss of the enemy in physical power. +</p> + +<p> +2. In moral power. +</p> + +<p> +3. His open avowal of this by the relinquishment of his intentions. +</p> + +<p> +The returns made up on each side of losses in killed and wounded, are never +exact, seldom truthful, and in most cases, full of intentional +misrepresentations. Even the statement of the number of trophies is seldom to +be quite depended on; consequently, when it is not considerable it may also +cast a doubt even on the reality of the victory. Of the loss in moral forces +there is no reliable measure, except in the trophies: therefore, in many cases, +the giving up the contest is the only real evidence of the victory. It is, +therefore, to be regarded as a confession of inferiority—as the lowering +of the flag, by which, in this particular instance, right and superiority are +conceded to the enemy, and this degree of humiliation and disgrace, which, +however, must be distinguished from all the other moral consequences of the +loss of equilibrium, is an essential part of the victory. It is this part alone +which acts upon the public opinion outside the Army, upon the people and the +Government in both belligerent States, and upon all others in any way +concerned. +</p> + +<p> +But renouncement of the general object is not quite identical with quitting the +field of battle, even when the battle has been very obstinate and long kept up; +no one says of advanced posts, when they retire after an obstinate combat, that +they have given up their object; even in combats aimed at the destruction of +the enemy’s Army, the retreat from the battlefield is not always to be +regarded as a relinquishment of this aim, as for instance, in retreats planned +beforehand, in which the ground is disputed foot by foot; all this belongs to +that part of our subject where we shall speak of the separate object of the +combat; here we only wish to draw attention to the fact that in most cases the +giving up of the object is very difficult to distinguish from the retirement +from the battlefield, and that the impression produced by the latter, both in +and out of the Army, is not to be treated lightly. +</p> + +<p> +For Generals and Armies whose reputation is not made, this is in itself one of +the difficulties in many operations, justified by circumstances when a +succession of combats, each ending in retreat, may appear as a succession of +defeats, without being so in reality, and when that appearance may exercise a +very depressing influence. It is impossible for the retreating General by +making known his real intentions to prevent the moral effect spreading to the +public and his troops, for to do that with effect he must disclose his plans +completely, which of course would run counter to his principal interests to too +great a degree. +</p> + +<p> +In order to draw attention to the special importance of this conception of +victory we shall only refer to the battle of Soor,(*) the trophies from which +were not important (a few thousand prisoners and twenty guns), and where +Frederick proclaimed his victory by remaining for five days after on the field +of battle, although his retreat into Silesia had been previously determined on, +and was a measure natural to his whole situation. According to his own account, +he thought he would hasten a peace by the moral effect of his victory. Now +although a couple of other successes were likewise required, namely, the battle +at Katholisch Hennersdorf, in Lusatia, and the battle of Kesseldorf, before +this peace took place, still we cannot say that the moral effect of the battle +of Soor was <i>nil</i>. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Soor, or Sohr, Sept. 30, 1745; Hennersdorf, Nov. 23, 1745; Kealteldorf, +Dec. 15, 1745, all in the Second Silesian War. +</p> + +<p> +If it is chiefly the moral force which is shaken by defeat, and if the number +of trophies reaped by the enemy mounts up to an unusual height, then the lost +combat becomes a rout, but this is not the necessary consequence of every +victory. A rout only sets in when the moral force of the defeated is very +severely shaken then there often ensues a complete incapability of further +resistance, and the whole action consists of giving way, that is of flight. +</p> + +<p> +Jena and Belle Alliance were routs, but not so Borodino. +</p> + +<p> +Although without pedantry we can here give no single line of separation, +because the difference between the things is one of degrees, yet still the +retention of the conception is essential as a central point to give clearness +to our theoretical ideas and it is a want in our terminology that for a victory +over the enemy tantamount to a rout, and a conquest of the enemy only +tantamount to a simple victory, there is only one and the same word to use. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap37"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>On the Signification of the Combat</h3> + +<p> +Having in the preceding chapter examined the combat in its absolute form, as +the miniature picture of the whole War, we now turn to the relations which it +bears to the other parts of the great whole. First we inquire what is more +precisely the signification of a combat. +</p> + +<p> +As War is nothing else but a mutual process of destruction, then the most +natural answer in conception, and perhaps also in reality, appears to be that +all the powers of each party unite in one great volume and all results in one +great shock of these masses. There is certainly much truth in this idea, and it +seems to be very advisable that we should adhere to it and should on that +account look upon small combats at first only as necessary loss, like the +shavings from a carpenter’s plane. Still, however, the thing cannot be +settled so easily. +</p> + +<p> +That a multiplication of combats should arise from a fractioning of forces is a +matter of course, and the more immediate objects of separate combats will +therefore come before us in the subject of a fractioning of forces; but these +objects, and together with them, the whole mass of combats may in a general way +be brought under certain classes, and the knowledge of these classes will +contribute to make our observations more intelligible. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +Destruction of the enemy’s military forces is in reality the object of +all combats; but other objects may be joined thereto, and these other objects +may be at the same time predominant; we must therefore draw a distinction +between those in which the destruction of the enemy’s forces is the +principal object, and those in which it is more the means. The destruction of +the enemy’s force, the possession of a place or the possession of some +object may be the general motive for a combat, and it may be either one of +these alone or several together, in which case however usually one is the +principal motive. Now the two principal forms of War, the offensive and +defensive, of which we shall shortly speak, do not modify the first of these +motives, but they certainly do modify the other two, and therefore if we +arrange them in a scheme they would appear thus:— +</p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + OFFENSIVE. DEFENSIVE. + 1. Destruction of enemy’s force 1. Destruction of enemy’s force. + 2. Conquest of a place. 2. Defence of a place. + 3. Conquest of some object. 3. Defence of some object. +</pre> + +<p> +These motives, however, do not seem to embrace completely the whole of the +subject, if we recollect that there are reconnaissances and demonstrations, in +which plainly none of these three points is the object of the combat. In +reality we must, therefore, on this account be allowed a fourth class. Strictly +speaking, in reconnaissances in which we wish the enemy to show himself, in +alarms by which we wish to wear him out, in demonstrations by which we wish to +prevent his leaving some point or to draw him off to another, the objects are +all such as can only be attained indirectly and <i>under the pretext of one of the +three objects specified in the table</i>, usually of the second; for the enemy +whose aim is to reconnoitre must draw up his force as if he really intended to +attack and defeat us, or drive us off, &c. &c. But this pretended +object is not the real one, and our present question is only as to the latter; +therefore, we must to the above three objects of the offensive further add a +fourth, which is to lead the enemy to make a false conclusion. That offensive +means are conceivable in connection with this object, lies in the nature of the +thing. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand we must observe that the defence of a place may be of two +kinds, either absolute, if as a general question the point is not to be given +up, or relative if it is only required for a certain time. The latter happens +perpetually in the combats of advanced posts and rear guards. +</p> + +<p> +That the nature of these different intentions of a combat must have an +essential influence on the dispositions which are its preliminaries, is a thing +clear in itself. We act differently if our object is merely to drive an +enemy’s post out of its place from what we should if our object was to +beat him completely; differently, if we mean to defend a place to the last +extremity from what we should do if our design is only to detain the enemy for +a certain time. In the first case we trouble ourselves little about the line of +retreat, in the latter it is the principal point, &c. +</p> + +<p> +But these reflections belong properly to tactics, and are only introduced here +by way of example for the sake of greater clearness. What Strategy has to say +on the different objects of the combat will appear in the chapters which touch +upon these objects. Here we have only a few general observations to make, +first, that the importance of the object decreases nearly in the order as they +stand above, therefore, that the first of these objects must always predominate +in the great battle; lastly, that the two last in a defensive battle are in +reality such as yield no fruit, they are, that is to say, purely negative, and +can, therefore, only be serviceable, indirectly, by facilitating something else +which is positive. <i>It is, therefore, a bad sign of the strategic situation if +battles of this kind become too frequent.</i> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap38"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>Duration of Combat</h3> + +<p> +If we consider the combat no longer in itself but in relation to the other +forces of War, then its duration acquires a special importance. +</p> + +<p> +This duration is to be regarded to a certain extent as a second subordinate +success. For the conqueror the combat can never be finished too quickly, for +the vanquished it can never last too long. A speedy victory indicates a higher +power of victory, a tardy decision is, on the side of the defeated, some +compensation for the loss. +</p> + +<p> +This is in general true, but it acquires a practical importance in its +application to those combats, the object of which is a relative defence. +</p> + +<p> +Here the whole success often lies in the mere duration. This is the reason why +we have included it amongst the strategic elements. +</p> + +<p> +The duration of a combat is necessarily bound up with its essential relations. +These relations are, absolute magnitude of force, relation of force and of the +different arms mutually, and nature of the country. Twenty thousand men do not +wear themselves out upon one another as quickly as two thousand: we cannot +resist an enemy double or three times our strength as long as one of the same +strength; a cavalry combat is decided sooner than an infantry combat; and a +combat between infantry only, quicker than if there is artillery(*) as well; in +hills and forests we cannot advance as quickly as on a level country; all this +is clear enough. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The increase in the relative range of artillery and the introduction of +shrapnel has altogether modified this conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows, therefore, that strength, relation of the three arms, and +position, must be considered if the combat is to fulfil an object by its +duration; but to set up this rule was of less importance to us in our present +considerations than to connect with it at once the chief results which +experience gives us on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Even the resistance of an ordinary Division of 8000 to 10,000 men of all arms +even opposed to an enemy considerably superior in numbers, will last several +hours, if the advantages of country are not too preponderating, and if the +enemy is only a little, or not at all, superior in numbers, the combat will +last half a day. A Corps of three or four Divisions will prolong it to double +the time; an Army of 80,000 or 100,000 to three or four times. Therefore the +masses may be left to themselves for that length of time, and no separate +combat takes place if within that time other forces can be brought up, whose +co-operation mingles then at once into one stream with the results of the +combat which has taken place. +</p> + +<p> +These calculations are the result of experience; but it is important to us at +the same time to characterise more particularly the moment of the decision, and +consequently the termination. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap39"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>Decision of the Combat</h3> + +<p> +No battle is decided in a single moment, although in every battle there arise +moments of crisis, on which the result depends. The loss of a battle is, +therefore, a gradual falling of the scale. But there is in every combat a point +of time (*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Under the then existing conditions of armament understood. This point is of +supreme importance, as practically the whole conduct of a great battle depends +on a correct solution of this question—viz., How long can a given command +prolong its resistance? If this is incorrectly answered in practice—the +whole manœuvre depending on it may collapse—<i>e.g.</i>, Kouroupatkin at +Liao-Yang, September 1904. +</p> + +<p> +when it may be regarded as decided, in such a way that the renewal of the fight +would be a new battle, not a continuation of the old one. To have a clear +notion on this point of time, is very important, in order to be able to decide +whether, with the prompt assistance of reinforcements, the combat can again be +resumed with advantage. +</p> + +<p> +Often in combats which are beyond restoration new forces are sacrificed in +vain; often through neglect the decision has not been seized when it might +easily have been secured. Here are two examples, which could not be more to the +point: +</p> + +<p> +When the Prince of Hohenlohe, in 1806, at Jena,(*) with 35,000 men opposed to +from 60,000 to 70,000, under Buonaparte, had accepted battle, and lost +it—but lost it in such a way that the 35,000 might be regarded as +dissolved—General Rüchel undertook to renew the fight with about 12,000; +the consequence was that in a moment his force was scattered in like manner. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) October 14, 1806. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, on the same day at Auerstadt, the Prussians maintained a +combat with 25,000, against Davoust, who had 28,000, until mid-day, without +success, it is true, but still without the force being reduced to a state of +dissolution without even greater loss than the enemy, who was very deficient in +cavalry;—but they neglected to use the reserve of 18,000, under General +Kalkreuth, to restore the battle which, under these circumstances, it would +have been impossible to lose. +</p> + +<p> +Each combat is a whole in which the partial combats combine themselves into one +total result. In this total result lies the decision of the combat. This +success need not be exactly a victory such as we have denoted in the sixth +chapter, for often the preparations for that have not been made, often there is +no opportunity if the enemy gives way too soon, and in most cases the decision, +even when the resistance has been obstinate, takes place before such a degree +of success is attained as would completely satisfy the idea of a victory. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore ask, Which is commonly the moment of the decision, that is to say, +that moment when a fresh, effective, of course not disproportionate, force, can +no longer turn a disadvantageous battle? +</p> + +<p> +If we pass over false attacks, which in accordance with their nature are +properly without decision, then, +</p> + +<p> +1. If the possession of a movable object was the object of the combat, the loss +of the same is always the decision. +</p> + +<p> +2. If the possession of ground was the object of the combat, then the decision +generally lies in its loss. Still not always, only if this ground is of +peculiar strength, ground which is easy to pass over, however important it may +be in other respects, can be re-taken without much danger. +</p> + +<p> +3. But in all other cases, when these two circumstances have not already +decided the combat, therefore, particularly in case the destruction of the +enemy’s force is the principal object, the decision is reached at that +moment when the conqueror ceases to feel himself in a state of disintegration, +that is, of unserviceableness to a certain extent, when therefore, there is no +further advantage in using the successive efforts spoken of in the twelfth +chapter of the third book. On this ground we have given the strategic unity of +the battle its place here. +</p> + +<p> +A battle, therefore, in which the assailant has not lost his condition of order +and perfect efficiency at all, or, at least, only in a small part of his force, +whilst the opposing forces are, more or less, disorganised throughout, is also +not to be retrieved; and just as little if the enemy has recovered his +efficiency. +</p> + +<p> +The smaller, therefore, that part of a force is which has really been engaged, +the greater that portion which as reserve has contributed to the result only by +its presence. So much the less will any new force of the enemy wrest again the +victory from our hands, and that Commander who carries out to the furthest with +his Army the principle of conducting the combat with the greatest economy of +forces, and making the most of the moral effect of strong reserves, goes the +surest way to victory. We must allow that the French, in modern times, +especially when led by Buonaparte, have shown a thorough mastery in this. +</p> + +<p> +Further, the moment when the crisis-stage of the combat ceases with the +conqueror, and his original state of order is restored, takes place sooner the +smaller the unit he controls. A picket of cavalry pursuing an enemy at full +gallop will in a few minutes resume its proper order, and the crisis ceases. A +whole regiment of cavalry requires a longer time. It lasts still longer with +infantry, if extended in single lines of skirmishers, and longer again with +Divisions of all arms, when it happens by chance that one part has taken one +direction and another part another direction, and the combat has therefore +caused a loss of the order of formation, which usually becomes still worse from +no part knowing exactly where the other is. Thus, therefore, the point of time +when the conqueror has collected the instruments he has been using, and which +are mixed up and partly out of order, the moment when he has in some measure +rearranged them and put them in their proper places, and thus brought the +battle-workshop into a little order, this moment, we say, is always later, the +greater the total force. +</p> + +<p> +Again, this moment comes later if night overtakes the conqueror in the crisis, +and, lastly, it comes later still if the country is broken and thickly wooded. +But with regard to these two points, we must observe that night is also a great +means of protection, and it is only seldom that circumstances favour the +expectation of a successful result from a night attack, as on March 10, 1814, +at Laon,(*) where York against Marmont gives us an example completely in place +here. In the same way a wooded and broken country will afford protection +against a reaction to those who are engaged in the long crisis of victory. +Both, therefore, the night as well as the wooded and broken country are +obstacles which make the renewal of the same battle more difficult instead of +facilitating it. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) The celebrated charge at night upon Marmont’s Corps. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto, we have considered assistance arriving for the losing side as a mere +increase of force, therefore, as a reinforcement coming up directly from the +rear, which is the most usual case. But the case is quite different if these +fresh forces come upon the enemy in flank or rear. +</p> + +<p> +On the effect of flank or rear attacks so far as they belong to Strategy, we +shall speak in another place: such a one as we have here in view, intended for +the restoration of the combat, belongs chiefly to tactics, and is only +mentioned because we are here speaking of tactical results, our ideas, +therefore, must trench upon the province of tactics. +</p> + +<p> +By directing a force against the enemy’s flank and rear its efficacy may +be much intensified; but this is so far from being a necessary result always +that the efficacy may, on the other hand, be just as much weakened. The +circumstances under which the combat has taken place decide upon this part of +the plan as well as upon every other, without our being able to enter thereupon +here. But, at the same time, there are in it two things of importance for our +subject: first, <i>flank and rear attacks have, as a rule, a more favourable +effect on the consequences of the decision than upon the decision itself</i>. Now +as concerns the retrieving a battle, the first thing to be arrived at above all +is a favourable decision and not magnitude of success. In this view one would +therefore think that a force which comes to re-establish our combat is of less +assistance if it falls upon the enemy in flank and rear, therefore separated +from us, than if it joins itself to us directly; certainly, cases are not +wanting where it is so, but we must say that the majority are on the other +side, and they are so on account of the second point which is here important to +us. +</p> + +<p> +This second point <i>is the moral effect of the surprise, which, as a rule, a +reinforcement coming up to re-establish a combat has generally in its favour.</i> +Now the effect of a surprise is always heightened if it takes place in the +flank or rear, and an enemy completely engaged in the crisis of victory in his +extended and scattered order, is less in a state to counteract it. Who does not +feel that an attack in flank or rear, which at the commencement of the battle, +when the forces are concentrated and prepared for such an event would be of +little importance, gains quite another weight in the last moment of the combat. +</p> + +<p> +We must, therefore, at once admit that in most cases a reinforcement coming up +on the flank or rear of the enemy will be more efficacious, will be like the +same weight at the end of a longer lever, and therefore that under these +circumstances, we may undertake to restore the battle with the same force which +employed in a direct attack would be quite insufficient. Here results almost +defy calculation, because the moral forces gain completely the ascendency. This +is therefore the right field for boldness and daring. +</p> + +<p> +The eye must, therefore, be directed on all these objects, all these moments of +co-operating forces must be taken into consideration, when we have to decide in +doubtful cases whether or not it is still possible to restore a combat which +has taken an unfavourable turn. +</p> + +<p> +If the combat is to be regarded as not yet ended, then the new contest which is +opened by the arrival of assistance fuses into the former; therefore they flow +together into one common result, and the first disadvantage vanishes completely +out of the calculation. But this is not the case if the combat was already +decided; then there are two results separate from each other. Now if the +assistance which arrives is only of a relative strength, that is, if it is not +in itself alone a match for the enemy, then a favourable result is hardly to be +expected from this second combat: but if it is so strong that it can undertake +the second combat without regard to the first, then it may be able by a +favourable issue to compensate or even overbalance the first combat, but never +to make it disappear altogether from the account. +</p> + +<p> +At the battle of Kunersdorf,(*) Frederick the Great at the first onset carried +the left of the Russian position, and took seventy pieces of artillery; at the +end of the battle both were lost again, and the whole result of the first +combat was wiped out of the account. Had it been possible to stop at the first +success, and to put off the second part of the battle to the coming day, then, +even if the King had lost it, the advantages of the first would always have +been a set off to the second. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) August 12, 1759. +</p> + +<p> +But when a battle proceeding disadvantageously is arrested and turned before +its conclusion, its minus result on our side not only disappears from the +account, but also becomes the foundation of a greater victory. If, for +instance, we picture to ourselves exactly the tactical course of the battle, we +may easily see that until it is finally concluded all successes in partial +combats are only decisions in suspense, which by the capital decision may not +only be destroyed, but changed into the opposite. The more our forces have +suffered, the more the enemy will have expended on his side; the greater, +therefore, will be the crisis for the enemy, and the more the superiority of +our fresh troops will tell. If now the total result turns in our favour, if we +wrest from the enemy the field of battle and recover all the trophies again, +then all the forces which he has sacrificed in obtaining them become sheer gain +for us, and our former defeat becomes a stepping-stone to a greater triumph. +The most brilliant feats which with victory the enemy would have so highly +prized that the loss of forces which they cost would have been disregarded, +leave nothing now behind but regret at the sacrifice entailed. Such is the +alteration which the magic of victory and the curse of defeat produces in the +specific weight of the same elements. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, even if we are decidedly superior in strength, and are able to repay +the enemy his victory by a greater still, it is always better to forestall the +conclusion of a disadvantageous combat, if it is of proportionate importance, +so as to turn its course rather than to deliver a second battle. +</p> + +<p> +Field-Marshal Daun attempted in the year 1760 to come to the assistance of +General Laudon at Leignitz, whilst the battle lasted; but when he failed, he +did not attack the King next day, although he did not want for means to do so. +</p> + +<p> +For these reasons serious combats of advance guards which precede a battle are +to be looked upon only as necessary evils, and when not necessary they are to +be avoided.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) This, however, was not Napoleon’s view. A vigorous attack of his +advance guard he held to be necessary always, to fix the enemy’s +attention and “paralyse his independent will-power.” It was the +failure to make this point which, in August 1870, led von Moltke repeatedly +into the very jaws of defeat, from which only the lethargy of Bazaine on the +one hand and the initiative of his subordinates, notably of von Alvensleben, +rescued him. This is the essence of the new Strategic Doctrine of the French +General Staff. See the works of Bonnal, Foch, &C.—EDITOR +</p> + +<p> +We have still another conclusion to examine. +</p> + +<p> +If on a regular pitched battle, the decision has gone against one, this does +not constitute a motive for determining on a new one. The determination for +this new one must proceed from other relations. This conclusion, however, is +opposed by a moral force, which we must take into account: it is the feeling of +rage and revenge. From the oldest Field-Marshal to the youngest drummer-boy +this feeling is general, and, therefore, troops are never in better spirits for +fighting than when they have to wipe out a stain. This is, however, only on the +supposition that the beaten portion is not too great in proportion to the +whole, because otherwise the above feeling is lost in that of powerlessness. +</p> + +<p> +There is therefore a very natural tendency to use this moral force to repair +the disaster on the spot, and on that account chiefly to seek another battle if +other circumstances permit. It then lies in the nature of the case that this +second battle must be an offensive one. +</p> + +<p> +In the catalogue of battles of second-rate importance there are many examples +to be found of such retaliatory battles; but great battles have generally too +many other determining causes to be brought on by this weaker motive. +</p> + +<p> +Such a feeling must undoubtedly have led the noble Blücher with his third +Corps to the field of battle on February 14, 1814, when the other two had been +beaten three days before at Montmirail. Had he known that he would have come +upon Buonaparte in person, then, naturally, preponderating reasons would have +determined him to put off his revenge to another day: but he hoped to revenge +himself on Marmont, and instead of gaining the reward of his desire for +honourable satisfaction, he suffered the penalty of his erroneous calculation. +</p> + +<p> +On the duration of the combat and the moment of its decision depend the +distances from each other at which those masses should be placed which are +intended to fight <i>in conjunction with</i> each other. This disposition would be a +tactical arrangement in so far as it relates to one and the same battle; it +can, however, only be regarded as such, provided the position of the troops is +so compact that two separate combats cannot be imagined, and consequently that +the space which the whole occupies can be regarded strategically as a mere +point. But in War, cases frequently occur where even those forces intended to +fight <i>in unison</i> must be so far separated from each other that while their union +for one common combat certainly remains the principal object, still the +occurrence of separate combats remains possible. Such a disposition is +therefore strategic. +</p> + +<p> +Dispositions of this kind are: marches in separate masses and columns, the +formation of advance guards, and flanking columns, also the grouping of +reserves intended to serve as supports for more than one strategic point; the +concentration of several Corps from widely extended cantonments, &c. +&c. We can see that the necessity for these arrangements may constantly +arise, and may consider them something like the small change in the strategic +economy, whilst the capital battles, and all that rank with them are the gold +and silver pieces. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap40"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Mutual Understanding as to a Battle</h3> + +<p> +No battle can take place unless by mutual consent; and in this idea, which +constitutes the whole basis of a duel, is the root of a certain phraseology +used by historical writers, which leads to many indefinite and false +conceptions. +</p> + +<p> +According to the view of the writers to whom we refer, it has frequently +happened that one Commander has offered battle to the other, and the latter has +not accepted it. +</p> + +<p> +But the battle is a very modified duel, and its foundation is not merely in the +mutual wish to fight, that is in consent, but in the objects which are bound up +with the battle: these belong always to a greater whole, and that so much the +more, as even the whole war considered as a “combat-unit” has +political objects and conditions which belong to a higher standpoint. The mere +desire to conquer each other therefore falls into quite a subordinate relation, +or rather it ceases completely to be anything of itself, and only becomes the +nerve which conveys the impulse of action from the higher will. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst the ancients, and then again during the early period of standing +Armies, the expression that we had offered battle to the enemy in vain, had +more sense in it than it has now. By the ancients everything was constituted +with a view to measuring each other’s strength in the open field free +from anything in the nature of a hindrance,(*) and the whole Art of War +consisted in the organisation, and formation of the Army, that is in the order +of battle. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Note the custom of sending formal challenges, fix time and place for +action, and “enhazelug” the battlefield in Anglo-Saxon +times.—ED. +</p> + +<p> +Now as their Armies regularly entrenched themselves in their camps, therefore +the position in a camp was regarded as something unassailable, and a battle did +not become possible until the enemy left his camp, and placed himself in a +practicable country, as it were entered the lists. +</p> + +<p> +If therefore we hear about Hannibal having offered battle to Fabius in vain, +that tells us nothing more as regards the latter than that a battle was not +part of his plan, and in itself neither proves the physical nor moral +superiority of Hannibal; but with respect to him the expression is still +correct enough in the sense that Hannibal really wished a battle. +</p> + +<p> +In the early period of modern Armies, the relations were similar in great +combats and battles. That is to say, great masses were brought into action, and +managed throughout it by means of an order of battle, which like a great +helpless whole required a more or less level plain and was neither suited to +attack, nor yet to defence in a broken, close or even mountainous country. The +defender therefore had here also to some extent the means of avoiding battle. +These relations although gradually becoming modified, continued until the first +Silesian War, and it was not until the Seven Years’ War that attacks on +an enemy posted in a difficult country gradually became feasible, and of +ordinary occurrence: ground did not certainly cease to be a principle of +strength to those making use of its aid, but it was no longer a charmed circle, +which shut out the natural forces of War. +</p> + +<p> +During the past thirty years War has perfected itself much more in this +respect, and there is no longer anything which stands in the way of a General +who is in earnest about a decision by means of battle; he can seek out his +enemy, and attack him: if he does not do so he cannot take credit for having +wished to fight, and the expression he offered a battle which his opponent did +not accept, therefore now means nothing more than that he did not find +circumstances advantageous enough for a battle, an admission which the above +expression does not suit, but which it only strives to throw a veil over. +</p> + +<p> +It is true the defensive side can no longer refuse a battle, yet he may still +avoid it by giving up his position, and the <i>rôle</i> with which that position was +connected: this is however half a victory for the offensive side, and an +acknowledgment of his superiority for the present. +</p> + +<p> +This idea in connection with the cartel of defiance can therefore no longer be +made use of in order by such rhodomontade to qualify the inaction of him whose +part it is to advance, that is, the offensive. The defender who as long as he +does not give way, must have the credit of willing the battle, may certainly +say, he has offered it if he is not attacked, if that is not understood of +itself. +</p> + +<p> +But on the other hand, he who now wishes to, and can retreat cannot easily be +forced to give battle. Now as the advantages to the aggressor from this retreat +are often not sufficient, and a substantial victory is a matter of urgent +necessity for him, in that way the few means which there are to compel such an +opponent also to give battle are often sought for and applied with particular +skill. +</p> + +<p> +The principal means for this are—first <i>surrounding</i> the enemy so as to +make his retreat impossible, or at least so difficult that it is better for him +to accept battle; and, secondly, <i>surprising</i> him. This last way, for which there +was a motive formerly in the extreme difficulty of all movements, has become in +modern times very inefficacious. +</p> + +<p> +From the pliability and manoeuvring capabilities of troops in the present day, +one does not hesitate to commence a retreat even in sight of the enemy, and +only some special obstacles in the nature of the country can cause serious +difficulties in the operation. +</p> + +<p> +As an example of this kind the battle of Neresheim may be given, fought by the +Archduke Charles with Moreau in the Rauhe Alp, August 11, 1796, merely with a +view to facilitate his retreat, although we freely confess we have never been +able quite to understand the argument of the renowned general and author +himself in this case. +</p> + +<p> +The battle of Rosbach(*) is another example, if we suppose the commander of the +allied army had not really the intention of attacking Frederick the Great. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) November 5, 1757. +</p> + +<p> +Of the battle of Soor,(*) the King himself says that it was only fought because +a retreat in the presence of the enemy appeared to him a critical operation; at +the same time the King has also given other reasons for the battle. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Or Sohr, September 30, 1745. +</p> + +<p> +On the whole, regular night surprises excepted, such cases will always be of +rare occurrence, and those in which an enemy is compelled to fight by being +practically surrounded, will happen mostly to single corps only, like +Mortier’s at Dürrenstein 1809, and Vandamme at Kulm, 1813. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap41"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>The Battle(*)</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Clausewitz still uses the word “die Hauptschlacht” but modern +usage employs only the word “die Schlacht” to designate the +decisive act of a whole campaign—encounters arising from the collision or +troops marching towards the strategic culmination of each portion or the +campaign are spoken of either as “Treffen,” <i>i.e.</i>, +“engagements” or “Gefecht,” <i>i.e.</i>, +“combat” or “action.” Thus technically, Gravelotte was +a “Schlacht,” <i>i.e.</i>, “battle,” but Spicheren, +Woerth, Borny, even Vionville were only “Treffen.” +</p> + +<h4> +ITS DECISION +</h4> + +<p> +What is a battle? A conflict of the main body, but not an unimportant one about +a secondary object, not a mere attempt which is given up when we see betimes +that our object is hardly within our reach: it is a conflict waged with all our +forces for the attainment of a decisive victory. +</p> + +<p> +Minor objects may also be mixed up with the principal object, and it will take +many different tones of colour from the circumstances out of which it +originates, for a battle belongs also to a greater whole of which it is only a +part, but because the essence of War is conflict, and the battle is the +conflict of the main Armies, it is always to be regarded as the real centre of +gravity of the War, and therefore its distinguishing character is, that unlike +all other encounters, it is arranged for, and undertaken with the sole purpose +of obtaining a decisive victory. +</p> + +<p> +This has an influence on the <i>manner of its decision</i>, on the <i>effect of the +victory contained in it</i>, and determines <i>the value which theory is to assign to +it as a means to an end.</i> +</p> + +<p> +On that account we make it the subject of our special consideration, and at +this stage before we enter upon the special ends which may be bound up with it, +but which do not essentially alter its character if it really deserves to be +termed a battle. +</p> + +<p> +If a battle takes place principally on its own account, the elements of its +decision must be contained in itself; in other words, victory must be striven +for as long as a possibility or hope remains. It must not, therefore, be given +up on account of secondary circumstances, but only and alone in the event of +the forces appearing completely insufficient. +</p> + +<p> +Now how is that precise moment to be described? +</p> + +<p> +If a certain artificial formation and cohesion of an Army is the principal +condition under which the bravery of the troops can gain a victory, as was the +case during a great part of the period of the modern Art of War, <i>then the +breaking up of this formation</i> is the decision. A beaten wing which is put out +of joint decides the fate of all that was connected with it. If as was the case +at another time the essence of the defence consists in an intimate alliance of +the Army with the ground on which it fights and its obstacles, so that Army and +position are only one, then the <i>conquest</i> of <i>an essential point</i> in this position +is the decision. It is said the key of the position is lost, it cannot +therefore be defended any further; the battle cannot be continued. In both +cases the beaten Armies are very much like the broken strings of an instrument +which cannot do their work. +</p> + +<p> +That geometrical as well as this geographical principle which had a tendency to +place an Army in a state of crystallising tension which did not allow of the +available powers being made use of up to the last man, have at least so far +lost their influence that they no longer predominate. Armies are still led into +battle in a certain order, but that order is no longer of decisive importance; +obstacles of ground are also still turned to account to strengthen a position, +but they are no longer the only support. +</p> + +<p> +We attempted in the second chapter of this book to take a general view of the +nature of the modern battle. According to our conception of it, the order of +battle is only a disposition of the forces suitable to the convenient use of +them, and the course of the battle a mutual slow wearing away of these forces +upon one another, to see which will have soonest exhausted his adversary. +</p> + +<p> +The resolution therefore to give up the fight arises, in a battle more than in +any other combat, from the relation of the fresh reserves remaining available; +for only these still retain all their moral vigour, and the cinders of the +battered, knocked-about battalions, already burnt out in the destroying +element, must not be placed on a level with them; also lost ground as we have +elsewhere said, is a standard of lost moral force; it therefore comes also into +account, but more as a sign of loss suffered than for the loss itself, and the +number of fresh reserves is always the chief point to be looked at by both +Commanders. +</p> + +<p> +In general, an action inclines in one direction from the very commencement, but +in a manner little observable. This direction is also frequently given in a +very decided manner by the arrangements which have been made previously, and +then it shows a want of discernment in that General who commences battle under +these unfavourable circumstances without being aware of them. Even when this +does not occur it lies in the nature of things that the course of a battle +resembles rather a slow disturbance of equilibrium which commences soon, but as +we have said almost imperceptibly at first, and then with each moment of time +becomes stronger and more visible, than an oscillating to and fro, as those who +are misled by mendacious descriptions usually suppose. +</p> + +<p> +But whether it happens that the balance is for a long time little disturbed, or +that even after it has been lost on one side it rights itself again, and is +then lost on the other side, it is certain at all events that in most instances +the defeated General foresees his fate long before he retreats, and that cases +in which some critical event acts with unexpected force upon the course of the +whole have their existence mostly in the colouring with which every one depicts +his lost battle. +</p> + +<p> +We can only here appeal to the decision of unprejudiced men of experience, who +will, we are sure, assent to what we have said, and answer for us to such of +our readers as do not know War from their own experience. To develop the +necessity of this course from the nature of the thing would lead us too far +into the province of tactics, to which this branch of the subject belongs; we +are here only concerned with its results. +</p> + +<p> +If we say that the defeated General foresees the unfavourable result usually +some time before he makes up his mind to give up the battle, we admit that +there are also instances to the contrary, because otherwise we should maintain +a proposition contradictory in itself. If at the moment of each decisive +tendency of a battle it should be considered as lost, then also no further +forces should be used to give it a turn, and consequently this decisive +tendency could not precede the retreat by any length of time. Certainly there +are instances of battles which after having taken a decided turn to one side +have still ended in favour of the other; but they are rare, not usual; these +exceptional cases, however, are reckoned upon by every General against whom +fortune declares itself, and he must reckon upon them as long as there remains +a possibility of a turn of fortune. He hopes by stronger efforts, by raising +the remaining moral forces, by surpassing himself, or also by some fortunate +chance that the next moment will bring a change, and pursues this as far as his +courage and his judgment can agree. We shall have something more to say on this +subject, but before that we must show what are the signs of the scales turning. +</p> + +<p> +The result of the whole combat consists in the sum total of the results of all +partial combats; but these results of separate combats are settled by different +considerations. +</p> + +<p> +First by the pure moral power in the mind of the leading officers. If a General +of Division has seen his battalions forced to succumb, it will have an +influence on his demeanour and his reports, and these again will have an +influence on the measures of the Commander-in-Chief; therefore even those +unsuccessful partial combats which to all appearance are retrieved, are not +lost in their results, and the impressions from them sum themselves up in the +mind of the Commander without much trouble, and even against his will. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, by the quicker melting away of our troops, which can be easily +estimated in the slow and relatively(*) little tumultuary course of our +battles. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Relatively, that is say to the shock of former days. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, by lost ground. +</p> + +<p> +All these things serve for the eye of the General as a compass to tell the +course of the battle in which he is embarked. If whole batteries have been lost +and none of the enemy’s taken; if battalions have been overthrown by the +enemy’s cavalry, whilst those of the enemy everywhere present +impenetrable masses; if the line of fire from his order of battle wavers +involuntarily from one point to another; if fruitless efforts have been made to +gain certain points, and the assaulting battalions each, time been scattered by +well-directed volleys of grape and case;—if our artillery begins to reply +feebly to that of the enemy—if the battalions under fire diminish +unusually, fast, because with the wounded crowds of unwounded men go to the +rear;—if single Divisions have been cut off and made prisoners through +the disruption of the plan of the battle;—if the line of retreat begins +to be endangered: the Commander may tell very well in which direction he is +going with his battle. The longer this direction continues, the more decided it +becomes, so much the more difficult will be the turning, so much the nearer the +moment when he must give up the battle. We shall now make some observations on +this moment. +</p> + +<p> +We have already said more than once that the final decision is ruled mostly by +the relative number of the fresh reserves remaining at the last; that Commander +who sees his adversary is decidedly superior to him in this respect makes up +his mind to retreat. It is the characteristic of modern battles that all +mischances and losses which take place in the course of the same can be +retrieved by fresh forces, because the arrangement of the modern order of +battle, and the way in which troops are brought into action, allow of their use +almost generally, and in each position. So long, therefore, as that Commander +against whom the issue seems to declare itself still retains a superiority in +reserve force, he will not give up the day. But from the moment that his +reserves begin to become weaker than his enemy’s, the decision may be +regarded as settled, and what he now does depends partly on special +circumstances, partly on the degree of courage and perseverance which he +personally possesses, and which may degenerate into foolish obstinacy. How a +Commander can attain to the power of estimating correctly the still remaining +reserves on both sides is an affair of skilful practical genius, which does not +in any way belong to this place; we keep ourselves to the result as it forms +itself in his mind. But this conclusion is still not the moment of decision +properly, for a motive which only arises gradually does not answer to that, but +is only a general motive towards resolution, and the resolution itself requires +still some special immediate causes. Of these there are two chief ones which +constantly recur, that is, the danger of retreat, and the arrival of night. +</p> + +<p> +If the retreat with every new step which the battle takes in its course becomes +constantly in greater danger, and if the reserves are so much diminished that +they are no longer adequate to get breathing room, then there is nothing left +but to submit to fate, and by a well-conducted retreat to save what, by a +longer delay ending in flight and disaster, would be lost. +</p> + +<p> +But night as a rule puts an end to all battles, because a night combat holds +out no hope of advantage except under particular circumstances; and as night is +better suited for a retreat than the day, so, therefore, the Commander who must +look at the retreat as a thing inevitable, or as most probable, will prefer to +make use of the night for his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +That there are, besides the above two usual and chief causes, yet many others +also, which are less or more individual and not to be overlooked, is a matter +of course; for the more a battle tends towards a complete upset of equilibrium +the more sensible is the influence of each partial result in hastening the +turn. Thus the loss of a battery, a successful charge of a couple of regiments +of cavalry, may call into life the resolution to retreat already ripening. +</p> + +<p> +As a conclusion to this subject, we must dwell for a moment on the point at +which the courage of the Commander engages in a sort of conflict with his +reason. +</p> + +<p> +If, on the one hand the overbearing pride of a victorious conqueror, if the +inflexible will of a naturally obstinate spirit, if the strenuous resistance of +noble feelings will not yield the battlefield, where they must leave their +honour, yet on the other hand, reason counsels not to give up everything, not +to risk the last upon the game, but to retain as much over as is necessary for +an orderly retreat. However highly we must esteem courage and firmness in War, +and however little prospect there is of victory to him who cannot resolve to +seek it by the exertion of all his power, still there is a point beyond which +perseverance can only be termed desperate folly, and therefore can meet with no +approbation from any critic. In the most celebrated of all battles, that of +Belle-Alliance, Buonaparte used his last reserve in an effort to retrieve a +battle which was past being retrieved. He spent his last farthing, and then, as +a beggar, abandoned both the battle-field and his crown. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap42"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/>Effects of Victory</h3> + +<p> +According to the point from which our view is taken, we may feel as much +astonished at the extraordinary results of some great battles as at the want of +results in others. We shall dwell for a moment on the nature of the effect of a +great victory. +</p> + +<p> +Three things may easily be distinguished here: the effect upon the instrument +itself, that is, upon the Generals and their Armies; the effect upon the States +interested in the War; and the particular result of these effects as manifested +in the subsequent course of the campaign. +</p> + +<p> +If we only think of the trifling difference which there usually is between +victor and vanquished in killed, wounded, prisoners, and artillery lost on the +field of battle itself, the consequences which are developed out of this +insignificant point seem often quite incomprehensible, and yet, usually, +everything only happens quite naturally. +</p> + +<p> +We have already said in the seventh chapter that the magnitude of a victory +increases not merely in the same measure as the vanquished forces increase in +number, but in a higher ratio. The moral effects resulting from the issue of a +great battle are greater on the side of the conquered than on that of the +conqueror: they lead to greater losses in physical force, which then in turn +react on the moral element, and so they go on mutually supporting and +intensifying each other. On this moral effect we must therefore lay special +weight. It takes an opposite direction on the one side from that on the other; +as it undermines the energies of the conquered so it elevates the powers and +energy of the conqueror. But its chief effect is upon the vanquished, because +here it is the direct cause of fresh losses, and besides it is homogeneous in +nature with danger, with the fatigues, the hardships, and generally with all +those embarrassing circumstances by which War is surrounded, therefore enters +into league with them and increases by their help, whilst with the conqueror +all these things are like weights which give a higher swing to his courage. It +is therefore found, that the vanquished sinks much further below the original +line of equilibrium than the conqueror raises himself above it; on this +account, if we speak of the effects of victory we allude more particularly to +those which manifest themselves in the army. If this effect is more powerful in +an important combat than in a smaller one, so again it is much more powerful in +a great battle than in a minor one. The great battle takes place for the sake +of itself, for the sake of the victory which it is to give, and which is sought +for with the utmost effort. Here on this spot, in this very hour, to conquer +the enemy is the purpose in which the plan of the War with all its threads +converges, in which all distant hopes, all dim glimmerings of the future meet, +fate steps in before us to give an answer to the bold question.—This is +the state of mental tension not only of the Commander but of his whole Army +down to the lowest waggon-driver, no doubt in decreasing strength but also in +decreasing importance. +</p> + +<p> +According to the nature of the thing, a great battle has never at any time been +an unprepared, unexpected, blind routine service, but a grand act, which, +partly of itself and partly from the aim of the Commander, stands out from +amongst the mass of ordinary efforts, sufficiently to raise the tension of all +minds to a higher degree. But the higher this tension with respect to the +issue, the more powerful must be the effect of that issue. +</p> + +<p> +Again, the moral effect of victory in our battles is greater than it was in the +earlier ones of modern military history. If the former are as we have depicted +them, a real struggle of forces to the utmost, then the sum total of all these +forces, of the physical as well as the moral, must decide more than certain +special dispositions or mere chance. +</p> + +<p> +A single fault committed may be repaired next time; from good fortune and +chance we can hope for more favour on another occasion; but the sum total of +moral and physical powers cannot be so quickly altered, and, therefore, what +the award of a victory has decided appears of much greater importance for all +futurity. Very probably, of all concerned in battles, whether in or out of the +Army, very few have given a thought to this difference, but the course of the +battle itself impresses on the minds of all present in it such a conviction, +and the relation of this course in public documents, however much it may be +coloured by twisting particular circumstances, shows also, more or less, to the +world at large that the causes were more of a general than of a particular +nature. +</p> + +<p> +He who has not been present at the loss of a great battle will have difficulty +in forming for himself a living or quite true idea of it, and the abstract +notions of this or that small untoward affair will never come up to the perfect +conception of a lost battle. Let us stop a moment at the picture. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing which overpowers the imagination—and we may indeed say, +also the understanding—is the diminution of the masses; then the loss of +ground, which takes place always, more or less, and, therefore, on the side of +the assailant also, if he is not fortunate; then the rupture of the original +formation, the jumbling together of troops, the risks of retreat, which, with +few exceptions may always be seen sometimes in a less sometimes in a greater +degree; next the retreat, the most part of which commences at night, or, at +least, goes on throughout the night. On this first march we must at once leave +behind, a number of men completely worn out and scattered about, often just the +bravest, who have been foremost in the fight who held out the longest: the +feeling of being conquered, which only seized the superior officers on the +battlefield, now spreads through all ranks, even down to the common soldiers, +aggravated by the horrible idea of being obliged to leave in the enemy’s +hands so many brave comrades, who but a moment since were of such value to us +in the battle, and aggravated by a rising distrust of the chief, to whom, more +or less, every subordinate attributes as a fault the fruitless efforts he has +made; and this feeling of being conquered is no ideal picture over which one +might become master; it is an evident truth that the enemy is superior to us; a +truth of which the causes might have been so latent before that they were not +to be discovered, but which, in the issue, comes out clear and palpable, or +which was also, perhaps, before suspected, but which in the want of any +certainty, we had to oppose by the hope of chance, reliance on good fortune, +Providence or a bold attitude. Now, all this has proved insufficient, and the +bitter truth meets us harsh and imperious. +</p> + +<p> +All these feelings are widely different from a panic, which in an army +fortified by military virtue never, and in any other, only exceptionally, +follows the loss of a battle. They must arise even in the best of Armies, and +although long habituation to War and victory together with great confidence in +a Commander may modify them a little here and there, they are never entirely +wanting in the first moment. They are not the pure consequences of lost +trophies; these are usually lost at a later period, and the loss of them does +not become generally known so quickly; they will therefore not fail to appear +even when the scale turns in the slowest and most gradual manner, and they +constitute that effect of a victory upon which we can always count in every +case. +</p> + +<p> +We have already said that the number of trophies intensifies this effect. +</p> + +<p> +It is evident that an Army in this condition, looked at as an instrument, is +weakened! How can we expect that when reduced to such a degree that, as we said +before, it finds new enemies in all the ordinary difficulties of making War, it +will be able to recover by fresh efforts what has been lost! Before the battle +there was a real or assumed equilibrium between the two sides; this is lost, +and, therefore, some external assistance is requisite to restore it; every new +effort without such external support can only lead to fresh losses. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, therefore, the most moderate victory of the chief Army must tend to cause +a constant sinking of the scale on the opponent’s side, until new +external circumstances bring about a change. If these are not near, if the +conqueror is an eager opponent, who, thirsting for glory, pursues great aims, +then a first-rate Commander, and in the beaten Army a true military spirit, +hardened by many campaigns are required, in order to stop the swollen stream of +prosperity from bursting all bounds, and to moderate its course by small but +reiterated acts of resistance, until the force of victory has spent itself at +the goal of its career. +</p> + +<p> +And now as to the effect of defeat beyond the Army, upon the Nation and +Government! It is the sudden collapse of hopes stretched to the utmost, the +downfall of all self-reliance. In place of these extinct forces, fear, with its +destructive properties of expansion, rushes into the vacuum left, and completes +the prostration. It is a real shock upon the nerves, which one of the two +athletes receives from the electric spark of victory. And that effect, however +different in its degrees, is never completely wanting. Instead of every one +hastening with a spirit of determination to aid in repairing the disaster, +every one fears that his efforts will only be in vain, and stops, hesitating +with himself, when he should rush forward; or in despondency he lets his arm +drop, leaving everything to fate. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence which this effect of victory brings forth in the course of the +War itself depend in part on the character and talent of the victorious +General, but more on the circumstances from which the victory proceeds, and to +which it leads. Without boldness and an enterprising spirit on the part of the +leader, the most brilliant victory will lead to no great success, and its force +exhausts itself all the sooner on circumstances, if these offer a strong and +stubborn opposition to it. How very differently from Daun, Frederick the Great +would have used the victory at Kollin; and what different consequences France, +in place of Prussia, might have given a battle of Leuthen! +</p> + +<p> +The conditions which allow us to expect great results from a great victory we +shall learn when we come to the subjects with which they are connected; then it +will be possible to explain the disproportion which appears at first sight +between the magnitude of a victory and its results, and which is only too +readily attributed to a want of energy on the part of the conqueror. Here, +where we have to do with the great battle in itself, we shall merely say that +the effects now depicted never fail to attend a victory, that they mount up +with the intensive strength of the victory—mount up more the more the +whole strength of the Army has been concentrated in it, the more the whole +military power of the Nation is contained in that Army, and the State in that +military power. +</p> + +<p> +But then the question may be asked, Can theory accept this effect of victory as +absolutely necessary?—must it not rather endeavour to find out +counteracting means capable of neutralising these effects? It seems quite +natural to answer this question in the affirmative; but heaven defend us from +taking that wrong course of most theories, out of which is begotten a mutually +devouring <i>Pro et Contra</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly that effect is perfectly necessary, for it has its foundation in the +nature of things, and it exists, even if we find means to struggle against it; +just as the motion of a cannon ball is always in the direction of the +terrestrial, although when fired from east to west part of the general velocity +is destroyed by this opposite motion. +</p> + +<p> +All War supposes human weakness, and against that it is directed. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, if hereafter in another place we examine what is to be done after +the loss of a great battle, if we bring under review the resources which still +remain, even in the most desperate cases, if we should express a belief in the +possibility of retrieving all, even in such a case; it must not be supposed we +mean thereby that the effects of such a defeat can by degrees be completely +wiped out, for the forces and means used to repair the disaster might have been +applied to the realisation of some positive object; and this applies both to +the moral and physical forces. +</p> + +<p> +Another question is, whether, through the loss of a great battle, forces are +not perhaps roused into existence, which otherwise would never have come to +life. This case is certainly conceivable, and it is what has actually occurred +with many Nations. But to produce this intensified reaction is beyond the +province of military art, which can only take account of it where it might be +assumed as a possibility. +</p> + +<p> +If there are cases in which the fruits of a victory appear rather of a +destructive nature in consequence of the reaction of the forces which it had +the effect of rousing into activity—cases which certainly are very +exceptional—then it must the more surely be granted, that there is a +difference in the effects which one and the same victory may produce according +to the character of the people or state, which has been conquered. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap43"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>The Use of the Battle</h3> + +<p> +Whatever form the conduct of War may take in particular cases, and whatever we +may have to admit in the sequel as necessary respecting it: we have only to +refer to the conception of War to be convinced of what follows: +</p> + +<p> +1. The destruction of the enemy’s military force, is the leading +principle of War, and for the whole chapter of positive action the direct way +to the object. +</p> + +<p> +2. This destruction of the enemy’s force, must be principally effected by +means of battle. +</p> + +<p> +3. Only great and general battles can produce great results. +</p> + +<p> +4. The results will be greatest when combats unite themselves in one great +battle. +</p> + +<p> +5. It is only in a great battle that the General-in-Chief commands in person, +and it is in the nature of things, that he should place more confidence in +himself than in his subordinates. +</p> + +<p> +From these truths a double law follows, the parts of which mutually support +each other; namely, that the destruction of the enemy’s military force is +to be sought for principally by great battles, and their results; and that the +chief object of great battles must be the destruction of the enemy’s +military force. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt the annihilation-principle is to be found more or less in other +means—granted there are instances in which through favourable +circumstances in a minor combat, the destruction of the enemy’s forces +has been disproportionately great (Maxen), and on the other hand in a battle, +the taking or holding a single post may be predominant in importance as an +object—but as a general rule it remains a paramount truth, that battles +are only fought with a view to the destruction of the enemy’s Army, and +that this destruction can only be effected by their means. +</p> + +<p> +The battle may therefore be regarded as War concentrated, as the centre of +effort of the whole War or campaign. As the sun’s rays unite in the focus +of the concave mirror in a perfect image, and in the fulness of their heat; to +the forces and circumstances of War, unite in a focus in the great battle for +one concentrated utmost effort. +</p> + +<p> +The very assemblage of forces in one great whole, which takes place more or +less in all Wars, indicates an intention to strike a decisive blow with this +whole, either voluntarily as assailant, or constrained by the opposite party as +defender. When this great blow does not follow, then some modifying, and +retarding motives have attached themselves to the original motive of hostility, +and have weakened, altered or completely checked the movement. But also, even +in this condition of mutual inaction which has been the key-note in so many +Wars, the idea of a possible battle serves always for both parties as a point +of direction, a distant focus in the construction of their plans. The more War +is War in earnest, the more it is a venting of animosity and hostility, a +mutual struggle to overpower, so much the more will all activities join deadly +contest, and also the more prominent in importance becomes the battle. +</p> + +<p> +In general, when the object aimed at is of a great and positive nature, one +therefore in which the interests of the enemy are deeply concerned, the battle +offers itself as the most natural means; it is, therefore, also the best as we +shall show more plainly hereafter: and, as a rule, when it is evaded from +aversion to the great decision, punishment follows. +</p> + +<p> +The positive object belong to the offensive, and therefore the battle is also +more particularly his means. But without examining the conception of offensive +and defensive more minutely here, we must still observe that, even for the +defender in most cases, there is no other effectual means with which to meet +the exigencies of his situation, to solve the problem presented to him. +</p> + +<p> +The battle is the bloodiest way of solution. True, it is not merely reciprocal +slaughter, and its effect is more a killing of the enemy’s courage than +of the enemy’s soldiers, as we shall see more plainly in the next +chapter—but still blood is always its price, and slaughter its character +as well as name;(*) from this the humanity in the General’s mind recoils +with horror. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) “<i>Schlacht</i>”, from schlachten = to slaughter. +</p> + +<p> +But the soul of the man trembles still more at the thought of the decision to +be given with one single blow. <i>in one point</i> of space and time all action is +here pressed together, and at such a moment there is stirred up within us a dim +feeling as if in this narrow space all our forces could not develop themselves +and come into activity, as if we had already gained much by mere time, although +this time owes us nothing at all. This is all mere illusion, but even as +illusion it is something, and the same weakness which seizes upon the man in +every other momentous decision may well be felt more powerfully by the General, +when he must stake interests of such enormous weight upon one venture. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, then, Statesmen and Generals have at all times endeavoured to avoid the +decisive battle, seeking either to attain their aim without it, or dropping +that aim unperceived. Writers on history and theory have then busied themselves +to discover in some other feature in these campaigns not only an equivalent for +the decision by battle which has been avoided, but even a higher art. In this +way, in the present age, it came very near to this, that a battle in the +economy of War was looked upon as an evil, rendered necessary through some +error committed, a morbid paroxysm to which a regular prudent system of War +would never lead: only those Generals were to deserve laurels who knew how to +carry on War without spilling blood, and the theory of War—a real +business for Brahmins—was to be specially directed to teaching this. +</p> + +<p> +Contemporary history has destroyed this illusion,(*) but no one can guarantee +that it will not sooner or later reproduce itself, and lead those at the head +of affairs to perversities which please man’s weakness, and therefore +have the greater affinity for his nature. Perhaps, by-and-by, +Buonaparte’s campaigns and battles will be looked upon as mere acts of +barbarism and stupidity, and we shall once more turn with satisfaction and +confidence to the dress-sword of obsolete and musty institutions and forms. If +theory gives a caution against this, then it renders a real service to those +who listen to its warning voice. <i>May we succeed in lending a hand to those who +in our dear native land are called upon to speak with authority on these +matters, that we may be their guide into this field of inquiry, and excite them +to make a candid examination of the subject</i>.(**) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) On the Continent only, it still preserves full vitality in the minds of +British politicians and pressmen.—EDITOR.<br/> +<br/> +(**) This prayer was abundantly granted—<i>vide</i> the German victories of +1870.—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +Not only the conception of War but experience also leads us to look for a great +decision only in a great battle. From time immemorial, only great victories +have led to great successes on the offensive side in the absolute form, on the +defensive side in a manner more or less satisfactory. Even Buonaparte would not +have seen the day of Ulm, unique in its kind, if he had shrunk from shedding +blood; it is rather to be regarded as only a second crop from the victorious +events in his preceding campaigns. It is not only bold, rash, and presumptuous +Generals who have sought to complete their work by the great venture of a +decisive battle, but also fortunate ones as well; and we may rest satisfied +with the answer which they have thus given to this vast question. +</p> + +<p> +Let us not hear of Generals who conquer without bloodshed. If a bloody +slaughter is a horrible sight, then that is a ground for paying more respect to +War, but not for making the sword we wear blunter and blunter by degrees from +feelings of humanity, until some one steps in with one that is sharp and lops +off the arm from our body. +</p> + +<p> +We look upon a great battle as a principal decision, but certainly not as the +only one necessary for a War or a campaign. Instances of a great battle +deciding a whole campaign, have been frequent only in modern times, those which +have decided a whole War, belong to the class of rare exceptions. +</p> + +<p> +A decision which is brought about by a great battle depends naturally not on +the battle itself, that is on the mass of combatants engaged in it, and on the +intensity of the victory, but also on a number of other relations between the +military forces opposed to each other, and between the States to which these +forces belong. But at the same time that the principal mass of the force +available is brought to the great duel, a great decision is also brought on, +the extent of which may perhaps be foreseen in many respects, though not in +all, and which although not the only one, still is the <i>first</i> decision, and as +such, has an influence on those which succeed. Therefore a deliberately planned +great battle, according to its relations, is more or less, but always in some +degree, to be regarded as the leading means and central point of the whole +system. The more a General takes the field in the true spirit of War as well as +of every contest, with the feeling and the idea, that is the conviction, that +he must and will conquer, the more he will strive to throw every weight into +the scale in the first battle, hope and strive to win everything by it. +Buonaparte hardly ever entered upon a War without thinking of conquering his +enemy at once in the first battle,(*) and Frederick the Great, although in a +more limited sphere, and with interests of less magnitude at stake, thought the +same when, at the head of a small Army, he sought to disengage his rear from +the Russians or the Federal Imperial Army. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) This was Moltke’s essential idea in his preparations for the War of +1870. See his secret memorandum issued to G.O.C.s on May 7. 1870, pointing to a +battle on the Upper Saar as his primary purpose.—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +The decision which is given by the great battle, depends, we have said, partly +on the battle itself, that is on the number of troops engaged, and partly on +the magnitude of the success. +</p> + +<p> +How the General may increase its importance in respect to the first point is +evident in itself and we shall merely observe that according to the importance +of the great battle, the number of cases which are decided along with it +increases, and that therefore Generals who, confident in themselves have been +lovers of great decisions, have always managed to make use of the greater part +of their troops in it without neglecting on that account essential points +elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +As regards the consequences or speaking more correctly the effectiveness of a +victory, that depends chiefly on four points: +</p> + +<p> +1. On the tactical form adopted as the order of battle. +</p> + +<p> +2. On the nature of the country. +</p> + +<p> +3. On the relative proportions of the three arms. +</p> + +<p> +4. On the relative strength of the two Armies. +</p> + +<p> +A battle with parallel fronts and without any action against a flank will +seldom yield as great success as one in which the defeated Army has been +turned, or compelled to change front more or less. In a broken or hilly country +the successes are likewise smaller, because the power of the blow is everywhere +less. +</p> + +<p> +If the cavalry of the vanquished is equal or superior to that of the victor, +then the effects of the pursuit are diminished, and by that great part of the +results of victory are lost. +</p> + +<p> +Finally it is easy to understand that if superior numbers are on the side of +the conqueror, and he uses his advantage in that respect to turn the flank of +his adversary, or compel him to change front, greater results will follow than +if the conqueror had been weaker in numbers than the vanquished. The battle of +Leuthen may certainly be quoted as a practical refutation of this principle, +but we beg permission for once to say what we otherwise do not like, <i>no rule +without an exception.</i> +</p> + +<p> +In all these ways, therefore, the Commander has the means of giving his battle +a decisive character; certainly he thus exposes himself to an increased amount +of danger, but his whole line of action is subject to that dynamic law of the +moral world. +</p> + +<p> +There is then nothing in War which can be put in comparison with the great +battle in point of importance, <i>and the acme of strategic ability is displayed +in the provision of means for this great event, in the skilful determination of +place and time, and direction of troops, and in the good use made of success.</i> +</p> + +<p> +But it does not follow from the importance of these things that they must be of +a very complicated and recondite nature; all is here rather simple, the art of +combination by no means great; but there is great need of quickness in judging +of circumstances, need of energy, steady resolution, a youthful spirit of +enterprise—heroic qualities, to which we shall often have to refer. There +is, therefore, but little wanted here of that which can be taught by books and +there is much that, if it can be taught at all, must come to the General +through some other medium than printer’s type. +</p> + +<p> +The impulse towards a great battle, the voluntary, sure progress to it, must +proceed from a feeling of innate power and a clear sense of the necessity; in +other words, it must proceed from inborn courage and from perceptions sharpened +by contact with the higher interests of life. +</p> + +<p> +Great examples are the best teachers, but it is certainly a misfortune if a +cloud of theoretical prejudices comes between, for even the sunbeam is +refracted and tinted by the clouds. To destroy such prejudices, which many a +time rise and spread themselves like a miasma, is an imperative duty of theory, +for the misbegotten offspring of human reason can also be in turn destroyed by +pure reason. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap44"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>Strategic Means of Utilising Victory</h3> + +<p> +The more difficult part, viz., that of perfectly preparing the victory, is a +silent service of which the merit belongs to Strategy and yet for which it is +hardly sufficiently commended. It appears brilliant and full of renown by +turning to good account a victory gained. +</p> + +<p> +What may be the special object of a battle, how it is connected with the whole +system of a War, whither the career of victory may lead according to the nature +of circumstances, where its culminating-point lies—all these are things +which we shall not enter upon until hereafter. But under any conceivable +circumstances the fact holds good, that without a pursuit no victory can have a +great effect, and that, however short the career of victory may be, it must +always lead beyond the first steps in pursuit; and in order to avoid the +frequent repetition of this, we shall now dwell for a moment on this necessary +supplement of victory in general. +</p> + +<p> +The pursuit of a beaten Army commences at the moment that Army, giving up the +combat, leaves its position; all previous movements in one direction and +another belong not to that but to the progress of the battle itself. Usually +victory at the moment here described, even if it is certain, is still as yet +small and weak in its proportions, and would not rank as an event of any great +positive advantage if not completed by a pursuit on the first day. Then it is +mostly, as we have before said, that the trophies which give substance to the +victory begin to be gathered up. Of this pursuit we shall speak in the next +place. +</p> + +<p> +Usually both sides come into action with their physical powers considerably +deteriorated, for the movements immediately preceding have generally the +character of very urgent circumstances. The efforts which the forging out of a +great combat costs, complete the exhaustion; from this it follows that the +victorious party is very little less disorganised and out of his original +formation than the vanquished, and therefore requires time to reform, to +collect stragglers, and issue fresh ammunition to those who are without. All +these things place the conqueror himself in the state of crisis of which we +have already spoken. If now the defeated force is only a detached portion of +the enemy’s Army, or if it has otherwise to expect a considerable +reinforcement, then the conqueror may easily run into the obvious danger of +having to pay dear for his victory, and this consideration, in such a case, +very soon puts an end to pursuit, or at least restricts it materially. Even +when a strong accession of force by the enemy is not to be feared, the +conqueror finds in the above circumstances a powerful check to the vivacity of +his pursuit. There is no reason to fear that the victory will be snatched away, +but adverse combats are still possible, and may diminish the advantages which +up to the present have been gained. Moreover, at this moment the whole weight +of all that is sensuous in an Army, its wants and weaknesses, are dependent on +the will of the Commander. All the thousands under his command require rest and +refreshment, and long to see a stop put to toil and danger for the present; +only a few, forming an exception, can see and feel beyond the present moment, +it is only amongst this little number that there is sufficient mental vigour to +think, after what is absolutely necessary at the moment has been done, upon +those results which at such a moment only appear to the rest as mere +embellishments of victory—as a luxury of triumph. But all these thousands +have a voice in the council of the General, for through the various steps of +the military hierarchy these interests of the sensuous creature have their sure +conductor into the heart of the Commander. He himself, through mental and +bodily fatigue, is more or less weakened in his natural activity, and thus it +happens then that, mostly from these causes, purely incidental to human nature, +less is done than might have been done, and that generally what is done is to +be ascribed entirely to the <i>thirst for glory</i>, the <i>energy</i>, indeed also the +<i>hard-heartedness</i> of the General-in-Chief. It is only thus we can explain the +hesitating manner in which many Generals follow up a victory which superior +numbers have given them. The first pursuit of the enemy we limit in general to +the extent of the first day, including the night following the victory. At the +end of that period the necessity of rest ourselves prescribes a halt in any +case. +</p> + +<p> +This first pursuit has different natural degrees. +</p> + +<p> +The first is, if cavalry alone are employed; in that case it amounts usually +more to alarming and watching than to pressing the enemy in reality, because +the smallest obstacle of ground is generally sufficient to check the pursuit. +Useful as cavalry may be against single bodies of broken demoralised troops, +still when opposed to the bulk of the beaten Army it becomes again only the +auxiliary arm, because the troops in retreat can employ fresh reserves to cover +the movement, and, therefore, at the next trifling obstacle of ground, by +combining all arms they can make a stand with success. The only exception to +this is in the case of an army in actual flight in a complete state of +dissolution. +</p> + +<p> +The second degree is, if the pursuit is made by a strong advance-guard composed +of all arms, the greater part consisting naturally of cavalry. Such a pursuit +generally drives the enemy as far as the nearest strong position for his +rear-guard, or the next position affording space for his Army. Neither can +usually be found at once, and, therefore, the pursuit can be carried further; +generally, however, it does not extend beyond the distance of one or at most a +couple of leagues, because otherwise the advance-guard would not feel itself +sufficiently supported. The third and most vigorous degree is when the +victorious Army itself continues to advance as far as its physical powers can +endure. In this case the beaten Army will generally quit such ordinary +positions as a country usually offers on the mere show of an attack, or of an +intention to turn its flank; and the rear-guard will be still less likely to +engage in an obstinate resistance. +</p> + +<p> +In all three cases the night, if it sets in before the conclusion of the whole +act, usually puts an end to it, and the few instances in which this has not +taken place, and the pursuit has been continued throughout the night, must be +regarded as pursuits in an exceptionally vigorous form. +</p> + +<p> +If we reflect that in fighting by night everything must be, more or less, +abandoned to chance, and that at the conclusion of a battle the regular +cohesion and order of things in an army must inevitably be disturbed, we may +easily conceive the reluctance of both Generals to carrying on their business +under such disadvantageous conditions. If a complete dissolution of the +vanquished Army, or a rare superiority of the victorious Army in military +virtue does not ensure success, everything would in a manner be given up to +fate, which can never be for the interest of any one, even of the most +fool-hardy General. As a rule, therefore, night puts an end to pursuit, even +when the battle has only been decided shortly before darkness sets in. This +allows the conquered either time for rest and to rally immediately, or, if he +retreats during the night it gives him a march in advance. After this break the +conquered is decidedly in a better condition; much of that which had been +thrown into confusion has been brought again into order, ammunition has been +renewed, the whole has been put into a fresh formation. Whatever further +encounter now takes place with the enemy is a new battle not a continuation of +the old, and although it may be far from promising absolute success, still it +is a fresh combat, and not merely a gathering up of the <i>débris</i> by the victor. +</p> + +<p> +When, therefore, the conqueror can continue the pursuit itself throughout the +night, if only with a strong advance-guard composed of all arms of the service, +the effect of the victory is immensely increased, of this the battles of +Leuthen and La Belle Alliance(*) are examples. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Waterloo. +</p> + +<p> +The whole action of this pursuit is mainly tactical, and we only dwell upon it +here in order to make plain the difference which through it may be produced in +the effect of a victory. +</p> + +<p> +This first pursuit, as far as the nearest stopping-point, belongs as a right to +every conqueror, and is hardly in any way connected with his further plans and +combinations. These may considerably diminish the positive results of a victory +gained with the main body of the Army, but they cannot make this first use of +it impossible; at least cases of that kind, if conceivable at all, must be so +uncommon that they should have no appreciable influence on theory. And here +certainly we must say that the example afforded by modern Wars opens up quite a +new field for energy. In preceding Wars, resting on a narrower basis, and +altogether more circumscribed in their scope, there were many unnecessary +conventional restrictions in various ways, but particularly in this point. <i>The +conception, Honour of Victory</i> seemed to Generals so much by far the chief thing +that they thought the less of the complete destruction of the enemy’s +military force, as in point of fact that destruction of force appeared to them +only as one of the many means in War, not by any means as the principal, much +less as the only means; so that they the more readily put the sword in its +sheath the moment the enemy had lowered his. Nothing seemed more natural to +them than to stop the combat as soon as the decision was obtained, and to +regard all further carnage as unnecessary cruelty. Even if this false +philosophy did not determine their resolutions entirely, still it was a point +of view by which representations of the exhaustion of all powers, and physical +impossibility of continuing the struggle, obtained readier evidence and greater +weight. Certainly the sparing one’s own instrument of victory is a vital +question if we only possess this one, and foresee that soon the time may arrive +when it will not be sufficient for all that remains to be done, for every +continuation of the offensive must lead ultimately to complete exhaustion. But +this calculation was still so far false, as the further loss of forces by a +continuance of the pursuit could bear no proportion to that which the enemy +must suffer. That view, therefore, again could only exist because the military +forces were not considered the vital factor. And so we find that in former Wars +real heroes only—such as Charles XII., Marlborough, Eugene, Frederick the +Great—added a vigorous pursuit to their victories when they were decisive +enough, and that other Generals usually contented themselves with the +possession of the field of battle. In modern times the greater energy infused +into the conduct of Wars through the greater importance of the circumstances +from which they have proceeded has thrown down these conventional barriers; the +pursuit has become an all-important business for the conqueror; trophies have +on that account multiplied in extent, and if there are cases also in modern +Warfare in which this has not been the case, still they belong to the list of +exceptions, and are to be accounted for by peculiar circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +At Gorschen(*) and Bautzen nothing but the superiority of the allied cavalry +prevented a complete rout, at Gross Beeren and Dennewitz the ill-will of +Bernadotte, the Crown Prince of Sweden; at Laon the enfeebled personal +condition of Blücher, who was then seventy years old and at the moment +confined to a dark room owing to an injury to his eyes. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Gorschen or Lutzen, May 2, 1813; Gross Beeren and Dennewitz, August 22, +1813; Bautzen. May 22, 1913; Laon, March 10 1813. +</p> + +<p> +But Borodino is also an illustration to the point here, and we cannot resist +saying a few more words about it, partly because we do not consider the +circumstances are explained simply by attaching blame to Buonaparte, partly +because it might appear as if this, and with it a great number of similar +cases, belonged to that class which we have designated as so extremely rare, +cases in which the general relations seize and fetter the General at the very +beginning of the battle. French authors in particular, and great admirers of +Buonaparte (Vaudancourt, Chambray, Ségur), have blamed him decidedly +because he did not drive the Russian Army completely off the field, and use his +last reserves to scatter it, because then what was only a lost battle would +have been a complete rout. We should be obliged to diverge too far to describe +circumstantially the mutual situation of the two Armies; but this much is +evident, that when Buonaparte passed the Niemen with his Army the same corps +which afterwards fought at Borodino numbered 300,000 men, of whom now only +120,000 remained, he might therefore well be apprehensive that he would not +have enough left to march upon Moscow, the point on which everything seemed to +depend. The victory which he had just gained gave him nearly a certainty of +taking that capital, for that the Russians would be in a condition to fight a +second battle within eight days seemed in the highest degree improbable; and in +Moscow he hoped to find peace. No doubt the complete dispersion of the Russian +Army would have made this peace much more certain; but still the first +consideration was to get to Moscow, that is, to get there with a force with +which he should appear dictator over the capital, and through that over the +Empire and the Government. The force which he brought with him to Moscow was no +longer sufficient for that, as shown in the sequel, but it would have been +still less so if, in scattering the Russian Army, he had scattered his own at +the same time. Buonaparte was thoroughly alive to all this, and in our eyes he +stands completely justified. But on that account this case is still not to be +reckoned amongst those in which, through the general relations, the General is +interdicted from following up his victory, for there never was in his case any +question of mere pursuit. The victory was decided at four o’clock in the +afternoon, but the Russians still occupied the greater part of the field of +battle; they were not yet disposed to give up the ground, and if the attack had +been renewed, they would still have offered a most determined resistance, which +would have undoubtedly ended in their complete defeat, but would have cost the +conqueror much further bloodshed. We must therefore reckon the Battle of +Borodino as amongst battles, like Bautzen, left unfinished. At Bautzen the +vanquished preferred to quit the field sooner; at Borodino the conqueror +preferred to content himself with a half victory, not because the decision +appeared doubtful, but because he was not rich enough to pay for the whole. +</p> + +<p> +Returning now to our subject, the deduction from our reflections in relation to +the first stage of pursuit is, that the energy thrown into it chiefly +determines the value of the victory; that this pursuit is a second act of the +victory, in many cases more important also than the first, and that strategy, +whilst here approaching tactics to receive from it the harvest of success, +exercises the first act of her authority by demanding this completion of the +victory. +</p> + +<p> +But further, the effects of victory are very seldom found to stop with this +first pursuit; now first begins the real career to which victory lent velocity. +This course is conditioned as we have already said, by other relations of which +it is not yet time to speak. But we must here mention, what there is of a +general character in the pursuit in order to avoid repetition when the subject +occurs again. +</p> + +<p> +In the further stages of pursuit, again, we can distinguish three degrees: the +simple pursuit, a hard pursuit, and a parallel march to intercept. +</p> + +<p> +The simple <i>following</i> or <i>pursuing</i> causes the enemy to continue his retreat, +until he thinks he can risk another battle. It will therefore in its effect +suffice to exhaust the advantages gained, and besides that, all that the enemy +cannot carry with him, sick, wounded, and disabled from fatigue, quantities of +baggage, and carriages of all kinds, will fall into our hands, but this mere +following does not tend to heighten the disorder in the enemy’s Army, an +effect which is produced by the two following causes. +</p> + +<p> +If, for instance, instead of contenting ourselves with taking up every day the +camp the enemy has just vacated, occupying just as much of the country as he +chooses to abandon, we make our arrangements so as every day to encroach +further, and accordingly with our advance-guard organised for the purpose, +attack his rear-guard every time it attempts to halt, then such a course will +hasten his retreat, and consequently tend to increase his +disorganisation.—This it will principally effect by the character of +continuous flight, which his retreat will thus assume. Nothing has such a +depressing influence on the soldier, as the sound of the enemy’s cannon +afresh at the moment when, after a forced march he seeks some rest; if this +excitement is continued from day to day for some time, it may lead to a +complete rout. There lies in it a constant admission of being obliged to obey +the law of the enemy, and of being unfit for any resistance, and the +consciousness of this cannot do otherwise than weaken the moral of an Army in a +high degree. The effect of pressing the enemy in this way attains a maximum +when it drives the enemy to make night marches. If the conqueror scares away +the discomfited opponent at sunset from a camp which has just been taken up +either for the main body of the Army, or for the rear-guard, the conquered must +either make a night march, or alter his position in the night, retiring further +away, which is much the same thing; the victorious party can on the other hand +pass the night in quiet. +</p> + +<p> +The arrangement of marches, and the choice of positions depend in this case +also upon so many other things, especially on the supply of the Army, on strong +natural obstacles in the country, on large towns, &c. &c., that it +would be ridiculous pedantry to attempt to show by a geometrical analysis how +the pursuer, being able to impose his laws on the retreating enemy, can compel +him to march at night while he takes his rest. But nevertheless it is true and +practicable that marches in pursuit may be so planned as to have this tendency, +and that the efficacy of the pursuit is very much enchanced thereby. If this is +seldom attended to in the execution, it is because such a procedure is more +difficult for the pursuing Army, than a regular adherence to ordinary marches +in the daytime. To start in good time in the morning, to encamp at mid-day, to +occupy the rest of the day in providing for the ordinary wants of the Army, and +to use the night for repose, is a much more convenient method than to regulate +one’s movements exactly according to those of the enemy, therefore to +determine nothing till the last moment, to start on the march, sometimes in the +morning, sometimes in the evening, to be always for several hours in the +presence of the enemy, and exchanging cannon shots with him, and keeping up +skirmishing fire, to plan manœuvres to turn him, in short, to make the whole +outlay of tactical means which such a course renders necessary. All that +naturally bears with a heavy weight on the pursuing Army, and in War, where +there are so many burdens to be borne, men are always inclined to strip off +those which do not seem absolutely necessary. These observations are true, +whether applied to a whole Army or as in the more usual case, to a strong +advance-guard. For the reasons just mentioned, this second method of pursuit, +this continued pressing of the enemy pursued is rather a rare occurrence; even +Buonaparte in his Russian campaign, 1812, practised it but little, for the +reasons here apparent, that the difficulties and hardships of this campaign, +already threatened his Army with destruction before it could reach its object; +on the other hand, the French in their other campaigns have distinguished +themselves by their energy in this point also. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, the third and most effectual form of pursuit is, the parallel march to +the immediate object of the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +Every defeated Army will naturally have behind it, at a greater or less +distance, some point, the attainment of which is the first purpose in view, +whether it be that failing in this its further retreat might be compromised, as +in the case of a defile, or that it is important for the point itself to reach +it before the enemy, as in the case of a great city, magazines, &c., or, +lastly, that the Army at this point will gain new powers of defence, such as a +strong position, or junction with other corps. +</p> + +<p> +Now if the conqueror directs his march on this point by a lateral road, it is +evident how that may quicken the retreat of the beaten Army in a destructive +manner, convert it into hurry, perhaps into flight.(*) The conquered has only +three ways to counteract this: the first is to throw himself in front of the +enemy, in order by an unexpected attack to gain that probability of success +which is lost to him in general from his position; this plainly supposes an +enterprising bold General, and an excellent Army, beaten but not utterly +defeated; therefore, it can only be employed by a beaten Army in very few +cases. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) This point is exceptionally well treated by von Bernhardi in his +“Cavalry in Future Wars.” London: Murray, 1906. +</p> + +<p> +The second way is hastening the retreat; but this is just what the conqueror +wants, and it easily leads to immoderate efforts on the part of the troops, by +which enormous losses are sustained, in stragglers, broken guns, and carriages +of all kinds. +</p> + +<p> +The third way is to make a <i>détour</i>, and get round the nearest point of +interception, to march with more ease at a greater distance from the enemy, and +thus to render the haste required less damaging. This last way is the worst of +all, it generally turns out like a new debt contracted by an insolvent debtor, +and leads to greater embarrassment. There are cases in which this course is +advisable; others where there is nothing else left; also instances in which it +has been successful; but upon the whole it is certainly true that its adoption +is usually influenced less by a clear persuasion of its being the surest way of +attaining the aim than by another inadmissible motive—this motive is the +dread of encountering the enemy. Woe to the Commander who gives in to this! +However much the moral of his Army may have deteriorated, and however well +founded may be his apprehensions of being at a disadvantage in any conflict +with the enemy, the evil will only be made worse by too anxiously avoiding +every possible risk of collision. Buonaparte in 1813 would never have brought +over the Rhine with him the 30,000 or 40,000 men who remained after the battle +of Hanau,(*) if he had avoided that battle and tried to pass the Rhine at +Mannheim or Coblenz. It is just by means of small combats carefully prepared +and executed, and in which the defeated army being on the defensive, has always +the assistance of the ground—it is just by these that the moral strength +of the Army can first be resuscitated. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) At Hanau (October 30, 1813), the Bavarians some 50,000 strong threw +themselves across the line of Napoleon’s retreat from Leipsic. By a +masterly use of its artillery the French tore the Bavarians asunder and marched +on over their bodies.—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +The beneficial effect of the smallest successes is incredible; but with most +Generals the adoption of this plan implies great self-command. The other way, +that of evading all encounter, appears at first so much easier, that there is a +natural preference for its adoption. It is therefore usually just this system +of evasion which best, promotes the view of the pursuer, and often ends with +the complete downfall of the pursued; we must, however, recollect here that we +are speaking of a whole Army, not of a single Division, which, having been cut +off, is seeking to join the main Army by making a <i>détour;</i> in such a case +circumstances are different, and success is not uncommon. But there is one +condition requisite to the success of this race of two Corps for an object, +which is that a Division of the pursuing army should follow by the same road +which the pursued has taken, in order to pick up stragglers, and keep up the +impression which the presence of the enemy never fails to make. Blücher +neglected this in his, in other respects unexceptionable, pursuit after La +Belle Alliance. +</p> + +<p> +Such marches tell upon the pursuer as well as the pursued, and they are not +advisable if the enemy’s Army rallies itself upon another considerable +one; if it has a distinguished General at its head, and if its destruction is +not already well prepared. But when this means can be adopted, it acts also +like a great mechanical power. The losses of the beaten Army from sickness and +fatigue are on such a disproportionate scale, the spirit of the Army is so +weakened and lowered by the constant solicitude about impending ruin, that at +last anything like a well organised stand is out of the question; every day +thousands of prisoners fall into the enemy’s hands without striking a +blow. In such a season of complete good fortune, the conqueror need not +hesitate about dividing his forces in order to draw into the vortex of +destruction everything within reach of his Army, to cut off detachments, to +take fortresses unprepared for defence, to occupy large towns, &c. &c. +He may do anything until a new state of things arises, and the more he ventures +in this way the longer will it be before that change will take place. There is +no want of examples of brilliant results from grand decisive victories, and of +great and vigorous pursuits in the wars of Buonaparte. We need only quote Jena +1806, Ratisbonne 1809, Leipsic 1813, and Belle- Alliance 1815. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap45"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>Retreat After a Lost Battle</h3> + +<p> +In a lost battle the power of an Army is broken, the moral to a greater degree +than the physical. A second battle unless fresh favourable circumstances come +into play, would lead to a complete defeat, perhaps, to destruction. This is a +military axiom. According to the usual course the retreat is continued up to +that point where the equilibrium of forces is restored, either by +reinforcements, or by the protection of strong fortresses, or by great +defensive positions afforded by the country, or by a separation of the +enemy’s force. The magnitude of the losses sustained, the extent of the +defeat, but still more the character of the enemy, will bring nearer or put off +the instant of this equilibrium. How many instances may be found of a beaten +Army rallied again at a short distance, without its circumstances having +altered in any way since the battle. The cause of this may be traced to the +moral weakness of the adversary, or to the preponderance gained in the battle +not having been sufficient to make lasting impression. +</p> + +<p> +To profit by this weakness or mistake of the enemy, not to yield one inch +breadth more than the pressure of circumstances demands, but above all things, +in order to keep up the moral forces to as advantageous a point as possible, a +slow retreat, offering incessant resistance, and bold courageous +counterstrokes, whenever the enemy seeks to gain any excessive advantages, are +absolutely necessary. Retreats of great Generals and of Armies inured to War +have always resembled the retreat of a wounded lion, such is, undoubtedly, also +the best theory. +</p> + +<p> +It is true that at the moment of quitting a dangerous position we have often +seen trifling formalities observed which caused a waste of time, and were, +therefore, attended with danger, whilst in such cases everything depends on +getting out of the place speedily. Practised Generals reckon this maxim a very +important one. But such cases must not be confounded with a general retreat +after a lost battle. Whoever then thinks by a few rapid marches to gain a +start, and more easily to recover a firm standing, commits a great error. The +first movements should be as small as possible, and it is a maxim in general +not to suffer ourselves to be dictated to by the enemy. This maxim cannot be +followed without bloody fighting with the enemy at our heels, but the gain is +worth the sacrifice; without it we get into an accelerated pace which soon +turns into a headlong rush, and costs merely in stragglers more men than +rear-guard combats, and besides that extinguishes the last remnants of the +spirit of resistance. +</p> + +<p> +A strong rear-guard composed of picked troops, commanded by the bravest +General, and supported by the whole Army at critical moments, a careful +utilisation of ground, strong ambuscades wherever the boldness of the +enemy’s advance-guard, and the ground, afford opportunity; in short, the +preparation and the system of regular small battles,—these are the means +of following this principle. +</p> + +<p> +The difficulties of a retreat are naturally greater or less according as the +battle has been fought under more or less favourable circumstances, and +according as it has been more or less obstinately contested. The battle of Jena +and La Belle-Alliance show how impossible anything like a regular retreat may +become, if the last man is used up against a powerful enemy. +</p> + +<p> +Now and again it has been suggested(*) to divide for the purpose of retreating, +therefore to retreat in separate divisions or even eccentrically. Such a +separation as is made merely for convenience, and along with which concentrated +action continues possible and is kept in view, is not what we now refer to; any +other kind is extremely dangerous, contrary to the nature of the thing, and +therefore a great error. Every lost battle is a principle of weakness and +disorganisation; and the first and immediate desideratum is to concentrate, and +in concentration to recover order, courage, and confidence. The idea of +harassing the enemy by separate corps on both flanks at the moment when he is +following up his victory, is a perfect anomaly; a faint-hearted pedant might be +overawed by his enemy in that manner, and for such a case it may answer; but +where we are not sure of this failing in our opponent it is better let alone. +If the strategic relations after a battle require that we should cover +ourselves right and left by detachments, so much must be done, as from +circumstances is unavoidable, but this fractioning must always be regarded as +an evil, and we are seldom in a state to commence it the day after the battle +itself. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Allusion is here made to the works of Lloyd Bülow and others. +</p> + +<p> +If Frederick the Great after the battle of Kollin,(*) and the raising of the +siege of Prague retreated in three columns that was done not out of choice, but +because the position of his forces, and the necessity of covering Saxony, left +him no alternative, Buonaparte after the battle of Brienne,(**) sent Marmont +back to the Aube, whilst he himself passed the Seine, and turned towards +Troyes; but that this did not end in disaster, was solely owing to the +circumstance that the Allies, instead of pursuing divided their forces in like +manner, turning with the one part (Blücher) towards the Marne, while with the +other (Schwartzenberg), from fear of being too weak, they advanced with +exaggerated caution. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) June 19, 1757.<br/> +<br/> +(**) January 30, 1814. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap46"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>Night Fighting</h3> + +<p> +The manner of conducting a combat at night, and what concerns the details of +its course, is a tactical subject; we only examine it here so far as in its +totality it appears as a special strategic means. +</p> + +<p> +Fundamentally every night attack is only a more vehement form of surprise. Now +at the first look of the thing such an attack appears quite pre-eminently +advantageous, for we suppose the enemy to be taken by surprise, the assailant +naturally to be prepared for everything which can happen. What an inequality! +Imagination paints to itself a picture of the most complete confusion on the +one side, and on the other side the assailant only occupied in reaping the +fruits of his advantage. Hence the constant creation of schemes for night +attacks by those who have not to lead them, and have no responsibility, whilst +these attacks seldom take place in reality. +</p> + +<p> +These ideal schemes are all based on the hypothesis that the assailant knows +the arrangements of the defender because they have been made and announced +beforehand, and could not escape notice in his reconnaissances, and inquiries; +that on the other hand, the measures of the assailant, being only taken at the +moment of execution, cannot be known to the enemy. But the last of these is not +always quite the case, and still less is the first. If we are not so near the +enemy as to have him completely under our eye, as the Austrians had Frederick +the Great before the battle of Hochkirch (1758), then all that we know of his +position must always be imperfect, as it is obtained by reconnaissances, +patrols, information from prisoners, and spies, sources on which no firm +reliance can be placed because intelligence thus obtained is always more or +less of an old date, and the position of the enemy may have been altered in the +meantime. Moreover, with the tactics and mode of encampment of former times it +was much easier than it is now to examine the position of the enemy. A line of +tents is much easier to distinguish than a line of huts or a bivouac; and an +encampment on a line of front, fully and regularly drawn out, also easier than +one of Divisions formed in columns, the mode often used at present. We may have +the ground on which a Division bivouacs in that manner completely under our +eye, and yet not be able to arrive at any accurate idea. +</p> + +<p> +But the position again is not all that we want to know the measures which the +defender may take in the course of the combat are just as important, and do not +by any means consist in mere random shots. These measures also make night +attacks more difficult in modern Wars than formerly, because they have in these +campaigns an advantage over those already taken. In our combats the position of +the defender is more temporary than definitive, and on that account the +defender is better able to surprise his adversary with unexpected blows, than +he could formerly.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) All these difficulties obviously become increased as the power of the +weapons in use tends to keep the combatants further apart.—EDITOR. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore what the assailant knows of the defensive previous to a night attack, +is seldom or never sufficient to supply the want of direct observation. +</p> + +<p> +But the defender has on his side another small advantage as well, which is that +he is more at home than the assailant, on the ground which forms his position, +and therefore, like the inhabitant of a room, will find his way about it in the +dark with more ease than a stranger. He knows better where to find each part of +his force, and therefore can more readily get at it than is the case with his +adversary. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows, that the assailant in a combat at night feels the want of +his eyes just as much as the defender, and that therefore, only particular +reasons can make a night attack advisable. +</p> + +<p> +Now these reasons arise mostly in connection with subordinate parts of an Army, +rarely with the Army itself; it follows that a night attack also as a rule can +only take place with secondary combats, and seldom with great battles. +</p> + +<p> +We may attack a portion of the enemy’s Army with a very superior force, +consequently enveloping it with a view either to take the whole, or to inflict +very severe loss on it by an unequal combat, provided that other circumstances +are in our favour. But such a scheme can never succeed except by a great +surprise, because no fractional part of the enemy’s Army would engage in +such an unequal combat, but would retire instead. But a surprise on an +important scale except in rare instances in a very close country, can only be +effected at night. If therefore we wish to gain such an advantage as this from +the faulty disposition of a portion of the enemy’s Army, then we must +make use of the night, at all events, to finish the preliminary part even if +the combat itself should not open till towards daybreak. This is therefore what +takes place in all the little enterprises by night against outposts, and other +small bodies, the main point being invariably through superior numbers, and +getting round his position, to entangle him unexpectedly in such a +disadvantageous combat, that he cannot disengage himself without great loss. +</p> + +<p> +The larger the body attacked the more difficult the undertaking, because a +strong force has greater resources within itself to maintain the fight long +enough for help to arrive. +</p> + +<p> +On that account the whole of the enemy’s Army can never in ordinary cases +be the object of such an attack for although it has no assistance to expect +from any quarter outside itself, still, it contains within itself sufficient +means of repelling attacks from several sides particularly in our day, when +every one from the commencement is prepared for this very usual form of attack. +Whether the enemy can attack us on several sides with success depends generally +on conditions quite different from that of its being done unexpectedly; without +entering here into the nature of these conditions, we confine ourselves to +observing, that with turning an enemy, great results, as well as great dangers +are connected; that therefore, if we set aside special circumstances, nothing +justifies it but a great superiority, just such as we should use against a +fractional part of the enemy’s Army. +</p> + +<p> +But the turning and surrounding a small fraction of the enemy, and particularly +in the darkness of night, is also more practicable for this reason, that +whatever we stake upon it, and however superior the force used may be, still +probably it constitutes only a limited portion of our Army, and we can sooner +stake that than the whole on the risk of a great venture. Besides, the greater +part or perhaps the whole serves as a support and rallying-point for the +portion risked, which again very much diminishes the danger of the enterprise. +</p> + +<p> +Not only the risk, but the difficulty of execution as well confines night +enterprises to small bodies. As surprise is the real essence of them so also +stealthy approach is the chief condition of execution: but this is more easily +done with small bodies than with large, and for the columns of a whole Army is +seldom practicable. For this reason such enterprises are in general only +directed against single outposts, and can only be feasible against greater +bodies if they are without sufficient outposts, like Frederick the Great at +Hochkirch.(*) This will happen seldomer in future to Armies themselves than to +minor divisions. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) October 14, 1758. +</p> + +<p> +In recent times, when War has been carried on with so much more rapidity and +vigour, it has in consequence often happened that Armies have encamped very +close to each other, without having a very strong system of outposts, because +those circumstances have generally occurred just at the crisis which precedes a +great decision. +</p> + +<p> +But then at such times the readiness for battle on both sides is also more +perfect; on the other hand, in former Wars it was a frequent practice for +armies to take up camps in sight of each other, when they had no other object +but that of mutually holding each other in check, consequently for a longer +period. How often Frederick the Great stood for weeks so near to the Austrians, +that the two might have exchanged cannon shots with each other. +</p> + +<p> +But these practices, certainly more favourable to night attacks, have been +discontinued in later days; and armies being now no longer in regard to +subsistence and requirements for encampment, such independent bodies complete +in themselves, find it necessary to keep usually a day’s march between +themselves and the enemy. If we now keep in view especially the night attack of +an army, it follows that sufficient motives for it can seldom occur, and that +they fall under one or other of the following classes. +</p> + +<p> +1. An unusual degree of carelessness or audacity which very rarely occurs, and +when it does is compensated for by a great superiority in moral force. +</p> + +<p> +2. A panic in the enemy’s army, or generally such a degree of superiority +in moral force on our side, that this is sufficient to supply the place of +guidance in action. +</p> + +<p> +3. Cutting through an enemy’s army of superior force, which keeps us +enveloped, because in this all depends on surprise, and the object of merely +making a passage by force, allows a much greater concentration of forces. +</p> + +<p> +4. Finally, in desperate cases, when our forces have such a disproportion to +the enemy’s, that we see no possibility of success, except through +extraordinary daring. +</p> + +<p> +But in all these cases there is still the condition that the enemy’s army +is under our eyes, and protected by no advance-guard. +</p> + +<p> +As for the rest, most night combats are so conducted as to end with daylight, +so that only the approach and the first attack are made under cover of +darkness, because the assailant in that manner can better profit by the +consequences of the state of confusion into which he throws his adversary; and +combats of this description which do not commence until daybreak, in which the +night therefore is only made use of to approach, are not to be counted as night +combats. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part05"></a>BOOK V<br/>MILITARY FORCES</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap47"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>General Scheme</h3> + +<p> +We shall consider military forces: +</p> + +<p> +1. As regards their numerical strength and organisation. +</p> + +<p> +2. In their state independent of fighting. +</p> + +<p> +3. In respect of their maintenance; and, lastly, +</p> + +<p> +4. In their general relations to country and ground. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we shall devote this book to the consideration of things appertaining to +an army, which only come under the head of <i>necessary conditions of +fighting</i>, but do not constitute the fight itself. They stand in more or +less close connection with and react upon the fighting, and therefore, in +considering the application of the combat they must often appear; but we must +first consider each by itself, as a whole, in its essence and peculiarities. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap48"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>Theatre of War, Army, Campaign</h3> + +<p> +The nature of the things does not allow of a completely satisfactory definition +of these three factors, denoting respectively, space, mass, and time in war; +but that we may not sometimes be quite misunderstood, we must try to make +somewhat plainer the usual meaning of these terms, to which we shall in most +cases adhere. +</p> + +<h4> +1.—Theatre of War. +</h4> + +<p> +This term denotes properly such a portion of the space over which war prevails +as has its boundaries protected, and thus possesses a kind of independence. +This protection may consist in fortresses, or important natural obstacles +presented by the country, or even in its being separated by a considerable +distance from the rest of the space embraced in the war.—Such a portion +is not a mere piece of the whole, but a small whole complete in itself; and +consequently it is more or less in such a condition that changes which take +place at other points in the seat of war have only an indirect and no direct +influence upon it. To give an adequate idea of this, we may suppose that on +this portion an advance is made, whilst in another quarter a retreat is taking +place, or that upon the one an army is acting defensively, whilst an offensive +is being carried on upon the other. Such a clearly defined idea as this is not +capable of universal application; it is here used merely to indicate the line +of distinction. +</p> + +<h4> +2.—Army. +</h4> + +<p> +With the assistance of the conception of a Theatre of War, it is very easy to +say what an Army is: it is, in point of fact, the mass of troops in the same +Theatre of War. But this plainly does not include all that is meant by the term +in its common usage. Blücher and Wellington commanded each a separate army in +1815, although the two were in the same Theatre of War. The chief command is, +therefore, another distinguishing sign for the conception of an Army. At the +same time this sign is very nearly allied to the preceding, for where things +are well organised, there should only exist one supreme command in a Theatre of +War, and the commander-in-chief in a particular Theatre of War should always +have a proportionate degree of independence. +</p> + +<p> +The mere absolute numerical strength of a body of troops is less decisive on +the subject than might at first appear. For where several Armies are acting +under one command, and upon one and the same Theatre of War, they are called +Armies, not by reason of their strength, but from the relations antecedent to +the war (1813, the Silesian Army, the Army of the North, etc), and although we +should divide a great mass of troops intended to remain in the same Theatre +into corps, we should never divide them into Armies, at least, such a division +would be contrary to what seems to be the meaning which is universally attached +to the term. On the other hand, it would certainly be pedantry to apply the +term Army to each band of irregular troops acting independently in a remote +province: still we must not leave unnoticed that it surprises no one when the +Army of the Vendeans in the Revolutionary War is spoken of, and yet it was not +much stronger. +</p> + +<p> +The conceptions of Army and Theatre of War therefore, as a rule, go together, +and mutually include each other. +</p> + +<h4> +3.—Campaign. +</h4> + +<p> +Although the sum of all military events which happen in all the Theatres of War +in one year is often called a <i>Campaign</i>, still, however, it is more usual +and more exact to understand by the term the events in <i>one single</i> +Theatre of War. But it is worse still to connect the notion of a Campaign with +the period of one year, for wars no longer divide themselves naturally into +Campaigns of a year’s duration by fixed and long periods in winter +quarters. As, however, the events in a Theatre of War of themselves form +certain great chapters—if, for instance, the direct effects of some more +or less great catastrophe cease, and new combinations begin to develop +themselves—therefore these natural subdivisions must be taken into +consideration in order to allot to each year (Campaign) its complete share of +events. No one would make the Campaign of 1812 terminate at Memel, where the +armies were on the 1st January, and transfer the further retreat of the French +until they recrossed the Elbe to the campaign of 1813, as that further retreat +was plainly only a part of the whole retreat from Moscow. +</p> + +<p> +That we cannot give these conceptions any greater degree of distinctness is of +no consequence, because they cannot be used as philosophical definitions for +the basis of any kind of propositions. They only serve to give a little more +clearness and precision to the language we use. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap49"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>Relation of Power</h3> + +<p> +In the eighth chapter of the third book we have spoken of the value of superior +numbers in battles, from which follows as a consequence the superiority of +numbers in general in strategy. So far the importance of the relations of power +is established: we shall now add a few more detailed considerations on the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +An unbiassed examination of modern military history leads to the conviction +that the <i>superiority in numbers becomes every day more decisive;</i> the +principle of assembling the greatest possible numbers for a decisive battle may +therefore be regarded as more important than ever. +</p> + +<p> +Courage and the spirit of an army have, in all ages, multiplied its physical +powers, and will continue to do so equally in future; but we find also that at +certain periods in history a superiority in the organisation and equipment of +an army has given a great moral preponderance; we find that at other periods a +great superiority in mobility had a like effect; at one time we see a new +system of tactics brought to light; at another we see the art of war developing +itself in an effort to make a skilful use of ground on great general +principles, and by such means here and there we find one general gaining great +advantages over another; but even this tendency has disappeared, and wars now +go on in a simpler and more natural manner.—If, divesting ourselves of +any preconceived notions, we look at the experiences of recent wars, we must +admit that there are but little traces of any of the above influences, either +throughout any whole campaign, or in engagements of a decisive +character—that is, the great battle, respecting which term we refer to +the second chapter of the preceding book. +</p> + +<p> +Armies are in our days so much on a par in regard to arms, equipment, and +drill, that there is no very notable difference between the best and the worst +in these things. A difference may still be observed, resulting from the +superior instruction of the scientific corps, but in general it only amounts to +this, that one is the inventor and introducer of improved appliances, which the +other immediately imitates. Even the subordinate generals, leaders of corps and +divisions, in all that comes within the scope of their sphere, have in general +everywhere the same ideas and methods, so that, except the talent of the +commander-in-chief—a thing entirely dependent on chance, and not bearing +a constant relation to the standard of education amongst the people and the +army—there is nothing now but habituation to war which can give one army +a decided superiority over another. The nearer we approach to a state of +equality in all these things, the more decisive becomes the relation in point +of numbers. +</p> + +<p> +The character of modern battles is the result of this state of equality. Take +for instance the battle of Borodino, where the first army in the world, the +French, measured its strength with the Russian, which, in many parts of its +organisation, and in the education of its special branches, might be considered +the furthest behindhand. In the whole battle there is not one single trace of +superior art or intelligence, it is a mere trial of strength between the +respective armies throughout; and as they were nearly equal in that respect, +the result could not be otherwise than a gradual turn of the scale in favour of +that side where there was the greatest energy on the part of the commander, and +the most experience in war on the part of the troops. We have taken this battle +as an illustration, because in it there was an equality in the numbers on each +side such as is rarely to be found. +</p> + +<p> +We do not maintain that all battles exactly resemble this, but it shows the +dominant tone of most of them. +</p> + +<p> +In a battle in which the forces try their strength on each other so leisurely +and methodically, an excess of force on one side must make the result in its +favour much more certain. And it is a fact that we may search modern military +history in vain for a battle in which an army has beaten another double its own +strength, an occurrence by no means uncommon in former times. Buonaparte, the +greatest general of modern times, in all his great victorious +battles—with one exception, that of Dresden, 1813—had managed to +assemble an army superior in numbers, or at least very little inferior, to that +of his opponent, and when it was impossible for him to do so, as at Leipsic, +Brienne, Laon, and Belle-Alliance, he was beaten. +</p> + +<p> +The absolute strength is in strategy generally a given quantity, which the +commander cannot alter. But from this it by no means follows that it is +impossible to carry on a war with a decidedly inferior force. War is not always +a voluntary act of state policy, and least of all is it so when the forces are +very unequal: consequently, any relation of forces is imaginable in war, and it +would be a strange theory of war which would wish to give up its office just +where it is most wanted. +</p> + +<p> +However desirable theory may consider a proportionate force, still it cannot +say that no use can be made of the most disproportionate. No limits can be +prescribed in this respect. +</p> + +<p> +The weaker the force the more moderate must be the object it proposes to +itself, and the weaker the force the shorter time it will last. In these two +directions there is a field for weakness to give way, if we may use this +expression. Of the changes which the measure of the force produces in the +conduct of war, we can only speak by degrees, as these things present +themselves; at present it is sufficient to have indicated the general point of +view, but to complete that we shall add one more observation. +</p> + +<p> +The more that an army involved in an unequal combat falls short of the number +of its opponents, the greater must be the tension of its powers, the greater +its energy when danger presses. If the reverse takes place, and instead of +heroic desperation a spirit of despondency ensues, then certainly there is an +end to every art of war. +</p> + +<p> +If with this energy of powers is combined a wise moderation in the object +proposed, then there is that play of brilliant actions and prudent forbearance +which we admire in the wars of Frederick the Great. +</p> + +<p> +But the less that this moderation and caution can effect, the more must the +tension and energy of the forces become predominant. When the disproportion of +forces is so great that no modification of our own object can ensure us safety +from a catastrophe, or where the probable continuance of the danger is so great +that the greatest economy of our powers can no longer suffice to bring us to +our object, then the tension of our powers should be concentrated for one +desperate blow; he who is pressed on all sides expecting little help from +things which promise none, will place his last and only reliance in the moral +ascendancy which despair gives to courage, and look upon the greatest daring as +the greatest wisdom,—at the same time employ the assistance of subtle +stratagem, and if he does not succeed, will find in an honourable downfall the +right to rise hereafter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap50"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>Relation of the Three Arms</h3> + +<p> +We shall only speak of the three principal arms: Infantry, Cavalry, and +Artillery. +</p> + +<p> +We must be excused for making the following analysis which belongs more to +tactics, but is necessary to give distinctness to our ideas. +</p> + +<p> +The combat is of two kinds, which are essentially different: the destructive +principle of fire, and the hand to hand or personal combat. This latter, again, +is either attack or defence. (As we here speak of elements, attack and defence +are to be understood in a perfectly absolute sense.) Artillery, obviously, acts +only with the destructive principle of fire. Cavalry only with personal combat. +Infantry with both. +</p> + +<p> +In close combat the essence of defence consists in standing firm, as if rooted +to the ground; the essence of the attack is movement. Cavalry is entirely +deficient in the first quality; on the other hand, it possesses the latter in +an especial manner. It is therefore only suited for attack. Infantry has +especially the property of standing firm, but is not altogether without +mobility. +</p> + +<p> +From this division of the elementary forces of war into different arms, we have +as a result, the superiority and general utility of Infantry as compared with +the other two arms, from its being the only arm which unites in itself all the +three elementary forces. A further deduction to be drawn is, that the +combination of the three arms leads to a more perfect use of the forces, by +affording the means of strengthening at pleasure either the one or the other of +the principles which are united in an unalterable manner in Infantry. +</p> + +<p> +The destructive principle of fire is in the wars of the present time plainly +beyond measure the most effective; nevertheless, the close combat, man to man, +is just as plainly to be regarded as the real basis of combat. For that reason, +therefore, an army of artillery only would be an absurdity in war, but an army +of cavalry is conceivable, only it would possess very little intensity of force +An army of infantry alone is not only conceivable but also much the strongest +of the three. The three arms, therefore, stand in this order in reference to +independent value—Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery. +</p> + +<p> +But this order does not hold good if applied to the relative importance of each +arm when they are all three acting in conjunction. As the destructive principle +is much more effective than the principle of motion, therefore the complete +want of cavalry would weaken an army less than the total want of artillery. +</p> + +<p> +An army consisting of infantry and artillery alone, would certainly find itself +in a disagreeable position if opposed to an army composed of all three arms; +but if what it lacked in cavalry was compensated for by a proportionate +increase of infantry, it would still, by a somewhat different mode of acting, +be able to do very well with its tactical economy. Its outpost service would +cause some embarrassment; it would never be able to pursue a beaten enemy with +great vivacity, and it must make a retreat with greater hardships and efforts; +but these inconveniences would still never be sufficient in themselves to drive +it completely out of the field.—On the other hand, such an army opposed +to one composed of infantry and cavalry only would be able to play a very good +part, while it is hardly conceivable that the latter could keep the field at +all against an army made up of all three arms. +</p> + +<p> +Of course these reflections on the relative importance of each single arm +result only from a consideration of the generality of events in war, where one +case compensates another; and therefore it is not our intention to apply the +truth thus ascertained to each individual case of a particular combat. A +battalion on outpost service or on a retreat may, perhaps, choose to have with +it a squadron in preference to a couple of guns. A body of cavalry with horse +artillery, sent in rapid pursuit of, or to cut off, a flying enemy wants no +infantry, etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +If we summarise the results of these considerations they amount to this. +</p> + +<p> +1. That infantry is the most independent of the three arms. +</p> + +<p> +2. Artillery is quite wanting in independence. +</p> + +<p> +3. Infantry is the most important in the combination of the three arms. +</p> + +<p> +4. Cavalry can the most easily be dispensed with. +</p> + +<p> +5. A combination of the three arms gives the greatest strength. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if the combination of the three gives the greatest strength, it is natural +to inquire what is the best absolute proportion of each, but that is a question +which it is almost impossible to answer. +</p> + +<p> +If we could form a comparative estimate of the cost of organising in the first +instance, and then provisioning and maintaining each of the three arms, and +then again of the relative amount of service rendered by each in war, we should +obtain a definite result which would give the best proportion in the abstract. +But this is little more than a play of the imagination. The very first term in +the comparison is difficult to determine, that is to say, one of the factors, +the cost in money, is not difficult to find; but another, the value of +men’s lives, is a computation which no one would readily try to solve by +figures. +</p> + +<p> +Also the circumstance that each of the three arms chiefly depends on a +different element of strength in the state—Infantry on the number of the +male population, cavalry on the number of horses, artillery on available +financial means—introduces into the calculation some heterogeneous +conditions, the overruling influence of which may be plainly observed in the +great outlines of the history of different people at various periods. +</p> + +<p> +As, however, for other reasons we cannot altogether dispense with some standard +of comparison, therefore, in place of the whole of the first term of the +comparison we must take only that one of its factors which can be ascertained, +namely, the cost in money. Now on this point it is sufficient for our purpose +to assume that, in general, a squadron of 150 horsemen, a battalion of infantry +800 strong, a battery of artillery consisting of 8 six-pounders, cost nearly +the same, both as respects the expense of formation and of maintenance. +</p> + +<p> +With regard to the other member of the comparison, that is, how much service +the one arm is capable of rendering as compared with the others, it is much +less easy to find any distinct quantity. The thing might perhaps be possible if +it depended merely on the destroying principle; but each arm is destined to its +own particular use, therefore has its own particular sphere of action, which, +again, is not so distinctly defined that it might not be greater or less +through modifications only in the mode of conducting the war, without causing +any decided disadvantage. +</p> + +<p> +We are often told of what experience teaches on this subject, and it is +supposed that military history affords the information necessary for a +settlement of the question, but every one must look upon all that as nothing +more than a way of talking, which, as it is not derived from anything of a +primary and necessary nature, does not deserve attention in an analytical +examination. +</p> + +<p> +Now although a fixed ratio as representing the best proportion between the +three arms is conceivable, but is an x which it is impossible to find, a mere +imaginary quantity, still it is possible to appreciate the effects of having a +great superiority or a great inferiority in one particular arm as compared with +the same arm in the enemy’s army. +</p> + +<p> +Artillery increases the destructive principle of fire; it is the most +redoubtable of arms, and its want, therefore, diminishes very considerably the +intensive force of an army. On the other hand, it is the least moveable, +consequently, makes an army more unwieldy; further, it always requires a force +for its support, because it is incapable of close combat; if it is too +numerous, so that the troops appointed for its protection are not able to +resist the attacks of the enemy at every point, it is often lost, and from that +follows a fresh disadvantage, because of the three arms it is the only one +which in its principal parts, that is guns and carriages, the enemy can soon +use against us. +</p> + +<p> +Cavalry increases the principle of mobility in an army. If too few in number +the brisk flame of the elements of war is thereby weakened, because everything +must be done slower (on foot), everything must be organised with more care; the +rich harvest of victory, instead of being cut with a scythe, can only be reaped +with a sickle. +</p> + +<p> +An excess of cavalry can certainly never be looked upon as a direct diminution +of the combatant force, as an organic disproportion, but it may certainly be so +indirectly, on account of the difficulty of feeding that arm, and also if we +reflect that instead of a surplus of 10,000 horsemen not required we might have +50,000 infantry. +</p> + +<p> +These peculiarities arising from the preponderance of one arm are the more +important to the art of war in its limited sense, as that art teaches the use +of whatever forces are forthcoming; and when forces are placed under the +command of a general, the proportion of the three arms is also commonly already +settled without his having had much voice in the matter. +</p> + +<p> +If we would form an idea of the character of warfare modified by the +preponderance of one or other of the three arms it is to be done in the +following manner:— +</p> + +<p> +An excess of artillery leads to a more defensive and passive character in our +measures; our interest will be to seek security in strong positions, great +natural obstacles of ground, even in mountain positions, in order that the +natural impediments we find in the ground may undertake the defence and +protection of our numerous artillery, and that the enemy’s forces may +come themselves and seek their own destruction. The whole war will be carried +on in a serious formal minuet step. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, a want of artillery will make us prefer the offensive, the +active, the mobile principle; marching, fatigue, exertion, become our special +weapons, thus the war will become more diversified, more lively, rougher; small +change is substituted for great events. +</p> + +<p> +With a very numerous cavalry we seek wide plains, and take to great movements. +At a greater distance from the enemy we enjoy more rest and greater +conveniences without conferring the same advantages on our adversary. We may +venture on bolder measures to outflank him, and on more daring movements +generally, as we have command over space. In as far as diversions and invasions +are true auxiliary means of war we shall be able to make use of them with +greater facility. +</p> + +<p> +A decided want of cavalry diminishes the force of mobility in an army without +increasing its destructive power as an excess of artillery does. Prudence and +method become then the leading characteristics of the war. Always to remain +near the enemy in order to keep him constantly in view—no rapid, still +less hurried movements, everywhere a slow pushing on of well concentrated +masses—a preference for the defensive and for broken country, and, when +the offensive must be resorted to, the shortest road direct to the centre of +force in the enemy’s army—these are the natural tendencies or +principles in such cases. +</p> + +<p> +These different forms which warfare takes according as one or other of the +three arms preponderates, seldom have an influence so complete and decided as +alone, or chiefly to determine the direction of a whole undertaking. Whether we +shall act strategically on the offensive or defensive, the choice of a theatre +of war, the determination to fight a great battle, or adopt some other means of +destruction, are points which must be determined by other and more essential +considerations, at least, if this is not the case, it is much to be feared that +we have mistaken minor details for the chief consideration. But although this +is so, although the great questions must be decided before on other grounds, +there still always remains a certain margin for the influence of the +preponderating arm, for in the offensive we can always be prudent and +methodical, in the defensive bold and enterprising, etc., etc., through all the +different stages and gradations of the military life. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the nature of a war may have a notable influence on the +proportions of the three arms. +</p> + +<p> +First, a national war, kept up by militia and a general levy (Landsturm), must +naturally bring into the field a very numerous infantry; for in such wars there +is a greater want of the means of equipment than of men, and as the equipment +consequently is confined to what is indisputably necessary, we may easily +imagine, that for every battery of eight pieces, not only one, but two or three +battalions might be raised. +</p> + +<p> +Second, if a weak state opposed to a powerful one cannot take refuge in a +general call of the male population to regular military service, or in a +militia system resembling it, then the increase of its artillery is certainly +the shortest way of bringing up its weak army nearer to an equality with that +of the enemy, for it saves men, and intensifies the essential principle of +military force, that is, the destructive principle. Any way, such a state will +mostly be confined to a limited theatre, and therefore this arm will be better +suited to it. Frederick the Great adopted this means in the later period of the +Seven Years’ War. +</p> + +<p> +Third, cavalry is the arm for movement and great decisions; its increase beyond +the ordinary proportions is therefore important if the war extends over a great +space, if expeditions are to be made in various directions, and great and +decisive blows are intended. Buonaparte is an example of this. +</p> + +<p> +That the offensive and defensive do not properly in themselves exercise an +influence on the proportion of cavalry will only appear plainly when we come to +speak of these two methods of acting in war; in the meantime, we shall only +remark that both assailant and defender as a rule traverse the same spaces in +war, and may have also, at least in many cases, the same decisive intentions. +We remind our readers of the campaign of 1812. +</p> + +<p> +It is commonly believed that, in the middle ages, cavalry was much more +numerous in proportion to infantry, and that the difference has been gradually +on the decrease ever since. Yet this is a mistake, at least partly. The +proportion of cavalry was, according to numbers, on the average perhaps, not +much greater; of this we may convince ourselves by tracing, through the history +of the middle ages, the detailed statements of the armed forces then employed. +Let us only think of the masses of men on foot who composed the armies of the +Crusaders, or the masses who followed the Emperors of Germany on their Roman +expeditions. It was in reality the importance of the cavalry which was so much +greater in those days; it was the stronger arm, composed of the flower of the +people, so much so that, although always very much weaker actually in numbers, +it was still always looked upon as the chief thing, infantry was little valued, +hardly spoken of; hence has arisen the belief that its numbers were few. No +doubt it happened oftener than it does now, that in incursions of small +importance in France, Germany, and Italy, a small army was composed entirely of +cavalry; as it was the chief arm, there is nothing inconsistent in that; but +these cases decide nothing if we take a general view, as they are greatly +outnumbered by cases of greater armies of the period constituted differently. +It was only when the obligations to military service imposed by the feudal laws +had ceased, and wars were carried on by soldiers enlisted, hired, and +paid—when, therefore, wars depended on money and enlistment, that is, at +the time of the Thirty Years’ War, and the wars of Louis XIV.