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 _first_ 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 _second_
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.
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 _retarding_ 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 _positively
disadvantageous_ influence? If we suppose the _attack is the weaker,
the defence the stronger form of war_, 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 _culminating point of victory;_ but we
must not forget that that superiority of the _strategic defence_ 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
_defensive_ 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.
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.
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.
As the principle of the attack is _strictly_ 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 _degree_, not
in _form_.—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.
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.