—that +this employment of great masses of almost useless infantry was checked, and +perhaps in those days they might have fallen into the exclusive use of cavalry, +if infantry had not just then risen in importance through the improvements in +fire-arms, by which means it maintained its numerical superiority in proportion +to cavalry; at this period, if infantry was weak, the proportion was as one to +one, if numerous as three to one. +</p> + +<p> +Since then cavalry has always decreased in importance according as improvements +in the use of fire-arms have advanced. This is intelligible enough in itself, +but the improvement we speak of does not relate solely to the weapon itself and +the skill in handling it; we advert also to greater ability in using troops +armed with this weapon. At the battle of Mollwitz the Prussian army had brought +the fire of their infantry to such a state of perfection, that there has been +no improvement since then in that sense. On the other hand, the use of infantry +in broken ground and as skirmishers has been introduced more recently, and is +to be looked upon as a very great advance in the art of destruction. +</p> + +<p> +Our opinion is, therefore, that the relation of cavalry has not much changed as +far as regards numbers, but as regards its importance, there has been a great +alteration. This seems to be a contradiction, but is not so in reality. The +infantry of the middle ages, although forming the greater proportion of an +army, did not attain to that proportion by its value as compared to cavalry, +but because all that could not be appointed to the very costly cavalry were +handed over to the infantry; this infantry was, therefore, merely a last +resource; and if the number of cavalry had depended merely on the value set on +that arm, it could never have been too great. Thus we can understand how +cavalry, in spite of its constantly decreasing importance, may still, perhaps, +have importance enough to keep its numerical relation at that point which it +has hitherto so constantly maintained. +</p> + +<p> +It is a remarkable fact that, at least since the wars of the Austrian +succession, the proportion of cavalry to infantry has changed very little, the +variation being constantly between a fourth, a fifth or a sixth; this seems to +indicate that those proportions meet the natural requirements of an army, and +that these numbers give the solution which it is impossible to find in a direct +manner. We doubt, however, if this is the case, and we find the principal +instances of the employment of a numerous cavalry sufficiently accounted for by +other causes. +</p> + +<p> +Austria and Russia are states which have kept up a numerous cavalry, because +they retain in their political condition the fragments of a Tartar +organisation. Buonaparte for his purposes could never be strong enough in +cavalry; when he had made use of the conscription as far as possible, he had no +ways of strengthening his armies, but by increasing the auxiliary arms, as they +cost him more in money than in men. Besides this, it stands to reason that in +military enterprises of such enormous extent as his, cavalry must have a +greater value than in ordinary cases. +</p> + +<p> +Frederick the Great it is well known reckoned carefully every recruit that +could be saved to his country; it was his great business to keep up the +strength of his army, as far as possible at the expense of other countries. His +reasons for this are easy to conceive, if we remember that his small dominions +did not then include Prussia and the Westphalian provinces. Cavalry was kept +complete by recruitment more easily than infantry, irrespective of fewer men +being required; in addition to which, his system of war was completely founded +on the mobility of his army, and thus it was, that while his infantry +diminished in number, his cavalry was always increasing itself till the end of +the Seven Years’ War. Still at the end of that war it was hardly more +than a fourth of the number of infantry that he had in the field. +</p> + +<p> +At the period referred to there is no want of instances, also of armies +entering the field unusually weak in cavalry, and yet carrying off the victory. +The most remarkable is the battle of Gross-gorschen. If we only count the +French divisions which took part in the battle, Buonaparte was 100,000 strong, +of which 5,000 were cavalry, 90,000 infantry; the Allies had 70,000, of which +25,000 were cavalry and 40,000 infantry. Thus, in place of the 20,000 cavalry +on the side of the Allies in excess of the total of the French cavalry, +Buonaparte had only 50,000 additional infantry when he ought to have had +100,000. As he gained the battle with that superiority in infantry, we may ask +whether it was at all likely that he would have lost it if the proportions had +been 140,000 to 40,000. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly the great advantage of our superiority in cavalry was shown +immediately after the battle, for Buonaparte gained hardly any trophies by his +victory. The gain of a battle is therefore not everything,—but is it not +always the chief thing? +</p> + +<p> +If we put together these considerations, we can hardly believe that the +numerical proportion between cavalry and infantry which has existed for the +last eighty years is the natural one, founded solely on their absolute value; +we are much rather inclined to think, that after many fluctuations, the +relative proportions of these arms will change further in the same direction as +hitherto, and that the fixed number of cavalry at last will be considerably +less. +</p> + +<p> +With respect to artillery, the number of guns has naturally increased since its +first invention, and according as it has been made lighter and otherwise +improved; still since the time of Frederick the Great, it has also kept very +much to the same proportion of two or three guns per 1,000 men, we mean at the +commencement of a campaign; for during its course artillery does not melt away +as fast as infantry, therefore at the end of a campaign the proportion is +generally notably greater, perhaps three, four, or five guns per 1,000 men. +Whether this is the natural proportion, or that the increase of artillery may +be carried still further, without prejudice to the whole conduct of war, must +be left for experience to decide. +</p> + +<p> +The principal results we obtain from the whole of these considerations, +are— +</p> + +<p> +1. That infantry is the chief arm, to which the other two are subordinate. +</p> + +<p> +2. That by the exercise of great skill and energy in command, the want of the +two subordinate arms may in some measure be compensated for, provided that we +are much stronger in infantry; and the better the infantry the easier this may +be done. +</p> + +<p> +3. That it is more difficult to dispense with artillery than with cavalry, +because it is the chief principle of destruction, and its mode of fighting is +more amalgamated with that of infantry. +</p> + +<p> +4. That artillery being the strongest arm, as regards destructive action, and +cavalry the weakest in that respect, the question must in general arise, how +much artillery can we have without inconvenience, and what is the least +proportion of cavalry we require? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap51"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Order of Battle of an Army</h3> + +<p> +The order of battle is that division and formation of the different arms into +separate parts or sections of the whole Army, and that form of general position +or disposition of those parts which is to be the norm throughout the whole +campaign or war. +</p> + +<p> +It consists, therefore, in a certain measure, of an arithmetical and a +geometrical element, <i>the division</i> and the <i>form of disposition</i>. +The first proceeds from the permanent peace organisation of the army; adopts as +units certain parts, such as battalions, squadrons, and batteries, and with +them forms units of a higher order up to the highest of all, the whole army, +according to the requirements of predominating circumstances. In like manner, +the form of disposition comes from the elementary tactics, in which the army is +instructed and exercised in time of peace, which must be looked upon as a +property in the troops that cannot be essentially modified at the moment war +breaks out, the disposition connects these tactics with the conditions which +the use of the troops in war and in large masses demands, and thus it settles +in a general way the rule or norm in conformity with which the troops are to be +drawn up for battle. +</p> + +<p> +This has been invariably the case when great armies have taken the field, and +there have been times when this form was considered as the most essential part +of the battle. +</p> + +<p> +In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when the improvements in the +firearms of infantry occasioned a great increase of that arm, and allowed of +its being deployed in such long thin lines, the order of battle was thereby +simplified, but, at the same time it became more difficult and more artificial +in the carrying out, and as no other way of disposing of cavalry at the +commencement of a battle was known but that of posting them on the wings, where +they were out of the fire and had room to move, therefore in the order of +battle the army always became a closed inseparable whole. If such an army was +divided in the middle, it was like an earthworm cut in two: the wings had still +life and the power of motion, but they had lost their natural functions. The +army lay, therefore, in a manner under a spell of unity, and whenever any parts +of it had to be placed in a separate position, a small organisation and +disorganisation became necessary. The marches which the whole army had to make +were a condition in which, to a certain extent, it found itself out of rule. If +the enemy was at hand, the march had to be arranged in the most artificial +manner, and in order that one line or one wing might be always at the +prescribed distance from the other, the troops had to scramble over everything: +marches had also constantly to be stolen from the enemy, and this perpetual +theft only escaped severe punishment through one circumstance, which was, that +the enemy lay under the same ban. +</p> + +<p> +Hence, when, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, it was discovered +that cavalry would serve just as well to protect a wing if it stood in rear of +the army as if it were placed on the prolongation of the line, and that, +besides this, it might be applied to other purposes than merely fighting a duel +with the enemy’s cavalry, a great step in advance was made, because now +the army in its principal extension or front, which is always the breadth of +its order of battle (position), consisted entirely of homogeneous members, so +that it could be formed of any number of parts at pleasure, each part like +another and like the whole. In this way it ceased to be one single piece and +became an articulated whole, consequently pliable and manageable: the parts +might be separated from the whole and then joined on again without difficulty, +the order of battle always remained the same.—Thus arose the corps +consisting of all arms, that is, thus such an organisation became possible, for +the want of it had been felt long before. +</p> + +<p> +That all this relates to the combat is very natural. The battle was formerly +the whole war, and will always continue to be the principal part of it; but, +the order of battle belongs generally more to tactics than strategy, and it is +only introduced here to show how tactics in organising the whole into smaller +wholes made preparations for strategy. +</p> + +<p> +The greater armies become, the more they are distributed over wide spaces and +the more diversified the action and reaction of the different parts amongst +themselves, the wider becomes the field of strategy, and, therefore, then the +order of battle, in the sense of our definition, must also come into a kind of +reciprocal action with strategy, which manifests itself chiefly at the extreme +points where tactics and strategy meet, that is, at those moments when the +general distribution of the combatant forces passes into the special +dispositions for the combat. +</p> + +<p> +We now turn to those three points, the <i>division, combination of arms</i>, +and <i>order of battle</i> (<i>disposition</i>) in a strategic point of view. +</p> + +<h4> +1.—Division. +</h4> + +<p> +In strategy we must never ask what is to be the strength of a division or a +corps, but how many corps or division an army should have. There is nothing +more unmanageable than an army divided into three parts, except it be one +divided into only two, in which case the chief command must be almost +neutralised. +</p> + +<p> +To fix the strength of great and small corps, either on the grounds of +elementary tactics or on higher grounds, leaves an incredibly wide field for +arbitrary judgment, and heaven knows what strange modes of reasoning have +sported in this wide field. On the other hand, the necessity of forming an +independent whole (army) into a certain number of parts is a thing as obvious +as it is positive, and this idea furnishes real strategic motives for +determining the number of the greater divisions of an army, consequently their +strength, whilst the strength of the smaller divisions, such as companies, +battalions, etc., is left to be determined by tactics. +</p> + +<p> +We can hardly imagine the smallest independent body in which there are not at +least three parts to be distinguished, that one part may be thrown out in +advance, and another part be left in rear: that four is still more convenient +follows of itself, if we keep in view that the middle part, being the principal +division, ought to be stronger than either of the others; in this way, we may +proceed to make out eight, which appears to us to be the most suitable number +for an army if we take one part for an advanced guard as a constant necessity, +three for the main body, that is a right wing, centre and left wing, two +divisions for reserve, and one to detach to the right, one to the left. Without +pedantically ascribing a great importance to these numbers and figures, we +certainly believe that they represent the most usual and frequently recurring +strategic disposition, and on that account one that is convenient. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly it seems that the supreme direction of an army (and the direction of +every whole) must be greatly facilitated if there are only three or four +subordinates to command, but the commander-in-chief must pay dearly for this +convenience in a twofold manner. In the first place, an order loses in +rapidity, force, and exactness if the gradation ladder down which it has to +descend is long, and this must be the case if there are corps-commanders +between the division leaders and the chief; secondly, the chief loses generally +in his own proper power and efficiency the wider the spheres of action of his +immediate subordinates become. A general commanding 100,000 men in eight +divisions exercises a power which is greater in intensity than if the 100,000 +men were divided into only three corps. There are many reasons for this, but +the most important is that each commander looks upon himself as having a kind +of proprietary right in his own corps, and always opposes the withdrawal from +him of any portion of it for a longer or shorter time. A little experience of +war will make this evident to any one. +</p> + +<p> +But on the other hand the number of divisions must not be too great, otherwise +disorder will ensue. It is difficult enough to manage eight divisions from one +head quarter, and the number should never be allowed to exceed ten. But in a +division in which the means of circulating orders are much less, the smaller +normal number four, or at most five, may be regarded as the more suitable. +</p> + +<p> +If these factors, five and ten, will not answer, that is, if the brigades are +too strong, then <i>corps d’armée</i> must be introduced; but we must +remember that by so doing, a new power is created, which at once very much +lowers all other factors. +</p> + +<p> +But now, what is too strong a brigade? The custom is to make them from 2,000 to +5,000 men strong, and there appear to be two reasons for making the latter +number the limit; the first is that a brigade is supposed to be a subdivision +which can be commanded by one man directly, that is, through the compass of his +voice: the second is that any larger body of infantry should not be left +without artillery, and through this first combination of arms a special +division of itself is formed. +</p> + +<p> +We do not wish to involve ourselves in these tactical subtilties, neither shall +we enter upon the disputed point, where and in what proportions the combination +of all three arms should take place, whether with divisions of 8,000 to 12,000 +men, or with corps which are 20,000 to 30,000 men strong. The most decided +opponent of these combinations will scarcely take exception at the mere +assertion, that nothing but this combination of the three arms can make a +division independent, and that therefore, for such as are intended to be +frequently detached separately, it is at least very desirable. +</p> + +<p> +An army of 200,000 men in ten divisions, the divisions composed of five +brigades each, would give brigades 4,000 strong. We see here no disproportion. +Certainly this army might also be divided into five corps, the corps into four +divisions, and the division into four brigades, which makes the brigade 2,500 +men strong; but the first distribution, looked at in the abstract, appears to +us preferable, for besides that, in the other, there is one more gradation of +rank, five parts are too few to make an army manageable; four divisions, in +like manner, are too few for a corps, and 2,500 men is a weak brigade, of +which, in this manner, there are eighty, whereas the first formation has only +fifty, and is therefore simpler. All these advantages are given up merely for +the sake of having only to send orders to half as many generals. Of course the +distribution into corps is still more unsuitable for smaller armies. +</p> + +<p> +This is the abstract view of the case. The particular case may present good +reasons for deciding otherwise. Likewise, we must admit that, although eight or +ten divisions may be directed when united in a level country, in widely +extended mountain positions the thing might perhaps be impossible. A great +river which divides an army into halves, makes a commander for each half +indispensable; in short, there are a hundred local and particular objects of +the most decisive character, before which all rules must give way. +</p> + +<p> +But still, experience teaches us, that these abstract grounds come most +frequently into use and are seldomer overruled by others than we should perhaps +suppose. +</p> + +<p> +We wish further to explain clearly the scope of the foregoing considerations by +a simple outline, for which purpose we now place the different points of most +importance next to each other. +</p> + +<p> +As we mean by the term numbers, or parts of a whole, only those which are made +by the primary, therefore the immediate division, we say. +</p> + +<p> +1. If a whole has too few members it is unwieldy. +</p> + +<p> +2. If the parts of a whole body are too large, the power of the superior will +is thereby weakened. +</p> + +<p> +3. With every additional step through which an order has to pass, it is +weakened in two ways: in one way by the loss of force, which it suffers in its +passage through an additional step; in another way by the longer time in its +transmission. +</p> + +<p> +The tendency of all this is to show that the number of co-ordinate divisions +should be as great, and the gradational steps as few as possible; and the only +limitation to this conclusion is, that in armies no more than from eight to +ten, and in subordinate corps no more than from four or at most six, +subdivisions can be conveniently directed. +</p> + +<h4> +2.—Combination of Arms. +</h4> + +<p> +For strategy the combination of the three arms in the order of battle is only +important in regard to those parts of the army which, according to the usual +order of things, are likely to be frequently employed in a detached position, +where they may be obliged to engage in an independent combat. Now it is in the +nature of things, that the members of the first class, and for the most part +only these, are destined for detached positions, because, as we shall see +elsewhere, detached positions are most generally adopted upon the supposition +and the necessity of a body independent in itself. +</p> + +<p> +In a strict sense strategy would therefore only require a permanent combination +of arms in army corps, or where these do not exist, in divisions, leaving it to +circumstances to determine when a provisional combination of the three arms +shall be made in subdivisions of an inferior order. +</p> + +<p> +But it is easy to see that, when corps are of considerable size, such as 30,000 +or 40,000 men, they can seldom find themselves in a situation to take up a +completely connected position in mass. With corps of such strength, a +combination of the arms in the divisions is therefore necessary. No one who has +had any experience in war, will treat lightly the delay which occurs when +pressing messages have to be sent to some other perhaps distant point before +cavalry can be brought to the support of infantry—to say nothing of the +confusion which takes place. +</p> + +<p> +The details of the combination of the three arms, how far it should extend, how +low down it should be carried, what proportions should be observed, the +strength of the reserves of each to be set apart—these are all purely +tactical considerations. +</p> + +<h4> +3.—The Disposition. +</h4> + +<p> +The determination as to the relations in space, according to which the parts of +an army amongst themselves are to be drawn up in order of battle, is likewise +completely a tactical subject, referring solely to the battle. No doubt there +is also a strategic disposition of the parts; but it depends almost entirely on +determinations and requirements of the moment, and what there is in it of the +rational, does not come within the meaning of the term “order of +battle.” We shall therefore treat of it in the following chapter under +the head of <i>Disposition of an Army</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The order of battle of an army is therefore the organisation and disposition of +it in mass ready prepared for battle. Its parts are united in such a manner +that both the tactical and strategical requirements of the moment can be easily +satisfied by the employment of single parts drawn from the general mass. When +such momentary exigency has passed over, these parts resume their original +place, and thus the order of battle becomes the first step to, and principal +foundation of, that wholesome methodicism which, like the beat of a pendulum, +regulates the work in war, and of which we have already spoken in the fourth +chapter of the Second Book. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap52"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>General Disposition of an Army</h3> + +<p> +Between the moment of the first assembling of military forces, and that of the +solution arrived at maturity when strategy has brought the army to the decisive +point, and each particular part has had its position and rôle pointed out by +tactics, there is in most cases a long interval; it is the same between one +decisive catastrophe and another. +</p> + +<p> +Formerly these intervals in a certain measure did not belong to war at all. +Take for example the manner in which Luxemburg encamped and marched. We single +out this general because he is celebrated for his camps and marches, and +therefore may be considered a representative general of his period, and from +the <i>Histoire de la Flandre militaire</i>, we know more about him than about +other generals of the time. +</p> + +<p> +The camp was regularly pitched with its rear close to a river, or morass, or a +deep valley, which in the present day would be considered madness. The +direction in which the enemy lay had so little to do with determining the front +of the army, that cases are very common in which the rear was towards the enemy +and the front towards their own country. This now unheard of mode of proceeding +is perfectly unintelligible, unless we suppose that in the choice of camps the +convenience of the troops was the chief, indeed almost the only consideration, +and therefore look upon the state of being in camp as a state outside of the +action of war, a kind of withdrawal behind the scenes, where one is quite at +ease. The practice of always resting the rear upon some obstacle may be +reckoned the only measure of security which was then taken, of course, in the +sense of the mode of conducting war in that day, for such a measure was quite +inconsistent with the possibility of being compelled to fight in that position. +But there was little reason for apprehension on that score, because the battles +generally depended on a kind of mutual understanding, like a duel, in which the +parties repair to a convenient rendezvous. As armies, partly on account of +their numerous cavalry, which in the decline of its splendour was still +regarded, particularly by the French, as the principal arm, partly on account +of the unwieldy organisation of their order of battle, could not fight in every +description of country, an army in a close broken country was as it were under +the protection of a neutral territory, and as it could itself make but little +use of broken ground, therefore, it was deemed preferable to go to meet an +enemy seeking battle. We know, indeed, that Luxemburg’s battles at +Fleurus, Stienkirk, and Neerwinden, were conceived in a different spirit; but +this spirit had only just then under this great general freed itself from the +old method, and it had not yet reacted on the method of encampment. Alterations +in the art of war originate always in matters of a decisive nature, and then +lead by degrees to modifications in other things. The expression <i>il va à la +guerre</i>, used in reference to a partizan setting out to watch the enemy, +shows how little the state of an army in camp was considered to be a state of +real warfare. +</p> + +<p> +It was not much otherwise with the marches, for the artillery then separated +itself completely from the rest of the army, in order to take advantage of +better and more secure roads, and the cavalry on the wings generally took the +right alternately, that each might have in turn its share of the honour of +marching on the right. +</p> + +<p> +At present (that is, chiefly since the Silesian wars) the situation out of +battle is so thoroughly influenced by its connection with battle that the two +states are in intimate correlation, and the one can no longer be completely +imagined without the other. Formerly in a campaign the battle was the real +weapon, the situation at other times only the handle—the former the steel +blade, the other the wooden haft glued to it, the whole therefore composed of +heterogeneous parts,—now the battle is the edge, the situation out of the +battle the back of the blade, the whole to be looked upon as metal completely +welded together, in which it is impossible any longer to distinguish where the +steel ends and the iron begins. +</p> + +<p> +This state in war outside of the battle is now partly regulated by the +organisation and regulations with which the army comes prepared from a state of +peace, partly by the tactical and strategic arrangements of the moment. The +three situations in which an army may be placed are in quarters, on a march, or +in camp. All three belong as much to tactics as to strategy, and these two +branches, bordering on each other here in many ways, often seem to, or actually +do, incorporate themselves with each other, so that many dispositions may be +looked upon at the same time as both tactical and strategic. +</p> + +<p> +We shall treat of these three situations of an army outside of the combat in a +general way, before any special objects come into connection with them; but we +must, first of all, consider the general disposition of the forces, because +that is a superior and more comprehensive measure, determining as respects +camps, cantonments, and marches. +</p> + +<p> +If we look at the disposition of the forces in a general way, that is, leaving +out of sight any special object, we can only imagine it as a unit, that is, as +a whole, intended to fight all together, for any deviation from this simplest +form would imply a special object. Thus arises, therefore, the conception of an +army, let it be small or large. +</p> + +<p> +Further, when there is an absence of any special end, there only remains as the +sole object the preservation of the army itself, which of course includes its +security. That the army shall be able to exist without inconvenience, and that +it shall be able to concentrate without difficulty for the purpose of fighting, +are, therefore, the two requisite conditions. From these result, as desirable, +the following points more immediately applying to subjects concerning the +existence and security of the army. +</p> + +<p> +1. Facility of subsistence. +</p> + +<p> +2. Facility of providing shelter for the troops. +</p> + +<p> +3. Security of the rear. +</p> + +<p> +4. An open country in front. +</p> + +<p> +5. The position itself in a broken country. +</p> + +<p> +6. Strategic points d’appui. +</p> + +<p> +7. A suitable distribution of the troops. +</p> + +<p> +Our elucidation of these several points is as follows: +</p> + +<p> +The first two lead us to seek out cultivated districts, and great towns and +roads. They determine measures in general rather than in particular. +</p> + +<p> +In the chapter on lines of communication will be found what we mean by security +of the rear. The first and most important point in this respect is that the +centre of the position should be at a right angle with the principal line of +retreat adjoining the position. +</p> + +<p> +Respecting the fourth point, an army certainly cannot look over an expanse of +country in its front as it overlooks the space directly before it when in a +tactical position for battle. But the strategic eyes are the advanced guard, +scouts and patrols sent forward, spies, etc., etc., and the service will +naturally be easier for these in an open than in an intersected country. The +fifth point is merely the reverse of the fourth. +</p> + +<p> +Strategical points d’appui differ from tactical in these two respects, +that the army need not be in immediate contact with them, and that, on the +other hand, they must be of greater extent. The cause of this is that, +according to the nature of the thing, the relations to time and space in which +strategy moves are generally on a greater scale than those of tactics. If, +therefore, an army posts itself at a distance of a mile from the sea coast or +the banks of a great river, it leans strategically on these obstacles, for the +enemy cannot make use of such a space as this to effect a strategic turning +movement. Within its narrow limits he cannot adventure on marches miles in +length, occupying days and weeks. On the other hand, in strategy, a lake of +several miles in circumference is hardly to be looked upon as an obstacle; in +its proceedings, a few miles to the right or left are not of much consequence. +Fortresses will become strategic points d’appui, according as they are +large, and afford a wide sphere of action for offensive combinations. +</p> + +<p> +The disposition of the army in separate masses may be done with a view either +to special objects and requirements, or to those of a general nature; here we +can only speak of the latter. +</p> + +<p> +The first general necessity is to push forward the advanced guard and the other +troops required to watch the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +The second is that, with very large armies, the reserves are usually placed +several miles in rear, and consequently occupy a separate position. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, the covering of both wings of an army usually requires a separate +disposition of particular corps. +</p> + +<p> +By this covering it is not at all meant that a portion of the army is to be +detached to defend the space round its wings, in order to prevent the enemy +from approaching these weak points, as they are called: who would then defend +the wings of these flanking corps? This kind of idea, which is so common, is +complete nonsense. The wings of an army are in themselves not weak points of an +army for this reason, that the enemy also has wings, and cannot menace ours +without placing his own in jeopardy. It is only if circumstances are unequal, +if the enemy’s army is larger than ours, if his lines of communication +are more secure (see Lines of Communication), it is only then that the wings +become weak parts; but of these special cases we are not now speaking, +therefore, neither of a case in which a flanking corps is appointed in +connection with other combinations to defend effectually the space on our +wings, for that no longer belongs to the category of general dispositions. +</p> + +<p> +But although the wings are not particularly weak parts still they are +particularly important, because here, on account of flanking movements the +defence is not so simple as in front, measures are more complicated and require +more time and preparation. For this reason it is necessary in the majority of +cases to protect the wings specially against unforeseen enterprises on the part +of the enemy, and this is done by placing stronger masses on the wings than +would be required for mere purposes of observation. To press heavily these +masses, even if they oppose no very serious resistance, more time is required, +and the stronger they are the more the enemy must develop his forces and his +intentions, and by that means the object of the measure is attained; what is to +be done further depends on the particular plans of the moment. We may therefore +regard corps placed on the wings as lateral advanced guards, intended to retard +the advance of the enemy through the space beyond our wings and give us time to +make dispositions to counteract his movement. +</p> + +<p> +If these corps are to fall back on the main body and the latter is not to make +a backward movement at the same time, then it follows of itself that they must +not be in the same line with the front of the main body, but thrown out +somewhat forwards, because when a retreat is to be made, even without being +preceded by a serious engagement, they should not retreat directly on the side +of the position. +</p> + +<p> +From these reasons of a subjective nature, as they relate to the inner +organisation of an army, there arises a natural system of disposition, composed +of four or five parts according as the reserve remains with the main body or +not. +</p> + +<p> +As the subsistence and shelter of the troops partly decide the choice of a +position in general, so also they contribute to a disposition in separate +divisions. The attention which they demand comes into consideration along with +the other considerations above mentioned; and we seek to satisfy the one +without prejudice to the other. In most cases, by the division of an army into +five separate corps, the difficulties of subsistence and quartering will be +overcome, and no great alteration will afterwards be required on their account. +</p> + +<p> +We have still to cast a glance at the distances at which these separated corps +may be allowed to be placed, if we are to retain in view the advantage of +mutual support, and, therefore, of concentrating for battle. On this subject we +remind our readers of what is said in the chapters on the duration and decision +of the combat, according to which no absolute distance, but only the most +general, as it were, average rules can be given, because absolute and relative +strength of arms and country have a great influence. +</p> + +<p> +The distance of the advanced guard is the easiest to fix, as in retreating it +falls back on the main body of the army, and, therefore, may be at all events +at a distance of a long day’s march without incurring the risk of being +obliged to fight an independent battle. But it should not be sent further in +advance than the security of the army requires, because the further it has to +fall back the more it suffers. +</p> + +<p> +Respecting corps on the flanks, as we have already said, the combat of an +ordinary division of 8000 to 10,000 men usually lasts for several hours, even +for half a day before it is decided; on that account, therefore, there need be +no hesitation in placing such a division at a distance of some leagues or one +or two miles, and for the same reason, corps of three or four divisions may be +detached a day’s march or a distance of three or four miles. +</p> + +<p> +From this natural and general disposition of the main body, in four or five +divisions at particular distances, a certain method has arisen of dividing an +army in a mechanical manner whenever there are no strong special reasons +against this ordinary method. +</p> + +<p> +But although we assume that each of these distinct parts of an army shall be +competent to undertake an independent combat, and it may be obliged to engage +in one, it does not therefore by any means follow that the real object of +fractioning an army is that the parts should fight separately; the necessity +for this distribution of the army is mostly only a condition of existence +imposed by time. If the enemy approaches our position to try the fate of a +general action, the strategic period is over, everything concentrates itself +into the one moment of the battle, and therewith terminates and vanishes the +object of the distribution of the army. As soon as the battle commences, +considerations about quarters and subsistence are suspended; the observation of +the enemy before our front and on our flanks has fulfilled the purpose of +checking his advance by a partial resistance, and now all resolves itself into +the one great unit—the great battle. The best criterion of skill in the +disposition of an army lies in the proof that the distribution has been +considered merely as a condition, as a necessary evil, but that united action +in battle has been considered the object of the disposition. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap53"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>Advanced Guard and Out-Posts</h3> + +<p> +These two bodies belong to that class of subjects into which both the tactical +and strategic threads run simultaneously. On the one hand we must reckon them +amongst those provisions which give form to the battle and ensure the execution +of tactical plans; on the other hand, they frequently lead to independent +combats, and on account of their position, more or less distant from the main +body, they are to be regarded as links in the strategic chain, and it is this +very feature which obliges us to supplement the preceding chapter by devoting a +few moments to their consideration. +</p> + +<p> +Every body of troops, when not completely in readiness for battle, requires an +advanced guard to learn the approach of the enemy, and to gain further +particulars respecting his force before he comes in sight, for the range of +vision, as a rule, does not go much beyond the range of firearms. But what sort +of man would he be who could not see farther than his arms can reach! The +foreposts are the eyes of the army, as we have already said. The want of them, +however, is not always equally great; it has its degrees. The strength of +armies and the extent of ground they cover, time, place, contingencies, the +method of making war, even chance, are all points which have an influence in +the matter; and, therefore, we cannot wonder that military history, instead of +furnishing any definite and simple outlines of the method of using advanced +guards and outposts, only presents the subject in a kind of chaos of examples +of the most diversified nature. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes we see the security of an army intrusted to a corps regularly +appointed to the duty of advanced guard; at another time a long line of +separate outposts; sometimes both these arrangements co-exist, sometimes +neither one nor the other; at one time there is only one advanced guard in +common for the whole of the advancing columns; at another time, each column has +its own advanced guard. We shall endeavour to get a clear idea of what the +subject really is, and then see whether we can arrive at some principles +capable of application. +</p> + +<p> +If the troops are on the march, a detachment of more or less strength forms its +van or advanced guard, and in case of the movement of the army being reversed, +this same detachment will form the rearguard. If the troops are in cantonments +or camp, an extended line of weak posts, forms the vanguard, <i>the +outposts</i>. It is essentially in the nature of things, that, when the army is +halted, a greater extent of space can and must be watched than when the army is +in motion, and therefore in the one case the conception of a chain of posts, in +the other that of a concentrated corps arises of itself. +</p> + +<p> +The actual strength of an advanced guard, as well as of outposts, ranges from a +considerable corps, composed of an organisation of all three arms, to a +regiment of hussars, and from a strongly entrenched defensive line, occupied by +portions of troops from each arm of the service, to mere outlying pickets, and +their supports detached from the camp. The services assigned to such vanguards +range also from those of mere observation to an offer of opposition or +resistance to the enemy, and this opposition may not only be to give the main +body of the army the time which it requires to prepare for battle, but also to +make the enemy develop his plans, and intentions, which consequently makes the +observation far more important. +</p> + +<p> +According as more or less time is required to be gained, according as the +opposition to be offered is calculated upon and intended to meet the special +measures of the enemy, so accordingly must the strength of the advanced guard +and outposts be proportioned. +</p> + +<p> +Frederick the Great, a general above all others ever ready for battle, and who +almost directed his army in battle by word of command, never required strong +outposts. We see him therefore constantly encamping close under the eyes of the +enemy, without any great apparatus of outposts, relying for his security, at +one place on a hussar regiment, at another on a light battalion, or perhaps on +the pickets, and supports furnished from the camp. On the march, a few thousand +horse, generally furnished by the cavalry on the flanks of the first line, +formed his advanced guard, and at the end of the march rejoined the main body. +He very seldom had any corps permanently employed as advanced guard. +</p> + +<p> +When it is the intention of a small army, by using the whole weight of its mass +with great vigour and activity, to make the enemy feel the effect of its +superior discipline and the greater resolution of its commander, then almost +every thing must be done <i>sous la barbe de l’ennemi</i>, in the same +way as Frederick the Great did when opposed to Daun. A system of holding back +from the enemy, and a very formal, and extensive system of outposts would +neutralise all the advantages of the above kind of superiority. The +circumstance that an error of another kind, and the carrying out +Frederick’s system too far, may lead to a battle of Hochkirch, is no +argument against this method of acting; we should rather say, that as there was +only one battle of Hochkirch in all the Silesian war, we ought to recognise in +this system a proof of the King’s consummate ability. +</p> + +<p> +Napoleon, however, who commanded an army not deficient in discipline and +firmness, and who did not want for resolution himself, never moved without a +strong advanced guard. There are two reasons for this. +</p> + +<p> +The first is to be found in the alteration in tactics. A whole army is no +longer led into battle as one body by mere word of command, to settle the +affair like a great duel by more or less skill and bravery; the combatants on +each side now range their forces more to suit the peculiarities of the ground +and circumstances, so that the order of battle, and consequently the battle +itself, is a whole made up of many parts, from which there follows, that the +simple determination to fight becomes a regularly formed plan, and the word of +command a more or less long preparatory arrangement. For this time and data are +required. +</p> + +<p> +The second cause lies in the great size of modern armies. Frederick brought +thirty or forty thousand men into battle; Napoleon from one to two hundred +thousand. +</p> + +<p> +We have selected these examples because every one will admit, that two such +generals would never have adopted any systematic mode of proceeding without +some good reason. Upon the whole, there has been a general improvement in the +use of advanced guards and outposts in modern wars; not that every one acted as +Frederick, even in the Silesian wars, for at that time the Austrians had a +system of strong outposts, and frequently sent forward a corps as advanced +guard, for which they had sufficient reason from the situation in which they +were placed. Just in the same way we find differences enough in the mode of +carrying on war in more modern times. Even the French Marshals Macdonald in +Silesia, Oudinot and Ney in the Mark (Brandenburg), advanced with armies of +sixty or seventy thousand men, without our reading of their having had any +advanced guard.—We have hitherto been discussing advanced guards and +outposts in relation to their numerical strength; but there is another +difference which we must settle. It is that, when an army advances or retires +on a certain breadth of ground, it may have a van and rear guard in common for +all the columns which are marching side by side, or each column may have one +for itself. In order to form a clear idea on this subject, we must look at it +in this way. +</p> + +<p> +The fundamental conception of an advanced guard, when a corps is so specially +designated, is that its mission is the security of the main body or centre of +the army. If this main body is marching upon several contiguous roads so close +together that they can also easily serve for the advanced guard, and therefore +be covered by it, then the flank columns naturally require no special covering. +</p> + +<p> +But those corps which are moving at great distances, in reality as detached +corps, must provide their own van-guards. The same applies also to any of those +corps which belong to the central mass, and owing to the direction that the +roads may happen to take, are too far from the centre column. Therefore there +will be as many advanced guards, as there are columns virtually separated from +each other; if each of these advanced guards is much weaker than one general +one would be, then they fall more into the class of other tactical +dispositions, and there is no advanced guard in the strategic tableau. But if +the main body or centre has a much larger corps for its advanced guard, then +that corps will appear as the advanced guard of the whole, and will be so in +many respects. +</p> + +<p> +But what can be the reason for giving the centre a van-guard so much stronger +than the wings? The following three reasons. +</p> + +<p> +1. Because the mass of troops composing the centre is usually much more +considerable. +</p> + +<p> +2. Because plainly the central point of a strip of country along which the +front of an army is extended must always be the most important point, as all +the combinations of the campaign relate mostly to it, and therefore the field +of battle is also usually nearer to it than to the wings. +</p> + +<p> +3. Because, although a corps thrown forward in front of the centre does not +directly protect the wings as a real vanguard, it still contributes greatly to +their security indirectly. For instance, the enemy cannot in ordinary cases +pass by such a corps within a certain distance in order to effect any +enterprise of importance against one of the wings, because he has to fear an +attack in flank and rear. Even if this check which a corps thrown forward in +the centre imposes on the enemy is not sufficient to constitute complete +security for the wings, it is at all events sufficient to relieve the flanks +from all apprehension in a great many cases. +</p> + +<p> +The van-guard of the centre, if much stronger than that of a wing, that is to +say, if it consists of a special corps as advanced guard, has then not merely +the mission of a van-guard intended to protect the troops in its rear from +sudden surprise; it also operates in more general strategic relations as an +army corps thrown forward in advance. +</p> + +<p> +The following are the purposes for which such a corps may be used, and +therefore those which determine its duties in practice. +</p> + +<p> +1. To insure a stouter resistance, and make the enemy advance with more +caution; consequently to do the duties of a van-guard on a greater scale, +whenever our arrangements are such as to require time before they can be +carried into effect. +</p> + +<p> +2. If the central mass of the army is very large, to be able to keep this +unwieldy body at some distance from the enemy, while we still remain close to +him with a more moveable body of troops. +</p> + +<p> +3. That we may have a corps of observation close to the enemy, if there are any +other reasons which require us to keep the principal mass of the army at a +considerable distance. +</p> + +<p> +The idea that weaker look-out posts, mere partisan corps, might answer just as +well for this observation is set aside at once if we reflect how easily a weak +corps might be dispersed, and how very limited also are its means of +observation as compared with those of a considerable corps. +</p> + +<p> +4. In the pursuit of the enemy. A single corps as advanced guard, with the +greater part of the cavalry attached to it, can move quicker, arriving later at +its bivouac, and moving earlier in the morning than the whole mass. +</p> + +<p> +5. Lastly, on a retreat, as rearguard, to be used in defending the principal +natural obstacles of ground. In this respect also the centre is exceedingly +important. At first sight it certainly appears as if such a rearguard would be +constantly in danger of having its flanks turned. But we must remember that, +even if the enemy succeeds in overlapping the flanks to some extent, he has +still to march the whole way from there to the centre before he can seriously +threaten the central mass, which gives time to the rearguard of the centre to +prolong its resistance, and remain in rear somewhat longer. On the other hand, +the situation becomes at once critical if the centre falls back quicker than +the wings; there is immediately an appearance as if the line had been broken +through, and even the very idea or appearance of that is to be dreaded. At no +time is there a greater necessity for concentration and holding together, and +at no time is this more sensibly felt by every one than on a retreat. The +intention always is, that the wings in case of extremity should close upon the +centre; and if, on account of subsistence and roads, the retreat has to be made +on a considerable width (of country), still the movement generally ends by a +concentration on the centre. If we add to these considerations also this one, +that the enemy usually advances with his principal force in the centre and with +the greatest energy against the centre, we must perceive that the rear guard of +the centre is of special importance. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, therefore, a special corps should always be thrown forward as an +advanced guard in every case where one of the above relations occurs. These +relations almost fall to the ground if the centre is not stronger than the +wings, as, for example, Macdonald when he advanced against Blücher, in Silesia, +in 1813, and the latter, when he made his movement towards the Elbe. Both of +them had three corps, which usually moved in three columns by different roads, +the heads of the columns in line. On this account no mention is made of their +having had advanced guards. +</p> + +<p> +But this disposition in three columns of equal strength is one which is by no +means to be recommended, partly on that account, and also because the division +of a whole army into three parts makes it very unmanageable, as stated in the +fifth chapter of the third book. +</p> + +<p> +When the whole is formed into a centre with two wings separate from it, which +we have represented in the preceding chapter as the most natural formation as +long as there is no particular object for any other, the corps forming the +advanced guard, according to the simplest notion of the case, will have its +place in front of the centre, and therefore before the line which forms the +front of the wings; but as the first object of corps thrown out on the flanks +is to perform the same office for the sides as the advanced guard for the +front, it will very often happen that these corps will be in line with the +advanced guard, or even still further thrown forward, according to +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +With respect to the strength of an advanced guard we have little to say, as now +very properly it is the general custom to detail for that duty one or more +component parts of the army of the first class, reinforced by part of the +cavalry: so that it consists of a corps, if the army is formed in corps; of a +division, if the organisation is in divisions. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to perceive that in this respect also the great number of higher +members or divisions is an advantage. +</p> + +<p> +How far the advanced guard should be pushed to the front must entirely depend +on circumstances; there are cases in which it may be more than a day’s +march in advance, and others in which it should be immediately before the front +of the army. If we find that in most cases between one and three miles is the +distance chosen, that shows certainly that circumstances have usually pointed +out this distance as the best; but we cannot make of it a rule by which we are +to be always guided. +</p> + +<p> +In the foregoing observations we have lost sight altogether of <i>outposts</i>, +and therefore we must now return to them again. +</p> + +<p> +In saying, at the commencement, that the relations between outposts and +stationary troops is similar to that between advanced guards and troops in +motion, our object was to refer the conceptions back to their origin, and keep +them distinct in future; but it is clear that if we confine ourselves strictly +to the words we should get little more than a pedantic distinction. +</p> + +<p> +If an army on the march halts at night to resume the march next morning, the +advanced guard must naturally do the same, and always organise the outpost +duty, required both for its own security and that of the main body, without on +that account being changed from an advanced guard into a line of outposts. To +satisfy the notion of that transformation, the advanced guard would have to be +completely broken up into a chain of small posts, having either only a very +small force, or none at all in a form approaching to a mass. In other words, +the idea of a line of outposts must predominate over that of a concentrated +corps. +</p> + +<p> +The shorter the time of rest of the army, the less complete does the covering +of the army require to be, for the enemy has hardly time to learn from day to +day what is covered and what is not. The longer the halt is to be the more +complete must be the observation and covering of all points of approach. As a +rule, therefore, when the halt is long, the vanguard becomes always more and +more extended into a line of posts. Whether the change becomes complete, or +whether the idea of a concentrated corps shall continue uppermost, depends +chiefly on two circumstances. The first is the proximity of the contending +armies, the second is the nature of the country. +</p> + +<p> +If the armies are very close in comparison to the width of their front, then it +will often be impossible to post a vanguard between them, and the armies are +obliged to place their dependence on a chain of outposts. +</p> + +<p> +A concentrated corps, as it covers the approaches to the army less directly, +generally requires more time and space to act efficiently; and therefore, if +the army covers a great extent of front, as in cantonments, and a corps +standing in mass is to cover all the avenues of approach, it is necessary that +we should be at a considerable distance from the enemy; on this account winter +quarters, for instance, are generally covered by a cordon of posts. +</p> + +<p> +The second circumstance is the nature of the country; where, for example, any +formidable obstacle of ground affords the means of forming a strong line of +posts with but few troops, we should not neglect to take advantage of it. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, in winter quarters, the rigour of the season may also be a reason for +breaking up the advanced guard into a line of posts, because it is easier to +find shelter for it in that way. +</p> + +<p> +The use of a reinforced line of outposts was brought to great perfection by the +Anglo-Dutch army, during the campaign of 1794 and 1795, in the Netherlands, +when the line of defence was formed by brigades composed of all arms, in single +posts, and supported by a reserve. Scharnhorst, who was with that army, +introduced this system into the Prussian army on the Passarge in 1807. +Elsewhere in modern times, it has been little adopted, chiefly because the wars +have been too rich in movement. But even when there has been occasion for its +use it has been neglected, as for instance, by Murat, at Tarutino. A wider +extension of his defensive line would have spared him the loss of thirty pieces +of artillery in a combat of out-posts. +</p> + +<p> +It cannot be disputed that in certain circumstances, great advantages may be +derived from this system. We propose to return to the subject on another +occasion. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap54"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Mode of Action of Advanced Corps</h3> + +<p> +We have just seen how the security of the army is expected, from the effect +which an advanced guard and flank corps produce on an advancing enemy. Such +corps are always to be considered as very weak whenever we imagine them in +conflict with the main body of the enemy, and therefore a peculiar mode of +using them is required, that they may fulfil the purpose for which they are +intended, without incurring the risk of the serious loss which is to be feared +from this disproportion in strength. +</p> + +<p> +The object of a corps of this description, is to observe the enemy, and to +delay his progress. +</p> + +<p> +For the first of these purposes a smaller body would never be sufficient, +partly because it would be more easily driven back, partly because its means of +observation that is its eyes could not reach as far. +</p> + +<p> +But the observation must be carried to a high point; the enemy must be made to +develop his whole strength before such a corps, and thereby reveal to a certain +extent, not only his force, but also his plans. +</p> + +<p> +For this its mere presence would be sufficient, and it would only be necessary +to wait and see the measures by which the enemy seeks to drive it back, and +then commence its retreat at once. +</p> + +<p> +But further, it must also delay the advance of the enemy, and that implies +actual resistance. +</p> + +<p> +Now how can we conceive this waiting until the last moment, as well as this +resistance, without such a corps being in constant danger of serious loss? +Chiefly in this way, that the enemy himself is preceded by an advanced guard, +and therefore does not advance at once with all the outflanking and +overpowering weight of his whole force. Now, if this advance guard is also from +the commencement superior to our advanced corps, as we may naturally suppose it +is intended it should be, and if the enemy’s main body is also nearer to +his advanced guard than we are to ours, and if that main body, being already on +the march, will soon be on the spot to support the attack of his advanced guard +with all his strength, still this first act, in which our advanced corps has to +contend with the enemy’s advanced guard, that is with a force not much +exceeding its own, ensures at once a certain gain of time, and thus allows of +our watching the adversary’s movements for some time without endangering +our own retreat. +</p> + +<p> +But even a certain amount of resistance which such a corps can offer in a +suitable position is not attended with such disadvantage as we might anticipate +in other cases through the disproportion in the strength of the forces engaged. +The chief danger in a contest with a superior enemy consists always in the +possibility of being turned and placed in a critical situation by the enemy +enveloping our position; but in the case to which our attention is now +directed, a risk of this description is very much less, owing to the advancing +enemy never knowing exactly how near there may be support from the main body of +his opponent’s army itself, which may place his advanced column between +two fires. The consequence is, that the enemy in advancing keeps the heads of +his single columns as nearly as possible in line, and only begins very +cautiously to attempt to turn one or other wing after he has sufficiently +reconnoitred our position. While the enemy is thus feeling about and moving +guardedly, the corps we have thrown forward has time to fall back before it is +in any serious danger. +</p> + +<p> +As for the length of the resistance which such a corps should offer against the +attack in front, or against the commencement of any turning movement, that +depends chiefly on the nature of the ground and the proximity of the +enemy’s supports. If this resistance is continued beyond its natural +measure, either from want of judgment or from a sacrifice being necessary in +order to give the main body the time it requires, the consequence must always +be a very considerable loss. +</p> + +<p> +It is only in rare instances, and more especially when some local obstacle is +favourable, that the resistance actually made in such a combat can be of +importance, and the duration of the little battle of such a corps would in +itself be hardly sufficient to gain the time required; that time is really +gained in a threefold manner, which lies in the nature of the thing, viz.: +</p> + +<p> +1. By the more cautious, and consequently slower advance of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +2. By the duration of the actual resistance offered. +</p> + +<p> +3. By the retreat itself. +</p> + +<p> +This retreat must be made as slowly as is consistent with safety. If the +country affords good positions they should be made use of, as that obliges the +enemy to organise fresh attacks and plans for turning movements, and by that +means more time is gained. Perhaps in a new position a real combat even may +again be fought. +</p> + +<p> +We see that the opposition to the enemy’s progress by actual fighting and +the retreat are completely combined with one another, and that the shortness of +the duration of the fights must be made up for by their frequent repetition. +</p> + +<p> +This is the kind of resistance which an advanced corps should offer. The degree +of effect depends chiefly on the strength of the corps, and the configuration +of the country; next on the length of the road which the corps has to march +over, and the support which it receives. +</p> + +<p> +A small body, even when the forces on both sides are equal can never make as +long a stand as a considerable corps; for the larger the masses the more time +they require to complete their action, of whatever kind it may be. In a +mountainous country the mere marching is of itself slower, the resistance in +the different positions longer, and attended with less danger, and at every +step favourable positions may be found. +</p> + +<p> +As the distance to which a corps is pushed forward increases so will the length +of its retreat, and therefore also the absolute gain of time by its resistance; +but as such a corps by its position has less power of resistance in itself, and +is less easily reinforced, its retreat must be made more rapidly in proportion +than if it stood nearer the main body, and had a shorter distance to traverse. +</p> + +<p> +The support and means of rallying afforded to an advanced corps must naturally +have an influence on the duration of the resistance, as all the time that +prudence requires for the security of the retreat is so much taken from the +resistance, and therefore diminishes its amount. +</p> + +<p> +There is a marked difference in the time gained by the resistance of an +advanced corps when the enemy makes his first appearance after midday; in such +a case the length of the night is so much additional time gained, as the +advance is seldom continued throughout the night. Thus it was that, in 1815, on +the short distance from Charleroi to Ligny, not more than two miles,(*) the +first Prussian corps under General Ziethen, about 30,000 strong, against +Buonaparte at the head of 120,000 men, was enabled to gain twenty-four hours +for the Prussian army then engaged in concentrating. The first attack was made +on General Ziethen about nine o’clock on the morning of 15th June, and +the battle of Ligny did not commence until about two on the afternoon of 16th. +General Ziethen suffered, it is true, very considerable loss, amounting to five +or six thousand men killed, wounded or prisoners. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Here, as well as elsewhere, by the word mile, the German mile is +meant.—Tr. +</p> + +<p> +If we refer to experience the following are the results, which may serve as a +basis in any calculations of this kind. +</p> + +<p> +A division of ten or twelve thousand men, with a proportion of cavalry, a +day’s march of three or four miles in advance in an ordinary country, not +particularly strong, will be able to detain the enemy (including time occupied +in the retreat) about half as long again as he would otherwise require to march +over the same ground, but if the division is only a mile in advance, then the +enemy ought to be detained about twice or three times as long as he otherwise +would be on the march. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore supposing the distance to be a march of four miles, for which usually +ten hours are required, then from the moment that the enemy appears in force in +front of the advanced corps, we may reckon upon fifteen hours before he is in a +condition to attack our main body. On the other hand, if the advanced guard is +posted only a mile in advance, then the time which will elapse before our army +can be attacked will be more than three or four hours, and may very easily come +up to double that, for the enemy still requires just as much time to mature his +first measures against our advanced guard, and the resistance offered by that +guard in its original position will be greater than it would be in a position +further forward. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence is, that in the first of these supposed cases the enemy cannot +easily make an attack on our main body on the same day that he presses back the +advanced corps, and this exactly coincides with the results of experience. Even +in the second case the enemy must succeed in driving our advanced guard from +its ground in the first half of the day to have the requisite time for a +general action. +</p> + +<p> +As the night comes to our help in the first of these supposed cases, we see how +much time may be gained by an advanced guard thrown further forward. +</p> + +<p> +With reference to corps placed on the sides or flanks, the object of which we +have before explained, the mode of action is in most cases more or less +connected with circumstances which belong to the province of immediate +application. The simplest way is to look upon them as advanced guards placed on +the sides, which being at the same time thrown out somewhat in advance, retreat +in an oblique direction upon the army. +</p> + +<p> +As these corps are not immediately in the front of the army, and cannot be so +easily supported as a regular advanced guard, they would, therefore, be exposed +to greater danger if it was not that the enemy’s offensive power in most +cases is somewhat less at the outer extremities of his line, and in the worst +cases such corps have sufficient room to give way without exposing the army so +directly to danger as a flying advanced guard would in its rapid retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The most usual and best means of supporting an advanced corps is by a +considerable body of cavalry, for which reason, when necessary from the +distance at which the corps is advanced, the reserve cavalry is posted between +the main body and the advanced corps. +</p> + +<p> +The conclusion to be drawn from the preceding reflections is, that an advanced +corps effects more by its presence than by its efforts, less by the combats in +which it engages than by the possibility of those in which it might engage: +that it should never attempt to stop the enemy’s movements, but only +serve like a pendulum to moderate and regulate them, so that they may be made +matter of calculation. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap55"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>Camps</h3> + +<p> +We are now considering the three situations of an army outside of the combat +only strategically, that is, so far as they are conditioned by place, time, and +the number of the effective force. All those subjects which relate to the +internal arrangement of the combat and the transition into the state of combat +belong to tactics. +</p> + +<p> +The disposition in camps, under which we mean every disposition of an army +except in quarters, whether it be in tents, huts, or bivouac, is strategically +completely identical with the combat which is contingent upon such disposition. +Tactically, it is not so always, for we can, for many reasons, choose a site +for encamping which is not precisely identical with the proposed field of +battle. Having already said all that is necessary on the disposition of an +army, that is, on the position of the different parts, we have only to make +some observations on camps in connection with their history. +</p> + +<p> +In former times, that is, before armies grew once more to considerable +dimensions, before wars became of greater duration, and their partial acts +brought into connection with a whole or general plan, and up to the time of the +war of the French Revolution, armies always used tents. This was their normal +state. With the commencement of the mild season of the year they left their +quarters, and did not again take them up until winter set in. Winter quarters +at that time must to a certain extent be looked upon as a state of no war, for +in them the forces were neutralised, the whole clockwork stopped, quarters to +refresh an army which preceded the real winter quarters, and other temporary +cantonments, for a short time within contracted limits were transitional and +exceptional conditions. +</p> + +<p> +This is not the place to enquire how such a periodical voluntary neutralisation +of power consisted with, or is now consistent with the object and being of war; +we shall come to that subject hereafter. Enough that it was so. +</p> + +<p> +Since the wars of the French Revolution, armies have completely done away with +the tents on account of the encumbrance they cause. Partly it is found better +for an army of 100,000 men to have, in place of 6,000 tent horses, 5,000 +additional cavalry, or a couple of hundred extra guns, partly it has been found +that in great and rapid operations a load of tents is a hindrance, and of +little use. +</p> + +<p> +But this change is attended with two drawbacks, viz., an increase of casualties +in the force, and greater wasting of the country. +</p> + +<p> +However slight the protection afforded by a roof of common tent cloth,—it +cannot be denied that on a long continuance it is great relief to the troops. +For a single day the difference is small, because a tent is little protection +against wind and cold, and does not completely exclude wet; but this small +difference, if repeated two or three hundred times in a year, becomes +important. A greater loss through sickness is just a natural result. +</p> + +<p> +How the devastation of the country is increased through the want of tents for +the troops requires no explanation. +</p> + +<p> +One would suppose that on account of these two reactionary influences the doing +away with tents must have diminished again the energy of war in another way, +that troops must remain longer in quarters, and from want of the requisites for +encampment must forego many positions which would have been possible had tents +been forthcoming. +</p> + +<p> +This would indeed have been the case had there not been, in the same epoch of +time, an enormous revolution in war generally, which swallowed up in itself all +these smaller subordinate influences. +</p> + +<p> +The elementary fire of war has become so overpowering, its energy so +extraordinary, that these regular periods of rest also have disappeared, and +every power presses forward with persistent force towards the great decision, +which will be treated of more fully in the ninth book. Under these +circumstances, therefore, any question about effects on an army from the +discontinuance of the use of tents in the field is quite thrown into the shade. +Troops now occupy huts, or bivouac under the canopy of heaven, without regard +to season of the year, weather, or locality, just according as the general plan +and object of the campaign require. +</p> + +<p> +Whether war will in the future continue to maintain, under all circumstances +and at all times, this energy, is a question we shall consider hereafter; where +this energy is wanting, the want of tents is calculated to exercise some +influence on the conduct of war; but that this reaction will ever be strong +enough to bring back the use of tents is very doubtful, because now that much +wider limits have been opened for the elements of war it will never return +within its old narrow bounds, except occasionally for a certain time and under +certain circumstances, only to break out again with the all-powerful force of +its nature. Permanent arrangements for an army must, therefore, be based only +upon that nature. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap56"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/>Marches</h3> + +<p> +Marches are a mere passage from one position to another under two primary +conditions. +</p> + +<p> +The first is the due care of the troops, so that no forces shall be squandered +uselessly when they might be usefully employed; the second, is precision in the +movements, so that they may fit exactly. If we marched 100,000 men in one +single column, that is, upon one road without intervals of time, the rear of +the column would never arrive at the proposed destination on the same day with +the head of the column; we must either advance at an unusually slow pace, or +the mass would, like a thread of water, disperse itself in drops; and this +dispersion, together with the excessive exertion laid upon those in rear owing +to the length of the column, would soon throw everything into confusion. +</p> + +<p> +If from this extreme we take the opposite direction, we find that the smaller +the mass of troops in one column the greater the ease and precision with which +the march can be performed. The result of this is the need of a <i>division</i> +quite irrespective of that division of an army in separate parts which belongs +to its position; therefore, although the division into columns of march +originates in the strategic disposition in general, it does not do so in every +particular case. A great mass which is to be concentrated at any one point must +necessarily be divided for the march. But even if a disposition of the army in +separate parts causes a march in separate divisions, sometimes the conditions +of the primitive disposition, sometimes those of the march, are paramount. For +instance, if the disposition of the troops is one made merely for rest, one in +which a battle is not expected, then the conditions of the march predominate, +and these conditions are chiefly the choice of good, well-frequented roads. +Keeping in view this difference, we choose a road in the one case on account of +the quarters and camping ground, in the other we take the quarters and camps +such as they are, on account of the road. When a battle is expected, and +everything depends on our reaching a particular point with a mass of troops, +then we should think nothing of getting to that point by even the worst +by-roads, if necessary; if, on the other hand, we are still on the journey to +the theatre of war, then the nearest great roads are selected for the columns, +and we look out for the best quarters and camps that can be got near them. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the march is of the one kind or the other, if there is a possibility of +a combat, that is within the whole region of actual war, it is an invariable +rule in the modern art of war to organise the columns so that the mass of +troops composing each column is fit of itself to engage in an independent +combat. This condition is satisfied by the combination of the three arms, by an +organised subdivision of the whole, and by the appointment of a competent +commander. Marches, therefore, have been the chief cause of the new order of +battle, and they profit most by it. +</p> + +<p> +When in the middle of the last century, especially in the theatre of war in +which Frederick II. was engaged, generals began to look upon movement as a +principle belonging to fighting, and to think of gaining the victory by the +effect of unexpected movements, the want of an organised order of battle caused +the most complicated and laborious evolutions on a march. In carrying out a +movement near the enemy, an army ought to be always ready to fight; but at that +time they were never ready to fight unless the whole army was collectively +present, because nothing less than the army constituted a complete whole. In a +march to a flank, the second line, in order to be always at the regulated +distance, that is about a quarter of a mile from the first, had to march up +hill and down dale, which demanded immense exertion, as well as a great stock +of local knowledge; for where can one find two good roads running parallel at a +distance of a quarter of a mile from each other? The cavalry on the wings had +to encounter the same difficulties when the march was direct to the front. +There was other difficulty with the artillery, which required a road for +itself, protected by infantry; for the lines of infantry required to be +continuous lines, and the artillery increased the length of their already long +trailing columns still more, and threw all their regulated distances into +disorder. It is only necessary to read the dispositions for marches in +Tempelhof’s History of the Seven Years’ War, to be satisfied of all +these incidents and of the restraints thus imposed on the action of war. +</p> + +<p> +But since then the modern art of war has subdivided armies on a regular +principle, so that each of the principal parts forms in itself a complete +whole, of small proportions, but capable of acting in battle precisely like the +great whole, except in one respect, which is, that the duration of its action +must be shorter. The consequence of this change is, that even when it is +intended that the whole force should take part in a battle, it is no longer +necessary to have the columns so close to each other that they may unite before +the commencement of the combat; it is sufficient now if the concentration takes +place in the course of the action. +</p> + +<p> +The smaller a body of troops the more easily it can be moved, and therefore the +less it requires that subdivision which is not a result of the separate +disposition, but of the unwieldiness of the mass. A small body, therefore, can +march upon one road, and if it is to advance on several lines it easily finds +roads near each other which are as good as it requires. The greater the mass +the greater becomes the necessity for subdividing, the greater becomes the +number of columns, and the want of made roads, or even great high roads, +consequently also the distance of the columns from each other. Now the danger +of this subdivision is arithmetically expressed in an inverse ratio to the +necessity for it. The smaller the parts are, the more readily must they be able +to render assistance to each other; the larger they are, the longer they can be +left to depend on themselves. If we only call to mind what has been said in the +preceding book on this subject, and also consider that in cultivated countries +at a few miles distance from the main road there are always other tolerably +good roads running in a parallel direction, it is easy to see that, in +regulating a march, there are no great difficulties which make rapidity and +precision in the advance incompatible with the proper concentration of force. +In a mountainous country parallel roads are both scarce, and the difficulties +of communication between them great; but the defensive powers of a single +column are very much greater. +</p> + +<p> +In order to make this idea clearer let us look at it for a moment in a concrete +form. +</p> + +<p> +A division of 8,000 men, with its artillery and other carriages, takes up, as +we know by experience in ordinary cases, a space of one league; if, therefore, +two divisions march one after the other on the same road, the second arrives +one hour after the first; but now, as said in the sixth chapter of the fourth +book, a division of this strength is quite capable of maintaining a combat for +several hours, even against a superior force, and, therefore, supposing the +worst, that is, supposing the first had to commence a fight instantaneously, +still the second division would not arrive too late. Further, within a league +right and left of the road on which we march, in the cultivated countries of +central Europe there are, generally, lateral roads which can be used for a +march, so that there is no necessity to go across country, as was so often done +in the Seven Years’ War. +</p> + +<p> +Again, it is known by experience that the head of a column composed of four +divisions and a reserve of cavalry, even on indifferent roads, generally gets +over a march of three miles in eight hours; now, if we reckon for each division +one league in depth, and the same for the reserve cavalry and artillery, then +the whole march will last thirteen hours. This is no great length of time, and +yet in this case forty thousand men would have marched over the same road. But +with such a mass as this we can make use of lateral roads, which are to be +found at a greater distance, and therefore easily shorten the march. If the +mass of troops marching on the same road is still greater than above supposed, +then it is a case in which the arrival of the whole on the same day is no +longer indispensable, for such masses never give battle now the moment they +meet, usually not until the next day. +</p> + +<p> +We have introduced these concrete cases, not as exhausting considerations of +this kind, but to make ourselves more intelligible, and by means of this glance +at the results of experience to show that in the present mode of conducting war +the organisation of marches no longer offers such great difficulties; that the +most rapid marches, executed with the greatest precision, no longer require +either that peculiar skill or that exact knowledge of the country which was +needed for Frederick’s rapid and exact marches in the Seven Years’ +War. Through the existing organisation of armies, they rather go on now almost +of themselves, at least without any great preparatory plans. In times past, +battles were conducted by mere word of command, but marches required a regular +plan, now the order of battle requires the latter, and for a march the word of +command almost suffices. +</p> + +<p> +As is well known, all marches are either perpendicular [to the front] or +parallel. The latter, also called flank marches, alter the geometrical position +of the divisions; those parts which, in position, were in line, will follow one +another, and <i>vice versa</i>. Now, although the line of march may be at any +angle with the front, still the order of the march must decidedly be of one or +other of these classes. +</p> + +<p> +This geometrical alteration could only be completely carried out by tactics, +and by it only through the file-march as it is called, which, with great +masses, is impossible. Far less is it possible for strategy to do it. The parts +which changed their geometrical relation in the old order of battle were only +the centre and wings; in the new they are the divisions of the first rank +corps, divisions, or even brigades, according to the organisation of the army. +Now, the consequences above deduced from the new order of battle have an +influence here also, for as it is no longer so necessary, as formerly, that the +whole army should be assembled before action commences, therefore the greater +care is taken that those troops which march together form one whole (a unit). +If two divisions were so placed that one formed the reserve to the other, and +that they were to advance against the enemy upon two roads, no one would think +of sending a portion of each division by each of the roads, but a road would at +once be assigned to each division; they would therefore march side by side, and +each general of division would be left to provide a reserve for himself in case +of a combat. Unity of command is much more important than the original +geometrical relation; if the divisions reach their new position without a +combat, they can resume their previous relations. Much less if two divisions, +standing together, are to make a <i>parallel</i> (flank) march upon two roads +should we think of placing the second line or reserve of each division on the +rear road; instead of that, we should allot to each of the divisions one of the +roads, and therefore during the march consider one division as forming the +reserve to the other. If an army in four divisions, of which three form the +front line and the fourth the reserve, is to march against the enemy in that +order, then it is natural to assign a road to each of the divisions in front, +and cause the reserve to follow the centre. If there are not three roads at a +suitable distance apart, then we need not hesitate at once to march upon two +roads, as no serious inconvenience can arise from so doing. +</p> + +<p> +It is the same in the opposite case, the flank march. +</p> + +<p> +Another point is the march off of columns from the right flank or left. In +parallel marches (marches to a flank) the thing is plain in itself. No one +would march off from the right to make a movement to the left flank. In a march +to the front or rear, the order of march should properly be chosen according to +the direction of the lines of roads in respect to the future line of +deployment. This may also be done frequently in tactics, as its spaces are +smaller, and therefore a survey of the geometrical relations can be more easily +taken. In strategy it is quite impossible, and therefore although we have seen +here and there a certain analogy brought over into strategy from tactics, it +was mere pedantry. Formerly the whole order of march was a purely tactical +affair, because the army on a march remained always an indivisible whole, and +looked to nothing but a combat of the whole; yet nevertheless Schwerin, for +example, when he marched off from his position near Brandeis, on the 5th of +May, could not tell whether his future field of battle would be on his right or +left, and on this account he was obliged to make his famous countermarch. +</p> + +<p> +If an army in the old order of battle advanced against the enemy in four +columns, the cavalry in the first and second lines on each wing formed the two +exterior columns, the two lines of infantry composing the wings formed the two +central columns. Now these columns could march off all from the right or all +from the left, or the right wing from the right, the left wing from the left, +or the left from the right, and the right from the left. In the latter case it +would have been called “double column from the centre.” But all +these forms, although they ought to have had a relation directly to the future +deployment, were really all quite indifferent in that respect. When Frederick +the Great entered on the battle of Leuthen, his army had been marched off by +wings from the right in four columns, therefore the wonderful transition to a +march off in order of battle, as described by all writers of history, was done +with the greatest ease, because it happened that the king chose to attack the +left wing of the Austrians; had he wanted to turn their right, he must have +countermarched his army, as he did at Prague. +</p> + +<p> +If these forms did not meet that object in those days, they would be mere +trifling as regards it now. We know now just as little as formerly the +situation of the future battle-field in reference to the road we take; and the +little loss of time occasioned by marching off in inverted order is now +infinitely less important than formerly. The new order of battle has further a +beneficial influence in this respect, that it is now immaterial which division +arrives first or which brigade is brought under fire first. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances the march off from the right or left is of no +consequence now, otherwise than that when it is done alternately it tends to +equalise the fatigue which the troops undergo. This, which is the only object, +is certainly an important one for retaining both modes of marching off with +large bodies. +</p> + +<p> +The advance from the centre as a definite evolution naturally comes to an end +on account of what has just been stated, and can only take place accidentally. +An advance from the centre by one and the same column in strategy is, in point +of fact, nonsense, for it supposes a double road. +</p> + +<p> +The order of march belongs, moreover, more to the province of tactics than to +that of strategy, for it is the division of a whole into parts, which, after +the march, are once more to resume the state of a whole. As, however, in modern +warfare the formal connection of the parts is not required to be constantly +kept up during a march, but on the contrary, the parts during the march may +become further separated, and therefore be left more to their own resources, +therefore it is much easier now for independent combats to happen in which the +parts have to sustain themselves, and which, therefore must be reckoned as +complete combats in themselves, and on that account we have thought it +necessary to say so much on the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Further, an order of battle in three parts in juxtaposition being, as we have +seen in the second 1 chapter of this book, the most natural where no special +object predominates, from that results also that the order of march in three +columns is the most natural. +</p> + +<p> +It only remains to observe that the notion of a column in strategy does not +found itself mainly on the line of march of one body of troops. The term is +used in strategy to designate masses of troops marching on the same road on +different days as well. For the division into columns is made chiefly to +shorten and facilitate the march, as a small number marches quicker and more +conveniently than large bodies. But this end may, be attained by marching +troops on different days, as well as by marching them on different roads. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap57"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>Marches (<i>Continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +Respecting the length of a march and the time it requires, it is natural for us +to depend on the general results of experience. +</p> + +<p> +For our modern armies it has long been settled that a march of three miles +should be the usual day’s work which, on long distances, may be set down +as an average distance of two miles per day, allowing for the necessary rest +days, to make such repairs of all kinds as may be required. +</p> + +<p> +Such a march in a level country, and on tolerable roads will occupy a division +of 8,000 men from eight to ten hours; in a hilly country from ten to twelve +hours. If several divisions are united in one column, the march will occupy a +couple of hours longer, without taking into account the intervals which must +elapse between the departure of the first and succeeding divisions. +</p> + +<p> +We see, therefore, that the day is pretty well occupied with such a march; that +the fatigue endured by a soldier loaded with his pack for ten or twelve hours +is not to be judged of by that of an ordinary journey of three miles on foot +which a person, on tolerable roads, might easily get over in five hours. +</p> + +<p> +The longest marches to be found in exceptional instances are of five, or at +most six miles a day; for a continuance four. +</p> + +<p> +A march of five miles requires a halt for several hours; and a division of +8,000 men will not do it, even on a good road, in less than sixteen hours. If +the march is one of six miles, and that there are several divisions in the +column, we may reckon upon at least twenty hours. +</p> + +<p> +We here mean the march of a number of whole divisions at once, from one camp to +another, for that is the usual form of marches made on a theatre of war. When +several divisions are to march in one column, the first division to move is +assembled and marched off earlier than the rest, and therefore arrives at its +camping ground so much the sooner. At the same time this difference can still +never amount to the whole time, which corresponds to the depth of a division on +the line of march, and which is so well expressed in French, as the time it +requires for its <i>découlement</i> (running down). The soldier is, therefore, +saved very little fatigue in this way, and every march is very much lengthened +in duration in proportion as the number of troops to be moved increases. To +assemble and march off the different brigades of a division, in like manner at +different times, is seldom practicable, and for that reason we have taken the +division itself as the unit. +</p> + +<p> +In long distances, when troops march from one cantonment into another, and go +over the road in small bodies, and without points of assembly, the distance +they go over daily may certainly be increased, and in point of fact it is so, +from the necessary detours in getting to quarters. +</p> + +<p> +But those marches, on which troops have to assemble daily in divisions, or +perhaps in corps, and have an additional move to get into quarters, take up the +most time, and are only advisable in rich countries, and where the masses of +troops are not too large, as in such cases the greater facilility of +subsistence and the advantage of the shelter which the troops obtain compensate +sufficiently for the fatigue of a longer march. The Prussian army undoubtedly +pursued a wrong system in their retreat in 1806 in taking up quarters for the +troops every night on account of subsistence. They could have procured +subsistence in bivouacs, and the army would not have been obliged to spend +fourteen days in getting over fifty miles of ground, which, after all, they +only accomplished by extreme efforts. +</p> + +<p> +If a bad road or a hilly country has to be marched over, all these calculations +as to time and distance undergo such modifications that it is difficult to +estimate, with any certainty, in any particular case, the time required for a +march; much less, then, can any general theory be established. All that theory +can do is to direct attention to the liability to error with which we are here +beset. To avoid it the most careful calculation is necessary, and a large +margin for unforeseen delays. The influence of weather and condition of the +troops also come into consideration. +</p> + +<p> +Since the doing away with tents and the introduction of the system of +subsisting troops by compulsory demands for provisions on the spot, the baggage +of an army has been very sensibly diminished, and as a natural and most +important consequence we look first for an acceleration in the movements of an +army, and, therefore, of course, an increase in the length of the day’s +march. This, however, is only realized under certain circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Marches within the theatre of war have been very little accelerated by this +means, for it is well known that for many years whenever the object required +marches of unusual length it has always been the practice to leave the baggage +behind or send it on beforehand, and, generally, to keep it separate from the +troops during the continuance of such movements, and it had in general no +influence on the movement, because as soon as it was out of the way, and ceased +to be a direct impediment, no further trouble was taken about it, whatever +damage it might suffer in that way. Marches, therefore, took place in the Seven +Years’ War, which even now cannot be surpassed; as an instance we cite +Lascy’s march in 1760, when he had to support the diversion of the +Russians on Berlin, on that occasion he got over the road from Schweidnitz to +Berlin through Lusatia, a distance of 225 miles, in ten days, averaging, therefore, twenty-two +miles a day, which, for a Corps of 15,000, would be an extraordinary +march even in these days. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, through the new method of supplying troops the movements of +armies have acquired a new <i>retarding</i> principle. If troops have partly to +procure supplies for themselves, which often happens, then they require more +time for the service of supply than would be necessary merely to receive +rations from provision wagons. Besides this, on marches of considerable +duration troops cannot be encamped in such large numbers at any one point; the +divisions must be separated from one another, in order the more easily to +manage for them. Lastly, it almost always happens that it is necessary to place +part of the army, particularly the cavalry, in quarters. All this occasions on +the whole a sensible delay. We find, therefore, that Buonaparte in pursuit of +the Prussians in 1806, with a view to cut off their retreat, and Blücher in +1815, in pursuit of the French, with a like object, only accomplished thirty +miles in ten days, a rate which Frederick the Great was able to attain in his +marches from Saxony to Silesia and back, notwithstanding all the train that he +had to carry with him. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time the mobility and handiness, if we may use such an expression, +of the parts of an army, both great and small, on the theatre of war have very +perceptibly gained by the diminution of baggage. Partly, inasmuch as while the +number of cavalry and guns is the same, there are fewer horses, and therefore, +there is less forage required; partly, inasmuch as we are no longer so much +tied to any one position, because we have not to be for ever looking after a +long train of baggage dragging after us. +</p> + +<p> +Marches such as that, which, after raising the siege of Olmütz, 1758, Frederick +the Great made with 4,000 carriages, the escort of which employed half his army +broken up into single battalions and companies, could not be effected now in +presence of even the most timid adversary. +</p> + +<p> +On long marches, as from the Tagus to the Niemen, that lightening of the army +is more sensibly felt, for although the usual measure of the day’s march +remains the same on account of the carriages still remaining, yet, in cases of +great urgency, we can exceed that usual measure at a less sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +Generally the diminution of baggage tends more to a saving of power than to the +acceleration of movement. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap58"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>Marches (<i>continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +We have now to consider the destructive influence which marches have upon an +army. It is so great that it may be regarded as an active principle of +destruction, just as much as the combat. +</p> + +<p> +One single moderate march does not wear down the instrument, but a succession +of even moderate marches is certain to tell upon it, and a succession of severe +ones will, of course, do so much sooner. +</p> + +<p> +At the actual scene of war, want of food and shelter, bad broken-up roads, and +the necessity of being in a perpetual state of readiness for battle, are causes +of an excessive strain upon our means, by which men, cattle, carriages of every +description as well as clothing are ruined. +</p> + +<p> +It is commonly said that a long rest does not suit the physical health of an +army; that at such a time there is more sickness than during moderate activity. +No doubt sickness will and does occur if soldiers are packed too close in +confined quarters; but the same thing would occur if these were quarters taken +up on the march, and the want of air and exercise can never be the cause of +such sicknesses, as it is so easy to give the soldier both by means of his +exercises. +</p> + +<p> +Only think for a moment, when the organism of a human being is in a disordered +and fainting state, what a difference it must make to him whether he falls sick +in a house or is seized in the middle of a high road, up to his knees in mud, +under torrents of rain, and loaded with a knapsack on his back; even if he is +in a camp he can soon be sent to the next village, and will not be entirely +without medical assistance, whilst on a march he must be for hours without any +assistance, and then be made to drag himself along for miles as a straggler. +How many trifling illnesses by that means become serious, how many serious ones +become mortal. Let us consider how an ordinary march in the dust, and under the +burning rays of a summer sun may produce the most excessive heat, in which +state, suffering from intolerable thirst, the soldier then rushes to the fresh +spring of water, to bring back for himself sickness and death. +</p> + +<p> +It is not our object by these reflections to recommend less activity in war; +the instrument is there for use, and if the use wears away the instrument that +is only in the natural order of things; we only wish to see every thing put in +its right place, and to oppose that theoretical bombast according to which the +most astonishing surprises the most rapid movements, the most incessant +activity cost nothing, and are painted as rich mines which the indolence of the +general leaves unworked. It is very much the same with these mines as with +those from which gold and silver are obtained; nothing is seen but the produce, +and no one asks about the value of the work which has brought this produce to +light. +</p> + +<p> +On long marches outside a theatre of war, the conditions under which the march +is made are no doubt usually easier, and the daily losses smaller, but on that +account men with the slightest sickness are generally lost to the army for some +time, as it is difficult for convalescents to overtake an army constantly +advancing. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst the cavalry the number of lame horses and horses with sore backs rises +in an increasing ratio, and amongst the carriages many break down or require +repair. It never fails, therefore, that at the end of a march of 100 miles or +more, an army arrives much weakened, particularly as regards its cavalry and +train. +</p> + +<p> +If such marches are necessary on the theatre of war, that is under the eyes of +the enemy, then that disadvantage is added to the other, and from the two +combined the losses with large masses of troops, and under conditions otherwise +unfavourable may amount to something incredible. +</p> + +<p> +Only a couple of examples in order to illustrate our ideas. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte crossed the Niemen on 24th June, 1812, the enormous centre of +his army with which he subsequently marched against Moscow numbered 301,000 +men. At Smolensk, on the 15th August, he detached 13,500, leaving, it is to be +supposed, 287,500. The actual state of his army however at that date was only +182,000; he had therefore lost 105,000.(*) Bearing in mind that up to that time +only two engagements to speak of had taken place, one between Davoust and +Bragathion, the other between Murat and Tolstoy-Osterman, we may put down the +losses of the French army in action at 10,000 men at most, and therefore the +losses in sick and stragglers within fifty-two days on a march of about seventy +miles direct to his front, amounted to 95,000, that is a third part of the +whole army. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) All these figures are taken from Chambray. Vergl. Bd. vii. 2<sup>te</sup> +Auflage, § 80, ff. +</p> + +<p> +Three weeks later, at the time of the battle of Borodino, the loss amounted to +144,000 (including the casualties in the battle), and eight days after that +again, at Moscow, the number was 198,000. The losses of this army in general +were at the commencement of the campaign at the rate of 1/150daily, +subsequently they rose to 1/120, and in the last period they increased to 1/19 +of the original strength. +</p> + +<p> +The movement of Napoleon from the passage of the Niemen up to Moscow certainly +may be called a persistent one; still, we must not forget that it lasted +eighty-two days, in which time he only accomplished 120 miles, and that the +French army upon two occasions made regular halts, once at Wilna for about +fourteen days, and the other time at Witebsk for about eleven days, during +which periods many stragglers had time to rejoin. This fourteen weeks’ +advance was not made at the worst season of the year, nor over the worst of +roads, for it was summer, and the roads along which they marched were mostly +sand. It was the immense mass of troops collected on one road, the want of +sufficient subsistence, and an enemy who was on the retreat, but by no means in +flight, which were the adverse conditions. +</p> + +<p> +Of the retreat of the French army from Moscow to the Niemen, we shall say +nothing, but this we may mention, that the Russian army following them left +Kaluga 120,000 strong, and reached Wilna with 30,000. Every one knows how few +men were lost in actual combats during that period. +</p> + +<p> +One more example from Blücher’s campaign of 1813 in Silesia and Saxony, a +campaign very remarkable not for any long march but for the amount of marching +to and fro. York’s corps of Blücher’s army began this campaign 16th +August about 40,000 strong, and was reduced to 12,000 at the battle of Leipsic, +19th October. The principal combats which this corps fought at Goldberg, +Lowenberg, on the Katsbach, at Wartenburg, and Mockern (Leipsic) cost it, on +the authority of the best writers, 12,000 men. According to that their losses +from other causes in eight weeks amounted to 16,000, or two-fifths of the +whole. +</p> + +<p> +We must, therefore, make up our minds to great wear and tear of our own forces, +if we are to carry on a war rich in movements, we must arrange the rest of our +plan accordingly, and above all things the reinforcements which are to follow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap59"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>Cantonments</h3> + +<p> +In the modern system of war cantonments have become again indispensable, +because neither tents nor a complete military train make an army independent of +them. Huts and open-air camps (bivouacs as they are called), however far such +arrangements may be carried, can still never become the usual way of locating +troops without sickness gaining the upper hand, and prematurely exhausting +their strength, sooner or later, according to the state of the weather or +climate. The campaign in Russia in 1812 is one of the few in which, in a very +severe climate, the troops, during the six months that it lasted hardly ever +lay in cantonments. But what was the consequence of this extreme effort, which +should be called an extravagance, if that term was not much more applicable to +the political conception of the enterprise! +</p> + +<p> +Two things interfere with the occupation of cantonments the proximity of the +enemy, and the rapidity of movement. For these reasons they are quitted as soon +as the decision approaches, and cannot be again taken up until the decision is +over. +</p> + +<p> +In modern wars, that’s, in all campaigns during the last twenty-five +years which occur to us at this moment, the military element has acted with +full energy. Nearly all that was possible has generally been done in them, as +far as regards activity and the utmost effort of force; but all these campaigns +have been of short duration, they have seldom exceeded half a year; in most of +them a few months sufficed to bring matters to a crisis, that is, to a point +where the vanquished enemy saw himself compelled to sue for an armistice or at +once for peace, or to a point where, on the conqueror’s part, the impetus +of victory had exhausted itself. During this period of extreme effort there +could be little question of cantonments, for even in the victorious march of +the pursuer, if there was no longer any danger, the rapidity of movement made +that kind of relief impossible. +</p> + +<p> +But when from any cause the course of events is less impetuous, when a more +even oscillation and balancing of forces takes place, then the housing of +troops must again become a foremost subject for attention. This want has some +influence even on the conduct of war itself, partly in this way, that we seek +to gain more time and security by a stronger system of outposts, by a more +considerable advanced guard thrown further forward; and partly in this way, +that our measures are governed more by the richness and fertility of the +country than by the tactical advantages which the ground affords in the +geometrical relations of lines and points. A commercial town of twenty or +thirty thousand inhabitants, a road thickly studded with large villages or +flourishing towns give such facilities for the assembling in one position large +bodies of troops, and this concentration gives such a freedom and such a +latitude for movement as fully compensate for the advantages which the better +situation of some point may otherwise present. +</p> + +<p> +On the form to be followed in arranging cantonments we have only a few +observations to make, as this subject belongs for the most part to tactics. +</p> + +<p> +The housing of troops comes under two heads, inasmuch as it can either be the +main point or only a secondary consideration. If the disposition of the troops +in the course of a campaign is regulated by grounds purely tactical and +strategical, and if, as is done more especially with cavalry, they are directed +for their comfort to occupy the quarters available in the vicinity of the point +of concentration of the army, then the quarters are subordinate considerations +and substitutes for camps; they must, therefore, be chosen within such a radius +that the troops can reach the point of assembly in good time. But if an army +takes up quarters to rest and refresh, then the housing of the troops is the +main point, and other measures, consequently also the selection of the +particular point of assembly, will be influenced by that object. +</p> + +<p> +The first question for examination here is as to the general form of the +cantonments as a whole. The usual form is that of a very long oval, a mere +widening as it were of the tactical order of battle. The point of assembly for +the army is in front, the head-quarters in rear. Now these three arrangements +are, in point of fact, adverse, indeed almost opposed, to the safe assembly of +the army on the approach of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +The more the cantonments form a square, or rather a circle, the quicker the +troops can concentrate at one point, that is the centre. The further the place +of assembly is placed in rear, the longer the enemy will be in reaching it, +and, therefore, the more time is left us to assemble. A point of assembly in +rear of the cantonments can never be in danger. And, on the other hand, the +farther the head-quarters are in advance, so much the sooner reports arrive, +therefore so much the better is the commander informed of everything. At the +same time, the first named arrangements are not devoid of points which deserve +some attention. +</p> + +<p> +By the extension of cantonments in width, we have in view the protection of the +country which would otherwise be laid under contributions by the enemy. But +this motive is neither thoroughly sound, nor is it very important. It is only +sound as far as regards the country on the extremity of the wings, but does not +apply at all to intermediate spaces existing between separate divisions of the +army, if the quarters of those divisions are drawn closer round their point of +assembly, for no enemy will then venture into those intervals of space. And it +is not very important, because there are simpler means of shielding the +districts in our vicinity from the enemy’s requisitions than scattering +the army itself. +</p> + +<p> +The placing of the point of assembly in front is with a view to covering the +quarters, for the following reasons: In the first place, a body of troops, +suddenly called to arms, always leaves behind it in cantonments a tail of +stragglers sick, baggage, provisions, etc., etc. which may easily fall into the +enemy’s hands if the point of assembly is placed in rear. In the second +place, we have to apprehend that if the enemy with some bodies of cavalry +passes by the advanced guard, or if it is defeated in any way, he may fall upon +scattered regiments or battalions. If he encounters a force drawn up in good +order, although it is weak, and in the end must be overpowered, still he is +brought to a stop, and in that way time is gained. +</p> + +<p> +As respects the position of the head-quarters, it is generally supposed that it +cannot be made too secure. +</p> + +<p> +According to these different considerations, we may conclude that the best +arrangement for districts of cantonments is where they take an oblong form, +approaching the square or circle, have the point of assembly in the centre, and +the head-quarters placed on the front line, well protected by considerable +masses of troops. +</p> + +<p> +What we have said as to covering of the wings in treating of the disposition of +the army in general, applies here also; therefore corps detached from the main +body, right and left, although intended to fight in conjunction with the rest, +will have particular points of assembly of their own in the same line with the +main body. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if we reflect that the nature of a country, on the one hand, by favourable +features in the ground determines the most natural point of assembly, and on +the other hand, by the positions of towns and villages determines the most +suitable situation for cantonments, then we must perceive how very rarely any +geometrical form can be decisive in our present subject. But yet it was +necessary to direct attention to it, because, like all general laws, it affects +the generality of cases in a greater or less degree. +</p> + +<p> +What now remains to be said as to an advantageous position for cantonments is +that they should be taken up behind some natural obstacle of ground affording +cover, whilst the sides next the enemy can be watched by small but numerous +detached parties; or they may be taken up behind fortresses, which, when +circumstances prevent any estimate being formed of the strength of their +garrisons, impose upon the enemy a greater feeling of respect and and caution. +</p> + +<p> +We reserve the subject of winter quarters, covered by defensive works for a +separate article. +</p> + +<p> +The quarters taken up by troops on a march differ from those called standing +cantonments in this way, that, in order to save the troops from unnecessary +marching, cantonments on a march are taken up as much as possible along the +lines of march, and are not at any considerable distance on either side of +these roads; if their extension in this sense does not exceed a short +day’s march, the arrangement is not one at all unfavourable to the quick +concentration of the army. +</p> + +<p> +In all cases in presence of the enemy, according to the technical phrase in +use, that is in all cases where there is no considerable interval between the +advance guards of the two armies respectively, the extent of the cantonments +and the time required to assemble the army determine the strength and position +of the advanced guard and outposts; but when these must be suited to the enemy +and circumstances, then, on the contrary, the extent of the cantonments must +depend on the time which we can count upon by the resistance of the advance +guard. +</p> + +<p> +In the third(*) chapter of this book, we have stated how this resistance, in the +case of an advanced corps, may be estimated. From the time of that resistance +we must deduct the time required for transmission of reports and getting the +men under arms, and the remainder only is the time available for assembling at +the point of concentration. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) 8th Chapter.—Tr. +</p> + +<p> +We shall conclude here also by establishing our ideas in the form of a result, +such as is usual under ordinary circumstances. If the distance at which the +advanced guard is detached is the same as the radius of the cantonments, and +the point of assembly is fixed in the centre of the cantonments, the time which +is gained by checking the enemy’s advance would be available for the +transmission of intelligence and getting under arms, and would in most cases be +sufficient, even although the communication is not made by means of signals, +cannon-shots, etc., but simply by relays of orderlies, the only really sure +method. +</p> + +<p> +With an advanced guard pushed forward three miles in front, our cantonments +might therefore cover a space of thirty square miles. In a moderately-peopled +country there would be 10,000 houses in this space, which for an army of +50,000, after deducting the advanced guard, would be four men to a billet, +therefore very comfortable quarters; and for an army of twice the strength nine +men to a billet, therefore still not very close quarters. On the other hand, if +the advanced guard is only one mile in front, we could only occupy a space of +four square miles; for although the time gained does not diminish exactly in +proportion as the distance of the advanced guard diminishes, and even with a +distance of one mile we may still calculate on a gain of six hours, yet the +necessity for caution increases when the enemy is so close. But in such a space +an army of 50,000 men could only find partial accommodation, even in a very +thickly populated country. +</p> + +<p> +From all this we see what an important part is played here by great or at least +considerable towns, which afford convenience for sheltering 10,000 or even +20,000 men almost at one point. +</p> + +<p> +From this result it follows that, if we are not very close to the enemy, and +have a suitable advanced guard we might remain in cantonments, even if the +enemy is concentrated, as Frederick the Great did at Breslau in the beginning +of the year 1762, and Buonaparte at Witebsk in 1812. But although by preserving +a right distance and by suitable arrangements we have no reason to fear not +being able to assemble in time, even opposite an enemy who is concentrated, yet +we must not forget that an army engaged in assembling itself in all haste can +do nothing else in that time; that it is therefore, for a time at least, not in +a condition to avail itself in an instant of fortuitous opportunities, which +deprives it of the greater part of its really efficient power. The consequence +of this is, that an army should only break itself up completely in cantonments +under some one or other of the three following cases: +</p> + +<p> +1. If the enemy does the same. +</p> + +<p> +2. If the condition of the troops makes it unavoidable. +</p> + +<p> +3. If the more immediate object with the army is completely limited to the +maintenance of a strong position, and therefore the only point of importance is +concentrating the troops at that point in good time. +</p> + +<p> +The campaign of 1815 gives a very remarkable example of the assembly of an army +from cantonments. General Ziethen, with Blücher’s advanced guard, 30,000 +men, was posted at Charleroi, only two miles from Sombreff, the place appointed +for the assembly of the army. The farthest cantonments of the army were about +eight miles from Sombreff, that is, on the one side beyond Ciney, and on the +other near Liége. Notwithstanding this, the troops cantoned about Ciney were +assembled at Ligny several hours before the battle began, and those near Liége +(Bulow’s Corps) would have been also, had it not been for accident and +faulty arrangements in the communication of orders and intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably, proper care for the security of the Prussian army was not +taken; but in explanation we must say that the arrangements were made at a time +when the French army was still dispersed over widely extended cantonments, and +that the real fault consisted in not altering them the moment the first news +was received that the enemy’s troops were in movement, and that +Buonaparte had joined the army. +</p> + +<p> +Still it remains noteworthy that the Prussian army was able in any way to +concentrate at Sombreff before the attack of the enemy. Certainly, on the night +of the 14th, that is, twelve hours before Ziethen was actually attacked, +Blücher received information of the advance of the enemy, and began to assemble +his army; but on the 15th at nine in the morning, Ziethen was already hotly +engaged, and it was not until the same moment that General Thielman at Ciney +first received orders to march to Namur. He had therefore then to assemble his +divisions, and to march six and a half miles to Sombreff, which he did in 24 +hours. General Bulow would also have been able to arrive about the same time, +if the order had reached him as it should have done. +</p> + +<p> +But Buonaparte did not resolve to make his attack on Ligny until two in the +afternoon of the 16th. The apprehension of having Wellington on the one side of +him, and Blücher on the other, in other words, the disproportion in the +relative forces, contributed to this slowness; still we see how the most +resolute commander may be detained by the cautious feeling of the way which is +always unavoidable in cases which are to a certain degree complicated. +</p> + +<p> +Some of the considerations here raised are plainly more tactical than strategic +in their nature; but we have preferred rather to encroach a little than to run +the risk of not being sufficiently explicit. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap60"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>Subsistence</h3> + +<p> +This subject has acquired much greater importance in modern warfare from two +causes in particular. First, because the armies in general are now much greater +than those of the middle ages, and even those of the old world; for, although +formerly armies did appear here and there which equalled or even surpassed +modern ones in size, still these were only rare and transient occurrences, +whilst in modern military history, since the time of Louis XIV, armies have +always been very strong in number. But the second cause is still more +important, and belongs entirely to modern times. It is the very much closer +inner connection which our wars have in themselves, the constant state of +readiness for battle of the belligerents engaged in carrying them on. Almost +all old wars consist of single unconnected enterprises, which are separated +from each other by intervals during which the war in reality either completely +rested, and only still existed in a political sense, or when the armies at +least had removed so far from each other that each, without any care about the +army opposite, only occupied itself with its own wants. +</p> + +<p> +Modern wars, that is, the wars which have taken place since the Peace of +Westphalia, have, through the efforts of respective governments, taken a more +systematic connected form; the military object, in general, predominates +everywhere, and demands also that arrangements for subsistence shall be on an +adequate scale. Certainly there were long periods of inaction in the wars of +the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, almost amounting to a cessation of +war; these are the regular periods passed in cantonments; still even those +periods were subordinate to the military object; they were caused by the +inclemency of the season, not by any necessity arising out of the subsistence +of the troops, and as they regularly terminated with the return of summer, +therefore we may say at all events uninterrupted action was the rule of war +during the fine season of the year. +</p> + +<p> +As the transition from one situation or method of action to another always +takes place gradually so it was in the case before us. In the wars against +Louis XIV. the allies used still to send their troops into winter cantonments +in distant provinces in order to subsist them the more easily; in the Silesian +war that was no longer done. +</p> + +<p> +This systematic and connected form of carrying on war only became possible when +states took regular troops into their service in place of the feudal armies. +The obligation of the feudal law was then commuted into a fine or contribution: +personal service either came to an end, enlistment being substituted, or it was +only continued amongst the lowest classes, as the nobility regarded the +furnishing a quota of men (as is still done in Russia and Hungary) as a kind of +tribute, a tax in men. In every case, as we have elsewhere observed, armies +became henceforward, an instrument of the cabinet, their principal basis being +the treasury or the revenue of the government. +</p> + +<p> +Just the same kind of thing which took place in the mode of raising and keeping +up an establishment of troops could not but follow in the mode of subsisting +them. The privileged classes having been released from the first of these +services on payment of a contribution in money, the expense of the latter could +not be again imposed on them quite so easily. The cabinet and the treasury had +therefore to provide for the subsistence of the army, and could not allow it to +be maintained in its own country at the expense of the people. Administrations +were therefore obliged to look upon the subsistence of the army as an affair +for which they were specially responsible. The subsistence thus became more +difficult in two ways: first, because it was an affair belonging to government, +and next, because the forces required to be permanently embodied to confront +those kept up in other states. +</p> + +<p> +Thus arose a separate military class in the population, with an independent +organisation provided for its subsistence, and carried out to the utmost +possible perfection. +</p> + +<p> +Not only were stores of provisions collected, either by purchase or by +deliveries in kind from the landed estates (Dominiallieferungen), consequently +from distant points, and lodged in magazines, but they were also forwarded from +these by means of special wagons, baked near the quarters of the troops in +ovens temporarily established, and from thence again carried away at last by +the troops, by means of another system of transport attached to the army +itself. We take a glance at this system not merely from its being +characteristic of the military arrangements of the period, but also because it +is a system which can never be entirely done away; some parts of it must +continually reappear. +</p> + +<p> +Thus military organisation strove perpetually towards becoming more independent +of people and country. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence was that in this manner war became certainly a more systematic +and more regular affair, and more subordinated to the military, that is the +political object; but it was at the same time also much straitened and impeded +in its movement, and infinitely weakened in energy. For now an army was tied to +its magazines, limited to the working powers of its transport service, and it +naturally followed that the tendency of everything was to economise the +subsistence of the troops. The soldier fed on a wretched pittance of bread, +moved about like a shadow, and no prospect of a change for the better comforted +him under his privations. +</p> + +<p> +Whoever treats this miserable way of feeding soldiers as a matter of no moment, +and points to what Frederick the Great did with soldiers subsisted in this +manner, only takes a partial view of the matter. The power of enduring +privations is one of the finest virtues in a soldier, and without it no army is +animated with the true military spirit; but such privation must be of a +temporary kind, commanded by the force of circumstances, and not the +consequence of a wretchedly bad system, or of a parsimonious abstract +calculation of the smallest ration that a man can exist upon. When such is the +case the powers of the men individually will always deteriorate physically and +morally. What Frederick the Great managed to do with his soldiers cannot be +taken as a standard for us, partly because he was opposed to those who pursued +a similar system, partly because we do not know how much more he might have +effected if he had been able to let his troops live as Buonaparte allowed his +whenever circumstances permitted. +</p> + +<p> +The feeding of horses by an artificial system of supply is, however, an +experiment which has not been tried, because forage is much more difficult to +provide on account of its bulk. A ration for a horse weighs about ten times as +much as one for a man, and the number of horses with an army is more than +one-tenth the number of men, at present it is one-fourth to one-third, and +formerly it was one-third to one-half, therefore the weight of the forage +required is three, four, or five times as much as that of the soldier’s +rations required for the same period of time; on this account the shortest and +most direct means were taken to meet the wants of an army in this respect, that +is by foraging expeditions. Now these expeditions occasioned great +inconvenience in the conduct of war in other ways, first by making it a +principal object to keep the war in the enemy’s country; and next because +they made it impossible to remain very long in one part of the country. +However, at the time of the Silesian war, foraging expeditions were much less +frequent, they were found to occasion a much greater drain upon the country, +and much greater waste than if the requirements were satisfied by means of +requisitions and imposts. +</p> + +<p> +When the French Revolution suddenly brought again upon the war stage a national +army, the means which governments could command were found insufficient, and +the whole system of war, which had its origin in the limited extent of these +means, and found again its security in this limitation, fell to pieces, and of +course in the downfall of the whole was included that of the branch of which we +are now speaking, the system of subsistence. Without troubling themselves about +magazines, and still less about such an organisation as the artificial +clockwork of which we have spoken, by which the different divisions of the +transport service went round like a wheel, the leading spirits of the +revolution sent their soldiers into the field, forced their generals to fight, +subsisted, reinforced their armies, and kept alive the war by a system of +exaction, and of helping themselves to all they required by robbery and +plunder. +</p> + +<p> +Between these two extremes the war under Buonaparte, and against him, preserved +a sort of medium, that is to say, it just made use of such means as suited it +best amongst all that were available; and so it will be also in future. +</p> + +<p> +The modern method of subsisting troops, that is, seizing every thing which is +to be found in the country without regard to <i>meum et tuum</i> may be carried +out in four different ways: that is, subsisting on the inhabitant, +contributions which the troops themselves look after, general contributions and +magazines. All four are generally applied together, one generally prevailing +more than the others: still it sometimes happens that only one is applied +entirely by itself. +</p> + +<h4> +1.—Living on the inhabitants, or on the community, which is the same +thing. +</h4> + +<p> +If we bear in mind that in a community consisting even as it does in great +towns, of consumers only, there must always be provisions enough to last for +several days, we may easily see that the most densely populated place can +furnish food and quarters for a day for about as many troops as there are +inhabitants, and for a less number of troops for several days without the +necessity of any particular previous preparation. In towns of considerable size +this gives a very satisfactory result, because it enables us to subsist a large +force at one point. But in smaller towns, or even in villages, the supply would +be far from sufficient; for a population of 3,000 or 4,000 in a square mile +which would be large in such a space, would only suffice to feed 3,000 or 4,000 +soldiers, and if the whole mass of troops is great they would have to be spread +over such an extent of country at this rate as would hardly be consistent with +other essential points. But in level countries, and even in small towns, the +quantity of those kinds of provisions which are essential in war is generally +much greater; the supply of bread which a peasant has is generally adequate to +the consumption of his family for several, perhaps from eight to fourteen days; +meat can be obtained daily, vegetable productions are generally forthcoming in +sufficient quantity to last till the following crop. Therefore in quarters +which have never been occupied there is no difficulty in subsisting troops +three or four times the number of the inhabitants for several days, which again +is a very satisfactory result. According to this, where the population is about +2,000 or 3,000 per square mile, and if no large town is included, a column of +30,000 would require about four square miles, which would be a length of side +of two miles. Therefore for an army of 90,000, which we may reckon at about +75,000 combatants, if marching in three columns contiguous to each other, we +should require to take up a front six miles in breadth in case three roads +could be found within that breadth. +</p> + +<p> +If several columns follow one another into these cantonments, then special +measures must be adopted by the civil authorities, and in that way there can be +no great difficulty in obtaining all that is required for a day or two more. +Therefore if the above 90,000 are followed the day after by a like number, even +these last would suffer no want; this makes up the large number of 150,000 +combatants. +</p> + +<p> +Forage for the horses occasions still less difficulty, as it neither requires +grinding nor baking, and as there must be forage forthcoming in sufficient +quantity to last the horses in the country until next harvest, therefore even +where there is little stall-feeding, still there should be no want, only the +deliveries of forage should certainly be demanded from the community at large, +not from the inhabitants individually. Besides, it is supposed that some +attention is, of course, paid to the nature of the country in making +arrangements for a march, so as not to send cavalry mostly into places of +commerce and manufactures, and into districts where there is no forage. +</p> + +<p> +The conclusion to be drawn from this hasty glance is, therefore, that in a +moderately populated country, that is, a country of from 2,000 to 3,000 souls +per square mile, an army of 150,000 combatants may be subsisted by the +inhabitants and community for one or two days within such a narrow space as +will not interfere with its concentration for battle, that is, therefore, that +such an army can be subsisted on a continuous march without magazines or other +preparation. +</p> + +<p> +On this result were based the enterprises of the French army in the +revolutionary war, and under Buonaparte. They marched from the Adige to the +Lower Danube, and from the Rhine to the Vistula, with little means of +subsistence except upon the inhabitants, and without ever suffering want. As +their undertakings depended on moral and physical superiority, as they were +attended with certain results, and were never delayed by indecision or caution, +therefore their progress in the career of victory was generally that of an +uninterrupted march. +</p> + +<p> +If circumstances are less favourable, if the population is not so great, or if +it consists more of artisans than agriculturists, if the soil is bad, the +country already several times overrun—then of course the results will +fall short of what we have supposed. Still, we must remember that if the +breadth of the front of a column is extended from two miles to three, we get a +superficial extent of country more than double in size, that is, instead of +four we command nine square miles, and that this is still an extent which in +ordinary cases will always admit of concentration for action; we see therefore +that even under unfavourable circumstances this method of subsistence will +still be always compatible with a continuous march. +</p> + +<p> +But if a halt of several days takes place, then great distress must ensue if +preparations have not been made beforehand for such an event in other ways. Now +these preparatory measures are of two kinds, and without them a considerable +army even now cannot exist. The first is equipping the troops with a wagon +train, by means of which bread or flour, as the most essential part of their +subsistence, can be carried with them for a few, that is, for three or four +days; if to this we add three or four days’ rations which the soldier +himself can carry, then we have provided what is most indispensable in the way +of subsistence for eight days. +</p> + +<p> +The second arrangement is that of a regular commissariat, which whenever there +is a moment’s halt gathers provisions from distant localities, so that at +any moment we can pass over from the system of quartering on the inhabitants to +a different system. +</p> + +<p> +Subsisting in cantonments has the immense advantage that hardly any transport +is required, and that it is done in the shortest time, but certainly it +supposes as a prior condition that cantonments can be provided for all the +troops. +</p> + +<h4> +2.—Subsistence through exactions enforced by the troops themselves. +</h4> + +<p> +If a single battalion occupies a camp, this camp may be placed in the vicinity +of some villages, and these may receive notice to furnish subsistence; then the +method of subsistence would not differ essentially from the preceding mode. +But, as is most usual, if the mass of troops to be encamped at some one point +is much larger, there is no alternative but to make a collection in common +within the circle of districts marked out for the purpose, collecting +sufficient for the supply of one of the parts of the army, a brigade or +division, and afterwards to make a distribution from the common stock thus +collected. +</p> + +<p> +The first glance shows that by such a mode of proceeding the subsistence of a +large army would be a matter of impossibility. The collection made from the +stores in any given district in the country will be much less than if the +troops had taken up their quarters in the same district, for when thirty or +forty men take possession of a farmer’s house they can if necessary +collect the last mouthful, but one officer sent with a few men to collect +provisions has neither time nor means to hunt out all the provisions that may +be stored in a house, often also he has not the means of transport; he will +therefore only be able to collect a small proportion of what is actually +forthcoming. Besides, in camps the troops are crowded together in such a manner +at one point, that the range of country from which provisions can be collected +in a hurry is not of sufficient extent to furnish the whole of what is +required. What could be done in the way of supplying 30,000 men, within a +circle of a mile in diameter, or from an area of three or four square miles? +Moreover it would seldom be possible to collect even what there is, for the +most of the nearest adjacent villages would be occupied by small bodies of +troops, who would not allow anything to be removed. Lastly, by such a measure +there would be the greatest waste, because some men would get more than they +required, whilst a great deal would be lost, and of no benefit to any one. +</p> + +<p> +The result is, therefore, that the subsistence of troops by forced +contributions in this manner can only be adopted with success when the bodies +of troops are not too large, not exceeding a division of 8,000 or 10,000 men, +and even then it is only to be resorted to as an unavoidable evil. +</p> + +<p> +It cannot in general be avoided in the case of troops directly in front of the +enemy, such as advanced guards and outposts, when the army is advancing, +because these bodies must arrive at points where no preparations could have +been made, and they are usually too far from the stores collected for the rest +of the army; further, in the case of moveable columns acting independently; and +lastly, in all cases where by chance there is neither time nor means to procure +subsistence in any other way. +</p> + +<p> +The more troops are accustomed to live by regular requisitions, the more time +and circumstances permit the adoption of that way of subsisting, then the more +satisfactory will be the result. But time is generally wanting, for what the +troops get for themselves directly is got much quicker. +</p> + +<h4> +3.—By regular requisitions. +</h4> + +<p> +This is unquestionably the simplest and most efficacious means of subsisting +troops, and it has been the basis of all modern wars. +</p> + +<p> +It differs from the preceding way chiefly by its having the co-operation of the +local authorities. The supply in this case must not be carried off forcibly +just from the spot where it is found, but be regularly delivered according to +an equitable division of the burden. This division can only be made by the +recognised official authorities of the country. +</p> + +<p> +In this all depends on time. The more time there is, the more general can the +division be made, the less will it press on individuals, and the more regular +will be the result. Even purchases may be made with ready money to assist, in +which way it will approach the mode which follows next in order (Magazines). In +all assemblages of troops in their own country there is no difficulty in +subsisting by regular requisitions; neither, as a rule, is there any in +retrograde movements. On the other hand, in all movements into a country of +which we are not in possession, there is very little time for such +arrangements, seldom more than the one day which the advanced guard is in the +habit of preceding the army. With the advanced guard the requisitions are sent +to the local officials, specifying how many rations they are to have ready at +such and such places. As these can only be furnished from the immediate +neighbourhood, that is, within a circuit of a couple of miles round each point, +the collections so made in haste will never be nearly sufficient for an army of +considerable strength, and consequently, if the troops do not carry with them +enough for several days, they will run short. It is therefore the duty of the +commissariat to economise what is received, and only to issue to those troops +who have nothing. With each succeeding day, however, the embarrassment +diminishes; that is to say, if the distances from which provisions can be +procured increase in proportion to the number of days, then the superficial +area over which the contributions can be levied increases as the squares of the +distances gained. If on the first day only four square miles have been drawn +upon, on the next day we shall have sixteen, on the third, thirty-six; +therefore on the second day twelve more than on the first, and on the third day +twenty more than on the second. +</p> + +<p> +Of course this is a mere rough estimate of what may take place, subject to many +modifying circumstances which may intervene, of which the principal is, that +one district may not be capable of contributing like another. But on the other +hand, we must also remember that the radius within which we can levy may +increase more than two miles a day in width, perhaps three or four, or in many +places still more. +</p> + +<p> +The due execution of these requisitions is enforced by detachments placed under +the orders of the official functionaries, but still more by the fear of +responsibility, punishment, and ill-treatment which, in such cases, like a +general weight, presses on the whole population. +</p> + +<p> +However, it is not our intention to enter into details—into the whole +machinery of commissariat and army subsistence; we have only results in view. +</p> + +<p> +The result to be derived from a common-sense view of all the circumstances in +general, and the view which the experience of the wars since the French +revolution tends to confirm is,—that even the largest army, if it carries +with it provisions for a few days, may undoubtedly be subsisted by +contributions which, commencing at the moment of entering a country, affect at +first only the districts in the immediate vicinity of the army, but afterwards, +in the course of time, are levied on a greater scale, over a range of country +always increasing, and with an ever increasing weight of authority. +</p> + +<p> +This resource has no limits except those of the exhaustion, impoverishment, and +devastation of the country. When the stay of an invading army is of some +duration, the administration of this system at last is handed over to those in +the highest official capacity; and they naturally do all they can to equalise +its pressure as much as possible, and to alleviate the weight of the tax by +purchases; at the same time, even an invader, when his stay is prolonged in his +enemy’s country, is not usually so barbarous and reckless as to lay upon +that country the entire burden of his support; thus the system of contributions +of itself gradually approaches to that of magazines, at the same time without +ever ceasing altogether, or sensibly losing any of that influence which it +exercises on the operations of the war; for there is a wide difference between +a case in which some of the resources which have been drawn from a country are +replaced by supplies brought from more distant parts (the country, however, +still remaining substantially the source on which the army depends for its +supplies), and the case of an army which—as in the eighteenth +century—provides for all its wants from its own resources, the country in +which it is operating contributing, as a rule, nothing towards its support. +</p> + +<p> +The great difference consists in two things,—namely, the employment of +the transport of the country, and its ovens. In this way, that enormous burden +of any army, that incubus which is always destroying its own work, a military +transport train, is almost got rid of. +</p> + +<p> +It is true that even now no army can do entirely without some subsistence +wagons, but the number is immensely diminished, and little more is required +than sufficient to carry the surplus of one day on till the next. Peculiar +circumstances, as in Russia in 1812, may even again compel an army to carry an +enormous train, and also field-ovens; but in the first place these are +exceptional cases; for how seldom will it happen that 300,000 men make a +hostile advance of 130 miles upon almost a single road, and that through +countries such as Poland and Russia, and shortly before the season of harvest; +and in the next place, any means of supply attached to an army in such cases, +may be looked upon as only an assistance in case of need, the contributions of +the country being always regarded as the groundwork of the whole system of +supply. +</p> + +<p> +Since the first campaigns of the French revolutionary war, the requisition +system has formed constantly the mainstay of their armies, the armies opposed +to them were also obliged to adopt the same system, and it is not at all likely +that it will ever be abandoned. There is no other which can be substituted for +it with the same results, both as regards its simplicity and freedom from +restraint, and also as respects energy in the prosecution of the war. As an +army is seldom distressed for provisions during the first three or four weeks +of a campaign whatever direction it takes, and afterwards can be assisted by +magazines, we may very well say that by this method war has acquired the most +perfect freedom of action. Certainly difficulties may be greater in one +direction than in another, and that may carry weight in preliminary +deliberation; but we can never encounter an absolute impossibility, and the +attention which is due to the subject of subsistence can never decide a +question imperatively. To this there is only one exception, which is a retreat +through an enemy’s country. In such a case many of the inconveniences +connected with subsistence meet together. The operation is one of a continuous +nature, generally carried on without a halt worth speaking of; there is, +therefore, no time to procure provisions; the circumstances under which the +operation commences are generally unfavourable, it is therefore necessary to +keep the troops in masses, and a dispersion in cantonments, or even any +considerable extension in the width of the column cannot be allowed; the +hostile feeling of the country precludes the chance of any collection of +contributions by mere orders issued without the support of a force capable of +executing the order; and, lastly, the moment is most auspicious for the +inhabitants to give vent to their feelings by acts of hostility. On account of +all this, an army so situated is generally obliged to confine itself strictly +to its previously prepared lines of communication and retreat. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte had to retreat in 1812, it was impossible for him to do so by +any other line but the one upon which he had advanced, on account of the +subsistence of his army; and if he had attempted any other he would only have +plunged into more speedy and certain destruction; all the censure therefore +passed on him by even French writers as well as by others with regard to this +point is sheer nonsense. +</p> + +<h4> +4.—Subsistence from Magazines. +</h4> + +<p> +If we are to make a generic distinction between this method of subsisting +troops and the preceding, it must be by an organisation such as existed for +about thirty years at the close of the seventeenth and during the eighteenth +century. Can this organisation ever reappear? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly we cannot conceive how it can be dispensed with if great armies are +to be bound down for seven, ten, or twelve years long to one spot, as they have +been formerly in the Netherlands, on the Rhine, in Upper Italy, Silesia, and +Saxony; for what country can continue for such a length of time to endure the +burden of two great armies, making it the entire source of their supplies, +without being utterly ruined in the end, and therefore gradually becoming +unable to meet the demands? +</p> + +<p> +But here naturally arises the question: shall the war prescribe the system of +subsistence, or shall the latter dictate the nature of the war? To this we +answer: the system of subsistence will control the war, in the first place, as +far as the other conditions on which it depends permit; but when the latter are +encroached upon, the war will react on the subsistence system, and in such case +determine the same. +</p> + +<p> +A war carried on by means of the system of requisitions and local supplies +furnished on the spot has such an advantage over one carried on in dependence +on issues from magazines, that the latter does not look at all like the same +instrument. No state will therefore venture to encounter the former with the +latter; and if any war minister should be so narrow-minded and blind to +circumstances as to ignore the real relation which the two systems bear to each +other, by sending an army into the field to live upon the old system, the force +of circumstances would carry the commander of that army along with it in its +course, and the requisition system would burst forth of itself. If we consider +besides, that the great expense attending such an organisation must necessarily +reduce the extent of the armament in other respects, including of course the +actual number of combatant soldiers, as no state has a superabundance of +wealth, then there seems no probability of any such organisation being again +resorted to unless it should be adopted by the belligerents by mutual +agreement, an idea which is a mere play of the imagination. +</p> + +<p> +Wars therefore may be expected henceforward always to commence with the +requisition system; how much one or other government will do to supplement the +same by an artificial organisation to spare their own country, etc., etc., +remains to be seen; that it will not be overmuch we may be certain, for at such +moments the tendency is to look to the most urgent wants, and an artificial +system of subsisting troops does not come under that category. +</p> + +<p> +But now, if a war is not so decisive in its results, if its operations are not +so comprehensive as is consistent with its real nature, then the requisition +system will begin to exhaust the country in which it is carried on to that +degree that either peace must be made, or means must be found to lighten the +burden on the country, and to become independent of it for the supplies of the +army. The latter was the case of the French army under Buonaparte in Spain, but +the first happens much more frequently. In most wars the exhaustion of the +state increases to that degree that, instead of thinking of prosecuting the war +at a still greater expense, the necessity for peace becomes so urgent as to be +imperative. Thus from this point of view the modern method of carrying on war +has a tendency to shorten the duration of wars. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time we shall not positively deny the possibility of the old system +of subsistence reappearing in future wars; it will perhaps be resorted to by +belligerents hereafter, where the nature of their mutual relations urge them to +it, and circumstances are favourable to its adoption; but we can never perceive +in that system a natural organisation; it is much rather an abnormal growth +permitted by circumstances, but which can never spring from war in its true +sense. Still less can we consider that form or system as any improvement in war +on the ground of its being more humane, for war itself is not a humane +proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever method of providing subsistence may be chosen, it is but natural that +it should be more easily carried out in rich and well-peopled countries, than +in the midst of a poor and scanty population. That the population should be +taken into consideration, lies in the double relation which that element bears +to the quantity of provisions to be found in a country: first because, where +the consumption is large, the provision to meet that consumption is also large; +and in the next place, because as a rule a large population produces also +largely. From this we must certainly except districts peopled chiefly by +manufacturers, particularly when, as is often the case, such districts lie in +mountain valleys surrounded by unproductive land; but in the generality of +cases it is always very much easier to feed troops in a well populated than in +a thinly inhabited country. An army of 100,000 men cannot be supported on four +hundred square miles inhabited by 400,000 people, as well as it would be on +four hundred square miles with a population of 2,000,000 inhabitants, even +supposing the soil equally good in the two cases. Besides, the roads and means +of water-carriage are much better in rich countries and afford a greater +choice, being more numerous, the means of transport are more abundant, the +commercial relations easier and more certain. In a word, there is infinitely +less difficulty in supporting an army in Flanders than in Poland. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence is, that war with its manifold suckers fixes itself by +preference along high roads, near populous towns, in the fertile valleys of +large rivers, or along such sea-coasts as are well frequented. +</p> + +<p> +This shows clearly how the subsistence of troops may have a general influence +upon the direction and form of military undertakings, and upon the choice of a +theatre of war and lines of communication. +</p> + +<p> +The extent of this influence, what weight shall attach to the facility or +difficulty of provisioning the troops, all that in the calculation depends very +much on the way in which the war is to be conducted. If it is to be carried on +in its real spirit, that is, with the unbridled force which belongs to its +element, with a constant pressing forward to, or seeking for the combat and +decisive solution, then the sustenance of the troops although an important, is +but a subordinate, affair; but if there is to be a state of equilibrium during +which the armies move about here and there in the same province for several +years, then the subsistence must often become the principal thing, the +intendant the commander-in-chief, and the conduct of the war an administration +of wagons. +</p> + +<p> +There are numberless campaigns of this kind in which nothing took place; the +plans miscarried, the forces were used to no purpose, the only excuse being the +plea of a want of subsistence; on the other hand Buonaparte used to say +“<i>Qu’on ne me parle pas des vivres!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Certainly that general in the Russian campaign proved that such recklessness +may be carried too far, for not to say that perhaps his whole campaign was +ruined through that cause alone, which at best would be only a supposition, +still it is beyond doubt that to his want of regard to the subsistence of his +troops he was indebted for the extraordinary melting away of his army on his +advance, and for its utter ruin on the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +But while fully recognising in Buonaparte the eager gambler who ventures on +many a mad extreme, we may justly say that he and the revolutionary generals +who preceded him dispelled a powerful prejudice in respect to the subsistence +of troops, and showed that it should never be looked upon in any other light +than as a <i>condition</i> of war, never as an object. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, it is with privation in war just as with physical exertion and danger; +the demands which the general can make on his army are without any defined +bounds; an iron character demands more than a feeble sensitive man; also the +endurance of an army differs in degree, according as habit, military spirit, +confidence in and affection towards the commander, or enthusiasm for the cause +of fatherland, sustain the will and energy of the soldier. But this we may look +upon as an established principle, that privation and want, however far they may +be carried, should never be otherwise regarded than as transition-states which +should be succeeded by a state of abundance, indeed even by superfluity. Can +there be any thing more touching than the thought of so many thousand soldiers, +badly clothed, with packs on their backs weighing thirty or forty pounds, +toiling over every kind of road, in every description of weather, for days and +days continually on the march, health and life for ever in peril, and for all +that unable to get a sufficiency of dry bread. Any one who knows how often this +happens in war, is at a loss to know how it does not oftener lead to a refusal +of the will and powers to submit any longer to such exactions, and how the mere +bent constantly given to the imagination of human beings in one direction, is +capable of first calling forth, and then supporting such incredible efforts. +</p> + +<p> +Let any one then, who imposes great privations on his men because great objects +demand such a trial of endurance, always bear in mind as a matter of prudence, +if not prompted to it by his own feelings, that there is a recompence for such +sacrifices which he is bound to pay at some other time. +</p> + +<p> +We have now to consider the difference which takes place in respect to the +question of subsistence in war, according as the action is offensive or +defensive. +</p> + +<p> +The defensive is in a position to make uninterrupted use of the subsistence +which he has been able to lay in beforehand, as long as his defensive act +continues. The defensive side therefore can hardly be in want of the +necessaries of life, particularly if he is in his own country; but even in the +enemy’s this holds good. The offensive on the other hand is moving away +from his resources, and as long as he is advancing, and even during the first +weeks after he stops, must procure from day to day what he requires, and this +can very rarely be done without want and inconvenience being felt. +</p> + +<p> +This difficulty is felt in its fullest force at two particular periods, first +in the advance, before the decision takes place; then the supplies of the +defensive side are all at hand, whilst the assailant has been obliged to leave +his behind; he is obliged to keep his masses concentrated, and therefore cannot +spread his army over any considerable space; even his transport cannot keep +close to him when he commences his movements preliminary to a battle. If his +preparations have not been very well made, it may easily happen at this moment +that his army may be in want of supplies for several days before the decisive +battle, which certainly is not a means of bringing them into the fight in the +highest state of efficiency. +</p> + +<p> +The second time a state of want arises is at the end of a victorious career, if +the lines of communication begin to be too long, especially if the war is +carried on in a poor, sparsely-populated country, and perhaps also in the midst +of a people whose feelings are hostile. What an enormous difference between a +line of communication from Wilna to Moscow, on which every carriage must be +forcibly seized, and a line from Cologne by Liége, Louvain, Brussels, Mons, and +Valenciennes to Paris, where a mercantile contract or a bill of exchange would +suffice to procure millions of rations. +</p> + +<p> +Frequently has the difficulty we are now speaking of resulted in obscuring the +splendour of the most brilliant victories, reduced the powers of the victorious +army, rendered retreat necessary, and then by degrees ended in producing all +the symptoms of a real defeat. +</p> + +<p> +Forage, of which, as we have before said, there is usually at first the least +deficiency, will run short soonest if a country begins to become exhausted, for +it is the most difficult supply to procure from a distance, on account of its +bulk, and the horse feels the effect of low feeding much sooner than the man. +For this reason, an over-numerous cavalry and artillery may become a real +burden, and an element of weakness to an army. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap61"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/>Base of Operations</h3> + +<p> +If an army sets out on any expedition, whether it be to attack the enemy and +his theatre of war, or to take post on its own frontier, it continues in a +state of necessary dependence on the sources from which it draws its +subsistence and reinforcements, and must maintain its communication with them, +as they are the conditions of its existence and preservation. This dependence +increases in intensity and extent in proportion to the size of the army. But +now it is neither always possible nor requisite that the army should continue +in direct communication with the whole of its own country; it is sufficient if +it does so with that portion immediately in its rear, and which is consequently +covered by its position. In this portion of the country then, as far as +necessary, special depôts of provisions are formed, and arrangements are made +for regularly forwarding reinforcements and supplies. This strip of territory +is therefore the foundation of the army and of all its undertakings, and the +two must be regarded as forming in connection only one whole. If the supplies +for their greater security are lodged in fortified places, the idea of a base +becomes more distinct; but the idea does not originate in any arrangement of +that kind, and in a number of cases no such arrangement is made. +</p> + +<p> +But a portion of the enemy’s territory may also become a base for our +army, or, at least, form part of it; for when an army penetrates into an +enemy’s land, a number of its wants are supplied from that part of the +country which is taken possession of; but it is then a necessary condition that +we are completely masters of this portion of territory, that is, certain of our +orders being obeyed within its limits. This certainty, however, seldom extends +beyond the reach of our ability to keep the inhabitants in awe by small +garrisons, and detachments moving about from place to place, and that is not +very far in general. The consequence is, that in the enemy’s country, the +part of territory from which we can draw supplies is seldom of sufficient +extent to furnish all the supplies we require, and we must therefore still +depend on our own land for much, and this brings us back again to the +importance of that part of our territory immediately in rear of our army as an +indispensable portion of our base. +</p> + +<p> +The wants of an army may be divided into two classes, first those which every +cultivated country can furnish; and next those which can only be obtained from +those localities where they are produced. The first are chiefly provisions, the +second the means of keeping an army complete in every way. The first can +therefore be obtained in the enemy’s country; the second, as a rule, can +only be furnished by our own country, for example men, arms, and almost all +munitions of war. Although there are exceptions to this classification in +certain cases, still they are few and trifling, and the distinction we have +drawn is of standing importance, and proves again that the communication with +our own country is indispensable. +</p> + +<p> +Depôts of provisions and forage are generally formed in open towns, both in the +enemy’s and in our own country, because there are not as many fortresses +as would be required for these bulky stores continually being consumed, and +wanted sometimes here, sometimes there, and also because their loss is much +easier to replace; on the other hand, stores to keep the army complete, such as +arms, munition of war, and articles of equipment are never lodged in open +places in the vicinity of the theatre of war if it can be avoided, but are +rather brought from a distance, and in the enemy’s country never stored +anywhere but in fortresses. From this point, again, it may be inferred that the +base is of more importance in relation to supplies intended to refit an army +than in relation to provisions for food. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the more means of each kind are collected together in great magazines +before being brought into use, the more, therefore, all separate streams unite +in great reservoirs, so much the more may these be regarded as taking the place +of the whole country, and so much the more will the conception of a base fix +itself upon these great depôts of supply; but this must never go so far that +any such place becomes looked upon as constituting a base in itself alone. +</p> + +<p> +If these sources of supply and refitment are abundant, that is, if the tracts +of territory are wide and rich, if the stores are collected in great depôts to +be more speedily brought into use, if these depôts are covered in a military +sense in one way or another, if they are in close proximity to the army and +accessible by good roads, if they extend along a considerable width in the rear +of the army or surround it in part as well—then follows a greater +vitality for the army, as well as a greater freedom in its movements. Attempts +have been made to sum up all the advantages which an army derives from being so +situated in one single conception, that is, the extent of the base of +operations. By the relation which this base bears to the object of the +undertakings, by the angle which its extremities make with this object +(supposed as a point), it has been attempted to express the whole sum of the +advantages and disadvantages which accrue to an army from the position and +nature of its sources of supply and equipment; but it is plain this elegant +piece of geometrical refinement is merely a play of fancy, as it is founded on +a series of substitutions which must all be made at the expense of truth. As we +have seen, the base of an army is a triple formation in connection with the +situation in which an army is placed: the resources of the country adjacent to +the position of the army, the depôts of stores which have been made at +particular points, and the <i>province</i> from which these stores are derived +or collected. These three things are separated in space, and cannot be +collected into one whole, and least of all can we substitute for them a line +which is to represent the width of the base, a line which is generally imagined +in a manner perfectly arbitrary, either from one fortress to another or from +one capital of a province to another, or along a political boundary of a +country. Neither can we determine precisely the mutual relation of these three +steps in the formation of a base, for in reality they blend themselves with +each other always more or less. In one case the surrounding country affords +largely the means of refitting an army with things which otherwise could only +be obtained from a long distance; in another case we are obliged to get even +food from a long distance. Sometimes the nearest fortresses are great arsenals, +ports, or commercial cities, which contain all the military resources of a +whole state, sometimes they are nothing but old, feeble ramparts, hardly +sufficient for their own defence. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence is that all deductions from the length of the base of +operations and its angles, and the whole theory of war founded on these data, +as far as its geometrical phase, have never met with any attention in real war, +and in theory they have only caused wrong tendencies. But as the basis of this +chain of reasoning is a truth, and only the conclusions drawn are false, this +same view will easily and frequently thrust itself forward again. +</p> + +<p> +We think, therefore, that we cannot go beyond acknowledging generally the +influence of a base on military enterprises, that at the same time there are no +means of framing out of this maxim any serviceable rules by a few abstract +ideas; but that in each separate case the whole of the things which we have +specified must be <i>kept in view together</i>. +</p> + +<p> +When once arrangements are made within a certain radius to provide the means of +subsisting an army and keeping it complete in every respect, and with a view to +operations in a certain direction, then, even in our own country, this district +only is to be regarded as the base of the army; and as any alteration of a base +requires time and labour, therefore an army cannot change its base every day, +even in its own country, and this again limits it always more or less in the +direction of its operations. If, then, in operating against an enemy’s +country we take the whole line of our own frontier, where it forms a boundary +between the two countries as our base, we may do so in a general sense, in so +far that we might make those preparations which constitute a base anywhere on +that frontier; but it will not be a base at any moment if preparations have not +been already made everywhere. When the Russian army retreated before the French +in 1812, at the beginning of the campaign the whole of Russia might have been +considered as its base, the more so because the vast extent of the country +offered the army abundance of space in any direction it might select. This is +no illusory notion, as it was actually realised at a subsequent time, when +other Russian armies from different quarters entered the field; but still at +every period throughout the campaign the base of the Russian army was not so +extensive; it was principally confined to the road on which the whole train of +transport to and from their army was organised. This limitation prevented the +Russian army, for instance, from making the further retreat which became +necessary after the three days’ fighting at Smolensk in any direction but +that of Moscow, and so hindered their turning suddenly in the direction of +Kaluga, as was proposed in order to draw the enemy away from Moscow. Such a +change of direction could only have been possible by having been prepared for +long beforehand. +</p> + +<p> +We have said that the dependence on the base increases in intensity and extent +with the size of the army, which is easy to understand. An army is like a tree. +From the ground out of which it grows it draws its nourishment; if it is small +it can easily be transplanted, but this becomes more difficult as it increases +in size. A small body of troops has also its channels, from which it draws the +sustenance of life, but it strikes root easily where it happens to be; not so a +large army. When, therefore, we talk of the influence of the base on the +operations of an army, the dimensions of the army must always serve as the +scale by which to measure the magnitude of that influence. +</p> + +<p> +Further it is consistent with the nature of things that for the immediate wants +of the present hour the <i>subsistence</i> is the main point, but for the +general efficiency of the army through a long period of time the +<i>refitment</i> and <i>recruitment</i> are the more important, because the +latter can only be done from particular sources while the former may be +obtained in many ways; this again defines still more distinctly the influence +of the base on the operations of the army. +</p> + +<p> +However great that influence may be, we must never forget that it belongs to +those things which can only show a decisive effect after some considerable +time, and that therefore the question always remains what may happen in that +time. The value of a base of operations will seldom determine the choice of an +undertaking in the first instance. Mere difficulties which may present +themselves in this respect must be put side by side and compared with other +means actually at our command; obstacles of this nature often vanish before the +force of decisive victories. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap62"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/>Lines of Communication</h3> + +<p> +The roads which lead from the position of an army to those points in its rear +where its depôts of supply and means of recruiting and refitting its forces are +principally united, and which it also in all ordinary cases chooses for its +retreat, have a double signification; in the first place, they are its <i>lines +of communication</i> for the constant nourishment of the combatant force, and +next they are <i>roads of retreat</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We have said in the preceding chapter, that, although according to the present +system of subsistence, an army is chiefly fed from the district in which it is +operating, it must still be looked upon as forming a whole with its base. The +lines of communication belong to this whole; they form the connection between +the army and its base, and are to be considered as so many great vital +arteries. Supplies of every kind, convoys of munitions, detachments moving +backwards and forwards, posts, orderlies, hospitals, depôts, reserves of +stores, agents of administration, all these objects are constantly making use +of these roads, and the total value of these services is of the utmost +importance to the army. +</p> + +<p> +These great channels of life must therefore neither be permanently severed, nor +must they be of too great length, or beset with difficulties, because there is +always a loss of strength on a long road, which tends to weaken the condition +of an army. +</p> + +<p> +By their second purpose, that is as lines of retreat, they constitute in a real +sense the strategic rear of the army. +</p> + +<p> +For both purposes the value of these roads depends on their <i>length</i>, +their <i>number</i>, their <i>situation</i>, that is their general direction, +and their direction specially as regards the army, their <i>nature</i> as +roads, <i>difficulties</i> of <i>ground</i>, the <i>political relations and +feeling of local population</i>, and lastly, on the <i>protection</i> they +derive from fortresses or natural obstacles in the country. +</p> + +<p> +But all the roads which lead from the point occupied by an army to its sources +of existence and power, are not on that account necessarily lines of +communication for that army. They may no doubt be used for that purpose, and +may be considered as supplementary of the system of communication, but that +system is confined to the lines regularly prepared for the purpose. Only those +roads on which magazines, hospitals, stations, posts for despatches and letters +are organised under commandants with police and garrisons, can be looked upon +as real lines of communication. But here a very important difference between +our own and the enemy’s army makes its appearance, one which is often +overlooked. An army, even in its own country, has its prepared lines of +communication, but it is not completely limited to them, and can in case of +need change its line, taking some other which presents itself, for it is every +where at home, has officials in authority, and the friendly feeling of the +people. Therefore, although other roads may not be as good as those at first +selected there is nothing to prevent their being used, and the use of them is +not to be regarded as <i>impossible</i> in case the army is turned and obliged +to change its front. An army in an enemy’s country on the contrary can as +a rule only look upon those roads as lines of communication upon which it has +advanced; and hence arises through small and almost invisible causes a great +difference in operating. The army in the enemy’s country takes under its +protection the organisation which, as it advances, it necessarily introduces to +form its lines of communication; and in general, inasmuch as terror, and the +presence of an enemy’s army in the country invests these measures in the +eyes of the inhabitants with all the weight of unalterable necessity, the +inhabitants may even be brought to regard them as an alleviation of the evils +inseparable from war. Small garrisons left behind in different places support +and maintain this system. But if these commissaries, commandants of stations, +police, fieldposts, and the rest of the apparatus of administration, were sent +to some distant road upon which the army had not been seen, the inhabitants +then would look upon such measures as a burden which they would gladly get rid +of, and if the most complete defeats and catastrophes had not previously spread +terror throughout the land, the probability is that these functionaries would +be treated as enemies, and driven away with very rough usage. Therefore in the +first place it would be necessary to establish garrisons to subjugate the new +line, and these garrisons would require to be of more than ordinary strength, +and still there would always be a danger of the inhabitants rising and +attempting to overpower them. In short, an army marching into an enemy’s +country is destitute of the mechanism through which obedience is rendered; it +has to institute its officials into their places, which can only be done by a +strong hand, and this cannot be effected thoroughly without sacrifices and +difficulties, nor is it the work of a moment—From this it follows that a +change of the system of communication is much less easy of accomplishment in an +enemy’s country than in our own, where it is at least possible; and it +also follows that the army is more restricted in its movements, and must be +much more sensitive about any demonstrations against its communications. +</p> + +<p> +But the choice and organisation of lines of communication is from the very +commencement subject also to a number of conditions by which it is restricted. +Not only must they be in a general sense good high roads, but they will be the +more serviceable the wider they are, the more populous and wealthy towns they +pass through, the more strong places there are which afford them protection. +Rivers, also, as means of water communication, and bridges as points of +passage, have a decisive weight in the choice. It follows from this that the +situation of a line of communication, and consequently the road by which an +army proceeds to commence the offensive, is only a matter of free choice up to +a certain point, its situation being dependent on certain geographical +relations. +</p> + +<p> +All the foregoing circumstances taken together determine the strength or +weakness of the communication of an army with its base, and this result, +compared with one similarly obtained with regard to the enemy’s +communications, decides which of the two opponents is in a position to operate +against the other’s lines of communication, or to cut off his retreat, +that is, in technical language to <i>turn him</i>. Setting aside all +considerations of moral or physical superiority, that party can only +effectually accomplish this whose communications are the strongest of the two, +for otherwise the enemy saves himself in the shortest mode, by a counterstroke. +</p> + +<p> +Now this turning can, by reason of the double signification of these lines, +have also two purposes. Either the communications may be interfered with and +interrupted, that the enemy may melt away by degrees from want, and thus be +compelled to retreat, or the object may be directly to cut off the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +With regard to the first, we have to observe that a mere momentary interruption +will seldom have any effect while armies are subsisted as they now are; a +certain time is requisite to produce an effect in this way in order that the +losses of the enemy by frequent repetition may compensate in number for the +small amount he suffers in each case. One single enterprise against the +enemy’s flank, which might have been a decisive stroke in those days when +thousands of bread-waggons traversed the lines of communication, carrying out +the systematised method then in force for subsisting troops, would hardly +produce any effect now, if ever so successful; one convoy at most might be +seized, which would cause the enemy some partial damage, but never compel him +to retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence is, that enterprises of this description on a flank, which have +always been more in fashion in books than in real warfare, now appear less of a +practical nature than ever, and we may safely say that there is no danger in +this respect to any lines of communication but such as are very long, and +otherwise unfavourably circumstanced, more especially by being exposed +everywhere and at any moment to attacks from an <i>insurgent population</i>. +</p> + +<p> +With respect to the cutting off an enemy’s retreat, we must not be +overconfident in this respect either of the consequences of threatening or +closing the enemy’s lines of retreat, as recent experience has shown +that, when troops are good and their leader resolute, it is <i>more +difficult</i> to make them prisoners, than it is for them to cut their way +through the force opposed to them. +</p> + +<p> +The means of shortening and protecting long lines of communication are very +limited. The seizure of some fortresses adjacent to the position taken up by +the army, and on the roads leading to the rear—or in the event of there +being no fortresses in the country, the construction of temporary defences at +suitable points—the kind treatment of the people of the country, strict +discipline on the military roads, good police, and active measures to improve +the roads, are the only means by which the evil may be diminished, but it is +one which can never be entirely removed. +</p> + +<p> +Furthermore, what we said when treating of the question of subsistence with +respect to the roads which the army should chose by preference, applies also +particularly to lines of communication. The best lines of communication are +roads leading through the most flourishing towns and the most important +provinces; they ought to be preferred, even if considerably longer, and in most +cases they exercise an important influence on the definitive disposition of the +army. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap63"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>On Country and Ground</h3> + +<p> +Quite irrespective of their influence as regards the means of subsistence of an +army, country and ground bear another most intimate and never-failing relation +to the business of war, which is their decisive influence on the battle, both +upon what concerns its course, as well as upon the preparation for it, and the +use to be made of it. We now proceed to consider country and ground in this +phase, that is, in the full meaning of the French expression +“<i>Terrain.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The way to make use of them is a subject which lies mostly within the province +of tactics, but the effects resulting from them appear in strategy; a battle in +the mountains is, in its consequences as well as in itself, quite a different +thing from a battle on a level plain. +</p> + +<p> +But until we have studied the distinction between offensive and defensive, and +examined the nature of each separately and fully, we cannot enter upon the +consideration of the principal features of the ground in their effects; we must +therefore for the present confine ourselves to an investigation of its general +properties. There are three properties through which the ground has an +influence on action in war; that is, as presenting an obstacle to approach, as +an obstacle to an extensive view, and as protection against the effect of +fire-arms; all other effects may be traced back to these three. +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably this threefold influence of ground has a tendency to make +warfare more diversified, more complicated, and more scientific, for they are +plainly three more quantities which enter into military combinations. +</p> + +<p> +A completely level plain, quite open at the same time, that is, a tract of +country which cannot influence war at all, has no existence except in relation +to small bodies of troops, and with respect to them only for the duration of +some given moment of time. When larger bodies are concerned, and a longer +duration of time, accidents of ground mix themselves up with the action of such +bodies, and it is hardly possible in the case of a whole army to imagine any +particular moment, such as a battle, when the ground would not make its +influence felt. +</p> + +<p> +This influence is therefore never in abeyance, but it is certainly stronger or +weaker according to the nature of the country. +</p> + +<p> +If we keep in view the great mass of topographical phenomena we find that +countries deviate from the idea of perfectly open level plains principally in +three ways: first by the form of the ground, that is, hills and valleys; then +by woods, marshes, and lakes as natural features; and lastly, by such changes +as have been introduced by the hand of man. Through each of these three +circumstances there is an increase in the influence of ground on the operations +of war. If we trace them up to a certain distance we have mountainous country, +a country little cultivated and covered with woods and marshes, and the well +cultivated. The tendency in each case is to render war more complicated and +connected with art. +</p> + +<p> +The degree of influence which cultivation exercises is greater or less +according to the nature of the cultivation; the system pursued in Flanders, +Holstein, and some other countries, where the land is intersected in every +direction with ditches, dykes, hedges, and walls, interspersed with many single +dwellings and small woods has the greatest effect on war. +</p> + +<p> +The conduct of war is therefore of the easiest kind in a level +moderately-cultivated country. This however only holds good in quite a general +sense, leaving entirely out of consideration the use which the defensive can +make of obstacles of ground. +</p> + +<p> +Each of these three kinds of ground has an effect in its own way on movement, +on the range of sight, and in the cover it affords. +</p> + +<p> +In a thickly-wooded country the obstacle to sight preponderates; in a +mountainous country, the difficulty of movement presents the greatest obstacle +to an enemy; in countries very much cultivated both these obstacles exist in a +medium degree. +</p> + +<p> +As thick woods render great portions of ground in a certain manner +impracticable for military movements, and as, besides the difficulty which they +oppose to movement they also obstruct the view, thereby preventing the use of +means to clear a passage, the result is that they simplify the measures to be +adopted on one side in proportion as they increase the difficulties with which +the other side has to contend. Although it is difficult practically to +concentrate forces for action in a wooded country, still a partition of forces +does not take place to the same extent as it usually does in a mountainous +country, or in a country very much intersected with canals, rivers, &c.: in +other words, the partition of forces in such a country is more unavoidable but +not so great. +</p> + +<p> +In mountains, the obstacles to movement preponderate and take effect in two +ways, because in some parts the country is quite impassable, and where it is +practicable we must move slower and with greater difficulty. On this account +the rapidity of all movements is much diminished in mountains, and all +operations are mixed up with a larger quantity of the element of time. But the +ground in mountains has also the special property peculiar to itself, that one +point commands another. We shall devote the following chapter to the discussion +of the subject of commanding heights generally, and shall only here remark that +it is this peculiarity which causes the great partition of forces in operations +carried on amongst mountains, for particular points thus acquire importance +from the influence they have upon other points in addition to any intrinsic +value which they have in themselves. +</p> + +<p> +As we have elsewhere observed, each of these three kinds of ground in +proportion as its own special peculiarity has a tendency to an extreme, has in +the same degree a tendency to lower the influence of the supreme command, +increasing in like manner the independent action of subordinates down to the +private soldier. The greater the partition of any force, the less an undivided +control is possible, so much the more are subordinates left to themselves; that +is self-evident. Certainly when the partition of a force is greater, then +through the diversity of action and greater scope in the use of means the +influence of intelligence must increase, and even the commander-in-chief may +show his talents to advantage under such circumstances; but we must here repeat +what has been said before, that in war the sum total of single results decides +more than the form or method in which they are connected, and therefore, if we +push our present considerations to an extreme case, and suppose a whole army +extended in a line of skirmishers so that each private soldier fights his own +little battle, more will depend on the sum of single victories gained than on +the form in which they are connected; for the benefit of good combinations can +only follow from positive results, not from negative. Therefore in such a case +the courage, the dexterity, and the spirit of individuals will prove decisive. +It is only when two opposing armies are on a par as regards military qualities, +or that their peculiar properties hold the balance even, that the talent and +judgment of the commander become again decisive. The consequence is that +national armies and insurgent levies, etc., etc., in which, at least in the +individual, the warlike spirit is highly excited, although they are not +superior in skill and bravery, are still able to maintain a superiority by a +great dispersion of their forces favoured by a difficult country, and that they +can only maintain themselves for a continuance upon that kind of system, +because troops of this description are generally destitute of all the qualities +and virtues which are indispensable when tolerably large numbers are required +to act as a united body. +</p> + +<p> +Also in the nature of forces there are many gradations between one of these +extremes and the other, for the very circumstance of being engaged in the +defence of its own country gives to even a regular standing army something of +the character of a national army, and makes it more suited for a war waged by +an army broken up into detachments. +</p> + +<p> +Now the more these qualifications and influences are wanting in an army, the +greater they are on the side of its opponent, so much the more will it dread +being split into fractions, the more it will avoid a broken country; but to +avoid fighting in such a description of country is seldom a matter of choice; +we cannot choose a theatre of war like a piece of merchandise from amongst +several patterns, and thus we find generally that armies which from their +nature fight with advantage in concentrated masses, exhaust all their ingenuity +in trying to carry out their system as far as possible in direct opposition +<i>to the nature of the country</i>. They must in consequence submit to other +disadvantages, such as scanty and difficult subsistence for the troops, bad +quarters, and in the combat numerous attacks from all sides; but the +disadvantage of giving up their own special advantage would be greater. +</p> + +<p> +These two tendencies in opposite directions, the one to concentration the other +to dispersion of forces, prevail more or less according as the nature of the +troops engaged incline them more to one side or the other, but however decided +the tendency, the one side cannot always remain with his forces concentrated, +neither can the other expect success by following his system of warfare in +scattered bodies on all occasions. The French were obliged to resort to +partitioning their forces in Spain, and the Spaniards, whilst defending their +country by means of an insurgent population, were obliged to try the fate of +great battles in the open field with part of their forces. +</p> + +<p> +Next to the connection which country and ground have with the general, and +especially with the political, composition of the forces engaged, the most +important point is the relative proportion of the three arms. +</p> + +<p> +In all countries which are difficult to traverse, whether the obstacles are +mountains, forests, or a peculiar cultivation, a numerous cavalry is useless: +that is plain in itself; it is just the same with artillery in wooded +countries; there will probably be a want of room to use it with effect, of +roads to transport it, and of forage for the horses. For this arm highly +cultivated countries are less disadvantageous, and least of all a mountainous +country. Both, no doubt, afford cover against its fire, and in that respect +they are unfavourable to an arm which depends entirely on its fire: both also +often furnish means for the enemy’s infantry to place the heavy artillery +in jeopardy, as infantry can pass anywhere; but still in neither is there in +general any want of space for the use of a numerous artillery, and in +mountainous countries it has this great advantage, that its effects are +prolonged and increased in consequence of the movements of the enemy being +slower. +</p> + +<p> +But it is undeniable that infantry has a decided advantage over every other arm +in difficult country, and that, therefore, in such a country its number may +considerably exceed the usual proportion. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap64"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>Command of Ground</h3> + +<p> +The word “command” has a charm in the art of war peculiar to +itself, and in fact to this element belongs a great part, perhaps half the +influence which ground exercises on the use of troops. Here many of the sacred +relics of military erudition have their root, as, for instance, commanding +positions, key positions, strategic manœuvres, etc. We shall take as clear a +view of the subject as we can without prolixity, and pass in review the true +and the false, reality and exaggeration. +</p> + +<p> +Every exertion of physical force if made upwards is more difficult than if it +is made in the contrary direction (downwards); consequently it must be so in +fighting; and there are three evident reasons why it is so. First, every height +may be regarded as an obstacle to approach; secondly, although the range is not +perceptibly greater in shooting down from a height, yet, all geometrical +relations being taken into consideration, we have a better chance of hitting +than in the opposite case; thirdly, an elevation gives a better command of +view. How all these advantages unite themselves together in battle we are not +concerned with here; we collect the sum total of the advantages which tactics +derives from elevation of position and combine them in one whole which we +regard as the first strategic advantage. +</p> + +<p> +But the first and last of these advantages that have been enumerated must +appear once more as advantages of strategy itself, for we march and reconnoitre +in strategy as well as in tactics; if, therefore, an elevated position is an +obstacle to the approach of those on lower ground, that is the second; and the +better command of view which this elevated position affords is the third +advantage which strategy may derive in this way. +</p> + +<p> +Of these elements is composed the power of dominating, overlooking, commanding; +from these sources springs the sense of superiority and security which is felt +in standing on the brow of a hill and looking at the enemy below, and the +feeling of weakness and apprehension which pervades the minds of those below. +Perhaps the total impression made is at the same time stronger than it ought to +be, because the advantage of the higher ground strikes the senses more than the +circumstances which modify that advantage. Perhaps the impression made +surpasses that which the truth warrants, in which case the effect of +imagination must be regarded as a new element, which exaggerates the effect +produced by an elevation of ground. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time the advantage of greater facility of movement is not absolute, +and not always in favour of the side occupying the higher position; it is only +so when his opponent wishes to attack him; it is not if the combatants are +separated by a great valley, and it is actually in favour of the army on the +lower ground if both wish to fight in the plain (battle of Hohenfriedberg). +Also the power of overlooking, or command of view, has likewise great +limitations. A wooded country in the valley below, and often the very masses of +the mountains themselves on which we stand, obstruct the vision. Countless are +the cases in which we might seek in vain on the spot for those advantages of an +elevated position which a map would lead us to expect; and we might often be +led to think we had only involved ourselves in all kinds of disadvantages, the +very opposite of the advantages we counted upon. But these limitations and +conditions do not abrogate or destroy the superiority which the more elevated +position confers, both on the defensive and offensive. We shall point out, in a +few words, how this is the case with each. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the three strategic advantages of the more elevated ground, <i>the +greater tactical strength, the more difficult approach</i>, and <i>the better +view</i>, the first two are of such a nature that they belong really to the +defensive only; for it is only in holding firmly to a position that we can make +use of them, whilst the other side (offensive) in moving cannot remove them and +take them with him; but the third advantage can be made use of by the offensive +just as well as by the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows that the more elevated ground is highly important to the +defensive, and as it can only be maintained in a decisive way in mountainous +countries, therefore it would seem to follow, as a consequence, that the +defensive has an important advantage in mountain positions. How it is that, +through other circumstances, this is not so in reality, we shall show in the +chapter on the defence of mountains. +</p> + +<p> +We must first of all make a distinction if the question relates merely to +commanding ground at one single point, as, for example, a position for an army; +in such case the strategic advantages rather merge in the tactical one of a +battle fought under advantageous circumstances; but if now we imagine a +considerable tract of country—suppose a whole province—as a regular +slope, like the declivity at a general watershed, so that we can make several +marches, and always hold the upper ground, then the strategic advantages become +greater, because we can now use the advantages of the more elevated ground not +only in the combination of our forces with each other for one particular +combat, but also in the combination of several combats with one another. Thus +it is with the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +As regards the offensive, it enjoys to a certain extent the same advantages as +the defensive from the more elevated ground; for this reason that the stragetic +attack is not confined to one act like the tactical. The strategic advance is +not the continuous movement of a piece of wheelwork; it is made in single +marches with a longer or shorter interval between them, and at each halting +point the assailant is just as much acting on the defensive as his adversary. +</p> + +<p> +Through the advantage of a better view of the surrounding country, an elevated +position confers, in a certain measure, on the offensive as well as the +defensive, a power of action which we must not omit to notice; it is the +facility of operating with separate masses. For each portion of a force +separately derives the same advantages which the whole derives from this more +elevated position; by this—a separate corps, let it be strong or weak in +numbers, is stronger than it would otherwise be, and we can venture to take up +a position with less danger than we could if it had not that particular +property of being on an elevation. The advantages which are to be derived from +such separate bodies of troops is a subject for another place. +</p> + +<p> +If the possession of more elevated ground is combined with other geographical +advantages which are in our favour, if the enemy finds himself cramped in his +movements from other causes, as, for instance, by the proximity of a large +river, such disadvantages of his position may prove quite decisive, and he may +feel that he cannot too soon relieve himself from such a position. No army can +maintain itself in the valley of a great river if it is not in possession of +the heights on each side by which the valley is formed. +</p> + +<p> +The possession of elevated ground may therefore become virtually command, and +we can by no means deny that this idea represents a reality. But nevertheless +the expressions “commanding ground,” “sheltering +position,” “key of the country,” in so far as they are +founded on the nature of heights and descents, are hollow shells without any +sound kernel. These imposing elements of theory have been chiefly resorted to +in order to give a flavour to the seeming commonplace of military combinations; +they have become the darling themes of learned soldiers, the magical wands of +adepts in strategy, and neither the emptiness of these fanciful conceits, nor +the frequent contradictions which have been given to them by the results of +experience have sufficed to convince authors, and those who read their books, +that with such phraseology they are drawing water in the leaky vessel of the +Danaides. The conditions have been mistaken for the thing itself, the +instrument for the hand. The occupation of such and such a position or space of +ground, has been looked upon as an exercise of power like a thrust or a cut, +the ground or position itself as a substantive quantity; whereas the one is +like the lifting of the arm, the other is nothing but the lifeless instrument, +a mere property which can only realise itself upon an object, a mere sign of +plus or minus which wants the figures or quantities. This cut and thrust, this +object, this quantity, is <i>a victorious battle;</i> it alone really counts; +with it only can we reckon; and we must always have it in view, as well in +giving a critical judgment in literature as in real action in the field. +</p> + +<p> +Consequently, if nothing but the number and value of victorious combats decides +in war, it is plain that the comparative value of the opposing armies and +ability of their respective leaders again rank as the first points for +consideration, and that the part which the influence of ground plays can only +be one of an inferior grade. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part06"></a>BOOK VI<br/>DEFENCE</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap65"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>Offence and Defence</h3> + +<h4> +1.—Conception of Defence. +</h4> + +<p> +What is defence in conception? The warding off a blow. What is then its +characteristic sign? The state of expectancy (or of waiting for this blow). +This is the sign by which we always recognise an act as of a defensive +character, and by this sign alone can the defensive be distinguished from the +offensive in war. But inasmuch as an absolute defence completely contradicts +the idea of war, because there would then be war carried on by one side only, +it follows that the defence in war can only be relative and the above +distinguishing signs must therefore only be applied to the essential idea or +general conception: it does not apply to all the separate acts which compose +the war. A partial combat is defensive if we receive the onset, the charge of +the enemy; a battle is so if we receive the attack, that is, wait for the +appearance of the enemy before our position and within range of our fire; a +campaign is defensive if we wait for the entry of the enemy into our theatre of +war. In all these cases the sign of waiting for and warding off belongs to the +general conception, without any contradiction arising with the conception of +war, for it may be to our advantage to wait for the charge against our +bayonets, or the attack on our position or our theatre of war. But as we must +return the enemy’s blows if we are really to carry on war on our side, +therefore this offensive act in defensive war takes place more or less under +the general title defensive—that is to say, the offensive of which we +make use falls under the conception of position or theatre of war. We can, +therefore, in a defensive campaign fight offensively, in a defensive battle we +may use some divisions for offensive purposes, and lastly, while remaining in +position awaiting the enemy’s onslaught, we still make use of the +offensive by sending at the same time balls into the enemy’s ranks. The +defensive form in war is therefore no mere shield but a shield formed of blows +delivered with skill. +</p> + +<h4> +2.—Advantages of the Defensive. +</h4> + +<p> +What is the object of defence? <i>To preserve</i>. To preserve is easier than +to acquire; from which follows at once that the means on both sides being +supposed equal, the defensive is easier than the offensive. But in what +consists the greater facility of preserving or keeping possession? In this, +that all time which is not turned to any account falls into the scale in favour +of the defence. He reaps where he has not sowed. Every suspension of offensive +action, either from erroneous views, from fear or from indolence, is in favour +of the side acting defensively. This advantage saved the State of Prussia from +ruin more than once in the Seven Years’ War. It is one which derives +itself from the conception and object of the defensive, lies in the nature of +all defence, and in ordinary life, particularly in legal business which bears +so much resemblance to war, it is expressed by the Latin proverb, <i>Beati sunt +possidentes</i>. Another advantage arising from the nature of war and belonging +to it exclusively, is the aid afforded by locality or ground; this is one of +which the defensive form has a preferential use. +</p> + +<p> +Having established these general ideas we now turn more directly to the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +In tactics every combat, great or small, is <i>defensive</i> if we leave the +initiative to the enemy, and wait for his appearance in our front. From that +moment forward we can make use of all offensive means without losing the said +two advantages of the defence, namely, that of waiting for, and that of ground. +In strategy, at first, the campaign represents the battle, and the theatre of +war the position; but afterwards the whole war takes the place of the campaign, +and the whole country that of the theatre of war, and in both cases the +defensive remains that which it was in tactics. +</p> + +<p> +It has been already observed in a general way that the defensive is easier than +the offensive; but as the defensive has a negative object, that of +<i>preserving</i>, and the offensive a positive object that of +<i>conquering</i>, and as the latter increases our own means of carrying on +war, but the preserving does not, therefore in order to express ourselves +distinctly, we must say, <i>that the defensive form of war is in itself +stronger than the offensive</i>. This is the result we have been desirous of +arriving at; for although it lies completely in the nature of the thing, and +has been confirmed by experience a thousand times, still it is completely +contrary to prevalent opinion—a proof how ideas may be confused by +superficial writers. +</p> + +<p> +If the defensive is the stronger form of conducting war, but has a negative +object, it follows of itself that we must only make use of it so long as our +weakness compels us to do so, and that we must give up that form as soon as we +feel strong enough to aim at the positive object. Now as the state of our +circumstances is usually improved in the event of our gaining a victory through +the assistance of the defensive, it is therefore, also, the natural course in +war to begin with the defensive, and to end with the offensive. It is therefore +just as much in contradiction with the conception of war to suppose the +defensive the ultimate object of the war as it was a contradiction to +understand passivity to belong to all the parts of the defensive, as well as to +the defensive as a whole. In other words: a war in which victories are merely +used to ward off blows, and where there is no attempt to return the blow, would +be just as absurd as a battle in which the most absolute defence (passivity) +should everywhere prevail in all measures. +</p> + +<p> +Against the justice of this general view many examples might be quoted in which +the defensive continued defensive to the last, and the assumption of the +offensive was never contemplated; but such an objection could only be urged if +we lost sight of the fact that here the question is only about general ideas +(abstract ideas), and that examples in opposition to the general conception we +are discussing are all of them to be looked upon as cases in which the time for +the possibility of offensive reaction had not yet arrived. +</p> + +<p> +In the Seven Years’ War, at least in the last three years of it, +Frederick the Great did not think of an offensive; indeed we believe further, +that generally speaking, he only acted on the offensive at any time in this war +as the best means of defending himself; his whole situation compelled him to +this course, and it is natural that a general should aim more immediately at +that which is most in accordance with the situation in which he is placed for +the time being. Nevertheless, we cannot look at this example of a defence upon +a great scale without supposing that the idea of a possible counterstroke +against Austria lay at the bottom of the whole of it, and saying to ourselves, +the moment for that counterstroke had not arrived before the war came to a +close. The conclusion of peace shows that this idea is not without foundation +even in this instance; for what could have actuated the Austrians to make peace +except the thought that they were not in a condition with their own forces +alone to make head against the talent of the king; that to maintain an +equilibrium their exertions must be greater than heretofore, and that the +slightest relaxation of their efforts would probably lead to fresh losses of +territory. And, in fact, who can doubt that if Russia, Sweden, and the army of +the German Empire had ceased to act together against Frederick the Great he +would have tried to conquer the Austrians again in Bohemia and Moravia? +</p> + +<p> +Having thus defined the true meaning of the defensive, having defined its +boundaries, we return again to the assertion that the defensive <i>is the +stronger form of making war.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Upon a closer examination, and comparison of the offensive and defensive, this +will appear perfectly plain; but for the present we shall confine ourselves to +noticing the contradiction in which we should be involved with ourselves, and +with the results of experience by maintaining the contrary to be the fact. If +the offensive form was the stronger there would be no further occasion ever to +use the defensive, as it has merely a negative object, every one would be for +attacking, and the defensive would be an absurdity. On the other hand, it is +very natural that the higher object should be purchased by greater sacrifices. +Whoever feels himself strong enough to make use of the weaker form has it in +his power to aim at the greater object; whoever sets before himself the smaller +object can only do so in order to have the benefit of the stronger +form—If we look to experience, such a thing is unheard of as any one +carrying on a war upon two different theatres—offensively on one with the +weaker army, and defensively on the other with his strongest force But if the +reverse of this has everywhere and at all times taken place that shows plainly +that generals although their own inclination prompts them to the offensive, +still hold the defensive to be the stronger form. We have still in the next +chapters to explain some preliminary points. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap66"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Tactics</h3> + +<p> +First of all we must inquire into the circumstances which give the victory in a +battle. +</p> + +<p> +Of superiority of numbers, and bravery, discipline, or other qualities of an +army, we say nothing here, because, as a rule, they depend on things which lie +out of the province of the art of war in the sense in which we are now +considering it; besides which they exercise the same effect in the offensive as +the defensive; and, moreover also, the superiority in <i>numbers in general</i> +cannot come under consideration here, as the number of troops is likewise a +given quantity or condition, and does not depend on the will or pleasure of the +general. Further, these things have no particular connection with attack and +defence. But, irrespective of these things, there are other three which appear +to us of decisive importance, these are: <i>surprise, advantage of ground</i>, +and <i>the attack from several quarters</i>. The surprise produces an effect by +opposing to the enemy a great many more troops than he expected at some +particular point. The superiority in numbers in this case is very different to +a general superiority of numbers; it is the most powerful agent in the art of +war.—The way in which the advantage of ground contributes to the victory +is intelligible enough of itself, and we have only one observation to make +which is, that we do not confine our remarks to obstacles which obstruct the +advance of an enemy, such as scarped grounds, high hills, marshy streams, +hedges, inclosures, etc.; we also allude to the advantage which ground affords +as cover, under which troops are concealed from view. Indeed we may say that +even from ground which is quite unimportant a person acquainted with the +locality may derive assistance. The attack from several quarters includes in +itself all tactical turning movements great and small, and its effects are +derived partly from the double execution obtained in this way from fire-arms, +and partly from the enemy’s dread of his retreat being cut off. +</p> + +<p> +Now how do the offensive and defensive stand respectively in relation to these +things? +</p> + +<p> +Having in view the three principles of victory just described, the answer to +this question is, that only a small portion of the first and last of these +principles is in favour of the offensive, whilst the greater part of them, and +the whole of the second principle, are at the command of the party acting +defensively. +</p> + +<p> +The offensive side can only have the advantage of one complete surprise of the +whole mass with the whole, whilst the defensive is in a condition to surprise +incessantly, throughout the whole course of the combat, by the force and form +which he gives to his partial attacks. +</p> + +<p> +The offensive has greater facilities than the defensive for surrounding and +cutting off the whole, as the latter is in a manner in a fixed position while +the former is in a state of movement having reference to that position. But the +superior advantage for an enveloping movement, which the offensive possesses, +as now stated, is again limited to a movement against the whole mass; for +during the course of the combat, and with separate divisions of the force, it +is easier for the defensive than for the offensive to make attacks from several +quarters, <i>because, as we have already said, the former is in a better +situation to surprise by the force and form of his attacks.</i> +</p> + +<p> +That the defensive in an especial manner enjoys the assistance which ground +affords is plain in itself; as to what concerns the advantage which the +defensive has in surprising by the force and form of his attacks, that results +from the offensive being obliged to approach by roads and paths where he may be +easily observed, whilst the defensive conceals his position, and, until almost +the decisive moment, remains invisible to his opponent.—Since the true +method of defence has been adopted, reconnaissances have gone quite out of +fashion, that is to say, they have become impossible. Certainly reconnaissances +are still made at times, but they seldom bring home much with them. Immense as +is the advantage of being able to examine well a position, and become perfectly +acquainted with it before a battle, plain as it is that he (the defensive) who +lies in wait near such a chosen position can much more easily effect a surprise +than his adversary, yet still to this very hour the old notion is not exploded +that a battle which is accepted is half lost. This comes from the old kind of +defensive practised twenty years ago, and partly also in the Seven Years’ +War, when the only assistance expected from the ground was that it should be +difficult of approach in front (by steep mountain slopes, etc., etc.), when the +little depth of the positions and the difficulty of moving the flanks produced +such weakness that the armies dodged one another from one hill to another, +which increased the evil. If some kind of support were found on which to rest +the wings, then all depended on preventing the army stretched along between +these points, like a piece of work on an embroidery frame, from being broken +through at any point. The ground occupied possessed a direct value at every +point, and therefore a direct defence was required everywhere. Under such +circumstances, the idea of making a movement or attempting a surprise during +the battle could not be entertained; it was the exact reverse of what +constitutes a good defence, and of that which the defence has actually become +in modern warfare. +</p> + +<p> +In reality, contempt for the defensive has always been the result of some +particular method of defence having become worn out (outlived its period); and +this was just the case with the method we have now mentioned, for in times +antecedent to the period we refer to, that very method was superior to the +offensive. +</p> + +<p> +If we go through the progressive development of the modern art of war, we find +that at the commencement—that is the Thirty Years’ War and the war +of the Spanish Succession—the deployment and drawing up of the army in +array, was one of the great leading points connected with the battle. It was +the most important part of the plan of the battle. This gave the defensive, as +a rule, a great advantage, as he was already drawn up and deployed. As soon as +the troops acquired greater capability of manœuvring, this advantage ceased, +and the superiority passed over to the side of the offensive for a time. Then +the defensive sought shelter behind rivers or deep valleys, or on high land. +The defensive thus recovered the advantage, and continued to maintain it until +the offensive acquired such increased mobility and expertness in manœuvring +that he himself could venture into broken ground and attack in separate +columns, and therefore became able <i>to turn</i> his adversary. This led to a +gradual increase in the length of positions, in consequence of which, no doubt, +it occurred to the offensive to concentrate at a few points, and break through +the enemy’s thin line. The offensive thus, for a third time, gained the +ascendancy, and the defence was again obliged to alter its system. This it has +done in recent wars by keeping its forces concentrated in large masses, the +greater part not deployed, and, where possible, concealed, thus merely taking +up a position in readiness to act according to the measures of the enemy as +soon as they are sufficiently revealed. +</p> + +<p> +This does not preclude a partially passive defence of the ground; its advantage +is too great for it not to be used a hundred times in a campaign. But that kind +of passive defence of the ground is usually no longer the principal affair: +that is what we have to do with here. +</p> + +<p> +If the offensive should discover some new and powerful element which it can +bring to its assistance—an event not very probable, seeing the point of +simplicity and natural order to which all is now brought—then the defence +must again alter its method. But the defensive is always certain of the +assistance of ground, which insures to it in general its natural superiority, +as the special properties of country and ground exercise a greater influence +than ever on actual warfare. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap67"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Strategy</h3> + +<p> +Let us ask again, first of all, what are the circumstances which insure a +successful result in strategy? +</p> + +<p> +In strategy there is no victory, as we have before said. On the one hand, the +strategic success is the successful preparation of the tactical victory; the +greater this strategic success, the more probable becomes the victory in the +battle. On the other hand, strategic success lies in the making use of the +victory gained. The more events the strategic combinations can in the sequel +include in the consequences of a battle gained, the more strategy can lay hands +on amongst the wreck of all that has been shaken to the foundation by the +battle, the more it sweeps up in great masses what of necessity has been gained +with great labour by many single hands in the battle, the grander will be its +success.—Those things which chiefly lead to this success, or at least +facilitate it, consequently the leading principles of efficient action in +strategy, are as follow:— +</p> + +<p> +1. The advantage of ground. +</p> + +<p> +2. The surprise, let it be either in the form of an actual attack by surprise +or by the unexpected display of large forces at certain points. +</p> + +<p> +3. The attack from several quarters (all three, as in tactics). +</p> + +<p> +4. The assistance of the theatre of war by fortresses, and everything belonging +to them. +</p> + +<p> +5. The support of the people. +</p> + +<p> +6. The utilisation of great moral forces. +</p> + +<p> +Now, what are the relations of offensive and defensive with respect to these +things? +</p> + +<p> +The party on the defensive has the advantage of ground; the offensive side that +of the attack by surprise in strategy, as in tactics But respecting the +surprise, we must observe that it is infinitely more efficacious and important +in strategy than in tactics. In the latter, a surprise seldom rises to the +level of a great victory, while in strategy it often finishes the war at one +stroke. But at the same time we must observe that the advantageous use of this +means supposes some <i>great</i> and <i>uncommon</i>, as well as +<i>decisive</i> error committed by the adversary, therefore it does not alter +the balance much in favour of the offensive. +</p> + +<p> +The surprise of the enemy, by placing superior forces in position at certain +points, has again a great resemblance to the analogous case in tactics. Were +the defensive compelled to distribute his forces upon several points of +approach to his theatre of war, then the offensive would have plainly the +advantage of being able to fall upon one point with all his weight. But here +also, the new art of acting on the defensive by a different mode of proceeding +has imperceptibly brought about new principles. If the defensive side does not +apprehend that the enemy, by making use of an undefended road, will throw +himself upon some important magazine or depôt, or on some unprepared +fortification, or on the capital itself.—and if he is not reduced to the +alternative of opposing the enemy on the road he has chosen, or of having his +retreat cut off, then there are no peremptory grounds for dividing his forces; +for if the offensive chooses a different road from that on which the defensive +is to be found, then some days later the latter can march against his opponent +with his whole force upon the road he has chosen; besides, he may at the same +time, in most cases, rest satisfied that the offensive will do him the honour +to seek him out.—If the offensive is obliged to advance with his forces +divided, which is often unavoidable on account of subsistence, then plainly the +defensive has the advantage on his side of being able to fall in force upon a +fraction of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +Attacks in flank and rear, which in strategy mean on the sides and reverse of +the theatre of war, are of a very different nature to attacks so called in +tactics. +</p> + +<p> +1st. There is no bringing the enemy under two fires, because we cannot fire +from one end of a theatre of war to the other. +</p> + +<p> +2nd. The apprehension of losing the line of retreat is very much less, for the +spaces in strategy are so great that they cannot be barred as in tactics. +</p> + +<p> +3rd. In strategy, on account of the extent of space embraced, the efficacy of +interior, that is of shorter lines, is much greater, and this forms a great +safeguard against attacks from several directions. +</p> + +<p> +4th. A new principle makes its appearance in the sensibility, which is felt as +to lines of communication, that is in the effect which is produced by merely +interrupting them. +</p> + +<p> +Now it confessedly lies in the nature of things, that on account of the greater +spaces in strategy, the enveloping attack, or the attack from several sides, as +a rule is only possible for the side which has the initiative, that is the +offensive, and that the defensive is not in a condition, as he is in tactics, +in the course of the action, to turn the tables on the enemy by surrounding +him, because he has it not in his power either to draw up his forces with the +necessary depth relatively, or to conceal them sufficiently: but then, of what +use is the facility of enveloping to the offensive, if its advantages are not +forthcoming? We could not therefore bring forward the enveloping attack in +strategy as a principle of victory in general, if its influence on the lines of +communication did not come into consideration. But this factor is seldom great +at the first moment, when attack and defence first meet, and while they are +still opposed to each other in their original position; it only becomes great +as a campaign advances, when the offensive in the enemy’s country is by +degrees brought into the condition of defensive; then the lines of +communication of this new party acting on the defensive, become weak, and the +party originally on the defensive, in assuming the offensive can derive +advantage from this weakness. But who does not see that this casual superiority +of the attack is not to be carried to the credit of the offensive in general, +for it is in reality created out of the superior relations of the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +The fourth principle, the <i>Assistance of the Theatre of War</i>, is naturally +an advantage on the side of the defensive. If the attacking army opens the +campaign, it breaks away from its own theatre, and is thus weakened, that is, +it leaves fortresses and depôts of all kinds behind it. The greater the sphere +of operations which must be traversed, the more it will be weakened (by marches +and garrisons); the army on the defensive continues to keep up its connection +with everything, that is, it enjoys the support of its fortresses, is not +weakened in any way, and is near to its sources of supply. +</p> + +<p> +<i>The support of the population</i> as a fifth principle is not realised in +every defence, for a defensive campaign may be carried on in the enemy’s +country, but still this principle is only derived from the idea of the +defensive, and applies to it in the majority of cases. Besides by this is meant +chiefly, although not exclusively, the effect of calling out the last Reserves, +and even of a national armament, the result of which is that all friction is +diminished, and that all resources are sooner forthcoming and flow in more +abundantly. +</p> + +<p> +The campaign of 1812, gives as it were in a magnifying glass a very clear +illustration of the effect of the means specified under principles 3 and 4. +500,000 men passed the Niemen, 120,000 fought at Borodino, and much fewer +arrived at Moscow. +</p> + +<p> +We may say that the effect itself of this stupendous attempt was so disastrous +that even if the Russians had not assumed any offensive at all, they would +still have been secure from any fresh attempt at invasion for a considerable +time. It is true that with the exception of Sweden there is no country in +Europe which is situated like Russia, but the efficient principle is always the +same, the only distinction being in the greater or less degree of its strength. +</p> + +<p> +If we add to the fourth and fifth principles, the consideration that these +forces of the defensive belong to the original defensive, that is the defensive +carried on in our own soil, and that they are much weaker if the defence takes +place in an enemy’s country and is mixed up with an offensive +undertaking, then from that there is a new disadvantage for the offensive, much +the same as above, in respect to the third principle; for the offensive is just +as little composed entirely of active elements, as the defensive of mere +warding off blows; indeed every attack which does not lead directly to peace +must inevitably end in the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if all defensive elements which are brought into use in the attack are +weakened by its nature, that is by belonging to the attack, then this must also +be considered as a general disadvantage of the offensive. +</p> + +<p> +This is far from being an idle piece of logical refinement, on the contrary we +should rather say that in it lies the chief disadvantage of the offensive in +general, and therefore from the very commencement of, as well as throughout +every combination for a strategic attack, most particular attention ought to be +directed to this point, that is to the defensive, which may follow, as we shall +see more plainly when we come to the book on plans of campaigns. +</p> + +<p> +The great moral forces which at times saturate the element of war, as it were +with a leaven of their own, which therefore the commander in certain cases can +use to assist the other means at his command, are to be supposed just as well +on the side of the defensive as of the offensive; at least those which are more +especially in favour of the attack, such as confusion and disorder in the +enemy’s ranks—do not generally appear until after the decisive +stroke is given, and consequently seldom contribute beforehand to produce that +result. +</p> + +<p> +We think we have now sufficiently established our proposition, that the +<i>defensive is a stronger form of war than the offensive;</i> but there still +remains to be mentioned one small factor hitherto unnoticed. It is the high +spirit, the feeling of superiority in an army which springs from a +consciousness of belonging to the attacking party. The thing is in itself a +fact, but the feeling soon merges into the more general and more powerful one +which is imparted by victory or defeat, by the talent or incapacity of the +general. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap68"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>Convergence of Attack and Divergence of Defence</h3> + +<p> +These two conceptions, these forms in the use of offensive and defensive, +appear so frequently in theory and reality, that the imagination is +involuntarily disposed to look upon them as intrinsic forms, necessary to +attack and defence, which, however, is not really the case, as the smallest +reflection will show. We take the earliest opportunity of examining them, that +we may obtain once for all clear ideas respecting them, and that, in proceeding +with our consideration of the relations of attack and defence, we may be able +to set these conceptions aside altogether, and not have our attention for ever +distracted by the appearance of advantage and the reverse which they cast upon +things. We treat them here as pure abstractions, extract the conception of them +like an essence, and reserve our remarks on the part which it has in actual +things for a future time. +</p> + +<p> +The defending party, both in tactics and in strategy, is supposed to be waiting +in expectation, therefore standing, whilst the assailant is imagined to be in +movement, and in movement expressly directed against that standing adversary. +It follows from this, necessarily, that turning and enveloping is at the option +of the assailant only, that is to say, as long as his movement and the +immobility of the defensive continue. This freedom of choice of the mode of +attack, whether it shall be convergent or not, according as it shall appear +advantageous or otherwise, ought to be reckoned as an advantage to the +offensive in general. But this choice is free only in tactics; it is not always +allowed in strategy. In the first, the points on which the wings rest are +hardly ever absolutely secure; but they are very frequently so in strategy, as +when the front to be defended stretches in a straight line from one sea to +another, or from one neutral territory to another. In such cases, the attack +cannot be made in a convergent form, and the liberty of choice is limited. It +is limited in a still more embarrassing manner if the assailant is obliged to +operate by converging lines. Russia and France cannot attack Germany in any +other way than by converging lines; therefore they cannot attack with their +forces united. Now if we assume as granted that the concentric form in the +action of forces in the majority of cases is the weaker form, then the +advantage which the assailant possesses in the greater freedom of choice may +probably be completely outweighed by the disadvantage, in other cases, of being +compelled to make use of the weaker form. +</p> + +<p> +We proceed to examine more closely the action of these forms, both in tactics +and in strategy. +</p> + +<p> +It has been considered one of the chief advantages of giving a concentric +direction to forces, that is, operating from the circumference of a circle +towards the centre, that the further the forces advance, the nearer they +approach to each other; the fact is true, but the supposed advantage is not; +for the tendency to union is going on equally on both sides; consequently, the +equilibrium is not disturbed. It is the same in the dispersion of force by +eccentric movements. +</p> + +<p> +But another and a real advantage is, that forces operating on converging lines +direct their action towards a <i>common point</i>, those operating on diverging +lines do not.—Now what are the effects of the action in the two cases? +Here we must separate tactics from strategy. +</p> + +<p> +We shall not push the analysis too far, and therefore confine ourselves to the +following points as the advantages of the action in tactics. +</p> + +<p> +1. A cross fire, or, at least, an increased effect of fire, as soon as all is +brought within a certain range. +</p> + +<p> +2. Attack of one and the same point from several sides. +</p> + +<p> +3. The cutting off the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The interception of a retreat may be also conceived strategically, but then it +is plainly much more difficult, because great spaces are not easily blocked. +The attack upon one and the same body from several quarters is generally more +effectual and decisive, the smaller this body is, the nearer it approaches to +the lowest limit—that of a single combatant. An army can easily give +battle on several sides, a division less easily, a battalion only when formed +in mass, a single man not at all. Now strategy, in its province, deals with +large masses of men, extensive spaces, and considerable duration of time; with +tactics, it is the reverse. From this follows that the attack from several +sides in strategy cannot have the same results as in tactics. +</p> + +<p> +The effect of fire does not come within the scope of strategy; but in its place +there is something else. It is that tottering of the base which every army +feels when there is a victorious enemy in its rear, whether near or far off. +</p> + +<p> +It is, therefore, certain that the concentric action of forces has an advantage +in this way, that the action or effect against a is at the same time one +against <i>b</i>, without its force against <i>a</i> being diminished, and that +the action against <i>b</i> is likewise action against <i>a</i>. The whole, +therefore, is not <i>a</i> + <i>b</i>, but something more; and this advantage +is produced both in tactics and strategy, although somewhat differently in +each. +</p> + +<p> +Now what is there in the eccentric or divergent action of forces to oppose to +this advantage? Plainly the advantage of having the forces in greater proximity +to each other, and the moving on <i>interior lines</i>. It is unnecessary to +demonstrate how this can become such a multiplier of forces that the assailant +cannot encounter the advantage it gives his opponent unless he has a great +superiority of force.—When once the defensive has adopted the principle +of movement (movement which certainly commences later than that of the +assailant, but still time enough to break the chains of paralysing inaction), +then this advantage of greater concentration and the interior lines tends much +more decisively, and in most cases more effectually, towards victory than the +concentric form of the attack. But victory must precede the realisation of this +superiority; we must conquer before we can think of cutting off an +enemy’s retreat. In short, we see that there is here a relation similar +to that which exists between attack and defence generally; the concentric form +leads to brilliant results, the advantages of the eccentric are more secure: +the former is the weaker form with the positive object; the latter, the +stronger form with the negative object. In this way these two forms seem to us +to be brought nearly to an even balance. Now if we add to this that the +defence, not being always absolute, is also not always precluded from using its +forces on converging lines, we have no longer a right to believe that this +converging form is alone sufficient to ensure to the offensive a superiority +over the defensive universally, and thus we set ourselves free from the +influence which that opinion usually exercises over the judgment, whenever +there is an opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +What has been said up to the present, relates to both tactics and strategy; we +have still a most important point to bring forward, which applies to strategy +only. The advantage of interior lines increases with the distances to which +these lines relate. In distances of a few thousand yards, or a half mile, the +time which is gained, cannot of course be as much as in distances of several +days’ march, or indeed, of twenty or thirty miles; the first, that is, +the small distances, concerns tactics, the greater ones belong to strategy. +But, although we certainly require more time, to reach an object in strategy, +than in tactics, and an army is not so quickly defeated as a battalion, still, +these periods of time in strategy can only increase up to a certain point; that +is, they can only last until a battle takes place, or, perhaps, over and above +that, for the few days during which a battle may be avoided without serious +loss. Further, there is a much greater difference in the real start in advance, +which is gained in one case, as compared with the other. Owing to the +insignificance of the distances in tactics, the movements of one army in a +battle, take place almost in sight of the other; the army, therefore, on the +exterior line, will generally very soon be made aware of what his adversary is +doing. From the long distances, with which strategy has to deal, it very seldom +happens, that the movement of one army, is not concealed from the other for at +least a day, and there are numerous instances, in which especially if the +movement is only partial, such as a considerable detachment, that it remains +secret for weeks.—It is easy to see, what a great advantage this power of +concealing movements must be to that party, who through the nature of his +position has reason to desire it most. +</p> + +<p> +We here close our considerations on the convergent and divergent use of forces, +and the relation of those forms to attack and defence, proposing to return to +the subject at another time. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap69"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Character of the Strategic Defensive</h3> + +<p> +We have already explained what the defensive is generally, namely, nothing more +than a stronger form of carrying on war, by means of which we endeavour to +wrest a victory, in order, after having gained a superiority, to pass over to +the offensive, that is to the positive object of war. +</p> + +<p> +Even if the intention of a war is only the maintenance of the existing +situation of things, the <i>status quo</i>, still a mere parrying of a blow is +something quite contradictory to the conception of the term war, because the +conduct of war is unquestionably no mere state of endurance. If the defender +has obtained an important advantage, then the defensive form has done its part, +and under the protection of this success he must give back the blow, otherwise +he exposes himself to certain destruction; common sense points out that iron +should be struck while it is hot, that we should use the advantage gained to +guard against a second attack. How, when and where this reaction shall commence +is subject certainly to a number of other conditions, which we can only explain +hereafter. For the present we keep to this, that we must always consider this +transition to an offensive return as a natural tendency of the defensive, +therefore as an essential element of the same, and always conclude that there +is something wrong in the management of a war when a victory gained through the +defensive form is not turned to good account in any manner, but allowed to +wither away. +</p> + +<p> +A swift and vigorous assumption of the offensive—the flashing sword of +vengeance—is the most brilliant point in the defensive; he who does not +at once think of it at the right moment, or rather he who does not from the +first include this transition in his idea of the defensive will never +understand the superiority of the defensive as a form of war; he will be for +ever thinking only of the means which will be consumed by the enemy and gained +by ourselves through the offensive, which means however depend not on tying the +knot, but on untying it. Further, it is a stupid confusion of ideas if, under +the term offensive, we always understand sudden attack or surprise, and +consequently under defensive imagine nothing but embarrassment and confusion. +</p> + +<p> +It is true that a conqueror makes his determination to go to war sooner than +the unconscious defender, and if he knows how to keep his measures properly +secret, he may also perhaps take the defender unawares; but that is a thing +quite foreign to war itself, for it should not be so. War actually takes place +more for the defensive than for the conqueror, for invasion only calls forth +resistance, and it is not until there is resistance that there is war. A +conqueror is always a lover of peace (as Buonaparte always asserted of +himself); he would like to make his entry into our state unopposed; in order to +prevent this, we must choose war, and therefore also make preparations, that is +in other words, it is just the weak, or that side which must defend itself, +which should be always armed in order not to be taken by surprise; so it is +willed by the art of war. +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of one side sooner than the other in the theatre of war depends, +besides, in most cases on things quite different from a view to offensive or +defensive. But although a view to one or other of these forms is not the cause, +it is often the result of this priority of appearance. Whoever is first ready +will on that account go to work offensively, if the advantage of surprise is +sufficiently great to make it expedient; and the party who is the last to be +ready can only then in some measure compensate for the disadvantage which +threatens him by the advantages of the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, it must be looked upon in general as an advantage for the +offensive, that he can make that good use of being the first in the field which +has been noticed in the third book; only this general advantage is not an +absolute necessity in every case. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, we imagine to ourselves a defensive, such as it should be, we +must suppose it with every possible preparation of all means, with an army fit +for, and inured to, war, with a general who does not wait for his adversary +with anxiety from an embarrassing feeling of uncertainty, but from his own free +choice, with cool presence of mind, with fortresses which do not dread a siege, +and lastly, with a loyal people who fear the enemy as little as he fears them. +With such attributes the defensive will act no such contemptible part in +opposition to the offensive, and the latter will not appear such an easy and +certain form of war, as it does in the gloomy imaginations of those who can +only see in the offensive courage, strength of will, and energy; in the +defensive, helplessness and apathy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap70"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>Extent of the Means of Defence</h3> + +<p> +We have shown in the second and third chapters of this book how the defence has +a natural advantage in the employment of those things, +which,—irrespective of the absolute strength and qualities of the +combatant force,—influence the tactical as well as the strategic result, +namely, the advantage of ground, sudden attack, attack from several directions +(converging form of attack), the assistance of the theatre of war, support of +the people, and the utilising great moral forces. We think it useful now to +cast again a glance over the extent of the means which are at command of the +defensive in particular, and which are to be regarded as the columns of the +different orders of architecture in his edifice. +</p> + +<h4> +1.—Landwehr (Militia). +</h4> + +<p> +This force has been used in modern times to combat the enemy on foreign soil; +and it is not to be denied that its organisation in many states, for instance +in Prussia, is of such a kind, that it may almost be regarded as part of the +standing army, therefore it does not belong to the defensive exclusively. At +the same time, we must not overlook the fact, that the very great use made of +it in 1813-14-15 was the result of defensive war; that it is organised in very +few places to the same degree as in Prussia, and that always when its +organisation falls below the level of complete efficiency, it is better suited +for the defensive than for the offensive. But besides that, there always lies +in the idea of a militia the notion of a very extensive more or less voluntary +co-operation of the whole mass of the people in support of the war, with all +their physical powers, as well as with their feelings, and a ready sacrifice of +all they possess. The more its organisation deviates from this, so much the +more the force thus created will become a standing army under another name, and +the more it will have the advantages of such a force; but it will also lose in +proportion the advantages which belong properly to the militia, those of being +a force, the limits of which are undefined, and capable of being easily +increased by appealing to the feelings and patriotism of the people. In these +things lies the essence of a militia; in its organisation, latitude must be +allowed for this co-operation of the whole people; if we seek to obtain +something extraordinary from a militia, we are only following a shadow. +</p> + +<p> +But now the close relationship between this essence of a militia system, and +the conception of the defensive, is not to be denied, neither can it be denied +that such a militia will always belong more to the defensive form than to the +offensive, and that it will manifest chiefly in the defensive, those effects +through which it surpasses the attack. +</p> + +<h4> +2.—Fortresses. +</h4> + +<p> +The assistance afforded by fortresses to the offensive does not extend beyond +what is given by those close upon the frontiers, and is only feeble in +influence; the assistance which the defensive can derive from this reaches +further into the heart of the country, and therefore more of them can be +brought into use, and their utility itself differs in the degree of its +intensity. A fortress which is made the object of a regular siege, and holds +out, is naturally of more considerable weight in the scales of war, than one +which by the strength of its works merely forbids the idea of its capture, and +therefore neither occupies nor consumes any of the enemy’s forces. +</p> + +<h4> +3.—The People. +</h4> + +<p> +Although the influence of a single inhabitant of the theatre of war on the +course of the war in most cases is not more perceptible than the co-operation +of a drop of water in a whole river, still even in cases where there is no such +thing as a general rising of the people, the <i>total influence</i> of the +inhabitants of a country in war is anything but imperceptible. Every thing goes +on easier in our own country, provided it is not opposed by the general feeling +of the population. All contributions great and small, are only yielded to the +enemy under the compulsion of direct force; that operation must be undertaken +by the troops, and cost the employment of many men as well as great exertions. +The defensive receives all he wants, if not always voluntarily, as in cases of +enthusiastic devotion, still through the long-used channels of submission to +the state on the part of the citizens, which has become second nature, and +which besides that, is enforced by the terrors of the law with which the army +has nothing to do. But the spontaneous co-operation of the people proceeding +from true attachment is in all cases most important, as it never fails in all +those points where service can be rendered without any sacrifice. We shall only +notice one point, which is of the highest importance in war, that is +<i>intelligence</i>, not so much special, great and important information +through persons employed, as that respecting the innumerable little matters in +connection with which the daily service of an army is carried on in +uncertainty, and with regard to which a good understanding with the inhabitants +gives the defensive a general advantage. +</p> + +<p> +If we ascend from this quite general and never failing beneficial influence, up +to special cases in which the populace begins to take part in the war, and then +further up to the highest degree, where as in Spain, the war, as regards its +leading events is chiefly a war carried on by the people themselves, we may see +that we have here virtually a new power rather than a manifestation of +increased cooperation on the part of the people, and therefore that— +</p> + +<h4> +4.—The National Armament, +</h4> + +<p> +or general call to arms, may be considered as a particular means of defence. +</p> + +<h4> +5.—Allies. +</h4> + +<p> +Finally, we may further reckon <i>allies</i> as the last support of the +defensive. Naturally we do not mean ordinary allies, which the assailant may +likewise have; we speak of those <i>essentially interested in maintaining</i> +the integrity of the country. If for instance we look at the various states +composing Europe at the present time, we find (without speaking of a +systematically regulated balance of power and interests, as that does not +exist, and therefore is often with justice disputed, still, unquestionably) +that the great and small states and interests of nations are interwoven with +each other in a most diversified and changeable manner, each of these points of +intersection forms a binding knot, for in it the direction of the one gives +equilibrium to the direction of the other; by all these knots therefore, +evidently a more or less compact connection of the whole will be formed, and +this general connection must be partially overturned by every change. In this +manner the whole relations of all states to each other serve rather to preserve +the stability of the whole than to produce changes, that is to say, <i>this +tendency</i> to stability exists in general. +</p> + +<p> +This we conceive to be the true notion of a balance of power, and in this sense +it will always of itself come into existence, wherever there are extensive +connections between civilised states. +</p> + +<p> +How far this tendency of the general interests to the maintenance of the +existing state of things is efficient is another question; at all events we can +conceive some changes in the relations of single states to each other, which +promote this efficiency of the whole, and others which obstruct it. In the +first case they are efforts to perfect the political balance, and as these have +the same tendency as the universal interests, they will also be supported by +the majority of these interests. But in the other case, they are of an abnormal +nature, undue activity on the part of some single states, real maladies; still +that these should make their appearance in a whole with so little cohesion as +an assemblage of great and little states is not to be wondered at, for we see +the same in that marvellously organised whole, the natural world. +</p> + +<p> +If in answer we are reminded of instances in history where single states have +effected important changes, solely for their own benefit, without any effort on +the part of the whole to prevent the same, or cases where a single state has +been able to raise itself so much above others as to become almost the arbiter +of the whole,—then our answer is that these examples by no means prove +that a tendency of the interests of the whole in favour of stability does not +exist, they only show that its action was not powerful enough at the moment. +The effort towards an object is a different thing from the motion towards it. +At the same time it is anything but a nullity, of which we have the best +exemplification in the dynamics of the heavens. +</p> + +<p> +We say, the tendency of equilibrium is to the maintenance of the existing +state, whereby we certainly assume that rest, that is equilibrium, existed in +this state; for where that has been already disturbed, tension has already +commenced, and there the equilibrium may certainly also tend to a change. But +if we look to the nature of the thing, this change can only affect some few +separate states, never the majority, and therefore it is certain that the +preservation of the latter is supported and secured through the collective +interests of the whole—certain also that each single state which has not +against it a tension of the whole will have more interest in favour of its +defence than opposition to it. +</p> + +<p> +Whoever laughs at these reflections as utopian dreams, does so at the expense +of philosophical truth. Although we may learn from it the relations which the +essential elements of things bear to each other, it would be rash to attempt to +deduce laws from the same by which each individual case should be governed +without regard to any accidental disturbing influences. But when a person, in +the words of a great writer, “<i>never rises above anecdote</i>,” +builds all history on it, begins always with the most individual points, with +the climaxes of events, and only goes down just so deep as he finds a motive +for doing, and therefore never reaches to the lowest foundation of the +predominant general relations, his opinion will never have any value beyond the +one case, and to him, that which philosophy proves to be applicable to cases in +general, will only appear a dream. +</p> + +<p> +Without that general striving for rest and the maintenance of the existing +condition of things, a number of civilised states could not long live quietly +side by side; they must necessarily become fused into one. Therefore, as Europe +has existed in its present state for more than a thousand years, we can only +regard the fact as a result of that tendency of the collective interests; and +if the protection afforded by the whole has not in every instance proved strong +enough to preserve the independence of each individual state, such exceptions +are to be regarded as irregularities in the life of the whole, which have not +destroyed that life, but have themselves been mastered by it. +</p> + +<p> +It would be superfluous to go over the mass of events in which changes which +would have disturbed the balance too much have been prevented or reversed by +the opposition more or less openly declared of other states. They will be seen +by the most cursory glance at history. We only wish to say a few words about a +case which is always on the lips of those who ridicule the idea of a political +balance, and because it appears specially applicable here as a case in which an +unoffending state, acting on the defensive, succumbed without receiving any +foreign aid. We allude to Poland. That a state of eight millions of inhabitants +should disappear, should be divided amongst three others without a sword being +drawn by any of the rest of the European states, appears, at first sight, a +fact which either proves conclusively the general inefficiency of the political +balance, or at least shows that it is inefficient to a very great extent in +some instances. That a state of such extent should disappear, a prey to others, +and those already the most powerful (Russia and Austria), appears such a very +extreme case that it will be said, if an event of this description could not +rouse the collective interests of all free states, then the efficient action +which this collective interest should display for the benefit of individual +states is imaginary. But we still maintain that a single case, however +striking, does not negative the general truth, and we assert next that the +downfall of Poland is also not so unaccountable as may at first sight appear. +Was Poland really to be regarded as a European state, as a homogeneous member +of the community of nations in Europe? No! It was a Tartar state, which instead +of being located, like the Tartars of the Crimea, on the Black Sea, on the +confines of the territory inhabited by the European community, had its +habitation in the midst of that community on the Vistula. We neither desire by +this to speak disrespectfully of the Poles, nor to justify the partition of +their country, but only to look at things as they really are. For a hundred +years this country had ceased to play any independent part in European +politics, and had been only an apple of discord for the others. It was +impossible that for a continuance it could maintain itself amongst the others +with its state and constitution unaltered: an essential alteration in its +Tartar nature would have been the work of not less than half, perhaps a whole +century, supposing the chief men of that nation had been in favour of it. But +these men were far too thorough Tartars to wish any such change. Their +turbulent political condition, and their unbounded levity went hand in hand, +and so they tumbled into the abyss. Long before the partition of Poland the +Russians had become quite at home there, the idea of its being an independent +state, with boundaries of its own, had ceased, and nothing is more certain than +that Poland, if it had not been partitioned, must have become a Russian +province. If this had not been so, and if Poland had been a state capable of +making a defence, the three powers would not so readily have proceeded to its +partition, and those powers most interested in maintaining its integrity, like +France, Sweden and Turkey, would have been able to co-operate in a very +different manner towards its preservation. But if the maintenance of a state is +entirely dependent on external support, then certainly too much is asked. +</p> + +<p> +The partition of Poland had been talked of frequently for a hundred years, and +for that time the country had been not like a private house, but like a public +road, on which foreign armies were constantly jostling one another. Was it the +business of other states to put a stop to this; were they constantly to keep +the sword drawn to preserve the political inviolability of the Polish frontier? +That would have been to demand a moral impossibility. Poland was at this time +politically little better than an uninhabited steppe; and as it is impossible +that defenceless steppes, lying in the midst of other countries should be +guarded for ever from invasion, therefore it was impossible to preserve the +integrity of this state, as it was called. For all these reasons there is as +little to cause wonder in the noiseless downfall of Poland as in the silent +conquest of the Crimean Tartars; the Turks had a greater interest in upholding +the latter than any European state had in preserving the independence of +Poland, but they saw that it would be a vain effort to try to protect a +defenceless steppe.— +</p> + +<p> +We return to our subject, and think we have proved that the defensive in +general may count more on foreign aid than the offensive; he may reckon the +more certainly on it in proportion as his existence is of importance to others, +that is to say, the sounder and more vigorous his political and military +condition. +</p> + +<p> +Of course the subjects which have been here enumerated as means properly +belonging to the defensive will not be at the command of each particular +defensive. Sometimes one, sometimes another, may be wanting; but they all +belong to the idea of the defensive as a whole. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap71"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>Mutual Action and Reaction of Attack and Defence</h3> + +<p> +We shall now consider attack and defence separately, as far as they can be +separated from each other. We commence with the defensive for the following +reasons:—It is certainly very natural and necessary to base the rules for +the defence upon those of the offensive, and <i>vice versâ;</i> but one of the +two must still have a third point of departure, if the whole chain of ideas is +to have a beginning, that is, to be possible. The first question concerns this +point. +</p> + +<p> +If we reflect upon the commencement of war philosophically, the conception of +war properly does not originate with the <i>offensive</i>, as that form has for +its absolute object, not so much <i>fighting</i> as the <i>taking possession of +something.</i> The idea of war arises first by the <i>defensive</i>, for that +form has the battle for its direct object, as warding off and fighting plainly +are one and the same. The warding off is directed entirely against the attack; +therefore supposes it, necessarily; but the attack is not directed against the +warding off; it is directed upon something else—the <i>taking +possession;</i> consequently does not presuppose the warding off. It lies, +therefore, in the nature of things, that the party who first brings the element +of war into action, the party from whose point of view two opposite parties are +first conceived, also establishes the first laws of war, and that party is the +<i>defender</i>. We are not speaking of any individual case; we are only +dealing with a general, an abstract case, which theory imagines in order to +determine the course it is to take. +</p> + +<p> +By this we now know where to look for this fixed point, outside and independent +of the reciprocal effect of attack and defence, and that it is in the +defensive. +</p> + +<p> +If this is a logical consequence, the defensive must have motives of action, +even when as yet he knows nothing of the intentions of the offensive; and these +motives of action must determine the organisation of the means of fighting. On +the other hand, as long as the offensive knows nothing of the plans of his +adversary, there are no motives of action for him, no grounds for the +application of his military means. He can do nothing more than take these means +along with him, that is, take possession by means of his army. And thus it is +also in point of fact; for to carry about the apparatus of war is not to use +it; and the offensive who takes such things with him, on the quite general +supposition that he may require to use them, and who, instead of taking +possession of a country by official functionaries and proclamations, does so +with an army, has not as yet committed, properly speaking, any act of warfare; +but the defensive who both collects his apparatus of war, and disposes of it +with a view to fighting, is the first to exercise an act which really accords +with the conception of war. +</p> + +<p> +The second question is now: what is theoretically the nature of the motives +which must arise in the mind of the defensive first, before the attack itself +is thought of? Plainly the advance made with a view to taking possession, which +we have imagined extraneous to the war, but which is the foundation of the +opening chapter. The defence is to oppose this advance; therefore in idea we +must connect this advance with the land (country); and thus arise the first +most general measures of the defensive. When these are once established, then +upon them the application of the offensive is founded, and from a consideration +of the means which the offensive then applies, new principles again of defence +are derived. Now here is the reciprocal effect which theory can follow in its +inquiry, as long as it finds the fresh results which are produced are worth +examination. +</p> + +<p> +This little analysis was necessary in order to give more clearness and +stability to what follows, such as it is; it is not made for the field of +battle, neither is it for the generals of the future; it is only for the army +of theorists, who have made a great deal too light of the subject hitherto. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap72"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Methods of Resistance</h3> + +<p> +The conception of the defence is warding off; in this warding off lies the +state of expectance, and this state of expectance we have taken as the chief +characteristic of the defence, and at the same time as its principal advantage. +</p> + +<p> +But as the defensive in war cannot be a state of endurance, therefore this +state of expectation is only a relative, not an absolute state; the subjects +with which this waiting for is connected are, as regards space, either the +country, or the theatre of war, or the position, and, as regards time, the war, +the campaign, or the battle. That these subjects are no immutable units, but +only the centres of certain limited regions, which run into one another and are +blended together, we know; but in practical life we must often be contented +only to group things together, not rigidly to separate them; and these +conceptions have, in the real world itself, sufficient distinctness to be made +use of as centres round which we may group other ideas. +</p> + +<p> +A defence of the country, therefore, only waits for attack on the country; a +defence of a theatre of war an attack on the theatre of war; and the defence of +a position the attack of that position. Every positive, and consequently more +or less offensive, kind of action which the defensive uses after the above +period of waiting for, does not negative the idea of the continuance of the +defensive; for the state of expectation, which is the chief sign of the same, +and its chief advantage, has been realised. +</p> + +<p> +The conception of war, campaign, and battle, in relation to time, are coupled +respectively with the ideas of country, theatre of war, and position, and on +that account they have the same relations to the present subject. +</p> + +<p> +The defensive consists, therefore, of two heterogeneous parts, the state of +expectancy and that of action. By having referred the first to a definite +subject, and therefore given it precedence of action, we have made it possible +to connect the two into one whole. But an act of the defensive, especially a +considerable one, such as a campaign or a whole war, does not, as regards time, +consist of two great halves, the first the state of mere expectation, the +second entirely of a state of action; it is a state of alternation between the +two, in which the state of expectation can be traced through the whole act of +the defensive like a continuous thread. +</p> + +<p> +We give to this state of expectation so much importance simply because it is +demanded by the nature of the thing. In preceding theories of war it has +certainly never been brought forward as an independent conception, but in +reality it has always served as a guide, although often unobserved. It is such +a fundamental part of the whole act of war, that the one without the other +appears almost impossible; and we shall therefore often have occasion to recur +to it hereafter by calling attention to its effects in the dynamic action of +the powers called into play. +</p> + +<p> +For the present we shall employ ourselves in explaining how the principle of +the state of expectation runs through the act of defence, and what are the +successive stages in the defence itself which have their origin in this state. +</p> + +<p> +In order to establish our ideas on subjects of a more simple kind, we shall +defer the defence of a country, a subject on which a very great diversity of +political influences exercises a powerful effect, until we come to the Book on +the Plan of War; and as on the other hand, the defensive act in a position or +in a battle is matter of tactics, which only forms a starting point for +strategic action as a <i>whole</i>, we shall take the defence of a <i>theatre, +of war</i> as being the subject, in which we can best show the relations of the +defensive. +</p> + +<p> +We have said, that the state of expectation and of action—which last is +always a counterstroke, therefore a reaction—are both essential parts of +the defensive; for without the first, there would be no defensive, without the +second no war. This view led us before to the idea of the defensive being +nothing but the <i>stronger form of war, in order the more certainly to conquer +the enemy;</i> this idea we must adhere to throughout, partly because it alone +saves us in the end from absurdity, partly, because the more vividly it is +impressed on the mind, so much the greater is the energy it imparts to the +whole act of the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +If therefore we should make a distinction between the reaction, constituting +the second element of the defensive, and the other element which consists in +reality in the repulse only of the enemy;—if we should look at expulsion +from the country, from the theatre of war, in such a light as to see in it +alone the <i>necessary thing</i> by itself, the ultimate object beyond the +attainment of which our efforts should not be carried, and on the other hand, +regard the possibility of a reaction carried still further, and <i>passing into +the real strategic attack</i>, as a subject foreign to and of no consequence to +the defence,—such a view would be <i>in opposition to</i> the nature of +the idea above represented, and therefore we cannot look upon this distinction +as really existing, and we must adhere to our assertion, that the idea of +<i>revenge</i> must always be at the bottom of every defensive; for otherwise, +however much damage might be occasioned to the enemy, by a successful issue of +the first reaction, there would always be a deficiency in the necessary balance +of the dynamic relations of the attack and defence. +</p> + +<p> +We say, then, the defensive is the more powerful form of making war, in order +to overcome the enemy more easily, and we leave to circumstances to determine +whether this victory over the object against which the defence was commenced is +sufficient or not. +</p> + +<p> +But as the defensive is inseparable from the idea of the state of expectation, +that object, <i>the defeat of the enemy</i>, only exists conditionally, that +is, only if the offensive takes place; and otherwise (that is, if the offensive +stroke does not follow) of course the defensive is contented with the +maintenance of its possessions; this maintenance is therefore its object in the +state of expectation, that is, its immediate object; and it is only as long as +it contents itself with this more modest end, that it preserves the advantages +of the stronger form of war. +</p> + +<p> +If we suppose an army with its theatre of war intended for defence, the defence +may be made as follows: +</p> + +<p> +1. By attacking the enemy the moment he enters the theatre of war. (Mollwitz, +Hohenfriedberg). +</p> + +<p> +2. By taking up a position close on the frontier, and waiting till the enemy +appears with the intention of attacking it, in order then to attack him +(Czaslau, Soor, Rosbach). Plainly this second mode of proceeding, partakes more +of endurance, we “wait for” longer; and although the <i>time</i> +gained by it as compared with that gained in the first, may be very little, or +none at all if the enemy’s attack actually takes place, still, the battle +which in the first case was certain, is in the second much less certain, +perhaps the enemy may not be able to make up his mind to attack; the advantage +of the “waiting for,” is then at once greater. +</p> + +<p> +3. By the army in such position not only awaiting the decision of the enemy to +fight a battle, that is his appearance in front of the position, but also +waiting to be actually assaulted (in order to keep to the same general, +Bunzelwitz). In such case, we fight a regular defensive battle, which however, +as we have before said, may include offensive movements with one or more parts +of the army. Here also, as before, the gain of time does not come into +consideration, but the determination of the enemy is put to a new proof; many a +one has advanced to the attack, and at the last moment, or after one attempt +given it up, finding the position of the enemy too strong. +</p> + +<p> +4. By the army transferring its defence to the heart of the country. The object +of retreating into the interior is to cause a diminution in the enemy’s +strength, and to wait until its effects are such that his forward march is of +itself discontinued, or at least until the resistance which we can offer him at +the end of his career is such as he can no longer overcome. +</p> + +<p> +This case is exhibited in the simplest and plainest manner, when the defensive +can leave one or more of his fortresses behind him, which the offensive is +obliged to besiege or blockade. It is clear in itself, how much his forces must +be weakened in this way, and what a chance there is of an opportunity for the +defensive to attack at some point with superior forces. +</p> + +<p> +But even when there are no fortresses, a retreat into the interior of the +country may procure by degrees for the defender that necessary equilibrium or +that superiority which was wanting to him on the frontier; for every forward +movement in the strategic attack lessens its force, partly absolutely, partly +through the separation of forces which becomes necessary, of which we shall say +more under the head of the “Attack.” We anticipate this truth here +as we consider it as a fact sufficiently exemplified in all wars. +</p> + +<p> +Now in this fourth case the gain of time is to be looked upon as the principal +point of all. If the assailant lays siege to our fortresses, we have time till +their probable fall, (which may be some weeks or in some cases months); but if +the weakening, that is the expenditure, of the force of the attack is caused by +the advance, and the garrisoning or occupation of certain points, therefore +merely through the length of the assailant’s march, then the time gained +in most cases becomes greater, and our action is not so much restricted in +point of time. +</p> + +<p> +Besides the altered relations between offensive and defensive in regard to +power which is brought about at the end of this march, we must bring into +account in favour of the defensive an <i>increased</i> amount of the +<i>advantage</i> of the state of “waiting for.” Although the +assailant by this advance may not in reality be weakened to such a degree that +he is unfit to attack our main body where he halts, still he will probably want +resolution to do so, for that is an act requiring more resolution in the +position in which he is now placed, than would have sufficed when operations +had not extended beyond the frontier: partly, because the powers are weakened, +and no longer in fresh vigour, while the danger is increased; partly, because +with an irresolute commander the possession of that portion of the country +which has been obtained is often sufficient to do away with all idea of a +battle, because he either really believes or assumes as a pretext, that it is +no longer necessary. By the offensive thus declining to attack, the defensive +certainly does not acquire, as he would on the frontier, a sufficient result of +a negative kind, but still there is a great gain of time. +</p> + +<p> +It is plain that, in all the four methods indicated, the defensive has the +benefit of the ground or country, and likewise that he can by that means bring +into cooperation his fortresses and the people; moreover these efficient +principles increase at each fresh stage of the defence, for they are a chief +means of bringing about the weakening of the enemy’s force in the fourth +stage. Now as the advantages of the “state of expectation” increase +in the same direction, therefore it follows of itself that these stages are to +be regarded as a real intensifying of the defence, and that this form of war +always gains in strength the more it differs from the offensive. We are not +afraid on this account of any one accusing us of holding the opinion that the +most passive defence would therefore be the best. The action of resistance is +not weakened at each new stage, it is only <i>delayed, postponed</i>. But the +assertion that a stouter resistance can be offered in a strong judiciously +entrenched position, and also that when the enemy has exhausted his strength in +fruitless efforts against such a position a more effective counterstroke may be +levelled at him, is surely not unreasonable. Without the advantage of position +Daun would not have gained the victory at Kollin, and as Frederick the Great +only brought off 18,000 men from the field of battle, if Daun had pursued him +with more energy the victory might have been one of the most brilliant in +military history. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore maintain, that at each new stage of the defensive the +preponderance, or more correctly speaking, the counterpoise increases in favour +of the defensive, and consequently there is also a gain in power for the +counterstroke. +</p> + +<p> +Now are these advantages of the increasing force of the defensive to be had for +nothing? By no means, for the sacrifice with which they are purchased increases +in the same proportion. +</p> + +<p> +If we wait for the enemy within our own theatre of war, however near the border +of our territory the decision takes place, still this theatre of war is entered +by the enemy, which must entail a sacrifice on our part; whereas, had we made +the attack, this disadvantage would have fallen on the enemy. If we do not +proceed at once to meet the enemy and attack him, our loss will be the greater, +and the extent of the country which the enemy will overrun, as well as the time +which he requires to reach our position, will continually increase. If we wish +to give battle on the defensive, and we therefore leave its determination and +the choice of time for it to the enemy, then perhaps he may remain for some +time in occupation of the territory which he has taken, and the time which +through his deferred decision we are allowed to gain will in that manner be +paid for by us. The sacrifices which must be made become still more burdensome +if a retreat into the heart of the country takes place. +</p> + +<p> +But all these sacrifices on the part of the defensive, at most only occasion +him in general a loss of power which merely diminishes his military force +<i>indirectly</i>, therefore, at a later period, and not directly, and often so +indirectly that its effect is hardly felt at all. The defensive, therefore, +strengthens himself for the present moment at the expense of the future, that +is to say, he borrows, as every one must who is too poor for the circumstances +in which he is placed. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if we would examine the result of these different forms of resistance, we +must look to the <i>object of the aggression</i>. This is, to obtain possession +of our theatre of war, or, at least, of an important part of it, for under the +conception of the whole, at least the greater part must be understood, as the +possession of a strip of territory few miles in extent is, as a rule, of no +real consequence in strategy. As long, therefore, as the aggressor is not in +possession of this, that is, as long as from fear of our force he has either +not yet advanced to the attack of the theatre of war, or has not sought to find +us in our position, or has declined the combat we offer, the object of the +defence is fulfilled, and the effects of the measures taken for the defensive +have therefore been successful. At the same time this result is only a +<i>negative one</i>, which certainly cannot directly give the force for a real +counterstroke. But it may give it <i>indirectly</i>, that is to say, it is on +the way to do so; for the time which elapses <i>the aggression loses</i>, and +every loss of time is a disadvantage, and must weaken in some way the party who +suffers the loss. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore in the first three stages of the defensive, that is, if it takes +place on the frontier, <i>the non-decision is already a result in favour of the +defensive.</i> +</p> + +<p> +But it is not so with the fourth. +</p> + +<p> +If the enemy lays siege to our fortresses we must relieve them in time, to do +this we must therefore bring about the decision by positive action. +</p> + +<p> +This is likewise the case if the enemy follows us into the interior of the +country without besieging any of our places. Certainly in this case we have +more time; we can wait until the enemy’s weakness is extreme, but still +it is always an indispensable condition that we are at last to act. The enemy +is now, perhaps, in possession of the whole territory which was the object of +his aggression, but it is only lent to him; the tension continues, and the +decision is yet pending. As long as the defensive is gaining strength and the +aggressor daily becoming weaker, the postponement of the decision is in the +interest of the former: but as soon as the culminating point of this +progressive advantage has arrived, as it must do, were it only by the ultimate +influence of the general loss to which the offensive has exposed himself, it is +time for the defender to proceed to action, and bring on a solution, and the +advantage of the “waiting for” may be considered as completely +exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +There can naturally be no point of time fixed generally at which this happens, +for it is determined by a multitude of circumstances and relations; but it may +be observed that the winter is usually a natural turning point. If we cannot +prevent the enemy from wintering in the territory which he has seized, then, as +a rule, it must be looked upon as given up. We have only, however, to call to +mind Torres Vedras, to see that this is no general rule. +</p> + +<p> +What is now the solution generally? +</p> + +<p> +We have always supposed it in our observations in the form of a battle; but in +reality, this is not necessary, for a number of combinations of battles with +separate corps may be imagined, which may bring about a change of affairs, +either because they have really ended with bloodshed, or because their probable +result makes the retreat of the enemy necessary. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the theatre of war itself there can be no other solution; that is a +necessary consequence of our view of war; for, in fact, even if an +enemy’s army, merely from want of provisions, commences his retreat, +still it takes place from the state of restraint in which our sword holds him; +if our army was not in the way he would soon be able to provision his forces. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, even at the end of his aggressive course, when the enemy is +suffering the heavy penalty of his attack, when detachments, hunger, and +sickness have weakened and worn him out, it is still always the dread of our +sword which causes him to turn about, and allow everything to go on again as +usual. But nevertheless, there is a great difference between such a solution +and one which takes place on the frontier. +</p> + +<p> +In the latter case our arms only were opposed to his to keep him in check, or +carry destruction into his ranks; but at the end of the aggressive career the +enemy’s forces, by their own exertions, are half destroyed, by which our +arms acquire a totally different value, and therefore, although they are the +final they are not the only means which have produced the solution. This +destruction of the enemy’s forces in the advance prepares the solution, +and may do so to this extent, that the mere possibility of a reaction on our +part may cause the retreat, consequently a reversal of the situation of +affairs. In this case, therefore, we can practically ascribe the solution to +nothing else than the efforts made in the advance. Now, in point of fact we +shall find no case in which the sword of the defensive has not co-operated; +but, for the practical view, it is important to distinguish which of the two +principles is the predominating one. +</p> + +<p> +In this sense we think we may say that there is a double solution in the +defensive, consequently a double kind of reaction, according as the aggressor +is ruined by the <i>sword of the defensive</i>, or <i>by his own efforts</i>. +</p> + +<p> +That the first kind of solution predominates in the first three steps of the +defence, the second in the fourth, is evident in itself; and the latter will, +in most cases, only come to pass by the retreat being carried deep into the +heart of the country, and nothing but the prospect of that result can be a +sufficient motive for such a retreat, considering the great sacrifices which it +must cost. +</p> + +<p> +We have, therefore, ascertained that there are two different principles of +defence; there are cases in military history where they each appear as separate +and distinct as it is possible for an elementary conception to appear in +practical life. When Frederick the Great attacked the Austrians at +Hohenfriedberg, just as they were descending from the Silesian mountains, their +force could not have been weakened in any sensible manner by detachments or +fatigue; when, on the other hand, Wellington, in his entrenched camp at Torres +Vedras, waited till hunger, and the severity of the weather, had reduced +Massena’s army to such extremities that they commenced to retreat of +themselves, the sword of the defensive party had no share in the weakening of +the enemy’s army. In other cases, in which they are combined with each +other in a variety of ways, still, one of them distinctly predominates. This +was the case in the year 1812. In that celebrated campaign such a number of +bloody encounters took place as might, under other circumstances, have sufficed +for a most complete decision by the sword; nevertheless, there is hardly any +campaign in which we can so plainly see how the aggressor may be ruined by his +own efforts. Of the 300,000 men composing the French centre only about 90,000 +reached Moscow; not more than 13,000 were detached; consequently there had been +a loss of 197,000 men, and certainly not a third of that loss can be put to +account of battles. +</p> + +<p> +All campaigns which are remarkable for temporising, as it is called, like those +of the famous Fabius Cunctator, have been calculated chiefly on the destruction +of the enemy by his own efforts. This principle has been the leading one in +many campaigns without that point being almost ever mentioned; and it is only +when we disregard the specious reasoning of historians, and look at things +clearly with our own eyes, that we are led to this real cause of many a +solution. +</p> + +<p> +By this we believe we have unravelled sufficiently those ideas which lie at the +root of the defensive, and that in the two great kinds of defence we have shown +plainly and made intelligible how the principle of the waiting for runs through +the whole system and connects itself with positive action in such a manner +that, sooner or later, action does take place, and that then the advantage of +the attitude of waiting for appears to be exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +We think, now, that in this way we have gone over and brought into view +everything comprised in the province of the defensive. At the same time, there +are subjects of sufficient importance in themselves to form separate chapters, +that is, points for consideration in themselves, and these we must also study; +for example, the nature and influence of fortified places, entrenched camps, +defence of mountains and rivers, operations against the flank, etc., etc. We +shall treat of them in subsequent chapters, but none of these things lie +outside of the preceding sequence of ideas; they are only to be regarded as a +closer application of it to locality and circumstances. That order of ideas has +been deduced from the conception of the defensive, and from its relation to the +offensive; we have connected these simple ideas with reality, and therefore +shown the way by which we may return again from the reality to those simple +ideas, and obtain firm ground, and not be forced in reasoning to take refuge on +points of support which themselves vanish in the air. +</p> + +<p> +But resistance by the sword may wear such an altered appearance, assume such a +different character, through the multiplicity of ways of combining battles, +especially in cases where these are not actually realised, but become effectual +merely through their possibility, that we might incline to the opinion that +there must be some other efficient active principle still to be discovered; +between the sanguinary defeat in a simple battle, and the effects of strategic +combinations which do not bring the thing nearly so far as actual combat, there +seems such a difference, that it is necessary to suppose some fresh force, +something in the same way as astronomers have decided on the existence of other +planets from the great space between Mars and Jupiter. +</p> + +<p> +If the assailant finds the defender in a strong position which he thinks he +cannot take, or behind a large river which he thinks he cannot cross, or even +if he fears that by advancing further he will not be able to subsist his army, +in all these cases it is nothing but the sword of the defensive which produces +the effect; for it is the fear of being conquered by this sword, either in a +great battle or at some specially important points, which compels the aggressor +to stop, only he will either not admit that at all, or does not admit it in a +straightforward way. +</p> + +<p> +Now even if it is granted that, where there has been a decision without +bloodshed, the combat merely <i>offered</i>, but not accepted, has been the +ultimate cause of the decision, it will still be thought that in such cases the +really effectual principle is the <i>strategic combination of</i> these combats +and not their tactical decision, and that this superiority of the strategic +combination could only have been thought of because there are other defensive +means which may be considered besides an actual appeal to the sword. We admit +this, and it brings us just to the point we wished to arrive at, which is as +follows: if the tactical result of a battle must be the <i>foundation</i> of +all strategic combinations, then it is always possible and to be feared that +the assailant may lay hold of this principle, and above all things direct his +efforts to be superior in the hour of decision, in order to baffle the +strategic combination; and that therefore this strategic combination can +<i>never be regarded as something all-sufficient in itself;</i> that it only +has a value when either on one ground or another we can look forward to the +tactical solution without any misgivings. In order to make ourselves +intelligible in a few words, we shall merely call to our readers’ +recollection how such a general as Buonaparte marched without hesitation +through the whole web of his opponents’ strategic plans, to seek for the +battle itself, because he had no doubts as to its issue. Where, therefore, +strategy had not directed its whole effort to ensure a preponderance over him +in this battle, where it engaged in finer (feebler) plans, there it was rent +asunder like a cobweb. But a general like Daun might be checked by such +measures; it would therefore be folly to offer Buonaparte and his army what the +Prussian army of the Seven Years’ War dared to offer Daun and his +contemporaries. Why?—Because Buonaparte knew right well that all depended +on the tactical issue, and made certain of gaining it; whereas with Daun it was +very different in both respects. +</p> + +<p> +<i>On this account</i> we hold it therefore to be serviceable to show that +every strategic combination rests only upon the tactical results, and that +these are everywhere, in the bloody as well as in the bloodless solution, the +real fundamental grounds of the ultimate decision. It is only if we have no +reason to fear that decision, whether on account of the character or the +situation of the enemy, or on account of the moral and physical equality of the +two armies, or on account of our own superiority—it is only then that we +can expect something from strategic combinations in themselves without battles. +</p> + +<p> +Now if a great many campaigns are to be found within the compass of military +history in which the assailant gives up the offensive without any blood being +spilt in fight, in which, therefore, strategic combinations show themselves +effectual to that degree, this may lead to the idea that these combinations +have at least great inherent force in themselves, and might in general decide +the affair alone, where too great a preponderance in the tactical results is +not supposed on the side of the aggressor. To this we answer that, if the +question is about things which have their origin in the theatre of war, and +consequently belong to the war itself, this idea is also equally false; and we +add that the cause of the failure of most attacks is to be found in the higher, +the political relations of war. +</p> + +<p> +The general relations out of which a war springs, and which naturally +constitute its foundation, determine also its character; on this subject we +shall have more to say hereafter, in treating of the plan of a war. But these +general relations have converted most wars into half-and-half things, into +which real hostility has to force its way through such a conflict of interests, +that it is only a very weak element at the last. This effect must naturally +show itself chiefly and with most force on the side of the offensive, <i>the +side of positive action</i>. One cannot therefore wonder if such a +short-winded, consumptive attack is brought to a standstill by the touch of a +finger. Against a weak resolution so fettered by a thousand considerations, +that it has hardly any existence, a mere show of resistance is often enough. +</p> + +<p> +It is not the number of unassailable positions in all directions, not the +formidable look of the dark mountain masses encamped round the theatre of war, +or the broad river which passes through it, not the ease with which certain +combinations of battles can effectually paralyse the muscle which should strike +the blow against us—none of these things are the true causes of the +numerous successes which the defensive gains on bloodless fields; the cause +lies in the weakness of the will with which the assailant puts forward his +hesitating feet. +</p> + +<p> +These counteracting influences may and ought to be taken into consideration, +but they should only be looked upon in their true light, and their effects +should not be ascribed to other things, namely the things of which alone we are +now treating. We must not omit to point out in an emphatic manner how easily +military history in this respect may become a perpetual liar and deceiver if +criticism is not careful about taking a correct point of view. +</p> + +<p> +Let us now consider, in what we may call their ordinary form, the many +offensive campaigns which have miscarried without a bloody solution. +</p> + +<p> +The assailant advances into the enemy’s country, drives back his opponent +a little way, but finds it too serious a matter to bring on a decisive battle. +He therefore remains standing opposite to him; acts as if he had made a +conquest, and had nothing else to do but to protect it; as if it was the +enemy’s business to seek the battle, as if he offered it to him daily, +etc., etc. These are the <i>representations</i> with which the commander +deludes his army, his government, the world, even himself. But the truth is, +that he finds the enemy in a position too strong for him. We do not now speak +of a case where an aggressor does not proceed with his attack because he can +make no use of a victory, because at the end of his first bound he has not +enough impulsive force left to begin another. Such a case supposes an attack +which has been successful, a real conquest; but we have here in view the case +where an assailant sticks fast half way to his intended conquest. +</p> + +<p> +He is now waiting to take advantage of favourable circumstances, of which +favourable circumstances there is in general no prospect, for the aggression +now intended shows at once that there is no better prospect from the future +than from the present; it is, therefore, a further illusion. If now, as is +commonly the case, the undertaking is in connection with other simultaneous +operations, then what they do not want to do themselves is transferred to other +shoulders, and their own inactivity is ascribed to want of support and proper +co-operation. Insurmountable obstacles are talked of, and motives in +justification are discovered in the most confused and subtil considerations. +Thus the forces of the assailant are wasted away in inactivity, or rather in a +partial activity, destitute of any utility. The defensive gains time, the +greatest gain to him; bad weather arrives, and the aggression ends by the +return of the aggressor to winter quarters in his own theatre of war. +</p> + +<p> +A tissue of false representations thus passes into history in place of the +simple real ground of absence of any result, namely <i>fear of the +enemy’s sword</i>. When criticism takes up such a campaign, it wearies +itself in the discussion of a number of motives and counter-motives, which give +no satisfactory result, because they all dwindle into vapour, and we have not +descended to the real foundation of the truth. The opposition through which the +elementary energy of war, and therefore of the offensive in particular, becomes +weakened, lies for the most part in the relations and views of states, and +these are always concealed from the world, from the mass of the people +belonging to the state, as well as from the army, and very often from the +general-in-chief. No one will account for his faint-heartedness by the +admission that he feared he could not attain the desired object with the force +at his disposal, or that new enemies would be roused, or that he did not wish +to make his allies too powerful, etc. Such things are hushed up; but as +occurrences have to be placed before the world in a presentable form, therefore +the commander is obliged, either on his own account or on that of his +government to pass off a tissue of fictitious motives. This ever-recurring +deception in military dialectics has ossified into systems in theory, which, of +course, are equally devoid of truth. Theory can never be deduced from the +essence of things except by following the simple thread of cause and effect, as +we have tried to do. +</p> + +<p> +If we look at military history with this feeling of suspicion, then a great +parade of mere words about offensive and defensive collapses, and the simple +idea of it, which we have given, comes forward of itself. We believe it +therefore to be applicable to the whole domain of the defensive, and that we +must adhere closely to it in order to obtain that clear view of the mass of +events by which alone we can form correct judgments. +</p> + +<p> +We have still to inquire into the question of the employment of these different +forms of defence. +</p> + +<p> +As they are merely gradations of the same which must be purchased by a higher +sacrifice, corresponding to the increased intensity of the form, there would +seem to be sufficient in that view to indicate always to the general which he +should choose, provided there are no other circumstances which interfere. He +would, in fact, choose that form which appeared sufficient to give his force +the requisite degree of defensive power and no more, that there might be no +unnecessary waste of his force. But we must not overlook the circumstance that +the room given for choice amongst these different forms is generally very +circumscribed, because other circumstances which must be attended to +necessarily urge a preference for one or other of them. For a retreat into the +interior of the country a considerable superficial space is required, or such a +condition of things as existed in Portugal (1810), where one ally (England) +gave support in rear, and another (Spain) with its wide territory, considerably +diminished the impulsive force of the enemy. The position of the fortresses +more on the frontier or more in the interior may likewise decide for or against +such a plan; but still more the nature of the country and ground, the +character, habits, and feelings of the inhabitants. The choice between an +offensive or defensive battle may be decided by the plans of the enemy, by the +peculiar qualities of both armies and their generals; lastly, the possession of +an excellent position or line of defence, or the want of them may determine for +one or the other;—in short, at the bare mention of these things, we can +perceive that the choice of the form of defensive must in many cases be +determined more by them than by the mere relative strength of the armies. As we +shall hereafter enter more into detail on the more important subjects which +have just been touched upon, the influence which they must have upon the choice +will then develop itself more distinctly, and in the end the whole will be +methodised in the Book on Plans of Wars and Campaigns. +</p> + +<p> +But this influence will not, in general, be decisive unless the inequality in +the strength of the opposing armies is trifling; in the opposite case (as in +the generality of cases), the relation of the numerical strength will be +decisive. There is ample proof, in military history, that it has done so +heretofore, and that without the chain of reasoning by which it has been +brought out here; therefore in a manner intuitively by <i>mere tact of +judgment</i>, like most things that happen in war. It was the same general who +at the head of the same army, and on the same theatre of war, fought the battle +of Hohenfriedberg, and at another time took up the camp of Bunzelwitz. +Therefore even Frederick the Great, a general above all inclined to the +offensive as regards the battle, saw himself compelled at last, by a great +disproportion of force, to resort to a real defensive position; and Buonaparte, +who was once in the habit of falling on his enemy like a wild boar, have we not +seen him, when the proportion of force turned against him, in August and +September, 1813, turn himself hither and thither as if he had been pent up in a +cage, instead of rushing forward recklessly upon some one of his adversaries? +And in October of the same year, when the disproportion reached its climax, +have we not seen him at Leipsic, seeking shelter in the angle formed by the +Parth, the Elster, and Pleiss, as it were waiting for his enemy in the corner +of a room, with his back against the wall? +</p> + +<p> +We cannot omit to observe, that from this chapter, more than from any other in +our book, it is plainly shown that our object is not to lay down new principles +and methods of conducting war, but merely to investigate what has long existed +in its innermost relations, and to reduce it to its simplest elements. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap73"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>Defensive Battle</h3> + +<p> +We have said, in the preceding chapter, that the defender, in his defensive, +would make use of a battle, technically speaking, of a purely offensive +character, if, at the moment the enemy invades his theatre of war, he marches +against him and attacks him; but that he might also wait for the appearance of +the enemy in his front, and then pass over to the attack; in which case also +the battle tactically would be again an offensive battle, although in a +modified form; and lastly, that he might wait till the enemy attacked his +position, and then oppose him both by holding a particular spot, and by +offensive action with portions of his force. In all this we may imagine several +different gradations and shades, deviating always more from the principle of a +positive counterstroke, and passing into that of the defence of a spot of +ground. We cannot here enter on the subject of how far this should be carried, +and which is the most advantageous proportion of the two elements of offensive +and defensive, as regards the winning a decisive victory. But we maintain that +when such a result is desired, the offensive part of the battle should never be +completely omitted, and we are convinced that all the effects of a decisive +victory may and must be produced by this offensive part, just as well as in a +purely tactical offensive battle. +</p> + +<p> +In the same manner as the field of battle is only a point in strategy, the +duration of a battle is only, strategically, an instant of time, and the end +and result, not the course of a battle, constitutes a strategic quantity. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if it is true that a complete victory may result from the offensive +elements which lie in every defensive battle, then there would be no +fundamental difference between an offensive and a defensive battle, as far as +regards strategic combinations; we are indeed convinced that this is so, but +the thing wears a different appearance. In order to fix the subject more +distinctly in the eye, to make our view clear and thereby remove the appearance +now referred to, we shall sketch, hastily, the picture of a defensive battle, +such as we imagine it. +</p> + +<p> +The defensive waits the attack in a position; for this he has selected proper +ground, and turned it to the best account, that is, he has made himself well +acquainted with the locality, thrown up strong entrenchments at some of the +most important points, opened and levelled communications, constructed +batteries, fortified villages, and looked out places where he can draw up his +masses under cover, etc., etc., etc. Whilst the forces on both sides are +consuming each other at the different points where they come into contact, the +advantage of a front more or less strong, the approach to which is made +difficult by one or more parallel trenches or other obstacles, or also by the +influence of some strong commanding points, enables him with a <i>small part of +his force</i> to destroy <i>great numbers of the enemy</i> at every stage of +the defence up to the heart of the position. The points of support which he has +given his wings secure him from any sudden attack from several quarters; the +covered ground which he has chosen for his masses makes the enemy cautious, +indeed timid, and affords the defensive the means of diminishing by partial and +successful attacks the general backward movement which goes on as the combat +becomes gradually concentrated within narrower limits. The defender therefore +casts a contented look at the battle as it burns in a moderate blaze before +him;—but he does not reckon that his resistance in front can last for +ever;—he does not think his flanks impregnable;—he does not expect +that the whole course of the battle will be changed by the successful charge of +a few battalions or squadrons. His position is <i>deep</i>, for each part in +the scale of gradation of the order of battle, from the division down to the +battalion, has its reserve for unforeseen events, and for a renewal of the +fight; and at the same time an important mass, one fifth to a quarter of the +whole, is kept quite in the rear out of the battle, so far back as to be quite +out of fire, and if possible so far as to be beyond the circuitous line by +which the enemy might attempt to turn either flank. With this corps he intends +to cover his flanks from wider and greater turning movements, secure himself +against unforeseen events, and in the latter stage of the battle, when the +assailant’s plan is fully developed, when the most of his troops have +been brought into action, he will throw this mass on a part of the +enemy’s army, and open at that part of the field a smaller offensive +battle on his own part, using all the elements of attack, such as charges, +surprise, turning movements, and by means of this pressure against the centre +of gravity of the battle, now only resting on a point, make the whole recoil. +</p> + +<p> +This is the normal idea which we have formed of a defensive battle, based on +the tactics of the present day. In this battle the general turning movement +made by the assailant in order to assist his attack, and at the same time with +a view to make the results of victory more complete, is replied to by a partial +turning movement on the part of the defensive, that is, by the turning of that +part of the assailant’s force used by him in the attempt to turn. This +partial movement may be supposed sufficient to destroy the effect of the +enemy’s attempt, but it cannot lead to a like general enveloping of the +assailant’s army; and there will always be a distinction in the features +of a victory on this account, that the side fighting an offensive battle +encircles the enemy’s army, and acts towards the centre of the same, +while the side fighting on the defensive acts more or less from the centre to +the circumference, in the direction of the radii. +</p> + +<p> +On the field of battle itself, and in the first stages of the pursuit, the +enveloping form must always be considered the most effectual; we do not mean on +account of its form generally, we only mean in the event of its being carried +out to such an extreme as to limit very much the enemy’s means of retreat +during the battle. But it is just against this extreme point that the +enemy’s positive counter-effort is directed, and in many cases where this +effort is not sufficient to obtain a victory, it will at least suffice to +protect him from such an extreme as we allude to. But we must always admit that +this danger, namely, of having the line of retreat seriously contracted, is +particularly great in defensive battles, and if it cannot be guarded against, +the results in the battle itself, and in the first stage of the retreat are +thereby very much enhanced in favour of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +But as a rule this danger does not extend beyond the first stage of the +retreat, that is, until night-fall; on the following day enveloping is at an +end, and both parties are again on an equality in this respect. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly the defender may have lost his principal line of retreat, and +therefore be placed in a disadvantageous strategic situation for the future; +but in most cases the turning movement itself will be at an end, because it was +only planned to suit the field of battle, and therefore cannot apply much +further. But what will take place, on the other hand, if the <i>defender</i> is +victorious? A division of the defeated force. This may facilitate the retreat +at the first moment, but <i>next day a concentration of all parts</i> is the +one thing most needful. Now if the victory is a most decisive one, if the +defender pursues with great energy, this concentration will often become +impossible, and from this separation of the beaten force the worst consequences +may follow, which may go on step by step to a complete rout. If Buonaparte had +conquered at Leipsic, the allied army would have been completely cut in two, +which would have considerably lowered their relative strategic position. At +Dresden, although Buonaparte certainly did not fight a regular defensive +battle, the attack had the geometrical form of which we have been speaking, +that is, from the centre to the circumference; the embarrassment of the Allies +in consequence of their separation, is well known, an embarrassment from which +they were only relieved by the victory on the Katzbach, the tidings of which +caused Buonaparte to return to Dresden with the Guard. +</p> + +<p> +This battle on the Katzbach itself is a similar example. In it the defender, at +the last moment passes over to the offensive, and consequently operates on +diverging lines; the French corps were thus wedged asunder, and several days +after, as the fruits of the victory, Puthod’s division fell into the +hands of the Allies. +</p> + +<p> +The conclusion we draw from this is, that if the assailant, by the concentric +form which is homogeneous to him, has the means of giving expansion to his +victory, on the other hand the defender also, by the divergent form which is +homogeneous to the defence, acquires a a means of giving greater results to his +victory than would be the case by a merely parallel position and perpendicular +attack, and we think that one means is at least as good as the other. +</p> + +<p> +If in military history we rarely find such great victories resulting from the +defensive battle as from the offensive, that proves nothing against our +assertion that the one is as well suited to produce victory as the other; the +real cause is in the very different relations of the defender. The army acting +on the defensive is generally the weaker of the two, not only in the amount of +his forces, but also in every other respect; he either is, or thinks he is, not +in a condition to follow up his victory with great results, and contents +himself with merely fending off the danger and saving the honour of his arms. +That the defender by inferiority of force and other circumstances may be tied +down to that degree we do not dispute, but there is no doubt that this, which +is only the consequence of a contingent necessity, has often been assumed to be +the consequence of that part which every defender has to play: and thus in an +absurd manner it has become a prevalent view of the defensive that its battles +should really be confined to warding off the attacks of the enemy, and not +directed to the destruction of the enemy. We hold this to be a prejudicial +error, a regular substitution of the form for the thing itself; and we maintain +unreservedly that in the form of war which we call <i>defence</i>, the victory +may not only be more probable, but may also attain the same magnitude and +efficacy as in the attack, and that this may be the case not only in the +<i>total result</i> of all the combats which constitute campaign, but also in +any <i>particular</i> battle, if the necessary degree of force and energy is +not wanting. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap74"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/>Fortresses</h3> + +<p> +Formerly, and up to the time of great standing armies, fortresses, that is +castles and fortified towns, were only built for the defence and protection of +the inhabitants. The baron, if he saw himself pressed on all sides, took refuge +in his castle to gain time and wait a more favourable moment; and towns sought +by their walls to keep off the passing hurricane of war. This simplest and most +natural object of fortresses did not continue to be the only one; the relation +which such a place acquired with regard to the whole country and to troops +acting here and there in the country soon gave these fortified points a wider +importance, a signification which made itself felt beyond their walls, and +contributed essentially to the conquest or occupation of the country, to the +successful or unsuccessful issue of the whole contest, and in this manner they +even became a means of making war more of a connected whole. Thus fortresses +acquired that strategic significance which for a time was regarded as so +important that it dictated the leading features of the plans of campaigns, +which were more directed to the taking of one or more fortresses than the +destruction of the enemy’s army in the field. Men reverted to the cause +of the importance of these places, that is to the connection between a +fortified point, and the country, and the armies; and then thought that they +could not be sufficiently particular or too philosophical in choosing the +points to be fortified. In these abstract objects the original one was almost +lost sight of, and at length they came to the idea of fortresses without either +towns or inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the times are past in which the mere enclosure of a place +with walls, without any military preparations, could keep a place dry during an +inundation of war sweeping over the whole country. Such a possibility rested +partly on the division of nations formerly into small states, partly on the +periodical character of the incursions then in vogue, which had fixed and very +limited duration, almost in accordance with the seasons, as either the feudal +forces hastened home, or the pay for the condottieri used regularly to run +short. Since large standing armies, with powerful trains of artillery mow down +the opposition of walls or ramparts as it were with a machine, neither town nor +other small corporation has any longer an inclination to hazard all their means +only to be taken a few weeks or months later, and then to be treated so much +the worse. Still less can it be the interest of an army to break itself up into +garrisons for a number of strong places, which may for a time retard the +progress of the enemy, but must in the end submit. We must always keep enough +forces, over and above those in garrison, to make us equal to the enemy in the +open field, unless we can depend on the arrival of an ally, who will relieve +our strong places and set our army free. Consequently the number of fortresses +has necessarily much diminished, and this has again led to the abandonment of +the idea of directly protecting the population and property in towns by +fortifications, and promoted the other idea of regarding the fortresses as an +indirect protection to the country, which they secure by their strategic +importance as knots which hold together the strategic web. +</p> + +<p> +Such has been the course of ideas, not only in books but also in actual +experience, at the same time, as usually happens, it has been much more spun +out in books. +</p> + +<p> +Natural as was this tendency of things, still these ideas were carried out to +an extreme, and mere crotchets and fancies displaced the sound core of a +natural and urgent want. We shall look into these simple and important wants +when we enumerate the objects and conditions of fortresses all together; we +shall thereby advance from the simple to the more complicated, and in the +succeeding chapter we shall see what is to be deduced therefrom as to the +determination of the position and number of fortresses. +</p> + +<p> +The efficacy of a fortress is plainly composed of two different elements, the +passive and the active. By the first it shelters the place, and all that it +contains; by the other it possesses a certain influence over the adjacent +country, even beyond the range of its guns. +</p> + +<p> +This active element consists in the attacks which the garrison may undertake +upon every enemy who approaches within a certain distance. The larger the +garrison, so much the stronger numerically will be the detachments that may be +employed on such expeditions, and the stronger such detachments the wider as a +rule will be the range of their operations; from which it follows that the +sphere of the active influence of a great fortress is not only greater in +intensity but also more extensive than that of a small one. But the active +element itself is again, to a certain extent, of two kinds, consisting namely +of enterprises of the garrison proper, and of enterprises which other bodies of +troops, great and small, not belonging to the garrison but in co-operation with +it, may be able to carry out. For instance, corps which independently would be +too weak to face the enemy, may, through the shelter which, in case of +necessity, the walls of a fortress afford them, be able to maintain themselves +in the country, and to a certain extent to command it. +</p> + +<p> +The enterprises which the garrison of a fortress can venture to undertake are +always somewhat restricted. Even in the case of large places and strong +garrisons, the bodies of troops which can be employed on such operations are +mostly inconsiderable as compared with the forces in the field, and their +average sphere of action seldom exceeds a couple of days’ marches. If the +fortress is small, the detachments it can send out are quite insignificant and +the range of their activity will generally be confined to the nearest villages. +But corps which do not belong to the garrison, and therefore are not under the +necessity of returning to the place, are thereby much more at liberty in their +movements, and by their means, if other circumstances are favourable, the +external zone of action of a fortress may be immensely extended. Therefore if +we speak of the active influence of fortresses in general terms, we must always +keep this feature of the same principally in view. +</p> + +<p> +But even the smallest active element of the weakest garrison, is still +essential for the different objects which fortresses are destined to fulfil, +for strictly speaking even the most passive of all the functions of a fortress +(defence against attack) cannot be imagined exclusive of that active agency. At +the same time it is evident that amongst the different purposes which a +fortress may have to answer generally, or in this or that moment, the passive +element will be most required at one time, the active at another. The role +which a fortress is to fulfil may be perfectly simple, and the action of the +place will in such case be to a certain extent direct; it may be partly +complicated, and the action then becomes more or less indirect. We shall +examine these subjects separately, commencing with the first; but at the outset +we must state that a fortress may be intended to answer several of these +purposes, perhaps all of them, either at once, or at least at different stages +of the war. +</p> + +<p> +We say, therefore, that fortresses are great and most important supports of the +defensive. +</p> + +<p> +1. <i>As secure depots of stores of all kinds.</i> The assailant during his +aggression subsists his army from day to day; the defensive usually must have +made preparations long beforehand, he need not therefore draw provisions +exclusively from the district he occupies, and which he no doubt desires to +spare. Storehouses are therefore for him a great necessity. The provisions of +all kinds which the aggressor possesses are in his rear as he advances, and are +therefore exempt from the dangers of the theatre of war, while those of the +defensive are exposed to them. If these provisions of all kinds are not in +<i>fortified places</i>, then a most injurious effect on the operations in the +field is the consequence, and the most extended and compulsory positions often +become necessary in order to cover depots or sources of supply. +</p> + +<p> +An army on the defensive without fortresses has a hundred vulnerable spots; it +is a body without armour. +</p> + +<p> +2. <i>As a protection to great and wealthy towns</i>. This purpose is closely +allied to the first, for great and wealthy towns, especially commercial ones, +are the natural storehouses of an army; as such their possession and loss +affects the army directly. Besides this, it is also always worth while to +preserve this portion of the national wealth, partly on account of the +resources which they furnish directly, partly because, in negotiations for +peace, an important place is in itself a valuable weight thrown into the scale. +</p> + +<p> +This use of fortresses has been too little regarded in modern times, and yet it +is one of the most natural, and one which has a most powerful effect, and is +the least liable to mistakes. If there was a country in which not only all +great and rich cities, but all populous places as well were fortified, and +defended by the inhabitants and the people belonging to the adjacent districts, +then by that means the expedition of military operation would be so much +reduced, and the people attacked would press with so great a part of their +whole weight in the scales, that the talent as well as the force of will of the +enemy’s general would sink to nothing. +</p> + +<p> +We just mention this ideal application of fortification to a country to do +justice to what we have just supposed to be the proper use of fortresses, and +that the importance of the <i>direct</i> protection which they afford may not +be overlooked for a moment; but in any other respect this idea will not again +interrupt our considerations, for amongst the whole number of fortresses there +must always be some which must be more strongly fortified than others, to serve +as the real supports of the active army. +</p> + +<p> +The purposes specified under 1 and 2 hardly call forth any other but the +passive action of fortresses. +</p> + +<p> +3. <i>As real barriers</i>, they close the roads, and in most cases the rivers, +on which they are situated. +</p> + +<p> +It is not as easy as is generally supposed to find a practicable lateral road +which passes round a fortress, for this turning must be made, not only out of +reach of the guns of this place, but also by a detour greater or less, to avoid +sorties of the garrison. +</p> + +<p> +If the country is in the least degree difficult, there are often delays +connected with the slightest deviation of the road which may cause the loss of +a whole day’s march, and, if the road is much used, may become of great +importance. +</p> + +<p> +How they may have an influence on enterprises by closing the navigation of a +river is clear in itself. +</p> + +<p> +4. <i>As tactical points d’appui</i>. As the diameter of the zone covered +by the fire of even a very inferior class of fortifications is usually some +leagues, fortresses may be considered always as the best points d’appui +for the flanks of a position. A lake of several miles long is certainly an +excellent support for the wing of an army, and yet a fortress of moderate size +is better. The flank does not require to rest close upon it, as the assailant, +for the sake of his retreat, would not throw himself between our flank and that +obstacle. +</p> + +<p> +5. <i>As a station</i> (<i>or stage</i>). If fortresses are on the line of +communication of the defensive, as is generally the case, they serve as halting +places for all that passes up and down these lines. The chief danger to lines +of communication is from irregular bands, whose action is always of the nature +of a shock. If a valuable convoy, on the approach of such a comet, can reach a +fortress by hastening the march or quickly turning, it is saved, and may wait +there till the danger is past. Further, all troops marching to or from the +army, after halting here for a a few days, are better able to hasten the +remainder of the march, and a halting day is just the time of greatest danger. +In this way a fortress situated half way on a line of communication of 30 miles +shortens the line in a manner one half. +</p> + +<p> +6. <i>As places of refuge for weak or defeated corps.</i> Under the guns of a +moderate sized fortress every corps is safe from the enemy’s blows, even +if no entrenched camp is specially prepared for them. No doubt such a corps +must give up its further retreat if it waits too long; but this is no great +sacrifice in cases where a further retreat would only end in complete +destruction. +</p> + +<p> +In many cases a fortress can ensure a few days’ halt without the retreat +being altogether stopped. For the slightly wounded and fugitives who precede a +beaten army, it is especially suited as a place of refuge, where they can wait +to rejoin their corps. +</p> + +<p> +If Magdeburg had lain on the direct line of the Prussian retreat in 1806, and +if that line had not been already lost at Auerstadt, the army could easily have +halted for three or four days near that great fortress, and rallied and +reorganised itself. But even as it was it served as a rallying point for the +remains of Hohenlohe’s corps, which there first resumed the appearance of +an army. +</p> + +<p> +It is only by actual experience in war itself that the beneficial influence of +fortresses close at hand in disastrous times can be rightly understood. They +contain powder and arms, forage and bread, give covering to the sick, security +to the sound, and recovery of sense to the panic-stricken. They are like an +hostelry in the desert. +</p> + +<p> +In the four last named purposes it is evident that the active agency of +fortresses is called more into requisition. +</p> + +<p> +7. <i>As a real shield against the enemy’s aggression.</i> Fortresses +which the defender leaves in his front break the stream of the enemy’s +attack like blocks of ice. The enemy must at least invest them, and requires +for that, if the garrisons are brave and enterprising, perhaps double their +strength. But, besides, these garrisons may and do mostly consist in part of +troops, who, although competent to duty in a garrison, are not fit for the +field—half trained militia, invalids, convalescents, armed citizens, +landsturm, etc. The enemy, therefore, in such case is perhaps weakened four +times more than we are. +</p> + +<p> +This disproportionate weakening of the enemy’s power is the first and +most important but not the only advantage which a besieged fortress affords by +its resistance. From the moment that the enemy crosses our line of fortresses, +all his movements become much more constrained; he is limited in his lines of +retreat, and must constantly attend to the direct covering of the sieges which +he undertakes. +</p> + +<p> +Here, therefore, fortresses co-operate with the defensive act in a most +extensive and decisive manner, and of all the objects that they can have, this +may be regarded as the most important. +</p> + +<p> +If this use of fortresses—far from being seen regularly repeating +itself—seldom comparatively occurs in military history, the cause is to +be found in the character of most wars, this means being to a certain extent +far too decisive and too thoroughly effectual for them, the explanation of +which we leave till hereafter. +</p> + +<p> +In this use of fortresses it is chiefly their offensive power that is called +for, at least it is that by which their effectual action is chiefly produced. +If a fortress was no more to an aggressor than a point which could not be +occupied by him, it might be an obstacle to him, but not to such a degree as to +compel him to lay siege to it But as he cannot leave six, eight, or ten +thousand men to do as they like in his rear, he is obliged to invest the place +with a sufficient force, and if he desires that this investment should not +continue to employ so large a detachment, he must convert the investment into a +siege, and take the place. From the moment the siege commences, it is then +chiefly the passive efficacy of the fortress which comes into action. +</p> + +<p> +All the destinations of fortresses which we have been hitherto considering are +fulfilled in a simple and mainly in a direct manner. On the other hand, in the +next two objects the method of action is more complicated. +</p> + +<p> +8. <i>As a protection to extended cantonments.</i> That a moderate-sized +fortress closes the approach to cantonments lying behind it for a width of +three or four milesis a simple result of its existence; but how such a place +comes to have the honour of covering a line of cantonments fifteen or twenty +miles in length, which we find frequently spoken of in military history as a +fact—that requires investigation as far as it has really taken place, and +refutation so far as it may be mere illusion. +</p> + +<p> +The following points offer themselves for consideration:— +</p> + +<p> +(1.) That the place in itself blocks one of the main roads, and really covers a +breadth of three or four miles of country. +</p> + +<p> +(2.) That it may be regarded as an exceptionally strong advanced post, or that +it affords a more complete observation of the country, to which may be added +facilities in the way of secret information through the ordinary relations of +civil life which exist between a great town and the adjacent districts It is +natural that in a place of six, eight or ten thousand inhabitants, one should +be able to learn more of what is going on in the neighbourhood than in a mere +village, the quarters of an ordinary outpost. +</p> + +<p> +(3.) That smaller corps are appuyed on it, derive from it protection and +security, and from time to time can advance towards the enemy, it may be to +bring in intelligence, or, in case he attempts to turn the fortress, to +underdertake something against his rear; that therefore although a fortress, +cannot quit its place, still it may have the efficacy of an advanced corps +(Fifth Book, eighth Chapter). +</p> + +<p> +(4.) That the defender, after assembling his corps, can take up his position at +a point directly behind this fortress, which the assailant cannot reach without +becoming exposed to danger from the fortress in his rear. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt every attack on a line of cantonments as such is to be taken in the +sense of a surprise, or rather, we are only speaking here of that kind of +attack; now it is evident in itself that an attack by surprise accomplishes its +effect in a much shorter space of time than a regular attack on a theatre of +war. Therefore, although in the latter case, a fortress which is to be passed +by must necessarily be invested and kept in check, this investment will not be +so indispensable in the case of a mere sudden attack on cantonments, and +therefore in the same proportion the fortress will be less an obstacle to the +attack of the cantonments. That is true enough; also the cantonments lying at a +distance of six to eight miles from the fortress cannot be directly protected +by it; but the object of such a sudden attack does not consist alone in the +attack of a few cantonments. Until we reach the book on attack we cannot +describe circumstantially the real object of such a sudden attack and what may +be expected from it; but this much we may say at present, that its principal +results are obtained, not by the actual attack on some isolated quarters, but +by the series of combats which the aggressor forces on single corps not in +proper order, and more bent upon hurrying to certain points than upon fighting. +But this attack and pursuit will always be in a direction more or less towards +the centre of the enemy’s cantonments, and, therefore, an important +fortress lying before this centre will certainly prove a very great impediment +to the attack. +</p> + +<p> +If we reflect on these four points in the whole of their effects, we see that +an important fortress in a direct and in an indirect way certainly gives some +security to a much greater extent of cantonments than we should think at first +sight. “Some security” we say, for all these indirect agencies do +not render the advance of the enemy impossible; they only make it <i>more +difficult</i>, and a <i>more serious consideration;</i> consequently less +probable and less of a danger for the defensive. But that is also all that was +required, and all that should be understood in this case under the term +covering. The real direct security must be attained by means of outposts and +the arrangement of the cantonments themselves. +</p> + +<p> +There is, therefore, some truth in ascribing to a great fortress the capability +of covering a wide extent of cantonments lying in rear of it; but it is also +not to be denied that often in plans of real campaigns, but still oftener in +historical works, we meet with vague and empty expressions, or illusory views +in connection with this subject. For if that covering is only realised by the +co-operation of several circumstances, if it then also only produces a +diminution of the danger, we can easily see that, in particular cases, through +special circumstances, above all, through the boldness of the enemy, this whole +covering may prove an illusion, and therefore in actual war we must not content +ourselves with assuming hastily at once the efficacy of such and such a +fortress, but carefully examine and study each single case on its own merits. +</p> + +<p> +9. <i>As covering a province not occupied.</i> If during war province is either +not occupied at all, or only occupied by an insufficient force, and likewise +exposed more or less to incursions from flying columns, then a fortress, if not +too unimportant in size, may be looked upon as a covering, or, if we prefer, as +a security for this province. As a security it may at all events be regarded, +for an enemy cannot become master of the province until he has taken it, and +that gives us time to hasten to its defence. But the actual covering can +certainly only be supposed very indirect, or as <i>not preperly belonging to +it</i>. That is, the fortress by its active opposition can only in some measure +check the incursions of hostile bands. If this opposition is limited to merely +what the garrison can effect, then the result must be little indeed, for the +garrisons of such places are generally weak and usually consist of infantry +only, and that not of the best quality. The idea gains a little more reality if +small columns keep themselves in communication with the place, making it their +base and place of retreat in case of necessity. +</p> + +<p> +10. <i>As the focus of a general arming of the nation.</i> Provisions, arms, +and munitions can never be supplied in a regular manner in a People’s +War; on the other hand, it is just in the very nature of such a war to do the +best we can; in that way a thousand small sources furnishing means of +resistance are opened which otherwise might have remained unused; and it is +easy to see that a strong commodious fortress, as a great magazine of these +things, can well give to the whole defence more force and intensity, more +cohesion, and greater results. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, a fortress is a place of refuge for wounded, the seat of the civil +functionaries, the treasury, the point of assembly for the greater enterprises, +etc., etc.; lastly, a nucleus of resistance which during the siege places the +enemy’s force in a condition which facilitates and favours the attacks of +national levies acting in conjunction. +</p> + +<p> +11. <i>For the defence of rivers and mountains.</i> Nowhere can a fortress +answer so many purposes, undertake to play so many parts, as when it is +situated on a great river. It secures the passage at any time at that spot, and +hinders that of the enemy for several miles each way, it commands the use of +the river for commercial purposes, receives all ships within its walls, blocks +bridges and roads, and helps the indirect defence of the river, that is, the +defence by a position on the enemy’s side. It is evident that, by its +influence in so many ways, it very greatly facilitates the defence of the +river, and may be regarded as an essential part of that defence. +</p> + +<p> +Fortresses in mountains are important in a similar manner. They there form the +knots of whole systems of roads, which have their commencement and termination +at that spot; they thus command the whole country which is traversed by these +roads, and they may be regarded as the true buttresses of the whole defensive +system. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap75"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>Fortresses (<i>Continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +We have discussed the object of fortresses: now for their situation. At first +the subject seems very complicated, when we think of the diversity of objects, +each of which may again be modified by the locality; but such a view has very +little foundation if we keep to the essence of the thing, and guard against +unnecessary subtilties. +</p> + +<p> +It is evident that all these demands are at once satisfied, if, in those +districts of country which are to be regarded as the theatre of war, all the +largest and richest towns on the great high roads connecting the two countries +with each other are fortified, more particularly those adjacent to harbours and +bays of the sea, or situated on large rivers and in mountains. Great towns and +great roads always go hand in hand, and both have also a natural connection +with great rivers and the coasts of the sea, all these four conditions, +therefore, agree very well with each other, and give rise to no incongruity; on +the other hand, it is not the same with mountains, for large towns are seldom +found there. If, therefore, the position and direction of a mountain chain +makes it favourable to a defensive line, it is necessary to close its roads and +passes by small forts, built for this purpose only, and at the least possible +cost, the great outlay on works of fortification being reserved for the +important places of arms in the level country. +</p> + +<p> +We have not yet noticed the frontiers of the state, nor said anything of the +geometrical form of the whole system of fortresses, nor of the other +geographical points in connection with their situation, because we regard the +objects above mentioned as the most essential, and are of opinion that in many +cases they alone are sufficient, particularly in small states. But, at the same +time, other considerations may be admitted, and may be imperative in countries +of a greater superficial extent, which either have a great many important towns +and roads, or, on the contrary, are almost without any, which are either very +rich, and, possessing already many fortresses, still want new ones, or those +which, on the other hand, are very poor, and under the necessity of making a +few answer, in short, in cases where the number of fortresses does not +correspond with the number of important towns and roads which present +themselves, being either considerably greater or less. +</p> + +<p> +We shall now cast a glance at the nature of such other considerations. +</p> + +<p> +The chief questions which remain relate to +</p> + +<p> +1. The choice of the principal roads, if the two countries are connected by +more roads than we wish to fortify. +</p> + +<p> +2. Whether the fortresses are to be placed on the frontier only, or spread over +the country. Or, +</p> + +<p> +3. Whether they shall be distributed uniformly, or in groups. +</p> + +<p> +4. Circumstances relating to the geography of the country to which it is +necessary to pay attention. +</p> + +<p> +A number of other points with respect to the geometrical form of the line of +fortifications, such as whether they should be placed in a single line or in +several lines, that is, whether they do more service when placed one behind +another, or side by side in line with each other; whether they should be +chequer-wise, or in a straight line; or whether they should take the form of a +fortification itself, with salients and re-entering angles all these we look +upon as empty subtilties, that is, considerations so insignificant, that, +compared with the really important points, they are not worth notice; and we +only mention them here because they are not merely treated of in many books, +but also a great deal more is made of this rubbish than it is worth. +</p> + +<p> +As regards the first question, in order to place it in a clearer light we shall +merely instance the relation of the south of Germany to France, that is, to the +upper Rhine. If, without reference to the number of separate states composing +this district of country, we suppose it a whole which is to be fortified +strategically, much doubt will arise, for a great number of very fine roads +lead from the Rhine into the interior of Franconia, Bavaria and Austria. +Certainly, towns are not wanting which surpass others in size and importance, +as Nuremburg, Wurzburg, Ulm, Augsburg, and Munich; but if we are not disposed +to fortify all, there is no alternative but to make a selection. If, further, +in accordance with our view, the fortification of the greatest and wealthiest +is held to be the principal thing, still it is not to be denied that, owing to +the distance between Nuremburg and Munich, the first has a very different +strategic signification from the second; and therefore it always remains to be +considered whether it would not be better, in place of Nuremburg, to fortify +some other place in the neighbourhood of Munich, even if the place is one of +less importance in itself. +</p> + +<p> +As concerns the decision in such cases, that is, answering the first question, +we must refer to what has been said in the chapters on the general plan of +defence, and on the choice of points of attack. Wherever the most natural point +of attack is situated, there the defensive arrangements should be made by +preference. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, amongst a number of great roads leading from the enemy’s +country into ours, we should first of all fortify that which leads most +directly to the heart of our dominions, or that which, traversing fertile +provinces, or running parallel to navigable rivers, facilitates the +enemy’s undertaking, and then we may rest secure. The assailant then +encounters these works, or should he resolve to pass them by, he will naturally +offer a favourable opportunity for operations against his flank. +</p> + +<p> +Vienna is the heart of South Germany, and plainly Munich or Augsburg, in +relation to France alone (Switzerland and Italy being therefore supposed +neutral) would be more efficient as a principal fortress than Nuremburg or +Wurzburg. But if, at the same time, we look at the roads leading from Italy +into Germany by Switzerland and the Tyrol, this will become still more evident, +because, in relation to these, Munich and Augsburg will always be places of +importance, whereas Wurzburg and Nuremburg are much the same, in this respect, +as if they did not exist. +</p> + +<p> +We turn now to the second question Whether the fortresses should be placed on +the frontier, or distributed over the country? In the first place, we must +observe, that, as regards small states, this question is superfluous, for what +are called <i>strategic frontiers</i> coincide, in their case, nearly with the +whole country. The larger the state is supposed to be in the consideration of +this question, the plainer appears the necessity for its being answered. +</p> + +<p> +The most natural answer is, that fortresses belong to the frontiers, for they +are to defend the state, and the state is defended as long as the frontiers are +defended. This argument may be valid in the abstract, but the following +considerations will show that it is subject to very many modifications. +</p> + +<p> +Every defence which is calculated chiefly on foreign assistance lays great +value on gaining time; it is not a vigorous counterstroke, but a slow +proceeding, in which the chief gain consists more in delay than in any +weakening of the enemy which is effected. But now it lies in the nature of the +thing that, supposing all other circumstances alike, fortresses which are +spread over the whole country, and include between them a very considerable +area of territory, will take longer to capture than those squeezed together in +a close line on the frontier. Further, in all cases in which the object is to +overcome the enemy through the length of his communications, and the difficulty +of his existence therefore in countries which can chiefly reckon on this kind +of reaction, it would be a complete contradiction to have the defensive +preparations of this kind only on the frontier. Lastly, let us also remember +that, if circumstances will in any way allow of it, the fortification of the +capital is a main point; that according to our principles the chief towns and +places of commerce in the provinces demand it likewise; that rivers passing +through the country, mountains, and other irregular features of ground, afford +advantages for new lines of defence; that many towns, through their strong +natural situation, invite fortification; moreover, that certain accessories of +war, such as manufactories of arms, &c., are better placed in the interior +of the country than on the frontier, and their value well entitles them to the +protection of works of fortification; then we see that there is always more or +less occasion for the construction of fortresses in the interior of a country; +on this account we are of opinion, that although states which possess a great +number of fortresses are right in placing the greater number on the frontier, +still it would be a great mistake if the interior of the country was left +entirely destitute of them. We think that this mistake has been made in a +remarkable degree in France. A great doubt may with reason arise if the border +provinces of a country contain no considerable towns, such towns lying further +back towards the interior, as is the case in South Germany in particular, where +Swabia is almost destitute of great towns, whilst Bavaria contains a large +number. We do not hold it to be necessary to remove these doubts once for all +on general grounds, believing that in such cases, in order to arrive at a +solution, reasons derived from the particular situation must come into +consideration. Still we must call attention to the closing remarks in this +chapter. +</p> + +<p> +The third question Whether fortresses should be disposed in groups, or more +equally distributed? will, if we reflect upon it, seldom arise; still we must +not, for that reason, set it down as a useless subtilty, because certainly a +group of two, three, or four fortresses, which are only a few days’ march +from a common centre, give that point and the army placed there such strength, +that, if other conditions allowed of it, in some measure one would be very much +tempted to form such a strategic bastion. +</p> + +<p> +The last point concerns the other geographical properties of the points to be +chosen. That fortresses on the sea, on streams and great rivers, and in +mountains, are doubly effective, has been already stated to be one of the +principal considerations; but there are a number of other points in connection +with fortresses to which regard must be paid. +</p> + +<p> +If a fortress cannot lie on the river itself, it is better not to place it +near, but at a distance of ten or twelve miles from it; otherwise, the river +intersects, and lowers the value of the sphere of action of the fortress in all +those points above mentioned.(*) +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Philippsburg was the pattern of a badly-placed fortress; it resembled a +fool standing with his nose close to a wall. +</p> + +<p> +This is not the same in mountains, because there the movement of large or small +masses upon particular points is not restricted in the same degree as it is by +a river. But fortresses on the enemy’s side of a mountain are not well +placed, because they are difficult to succour. If they are on our side, the +difficulty of laying siege to them is very great, as the mountains cut across +the enemy’s line of communication. We give Olmütz, 1758, as an example. +</p> + +<p> +It is easily seen that impassable forests and marshes have a similar effect to +that of rivers. +</p> + +<p> +The question has been often raised as to whether towns situated in a very +difficult country are well or ill suited for fortresses. As they can be +fortified and defended at a small expense, or be made much stronger, often +impregnable, at an equal expenditure, and the services of a fortress are always +more passive than active, it does not seem necessary to attach much importance +to the objection that they can easily be blockaded. +</p> + +<p> +If we now, in conclusion, cast a retrospective glance over our simple system of +fortification for a country, we may assert that it rests on comprehensive data, +lasting in their nature, and directly connected with the foundations of the +state itself, not on transient views on war, fashionable for a day; not on +imaginary strategic niceties, nor on requirements completely singular in +character an error which might be attended with irreparable consequences if +allowed to influence the construction of fortresses intended to last five +hundred, perhaps a thousand, years. Silberberg, in Silesia, built by Frederick +the Great on one of the ridges of the Sudetics, has, from the complete +alteration in circumstances which has since taken place, lost almost entirely +its importance and object, whilst Breslau, if it had been made a strong place +of arms, and continued to be so, would have always maintained its value against +the French, as well as against the Russians, Poles, and Austrians. +</p> + +<p> +Our reader will not overlook the fact that these considerations are not raised +on the supposed case of a state providing itself with a set of new +fortifications; they would be useless if such was their object, as such a case +seldom, if ever, happens; but they may all arise at the designing of each +single fortification. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap76"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>Defensive Position</h3> + +<p> +Every position in which we accept battle, at the same time making use of the +ground as a means of protection, is a <i>defensive position</i>, and it makes +no difference in this respect whether we act more passively or more offensively +in the action. This follows from the general view of the defensive which we +have given. +</p> + +<p> +Now we may also apply the term to every position in which an army whilst +marching to encounter the enemy would certainly accept battle if the latter +sought for it. In point of fact, most battles take place in this way, and in +all the middle ages no other was ever thought of. That is, however, not the +kind of position of which we are now speaking; by far the greater number of +positions are of this kind, and the conception of a <i>position</i> in +contradistinction to a <i>camp taken up on the march</i> would suffice for +that. A position which is specially called a <i>defensive position</i> must +therefore have some other distinguishing characteristics. +</p> + +<p> +In the decisions which take place in an ordinary position, the idea of time +evidently predominates; the armies march against each other in order to come to +an engagement: the place is a subordinate point, all that is required from it +is that it should not be unsuitable. But in a real defensive position the idea +of <i>place</i> predominates; the decision is to be realised on this +<i>spot</i>, or rather, chiefly <i>through</i> this spot. That is the only kind +of position we have here in view. +</p> + +<p> +Now the connection of place is a double one; that is, in the first instance, +inasmuch as a force posted at this point exercises a certain influence upon the +war in general; and next, inasmuch as the local features of the ground +contribute to the strength of the army and afford protection: in a word, a +strategic and a tactical connection. +</p> + +<p> +Strictly speaking, the term <i>defensive position</i> has its origin only in +connection with tactics, for its connection with strategy, namely, that an army +posted at this point by its presence serves to defend the country, will also +suit the case of an army acting offensively. +</p> + +<p> +The strategic effect to be derived from a position cannot be shown completely +until hereafter, when we discuss the defence of a theatre of war; we shall +therefore only consider it here as far as can be done at present, and for that +end we must examine more closely the nature of two ideas which have a +similarity and are often mistaken for one another, that is, the <i>turning a +position</i>, and <i>the passing by it</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The turning a position relates to its front, and is done either by an attack +upon the side of the position or on its rear, or by acting against its lines of +retreat and communication. +</p> + +<p> +The first of these, that is, an attack on flank or rear is tactical in its +nature. In our days in which the mobility of troops is so great, and all plans +of battles have more or less in view the turning or enveloping the enemy, every +position must accordingly be adapted to meet such measures, and one to deserve +the name of strong must, with a strong front, allow at least of good +combinations for battle on the sides and rear as well, in case of their being +menaced. In this way a position will not become untenable by the enemy turning +it with a view to an attack on the flank or rear, as the battle which then +takes place was provided for in the choice of the position, and should ensure +the defender all the advantages which he could expect from this position +generally. +</p> + +<p> +If the position <i>is turned</i> by the enemy with a view to acting against the +lines of retreat and communication, this is a <i>strategic</i> relation, and +the question is how long the position can be maintained, and whether we cannot +outbid the enemy by a scheme like his own, both these questions depend on the +situation of the point (strategically), that is, chiefly on the relations of +the lines of communication of both combatants. A good position should secure to +the army on the defensive the advantage in this point. In any case the position +will not be rendered of no effect in this way, as the enemy is neutralised by +the position when he is occupied by it in the manner supposed. +</p> + +<p> +But if the assailant, without troubling himself about the existence of the army +awaiting his attack in a defensive position, advances with his main body by +another line in pursuit of his object, then he <i>passes by the position;</i> +and if he can do this with impunity, and really does it, he will immediately +enforce the abandonment of the position, consequently put an end to its +usefulness. +</p> + +<p> +There is hardly any position in the world which, in the simple sense of the +words, cannot be passed by, for cases such as the isthmus of Perekop are so +rare that they are hardly worth attention. The impossibility of passing by must +therefore be understood as merely applying to the disadvantages in which the +assailant would become involved if he set about such an operation. We shall +have a more fitting opportunity to state these disadvantages in the +twenty-seventh chapter; whether small or great, in every case they are the +equivalent of the tactical effect which the position is capable of producing +but which has not been realised, and in common with it constitute the object of +the position. +</p> + +<p> +From the preceding observations, therefore, two strategic properties of the +defensive position have resulted: +</p> + +<p> +1. That it cannot be passed round. +</p> + +<p> +2. That in the struggle for the lines of communication it gives the defender +advantages. +</p> + +<p> +Here we have to add two other strategic properties, namely— +</p> + +<p> +3. That the relation of the lines of communication may also have a favourable +influence on the form of combat; and +</p> + +<p> +4. That the general influence of the country is advantageous. +</p> + +<p> +For the relation of the lines of communication has an influence not only upon +the possibility or impossibility of passing by a position or of cutting off the +enemy’s supplies, but also on the whole course of the battle. An oblique +line of retreat facilitates a tactical turning movement on the part of the +assailant, and paralyses our own tactical movements during the battle. But an +oblique position in relation to the lines of communication is often not the +fault of tactics but a consequence of a defective strategic point; it is, for +example, not to be avoided when the road changes direction in the vicinity of +the position (Borodino, 1812); the assailant is then in such a position that he +can turn our line <i>without deviating from, his own perpendicular +disposition.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Further, the aggressor has much greater freedom for tactical movement if he +commands several roads for his retreat whilst we are limited to one. In such +cases the tactical skill of the defensive will be exerted in vain to overcome +the disadvantageous influence resulting from the strategic relations. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly as regards the fourth point, such a disadvantageous general influence +may predominate in the other characteristics of ground, that the most careful +choice, and the best use of tactical means, can do nothing to combat them. +Under such circumstances the chief points are as follows: +</p> + +<p> +1. The defensive must particularly seek for the advantage of being able to +overlook his adversary, so that he may be able swiftly to throw himself upon +him inside the limits of his position. It is only when the local difficulties +of approach combine with these two conditions that the ground is really +favourable to the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, those points which are under the influence of commanding +ground are disadvantageous to him; also most positions in mountains (of which +we shall speak more particularly in the chapters on mountain warfare). Further, +positions which rest one flank on mountains, for such a position certainly +makes the <i>passing by</i> more difficult, but facilitates a <i>turning +movement</i>. Of the same kind are all positions which have a mountain +immediately in their front, and generally all those which bear relation to the +description of ground above specified. +</p> + +<p> +As an example of the opposite of these disadvantageous properties, we shall +only instance the case of a position which has a mountain in rear; from this so +many advantages result that it may be assumed in general to be one of the most +favourable of all positions for the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +2. A country may correspond more or less to the character and composition of an +army. A very numerous cavalry is a proper reason for seeking an open country. +Want of this arm, perhaps also of artillery, while we have at command a +courageous infantry inured to war, and acquainted with the country, make it +advisable to take advantage of a difficult, close country. +</p> + +<p> +We do not here enter into particulars respecting the tactical relation which +the local features of a defensive position bear to the force which is to occupy +it. We only speak of the total result, as that only is a strategic quantity. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly a position in which an army is to await the full force of the +hostile attack, should give the troops such an important advantage of ground as +may be considered a multiplier of its force. Where nature does much, but not to +the full as much as we want, the art of entrenchment comes to our help. In this +way it happens not unfrequently that some parts become <i>unassailable</i>, and +not unusually the whole is made so: plainly in this last case, the whole nature +of the measure is changed. It is then no longer a battle under advantageous +conditions which we seek, and in this battle the issue of the campaign, but an +issue without a battle. Whilst we occupy with our force an unassailable +position, we directly refuse the battle, and oblige our enemy to seek for a +solution in some other way. +</p> + +<p> +We must, therefore, completely separate these two cases, and shall speak of the +latter in the following chapter, under the title of a <i>strong position</i>. +</p> + +<p> +But the defensive position with which we have now to do is nothing more than a +field of battle with the addition of advantages in our favour; and that it +should become a field of battle, the advantages in our favour must not be +<i>too great</i>. But now what degree of strength may such a position have? +Plainly more in proportion as our enemy is more determined on the attack, and +that depends on the nature of the individual case. Opposed to a Buonaparte, we +may and should withdraw behind stronger ramparts than before a Daun or a +Schwartzenburg. +</p> + +<p> +If certain portions of a position are unattackable, say the front, then that is +to be taken as a separate factor of its whole strength, for the forces not +required at that point are available for employment elsewhere; but we must not +omit to observe that whilst the enemy is kept completely off such impregnable +points, the form of his attack assumes quite a different character, and we must +ascertain, in the first instance, how this alteration will suit our situation. +</p> + +<p> +For instance, to take up a position, as has often been done, so close behind a +great river that it is to be looked upon as covering the front, is nothing else +but to make the river a point of support for the right or left flank; for the +enemy is naturally obliged to cross further to the right or left, and cannot +attack without changing his front: the chief question, therefore, is what +advantages or disadvantages does that bring to us? +</p> + +<p> +According to our opinion, a defensive position will come the nearer to the true +ideal of such a position the more its strength is hid from observation, and the +more it is favourable to our surprising the enemy by our combinations in the +battle. Just as we advisably endeavour to conceal from the enemy the whole +strength of our forces and our real intentions, so in the same way we should +seek to conceal from the enemy the advantages which we expect to derive from +the form of the ground. This of course can only be done to a certain degree, +and requires, perhaps, a peculiar mode of proceeding, hitherto but little +attempted. +</p> + +<p> +The vicinity of a considerable fortress, in whatever direction it may be, +confers on every position a great advantage over the enemy in the movement and +use of the forces belonging to it. By suitable field-works, the want of natural +strength at particular points may be remedied, and in that manner the great +features of the battle may be settled beforehand at will; these are the means +of strengthening by art; if with these we combine a good selection of those +natural obstacles of ground which impede the effective action of the +enemy’s forces without making action absolutely impossible, if we turn to +the best account the advantage we have over the enemy in knowing the ground, +which he does not, so that we succeed in concealing our movements better than +he does his, and that we have a general superiority over him in unexpected +movements in the course of the battle, then from these advantages united, there +may result in our favour an overpowering and decisive influence in connection +with the ground, under the power of which the enemy will succumb, without +knowing the real cause of his defeat. This is what we understand under +<i>defensive position</i>, and we consider it one of the greatest advantages of +defensive war. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving out of consideration particular circumstances, we may assume that an +undulating, not too well, but still not too little, cultivated country affords +the most positions of this kind. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap77"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>Strong Positions and Entrenched Camps</h3> + +<p> +We have said in the preceding chapter that a position so strong through nature, +assisted by art, that it is unassailable, does not come under the meaning of an +advantageous field of battle, but belongs to a peculiar class of things. We +shall in this chapter take a review of what constitutes the nature of this +peculiarity, and on account of the analogy between such positions and +fortresses, call them <i>strong positions</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Merely by entrenchments alone they can hardly be formed, except as entrenched +camps resting on fortresses; but still less are they to be found ready formed +entirely by natural obstacles. Art usually lends a hand to assist nature, and +therefore they are frequently designated as <i>entrenched</i> camps or +positions. At the same time, that term may really be applied to any position +strengthened more or less by field works, which need have nothing in common +with the nature of the position we are now considering. +</p> + +<p> +The object of a strong position is to make the force there stationed in point +of fact unattackable, and by that means, either really to cover a certain space +directly, or only the troops which occupy that space in order then, through +them, in another way to effect the covering of the country indirectly. The +first was the signification of the <i>lines</i> of former times, for instance, +those on the French frontier; the latter, is that of <i>entrenched camps</i> +laid out near fortresses, and showing a front in every direction. +</p> + +<p> +If, for instance, the front of a position is so strong by works and hindrances +to approach that an attack is impossible, then the enemy is compelled to turn +it, to make his attack on a side of it or in rear. Now to prevent this being +easily done, <i>points d’appui</i> were sought for these lines, which +should give them a certain degree of support on the side, such as the Rhine and +the Vosges give the lines in Alsace. The longer the front of such a line the +more easily it can be protected from being turned, because every movement to +turn it is attended with danger to the side attempting the movement, the danger +increasing in proportion as the required movement causes a greater deviation +from the normal direction of the attacking force. Therefore, a considerable +length of front, which can be made unassailable, and good flank-supports, +ensure the possibility of protecting a large space of territory directly from +hostile invasion: at least, that was the view in which works of this class +originated; that was the object of the lines in Alsace, with their right flank +on the Rhine and the left on the Vosges; and the lines in Flanders, fifteen +miles long, resting their right on the Scheldt and the fortress of Tournay, +their left on the sea. +</p> + +<p> +But when we have not the advantages of such a long well-defended front, and +good flank-supports, if the country is to be held generally by a force well +entrenched, then that force (and its position) must be protected against being +turned by such an arrangement that it can show a front in every direction. But +then the idea of <i>a thoroughly covered tract of country</i> vanishes, for +such a position is only strategically a point which covers the force occupying +it, and thus secures to that force the power of keeping the field, that is to +say, <i>maintaining itself in the country</i>. Such a camp cannot be +<i>turned</i>, that is, cannot be attacked in flank or rear by reason of those +parts being weaker than its front, for it can show front in all directions, and +is equally strong everywhere. But such a camp can be <i>passed by</i>, and that +much easier than a fortified line, because its extent amounts to nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Entrenched camps connected with fortresses are in reality of this second kind, +for the object of them is to protect the troops assembled in them; but their +further strategic meaning, that is, the application of this protected force, is +somewhat different from that of other fortified camps. +</p> + +<p> +Having given this explanation of the origin of these three different defensive +means, we shall now proceed to consider the value of each of them separately, +under the heads of <i>strong lines, strong positions</i>, and <i>entrenched +camps resting on fortresses.</i> +</p> + +<p> +1. <i>Lines</i>.—They are the worst kind of cordon war: the obstacle +which they present to the aggressor is of no value at all unless they are +defended by a powerful fire; in themselves they are simply worthless. But now +the extent to which an army can furnish an effective fire is generally very +small in proportion to the extent of country to be defended; the lines can, +therefore, only be short, and consequently cover only a small extent of +country, or the army will not be able really to defend the lines at all points. +In consequence of this, the idea was started of not occupying all points in the +line, but only watching them, and defending them by means of strong reserves, +in the same way as a small river may be defended; but this procedure is in +opposition to the nature of the means. If the natural obstacles of the ground +are so great that such a method of defence could be applied, then the +entrenchments were needless, and entail danger, for that method of defence is +not local, and entrenchments are only suited to a strictly local defence; but +if the entrenchments themselves are to be considered the chief impediments to +approach, then we may easily conceive that an <i>undefended</i> line will not +have much to say as an obstacle to approach. What is a twelve or fifteen feet +ditch, and a rampart ten or twelve feet high, against the united efforts of +many thousands, if these efforts are not hindered by the fire of an enemy? The +consequence, therefore, is, that if such lines are short and tolerably well +defended by troops, they can be <i>turned;</i> but if they are extensive, and +not sufficiently occupied, they can be attacked in front, and taken without +much difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Now as lines of this description tie the troops down to a local defence, and +take away from them all mobility, they are a bad and senseless means to use +against an enterprising enemy. If we find them long retained in modern wars in +spite of these objections, the cause lies entirely in the low degree of energy +impressed on the conduct of war, one consequence of which was, that seeming +difficulties often effected quite as much as real ones. Besides, in most +campaigns these lines were used merely for a secondary defence against +irregular incursions; if they have been found not wholly inefficacious for that +purpose, we must only keep in view, at the same time, how much more usefully +the troops required for their defence might have been employed at other points. +In the latest wars such lines have been out of the question, neither do we find +any trace of them; and it is doubtful if they will ever re-appear. +</p> + +<p> +2. <i>Positions.</i>—The defence of a tract of country continues (as we +shall show more plainly in the 27th chapter) as long as the force designated +for it maintains itself there, and only ceases if that force removes and +abandons it. +</p> + +<p> +If a force is to maintain itself in any district of country which is attacked +by very superior forces, the means of protecting this force against the power +of the sword by a position which is unassailable is a first consideration. +</p> + +<p> +Now such a position, as before said, must be able to show a front in all +directions; and in conformity with the <i>usual</i> extent of tactical +positions, if the force is not <i>very large</i> (and a large force would be +contrary to the nature of the supposed case) it would take up a very small +space, which, in the course of the combat, would be exposed to so many +disadvantages that, even if strengthened in every possible way by +entrenchments, we could hardly expect to make a successful defence. Such a +camp, showing front in every direction, must therefore necessarily have an +extent of sides proportionably great; but these sides must likewise be as good +as unassailable; to give this requisite strength, notwithstanding the required +extension, is not within the compass of the art of field fortification; it is +therefore a fundamental condition that such a camp must derive part of its +strength from natural impediments of ground which render many places impassable +and others difficult to pass. In order, therefore, to be able to apply this +defensive means, it is necessary to find such a spot, and when that is wanting, +the object cannot be attained merely by field works. These considerations +relate more immediately to tactical results in order that we may first +establish the existence of this strategic means; we mention as examples for +illustration, Pirna, Bunzelwitz, Colberg, Torres Vedras, and Drissa. Now, as +respects the strategic properties and effects. The first condition is naturally +that the force which occupies this camp shall have its subsistence secured for +some time, that is, for as long as we think the camp will be required, and this +is only possible when the position has behind it a port, like Colberg and +Torres Vedras, or stands in connection with a fortress like Bunzelwitz and +Pirna, or has large depôts within itself or in the immediate vicinity, like +Drissa. +</p> + +<p> +It is only in the first case that the provisioning can be ensured for any time +we please; in the second and third cases, it can only be so for a more or less +limited time, so that in this point there is always danger. From this appears +how the difficulty of subsistence debars the use of many strong points which +otherwise would be suitable for entrenched positions, and, therefore, makes +those that are eligible <i>scarce</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In order to ascertain the eligibility of a position of this description, its +advantages and defects, we must ask ourselves what the aggressor can do against +it. +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> The assailant can pass by this strong position, pursue his +enterprise, and watch the position with a greater or less force. +</p> + +<p> +We must here make a distinction between the cases of a position which is +occupied by the main body, and one only occupied by an inferior force. +</p> + +<p> +In the first case the passing by the position can only benefit the assailant, +if, besides the principal force of the defendant, there is also some other +attainable and <i>decisive object of attack</i>, as, for instance, the capture +of a fortress or a capital city, etc. But even if there is such an object, he +can only follow it if the strength of his base and the direction of his lines +of communication are such that he has no cause to fear operations against his +strategic flanks. +</p> + +<p> +The conclusions to be drawn from this with respect to the admissibility and +eligibility of a strong position for the main body of the defender’s army +are, that it is only an advisable position when either the possibility of +operating against the strategic flank of the aggressor is so decisive that we +may be sure beforehand of being able in that way to keep him at a point where +his army can effect nothing, or in a case where there is no object attainable +by the aggressor for which the defence need be uneasy. If there is such an +object, and the strategic flank of the assailant cannot be seriously menaced, +then such position should not be taken up, or if it is it should only be as a +feint to see whether the assailant can be imposed upon respecting its value; +this is always attended with the danger, in case of failure, of being too late +to reach the point which is threatened. +</p> + +<p> +If the strong position is only held by an inferior force, then the aggressor +can never be at a loss for a further object of attack, because he has it in the +main body itself of the enemy’s army; in this case, therefore, the value +of the position is entirely limited to the means which it affords of operating +against the enemy’s strategic flank, and depends upon that condition. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> If the assailant does not venture to pass by a position, he can +invest it and reduce it by famine. But this supposes two conditions beforehand: +first, that the position is not open in rear, and secondly, that the assailant +is sufficiently strong to be able to make such an investment. If these two +conditions are united then the assailant’s army certainly would be +neutralised for a time by this strong position, but at the same time, the +defensive pays the price of this advantage by a loss of his defensive force. +</p> + +<p> +From this, therefore, we deduce that the occupation of such a strong position +with the main body is a measure only to be taken,— +</p> + +<p> +<i>aa.</i> When the rear is perfectly safe (Torres Vedras). +</p> + +<p> +<i>bb.</i> When we foresee that the enemy’s force is not strong enough +formally to invest us in our camp. Should the enemy attempt the investment with +insufficient means, then we should be able to sally out of the camp and beat +him in detail. +</p> + +<p> +<i>cc.</i> When we can count upon relief like the Saxons at Pirna, 1756, and as +took place in the main at Prague, because Prague could only be regarded as an +entrenched camp in which Prince Charles would not have allowed himself to be +shut up if he had not known that the Moravian army could liberate him. +</p> + +<p> +One of these three conditions is therefore absolutely necessary to justify the +choice of a strong position for the main body of an army; at the same time we +must add that the two last are bordering on a great danger for the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +But if it is a question of exposing an inferior corps to the risk of being +sacrificed for the benefit of the whole, then these conditions disappear, and +the only point to decide is whether by such a sacrifice a greater evil may be +avoided. This will seldom happen; at the same time it is certainly not +inconceivable. The entrenched camp at Pirna prevented Frederick the Great from +attacking Bohemia, as he would have done, in the year 1756. The Austrians were +at that time so little prepared, that the loss of that kingdom appears beyond +doubt; and perhaps, a greater loss of men would have been connected with it +than the 17,000 allied troops who capitulated in the Pirna camp. +</p> + +<p> +<i>c.</i> If none of those possibilities specified under <i>a</i> and <i>b</i> +are in favour of the aggressor; if, therefore, the conditions which we have +there laid down for the defensive are fulfilled, then there remains certainly +nothing to be done by the assailant but to fix himself before the position, +like a setter before a covey of birds, to spread himself, perhaps, as much as +possible by detachments over the country, and contenting himself with these +small and indecisive advantages to leave the real decision as to the possession +of territory to the future. In this case the position has fulfilled its object. +</p> + +<p> +3. <i>Entrenched camps near fortresses.</i>—They belong, as already said, +to the class of entrenched positions generally, in so far, as they have for +their object to cover not a tract of territory, but an armed force against a +hostile attack, and only differ in reality from the other in this, that with +the fortress they make up an inseparable whole, by which they naturally acquire +much greater strength. +</p> + +<p> +But there follows further from the above the undermentioned special points. +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> That they may also have the particular object of rendering the siege +of the fortress either impossible or extremely difficult. This object may be +worth a great sacrifice of troops if the place is a port which cannot be +blockaded, but in any other case we have to take care lest the place is one +which may be reduced by hunger so soon that the sacrifice of any considerable +number of troops is not justifiable. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> Entrenched camps can be formed near fortresses for smaller bodies of +troops than those in the open field. Four or five thousand men may be +invincible under the walls of a fortress, when, on the contrary, in the +strongest camp in the world, formed in the open field, they would be lost. +</p> + +<p> +<i>c.</i> They may be used for the assembly and organisation of forces which +have still too little solidity to be trusted in contact with the enemy, without +the support afforded by the works of the place, as for example, recruits, +militia, national levies, etc. +</p> + +<p> +They might, therefore, be recommended as a very useful measure, in many ways, +if they had not the immense disadvantage of injuring the fortress, more or +less, when they cannot be occupied; and to provide the fortress always with a +garrison, in some measure sufficient to occupy the camp also, would be much too +onerous a condition. +</p> + +<p> +We are, therefore, very much inclined to consider them only advisable for +places on a sea coast, and as more injurious than useful in all other cases. +</p> + +<p> +If, in conclusion, we should summarise our opinion in a general view, then +strong and entrenched positions are— +</p> + +<p> +1. The more requisite the smaller the country, the less the space afforded for +a retreat. +</p> + +<p> +2. The less dangerous the more surely we can reckon on succouring or relieving +them by other forces, or by the inclemency of season, or by a rising of the +nation, or by want, &c. +</p> + +<p> +3. The more efficacious, the weaker the elementary force of the enemy’s +attack. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap78"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>Flank Positions</h3> + +<p> +We have only allotted to this prominent conception, in the world of ordinary +military theory, a special chapter in dictionary fashion, that it may the more +easily be found; for we do not believe that anything independent in itself is +denoted by the term. +</p> + +<p> +Every position which is to be held, even if the enemy passes by it, is a flank +position; for from the moment that he does so it can have no other efficacy but +that which it exercises on the enemy’s strategic flank. Therefore, +necessarily, all <i>strong positions</i> are flank positions as well; for as +they cannot be attacked, the enemy accordingly is driven to pass them by, +therefore they can only have a value by their influence on his strategic flank. +The direction of the proper front of a strong position is quite immaterial, +whether it runs parallel with the enemy’s strategic flank, as Colberg, or +at right angles as Bunzelwitz and Drissa, for a strong position must front +every way. +</p> + +<p> +But it may also be desirable still to maintain a position which is <i>not</i> +unassailable, even if the enemy passes by it, should its situation, for +instance, give us such a preponderating advantage in the comparative relations +of the lines of retreat and communication, that we can not only make an +efficacious attack on the strategic flank of the advancing enemy, but also that +the enemy alarmed for his own retreat is unable to seize ours entirely; for if +that last is not the case, then because our position is not a strong, that is +not an <i>unassailable one</i>, we should run the risk of being obliged to +fight without having the command of any retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The year 1806 affords an example which throws a light on this. The disposition +of the Prussian army, on the right bank of the Saal, might in respect to +Buonaparte’s advance by Hof, have become in every sense a flank position, +if the army had been drawn up with its front parallel to the Saal, and there, +in that position, waited the progress of events. +</p> + +<p> +If there had not been here such a disproportion of moral and physical powers, +if there had only been a Daun at the head of the French army, then the Prussian +position might have shown its efficacy by a most brilliant result. To pass it +by was quite impossible; that was acknowledged by Buonaparte, by his resolution +to attack it; in severing from it the line of retreat even Buonaparte himself +did not <i>completely</i> succeed, and if the disproportion in physical and +moral relations had not been quite so great, that would have been just as +little practicable as the passing it by, for the Prussian army was in much less +danger from its left wing being overpowered than the French army would have +been by the defeat of their left wing. Even with the disproportion of physical +and moral power as it existed, a resolute and sagacious exercise of the command +would still have given great hopes of a victory. There was nothing to prevent +the Duke of Brunswick from making arrangements on the 13th, so that on the +morning of the 14th, at day-break, he might have opposed 80,000 men to the +60,000 with which Buonaparte passed the Saal, near Jena and Dornburg. Had even +this superiority in numbers, and the steep valley of the Saal behind the French +not been sufficient to procure a decisive victory, still it was a fortunate +concurrence of circumstances, and if with such advantages no successful +decision could be gained, no decision was to be expected in that district of +country; and we should, therefore, have retreated further, in order to gain +reinforcements and weaken the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +The Prussian position on the Saal, therefore, although assailable, might have +been regarded as a flank position in respect to the great road through Hof; but +like every position which can be attacked, that property is not to be +attributed to it absolutely, because it would only have become so if the enemy +had not attempted to attack it. +</p> + +<p> +Still less would it bespeak a clear idea if those positions which <i>cannot</i> +be maintained after the enemy has passed by them, and from which, in +consequence of that, the defensive seeks to attack the assailant’s flank, +were called <i>flank positions</i> merely because his attack is directed +against a flank; for this flank attack has hardly anything to do with the +position itself, or, at least, is not mainly produced by its properties, as is +the case in the action against a strategic flank. +</p> + +<p> +It appears from this that there is nothing new to establish with regard to the +properties of a flank position. A few words only on the character of the +measure may properly be introduced here; we set aside, however, completely +strong positions in the true sense, as we have said enough about them already. +</p> + +<p> +A flank position which is not assailable is an extremely efficacious +instrument, but certainly just on that account a dangerous one. If the +assailant is checked by it, then we have obtained a great effect by a small +expenditure of force; it is the pressure of the finger on the long lever of a +sharp bit. But if the effect is too insignificant, if the assailant is not +stopped, then the defensive has more or less imperilled his retreat, and must +seek to escape either in haste and by a detour—consequently under very +unfavourable circumstances, or he is in danger of being compelled to fight +without any line of retreat being open to him. Against a bold adversary, having +the moral superiority, and seeking a decisive solution, this means is therefore +extremely hazardous and entirely out of place, as shown by the example of 1806 +above quoted. On the other hand, when used against a cautious opponent in a war +of mere observation, it may be reckoned one of the best means which the +defensive can adopt. The Duke Ferdinand’s defence of the Weser by his +position on the left bank, and the well-known positions of Schmotseifen and +Landshut are examples of this; only the latter, it is true, by the catastrophe +which befell Fouqué’s corps in 1760, also shows the danger of a false +application. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap79"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/>Defence of Mountains</h3> + +<p> +The influence of mountains on the conduct of war is very great; the subject, +therefore, is very important for theory. As this influence introduces into +action a retarding principle, it belongs chiefly to the defensive. We shall +therefore discuss it here in a wider sense than that conveyed by the simple +conception, defence of mountains. As we have discovered in our consideration of +the subject results which run counter to general opinion in many points, we +shall therefore be obliged to enter into rather an elaborate analysis of it. +</p> + +<p> +We shall first examine the tactical nature of the subject, in order to gain the +point where it connects itself with strategy. +</p> + +<p> +The endless difficulty attending the march of large columns on mountain roads, +the extraordinary strength which a small post obtains by a steep scarp covering +its front, and by ravines right and left supporting its flanks, are +unquestionably the principal causes why such efficacy and strength are +universally attributed to the defence of mountains, so that nothing but the +peculiarities in armament and tactics at certain periods has prevented large +masses of combatants from engaging in it. +</p> + +<p> +When a column, winding like a serpent, toils its way through narrow ravines up +to the top of a mountain, and passes over it at a snail’s pace, artillery +and train-drivers, with oaths and shouts, flogging their over-driven cattle +through the narrow rugged roads, each broken waggon has to be got out of the +way with indescribable trouble, whilst all behind are detained, cursing and +blaspheming, every one then thinks to himself, Now if the enemy should appear +with only a few hundred men, he might disperse the whole. From this has +originated the expression used by historical writers, when they describe a +narrow pass as a place where “a handful of men might keep an army in +check.” At the same time, every one who has had any experience in war +knows, or ought to know, that such a march through mountains has little or +nothing in common with <i>the attack</i> of these same mountains, and that +therefore to infer from the <i>difficulty</i> of marching through mountains +that the difficulty of attacking them must be much greater is a false +conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +It is natural enough that an inexperienced person should thus argue, and it is +almost as natural that the art of war itself for a certain time should have +been entangled in the same error, for the fact which it related to was almost +as new at that time to those accustomed to war as to the uninitiated. Before +the Thirty Years’ War, owing to the deep order of battle, the numerous +cavalry, the rude fire-arms, and other peculiarities, it was quite unusual to +make use of formidable obstacles of ground in war, and a formal defence of +mountains, at least by regular troops, was almost impossible. It was not until +a more extended order of battle was introduced, and that infantry and their +arms became the chief part of an army, that the use which might be made of +hills and valleys occurred to men’s minds. But it was not until a hundred +years afterwards, or about the middle of the eighteenth century, that the idea +became fully developed. +</p> + +<p> +The second circumstance, namely, the great defensive capability which might be +given to a small post planted on a point difficult of access, was still more +suited to lead to an exaggerated idea of the strength of mountain defences. The +opinion arose that it was only necessary to multiply such a post by a certain +number to make an army out of a battalion, a chain of mountains out of a +mountain. +</p> + +<p> +It is undeniable that a small post acquires an extraordinary strength by +selecting a good position in a mountainous country. A small detatchment, which +would be driven off in the level country by a couple of squadrons, and think +itself lucky to save itself from rout or capture by a hasty retreat, can in the +mountains stand up before a whole army, and, as one might say, with a kind of +tactical effrontery exact the military honour of a regular attack, of having +its flank turned, etc., etc. How it obtains this defensive power, by obstacles +to approach, <i>points d’appui</i> for its flanks, and new positions +which it finds on its retreat, is a subject for tactics to explain; we accept +it as an established fact. +</p> + +<p> +It was very natural to believe that a number of such posts placed in a line +would give a very strong, almost unassailable front, and all that remained to +be done was to prevent the position from being turned by extending it right and +left until either flank-supports were met with commensurate with the importance +of the whole, or until the extent of the position itself gave security against +turning movements. A mountainous country specially invites such a course by +presenting such a succession of defensive positions, each one apparently better +than another, that one does not know where to stop; and therefore it ended in +all and every approach to the mountains within a certain distance being +guarded, with a view to defence, and ten or fifteen single posts, thus spread +over a space of about ten miles or more, were supposed to bid defiance to that +odious turning movement. Now as the connection between these posts was +considered sufficiently secure by the intervening spaces, being ground of an +impassable nature (columns at that time not being able to quit the regular +roads), it was thought a wall of brass was thus presented to the enemy. As an +extra precaution, a few battalions, some horse artillery, and a dozen squadrons +of cavalry, formed a reserve to provide against the event of the line being +unexpectedly burst through at any point. +</p> + +<p> +No one will deny that the prevalence of this idea is shown by history, and it +is not certain that at this day we are completely emancipated from these +errors. +</p> + +<p> +The course of improvement in tactics since the Middle Ages, with the ever +increasing strength of armies, likewise contributed to bring mountainous +districts in this sense more within the scope of military action. +</p> + +<p> +The chief characteristic of mountain defence is its complete passivity; in this +light the tendency towards the defence of mountains was very natural before +armies attained to their present capability of movement. But armies were +constantly becoming greater, and on account of the effect of fire-arms began to +extend more and more into long thin lines connected with a great deal of art, +and on that account very difficult, often almost impossible, to move. To +dispose, in order of battle, such an artistic machine, was often half a +day’s work, and half the battle; and almost all which is now attended to +in the preliminary plan of the battle was included in this first disposition or +drawing up. After this work was done it was therefore difficult to make any +modifications to suit new circumstances which might spring up; from this it +followed that the assailant, being the last to form his line of battle, +naturally adapted it to the order of battle adopted by the enemy, without the +latter being able in turn to modify his in accordance. The attack thus acquired +a general superiority, and the defensive had no other means of reinstating the +balance than that of seeking protection from the impediments of ground, and for +this nothing was so favourable in general as mountainous ground. Thus it became +an object to couple, as it were, the army with a formidable obstacle of ground, +and the two united then made common cause. The battalion defended the mountain, +and the mountain the battalion; so the passive defence through the aid of +mountainous ground became highly efficacious, and there was no other evil in +the thing itself except that it entailed a greater loss of freedom of movement, +but of that quality they did not understand the particular use at that time. +</p> + +<p> +When two antagonistic systems act upon each other, the exposed, that is, the +weak point on the one side always draws upon itself the blows from the other +side. If the defensive becomes fixed, and as it were, spell-bound in posts, +which are in themselves strong, and can not be taken, the aggressor then +becomes bold in turning movements, because he has no apprehension about his own +flanks. This is what took place—The <i>turning</i>, as it was called, +soon became the order of the day: to counteract this, positions were extended +more and more; they were thus weakened in front, and the offensive suddenly +turned upon that part: instead of trying to outflank by extending, the +assailant now concentrated his masses for attack at some one point, and the +line was broken. This is nearly what took place in regard to mountain defences +according to the latest modern history. +</p> + +<p> +The offensive had thus again gained a preponderance through the greater +mobility of troops; and it was only through the same means that the defence +could seek for help. But mountainous ground by its nature is opposed to +mobility, and thus the whole theory of mountain defence experienced, if we may +use the expression, a defeat like that which the armies engaged in it in the +Revolutionary war so often suffered. +</p> + +<p> +But that we may not reject the good with the bad, and allow ourselves to be +carried along by the stream of commonplace to assertions which, in actual +experience, would be refuted a thousand times by the force of circumstances, we +must distinguish the effects of mountain defence according to the nature of the +cases. +</p> + +<p> +The principal question to be decided here, and that which throws the greatest +light over the whole subject is, whether the resistance which is intended by +the defence of mountains is to be <i>relative</i> or +<i>absolute</i>—whether it is only intended to last for a time, or is +meant to end in a decisive victory. For a resistance of the first kind +mountainous ground is in a high degree suitable, and introduces into it a very +powerful element of strength; for one of the latter kind, on the contrary, it +is in general not at all suitable, or only so in some special cases. +</p> + +<p> +In mountains every movement is slower and more difficult, costs also more time, +and more men as well, if within the sphere of danger. But the loss of the +assailant in time and men is the standard by which the defensive resistance is +measured. As long as the movement is all on the side of the offensive so long +the defensive has a marked advantage; but as soon as the defensive resorts to +this principle of movement also, that advantage ceases. Now from the nature of +the thing, that is to say, on tactical grounds, a relative resistance allows of +a much greater degree of passivity than one which is intended to lead to a +decisive result, and it allows this passivity to be carried to an extreme, that +is, to the end of the combat, which in the other case can never happen. The +impeding element of mountain ground, which as a medium of greater density +weakens all positive activity, is, therefore, completely suited to the passive +defence. +</p> + +<p> +We have already said that a small post acquires an extraordinary strength by +the nature of the ground; but although this tactical result in general requires +no further proof, we must add to what we have said some explanation. We must be +careful here to draw a distinction between what is relatively and what is +absolutely small. If a body of troops, let its size be what it may, isolates a +portion of itself in a position, this portion may possibly be exposed to the +attack of the whole body of the enemy’s troops, therefore of a superior +force, in opposition to which it is itself small. There, as a rule, no absolute +but only a relative defence can be the object. The smaller the post in relation +to the whole body from which it is detached and in relation to the whole body +of the enemy, the more this applies. +</p> + +<p> +But a post also which is small in an absolute sense, that is, one which is not +opposed by an enemy superior to itself, and which, therefore, may aspire to an +absolute defence, a real victory, will be infinitely better off in mountains +than a large army, and can derive more advantage from the ground as we shall +show further on. +</p> + +<p> +Our conclusion, therefore, is, that a small post in mountains possesses great +strength. How this may be of decisive utility in all cases which depend +entirely on a <i>relative</i> defence is plain of itself; but will it be of the +same decisive utility for the <i>absolute</i> defence by a whole army? This is +the question which we now propose to examine. +</p> + +<p> +First of all we ask whether a front line composed of several posts has, as has +hitherto been assumed, the same strength proportionally as each post singly. +This is certainly not the case, and to suppose so would involve one of two +errors. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, a country <i>without roads</i> is often confounded with one +which is <i>quite impassable</i>. Where a column, or where artillery and +cavalry cannot <i>march</i>, infantry may still, in general, be able to pass, +and even artillery may often be brought there as well, for the movements made +in a battle by excessive efforts of short duration are not to be judged of by +the same scale as marches. The secure connection of the single posts with one +another rests therefore on an illusion, and the flanks are in reality in +danger. +</p> + +<p> +Or next it is supposed, a line of small posts, which are very strong in front, +are also equally strong on their flanks, because a ravine, a precipice, etc., +etc., form excellent supports for a small post. But why are they so?—not +because they make it impossible to turn the post, but because they cause the +enemy an expenditure of time and of force, which gives scope for the effectual +action of the post. The enemy who, in spite of the difficulty of the ground, +wishes, and in fact is obliged, to turn such a post, because the front is +unassailable requires, perhaps, half-a-day to execute his purpose, and cannot +after all accomplish it without some loss of men. Now if such a post can be +succoured, or if it is only designed to resist for a certain space of time, or +lastly, if it is able to cope with the enemy, then the flank supports have done +their part, and we may say the position had not only a strong front, but strong +flanks as well. But it is not the same if it is a question of a line of posts, +forming part of an extended mountain position. None of these three conditions +are realised in that case. The enemy attacks one point with an overwhelming +force, the support in rear is perhaps slight, and yet it is a question of +absolute resistance. Under such circumstances the flank supports of such posts +are worth nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Upon a weak point like this the attack usually directs its blows. The assault +with concentrated, and therefore very superior forces, upon a point in front, +may certainly <i>be met by a resistance, which is very violent as regards that +point, but which is unimportant as regards the whole.</i> After it is overcome, +the line is pierced, and the object of the attack attained. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows that the relative resistance in mountain warfare is, in +general, greater than in a level country, that it is comparatively greatest in +small posts, and does not increase in the same measure as the masses increase. +</p> + +<p> +Let us now turn to the real object of great battles generally—to the +<i>positive victory</i> which may also be the object in the defence of +mountains. If the whole mass, or the principal part of the force, is employed +for that purpose, then <i>the defence of mountains</i> changes itself <i>eo +ipso</i> into a <i>defensive battle in the mountains</i>. A battle, that is the +application of all our powers to the destruction of the enemy is now the form, +a victory the object of the combat. The defence of mountains which takes place +in this combat, appears now a subordinate consideration, for it is no longer +the object, it is only the means. Now in this view, how does the ground in +mountains answer to the object? +</p> + +<p> +The character of a defensive battle is a passive reaction in front, and an +increased active reaction in rear; but for this the ground in mountains is a +paralysing principle. There are two reasons for this: first, want of roads +affording means of rapidly moving in all directions, from the rear towards the +front, and even the sudden tactical attack is hampered by the unevenness of +ground; secondly, a free view over the country, and the enemy’s movements +is not to be had. The ground in mountains, therefore, ensures in this case to +the enemy the same advantages which it gave to us in the front, and deadens all +the better half of the resistance. To this is to be added a third objection, +namely the danger of being cut off. Much as a mountainous country is favourable +to a retreat, made under a pressure exerted along the whole front, and great as +may be the loss of time to an enemy who makes a turning movement in such a +country, still these again are only advantages in the case of a <i>relative +defence</i>, advantages which have no connection with the decisive battle, the +resistance to the last extremity. The resistance will last certainly somewhat +longer, that is until the enemy has reached a point with his flank-columns +which menaces or completely bars our retreat. Once he has gained such a point +then relief is a thing hardly possible. No act of the offensive which we can +make from the rear can drive him out again from the <i>points which threaten +us;</i> no desperate assault with our whole mass can clear the passage <i>which +he blocks</i>. Whoever thinks he discovers in this a contradiction, and +believes that the advantages which the assailant has in mountain warfare, must +also accrue to the defensive in an attempt to cut his way through, forgets the +difference of circumstances. The corps which opposes the passage is not engaged +in an <i>absolute</i> defence, a few hours’ resistance will probably be +sufficient; it is, therefore, in the situation of a small post. Besides this, +its opponent is no longer in full possession of all his fighting powers; he is +thrown into disorder, wants ammunition, etc. Therefore, in any view, the chance +of cutting through is small, and this is the danger that the defensive fears +above all; this fear is at work even during the battle, and enervates every +fibre of the struggling athlete. A nervous sensibility springs up on the +flanks, and every small detachment which the aggressor makes a display of on +any wooded eminence in our rear, is for him a new lever, helping on the +victory. +</p> + +<p> +These disadvantages will, for the most part, disappear, leaving all the +advantages, if the defence of a mountain district consists in the concentrated +disposition of the army on an extensive mountain plateau. There we may imagine +a very strong front; flanks very difficult of approach, and yet the most +perfect freedom of movement, both within and in rear of the position. Such a +position would be one of the strongest that there can be, but it is little more +than an illusion, for although most mountains are more easily traversed along +their crests than on their declivities, yet most plateaux of mountains are +either too small for such a purpose, or they have no proper right to be called +plateaux, and are so termed more in a geological, than in a geometrical sense. +</p> + +<p> +For smaller bodies of troops, the disadvantages of a defensive position in +mountains diminish as we have already remarked. The cause of this is, that such +bodies take up less space, and require fewer roads for retreat, etc., etc. A +single hill is not a mountain system, and has not the same disadvantages. The +smaller the force, the more easily it can establish itself on a single ridge or +hill, and the less will be the necessity for it to get entangled in the +intricacies of countless steep mountain gorges. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap80"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/>Defence of Mountains (<i>Continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +We now proceed to the strategic use of the tactical results developed in the +preceding chapter. We make a distinction between the following points: +</p> + +<p> +1. A mountainous district as a battle-field. +</p> + +<p> +2. The influence which the possession of it exercises on other parts of the +country. +</p> + +<p> +3. Its effect as a strategic barrier. +</p> + +<p> +4. The attention which it demands in respect to the supply of the troops. +</p> + +<p> +The first and most important of these heads, we must again subdivide as +follows: +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> A general action. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> Inferior combats. +</p> + +<h4> +1. A mountain system as a battle-field. +</h4> + +<p> +We have shown in the preceding chapter how unfavourable <i>mountain ground</i> +is to the defensive in a <i>decisive battle</i>, and, on the other hand, how +much it favours the assailant. This runs exactly counter to the generally +received opinion; but then how many other things there are which general +opinion confuses; how little does it draw distinctions between things which are +of the most opposite nature! From the powerful resistance which small bodies of +troops may offer in a mountainous country, common opinion becomes impressed +with an idea that all mountain defence is extremely strong, and is astonished +when any one denies that this great strength is communicated to the greatest +act of all defence, the defensive battle. On the other hand, it is instantly +ready, whenever a battle is lost by the defensive in mountain warfare, to point +out the inconceivable error of a system of cordon war, without any regard to +the fact that in the nature of things such a system is unavoidable in mountain +warfare. We do not hesitate to put ourselves in direct opposition to such an +opinion, and at the same time we must mention, that to our great satisfaction, +we have found our views supported in the works of an author whose opinion ought +to have great weight in this matter; we allude to the history of the campaigns +of 1796 and 1797, by the Archduke Charles, himself a good historical writer, a +good critic, and above all, a good general. +</p> + +<p> +We can only characterise it as a lamentable position when the weaker defender, +who has laboriously, by the greatest effort, assembled all his forces, in order +to make the assailant feel the effect of his love of Fatherland, of his +enthusiasm and his ability, in a decisive battle when he on whom every eye is +fixed in anxious expectation, having betaken himself to the obscurity of +thickly veiled mountains, and hampered in every movement by the obstinate +ground, stands exposed to the thousand possible forms of attack which his +powerful adversary can use against him. Only towards one single side is there +still left an open field for his intelligence, and that is in making all +possible use of every obstacle of ground; but this leads close to the borders +of the disastrous war of cordons, which, under all circumstances, is to be +avoided. Very far therefore from seeing a refuge for the defensive, in a +mountainous country, when a decisive battle is sought, we should rather advise +a general in such a case to avoid such a field by every possible means. +</p> + +<p> +It is true, however, that this is sometimes impossible; but the battle will +then necessarily have a very different character from one in a level country: +the disposition of the troops will be much more extended in most cases twice or +three times the length; the resistance more passive, the counter blow much less +effective. These are influences of mountain ground which are inevitable; still, +in such a battle the defensive is not to be converted into a mere defence of +mountains; the predominating character must be a concentrated order of battle +in the mountains, in which everything unites into <i>one</i> battle, and passes +as much as possible under the eye of <i>one</i> commander, and in which there +are sufficient reserves to make the decision something more than a mere warding +off, a mere holding up of the shield. This condition is indispensable, but +difficult to realise; and the drifting into the pure defence of mountains comes +so naturally, that we cannot be surprised at its often happening; the danger in +this is so great that theory cannot too urgently raise a warning voice. +</p> + +<p> +Thus much as to a decisive battle with the main body of the army. +</p> + +<p> +For combats of minor significance and importance, a mountainous country, on the +other hand, may be very favourable, because the main point in them is not +absolute defence, and because no decisive results are coupled with them. We may +make this plainer by enumerating the objects of this reaction. +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> Merely to gain time. This motive occurs a hundred times: always in +the case of a defensive line formed with the view of observation; besides that, +in all cases in which a reinforcement is expected. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> The repulse of a mere demonstration or minor enterprise of the enemy. +If a province is guarded by mountains which are defended by troops, then this +defence, however weak, will always suffice to prevent partisan attacks and +expeditions intended to plunder the country. Without the mountains, such a weak +chain of posts would be useless. +</p> + +<p> +<i>c.</i> To make demonstrations on our own part. It will be some time yet +before general opinion with respect to mountains will be brought to the right +point; until then an enemy may at any time be met with who is afraid of them, +and shrinks back from them in his undertakings. In such a case, therefore, the +principal body may also be used for the defence of a mountain system. In wars +carried on with little energy or movement, this state of things will often +happen; but it must always be a condition then that we neither design to accept +a general action in this mountain position, nor can be compelled to do so. +</p> + +<p> +<i>d.</i> In general, a mountainous country is suited for all positions in +which we do not intend to accept any great battle, for each of the separate +parts of the army is stronger there, and it is only the whole that is weaker; +besides, in such a position, it is not so easy to be suddenly attacked and +forced into a decisive battle. +</p> + +<p> +<i>e.</i> Lastly, a mountainous country is the true region for the efforts of a +people in arms. But while national risings should always be supported by small +bodies of regular troops, on the other hand, the proximity of a great army +seems to have an unfavourable effect upon movements of this kind; this motive, +therefore, as a rule, will never give occasion for transferring the whole army +to the mountains. +</p> + +<p> +Thus much for mountains in connection with the positions which may be taken up +there for battle. +</p> + +<h4> +2. The influence of mountains on other parts of the country. +</h4> + +<p> +Because, as we have seen, it is so easy in mountainous ground to secure a +considerable tract of territory by small posts, so weak in numbers that in a +district easily traversed they could not maintain themselves, and would be +continually exposed to danger; because every step forward in mountains which +have been occupied by the enemy must be made much more slowly than in a level +country, and therefore cannot be made at the same rate with him therefore the +question, Who is in possession? is also much more important in reference to +mountains than to any other tract of country of equal extent. In an open +country, the possession may change from day to day. The mere advance of strong +detachments compels the enemy to give up the country we want to occupy. But it +is not so in mountains; there a very stout resistance is possible by much +inferior forces, and for that reason, if we require a portion of country which +includes mountains, enterprises of a special nature, formed for the purpose, +and often necessitating a considerable expenditure of time as well as of men, +are always required in order to obtain possession. If, therefore, the mountains +of a country are not the theatre of the principal operations of a war, we +cannot, as we should were it the case of a district of level country, look upon +the possession of the mountains as dependent on and a necessary consequence of +our success at other parts. +</p> + +<p> +A mountainous district has therefore much more independence, and the possession +of it is much firmer and less liable to change. If we add to this that a ridge +of mountains from its crests affords a good view over the adjacent open +country, whilst it remains itself veiled in obscurity, we may therefore +conceive that when we are close to mountains, without being in actual +possession of them, they are to be regarded as a constant source of +disadvantage a sort of laboratory of hostile forces; and this will be the case +in a still greater degree if the mountains are not only occupied by the enemy, +but also form part of his territory. The smallest bodies of adventurous +partisans always find shelter there if pursued, and can then sally forth again +with impunity at other points; the largest bodies, under their cover, can +approach unperceived, and our forces must, therefore, always keep at a +sufficient distance if they would avoid getting within reach of their +dominating influence if they would not be exposed to disadvantageous combats +and sudden attacks which they cannot return. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner every mountain system, as far as a certain distance, exercises a +very great influence over the lower and more level country adjacent to it. +Whether this influence shall take effect momentarily, for instance in a battle +(as at Maltsch on the Rhine, 1796) or only after some time upon the lines of +communication, depends on the local relations; whether or not it shall be +overcome through some decisive event happening in the valley or level country, +depends on the relations of the armed forces to each other respectively. +</p> + +<p> +Buonaparte, in 1805 and 1809, advanced upon Vienna without troubling himself +much about the Tyrol; but Moreau had to leave Swabia in 1796, chiefly because +he was not master of the more elevated parts of the country, and too many +troops were required to watch them. In campaigns, in which there is an evenly +balanced series of alternate successes on each side, we shall not expose +ourselves to the constant disadvantage of the mountains remaining in possession +of the enemy: we need, therefore, only endeavour to seize and retain possession +of that portion of them which is required on account of the direction of the +principal lines of our attack; this generally leads to the mountains being the +arena of the separate minor combats which take place between forces on each +side. But we must be careful of overrating the importance of this circumstance, +and being led to consider a mountain-chain as the key to the whole in all +cases, and its possession as the main point. When a victory is the object +sought; then it is the principal, object; and if the victory is gained, other +things can be regulated according to the paramount requirement of the +situation. +</p> + +<h4> +3. Mountains considered in their aspect of a strategic barrier. +</h4> + +<p> +We must divide this subject under two heads. +</p> + +<p> +The first is again that of a decisive battle. We can, for instance, consider +the mountain chain as a river, that is, as a barrier with certain points of +passage, which may afford us an opportunity of gaining a victory, because the +enemy will be compelled by it to divide his forces in advancing, and is tied +down to certain roads, which will enable us with our forces concentrated behind +the mountains to fall upon fractions of his force. As the assailant on his +march through the mountains, irrespective of all other considerations, cannot +march in a single column because he would thus expose himself to the danger of +getting engaged in a decisive battle with only one line of retreat, therefore, +the defensive method recommends itself certainly on substantial grounds. But as +the conception of mountains and their outlets is very undefined, the question +of adopting this plan depends entirely on the nature of the country itself, and +it can only be pointed out as possible whilst it must also be considered as +attended with two disadvantages, the first is, that if the enemy receives a +severe blow, he soon finds shelter in the mountains; the second is, that he is +in possession of the higher ground, which, although not decisive, must still +always be regarded as a disadvantage for the pursuer. +</p> + +<p> +We know of no battle given under such circumstances unless the battle with +Alvinzi in 1796 can be so classed. But that the case <i>may</i> occur is plain +from Buonaparte’s passage of the Alps in the year 1800, when Melas might +and should have fallen on him with his whole force before he had united his +columns. +</p> + +<p> +The second influence which mountains may have as a barrier is that which they +have upon the lines of communication if they cross those lines. Without taking +into account what may be done by erecting forts at the points of passage and by +arming the people, the bad roads in mountains at certain seasons of the year +may of themselves alone prove at once destructive to an army; they have +frequently compelled a retreat after having first sucked all the marrow and +blood out of the army. If, in addition, troops of active partisans hover round, +or there is a national rising to add to the difficulties, then the +enemy’s army is obliged to make large detachments, and at last driven to +form strong posts in the mountains and thus gets engaged in one of the most +disadvantageous situations that can be in an offensive war. +</p> + +<h4> +4. Mountains in their relation to the provisioning of an army. +</h4> + +<p> +This is a very simple subject, easy to understand. The opportunity to make the +best use of them in this respect is when the assailant is either obliged to +remain in the mountains, or at least to leave them close in his rear. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +These considerations on the defence of mountains, which, in the main, embrace +all mountain warfare, and, by their reflection, throw also the necessary light +on offensive war, must not be deemed incorrect or impracticable because we can +neither make plains out of mountains, nor hills out of plains, and the choice +of a theatre of war is determined by so many other things that it appears as if +there was little margin left for considerations of this kind. In affairs of +magnitude it will be found that this margin is not so small. If it is a +question of the disposition and effective employment of the principal force, +and that, even in the moment of a decisive battle, by a few marches more to the +front or rear an army can be brought out of mountain ground into the level +country, then a resolute concentration of the chief masses in the plain will +neutralise the adjoining mountains. +</p> + +<p> +We shall now once more collect the light which has been thrown on the subject, +and bring it to a focus in one distinct picture. +</p> + +<p> +We maintain and believe we have shown, that mountains, both tactically and +strategically, are in general unfavourable to the defensive, meaning thereby, +that kind of defensive which is <i>decisive</i>, on the result of which the +question of the possession or loss of the country depends. They limit the view +and prevent movements in every direction; they force a state of passivity, and +make it necessary to stop every avenue or passage, which always leads more or +less to a war of cordons. We should therefore, if possible, avoid mountains +with the principal mass of our force, and leave them on one side, or keep them +before or behind us. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, we think that, for minor operations and objects, there is an +element of increased strength to be found in mountain ground; and after what +has been said, we shall not be accused of inconsistency in maintaining that +such a country is the real place of refuge for the weak, that is, for those who +dare not any longer seek an absolute decision. On the other hand again, the +advantages derived from a mountainous country by troops acting an inferior rôle +cannot be participated in by large masses of troops. +</p> + +<p> +Still all these considerations will hardly counteract the impressions made on +the senses. The imagination not only of the inexperienced but also of all those +accustomed to bad methods of war will still feel in the concrete case such an +overpowering dread of the difficulties which the inflexible and retarding +nature of mountainous ground opposes to all the movements of an assailant, that +they will hardly be able to look upon our opinion as anything but a most +singular paradox. Then again, with those who take a general view, the history +of the last century (with its peculiar form of war) will take the place of the +impressions of the senses, and therefore there will be but few who will not +still adhere to the belief that Austria, for example, should be better able to +defend her states on the Italian side than on the side of the Rhine. On the +other hand, the French who carried on war for twenty years under a leader both +energetic and indifferent to minor considerations, and have constantly before +their eyes the successful results thus obtained, will, for some time to come, +distinguish themselves in this as well as in other cases by the tact of a +practised judgment. +</p> + +<p> +Does it follow from this that a state would be better protected by an open +country than by mountains, that Spain would be stronger without the Pyrenees; +Lombardy more difficult of access without the Alps, and a level country such as +North Germany more difficult to conquer than a mountainous country? To these +false deductions we shall devote our concluding remarks. +</p> + +<p> +We do not assert that Spain would be stronger without the Pyrenees than +<i>with</i> them, but we say that a Spanish army, feeling itself strong enough +to engage in a decisive battle, would do better by concentrating itself in a +position behind the Ebro, than by fractioning itself amongst the fifteen passes +of the Pyrenees. But the influence of the Pyrenees on war is very far from +being set aside on that account. We say the same respecting an Italian army. If +it divided itself in the High Alps it would be vanquished by each resolute +commander it encountered, without even the alternative of victory or defeat; +whilst in the plains of Turin it would have the same chance as every other +army. But still no one can on that account suppose that it is desirable for an +aggressor to have to march over masses of mountains such as the Alps, and to +leave them behind. Besides, a determination to accept a great battle in the +plains, by no means excludes a preliminary defence of the mountains by +subordinate forces, an arrangement very advisable in respect to such masses as +the Alps and Pyrenees. Lastly, it is far from our intention to argue that the +conquest of a mountainous country is easier than that of a level(*) one, unless +a single victory sufficed to prostrate the enemy completely. After this victory +ensues a state of defence for the conqueror, during which the mountainous +ground must be as disadvantageous to the assailant as it was to the defensive, +and even more so. If the war continues, if foreign assistance arrives, if the +people take up arms, this reaction will gain strength from a mountainous +country. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) As it is conceived that the words “<i>ebenen</i>” and +“<i>gebirgigen</i>” in this passage in the original have by some +means become transposed, their equivalents—<i>level</i> and +<i>mountainous</i>—are here placed in the order in which it is presumed +the author intended the words to stand.—Tr. +</p> + +<p> +It is here as in dioptrics, the image represented becomes more luminous when +moved in a certain direction, not, however, as far as one pleases, but only +until the focus is reached, beyond that the effect is reversed. +</p> + +<p> +If the defensive is weaker in the mountains, that would seem to be a reason for +the assailant to prefer a line of operations in the mountains. But this will +seldom occur, because the difficulties of supporting an army, and those arising +from the roads, the uncertainty as to whether the enemy will accept battle in +the mountains, and even whether he will take up a position there with his +principal force, tend to neutralise that possible advantage. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap81"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>Defence of Mountains (<i>continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +In the fifteenth chapter we spoke of the nature of combats in mountains, and in +the sixteenth of the use to be made of them by strategy, and in so doing we +often came upon the idea of <i>mountain defence</i>, without stopping to +consider the form and details of such a measure. We shall now examine it more +closely. +</p> + +<p> +As mountain systems frequently extend like streaks or belts over the surface of +the earth, and form the division between streams flowing in different +directions, consequently the separation between whole water systems, and as +this general form repeats itself in the parts composing that whole, inasmuch as +these parts diverge from the main chain in branches or ridges, and then form +the separation between lesser water systems; hence the idea of a system of +mountain defence has naturally founded itself in the first instance, and +afterwards developed itself, upon the conception of the general form of +mountains, that of an obstacle, like a great barrier, having greater length +than breadth. Although geologists are not yet agreed as to the origin of +mountains and the laws of their formation, still in every case the course of +the waters indicates in the shortest and surest manner the general form of the +system, whether the action of the water has contributed to give that general +form (according to the aqueous theory), or that the course of the water is a +consequence of the form of the system itself. It was, therefore, very natural +again, in devising a system of mountain defence, to take the course of the +waters as a guide, as those courses form a natural series of levels, from which +we can obtain both the general height and the general profile of the mountain, +while the valleys formed by the streams present also the best means of access +to the heights, because so much of the effect of the erosive and alluvial +action of the water is permanent, that the inequalities of the slopes of the +mountain are smoothed down by it to one regular slope. Hence, therefore, the +idea of mountain defence would assume that, when a mountain ran about parallel +with the front to be defended, it was to be regarded as a great obstacle to +approach, as a kind of rampart, the gates of which were formed by the valleys. +The real defence was then to be made on the crest of this rampart, (that is, on +the edge of the plateau which crowned the mountain) and cut the valleys +transversely. If the line of the principal mountain-chain formed somewhat of a +right angle with the front of defence, then one of the principal branches would +be selected to be used instead; thus the line chosen would be parallel to one +of the principal valleys, and run up to the principal ridge, which might be +regarded as the extremity. +</p> + +<p> +We have noticed this scheme for mountain defence founded on the geological +structure of the earth, because it really presented itself in theory for some +time, and in the so-called “theory of ground” the laws of the +process of aqueous action have been mixed up with the conduct of war. +</p> + +<p> +But all this is so full of false hypotheses and incorrect substitutions, that +when these are abstracted, nothing in reality remains to serve as the basis of +any kind of a system. +</p> + +<p> +The principal ridges of real mountains are far too impracticable and +inhospitable to place large masses of troops upon them; it is often the same +with the adjacent ridges, they are often too short and irregular. Plateaux do +not exist on all mountain ridges, and where they are to be found they are +mostly narrow, and therefore unfit to accommodate many troops; indeed, there +are few mountains which, closely examined, will be found surmounted by an +uninterrupted ridge, or which have their sides at such an angle that they form +in some measure practicable slopes, or, at least, a succession of terraces. The +principal ridge winds, bends, and splits itself; immense branches launch into +the adjacent country in curved lines, and lift themselves often just at their +termination to a greater height than the main ridge itself; promontories then +join on, and form deep valleys which do not correspond with the general system. +Thus it is that, when several lines of mountains cross each other, or at those +points from which they branch out, the conception of a small band or belt is +completely at an end, and gives place to mountain and water lines radiating +from a centre in the form of a star. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows, and it will strike those who have examined +mountain-masses in this manner the more forcibly, that the idea of a systematic +disposition is out of the question, and that to adhere to such an idea as a +fundamental principle for our measures would be wholly impracticable. There is +still one important point to notice belonging to the province of practical +application. +</p> + +<p> +If we look closely at mountain warfare in its tactical aspects, it is evident +that these are of two principal kinds, the first of which is the defence of +steep slopes, the second is that of narrow valleys. Now this last, which is +often, indeed almost generally, highly favourable to the action of the defence, +is not very compatible with the disposition on the principal ridge, for the +occupation of the valley <i>itself</i> is often required and that at its outer +extremity nearest to the open country, not at its commencement, because there +its sides are steeper. Besides, this defence of valleys offers a means of +defending mountainous districts, even when the ridge itself affords no position +which can be occupied; the rôle which it performs is, therefore, generally +greater in proportion as the masses of the mountains are higher and more +inaccessible. +</p> + +<p> +The result of all these considerations is, that we must entirely give up the +idea of a defensible line more or less regular, and coincident with one of the +geological lines, and must look upon a mountain range as merely a surface +intersected and broken with inequalities and obstacles strewed over it in the +most diversified manner, the features of which we must try to make the best use +of which circumstances permit; that therefore, although a knowledge of the +geological features of the ground is indispensable to a clear conception of the +form of mountain masses, it is of little value in the organisation of defensive +measures. +</p> + +<p> +Neither in the war of the Austrian Succession, nor in the Seven Years’ +War, nor in those of the French Revolution, do we find military dispositions +which comprehended a whole mountain system, and in which the defence was +systematised in accordance with the leading features of that system. Nowhere do +we find armies on the principal ridges always in position on the slopes. +Sometimes at a greater, sometimes at a lower elevation; sometimes in one +direction, sometimes in another; parallel, at right angles, and obliquely; with +and against the watercourse; in lofty mountains, such as the Alps, frequently +extended along the valleys; amongst mountains of a inferior class, like the +Sudetics (and this is the strangest anomaly), at the middle of the declivity, +as it sloped towards the defender, therefore with the principal ridge in front, +like the position in which Frederick the Great, in 1762, covered the siege of +Schwednitz, with the “hohe Eule” before the front of his camp. +</p> + +<p> +The celebrated positions, Schmotseifen and Landshut, in the Seven Years’ +War, are for the most part in the bottoms of valleys. It is the same with the +position of Feldkirch, in the Vorarlsberg. In the campaigns of 1799 and 1800, +the chief posts, both of the French and Austrians, were always quite in the +valleys, not merely across them so as to close them, but also parallel with +them, whilst the ridges were either not occupied at all, or merely by a few +single posts. +</p> + +<p> +The crests of the higher Alps in particular are so difficult of access, and +afford so little space for the accommodation of troops, that it would be +impossible to place any considerable bodies of men there. Now if we must +positively have armies in mountains to keep possession of them, there is +nothing to be done but to place them in the valleys. At first sight this +appears erroneous, because, in accordance with the prevalent theoretical ideas, +it will be said, the heights command the valleys. But that is really not the +case. Mountain ridges are only accessible by a few paths and rude tracks, with +a few exceptions only passable for infantry, whilst the carriage roads are in +the valleys. The enemy can only appear there at certain points with infantry; +but in these mountain masses the distances are too great for any effective fire +of small arms, and therefore a position in the valleys is less dangerous than +it appears. At the same time, the valley defence is exposed to another great +danger, that of being cut off. The enemy can, it is true, only descend into the +valley with infantry, at certain points, slowly and with great exertion; he +cannot, therefore, take us by surprise; but none of the positions we have in +the valley defend the outlets of such paths into the valley. The enemy can, +therefore, bring down large masses gradually, then spread out, and burst +through the thin and from that moment weak line, which, perhaps, has nothing +more for its protection than the rocky bed of a shallow mountain-stream. But +now retreat, which must always be made piecemeal in a valley, until the outlet +from the mountains is reached, is impossible for many parts of the line of +troops; and that was the reason that the Austrians in Switzerland almost always +lost a third, or a half of their troops taken prisoners.— +</p> + +<p> +Now a few words on the usual way of dividing troops in such a method of +defence. +</p> + +<p> +Each of the subordinate positions is in relation with a position taken up by +the principal body of troops, more or less in the centre of the whole line, on +the principal road of approach. From this central position, other corps are +detached right and left to occupy the most important points of approach, and +thus the whole is disposed in a line, as it were, of three, four, five, six +posts, &c. How far this fractioning and extension of the line shall be +carried, must depend on the requirements of each individual case. An extent of +a couple of marches, that is, six to eight miles is of moderate length, and we +have seen it carried as far as twenty or thirty miles. +</p> + +<p> +Between each of these separate posts, which are one or two leagues from each +other, there will probably be some approaches of inferior importance, to which +afterwards attention must be directed. Some very good posts for a couple of +battalions each are selected, which form a good connection between the chief +posts, and they are occupied. It is easy to see that the distribution of the +force may be carried still further, and go down to posts occupied only by +single companies and squadrons; and this has often happened. There are, +therefore, in this no general limits to the extent of fractioning. On the other +hand, the strength of each post must depend on the strength of the whole; and +therefore we can say nothing as to the possible or natural degree which should +be observed with regard to the strength of the principal posts. We shall only +append, as a guide, some maxims which are drawn from experience and the nature +of the case. +</p> + +<p> +1. The more lofty and inaccessible the mountains are, so much the further this +separation of divisions of the force not only may be, <i>but also must be</i>, +carried; for the less any portion of a country can be kept secure by +combinations dependent on the movement of troops, so much the more must the +security be obtained by direct covering. The defence of the Alps requires a +much greater division of force, and therefore approaches nearer to the cordon +system, than the defence of the Vosges or the Giant mountains. +</p> + +<p> +2. Hitherto, wherever defence of mountains has taken place, such a division of +the force employed has been made that the chief posts have generally consisted +of only one line of infantry, and in a second line, some squadrons of cavalry; +at all events, only the chief post established in the centre has perhaps had +some battalions in a second line. +</p> + +<p> +3. A strategic reserve, to reinforce any point attacked, has very seldom been +kept in rear, because the extension of front made the line feel too weak +already in all parts. On this account the support which a post attacked has +received, has generally been furnished from other posts in the line not +themselves attacked. +</p> + +<p> +4. Even when the division of the forces has been relatively moderate, and the +strength of each single post considerable, the principal resistance has been +always confined to a local defence; and if once the enemy succeeded in wresting +a post, it has been impossible to recover it by any supports afterwards +arriving. +</p> + +<p> +How much, according to this, may be expected from mountain defence, in what +cases this means may be used, how far we can and may go in the extension and +fractioning of the forces—these are all questions which theory must leave +to the tact of the general. It is enough if it tells him what these means +really are, and what rôle they can perform in the active operations of the +army. +</p> + +<p> +A general who allows himself to be beaten in an extended mountain position +deserves to be brought before a court martial. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap82"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>Defence of Streams and Rivers</h3> + +<p> +Streams and large rivers, in so far as we speak of their defence, belong, like +mountains, to the category of strategic barriers. But they differ from +mountains in two respects. The one concerns their relative, the other their +absolute defence. +</p> + +<p> +Like mountains, they strengthen the relative defence; but one of their +peculiarities is, that they are like implements of hard and brittle metal, they +either stand every blow without bending, or their defence breaks and then ends +altogether. If the river is very large, and the other conditions are +favourable, then the passage may be absolutely impossible. But if the defence +of any river is forced at one point, then there cannot be, as in mountain +warfare, a persistent defence afterwards; the affair is finished with that one +act, unless that the river itself runs between mountains. +</p> + +<p> +The other peculiarity of rivers in relation to war is, that in many cases they +admit of very good, and in general of better combinations than mountains for a +decisive battle. +</p> + +<p> +Both again have this property in common, that they are dangerous and seductive +objects which have often led to false measures, and placed generals in awkward +situations. We shall notice these results in examining more closely the defence +of rivers. +</p> + +<p> +Although history is rather bare in examples of rivers defended with success, +and therefore the opinion is justified that rivers and streams are no such +formidable barriers as was once supposed, when an absolute defensive system +seized all means of strengthening itself which the country offered, still the +influence which they exercise to the advantage of the battle, as well as of the +defence of a country, cannot be denied. +</p> + +<p> +In order to look over the subject in a connected form, we shall specify the +different points of view from which we propose to examine it. +</p> + +<p> +First and foremost, the strategic results which streams and rivers produce +through their defence, must be distinguished from the influence which they have +on the defence of a country, even when not themselves specially defended. +</p> + +<p> +Further, the defence itself may take three different forms:— +</p> + +<p> +1. An absolute defence with the main body. +</p> + +<p> +2. A mere demonstration of resistance. +</p> + +<p> +3. A relative resistance by subordinate bodies of troops, such as outposts, +covering lines, flanking corps, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, we must distinguish three different degrees or kinds of defence, in +each of its forms, namely— +</p> + +<p> +1. A direct defence by opposing the passage. +</p> + +<p> +2. A rather indirect one, by which the river and its valley are only used as a +means towards a better combination for the battle. +</p> + +<p> +3. A completely direct one, by holding an unassailable position on the +enemy’s side of the river. +</p> + +<p> +We shall subdivide our observations, in conformity with these three degrees, +and after we have made ourselves acquainted with each of them in its relation +to the first, which is the most important of the forms, we shall then proceed +to do the same in respect to their relations to the other two. Therefore, +first, the direct defence, that is, such a defence as is to prevent the passage +of the enemy’s army itself. +</p> + +<p> +This can only come into the question in relation to large rivers, that is, +great bodies of water. +</p> + +<p> +The combinations of space, time, and force, which require to be looked into as +elements of this theory of defence, make the subject somewhat complicated, so +that it is not easy to gain a sure point from which to commence. The following +is the result at which every one will arrive on full consideration. +</p> + +<p> +The time required to build a bridge determines the distance from each other at +which the corps charged with the defence of the river should be posted. If we +divide the whole length of the line of defence by this distance, we get the +number of corps required for the defence; if with that number we divide the +mass of troops disposable, we shall get the strength of each corps. If we now +compare the strength of each single corps with the number of troops which the +enemy, by using all the means in his power, can pass over during the +construction of his bridge, we shall be able to judge how far we can expect a +successful resistance. For we can only assume the forcing of the passage to be +impossible when the defender is able to attack the troops passed over with a +<i>considerable numerical superiority</i>, say <i>the double</i>, before the +bridge is completed. An illustration will make this plain. +</p> + +<p> +If the enemy requires twenty-four hours for the construction of a bridge, and +if he can by other means only pass over 20,000 men in those twenty-four hours, +whilst the defender within twelve hours can appear at any point whatever with +20,000 men, in such case the passage cannot be forced; for the defender will +arrive when the enemy engaged in crossing has only passed over the half of +20,000. Now as in twelve hours, the time for conveying intelligence included, +we can march four miles, therefore every eight miles 20,000 men would be +required, which would make 60,000 for the defence of a length of twenty-four +miles of river. These would be sufficient for the appearance of 20,000 men at +any point, even if the enemy attempted the passage at two points at the same +time; if at only one point twice 20,000 could be brought to oppose him at that +single point. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, there are three circumstances exercising a decisive influence: (1) +the breadth of the river; (2) the means of passage, for the two determine both +the time required to construct the bridge, and the number of troops that can +cross during the time the bridge is being built; (3) the strength of the +defender’s army. The strength of the enemy’s force itself does not +as yet come into consideration. According to this theory we may say that there +is a point at which the possibility of crossing completely stops, and that no +numerical superiority on the part of the enemy would enable him to force a +passage. +</p> + +<p> +This is the simple theory of the direct defence of a river, that is, of a +defence intended to prevent the enemy from finishing his bridge and from making +the passage itself; in this there is as yet no notice taken of the effect of +demonstrations which the enemy may use. We shall now bring into consideration +particulars in detail, and measures requisite for such a defence. +</p> + +<p> +Setting aside, in the first place, geographical peculiarities, we have only to +say that the corps as proposed by the present theory, must be posted close to +the river, and each corps in itself concentrated. It must be close to the +river, because every position further back lengthens unnecessarily and +uselessly the distance to be gone over to any point menaced; for as the waters +of the river give security against any important movement on the part of the +enemy, a reserve in rear is not required, as it is for an ordinary line of +defence, where there is no river in front. Besides, the roads running parallel +to and near a river up and down, are generally better than transverse roads +from the interior leading to any particular points on the river. Lastly, the +river is unquestionably better watched by corps thus placed than by a mere +chain of posts, more particularly as the commanders are all close at +hand.—Each of these corps must be concentrated in itself, because +otherwise all the calculation as to time would require alteration. He who knows +the loss of time in effecting a concentration, will easily comprehend that just +in this concentrated position lies the great efficacy of the defence. No doubt, +at first sight, it is very tempting to make the crossing, even in boats, +impossible for the enemy by a line of posts; but with a few exceptions of +points, specially favourable for crossing, such a measure would be extremely +prejudicial. To say nothing of the objection that the enemy can generally drive +off such a post by bringing a superior force to bear on it from the opposite +side, it is, as a rule, a waste of strength, that is to say, the most that can +be obtained by any such post, is to compel the enemy to choose another point of +passage. If, therefore, we are not so strong that we can treat and defend the +river like a ditch of a fortress, a case for which no new precept is required, +such a method of directly defending the bank of a river leads necessarily away +from the proposed object. Besides these general principles for positions, we +have to consider—first, the examination of the special peculiarities of +the river; second, the removal of all means of passage; third, the influence of +any fortresses situated on the river. +</p> + +<p> +A river, considered as a line of defence, must have at the extremities of the +line, right and left, <i>points d’appui</i>, such as, for instance, the +sea, or a neutral territory; or there must be other causes which make it +impracticable for the enemy to turn the line of defence by crossing beyond its +extremities. Now, as neither such flank supports nor such impediments are to be +found, unless at considerable distances, we see at once that the defence of a +river must embrace a considerable portion of its length, and that, therefore, +the possibility of a defence by placing a large body of troops behind a +relatively short length of the river vanishes from the class of possible facts +(to which we must always confine ourselves). We say <i>a relatively short +length of the river</i>, by which we mean a length which does not very much +exceed that which the same number of troops would usually occupy on an ordinary +position in line without a river. Such cases, we say, do not occur, and every +direct defence of a river always becomes a kind of cordon system, at least as +far as regards the extension of the troops, and therefore is not at all adapted +to oppose a turning movement on the part of the enemy in the same manner which +is natural to an army in a concentrated position. Where, therefore, such +turning movement is possible, the direct defence of the river, however +promising its results in other respects, is a measure in the highest degree +dangerous. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as regards the portion of the river between its extreme points, of course +we may suppose that all points within that portion are not equally well suited +for crossing. This subject admits of being somewhat more precisely determined +in the abstract, but not positively fixed, for the very smallest local +peculiarity often decides more than all which looks great and important in +books. Besides, it is wholly unnecessary to lay down any rules on this subject, +for the appearance of the river, and the information to be obtained from those +residing near it, will always amply suffice, without referring back to books. +</p> + +<p> +As matters of detail, we may observe that roads leading down upon a river, its +affluents, the great towns through which it passes, and lastly above all, its +islands, generally favour a passage the most; that on the other hand, the +elevation of one bank over another, and the bend in the course of the river at +the point of passage, which usually act such a prominent rôle in books, are +seldom of any consequence. The reason of this is, that the presumed influence +of these two things rests on the limited idea of an absolute defence of the +river bank—a case which seldom or never happens in connection with great +rivers. +</p> + +<p> +Now, whatever may be the nature of the circumstances which make it easier to +cross a river at particular points, they must have an influence on the position +of the troops, and modify the general geometrical law; but it is not advisable +to deviate too far from that law, relying on the difficulties of the passage at +many points. The enemy would choose exactly those spots which are the least +favourable by nature for crossing, if he knew that these are the points where +there is the least likelihood of meeting us. +</p> + +<p> +In any case the strongest possible occupation of islands is a measure to be +recommended, because a serious attack on an island indicates in the surest way +the intended point of passage. +</p> + +<p> +As the corps stationed close to a river must be able to move either up or down +along its banks according as circumstances require, therefore if there is no +road parallel to the river, one of the most essential preparatory measures for +the defence of the river is to put the nearest small roads running in a +parallel direction into suitable order, and to construct such short roads of +connection as may be necessary. +</p> + +<p> +The second point on which we have to speak, is the removal of the means of +crossing.—On the river itself the thing is no easy matter, at least +requires considerable time; but on the affluents which fall into the river, +particularly those on the enemy’s side, the difficulties are almost +insurmountable, as these branch rivers are generally already in the hands of +the enemy. For that reason it is important to close the mouths of such rivers +by fortifications. +</p> + +<p> +As the equipment for crossing rivers which an enemy brings with him, that is +his pontoons, are rarely sufficient for the passage of great rivers, much +depends on the means to be found on the river itself, its affluents, and in the +great towns adjacent, and lastly, on the timber for building boats and rafts in +forests near the river. There are cases in which all these circumstances are so +unfavourable, that the crossing of a river is by that means almost an +impossibility. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, the fortresses, which lie on both sides, or on the enemy’s side +of the river, serve both to prevent any crossing at any points near them, up or +down the river, and as a means of closing the mouths of affluents, as well as +to receive immediately all craft or boats which may be seized. +</p> + +<p> +So much as to the direct defence of a river, on the supposition that it is one +containing a great volume of water. If a deep valley with precipitous sides or +marshy banks, are added to the barrier of the river itself, then the difficulty +of passing and the strength of the defence are certainly increased; but the +volume of water is not made up for by such obstacles, for they constitute no +absolute severance of the country, which is an <i>indispensable</i> condition +of direct defence. +</p> + +<p> +If we are asked what rôle such a direct river defence can play in the strategic +plan of the campaign, we must admit that it can never lead to a decisive +victory, partly because the object is not to let the enemy pass over to our +side at all, or to crush the first mass of any size which passes; partly +because the river prevents our being able to convert the advantages gained into +a decisive victory by sallying forth in force. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the defence of a river in this way may produce a great gain +of time, which is generally all important for the defensive. The collecting the +means of crossing, takes up often much time; if several attempts fail a good +deal more time is gained. If the enemy, on account of the river, gives his +forces an entirely different direction, then still further advantages may be +gained by that means. Lastly, whenever the enemy is not in downright earnest +about advancing, a river will occasion a stoppage in his movements and thereby +afford a durable protection to the country. +</p> + +<p> +A direct defence of a river, therefore, when the masses of troops engaged are +considerable, the river large, and other circumstances favourable, may be +regarded as a very good defensive means, and may yield results to which +commanders in modern times (influenced only by the thought of unfortunate +attempts to defend rivers, which failed from insufficient means), have paid too +little attention. For if, in accordance with the supposition just made (which +may easily be realized in connection with such rivers as the Rhine or the +Danube), an efficient defence of 24 miles of river is possible by 60,000 men in +face of a very considerably superior force, we may well say that such a result +deserves consideration. +</p> + +<p> +We say, in opposition to a <i>considerably superior force</i>, and must again +recur to that point. According to the theory we have propounded, all depends on +the means of crossing, and nothing on the numerical strength of the force +seeking to cross, always supposing it is not less than the force which defends +the river. This appears very extraordinary, and yet it is true. But we must +take care not to forget that most defences of rivers, or, more properly +speaking, the whole, have no absolute <i>points d’appui</i>, therefore, +may be turned, and this turning movement will be very much easier if the enemy +has very superior numbers. +</p> + +<p> +If now we reflect that such a direct defence of a river, even if overcome by +the enemy, is by no means to be compared to a lost battle, and can still less +lead to a complete defeat, since only a part of our force has been engaged, and +the enemy, detained by the tedious crossing over of his troops on a single +bridge, cannot immediately follow up his victory, we shall be the less disposed +to despise this means of defence. +</p> + +<p> +In all the practical affairs of human life it is important to hit the right +point; and so also, in the defence of a river, it makes a great difference +whether we rightly appreciate our situation in all its relations; an apparently +insignificant circumstance may essentially alter the case, and make a measure +which is wise and effective in one instance, a disastrous mistake in another. +This difficulty of forming a right judgment and of avoiding the notion that +“a river is a river” is perhaps greater here than anywhere else, +therefore we must especially guard against false applications and +interpretations; but having done so, we have also no hesitation in plainly +declaring that we do not think it worth while to listen to the cry of those +who, under the influence of some vague feeling, and without any fixed idea, +expect everything from attack and movement, and think they see the most true +picture of war in a hussar at full gallop brandishing his sword over his head. +</p> + +<p> +Such ideas and feelings are not always all that is required (we shall only +instance here the once famous dictator Wedel, at Züllichau, in 1759); but the +worst of all is that they are seldom durable, and they forsake the general at +the last moment if great complex cases branching out into a thousand relations +bear heavily upon him. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore believe that a direct defence of a river with large bodies of +troops, under favourable conditions, can lead to successful results if we +content ourselves with a moderate negative: but this does not hold good in the +case of smaller masses. Although 60,000 men on a certain length of river could +prevent an army of 100,000 or more from passing, a corps of 10,000 on the same +length would not be able to oppose the passage of a corps of 10,000 men, +indeed, probably, not of one half that strength if such a body chose to run the +risk of placing itself on the same side of the river with an enemy so much +superior in numbers. The case is clear, as the means of passing do not alter. +</p> + +<p> +We have as yet said little about feints or demonstrations of crossing, as they +do not essentially come into consideration in the direct defence of a river, +for partly such defence is not a question of concentration of the army at one +point, but each corps has the defence of a portion of the river distinctly +allotted to it; partly such simulated intentions of crossing are also very +difficult under the circumstances we have supposed. If, for instance, the means +of crossing in themselves are already limited, that is, not in such abundance +as the assailant must desire to ensure the success of his undertaking, he will +then hardly be able or willing to apply a large share to a mere demonstration: +at all events the mass of troops to be passed over at the true point of +crossing must be so much the less, and the defender gains again in time what +through uncertainty he may have lost. +</p> + +<p> +This direct defence, as a rule, seems only suitable to large rivers, and on the +last half of their course. +</p> + +<p> +The second form of defence is suitable for smaller rivers with deep valleys, +often also for very unimportant ones. It consists in a position taken up +further back from the river at such a distance that the enemy’s army may +either be caught in detail after the passage (if it passes at several points at +the same time) or if the passage is made by the whole at one point, then near +the river, hemmed in upon one bridge and road. An army with the rear pressed +close against a river or a deep valley, and confined to one line of retreat, is +in a most disadvantageous position for battle; in the making proper use of this +circumstance, consists precisely the most efficacious defence of rivers of +moderate size, and running in deep valleys. +</p> + +<p> +The disposition of an army in large corps close to a river which we consider +the best in a direct defence, supposes that the enemy cannot pass the river +unexpectedly and in great force, because otherwise, by making such a +disposition, there would be great danger of being beaten in detail. If, +therefore, the circumstances which favour the defence are not sufficiently +advantageous, if the enemy has already in hand ample means of crossing, if the +river has many islands or fords, if it is not broad enough, if we are too weak, +etc., etc., then the idea of that method may be dismissed: the troops for the +more secure connection with each other must be drawn back a little from the +river, and all that then remains to do is to ensure the most rapid +concentration possible upon that point where the enemy attempts to cross, so as +to be able to attack him before he has gained so much ground that he has the +command of several passages. In the present case the river or its valley must +be watched and partially defended by a chain of outposts whilst the army is +disposed in several corps at suitable points and at a certain distance (usually +a few leagues) from the river. +</p> + +<p> +The most difficult point lies here in the passage through the narrow way formed +by the river and its valley. It is not now only the volume of water in the +river with which we are concerned, but the whole of the defile, and, as a rule, +a deep rocky valley is a greater impediment to pass than a river of +considerable breadth. The difficulty of the march of a large body of troops +through a long defile is in reality much greater than appears at first +consideration. The time required is very considerable; and the danger that the +enemy during the march may make himself master of the surrounding heights must +cause disquietude. If the troops in front advance too far, they encounter the +enemy too soon, and are in danger of being overpowered; if they remain near the +point of passage then they fight in the worst situation. The passage across +such an obstacle of ground with a view to measure strength with the enemy on +the opposite side is, therefore, a bold undertaking, or it implies very +superior numbers and great confidence in the commander. +</p> + +<p> +Such a defensive line cannot certainly be extended to such a length as in the +direct defence of a great river, for it is intended to fight with the whole +force united, and the passages, however difficult, cannot be compared in that +respect with those over a large river; it is, therefore, much easier for the +enemy to make a turning movement against us. But at the same time, such a +movement carries him out of his natural direction (for we suppose, as is plain +in itself, that the valley crosses that direction at about right angles), and +the disadvantageous effect of a confined line of retreat only disappears +gradually, not at once, so that the defender will still always have some +advantage over the advancing foe, although the latter is not caught exactly at +the crisis of the passage, but by the detour he makes is enabled to get a +little more room to move. +</p> + +<p> +As we are not speaking of rivers in connection only with the mass of their +waters, but have rather more in view the deep cleft or channel formed by their +valleys, we must explain that under the term we do not mean any regular +mountain gorge, because then all that has been said about mountains would be +applicable. But, as every one knows, there are many level districts where the +channels of even the smallest streams have deep and precipitous sides; and, +besides these, such as have marshy banks, or whose banks are otherwise +difficult of approach, belong to the same class. +</p> + +<p> +Under these conditions, therefore, an army on the defensive, posted behind a +large river or deep valley with steep sides, is in a very excellent position, +and this sort of river defence is a strategic measure of the best kind. +</p> + +<p> +Its defect (the point on which the defender is very apt to err) is the +over-extension of the defending force. It is so natural in such a case to be +drawn on from one point of passage to another, and to miss the right point +where we ought to stop; but then, if we do not succeed in fighting with the +whole army united, we miss the intended effect; a defeat in battle, the +necessity of retreat, confusion in many ways and losses reduce the army nearly +to ruin, even although the resistance has not been pushed to an extremity. +</p> + +<p> +In saying that the defensive, under the above conditions, should not extend his +forces widely, that he should be in any case able to assemble all his forces on +the evening of the day on which the enemy passes, enough is said, and it may +stand in place of all combinations of time, power, and space, things which, in +this case, must depend on many local points. +</p> + +<p> +The battle to which these circumstances lead must have a special +character—that of the greatest impetuosity on the side of the defender. +The feigned passages by which the enemy will keep him for some time in +uncertainty—will, in general prevent his discovering the real point of +crossing a moment too soon. The peculiar advantages of the situation of the +defender consist in the disadvantageous situation of the enemy’s corps +just immediately in his front; if other corps, having passed at other points, +menace his flank, he cannot, as in a defensive battle, counteract such +movements by vigorous blows from his rear, for that would be to sacrifice the +above-mentioned advantage of his situation; he must, therefore, decide the +affair in his front before such other corps can arrive and become dangerous, +that is, he must attack what he has before him as swiftly and vigorously as +possible, and decide all by its defeat. +</p> + +<p> +But the object of <i>this</i> form of river defence can never be the repulse of +a very greatly superior force, as is conceivable in the direct defence of a +large river; for as a rule we have really to deal with the bulk of the +enemy’s force, and although we do so under favourable circumstances, +still it is easy to see the relation between the forces must soon be felt. +</p> + +<p> +This is the nature of the defence of rivers of a moderate size and deep valleys +when the principal masses of the armies are concerned, for in respect to them +the considerable resistance which can be offered on the ridges or scarps of the +valley stands no comparison with the disadvantages of a scattered position, and +to them a decisive victory is a matter of necessity. But if nothing more is +wanted but the reinforcement of a secondary line of defence which is intended +to hold out for a short time, and which can calculate on support, then +certainly a direct defence of the scarps of the valley, or even of the river +bank, may be made; and although the same advantages are not to be expected here +as in mountain positions, still the resistance will always last longer than in +an ordinary country. Only one circumstance makes this measure very dangerous, +if not impossible: it is when the river has many windings and sharp turnings, +which is just what is often the case when a river runs in a deep valley, Only +look at the course of the Mosel. In a case of its defence, the corps in advance +on the salients of the bends would almost inevitably be lost in the event of a +retreat. +</p> + +<p> +That a great river allows the same defensive means, the same form of defence, +which we have pointed out as best suited for rivers of a moderate size, in +connection with the mass of an army, and also under much more favourable +circumstances, is plain of itself. It will come into use more especially when +the point with the defender is to gain a decisive victory (Aspern). +</p> + +<p> +The case of an army drawn up with its front close on a river, or stream, or +deep valley, in order by that means to command a tactical obstacle to the +approach to its position, or to strengthen its front, is quite a different one, +the detailed examination of which belongs to tactics. Of the effect of this we +shall only say this much, that it is founded on a delusion.—If the cleft +in the ground is very considerable, the front of the position becomes +absolutely unassailable. Now, as there is no more difficulty in passing round +such a position than any other, it is just the same as if the defender had +himself gone out of the way of the assailant, yet that could hardly be the +object of the position. A position of this kind can, therefore, only be +advisable when, as a consequence of its position, it threatens the +communications of the assailant, so that every deviation by him from the direct +road is fraught with consequences altogether too serious to be risked. +</p> + +<p> +In this second form of defence, feigned passages are much more dangerous, for +the assailant can make them more easily, while, on the other hand, the +proposition for the defender is, to assemble his whole army at the right point. +But the defender is certainly not quite so much limited for time here, because +the advantage of his situation lasts until the assailant has massed his whole +force, and made himself master of several crossings; moreover, also, the +simulated attack has not the same degree of effect here as in the defence of a +cordon, where all must be held, and where, therefore, in the application of the +reserve, it is not merely a question, as in our proposition, where the enemy +has his principal force, but the much more difficult one, Which is the point he +will first seek to force? +</p> + +<p> +With respect to both forms of defence of large and small rivers, we must +observe generally, that if they are undertaken in the haste and confusion of a +retreat, without preparation, without the removal of all means of passage, and +without an exact knowledge of the country, they cannot certainly fulfil what +has been here supposed; in most such cases, nothing of the kind is to be +calculated upon; and therefore it will be always a great error for an army to +divide itself over extended positions. +</p> + +<p> +As everything usually miscarries in war, if it is not done upon clear +convictions and with the whole will and energy, so a <i>river defence</i> will +generally end badly when it is only resorted to because we have not the heart +to meet the enemy in the open field, and hope that the broad river or the deep +valley will stop him. When that is the case, there is so little confidence in +the actual situation that both the general and his army are usually filled with +anxious forebodings, which are almost sure to be realized quick enough. A +battle in the open field does not suppose a perfectly equal state of +circumstances beforehand, like a duel; and the defender who does not know how +to gain for himself any advantages, either through the special nature of the +defence, through rapid marches, or by knowledge of the country and freedom of +movement, is one whom nothing can save, and least of all will a river or its +valley be able to help him. +</p> + +<p> +The third form of defence—by a strong position taken up on the +enemy’s side of the river—founds its efficacy on the danger in +which it places the enemy of having his communications cut by the river, and +being thus limited to some bridges. It follows, as a matter of course, that we +are only speaking of great rivers with a great volume of water, as these alone +can lead to such results, whilst a river which is merely in a deep ravine +usually affords such a number of passages that all danger of the above +disappears. +</p> + +<p> +But the position of the defensive must be very strong, almost unassailable; +otherwise he would just meet the enemy half way, and give up his advantages. +But if it is of such strength that the enemy resolves not to attack it, he +will, under certain circumstances, be confined thereby to the same bank with +the defender. If the assailant crosses, he exposes his communications; but +certainly, at the same time, he threatens ours. Here, as in all cases in which +one army passes by another, the great point is, whose communications, by their +number, situation, and other circumstances, are the best secured, and which has +also, in other respects, most to lose, therefore can be outbid by his opponent; +lastly, which possesses still in his army the most power of victory upon which +he can depend in an extreme case. The influence of the river merely amounts to +this, that it augments the danger of such a movement for both parties, as both +are dependent on bridges. Now, in so far as we can assume that, according to +the usual course of things, the passage of the defender, as well as of his +depôts of all kinds, are better secured by fortresses than those of the +offensive, in so far is such a defence conceivable, and one which might be +substituted for the direct defence when circumstances are not favourable to +that form. Certainly then the river is not defended by the army, nor the army +by the river, but by the connection between the two the country is defended, +which is the main point. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time it must be granted that this mode of defence, without a +decisive blow, and resembling the state of tension of two electric currents, of +which the atmospheres only are as yet in contact, cannot stop any very powerful +impulsive force. It might be applicable against even a great superiority of +force on the side of the enemy, if their army is commanded by a cautious +general, wanting in decision, and never disposed to push forward with energy; +it might also answer when a kind of oscillation towards equality between the +contending forces has previously arisen, and nothing but small advantages are +looked for on either side. But if we have to deal with superior forces, led by +a bold general, we are upon a dangerous course, very close to an abyss. +</p> + +<p> +This form of defence looks so bold, and at the same time so scientific, that it +might be called the elegant; but as elegance easily merges into folly, and as +it is not so easily excused in war as in society, therefore we have had as yet +few instances of this elegant art. From this third mode a special means of +assistance for the first two forms is developed, that is, by the permanent +occupation of a bridge and a <i>tête du pont</i> to keep up a constant threat +of crossing. +</p> + +<p> +Besides the object of an absolute defence with the main body, each of the three +modes of defence may also have that of a <i>feigned defence</i>. +</p> + +<p> +This show of a resistance, which it is not intended really to offer, is an act +which is combined with many other measures, and fundamentally with every +position which is anything more than a camp of route; but the feigned defence +of a great river becomes a complete stratagem in this way, that it is necessary +to adopt actually more or less a number of measures of detail, and that its +action is usually on a greater scale and of longer duration than that of any +other; for the act of passing a great river in sight of an army is always an +important step for the assailant, one over which he often ponders long, or +which he postpones to a more favourable moment. +</p> + +<p> +For such a feigned defence it is therefore requisite that the main army should +divide and post itself along the river, (much in the same manner as for a real +defence); but as the intention of a mere demonstration shows that circumstances +are not favourable enough for a real defence, therefore, from that measure as +it always occasions a more or less extended and scattered disposition, the +danger of serious loss may very easily arise if the corps should get engaged in +a real resistance, even if not carried to an extremity; it would then be in the +true sense a half measure. In a demonstration of defence, therefore, +arrangement must be made for a sure concentration of the army at a point +considerably (perhaps several days’ march) in rear, and the defence +should not be carried beyond what is consistent with this arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +In order to make our views plainer, and to show the importance of such a +defensive demonstration, let us refer to the end of the campaign of 1813. +Buonaparte repassed the Rhine with forty or fifty thousand men. To attempt to +defend this river with such a force at all points where the Allies, according +to the direction of their forces, might easily pass, that is, between Manheim +and Nimeguen, would have been to attempt an impossibility. The only idea which +Buonaparte could therefore entertain was to offer his first real resistance +somewhere on the French Meuse, where he could make his appearance with his army +in some measure reinforced. Had he at once withdrawn his forces to that point, +the Allies would have followed close at his heels; had he placed his army in +cantonments for rest behind the Rhine, the same thing must have taken place +almost as soon, for at the least show of desponding caution on his part, the +Allies would have sent over swarms of Cossacks and other light troops in +pursuit, and, if that measure produced good results, other corps would have +followed. The French corps had therefore nothing for it but to take steps to +defend the Rhine in earnest. As Buonaparte could foresee that this defence must +end in nothing whenever, the Allies seriously undertook to cross the river, it +may therefore be regarded in the light of a mere demonstration, in which the +French corps incurred hardly any danger, as their point of concentration lay on +the Upper Moselle. Only Macdonald, who, as is known, was at Nimeguen with +twenty thousand men, committed a mistake in deferring his retreat till fairly +compelled to retire, for this delay prevented his joining Buonaparte before the +battle of Brienne, as the retreat was not forced on him until after the arrival +of Winzurgerode’s corps in January. This defensive demonstration on the +Rhine, therefore, produced the result of checking the Allies in their advance, +and induced them to postpone the crossing of the river until their +reinforcements arrived, which did not take place for six weeks. These six weeks +were of infinite value to Buonaparte. Without this defensive demonstration on +the Rhine, Paris would have become the next immediate object after the victory +of Leipsic, and it would have been impossible for the French to have given +battle on that side of their capital. +</p> + +<p> +In a river defence of the second class, therefore, in that of rivers of a +smaller size, such demonstrations may also be used, but they will generally be +less effectual, because mere attempts to cross are in such a case easier, and +therefore the spell is sooner broken. +</p> + +<p> +In the third kind of river defence, a demonstration would in all probability be +still less effectual, and produce no more result than that of the occupation of +any other temporary position. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, the two first forms of defence are very well suited to give a chain of +outposts, or any other defensive line (cordon) established for a secondary +object, or to a corps of observation, much greater and more reliable strength +than it would have without the river. In all these cases the question is +limited to a relative resistance, and that must naturally be considerably +strengthened by such a great natural obstacle. At the same time, we must not +think only of the relative quantity of time gained by the resistance in fight +in a case of this sort, but also of the many anxieties which such undertakings +usually excite in the mind of the enemy, and which in ninety-nine cases out of +a hundred lead to his giving up his plans if not urged or pressed by necessity. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap83"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/>Defence of Streams and Rivers (<i>continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +We have still to add something respecting the influence of streams and rivers +on the defence of a country, even when they are not themselves defended. +</p> + +<p> +Every important river, with its main valley and its adjacent valleys, forms a +very considerable obstacle in a country, and in that way it is, therefore, +advantageous to defence in general; but its peculiar influence admits of being +more particularly specified in its principal effects. +</p> + +<p> +First we must distinguish whether it flows parallel to the frontier, that is, +the general strategic front, or at an oblique or a right angle to it. In the +case of the parallel direction we must observe the difference between having +our own army or that of the enemy behind it, and in both cases again the +distance between it and the army. +</p> + +<p> +An army on the defensive, having behind it a large river within easy reach (but +not less than a day’s march), and on that river an adequate number of +secure crossings, is unquestionably in a much stronger situation than it would +be without the river; for if it loses a little in freedom of movement by the +requisite care for the security of the crossings, still it gains much more by +the security of its strategic rear, that means chiefly of its lines of +communication. In all this we allude to a defence in <i>our own country;</i> +for in the enemy’s country, although his army might be before us, we +should still have always more or less to apprehend his appearance behind us on +the other side of the river, and then the river, involving as it does narrow +defiles in roads, would be more disadvantageous than otherwise in its effect on +our situation. The further the river is behind the army, the less useful it +will be, and at certain distances its influence disappears altogether. +</p> + +<p> +If an advancing army has to leave a river in its rear, the river cannot be +otherwise than prejudicial to its movements, for it restricts the +communications of the army to a few single passages. When Prince Henry marched +against the Russians on the right bank of the Oder near Breslau, he had plainly +a <i>point d’appui</i> in the Oder flowing behind him at a day’s +march; on the other hand, when the Russians under Cznernitschef passed the Oder +subsequently, they were in a very embarrassing situation, just through the risk +of losing their line of retreat, which was limited to one bridge. +</p> + +<p> +If a river crosses the theatre of war more or less at a right angle with the +strategic front, then the advantage is again on the side of the defensive; for, +in the first place, there are generally a number of good positions leaning on +the river, and covered in front by the transverse valleys connected with the +principal valley (like the Elbe for the Prussians in the Seven Years’ +War); secondly, the assailant must leave one side of the river or the other +unoccupied, or he must divide his forces; and such division cannot fail to be +in favour again of the defensive, because he will be in possession of more well +secured passages than the assailant. We need only cast a glance over the whole +Seven Years’ War, to be convinced that the Oder and Elbe were very useful +to Frederick the Great in the defence of his theatre of war (namely Silesia, +Saxony and the Mark), and consequently a great impediment to the conquest of +these provinces by the Austrians and Russians, although there was no real +defence of those rivers in the whole Seven Years’ War, and their course +is mostly, as connected with the enemy, at an oblique or a right angle rather +than parallel with the front. +</p> + +<p> +It is only the convenience of a river as a means of transport, when its course +is more or less in a perpendicular direction, which can, in general, be +advantageous to the assailant; in that respect it may be so for this reason, +that as he has the longer line of communication, and, therefore, the greater +difficulty in the transport of all he requires, water carriage may relieve him +of a great deal of trouble and prove very useful. The defender, on his side, +certainly has it in his power to close the navigation within his own frontier +by fortresses; still even by that means the advantages which the river affords +the assailant will not be lost so far as regards its course up to that +frontier. But if we reflect upon the fact that many rivers are often not +navigable, even where they are of no unimportant breadth as respects other +military relations, that others are not navigable at all seasons, that the +ascent against the stream is tedious, that the winding of a river often doubles +its length, that the chief communications between countries now are high roads, +and that now more than ever the wants of an army are supplied from the country +adjacent to the scene of its operations, and not by carriage from distant +parts,—we can well see that the use of a river does not generally play +such a prominent part in the subsistence of troops as is usually represented in +books, and that its influence on the march of events is therefore very remote +and uncertain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap84"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/>A. Defence of Swamps</h3> + +<p> +Very large wide swamps, such as the Bourtang Moor in North Germany, are so +uncommon that it is not worth while to lose time over them; but we must not +forget that certain lowlands and marshy banks of small rivers are more common, +and form very considerable obstacles of ground which may be, and often have +been, used for defensive purposes. +</p> + +<p> +Measures for their defence are certainly very like those for the defence of +rivers, at the same time there are some peculiarties to be specially noticed. +The first and principal one is, that a marsh which except on the causeway is +impracticable for infantry is much more difficult to cross than any river; for, +in the first place, a causeway is not so soon built as a bridge; secondly, +there are no means at hand by which the troops to cover the construction of the +dyke or causeway can be sent across. No one would begin to build a bridge +without using some of the boats to send over an advanced guard in the first +instance; but in the case of a morass no similar assistance can be employed; +the easiest way to make a crossing for infantry over a morass is by means of +planks, but when the morass is of some width, this is a much more tedious +process than the crossing of the first boats on a river. If now, besides, there +is in the middle of the morass a river which cannot be passed without a bridge, +the crossing of the first detachment of troops becomes a still more difficult +affair, for although single passengers may get across on boards, the heavy +material required for bridge building cannot be so transported. This difficulty +on many occasions may be insurmountable. +</p> + +<p> +A second peculiarity of a swamp is, that the means used to cross cannot be +completely removed like those, used for passing a river; bridges may be broken, +or so completely destroyed that they can never be used again; the most that can +be done with dykes is to cut them, which is not doing much. If there is a river +in the middle, the bridge can of course be taken away, but the whole passage +will not by that means be destroyed in the same degree as that of a large river +by the destruction of a bridge. The natural consequence is that dykes which +exist must always be occupied in force and strenuously defended if we desire to +derive any general advantage from the morass. +</p> + +<p> +On the one hand, therefore, we are compelled to adopt a local defence, and on +the other, such a defence is favoured by the difficulty of passing at other +parts. From these two peculiarities the result is, that the defence of a swamp +must be more local and passive than that of a river. +</p> + +<p> +It follows from this that we must be stronger in a relative degree than in the +direct defence of a river, consequently that the line of defence must not be of +great length, especially in cultivated countries, where the number of passages, +even under the most favourable circumstances for defence, is still very great. +</p> + +<p> +In this respect, therefore, swamps are inferior to great rivers, and this is a +point of great importance, for all local defence is illusory and dangerous to +an extreme. But if we reflect that such swamps and low grounds generally have a +breadth with which that of the largest rivers in Europe bears no comparison, +and that consequently a post stationed for the defence of a passage is never in +danger of being overpowered by the fire from the other side, that the effects +of its own fire over a long narrow dyke is greatly increased, and that the time +required to pass such a defile, perhaps a quarter or half a mile long, is much +longer than would suffice to pass an ordinary bridge: if we consider all this, +we must admit that such low lands and morasses, if means of crossing are not +too numerous, belong to the strongest lines of defence which can be formed. +</p> + +<p> +An indirect defence, such as we made ourselves acquainted with in the case of +streams and rivers, in which obstacles of ground are made use of to bring on a +great battle under advantageous circumstances, is generally quite as applicable +to morasses. +</p> + +<p> +The third method of a river-defence by means of a position on the enemy’s +side would be too hazardous on account of the toilsome nature of the crossing. +</p> + +<p> +It is extremely dangerous to venture on the defence of such morasses, soft +meadows, bogs, etc., as are not quite impassable beyond the dykes. One single +line of crossing discovered by the enemy is sufficient to pierce the whole line +of defence which, in case of a serious resistance, is always attended with +great loss to the defender. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap85"></a>B. Inundations</h3> + +<p> +Now we have still to consider inundations. As defensive means and also as +phenomena in the natural world they have unquestionably the nearest resemblance +to morasses. +</p> + +<p> +They are not common certainly; perhaps Holland is the only country in Europe +where they constitute a phenomenon which makes them worth notice in connection +with our object; but just that country, on account of the remarkable campaigns +of 1672 and 1787, as well as on account of its important relation in itself to +both France and Germany, obliges us to devote some consideration to this +matter. +</p> + +<p> +The character of these Dutch inundations differs from ordinary swampy and +impassable wet low lands in the following respects: +</p> + +<p> +1. The soil itself is dry and consists either of dry meadows or of cultivated +fields. +</p> + +<p> +2. For purposes of irrigation or of drainage, a number of small ditches of +greater or loss depth and breadth intersect the country in such a way that they +may be seen running in lines in parallel directions. +</p> + +<p> +3. Larger canals, inclosed by dykes and intended for irrigation, drainage, and +transit of vessels, run through the country in all possible directions and are +of such a size that they can only be passed on bridges. +</p> + +<p> +4. The level of the ground throughout the whole district subject to inundation, +lies perceptibly under the level of the sea, therefore, of course, under that +of the canals. +</p> + +<p> +5. The consequence of this is, that by means of cutting the dams, closing and +opening the sluices, the whole country can be laid under water, so that there +are no dry roads except on the tops of the dykes, all others being either +entirely under water or, at least, so soaked that they become no longer fit for +use. Now, if even the inundation is only three or four feet deep, so that, +perhaps, for short distances it might be waded through, still even that is made +impossible on account of the smaller ditches mentioned under No. 2, which are +not visible. It is only where these ditches have a corresponding direction, so +that we can move between two of them without crossing either, that the +inundation does not constitute in effect an absolute bar to all communication. +It is easy to conceive that this exception to the general obstruction can only +be for short distances, and, therefore, can only be used for tactical purposes +of an entirely special character. +</p> + +<p> +From all this we deduce +</p> + +<p> +1. That the assailant’s means of moving are limited to a more or less +small number of practicable lines, which run along very narrow dykes, and +usually have a wet ditch on the right and left, consequently form very long +defiles. +</p> + +<p> +2. That every defensive preparation upon such a dam may be easily strengthened +to such a degree as to become impregnable. +</p> + +<p> +3. But that, because the defensive is so hemmed in, he must confine himself to +the most passive resistance as respects each isolated point, and consequently +must look for his safety entirely from passive resistance. +</p> + +<p> +4. That in such a country it is not a system of a single defensive line, +closing the country like a simple barrier, but that as in every direction the +same obstacle to movement exists, and the same security for flanks may be +found, new posts may incessantly be formed, and in this manner any portion of +the first defensive line, if lost, may be replaced by a new piece. We may say +that the number of combinations here, like those on a chessboard, are infinite. +</p> + +<p> +5. But while this general condition of a country is only conceivable along with +the supposition of a high degree of cultivation and a dense population, it +follows of itself that the number of passages, and therefore the number of +posts required or their defence, must be very great in comparison to other +strategetic dispositions; from which again we have, as a consequence, that such +a defensive line must not be long. +</p> + +<p> +The principal line of defence in Holland is from Naarden on the Zuyder Zee (the +greater part of the way behind the Vecht), to Gorcum on the Waal, that is +properly to the Biesbosch, its extent being about eight miles. For the defence +of this line a force of 25,000 to 30,000 was employed in 1672, and again in +1787. If we could reckon with certainty upon an invincible resistance, the +results would certainly be very great, at least for the provinces of Holland +lying behind that line. +</p> + +<p> +In 1672 the line actually withstood very superior forces led by great generals, +first Condé, and afterwards Luxembourg, who had under their command 40,000 to +50,000 men, and yet would not assault, preferring to wait for the winter, which +did not prove severe enough. On the other hand, the resistance which was made +on this first line in 1787 amounted to nothing, and even that which was made by +a second line much shorter, between the Zuyder Zee and the lake of Haarlem, +although somewhat more effective, was overcome by the Duke of Brunswick in one +day, through a very skilful tactical disposition well adapted to the locality, +and this although the Prussian force actually engaged in the attack was little, +if at all, superior in numbers to the troops guarding the lines. +</p> + +<p> +The different result in the two cases is to be attributed to the difference in +the supreme command. In the year 1672 the Dutch were surprised by Louis XIV., +while everything was on a peace establishment, in which, as is well known, +there breathed very little military spirit as far as concerned land forces. For +that reason the greater number of the fortresses were deficient in all articles +of material and equipment, garrisoned only by weak bodies of hired troops, and +defended by governors who were either native-born incapables, or treacherous +foreigners. Thus all the Brandenburg fortresses on the Rhine, garrisoned by +Dutch, as well as all their own places situated to the east of the line of +defence above described, except Groningen, very soon fell into the hands of the +French, and for the most part without any real defence. And in the conquest of +this great number of places consisted the chief exertions of the French army, +150,000 strong, at that time. +</p> + +<p> +But when, after the murder of the brothers De Witt, in August 1672, the Prince +of Orange came to the head of affairs, bringing unity to the measures for +national defence, there was still time to close the defensive line +above-mentioned, and all the measures then adopted harmonised so well with each +other that neither Condé nor Luxembourg, who commanded the French armies left +in Holland after the departure of the two armies under Turenne and Louis in +person, would venture to attempt anything against the separate posts. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1787 all was different. It was not the Republic of seven united +provinces, but only the province of Holland which had to resist the invasion. +The conquest of all the fortresses, which had been the principal object in +1672, was therefore not the question; the defence was confined at once to the +line we have described. But the assailant this time, instead of 150,000 men, +had only 25,000, and was no mighty sovereign of a great country adjoining +Holland, but the subordinate general of a distant prince, himself by no means +independent in many respects. The people in Holland, like those everywhere else +at that time, were divided into two parties, but the republican spirit in +Holland was decidedly predominant, and had at the same time attained even to a +kind of enthusiastic excitement. Under these circumstances the resistance in +the year 1787 ought to have ensured at least as great results as that of 1672. +But there was one important difference, which is, that in the year 1787 unity +of command was entirely wanting. What in 1672 had been left to the wise, +skilful, and energetic guidance of the Prince of Orange, was entrusted to a so +called Defence Commission in 1787, which although it included in its number men +of energy, was not in a position to infuse into its work the requisite unity of +measures, and to inspire others with that confidence which was wanted to +prevent the whole instrument from proving imperfect and inefficient in use. +</p> + +<p> +We have dwelt for a moment on this example, in order to give more distinctness +to the conception of this defensive measure, and at the same time to show the +difference in the effects produced, according as more or less unity and +sequence prevail in the direction of the whole. +</p> + +<p> +Although the organisation and method of defence of such a defensive line are +tactical subjects, still, in connection with the latter, which is the nearest +allied to strategy, we cannot omit to make an observation to which the campaign +of 1787 gives occasion. +</p> + +<p> +We think, namely, that however passive the defence must naturally be at each +point in a line of this kind, still an offensive action from some one point of +the line is not impossible, and may not be unproductive of good results if the +enemy, as was the case in 1787, is not decidedly very superior. For although +such an attack must be executed by means of dykes, and on that account cannot +certainly have the advantage of much freedom of movement or of any great +impulsive force, nevertheless, it is impossible for the offensive side to +occupy all the dykes and roads which he does not require for his own purposes, +and therefore the defensive with his better knowledge of the country, and being +in possession of the strong points, should be able by some of the unoccupied +dykes to effect a real flank attack against the columns of the assailant, or to +cut them off from their sources of supply. If now, on the other hand, we +reflect for a moment on the constrained position in which the assailant is +placed, how much more dependent he is on his communications than in almost any +other conceivable case, we may well imagine that every sally on the part of the +defensive side which has the remotest possibility of success must at once as a +demonstration be most effective. We doubt very much if the prudent and cautious +duke of Brunswick would have ventured to approach Amsterdam if the Dutch had +only made such a demonstration, from Utrecht for instance. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap86"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/>Defence of Forests</h3> + +<p> +Above all things we must distinguish thick tangled and impassable forests from +extensive woods under a certain degree of culture, which are partly quite +clear, partly intersected by numerous roads. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever the object is to form a defensive line, the latter should be left in +rear or avoided as much as possible. The defensive requires more than the +assailant to see clearly round him, partly because, as a rule, he is the +weaker, partly because the natural advantages of his position cause him to +develop his plans later than the assailant. If he should place a woody district +before him he would be fighting like a blind man against one with his eyesight. +If he should place himself in the middle of the wood then both would be blind, +but that equality of condition is just what would not answer the natural +requirements of the defender. +</p> + +<p> +Such a wooded country can therefore not be brought into any favourable +connection with the defensive except it is kept in rear of the defender’s +army, so as to conceal from the enemy all that takes place behind that army, +and at the same time to be available as an assistance to cover and facilitate +the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +At present we only speak of forests in level country, for where the decided +mountain character enters into combination, its influence becomes predominant +over tactical and strategic measures, and we have already treated of those +subjects elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +But impassable forests, that is, such as can only be traversed on certain +roads, afford advantages in an indirect defence similar to those which the +defence derives from mountains for bringing on a battle under favourable +circumstances; the army can await the enemy behind the wood in a more or less +concentrated position with a view to falling on him the moment he debouches +from the road defiles. Such a forest resembles mountain in its effects more +than a river: for it affords, it is true, only one very long and difficult +defile, but it is in respect to the retreat rather advantageous than otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +But a direct defence of forests, let them be ever so impracticable, is a very +hazardous piece of work for even the thinnest chain of outposts; for abattis +are only imaginary barriers, and no wood is so completely impassable that it +cannot be penetrated in a hundred places by small detachments, and these, in +their relation to a chain of defensive posts, may be likened to the first drops +of water which ooze through a roof and are soon followed by a general rush of +water. +</p> + +<p> +Much more important is the influence of great forests of every kind in +connection with the arming of a nation; they are undoubtedly the true element +for such levies; if, therefore, the strategic plan of defence can be so +arranged that the enemy’s communications pass through great forests, +then, by that means, another mighty lever is brought into use in support of the +work of defence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap87"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/>The Cordon</h3> + +<p> +The term cordon is used to denote every defensive plan which is intended +directly to cover a whole district of country by a line of posts in connection +with each other. We say <i>directly</i>, for several corps of a great army +posted in line with each other might protect a large district of country from +invasion without forming a cordon; but then this protection would not be +direct, but through the effect of combinations and movements. +</p> + +<p> +It is evident at a glance that such a long defensive line as that must be, +which is to cover an extensive district of country directly, can only have a +very small degree of defensive stamina. Even when very large bodies of troops +occupy the lines this would be the case if they were attacked by corresponding +masses. The object of a cordon can therefore only be to resist a weak blow, +whether that the weakness proceeds from a feeble will or the smallness of the +force employed. +</p> + +<p> +With this view the wall of China was built: a protection against the inroads of +Tartars. This is the intention of all lines and frontier defences of the +European States bordering on Asia and Turkey. Applied in this way the cordon +system is neither absurd nor does it appear unsuitable to its purpose. +Certainly it is not sufficient to stop all inroads, but it will make them more +difficult and therefore of less frequent occurrence, and this is a point of +considerable importance where relations subsist with people like those of Asia, +whose passions and habits have a perpetual tendency to war. +</p> + +<p> +Next to this class of cordons come the lines, which, in the wars of modern +times have been formed between European States, such as the French lines on the +Rhine and in the Netherlands. These were originally formed only with a view to +protect a country against inroads made for the purpose of levying contributions +or living at the expense of the enemy. They are, therefore, only intended to +check minor operations, and consequently it is also meant that they should be +defended by small bodies of troops. But, of course, in the event of the +enemy’s principal force taking its direction against these lines, the +defender must also use his principal force in their defence, an event by no +means conducive to the best defensive arrangements. On account of this +disadvantage and because the protection against incursions in temporary war is +quite a minor object, by which through the very existence of these lines an +excessive expenditure of troops may easily be caused, their formation is looked +upon in our day as a pernicious measure. The more power and energy thrown into +the prosecution of the war the more useless and dangerous this means becomes. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, all very extended lines of outposts covering the quarters of an army +and intended to offer a certain amount of resistance come under the head of +cordons. +</p> + +<p> +This defensive measure is chiefly designed as an impediment to raids, and other +such minor expeditions directed against single cantonments, and for this +purpose it may be quite sufficient if favoured by the country. Against an +advance of the main body of the enemy the opposition offered can be only +relative, that is, intended to gain time: but as this gain of time will be but +inconsiderable in most cases, this object may be regarded as a very minor +consideration in the establishment of these lines. The assembling and advance +of the enemy’s army itself can never take place so unobservedly that the +defender gets his first information of it through his outposts; when such is +the case he is much to be pitied. +</p> + +<p> +Consequently, in this case also, the cordon is only intended to resist the +attack of a weak force, and the object, therefore, in this and in the other two +cases is not at variance with the means. +</p> + +<p> +But that an army formed for the defence of a country should spread itself out +in a long line of defensive posts opposite to the enemy, that it should +disperse itself in a cordon form, seems to be so absurd that we must seek to +discover the circumstances and motives which lead to and accompany such a +proceeding. +</p> + +<p> +Every position in a mountainous country, even if taken up with the view of a +battle with the whole force united, is and must necessarily be more extended +than a position in a level country. It <i>may be</i> because the aid of the +ground augments very much the force of the resistance; it <i>must be</i> +because a wider basis of retreat is required, as we have shown in the chapter +on mountain defences. But if there is no near prospect of a battle, if it is +probable that the enemy will remain in his position opposite to us for some +time without undertaking anything unless tempted by some very favourable +opportunity which may present itself (the usual state of things in most wars +formerly), then it is also natural not to limit ourselves merely to the +occupation of so much country as is absolutely necessary, but to hold as much +right or left as is consistent with the security of the army, by which we +obtain many advantages, as we shall presently show. In open countries with +plenty of communications, this object may be effected to a greater extent than +in mountains, through the principle of <i>movement</i>, and for that reason the +extension and dispersion of the troops is less necessary in an open country; it +would also be much more dangerous there on account of the inferior capability +of resistance of each part. +</p> + +<p> +But in mountains where all occupation of ground is more dependent on local +defence, where relief cannot so soon be afforded to a point menaced, and where, +when once the enemy has got possession of a point, it is more difficult to +dislodge him by a force slightly superior—in mountains, under these +circumstances, we shall always come to a form of position which, if not +strictly speaking a cordon, still approaches very near to it, being a line of +defensive posts. From such a disposition, consisting of several detached posts, +to the cordon system, there is still certainly a considerable step, but it is +one which generals, nevertheless, often take without being aware of it, being +drawn on from one step to another. First, the covering and the possession of +the country is the object of the dispersion; afterwards it is the security of +the army itself. Every commander of a post calculates the advantage which may +be derived from this or that point connected with the approach to his position +on the right or the left, and thus the whole progresses insensibly from one +degree of subdivision to another. +</p> + +<p> +A cordon war, therefore, carried on by the principal force of an army, is not +to be considered a form of war designedly chosen with a view to stopping every +blow which the enemy’s forces might attempt, but a situation which the +army is drawn into in the pursuit of a very different object, namely, the +holding and covering the country against an enemy who has no decisive +undertaking in view. Such a situation must always be looked upon as a mistake; +and the motives through which generals have been lured by degrees into allowing +one small post after another, are contemptible in connection with the object of +a large army; this point of view shows, at all events, the possibility of such +a mistake. That it is really an error, namely, a mistaken appreciation of our +own position, and that of the enemy is sometimes not observed, and it is spoken +of as an erroneous <i>system</i>. But this same system, when it is pursued with +advantage, or, at all events, without causing damage, is quietly approved. +Every one praises the <i>faultless</i> campaigns of Prince Henry in the Seven +Years’ War, because they have been pronounced so by the king, although +these campaigns exhibit the most decided and most incomprehensible examples of +chains of posts so extended that they may just with as much propriety be called +cordons as any that ever were. We may completely justify these positions by +saying, the prince knew his opponent; he knew that he had no enterprises of a +decisive character to apprehend from that quarter, and as the object of his +position besides was to occupy always as much territory as possible, he +therefore carried out that object as far as circumstances in any way permitted. +If the prince had once been unfortunate with one of these cobwebs, and had met +with a severe loss, we should not say that he had pursued a faulty system of +warfare, but that he had been mistaken about a measure and had applied it to a +case to which it was not suited. +</p> + +<p> +While we thus seek to explain how the cordon system, as it is called, may be +resorted to by the principal force in a theatre in war, and how it may even be +a judicious and useful measure, and, therefore, far from being an absurdity, we +must, at the same time, acknowledge that there appear to have been instances +where generals or their staff have overlooked the real meaning or object of a +cordon system, and assumed its relative value to be a general one; conceiving +it to be really suited to afford protection against every kind of attack, +instances, therefore, where there was no mistaken application of the measure +but a complete misunderstanding of its nature; we shall further allow that this +very absurdity amongst others seems to have taken place in the defence of the +Vosges by the Austrian and Prussian armies in 1793 and 1794. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap88"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br/>Key to the Country</h3> + +<p> +There is no theoretical idea in the art of war which has played such a part in +criticism as that we are now entering upon. It is the “great war +steed” in all accounts of battles and campaigns; the most frequent point +of view in all arguments, and one of those fragments of scientific form with +which critics make a show of learning. And yet the conception embodied in it +has never yet been established, nor has it ever been clearly explained. +</p> + +<p> +We shall try to ascertain its real meaning, and then see how far it can be made +available for practical use. +</p> + +<p> +We treat of it here because the defence of mountains, river defences, as well +as the conceptions of strong and entrenched camps with which it closely +connects itself, required to have precedence. +</p> + +<p> +The indefinite confused conception which is concealed behind this ancient +military metaphor has sometimes signified the most exposed part of a country at +other times the strongest. +</p> + +<p> +If there is any spot without the <i>possession of which no one dare venture to +penetrate into an enemy’s country</i> that may, with propriety, be called +the key of that country. But this simple, though certainly at the same time +also, barren notion has not satisfied theorists, and they have amplified it, +and under the term key of a country imagined <i>points</i> which <i>decide upon +the possession of the whole country.</i> +</p> + +<p> +When the Russians wanted to advance into the Crimean peninsula, they were +obliged to make themselves masters of the isthmus of Perekop and its lines, not +so much to gain an entrance generally—for Lascy turned it twice (1737 and +1738)—but to be able to establish themselves with tolerable security in +the Crimea. That is very simple, but we gain very little in this through the +conception of a key-point. But if it might be said, Whoever has possession of +the district of Langres commands all France as far as Paris—that is to +say, it only rests with himself to take possession—that is plainly a very +different thing, something of much higher importance. According to the first +kind of conception the possession of the country cannot be thought of without +the possession of the point which we have called key; that is a thing which is +intelligible to the most ordinary capacity: but according to the second kind of +conception, the possession of the point which we have called key, cannot be +imagined without the possession of the country following as a necessary +consequence; that is plainly, something marvellous, common sense is no longer +sufficient to grasp this, the magic of the occult sciences must be called into +requisition. This cabala came into existence in works published fifty years +ago, and reached its zenith at the end of the last century; and notwithstanding +the irresistible force, certainty and distinctness with which +Buonaparte’s method of conducting war carried conviction generally, this +cabala has, nevertheless, still managed, we say, to spin out the thread of its +tenacious existence through the medium of books. +</p> + +<p> +(Setting aside for a moment <i>our</i> conception of the key-point) it is +self-evident that in every country there are points of <i>commanding</i> +importance, where several roads meet, where our means of subsistence may be +conveniently collected, which have the advantage of being centrally situated +with reference to other important points, the possession of which in short +meets many requirements and affords many advantages. Now, if generals wishing +to express the importance of such a point by one word have called it the <i>key +of the land</i>, it would be pedantic affectation to take offence at their +using that term; on the contrary we should rather say the term is very +expressive and pleasing. But if we try to convert this mere flower of speech +into the germ of a system branching out like a tree into many ramifications, +common sense rises in opposition, and demands that the expression should be +restricted to its true value. +</p> + +<p> +In order to develop a system out of the expression, it was necessary to resort +to something more distinct and absolute than the practical, but certainly very +indefinite, meaning attaching to the term in the narrations of generals when +speaking of their military enterprises. And from amongst all its various +relations, that of high ground was chosen. +</p> + +<p> +Where a road traverses a mountain ridge, we thank heaven when we get to the top +and have only to descend. This feeling so natural to a single traveller is +still more so in the case of an army All difficulties seem to be overcome, and +so they are indeed in most instances; we find that the descent is easy, and we +are conscious of a kind of feeling of superiority over any one who would stop +us; we have an extensive view over the country, and command it with a look +beforehand. Thus the highest point on a road over a mountain is always +considered to possess a decisive importance, and it does in fact in the +majority of cases, but by no means in all. Such points are very often described +in the despatches of generals by the name of key-points; but certainly again in +a somewhat different and generally in a more restricted sense. This idea has +been the starting point of a false theory (of which, perhaps, Lloyd may be +regarded as the founder); and on this account, elevated points from which +several roads descend into the adjacent country, came to be regarded as the +keypoints of the country—as points which <i>command</i> the country. It +was natural that this view should amalgamate itself with one very nearly +connected with it, that of a <i>systematic defence of mountains</i>, and that +the matter should thus be driven still further into the regions of the +illusory; added to which many tactical elements connected with the defence of +mountains came into play, and thus the idea of the highest <i>point in the +road</i> was soon abandoned, and the highest point generally of the whole +mountain system, that is the point of the <i>watershed</i>, was substituted for +it as the key of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Now just at that time, that is the latter half of the preceding century, more +definite ideas on the forms given to the surface of the earth through aqueous +action became current; thus natural science lent a hand to the theory of war by +this geological system, and then every barrier of practical truth was broken +through, and reasoning floated in the illusory system of a geological analogy. +In consequence of this, about the end of the eighteenth century we heard, or +rather we <i>read</i>, of nothing but the sources of the Rhine and Danube. It +is true that this nuisance prevailed mostly in books, for only a small portion +of book wisdom ever reaches the real world, and the more foolish a theory the +less it will attain to practice; but this of which we are now speaking has not +been unproductive of injury to Germany by its practical effects, therefore we +are not fighting with a windmill, in proof of which we shall quote two +examples; first, the important but very scientific campaigns of the Prussian +army, 1793 and 1794 in the Vosges, the theoretical key to which will be found +in the works of Gravert and Massenbach; secondly, the campaign of 1814, when, +on the principle of the same theory, an army of 200,000 men was led by the nose +through Switzerland on to the plateau of Langres as it is called. +</p> + +<p> +But a high point in a country from which all its waters flow, is generally +nothing more than a high point; and all that in exaggeration and false +application of ideas, true in themselves, was written at the end of the +eighteenth and commencement of the nineteenth centuries, about its influence on +military events, is completely imaginary. If the Rhine and Danube and all the +six rivers of Germany had their common source on the top of one mountain, that +mountain would not on that account have any claim to any greater military value +than being suited for the position of a trigonometrical point. For a signal +tower it would be less useful, still less so for a vidette, and for a whole +army worth just nothing at all. +</p> + +<p> +To seek for a <i>key-position</i> therefore in the so called <i>key +country</i>, that is where the different branches of the mountains diverge from +a common point, and at the highest source of its waters, is merely an idea in +books, which is overthrown by nature itself, because nature does not make the +ridges and valleys so easy to descend as is assumed by the hitherto so called +theory of ground, but distributes peaks and gorges, in the most irregular +manner, and not unfrequently the lowest water level is surrounded by the +loftiest masses of mountain. If any one questions military history on the +subject, he will soon convince himself that the leading geological points of a +country exercise very little regular influence on the use of the country for +the purposes of war, and that little is so over-balanced by other local +circumstances, and other requirements, that a line of positions may often run +quite close to one of the points we are discussing without having been in any +way attracted there by that point. +</p> + +<p> +We have only dwelt so long upon this false idea because a whole—and very +pretentious—system has built itself upon it. We now leave it, and turn +back to our own views. +</p> + +<p> +We say, then, that if the expression, <i>key-position</i>, is to represent an +independent conception in strategy, it must only be that of a locality the +possession of which is indispensable before daring to enter the enemy’s +country. But if we choose to designate by that term every convenient point of +entrance to a country, or every advantageous central point in the country, then +the term loses its real meaning (that is, its value), and denotes something +which may be found anywhere more or less. It then becomes a mere pleasing +figure of speech. +</p> + +<p> +But positions such as the term conveys to our mind are very rarely indeed to be +found. In general, the best key to the country lies in the enemy’s army; +and when the idea of country predominates over that of the armed force, some +very specially advantageous circumstances must prevail. These, according to our +opinion, may be recognised by their tending to two principal results: first, +that the force occupying the position, through the help of the ground, obtains +extraordinary capability of tactical resistance; second, that the enemy’s +lines of communication can be sooner effectively threatened from this position +than he can threaten ours. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap89"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/>Operating Against a Flank</h3> + +<p> +We need hardly observe that we speak of the strategic flank, that is, a side of +the theatre of war, and that the attack from one side in battle, or the +tactical movement against a flank, must not be confounded with it; and even in +cases in which the strategic operation against a flank, in its last stage, ends +in the tactical operation, they can quite easily be kept separate, because the +one never follows necessarily out of the other. +</p> + +<p> +These flanking movements, and the flanking positions connected with them, +belong also to the mere useless pageantry of theory, which is seldom met with +in actual war. Not that the means itself is either ineffectual or illusory, but +because both sides generally seek to guard themselves against its effects; and +cases in which this is impossible are rare. Now in these uncommon cases this +means has often also proved highly efficacious, and for this reason, as well as +on account of the constant watching against it which is required in war, it is +important that it should be clearly explained in theory. Although the strategic +operation against a flank can naturally be imagined, not only on the part of +the defensive, but also on that of the offensive, still it has much more +affinity with the first, and therefore finds its place under the head of +defensive means. +</p> + +<p> +Before we enter into the subject, we must establish the simple principle, which +must never be lost sight of afterwards in the consideration of the subject, +that troops which are to act against the rear or flank of the enemy cannot be +employed against his front, and that, therefore, whether it be in tactics or +strategy, it is a completely false kind of notion to consider that <i>coming on +the rear</i> of the enemy is at once an advantage in itself. In itself, it is +as yet nothing; but it will become something in connection with other things, +and something either advantageous or the reverse, according to the nature of +these things, the examination of which now claims our attention. +</p> + +<p> +First, in the action against the strategic flank, we must make a distinction +between two objects of that measure—between the action merely against the +<i>communications</i>, and that against the <i>line of retreat</i>, with which, +at the same time, an effect upon the communications may also be combined. +</p> + +<p> +When Daun, in 1758, sent a detachment to seize the convoys on their way to the +siege of Olmütz, he had plainly no intention of impeding the king’s +retreat into Silesia; he rather wished to bring about that retreat, and would +willingly have opened the line to him. +</p> + +<p> +In the campaign of 1812, the object of all the expeditionary corps that were +detached from the Russian army in the months of September and October, was only +to intercept the communications, not to stop the retreat; but the latter was +quite plainly the design of the Moldavian army which, under Tschitschagof, +marched against the Beresina, as well as of the attack which General +Wittgenstein was commissioned to make on the French corps stationed on the +Dwina. +</p> + +<p> +These examples are merely to make the exposition clearer. +</p> + +<p> +The action against the lines of communication is directed against the +enemy’s convoys, against small detachments following in rear of the army, +against couriers and travellers, small depôts, etc.; in fact, against all the +means which the enemy requires to keep his army in a vigorous and healthy +condition; its object is, therefore, to weaken the condition of the enemy in +this respect, and by this means to cause him to retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The action against the enemy’s line of retreat is to cut his army off +from that line. It cannot effect this object unless the enemy really determines +to retreat; but it may certainly cause him to do so by threatening his line of +retreat, and, therefore, it may have the same effect as the action against the +line of communication, by working as a demonstration. But as already said, none +of these effects are to be expected from the mere turning which has been +effected, from the mere geometrical form given to the disposition of the +troops, they only result from the conditions suitable to the same. +</p> + +<p> +In order to learn more distinctly these conditions, we shall separate +completely the two actions against the flank, and first consider that which is +directed against the communications. +</p> + +<p> +Here we must first establish two principal conditions, one or other of which +must always be forthcoming. +</p> + +<p> +The first is, that the forces used for this action against the flank of the +enemy must be so insignificant in numbers that their absence is not observed in +front. +</p> + +<p> +The second, that the enemy’s army has run its career, and therefore can +neither make use of a fresh victory over our army, nor can he pursue us if we +evade a combat by moving out of the way. +</p> + +<p> +This last case, which is by no means so uncommon as might be supposed, we shall +lay aside for the moment, and occupy ourselves with the accessory conditions of +the first. +</p> + +<p> +The first of these is, that the communications have a certain length, and +cannot be protected by a few good posts; the second point is, that the +situation of the line is such as exposes it to our action. +</p> + +<p> +This weakness of the line may arise in two ways—either by its direction, +if it is not perpendicular to the strategic front of the enemy’s army, or +because his lines of communication pass through our territory; if both these +circumstances exist, the line is so much the more exposed. These two relations +require a closer examination. +</p> + +<p> +One would think that when it is a question of covering a line of communication +forty or fifty miles long, it is of little consequence whether the position +occupied by an army standing at one extremity of this line forms an oblique +angle or a right angle in reference to it, as the breadth of the position is +little more than a mere point in comparison to the line; and yet it is not so +unimportant as it may seem. When an army is posted at a right angle with its +communications, it is difficult, even with a considerable superiority, to +interrupt the communications by any detachments or partisans sent out for the +purpose. If we think only of the difficulty of covering absolutely a certain +space, we should not believe this, but rather suppose, on the contrary, that it +must be very difficult for an army to protect its rear (that is, the country +behind it) against all expeditions which an enemy superior in numbers may +undertake. Certainly, if we could look at everything in war as it is on a sheet +of paper! Then the party covering the line, in his uncertainty as to the point +where light troops or partisans may appear, would be in a certain measure +blind, and only the partisans would see. But if we think of the uncertainty and +insufficiency of intelligence gained in war, and know that both parties are +incessantly groping in the dark, then we easily perceive that a detached corps +sent round the enemy’s flank to gain his rear is in the position of a man +engaged in a fray with numbers in a dark room. In the end he must fall; and so +must it also be with bands who get round an army occupying a perpendicular +position, and who therefore place themselves near to the enemy, but widely +separated from their own people. Not only is there danger of losing numbers in +this way; there is also a risk of the whole instrument itself being blunted +immediately; for the very first misfortune which happens to one such party will +make all the others timid, and instead of bold attacks and insolent dodging, +the only play will be constant running away. +</p> + +<p> +Through this difficulty, therefore, an army occupying a perpendicular position +covers the nearest points on its line of communications for a distance of two +or three marches, according to the strength of the army; but those nearest +points are just those which are most in danger, as they are the nearest to the +enemy. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, in the case of a decidedly oblique position, no such part of +the line of communication is covered; the smallest pressure, the most +insignificant attempt on the part of the enemy, leads at once to a vulnerable +point. +</p> + +<p> +But now, what is it which determines the front of a position, if it is not just +the direction perpendicular to the line of communication? The front of the +enemy; but then, again, this may be equally as well supposed as dependent on +our front. Here there is a reciprocal effect, for the origin of which we must +search. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:40%;"> +<img src="images/linesofcommunication.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="lines of communication " /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<p> +If we suppose the lines of communication of the assailant, <i>a b</i>, so +situated with respect to those of the enemy, <i>c d</i>, that the two lines +form a considerable angle with each other, it is evident that if the defensive +wishes to take up a position at <i>e</i>, where the two lines intersect, the +assailant from <i>b</i>, by the mere geometrical relation, could compel him to +form front opposite to him, and thus to lay bare his communications. The case +would be reversed if the defensive took up his position on this side of the +point of junction, about <i>d</i>; then the assailant must make front towards +him, if so be that his line of operations, which closely depends on +geographical conditions, cannot be arbitrarily changed, and moved, for +instance, to the direction <i>a d</i>. From this it would seem to follow that +the defender has an advantage in this system of reciprocal action, because he +only requires to take a position on this side of the intersection of the two +lines. But very far from attaching any importance to this geometrical element, +we only brought it into consideration to make ourselves the better understood; +and we are rather of opinion that local and generally individual relations have +much more to do with determining the position of the defender; that, therefore, +it is quite impossible to lay down in general which of two belligerents will be +obliged soonest to expose his communications. +</p> + +<p> +If the lines of communication of both sides lie in one and the same direction, +then whichever of the two parties takes up an oblique position will certainly +compel his adversary to do the same. But then there is nothing gained +geometrically by this, and both parties attain the same advantages and +disadvantages. +</p> + +<p> +In the continuation of our considerations we shall, therefore, confine +ourselves to the case of the line of communication of one side only being +exposed. +</p> + +<p> +Now as regards the second disadvantageous relation of a line of communication, +that is to say, when it runs through an enemy’s country, it is clear in +itself how much the line is compromised by that circumstance, if the +inhabitants of the country have taken up arms; and consequently the case must +be looked at as if a body of the enemy was posted all along the line; this +body, it is true, is in itself weak without solidity or intensive force; but we +must also take into consideration what the close contact and influence of such +a hostile force may nevertheless effect through the number of points which +offer themselves one after another on long lines of communication. That +requires no further explanation. But even if the enemy’s subjects have +not taken up arms, and even if there is no militia in the country, or other +military organisation, indeed if the people are even very unwarlike in spirit, +still the mere relation of the people as subjects to a hostile government is a +disadvantage for the lines of communication of the other side which is always +felt. The assistance which expeditionary forces and partisans derive merely +through a better understanding with the people, through a knowledge of the +country and its inhabitants, through good information, through the support of +official functionaries, is, for them, of decided value; and this support every +such body will enjoy without any special effort on its own part. Added to this, +within a certain distance there will not be wanting fortresses, rivers, +mountains, or other places of refuge, which of ordinary right belong to the +enemy, if they have not been formally taken possession of and occupied by our +troops. +</p> + +<p> +Now in such a case as is here supposed, especially if attended with other +favourable circumstances, it is possible to act against the communications of +an army, although their direction is perpendicular to the position of that +army; for the detachments employed for the purpose do not then require to fall +back always on their own army, because being in their own country they are safe +enough if they only make their escape. +</p> + +<p> +We have, therefore, now ascertained that— +</p> + +<p> +1. A considerable length, +</p> + +<p> +2. An oblique direction, +</p> + +<p> +3. An enemy’s province, +</p> + +<p> +are the principal circumstances under which the lines of communication of an +army may be interrupted by a relatively small proportion of armed forces on the +side of the enemy; in order to make this interruption effectual, a fourth +condition is still requisite, which is a certain duration of time. Respecting +this point, we beg attention to what has been said in the fifteenth chapter of +the fifth book. +</p> + +<p> +But these four conditions are only the chief points which relate to the +subject; a number of local and special circumstances attach themselves to +these, and often attain to an influence more decisive and important than that +of the principal ones themselves. Selecting only the most essential, we mention +the state of the roads, the nature of the country through which they pass, the +means of cover which are afforded by rivers, mountains, and morasses, the +seasons and weather, the importance of particular convoys, such as siege +trains, the number of light troops, etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +On all these circumstances, therefore, will depend the effect with which a +general can act on his opponent’s communications; and by comparing the +result of the whole of these circumstances on the one side with the result of +the whole on the other, we obtain a just estimate of the relative advantages of +both systems of communication, on which will depend which of the two generals +can play the highest game. +</p> + +<p> +What here seems so prolix in the explanation is often decided in the concrete +case at first sight; but still, the tact of a practised judgment is required +for that, and person must have thought over every one of the cases now +developed in order to see in its true light the absurdity of those critical +writers who think they have settled something by the mere words +“turning” and “acting on a flank,” without giving their +reasons. +</p> + +<p> +We now come to the <i>second chief condition</i>, under which the strategic +action against the enemy’s flank may take place. +</p> + +<p> +If the enemy is hindered from advancing by any other cause but the resistance +which our army opposes, let that cause be what it may, then our army has no +reason to be apprehensive about weakening itself by sending out detachments to +harass the enemy; for if the enemy should attempt to chastise us by an attack, +we have only to yield some ground and decline the combat. This is what was done +by the chief Russian army at Moscow in 1812. But it is not at all necessary +that everything should be again on the same great scale as in that campaign for +such a case to happen again. In the first Silesian war, Frederick the Great was +each time in this situation, on the frontiers of Bohemia and Moravia, and in +the complex affairs relating to generals and their armies, many causes of +different kinds, particularly political ones, may be imagined, which make +further advance an impossibility. +</p> + +<p> +As in the case now supposed more forces may be spared to act against the +enemy’s flank, the other conditions need not be quite so favourable: even +the nature of our communications in relation to those of the enemy need not +give us the advantage in that respect, as an enemy who is not in a condition to +make any particular use of our further retreat is not likely to use his right +to retaliate, but will rather be anxious about the direct covering of his own +line of retreat. +</p> + +<p> +Such a situation is therefore very well suited to obtain for us, by means less +brilliant and complete but less dangerous than a victory, those results which +it would be too great a risk to seek to obtain by a battle. +</p> + +<p> +As in such a case we feel little anxiety about exposing our own line of +communications, by taking up a position on one or other flank, and as the enemy +by that means may always be comspelled to form front obliquely to his line of +communications, therefore <i>this one</i> of the conditions above named will +seldom fail to occur. The more the rest of the conditions, as well as other +circumstances, co-operate, so much the more certain are we of success from the +means now in question; but the fewer favourable circumstances exist, the more +will all depend on superior skill in combination, and promptitude and precision +in the execution. +</p> + +<p> +Here is the proper field for strategic manœuvres, such as are to be found so +frequently in the Seven Years’ War, in Silesia and Saxony, and in the +campaigns of 1760 and 1762. If, in many wars in which only a moderate amount of +elementary force is displayed, such strategic manœuvring very often appears, +this is not because the commander on each occasion found himself at the end of +his career, but because want of resolution and courage, and of an enterprising +spirit, and dread of responsibility, have often supplied the place of real +impediments; for a case in point, we have only to call to mind Field Marshal +Daun. +</p> + +<p> +As a summary of the results of our considerations, we may say, that the action +against a flank is most effectual— +</p> + +<p> +1. In the defensive; +</p> + +<p> +2. Towards the end of a campaign; +</p> + +<p> +3. Above all, in a retreat into the heart of the country; and +</p> + +<p> +4. In connection with a general arming of the people. +</p> + +<p> +On the mode of executing this action against the communications, we have only a +few words to say. +</p> + +<p> +The enterprises must be conducted by skilful detachment leaders, who, at the +head of small bodies, by bold marches and attacks, fall upon the enemy’s +weak garrisons, convoys, and small detachments on the march here and there, +encourage the national levies (<i>landsturm</i>), and sometimes join with them +in particular undertakings. These parties must be more numerous than strong +individually, and so organised that it may be possible to unite several of them +for any greater undertaking without any obstacle from the vanity or caprice of +any of the single leaders. +</p> + +<p> +We have now to speak of the action against the enemy’s line of retreat. +</p> + +<p> +Here we must keep in view, above all things, the principle with which we +commenced, that forces destined to operate in rear cannot be used in front; +that, therefore, the action against the rear or flanks is not an increase of +force in itself; it is only to be regarded as a more powerful application (or +employment) of the same; increasing the degree of success in prospect, but also +increasing the degree of risk. +</p> + +<p> +Every opposition offered with the sword which is not of a direct and simple +nature, has a tendency to raise the result at the cost of its certainty. An +operation against the enemy’s flank, whether with one compact force, or +with separate bodies converging from several quarters, belongs to this +category. +</p> + +<p> +But now, if cutting off the enemy’s retreat is not to be a mere +demonstration, but is seriously intended, the real solution is a decisive +battle, or, at least, the conjunction of all the conditions for the same; and +just in this solution we find again the two elements above-mentioned—the +greater result and the greater danger. Therefore, if a general is to stand +justified in adopting this method of action, his reasons must be favourable +conditions. +</p> + +<p> +In this method of resistance we must distinguish the two forms already +mentioned. The first is, if a general with his whole force intends to attack +the enemy in rear, either from a position taken up on the flank for that +purpose, or by a formal turning movement; the second is, if he divides his +forces, and, by an enveloping position with one part, threatens the +enemy’s rear, with the other part his front. +</p> + +<p> +The result is intensified in both cases alike, that is—either there is a +real interception of the retreat, and consequently the enemy’s army taken +prisoners, or the greater part scattered, or there may be a long and hasty +retreat of the enemy’s force to escape the danger. +</p> + +<p> +But the intensified risk is different in the two cases. +</p> + +<p> +If we turn the enemy with our whole force, the danger lies in the laying open +our own rear; and hence the question again depends on the relation of the +mutual lines of retreat, just as in the action against the lines of +communication, it depended on the relation of those lines. +</p> + +<p> +Now certainly the defender, if he is in his own country, is less restricted +than the assailant, both as to his lines of retreat and communication, and in +so far is therefore in a better position to turn his adversary strategically; +but this general relation is not of a sufficiently decisive character to be +used as the foundation of a practical method; therefore, nothing but the whole +of the relations in each individual case can decide. +</p> + +<p> +Only so much we may add, that favourable conditions are naturally more common +in wide spheres of action than in small; more common, also, on the side of +independent states than on that of weak ones, dependent on foreign aid, and +whose armies must, therefore, constantly have their attention bent on the point +of junction with the auxiliary army; lastly, they become most favorable for the +defender towards the close of the campaign, when the impulsive force of the +assailant is somewhat spent; very much, again, in the same manner as in the +case of the lines of communication. +</p> + +<p> +Such a flank position as the Russians took up with such advantage on the road +from Moscow to Kaluga, when Buonaparte’s aggressive force was spent, +would have brought them into a scrape at the commencement of the campaign at +the camp of Drissa, if they had not been wise enough to change their plan in +good time. +</p> + +<p> +The other method of turning the enemy, and cutting off his retreat by dividing +our force, entails the risk attending a division of our own force, whilst the +enemy, having the advantage of interior lines, retains his forces united, and +therefore has the power of acting with superior numbers against one of our +divisions. This is a disadvantage which nothing can remove, and in exposing +ourselves to it, we can only be justified by one of three principal +reasons:— +</p> + +<p> +1. The original division of the force which makes such a method of action +necessary, unless we incur a great loss of time. +</p> + +<p> +2. A great moral and physical superiority, which justifies the adoption of a +decisive method. +</p> + +<p> +3. The want of impulsive force in the enemy as soon as he has arrived at the +culminating point of his career. +</p> + +<p> +When Frederick the Great invaded Bohemia, 1757, on converging lines, he had not +in view to combine an attack in front with one on the strategic rear, at all +events, this was by no means his principal object, as we shall more fully +explain elsewhere, but in any case it is evident that there never could have +been any question of a concentration of forces in Silesia or Saxony before the +invasion, as he would thereby have sacrificed all the advantages of a surprise. +</p> + +<p> +When the allies formed their plan for the second part of the campaign of 1813, +looking to their great superiority in numbers, they might very well at that +time entertain the idea of attacking Buonaparte’s right on the Elbe with +their main force, and of thus shifting the theatre of war from the Oder to the +Elbe. Their ill-success at Dresden is to be ascribed not to this general plan +but to their faulty dispositions both strategic and tactical. They could have +concentrated 220,000 men at Dresden against Buonaparte’s 130,000, a +proportion of numbers eminently favourable (at Leipsic, at least, the +proportion was as 285 : 157). It is true that Buonaparte had distributed his +forces too evenly for the particular system of a defence upon one line (in +Silesia 70,000 against 90,000, in the Mark—Brandenburg—70,000 +against 110,000), but at all events it would have been difficult for him, +without completely abandoning Silesia, to assemble on the Elbe a force which +could have contended with the principal army of the allies in a decisive +battle. The allies could also have easily called up the army of Wrede to the +Maine, and employed it to try to cut Buonaparte off from the road to Mayence. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, in 1812, the Russians might have directed their army of Moldavia upon +Volhynia and Lithuania in order to move it forward afterwards against the rear +of the principal French army, because it was quite certain that Moscow must be +the extreme point of the French line of operations. For any part of Russia +beyond Moscow there was nothing to fear in that campaign, therefore the Russian +main army had no cause to consider itself too weak. +</p> + +<p> +This same scheme formed part of the disposition of the forces laid down in the +first defensive plan proposed by General Phul, according to which the army of +Barclay was to occupy the camp at Drissa, whilst that under Bragathion was to +press forward against the rear of the main French army. But what a difference +of circumstances in the two cases! In the first of them the French were three +times as strong as the Russians; in the second, the Russians were decidedly +superior. In the first, Buonaparte’s great army had in it an impulsive +force which carried it to Moscow 80 miles beyond Drissa: in the second, it is +unfit to make a day’s march beyond Moscow; in the first, the line of +retreat on the Niemen did not exceed 30 miles: in the second it was 112. The +same action against the enemy’s retreat therefore, which was so +successful in the second case, would, in the first, have been the wildest +folly. +</p> + +<p> +As the action against the enemy’s line of retreat, if it is more than a +demonstration, becomes a formal attack from the rear, there remains therefore +still a good deal to be said on the subject, but it will come in more +appropriately in the book upon the attack; we shall therefore break off here +and content ourselves with having given the conditions under which this kind of +reaction may take place. +</p> + +<p> +Very commonly the design of causing the enemy to retreat by menacing his line +of retreat, is understood to imply rather a mere demonstration than the actual +execution of the threat. If it was necessary that every efficacious +demonstration should be founded on the actual practicability of real action, +which seems a matter of course at first sight, then it would accord with the +same in all respects. But this is not the case: on the contrary, in the chapter +on demonstrations we shall see that they are connected with conditions somewhat +different, at all events in some respects, we therefore refer our readers to +that chapter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap90"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br/>Retreat into the Interior of the Country</h3> + +<p> +We have considered the voluntary retreat into the heart of the country as a +particular indirect form of defence through which it is expected the enemy will +be destroyed, not so much by the sword as by exhaustion from his own efforts. +In this case, therefore, a great battle is either not supposed, or it is +assumed to take place when the enemy’s forces are considerably reduced. +</p> + +<p> +Every assailant in advancing diminishes his military strength by the advance; +we shall consider this more in detail in the seventh book; here we must assume +that result which we may the more readily do as it is clearly shown by military +history in every campaign in which there has been a considerable advance. +</p> + +<p> +This loss in the advance is increased if the enemy has not been beaten, but +withdraws of his own accord with his forces intact, and offering a steady +continuous resistance, sells every step of ground at a bloody price, so that +the advance is a continuous combat for ground and not a mere pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the losses which a party on the defensive suffers on a +retreat, are much greater if his retreat has been preceded by a defeat in +battle than if his retreat is voluntary. For if he is able to offer the pursuer +the daily resistance which we expect on a voluntary retreat, his losses would +be <i>at least</i> the same in that way, over and above which those sustained +in the battle have still to be added. But how contrary to the nature of the +thing such a supposition as this would be! The best army in the world if +obliged to retire far into the country after the loss of a battle, will suffer +losses on the retreat, <i>beyond measure out of proportion;</i> and if the +enemy is considerably superior, as we suppose him, in the case of which we are +now speaking, if he pursues with great energy as has almost always been done in +modern wars, then there is the highest probability that a regular flight takes +place by which the army is usually completely ruined. +</p> + +<p> +A <i>regularly measured</i> daily resistance, that is, one which each time only +lasts as long as the balance of success in the combat can be kept wavering, and +in which we secure ourselves from defeat by giving up the ground which has been +contested at the right moment, will cost the assailant at least as many men as +the defender in these combats, for the loss which the latter by retiring now +and again must unavoidably suffer in prisoners, will be balanced by the losses +of the other under fire, as the assailant must always fight against the +advantages of the ground. It is true that the retreating side loses entirely +all those men who are badly wounded, but the assailant likewise loses all his +in the same case for the present, as they usually remain several months in the +hospitals. +</p> + +<p> +The result will be that the two armies will wear each other away in nearly +equal proportions in these perpetual collisions. +</p> + +<p> +It is quite different in the pursuit of a beaten army. Here the troops lost in +battle, the general disorganisation, the broken courage, the anxiety about the +retreat, make such a resistance on the part of the retreating army very +difficult, in many cases impossible; and the pursuer who, in the former case, +advances extremely cautiously, even hesitatingly, like a blind man, always +groping about, presses forward in the latter case with the firm tread of the +conqueror, with the overweening spirit which good fortune imparts, with the +confidence of a demigod, and the more daringly he urges the pursuit so much the +more he hastens on things in the direction which they have already taken, +because here is the true field for the moral forces which intensify and +multiply themselves without being restricted to the rigid numbers and measures +of the physical world. +</p> + +<p> +It is therefore very plain how different will be the relations of two armies +according as it is by the first or the second of the above ways, that they +arrive at that point which may be regarded as the end of the assailant’s +course. +</p> + +<p> +This is merely the result of the mutual destruction; to this must now be added +the reductions which the advancing party suffers otherwise in addition, and +respecting which, as already said, we refer to the seventh book; further, on +the other hand, we have to take into account reinforcements which the +retreating party receives in the great majority of cases, by forces +subsequently joining him either in the form of help from abroad or through +persistent efforts at home. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, there is, in the means of subsistence, such a disproportion between the +retreating side and the advancing, that the first not uncommonly lives in +superfluity when the other is reduced to want. +</p> + +<p> +The army in retreat has the means of collecting provisions everywhere, and he +marches towards them, whilst the pursuer must have everything brought after +him, which, as long as he is in motion, even with the shortest lines of +communication, is difficult, and on that account begets scarcity from the very +first. +</p> + +<p> +All that the country yields will be taken for the benefit of the retreating +army first, and will be mostly consumed. Nothing remains but wasted villages +and towns, fields from which the crops have been gathered, or which are +trampled down, empty wells, and muddy brooks. +</p> + +<p> +The pursuing army, therefore, from the very first day, has frequently to +contend with the most pressing wants. On taking the enemy’s supplies he +cannot reckon; it is only through accident, or some unpardonable blunder on the +part of the enemy, that here and there some little falls into his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Thus there can be no doubt that in countries of vast dimensions, and when there +is no extraordinary disproportion between the belligerent powers, a relation +may be produced in this way between the military forces, which holds out to the +defensive an immeasurably greater chance of a final result in his favour than +he would have had if there had been a great battle on the frontier. Not only +does the probability of gaining a victory become greater through this +alteration in the proportions of the contending armies, but the prospects of +great results from the victory are increased as well, through the change of +position. What a difference between a battle lost close to the frontier of our +country and one in the middle of the enemy’s country! Indeed, the +situation of the assailant is often such at the end of his first start, that +even a battle <i>gained</i> may force him to retreat, because he has neither +enough impulsive power left to complete and make use of a victory, nor is he in +a condition to replace the forces he has lost. +</p> + +<p> +There is, therefore, an immense difference between a decisive blow at the +commencement and at the end of the attack. +</p> + +<p> +To the great advantage of this mode of defence are opposed two drawbacks. The +first is the loss which the country suffers through the presence of the enemy +in his advance, the other is the moral impression. +</p> + +<p> +To protect the country from loss can certainly never be looked upon as the +object of the whole defence. That object is an advantageous peace. To obtain +that as surely as possible is the endeavour, and for it no momentary sacrifice +must he considered too great. At the same time, the above loss, although it may +not be decisive, must still be laid in the balance, for it always affects our +interests. +</p> + +<p> +This loss does not affect our army directly; it only acts upon it in a more or +less roundabout way, whilst the retreat itself directly reinforces our army. It +is, therefore, difficult to draw a comparison between the advantage and +disadvantage in this case; they are things of a different kind, the action of +which is not directed towards any common point. We must, therefore, content +ourselves with saying that the loss is greater when we have to sacrifice +fruitful provinces well populated, and large commercial towns; but it arrives +at a maximum when at the same time we lose war-means either ready for use or in +course of preparation. +</p> + +<p> +The second counterpoise is the moral impression. There are cases in which the +commander must be above regarding such a thing, in which he must quietly follow +out his plans, and run the risk of the objections which short-sighted +despondency may offer; but nevertheless, this impression is no phantom which +should be despised. It is not like a force which acts upon one point: but like +a force which, with the speed of lightning, penetrates every fibre, and +paralyses all the powers which should be in full activity, both in a nation and +in its army. There are indeed cases in which the cause of the retreat into the +interior of the country is quickly understood by both nation and army, and +trust, as well as hope, are elevated by the step; but such cases are rare. More +usually, the people and the army cannot distinguish whether it is a voluntary +movement or a precipitate retreat, and still less whether the plan is one +wisely adopted, with a view to ensure ulterior advantages, or the result of +fear of the enemy’s sword. The people have a mingled feeling of sympathy +and dissatisfaction at seeing the fate of the provinces sacrificed; the army +easily loses confidence in its leaders, or even in itself, and the constant +combats of the rear-guard during the retreat, tend always to give new strength +to its fears. <i>These are consequences</i> of the retreat about which we must +never deceive ourselves. And it certainly is—considered in +itself—more natural, simpler, nobler, and more in accordance with the +moral existence of a nation, to enter the lists at once, that the enemy may out +cross the frontiers of its people without being opposed by its genius, and +being called to a bloody account. +</p> + +<p> +These are the advantages and disadvantages of this kind of defence; now a few +words on its conditions and the circumstances which are in its favour. +</p> + +<p> +A country of great extent, or at all events, a long line of retreat, is the +first and fundamental condition; for an advance of a few marches will naturally +not weaken the enemy seriously. Buonaparte’s centre, in the year 1812, at +Witepsk, was 250,000 strong, at Smolensk, 182,000, at Borodino it had only +diminished to 130,000, that is to say, had fallen to about an equality with the +Russian centre. Borodino is ninety miles from the frontier; but it was not +until they came near Moscow that the Russians reached that decided superiority +in numbers, which of itself reversed the situation of the combatants so +assuredly, that the French victory at Malo Jaroslewetz could not essentially +alter it again. +</p> + +<p> +No other European state has the dimensions of Russia, and in very few can a +line of retreat 100 miles long be imagined. But neither will a power such as +that of the French in 1812, easily appear under different circumstances, still +less such a superiority in numbers as existed at the commencement of the +campaign, when the French army had more than double the numbers of its +adversary, besides its undoubted moral superiority. Therefore, what was here +only effected at the end of 100 miles, may perhaps, in other cases, be attained +at the end of 50 or 30 miles. +</p> + +<p> +The circumstances which favour this mode of defence are— +</p> + +<p> +1. A country only little cultivated. +</p> + +<p> +2. A loyal and warlike people. +</p> + +<p> +3. An inclement season. +</p> + +<p> +All these things increase the difficulty of maintaining an army, render great +convoys necessary, many detachments, harassing duties, cause the spread of +sickness, and make operations against the flanks easier for the defender. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, we have yet to speak of the absolute mass alone of the armed force, as +influencing the result. +</p> + +<p> +It lies in the nature of the thing itself that, irrespective of the mutual +relation of the forces opposed to each other, a small force is sooner exhausted +than a larger, and, therefore, that its career cannot be so long, nor its +theatre of war so wide. There is, therefore, to a certain extent, a constant +relation between the absolute size of an army and the space which that army can +occupy. It is out of the question to try to express this relation by any +figures, and besides, it will always be modified by other circumstances; it is +sufficient for our purpose to say that these things necessarily have this +relation from their very nature. We may be able to march upon Moscow with +500,000 but not with 50,000, even if the relation of the invader’s army +to that of the defender in point of numbers were much more favourable in the +latter case. +</p> + +<p> +Now if we assume that there is this relation of absolute power to space in two +different cases, then it is certain that the effect of our retreat into the +interior in weakening the enemy will increase with the masses. +</p> + +<p> +1. Subsistence and lodging of the troops become more difficult—for, +supposing the space which an army covers to increase in proportion to the size +of the army, still the subsistence for the army will never be obtainable from +this space alone, and everything which has to be brought after an army is +subject to greater loss also; the whole space occupied is never used for +covering for the troops, only a small part of it is required, and this does not +increase in the same proportion as the masses. +</p> + +<p> +2. The advance is in the same manner more tedious in proportion as the masses +increase, consequently, the time is longer before the career of aggression is +run out, and the sum total of the daily losses is greater. +</p> + +<p> +Three thousand men driving two thousand before them in an ordinary country, +will not allow them to march at the rate of 1, 2, or at most 3 miles a day, and +from time to time to make a few days’ halt. To come up with them, to +attack them, and force them to make a further retreat is the work of a few +hours; but if we multiply these masses by 100, the case is altered. Operations +for which a few hours sufficed in the first case, require now a whole day, +perhaps two. The contending forces cannot remain together near one point; +thereby, therefore, the diversity of movements and combinations increases, and, +consequently, also the time required. But this places the assailant at a +disadvantage, because his difficulty with subsistence being greater, he is +obliged to extend his force more than the pursued, and, therefore, is always in +danger of being overpowered by the latter at some particular point, as the +Russians tried to do at Witepsk. +</p> + +<p> +3. The greater the masses are, the more severe are the exertions demanded from +each individual for the daily duties required strategically and tactically. A +hundred thousand men who have to march to and from the point of assembly every +day, halted at one time, and then set in movement again, now called to arms, +then cooking or receiving their rations—a hundred thousand who must not +go into their bivouac until the necessary reports are delivered in from all +quarters—these men, as a rule, require for all these exertions connected +with the actual march, twice as much time as 50,000 would require, but there +are only twenty-four hours in the day for both. How much the time and fatigue +of the march itself differs according to the size of the body of troops to be +moved, has been shown in the ninth chapter of the preceding book. Now, the +retreating army, it is true, partakes of these fatigues as well as the +advancing, but they are much greater for the latter:— +</p> + +<p> +1. because the mass of his troops is greater on account of the superiority +which we supposed, +</p> + +<p> +2. because the defender, by being always the party to yield ground, purchases +by this sacrifice the right of the initiative, and, therefore, the right always +to give the law to the other. He forms his plan beforehand, which, in most +cases, he can carry out unaltered, but the aggressor, on the other hand, can +only make his plans conformably to those of his adversary, which he must in the +first instance find out. +</p> + +<p> +We must, however, remind our readers that we are speaking of the pursuit of an +enemy who has not suffered a defeat, who has not even lost a battle. It is +necessary to mention this, in order that we may not be supposed to contradict +what was said in the twelfth chapter of our fourth book. +</p> + +<p> +But this privilege of giving the law to the enemy makes a difference in saving +of time, expenditure of force, as well as in respect of other minor advantages +which, in the long run, becomes very important. +</p> + +<p> +3. because the retreating force on the one hand does all he can to make his own +retreat easy, repairs roads, and bridges, chooses the most convenient places +for encampment, etc., and, on the other hand again, does all he can to throw +impediments in the way of the pursuer, as he destroys bridges, by the mere act +of marching makes bad roads worse, deprives the enemy of good places for +encampment by occupying them himself, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, we must add still, as a specially favourable circumstance, the war made +by the people. This does not require further examination here, as we shall +allot a chapter to the subject itself. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto, we have been engaged upon the advantages which such a retreat +ensures, the sacrifices which it requires, and the conditions which must exist; +we shall now say something of the mode of executing it. +</p> + +<p> +The first question which we have to propose to ourselves is with reference to +the direction of the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +It should be made into the <i>interior</i> of the country, therefore, if +possible, towards a point where the enemy will be surrounded on all sides by +our provinces; there he will be exposed to their influence, and we shall not be +in danger <i>of being separated from the principal mass of our territory</i>, +which might happen if we chose a line too near the frontier, as would have +happened to the Russians in 1812 if they had retreated to the south instead of +the east. +</p> + +<p> +This is the condition which lies in the object of the measure itself. Which +point in the country is the best, how far the choice of that point will accord +with the design of covering the capital or any other important point directly, +or drawing the enemy away from the direction of such important places depends +on circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +If the Russians had well considered their retreat in 1812 beforehand, and, +therefore, made it completely in conformity with a regular plan, they might +easily, from Smolensk, have taken the road to Kaluga, which they only took on +leaving Moscow; it is very possible that under these circumstances Moscow would +have been entirely saved. +</p> + +<p> +That is to say, the French were about 130,000 strong at Borodino, and there is +no ground for assuming that they would have been any stronger if this battle +had been fought by the Russians half way to Kaluga instead; now, how many of +these men could they have spared to detach to Moscow? Plainly, very few; but it +is not with a few troops that an expedition can be sent a distance of fifty +miles (the distance from Smolensk to Moscow) against such a place as Moscow. +</p> + +<p> +Supposing Buonaparte when at Smolensk, where he was 160,000 strong, had thought +he could venture to detach against Moscow before engaging in a great battle, +and had used 40,000 men for that purpose, leaving 120,000 opposite the +principal Russian army, in that case, these 120,000 men would not have been +more than 90,000 in the battle, that is 40,000 less than the number which +fought at Borodino; the Russians, therefore, would have had a superiority in +numbers of 30,000 men. Taking the course of the battle of Borodino as a +standard, we may very well assume that with such a superiority they would have +been victorious. At all events, the relative situation of the parties would +have been more favourable for the Russians than it was at Borodino. But the +retreat of the Russians was not the result of a well-matured plan; they +retreated as far as they did because each time that they were on the point of +giving battle they did not consider themselves strong enough yet for a great +action; all their supplies and reinforcements were on the road from Moscow to +Smolensk, and it could not enter the head of anyone at Smolensk to leave that +road. But, besides, a victory between Smolensk and Kaluga would never have +excused, in the eyes of the Russians, the offence of having left Moscow +uncovered, and exposed it to the possibility of being captured. +</p> + +<p> +Buonaparte, in 1813, would have secured Paris with more certainty from an +attack if he had taken up a position at some distance in a lateral direction, +somewhere behind the canal of Burgundy, leaving only with the large force of +National Guard in Paris a few thousand regular troops. The allies would never +have had the courage to march a corps of 50,000 or 60,000 against Paris whilst +Buonaparte was in the field at Auxerre with 100,000 men. If the case is +supposed reversed, and the allies in Buonaparte’s place, then no one, +indeed, would have advised them to leave the road open to their own capital +with <i>Buonaparte</i> for their opponent. With such a preponderance he would +not have hesitated a moment about marching on the capital. So different is the +effect under the same circumstances but under different moral relations. +</p> + +<p> +As we shall have hereafter to return to this subject when treating of the plan +of a war, we shall only at present add that, when such a lateral position is +taken, the capital or place which it is the object to protect, must, in every +case, be capable of making some resistance that it may not be occupied and laid +under contribution by every flying column or irregular band. +</p> + +<p> +But we have still to consider another peculiarity in the direction of such a +line of retreat, that is, a sudden <i>change of direction</i>. After the +Russians had kept the same direction as far as Moscow they left that direction +which would have taken them to Wladimir, and after first taking the road to +Riazan for some distance, they then transferred their army to the Kaluga road. +If they had been obliged to continue their retreat they could easily have done +so in this new direction which would have led them to Kiew, therefore much +nearer again to the enemy’s frontier. That the French, even if they had +still preserved a large numerical superiority over the Russians, could not have +maintained their line of communication by Moscow under such circumstances is +clear in itself; they must have given up not only Moscow but, in all +probability, Smolensk also, therefore have again abandoned the conquests +obtained with so much toil, and contented themselves with a theatre of war on +this side the Beresina. +</p> + +<p> +Now, certainly, the Russian army would thus have got into the same difficulty +to which it would have exposed itself by taking the direction of Kiew at first, +namely, that of being separated from the mass of its own territory; but this +disadvantage would now have become almost insignificant, for how different +would have been the condition of the French army if it had marched straight +upon Kiew without making the detour by Moscow. +</p> + +<p> +It is evident that such a sudden <i>change of direction</i> of a line of +retreat, which is very practicable in a spacious country, ensures remarkable +advantages. +</p> + +<p> +1. It makes it impossible for the enemy (the advancing force) to maintain his +old line of communication: but the organisation of a new one is always a +difficult matter, in addition to which the change is made gradually, therefore, +probably, he has to try more than one new line. +</p> + +<p> +2. If both parties in this manner approach the frontier again; the position of +the aggressor no longer covers his conquests, and he must in all probability +give them up. +</p> + +<p> +Russia with its enormous dimensions, is a country in which two armies might in +this manner regularly play at prisoners’ base (Zeck jagen). +</p> + +<p> +But such a change of the line of retreat is also possible in smaller countries, +when other circumstances are favourable, which can only be judged of in each +individual case, according to its different relations. +</p> + +<p> +When the direction in which the enemy is to be drawn into the country is once +fixed upon, then it follows of itself that our principal army should take that +direction, for otherwise the enemy would not advance in that direction, and if +he even did we should not then be able to impose upon him all the conditions +above supposed. The question then only remains whether we shall take this +direction with our forces undivided, or whether considerable portions should +spread out laterally and therefore give the retreat a divergent (eccentric) +form. +</p> + +<p> +To this we answer that this latter form in itself is to be rejected. +</p> + +<p> +1. Because it divides our forces, whilst their concentration on one point is +just one of the chief difficulties for the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +2. Because the enemy gets the advantage of operating on interior lines, can +remain more concentrated than we are, consequently can appear in so much the +greater force at any one point. Now certainly this superiority is less to be +dreaded when we are following a system of constantly giving way; but the very +condition of this constantly yielding, is always to continue formidable to the +enemy and not to allow him to beat us in detail, which might easily happen. A +further object of such a retreat, is to bring our principal force by degrees to +a superiority of numbers, and with this superiority to give a decisive blow, +but that by a partition of forces would become an uncertainty. +</p> + +<p> +3. Because as a general rule the concentric (convergent) action against the +enemy is not adapted to the weaker forces. +</p> + +<p> +4. Because many disadvantages of the weak points of the aggression disappear +when the defender’s army is divided into separate parts. +</p> + +<p> +The weakest features in a long advance on the part of the aggressor are for +instance;—the length of the lines of communication, and the exposure of +the strategic flanks. By the divergent form of retreat, the aggressor is +compelled to cause a portion of his force to show a front to the flank, and +this portion properly destined only to neutralise our force immediately in his +front, now effects to a certain extent something else in addition, by covering +a portion of the lines of communication. +</p> + +<p> +For the mere strategic effect of the retreat, the divergent form is therefore +not favourable; but if it is to prepare an action hereafter against the +enemy’s line of retreat, then we must refer to what has been said about +that in the last chapter. +</p> + +<p> +There is <i>only one</i> object which can give occasion to a divergent retreat, +that is when we can by that means protect provinces which otherwise the enemy +would occupy. +</p> + +<p> +What sections of territory the advancing foe will occupy right and left of his +course, can with tolerable accuracy be discerned by the point of assembly of, +and directions given to, his forces, by the situation of his own provinces, +fortresses, etc., in respect to our own. To place troops in those districts of +territory which he will in all probability leave unoccupied, would be dangerous +waste of our forces. But now whether <i>by any disposition of our forces we +shall be able to hinder him</i> from occupying those districts which in all +probability he will desire to occupy, is more difficult to decide, and it is +therefore a point, the solution of which depends much on tact of judgment. +</p> + +<p> +When the Russians retreated in 1812, they left 30,000 men under Tormassow in +Volhynia, to oppose the Austrian force which was expected to invade that +province. The size of the province, the numerous obstacles of ground which the +country presents, the near proportion between the forces likely to come into +conflict justified the Russians in their expectations, that they would be able +to keep the upper hand in that quarter, or at least to maintain themselves near +to their frontier. By this, very important advantages might have resulted in +the sequel, which we shall not stop here to discuss; besides this, it was +almost impossible for these troops to have joined the main army in time if they +had wished. For these reasons, the determination to leave these troops in +Volhynia to carry on there a distinct war of their own, was right. Now on the +other hand, if according to the proposed plan of campaign submitted by General +Phul, only the army of Barclay (80,000 men), was to retire to Drissa, and +Bragathion’s army (40,000 men) was to remain on the right flank of the +French, with a view to subsequently falling on their rear, it is evident at +once that this corps could not possibly maintain itself in South Lithuania so +near to the rear of the main body of the French army, and would soon have been +destroyed by their overwhelming masses. +</p> + +<p> +That the defender’s interest in itself is to give up as few provinces as +possible to the assailant is intelligible enough, but this is always a +secondary consideration; that the attack is also made more difficult the +smaller or rather narrower the theatre of war is to which we can confine the +enemy, is likewise clear in itself; but all this is subordinate to the +condition that in so doing we have the probability of a result in our favour, +and that the main body of the force on the defensive will not be too much +weakened; for upon that force we must chiefly depend for the final solution, +because the difficulties and distress suffered by the main body of the enemy, +first call forth his determination to retreat, and increase in the greatest +degree the loss of physical and moral power therewith connected. +</p> + +<p> +The retreat into the interior of the country should therefore as a rule be made +directly before the enemy, and as slowly as possible, with an army which has +not suffered defeat and is undivided; and by its incessant resistance it should +force the enemy to a constant state of readiness for battle, and to a ruinous +expenditure of forces in tactical and strategical measures of precaution. +</p> + +<p> +When both sides have in this manner reached the end of the aggressor’s +first start, the defender should then dispose his army in a position, if such +can be found, forming an oblique angle with the route of his opponent, and +operate against the enemy’s rear with all the means at his command. +</p> + +<p> +The campaign of 1812 in Russia shows all these measures on a great scale, and +their effects, as it were, in a magnifying glass. Although it was not a +voluntary retreat, we may easily consider it from that point of view. If the +Russians with the experience they now have of the results to be thus produced, +had to undertake the defence of their country over again, exactly under the +same circumstances, they would do voluntarily and systematically what in great +part was done without a definite plan in 1812; but it would be a great mistake +to suppose that there neither is nor can be any instance elsewhere of the same +mode of action where the dimensions of the Russian empire are wanting. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever a strategic attack, without coming to the issue of a battle, is +wrecked merely on the difficulties encountered, and the aggressor is compelled +to make a more or less disastrous retreat, there the chief conditions and +principal effects of this mode of defence will be found to have taken place, +whatever may be the modifying circumstances otherwise with which it is +accompanied. Frederick the Great’s campaign of 1742 in Moravia, of 1744 +in Bohemia, the French campaign of 1743 in Austria and Bohemia, the Duke of +Brunswick’s campaign of 1792 in France, Massena’s winter campaign +of 1810—11 in Portugal, are all cases in which this is exemplified, +although in smaller proportions and relations; there are besides innumerable +fragmentary operations of this kind, the results of which, although not wholly, +are still partly to be ascribed to the principle which we here uphold; these we +do not bring forward, because it would necessitate a development of +circumstances which would lead us into too wide a field. +</p> + +<p> +In Russia, and in the other cases cited, the crisis or turn of affairs took +place without any successful battle, having given the decision at the +culminating point; but even when such an effect is not to be expected, it is +always a matter of immense importance in this mode of defence to bring about +such a relation of forces as makes victory possible, and through that victory, +as through a first blow, to cause a movement which usually goes on increasing +in its disastrous effects according to the laws applicable to falling bodies. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap91"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br/>Arming the Nation</h3> + +<p> +A people’s war in civilised Europe is a phenomenon of the nineteenth +century. It has its advocates and its opponents: the latter either considering +it in a political sense as a revolutionary means, a state of anarchy declared +lawful, which is as dangerous as a foreign enemy to social order at home; or on +military grounds, conceiving that the result is not commensurate with the +expenditure of the nation’s strength. The first point does not concern us +here, for we look upon a people’s war merely as a means of fighting, +therefore, in its connection with the enemy; but with regard to the latter +point, we must observe that a people’s war in general is to be regarded +as a consequence of the outburst which the military element in our day has made +through its old formal limits; as an expansion and strengthening of the whole +fermentation-process which we call war. The requisition system, the immense +increase in the size of armies by means of that system, and the general +liability to military service, the utilizing militia, are all things which lie +in the same direction, if we make the limited military system of former days +our starting point; and the <i>levée en masse</i>, or arming of the people, now +lies also in the same direction. If the first named of these new aids to war +are the natural and necessary consequences of barriers thrown down; and if they +have so enormously increased the power of those who first used them, that the +enemy has been carried along in the current, and obliged to adopt them +likewise, this will be the case also with people-wars. In the generality of +cases, the people who make judicious use of this means, will gain a +proportionate superiority over those who despise its use. If this be so, then +the only question is whether this modern intensification of the military +element is, upon the whole, salutary for the interests of humanity or +otherwise,—a question which it would be about as easy to answer as the +question of war itself—we leave both to philosophers. But the opinion may +be advanced, that the resources swallowed up in people’s wars might be +more profitably employed, if used in providing other military means; no very +deep investigation, however, is necessary to be convinced that these resources +are for the most part not disposable, and cannot be utilized in an arbitrary +manner at pleasure. One essential part that is the moral element, is not called +into existence until this kind of employment for it arises. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore do not ask again: how much does the resistance which the whole +nation in arms is capable of making, cost that nation? but we ask: what is the +effect which such a resistance can produce? What are its conditions, and how is +it to be used? +</p> + +<p> +It follows from the very nature of the thing that defensive means thus widely +dispersed, are not suited to great blows requiring concentrated action in time +and space. Its operation, like the process of evaporation in physical nature, +is according to the surface. The greater that surface and the greater the +contact with the enemy’s army, consequently the more that army spreads +itself out, so much the greater will be the effects of arming the nation. Like +a slow gradual heat, it destroys the foundations of the enemy’s army. As +it requires time to produce its effects, therefore whilst the hostile elements +are working on each other, there is a state of tension which either gradually +wears out if the people’s war is extinguished at some points, and burns +slowly away at others, or leads to a crisis, if the flames of this general +conflagration envelop the enemy’s army, and compel it to evacuate the +country to save itself from utter destruction. In order that this result should +be produced by a national war alone, we must suppose either a surface-extent of +the dominions invaded, exceeding that of any country in Europe, except Russia, +or suppose a disproportion between the strength of the invading army and the +extent of the country, such as never occurs in reality. Therefore, to avoid +following a phantom, we must imagine a people-war always in combination, with a +war carried on by a regular army, and both carried on according to a plan +embracing the operations of the whole. +</p> + +<p> +The conditions under which alone the people’s war can become effective +are the following— +</p> + +<p> +1. That the war is carried on in the heart of the country. +</p> + +<p> +2. That it cannot be decided by a single catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +3. That the theatre of war embraces a considerable extent of country. +</p> + +<p> +4. That the national character is favourable to the measure. +</p> + +<p> +5. That the country is of a broken and difficult nature, either from being +mountainous, or by reason of woods and marshes, or from the peculiar mode of +cultivation in use. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the population is dense or otherwise, is of little consequence, as +there is less likelihood of a want of men than of anything else. Whether the +inhabitants are rich or poor is also a point by no means decisive, at least it +should not be; but it must be admitted that a poor population accustomed to +hard work and privations usually shows itself more vigorous and better suited +for war. +</p> + +<p> +One peculiarity of country which greatly favors the action of war carried on by +the people, is the scattered sites of the dwellings of the country people, such +as is to be found in many parts of Germany. The country is thus more +intersected an dcovered; the roads are worse, although more numerous; the +lodgement of troops is attended with endless difficulties, but especially that +peculiarity repeats itself on a small scale, which a people-war possesses on a +great scale, namely that the principle of resistance exists everywhere, but is +nowhere tangible. If the inhabitants are collected in villages, the most +troublesome have troops quartered on them, or they are plundered as a +punishment, and their houses burnt, etc, a system which could not be very +easily carried out with a peasant community of Westphalia. +</p> + +<p> +National levies and armed peasantry cannot and should not be employed against +the main body of the enemy’s army, or even against any considerable corps +of the same, they must not attempt to crack the nut, they must only gnaw on the +surface and the borders. They should rise in the provinces situated at one of +the sides of the theatre of war, and in which the assailant does not appear in +force, in order to withdraw these provinces entirely from his influence. Where +no enemy is to be found, there is no want of courage to oppose him, and at the +example thus given, the mass of the neighboring population gradually takes +fire. Thus the fire spreads as it does in heather, and reaching at last that +part of the surface of the soil on which the aggressor is based, it seizes his +lines of communication and preys upon the vital thread by which his existence +is supported. For although we entertain no exaggerated ideas of the omnipotence +of a people’s war, such as that it is an inexhaustible, unconquerable +element, over which the mere force of an army has as little control as the +human will has over the wind or the rain; in short, although our opinion is not +founded on flowery ephemeral literature, still we must admit that armed +peasants are not to be driven before us in the same way as a body of soldiers +who keep together like a herd of cattle, and usually follow their noses. Armed +peasants, on the contrary, when broken, disperse in all directions, for which +no formal plan is required; through this circumstance, the march of every small +body of troops in a mountainous, thickly wooded, or even broken country, +becomes a service of a very dangerous character, for at any moment a combat may +arise on the march; if in point of fact no armed bodies have even been seen for +some time, yet the same peasants already driven off by the head of a column, +may at any hour make their appearance in its rear. If it is an object to +destroy roads or to block up a defile; the means which outposts or detachments +from an army can apply to that purpose, bear about the same relation to those +furnished by a body of insurgent peasants, as the action of an automaton does +to that of a human being. The enemy has no other means to oppose to the action +of national levies except that of detaching numerous parties to furnish escorts +for convoys to occupy military stations, defiles, bridges, etc. In proportion +as the first efforts of the national levies are small, so the detachments sent +out will be weak in numbers, from the repugnance to a great dispersion of +forces; it is on these weak bodies that the fire of the national war usually +first properly kindles itself, they are overpowered by numbers at some points, +courage rises, the love of fighting gains strength, and the intensity of this +struggle increases until the crisis approaches which is to decide the issue. +</p> + +<p> +According to our idea of a people’s war, it should, like a kind of +nebulous vapoury essence, never condense into a solid body; otherwise the enemy +sends an adequate force against this core, crushes it, and makes a great many +prisoners; their courage sinks; every one thinks the main question is decided, +any further effort useless, and the arms fall from the hands of the people. +Still, however, on the other hand, it is necessary that this mist should +collect at some points into denser masses, and form threatening clouds from +which now and again a formidable flash of lightning may burst forth. These +points are chiefly on the flanks of the enemy’s theatre of war, as +already observed. There the armament of the people should be organised into +greater and more systematic bodies, supported by a small force of regular +troops, so as to give it the appearance of a regular force and fit it to +venture upon enterprises on a larger scale. From these points, the irregular +character in the organisation of these bodies should diminish in proportion as +they are to be employed more in the direction of the rear of the enemy, where +he is exposed to their hardest blows. These better organised masses, are for +the purpose of falling upon the larger garrisons which the enemy leaves behind +him. Besides, they serve to create a feeling of uneasiness and dread, and +increase the moral impression of the whole, without them the total action would +be wanting in force, and the situation of the enemy upon the whole would not be +made sufficiently uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +The easiest way for a general to produce this more effective form of a national +armament, is to support the movement by small detachments sent from the army. +Without the support of a few regular troops as an encouragement, the +inhabitants generally want an impulse, and the confidence to take up arms. The +stronger these detachments are, the greater will be their power of attraction, +the greater will be the avalanche which is to fall down. But this has its +limits; partly, first, because it would be detrimental to the army to cut it up +into detachments, for this secondary object to dissolve it, as it were, into a +body of irregulars, and form with it in all directions a weak defensive line, +by which we may be sure both the regular army and national levies alike would +become completely ruined; partly, secondly, because experience seems to tell us +that when there are too many regular troops in a district, the people-war loses +in vigour and efficacy; the causes of this are in the first place, that too +many of the enemy’s troops are thus drawn into the district, and, in the +second place, that the inhabitants then rely on their own regular troops, and, +thirdly, because the presence of such large bodies of troops makes too great +demands on the powers of the people in other ways, that is, in providing +quarters, transport, contributions, etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +Another means of preventing any serious reaction on the part of the enemy +against this popular movement constitutes, at the same time, a leading +principle in the method of using such levies; this is, that as a rule, with +this great strategic means of defence, a tactical defence should seldom or ever +take place. The character of a <i>combat with national levies</i> is the same +as that of all combats of masses of troops of an inferior quality, great +impetuosity and fiery ardour at the commencement, but little coolness or +tenacity if the combat is prolonged. Further, the defeat and dispersion of a +body of national levies is of no material consequence, as they lay their +account with that, but a body of this description must not be broken up by +losses in killed, wounded, and prisoners; a defeat of that kind would soon cool +their ardour. But both these peculiarities are entirely opposed to the nature +of a tactical defensive. In the defensive combat a persistent slow systematic +action is required, and great risks must be run; a mere attempt, from which we +can desist as soon as we please, can never lead to results in the defensive. +If, therefore, the national levies are entrusted with the defence of any +particular portion of territory, care must be taken that the measure does not +lead to a regular great defensive combat; for if the circumstances were ever so +favourable to them, they would be sure to be defeated. They may, and should, +therefore, defend the approaches to mountains, dykes, over marshes, +river-passages, as long as possible; but when once they are broken, they should +rather disperse, and continue their defence by sudden attacks, than concentrate +and allow themselves to be shut up in some narrow last refuge in a regular +defensive position.—However brave a nation may be, however warlike its +habits, however intense its hatred of the enemy, however favourable the nature +of the country, it is an undeniable fact that a people’s war cannot be +kept up in an atmosphere too full of danger. If, therefore, its combustible +material is to be fanned by any means into a considerable flame it must be at +remote points where there is more air, and where it cannot be extinguished by +one great blow. +</p> + +<p> +After these reflections, which are more of the nature of subjective impressions +than an objective analysis, because the subject is one as yet of rare +occurrence generally, and has been but imperfectly treated of by those who have +had actual experience for any length of time, we have only to add that the +strategic plan of defence can include in itself the cooperation of a general +arming of the people in two different ways, that is, either as a last resource +after a lost battle, or as a natural assistance before a decisive battle has +been fought. The latter case supposes a retreat into the interior of the +country, and that indirect kind of reaction of which we have treated in the +eighth and twenty-fourth chapters of this book. We have, therefore, here only +to say a few words on the mission of the national levies after a battle has +been lost. +</p> + +<p> +No State should believe its fate, that is, its entire existence, to be +dependent upon one battle, let it be even the most decisive. If it is beaten, +the calling forth fresh power, and the natural weakening which every offensive +undergoes with time, may bring about a turn of fortune, or assistance may come +from abroad. No such urgent haste to die is needed yet; and as by instinct the +drowning man catches at a straw, so in the natural course of the moral world a +people should try the last means of deliverance when it sees itself hurried +along to the brink of an abyss. +</p> + +<p> +However small and weak a State may be in comparison to its enemy, if it +foregoes a last supreme effort, we must say there is no longer any soul left in +it. This does not exclude the possibility of saving itself from complete +destruction by the purchase of peace at a sacrifice; but neither does such an +aim on its part do away with the utility of fresh measures for defence; they +will neither make peace more difficult nor more onerous, but easier and better. +They are still more necessary if there is an expectation of assistance from +those who are interested in maintaining our political existence. Any +government, therefore, which, after the loss of a great battle, only thinks how +it may speedily place the nation in the lap of peace, and unmanned by the +feeling of great hopes disappointed, no longer feels in itself the courage or +the desire to stimulate to the utmost every element of force, completely +stultifies itself in such case through weakness, and shows itself unworthy of +victory, and, perhaps, just on that account, was incapable of gaining one. +</p> + +<p> +However decisive, therefore, the overthrow may be which is experienced by a +State, still by a retreat of the army into the interior, the efficacy of its +fortresses and an arming of the people may be brought into use. In connection +with this it is advantageous if the flank of the principal theatre of war is +fenced in by mountains, or otherwise very difficult tracts of country, which +stand forth as bastions, the strategic enfilade of which is to check the +enemy’s progress. +</p> + +<p> +If the victorious enemy is engaged in siege works, if he has left strong +garrisons behind him everywhere to secure his communications, or detached corps +to make himself elbow-room, and to keep the adjacent provinces in subjection, +if he is already weakened by his various losses in active means and material of +war, then the moment is arrived when the defensive army should again enter the +lists, and by a well-directed blow make the assailant stagger in his +disadvantageous position. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap92"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br/>Defence of a Theatre of War</h3> + +<p> +Having treated of the <i>most important defensive means</i>, we might perhaps +be contented to leave the manner in which these means attach themselves to the +plan of defence as a whole to be discussed in the last Book, which will be +devoted to the <i>Plan of a War;</i> for from this every secondary scheme, +either of attack or defence, emanates and is determined in its leading +features; and moreover in many cases the plan of the war itself is nothing more +than the plan of the attack or defence of the principal theatre of war. But we +have not been able to commence with war as a whole, although in war more than +in any other phase of human activity, the parts are shaped by the whole, imbued +with and essentially altered by its character; instead of that, we have been +obliged to make ourselves thoroughly acquainted, in the first instance, with +each single subject as a separate part. Without this progress from the simple +to the complex, a number of undefined ideas would have overpowered us, and the +manifold phases of reciprocal action in particular would have constantly +confused our conceptions. We shall therefore still continue to advance towards +the whole by one step at a time; that is, we shall consider the defence of a +theatre in itself, and look for the thread by which the subjects already +treated of connect themselves with it. +</p> + +<p> +The defensive, according to our conception, is nothing <i>but the stronger form +of combat</i>. The preservation of our own forces and the destruction of those +of the enemy—in a word, the <i>victory</i>—is the aim of this +contest, but at the same time not its ultimate object. +</p> + +<p> +That object is the preservation of our own political state and the subjugation +of that of the enemy; or again, in one word, the <i>desired peace</i>, because +it is only by it that this conflict adjusts itself, and ends in a common +result. +</p> + +<p> +But what is the enemy’s state in connection with war? Above all things +its military force is important, then its territory; but certainly there are +also still many other things which, through particular circumstances, may +obtain a predominant importance; to these belong, before all, foreign and +domestic political relations, which sometimes decide more than all the rest. +But although the military force and the territory of the enemy alone are still +not the state itself, nor are they the only connections which the state may +have with the war, still these two things are always preponderating, mostly +immeasurably surpassing all other connections in importance. Military force is +to protect the territory of the state, or to conquer that of an enemy; the +territory on the other hand, constantly nourishes and renovates the military +force. The two, therefore, depend on each other, mutually support each other, +are equal in importance one to the other. But still there is a difference in +their mutual relations. If the military force is destroyed, that is completely +defeated, rendered incapable of further resistance, then the loss of the +territory follows of itself; but on the other hand, the destruction of the +military force by no means follows from the conquest of the country, because +that force may of its own accord evacuate the territory, in order afterwards to +reconquer it the more easily. Indeed, not only does the <i>complete</i> +destruction of its army decide the fate of a country, but even every +<i>considerable weakening</i> of its military force leads regularly to a loss +of territory; on the other hand, every considerable loss of territory does not +cause a proportionate diminution of military power; in the long run it will do +so, but not always within the space of time in which a war is brought to a +close. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows that the preservation of our own military power, and the +diminution or destruction of that of the enemy, take precedence in importance +over the occupation of territory, and, therefore, is the <i>first object</i> +which a general should strive for. The possession of territory only presses for +consideration <i>as an object</i> if that means (diminution or destruction of +the enemy’s military force) has not effected it. +</p> + +<p> +If the whole of the enemy’s military power was united in <i>one army</i>, +and if the whole war consisted of <i>one battle</i>, then the possession of the +country would depend on the issue of that battle; destruction of the +enemy’s military forces, conquest of his country and security of our own, +would follow from that result, and, in a certain measure, be identical with it. +Now the question is, what can induce the defensive to deviate from this +simplest form of the act of warfare, and distribute his power in space? The +answer is, the insufficiency of the victory which he might gain with all his +forces united. Every victory has its sphere of influence. If this extends over +the whole of the enemy’s state, consequently over the whole of his +military force and his territory, that is, if all the parts are carried along +in the same movement, which we have impressed upon the core of his power, then +such a victory is all that we require, and a division of our forces would not +be justified by sufficient grounds. But if there are portions of the +enemy’s military force, and of country belonging to either party, over +which our victory would have no effect, then we must give particular attention +to those parts; and as we cannot unite territory like a military force in one +point, therefore we must divide our forces for the purpose of attacking or +defending those portions. +</p> + +<p> +It is only in small, compactly shaped states that it is possible to have such a +unity of military force, and that probably all depends upon a victory over +<i>that force</i>. Such a unity is practically impossible when larger tracts of +country, having for a great extent boundaries conterminious with our own, are +concerned, or in the case of an alliance of several surrounding states against +us. In such cases, divisions of force must necessarily take place, giving +occasion to different theatres of war. +</p> + +<p> +The effect of a victory will naturally depend on its <i>greatness</i>, and that +on the mass of the <i>conquered troops</i>. Therefore <i>the blow</i> which, if +successful, will produce the greatest effect, must be made against <i>that +part</i> of the country where the greatest number of the enemy’s forces +are collected together; and the greater the mass of our own forces which we use +for this blow, so much the surer shall we be of this success. This natural +sequence of ideas leads us to an illustration by which we shall see this truth +more clearly; it is the nature and effect of the centre of gravity in +mechanics. +</p> + +<p> +As the centre of gravity is always situated where the greatest mass of matter +is collected, and as a shock against the centre of gravity of a body always +produces the greatest effect, and further, as the most effective blow is struck +with the centre of gravity of the power used, so it is also in war. The armed +forces of every belligerent, whether of a single state or of an alliance of +states, have a certain unity, and in that way, connection; but where connection +is there come in analogies of the centre of gravity. There are, therefore, in +these armed forces certain centres of gravity, the movement and direction of +which decide upon other points, and these centres of gravity are situated where +the greatest bodies of troops are assembled. But just as, in the world of inert +matter, the action against the centre of gravity has its measure and limits in +the connection of the parts, so it is in war, and here as well as there the +force exerted may easily be greater than the resistance requires, and then +there is a blow in the air, a waste of force. +</p> + +<p> +What a difference there is between the solidity of an army under <i>one</i> +standard, led into battle under the personal command of <i>one</i> general, and +that of an <i>allied army</i> extended over 50 or 100 miles, or it may be even +based upon quite different sides (of the theatre of war). There we see +coherence in the strongest degree, unity most complete; here unity in a very +remote degree often only existing in the political view held in common, and in +that also in a miserable and insufficient degree, the cohesion of parts mostly +very weak, often quite an illusion. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, if on the one hand, the violence with which we wish to strike the +blow prescribes the greatest concentration of force, so in like manner, on the +other hand, we have to fear every undue excess as a real evil, because it +entails a waste of power, and that in turn a <i>deficiency</i> of power at +other points. +</p> + +<p> +To distinguish these “<i>centra gravitatis</i>” in the +enemy’s military power, to discern their spheres of action is, therefore, +a supreme act of strategic judgment. We must constantly ask ourselves, what +effect the advance or retreat of part of the forces on either side will produce +on the rest. +</p> + +<p> +We do not by this lay claim in any way to the discovery of a new method, we +have only sought to explain the foundation of the method of all generals, in +every age, in a manner which may place its connection with the nature of things +in a clearer light. +</p> + +<p> +How this conception of the centre of gravity of the enemy’s force affects +the whole plan of the war, we shall consider in the last book, for that is the +proper place for the subject, and we have only borrowed it from there to avoid +leaving any break in the sequence of ideas. By the introduction of this view we +have seen the motives which occasion a partition of forces in general. These +consist fundamentally of two interests which are in opposition to each other; +the one, <i>the possession of territory</i> strives to divide the forces; the +other, <i>the effort of force against the centre of gravity of the +enemy’s military power</i>, combines them again up to a certain point. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it is that theatres of war or particular army regions originate. These are +those boundaries of the area of the country and of the forces thereon +distributed, within which every decision given by the principal force of such a +region extends itself <i>directly</i> over the whole, and carries on the whole +with it in its own direction. We say <i>directly</i>, because a decision on one +theatre of war must naturally have also an influence more or less over those +adjoining it. +</p> + +<p> +Although it lies quite in the nature of the thing, we must again remind our +readers expressly that here as well as everywhere else our definitions are only +directed at the centres of certain speculative regions, the limits of which we +neither desire to, nor can we, define by sharp lines. +</p> + +<p> +We think, therefore, a theatre of war, whether large or small, with its +military force, whatever may be the size of that, represents a unity which +maybe reduced to one centre of gravity. At this centre of gravity the decision +must take place, and to be conqueror here means to defend the theatre of war in +the widest sense. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap93"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/>Defence of a Theatre of War—(<i>continued</i>)</h3> + +<p> +Defence, however, consists of two different elements, these are the +<i>decision</i> and the <i>state of expectation</i>. The combination of these +two elements forms the subject of this chapter. +</p> + +<p> +First we must observe that the state of expectation is not, in point of fact, +the complete defence; it is only that province of the same in which it proceeds +to its aim. As long as a military force has not abandoned the portion of +territory placed under its guardianship, the tension of forces on both sides +created by the attack continues, and this lasts until there is a decision. The +decision itself can only be regarded as having actually taken place when either +the assailant or defender has left the theatre of war. +</p> + +<p> +As long as an armed force maintains itself within its theatre, the defence of +the same continues, and in this sense the defence of the theatre of war is +identical with the defence <i>in the same</i>. Whether the enemy in the +meantime has obtained possession of much or little of that section of country +is not essential, for it is only lent to him until the decision. +</p> + +<p> +But this kind of idea by which we wish to settle the proper relation of the +state of expectation to the whole is only correct when a decision is really to +take place, and is regarded by both parties as inevitable. For it is only by +that decision that the centres of gravity of the respective forces, and the +theatre of war determined through them are <i>effectually</i> hit. Whenever the +idea of a decisive solution disappears, then the centres of gravity are +neutralised, indeed, in a certain sense, the whole of the armed forces become +so also, and now the possession of territory, which forms the second principal +branch of the whole theatre of war, comes forward as the direct object. In +other words, the less a decisive blow is sought for by both sides in a war, and +the more it is merely a mutual observation of one another, so much the more +important becomes the possession of territory, so much the more the defensive +seeks to cover all directly, and the assailant seeks to extend his forces in +his advance. +</p> + +<p> +Now we cannot conceal from ourselves the fact that the majority of wars and +campaigns approach much more to a state of observation than to a struggle for +life or death, that is, a contest in which one at least of the combatants uses +every effort to bring about a complete decision. This last character is only to +be found in the wars of the nineteenth century to such a degree that a theory +founded on this point of view can be made use of in relation to them. But as +all future wars will hardly have this character, and it is rather to be +expected that they will again show a tendency to the observation character, +therefore any theory to be practically useful must pay attention to that. Hence +we shall commence with the case in which the desire of a decision permeates and +guides the whole, therefore with <i>real</i>, or if we may use the expression, +<i>absolute war;</i> then in another chapter we shall examine those +modifications which arise through the approach, in a greater or less degree, to +the state of a war of observation. +</p> + +<p> +In the first case (whether the decision is sought by the aggressor or the +defender) the defence of the theatre of war must consist in the defender +establishing himself there in such a manner, that in a decision he will have an +advantage on his side at any moment. This decision may be either a battle, or a +series of great combats, but it may also consist in the resultant of mere +relations, which arise from the situation of the opposing forces, that is, +<i>possible combats</i>. +</p> + +<p> +If the battle were not also the most powerful, the most usual and most +effectual means of a decision in war, as we think we have already shown on +several occasions, still the mere fact of its being in a general way one of the +means of reaching this solution, would be sufficient to enjoin <i>the greatest +concentration of our forces</i> which circumstances will in any way permit. A +great battle upon the theatre of war is the blow of the centre of force against +the centre of force; the more forces can be collected in the one or the other, +the surer and greater will be the effect. Therefore every separation of forces +which is not called for by an object (which either cannot itself be attained by +the successful issue of a battle, or which itself is necessary to the +successful issue of the battle) is <i>blameable</i>. +</p> + +<p> +But the greatest concentration of forces is not the only fundamental condition; +it is also requisite that they should have such a position and place that the +battle may be fought under favourable circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +The different steps in the defence which we have become acquainted with in the +chapter on the methods of defence, are completely homogeneous with these +fundamental conditions; there will therefore be no difficulty in connecting +them with the same, according to the special requirements of each case. But +there is one point which seems at first sight to involve a contradiction in +itself, and which, as one of the most important in the defence, requires +explanation so much the more. It is the hitting upon the exact centre of +gravity of the enemy’s force. +</p> + +<p> +If the defender ascertains in time the roads by which the enemy will advance, +and upon which in particular the great mass of his force will be found for a +certainty, he may march against him on that road. This will be the most usual +case, for although the defence precedes the attack in measures of a general +nature, in the establishment of strong places, great arsenals, and depôts, and +in the peace establishment of his army, and thus gives a line of direction to +the assailant in his preparations, still, when the campaign really opens, the +defender, in relation to the aggressor, has the peculiar advantage in general +of playing the last hand. +</p> + +<p> +To attack a foreign country with a large army, very considerable preparations +are required. Provisions, stores, and articles of equipment of all kinds must +be collected, which is a work of time. While these preparations are going on, +the defender has time to prepare accordingly, in regard to which we must not +forget that the defensive requires less time, generally speaking, because in +every state things are prepared rather for the defensive than the offensive. +</p> + +<p> +But although this may hold good in the majority of cases, there is always a +possibility that, in particular cases, the defensive may remain in uncertainty +as to the principal line by which the enemy intends to advance; and this case +is more likely to occur when the defence is dependent on measures which of +themselves take a good deal of time, as for example, the preparation of a +strong position. Further, supposing the defender places himself on the line by +which the aggressor is advancing, then, unless the defender is prepared to take +the initiative by attacking the aggressor, the latter may avoid the position +which the defender has taken up, by only altering a little his line of advance, +for in the cultivated parts of Europe we can never be so situated that there +are not roads to the right or left by which any position may be avoided. +Plainly, in such a case the defender could not wait for his enemy in a +position, or at least could not wait there in the expectation of giving battle. +</p> + +<p> +But before entering on the means available to the defensive in this case, we +must inquire more particularly into the nature of such a case, and the +probability of its occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally there are in every State, and also in every theatre of war (of which +alone we are at present speaking), objects and points upon which an attack is +likely to be more efficacious than anywhere else. Upon this we think it will be +better to speak when we come to the attack. Here we shall confine ourselves to +observing that, if the most advantageous object and point of attack is the +motive for the assailant in the direction of his blow, this motive reacts on +the defensive, and must be his guide in cases in which he knows nothing of the +intentions of his adversary. If the assailant does not take this direction +which is favourable to him, he foregoes part of his natural advantages. It is +evident that, if the defender has taken up a position in that direction, the +evading his position, or passing round, is not to be done for nothing; it costs +a sacrifice. From this it follows that there is not on the side of the defender +such a risk of <i>missing the direction of his enemy;</i> neither on the other +hand, is it so easy for the assailant <i>to pass round his adversary</i> as +appears at first sight, because there exists beforehand a very distinct, and in +most cases preponderating, motive in favour of one or the other direction, and +that consequently the defender, although his preparations are fixed to one +spot, will not fail in most cases to come in contact with the mass of the +enemy’s forces. In other words, <i>if the defender has put himself in the +right position, he may be almost sure that the assailant will come to meet +him.</i> +</p> + +<p> +But by this we shall not and cannot deny the possibility of the defender +sometimes not meeting with the assailant after all these arrangements, and +therefore the question arises, what he should then do, and how much of the real +advantages of his position still remain available to him. +</p> + +<p> +If we ask ourselves what means still remain generally to the defender when the +assailant passes by his position, they are the following:— +</p> + +<p> +1. To divide his forces instantly, so as to be certain to find the assailant +with one portion, and then to support that portion with the other. +</p> + +<p> +2. To take up a position with his force united, and in case the assailant +passes by him, to push on rapidly in front of him by a lateral movement. In +most cases there will not be time to make such a movement directly to a flank, +it will therefore be necessary to take up the new position somewhat further +back. +</p> + +<p> +3. With his whole force to attack the enemy in flank. +</p> + +<p> +4. To operate against his communications. +</p> + +<p> +5. By a counter attack on <i>his</i> theatre of war, to do exactly what the +enemy has done in passing by us. +</p> + +<p> +We introduce this last measure, because it is possible to imagine a case in +which it may be efficacious; but as it is in contradiction to the object of the +defence, that is, the grounds on which that form has been chosen, therefore it +can only be regarded as an abnormity, which can only take place because the +enemy has made some great mistake, or because there are other special features +in a particular case. +</p> + +<p> +Operating against the enemy’s communications implies that our own are +superior, which is also one of the fundamental requisites of a good defensive +position. But although on that ground this action may promise the defender a +certain amount of advantage, still, in the defence of a theatre of war, it is +seldom an operation suited to <i>lead to a decision</i>, which we have supposed +to be the object of the campaign. +</p> + +<p> +The dimensions of a single theatre of war are seldom so large that the line of +communications is exposed to much danger by their length, and even if they were +in danger, still the time which the assailant requires for the execution of his +blow is usually too short for his progress to be arrested by the slow effects +of the action against his communications. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore this means (that is the action against the communications) will prove +quite inefficacious in most cases against an enemy determined upon a decision, +and also in case the defender seeks such a solution. +</p> + +<p> +The object of the three other means which remain for the defender, is a direct +decision—a meeting of centre of force with centre of force; they +correspond better, therefore, with the thing required. But we shall at once say +that we decidedly prefer the third to the other two, and without quite +rejecting the latter, we hold the former to be in the majority of cases the +true means of defence. +</p> + +<p> +In a position where our forces are divided, there is always a danger of getting +involved in a war of posts, from which, if our adversary is resolute, can +follow, under the best of circumstances, only <i>a relative defence on a large +scale</i>, never a decision such as we desire; and even if by superior tact we +should be able to avoid this mistake, still, by the preliminary resistance +being with divided forces, the first shock is sensibly weakened, and we can +never be sure that the advanced corps first engaged will not suffer +disproportionate losses. To this is to be added that the resistance of this +corps which usually ends in its falling back on the main body, appears to the +troops in the light of a lost combat, or miscarriage of plans, and the moral +force suffers accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +The second means, that of placing our whole force in front of the enemy, in +whichever direction he may bend his march, involves a risk of our arriving too +late, and thus between two measures, falling short of both. Besides this, a +defensive battle requires coolness and consideration, a knowledge, indeed +intimate knowledge of the country, which cannot be expected in a hasty oblique +movement to a flank. Lastly, positions suitable for a good defensive +battle-field are too rarely to be met with to reckon upon them at every point +of every road. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the third means, namely to attack the enemy in flank, +therefore to give battle with a change of front, is attended with great +advantages. +</p> + +<p> +Firstly, there is always in this case, as we know, an exposure of the lines of +communication, here the lines of retreat, and in this respect the defender has +one advantage in his general relations as defender, and next and chiefly, the +advantage which we have claimed for the strategic properties of his position at +present. +</p> + +<p> +Secondly,—and this is the principal thing,—every assailant who +attempts to pass by his opponent is placed between two opposite tendencies. His +first desire is to advance to attain the object of his attack; but the +possibility of being attacked in flank at any moment, creates a necessity for +being prepared, at any moment, to deliver a blow in that direction, and that +too a blow with the mass of his forces. These two tendencies are contradictory, +and beget such a complication in the internal relations (of his army), such a +difficulty in the choice of measures, if they are to suit every event, that +there can hardly be a more disagreeable position strategically. If the +assailant knew with certainty the moment when he would be attacked, he might +prepare to receive the enemy with skill and ability; but in his uncertainty on +this point, and pressed by the necessity of advancing, it is almost certain +that when the moment for battle arrives, it finds him in the midst of hurried +and half-finished preparations, and therefore by no means in an advantageous +relation to his enemy. +</p> + +<p> +If then there are favourable moments for the defender to deliver an offensive +battle, it is surely at such a moment as this, above all others, that we may +look for success. If we consider, further, that the knowledge of the country +and choice of ground are on the side of the defender, that he can prepare his +movements, and can time them, no one can doubt that he possesses in such a +situation a decided superiority, strategically, over his adversary. +</p> + +<p> +We think, therefore, that a defender occupying a well chosen position, with his +forces united, may quietly wait for the enemy passing by his army; should the +enemy not attack him in his position, and that an operation against the +enemy’s communications does not suit the circumstances, there still +remains for him an excellent means of bringing about a decision by resorting to +a flank attack. +</p> + +<p> +If cases of this kind are hardly to be found in military history, the reason +is, partly, that the defender has seldom had the courage to remain firm in such +a position, but has either divided his forces, or rashly thrown himself in +front of his enemy by a cross or diagonal march, or that no assailant dares to +venture past the defender under such circumstances, and in that way his +movement usually comes to a stand still. +</p> + +<p> +The defender is in this case compelled to resort to an offensive battle: the +further advantages of <i>the state of expectation of a strong position, of good +entrenchments</i>, etc., etc., he must give up; in most cases the situation in +which he finds the advancing enemy will not quite make up for these advantages, +for it is just to evade their influence that the assailant has placed himself +in his present situation; still it always offers him <i>a certain +compensation</i>, and theory is therefore not just obliged to see a quantity +disappear at once from the calculation, to see the pro and contra mutually +cancel each other, as so often happens when critical writers of history +introduce a little bit of theory. +</p> + +<p> +It must not, in fact, be supposed that we are now dealing with logical +subtilties; the subject is rather one which the more it is practically +considered, the more it appears as an idea embracing the whole essence of +defensive war, everywhere dominating and regulating it. +</p> + +<p> +It is only by the determination on the part of the defender to assail his +opponent with all his force, the moment he passes by him, that he avoids two +pitfalls, close to which he is led by the defensive form; that is a division of +his force, and a hasty flank march to intercept the assailant in front. In both +he accepts the law of the assailant; in both he seeks to aid himself through +measures of a very critical nature, and with a most dangerous degree of haste; +and wherever a resolute adversary, thirsting for victory and a decision, has +encountered such a system of defence, he has knocked it on the head. But when +the defender has assembled his forces at the right point to fight a general +action, if he is determined with this force, come what will, to attack his +enemy in flank, he has done right, and is in the <i>right</i> course, and he is +supported by all the advantages which the defence can give in his situation; +his actions will then bear the stamp <i>of good preparation, coolness, +security, unity and simplicity.</i> +</p> + +<p> +We cannot here avoid mentioning a remarkable event in history, which has a +close analogy with the ideas now developed; we do so to anticipate its being +used in a wrong application. +</p> + +<p> +When the Prussian army was, in October, 1806, waiting in Thuringia for the +French under Buonaparte, the former was posted between the two great roads on +which the latter might be expected to advance, that is, the road to Berlin by +Erfurth, and that by Hof and Leipsic. The first intention of breaking into +Franconia straight through the Thuringian Forest, and afterwards, when that +plan was abandoned, the uncertainty as to which of the roads the French would +choose for their advance, caused this intermediate position. As such, it must +therefore have led to the adoption of the measure we have been discussing, a +hasty interception of the enemy in front by a lateral movement. +</p> + +<p> +This was in fact the idea in case the enemy marched by Erfurth, for the roads +in that direction were good; on the other hand, the idea of a movement of this +description on the road by Hof could not be entertained, partly because the +army was two or three marches away from that road, partly because the deep +valley of the Saale interposed; neither did this plan ever enter into the views +of the Duke of Brunswick, so that there was no kind of preparation made for +carrying it into effect, but it was always contemplated by Prince Hohenlohe, +that is, by Colonel Massenbach, who exerted all his influence to draw the Duke +into this plan. Still less could the idea be entertained of leaving the +position which had been taken on the left bank of the Saale to try an offensive +battle against Buonaparte on his advance, that is, to such an attack in flank +as we have been considering; for if the Saale was an obstacle to intercepting +the enemy in the last moment (<i>à fortiori</i>) it would be a still greater +obstacle to assuming the offensive at a moment when the enemy would be in +possession of the opposite side of the river, at least partially. The Duke, +therefore, determined to wait behind the Saale to see what would happen, that +is to say, if we can call anything a determination which emanated from this +many-headed Headquarters’ Staff, and in this time of confusion and utter +indecision. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever may have been the true condition of affairs during this state of +expectation, the consequent situation of the army was this:— +</p> + +<p> +1. That the enemy might be attacked if he crossed the Saale to attack the +Prussian army. +</p> + +<p> +2. That if he did not march against that army, operations might be commenced +against his communications. +</p> + +<p> +3. If it should be found practicable and advisable, he might be intercepted +near Leipsic by a rapid flank march. +</p> + +<p> +In the first case, the Prussian army possessed a great strategic and tactical +advantage in the deep valley of the Saale. In the second, the strategic +advantage was just as great, for the enemy had only a very narrow base between +our position and the neutral territory of Bohemia, whilst ours was extremely +broad; even in the third case, our army, covered by the Saale, was still by no +means in a disadvantageous situation. All these three measures, in spite of the +confusion and want of any clear perception at head-quarters, <i>were really +discussed;</i> but certainly we cannot wonder that, although a right idea may +have been entertained, it should have entirely failed in the <i>execution</i> +by the complete want of resolution and the confusion generally prevailing. +</p> + +<p> +In the two first cases, the position on the left bank of the Saale is to be +regarded as a real flank position, and it had undoubtedly as such very great +qualities; but in truth, against a very superior enemy, <i>against a +Buonaparte</i>, a flank position with an army that is not very sure about what +it is doing, <i>is a very bold measure</i>. +</p> + +<p> +After long hesitation, the Duke on the 13th adopted the last of the plans +proposed, but it was too late, Buonaparte had already commenced to pass the +Saale, and the battles of Jena and Auerstadt were inevitable. The Duke, through +his indecision, had set himself between two stools; he quitted his first +position too late <i>to push his army in before the enemy</i>, and too soon for +a battle suited to the object. Nevertheless, the natural strength of this +position proved itself so far that the Duke was able to destroy the right wing +of the enemy’s army at Auerstadt, whilst Prince Hohenlohe, by a bloody +retreat, was still able to back out of the scrape; but at Auerstadt they did +not venture to realise the victory, which was <i>quite certain;</i> and at Jena +they thought they might reckon upon one which was <i>quite impossible</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In any case, Buonaparte felt the strategic importance of the position on the +Saale so much, that he did not venture to pass it by, but determined on a +passage of the Saale in sight of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +By what we have now said we think we have sufficiently specified the relations +between the defence and the attack when a decisive course of action is +intended, and we believe we have shown also the threads to which, according to +their situation and connection, the different subjects of the plan of defence +attach themselves. To go through the different arrangements more in detail does +not come within our views, for that would lead us into a boundless field of +particular cases. When a general has laid down for his direction a distinct +point, he will see how far it agrees with geographical, statistical, and +political circumstances, the material and personal relations of his own army +and that of the enemy, and how the one or the other may require that his plans +should be modified in carrying them into effect. +</p> + +<p> +But in order more distinctly to connect and look closer at the gradations in +the defence specified in the chapter on the different kinds of defence, we +shall here lay before our readers what seems to us most important, in relation +to the same generally. +</p> + +<p> +1. Reasons for marching against the enemy with a view to an offensive battle, +may be as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +(<i>a</i>) If we know that the enemy is advancing with his forces very much +divided, and therefore we have reason to expect a victory, although we are, +upon the whole, much weaker. +</p> + +<p> +But such an advance on the part of the assailant is in itself very improbable, +and consequently, unless we know of it upon certain information, the plan is +not good; for to reckon upon it, and rest all our hopes on it through a <i>mere +supposition</i>, and without sufficient motive, leads generally to a very +dangerous situation. We do not, then, find things as we expected; we are +obliged to give up the offensive battle, we are not prepared to fight on the +defensive, we are obliged to commence with a retreat against our will, and +leave almost everything to chance. +</p> + +<p> +This is very much what occurred in the defence, conducted by the army under +Dohna against the Russians, in the campaign of 1759, and which, under General +Wedel, ended in the unfortunate battle of Züllichau. +</p> + +<p> +This measure shortens matters so much that plan-makers are only too ready to +propose it, without taking much trouble to inquire how far the hypothesis on +which it rests is well founded. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>b</i>) If we are generally in sufficient strength for battle, and— +</p> + +<p> +(<i>c</i>) If a blundering, irresolute adversary specially invites an attack. +</p> + +<p> +In this case the effect of surprise may be worth more than any assistance +furnished by the ground through a good position. It is the real essence of good +generalship thus to bring into play the power of the moral forces;—but +theory can never say loud enough nor often enough there must be an <i>objective +foundation</i> for these suppositions; without <i>such foundation</i> to be +always talking of surprises and the superiority of novel or unusual modes of +attack, and thereon to found plans, considerations, criticisms, is acting +without any grounds, and is altogether objectionable. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>d</i>) When the nature of our army makes it specially suited for the +offensive. +</p> + +<p> +It was certainly not a visionary or false idea when Frederick the Great +conceived that in his mobile, courageous army, full of confidence in him, +obedient by habit, trained to precision, animated and elevated by pride, and +with its perfection in the oblique attack, he possessed an instrument which, in +his firm and daring hand, was much more suited to attack than defence; all +these qualities were wanting in his opponents, and in this respect, therefore, +he had the most decided superiority; to make use of this was worth more to him, +in most cases, than to take to his assistance entrenchments and obstacles of +ground.—But such a superiority will always be rare; a well-trained army, +thoroughly practised in great movements, has only part of the above advantages. +If Frederick the Great maintained that the Prussian army was particularly +adapted for attack—and this has been incessantly repeated since his +time—still we should not attach too much weight to any such saying; in +most cases in war we feel more exhilarated, more courageous when acting +offensively than defensively: but this is a feeling which all troops have in +common, and there is hardly an army respecting which its generals and leaders +have not made the same assertion (as Frederick). We must, therefore, not too +readily rely on an appearance of superiority, and through that neglect real +advantages. +</p> + +<p> +A very natural and weighty reason for resorting to an offensive battle may be +the composition of the army as regards the three arms, for instance, a numerous +cavalry and little artillery. +</p> + +<p> +We continue the enumeration of reasons. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>e</i>) When we can nowhere find a good position. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>f</i>) When we must hasten with the decision. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>g</i>) Lastly, the combined influence of several or all of these reasons. +</p> + +<p> +2. The waiting for the enemy in a locality where it is intended to attack him +(Minden, 1759) naturally proceeds from— +</p> + +<p> +<i>a</i>, there being no such disproportion of force to our disadvantage as to +make it necessary to seek a strong position and strengthen it by entrenchments. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b</i>, a locality having been found particularly adapted to the purpose. The +properties which determine this belong to tactics; we shall only observe that +these properties chiefly consist in an easy approach for the defender from his +side, and in all kinds of obstacles on the side next to the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +3. A position will be taken with the express intention of there waiting the +attack of the enemy— +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> If the disproportion of forces compels us to seek cover from natural +obstacles or behind field-works. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> When the country affords an excellent position for our purpose. +</p> + +<p> +The two modes of defence, 2 and 3, will come more into consideration according +as we do not seek the decision itself, but content ourselves with a negative +result, and have reason to think that our opponent is wavering and irresolute, +and that he will in the end fail to carry out his plans. +</p> + +<p> +4. An entrenched unassailable camp only fulfils the object— +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> If it is situated at an extremely important strategic point. +</p> + +<p> +The character of such a position consists in this, that we cannot be driven out +of it; the enemy is therefore obliged to try some other means, that is, to +pursue his object without touching this camp, or to blockade it and reduce it +by starvation: if it is impossible for him to do this, then the strategic +qualities of the position must be very great. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> If we have reason to expect aid from abroad. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the case with the Saxon army in its position at Pirna. Notwithstanding +all that has been said against the measure on account of the ill-success which +attended it in this instance, it is perfectly certain that 17,000 Saxons could +never have been able to neutralise 40,000 Prussians in any other way. If the +Austrians were unable to make better use of the superiority obtained at +Lowositz, that only shows the badness of their whole method of war, as well as +of their whole military organisation; and there cannot be a doubt that if the +Saxons instead of taking post in the camp at Pirna had retired into Bohemia, +Frederick the Great would have driven both Austrians and Saxons beyond Prague, +and taken that place in the same campaign. Whoever does not admit the value of +this advantage, and limits his consideration to the capture of the whole Saxon +army, shows himself incapable of making a calculation of all the circumstances +in a case of this kind, and without calculation no certain deduction can be +obtained. +</p> + +<p> +But as the cases <i>a</i> and <i>b</i> very rarely occur, therefore, the +entrenched camp is a measure which requires to be well considered, and which is +very seldom suitable in practice. The hope of <i>inspiring</i> the enemy +<i>with respect</i> by such a camp, and thus reducing him to a state of +complete inactivity, is attended with too much danger, namely, with the danger +of being obliged to fight without the possibility of retreat. If Frederick the +Great gained his object in this way at Bunzelwitz, we must admire the correct +judgment he formed of his adversary, but we must certainly also lay more stress +than usual on the resources which he would have found at the last moment to +clear a road for the remnants of his army, and also on the +<i>irresponsibility</i> of a king. +</p> + +<p> +5. If there is one or if there are several fortresses near the frontier, then +the great question arises, whether the defender should seek an action before or +behind them. The latter recommends itself— +</p> + +<p> +<i>a</i>, by the superiority of the enemy in numbers, which forces us to break +his power before coming to a final struggle. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b</i>, by these fortresses being near, so that the sacrifice of territory is +not greater than we are compelled to make. +</p> + +<p> +<i>c</i>, by the fitness <i>of the fortresses for defence</i>. +</p> + +<p> +One principal use of fortresses is unquestionably, or should be, to break the +enemy’s force in his advance and to weaken considerably that portion +which we intend to bring to an engagement. If we so seldom see this use made of +fortresses, that proceeds from the cases in which a decisive battle is sought +for by one of the opposing parties being very rare. But that is the only kind +of case which we treat of here. We therefore look upon it as a principle +equally simple and important in all cases in which the defender has one or more +fortresses near him, that he should keep them before him, and give the decisive +battle behind them. We admit that a battle lost within the line of our +fortresses will compel us to retreat further into the interior of the country +than one lost on the other side, tactical results in both cases being the same, +although the causes of the difference have their origin rather in the +imagination than in real things; neither do we forget that a battle may be +given beyond the fortresses in a well chosen position, whilst inside them the +battle in most cases must be an offensive one, particularly if the enemy is +laying siege to a fortress which is in danger of being lost; but what signify +these nice shades of distinction, as compared to the advantage that, in the +decisive battle, we meet the enemy weakened by a fourth or a third of his +force, perhaps one half if there are many fortresses? +</p> + +<p> +We think, therefore, that in all cases of <i>an inevitable decision</i>, +whether sought for by the offensive or the defensive, and that the latter is +not tolerably sure of a victory, or if the nature of the country does not offer +some most decisive reason to give battle in a position further forward—in +all these cases we say when a fortress is situated near at hand and capable of +defence, the defender should by all means withdraw at once behind it, and let +the decision take place on this side, consequently with its co-operation. If he +takes up his position so close to the fortress that the assailant can neither +form the siege of nor blockade the place without first driving him off, he +places the assailant under the necessity of attacking him, the defender, in his +position. To us, therefore, of all defensive measures in a critical situation, +none appears so simple and efficacious as the choice of a good position near to +and behind a strong fortress. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, the question would wear a different aspect if the fortress +was situated far back; for then it would be necessary to abandon a considerable +part of our theatre of war, a sacrifice which, as we know, should not be made +unless in a case of great urgency. In such a case the measure would bear more +resemblance to a retreat into the interior of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Another condition is, the fitness of the place for defence. It is well known +that there are fortified places, especially large ones, which are not fit to be +brought into contact with an enemy’s army, because they could not resist +the sudden assault of a powerful force. In this case, our position must at all +events be so close behind that we could support the garrison. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, the retreat into the interior of the country is only a natural resource +under the following circumstances:— +</p> + +<p> +<i>a</i>, when owing to the physical and moral relation in which we stand as +respects the enemy, the idea of a successful resistance on the frontier or near +it cannot be entertained. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b</i>, when it is a principal object to gain time. +</p> + +<p> +<i>c</i>, when there are peculiarities in the country which are favourable to +the measure, a subject on which we have already treated in the twenty-fifth +chapter. +</p> + +<p> +We thus close the chapter on the defence of a theatre of war if a decisive +solution is sought for by one or other party, and is therefore inevitable. But +it must be particularly borne in mind, that events in war do not exhibit +themselves in such a pure abstract form, and that therefore, if our maxims and +arguments should be used in reasoning on actual war, our thirtieth chapter +should also be kept in view, and we must suppose the general, in the majority +of cases, as placed between two tendencies, urged <i>more</i> towards one or +the other, according to circumstances. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap94"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.<br/>Defence of a Theatre of War +(<i>continued</i>)<br/>Successive Resistance.</h3> + +<p> +We have proved, in the twelfth and thirteenth chapters, that in strategy a +successive resistance is inconsistent with the nature of the thing, and that +all forces available should be used simultaneously. +</p> + +<p> +As regards forces which are moveable, this requires no further demonstration; +but when we look at the seat of war itself, with its fortresses, the natural +divisions of the ground, and even the extent of its surface as being also +elements of war, then, these being immovable, we can only either bring them +gradually into use, or we must at once place ourselves so far back, that all +agencies of this kind which are to be brought into activity are in our front. +Then everything which can contribute to weaken the enemy in the territory which +he has occupied, comes at once into activity, for the assailant must at least +blockade the defender’s fortresses, he must keep the country in +subjection by garrisons and other posts, he has long marches to make, and +everything he requires must be brought from a distance, etc. All these agencies +commence to work, whether the assailant makes <i>his advance before or +after</i> a decision, but in the former case their influence is somewhat +greater. From this, therefore, it follows, that if the defender chooses to +transfer his decision to a point further back, he has thus the means of +bringing at once into play all these immovable elements of military force. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, it is clear that this <i>transfer of the solution</i> (on +the part of the defender) does not alter the extent of the influence of a +victory which the assailant gains. In treating of the attack, we shall examine +more closely the extent of the influence of a victory; here we shall only +observe that it reaches to the exhaustion of the superiority, that is, the +resultant of the physical and moral relations. Now this superiority exhausts +itself in the first place by the duties required from the forces on the theatre +of war, and secondly by losses in combats; the diminution of force arising from +these two causes cannot be essentially altered, whether the combats take place +at the commencement or at the end, near the frontier, or further towards the +interior of the country (vom oder hinten). We think, for example, that a +victory gained by Buonaparte over the Russians at Wilna, 1812, would have +carried him just as far as that of Borodino—assuming that it was equally +great—and that a victory at Moscow would not have carried him any +further; Moscow was, in either case, the limit of this sphere of victory. +Indeed, it cannot be doubted for a moment that a decisive battle on the +frontier (for other reasons) would have produced much greater results through +victory, and then, perhaps, the sphere of its influence would have been wider. +Therefore, in this view, also, the transfer of the decision to a point further +back is not necessary for the defence. +</p> + +<p> +In the chapter on the various means of resistance, that method of delaying the +decision, which may be regarded as an extreme form, was brought before us under +the name of <i>retreat into the interior</i>, and as a particular method of +defence, in which the object is rather that the assailant should wear himself +out, than that he should be destroyed by the sword on the field of battle. But +it is only when such an intention predominates that the delaying of the +decisive battle can be regarded as a <i>peculiar method of resistance;</i> for +otherwise it is evident that an infinite number of gradations may be conceived +in this method, and that these may be combined with all other means of defence. +We therefore look upon the greater or less co-operation of the theatre of war, +not as a special form of defence, but as nothing more than a discretionary +introduction into the defence of the immovable means of resistance, just +according as circumstances and the nature of the situation may appear to +require. +</p> + +<p> +But now, if the defender does not think he requires any assistance from these +immovable forces for his purposed decision, or if the further sacrifice +connected with the use of them is too great, then they are kept in reserve for +the future, and form a sort of succession of reinforcements, which perhaps +ensure the possibility of keeping the moveable forces in such a condition that +they will be able to follow up the first favourable decision with a second, or +perhaps in the same manner even with a third, that is to say, in this manner a +<i>successive</i> application of his forces becomes possible. +</p> + +<p> +If the defender loses a battle on the frontier, which does not amount to a +complete defeat, we may very well imagine that, by placing himself behind the +nearest fortress, he will then be in a condition to accept battle again; +indeed, if he is only dealing with an opponent who has not much resolution, +then, perhaps, some considerable obstacle of ground will be quite sufficient as +a means of stopping the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +There is, therefore, in strategy, in the use of the theatre of war as well as +in everything else, <i>an economy of force;</i> the less one can make suffice +the better: but there must be sufficient, and here, as well as in commerce, +there is something to be thought of besides mere niggardliness. +</p> + +<p> +But in order to prevent a great misconception, we must draw attention to this, +that the subject of our present consideration is not how much resistance an +army can offer, or the enterprises which it can undertake after a lost battle, +but only the result which we can promise ourselves <i>beforehand</i> from this +second act in our defence; consequently, how high we can estimate it in our +plan. Here there is only one point almost which the defender has to look to, +which is the character and the situation of his opponent. An adversary weak in +character, with little self-confidence, without noble ambition, placed under +great restrictions, will content himself, in case he is successful, with a +moderate advantage, and timidly hold back at every fresh offer of a decision +which the defender ventures to make. In this case the defender may count upon +the beneficial use of all the means of resistance of his theatre of war in +succession, in constantly fresh, although in themselves small, combats, in +which the prospect always brightens of an ultimate decision in his favour. +</p> + +<p> +But who does not feel that we are now on the road to campaigns devoid of +decision, which are much more the field of a successive application of force. +Of these we shall speak in the following chapter. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap95"></a>CHAPTER XXX.<br/>Defence of a Theatre of War +(<i>continued</i>)<br/> When no Decision is Sought for.</h3> + +<p> +Whether and how far a war is possible in which neither party acts on the +offensive, therefore in which neither combatant has a <i>positive aim</i>, we +shall consider in the last book; here it is not necessary for us to occupy +ourselves with the contradiction which this presents, because on a single +theatre of war we can easily suppose reasons for such a defensive on both +sides, consequent on the relations of each of these parts to a whole. +</p> + +<p> +But in addition to the examples which history furnishes of particular campaigns +that have taken place without the focus of a necessary solution, history also +tells us of many others in which there was no want of an assailant, +consequently no want of a <i>positive will</i> on one side, but in which that +will was so weak that instead of striving to attain the object at any price, +and forcing the <i>necessary</i> decision, it contented itself with such +advantages as arose in a manner spontaneously out of circumstances. Or the +assailant pursued <i>no</i> self-selected end <i>at all</i>, but made his +object depend on circumstances, in the meanwhile gathering such fruits as +presented themselves from time to time. +</p> + +<p> +Although such an offensive which deviates very much from the strict logical +necessity of a direct march towards the object, and which, almost like a +lounger sauntering through the campaign, looking out right and left for the +cheap fruits of opportunity, differs very little from the defensive itself, +which allows the general to pick up what he can in this way, still we shall +give the closer philosophical consideration of this kind of warfare a place in +the book on the attack. Here we shall confine ourselves to the conclusion that +in such a campaign the settlement of the whole question is not looked for by +either assailant or defender through a decisive battle, that, therefore, the +great battle is no longer the key-stone of the arch, towards which all the +lines of the strategic superstructure are directed. Campaigns of this kind (as +the history of all times and all countries shows us) are not only numerous, but +form such an overwhelming majority, that the remainder only appear as +exceptions. Even if this proportion should alter in the future, still it is +certain that there will always be many such campaigns; and, therefore, in +studying the theory of the defence of a theatre of war, they must be brought +into consideration. We shall endeavour to describe the peculiarities by which +they are characterised. Real war will generally be in a medium between the two +different tendencies, sometimes approaching nearer to one, sometimes to the +other, and we can, therefore, only see the practical effect of these +peculiarities in the modification which is produced, in the <i>absolute +form</i> of war by their counteraction. We have already said in the third +chapter of this book, that the <i>state of expectation</i> is one of the +greatest advantages which the defensive has over the offensive; as a general +rule, it seldom happens in life, and least of all in war, that <i>all</i> that +circumstances would lead us to expect does actually take place. The +imperfection of human insight, the fear of evil results, accidents which +derange the development of designs in their execution, are causes through which +many of the transactions enjoined by circumstances are never realised in the +execution. In war where insufficiency of knowledge, the danger of a +catastrophe, the number of accidents are incomparably greater than in any other +branch of human activity, the number of shortcomings, if we may so call them, +must necessarily also be much greater. This is then the rich field where the +defensive gathers fruits which grow for it spontaneously. If we add to this +result of experience the substantial importance of the possession of the +surface of the ground in war, then that maxim which has become a proverb, +<i>beati sunt possidentes</i>, holds good here as well as in peace. It is +<i>this maxim</i> which here takes the place of the decision, that focus of all +action in every war directed to <i>mutual destruction</i>. It is fruitful +beyond measure, not in actions which it calls forth, but in motives for not +acting, and for all that action which is done in the interest of inaction. When +no decision is to be sought for or expected, there is no reason for giving up +anything, for that could only be done to gain thereby some advantage in the +decision. The consequence is that the defender keeps all, or at least as much +as he can (that is as much as he can cover), and the assailant takes possession +of so much as he can without involving himself in a decision, (that is, he will +extend himself laterally as much as possible). We have only to deal with the +first in this place. +</p> + +<p> +Wherever the defender is not present with his military forces, the assailant +can take possession, and then the advantage of the state of expectation is on +<i>his side;</i> hence the endeavour to cover the country everywhere directly, +and to take the chance of the assailant attacking the troops posted for this +purpose. +</p> + +<p> +Before we go further into the special properties of the defence, we must +extract from the book on the attack those objects which the assailant usually +aims at when the decision (by battle) is not sought. They are as +follows:— +</p> + +<p> +1. The seizure of a considerable strip of territory, as far as that can be done +without a decisive engagement. +</p> + +<p> +2. The capture of an important magazine under the same condition. +</p> + +<p> +3. The capture of a fortress not covered. No doubt a siege is more or less a +great operation, often requiring great labour; but it is an undertaking which +does not contain the elements of a catastrophe. If it comes to the worst, the +siege can be raised without thereby suffering a great positive loss. +</p> + +<p> +4. Lastly, a successful combat of some importance, but in which there is not +much risked, and consequently not much to be gained; a combat which takes place +not as the cardinal knot of a whole strategic bond, but on its own account for +the sake of trophies or honour of the troops. For such an object, of course, a +combat is not fought <i>at any price;</i> we either wait for the chance of a +favourable opportunity, or seek to bring one about by skill. +</p> + +<p> +These four objects of attack give rise to the following efforts on the part of +the defence:— +</p> + +<p> +1. To cover the fortresses by keeping them behind us. +</p> + +<p> +2. To cover the country by extending the troops over it. +</p> + +<p> +3. Where the extension is not sufficient, to throw the army rapidly in front of +the enemy by a flank march. +</p> + +<p> +4. To guard against disadvantageous combats. +</p> + +<p> +It is clear that the object of the first three measures is to force on the +enemy the initiative, and to derive the utmost advantage from the state of +expectation, and this object is so deeply rooted in the nature of the thing +that it would be great folly to despise it <i>prima facie</i>. It must +necessarily occupy a higher place the less a decision is expected, and it is +the ruling principle in all such campaigns, even although, apparently, a +considerable degree of activity may be manifested in small actions of an +indecisive character. +</p> + +<p> +Hannibal as well as Fabius, and both Frederick the Great and Daun, have done +homage to this principle whenever they did not either seek for or expect a +decision. The fourth effort serves as a corrective to the three others, it is +their conditio <i>sine quâ non</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We shall now proceed to examine these subjects a little more closely. +</p> + +<p> +At first sight it appears somewhat preposterous to protect a fortress from the +enemy’s attack by placing an army in <i>front of it;</i> such a measure +looks like a kind of pleonasm, as fortifications are built to resist a hostile +attack of themselves. Yet it is a measure which we see resorted to thousands +and thousands of times. But thus it is in the conduct of war; the most common +things often seem the most incomprehensible. Who would presume to pronounce +these thousands of instances to be so many blunders on the ground of this +seeming inconsistency? The constant repetition of the measure shows that it +must proceed from some deep-seated motive. This reason is, however, no other +than that pointed out above, emanating from moral sluggishness and inactivity. +</p> + +<p> +If the defender places himself in front of his fortress, the enemy cannot +attack it unless he first beats the army in front of it; but a battle is a +decision; if that is <i>not</i> the enemy’s object then there will be no +battle, and the defender will remain in possession of his fortress without +striking a blow; consequently, whenever we do not believe the enemy intends to +fight a battle, we should venture on the chance of his not making up his mind +to do so, especially as in most cases we still retain the power of withdrawing +behind the fortress in a moment, if, contrary to our expectation, the enemy +should march to attack us; the position before the fortress is in this way free +from danger, and the probability of maintaining the <i>status quo</i> without +any sacrifice, is not even attended with the <i>slightest</i> risk. +</p> + +<p> +If the defender places himself behind the fortress, he offers the assailant an +object which is exactly suited to the circumstances in which the latter is +placed. If the fortress is not of great strength, and he is not quite +unprepared, he will commence the siege: in order that this may not end in the +fall of the place, the defender must march to its relief. The positive action, +the initiative, is now laid on him, and the adversary who by his siege is to be +regarded as advancing towards his object, is in the situation of occupier. +</p> + +<p> +Experience teaches that the matter always takes this turn, and it does so +naturally. A catastrophe, as we have before said, is not necessarily bound up +with a siege. Even a general, devoid of either the spirit of enterprise or +energy, who would never make up his mind to a battle, will proceed to undertake +a siege with perhaps nothing but field artillery, when he can approach a +fortress without risk. At the worst he can abandon his undertaking without any +positive loss. There always remains to be considered the danger to which most +fortresses are more or less exposed, that of being taken by assault, or in some +other irregular manner, and this circumstance should certainly not be +overlooked by the defender in his calculation of probabilities. +</p> + +<p> +In weighing and considering the different chances, it seems natural that the +defender should look upon the probability of not having to fight at all as more +for his advantage than the probability of fighting even under <i>favourable +circumstances</i>. And thus it appears to us that the practice of placing an +army in the field before its fortress, is both natural and fully explained. +Frederick the Great, for instance, at Glogau, against the Russians, at +Schwednitz, Neiss, and Dresden, against the Austrians, almost always adopted +it. This measure, however, brought misfortune on the Duke of Bevern at Breslau; +<i>behind</i> Breslau he could not have been attacked; the superiority of the +Austrians in the king’s absence would soon cease, as he was approaching; +and therefore, by a position <i>behind</i> Breslau, a battle might have been +avoided until Frederick’s arrival. No doubt the Duke would have preferred +that course if it had not been that it would have exposed that important place +to a bombardment, at which the king, who was anything but tolerant on such +occasions, would have been highly displeased. <i>The attempt made</i> by the +Duke to protect Breslau by an entrenched position taken up for the purpose, +cannot after all be disapproved, for it was very possible that Prince Charles +of Lorraine, contented with the capture of Schwednitz, and threatened by the +march of the king, would, by that position, have been prevented from advancing +farther. The best thing he could have done would have been to refuse the battle +at the last by withdrawing through Breslau at the moment that the Austrians +advanced to the attack; in this way he would have got all the advantages of the +state of expectation without paying for them by a great danger. +</p> + +<p> +If we have here traced the position <i>before</i> a fortress to reasons of a +superior and absolute order, and defended its adoption on those grounds, we +have still to observe that there is a motive of a secondary class which, though +a more obvious one, is not sufficient of itself alone, not being absolute; we +refer to the use which is made by armies of the nearest fortress as a depôt of +provisions and munitions of war. This is so convenient, and presents so many +advantages, that a general will not easily make up his mind to draw his +supplies of all kinds from more distant places, or to lodge them in open towns. +But if a fortress is the great magazine of an army, then the position before it +is frequently a matter of absolute necessity, and in most cases is very +natural. But it is easy to see that this obvious motive, which is easily +over-valued by those who are not in the habit of looking far before them, is +neither sufficient to explain all cases, nor are the circumstances connected +with it of sufficient importance to entitle it to give a final decision. +</p> + +<p> +The capture of one or more fortresses without risking a battle, is such a very +natural object of all attacks which do not aim at a decision on the field of +battle, that the defender makes it his principal business to thwart this +design. Thus it is that on theatres of war, containing a number of fortresses, +we find these places made the pivots of almost all the movements; we find the +assailant seeking to approach one of them unexpectedly, and employing various +feints to aid his purpose, and the defender immediately seeking to stop him by +well-prepared movements. Such is the general character of almost all the +campaigns of Louis XIV. in the Netherlands up to the time of Marshal Saxe. +</p> + +<p> +So much for the covering of fortresses. +</p> + +<p> +The covering of a country by an extended disposition of forces, is only +conceivable in combination with very considerable obstacles of ground. The +great and small posts which must be formed for the purpose, can only get a +certain capability of resistance through strength of position; and as natural +obstacles are seldom found sufficient, therefore field fortification is made +use of as an assistance. But now it is to be observed that, the power of +resistance which is thus obtained at any one point, is always only +<i>relative</i> (see the chapter on the signification of the combat), and never +to be regarded as <i>absolute</i>. It may certainly happen that one such post +may remain proof against all attacks made upon it, and that therefore in a +single instance there may be an absolute result; but from the great number of +posts, any single one, in comparison to the whole, appears weak, and exposed to +the possible attack of an overwhelming force, and consequently it would be +unreasonable to place one’s dependence for safety on the resistance of +any one single post. In such an extended position, we can therefore only count +on a resistance of relative length, and not upon a victory, properly speaking. +This value of single posts, at the same time, is also sufficient for the +object, and for a general calculation. In campaigns in which no great decision, +no irresistible march, towards the complete subjugation of the whole force is +to be feared, there is little risk in a combat of posts, even if it ends in the +loss of a post. There is seldom any further result in connection with it than +the loss of the post and a few trophies; the influence of victory penetrates no +further into the situation of affairs, it does not tear down any part of the +foundation to be followed by a mass of building in ruin. In the worst case, if, +for instance, the whole defensive system is disorganised by the loss of a +single post, the defender has always time to concentrate his corps, and with +his whole force to <i>offer battle</i>, which the assailant, according to our +supposition, does not desire. Therefore also it usually happens that with this +concentration of force the act closes, and the further advance of the assailant +is stopped. A strip of land, a few men and guns, are the losses of the +defender, and with these results the assailant is satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +To such a risk we say the defender may very well expose himself, if he has, on +the other hand, the possibility, or rather the probability, in his favour, that +the assailant from excessive caution will halt before his posts without +attacking them. Only in regard to this we must not lose sight of the fact, that +we are now supposing an assailant who will not venture upon any great stroke, a +moderate sized, but strong post will very well serve to stop such an adversary, +for although he can undoubtedly make himself master of it, still the question +arises as to the price it will cost, and whether that price is not too high for +any use that he can make of the victory. +</p> + +<p> +In this way we may see how the powerful relative resistance which the defender +can obtain from an extended disposition, consisting of a number of posts in +juxtaposition with each other, may constitute a satisfactory result in the +calculation of his whole campaign. In order to direct at once to the right +point the glance which the reader, with his mind’s eye, will here cast +upon military history, we must observe that these extended positions appear +most frequently in the latter half of a campaign, because by that time the +defender has become thoroughly acquainted with his adversary, with his +projects, and his situation; and the little quantity of the spirit of +enterprise with which the assailant started, is usually exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +In this defensive, in an extended position by which the <i>country</i>, the +<i>supplies</i>, the <i>fortresses</i> are to be covered, all great natural +obstacles, such as streams, rivers, mountains, woods, morasses, must naturally +play a great part, and acquire a predominant importance. Upon their use we +refer to what has been already said on these subjects. +</p> + +<p> +It is through this predominant importance of the topographical element that the +knowledge and activity which are looked upon as the speciality of the general +staff of an army are more particularly called into requisition. Now, as the +staff of the army is usually that branch which writes and publishes most, it +follows that these parts of campaigns are recorded more fully in history; and +then again from that there follows a not unnatural tendency to systematise +them, and to frame out of the historical solution of one case a general +solution for all succeeding cases. But this endeavour is futile, and therefore +erroneous. Besides, in this more passive kind of war, in this form of it which +is tied to localities, each case is different to another, and must be +differently treated. The ablest memoirs of a critical character respecting +these subjects are therefore only suited to make one acquainted with facts, but +never to serve as dictates. +</p> + +<p> +Natural, and at the same time meritorious, as is this industry which, according +to the general view, we have attributed to the staff in particular, still we +must raise a warning voice against usurpations which often spring from it to +the prejudice of the whole. The authority acquired by those who are at the head +of, and best acquainted with, this branch of military service, gives them often +a sort of general dominion over people’s minds, beginning with the +general himself, and from this then springs a routine of ideas which causes an +undue bias of the mind. At last the general sees nothing but mountains and +passes, and that which should be a measure of free choice guided by +circumstances becomes mannerism, becomes second nature. +</p> + +<p> +Thus in the year 1793 and 1794, Colonel Grawert of the Prussian army, who was +the animating spirit of the staff at that time, and well known as a regular man +for mountains and passes, persuaded two generals of the most opposite personal +characteristics, the Duke of Brunswick and General Mollendorf, into exactly the +same method of carrying on war. +</p> + +<p> +That a defensive line parallel to the course of a formidable natural obstacle +may lead to a cordon war is quite plain. It must, in most cases, necessarily +lead to that if really the whole extent of the theatre of war could be directly +covered in that manner. But most theatres of war have such an extent, that the +normal tactical disposition of the troops destined for its defence would be by +no means commensurate with that object; at the same time as the assailant, by +his own dispositions and other circumstances, is confined to certain principal +directions and great roads, and any great deviations from these directions, +even if he is only opposed to a very inactive defender, would be attended with +great embarrassment and disadvantage, therefore generally all that the defender +has to do is to cover the country for a certain number of miles or marches +right and left of these principal lines of direction of his adversary. But +again to effect this covering, we may be contented with defensive posts on the +principal roads and means of approach, and merely watch the country between by +small posts of observation. The consequence of this is certainly that the +assailant may then pass a column between two of these posts, and thus make the +attack, which he has in view, upon one post from several quarters at once. Now, +these posts are in some measure arranged to meet this, partly by their having +supports for their flanks, partly by the formation of flank defences (called +crochets), partly by their being able to receive assistance from a reserve +posted in rear, or by troops detached from adjoining posts. In this manner the +number of posts is reduced still more, and the result is that an army engaged +in a defence of this kind, usually divides itself into four or five principal +posts. +</p> + +<p> +For important points of approach, beyond a certain distance, and yet in some +measure threatened, special central points are established which, in a certain +measure, form small theatres of war within the principal one. In this manner +the Austrians, during the Seven Years’ War, generally placed the main +body of their army, in four or five posts in the mountains of Lower Silesia; +whilst a small almost independent corps organised for itself a similar system +of defence in Upper Silesia. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the further such a defensive system diverges from direct covering, the +more it must call to its assistance—mobility (active defence), and even +offensive means. Certain corps are considered reserves; besides which, one post +hastens to send to the help of another all the troops it can spare. This +assistance may be rendered either by hastening up directly from the rear to +reinforce and re-establish the passive defence, or by attacking the enemy in +flank, or even by menacing his line of retreat. If the assailant threatens the +flank of a post not with direct attack, but only by a position through which he +can act upon the communications of this post, then either the corps which has +been advanced for this purpose must be attacked in earnest, or the way of +reprisal must be resorted to by acting in turn on the enemy’s +communications. +</p> + +<p> +We see, therefore, that however passive this defence is in the leading ideas on +which it is based, still it must comprise many active means, and in its +organisation may be forearmed in many ways against complicated events. Usually +those defences pass for the best which make the most use of active or even +offensive means; but this depends in great part on the nature of the country, +the characteristics of the troops, and even on the talent of the general; +partly we are also very prone in general to expect too much from movement, and +other auxiliary measures of an active nature, and to place too little reliance +on the local defence of a formidable natural obstacle. We think we have thus +sufficiently explained what we understand by an extended line of defence, and +we now turn to the third auxiliary means, the placing ourselves in front of the +enemy by a rapid march to a flank. +</p> + +<p> +This means is necessarily one of those provided for that defence of a country +which we are now considering. In the first place the defender, even with the +most extended position, often cannot guard all the approaches to his country +which are menaced; next, in many cases, he must be ready to repair with the +bulk of his forces to any posts upon which the bulk of the enemy’s force +is about to be thrown, as otherwise those posts would be too easily +overpowered; lastly, a general who has an aversion to confining his army to a +passive resistance in an extended position, must seek to attain his object, the +protection of the country, by rapid, well-planned, and well-conducted +movements. The greater the spaces which he leaves exposed, the greater the +talent required in planning the movements, in order to arrive anywhere at the +right moment of time. +</p> + +<p> +The natural consequence of striving to do this is, that in such a case, +positions which afford sufficient advantages to make an enemy give up all idea +of an attack as soon as our army, or only a portion of it, reaches them, are +sought for and prepared in all directions. As these positions are again and +again occupied, and all depends on reaching the same in right time, they are in +a certain measure the vowels of all this method of carrying on war, which on +that account has been termed a <i>war of posts</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Just as an extended position, and the relative resistance in a war <i>without +great decisions</i>, do not present the dangers which are inherent in its +original nature, so in the same manner the intercepting the enemy in front by a +march to a flank is not so hazardous as it would be in the immediate +expectation of a great decision. To attempt at the last moment in greatest +haste (by a lateral movement) to thrust in an army in front of an adversary of +determined character, who is both able and willing to deal heavy blows, and has +no scruples about an expenditure of forces, would be half way to a most +decisive disaster; for against an unhesitating blow delivered with the +enemy’s whole strength, such running and stumbling into a position would +not do. But against an opponent who, instead of taking up his work with his +whole hand, uses only the tips of his fingers, who does not know how to make +use of a great result, or rather of the opening for one, who only seeks a +trifling advantage but at small expense, against such an opponent this kind of +resistance certainly may be applied with effect. +</p> + +<p> +A natural consequence is, that this means also in general occurs oftener in the +last half of a campaign than at its commencement. +</p> + +<p> +Here, also, the general staff has an opportunity of displaying its +topographical knowledge in framing a system of combined measures, connected +with the choice and preparation of the positions and the roads leading to them. +</p> + +<p> +When the whole object of one party is to gain in the end a certain point, and +the whole object of his adversary, on the other hand, is to prevent his doing +so, then both parties are often obliged to make their movements under the eyes +of each other; for this reason, these movements must be made with a degree of +precaution and precision not otherwise required. Formerly, before the mass of +an army was formed of independent divisions, and even on the march was always +regarded as an indivisible whole, this precaution and precision was attended +with much more formality, and with the copious use of tactical skill. On these +occasions, certainly, single brigades were often obliged to leave the general +line of battle to secure particular points, and act an independent part until +the army arrived: but these were, and continued, <i>anomalous proceedings;</i> +and the aim in the order of march generally was to move the army from one point +to another as a whole, preserving its normal formation, and avoiding such +exceptional proceedings as the above as far as possible. Now that the parts of +the main body of an army are subdivided again into independent bodies, and +those bodies can venture to enter into an engagement with the mass of the +enemy’s army, provided the rest of the force of which it is a member is +sufficiently near to carry it on and finish it,—now such a flank march is +attended with less difficulty even under the eye of the enemy. What formerly +could only be effected through the actual mechanism of the order of march, can +now be done by starting single divisions at an earlier hour, by hastening the +march of others, and by the greater freedom in the employment of the whole. +</p> + +<p> +By the means of defence just considered, the assailant can be prevented from +taking any fortress, from occupying any important extent of country, or +capturing magazines; and he will be prevented, if in every direction combats +are offered to him in which he can see little probability of success, or too +great danger of a reaction in case of failure, or in general, an expenditure of +force too great for his object and existing relations. +</p> + +<p> +If now the defender succeeds in this triumph of his art and skill, and the +assailant, wherever he turns his eyes, sees prudent preparations through which +he is cut off from any prospect of attaining his modest wishes: then the +offensive principle often seeks to escape from the difficulty in the +satisfaction of the mere honour of its arms. The gain of some combat of +respectable importance, gives the arms of the victor a semblance of +superiority, appeases the vanity of the general, of the court, of the army, and +the people, and thus satisfies, to a certain extent, the expectations which are +naturally always raised when the offensive is assumed. +</p> + +<p> +An advantageous combat of some importance merely for the sake of the victory +and some trophies, becomes, therefore, the last hope of the assailant. No one +must suppose that we here involve ourselves in a contradiction, for we contend +that we still continue within our <i>own supposition</i>, that the good +measures of the defender have deprived the assailant of all expectation of +attaining any one of those other objects by means of a <i>successful +combat!</i> To warrant that expectation, two conditions are required, that is, +a <i>favourable termination to the combat</i>, and next, <i>that the result +shall lead really to the attainment of one of those objects</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The first may very well take place without the second, and therefore the +defenders’ corps and posts singly are much more frequently in danger of +getting involved in disadvantageous combats if the assailant merely aims at the +<i>honour of the battle field</i>, than if he connects with that a view to +further advantages as well. +</p> + +<p> +If we place ourselves in Daun’s situation, and with his way of thinking, +then his venturing on the surprise of Hochkirch does not appear inconsistent +with his character, as long as we suppose him aiming at nothing more than the +trophies of the day. But a victory rich in results, which would have compelled +the king to abandon Dresden and Neisse, appears an entirely different problem, +one with which he would not have been inclined to meddle. +</p> + +<p> +Let it not be imagined that these are trifling or idle distinctions; we have, +on the contrary, now before us one of the deepest-rooted, leading principles of +war. The signification of a combat is its very soul in strategy, and we cannot +too often repeat, that in strategy the leading events always proceed from the +ultimate views of the two parties, as it were, from a conclusion of the whole +train of ideas. This is why there may be such a difference strategically +between one battle and another, that they can hardly be looked upon as the same +means. +</p> + +<p> +Now, although the fruitless victory of the assailant can hardly be considered +any serious injury to the defence, still as the defender will not willingly +concede even <i>this</i> advantage, particularly as we never know what accident +may also be connected with it, therefore the defender requires to keep an +incessant watch upon the situation of all his corps and posts. No doubt here +all greatly depends on the leaders of those corps making suitable dispositions; +but any one of them may be led into an unavoidable catastrophe by injudicious +orders imposed on him by the general-in-chief. Who is not reminded here of +Fouqué’s corps at Landshut and of Fink’s at Maxen? +</p> + +<p> +In both cases Frederick the Great reckoned too much on customary ideas. It was +impossible that he could suppose 10,000 men capable of successfully resisting +30,000 in the position of Landshut, or that Fink could resist a superior force +pouring in and overwhelming him on all sides; but he thought the strength of +the position of Landshut would be accepted, like a bill of exchange, as +heretofore, and that Daun would see in the demonstration against his flank +sufficient reason to exchange his uncomfortable position in Saxony for the more +comfortable one in Bohemia. He misjudged Laudon in one case and Daun in the +other, and therein lies the error in these measures. +</p> + +<p> +But irrespective of such errors, into which even generals may fall who are not +so proud, daring, and obstinate as Frederick the Great in some of his +proceedings may certainly be termed, there is always, in respect to the subject +we are now considering, a great difficulty in this way, that the +general-in-chief cannot always expect all he desires from the sagacity, +good-will, courage and firmness of character of his corps-commanders. He +cannot, therefore, leave everything to their good judgment; he must prescribe +rules on many points by which their course of action, being restricted, may +easily become inconsistent with the circumstances of the moment. This is, +however, an unavoidable inconvenience. Without an imperious commanding will, +the influence of which penetrates through the whole army, war cannot be well +conducted; and whoever would follow the practice of always expecting the best +from his subordinates, would from that very reason be quite unfit for a good +Commander of an army. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore the situation of every corps and post must be for ever kept clearly +in view, to prevent any of them being unexpectedly drawn into a catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +The aim of all these efforts is to preserve the <i>status quo</i>. The more +fortunate and successful these efforts are, the longer will the war last at the +same point; but the longer war continues at one point, the greater become the +cares for subsistence. +</p> + +<p> +In place of collections and contributions from the country, a system of +subsistence from magazines commences at once, or in a very short time; in place +of country waggons being collected upon each occasion, the formation, more or +less, of a regular transport takes place, composed either of carriages of the +country, or of those belonging to the army; in short, there arises an approach +to that regular system of feeding troops from magazines, of which we have +already treated in the fourteenth chapter (On Subsistence). +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, it is not this which exercises a great influence on this mode +of conducting war, for as this mode, by its object and character, is in fact +already tied down to a limited space, therefore the question of subsistence may +very well have a part in determining its action—and will do so in most +cases—without altering the general character of the war. On the other +hand, the action of the belligerents mutually against the lines of +communications gains a much greater importance for two reasons. Firstly, +because in such campaigns, there being no measures of a great and comprehensive +kind, generals must apply their energies to those of an inferior order; and +secondly, because here there is time enough to wait for the effect of this +means. The security of his line of communications is therefore specially +important to the defender, for although it is true that its interruption cannot +be an object of the hostile operations which take place, yet it might compel +him to retreat, and thus to leave other objects open to attack. +</p> + +<p> +All the measures having for their object the protection of the area of the +theatre of war itself, must naturally also have the effect of covering the +lines of communication; their security is therefore in part provided for in +that way, and we have only to observe that it is a principal condition in +fixing upon a position. +</p> + +<p> +A <i>special</i> means of security consists in the bodies of troops, both small +and large, escorting convoys. First, the most extended positions are not +sufficient to secure the lines of communication, and next, such an escort is +particularly necessary when the general wishes to avoid a very extended +position. Therefore, we find, in Tempelhof’s History of the Seven +Years’ War, instances without end in which Frederick the Great caused his +bread and flour waggons to be escorted by single regiments of infantry or +cavalry, sometimes also by whole brigades. On the Austrian side we nowhere find +mention of the same thing, which certainly may be partly accounted for in this +way, that they had no such circumstantial historian on their side, but in part +it is also to be ascribed just to this, that they always took up much more +extended positions. +</p> + +<p> +Having now touched upon the four efforts which form the foundation of a +defensive <i>that does not aim at a decision</i>, and which are at the same +time, altogether free upon the whole from all offensive elements, we must now +say something of the offensive means with which they may become more or less +mixed up, in a certain measure flavoured. These offensive means are +chiefly:— +</p> + +<p> +1. Operating against the enemy’s communications, under which we likewise +include enterprises against his places of supply. +</p> + +<p> +2. Diversions and incursions within the enemy’s territory. +</p> + +<p> +3. Attacks on the enemy’s corps and posts, and even upon his main body, +under favourable circumstances, or the threat only of such intention. +</p> + +<p> +The first of these means is incessantly in action in all campaigns of this +kind, but in a certain measure quite quietly without actually making its +appearance. Every suitable position for the defender derives a great part of +its efficacy from the disquietude which it causes the assailant in connection +with his communications; and as the question of subsistence in such warfare +becomes, as we have already observed, one of vital importance, affecting the +assailant equally, therefore, through this apprehension of offensive action, +possibly resulting from the enemy’s position, a great part of the +strategic web is determined, as we shall again find in treating of the attack. +</p> + +<p> +Not only this general influence, proceeding from the choice of positions, +which, like pressure in mechanics, produces an effect <i>invisibly</i>, but +also an actual offensive movement with part of the army against the +enemy’s lines of communication, comes within the compass of such a +defensive. But that it may be done with effect, <i>the situation of the lines +of communication, the nature of the country, and the peculiar qualities of the +troops</i> must be specially propitious to the undertaking. +</p> + +<p> +Incursions into the enemy’s country which have as their object reprisals +or levying contributions, cannot properly be regarded as defensive means, they +are rather true offensive means; but they are usually combined with the object +of a real diversion, which may be regarded as a real defensive measure, as it +is intended to weaken the enemy’s force opposed to us. But as the above +means may be used just as well by the assailant, and in itself is a real +attack, we therefore think more suitable to leave its further examination for +the next book. Accordingly we shall only count it in here, in order to render a +full account of the arsenal of small offensive arms belonging to the defender +of a theatre of war, and for the present merely add that in extent and +importance it may attain to such a point, as to give the whole war the +<i>appearance</i>, and along with that the honour, of the offensive. Of this +nature are Frederick the Great’s enterprises in Poland, Bohemia and +Franconia, before the campaign of 1759. His campaign itself is plainly a pure +defence; these incursions into the enemy’s territory, however, gave it +the appearance of an aggression, which perhaps had a special value on account +of the moral effect. +</p> + +<p> +An attack on one of the enemy’s corps or on his main body must always be +kept in view as a necessary complement of the whole defence whenever the +aggressor takes the matter too easily, and on that account shows himself very +defenceless at particular points. Under this silent condition the whole action +takes place. But here also the defender, in the same way as in operating +against the communications of the enemy, may go a step further in the province +of the offensive, and just as well as his adversary may make it his business to +lie in wait <i>for a favourable stroke</i>. In order to ensure a result in this +field, he must either be very decidedly superior in force to his +opponent—which certainly is inconsistent with the defensive in general, +but still may happen—or he must have a method and the talent of keeping +his forces more concentrated, and make up by activity and mobility for the +danger which he incurs in other respects. +</p> + +<p> +The first was Daun’s case in the Seven Years’ War; the latter, the +case of Frederick the Great. Still we hardly ever see Daun’s offensive +make its appearance except when Frederick the Great invited it by excessive +boldness and a display of contempt for him (Hochkirch, Maxen, Landshut). On the +other hand, we see Frederick the Great almost constantly on the move in order +to beat one or other of Daun’s corps with his main body. He certainly +seldom succeeded, at least, the results were never great, because Daun, in +addition to his great superiority in numbers, had also a rare degree of +prudence and caution; but we must not suppose that, therefore, the king’s +attempts were altogether fruitless. In these attempts lay rather a very +effectual resistance; for the care and fatigue, which his adversary had to +undergo in order to avoid fighting at a disadvantage, neutralised those forces +which would otherwise have aided in advancing the offensive action. Let us only +call to mind the campaign of 1760, in Silesia, where Daun and the Russians, out +of sheer apprehension of being attacked and beaten by the king, first here and +then there, never could succeed in making one step in advance. +</p> + +<p> +We believe we have now gone through all the subjects which form the predominant +ideas, the principal aims, and therefore the main stay, of the whole action in +the defence of a theatre of war when no idea of decision is entertained. Our +chief, and, indeed, sole object in bringing them all close together, was to let +the organism of the whole strategic action be seen in one view; the particular +measures by means of which those subjects come to life, marches, positions, +etc., etc., we have already considered in detail. +</p> + +<p> +By now casting a glance once more at the whole of our subject, the idea must +strike us forcibly, that with such a weak offensive principle, with so little +desire for a decision on either side, with so little positive motive, with so +many counteracting influences of a subjective nature, which stop us and hold us +back, the essential difference between attack and defence must always tend more +to disappear. At the opening of a campaign, certainly one party will enter the +other’s theatre of war, and in that manner, to a certain extent, such +party puts on the form of offensive. But it may very well take place, and +happens frequently that he must soon enough apply all his powers to defend his +own country on the enemy’s territory. Then both stand, in reality, +opposite one another in a state of mutual observation. Both intent on losing +nothing, perhaps both alike intent also on obtaining a positive advantage. +Indeed it may happen, as with Frederick the Great, that the real defender aims +higher in that way than his adversary. +</p> + +<p> +Now the more the assailant gives up the position of an enemy making progress, +the less the defender is menaced by him, and confined to a strictly defensive +attitude by the pressing claims of a regard for mere safety, so much the more a +similarity in the relations of the parties is produced in which then the +activity of both will be directed towards gaining an advantage over his +opponent, and protecting himself against any disadvantage, therefore to a true +strategic <i>manœuvring;</i> and indeed this is the character into which all +campaigns resolve themselves more or less, when the situation of the combatants +or political views do not allow of any great decision. +</p> + +<p> +In the following book we have allotted a chapter specially to the subject of +strategic manœuvres; but as this equipoised play of forces has frequently been +invested in theory with an importance to which it is not entitled, we find +ourselves under the necessity of examining the subject more closely while we +are treating of the defence, as it is in that form of warfare more particularly +that this false importance is ascribed to strategic manœuvres. +</p> + +<p> +We call it an <i>equipoised play of forces</i>, for when there is no movement +of the whole body there is a state of equilibrium; where no great object +impels, there is no movement of the whole; therefore, in such a case, the two +parties, however unequal they may be, are still to be regarded as in a state of +equilibrium. From this state of equilibrium of the whole now come forth the +particular motives to actions of a minor class and secondary objects. They can +here develop themselves, because they are no longer kept down by the pressure +of a great decision and great danger. Therefore, what can be lost or won upon +the whole is changed into small counters, and the action of the war, as a +whole, is broken up into smaller transactions. With these smaller operations +for smaller gains, a contest of skill now takes place between the two generals; +but as it is impossible in war to shut out chance, and consequently good luck, +therefore this contest will never be otherwise than a <i>game</i>. In the +meantime, here arise two other questions, that is, whether in this manœuvring, +chance will not have a smaller, and superior intelligence a greater, share in +the decision, than where all concentrates itself into one single great act. The +last of these questions we must answer in the affirmative. The more complete +the organisation of the whole, the oftener time and space come into +consideration—the former by single moments, the latter at particular +points—so much the greater, plainly, will be the field for calculation, +therefore the greater the sway exercised by superior intelligence. What the +superior understanding gains is abstracted in part from chance, but not +necessarily altogether, and therefore we are not obliged to answer the first +question affirmatively. Moreover, we must not forget that a superior +understanding is not the only mental quality of a general; courage, energy, +resolution, presence of mind, etc., are qualities which rise again to a higher +value when all depends on one single great decision; they will, therefore, have +somewhat less weight when there is an equipoised play of forces, and the +predominating ascendancy of sagacious calculation increases not only at the +expense of chance, but also at the expense of these qualities. On the other +hand, these brilliant qualities, at the moment of a great decision, may rob +chance of a great part of its power, and therefore, to a certain extent, secure +that which calculating intelligence in such cases would be obliged to leave to +chance. We see by this that here a conflict takes place between several forces, +and that we cannot positively assert that there is a greater field left open to +chance in the case of a great decision, than in the total result when that +equipoised play of forces takes place. If we, therefore, see more particularly +in this play of forces a contest of mutual skill, that must only be taken to +refer to skill in sagacious calculation, and not to the sum total of military +genius. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is just from this aspect of strategic manœuvring that the whole has +obtained that false importance of which we have spoken above. In the first +place, in this skilfulness the whole genius of a general has been supposed to +consist; but this is a great mistake, for it is, as already said, not to be +denied that in moments of great decisions other moral qualities of a general +may have power to control the force of events. If this power proceeds more from +the impulse of noble feelings and those sparks of genius which start up almost +unconsciously, and therefore does not proceed from long chains of thought, +still it is not the less a free citizen of the art of war, for that art is +neither a mere act of the understanding, nor are the activities of the +intellectual faculties its principal ones. Further, it has been supposed that +every active campaign without results must be owing to that sort of skill on +the part of one, or even of both generals, while in reality it has always had +its general and principal foundation just in the general relations which have +turned war into such a game. +</p> + +<p> +As most wars between civilised states have had for their object rather the +observation of the enemy than his destruction, therefore it was only natural +that the greater number of the campaigns should bear the character of strategic +manœuvring. Those amongst them which did not bring into notice any renowned +generals, attracted no attention; but where there was a great commander on whom +all eyes were fixed, or two opposed to each other, like Turenne and +Montecuculi, there the seal of perfection has been stamped upon this whole art +of manœuvring through the names of these generals. A further consequence has +then been that this game has been looked upon as the summit of the art, as the +manifestation of its highest perfection, and consequently also as the source at +which the art of war must chiefly be studied. +</p> + +<p> +This view prevailed almost universally in the theoretical world before the wars +of the French Revolution. But when these wars at one stroke opened to view a +quite different world of phenomena in war, at first somewhat rough and wild, +but which afterwards, under Buonaparte systematised into a method on a grand +scale, produced results which created astonishment amongst old and young, then +people set themselves free from the old models, and believed that all the +changes they saw resulted from modern discoveries, magnificent ideas, etc.; but +also at the same time, certainly from the changes in the state of society. It +was now thought that what was old would never more be required, and would never +even reappear. But as in such revolutions in opinions two parties are always +formed, so it was also in this instance, and the old views found their +champions, who looked upon the new phenomena as rude blows of brute force, as a +general decadence of the art; and held the opinion that, in the +evenly-balanced, nugatory, fruitless war game, the perfection of the art is +realised. There lies at the bottom of this last view such a want of logic and +philosophy, that it can only be termed a hopeless, distressing confusion of +ideas. But at the same time the opposite opinion, that nothing like the past +will ever reappear, is very irrational. Of the novel appearances manifested in +the domain of the art of war, very few indeed are to be ascribed to new +discoveries, or to a change in the direction of ideas; they are chiefly +attributable to the alterations in the social state and its relations. But as +these took place just at the crisis of a state of fermentation, they must not +be taken as a norm; and we cannot, therefore, doubt that a great part of the +former manifestations of war, will again make their appearance. This is not the +place to enter further into these matters; it is enough for us that by +directing attention to the relation which this even-balanced play of forces +occupies in the whole conduct of a war, and to its signification and connection +with other objects, we have shown that it is always produced by constraint laid +on both parties engaged in the contest, and by a military element greatly +attenuated. In this game one general may show himself more skilful than his +opponent; and therefore, if the strength of his army is equal, he may also gain +many advantages over him; or if his force is inferior, he may, by his superior +talent, keep the contest evenly balanced; but it is completely contradictory to +the nature of the thing to look here for the highest honour and glory of a +general; such a campaign is always rather a certain sign that neither of the +generals has any great military talent, or that he who has talent is prevented +by the force of circumstances from venturing on a great decision; but when this +is the case, there is no scope afforded for the display of the highest military +genius. +</p> + +<p> +We have hitherto been engaged with the general character of strategic +manœuvring; we must now proceed to a special influence which it has on the +conduct of war, namely this, that it frequently leads the combatants away from +the principal roads and places into unfrequented, or at least unimportant +localities. When trifling interests, which exist for a moment and then +disappear, are paramount, the great features of a country have less influence +on the conduct of the war. We therefore often find that bodies of troops move +to points where we should never look for them, judging only by the great and +simple requirements of the war; and that consequently, also, the changefulness +and diversity in the details of the contest as it progresses, are much greater +here than in wars directed to a great decision. Let us only look how in the +last five campaigns of the Seven Years’ War, in spite of the relations in +general remaining unchanged in themselves, each of these campaigns took a +different form, and, closely examined, no single measure ever appears twice; +and yet in these campaigns the offensive principle manifests itself on the side +of the allied army much more decidedly than in most other earlier wars. +</p> + +<p> +In this chapter on the defence of a theatre of war, if no great decision is +proposed, we have only shown the tendencies of the action, together with its +combination, and the relations and character of the same; the particular +measures of which it is composed have been described in detail in a former part +of our work. Now the question arises whether for these different tendencies of +action no thoroughly general comprehensive principles, rules, or methods can be +given. To this we reply that, as far as history is concerned, we have decidedly +not been led to any deductions of that kind through constantly recurring forms; +and at the same time, for a subject so diversified and changeful in its general +nature, we could hardly admit any theoretical rule, except one founded on +experience. A war directed to great decisions is not only much simpler, but +also much more in accordance with nature; is more free from inconsistencies, +more objective, more restricted by a law of inherent necessity; hence the mind +can prescribe forms and laws for it; but for a war without a decision for its +object, this appears to us to be much more difficult. Even the two fundamental +principles of the earliest theories of strategy published in our times, the +<i>Breadth of the Base</i>, in Bulow, and the <i>Position on Interior +Lines</i>, in Jomini, if applied to the defence of a theatre of war, have in no +instance shown themselves absolute and effective. But being mere forms, this is +just where they should show themselves most efficacious, because forms are +always more efficacious, always acquire a preponderance over other factors of +the product, the more the action extends over time and space. Notwithstanding +this, we find that they are nothing more than particular parts of the subject, +and certainly anything but decisive advantages. It is very clear that the +peculiar nature of the means and the relations must always from the first have +a great influence adverse to all general principles. What Daun did by the +extent and provident choice of positions, the king did by keeping his army +always concentrated, always hugging the enemy close, and by being always ready +to act extemporally with his whole army. The method of each general proceeded +not only from the nature of the army he commanded, but also from the +circumstances in which he was placed. To extemporise movements is always much +easier for a king than for any commander who acts under responsibility. We +shall here once more point out particularly that the critic has no right to +look upon the different manners and methods which may make their appearance as +different degrees on the road to perfection, the one inferior to the other; +they are entitled to be treated as on an equality, and it must rest with the +judgment to estimate their relative fitness for use in each particular case. +</p> + +<p> +To enumerate these different manners which may spring from the particular +nature of an army, of a country, or of circumstances, is not our object here; +the influence of these things generally we have already noticed. +</p> + +<p> +We acknowledge, therefore, that in this chapter we are unable to give any +maxims, rules, or methods, because history does not furnish the means; and on +the contrary, at almost every moment, we there meet with peculiarities such as +are often quite inexplicable, and often also surprise us by their singularity. +But it is not on that account unprofitable to study history in connection with +this subject also. Where neither system nor any dogmatic apparatus can be +found, there may still be truth, and this truth will then, in most cases, only +be discovered by a practised judgment and the tact of long experience. +Therefore, even if history does not here furnish any formula, we may be certain +that here as well as everywhere else, it will give us <i>exercise for the +judgment</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We shall only set up one comprehensive general principle, or rather we shall +reproduce, and present to view more vividly, in the form of a separate +principle, the natural presupposition of all that has now been said. +</p> + +<p> +All the means which have been here set forth have only a <i>relative</i> value; +they are all placed under the legal ban of a certain disability on both sides; +above this region a higher law prevails, and there is a totally different world +of phenomena. The general must never forget this; he must never move in +imaginary security within the narrower sphere, as if he were in an +<i>absolute</i> medium; never look upon the means which he employs here as the +<i>necessary</i> or as the <i>only means, and still adhere to them, even when +he himself already trembles at their insufficiency</i>. +</p> + +<p> +From the point of view at which we have here placed ourselves, such an error +may appear to be almost impossible; but it is not impossible in the real world, +because there things do not appear in such sharp contrast. +</p> + +<p> +We must just again remind our readers that, for the sake of giving clearness, +distinctness, and force to our ideas, we have always taken as the subject of +our consideration only the complete antithesis, that is the two extremes of the +question, but that the concrete case in war generally lies between these two +extremes, and is only influenced by either of these extremes according to the +degree in which it approaches nearer towards it. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, quite commonly, everything depends on the general making up his own +mind before all things as to whether his adversary has the inclination and the +means of outbidding him by the use of greater and more decisive measures. As +soon as he has reason to apprehend this, he must give up small measures +intended to ward off small disadvantages; and the course which remains for him +then is to put himself in a better situation, by a voluntary sacrifice, in +order to make himself equal to a greater solution. In other words, the first +requisite is that the general should take the right scale in laying out his +work. +</p> + +<p> +In order to give these ideas still more distinctness through the help of real +experience, we shall briefly notice a string of cases in which, according to +our opinion, a false criterion was made use of, that is, in which one of the +generals in the calculation of his operations very much underestimated the +decisive action intended by his adversary. We begin with the opening of the +campaign of 1757, in which the Austrians showed by the disposition of their +forces that they had not counted upon so thorough an offensive as that adopted +by Frederick the Great; even the delay of Piccolomini’s corps on the +Silesian frontier while Duke Charles of Lorraine was in danger of having to +surrender with his whole army, is a similar case of complete misconception of +the situation. +</p> + +<p> +In 1758, the French were in the first place completely taken in as to the +effects of the convention of Kloster Seeven (a fact, certainly, with which we +have nothing to do here), and two months afterwards they were completely +mistaken in their judgment of what their opponent might undertake, which, very +shortly after, cost them the country between the Weser and the Rhine. That +Frederick the Great, in 1759, at Maxen, and in 1760, at Landshut, completely +misjudged his enemies in not supposing them capable of such decisive measures +has been already mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +But in all history we can hardly find a greater error in the criterion than +that in 1792. It was then imagined possible to turn the tide in a national war +by a moderate sized auxiliary army, which brought down on those who attempted +it the enormous weight of the whole French people, at that time completely +unhinged by political fanaticism. We only call this error a great one because +it has proved so since, and not because it would have been easy to avoid it. As +far as regards the conduct of the war itself, it cannot be denied that the +foundation of all the disastrous years which followed was laid in the campaign +of 1794. On the side of the allies in that campaign, even the powerful nature +of the enemy’s system of attack was quite misunderstood, by opposing to +it a pitiful system of extended positions and strategic manœuvres; and further +in the want of unanimity between Prussia and Austria politically, and the +foolish abandonment of Belgium and the Netherlands, we may also see how little +presentiment the cabinets of that day had of the force of the torrent which had +just broken loose. In the year 1796, the partial acts of resistance offered at +Montenotte, Lodi, etc., etc., show sufficiently how little the Austrians +understood the main point when confronted by a Buonaparte. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1800 it was not by the direct effect of the surprise, but by the +false view which Melas took of the possible consequences of this surprise, that +his catastrophe was brought about. +</p> + +<p> +Ulm, in the year 1805, was the last knot of a loose network of scientific but +extremely feeble strategic combinations, good enough to stop a Daun or a Lascy +but not a Buonaparte, the Revolution’s Emperor. +</p> + +<p> +The indecision and embarrassment of the Prussians in 1806, proceeded from +antiquated, pitiful, impracticable views and measures being mixed up with some +lucid ideas and a true feeling of the immense importance of the moment. If +there had been a distinct consciousness and a complete appreciation of the +position of the country, how could they have left 30,000 men in Prussia, and +then entertained the idea of forming a special theatre of war in Westphalia, +and of gaining any results from a trivial offensive such as that for which +Ruchel’s and the Weimar corps were intended? and how could they have +talked of danger to magazines and loss of this or that strip of territory in +the last moments left for deliberation? +</p> + +<p> +Even in 1812, in that grandest of all campaigns, there was no want at first of +unsound purposes proceeding from the use of an erroneous standard Scale. In the +head quarters at Wilna there was a party of men of high mark who insisted on a +battle on the frontier, in order that no hostile foot should tread on Russian +ground with impunity. That this battle on the frontier <i>might</i> be lost, +nay, that it <i>would</i> be lost, these men certainly admitted; for although +they did not know that there would be 300,000 French to meet 80,000 Russians, +still they knew that the enemy was considerably superior in numbers. The chief +error was in the value which they ascribed to this battle; they thought it +would be a lost battle, like many other lost battles, whereas it may with +certainty be asserted that this great battle on the frontier would have +produced a succession of events completely different to those which actually +took place. Even the camp at Drissa was a measure at the root of which there +lay a completely erroneous standard with regard to the enemy. If the Russian +army had been obliged to remain there they would have been completely isolated +and cut off from every quarter, and then the French army would not have been at +a loss for means to compel the Russians to lay down their arms. The designer of +that camp never thought of power and will on such a scale as that. +</p> + +<p> +But even Buonaparte sometimes used a false standard. After the armistice of +1813 he thought to hold in check the subordinate armies of the allies under +Blücher and the Crown Prince of Sweden by corps which were certainly not able +to offer any effectual resistance, but which might impose sufficiently on the +cautious to prevent their risking anything, as had so often been done in +preceding wars. He did not reflect sufficiently on the reaction proceeding from +the deep-rooted resentment with which both Blücher and Bulow were animated, and +from the imminent danger in which they were placed. +</p> + +<p> +In general, he under-estimated the enterprising spirit of old Blücher. At +Leipsic Blücher alone wrested from him the victory; at Laon Blücher might have +entirely ruined him, and if he did not do so the cause lay in circumstances +completely out of the calculation of Buonaparte; lastly, at Belle-Alliance, the +penalty of this mistake reached him like a thunderbolt. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part07"></a>SKETCHES FOR BOOK VII<br/>THE ATTACK</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap96"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>The Attack in Relation to the Defence</h3> + +<p> +If two ideas form an exact logical antithesis, that is to say if the one is the +complement of the other, then, in fact, each one is implied in the other; and +when the limited power of our mind is insufficient to apprehend both at once, +and, by the mere antithesis, to recognise in the one perfect conception the +totality of the other also, still, at all events, the one always throws on the +other a strong, and in many parts a sufficient light Thus we think the first +chapter on the defence throws a sufficient light on all the points of the +attack which it touches upon. But it is not so throughout in respect of every +point; the train of thought could nowhere be carried to a finality; it is, +therefore, natural that where the opposition of ideas does not lie so +immediately at the root of the conception as in the first chapters, all that +can be said about the attack does not follow directly from what has been said +on the defence. An alteration of our point of view brings us nearer to the +subject, and it is natural for us to observe, at this closer point of view, +that which escaped observation at our former standpoint. What is thus perceived +will, therefore, be the complement of our former train of thought; and it will +not unfrequently happen that what is said on the attack will throw a new light +on the defence. +</p> + +<p> +In treating of the attack we shall, of course, very frequently have the same +subjects before us with which our attention has been occupied in the defence. +But we have no intention, nor would it be consistent with the nature of the +thing, to adopt the usual plan of works on engineering, and in treating of the +attack, to circumvent or upset all that we have found of positive value in the +defence, by showing that against every means of defence, there is an infallible +method of attack. The defence has its strong points and weak ones; if the first +are even not unsurmountable, still they can only be overcome at a +disproportionate price, and that must remain true from whatever point of view +we look at it, or we get involved in a contradiction. Further, it is not our +intention thoroughly to review the reciprocal action of the means; each means +of defence suggests a means of attack; but this is often so evident, that there +is no occasion to transfer oneself from our standpoint in treating of the +defence to a fresh one for the attack, in order to perceive it; the one issues +from the other of itself. Our object is, in each subject, to set forth the +peculiar relations of the attack, so far as they do not directly come out of +the defence, and this mode of treatment must necessarily lead us to many +chapters to which there are no corresponding ones in the defence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap97"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>Nature of the Strategical Attack</h3> + +<p> +We have seen that the defensive in war generally—therefore, also, the +strategic defensive—is no absolute state of expectancy and warding off, +therefore no completely passive state, but that it is a relative state, and +consequently impregnated more or less with offensive principles. In the same +way the offensive is no homogeneous whole, but incessantly mixed up with the +defensive. But there is this difference between the two, that a defensive, +without an offensive return blow, cannot be conceived; that this return blow is +a necessary constituent part of the defensive, whilst in the attack, the blow +or act is in itself one complete idea. The defence in itself is not necessarily +a part of the attack; but time and space, to which it is inseparably bound, +import into it the defensive as a necessary evil. For in the <i>first</i> +place, the attack cannot be continued uninterruptedly up to its conclusion, it +must have stages of rest, and in these stages, when its action is neutralised, +the state of defence steps in of itself; in the <i>second</i> place, the space +which a military force, in its advance, leaves behind it, and which is +essential to its existence, cannot always be covered by the attack itself, but +must be specially protected. +</p> + +<p> +The act of attack in war, but particularly in that branch which is called +strategy, is therefore a perpetual alternating and combining of attack and +defence; but the latter is not to be regarded as an effectual preparation for +attack, as a means by which its force is heightened, that is to say, not as an +active principle, but purely as a necessary evil; as the retarding weight +arising from the specific gravity of the mass; it is its original sin, its seed +of mortality. We say: a <i>retarding</i> weight, because if the defence does +not contribute to strengthen the attack, it must tend to diminish its effect by +the very loss of time which it represents. But now, may not this defensive +element, which is contained in every attack, have over it a <i>positively +disadvantageous</i> influence? If we suppose the <i>attack is the weaker, the +defence the stronger form of war</i>, it seems to follow that the latter can +not act in a positive sense prejudicially on the former; for as long as we have +sufficient force for the weaker form, we should have more than enough for the +stronger. In general—that is, as regards the chief part—this is +true: in its detail we shall analyse it more precisely in the chapter on the +<i>culminating point of victory;</i> but we must not forget that that +superiority of the <i>strategic defence</i> is partly founded in this, that the +attack itself cannot take place without a mixture of defence, and of a +defensive of a very weak kind; what the assailant has to carry about with him +of this kind are its worst elements; with respect to these, that which holds +good of the whole, in a general sense, cannot be maintained; and therefore it +is conceivable that the defensive may act upon the attack positively as a +weakening principle. It is just in these moments of weak defensive in the +attack, that the positive action of the offensive principle in the +<i>defensive</i> should be introduced. During the twelve hours rest which +usually succeeds a day’s work, what a difference there is between the +situation of the defender in his chosen, well-known, and prepared position, and +that of the assailant occupying a bivouac, into which—like a blind +man—he has groped his way, or during a longer period of rest, required to +obtain provisions and to await reinforcements, etc., when the defender is close +to his fortresses and supplies, whilst the situation of the assailant, on the +other hand, is like that of a bird on a tree. Every attack must lead to a +defence; what is to be the result of that defence, depends on circumstances; +these circumstances may be very favourable if the enemy’s forces are +destroyed; but they may be very unfavourable if such is not the case. Although +this defensive does not belong to the attack itself, its nature and effects +must re-act on the attack, and must take part in determining its value. +</p> + +<p> +The deduction from this view is, that in every attack the defensive, which is +necessarily an inherent feature in the same, must come into consideration, in +order to see clearly the disadvantages to which it is subject, and to be +prepared for them. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, in another respect, the attack is always in itself one and +the same. But the defensive has its gradations according as the principle of +expectancy approaches to an end. This begets forms which differ essentially +from each other, as has been developed in the chapter on the forms of defence. +</p> + +<p> +As the principle of the attack is <i>strictly</i> active, and the defensive, +which connects itself with it, is only a dead weight; there is, therefore, not +the same kind of difference in it. No doubt, in the energy employed in the +attack, in the rapidity and force of the blow, there may be a great difference, +but only a difference in <i>degree</i>, not in <i>form</i>.—It is quite +possible to conceive even that the assailant may choose a defensive form, the +better to attain his object; for instance, that he may choose a strong +position, that he may be attacked there; but such instances are so rare that we +do not think it necessary to dwell upon them in our grouping of ideas and +facts, which are always founded on the practical. We may, therefore, say that +there are no such gradations in the attack as those which present themselves in +the defence. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, as a rule, the extent of the means of attack consists of the armed +force only; of course, we must add to these the fortresses, for if in the +vicinity of the theatre of war, they have a decided influence on the attack. +But this influence gradually diminishes as the attack advances; and it is +conceivable that, in the attack, its own fortresses never can play such an +important part as in the defence, in which they often become objects of primary +importance. The assistance of the people may be supposed in co-operation with +the attack, in those cases in which the inhabitants of the country are better +disposed towards the invader of the country than they are to their own army; +finally, the assailant may also have allies, but then they are only the result +of special or accidental relations, not an assistance proceeding from the +nature of the aggressive. Although, therefore, in speaking of the defence we +have reckoned fortresses, popular insurrections, and allies as available means +of resistance; we cannot do the same in the attack; there they belong to the +nature of the thing; here they only appear rarely, and for the most part +accidentally. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap98"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>Of the Objects of Strategical Attack</h3> + +<p> +The overthrow of the enemy is the aim in war; destruction of the hostile +military forces, the means both in attack and defence. By the destruction of +the enemy’s military force, the defensive is led on to the offensive, the +offensive is led by it to the conquest of territory. Territory is, therefore, +the object of the attack; but that need not be a whole country, it may be +confined to a part, a province, a strip of country, a fortress. All these +things may have a substantial value from their political importance, in +treating for peace, whether they are retained or exchanged. +</p> + +<p> +The object of the strategic attack is, therefore, conceivable in an infinite +number of gradations, from the conquest of the whole country down to that of +some insignificant place. As soon as this object is attained, and the attack +ceases, the defensive commences. We may, therefore, represent to ourselves the +strategic attack as a distinctly limited unit. But it is not so if we consider +the matter practically, that is in accordance with actual phenomena. +Practically the moments of the attack, that is, its views and measures, often +glide just as imperceptibly into the defence as the plans of the defence into +the offensive. It is seldom, or at all events not always, that a general lays +down positively for himself what he will conquer, he leaves that dependent on +the course of events. His attack often leads him further than he had intended; +after rest more or less, he often gets renewed strength, without our being +obliged to make out of this two quite different acts; at another time he is +brought to a standstill sooner than he expected, without, however, giving up +his intentions, and changing to a real defensive. We see, therefore, that if +the successful defence may change imperceptibly into the offensive; so on the +other hand an attack may, in like manner, change into a defence. These +gradations must be kept in view, in order to avoid making a wrong application +of what we have to say of the attack in general. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap99"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>Decreasing Force of the Attack</h3> + +<p> +This is one of the principal points in strategy: on its right valuation in the +concrete, depends our being able to judge correctly what we are able to do. +</p> + +<p> +The decrease of absolute power arises— +</p> + +<p> +1. Through the object of the attack, the occupation of the enemy’s +country; this generally commences first after the first decision, but the +attack does not cease upon the first decision. +</p> + +<p> +2. Through the necessity imposed on the attacking army to guard the country in +its rear, in order to preserve its line of communication and means of +subsistence. +</p> + +<p> +3. Through losses in action and through sickness. +</p> + +<p> +4. Distance of the various depôts of supplies and reinforcements. +</p> + +<p> +5. Sieges and blockades of fortresses. +</p> + +<p> +6. Relaxation of efforts. +</p> + +<p> +7. Secession of allies. +</p> + +<p> +But frequently, in opposition to these weakening causes, there may be many +others which contribute to strengthen the attack. It is clear, at all events, +that a net result can only be obtained by comparing these different quantities; +thus, for example, the weakening of the attack may be partly or completely +compensated, or even surpassed by the weakening of the defensive. This last is +a case which rarely happens; we cannot always bring into the comparison any +more forces than those in the immediate front or at decisive points, not the +whole of the forces in the field.—Different examples: The French in +Austria and Prussia, in Russia; the allies in France, the French in Spain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap100"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Culminating Point of the Attack</h3> + +<p> +The success of the attack is the result of a present superiority of force, it +being understood that the moral as well as physical forces are included. In the +preceding chapter we have shown that the power of the attack gradually exhausts +itself; possibly at the same time the superiority may increase, but in most +cases it diminishes. The assailant buys up prospective advantages which are to +be turned to account hereafter in negotiations for peace; but, in the meantime, +he has to pay down on the spot for them a certain amount of his military force. +If a preponderance on the side of the attack, although thus daily diminishing, +is still maintained until peace is concluded, the object is attained. There are +strategic attacks which have led to an immediate peace but such instances are +rare; the majority, on the contrary, lead only to a point at which the forces +remaining are just sufficient to maintain a defensive, and to wait for peace. +Beyond that point the scale turns, there is a reaction; the violence of such a +reaction is commonly much greater than the force of the blow. This we call the +culminating point of the attack. As the object of the attack is the possession +of the enemy’s territory, it follows that the advance must continue till +the superiority is exhausted; this cause, therefore, impels us towards the +ultimate object, and may easily lead us beyond it. If we reflect upon the +number of the elements of which an equation of the forces in action is +composed, we may conceive how difficult it is in many cases to determine which +of two opponents has the superiority on his side. Often all hangs on the silken +thread of imagination. +</p> + +<p> +Everything then depends on discovering the culminating point by the fine tact +of judgment. Here we come upon a seeming contradiction. The defence is stronger +than the attack; therefore we should think that the latter can never lead us +too far, for as long as the weaker form remains strong enough for what is +required, the stronger form ought to be still more so. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap101"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>Destruction of the Enemy’s Armies</h3> + +<p> +The destruction of the enemy’s armed forces is the means to the +end—What is meant by this—The price it costs—Different points +of view which are possible in respect to the subject. +</p> + +<p> +1, only to destroy as many as the object of the attack requires. +</p> + +<p> +2, or as many on the whole as is possible. +</p> + +<p> +3, the sparing of our own forces as the principal point of view. +</p> + +<p> +4, this may again be carried so far, that the assailant does nothing towards +the destruction of the enemy’s force <i>except when a favourable +opportunity offers</i>, which may also be the case with regard to the object of +the attack, as already mentioned in the third chapter. +</p> + +<p> +The only means of destroying the enemy’s armed force is by combat, but +this may be done in two ways: 1, directly, 2, indirectly, through a combination +of combats.—If, therefore, the battle is the chief means, still it is not +the only means. The capture of a fortress or of a portion of territory, is in +itself really a destruction of the enemy’s force, and it may also lead to +a still greater destruction, and therefore, also, be an indirect means. +</p> + +<p> +The occupation of an undefended strip of territory, therefore, in addition to +the value which it has as a direct fulfilment of the end, may also reckon as a +destruction of the enemy’s force as well. The manœuvring, so as to draw +an enemy out of a district of country which he has occupied, is somewhat +similar, and must, therefore, only be looked at from the same point of view, +and not as a success of arms, properly speaking—These means are generally +estimated at more than they are worth—they have seldom the value of a +battle; besides which it is always to be feared that the disadvantageous +position to which they lead, will be overlooked; they are seductive through the +low price which they cost. +</p> + +<p> +We must always consider means of this description as small investments, from +which only small profits are to be expected; as means suited only to very +limited State relations and weak motives. Then they are certainly better than +battles without a purpose—than victories, the results of which cannot be +realised to the full. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap102"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>The Offensive Battle</h3> + +<p> +What we have said about the defensive battle throws a strong light upon the +offensive also. +</p> + +<p> +We there had in view that class of battle in which the defensive appears most +decidedly pronounced, in order that we might convey a more vivid impression of +its nature;—but only the fewer number are of that kind; most battles are +<i>demirencontres</i> in which the defensive character disappears to a great +extent. It is otherwise with the offensive battle: it preserves its character +under all circumstances, and can keep up that character the more boldly, as the +defender is out of his proper <i>esse</i>. For this reason, in the battle which +is not purely defensive and in the real <i>rencontres</i>, there always remains +also something of the difference of the character of the battle on the one side +and on the other. The chief distinctive characteristic of the offensive battle +is the manœuvre to turn or surround, therefore, the initiative as well. +</p> + +<p> +A combat in lines, formed to envelope, has evidently in itself great +advantages; it is, however, a subject of tactics. The attack must not give up +these advantages because the defence has a means of counteracting them; for the +attack itself cannot make use of that means, inasmuch as it is one that is too +closely dependent upon other things connected with the defence. To be able in +turn to operate with success against the flanks of an enemy, whose aim is to +turn our line, it is necessary to have a well chosen and well prepared +position. But what is much more important is, that all the advantages which the +defensive possesses, cannot be made use of; most defences are poor makeshifts; +the greater number of defenders find themselves in a very harassing and +critical position, in which, expecting the worst, they meet the attack half +way. The consequence of this is, that battles formed with enveloping lines, or +even with an oblique front, which should properly result from an advantageous +relation of the lines of communication, are commonly the result of a moral and +physical preponderance (Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena). Besides, in the first +battle fought, the base of the assailant, if not superior to that of the +defender, is still mostly very wide in extent, on account of the proximity of +the frontier; he can, therefore, afford to venture a little.—The +flank-attack, that is, the battle with oblique front, is moreover generally +more efficacious than the enveloping form. It is an erroneous idea that an +enveloping strategic advance from the very commencement must be connected with +it, as at Prague. (That strategic measure has seldom anything in common with +it, and is very hazardous; of which we shall speak further in the attack of a +theatre of war.) +</p> + +<p> +As it is an object with the commander in the defensive battle to delay the +decision as long as possible, and gain time, because a defensive battle +undecided at sunset is commonly one gained: therefore the commander, in the +offensive battle, requires to hasten the decision; but, on the other hand, +there is a great risk in too much haste, because it leads to a waste of forces. +One peculiarity in the offensive battle is the uncertainty, in most cases, as +to the position of the enemy; it is a complete groping about amongst things +that are unknown (Austerlitz, Wagram, Hohenlinden, Jena, Katzbach). The more +this is the case, so much the more concentration of forces becomes paramount, +and turning a flank to be preferred to surrounding. That the principal fruits +of victory are first gathered in the pursuit, we have already learnt in the +twelfth chapter of the 4th Book. According to the nature of the thing, the +pursuit is more an integral part of the whole action in the offensive than in +the defensive battle. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap103"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Passage of Rivers</h3> + +<p> +1. A large river which crosses the direction of the attack is always very +inconvenient for the assailant: for when he has crossed it he is generally +limited to one point of passage, and, therefore, unless he remains close to the +river he becomes very much hampered in his movements. Whether he meditates +bringing on a decisive battle after crossing, or may expect the enemy to attack +him, he exposes himself to great danger; therefore, without a decided +superiority, both in moral and physical force, a general will not place himself +in such a position. +</p> + +<p> +2. From this mere disadvantage of placing a river behind an army, a river is +much oftener capable of defence than it would otherwise be. If we suppose that +this defence is not considered the only means of safety, but is so planned that +even if it fails, still a stand can be made near the river, then the assailant +in his calculations must add to the resistance which he may experience in the +defence of the river, all the advantages mentioned in No. 1, as being on the +side of the defender of a river, and the effect of the two together is, that we +usually see generals show great respect to a river before they attack it if it +is defended. +</p> + +<p> +3. But in the preceding book we have seen, that under certain conditions, the +real defence of a river promises right good results; and if we refer to +experience, we must allow that such results follow in reality much more +frequently than theory promises, because in theory we only calculate with real +circumstances as we find them take place, while in the execution, things +commonly appear to the assailant much more difficult than they really are, and +they become therefore a greater clog on his action. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose, for instance, an attack which is not intended to end in a great +solution, and which is not conducted with thorough energy, we may be sure that +in carrying it out a number of little obstacles and accidents, which no theory +could calculate upon, will start up to the disadvantage of the assailant, +because he is the acting party, and must, therefore, come first into collision +with such impediments. Let us just think for a moment how often some of the +insignificant rivers of Lombardy have been successfully defended!—If, on +the other hand, cases may also be found in military history, in which the +defence of rivers has failed to realise what was expected of them, that lies in +the extravagant results sometimes looked for from this means; results not +founded in any kind of way on its tactical nature, but merely on its well-known +efficacy, to which people have thought there were no bounds. +</p> + +<p> +4. It is only when the defender commits the mistake of placing his entire +dependence on the defence of a river, so that in case it is forced he becomes +involved in great difficulty, in a kind of catastrophe, it is only then that +the defence of a river can be looked upon as a form of defence favourable to +the attack, for it is certainly easier to force the passage of a river than to +gain an ordinary battle. +</p> + +<p> +5. It follows of itself from what has just been said that the defence of a +river may become of great value if no great solution is desired, but where that +is to be expected, either from the superior numbers or energy of the enemy, +then this means, if wrongly used, may turn to the positive advantage of the +assailant. +</p> + +<p> +6. There are very few river-lines of defence which cannot be turned either on +the whole length or at some particular point. Therefore the assailant, superior +in numbers and bent upon serious blows, has the means of making a demonstration +at one point and passing at another, and then by superior numbers, and +advancing, regardless of all opposition, he can repair any disadvantageous +relations in which he may have been placed by the issue of the first +encounters: for his general superiority will enable him to do so. It very +rarely happens that the passage of a river is actually tactically forced by +overpowering the enemy’s principal post by the effect of superior fire +and greater valour on the part of the troops, and the expression, <i>forcing a +passage</i> is only to be taken in a strategic sense, in so far that the +assailant by his passage at an undefended or only slightly defended point +within the line of defence, braves all the dangers which, in the +defender’s view, should result to him through the crossing.—But the +worst which an assailant can do, is to attempt a real passage at several +points, unless they lie close to each other and admit of all the troops joining +in the combat; for as the defender must necessarily have his forces separated, +therefore, if the assailant fractions his in like manner, he throws away his +natural advantage. In that way Bellegarde lost the battle on the Mincio, 1814, +where by chance both armies passed at different points at the same time, and +the Austrians were more divided than the French. +</p> + +<p> +7. If the defender remains on this side of the river, it necessarily follows +that there are two ways to gain a strategic advantage over him: either to pass +at some point, regardless of his position, and so to outbid him in the same +means, or to give battle. In the first case, the relations of the base and +lines of communications should chiefly decide, but it often happens that +special circumstances exercise more influence than general relations; he who +can choose the best positions, who knows best how to make his dispositions, who +is better obeyed, whose army marches fastest, etc., may contend with advantage +against general circumstances. As regards the second means, it presupposes on +the part of the assailant the means, suitable relations, and the determination +to fight; but when these conditions may be presupposed, the defender will not +readily venture upon this mode of defending a river. +</p> + +<p> +8. As a final result, we must therefore give as our opinion that, although the +passage of a river in itself rarely presents great difficulties, yet in all +cases not immediately connected with a great decision, so many apprehensions of +the consequences and of future complications are bound up with it, that at all +events the progress of the assailant may easily be so far arrested that he +either leaves the defender on this side the river, or he passes, and then +remains close to the river. For it rarely happens that two armies remain any +length of time confronting one another on different sides of a river. +</p> + +<p> +But also in cases of a great solution, a river is an important object; it +always weakens and deranges the offensive; and the most fortunate thing, in +this case is, if the defender is induced through that to look upon the river as +a tactical barrier, and to make the particular defence of that barrier the +principal act of his resistance, so that the assailant at once obtains the +advantage of being able to strike a decisive blow in a very easy +manner.—Certainly, in the first instance, this blow will never amount to +a complete defeat of the enemy, but it will consist of several advantageous +combats, and these bring about a state of general relations very adverse to the +enemy, as happened to the Austrians on the Lower Rhine, 1796. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap104"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>Attack on Defensive Positions</h3> + +<p> +In the book on the defence, it has been sufficiently explained how far +defensive positions can compel the assailant either to attack them, or to give +up his advance. Only those which can effect this are subservient to our object, +and suited to wear out or neutralise the forces of the aggressor, either wholly +or in part, and in so far the attack can do nothing against such positions, +that is to say, there are no means at its disposal by which to counter-balance +this advantage. But defensive positions are not all really of this kind. If the +assailant sees he can pursue his object without attacking such a position, it +would be an error to make the attack; if he cannot follow out his object, then +it is a question whether he cannot manœuvre the enemy out of his position by +threatening his flank. It is only if such means are ineffectual, that a +commander determines on the attack of a good position, and then an attack +directed against one side, always in general presents the less difficulty; but +the choice of the side must depend on the position and direction of the mutual +lines of retreat, consequently, on the threatening the enemy’s retreat, +and covering our own. Between these two objects a competition may arise, in +which case the first is entitled to the preference, as it is of an offensive +nature; therefore homogeneous with the attack, whilst the other is of a +defensive character. But it is certain, and may be regarded as a truth of the +first importance, that <i>to attack an enemy thoroughly inured to war, in a +good position, is a critical thing</i>. No doubt instances are not wanting of +such battles, and of successful ones too, as Torgau, Wagram (we do not say +Dresden, because we cannot call the enemy there quite aguerried); but upon the +whole, the danger is small, and it vanishes altogether, opposed to the infinite +number of cases in which we have seen the most resolute commanders make their +bow before such positions. (Torres Vedras.) +</p> + +<p> +We must not, however, confuse the subject now before us with ordinary battles. +Most battles are real “<i>rencontres</i>,” in which one party +certainly occupies a position, but one which has not been prepared. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap105"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/>Attack on an Entrenched Camp</h3> + +<p> +It was for a time the fashion to speak with contempt of entrenchments and their +utility. The cordon lines of the French frontier, which had been often burst +through; the entrenched camp at Breslau in which the Duke of Bevern was +defeated, the battle of Torgau, and several other cases, led to this opinion of +their value; and the victories of Frederick the Great, gained by the principle +of movement and the use of the offensive, threw a fresh light on all kind of +defensive action, all fighting in a fixed position, particularly in +intrenchments, and brought them still more into contempt. Certainly, when a few +thousand men are to defend several miles of country, and when entrenchments are +nothing more than ditches reversed, they are worth nothing, and they constitute +a dangerous snare through the confidence which is placed in them. But is it not +inconsistent, or rather nonsensical, to extend this view even to the <i>idea of +field fortification</i>, in a mere swaggering spirit (as Templehof does)? What +would be the object of entrenchments generally, if not to strengthen the +defence? No, not only reason but experience, in hundreds and thousands of +instances, show that a well-traced, sufficiently manned, and well defended +entrenchment is, <i>as a rule, to be looked upon as an impregnable point</i>, +and is also so regarded by the attack. Starting from this point of the +efficiency of a single entrenchment, we argue that there can be no doubt as to +the attack of an entrenched camp being a most difficult undertaking, and one in +which generally it will be impossible for the assailant to succeed. +</p> + +<p> +It is consistent with the nature of an entrenched camp that it should be weakly +garrisoned; but with good, natural obstacles of ground and strong field works, +it is possible to bid defiance to superior numbers. Frederick the Great +considered the attack of the camp of Pirna as impracticable, although he had at +his command double the force of the garrison; and although it has been since +asserted, here and there, that it was quite possible to have taken it; the only +proof in favour of this assertion is founded on the bad condition of the Saxon +troops; an argument which does not at all detract in any way from the value of +entrenchments. But it is a question, whether those who have since contended not +only for the feasibility but also for the facility of the attack, would have +made up their minds to execute it at the time. +</p> + +<p> +We, therefore, think that the attack of an entrenched camp belongs to the +category of quite exceptional means on the part of the offensive. It is only if +the entrenchments have been thrown up in haste are not completed, still less +strengthed by obstacles to prevent their being approached, or when, as is often +the case taken altogether, the whole camp is only an outline of what it was +intended to be, a half-finished ruin, that then an attack on it may be +advisable, and at the same time become the road to gain an easy conquest over +the enemy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap106"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>Attack on a Mountain</h3> + +<p> +From the fifth and following chapters of the sixth book, may be deduced +sufficiently the strategic relations of a mountain generally, both as regards +the defence and the attack. We have also there endeavoured to explain the part +which a mountain plays as a line of defence, properly so called, and from that +naturally follows how it is to be looked upon in this signification from the +side of the assailant. There remains, therefore, little for us to say here on +this important subject. Our chief result was there that the defence must choose +as his point of view a secondary combat, or the entirely different one of a +great general action; that in the first case the attack of a mountain can only +be regarded as a necessary evil, because all the circumstances are unfavourable +to it; but in the second case the advantages are on the side of the attack. +</p> + +<p> +An attack, therefore, armed with the means and the resolution for a battle, +will give the enemy a meeting in the mountains, and certainly find his account +in so doing. +</p> + +<p> +But we must here once more repeat that it will be difficult to obtain respect +for this conclusion, because it runs counter to appearances, and is also, at +first sight, contrary to the experience of war. It has been observed, in most +cases hitherto, that an army pressing forward to the attack (whether seeking a +great general action or not), has considered it an unusual piece of good +fortune if the enemy has not occupied the intervening mountains, and has itself +then hastened to be beforehand in the occupation of them. No one will find this +forestalling of the enemy in any way inconsistent with the interests of the +assailant; in our view this is also quite admissible, only we must point out +clearly a fine distinction here between circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +An army advancing against the enemy, with the design of bringing him to a +general action, if it has to pass over an unoccupied range of mountain, has +naturally to apprehend that the enemy may, at the last moment, block up those +very passes which it proposes to use on its march: in such a case, the +assailant will by no means have the same advantages as if the enemy occupied +merely an ordinary mountain position. The latter is, for instance, not then in +a position extended beyond measure, nor is he in uncertainty as to the road +which the assailant will take; the assailant has not been able to choose his +road with reference to the enemy’s position, and therefore this battle in +the mountains is not then united with all those advantages on his side of which +we have spoken in the sixth book; under such circumstances, the defender might +be found in an impregnable position—According to this, the defender might +even have means at his command of making advantageous use of the mountains for +a great battle.—This is, at any rate, possible; but if we reflect on the +difficulties which the defender would have to encounter in establishing himself +in a strong position in the mountains just at the last moment, particularly if +he has left it entirely unoccupied before, we may put down this means of +defence as one upon which no dependence can be placed, and therefore as one, +the <i>probability</i> of which the assailant has little reason to dread. But +even if it is a very improbable case, yet still it is natural to fear it; for +in war, many a thing is very natural, and yet in a certain measure superfluous. +</p> + +<p> +But another measure which the assailant has to apprehend here is, a preliminary +defence of the mountains by an advanced guard or chain of outposts. This means, +also, will seldom accord with the interests of the defender; but the assailant +has not the means of discerning how far it may be beneficial to the defender or +otherwise, and therefore he has only to provide against the worst. +</p> + +<p> +Further, our view by no means excludes the possibility of a position being +quite unassailable from the mountainous character of the ground: there are such +positions which are not, on that account, in the mountains (Pirna, +Schmotseifen, Meissen, Feldkirch), and it is just because they are not in the +mountains, that they are so well suited for defence. We may also very well +conceive that positions may be found in mountains themselves where the defender +might avoid the ordinary disadvantages of mountain-positions, as, for instance, +on lofty <i>plateaux;</i> but they are not common, and we can only take into +our view the generality of cases. +</p> + +<p> +It is just in military history that we see how little mountain-positions are +suited to decisive defensive battles, for great generals have always preferred +a position in the plains, when it was their object to fight a battle of the +first order; and throughout the whole range of military history, there are no +examples of decisive battles in the mountains, except in the Revolutionary +Wars, and even there it was plainly a false application and analogy which led +to the use of mountain-positions, where of necessity a decisive battle had to +be fought (1793 and 1794 in the Vosges, and 1795, 1796, and 1797 in Italy). +Melas has been generally blamed for not having occupied the Alpine passes in +1800; but such criticisms are nothing more than “early +notions”—we might say—childlike judgments founded on +appearances. Buonaparte, in Mela’s place, would just as little have +thought of occupying the passes. +</p> + +<p> +The dispositions for the attack of mountain-positions are mostly of a tactical +nature; but we think it necessary to insert here the following remarks as to +the general outline, consequently as to those parts which come into immediate +contact with, and are coincident with, strategy. +</p> + +<p> +1. As we cannot move wide of the roads in mountains as we can in other +districts, and form two or three columns out of one, when the exigency of the +moment requires that the mass of the troops should be divided; but, on the +contrary, we are generally confined to long defiles; the advance in mountains +must generally be made on several roads, or rather upon a somewhat broader +front. +</p> + +<p> +2. Against a mountain line of defence of wide extent, the attack must naturally +be made with concentrated forces; to surround the whole cannot be thought of +there, and if an important result is to be gained from victory, it must be +obtained rather by bursting through the enemy’s line, and separating the +wings, than by surrounding the force, and so cutting it off. A rapid, +continuous advance upon the enemy’s principal line of retreat is there +the natural endeavour of the assailant. +</p> + +<p> +3. But if the enemy to be attacked occupies a position somewhat concentrated, +turning movements are an essential part of the scheme of attack, as the front +attacks fall upon the mass of the defender’s forces; but the turning +movements again must be made more with a view to cutting off the enemy’s +retreat, than as a tactical rolling up of the flank or attack on the rear; for +mountain positions are capable of a prolonged resistance even in rear if forces +are not wanting, and the quickest result is invariably to be expected only from +the enemy’s apprehension of losing his line of retreat; this sort of +uneasiness arises sooner, and acts more powerfully in mountains, because, when +it comes to the worst, it is not so easy to make room sword in hand. A mere +demonstration is no sufficient means here; it might certainly manœuvre the +enemy out of his position, but would not ensure any special result; the aim +must therefore be to cut him off, in reality, from his line of retreat. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap107"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>Attack on Cordon Lines</h3> + +<p> +If a supreme decision should lie in their defence and their attack, they place +the assailant in an advantageous situation, for their wide extent is still more +in opposition to all the requirements of a decisive battle than the direct +defence of a river or a mountain range. Eugene’s lines of Denain, 1712, +are an illustration to the point here, for their loss was quite equal to a +complete defeat, but Villars would hardly have gained such a victory against +Eugene in a concentrated position. If the offensive side does not possess the +means required for a decisive battle, then even lines are treated with respect, +that is, if they are occupied by the main body of an army; for instance, those +of Stollhofen, held by Louis of Baden in the year 1703, were respected even by +Villars. But if they are only held by a secondary force, then it is merely a +question of the strength of the corps which we can spare for their attack. The +resistance in such cases is seldom great, but at the same time the result of +the victory is seldom worth much. +</p> + +<p> +The circumvallation lines of a besieger have a peculiar character, of which we +shall speak in the chapter on the attack of a theatre of war. +</p> + +<p> +All positions of the cordon kind, as, for instance, entrenched lines of +outposts, etc., etc., have always this property, that they can be easily broken +through; but when they are not forced with a view of going further and bringing +on a decision, there is so little to be gained in general by the attack, that +it hardly repays the trouble expended. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap108"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>Manœuvring</h3> + +<p> +1. We have already touched upon this subject in the thirtieth chapter of the +sixth book. It is one which concerns the defence and the attack in common; +nevertheless it has always in it something more of the nature of the offensive +than the defensive. We shall therefore now examine it more thoroughly. +</p> + +<p> +2. Manœuvring is not only the opposite of executing the offensive by force, by +means of great battles; it stands also opposed to every such execution of the +offensive as proceeds directly from offensive means, let it be either an +operation against the enemy’s communications, or line of retreat, a +diversion, etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +3. If we adhere to the ordinary use of the word, there is in the conception of +manœuvring an effect which is first <i>produced</i>, to a certain extent, from +nothing, that is, from a state of rest or <i>equilibrium</i> through the +mistakes into which the enemy is enticed. It is like the first moves in a game +of chess. It is, therefore, a game of evenly-balanced powers, to obtain results +from favourable opportunity, and then to use these as an advantage over the +enemy. +</p> + +<p> +4. But those interests which, partly as the final object, partly as the +principal supports (pivot) of action, must be considered in this matter, are +chiefly:— +</p> + +<p> +(<i>a.</i>) The subsistence from which it is our object to cut off the enemy, +or to impede his obtaining. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>b.</i>) The junction with other corps. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>c.</i>) The threatening other communications with the interior of the +country, or with other armies or corps. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>d.</i>) Threatening the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>e.</i>) Attack of isolated points with superior forces +</p> + +<p> +These five interests may establish themselves in the smallest features of +detail belonging to any particular situation; and any such object then becomes, +on that account, a point round which everything for a time revolves. A bridge, +a road, or an entrenchment, often thus plays the principal part. It is easy to +show in each case that it is only the relation which any such object has to one +of the above interests which gives it importance. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>f.</i>) The result of a successful manœuvre, then, is for the offensive, or +rather for the active party (which may certainly be just as well the +defensive), a piece of land, a magazine, etc. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>g.</i>) In a strategic manœuvre two converse propositions appear, which +look like different manœuvres, and have sometimes served for the derivation of +false maxims and rules, and have four branches, which are, however, in reality, +all necessary constituents of the same thing, and are to be regarded as such. +The first antithesis is the surrounding the enemy, and the operating on +interior lines; the second is the concentration of forces, and their extension +over several posts. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>h.</i>) As regards the first antithesis, we certainly cannot say that one +of its members deserves a general preference over the other; for partly it is +natural that action of one kind calls forth the other as its natural +counterpoise, its true remedy; partly the enveloping form is homogeneous to the +attack, but the use of interior lines to the defence; and therefore, in most +cases, the first is more suitable to the offensive side, the latter to the +defensive. That form will gain the upper hand which is used with the greatest +skill. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>i.</i>) The branches of the other antithesis can just as little be classed +the one above the other. The stronger force has the choice of extending itself +over several posts; by that means he will obtain for himself a convenient +strategic situation, and liberty of action in many respects, and spare the +physical powers of his troops. The weaker, on the other hand, must keep himself +more concentrated, and seek by rapidity of movement to counteract the +disadvantage of his inferior numbers. This greater mobility supposes greater +readiness in marching. The weaker must therefore put a greater strain on his +physical and moral forces,—a final result which we must naturally come +upon everywhere if we would always be consistent, and which, therefore, we +regard, to a certain extent, as the logical test of the reasoning. The +campaigns of Frederick the Great against Daun, in the years 1759 and 1760, and +against Laudon, 1761, and Montecuculis against Turenne in 1673, 1675, have +always been reckoned the most scientific combinations of this kind, and from +them we have chiefly derived our view. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>j.</i>) Just as the four parts of the two antitheses above supposed must +not be abused by being made the foundation of false maxims and rules, so we +must also give a caution against attaching to other general relations, such as +base, ground, etc., an importance and a decisive influence which they do not in +reality possess. The smaller the interests at stake, so much the more important +the details of time and place become, so much the more that which is general +and great falls into the background, having, in a certain measure no place in +small calculations. Is there to be found, viewed generally, a more absurd +situation than that of Turenne in 1675, when he stood with his back close to +the Rhine, his army along a line of three miles in extent, and with his bridge +of retreat at the extremity of his right wing? But his measures answered their +object, and it is not without reason that they are acknowledged to show a high +degree of skill and intelligence. We can only understand this result and this +skill when we look more closely into details, and judge of them according to +the value which they must have had in this particular case. +</p> + +<p> +We are convinced that there are no rules of any kind for strategic manœuvring; +that no method, no general principle can determine the mode of action; but that +superior energy, precision, order, obedience, intrepidity in the most special +and trifling circumstances may find means to obtain for themselves signal +advantages, and that, therefore, chiefly on those qualities will depend the +victory in this sort of contest. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap109"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>Attack on Morasses, Inundations, Woods</h3> + +<p> +Morasses, that is, impassable swamps, which are only traversed by a few +embankments, present peculiar difficulties to the tactical attack, as we have +stated in treating of the defence. Their breadth hardly ever admits of the +enemy being driven from the opposite bank by artillery, and of the construction +of a roadway across. The strategic consequence is that endeavours are made to +avoid attacking them by passing round them. Where the state of culture, as in +many low countries, is so great that the means of passing are innumerable, the +resistance of the defender is still strong enough relatively, but it is +proportionably weakened for an absolute decision, and, therefore, wholly +unsuitable for it. On the other hand, if the low land (as in Holland) is aided +by inundations, the resistance may become absolute, and defy every attack. This +was shown in Holland in the year 1672, when, after the conquest and occupation +of all the fortresses outside the margin of the inundation, 50,000 French +troops became available, who,—first under Condé and then under +Luxemburg,—were unable to force the line of inundation, although it was +only defended by about 20,000 men. The campaign of the Prussians, in 1787, +under the Duke of Brunswick, against the Dutch, ended, it is true, in a quite +contrary way, as these lines were then carried by a force very little superior +to the defenders, and with trifling loss; but the reason of that is to be found +in the dissensions amongst the defenders from political animosities, and a want +of unity in the command, and yet nothing is more certain than that the success +of the campaign, that is, the advance through the last line of inundation up to +the walls of Amsterdam depended on a point of such extreme nicety that it is +impossible to draw any general deduction from this case. The point alluded to +was the leaving unguarded the Sea of Haarlem. By means of this, the Duke turned +the inundation line, and got in rear of the post of Amselvoen. If the Dutch had +had a couple of armed vessels on this lake the duke would never have got to +Amsterdam, for he was “<i>au bout de son latin.</i>” What influence +that might have had on the conclusion of peace does not concern us here, but it +is certain that any further question of carrying the last line of inundation +would have been put an end to completely. +</p> + +<p> +The winter is, no doubt, the natural enemy of this means of defence, as the +French have shown in 1794 and 1795, but it must be a <i>severe</i> winter. +</p> + +<p> +Woods, which are scarcely passable, we have also included amongst the means +which afford the defence powerful assistance. If they are of no great depth +then the assailant may force his way through by several roads running near one +another, and thus reach better ground, for no one point can have any great +tactical strength, as we can never suppose a wood as absolutely impassable as a +river or a morass.—But when, as in Russia and Poland, a very large tract +of country is nearly everywhere covered with wood, and the assailant has not +the power of getting beyond it, then, certainly, his situation becomes very +embarrassing. We have only to think of the difficulties he must contend with to +subsist his army, and how little he can do in the depths of the forest to make +his ubiquitous adversary feel his superiority in numbers. Certainly this is one +of the worst situations in which the offensive can be placed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap110"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/>Attack on a Theatre of War with the View to a Decision</h3> + +<p> +Most of the subjects have been already touched upon in the sixth book, and by +their mere reflection, throw sufficient light on the attack. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, the conception of an enclosed theatre of war, has a nearer relation +to the defence than to the attack. Many of the leading points, <i>the object of +attack, the sphere of action of victory</i>, etc., have been already treated of +in that book, and that which is most decisive and essential on the nature of +the attack, cannot be made to appear until we get to the plan of war: still +there remains a good deal to say here, and we shall again commence with the +campaign, <i>in which a great decision is positively intended</i>. +</p> + +<p> +1. The first aim of the attack is a victory. To all the advantages which the +defender finds in the nature of his situation, the assailant can only oppose +superior numbers; and, perhaps, in addition, the slight advantage which the +feeling of being the offensive and advancing side gives an army. The importance +of this feeling, however, is generally overrated; for it does not last long, +and will not hold out against real difficulties. Of course, we assume that the +defender is as faultless and judicious in all he does as the aggressor. Our +object in this observation is to set aside those vague ideas of sudden attack +and surprise, which, in the attack, are generally assumed to be fertile sources +of victory, and which yet, in reality, never occur except under special +circumstances. The nature of the real strategic surprise, we have already +spoken of elsewhere.—If, then, the attack is inferior in physical power, +it must have the ascendancy in moral power, in order to make up for the +disadvantages which are inherent in the offensive form; if the superiority in +that way is also wanting, then there are no good grounds for the attack, and it +will not succeed. +</p> + +<p> +2. As prudence is the real genius of the defender, so boldness and +self-confidence must animate the assailant. We do not mean that the opposite +qualities in each case may be altogether wanting, but that the qualities named +have the greatest affinity to the attack and defence respectively. These +qualities are only in reality necessary because action in war is no mere +mathematical calculation; it is activity which is carried on if not in the +dark, at all events in a feeble twilight, in which we must trust ourselves to +the leader who is best suited to carry out the aim we have in view.—The +weaker the defender shows himself morally, the bolder the assailant should +become. +</p> + +<p> +3. For victory, it is necessary that there should be a battle between the +enemy’s principal force and our own. This is less doubtful as regards the +attack than in regard to the defence, for the assailant goes in search of the +defender in his position. But we have maintained (in treating of the defensive) +that the offensive should not seek the defender out if he has placed himself in +a <i>false</i> position, because he may be sure that the defender will seek +<i>him</i> out, and then he will have the advantage of fighting where the +defender has not prepared the ground. Here all depends on the road and +direction which have the greatest importance; this is a point which was not +examined in the defence, being reserved for the present chapter. We shall, +therefore, say what is necessary about it here. +</p> + +<p> +4. We have already pointed out those objects to which the attack should be more +immediately directed, and which, therefore, are the ends to be obtained by +victory; now, if these are within the theatre of war which is attacked, and +within the probable sphere of victory, then the road to them is the natural +direction of the blow to be struck. But we must not forget that the object of +the attack does not generally obtain its signification until victory has been +gained, and therefore the mind must always embrace the idea of victory with it; +the principal consideration for the assailant is, therefore, not so much merely +to reach the object as to reach it a conqueror; therefore the direction of his +blow should be not so much on the object itself as on the way which the +enemy’s army must take to reach it. This way is the immediate object of +the attack. To fall in with the enemy before he has reached this object, to cut +him off from it, and in that position to beat him—to do this is to gain +an intensified victory.—If, for example, the enemy’s capital is the +object of the attack, and the defender has not placed himself between it and +the assailant, the latter would be wrong in marching direct upon the capital, +he would do much better by taking his direction upon the line connecting the +defender’s army with the capital, and seeking there the victory which +shall place the capital in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +If there is no great object within the assailant’s sphere of victory, +then the enemy’s line of communication with the nearest great object to +him is the point of paramount importance. The question, then, for every +assailant to ask himself is, If I am successful in the battle, what is the +first use I shall make of the victory? The object to be gained, as indicated by +the answer to this question, shows the natural direction for his blow. If the +defender has placed himself in that direction, he has done right, and there is +nothing to do but to go and look for him there. If his position is too strong, +then the assailant must seek to turn it, that is, make a virtue of necessity. +But if the defender has not placed himself on this right spot, then the +assailant chooses that direction, and as soon as he comes in line with the +defender, if the latter has not in the mean time made a lateral movement, and +placed himself across his path, he should turn himself in the direction of the +defender’s line of communication in order to seek an action there; if the +defender remains quite stationary, then the assailant must wheel round towards +him and attack him in rear. +</p> + +<p> +Of all the roads amongst which the assailant has a choice, the great roads +which serve the commerce of the country are always the best and the most +natural to choose. To avoid any very great bends, more direct roads, even if +smaller, must be chosen, for a line of retreat which deviates much from a +direct line is always perilous. +</p> + +<p> +5. The assailant, when he sets out with a view to a great decision, has seldom +any reason for dividing his forces, and if, notwithstanding this, he does so, +it generally proceeds from a want of clear views. He should therefore only +advance with his columns on such a width of front as will admit of their all +coming into action together. If the enemy himself has divided his forces, so +much the better for the assailant, and to preserve this further advantage small +demonstrations should be made against the enemy’s corps which have +separated from the main body; these are the strategic <i>fausses attaques;</i> +a detachment of forces <i>for this purpose</i> would then be justifiable. +</p> + +<p> +Such separation into several columns as is indispensably necessary must be made +use of for the disposition of the tactical attack in the enveloping form, for +that form is natural to the attack, and must not be disregarded without good +reason. But it must be only of a tactical nature, for a strategic envelopment +when a great blow takes place, is a complete waste of power. It can only be +excused when the assailant is so strong that there can be no doubt at all about +the result. +</p> + +<p> +6. But the attack requires also prudence, for the assailant has also a rear, +and has communications which must be protected. This service of protection must +be performed as far as possible by the manner in which the army advances, that +is, <i>eo ipso</i> by the army itself. If a force must be specially detailed +for this duty, and therefore a partition of forces is required, this cannot but +naturally weaken the force of the blow itself.—As a large army is always +in the habit of advancing with a front of a day’s march at least in +breadth, therefore, if the lines of retreat and communication do not deviate +much from the perpendicular, the covering of those lines is in most cases +attained by the front of the army. +</p> + +<p> +Dangers of this description, to which the assailant is exposed, must be +measured chiefly by the situation and character of the adversary. When +everything lies under the pressure of an imminent great decision, there is +little room for the defender to engage in undertakings of this description; the +assailant has, therefore, in ordinary circumstances not much to fear. But if +the advance is over, if the assailant himself is gradually passing into the +defensive, then the covering of the rear becomes every moment more necessary, +becomes more a thing of the first importance. For the rear of the assailant +being naturally weaker than that of the defender, therefore the latter, long +before he passes over to the real offensive, and even at the same time that he +is yielding ground, may have commenced to operate against the communications of +the assailant. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap111"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/>Attack on a Theatre of War without the View to a Great Decision</h3> + +<p> +1. Although there is neither the will nor the power sufficient for a great +decision, there may still exist a decided view in a strategic attack, but it is +directed against some secondary object. If the attack succeeds, then, with the +attainment of this object the whole falls again into a state of rest and +equilibrium. If difficulties to a certain extent present themselves, the +general progress of the attack comes to a standstill before the object is +gained. Then in its place commences a mere occasional offensive or strategic +manœuvring. This is the character of most campaigns. +</p> + +<p> +2. The objects which may be the aim of an offensive of this description +are:— +</p> + +<p> +(<i>a.</i>) <i>A strip of territory;</i> gain in means of subsistence, perhaps +contributions, sparing our own territory, equivalents in negotiations for +peace—such are the advantages to be derived from this procedure. +Sometimes an idea of the credit of the army is attached to it, as was +perpetually the case in the wars of the French Marshals in the time of Louis +XIV. It makes a very important difference whether a portion of territory can be +kept or not. In general, the first is the case only when the territory is on +the edge of our own theatre of war, and forms a natural complement of it. Only +such portions come into consideration as an equivalent in negotiating a peace, +others are usually only taken possession of for the duration of a campaign, and +to be evacuated when winter begins. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>b.</i>) <i>One of the enemy’s principal magazines</i>. If it is not +one of considerable importance, it can hardly be looked upon as the object of +an offensive determining a whole campaign. It certainly in itself is a loss to +the defender, and a gain to the assailant; the great advantage, however, from +it for the latter, is that the loss may compel the defender to retire a little +and give up a strip of territory which he would otherwise have kept. The +capture of a magazine is therefore in reality more a means, and is only spoken +of here as an object, because, until captured, it becomes, for the time being, +the immediate definite aim of action. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>c.</i>) <i>The capture of a fortress.</i>—We have made the siege of +fortresses the subject of a separate chapter, to which we refer our readers. +For the reasons there explained, it is easy to conceive how it is that +fortresses always constitute the best and most desirable objects in those +offensive wars and campaigns in which views cannot be directed to the complete +overthrow of the enemy or the conquest of an important part of his territory. +We may also easily understand how it is that in the wars in the Low Countries, +where fortresses are so abundant, everything has always turned on the +possession of one or other of these fortresses, so much so, that the successive +conquests of whole provinces <i>never once appear as leading features;</i> +while, on the other hand, each of these strong places used to be regarded as a +separate thing, which had an intrinsic value in itself, and more attention was +paid to the convenience and facility with which it could be attacked than to +the value of the place itself. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, the attack of a place of some importance is always a great +undertaking, because it causes a very large expenditure; and, in wars in which +the whole is not staked at once on the game, this is a matter which ought to be +very much considered. Therefore, such a siege takes its place here as one of +the most important objects of a strategic attack. The more unimportant a place +is, or the less earnestness there is about the siege, the smaller the +preparations for it, the more it is done as a thing <i>en passant</i>, so much +the smaller also will be the strategic object, and the more it will be a +service fit for small forces and limited views; and the whole thing then often +sinks into a kind of sham fight, in order to close the campaign with honour, +because as assailant it is incumbent to do something. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>d.</i>) <i>A successful combat, encounter, or even battle</i>, for the sake +of trophies, or merely for the honour of the arms, sometimes even for the mere +ambition of the commanders. That this does happen no one can doubt, unless he +knows nothing at all of military history. In the campaigns of the French during +the reign of Louis XIV., the most of the offensive battles were of this kind. +But what is of more importance for us is to observe that these things are not +without objective value, they are not the mere pastime of vanity; they have a +very distinct influence on peace, and therefore lead as it were direct to the +object. The military fame, the moral superiority of the army and of the +general, are things, the influence of which, although unseen, never ceases to +bear upon the whole action in war. +</p> + +<p> +The aim of such a combat of course presupposes; (<i>a</i>) that there is an +adequate prospect of victory, (<i>b</i>) that there is not a very heavy stake +dependent on the issue.—Such a battle fought in straitened relations, and +with a limited object, must naturally not be confounded with a victory which is +not turned to profitable account merely from moral weakness. +</p> + +<p> +3. With the exception of the last of these objects (<i>d</i>) they may all be +attained without a combat of importance, and generally they are so obtained by +the offensive. Now, the means which the assailant has at command without +resorting to a decisive battle, are derived from the interests which the +defensive has to protect in his theatre of war; they consist, therefore, in +threatening his lines of communications, either through objects connected with +subsistence, as magazines, fertile provinces, water communications, etc., or +important points (bridges, defiles, and such like,) or also by placing other +corps in the occupation of strong positions situated inconveniently near to him +and from which he cannot again drive us out; the seizure of important towns, +fertile districts, disturbed parts of the country, which may be excited to +rebellion, the threatening of weak allies, etc., etc. Should the attack +effectually interrupt the communications, and in such a manner that the +defender cannot re-establish them but at a great sacrifice, it compels the +defender to take up another position more to the rear or to a flank to cover +the objects, at the same time giving up objects of secondary importance. Thus a +strip of territory is left open; a magazine or a fortress uncovered: the one +exposed to be overrun, the other to be invested. Out of this, combats greater +or less may arise, but in such case they are not sought for and treated as an +object of the war but as a necessary evil, and can never exceed a certain +degree of greatness and importance. +</p> + +<p> +4. The operation of the defensive on the communications of the offensive, is a +kind of reaction which in wars waged for the great solution, can only take +place when the lines of operation are very long; on the other hand, this kind +of reaction lies more in accordance with the nature of things in wars which are +not aimed at the great solution. The enemy’s lines of communication are +seldom very long in such a case; but then, neither is it here so much a +question of inflicting great losses of this description on the enemy, a mere +impeding and cutting short his means of subsistence often produces an effect, +and what the lines want in length is made up for in some degree by the length +of time which can be expended in this kind of contest with the enemy: for this +reason, the covering his strategic flanks becomes an important object for the +assailant. If, therefore, a contest (or rivalry) of this description takes +place between the assailant and defender, then the assailant must seek to +compensate by numbers for his natural disadvantages. If he retains sufficient +power and resolution still to venture a decisive stroke against one of the +enemy’s corps, or against the enemy’s main body itself, the danger +which he thus holds over the head of his opponent is his best means of covering +himself. +</p> + +<p> +5. In conclusion, we must notice another great advantage which the assailant +certainly has over the defender in wars of this kind, which is that of being +better able to judge of the intentions and force of his adversary than the +latter can in turn of his. It is much more difficult to discover in what degree +an assailant is enterprising and bold than when the defender has something of +consequence in his mind. Practically viewed, there usually lies already in the +choice of the defensive form of war a sort of guarantee that nothing positive +is intended; besides this, the preparations for a great reaction differ much +more from the ordinary preparations for defence than the preparations for a +great attack differ from those directed against minor objects. Finally, the +defender is obliged to take his measures soonest of the two, which gives the +assailant the advantage of playing the last hand. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap112"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>Attack on Fortresses</h3> + +<p> +The attack on fortresses cannot of course come before us here in its aspect as +a branch of the science of fortification or military works; we have only to +consider the subject, first, in its relation to the strategic object with which +it is connected; secondly, as regards the choice among several fortresses; and +thirdly, as regards the manner in which a siege should be covered. +</p> + +<p> +That the loss of a fortress weakens the defence, especially in case it forms an +essential part of that defence; that many conveniences accrue to the assailant +by gaining possession of one, inasmuch as he can use it for magazines and +depôts, and by means of it can cover districts of country cantonments, etc.; +that if his offensive at last should have to be changed into the defensive, it +forms the very best support for that defensive—all these relations which +fortresses bear to theatres of war, in the course of a war, make themselves +sufficiently evident by what has been said about fortresses in the book on the +Defence, the reflection from which throws all the light required on these +relations with the attack. +</p> + +<p> +In relation to the taking of strong places, there is also a great difference +between campaigns which tend to a great decision and others. In the first, a +conquest of this description is always to be regarded as an evil which is +unavoidable. As long as there is yet a decision to be made, we undertake no +sieges but such as are positively unavoidable. When the decision has been +already given—the crisis, the utmost tension of forces, some time +passed—and when, therefore, a state of rest has commenced, then the +capture of strong places serves as a consolidation of the conquests made, and +then they can generally be carried out, if not without effort and expenditure +of force, at least without danger. In the crisis itself the siege of a fortress +heightens the intensity of the crisis to the prejudice of the offensive; it is +evident that nothing so much weakens the force of the offensive, and therefore +there is nothing so certain to rob it of its preponderance for a season. But +there are cases in which the capture of this or that fortress is quite +unavoidable, if the offensive is to be continued, and in such case a siege is +to be considered as an intensified progress of the attack; the crisis will be +so much greater the less there has been decided previously. All that remains +now for consideration on this subject belongs to the book on the plan of the +war. +</p> + +<p> +In campaigns with a limited object, a fortress is generally not the means but +the end itself; it is regarded as a small independent conquest, and as such has +the following advantages over every other:— +</p> + +<p> +1. That a fortress is a small, distinctly-defined conquest, which does not +require a further expenditure of force, and therefore gives no cause to fear a +reaction. +</p> + +<p> +2. That in negotiating for peace, its value as an equivalent may be turned to +account. +</p> + +<p> +3. That a siege is a real progress of the attack, or at least seems so, without +constantly diminishing the force like every other advance of the offensive. +</p> + +<p> +4. That the siege is an enterprise without a catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +The result of these things is that the capture of one or more of the +enemy’s strong places, is very frequently the object of those strategic +attacks which cannot aim at any higher object. +</p> + +<p> +The grounds which decide the choice of the fortress which should be attacked, +in case that may be doubtful, generally are— +</p> + +<p> +(<i>a</i>) That it is one which can be easily kept, therefore stands high in +value as an equivalent in case of negotiations for peace. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>b</i>) That the means of taking it are at hand. Small means are only +sufficient to take small places; but it is better to take a small one than to +fail before a large one. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>c</i>) Its strength in engineering respects, which obviously is not always +in proportion to its importance in other respects. Nothing is more absurd than +to waste forces before a very strong place of little importance, if a place of +less strength may be made the object of attack. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>d</i>) The strength of the armament and of the garrison as well. If a +fortress is weakly armed and insufficiently garrisoned, its capture must +naturally be easier; but here we must observe that the strength of the garrison +and armament, are to be reckoned amongst those things which make up the total +importance of the place, because garrison and armaments are directly parts of +the enemy’s military strength, which cannot be said in the same measure +of works of fortification. The conquest of a fortress with a strong garrison +can, therefore, much more readily repay the sacrifice it costs than one with +very strong works. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>e</i>) The facility of moving the siege train. Most sieges fail for want of +means, and the means are generally wanting from the difficulty attending their +transport. Eugene’s siege of Landreci, 1712, and Frederick the +Great’s siege of Olmütz, 1758, are very remarkable instances in point. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>f</i>) Lastly, there remains the facility of covering the siege as a point +now to be considered. +</p> + +<p> +There are two essentially different ways by which a siege may be covered: by +entrenching the besieging force, that is, by a line of circumvallation, and by +what is called lines of observation. The first of these methods has gone quite +out of fashion, although evidently one important point speaks in its favour, +namely, that by this method the force of the assailant does not suffer by +division exactly that weakening which is so generally found a great +disadvantage at sieges. But we grant there is still a weakening in another way, +to a very considerable degree, because— +</p> + +<p> +1. The position round the fortress, as a rule, is of too great extent for the +strength of the army. +</p> + +<p> +2. The garrison, the strength of which, added to that of the relieving army, +would only make up the force originally opposed to us, <i>under these +circumstances</i> is to be looked upon as an enemy’s corps in the middle +of our camp, which, protected by its walls, is <i>invulnerable</i>, or at least +not to be overpowered, by which its power is immensely increased. +</p> + +<p> +3. The defence of a line of circumvallation admits of nothing but the most +absolute defensive, because the circular order, facing outwards, is the weakest +and most disadvantageous of all possible orders of battle, and is particularly +unfavourable to any advantageous counter-attacks. There is no alternative, in +fact, but to defend ourselves to the last extremity within the entrenchments. +That these circumstances may cause a greater diminution of the army than +one-third which, perhaps, would be occasioned by forming an army of +observation, is easy to conceive. If, added to that, we now think of the +general preference which has existed since the time of Frederick the Great for +the offensive, as it is called, (but which, in reality, is not always so) for +movements and manœuvres, and the aversion to entrenchments, we shall not wonder +at lines of circumvallation having gone quite out of fashion. But this +weakening of the tactical resistance is by no means its only disadvantage; and +we have only reckoned up the prejudices which forced themselves into the +judgment on the lines of circumvallation next in order after that disadvantage, +because they are nearly akin to each other. A line of circumvallation only in +reality covers that portion of the theatre of war which it actually encloses; +all the rest is more or less given up to the enemy if special detachments are +not made use of to cover it, in which way the very partition of force which it +was intended to obviate takes place. Thus the besieging army will be always in +anxiety and embarrassment on account of the convoys which it requires, and the +covering the same by lines of circumvallation, is not to be thought of if the +army and the siege supplies required are considerable, and the enemy is in the +field in strong force, unless under such conditions as are found in the +Netherlands, where there is a whole system of fortresses lying close to each +other, and intermediate lines connecting them, which cover the rest of the +theatre of war, and considerably shorten the lines by which transport can be +affected. In the time of Louis the Fourteenth the conception of a theatre of +war had not yet bound itself up with the position of an army. In the Thirty +Years’ War particularly, the armies moved here and there sporadically +before this or that fortress, in the neighbourhood of which there was no +enemy’s corps at all, and besieged it as long as the siege equipment they +had brought with them lasted, and until an enemy’s army approached to +relieve the place. Then lines of circumvallation had their foundation in the +nature of circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +In future it is not likely they will be often used again, unless where the +enemy in the field is very weak, or the conception of the theatre of war +vanishes before that of the siege. Then it will be natural to keep all the +forces united in the siege, as a siege by that means unquestionably gains in +energy in a high degree. +</p> + +<p> +The lines of circumvallation in the reign of Louis XIV., at Cambray and +Valenciennes, were of little use, as the former were stormed by Turenne, +opposed to Condé, the latter by Condé opposed to Turenne; but we must not +overlook the endless number of other cases in which they were respected, even +when there existed in the place the most urgent need for relief; and when the +commander on the defensive side was a man of great enterprise, as in 1708, when +Villars did not venture to attack the allies in their lines at Lille. Frederick +the Great at Olmütz, 1758, and at Dresden, 1760, although he had no regular +lines of circumvallation, had a system which in all essentials was identical; +he used the same army to carry on the siege, and also as a covering army. The +distance of the Austrian army induced him to adopt this plan at Olmütz, but the +loss of his convoy at Domstädtel made him repent it; at Dresden in 1760 the +motives which led him to this mode of proceeding, were his contempt for the +German States’ imperial army, and his desire to take Dresden as soon as +possible. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, it is a disadvantage in lines of circumvallation, that in case of a +reverse it is more difficult to save the siege train. If a defeat is sustained +at a distance of one or more days’ march from the place besieged, the +siege may be raised before the enemy can arrive, and the heavy trains may, in +the mean time, gain also a day’s march. +</p> + +<p> +In taking up a position for an army of observation, an important question to be +considered is the distance at which it should be placed from the besieged +place. This question will, in most cases, be decided by the nature of the +country, or by the position of other armies or corps with which the besiegers +have to remain in communication. In other respects, it is easy to see that, +with a greater distance, the siege is better covered, but that by a smaller +distance, not exceeding a few miles, the two armies are better able to afford +each other mutual support. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap113"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>Attack on Convoys</h3> + +<p> +The attack and defence of a convoy form a subject of tactics: we should, +therefore, have nothing to say upon the subject here if it was not necessary, +first, to demonstrate generally, to a certain extent, the possibility of the +thing, which can only be done from strategic motives and relations. We should +have had to speak of it in this respect before when treating of the defence, +had it not been that the little which can be said about it can easily be framed +to suit for both attack and defence, while at the same time the first plays the +higher part in connection with it. +</p> + +<p> +A moderate convoy of three or four hundred wagons, let the load be what it may, +takes up half a mile, a large convoy is several miles in length. Now, how is it +possible to expect that the few troops usually allotted to a convoy will +suffice for its defence? If to this difficulty we add the unwieldy nature of +this mass, which can only advance at the slowest pace, and which, besides, is +always liable to be thrown into disorder, and lastly, that every part of a +convoy must be equally protected, because the moment that one part is attacked +by the enemy, the whole is brought to a stop, and thrown into a state of +confusion, we may well ask,—how can the covering and defence of such a +train be possible at all? Or, in other words, why are not all convoys taken +when they are attacked, and why are not all attacked which require an escort, +or, which is the same thing, all that come within reach of the enemy? It is +plain that all tactical expedients, such as Templehof’s most +impracticable scheme of constantly halting and assembling the convoy at short +distances, and then moving off afresh: and the much better plan of Scharnhorst, +of breaking up the convoy into several columns, are only slight correctives of +a radical evil. +</p> + +<p> +The explanation consists in this, that by far the greater number of convoys +derive more security from the strategic situation in general, than any other +parts exposed to the attacks of the enemy, which bestows on their limited means +of defence a very much increased efficacy. Convoys generally move more or less +in rear of their own army, or, at least, at a great distance from that of the +enemy. The consequence is, that only weak detachments can be sent to attack +them, and these are obliged to cover themselves by strong reserves. Added to +this the unwieldiness itself of the carriages used, makes it very difficult to +carry them off; the assailant must therefore, in general, content himself with +cutting the traces, taking away the horses, and blowing up powder-wagons, by +which the whole is certainly detained and thrown into disorder, but not +completely lost; by all this we may perceive, that the security of such trains +lies more in these general relations than in the defensive power of its escort. +If now to all this we add the defence of the escort, which, although it cannot +by marching resolutely against the enemy directly cover the convoy, is still +able to derange the plan of the enemy’s attack; then, at last, the attack +of a convoy, instead of appearing easy and sure of success, will appear rather +difficult, and very uncertain in its result. +</p> + +<p> +But there remains still a chief point, which is the danger of the enemy’s +army, or one of its corps, retaliating on the assailants of its convoy, and +punishing it ultimately for the undertaking by defeating it. The apprehension +of this, puts a stop to many undertakings, without the real cause ever +appearing; so that the safety of the convoy is attributed to the escort, and +people wonder how a miserable arrangement, such as an escort, should meet with +such respect. In order to feel the truth of this observation, we have only to +think of the famous retreat which Frederick the Great made through Bohemia +after the siege of Olmütz, 1758, when the half of his army was broken into a +column of companies to cover a convoy of 4,000 carriages. What prevented Daun +from falling on this monstrosity? The fear that Frederick would throw himself +upon him with the other half of his army, and entangle him in a battle which +Daun did not desire; what prevented Laudon, who was constantly at the side of +that convoy, from falling upon it at Zischbowitz sooner and more boldly than he +did? The fear that he would get a rap over the knuckles. Ten miles from his +main army, and completely separated from it by the Prussian army, he thought +himself in danger of a serious defeat if the king, who had no reason at that +time to be concerned about Daun, should fall upon him with the bulk of his +forces. +</p> + +<p> +It is only if the strategic situation of an army involves it in the unnatural +necessity of connecting itself with its convoys by the flank or by its front +that then these convoys are really in great danger, and become an advantageous +object of attack for the enemy, if his position allows him to detach troops for +that purpose. The same campaign of 1758 affords an instance of the most +complete success of an undertaking of this description, in the capture of the +convoy at Domstädtel. The road to Neiss lay on the left flank of the Prussian +position, and the king’s forces were so neutralised by the siege and by +the corps watching Daun, that the partizans had no reason to be uneasy about +themselves, and were able to make their attack completely at their ease. +</p> + +<p> +When Eugene besieged Landrecy in 1712, he drew his supplies for the siege from +Bouchain by Denain; therefore, in reality, from the front of the strategic +position. It is well known what means he was obliged to use to overcome the +difficulty of protecting his convoys on that occasion, and in what +embarrassments he involved himself, ending in a complete change of +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +The conclusion we draw, therefore, is that however easy an attack on a convoy +may appear in its tactical aspect, still it has not much in its favour on +strategic grounds, and only promises important results in the exceptional +instances of lines of communication very much exposed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap114"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/>Attack on the Enemy’s Army in its Cantonments</h3> + +<p> +We have not treated of this subject in the defence, because a line of +cantonments is not to be regarded as a defensive means, but as a mere existence +of the army in a state which implies little readiness for battle. In respect to +this readiness for battle, we therefore did not go beyond what we required to +say in connection with this condition of an army in the 13th chapter of the 5th +book. +</p> + +<p> +But here, in considering the attack, we have to think of an enemy’s army +in cantonments in all respects as a special object; for, in the first place, +such an attack is of a very peculiar kind in itself; and, in the next place, it +may be considered as a strategic means of particular efficacy. Here we have +before us, therefore, not the question of an onslaught on a single cantonment +or a small corps dispersed amongst a few villages, as the arrangements for that +are entirely of a tactical nature, but of the attack of a large army, +distributed in cantonments more or less extensive; an attack in which the +object is not the mere surprise of a single cantonment, but to prevent the +assembly of the army. +</p> + +<p> +The attack on an enemy’s army in cantonments is therefore the surprise of +an army not assembled. If this surprise succeeds fully, then the enemy’s +army is prevented from reaching its appointed place of assembly, and, +therefore, compelled to choose another more to the rear; as this change of the +point of assembly to the rear in a state of such emergency can seldom be +effected in less than a day’s march, but generally will require several +days, the loss of ground which this occasions is by no means an insignificant +loss; and this is the first advantage gained by the assailant. +</p> + +<p> +But now, this surprise which is in connection with the general relations, may +certainly at the same time, in its commencement, be an onslaught on some of the +enemy’s single cantonments, not certainly upon all, or upon a great many, +because that would suppose a scattering of the attacking army to an extent +which could never be advisable. Therefore, only the most advanced quarters, +only those which lie in the direction of the attacking columns, can be +surprised, and even this will seldom happen to many of them, as large forces +cannot easily approach unobserved. However, this element of the attack is by no +means to be disregarded; and we reckon the advantages which may be thus +obtained, as the second advantage of the surprise. +</p> + +<p> +A third advantage consists in the minor combats forced upon the enemy in which +his losses will be considerable. A great body of troops does not assemble +itself at once by single battalions at the spot appointed for the general +concentration of the army, but usually forms itself by brigades, divisions, or +corps, in the first place, and these masses cannot then hasten at full speed to +the rendezvous; in case of meeting with an enemy’s column in their +course, they are obliged to engage in a combat; now, they may certainly come +off victorious in the same, particularly if the enemy’s attacking column +is not of sufficient strength, but in conquering, they lose time, and, in most +cases, as may be easily conceived, a corps, under such circumstances, and in +the general tendency to gain a point which lies to the rear, will not make any +beneficial use of its victory. On the other hand, they may be beaten, and that +is the most probable issue in itself, because they have not time to organise a +good resistance. We may, therefore, very well suppose that in an attack well +planned and executed, the assailant through these partial combats will gather +up a considerable number of trophies, which become a principal point in the +general result. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, the fourth advantage, and the keystone of the whole, is a certain +momentary disorganisation and discouragement on the side of the enemy, which, +when the force is at last assembled, seldom allows of its being immediately +brought into action, and generally obliges the party attacked to abandon still +more ground to his assailant, and to make a change generally in his plan of +operations. +</p> + +<p> +Such are the proper results of a successful surprise of the enemy in +cantonments, that is, of one in which the enemy is prevented from assembling +his army without loss at the point fixed in his plan. But by the nature of the +case, success has many degrees; and, therefore, the results may be very great +in one case, and hardly worth mentioning in another. But even when, through the +complete success of the enterprise, these results are considerable, they will +seldom bear comparison with the gain of a great battle, partly because, in the +first place, the trophies are seldom as great, and in the next, the moral +impression never strikes so deep. +</p> + +<p> +This general result must always be kept in view, that we may not promise +ourselves more from an enterprise of this kind than it can give. Many hold it +to be the <i>non plus ultra</i> of offensive activity; but it is not so by any +means, as we may see from this analysis, as well as from military history. +</p> + +<p> +One of the most brilliant surprises in history, is that made by the Duke of +Lorraine in 1643, on the cantonments of the French, under General Ranzan, at +Duttlingen. The corps was 16,000 men, and they lost the General commanding, and +7,000 men; it was a complete defeat. The want of outposts was the cause of the +disaster. +</p> + +<p> +The surprise of Turenne at Mergentheim (Mariendal, as the French call it,) in +1644, is in like manner to be regarded as equal to a defeat in its effects, for +he lost 3,000 men out of 8,000, which was principally owing to his having been +led into making an untimely stand after he got his men assembled. Such results +we cannot, therefore, often reckon upon; it was rather the result of an +ill-judged action than of the surprise, properly speaking, for Turenne might +easily have avoided the action, and have rallied his troops upon those in more +distant quarters. +</p> + +<p> +A third noted surprise is that which Turenne made on the Allies under the great +Elector, the Imperial General Bournonville and the Duke of Lorraine, in Alsace, +in the year 1674. The trophies were very small, the loss of the Allies did not +exceed 2,000 or 3,000 men, which could not decide the fate of a force of +50,000; but the Allies considered that they could not venture to make any +further resistance in Alsace, and retired across the Rhine again. This +strategic result was all that Turenne wanted, but we must not look for the +causes of it entirely in the surprise. Turenne surprised the plans of his +opponents more than the troops themselves; the want of unanimity amongst the +allied generals and the proximity of the Rhine did the rest. This event +altogether deserves a closer examination, as it is generally viewed in a wrong +light. +</p> + +<p> +In 1741, Neipperg surprised Frederick the Great in his quarters; the whole of +the result was that the king was obliged to fight the battle of Mollwitz before +he had collected all his forces, and with a change of front. +</p> + +<p> +In 1745, Frederick the Great surprised the Duke of Lorraine in his cantonments +in Lusatia; the chief success was through the real surprise of one of the most +important quarters, that of Hennersdorf, by which the Austrians suffered a loss +of 2,000 men; the general result was that the Duke of Lorraine retreated to +Bohemia by Upper Lusatia, but that did not at all prevent his returning into +Saxony by the left bank of the Elbe, so that without the battle of Kesselsdorf, +there would have been no important result. +</p> + +<p> +1758. The Duke Ferdinand surprised the French quarters; the immediate result +was that the French lost some thousands of men, and were obliged to take up a +position behind the Aller. The moral effect may have been of more importance, +and may have had some influence on the subsequent evacuation of Westphalia. +</p> + +<p> +If from these different examples we seek for a conclusion as to the efficacy of +this kind of attack, then only the two first can be put in comparison with a +battle gained. But the corps were only small, and the want of outposts in the +system of war in those days was a circumstance greatly in favour of these +enterprises. Although the four other cases must be reckoned completely +successful enterprises, it is plain that not one of them is to be compared with +a battle gained as respects its result. The general result could not have taken +place in any of them except with an adversary weak in will and character, and +therefore it did not take place at all in the case of 1741. +</p> + +<p> +In 1806 the Prussian army contemplated surprising the French in this manner in +Franconia. The case promised well for a satisfactory result. Buonaparte was not +present, the French corps were in widely extended cantonments; under these +circumstances, the Prussian army, acting with great resolution and activity, +might very well reckon on driving the French back across the Rhine, with more +or less loss. But this was also all; if they reckoned upon more, for instance, +on following up their advantages beyond the Rhine, or on gaining such a moral +ascendancy, that the French would not again venture to appear on the right bank +of the river in the same campaign, such an expectation had no sufficient +grounds whatever. +</p> + +<p> +In the beginning of August, 1812, the Russians from Smolensk meditated falling +upon the cantonments of the French when Napoleon halted his army in the +neighbourhood of Witepsk. But they wanted courage to carry out the enterprise; +and it was fortunate for them they did; for as the French commander with his +centre was not only more than twice the strength of their centre, but also in +himself the most resolute commander that ever lived, as further, the loss of a +few miles of ground would have decided nothing, and there was no natural +obstacle in any feature of the country near enough up to which they might +pursue their success, and by that means, in some measure make it certain, and +lastly, as the war of the year 1812 was not in any way a campaign of that kind, +which draws itself in a languid way to a conclusion, but the serious plan of an +assailant who had made up his mind to conquer his opponent +completely,—therefore the trifling results to be expected from a surprise +of the enemy in his quarters, appear nothing else than utterly disproportionate +to the solution of the problem, they could not justify a hope of making good by +their means the great inequality of forces and other relations. But this scheme +serves to show how a confused idea of the effect of this means may lead to an +entirely false application of the same. +</p> + +<p> +What has been hitherto said, places the subject in the light of a <i>strategic +means</i>. But it lies in its nature that its execution also is not purely +tactical, but in part belongs again to strategy so far, particularly that such +an attack is generally made on a front of considerable width, and the army +which carries it out can, and generally will, come to blows before it is +concentrated, so that the whole is an agglomeration of partial combats. We must +now add a few words on the most natural organisation of such an attack. +</p> + +<p> +The first condition is:— +</p> + +<p> +(1.) To attack the front of the enemy’s quarters in a certain width of +front, for that is the only means by which we can really surprise several +cantonments, cut off others, and create generally that disorganisation in the +enemy’s army which is intended.—The number of, and the intervals +between, the columns must depend on circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +(2.) The direction of the different columns must converge upon a point where it +is intended they should unite; for the enemy ends more or less with a +concentration of his force, and therefore we must do the same. This point of +concentration should, if possible, be the enemy’s point of assembly, or +lie on his line of retreat, it will naturally be best where that line crosses +an important obstacle in the country. +</p> + +<p> +(3.) The separate columns when they come in contact with the enemy’s +forces must attack them with great determination, with dash and boldness, as +they have general relations in their favour, and daring is always there in its +right place. From this it follows that the commanders of the separate columns +must be allowed freedom of action and full power in this respect. +</p> + +<p> +(4.) The tactical plan of attack against those of the enemy’s corps that +are the first to place themselves in position, must always be directed to turn +a flank, for the greatest result is always to be expected by separating the +corps, and cutting them off. +</p> + +<p> +(5.) Each of the columns must be composed of portions of the three arms, and +must not be stinted in cavalry, it may even sometimes be well to divide amongst +them the whole of the reserve cavalry; for it would be a great mistake to +suppose that this body of cavalry could play any great part in a mass in an +enterprise of this sort. The first village, the smallest bridge, the most +insignificant thicket would bring it to a halt. +</p> + +<p> +(6.) Although it lies in the nature of a surprise that the assailant should not +send his advanced guard very far in front, that principle only applies to the +first approach to the enemy’s quarters. When the fight has commenced in +the enemy’s quarters, and therefore all that was to be expected from +actual surprise has been gained, then the columns of the advanced guard of all +arms should push on as far as possible, for they may greatly increase the +confusion on the side of the enemy by more rapid movement. It is only by this +means that it becomes possible to carry off here and there the mass of baggage, +artillery, non-effectives, and camp-followers, which have to be dragged after a +cantonment suddenly broken up, and these advanced guards must also be the chief +instruments in turning and cutting off the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +(7.) Finally, the retreat in case of ill-success must be thought of, and a +rallying point be fixed upon beforehand. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap115"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/>Diversion</h3> + +<p> +According to the ordinary use of language, under the term diversion is +understood such an incursion into the enemy’s country as draws off a +portion of his force from the principal point. It is only when this is the +chief end in view, and not the gain of the object which is selected as the +point of attack, that it is an enterprise of a special character, otherwise it +is only an ordinary attack. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally the diversion must at the same time always have an object of attack, +for it is only the value of this object that will induce the enemy to send +troops for its protection; besides, in case the undertaking does not succeed as +a diversion, this object is a compensation for the forces expended in the +attempt. +</p> + +<p> +These objects of attack may be fortresses, or important magazines, or rich and +large towns, especially capital cities, contributions of all kinds; lastly, +assistance may be afforded in this way to discontented subjects of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to conceive that diversions may be useful, but they certainly are +not so always; on the contrary, they are just as often injurious. The chief +condition is that they should withdraw from the principal theatre of the war +more of the enemy’s troops than we employ on the diversion; for if they +only succeed in drawing off just the same number, then their efficacy as +diversions, properly called, ceases, and the undertaking becomes a mere +subordinate attack. Even where, on account of circumstances, we have in view to +attain a very great end with a very small force, as, for instance, to make an +easy capture of an important fortress, and another attack is made adjoining to +the principal attack, to assist the latter, that is no longer a diversion. When +two states are at war, and a third falls upon one of them, such an event is +very commonly called a diversion—but such an attack differs in nothing +from an ordinary attack except in its direction; there is, therefore, no +occasion to give it a particular name, for in theory it should be a rule only +to denote by particular names such things as are in their nature distinct. +</p> + +<p> +But if small forces are to attract large ones, there must obviously be some +special cause, and, therefore, for the object of a diversion it is not +sufficient merely to detach some troops to a point not hitherto occupied. +</p> + +<p> +If the assailant with a small corps of 1000 men overruns one of his +enemy’s provinces, not belonging to the theatre of war, and levies +contribution, etc., it is easy to see beforehand that the enemy cannot put a +stop to this by detaching 1000 men, but that if he means to protect the +province from invaders, he must at all events send a considerably larger force. +But it may be asked cannot a defender, instead of protecting his own province, +restore the balance by sending a similar detachment to plunder a province in +our country? Therefore, if an advantage is to be obtained by an aggressor in +this way, it must first be ascertained that there is more to be got or to be +threatened in the defender’s provinces than in his own. If this is the +case, then no doubt a weak diversion will occupy a force on the enemy’s +side greater than that composing the enterprise. On the other hand, this +advantage naturally diminishes as the masses increase, for 50,000 men can +defend a province of moderate extent not only against equal but even against +somewhat superior numbers. The advantage of large diversions is, therefore, +very doubtful, and the greater they become the more decisive must be the other +circumstances which favour a diversion if any good is to come out of such an +enterprise upon the whole. +</p> + +<p> +Now these favourable circumstances may be:— +</p> + +<p> +<i>a.</i> Forces which the assailant holds available for a diversion without +weakening the great mass of his force. +</p> + +<p> +<i>b.</i> Points belonging to the defender which are of vital importance to him +and can be threatened by a diversion. +</p> + +<p> +<i>c.</i> Discontented subjects of the same. +</p> + +<p> +<i>d.</i> A rich province which can supply a considerable quantity of munitions +of war. +</p> + +<p> +If only these diversions are undertaken, which, when tested by these different +considerations, promise results, it will be found that an opportunity of making +a diversion does not offer frequently. +</p> + +<p> +But now comes another important point. Every diversion brings war into a +district into which the war would not otherwise have penetrated: for that +reason it will always be the means, more or less, of calling forth military +forces which would otherwise have continued in abeyance, this will be done in a +way which will be very sensibly felt if the enemy has any organised militia, +and means of arming the nation at large. It is quite in the natural order of +things, and amply shown by experience, that if a district is suddenly +threatened by an enemy’s force, and nothing has been prepared beforehand +for its defence, all the most efficient official functionaries immediately lay +hold of and set in motion every extraordinary means that can be imagined, in +order to ward off the impending danger. Thus, new powers of resistance spring +up, such as are next to a people’s war, and may easily excite one. +</p> + +<p> +This is a point which should be kept well in view in every diversion, in order +that we may not dig our own graves. +</p> + +<p> +The expeditions to North Holland in 1799, and to Walcheren in 1809, regarded as +diversions, are only to be justified in so far that there was no other way of +employing the English troops; but there is no doubt that the sum total of the +means of resistance of the French was thereby increased, and every landing in +France, would have just the same effect. To threaten the French coast certainly +offers great advantages, because by that means an important body of troops +becomes neutralised in watching the coast, but a landing with a large force can +never be justifiable unless we can count on the assistance of a province in +opposition to the Government. +</p> + +<p> +The less a great decision is looked forward to in war the more will diversions +be allowable, but so much the smaller will also certainly be the gain to be +derived from them. They are only a means of bringing the stagnant masses into +motion. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Execution.</i> +</p> + +<p> +1. A diversion may include in itself a real attack, then the execution has no +special character in itself except boldness and expedition. +</p> + +<p> +2. It may also have as an object to appear more than it really is, being, in +fact, a demonstration as well. The special means to be employed in such a case +can only suggest themselves to a subtil mind well versed in men and in the +existing state of circumstances. It follows from the nature of the thing that +there must be a great fractioning of forces on such occasions. +</p> + +<p> +3. If the forces employed are not quite inconsiderable, and the retreat is +restricted to certain points, then a reserve on which the whole may rally is an +essential condition. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap116"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/>Invasion</h3> + +<p> +Almost all that we have to say on this subject consists in an explanation of +the term. We find the expression very frequently used by modern authors and +also that they pretend to denote by it something particular. <i>Guerre +d’invasion</i> occurs perpetually in French authors. They use it as a term +for every attack which enters deep into the enemy’s country, and perhaps +sometimes mean to apply it as the antithesis to methodical attack, that is, one +which only nibbles at the frontier. But this is a very unphilosophical +confusion of language. Whether an attack is to be confined to the frontier or +to be carried into the heart of the country, whether it shall make the seizure +of the enemy’s strong places the chief object, or seek out the core of +the enemy’s power, and pursue it unremittingly, is the result of +circumstances, and not dependent on a system. In some cases, to push forward +may be more methodical, and at the same time more prudent than to tarry on the +frontier, but in most cases it is nothing else than just the fortunate result +of a vigorous <i>attack</i>, and consequently does not differ from it in any respect. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap117"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/>On the Culminating Point of Victory(*)</h3> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) See Chapters IV. and V. +</p> + +<p> +The conqueror in a war is not always in a condition to subdue his adversary +completely. Often, in fact, almost universally, there is a culminating point of +victory. Experience shows this sufficiently; but as the subject is one +especially important for the theory of war, and the pivot of almost all plans +of campaigns, while, at the same time, on its surface some apparent +contradictions glitter, as in ever-changing colours, we therefore wish to +examine it more closely, and look for its essential causes. +</p> + +<p> +Victory, as a rule, springs from a preponderance of the sum of all the physical +and moral powers combined; undoubtedly it increases this preponderance, or it +would not be sought for and purchased at a great sacrifice. Victory +<i>itself</i> does this unquestionably; also its consequences have the same +effect, but not to the utmost point generally only up to a certain point. This +point may be very near at hand, and is sometimes so near that the whole of the +results of a victorious battle are confined to an increase of the moral +superiority. How this comes about we have now to examine. +</p> + +<p> +In the progress of action in war, the combatant force is incessantly meeting +with elements which strengthen it, and others which weaken it. Hence it is a +question of superiority on one side or the other. As every diminution of power +on one side is to be regarded as an increase on the opposite, it follows, of +course, that this double current, this ebb and flow, takes place whether troops +are advancing or retiring. +</p> + +<p> +It is therefore necessary to find out the principal cause of this alteration in +the one case to determine the other along with it. +</p> + +<p> +In advancing, the most important causes of the <i>increase of strength</i> +which the assailant gains, are: +</p> + +<p> +1. The loss which the enemy’s army suffers, because it is usually greater +than that of the assailant. +</p> + +<p> +2. The loss which the enemy suffers in inert military means, such as magazines, +depôts, bridges, etc., and which the assailant does not share with him. +</p> + +<p> +3. That from the moment the assailant enters the enemy’s territory, there +is a loss of provinces to the defence, consequently of the sources of new +military forces. +</p> + +<p> +4. That the advancing army gains a portion of those resources, in other words, +gains the advantage of living at the expense of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +5. The loss of internal organisation and of the regular action of everything on +the side of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +6. That the allies of the enemy secede from him, and others join the conqueror. +</p> + +<p> +7. Lastly, the discouragement of the enemy who lets the arms, in some measure, +drop out of his hands. +</p> + +<p> +The causes of <i>decrease of strength</i> in an army advancing, are: +</p> + +<p> +1. That it is compelled to lay siege to the enemy’s fortresses, to +blockade them or observe them; or that the enemy, who did the same before the +victory, in his retreat draws in these corps on his main body. +</p> + +<p> +2. That from the moment the assailant enters the enemy’s territory, the +nature of the theatre of war is changed; it becomes hostile; we must occupy it, +for we cannot call any portion our own beyond what is in actual occupation, and +yet it everywhere presents difficulties to the whole machine, which must +necessarily tend to weaken its effects. +</p> + +<p> +3. That we are removing further away from our resources, whilst the enemy is +drawing nearer to his; this causes a delay in the replacement of expended +power. +</p> + +<p> +4. That the danger which threatens the state, rouses other powers to its +protection. +</p> + +<p> +5. Lastly, the greater efforts of the adversary, in consequence of the +increased danger, on the other hand, a relaxation of effort on the side of the +victorious state. +</p> + +<p> +All these advantages and disadvantages can exist together, meet each other in a +certain measure, and pursue their way in opposite directions, except that the +last meet as real opposites, cannot pass, therefore mutually exclude each +other. This alone shows how infinitely different may be the effect of a victory +according as it stuns the vanquished or stimulates him to greater exertions. +</p> + +<p> +We shall now try to characterise, in a few words, each of these points singly. +</p> + +<p> +1. The loss of the enemy when defeated, may be at the greatest in the first +moment of defeat, and then daily diminish in amount until it arrives at a point +where the balance is restored as regards our force; but it may go on increasing +every day in an ascending ratio. The difference of situation and relations +determines this. We can only say that, in general, with a good army the first +will be the case, with an indifferent army the second; next to the spirit of +the army, the spirit of the Government is here the most important thing. It is +of great consequence in war to distinguish between the two cases in practice, +in order not to stop just at the point where we ought to begin in good earnest, +and <i>vice versâ</i>. +</p> + +<p> +2. The loss which the enemy sustains in that part of the apparatus of war which +is inert, may ebb and flow just in the same manner, and this will depend on the +accidental position and nature of the depôts from which supplies are drawn. +This subject, however, in the present day, cannot be compared with the others +in point of importance. +</p> + +<p> +3. The third advantage must necessarily increase as the army advances; indeed, +it may be said that it does not come into consideration until an army has +penetrated far into the enemy’s country; that is to say, until a third or +a fourth of the country has been left in rear. In addition, the intrinsic value +which a province has in connection with the war comes also into consideration. +</p> + +<p> +In the same way the fourth advantage should increase with the advance. +</p> + +<p> +But with respect to these two last, it is also to be observed that their +influence on the combatant powers actually engaged in the struggle, is seldom +felt so immediately; they only work slowly and by a circuitous course; +therefore we should not bend the bow too much on their account, that is to say, +not place ourselves in any dangerous position. +</p> + +<p> +The fifth advantage, again, only comes into consideration if we have made a +considerable advance, and if by the form of the enemy’s country some +provinces can be detached from the principal mass, as these, like limbs +compressed by ligatures, usually soon die off. +</p> + +<p> +As to six and seven, it is at least probable that they increase with the +advance; furthermore, we shall return to them hereafter. Let us now pass on to +the causes of weakness. +</p> + +<p> +1. The besieging, blockade, and investment of fortresses, generally increase as +the army advances. This weakening influence alone acts so powerfully on the +<i>condition of the combatant force</i>, that it may soon outweigh all the +advantages gained. No doubt, in modern times, a system has been introduced of +blockading places with a small number of troops, or of watching them with a +still smaller number; and also the enemy must keep garrisons in them. +Nevertheless, they remain a great element of security. The garrisons consist +very often in half of people, who have taken no part in the war previously. +Before those places which are situated near the line of communication, it is +necessary for the assailant to leave a force at least double the strength of +the garrison; and if it is desirable to lay formal siege to, or to starve out, +one single considerable place, a small army is required for the purpose. +</p> + +<p> +2. The second cause, the taking up a theatre of war in the enemy’s +country, increases necessarily with the advance, and if it does not further +weaken the condition of the combatant force at the moment, it does so at all +events in the long run. +</p> + +<p> +We can only regard as our theatre of war, so much of the enemy’s country +as we actually possess; that is to say, where we either have small corps in the +field, or where we have left here and there strong garrisons in large towns, or +stations along the roads, etc.; now, however small the garrisons may be which +are detached, still they weaken the combatant force considerably. But this is +the smallest evil. +</p> + +<p> +Every army has strategic flanks, that is, the country which borders both sides +of its lines of communications; the weakness of these parts is not sensibly +felt as long as the enemy is similarly situated with respect to his. But that +can only be the case as long as we are in our own country; as soon as we get +into the enemy’s country, the weakness of these parts is felt very much, +because the smallest enterprise promises some result when directed against a +long line only feebly, or not all, covered; and these attacks may be made from +any quarter in an enemy’s country. +</p> + +<p> +The further we advance, the longer these flanks become, and the danger arising +from them is enhanced in an increased ratio, for not only are they difficult to +cover, but the spirit of enterprise is also first roused in the enemy, chiefly +by long insecure lines of communication, and the consequences which their loss +may entail in case of a retreat are matter of grave consideration. +</p> + +<p> +All this contributes to place a fresh load on an advancing army at every step +of its progress; so that if it has not commenced with a more than ordinary +superiority, it will feel itself always more and more cramped in its plans, +gradually weakened in its impulsive force, and at last in a state of +uncertainty and anxiety as to its situation. +</p> + +<p> +3. The third cause, the distance from the source from which the incessantly +diminishing combatant force is to be just as incessantly filled up, increases +with the advance. A conquering army is like the light of a lamp in this +respect; the more the oil which feeds it sinks in the reservoir and recedes +from the focus of light, the smaller the light becomes, until at length it is +quite extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +The richness of the conquered provinces may certainly diminish this evil very +much, but can never entirely remove it, because there are always a number of +things which can only be supplied to the army from its own country, men in +particular; because the subsidies furnished by the enemy's country are, in most +cases, neither so promptly nor so surely forthcoming as in our own country; +because the means of meeting any unexpected requirement cannot be so quickly +procured; because misunderstandings and mistakes of all kinds cannot so soon be +discovered and remedied. +</p> + +<p> +If a prince does not lead his army in person, as became the custom in the last +wars, if he is not anywhere near it, then another and very great inconvenience +arises in the loss of time occasioned by communications backwards and forwards; +for the fullest powers conferred on a commander of an army, are never +sufficient to meet every case in the wide expanse of his activity. +</p> + +<p> +4. The change in political alliances. If these changes, produced by a victory, +should be such as are disadvantageous to the conqueror, they will probably be +so in a direct relation to his progress, just as is the case if they are of an +advantageous nature. This all depends on the existing political alliances, +interests, customs, and tendencies, on princes, ministers, etc. In general, we +can only say that when a great state which has smaller allies is conquered, +these usually secede very soon from their alliance, so that the victor, in this +respect, with every blow becomes stronger; but if the conquered state is small, +protectors much sooner present themselves when his very existence is +threatened, and others, who have helped to place him in his present +embarrassment, will turn round to prevent his complete downfall. +</p> + +<p> +5. The increased resistance on the part of the enemy which is called forth. +Sometimes the enemy drops his weapon out of his hands from terror and +stupefaction; sometimes an enthusiastic paroxysm seizes him, every one runs to +arms, and the resistance is much stronger after the first defeat than it was +before. The character of the people and of the Government, the nature of the +country and its political alliances, are here the data from which the probable +effect must be conjectured. +</p> + +<p> +What countless differences these two last points alone make in the plans which +may and should be made in war in one case and another? Whilst one, through an +excess of caution, and what is called methodical proceedings, fritters away his +good fortune, another, from a want of rational reflection, tumbles into +destruction. +</p> + +<p> +In addition, we must here call to mind the supineness, which not unfrequently +comes over the victorious side, when danger is removed; whilst, on the +contrary, renewed efforts are then required in order to follow up the success. +If we cast a general glance over these different and antagonistic principles, +the deduction, doubtless is, that the profitable use of the onward march in a +war of aggression, in the generality of cases, diminishes the preponderance +with which the assailant set out, or which has been gained by victory. +</p> + +<p> +Here the question must naturally strike us; if this be so, what is it which +impels the conqueror to follow up the career of victory to continue the +offensive? And can this really be called making further use of the victory? +Would it not be better to stop where as yet there is hardly any diminution of +the preponderance gained? +</p> + +<p> +To this we must naturally answer: the preponderance of combatant forces is only +the means, not the end. The end or object is to subdue the enemy, or at least +to take from him part of his territory, in order thus to put ourselves in a +condition to realize the value of the advantages we have gained when we +conclude a peace. Even if our aim is to conquer the enemy completely, we must +be content that, perhaps, every step we advance, reduces our preponderance, but +it does not necessarily follow from this that it will be nil before the fall of +the enemy: the fall of the enemy may take place before that, and if it is to be +obtained by the last minimum of preponderance, it would be an error not to +expend it for that purpose. +</p> + +<p> +The preponderance which we have or acquire in war is, therefore, the means, not +the end, and it must be staked to gain the latter. But it is necessary to know +how far it will reach, in order not to go beyond that point, and instead of +fresh advantages, to reap disaster. +</p> + +<p> +It is not necessary to introduce special examples from experience in order to +prove that this is the way in which the strategic preponderance exhausts itself +in the strategic attack; it is rather the multitude of instances which has +forced us to investigate the causes of it. It is only since the appearance of +Buonaparte that we have known campaigns between civilized nations, in which the +preponderance has led, without interruption, to the fall of the enemy; before +his time, every campaign ended with the victorious army seeking to win a point +where it could simply maintain itself in a state of equilibrium. At this point, +the movement of victory stopped, even if a retreat did not become necessary. +Now, this culminating point of victory will also appear in the future, in all +wars in which the overthrow of the enemy is not the military object of the war; +and the generality of wars will still be of this kind. The natural aim of all +single plans of campaigns is the point at which the offensive changes into the +defensive. +</p> + +<p> +But now, to overstep this point, is more than simply a <i>useless</i> +expenditure of power, yielding no further result, it is a <i>destructive</i> +step which causes reaction; and this re-action is, according to all general +experience, productive of most disproportionate effects. This last fact is so +common, and appears so natural and easy to understand that we need not enter +circumstantially into the causes. Want of organisation in the conquered land, +and the very opposite effect which a serious loss instead of the looked-for +fresh victory makes on the feelings, are the chief causes in every case. The +moral forces, courage on the one side rising often to <i>audacity</i>, and +extreme depression on the other, now begin generally their active play. The +losses on the retreat are increased thereby, and the hitherto successful party +now generally thanks providence if he can escape with only the surrender of all +his gains, without losing some of his own territory. +</p> + +<p> +We must now clear up an apparent contradiction. +</p> + +<p> +It may be generally supposed that as long as progress in the attack continues, +there must still be a preponderance; and, that as the defensive, which will +commence at the end of the victorious career, is a stronger form of war than +the offensive, therefore, there is so much the less danger of becoming +unexpectedly the weaker party. But yet there is, and keeping history in view, +we must admit that the greatest danger of a reverse is often just at the moment +when the offensive ceases and passes into the defensive. We shall try to find +the cause of this. +</p> + +<p> +The superiority which we have attributed to the defensive form of war consists: +</p> + +<p> +1. In the use of ground. +</p> + +<p> +2. In the possession of a prepared theatre of war. +</p> + +<p> +3. In the support of the people. +</p> + +<p> +4. In the advantage of the state of expectancy. +</p> + +<p> +It must be evident that these principles cannot always be forthcoming and +active in a like degree; that, consequently, one defence is not always like +another; and therefore, also, that the defence will not always have this same +superiority over the offensive. This must be particularly the case in a +defensive, which commences after the exhaustion of an offensive, and has its +theatre of war usually situated at the apex of an offensive triangle thrust far +forward into the country. Of the four principles above named, this defensive +only enjoys the first the use of the ground undiminished, the second generally +vanishes altogether, the third becomes negative, and the fourth is very much +reduced. A few more words, only by way of explanation, respecting the last. +</p> + +<p> +If the imagined equilibrium, under the influence of which whole campaigns have +often passed without any results, because the side which should assume the +initiative is wanting in the necessary resolution, and just therein lies, as we +conceive, the advantage of the state of expectancy if this equilibrium is +disturbed by an offensive act, the enemy’s interests damaged, and his +will stirred up to action, then the probability of his remaining in a state of +indolent irresolution is much diminished. A defence, which is organised on +conquered territory, has a much more irritating character than one upon our own +soil; the offensive principle is engrafted on it in a certain measure, and its +nature is thereby weakened. The quiet which Daun allowed Frederick II. in +Silesia and Saxony, he would never have granted him in Bohemia. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it is clear that the defensive, which is interwoven or mixed up with an +offensive undertaking, is weakened in all its chief principles; and, therefore, +will no longer have the preponderance which belongs to it originally. +</p> + +<p> +As no defensive campaign is composed of purely defensive elements, so likewise +no offensive campaign is made up entirely of offensive elements; because, +besides the short intervals in every campaign, in which both armies are on the +defensive, every attack which does not lead to a peace, must necessarily end in +a defensive. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner it is the defensive itself which contributes to the weakening of +the offensive. This is so far from being an idle subtlety, that on the +contrary, we consider it a chief disadvantage of the attack that we are +afterwards reduced through it to a very disadvantageous defensive. +</p> + +<p> +And this explains how the difference which originally exists between the +strength of the offensive and defensive forms in war is gradually reduced. We +shall now show how it may completely disappear, and the advantage for a short +time may change into the reverse. +</p> + +<p> +If we may be allowed to make use of an idea from nature, we shall be able +sooner to explain ourselves. It is the time which every force in the material +world requires to show its effect. A power, which if applied slowly by degrees, +would be sufficient to check a body in motion, will be overcome by it if time +fails. This law of the material world is a striking illustration of many of the +phenomena in our inner life. If we are once roused to a certain train of +thought, it is not every motive sufficient in itself which can change or stop +that current of thought. Time, tranquillity and durable impressions on our +senses are required. So it is also in war. When once the mind has taken a +decided direction towards an object, or turned back towards a harbour of +refuge, it may easily happen that the motives which in the one base naturally +serve to restrain, and those which in the other as naturally excite to +enterprise, are not felt at once in their full force; and as the progress of +action in the mean time continues, one is carried along by the stream of +movement beyond the line of equilibrium, beyond the culminating point, without +being aware of it. Indeed, it may even happen that, in spite of the exhaustion +of force, the assailant, supported by the moral forces which specially lie in +the offensive, like a horse drawing a load uphill, finds it less difficult to +advance than to stop. By this, we believe, we have now shown, without +contradiction in itself, how the assailant may pass that point, where, if he +had stopped at the right moment, he might still, through the defensive, have +had a result, that is equilibrium. Rightly to determine this point is, +therefore, important in framing a plan of a campaign, as well for the +offensive, that he may not undertake what is beyond his powers (to a certain +extent contract debts), as for the defensive, that he may perceive and profit +by this error if committed by the assailant. +</p> + +<p> +If now we look back at all the points which the commander should bear in mind +in making his determination, and remember that he can only estimate the +tendency and value of the most important of them through the consideration of +many other near and distant relations, that he must to a certain extent +<i>guess</i> at them guess whether the enemy’s army, after the first +blow, will show a stronger core and increasing solidity, or like a Bologna +phial, will turn into dust as soon as the surface is injured; guess the extent +of weakness and prostration which the drying up of certain sources, the +interruption of certain communications will produce on the military state of +the enemy; guess whether the enemy, from the burning pain of the blow which has +been dealt him, will collapse powerless, or whether, like a wounded bull, he +will rise to a state of fury; lastly, guess whether other powers will be +dismayed or roused, what political alliances are likely to be dissolved, and +what are likely to be formed. When we say that he must hit all this, and much +more, with the tact of his judgment, as the rifleman hits a mark, it must be +admitted that such an act of the human mind is no trifle. A thousand wrong +roads running here and there, present themselves to the judgment; and whatever +the number, the confusion and complexity of objects leaves undone, is completed +by the sense of danger and responsibility. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it happens that the majority of generals prefer to fall short of the mark +rather than to approach too close; and thus it happens that a fine courage and +great spirit of enterprise often go beyond the point, and therefore also fail +to hit the mark. Only he that does great things with small means has made a +successful hit. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="part08"></a>SKETCHES FOR BOOK VIII<br/>PLAN OF WAR</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap118"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>Introduction</h3> + +<p> +In the chapter on the essence and object of war, we sketched, in a certain +measure, its general conception, and pointed out its relations to surrounding +circumstances, in order to commence with a sound fundamental idea. We there +cast a glance at the manifold difficulties which the mind encounters in the +consideration of this subject, whilst we postponed the closer examination of +them, and stopped at the conclusion, that the overthrow of the enemy, +consequently the destruction of his combatant force, is the chief object of the +whole of the action of war. This put us in a position to show in the following +chapter, that the means which the act of war employs is the combat alone. In +this manner, we think, we have obtained at the outset a correct point of view. +</p> + +<p> +Having now gone through singly all the principal relations and forms which +appear in military action, but are extraneous to, or outside of, the combat, in +order that we might fix more distinctly their value, partly through the nature +of the thing, partly from the lessons of experience which military history +affords, purify them from, and root out, those vague ambiguous ideas which are +generally mixed up with them, and also to put prominently forward the real +object of the act of war, the destruction of the enemy’s combatant force +as the primary object universally belonging to it; we now return to War as a +whole, as we propose to speak of the Plan of War, and of campaigns; and that +obliges us to revert to the ideas in our first book +</p> + +<p> +In these chapters, which are to deal with the whole question, is contained +strategy, properly speaking, in its most comprehensive and important features. +We enter this innermost part of its domain, where all other threads meet, not +without a degree of diffidence, which, indeed, is amply justified +</p> + +<p> +If, on the one hand, we see how extremely simple the operations of war appear; +if we hear and read how the greatest generals speak of it, just in the plainest +and briefest manner, how the government and management of this ponderous +machine, with its hundred thousand limbs, is made no more of in their lips than +if they were only speaking of their own persons, so that the whole tremendous +act of war is individualised into a kind of duel; if we find the motives also +of their action brought into connection sometimes with a few simple ideas, +sometimes with some excitement of feeling; if we see the easy, sure, we might +almost say light manner, in which they treat the subject and now see, on the +other hand, the immense number of circumstances which present themselves for +the consideration of the mind; the long, often indefinite, distances to which +the threads of the subject run out, and the number of combinations which lie +before us; if we reflect that it is the duty of theory to embrace all this +systematically, that is with clearness and fullness, and always to refer the +action to the necessity of a sufficient cause, then comes upon us an +overpowering dread of being dragged down to a pedantic dogmatism, to crawl +about in the lower regions of heavy abstruse conceptions, where we shall never +meet any great captain, with his natural coup d’œil. If the result of an +attempt at theory is to be of this kind, it would have been as well, or rather, +it would have been better, not to have made the attempt; it could only bring +down on theory the contempt of genius, and the attempt itself would soon be +forgotten. And on the other hand, this facile coup d’œil of the general, +this simple art of forming notions, this personification of the whole action of +war, is so entirely and completely the soul of the right method of conducting +war, that in no other but this broad way is it possible to conceive that +freedom of the mind which is indispensable if it is to dominate events, not to +be overpowered by them +</p> + +<p> +With some fear we proceed again; we can only do so by pursuing the way which we +have prescribed for ourselves from the first. Theory ought to throw a clear +light on the mass of objects, that the mind may the easier find its bearings; +theory ought to pull up the weeds which error has sown broadcast; it should +show the relations of things to each other, separate the important from the +trifling. Where ideas resolve themselves spontaneously into such a core of +Truth as is called Principle, when they of themselves keep such a line as forms +a rule, Theory should indicate the same +</p> + +<p> +Whatever the mind seizes, the rays of light which are awakened in it by this +exploration amongst the fundamental notions of things, <i>that is the +assistance which Theory affords the mind</i>. Theory can give no formulas with +which to solve problems; it cannot confine the mind’s course to the +narrow line of necessity by Principles set up on both sides. It lets the mind +take a look at the mass of objects and their relations, and then allows it to +go free to the higher regions of action, there to act according to the measure +of its natural forces, with the energy of the whole of those forces combined, +and to grasp the True and the Right, as one single clear idea, which shooting +forth from under the united pressure of all these forces, would seem to be +rather a product of feeling than of reflection. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap119"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>Absolute and Real War</h3> + +<p> +The Plan of the War comprehends the whole Military Act; through it that Act +becomes a whole, which must have one final determinate object, in which all +particular objects must become absorbed. No war is commenced, or, at least, no +war should be commenced, if people acted wisely, without saying to themselves, +What is to be attained by and in the same; the first is the final object; the +other is the intermediate aim. By this chief consideration the whole course of +the war is prescribed, the extent of the means and the measure of energy are +determined; its influence manifests itself down to the smallest organ of +action. +</p> + +<p> +We said, in the first chapter, that the overthrow of the enemy is the natural +end of the act of War; and that if we would keep within the strictly +philosophical limits of the idea, there can be no other in reality. +</p> + +<p> +As this idea must apply to both the belligerent parties, it must follow, that +there can be no suspension in the Military Act, and peace cannot take place +until one or other of the parties concerned is overthrown. +</p> + +<p> +In the chapter on the suspension of the Belligerent Act, we have shown how the +simple principle of hostility applied to its embodiment, man, and all +circumstances out of which it makes a war, is subject to checks and +modifications from causes which are inherent in the apparatus of war. +</p> + +<p> +But this modification is not nearly sufficient to carry us from the original +conception of War to the concrete form in which it almost everywhere appears. +Most wars appear only as an angry feeling on both sides, under the influence of +which, each side takes up arms to protect himself, and to put his adversary in +fear, and—when opportunity offers, to strike a blow. They are, therefore, +not like mutually destructive elements brought into collision, but like +tensions of two elements still apart which discharge themselves in small +partial shocks. +</p> + +<p> +But what is now the non-conducting medium which hinders the complete discharge? +Why is the philosophical conception not satisfied? That medium consists in the +number of interests, forces, and circumstances of various kinds, in the +existence of the State, which are affected by the war, and through the infinite +ramifications of which the logical consequence cannot be carried out as it +would on the simple threads of a few conclusions; in this labyrinth it sticks +fast, and man, who in great things as well as in small, usually acts more on +the impulse of ideas and feelings, than according to strictly logical +conclusions, is hardly conscious of his confusion, unsteadiness of purpose, and +inconsistency. +</p> + +<p> +But if the intelligence by which the war is decreed, could even go over all +these things relating to the war, without for a moment losing sight of its aim, +still all the other intelligences in the State which are concerned may not be +able to do the same; thus an opposition arises, and with that comes the +necessity for a force capable of overcoming the inertia of the whole +mass—a force which is seldom forthcoming to the full. +</p> + +<p> +This inconsistency takes place on one or other of the two sides, or it may be +on both sides, and becomes the cause of the war being something quite different +to what it should be, according to the conception of it—a half and half +production, a thing without a perfect inner cohesion. +</p> + +<p> +This is how we find it almost everywhere, and we might doubt whether our notion +of its absolute character or nature was founded in reality, if we had not seen +real warfare make its appearence in this absolute completeness just in our own +times. After a short introduction performed by the French Revolution, the +impetuous Buonaparte quickly brought it to this point Under him it was carried +on without slackening for a moment until the enemy was prostrated, and the +counter stroke followed almost with as little remission. Is it not natural and +necessary that this phenomenon should lead us back to the original conception +of war with all its rigorous deductions? +</p> + +<p> +Shall we now rest satisfied with this idea, and judge of all wars according to +it, however much they may differ from it,—deduce from it all the +requirements of theory? +</p> + +<p> +We must decide upon this point, for we can say nothing trustworthy on the Plan +of War until we have made up our minds whether war should only be of this kind, +or whether it may be of another kind. +</p> + +<p> +If we give an affirmative to the first, then our Theory will be, in all +respects, nearer to the necessary, it will be a clearer and more settled thing. +But what should we say then of all wars since those of Alexander up to the time +of Buonaparte, if we except some campaigns of the Romans? We should have to +reject them in a lump, and yet we cannot, perhaps, do so without being ashamed +of our presumption. But an additional evil is, that we must say to ourselves, +that in the next ten years there may perhaps be a war of that same kind again, +in spite of our Theory; and that this Theory, with a rigorous logic, is still +quite powerless against the force of circumstances. We must, therefore, decide +to construe war as it is to be, and not from pure conception, but by allowing +room for everything of a foreign nature which mixes up with it and fastens +itself upon it—all the natural inertia and friction of its parts, the +whole of the inconsistency, the vagueness and hesitation (or timidity) of the +human mind: we shall have to grasp the idea that war, and the form which we +give it, proceeds from ideas, feelings, and circumstances, which dominate for +the moment; indeed, if we would be perfectly candid we must admit that this has +even been the case where it has taken its absolute character, that is, under +Buonaparte. +</p> + +<p> +If we must do so, if we must grant that war originates and takes its form not +from a final adjustment of the innumerable relations with which it is +connected, but from some amongst them which happen to predominate; then it +follows, as a matter of course, that it rests upon a play of possibilities, +probabilities, good fortune and bad, in which rigorous logical deduction often +gets lost, and in which it is in general a useless, inconvenient instrument for +the head; then it also follows that war may be a thing which is sometimes war +in a greater, sometimes in a lesser degree. +</p> + +<p> +All this, theory must admit, but it is its duty to give the foremost place to +the absolute form of war, and to use that form as a general point of direction, +that whoever wishes to learn something from theory, may accustom himself never +to lose sight of it, to regard it as the natural measure of all his hopes and +fears, in order to approach it <i>where he can, or where he must</i>. +</p> + +<p> +That a leading idea, which lies at the root of our thoughts and actions, gives +them a certain tone and character, even when the immediately determining +grounds come from totally different regions, is just as certain as that the +painter can give this or that tone to his picture by the colours with which he +lays on his ground. +</p> + +<p> +Theory is indebted to the last wars for being able to do this effectually now. +Without these warning examples of the destructive force of the element set +free, she might have talked herself hoarse to no purpose; no one would have +believed possible what all have now lived to see realised. +</p> + +<p> +Would Prussia have ventured to penetrate into France in the year 1798 with +70,000 men, if she had foreseen that the reaction in case of failure would be +so strong as to overthrow the old balance of power in Europe? +</p> + +<p> +Would Prussia, in 1806, have made war with 100,000 against France, if she had +supposed that the first pistol shot would be a spark in the heart of the mine, +which would blow it into the air? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap120"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>A. Interdependence of the Parts in War</h3> + +<p> +According as we have in view the absolute form of war, or one of the real forms +deviating more or less from it, so likewise different notions of its result +will arise. +</p> + +<p> +In the absolute form, where everything is the effect of its natural and +necessary cause, one thing follows another in rapid succession; there is, if we +may use the expression, no neutral space; there is on account of the manifold +reactionary effects which war contains in itself,(*1) on account of the +connection in which, strictly speaking, the whole series of combats,(*2) follow +one after another, on account of the culminating point which every victory has, +beyond which losses and defeats commence(*3) on account of all these natural +relations of war there is, I say, only <i>one result</i>, to wit, the <i>final +result</i>. Until it takes place nothing is decided, nothing won, nothing lost. +Here we may say indeed: the end crowns the work. In this view, therefore, war +is an indivisible whole, the parts of which (the subordinate results) have no +value except in their relation to this whole. The conquest of Moscow, and of +half Russia in 1812, was of no value to Buonaparte unless it obtained for him +the peace which he desired. But it was only a part of his Plan of campaign; to +complete that Plan, one part was still wanted, the destruction of the Russian +army; if we suppose this, added to the other success, then the peace was as +certain as it is possible for things of this kind to be. This second part +Buonaparte missed at the right time, and he could never afterwards attain it, +and so the whole of the first part was not only useless, but fatal to him. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*1.) Book I., Chapter I. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*2.) Book I., Chapter I. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*3.) Book VII., Chapters IV. and V. (Culminating Point of Victory). +</p> + +<p> +To this view of the relative connection of results in war, which may be +regarded as extreme, stands opposed another extreme, according to which war is +composed of single independent results, in which, as in any number of games +played, the preceding has no influence on the next following; everything here, +therefore, depends only on the sum total of the results, and we can lay up each +single one like a counter at play. +</p> + +<p> +Just as the first kind of view derives its truth from the nature of things, so +we find that of the second in history. There are cases without number in which +a small moderate advantage might have been gained without any very onerous +condition being attached to it. The more the element of war is modified the +more common these cases become; but as little as the first of the views now +imagined was ever completely realised in any war, just as little is there any +war in which the last suits in all respects, and the first can be dispensed +with. +</p> + +<p> +If we keep to the first of these supposed views, we must perceive the necessity +of every war being looked upon as a whole from the very commencement, and that +at the very first step forwards, the commander should have in his eye the +object to which every line must converge. +</p> + +<p> +If we admit the second view, then subordinate advantages may be pursued on +their own account, and the rest left to subsequent events. +</p> + +<p> +As neither of these forms of conception is entirely without result, therefore +theory cannot dispense with either. But it makes this difference in the use of +them, that it requires the first to be laid as a fundamental idea at the root +of everything, and that the latter shall only be used as a modification which +is justified by circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +If Frederick the Great in the years 1742, 1744, 1757, and 1758, thrust out from +Silesia and Saxony a fresh offensive point into the Austrian Empire, which he +knew very well could not lead to a new and durable conquest like that of +Silesia and Saxony, it was done not with a view to the overthrow of the +Austrian Empire, but from a lesser motive, namely, to gain time and strength; +and it was optional with him to pursue that subordinate object without being +afraid that he should thereby risk his whole existence.(*) But if Prussia in +1806, and Austria in 1805, 1809, proposed to themselves a still more moderate +object, that of driving the French over the Rhine, they would not have acted in +a reasonable manner if they had not first scanned in their minds the whole +series of events which either, in the case of success, or of the reverse, would +probably follow the first step, and lead up to peace. This was quite +indispensable, as well to enable them to determine with themselves how far +victory might be followed up without danger, and how and where they would be in +a condition to arrest the course of victory on the enemy’s side. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) Had Frederick the Great gained the Battle of Kollen, and taken prisoners +the chief Austrian army with their two field marshals in Prague, it would have +been such a tremendous blow that he might then have entertained the idea of +marching to Vienna to make the Austrian Court tremble, and gain a peace +directly. This, in these times, unparalleled result, which would have been +quite like what we have seen in our day, only still more wonderful and +brilliant from the contest being between a little David and a great Goliath, +might very probably have taken place after the gain of this one battle; but +that does not contradict the assertion above maintained, for it only refers to +what the king originally looked forward to from his offensive. The surrounding +and taking prisoners the enemy’s army was an event which was beyond all +calculation, and which the king never thought of, at least not until the +Austrians laid themselves open to it by the unskilful position in which they +placed themselves at Prague. +</p> + +<p> +An attentive consideration of history shows wherein the difference of the two +cases consists. At the time of the Silesian War in the eighteenth century, war +was still a mere Cabinet affair, in which the people only took part as a blind +instrument; at the beginning of the nineteenth century the people on each side +weighed in the scale. The commanders opposed to Frederick the Great were men +who acted on commission, and just on that account men in whom caution was a +predominant characteristic; the opponent of the Austrians and Prussians may be +described in a few words as the very god of war himself. +</p> + +<p> +Must not these different circumstances give rise to quite different +considerations? Should they not in the year 1805, 1806, and 1809 have pointed +to the extremity of disaster as a very close possibility, nay, even a very +great probability, and should they not at the same time have led to widely +different plans and measures from any merely aimed at the conquest of a couple +of fortresses or a paltry province? +</p> + +<p> +They did not do so in a degree commensurate with their importance, although +both Austria and Prussia, judging by their armaments, felt that storms were +brewing in the political atmosphere. They could not do so because those +relations at that time were not yet so plainly developed as they have been +since from history. It is just those very campaigns of 1805, 1806, 1809, and +following ones, which have made it easier for us to form a conception of modern +absolute war in its destroying energy. +</p> + +<p> +Theory demands, therefore, that at the commencement of every war its character +and main outline shall be defined according to what the political conditions +and relations lead us to anticipate as probable. The more, that according to +this probability its character approaches the form of absolute war, the more +its outline embraces the mass of the belligerent states and draws them into the +vortex, so much the more complete will be the relation of events to one another +and the whole, but so much the more necessary it will also be not to take the +first step without thinking what may be the last. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap121"></a>B. On the Magnitude of the Object of the War, and the Efforts to be Made.</h3> + +<p> +The compulsion which we must use towards our enemy will be regulated by the +proportions of our own and his political demands. In so far as these are +mutually known they will give the measure of the mutual efforts; but they are +not always quite so evident, and this may be a first ground of a difference in +the means adopted by each. +</p> + +<p> +The situation and relations of the states are not like each other; this may +become a second cause. +</p> + +<p> +The strength of will, the character and capabilities of the governments are as +little like; this is a third cause. +</p> + +<p> +These three elements cause an uncertainty in the calculation of the amount of +resistance to be expected, consequently an uncertainty as to the amount of +means to be applied and the object to be chosen. +</p> + +<p> +As in war the want of sufficient exertion may result not only in failure but in +positive harm, therefore, the two sides respectively seek to outstrip each +other, which produces a reciprocal action. +</p> + +<p> +This might lead to the utmost extremity of exertion, if it was possible to +define such a point. But then regard for the amount of the political demands +would be lost, the means would lose all relation to the end, and in most cases +this aim at an extreme effort would be wrecked by the opposing weight of forces +within itself. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner, he who undertakes war is brought back again into a middle +course, in which he acts to a certain extent upon the principle of only +applying so much force and aiming at such an object in war as are just +sufficient for the attainment of its political object. To make this principle +practicable he must renounce every absolute necessity of a result, and throw +out of the calculation remote contingencies. +</p> + +<p> +Here, therefore, the action of the mind leaves the province of science, +strictly speaking, of logic and mathematics, and becomes, in the widest sense +of the term, an art, that is, skill in discriminating, by the tact of judgment +among an infinite multitude of objects and relations, that which is the most +important and decisive. This tact of judgment consists unquestionably more or +less in some intuitive comparison of things and relations by which the remote +and unimportant are more quickly set aside, and the more immediate and +important are sooner discovered than they could be by strictly logical +deduction. +</p> + +<p> +In order to ascertain the real scale of the means which we must put forth for +war, we must think over the political object both on our own side and on the +enemy’s side; we must consider the power and position of the +enemy’s state as well as of our own, the character of his government and +of his people, and the capacities of both, and all that again on our own side, +and the political connections of other states, and the effect which the war +will produce on those States. That the determination of these diverse +circumstances and their diverse connections with each other is an immense +problem, that it is the true flash of genius which discovers here in a moment +what is right, and that it would be quite out of the question to become master +of the complexity merely by a methodical study, this it is easy to conceive. +</p> + +<p> +In this sense Buonaparte was quite right when he said that it would be a +problem in algebra before which a Newton might stand aghast. +</p> + +<p> +If the diversity and magnitude of the circumstances and the uncertainty as to +the right measure augment in a high degree the difficulty of obtaining a right +result, we must not overlook the fact that although the incomparable +<i>importance</i> of the matter does not increase the complexity and difficulty +of the problem, still it very much increases the merit of its solution. In men +of an ordinary stamp freedom and activity of mind are depressed not increased +by the sense of danger and responsibility: but where these things give wings to +strengthen the judgment, there undoubtedly must be unusual greatness of soul. +</p> + +<p> +First of all, therefore, we must admit that the judgment on an approaching war, +on the end to which it should be directed, and on the means which are required, +can only be formed after a full consideration of the whole of the circumstances +in connection with it: with which therefore must also be combined the most +individual traits of the moment; next, that this decision, like all in military +life, cannot be purely objective but must be determined by the mental and moral +qualities of princes, statesmen, and generals, whether they are united in the +person of one man or not. +</p> + +<p> +The subject becomes general and more fit to be treated of in the abstract if we +look at the general relations in which States have been placed by circumstances +at different times. We must allow ourselves here a passing glance at history. +</p> + +<p> +Half-civilised Tartars, the Republics of ancient times, the feudal lords and +commercial cities of the Middle Ages, kings of the eighteenth century, and, +lastly, princes and people of the nineteenth century, all carry on war in their +own way, carry it on differently, with different means, and for a different +object. +</p> + +<p> +The Tartars seek new abodes. They march out as a nation with their wives and +children, they are, therefore, greater than any other army in point of numbers, +and their object is to make the enemy submit or expel him altogether. By these +means they would soon overthrow everything before them if a high degree of +civilisation could be made compatible with such a condition. +</p> + +<p> +The old Republics with the exception of Rome were of small extent; still +smaller their armies, for they excluded the great mass of the populace: they +were too numerous and lay too close together not to find an obstacle to great +enterprises in the natural equilibrium in which small separate parts always +place themselves according to the general law of nature: therefore their wars +were confined to devastating the open country and taking some towns in order to +ensure to themselves in these a certain degree of influence for the future. +</p> + +<p> +Rome alone forms an exception, but not until the later period of its history. +For a long time, by means of small bands, it carried on the usual warfare with +its neighbours for booty and alliances. It became great more through the +alliances which it formed, and through which neighbouring peoples by degrees +became amalgamated with it into one whole, than through actual conquests. It +was only after having spread itself in this manner all over Southern Italy, +that it began to advance as a really conquering power. Carthage fell, Spain and +Gaul were conquered, Greece subdued, and its dominion extended to Egypt and +Asia. At this period its military power was immense, without its efforts being +in the same proportion. These forces were kept up by its riches; it no longer +resembled the ancient republics, nor itself as it had been; it stands alone. +</p> + +<p> +Just as peculiar in their way are the wars of Alexander. With a small army, but +distinguished for its intrinsic perfection, he overthrew the decayed fabric of +the Asiatic States; without rest, and regardless of risks, he traverses the +breadth of Asia, and penetrates into India. No republics could do this. Only a +king, in a certain measure his own condottiere, could get through so much so +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The great and small monarchies of the middle ages carried on their wars with +feudal armies. Everything was then restricted to a short period of time; +whatever could not be done in that time was held to be impracticable. The +feudal force itself was raised through an organisation of vassaldom; the bond +which held it together was partly legal obligation, partly a voluntary +contract; the whole formed a real confederation. The armament and tactics were +based on the right of might, on single combat, and therefore little suited to +large bodies. In fact, at no period has the union of States been so weak, and +the individual citizen so independent. All this influenced the character of the +wars at that period in the most distinct manner. They were comparatively +rapidly carried out, there was little time spent idly in camps, but the object +was generally only punishing, not subduing, the enemy. They carried off his +cattle, burnt his towns, and then returned home again. +</p> + +<p> +The great commercial towns and small republics brought forward the condottieri. +That was an expensive, and therefore, as far as visible strength, a very +limited military force; as for its intensive strength, it was of still less +value in that respect; so far from their showing anything like extreme energy +or impetuosity in the field, their combats were generally only sham fights. In +a word, hatred and enmity no longer roused a state to personal activity, but +had become articles of trade; war lost great part of its danger, altered +completely its nature, and nothing we can say of the character it then assumed, +would be applicable to it in its reality. +</p> + +<p> +The feudal system condensed itself by degrees into a decided territorial +supremacy; the ties binding the State together became closer; obligations which +concerned the person were made subject of composition; by degrees gold became +the substitute in most cases, and the feudal armies were turned into +mercenaries. The condottieri formed the connecting link in the change, and were +therefore, for a time, the instrument of the more powerful States; but this had +not lasted long, when the soldier, hired for a limited term, was turned into a +<i>standing mercenary</i>, and the military force of States now became an army, +having its base in the public treasury. +</p> + +<p> +It is only natural that the slow advance to this stage caused a diversified +interweaving of all three kinds of military force. Under Henry IV. we find the +feudal contingents, condottieri, and standing army all employed together. The +condottieri carried on their existence up to the period of the Thirty +Years’ War, indeed there are slight traces of them even in the eighteenth +century. +</p> + +<p> +The other relations of the States of Europe at these different periods were +quite as peculiar as their military forces. Upon the whole, this part of the +world had split up into a mass of petty States, partly republics in a state of +internal dissension, partly small monarchies in which the power of the +government was very limited and insecure. A State in either of these cases +could not be considered as a real unity; it was rather an agglomeration of +loosely connected forces. Neither, therefore, could such a State be considered +an intelligent being, acting in accordance with simple logical rules. +</p> + +<p> +It is from this point of view we must look at the foreign politics and wars of +the Middle Ages. Let us only think of the continual expeditions of the Emperors +of Germany into Italy for five centuries, without any substantial conquest of +that country resulting from them, or even having been so much as in view. It is +easy to look upon this as a fault repeated over and over again as a false view +which had its root in the nature of the times, but it is more in accordance +with reason to regard it as the consequence of a hundred important causes which +we can partially realise in idea, but the vital energy of which it is +impossible for us to understand so vividly as those who were brought into +actual conflict with them. As long as the great States which have risen out of +this chaos required time to consolidate and organise themselves, their whole +power and energy is chiefly directed to that point; their foreign wars are few, +and those that took place bear the stamp of a State-unity not yet well +cemented. +</p> + +<p> +The wars between France and England are the first that appear, and yet at that +time France is not to be considered as really a monarchy, but as an +agglomeration of dukedoms and countships; England, although bearing more the +semblance of a unity, still fought with the feudal organisation, and was +hampered by serious domestic troubles. +</p> + +<p> +Under Louis XI., France made its greatest step towards internal unity; under +Charles VIII. it appears in Italy as a power bent on conquest; and under Louis +XIV. it had brought its political state and its standing army to the highest +perfection. +</p> + +<p> +Spain attains to unity under Ferdinand the Catholic; through accidental +marriage connections, under Charles V., suddenly arose the great Spanish +monarchy, composed of Spain, Burgundy, Germany, and Italy united. What this +colossus wanted in unity and internal political cohesion, it made up for by +gold, and its standing army came for the first time into collision with the +standing army of France. After Charles’s abdication, the great Spanish +colossus split into two parts, Spain and Austria. The latter, strengthened by +the acquisition of Bohemia and Hungary, now appears on the scene as a great +power, towing the German Confederation like a small vessel behind her. +</p> + +<p> +The end of the seventeenth century, the time of Louis XIV., is to be regarded +as the point in history at which the standing military power, such as it +existed in the eighteenth century, reached its zenith. That military force was +based on enlistment and money. States had organised themselves into complete +unities; and the governments, by commuting the personal obligations of their +subjects into a money payment, had concentrated their whole power in their +treasuries. Through the rapid strides in social improvements, and a more +enlightened system of government, this power had become very great in +comparison to what it had been. France appeared in the field with a standing +army of a couple of hundred thousand men, and the other powers in proportion. +</p> + +<p> +The other relations of States had likewise altered. Europe was divided into a +dozen kingdoms and two republics; it was now conceivable that two of these +powers might fight with each other without ten times as many others being mixed +up in the quarrel, as would certainly have been the case formerly. The possible +combinations in political relations were still manifold, but they could be +discerned and determined from time to time according to probability. +</p> + +<p> +Internal relations had almost everywhere settle down into a pure monarchical +form; the rights and influence of privileged bodies or estates had gradually +died away, and the cabinet had become a complete unity, acting for the State in +all its external relations. The time had therefore come that a suitable +instrument and a despotic will could give war a form in accordance with the +theoretical conception. +</p> + +<p> +And at this epoch appeared three new Alexanders Gustavus Adolphus, Charles +XII., and Frederick the Great, whose aim was by small but highly-disciplined +armies, to raise little States to the rank of great monarchies, and to throw +down everything that opposed them. If they had had only to deal with Asiatic +States, they would have more closely resembled Alexander in the parts they +acted. In any case, we may look upon them as the precursors of Buonaparte as +respects that which may be risked in war. +</p> + +<p> +But what war gained on the one side in force and consistency was lost again on +the other side. +</p> + +<p> +Armies were supported out of the treasury, which the sovereign regarded partly +as his private purse, or at least as a resource belonging to the government, +and not to the people. Relations with other states, except with respect to a +few commercial subjects, mostly concerned only the interests of the treasury or +of the government, not those of the people; at least ideas tended everywhere in +that way. The cabinets, therefore, looked upon themselves as the owners and +administrators of large estates, which they were continually seeking to +increase without the tenants on these estates being particularly interested in +this improvement. The people, therefore, who in the Tartar invasions were +everything in war, who, in the old republics, and in the Middle Ages, (if we +restrict the idea to those possessing the rights of citizens,) were of great +consequence, were in the eighteenth century, absolutely nothing directly, +having only still an indirect influence on the war through their virtues and +faults. +</p> + +<p> +In this manner, in proportion as the government separated itself from the +people, and regarded itself as the state, war became more exclusively a +business of the government, which it carried on by means of the money in its +coffers and the idle vagabonds it could pick up in its own and neighbouring +countries. The consequence of this was, that the means which the government +could command had tolerably well defined limits, which could be mutually +estimated, both as to their extent and duration; this robbed war of its most +dangerous feature: namely the effort towards the extreme, and the hidden series +of possibilities connected therewith. +</p> + +<p> +The financial means, the contents of the treasury, the state of credit of the +enemy, were approximately known as well as the size of his army. Any large +increase of these at the outbreak of a war was impossible. Inasmuch as the +limits of the enemy’s power could thus be judged of, a State felt +tolerably secure from complete subjugation, and as the State was conscious at +the same time of the limits of its own means, it saw itself restricted to a +moderate aim. Protected from an extreme, there was no necessity to venture on +an extreme. Necessity no longer giving an impulse in that direction, that +impulse could only now be given by courage and ambition. But these found a +powerful counterpoise in the political relations. Even kings in command were +obliged to use the instrument of war with caution. If the army was dispersed, +no new one could be got, and except the army there was nothing. This imposed as +a necessity great prudence in all undertakings. It was only when a decided +advantage seemed to present itself that they made use of the costly instrument; +to bring about such an opportunity was a general’s art; but until it was +brought about they floated to a certain degree in an absolute vacuum, there was +no ground of action, and all forces, that is all designs, seemed to rest. The +original motive of the aggressor faded away in prudence and circumspection. +</p> + +<p> +Thus war, in reality, became a regular game, in which Time and Chance shuffled +the cards; but in its signification it was only diplomacy somewhat intensified, +a more vigorous way of negotiating, in which battles and sieges were +substituted for diplomatic notes. To obtain some moderate advantage in order to +make use of it in negotiations for peace, was the aim even of the most +ambitious. +</p> + +<p> +This restricted, shrivelled-up form of war proceeded, as we have said, from the +narrow basis on which it was supported. But that excellent generals and kings, +like Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XII., and Frederick the Great, at the head of +armies just as excellent, could not gain more prominence in the general mass of +phenomena that even these men were obliged to be contented to remain at the +ordinary level of moderate results, is to be attributed to the balance of power +in Europe. Now that States had become greater, and their centres further apart +from each other, what had formerly been done through direct perfectly natural +interests, proximity, contact, family connections, personal friendship, to +prevent any one single State among the number from becoming suddenly great was +effected by a higher cultivation of the art of diplomacy. Political interests, +attractions and repulsions developed into a very refined system, so that a +cannon shot could not be fired in Europe without all the cabinets having some +interest in the occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +A new Alexander must therefore try the use of a good pen as well as his good +sword; and yet he never went very far with his conquests. +</p> + +<p> +But although Louis XIV. had in view to overthrow the balance of power in +Europe, and at the end of the seventeenth century had already got to such a +point as to trouble himself little about the general feeling of animosity, he +carried on war just as it had heretofore been conducted; for while his army was +certainly that of the greatest and richest monarch in Europe, in its nature it +was just like others. +</p> + +<p> +Plundering and devastating the enemy’s country, which play such an +important part with Tartars, with ancient nations, and even in the Middle Ages, +were no longer in accordance with the spirit of the age. They were justly +looked upon as unnecessary barbarity, which might easily be retaliated, and +which did more injury to the enemy’s subjects than the enemy’s +government, therefore, produced no effect beyond throwing the nation back many +stages in all that relates to peaceful arts and civilisation. War, therefore, +confined itself more and more both as regards means and end, to the army +itself. The army with its fortresses, and some prepared positions, constituted +a State in a State, within which the element of war slowly consumed itself. All +Europe rejoiced at its taking this direction, and held it to be the necessary +consequence of the spirit of progress. Although there lay in this an error, +inasmuch as the progress of the human mind can never lead to what is absurd, +can never make five out of twice two, as we have already said, and must again +repeat, still upon the whole this change had a beneficial effect for the +people; only it is not to be denied that it had a tendency to make war still +more an affair of the State, and to separate it still more from the interests +of the people. The plan of a war on the part of the state assuming the +offensive in those times consisted generally in the conquest of one or other of +the enemy’s provinces; the plan of the defender was to prevent this; the +particular plan of campaign was to take one or other of the enemy’s +fortresses, or to prevent one of our own from being taken; it was only when a +battle became unavoidable for this purpose that it was sought for and fought. +Whoever fought a battle without this unavoidable necessity, from mere innate +desire of gaining a victory, was reckoned a general with too much daring. +Generally the campaign passed over with one siege, or if it was a very active +one, with two sieges, and winter quarters, which were regarded as a necessity, +and during which, the faulty arrangements of the one could never be taken +advantage of by the other, and in which the mutual relations of the two parties +almost entirely ceased, formed a distinct limit to the activity which was +considered to belong to one campaign. +</p> + +<p> +If the forces opposed were too much on an equality, or if the aggressor was +decidedly the weaker of the two, then neither battle nor siege took place, and +the whole of the operations of the campaign pivoted on the maintenance of +certain positions and magazines, and the regular exhaustion of particular +districts of country. +</p> + +<p> +As long as war was universally conducted in this manner, and the natural limits +of its force were so close and obvious, so far from anything absurd being +perceived in it, all was considered to be in the most regular order; and +criticism, which in the eighteenth century began to turn its attention to the +field of art in war, addressed itself to details without troubling itself much +about the beginning and the end. Thus there was eminence and perfection of +every kind, and even Field Marshal Daun, to whom it was chiefly owing that +Frederick the Great completely attained his object, and that Maria Theresa +completely failed in hers, notwithstanding that could still pass for a great +General. Only now and again a more penetrating judgment made its appearance, +that is, sound common sense acknowledged that with superior numbers something +positive should be attained or war is badly conducted, whatever art may be +displayed. +</p> + +<p> +Thus matters stood when the French Revolution broke out; Austria and Prussia +tried their diplomatic art of war; this very soon proved insufficient. Whilst, +according to the usual way of seeing things, all hopes were placed on a very +limited military force in 1793, such a force as no one had any conception of, +made its appearance. War had suddenly become again an affair of the people, and +that of a people numbering thirty millions, every one of whom regarded himself +as a citizen of the State. Without entering here into the details of +circumstances with which this great phenomenon was attended, we shall confine +ourselves to the results which interest us at present. By this participation of +the people in the war instead of a cabinet and an army, a whole nation with its +natural weight came into the scale. Henceforward, the means available the +efforts which might be called forth had no longer any definite limits; the +energy with which the war itself might be conducted had no longer any +counterpoise, and consequently the danger for the adversary had risen to the +extreme. +</p> + +<p> +If the whole war of the revolution passed over without all this making itself +felt in its full force and becoming quite evident; if the generals of the +revolution did not persistently press on to the final extreme, and did not +overthrow the monarchies in Europe; if the German armies now and again had the +opportunity of resisting with success, and checking for a time the torrent of +victory, the cause lay in reality in that technical incompleteness with which +the French had to contend, which showed itself first amongst the common +soldiers, then in the generals, lastly, at the time of the Directory, in the +Government itself. +</p> + +<p> +After all this was perfected by the hand of Buonaparte, this military power, +based on the strength of the whole nation, marched over Europe, smashing +everything in pieces so surely and certainly, that where it only encountered +the old fashioned armies the result was not doubtful for a moment. A re-action, +however, awoke in due time. In Spain, the war became of itself an affair of the +people. In Austria, in the year 1809, the Government commenced extraordinary +efforts, by means of Reserves and Landwehr, which were nearer to the true +object, and far surpassed in degree what this State had hitherto conceived +possible, In Russia, in 1812, the example of Spain and Austria was taken as a +pattern, the enormous dimensions of that empire on the one hand allowed the +preparations, although too long deferred, still to produce effect; and, on the +other hand, intensified the effect produced. The result was brilliant. In +Germany, Prussia rose up the first, made the war a national cause, and without +either money or credit, and with a population reduced one half, took the field +with an army twice as strong as that of 1806. The rest of Germany followed the +example of Prussia sooner or later, and Austria, although less energetic than +in 1809, still also came forward with more than its usual strength. Thus it was +that Germany and Russia in the years 1813 and 1814, including all who took an +active part in, or were absorbed in these two campaigns, appeared against +France with about a million of men. +</p> + +<p> +Under these circumstances, the energy thrown into the conduct of the war was +quite different; and, although not quite on a level with that of the French, +although at some points timidity was still to be observed, the course of the +campaigns, upon the whole, may be said to have been in the new, not in the old, +style. In eight months the theatre of war was removed from the Oder to the +Seine. Proud Paris had to bow its head for the first time; and the redoubtable +Buonaparte lay fettered on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, since the time of Buonaparte, war, through being first on one side, +then again on the other, an affair of the whole nation, has assumed quite a new +nature, or rather it has approached much nearer to its real nature, to its +absolute perfection. The means then called forth had no visible limit, the +limit losing itself in the energy and enthusiasm of the Government and its +subjects. By the extent of the means, and the wide field of possible results, +as well as by the powerful excitement of feeling which prevailed, energy in the +conduct of war was immensely increased; the object of its action was the +downfall of the foe; and not until the enemy lay powerless on the ground was it +supposed to be possible to stop or to come to any understanding with respect to +the mutual objects of the contest. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, therefore, the element of war, freed from all conventional restrictions, +broke loose, with all its natural force. The cause was the participation of the +people in this great <i>affair of State</i>, and this participation arose +partly from the effects of the French Revolution on the internal affairs of +countries, partly from the threatening attitude of the French towards all +nations. +</p> + +<p> +Now, whether this will be the case always in future, whether all wars hereafter +in Europe will be carried on with the whole power of the States, and, +consequently, will only take place on account of great interests closely +affecting the people, or whether a separation of the interests of the +Government from those of the people will gradually again arise, would be a +difficult point to settle; and, least of all, shall we take upon us to settle +it. But every one will agree with us, that bounds, which to a certain extent +existed only in an unconsciousness of what is possible, when once thrown down, +are not easily built up again; and that, at least, whenever great interests are +in dispute, mutual hostility will discharge itself in the same manner as it has +done in our times. +</p> + +<p> +We here bring our historical survey to a close, for it was not our design to +give at a gallop some of the principles on which war has been carried on in +each age, but only to show how each period has had its own peculiar forms of +war, its own restrictive conditions, and its own prejudices. Each period would, +therefore, also keep its own theory of war, even if every where, in early +times, as well as in later, the task had been undertaken of working out a +theory on philosophical principles. The events in each age must, therefore, be +judged of in connection with the peculiarities of the time, and only he who, +less through an anxious study of minute details than through an accurate glance +at the whole, can transfer himself into each particular age, is fit to +understand and appreciate its generals. +</p> + +<p> +But this conduct of war, conditioned by the peculiar relations of States, and +of the military force employed, must still always contain in itself something +more general, or rather something quite general, with which, above everything, +theory is concerned. +</p> + +<p> +The latest period of past time, in which war reached its absolute strength, +contains most of what is of general application and necessary. But it is just +as improbable that wars henceforth will all have this grand character as that +the wide barriers which have been opened to them will ever be completely closed +again. Therefore, by a theory which only dwells upon this absolute war, all +cases in which external influences alter the nature of war would be excluded or +condemned as false. This cannot be the object of theory, which ought to be the +science of war, not under ideal but under real circumstances. Theory, +therefore, whilst casting a searching, discriminating and classifying glance at +objects, should always have in view the manifold diversity of causes from which +war may proceed, and should, therefore, so trace out its great features as to +leave room for what is required by the exigencies of time and the moment. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, we must add that the object which every one who undertakes war +proposes to himself, and the means which he calls forth, are determined +entirely according to the particular details of his position; and on that very +account they will also bear in themselves the character of the time and of the +general relations; lastly, <i>that they are always subject to the general +conclusions to be deduced from the nature of war</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap122"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>Ends in War More Precisely Defined<br/> +Overthrow of the Enemy</h3> + +<p> +The aim of war in conception must always be the overthrow of the enemy; this is +the fundamental idea from which we set out. +</p> + +<p> +Now, what is this overthrow? It does not always imply as necessary the complete +conquest of the enemy’s country. If the Germans had reached Paris, in +1792, there—in all human probability—the war with the Revolutionary +party would have been brought to an end at once for a season; it was not at all +necessary at that time to beat their armies beforehand, for those armies were +not yet to be looked upon as potent powers in themselves singly. On the other +hand, in 1814, the allies would not have gained everything by taking Paris if +Buonaparte had still remained at the head of a considerable army; but as his +army had nearly melted away, therefore, also in the year 1814 and 1815 the +taking of Paris decided all. If Buonaparte in the year 1812, either before or +after taking Moscow, had been able to give the Russian army of 120,000 on the +Kaluga road, a complete defeat, such as he gave the Austrians in 1805, and the +Prussian army, 1806, then the possession of that capital would most probably +have brought about a peace, although an enormous tract of country still +remained to be conquered. In the year 1805 it was the battle of Austerlitz that +was decisive; and, therefore, the previous possession of Vienna and two-thirds +of the Austrian States, was not of sufficient weight to gain for Buonaparte a +peace; but, on the other hand also, after that battle of Austerlitz, the +integrity of Hungary, still intact, was not of sufficient weight to prevent the +conclusion of peace. In the Russian campaign, the complete defeat of the +Russian army was the last blow required: the Emperor Alexander had no other +army at hand, and, therefore, peace was the certain consequence of victory. If +the Russian army had been on the Danube along with the Austrian, and had shared +in its defeat, then probably the conquest of Vienna would not have been +necessary, and peace would have been concluded in Linz. +</p> + +<p> +In other cases, the complete conquest of a country has not been sufficient, as +in the year 1807, in Prussia, when the blow levelled against the Russian +auxiliary army, in the doubtful battle of Eylau, was not decisive enough, and +the undoubted victory of Friedland was required as a finishing blow, like the +victory of Austerlitz in the preceding year. +</p> + +<p> +We see that here, also, the result cannot be determined from general grounds; +the individual causes, which no one knows who is not on the spot, and many of a +moral nature which are never heard of, even the smallest traits and accidents, +which only appear in history as anecdotes, are often decisive. All that theory +can here say is as follows:—That the great point is to keep the +overruling relations of both parties in view. Out of them a certain centre of +gravity, a centre of power and movement, will form itself, on which everything +depends; and against this centre of gravity of the enemy, the concentrated blow +of all the forces must be directed. +</p> + +<p> +The little always depends on the great, the unimportant on the important, and +the accidental on the essential. This must guide our view. +</p> + +<p> +Alexander had his centre of gravity in his army, so had Gustavus Adolphus, +Charles XII., and Frederick the Great, and the career of any one of them would +soon have been brought to a close by the destruction of his army: in States +torn by internal dissensions, this centre generally lies in the capital; in +small states dependent on greater ones, it lies generally in the army of these +allies; in a confederacy, it lies in the unity of interests; in a national +insurrection, in the person of the chief leader, and in public opinion; against +these points the blow must be directed. If the enemy by this loses his balance, +no time must be allowed for him to recover it; the blow must be persistently +repeated in the same direction, or, in other words, the conqueror must always +direct his blows upon the mass, but not against a fraction of the enemy. It is +not by conquering one of the enemy’s provinces, with little trouble and +superior numbers, and preferring the more secure possession of this unimportant +conquest to great results, but by seeking out constantly the heart of the +hostile power, and staking everything in order to gain all, that we can +effectually strike the enemy to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +But whatever may be the central point of the enemy’s power against which +we are to direct our operations, still the conquest and destruction of his army +is the surest commencement, and in all cases, the most essential. +</p> + +<p> +Hence we think that, according to the majority of ascertained facts, the +following circumstances chiefly bring about the overthrow of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +1. Dispersion of his army if it forms, in some degree, a potential force. +</p> + +<p> +2. Capture of the enemy’s capital city, if it is both the centre of the +power of the State and the seat of political assemblies and actions. +</p> + +<p> +3. An effectual blow against the principal ally, if he is more powerful than +the enemy himself. +</p> + +<p> +We have always hitherto supposed the enemy in war as a unity, which is +allowable for considerations of a very general nature. But having said that the +subjugation of the enemy lies in the overcoming his resistance, concentrated in +the centre of gravity, we must lay aside this supposition and introduce the +case, in which we have to deal with more than one opponent. +</p> + +<p> +If two or more States combine against a third, that combination constitutes, in +a political aspect, only <i>one</i> war, at the same time this political union +has also its degrees. +</p> + +<p> +The question is whether each State in the coalition possesses an independent +interest in, and an independent force with which to prosecute, the war; or +whether there is one amongst them on whose interests and forces those of the +others lean for support. The more that the last is the case, the easier it is +to look upon the different enemies as one alone, and the more readily we can +simplify our principal enterprise to one great blow; and as long as this is in +any way possible, it is the most thorough and complete means of success. +</p> + +<p> +We may, therefore, establish it as a principle, that if we can conquer all our +enemies by conquering one of them, the defeat of that one must be the aim of +the war, because in that one we hit the common centre of gravity of the whole +war. +</p> + +<p> +There are very few cases in which this kind of conception is not admissible, +and where this reduction of several centres of gravity to one cannot be made. +But if this cannot be done, then indeed there is no alternative but to look +upon the war as two or more separate wars, each of which has its own aim. As +this case supposes the substantive independence of several enemies, +consequently a great superiority of the whole, therefore in this case the +overthrow of the enemy cannot, in general, come into question. +</p> + +<p> +We now turn more particularly to the question, When is such an object possible +and advisable? +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, our forces must be sufficient,— +</p> + +<p> +1. To gain a decisive victory over those of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +2. To make the expenditure of force which may be necessary to follow up the +victory to a point at which it will no longer be possible for the enemy to +regain his balance. +</p> + +<p> +Next, we must feel sure that in our political situation, such a result will not +excite against us new enemies, who may compel us on the spot to set free our +first enemy. +</p> + +<p> +France, in the year 1806, was able completely to conquer Prussia, although in +doing so it brought down upon itself the whole military power of Russia, +because it was in a condition to cope with the Russians in Prussia. +</p> + +<p> +France might have done the same in Spain in 1808 as far as regards England, but +not as regards Austria. It was compelled to weaken itself materially in Spain +in 1809, and must have quite given up the contest in that country if it had not +had otherwise great superiority both physically and morally, over Austria. +</p> + +<p> +These three cases should therefore be carefully studied, that we may not lose +in the last the cause which we have gained in the former ones, and be condemned +in costs. +</p> + +<p> +In estimating the strength of forces, and that which may be effected by them, +the idea very often suggests itself to look upon time by a dynamic analogy as a +factor of forces, and to assume accordingly that half efforts, or half the +number of forces would accomplish in two years what could only be effected in +one year by the whole force united. This view which lies at the bottom of +military schemes, sometimes clearly, sometimes less plainly, is completely +wrong. +</p> + +<p> +An operation in war, like everything else upon earth, requires its time; as a +matter of course we cannot walk from Wilna to Moscow in eight days; but there +is no trace to be found in war of any reciprocal action between time and force, +such as takes place in dynamics. +</p> + +<p> +Time is necessary to both belligerents, and the only question is: which of the +two, judging by his position, has most reason to expect <i>special +advantages</i> from time? Now (exclusive of peculiarities in the situation on +one side or the other) the <i>vanquished</i> has plainly the most reason, at +the same time certainly not by dynamic, but by psychological laws. Envy, +jealousy, anxiety for self, as well as now and again magnanimity, are the +natural intercessors for the unfortunate; they raise up for him on the one hand +friends, and on the other hand weaken and dissolve the coalition amongst his +enemies. Therefore, by delay something advantageous is more likely to happen +for the conquered than for the conqueror. Further, we must recollect that to +make right use of a first victory, as we have already shown, a great +expenditure of force is necessary; this is not a mere outlay once for all, but +has to be kept up like housekeeping, on a great scale; the forces which have +been sufficient to give us possession of a province, are not always sufficient +to meet this additional outlay; by degrees the strain upon our resources +becomes greater, until at last it becomes insupportable; time, therefore, of +itself may bring about a change. +</p> + +<p> +Could the contributions which Buonaparte levied from the Russians and Poles, in +money and in other ways, in 1812, have procured the hundreds of thousands of +men that he must have sent to Moscow in order to retain his position there? +</p> + +<p> +But if the conquered provinces are sufficiently important, if there are in them +points which are essential to the well-being of those parts which are not +conquered, so that the evil, like a cancer, is perpetually of itself gnawing +further into the system, then it is possible that the conqueror, although +nothing further is done, may gain more than he loses. Now in this state of +circumstances, if no help comes from without, then time may complete the work +thus commenced; what still remains unconquered will, perhaps, fall of itself. +Therefore, thus time may also become a factor of his forces, but this can only +take place if a return blow from the conquered is no longer possible, a change +of fortune in his favour no longer conceivable, when therefore this factor of +his forces is no longer of any value to the conqueror; for he has accomplished +the chief object, the danger of the culminating point is past, in short, the +enemy is already subdued. +</p> + +<p> +Our object in the above reasoning has been to show clearly that no conquest can +be finished too soon, that spreading it over a <i>greater space of time</i> +than is absolutely necessary for its completion, instead of <i>facilitating</i> +it, makes it more <i>difficult</i>. If this assertion is true, it is further +true also that if we are strong enough to effect a certain conquest, we must +also be strong enough to do it in one march without intermediate stations. Of +course we do not mean by this without short halts, in order to concentrate the +forces, and make other indispensable arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +By this view, which makes the character of a speedy and persistent effort +towards a decision essential to offensive war, we think we have completely set +aside all grounds for <i>that</i> theory which in place of the irresistible +continued following up of victory, would substitute a slow methodical system as +being more sure and prudent. But even for those who have readily followed us so +far, our assertion has, perhaps after all, so much the appearance of a paradox, +is at first sight so much opposed and offensive to an opinion which, like an +old prejudice, has taken deep root, and has been repeated a thousand times in +books, that we considered it advisable to examine more closely the foundation +of those plausible arguments which may be advanced. +</p> + +<p> +It is certainly easier to reach an object near us than one at a distance, but +when the nearest one does not suit our purpose it does not follow that dividing +the work, that a resting point, will enable us to get over the second half of +the road easier. A small jump is easier than a large one, but no one on that +account, wishing to cross a wide ditch, would jump half of it first. +</p> + +<p> +If we look closely into the foundation of the conception of the so-called +methodical offensive war, we shall find it generally consists of the following +things:— +</p> + +<p> +1. Conquest of those fortresses belonging to the enemy which we meet with. +</p> + +<p> +2. Laying in the necessary supplies. +</p> + +<p> +3. Fortifying important points, as, <i>magazines, bridges, positions</i>, etc. +</p> + +<p> +4. Resting the troops in quarters during winter, or when they require to be +recruited in health and refreshed. +</p> + +<p> +5. Waiting for the reinforcements of the ensuing year. +</p> + +<p> +If for the attainment of all these objects we make a formal division in the +course of the offensive action, a resting point in the movement, it is supposed +that we gain a new base and renewed force, as if our own State was following up +in the rear of the army, and that the latter laid in renewed vigour for every +fresh campaign. +</p> + +<p> +All these praiseworthy motives may make the offensive war more convenient, but +they do not make its results surer, and are generally only make-believes to +cover certain counteracting forces, such as the feelings of the commander or +irresolution in the cabinet. We shall try to roll them up from the left flank. +</p> + +<p> +1. The waiting for reinforcements suits the enemy just as well, and is, we may +say, more to his advantage. Besides, it lies in the nature of the thing that a +State can place in line nearly as many combatant forces in one year as in two; +for all the actual increase of combatant force in the second year is but +trifling in relation to the whole. +</p> + +<p> +2. The enemy rests himself at the same time that we do. +</p> + +<p> +3. The fortification of towns and positions is not the work of the army, and +therefore no ground for any delay. +</p> + +<p> +4. According to the present system of subsisting armies, magazines are more +necessary when the army is in cantonments, than when it is advancing. As long +as we advance with success, we continually fall into possession of some of the +enemy’s provision depots, which assist us when the country itself is +poor. +</p> + +<p> +5. The taking of the enemy’s fortresses cannot be regarded as a +suspension of the attack: it is an intensified progress, and therefore the +seeming suspension which is caused thereby is not properly a case such as we +allude to, it is neither a suspension nor a modifying of the use of force. But +whether a regular siege, a blockade, or a mere observation of one or other is +most to the purpose, is a question which can only be decided according to +particular circumstances. We can only say this in general, that in answering +this question another must be clearly decided, which is, whether the risk will +not be too great if, while only blockading, we at the same time make a further +advance. Where this is not the case, and when there is ample room to extend our +forces, it is better to postpone the formal siege till the termination of the +whole offensive movement. We must therefore take care not to be led into the +error of neglecting the essential, through the idea of immediately making +secure that which is conquered. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt it seems as if, by thus advancing, we at once hazard the loss of what +has been already gained. Our opinion, however, is that no division of action, +no resting point, no intermediate stations are in accordance with the nature of +offensive war, and that when the same are unavoidable, they are to be regarded +as an evil which makes the result not more certain, but, on the contrary, more +uncertain; and further, that, strictly speaking, if from weakness or any cause +we have been obliged to stop, a second spring at the object we have in view is, +as a rule, impossible; but if such a second spring is possible, then the +stoppage at the intermediate station was unnecessary, and that when an object +at the very commencement is beyond our strength, it will always remain so. +</p> + +<p> +We say, this appears to be the general truth, by which we only wish to set +aside the idea that time of itself can do something for the advantage of the +assailant. But as the political relations may change from year to year, +therefore, on that account alone, many cases may happen which are exceptions to +this general truth. +</p> + +<p> +It may appear perhaps as if we had left our general point of view, and had +nothing in our eye except offensive war; but it is not so by any means. +Certainly, he who can set before himself the complete overthrow of the enemy as +his object, will not easily be reduced to take refuge in the defensive, the +immediate object of which is only to keep possession; but as we stand by the +declaration throughout, that a defensive without any positive principle is a +contradiction in strategy as well as in tactics, and therefore always come back +to the fact that every defensive, according to its strength, will seek to +change to the attack as soon as it has exhausted the advantages of the +defensive, so therefore, however great or small the defence may be, we still +also include in it contingently the overthrow of the enemy as an object which +this attack may have, and which is to be considered as the proper object of the +defensive, and we say that there may be cases in which the assailant, +notwithstanding he has in view such a great object, may still prefer at first +to make use of the defensive form. That this idea is founded in reality is +easily shown by the campaign of 1812. The Emperor Alexander in engaging in the +war did not perhaps think of ruining his enemy completely, as was done in the +sequel; but is there anything which makes such an idea impossible? And yet, if +so, would it not still remain very natural that the Russians began the war on +the defensive? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap123"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>Ends in War More Precisely Defined +(<i>continued</i>)<br/>Limited Object</h3> + +<p> +In the preceding chapter we have said that, under the expression +“overthrow of the enemy,” we understand the real absolute aim of +the “act of war;” now we shall see what remains to be done when the +conditions under which this object might be attained do not exist. +</p> + +<p> +These conditions presuppose a great physical or moral superiority, or a great +spirit of enterprise, an innate propensity to extreme hazards. Now where all +this is not forthcoming, the aim in the act of war can only be of two kinds; +either the conquest of some small or moderate portion of the enemy’s +country, or the defence of our own until better times; this last is the usual +case in defensive war. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the one or the other of these aims is of the right kind, can always be +settled by calling to mind the expression used in reference to the last. <i>The +waiting till more favourable times</i> implies that we have reason to expect +such times hereafter, and this waiting for, that is, defensive war, is always +based on this prospect; on the other hand, offensive war, that is, the taking +advantage of the present moment, is always commanded when the future holds out +a better prospect, not to ourselves, but to our adversary. +</p> + +<p> +The third case, which is probably the most common, is when neither party has +anything definite to look for from the future, when therefore it furnishes no +motive for decision. In this case, the offensive war is plainly imperative upon +him who is politically the aggressor, that is, who has the positive motive; for +he has taken up arms with that object, and every moment of time which is lost +without any good reason, is so much lost time <i>for him</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We have here decided for offensive or defensive war on grounds which have +nothing to do with the relative forces of the combatants respectively, and yet +it may appear that it would be nearer right to make the choice of the offensive +or defensive chiefly dependent on the mutual relations of combatants in point +of military strength; our opinion is, that in doing so we should just leave the +right road. The logical correctness of our simple argument no one will dispute; +we shall now see whether in the concrete case it leads to the contrary. +</p> + +<p> +Let us suppose a small State which is involved in a contest with a very +superior power, and foresees that with each year its position will become +worse: should it not, if war is inevitable, make use of the time when its +situation is furthest from the worst? Then it must attack, not because the +attack in <i>itself</i> ensures any advantages—it will rather increase +the disparity of forces—but because this State is under the necessity of +either bringing the matter completely to an issue before the worst time +arrives, or of gaining, at least, in the mean time, some advantages which it +may hereafter turn to account. This theory cannot appear absurd. But if this +small State is quite certain that the enemy will advance against it, then, +certainly, it can and may make use of the defensive against its enemy to +procure a first advantage; there is then at any rate no danger of losing time. +</p> + +<p> +If, again, we suppose a small State engaged in war with a greater, and that the +future has no influence on their decisions, still, if the small State is +politically the assailant, we demand of it also that it should go forward to +its object. +</p> + +<p> +If it has had the audacity to propose to itself a positive end in the face of +superior numbers, then it must also act, that is, attack the foe, if the latter +does not save it the trouble. Waiting would be an absurdity; unless at the +moment of execution it has altered its political resolution, a case which very +frequently occurs, and contributes in no small degree to give wars an +indefinite character. +</p> + +<p> +These considerations on the limited object apply to its connection both with +offensive war and defensive war; we shall consider both in separate chapters. +But we shall first turn our attention to another phase. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto we have deduced the modifications in the object of war solely from +intrinsic reasons. The nature of the political view (or design) we have only +taken into consideration in so far as it is or is not directed at something +positive. Everything else in the political design is in reality something +extraneous to war; but in the second chapter of the first book (End and Means +in War) we have already admitted that the nature of the political object, the +extent of our own or the enemy’s demand, and our whole political relation +practically have a most decisive influence on the conduct of the war, and we +shall therefore devote the following chapter to that subject specially. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap124"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>A. Influence of the Political Object on the Military Object</h3> + +<p> +We never find that a State joining in the cause of another State, takes it up +with the same earnestness as its own. An auxiliary army of moderate strength is +sent; if it is not successful, then the ally looks upon the affair as in a +manner ended, and tries to get out of it on the cheapest terms possible. +</p> + +<p> +In European politics it has been usual for States to pledge themselves to +mutual assistance by an alliance offensive and defensive, not so far that the +one takes part in the interests and quarrels of the other, but only so far as +to promise one another beforehand the assistance of a fixed, generally very +moderate, contingent of troops, without regard to the object of the war, or the +scale on which it is about to be carried on by the principals. In a treaty of +alliance of this kind, the ally does not look upon himself as engaged with the +enemy in a war properly speaking, which should necessarily begin with a +declaration of war, and end with a treaty of peace. Still, this idea also is +nowhere fixed with any distinctness, and usage varies one way and another. +</p> + +<p> +The thing would have a kind of consistency, and it would be less embarrassing +to the theory of war if this promised contingent of ten, twenty, or thirty +thousand men was handed over entirely to the state engaged in war, so that it +could be used as required; it might then be regarded as a subsidised force. But +the usual practice is widely different. Generally the auxiliary force has its +own commander, who depends only on his own government, and to whom they +prescribe an object such as best suits the shilly-shally measures they have in +view. +</p> + +<p> +But even if two States go to war with a third, they do not always both look in +like measure upon this common enemy as one that they must destroy or be +destroyed by themselves, the business is often settled like a commercial +transaction; each, according to the amount of the risk he incurs or the +advantage to be expected, takes shares in the concern to the extent of 30,000 +or 40,000 men, and acts as if he could not lose more than the amount of his +investment. +</p> + +<p> +Not only is this the point of view taken when a State comes to the assistance +of another in a cause in which it has in a manner, little concern, but even +when both allies have a common and very considerable interest at stake, nothing +can be done except under diplomatic reservation, and the contracting parties +usually only agree to furnish a small stipulated contingent, in order to employ +the rest of the forces according to the special ends to which policy may happen +to lead them. +</p> + +<p> +This way of regarding wars entered into by reason of alliances was quite +general, and was only obliged to give place to the natural way in quite modern +times, when the extremity of danger drove men’s minds into the natural +direction (as in the wars <i>against</i> Buonaparte), and when the most +boundless power compelled them to it (as <i>under</i> Buonaparte). It was an +abnormal thing, an anomaly, for war and peace are ideas which in their +foundation can have no gradations; nevertheless it was no mere diplomatic +offspring which the reason could look down upon, but deeply rooted in the +natural limitedness and weakness of human nature. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, even in wars carried on without allies, the political cause of a war +has a great influence on the method in which it is conducted. +</p> + +<p> +If we only require from the enemy a small sacrifice, then we content ourselves +with aiming at a small equivalent by the war, and we expect to attain that by +moderate efforts. The enemy reasons in very much the same way. Now, if one or +the other finds that he has erred in his reckoning that in place of being +slightly superior to the enemy, as he supposed, he is, if anything, rather +weaker, still, at that moment, money and all other means, as well as sufficient +moral impulse for greater exertions are very often deficient: in such a case he +just does what is called “the best he can;” hopes better things in +the future, although he has not the slightest foundation for such hope, and the +war, in the mean time drags itself feebly along, like a body worn out with +sickness. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it comes to pass that the reciprocal action, the rivalry, the violence and +impetuosity of war lose themselves in the stagnation of weak motives, and that +both parties move with a certain kind of security in very circumscribed +spheres. +</p> + +<p> +If this influence of the political object is once permitted, as it then must +be, there is no longer any limit, and we must be pleased to come down to such +warfare as consists in a <i>mere threatening of the enemy</i> and in +<i>negotiating</i>. +</p> + +<p> +That the theory of war, if it is to be and to continue a philosophical study, +finds itself here in a difficulty is clear. All that is essentially inherent in +the conception of war seems to fly from it, and it is in danger of being left +without any point of support. But the natural outlet soon shows itself. +According as a modifying principle gains influence over the act of war, or +rather, the weaker the motives to action become, the more the action will glide +into a passive resistance, the less eventful it will become, and the less it +will require guiding principles. All military art then changes itself into mere +prudence, the principal object of which will be to prevent the trembling +balance from suddenly turning to our disadvantage, and the half war from +changing into a complete one. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap125"></a>B. War as an Instrument of Policy</h3> + +<p> +Having made the requisite examination on both sides of that state of antagonism +in which the nature of war stands with relation to other interests of men +individually and of the bond of society, in order not to neglect any of the +opposing elements, an antagonism which is founded in our own nature, and which, +therefore, no philosophy can unravel, we shall now look for that unity into +which, in practical life, these antagonistic elements combine themselves by +partly neutralising each other. We should have brought forward this unity at +the very commencement, if it had not been necessary to bring out this +contradiction very plainly, and also to look at the different elements +separately. Now, this unity is <i>the conception that war is only a part of +political intercourse, therefore by no means an independent thing in +itself</i>. +</p> + +<p> +We know, certainly, that war is only called forth through the political +intercourse of Governments and nations; but in general it is supposed that such +intercourse is broken off by war, and that a totally different state of things +ensues, subject to no laws but its own. +</p> + +<p> +We maintain, on the contrary: that war is nothing but a continuation of +political intercourse, with a mixture of other means. We say, mixed with other +means, in order thereby to maintain at the same time that this political +intercourse does not cease by the war itself, is not changed into something +quite different, but that, in its essence, it continues to exist, whatever may +be the form of the means which it uses, and that the chief lines on which the +events of the war progress, and to which they are attached, are only the +general features of policy which run all through the war until peace takes +place. And how can we conceive it to be otherwise? Does the cessation of +diplomatic notes stop the political relations between different nations and +Governments? Is not war merely another kind of writing and language for +political thoughts? It has certainly a grammar of its own, but its logic is not +peculiar to itself. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, war can never be separated from political intercourse, and if, in +the consideration of the matter, this is done in any way, all the threads of +the different relations are, to a certain extent, broken, and we have before us +a senseless thing without an object. +</p> + +<p> +This kind of idea would be indispensable even if war was perfect war, the +perfectly unbridled element of hostility, for all the circumstances on which it +rests, and which determine its leading features, viz., our own power, the +enemy’s power, allies on both sides, the characteristics of the people +and their Governments respectively, etc., as enumerated in the first chapter of +the first book, are they not of a political nature, and are they not so +intimately connected with the whole political intercourse that it is impossible +to separate them? But this view is doubly indispensable if we reflect that real +war is no such consistent effort tending to an extreme, as it should be +according to the abstract idea, but a half and half thing, a contradiction in +itself; that, as such, it cannot follow its own laws, but must be looked upon +as a part of another whole, and this whole is policy. +</p> + +<p> +Policy in making use of war avoids all those rigorous conclusions which proceed +from its nature; it troubles itself little about final possibilities, confining +its attention to immediate probabilities. If much uncertainty in the whole +action ensues therefrom, if it thereby becomes a sort of game, the policy of +each cabinet places its confidence in the belief that in this game it will +surpass its neighbour in skill and sharpsightedness. +</p> + +<p> +Thus policy makes out of the all-overpowering element of war a mere instrument, +changes the tremendous battle-sword, which should be lifted with both hands and +the whole power of the body to strike once for all, into a light handy weapon, +which is even sometimes nothing more than a rapier to exchange thrusts and +feints and parries. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the contradictions in which man, naturally timid, becomes involved by war, +may be solved, if we choose to accept this as a solution. +</p> + +<p> +If war belongs to policy, it will naturally take its character from thence. If +policy is grand and powerful, so will also be the war, and this may be carried +to the point at which war attains to <i>its absolute form</i>. +</p> + +<p> +In this way of viewing the subject, therefore, we need not shut out of sight +the absolute form of war, we rather keep it continually in view in the back +ground. +</p> + +<p> +Only through this kind of view, war recovers unity; only by it can we see all +wars as things of one kind; and it is only through it that the judgment can +obtain the true and perfect basis and point of view from which great plans may +be traced out and determined upon. +</p> + +<p> +It is true the political element does not sink deep into the details of war, +Vedettes are not planted, patrols do not make their rounds from political +considerations, but small as is its influence in this respect, it is great in +the formation of a plan for a whole war, or a campaign, and often even for a +battle. +</p> + +<p> +For this reason we were in no hurry to establish this view at the commencement. +While engaged with particulars, it would have given us little help; and, on the +other hand, would have distracted our attention to a certain extent; in the +plan of a war or campaign it is indispensable. +</p> + +<p> +There is, upon the whole, nothing more important in life than to find out the +right point of view from which things should be looked at and judged of, and +then to keep to that point; for we can only apprehend the mass of events in +their unity from one standpoint; and it is only the keeping to one point of +view that guards us from inconsistency. +</p> + +<p> +If, therefore, in drawing up a plan of a war it is not allowable to have a +two-fold or three-fold point of view, from which things may be looked at, now +with the eye of a soldier, then with that of an administrator, and then again +with that of a politician, etc., then the next question is, whether +<i>policy</i> is necessarily paramount, and everything else subordinate to it. +</p> + +<p> +That policy unites in itself, and reconciles all the interests of internal +administrations, even those of humanity, and whatever else are rational +subjects of consideration, is presupposed, for it is nothing in itself, except +a mere representative and exponent of all these interests towards other States. +That policy may take a false direction, and may promote unfairly the ambitious +ends, the private interests, the vanity of rulers, does not concern us here; +for, under no circumstances can the art of war be regarded as its preceptor, +and we can only look at policy here as the representative of the interests +generally of the whole community. +</p> + +<p> +The only question, therefore, is, whether in framing plans for a war the +political point of view should give way to the purely military (if such a point +is conceivable), that is to say, should disappear altogether, or subordinate +itself to it, or whether the political is to remain the ruling point of view, +and the military to be considered subordinate to it. +</p> + +<p> +That the political point of view should end completely when war begins, is only +conceivable in contests which are wars of life and death, from pure hatred: as +wars are in reality, they are as we before said, only the expressions or +manifestations of policy itself. The subordination of the political point of +view to the military would be contrary to common sense, for policy has declared +the war; it is the intelligent faculty, war only the instrument, and not the +reverse. The subordination of the military point of view to the political is, +therefore, the only thing which is possible. +</p> + +<p> +If we reflect on the nature of real war, and call to mind what has been said in +the third chapter of this book, <i>that every war should be viewed above all +things according to the probability of its character, and its leading features +as they are to be deduced from the political forces and proportions</i>, and +that often—indeed we may safely affirm, in our days, <i>almost</i> +always—war is to be regarded as an organic whole, from which the single +branches are not to be separated, in which therefore every individual activity +flows into the whole, and also has its origin in the idea of this whole, then +it becomes certain and palpable to us that the superior stand-point for the +conduct of the war, from which its leading lines must proceed, can be no other +than that of policy. +</p> + +<p> +From this point of view the plans come, as it were, out of a cast; the +apprehension of them and the judgment upon them become easier and more natural, +our convictions respecting them gain in force, motives are more satisfying, and +history more intelligible. +</p> + +<p> +At all events, from this point of view, there is no longer in the nature of +things a necessary conflict between the political and military interests, and +where it appears it is therefore to be regarded as imperfect knowledge only. +That policy makes demands on the war which it cannot respond to, would be +contrary to the supposition that it knows the instrument which it is going to +use, therefore, contrary to a natural and indispensable supposition. But if it +judges correctly of the march of military events, it is entirely its affair, +and can be its only to determine what are the events and what the direction of +events most favourable to the ultimate and great end of the war. +</p> + +<p> +In one word, the art of war in its highest point of view is policy, but, no +doubt, a policy which fights battles, instead of writing notes. +</p> + +<p> +According to this view, to leave a great military enterprise, or the plan for +one, to a <i>purely military judgment and decision</i>, is a distinction which +cannot be allowed, and is even prejudicial; indeed, it is an irrational +proceeding to consult professional soldiers on the plan of a war, that they may +give a <i>purely military opinion</i> upon what the cabinet should do; but +still more absurd is the demand of Theorists that a statement of the available +means of war should be laid before the general, that he may draw out a purely +military plan for the war or for a campaign, in accordance with those means. +Experience in general also teaches us that notwithstanding the multifarious +branches and scientific character of military art in the present day, still the +leading outlines of a war are always determined by the cabinet, that is, if we +would use technical language, by a political not a military functionary. +</p> + +<p> +This is perfectly natural. None of the principal plans which are required for a +war can be made without an insight into the political relations; and, in +reality, when people speak, as they often do, of the prejudicial influence of +policy on the conduct of a war, they say in reality something very different to +what they intend. It is not this influence but the policy itself which should +be found fault with. If policy is right, that is, if it succeeds in hitting the +object, then it can only act on the war in its sense, with advantage also; and +if this influence of policy causes a divergence from the object, the cause is +only to be looked for in a mistaken policy. +</p> + +<p> +It is only when policy promises itself a wrong effect from certain military +means and measures, an effect opposed to their nature, that it can exercise a +prejudicial effect on war by the course it prescribes. Just as a person in a +language with which he is not conversant sometimes says what he does not +intend, so policy, when intending right, may often order things which do not +tally with its own views. +</p> + +<p> +This has happened times without end, and it shows that a certain knowledge of +the nature of war is essential to the management of political commerce. +</p> + +<p> +But before going further, we must guard ourselves against a false +interpretation of which this is very susceptible. We are far from holding the +opinion that a war minister, smothered in official papers, a scientific +engineer, or even a soldier who has been well tried in the field, would, any of +them, necessarily make the best minister of State where the sovereign does not +act for himself; or in other words, we do not mean to say that this +acquaintance with the nature of war is the principal qualification for a war +minister; elevation, superiority of mind, strength of character, these are the +principal qualifications which he must possess; a knowledge of war may be +supplied in one way or the other. France was never worse advised in its +military and political affairs than by the two Brothers Belleisle and the Duke +of Choiseul, although all three were good soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +If war is to harmonise entirely with the political views and policy, to +accommodate itself to the means available for war, there is only one +alternative to be recommended when the statesman and soldier are not combined +in one person, which is, to make the chief commander a member of the cabinet, +that he may take part in its councils and decisions on important occasions. But +then again, this is only possible when the cabinet, that is the government +itself, is near the theatre of war, so that things can be settled without a +serious waste of time. +</p> + +<p> +This is what the Emperor of Austria did in 1809, and the allied sovereigns in +1813, 1814, 1815, and the arrangement proved completely satisfactory. +</p> + +<p> +The influence of any military man except the General-in Chief in the cabinet, +is extremely dangerous; it very seldom leads to able vigorous action. The +example of France in 1793, 1794, 1795, when Carnot, while residing in Paris, +managed the conduct of the war, is to be avoided, as a system of terror is not +at the command of any but a revolutionary government. +</p> + +<p> +We shall now conclude with some reflections derived from history. +</p> + +<p> +In the last decennary of the past century, when that remarkable change in the +art of war in Europe took place by which the best armies found that a part of +their method of war had become utterly unserviceable, and events were brought +about of a magnitude far beyond what any one had any previous conception of, it +certainly appeared that a false calculation of everything was to be laid to the +charge of the art of war. It was plain that while confined by habit within a +narrow circle of conceptions, she had been surprised by the force of a new +state of relations, lying, no doubt, outside that circle, but still not outside +the nature of things. +</p> + +<p> +Those observers who took the most comprehensive view, ascribed the circumstance +to the general influence which policy had exercised for centuries on the art of +war, and undoubtedly to its very great disadvantage, and by which it had sunk +into a half-measure, often into mere sham fighting. They were right as to fact, +but they were wrong in attributing it to something accidental, or which might +have been avoided. +</p> + +<p> +Others thought that everything was to be explained by the momentary influence +of the particular policy of Austria, Prussia, England, etc., with regard to +their own interests respectively. +</p> + +<p> +But is it true that the real surprise by which men’s minds were seized, +was confined to the conduct of war, and did not rather relate to policy itself? +That is, as we should say: did the ill success proceed from the influence of +policy on the war, or from a wrong policy itself? +</p> + +<p> +The prodigious effects of the French revolution abroad were evidently brought +about much less through new methods and views introduced by the French in the +conduct of war than through the changes which it wrought in state-craft and +civil administration, in the character of governments, in the condition of the +people, etc. That other governments took a mistaken view of all these things; +that they endeavoured, with their ordinary means, to hold their own against +forces of a novel kind, and overwhelming in strength; all that was a blunder in +policy. +</p> + +<p> +Would it have been possible to perceive and mend this error by a scheme for the +war from a purely military point of view? Impossible. For if there had been, +even in reality, a philosophical strategist, who merely from the nature of the +hostile elements, had foreseen all the consequences, and prophesied remote +possibilities, still it would have been purely impossible to have turned such +wisdom to account. +</p> + +<p> +If policy had risen to a just appreciation of the forces which had sprung up in +France, and of the new relations in the political state of Europe, it might +have foreseen the consequences, which must follow in respect to the great +features of war, and it was only in this way that it could arrive at a correct +view of the extent of the means required as well as of the best use to make of +those means. +</p> + +<p> +We may therefore say, that the twenty years’ victories of the revolution +are chiefly to be ascribed to the erroneous policy of the governments by which +it was opposed. +</p> + +<p> +It is true these errors first displayed themselves in the war, and the events +of the war completely disappointed the expectations which policy entertained. +But this did not take place because policy neglected to consult its military +advisers. That art of war in which the politician of the day could believe, +namely, that derived from the reality of war at that time, that which belonged +to the policy of the day, that familiar instrument which policy had hitherto +used—<i>that</i> art of war, I say, was naturally involved in the error +of policy, and therefore could not teach it anything better. It is true that +war itself underwent important alterations both in its nature and forms, which +brought it nearer to its absolute form; but these changes were not brought +about because the French Government had, to a certain extent, delivered itself +from the leading-strings of policy; they arose from an altered policy, produced +by the French Revolution, not only in France, but over the rest of Europe as +well. This policy had called forth other means and other powers, by which it +became possible to conduct war with a degree of energy which could not have +been thought of otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, the actual changes in the art of war are a consequence of +alterations in policy; and, so far from being an argument for the possible +separation of the two, they are, on the contrary, very strong evidence of the +intimacy of their connexion. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, once more: war is an instrument of policy; it must necessarily bear +its character, it must measure with its scale: the conduct of war, in its great +features, is therefore policy itself, which takes up the sword in place of the +pen, but does not on that account cease to think according to its own laws. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap126"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>Limited Object—Offensive War</h3> + +<p> +Even if the complete overthrow of the enemy cannot be the object, there may +still be one which is directly positive, and this positive object can be +nothing else than the conquest of a part of the enemy’s country. +</p> + +<p> +The use of such a conquest is this, that we weaken the enemy’s resources +generally, therefore, of course, his military power, while we increase our own; +that we therefore carry on the war, to a certain extent, at his expense; +further in this way, that in negotiations for peace, the possession of the +enemy’s provinces may be regarded as net gain, because we can either keep +them or exchange them for other advantages. +</p> + +<p> +This view of a conquest of the enemy’s provinces is very natural, and +would be open to no objection if it were not that the defensive attitude, which +must succeed the offensive, may often cause uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +In the chapter on the culminating point of victory we have sufficiently +explained the manner in which such an offensive weakens the combatant force, +and that it may be succeeded by a situation causing anxiety as to the future. +</p> + +<p> +This weakening of our combatant force by the conquest of part of the +enemy’s territory has its degrees, and these depend chiefly on the +geographical position of this portion of territory. The more it is an annex of +our own country, being contiguous to or embraced by it, the more it is in the +direction of our principal force, by so much the less will it weaken our +combatant force. In the Seven Years’ War, Saxony was a natural complement +of the Prussian theatre of war, and Frederick the Great’s army, instead +of being weakened, was strengthened by the possession of that province, because +it lies nearer to Silesia than to the Mark, and at the same time covers the +latter. +</p> + +<p> +Even in 1740 and 1741, after Frederick the Great had once conquered Silesia, it +did not weaken his army in the field, because, owing to its form and situation +as well as the contour of its frontier line, it only presented a narrow point +to the Austrians, as long as they were not masters of Saxony, and besides that, +this small point of contact also lay in the direction of the chief operations +of the contending forces. +</p> + +<p> +If, on the other hand, the conquered territory is a strip running up between +hostile provinces, has an eccentric position and unfavourable configuration of +ground, then the weakening increases so visibly that a victorious battle +becomes not only much easier for the enemy, but it may even become unnecessary +as well. +</p> + +<p> +The Austrians have always been obliged to evacuate Provence without a battle +when they have made attempts on it from Italy. In the year 1744 the French were +very well pleased even to get out of Bohemia without having lost a battle. In +1758 Frederick the Great could not hold his position in Bohemia and Moravia +with the same force with which he had obtained such brilliant successes in +Silesia and Saxony in 1757. Examples of armies not being able to keep +possession of conquered territory solely because their combatant force was so +much weakened thereby, are so common that it does not appear necessary to quote +any more of them. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, the question whether we should aim at such an object depends on +whether we can expect to hold possession of the conquest or whether a temporary +occupation (invasion, diversion) would repay the expenditure of force required: +especially, whether we have not to apprehend such a vigorous counterstroke as +will completely destroy the balance of forces. In the chapter on the +culmination point we have treated of the consideration due to this question in +each particular case. +</p> + +<p> +There is just one point which we have still to add. +</p> + +<p> +An offensive of this kind will not always compensate us for what we lose upon +other points. Whilst we are engaged in making a partial conquest, the enemy may +be doing the same at other points, and if our enterprise does not greatly +preponderate in importance then it will not compel the enemy to give up his. It +is, therefore, a question for serious consideration whether we may not lose +more than we gain in a case of this description. +</p> + +<p> +Even if we suppose two provinces (one on each side) to be of equal value, we +shall always lose more by the one which the enemy takes from us than we can +gain by the one we take, because a number of our forces become to a certain +extent like <i>faux frais</i>, non-effective. But as the same takes place on +the enemy’s side also, one would suppose that in reality there is no +ground to attach more importance to the maintenance of what is our own than to +the conquest. But yet there is. The maintenance of our own territory is always +a matter which more deeply concerns us, and the suffering inflicted on our own +state can not be outweighed, nor, to a certain extent, neutralised by what we +gain in return, unless the latter promises a high percentage, that is, is much +greater. +</p> + +<p> +The consequence of all this is that a strategic attack directed against only a +moderate object involves a greater necessity for steps to defend other points +which it does not directly cover than one which is directed against the centre +of the enemy’s force; consequently, in such an attack the concentration +of forces in time and space cannot be carried out to the same extent. In order +that it may take place, at least as regards time, it becomes necessary for the +advance to be made offensively from every point possible, and at the same +moment exactly: and therefore this attack loses the other advantage of being +able to make shift with a much smaller force by acting on the defensive at +particular points. In this way the effect of aiming at a minor object is to +bring all things more to a level: the whole act of the war cannot now be +concentrated into one principal affair which can be governed according to +leading points of view; it is more dispersed; the friction becomes greater +everywhere, and there is everywhere more room for chance. +</p> + +<p> +This is the natural tendency of the thing. The commanders weighed down by it, +finds himself more and more neutralised. The more he is conscious of his own +powers, the greater his resources subjectively, and his power objectively, so +much the more he will seek to liberate himself from this tendency in order to +give to some one point a preponderating importance, even if that should only be +possible by running greater risks. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap127"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>Limited Object—Defence</h3> + +<p> +The ultimate aim of defensive war can never be an absolute negation, as we have +before observed. Even for the weakest there must be some point in which the +enemy may be made to feel, and which may be threatened. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly we may say that this object is the exhaustion of the adversary, for +as he has a positive object, every one of his blows which fails, if it has no +other result than the loss of the force applied, still may be considered a +retrograde step <i>in reality</i>, whilst the loss which the defensive suffers +is not in vain, because his object was keeping possession, and that he has +effected. This would be tantamount to saying that the defensive has his +positive object in merely keeping possession. Such reasoning might be good if +it was certain that the assailant after a certain number of fruitless attempts +must be worn out, and desist from further efforts. But just this necessary +consequence is wanting. If we look at the exhaustion of forces, the defender is +under a disadvantage. The assailant becomes weaker, but only in the sense that +it may reach a turning point; if we set aside that supposition, the weakening +goes on certainly more rapidly on the defensive side than on that of the +assailant: for in the first place, he is the weaker, and, therefore, if the +losses on both sides are equal, he loses more actually than the other; in the +next place, he is deprived generally of a portion of territory and of his +resources. We have, therefore, here no ground on which to build the expectation +that the offensive will cease, and nothing remains but the idea that if the +assailant repeats his blows, while the defensive does nothing but wait to ward +them off, then the defender has no counterpoise as a set off to the risk he +runs of one of these attacks succeeding sooner or later. +</p> + +<p> +Although in reality the exhaustion, or rather the weakening of the stronger, +has brought about a peace in many instances that is to be attributed to the +indecision which is so general in war, but cannot be imagined philosophically +as the general and ultimate object of any defensive war whatever, there is, +therefore, no alternative but that the defence should find its object in the +idea of the “<i>waiting for</i>,” which is besides its real +character. This idea in itself includes that of an alteration of circumstances, +of an improvement of the situation, which, therefore, when it cannot be brought +about by internal means, that is, by defensive pure in itself, can only be +expected through assistance coming from without. Now, this improvement from +without can proceed from nothing else than a change in political relations; +either new alliances spring up in favour of the defender, or old ones directed +against him fall to pieces. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, is the object for the defender, in case his weakness does not +permit him to think of any important counterstroke. But this is not the nature +of every defensive war, according to the conception which we have given of its +form. According to that conception it is the stronger form of war, and on +account of that strength it can also be applied when a counterstroke more or +less important is designed. +</p> + +<p> +These two cases must be kept distinct from the very first, as they have an +influence on the defence. +</p> + +<p> +In the first case, the defender’s object is to keep possession of his own +country intact as long as possible, because in that way he gains most time; and +gaining time is the only way to attain his object. The positive object which he +can in most cases attain, and which will give him an opportunity of carrying +out his object in the negotiations for peace, he cannot yet include in his plan +for the war. In this state of strategic passiveness, the advantages which the +defender can gain at certain points consist in merely repelling partial +attacks; the preponderance gained at those points he tries to make of service +to him at others, for he is generally hard pressed at all points. If he has not +the opportunity of doing this, then there often only accrues to him the small +advantage that the enemy will leave him at rest for a time. +</p> + +<p> +If the defender is not altogether too weak, small offensive operations directed +less towards permanent possession than a temporary advantage to cover losses, +which may be sustained afterwards, invasions, diversions, or enterprises +against a single fortress, may have a place in this defensive system without +altering its object or essence. +</p> + +<p> +But in the second case, in which a positive object is already grafted upon the +defensive, the greater the counterstroke that is warranted by circumstances the +more the defensive imports into itself of positive character. In other words, +the more the defence has been adopted voluntarily, in order to make the first +blow surer, the bolder may be the snares which the defender lays for his +opponent. The boldest, and if it succeeds, the most effectual, is the retreat +into the interior of the country; and this means is then at the same time that +which differs most widely from the other system. +</p> + +<p> +Let us only think of the difference between the position in which Frederick the +Great was placed in the Seven Years’ War, and that of Russia in 1812. +</p> + +<p> +When the war began, Frederick, through his advanced state of preparation for +war, had a kind of superiority, this gave him the advantage of being able to +make himself master of Saxony, which was besides such a natural complement of +his theatre of war, that the possession of it did not diminish, but increased, +his combatant force. +</p> + +<p> +At the opening of the campaign of 1757, the King endeavoured to proceed with +his strategic attack, which seemed not impossible as long as the Russians and +French had not yet reached the theatre of war in Silesia, the Mark and Saxony. +But the attack miscarried, and Frederick was thrown back on the defensive for +the rest of the campaign, was obliged to evacuate Bohemia and to rescue his own +theatre from the enemy, in which he only succeeded by turning himself with one +and the same army, first upon the French, and then upon the Austrians. This +advantage he owed entirely to the defensive. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1758 when his enemies had drawn round him in a closer circle, and +his forces were dwindling down to a very disproportionate relation, he +determined on an offensive on a small scale in Moravia: his plan was to take +Olmütz before his enemies were prepared; not in the expectation of keeping +possession of, or of making it a base for further advance, but to use it as a +sort of advanced work, a <i>counter-approach</i> against the Austrians, who +would be obliged to devote the rest of the present campaign, and perhaps even a +second, to recover possession of it. This attack also miscarried. Frederick +then gave up all idea of a real offensive, as he saw that it only increased the +disproportion of his army. A compact position in the heart of his own country +in Saxony and Silesia, the use of short lines, that he might be able rapidly to +increase his forces at any point which might be menaced, a battle when +unavoidable, small incursions when opportunity offered, and along with this a +patient state of waiting-for (expectation), a saving of his means for better +times became now his general plan. By degrees the execution of it became more +and more passive. As he saw that even a victory cost him too much, therefore he +tried to manage at still less expense; everything depended on gaining time, and +on keeping what he had got; he therefore became more tenacious of yielding any +ground, and did not hesitate to adopt a perfect cordon system. The positions of +Prince Henry in Saxony, as well as those of the King in the Silesian mountains, +may be so termed. In his letters to the Marquis d’Argens, he manifests +the impatience with which he looks forward to winter quarters, and the +satisfaction he felt at being able to take them up again without having +suffered any serious loss. +</p> + +<p> +Whoever blames Frederick for this, and looks upon it as a sign that his spirit +had sunk, would, we think, pass judgment without much reflection. +</p> + +<p> +If the entrenched camp at Bunzelwitz, the positions taken up by Prince Henry in +Saxony, and by the King in the Silesian mountains, do not appear to us now as +measures on which a General should place his dependence in a last extremity +because a Buonaparte would soon have thrust his sword through such tactical +cobwebs, we must not forget that times have changed, that war has become a +totally different thing, is quickened with new energies, and that therefore +positions might have been excellent at that time, although they are not so now, +and that in addition to all, the character of the enemy deserves attention. +Against the army of the German States, against Daun and Butturlin, it might +have been the height of wisdom to employ means which Frederick would have +despised if used against himself. +</p> + +<p> +The result justified this view: in the state of patient expectation, Frederick +attained his object, and got round difficulties in a collision with which his +forces would have been dashed to pieces. +</p> + +<p> +The relation in point of numbers between the Russian and French armies opposed +to each other at the opening of the campaign in 1812 was still more +unfavourable to the former than that between Frederick and his enemies in the +Seven Years’ War. But the Russians looked forward to being joined by +large reinforcements in the course of the campaign. All Europe was in secret +hostility to Buonaparte, his power had been screwed up to the highest point, a +devouring war occupied him in Spain, and the vast extent of Russia allowed of +pushing the exhaustion of the enemy’s military means to the utmost +extremity by a retreat over a hundred miles of country. Under circumstances on +this grand scale, a tremendous counterstroke was not only to be expected if the +French enterprise failed (and how could it succeed if the Russian Emperor would +not make peace, or his subjects did not rise in insurrection?) but this +counterstroke might also end in the complete destruction of the enemy. The most +profound sagacity could, therefore, not have devised a better plan of campaign +than that which the Russians followed on the spur of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +That this was not the opinion at the time, and that such a view would then have +been looked upon as preposterous, is no reason for our now denying it to be the +right one. If we are to learn from history, we must look upon things which have +actually happened as also possible in the future, and that the series of great +events which succeeded the march upon Moscow is not a succession of mere +accidents every one will grant who can claim to give an opinion on such +subjects. If it had been possible for the Russians, with great efforts, to +defend their frontier, it is certainly probable that in such case also the +French power would have sunk, and that they would have at last suffered a +reverse of fortune; but the reaction then would certainly not have been so +violent and decisive. By sufferings and sacrifices (which certainly in any +other country would have been greater, and in most would have been impossible) +Russia purchased this enormous success. +</p> + +<p> +Thus a great positive success can never be obtained except through positive +measures, planned not with a view to a mere state of “waiting-for,” +but with a view to a <i>decision</i>, in short, even on the defensive, there is +no great gain to be won except by a great stake. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3><a name="chap128"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>Plan of War when the Destruction of the Enemy is the Object</h3> + +<p> +Having characterised in detail the different aims to which war may be directed, +we shall go through the organisation of war as a whole for each of the three +separate gradations corresponding to these aims. +</p> + +<p> +In conformity with all that has been said on the subject up to the present, two +fundamental principles reign throughout the whole plan of the war, and serve as +a guide for everything else. +</p> + +<p> +The first is: to reduce the weight of the enemy’s power into as few +centres of gravity as possible, into one if it can be done; again, to confine +the attack against these centres of force to as few principal undertakings as +possible, to one if possible; lastly, to keep all secondary undertakings as +subordinate as possible. In a word, the first principle is, <i>to act +concentrated as much as possible</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The second principle runs thus <i>to act as swiftly as possible;</i> therefore, +to allow of no delay or detour without sufficient reason. +</p> + +<p> +The reducing the enemy’s power to one central point depends +</p> + +<p> +1. On the nature of its political connection. If it consists of armies of one +Power, there is generally no difficulty; if of allied armies, of which one is +acting simply as an ally without any interest of its own, then the difficulty +is not much greater; if of a coalition for a common object, then it depends on +the cordiality of the alliance; we have already treated of this subject. +</p> + +<p> +2. On the situation of the theatre of war upon which the different hostile +armies make their appearance. +</p> + +<p> +If the enemy’s forces are collected in one army upon one theatre of war, +they constitute in reality a unity, and we need not inquire further; if they +are upon one theatre of war, but in separate armies, which belong to different +Powers, there is no longer absolute unity; there is, however, a sufficient +interdependence of parts for a decisive blow upon one part to throw down the +other in the concussion. If the armies are posted in theatres of war adjoining +each other, and not separated by any great natural obstacles, then there is in +such case also a decided influence of the one upon the other; but if the +theatres of war are wide apart, if there is neutral territory, great mountains, +etc., intervening between them, then the influence is very doubtful and +improbable as well; if they are on quite opposite sides of the State against +which the war is made, so that operations directed against them must diverge on +eccentric lines, then almost every trace of connection is at an end. +</p> + +<p> +If Prussia was attacked by France and Russia at the same time, it would be as +respects the conduct of the war much the same as if there were two separate +wars; at the same time the unity would appear in the negotiations. +</p> + +<p> +Saxony and Austria, on the contrary, as military powers in the Seven +Years’ War, were to be regarded as one; what the one suffered the other +felt also, partly because the theatres of war lay in the same direction for +Frederick the Great, partly because Saxony had no political independence. +</p> + +<p> +Numerous as were the enemies of Buonaparte in Germany in 1813, still they all +stood very much in one direction in respect to him, and the theatres of war for +their armies were in close connection, and reciprocally influenced each other +very powerfully. If by a concentration of all his forces he had been able to +overpower the main army, such a defeat would have had a decisive effect on all +the parts. If he had beaten the Bohemain grand army, and marched upon Vienna by +Prague, Blücher, however willing, could not have remained in Saxony, because he +would have been called upon to co-operate in Bohemia, and the Crown Prince of +Sweden as well would have been unwilling to remain in the Mark. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, Austria, if carrying on war against the French on the Rhine +and Italy at the same time, will always find it difficult to give a decision +upon one of those theatres by means of a successful stroke on the other. Partly +because Switzerland, with its mountains, forms too strong a barrier between the +two theatres, and partly because the direction of the roads on each side is +divergent. France, again, can much sooner decide in the one by a successful +result in the other, because the direction of its forces in both converges upon +Vienna, the centre of the power of the whole Austrian empire; we may add +further, that a decisive blow in Italy will have more effect on the Rhine +theatre than a success on the Rhine would have in Italy, because the blow from +Italy strikes nearer to the centre, and that from the Rhine more upon the +flank, of the Austrian dominions. +</p> + +<p> +It proceeds from what we have said that the conception of separated or +connected hostile power extends through all degrees of relationship, and that +therefore, in each case, the first thing is to discover the influence which +events in one theatre may have upon the other, according to which we may then +afterwards settle how far the different forces of the enemy may be reduced into +one centre of force. +</p> + +<p> +There is only one exception to the principle of directing all our strength +against the centre of gravity of the enemy’s power, that is, if ancillary +expeditions promise <i>extraordinary advantages</i>, and still, in this case, +it is a condition assumed, that we have such a decisive superiority as enables +us to undertake such enterprises without incurring too great risk at the point +which forms our great object. +</p> + +<p> +When General Bulow marched into Holland in 1814, it was to be foreseen that the +thirty thousand men composing his corps would not only neutralise the same +number of Frenchmen, but would, besides, give the English and the Dutch an +opportunity of entering the field with forces which otherwise would never have +been brought into activity. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, therefore, the first consideration in the combination of a plan for a +war, is to determine the centres of gravity of the enemy’s power, and, if +possible, to reduce them to one. The second is to unite the forces which are to +be employed against the centre of force into one great action. +</p> + +<p> +Here now the following grounds for dividing our forces may present themselves: +</p> + +<p> +1. The original position of the military forces, therefore also the situation +of the States engaged in the offensive. +</p> + +<p> +If the concentration of the forces would occasion detours and loss of time, and +the danger of advancing by separate lines is not too great, then the same may +be justifiable on those grounds; for to effect an unnecessary concentration of +forces, with great loss of time, by which the freshness and rapidity of the +first blow is diminished, would be contrary to the second leading principle we +have laid down. In all cases in which there is a hope of surprising the enemy +in some measure, this deserves particular attention. +</p> + +<p> +But the case becomes still more important if the attack is undertaken by allied +States which are not situated on a line directed towards the State attacked not +one behind the other but situated side by side. If Prussia and Austria +undertook a war against France, it would be a very erroneous measure, a +squandering of time and force if the armies of the two powers were obliged to +set out from the same point, as the natural line for an army operating from +Prussia against the heart of France is from the Lower Rhine, and that of the +Austrians is from the Upper Rhine. Concentration, therefore, in this case, +could only be effected by a sacrifice; consequently in any particular instance, +the question to be decided would be, Is the necessity for concentration so +great that this sacrifice must be made? +</p> + +<p> +2. The attack by separate lines may offer greater results. +</p> + +<p> +As we are now speaking of advancing by separate lines against one centre of +force, we are, therefore, supposing an advance by <i>converging lines</i>. A +separate advance on parallel or eccentric lines belongs to the rubric of +<i>accessory undertakings</i>, of which we have already spoken. +</p> + +<p> +Now, every convergent attack in strategy, as well as in tactics, holds out the +prospect of great results; for if it succeeds, the consequence is not simply a +defeat, but more or less the cutting off of the enemy. The concentric attack +is, therefore, always that which may lead to the greatest results; but on +account of the separation of the parts of the force, and the enlargement of the +theatre of war, it involves also the most risk; it is the same here as with +attack and defence, the weaker form holds out the greater results in prospect. +</p> + +<p> +The question, therefore, is, whether the assailant feels strong enough to try +for this great result. +</p> + +<p> +When Frederick the Great advanced upon Bohemia, in the year 1757, he set out +from Saxony and Silesia with his forces divided. The two principal reasons for +his doing so were, first, that his forces were so cantoned in the winter that a +concentration of them at one point would have divested the attack of all the +advantages of a surprise; and next, that by this concentric advance, each of +the two Austrian theatres of war was threatened in the flanks and the rear. The +danger to which Frederick the Great exposed himself on that occasion was that +one of his two armies might have been completely defeated by superior forces; +should the Austrians <i>not see this</i>, then they would have to give battle +with their centre only, or run the risk of being thrown off their line of +communication, either on one side or the other, and meeting with a catastrophe; +this was the great result which the king hoped for by this advance. The +Austrians preferred the battle in the centre, but Prague, where they took up +their position, was in a situation too much under the influence of the +convergent attack, which, as they remained perfectly passive in their position, +had time to develop its efficacy to the utmost. The consequence of this was +that when they lost the battle, it was a complete catastrophe; as is manifest +from the fact that two-thirds of the army with the commander-in-chief were +obliged to shut themselves up in Prague. +</p> + +<p> +This brilliant success at the opening of the campaign was attained by the bold +stroke with a concentric attack. If Frederick considered the precision of his +own movements, the energy of his generals, the moral superiority of his troops, +on the one side, and the sluggishness of the Austrians on the other, as +sufficient to ensure the success of his plan, who can blame him? But as we +cannot leave these moral advantages out of consideration, neither can we +ascribe the success solely to the mere geometrical form of the attack. Let us +only think of the not less brilliant campaign of Buonaparte’s, in the +year 1796, when the Austrians were so severely punished for their concentric +march into Italy. The means which the French general had at command on that +occasion, the Austrian general had also at his disposal in 1757 (with the +exception of the moral), indeed, he had rather more, for he was not, like +Buonaparte, weaker than his adversary. Therefore, when it is to be apprehended +that the advance on separate converging lines may afford the enemy the means of +counteracting the inequality of numerical forces by using interior lines, such +a form of attack is not advisable; and if on account of the situation of the +belligerents, it must be resorted to, it can only be regarded as a necessary +evil. +</p> + +<p> +If, from this point of view, we cast our eyes on the plan which was adopted for +the invasion of France in 1814, it is impossible to give it approval. The +Russian, Austrian, and Prussian armies were concentrated at a point near +Frankfort on the Maine, on the most natural and most direct line to the centre +of the force of the French monarchy. These armies were then separated, that one +might penetrate into France from Mayence, the other from Switzerland. As the +enemy’s force was so reduced that a defence of the frontier was out of +the question, the whole advantage to be expected from this concentric advance, +if it succeeded, was that while Lorraine and Alsace were conquered by one army, +Franche-Comte would be taken by the other. Was this trifling advantage worth +the trouble of marching into Switzerland? We know very well that there were +other (but just as insufficient) grounds which caused this march; but we +confine ourselves here to the point which we are considering. +</p> + +<p> +On the other side, Buonaparte was a man who thoroughly understood the defensive +to oppose to a concentric attack, as he had already shown in his masterly +campaign of 1796; and although the Allies were very considerably superior in +numbers, yet the preponderance due to his superiority as a general was on all +occasions acknowledged. He joined his army too late near Chalons, and looked +down rather too much, generally, on his opponents, still he was very near +hitting the two armies separately; and what was the state he found them in at +Brienne? Blücher had only 27,000 of his 65,000 men with him, and the great +army, out of 200,000, had only 100,000 present. It was impossible to make a +better game for the adversary. And from the moment that active work began, no +greater want was felt than that of re-union. +</p> + +<p> +After all these reflections, we think that although the concentric attack is in +itself a means of obtaining greater results, still it should generally only +proceed from a previous separation of the parts composing the whole force, and +that there are few cases in which we should do right in giving up the shortest +and most direct line of operation for the sake of adopting that form. +</p> + +<p> +3. The breadth of a theatre of war can be a motive for attacking on separate +lines. +</p> + +<p> +If an army on the offensive in its advance from any point, penetrates with +success to some distance into the interior of the enemy’s country, then, +certainly, the space which it commands is not restricted exactly to the line of +road by which it marches, it will command a margin on each side; still that +will depend very much, if we may use the figure, on the solidity and cohesion +of the opposing State. If the State only hangs loosely together, if its people +are an effeminate race unaccustomed to war, then, without our taking much +trouble, a considerable extent of country will open behind our victorious army; +but if we have to deal with a brave and loyal population, the space behind our +army will form a triangle, more or less acute. +</p> + +<p> +In order to obviate this evil, the attacking force requires to regulate its +advance on a certain width of front. If the enemy’s force is concentrated +at a particular point, this breadth of front can only be preserved so long as +we are not in contact with the enemy, and must be contracted as we approach his +position: that is easy to understand. +</p> + +<p> +But if the enemy himself has taken up a position with a certain extent of +front, then there is nothing absurd in a corresponding extension on our part. +We speak here of one theatre of war, or of several, if they are quite close to +each other. Obviously this is, therefore, the case when, according to our view, +the chief operation is, at the same time, to be decisive on subordinate points +</p> + +<p> +But now can we <i>always</i> run the chance of this? And may we expose +ourselves to the danger which must arise if the influence of the chief +operation is not sufficient to decide at the minor points? Does not the want of +a certain breadth for a theatre of war deserve special consideration? +</p> + +<p> +Here as well as everywhere else it is impossible to exhaust the number of +combinations which <i>may take</i> place; but we maintain that, with few +exceptions, the decision on the capital point will carry with it the decision +on all minor points. Therefore, the action should be regulated in conformity +with this principle, in all cases in which the contrary is not evident. +</p> + +<p> +When Buonaparte invaded Russia, he had good reason to believe that by +conquering the main body of the Russian army he would compel their forces on +the Upper Dwina to succumb. He left at first only the corps of Oudinot to +oppose them, but Wittgenstein assumed the offensive, and Buonaparte was then +obliged to send also the sixth corps to that quarter. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, at the beginning of the campaign, he directed a part of his +forces against Bagration; but that general was carried along by the influence +of the backward movement in the centre, and Buonaparte was enabled then to +recall that part of his forces. If Wittgenstein had not had to cover the second +capital, he would also have followed the retreat of the great army under +Barclay. +</p> + +<p> +In the years 1805 and 1809, Buonaparte’s victories at Ulm and Ratisbon +decided matters in Italy and also in the Tyrol, although the first was rather a +distant theatre, and an independent one in itself. In the year 1806, his +victories at Jena and Auerstadt were decisive in respect to everything that +might have been attempted against him in Westphalia and Hesse, or on the +Frankfort road. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst the number of circumstances which may have an influence on the +resistance at secondary points, there are two which are the most prominent. +</p> + +<p> +The first is: that in a country of vast extent, and also relatively of great +power, like Russia, we can put off the decisive blow at the chief point for +some time, and are not obliged to do all in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +The second is: when a minor point (like Silesia in the year 1806), through a +great number of fortresses, possesses an extraordinary degree of independent +strength. And yet Buonaparte treated that point with great contempt, inasmuch +as, when he had to leave such a point completely in his rear on the march to +Warsaw, he only detached 20,000 men under his brother Jerome to that quarter. +</p> + +<p> +If it happens that the blow at the capital point, in all probability, will not +shake such a secondary point, or has not done so, and if the enemy has still +forces at that point, then to these, as a necessary evil, an adequate force +must be opposed, because no one can absolutely lay open his line of +communication from the very commencement. +</p> + +<p> +But prudence may go a step further; it may require that the advance upon the +chief point shall keep pace with that on the secondary points, and consequently +the principal undertaking must be delayed whenever the secondary points will +not succumb. +</p> + +<p> +This principle does not directly contradict ours as to uniting all action as +far as possible in one great undertaking, but the spirit from which it springs +is diametrically opposed to the spirit in which ours is conceived. By following +such a principle there would be such a measured pace in the movements, such a +paralysation of the impulsive force, such room for the freak of chance, and +such a loss of time, as would be practically perfectly inconsistent with an +offensive directed to the complete overthrow of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +The difficulty becomes still greater if the forces stationed at these minor +points can retire on divergent lines. What would then become of the unity of +our attack? +</p> + +<p> +We must, therefore, declare ourselves completely opposed in principle to the +dependence of the chief attack on minor attacks, and we maintain that an attack +directed to the destruction of the enemy which has not the boldness to shoot, +like the point of an arrow, direct at the heart of the enemy’s power, can +never hit the mark. +</p> + +<p> +4. Lastly, there is still a fourth ground for a separate advance in the +facility which it may afford for subsistence. +</p> + +<p> +It is certainly much pleasanter to march with a small army through an opulent +country, than with a large army through a poor one; but by suitable measures, +and with an army accustomed to privations, the latter is not impossible, and, +therefore, the first should never have such an influence on our plans as to +lead us into a great danger. +</p> + +<p> +We have now done justice to the grounds for a separation of forces which +divides the chief operation into several, and if the separation takes place on +any of these grounds, with a distinct conception of the object, and after due +consideration of the advantages and disadvantages, we shall not venture to find +fault. +</p> + +<p> +But if, as usually happens, a plan is drawn out by a learned general staff, +merely according to routine; if different theatres of war, like the squares on +a chess board, must each have its piece first placed on it before the moves +begin, if these moves approach the aim in complicated lines and relations by +dint of an imaginary profundity in the art of combination, if the armies are to +separate to-day in order to apply all their skill in reuniting at the greatest +risk in fourteen days then we have a perfect horror of this abandonment of the +direct simple common-sense road to rush intentionally into absolute confusion. +This folly happens more easily the less the general-in-chief directs the war, +and conducts it in the sense which we have pointed out in the first chapter as +an act of his individuality invested with extraordinary powers; the more, +therefore, the whole plan is manufactured by an inexperienced staff, and from +the ideas of a dozen smatterers. +</p> + +<p> +We have still now to consider the third part of our first principle; that is, +to keep the subordinate parts as much as possible in subordination. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst we endeavour to refer the whole of the operations of a war to one single +aim, and try to attain this as far as possible by <i>one great effort</i>, we +deprive the other points of contact of the States at war with each other of a +part of their independence; they become subordinate actions. If we could +concentrate everything absolutely into one action, then those points of contact +would be completely neutralised; but this is seldom possible, and, therefore, +what we have to do is to keep them so far within bounds, that they shall not +cause the abstraction of too many forces from the main action. +</p> + +<p> +Next, we maintain that the plan of the war itself should have this tendency, +even if it is not possible to reduce the whole of the enemy’s resistance +to one point; consequently, in case we are placed in the position already +mentioned, of carrying on two almost quite separate wars at the same time, the +one must always be looked upon as the <i>principal affair</i> to which our +forces and activity are to be chiefly devoted. +</p> + +<p> +In this view, it is advisable only to proceed <i>offensively</i> against that +one principal point, and to preserve the defensive upon all the others. The +attack there being only justifiable when invited by very exceptional +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Further we are to carry on this defensive, which takes place at minor points, +with as few troops as possible, and to seek to avail ourselves of every +advantage which the defensive form can give. +</p> + +<p> +This view applies with still more force to all theatres of war on which armies +come forward belonging to different powers really, but still such as will be +struck when the general centre of force is struck. +</p> + +<p> +But against <i>the enemy</i> at whom the great blow is aimed, there must be, +according to this, no defensive on minor theatres of war. The chief attack +itself, and the secondary attacks, which for other reasons are combined with +it, make up this blow, and make every defensive, on points not directly covered +by it, superfluous. All depends on this principal attack; by it every loss will +be compensated. If the forces are sufficient to make it reasonable to seek for +that great decision, then the <i>possibility of failure</i> can be no ground +for guarding oneself against injury at other points in any event; for just by +<i>such a course</i> this failure will become more probable, and it therefore +constitutes here a contradiction in our action. +</p> + +<p> +This same predominance of the principal action over the minor, must be the +principle observed in each of the separate branches of the attack. But as there +are generally ulterior motives which determine what forces shall advance from +one theatre of war, and what from another against the common centre of the +enemy’s power, we only mean here that there must be an <i>effort to make +the chief action over-ruling</i>, for everything will become simpler and less +subject to the influence of chance events the nearer this state of +preponderance can be attained. +</p> + +<p> +The second principle concerns the rapid use of the forces. +</p> + +<p> +Every unnecessary expenditure of time, every unnecessary detour, is a waste of +power, and therefore contrary to the principles of strategy. +</p> + +<p> +It is most important to bear always in mind that almost the only advantage +which the offensive possesses, is the effect of surprise at the opening of the +scene. Suddenness and irresistible impetuosity are its strongest pinions; and +when the object is the complete overthrow of the enemy, it can rarely dispense +with them. +</p> + +<p> +By this, therefore, theory demands the shortest way to the object, and +completely excludes from consideration endless discussions about right and left +here and there. +</p> + +<p> +If we call to mind what was said in the chapter on the subject of the strategic +attack respecting the pit of the stomach in a state, and further, what appears +in the fourth chapter of this book, on the influence of time, we believe no +further argument is required to prove that the influence which we claim for +that principle really belongs to it. +</p> + +<p> +Buonaparte never acted otherwise. The shortest high road from army to army, +from one capital to another, was always the way he loved best. +</p> + +<p> +And in what will now consist the principal action to which we have referred +everything, and for which we have demanded a swift and straightforward +execution? +</p> + +<p> +In the fourth chapter we have explained as far as it is possible in a general +way what the total overthrow of the enemy means, and it is unnecessary to +repeat it. Whatever that may depend on at last in particular cases, still the +first step is always the same in all cases, namely: <i>The destruction of the +enemy’s combatant force</i>, that is, <i>a great victory over the same +and its dispersion</i>. The sooner, which means the nearer our own frontiers, +this victory is sought for, <i>the easier</i> it is; the later, that is, the +further in the heart of the enemy’s country it is gained, the more +<i>decisive</i> it is. Here, as well as everywhere, the facility of success and +its magnitude balance each other. +</p> + +<p> +If we are not so superior to the enemy that the victory is beyond doubt, then +we should, when possible, seek him out, that is his principal force. We say +<i>when possible</i>, for if this endeavour to find him led to great detours, +false directions, and a loss of time, it might very likely turn out a mistake. +If the enemy’s principal force is not on our road, and our interests +otherwise prevent our going in quest of him, we may be sure we shall meet with +him hereafter, for he will not fail to place himself in our way. We shall then, +as we have just said, fight under less advantageous circumstances an evil to +which we must submit. However, if we gain the battle, it will be so much the +more decisive. +</p> + +<p> +From this it follows that, in the case now assumed, it would be an error to +pass by the enemy’s principal force designedly, if it places itself in +our way, at least if we expect thereby to facilitate a victory. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, it follows from what precedes, that if we have a decided +superiority over the enemy’s principal force, we may designedly pass it +by in order at a future time to deliver a more decisive battle. +</p> + +<p> +We have been speaking of a complete victory, therefore of a thorough defeat of +the enemy, and not of a mere battle gained. But such a victory requires an +enveloping attack, or a battle with an oblique front, for these two forms +always give the result a decisive character. It is therefore an essential part +of a plan of a war to make arrangements for this movement, both as regards the +mass of forces required and the direction to be given them, of which more will +be said in the chapter on the plan of campaign. +</p> + +<p> +It is certainly not impossible, that even Battles fought with parallel fronts +may lead to complete defeats, and cases in point are not wanting in military +history; but such an event is uncommon, and will be still more so the more +armies become on a par as regards discipline and handiness in the field. We no +longer take twenty-one battalions in a village, as they did at Blenheim. +</p> + +<p> +Once the great victory is gained, the next question is not about rest, not +about taking breath, not about considering, not about reorganising, etc., etc., +but only of pursuit of fresh blows wherever necessary, of the capture of the +enemy’s capital, of the attack of the armies of his allies, or of +whatever else appears to be a rallying point for the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +If the tide of victory carries us near the enemy’s fortresses, the laying +siege to them or not will depend on our means. If we have a great superiority +of force, it would be a loss of time not to take them as soon as possible; but +if we are not certain of the further events before us, we must keep the +fortresses in check with as few troops as possible, which precludes any regular +formal sieges. The moment that the siege of a fortress compels us to suspend +our strategic advance, that advance, <i>as a rule</i>, has reached its +culminating point. We demand, therefore, that the main body should press +forward rapidly in pursuit without any rest; we have already condemned the idea +of allowing the advance towards the principal point being made dependent on +success at secondary points; the consequence of this is, that in all ordinary +cases, our chief army only keeps behind it a narrow strip of territory which it +can call its own, and which therefore constitutes its theatre of war. How this +weakens the momentum at the head, and the dangers for the offensive arising +therefrom, we have shown already. Will not this difficulty, will not this +intrinsic counterpoise come to a point which impedes further advance? Certainly +that may occur; but just as we have already insisted that it would be a mistake +to try to avoid this contracted theatre of war at the commencement, and for the +sake of that object to rob the advance of its elasticity, so we also now +maintain, that as long as the commander has not yet overthrown his opponent, as +long as he considers himself strong enough to effect that object, so long must +he also pursue it. He does so perhaps at an increased risk, but also with the +prospect of a greater success. If he reaches a point which he cannot venture to +go beyond, where, in order to protect his rear, he must extend himself right +and left well, then, this is most probably his culminating point. The power of +flight is spent, and if the enemy is not subdued, most probably he will not be +now. +</p> + +<p> +All that the assailant now does to intensify his attack by conquest of +fortresses, defiles, provinces, is no doubt still a slow advance, but it is +only of a relative kind, it is no longer absolute. The enemy is no longer in +flight, he is perhaps preparing a renewed resistance, and it is therefore +already possible that, although the assailant still advances intensively, the +position of the defence is every day improving. In short, we come back to this, +that, as a rule, there is no second spring after a halt has once been +necessary. +</p> + +<p> +Theory, therefore, only requires that, as long as there is an intention of +destroying the enemy, there must be no cessation in the advance of the attack; +if the commander gives up this object because it is attended with too great a +risk, he does right to stop and extend his force. Theory only objects to this +when he does it with a view to more readily defeating the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +We are not so foolish as to maintain that no instance can be found of States +having been <i>gradually</i> reduced to the utmost extremity. In the first +place, the principle we now maintain is no absolute truth, to which an +exception is impossible, but one founded only on the ordinary and probable +result; next, we must make a distinction between cases in which the downfall of +a State has been effected by a slow gradual process, and those in which the +event was the result of a first campaign. We are here only treating of the +latter case, for it is only in such that there is that tension of forces which +either overcomes the centre of gravity of the weight, or is in danger of being +overcome by it. If in the first year we gain a moderate advantage, to which in +the following we add another, and thus gradually advance towards our object, +there is nowhere very imminent danger, but it is distributed over many points. +Each pause between one result and another gives the enemy fresh chances: the +effects of the first results have very little influence on those which follow, +often none, often a negative only, because the enemy recovers himself, or is +perhaps excited to increased resistance, or obtains foreign aid; whereas, when +all is done in one march, the success of yesterday brings on with itself that +of to-day, one brand lights itself from another. If there are cases in which +States have been overcome by successive blows in which, consequently, +<i>Time</i>, generally the patron of the defensive, has proved adverse how +infinitely more numerous are the instances in which the designs of the +aggressor have by that means utterly failed. Let us only think of the result of +the Seven Years’ War, in which the Austrians sought to attain their +object so comfortably, cautiously, and prudently, that they completely missed +it. +</p> + +<p> +In this view, therefore, we cannot at all join in the opinion that the care +which belongs to the preparation of a theatre of war, and the impulse which +urges us onwards, are on a level in importance, and that the former must, to a +certain extent, be a counterpoise to the latter; but we look upon any evil +which springs out of the forward movement, as an unavoidable evil which only +deserves attention when there is no longer hope for us a-head by the forward +movement. +</p> + +<p> +Buonaparte’s case in 1812, very far from shaking our opinion, has rather +confirmed us in it. +</p> + +<p> +His campaign did not miscarry because he advanced too swiftly, or too far, as +is commonly believed, but because the only means of success failed. The Russian +Empire is no country which can be regularly conquered, that is to say, which +can be held in possession, at least not by the forces of the present States of +Europe, nor by the 500,000 men with which Buonaparte invaded the country. Such +a country can only be subdued by its own weakness, and by the effects of +internal dissension. In order to strike these vulnerable points in its +political existence, the country must be agitated to its very centre. It was +only by reaching Moscow with the force of his blow that Buonaparte could hope +to shake the courage of the Government, the loyalty and steadfastness of the +people. In Moscow he expected to find peace, and this was the only rational +object which he could set before himself in undertaking such a war. +</p> + +<p> +He therefore led his main body against that of the Russians, which fell back +before him, trudged past the camp at Drissa, and did not stop until it reached +Smolensk. He carried Bagration along in his movement, beat the principal Russia +army, and took Moscow. +</p> + +<p> +He acted on this occasion as he had always done: it was only in that way that +he made himself the arbiter of Europe, and only in that way was it possible for +him to do so. +</p> + +<p> +He, therefore, who admires Buonaparte in all his earlier campaigns as the +greatest of generals, ought not to censure him in this instance. +</p> + +<p> +It is quite allowable to judge an event according to the result, as that is the +best criticism upon it (see fifth chapter, 2nd book), but this judgment derived +merely from the result, must not then be passed off as evidence of superior +understanding. To seek out the causes of the failure of a campaign, is not +going the length of making a criticism upon it; it is only if we show that +these causes should neither have been overlooked nor disregarded that we make a +criticism and place ourselves above the General. +</p> + +<p> +Now we maintain that any one who pronounces the campaign of 1812 an absurdity +merely on account of the tremendous reaction in it, and who, if it had been +successful, would look upon it as a most splendid combination, shows an utter +incapacity of judgment. +</p> + +<p> +If Buonaparte had remained in Lithuania, as most of his critics think he +should, in order first to get possession of the fortresses, of which, moreover, +except Riga, situated quite at one side, there is hardly one, because Bobruisk +is a small insignificant place of arms, he would have involved himself for the +winter in a miserable defensive system: then the same people would have been +the first to exclaim, This is not the old Buonaparte! How is it, he has not got +even as far as a first great battle? he who used to put the final seal to his +conquests on the last ramparts of the enemy’s states, by victories such +as Austerlitz and Friedland. Has his heart failed him that he has not taken the +enemy’s capital, the defenceless Moscow, ready to open its gates, and +thus left a nucleus round which new elements of resistance may gather +themselves? He had the singular luck to take this far-off and enormous colossus +by surprise, as easily as one would surprise a neighbouring town, or as +Frederick the Great entered the little state of Silesia, lying at his door, and +he makes no use of his good fortune, halts in the middle of his victorious +career, as if some evil spirit laid at his heels! This is the way in which he +would have been judged of after the result, for this is the fashion of +critics’ judgments in general. +</p> + +<p> +In opposition to this, we say, the campaign of 1812 did not succeed because the +government remained firm, the people loyal and steadfast, because it therefore +could not succeed. Buonaparte may have made a mistake in undertaking such an +expedition; at all events, the result has shown that he deceived himself in his +calculations, but we maintain that, supposing it necessary to seek the +attainment of this object, it could not have been done in any other way upon +the whole. +</p> + +<p> +Instead of burthening himself with an interminable costly defensive war in the +east, such as he had on his hands in the west, Buonaparte attempted the only +means to gain his object: by one bold stroke to extort a peace from his +astonished adversary. The destruction of his army was the danger to which he +exposed himself in the venture; it was the stake in the game, the price of +great expectations. If this destruction of his army was more complete than it +need have been through his own fault, this fault was not in his having +penetrated too far into the heart of the country, for that was his object, and +unavoidable; but in the late period at which the campaign opened, the sacrifice +of life occasioned by his tactics, the want of due care for the supply of his +army, and for his line of retreat, and lastly, in his having too long delayed +his march from Moscow. +</p> + +<p> +That the Russians were able to reach the Beresina before him, intending +regularly to cut off his retreat, is no strong argument against us. For in the +first place, the failure of that attempt just shows how difficult it is really +to cut off an army, as the army which was intercepted in this case under the +most unfavourable circumstances that can be conceived, still managed at last to +cut its way through; and although this act upon the whole contributed certainly +to increase its catastrophe, still it was not essentially the cause of it. +Secondly, it was only the very peculiar nature of the country which afforded +the means to carry things as far as the Russians did; for if it had not been +for the marshes of the Beresina, with its wooded impassable borders lying +across the great road, the cutting off would have been still less possible. +Thirdly, there is generally no means of guarding against such an eventuality +except by making the forward movement with the front of the army of such a +width as we have already disapproved; for if we proceed on the plan of pushing +on in advance with the centre and covering the wings by armies detached right +and left, then if either of these detached armies meets with a check, we must +fall back with the centre, and then very little can be gained by the attack. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, it cannot be said that Buonaparte neglected his wings. A superior +force remained fronting Wittgenstein, a proportionate siege-corps stood before +Riga which at the same time was not needed there, and in the south +Schwarzenberg had 50,000 men with which he was superior to Tormasoff and almost +equal to Tschitschagow: in addition, there were 30,000 men under Victor, +covering the rear of the centre. Even in the month of November, therefore, at +the decisive moment when the Russian armies had been reinforced, and the French +were very much reduced, the superiority of the Russians in rear of the Moscow +army was not so very extraordinary. Wittgenstein, Tschitschagow, and Sacken, +made up together a force of 100,000. Schwartzenberg, Regmer, Victor, Oudinot, +and St. Cyr, had still 80,000 effective. The most cautious general in advancing +would hardly devote a greater proportion of his force to the protection of his +flanks. +</p> + +<p> +If out of the 600,000 men who crossed the Niemen in 1812, Buonaparte had +brought back 250,000 instead of the 50,000 who repassed it under +Schwartzenberg, Regmer, and Macdonald, which was possible, by avoiding the +mistakes with which he has been reproached, the campaign would still have been +an unfortunate one, but theory would have had nothing to object to it, for the +loss of half an army in such a case is not at all unusual, and only appears so +to us in this instance on account of the enormous scale of the whole +enterprize. +</p> + +<p> +So much for the principal operation, its necessary tendency, and the +unavoidable risks. As regards the subordinate operations, there must be, above +all things, a common aim for all; but this aim must be so situated as not to +paralyse the action of any of the individual parts. If we invade France from +the upper and middle Rhine and Holland, with the intention of uniting at Paris, +neither of the armies employed to risk anything on the advance, but to keep +itself intact until the concentration is effected, that is what we call a +ruinous plan. There must be necessarily a constant comparison of the state of +this threefold movement causing delay, indecision, and timidity in the forward +movement of each of the armies. It is better to assign to each part its +mission, and only to place the point of union wherever these several activities +become unity of themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, when a military force advances to the attack on separate theatres of +war, to each army should be assigned an object against which the force of its +shock is to be directed. Here <i>the point</i> is that <i>these shocks</i> +should be given from all sides simultaneously, but not that proportional +advantages should result from all of them. +</p> + +<p> +If the task assigned to one army is found too difficult because the enemy has +made a disposition of his force different to that which was expected, if it +sustains a defeat, this neither should, nor must have, any influence on the +action of the others, or we should turn the probability of the general success +against ourselves at the very outset. It is only the unsuccessful issue of the +majority of enterprises or of the principal one, which can and must have an +influence upon the others: for then it comes under the head of a plan which has +miscarried. +</p> + +<p> +This same rule applies to those armies and portions of them which have +originally acted on the defensive, and, owing to the successes gained, have +assumed the offensive, unless we prefer to attach such spare forces to the +principal offensive, a point which will chiefly depend on the geographical +situation of the theatre of war. +</p> + +<p> +But under these circumstances, what becomes of the geometrical form and unity +of the whole attack, what of the flanks and rear of corps when those corps next +to them are beaten. +</p> + +<p> +That is precisely what we wish chiefly to combat. This glueing down of a great +offensive plan of attack on a geometrical square, is losing one’s way in +the regions of fallacy. +</p> + +<p> +In the fifteenth chapter of the Third Book we have shown that the geometrical +element has less influence in strategy than in tactics; and we shall only here +repeat the deduction there obtained, that in the attack especially, the actual +results at the various points throughout deserve more attention than the +geometrical figure, which may gradually be formed through the diversity of +results. +</p> + +<p> +But in any case, it is quite certain, that looking to the vast spaces with +which strategy has to deal, the views and resolutions which the geometrical +situation of the parts may create, should be left to the general-in-chief; +that, therefore, no subordinate general has a right to ask what his neighbour +is doing or leaving undone, but each is to be directed peremptorily to follow +out his object. If any serious incongruity really arises from this, a remedy +can always be applied in time by the supreme authority. Thus, then, may be +obviated the chief evil of this separate mode of action, which is, that in the +place of realities, a cloud of apprehensions and suppositions mix themselves up +in the progress of an operation, that every accident affects not only the part +it comes immediately in contact with, but also the whole, by the communication +of impressions, and that a wide field of action is opened for the personal +failings and personal animosities of subordinate commanders. +</p> + +<p> +We think that these views will only appear paradoxical to those who have not +studied military history long enough or with sufficient attention, who do not +distinguish the important from the unimportant, nor make proper allowance for +the influence of human weaknesses in general. +</p> + +<p> +If even in tactics there is a difficulty, which all experienced soldiers admit +there is, in succeeding in an attack in separate columns where it depends on +the perfect connection of the several columns, how much more difficult, or +rather how impossible, must this be in strategy, where the separation is so +much wider. Therefore, if a constant connection of all parts was a necessary +condition of success, a strategic plan of attack of that nature must be at once +given up. But on the one hand, it is not left to our option to discard it +completely, because circumstances, which we cannot control, may determine in +favour of it; on the other hand, even in tactics, this constant close +conjunction of all parts at every moment of the execution, is not at all +necessary, and it is still less so in strategy. Therefore in strategy we should +pay the less attention to this point, and insist the more upon a distinct piece +of work being assigned to each part. +</p> + +<p> +We have still to add one important observation: it relates to the proper +allotment of parts. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1793 and 1794 the principal Austrian army was in the Netherlands, +that of the Prussians, on the upper Rhine. The Austrians marched from Vienna to +Condé and Valenciennes, crossing the line of march of the Prussians from Berlin +to Landau. The Austrians had certainly to defend their Belgian provinces in +that quarter, and any conquests made in French Flanders would have been +acquisitions conveniently situated for them, but that interest was not strong +enough. After the death of Prince Kaunitz, the Minister Thugut carried a +measure for giving up the Netherlands entirely, for the better concentration of +the Austrian forces. In fact, Austria is about twice as far from Flanders as +from Alsace; and at a time when military resources were very limited, and +everything had to be paid for in ready money, that was no trifling +consideration. Still, the Minister Thugut had plainly something else in view; +his object was, through the urgency of the danger to compel Holland, England, +and Prussia, the powers interested in the defence of the Netherlands and Lower +Rhine, to make greater efforts. He certainly deceived himself in his +calculations, because nothing could be done with the Prussian cabinet at that +time, but this occurrence always shows the influence of political interests on +the course of a war. +</p> + +<p> +Prussia had neither anything to conquer nor to defend in Alsace. In the year +1792 it had undertaken the march through Lorraine into Champagne in a sort of +chivalrous spirit. But as that enterprise ended in nothing, through the +unfavourable course of circumstances, it continued the war with a feeling of +very little interest. If the Prussian troops had been in the Netherlands, they +would have been in direct communication with Holland, which they might look +upon almost as their own country, having conquered it in the year 1787; they +would then have covered the Lower Rhine, and consequently that part of the +Prussian monarchy which lay next to the theatre of war. Prussia on account of +subsidies would also have had a closer alliance with England, which, under +these circumstances, would not so easily have degenerated into the crooked +policy of which the Prussian cabinet was guilty at that time. +</p> + +<p> +A much better result, therefore, might have been expected if the Austrians had +appeared with their principal force on the Upper Rhine, the Prussians with +their whole force in the Netherlands, and the Austrians had left there only a +corps of proportionate strength. +</p> + +<p> +If, instead of the enterprising Blücher, General Barclay had been placed at the +head of the Silesian army in 1814, and Blücher and Schwartzenberg had been kept +with the grand army, the campaign would perhaps have turned out a complete +failure. +</p> + +<p> +If the enterprising Laudon, instead of having his theatre of war at the +strongest point of the Prussian dominions, namely, in Silesia, had been in the +position of the German States’ army, perhaps the whole Seven Years’ +War would have had quite a different turn. In order to examine this subject +more narrowly, we must look at the cases according to their chief distinctions. +</p> + +<p> +The first is, if we carry on war in conjunction with other powers, who not only +take part as our allies, but also have an independent interest as well. +</p> + +<p> +The second is, if the army of the ally has come to our assistance. +</p> + +<p> +The third is, when it is only a question with regard to the personal +characteristics of the General. +</p> + +<p> +In the two first cases, the point may be raised, whether it is better to mix up +the troops of the different powers completely, so that each separate army is +composed of corps of different powers, as was done in the wars 1813 and 1814, +or to keep them separate as much as possible, so that the army of each power +may continue distinct and act independently. +</p> + +<p> +Plainly, the first is the most salutary plan; but it supposes a degree of +friendly feeling and community of interests which is seldom found. When there +is this close good fellowship between the troops, it is much more difficult for +the cabinets to separate their interests; and as regards the prejudicial +influence of the egotistical views of commanders, it can only show itself under +these circumstances amongst the subordinate Generals, therefore, only in the +province of tactics, and even there not so freely or with such impunity as when +there is a complete separation. In the latter case, it affects the strategy, +and therefore, makes decided marks. But, as already observed, for the first +case there must be a rare spirit of conciliation on the part of the +Governments. In the year 1813, the exigencies of the time impelled all +Governments in that direction; and yet we cannot sufficiently praise this in +the Emperor of Russia, that although he entered the field with the strongest +army, and the change of fortune was chiefly brought about by him, yet he set +aside all pride about appearing at the head of a separate and an independent +Russian army, and placed his troops under the Prussian and Austrian Commanders. +</p> + +<p> +If such a fusion of armies cannot be effected, a complete separation of them is +certainly better than a half-and-half state of things; the worst of all is when +two independent Commanders of armies of different powers find themselves on the +same theatre of war, as frequently happened in the Seven Years’ War with +the armies of Russia, Austria, and the German States. When there is a complete +separation of forces, the burdens which must be borne are also better divided, +and each suffers only from what is his own, consequently is more impelled to +activity by the force of circumstances; but if they find themselves in close +connection, or quite on the same theatre of war, this is not the case, and +besides that the ill will of one paralyses also the powers of the other as +well. +</p> + +<p> +In the first of the three supposed cases, there will be no difficulty in the +complete separation, as the natural interest of each State generally indicates +to it a separate mode of employing its force; this may not be so in the second +case, and then, as a rule, there is nothing to be done but to place oneself +completely under the auxiliary army, if its strength is in any way +proportionate to that measure, as the Austrians did in the latter part of the +campaign of 1815, and the Prussians in the campaign of 1807. +</p> + +<p> +With regard to the personal qualifications of the General, everything in this +passes into what is particular and individual; but we must not omit to make one +general remark, which is, that we should not, as is generally done, place at +the head of subordinate armies the most prudent and cautious Commanders, but +the <i>most enterprising;</i> for we repeat that in strategic operations +conducted separately, there is nothing more important than that every part +should develop its powers to the full, in that way faults committed at one part +may be compensated for by successes at others. This complete activity at all +points, however, is only to be expected when the Commanders are spirited, +enterprising men, who are urged forwards by natural impulsiveness by their own +hearts, because a mere objective, coolly reasoned out, conviction of the +necessity of action seldom suffices. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, we have to remark that, if circumstances in other respects permit, the +troops and their commanders, as regards their destination, should be employed +in accordance with their qualities and the nature of the country that is +regular armies; good troops; numerous cavalry; old, prudent, intelligent +generals in an open country; Militia; national levies; young enterprising +commanders in wooded country, mountains and defiles; auxiliary armies in rich +provinces where they can make themselves comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +What we have now said upon a plan of a war in general, and in this chapter upon +those in particular which are directed to the destruction of the enemy, is +intended to give special prominence to the object of the same, and next to +indicate principles which may serve as guides in the preparation of ways and +means. Our desire has been in this way to give a clear perception of what is to +be, and should be, done in such a war. We have tried to emphasise the necessary +and general, and to leave a margin for the play of the particular and +accidental; but to exclude all that is <i>arbitrary, unfounded, trifling, +fantastical; or sophistical</i>. If we have succeeded in this object, we look +upon our problem as solved. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if any one wonders at finding nothing here about turning rivers, about +commanding mountains from their highest points, about avoiding strong +positions, and finding the keys of a country, he has not understood us, neither +does he as yet understand war in its general relations according to our views. +</p> + +<p> +In preceding books we have characterised these subjects in general, and we +there arrived at the conclusion, they are much more insignificant in their +nature than we should think from their high repute. Therefore, so much the less +can or ought they to play a great part, that is, so far as to influence the +whole plan of a war, when it is a war which has for its object the destruction +of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the book we shall devote a chapter specially to the consideration +of the chief command; the present chapter we shall close with an example. +</p> + +<p> +If Austria, Prussia, the German Con-federation, the Netherlands and England, +determine on a war with France, but Russia remains neutral a case which has +frequently happened during the last one hundred and fifty years they are able +to carry on an offensive war, having for its object the overthrow of the enemy. +For powerful and great as France is, it is still possible for it to see more +than half its territory overrun by the enemy, its capital occupied, and itself +reduced in its means to a state of complete inefficiency, without there being +any power, except Russia, which can give it effectual support. Spain is too +distant and too disadvantageously situated; the Italian States are at present +too brittle and powerless. +</p> + +<p> +The countries we have named have, exclusive of their possessions out of Europe, +above 75,000,000 inhabitants,(*) whilst France has only 30,000,000; and the army +which they could call out for a war against France really meant in earnest, +would be as follows, without exaggeration:— +</p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Austria .............250,000 + Prussia .............200,000 + The rest of Germany. 150,000 + Netherlands ..........75,000 + England ..............50,000 + ————— + Total: ......725,000 +</pre> + +<p class="footnote"> +(*) This chapter was probably written in 1828, since which time the numerical +relations have considerably changed. A. d. H. +</p> + +<p> +Should this force be placed on a warfooting it would, in all probability, very +much exceed that which France could oppose; for under Buonaparte the country +never had an army of the like strength. Now, if we take into account the +deductions required as garrisons for fortresses and depôts, to watch the +coasts, etc., there can be no doubt the allies would have a great superiority +in the principal theatre of war, and upon that the object or plan of +overthrowing the enemy is chiefly founded. +</p> + +<p> +The centre of gravity of the French power lies in its military force and in +Paris. To defeat the former in one or more battles, to take Paris and drive the +wreck of the French across the Loire, must be the object of the allies. The pit +of the stomach of the French monarchy is between Paris and Brussels, on that +side the frontier is only thirty miles from the capital. Part of the allies; +the English, Netherlanders, Prussian, and North German States have their +natural point of assembly in that direction, as these States lie partly in the +immediate vicinity, partly in a direct line behind it. Austria and South +Germany can only carry on their war conveniently from the upper Rhine. Their +natural direction is upon Troyes and Paris, or it may be Orleans. Both shocks, +therefore, that from the Netherlands and the other from the upper Rhine, are +quite direct and natural, short and powerful; and both fall upon the centre of +gravity of the enemy’s power. Between these two points, therefore, the +whole invading army should be divided. +</p> + +<p> +But there are two considerations which interfere with the simplicity of this +plan. +</p> + +<p> +The Austrians would not lay bare their Italian dominions, they would wish to +retain the mastery over events there, in any case, and therefore would not +incur the risk of making an attack on the heart of France, by which they would +leave Italy only indirectly covered. Looking to the political state of the +country, this collateral consideration is not to be treated with contempt; but +it would be a decided mistake if the old and oft-tried plan of an attack from +Italy, directed against the South of France, was bound up with it, and if on +that account the force in Italy was increased to a size not required for mere +security against contingencies in the first campaign. Only the number needed +for that security should remain in Italy, only that number should be withdrawn +from the great undertaking, if we would not be unfaithful to that first maxim, +<i>Unity of plan, concentration of force</i>. To think of conquering France by +the Rhone, would be like trying to lift a musket by the point of its bayonet; +but also as an auxiliary enterprise, an attack on the South of France is to be +condemned, for it only raises new forces against us. Whenever an attack is made +on distant provinces, interests and activities are roused, which would +otherwise have lain dormant. It would only be in case that the forces left for +the security of Italy were in excess of the number required, and, therefore, to +avoid leaving them unemployed, that there would be any justification for an +attack on the South of France from that quarter. +</p> + +<p> +We therefore repeat that the force left in Italy must be kept down as low as +circumstances will permit; and it will be quite large enough if it will suffice +to prevent the Austrians from losing the whole country in one campaign. Let us +suppose that number to be 50,000 men for the purpose of our illustration. +</p> + +<p> +Another consideration deserving attention, is the relation of France in respect +to its sea-coast. As England has the upper hand at sea, it follows that France +must, on that account, be very susceptible with regard to the whole of her +Atlantic coast; and, consequently, must protect it with garrisons of greater or +less strength. Now, however weak this coast-defence may be, still the French +frontiers are tripled by it; and large drafts, on that account, cannot fail to +be withdrawn from the French army on the theatre of war. Twenty or thirty +thousand troops disposable to effect a landing, with which the English threaten +France, would probably absorb twice or three times the number of French troops; +and, further, we must think not only of troops, but also of money, artillery, +etc., etc., required for ships and coast batteries. Let us suppose that the +English devote 25,000 to this object. +</p> + +<p> +Our plan of war would then consist simply in this: +</p> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 1. That in the Netherlands:— + 200,000 Prussians, + 75,000 Netherlanders, + 25,000 English, + 50,000 North German Confederation, + ————— + Total: 350,000 be assembled, +</pre> + +<p> +of whom about 50,000 should be set aside to garrison frontier fortresses, and +the remaining 300,000 should advance against Paris, and engage the French Army +in a decisive battle. +</p> + +<p> +2. That 200,000 Austrians and 100,000 South German troops should assemble on +the Upper Rhine to advance at the same time as the army of the Netherlands, +their direction being towards the Upper Seine, and from thence towards the +Loire, with a view, likewise, to a great battle. These two attacks would, +perhaps, unite in one on the Loire. +</p> + +<p> +By this the chief point is determined. What we have to add is chiefly intended +to root out false conceptions, and is as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +1. To seek for the great battle, as prescribed, and deliver it with such a +relation, in point of numerical strength and under such circumstances, as +promise a decisive victory, is the course for the chief commanders to follow; +to this object everything must be sacrificed; and as few men as possible should +be employed in sieges, blockades, garrisons, etc. If, like Schwartzenberg in +1814, as soon as they enter the enemy’s provinces they spread out in +eccentric rays all is lost. That this did not take place in 1814 the Allies may +thank the powerless state of France alone. The attack should be like a wedge +well driven home, not like a soap bubble, which distends itself till it bursts. +</p> + +<p> +2. Switzerland must be left to its own forces. If it remains neutral it forms a +good <i>point d’appui</i> on the Upper Rhine; if it is attacked by +France, let her stand up for herself, which in more than one respect she is +very well able to do. Nothing is more absurd than to attribute to Switzerland a +predominant geographical influence upon events in war because it is the highest +land in Europe. Such an influence only exists under certain very restricted +conditions, which are not to be found here. When the French are attacked in the +heart of their country they can undertake no offensive from Switzerland, either +against Italy or Swabia, and, least of all, can the elevated situation of the +country come into consideration as a decisive circumstance. The advantage of a +country which is dominating in a strategic sense, is, in the first place, +chiefly important in the defensive, and any importance which it has in the +offensive may manifest itself in a single encounter. Whoever does not know this +has not thought over the thing and arrived at a clear perception of it, and in +case that at any future council of potentates and generals, some learned +officer of the general staff should be found, who, with an anxious brow, +displays such wisdom, we now declare it beforehand to be mere folly, and wish +that in the same council some true Blade, some child of sound common-sense may +be present who will stop his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +3. The space between two attacks we think of very little consequence. When +600,000 assemble thirty or forty miles from Paris to march against the heart of +France, would any one think of covering the middle Rhine as well as Berlin, +Dresden, Vienna, and Munich? There would be no sense in such a thing. Are we to +cover the communications? That would not be unimportant; but then we might soon +be led into giving this covering the importance of an attack, and then, instead +of advancing on two lines, as the situation of the States positively requires, +we should be led to advance upon three, which is not required. These three +would then, perhaps, become five, or perhaps seven, and in that way the old +rigmarole would once more become the order of the day. +</p> + +<p> +Our two attacks have each their object; the forces employed on them are +probably very superior to the enemy in numbers. If each pursues his march with +vigour, they cannot fail to react advantageously upon each other. If one of the +two attacks is unfortunate because the enemy has not divided his force equally, +we may fairly expect that the result of the other will of itself repair this +disaster, and this is the true interdependence between the two. An +interdependence extending to (so as to be affected by) the events of each day +is impossible on account of the distance; neither is it necessary, and +therefore the immediate, or, rather the direct connection, is of no such great +value. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, the enemy attacked in the very centre of his dominions will have no +forces worth speaking of to employ in interrupting this connection; all that is +to be apprehended is that this interruption may be attempted by a co-operation +of the inhabitants with the partisans, so that this object does not actually +cost the enemy any troops. To prevent that, it is sufficient to send a corps of +10,000 or 15,000 men, particularly strong in cavalry, in the direction from +Trèves to Rheims. It will be able to drive every partisan before it, and keep +in line with the grand army. This corps should neither invest nor watch +fortresses, but march between them, depend on no fixed basis, but give way +before superior forces in any direction, no great misfortune could happen to +it, and if such did happen, it would again be no serious misfortune for the +whole. Under these circumstances, such a corps might probably serve as an +intermediate link between the two attacks. +</p> + +<p> +4. The two subordinate undertakings, that is, the Austrian army in Italy, and +the English army for landing on the coast, might follow their object as +appeared best. If they do not remain idle, their mission is fulfilled as +regards the chief point, and on no account should either of the two great +attacks be made dependent in any way on these minor ones. +</p> + +<p> +We are quite convinced that in this way France may be overthrown and chastised +whenever it thinks fit to put on that insolent air with which it has oppressed +Europe for a hundred and fifty years. It is only on the other side of Paris, on +the Loire, that those conditions can be obtained from it which are necessary +for the peace of Europe. In this way alone the natural relation between 30 +millions of men and 75 millions will quickly make itself known, but not if the +country from Dunkirk to Genoa is to be surrounded in the way it has been for +150 years by a girdle of armies, whilst fifty different small objects are aimed +at, not one of which is powerful enough to overcome the inertia, friction, and +extraneous influences which spring up and reproduce themselves everywhere, but +more especially in allied armies. +</p> + +<p> +How little the provisional organisation of the German federal armies is adapted +to such a disposition, will strike the reader. By that organisation the +federative part of Germany forms the nucleus of the German power, and Prussia +and Austria thus weakened, lose their natural influence. But a federative state +is a very brittle nucleus in war. There is in it no unity, no energy, no +rational choice of a commander, no authority, no responsibility. +</p> + +<p> +Austria and Prussia are the two natural centres of force of the German empire; +they form the pivot (or fulcrum), the forte of the sword; they are monarchical +states, used to war; they have well-defined interests, independence of power; +they are predominant over the others. The organisation should follow these +natural lineaments, and not a false notion about unity, which is an +impossibility in such a case; and he who neglects the possible in quest of the +impossible is a fool. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On War, by Carl von Clausewitz + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON WAR *** + +***** This file should be named 1946-h.htm or 1946-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/4/1946/ + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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