WITH THE CAVALRY SCOUTS
The incidents related in this chapter took place a few years back
during a certain manoeuvre season, and for obvious reasons it is
impossible to indicate the men, forces concerned, or locality more
closely than that. The forces concerned were an army corps advancing
from the south, and one advancing from the north, toward each other,
with a view to trying conclusions under manoeuvre conditions. The story
concerns scouts of the blue force, advancing from the north--it was
one of these scouts of the blue force who told the story. It must not
be taken as a typical story of army life, for the circumstances under
which these men were placed were exceptional, agreeably so; it is,
however, sufficiently typical for relation, in that it embodies things
actually accomplished by soldiers of the Army of the Republic. Like
most things that happen both in manoeuvres and in war, it could never
happen again.
The blue force, with at least fifty miles to go after leaving barracks,
knew that the red force would have further to travel, since the limits
of the manoeuvre area were clearly marked out on maps supplied to the
officers taking part, and each force knew from what garrison the force
opposing it was coming. Beyond this, though, neither officers nor men
of the blue force knew from what direction the "reds" would attack,
and the composition and strength of each arm of the "reds" was for the
"blues" to find out; that is what cavalry patrols and scouting parties
are for: to ascertain the strength and disposition of the enemy; and,
in order to make the manoeuvres as much like real war as possible, each
side was kept in ignorance, as far as might be, of the movements of the
other.
There were two days of steady marching, through days that were not too
warm and nights that were decidedly cold. Marching in column, this
business, with plenty of dust along the roads and the squadrons closed
up so that one's horse's nose was not far from the tail of the horse in
the next rank. In the cool weather the horses travelled well, and the
cavalry got into camp fairly early in the afternoon, when the bivouacs
were made and the men rested and ate, after seeing to the needs of
their horses. Late in the afternoon of the second day a canvas town
came into view after the troops had passed over a small river, and
here the regiments went into camp. At twelve o'clock that night the
manoeuvre period was to start, and no action of any kind bearing on the
actual manoeuvres might be undertaken until midnight had passed, though
commanders might make their plans and allot their units and men to the
various parts they intended the latter to play in the struggle for
points in the game. The troops themselves looked forward to an exciting
time: in the blue army, every man knew that he was to capture a "red"
if the chance came his way; he must act as in real war, except that the
cartridges would be blank and the business would be one of sport with
the grimness of war left out.
In a certain regiment of chasseurs which formed part of the blue
army, Lieutenant Lenoir received his orders with regard to special
reconnaissance duty, and, acting on these orders, he gathered together
Corporal Jean and Trooper Jacques, both qualified as signallers,
whose first names will serve for the purposes of this narrative. He
also collected from their respective troops certain men more than
usually efficient in scouting duty, known respectively as Pierre and
Guillaumette--or little Billy--from one _peloton_, Henri and l'Anglais
(the latter from his English way of drinking beer when he could get
it, a trick acquired in his native Lorraine, though his fellows gave
him his nickname because of it, and from another _peloton_ more good
men to the number of four). Lenoir would have liked to take more, but
he knew that for the success of the plan with which he was entrusted a
small body of men would get through with less chance of being seen--the
smaller the better, down to a certain point. So he took the minimum
possible. They obeyed the rules of the game thoroughly, for it was
not until the stroke of twelve that the men were given permission to
saddle up; all they knew at that time was that they were going out on
detachment duty of some kind, away from the army itself, and that was
enough for them. Detachment duty is always welcome, and Lenoir had
a reputation among the men of being one of the best officers in the
regiment, although a very quiet man, comparatively speaking.
The men were a good crowd, too. The signallers knew their work
thoroughly and were keen soldiers; the scouts chosen were men who
took actual pleasure in solving problems of country, second-year and
re-engaged men, who took soldiering seriously and enjoyed work like
this. Altogether it was a very contented and very keen little party
that set out from the camp a quarter of an hour after midnight, with
Lenoir leading into the black and rainy night that came on them as they
rode. They went steadily on for some time--it was three in the morning
when Lenoir halted his men under shelter of a tree that branched
out over their road and told them the object of their journey. He
explained, by the aid of the map, what they were expected to do.
The line of country that would be chosen by the "reds" had been
carefully calculated: the commander of the "blues" had estimated that,
with a view to avoiding rivers and hills, and keeping to open ground,
the commander of the red army would bring up his men--or, at least,
most of them--by the western side of the manoeuvre area, leaving a
large stretch of country unoccupied to the east. It was the business of
this patrol to go down by way of the eastern boundary of the manoeuvre
area, get on to the "reds" line of communication, and cut it, thus
preventing (in theory) the sending up of stores, and (also in theory)
reducing the red force to such a state as regards stores and ammunition
that it would be forced (once more in theory) to surrender. The scheme
bespeaks the way in which modern military plans are thought out, and
how one calculates on probabilities. The "blue" commander assumed that
such a course as bringing the men up the western side would be adopted
by the commander of the "reds": he was not certain of it, but assumed
it to such an extent that he considered it worth while to waste a
cavalry patrol on it; supposing he were wrong, then he only lost half a
dozen men or so and one officer from his effectives; supposing, on the
other hand, that he were right, he would have accomplished a movement
that would render ineffective anything his "enemy" might do.
It was their business, Lenoir explained, to get quite down to the
southern limit of the manoeuvre area, so as to cut the line as nearly
as possible to neutral ground, for the further back they got the less
likelihood there would be of encountering any strong force left for the
purpose of protecting the line. They were to ride warily, avoid hills,
and keep in hollows, and at the same time they were to keep an eye out
for any bodies of troops that they might see. Their business was to run
from everybody whom they might see during the following day, for it
would not do to risk the capture or loss of a man while on the journey;
every man would be needed at the journey's end.
All this was explained by the aid of the map, and, realising the
importance of their mission, the men were more keen than ever over its
fulfilment. They mounted again and rode on, Lenoir always leading; at
times he halted them that he might consult his map with the help of
an electric torch where two roads branched, or where there was any
uncertainty about their direction. The rain passed off; the stars came
out and paled as dawn grew; they halted in the grey of early daybreak
down under the shelter of a hill. Before them was a tiny valley through
which a stream flowed, and beyond an unbroken range of other hills of
which the crests showed no signs of human occupation. A short distance
along the way they had come was a farm-house built into a nook of the
hills, while open country marked the way ahead, beyond the base of the
hill under which they had camped. They gave their horses water at the
stream, and, since Lenoir said they would halt there for nearly two
hours to rest the horses, they got out their own food, after feeding
their mounts, but did not off-saddle or remove any equipment, for the
men as well as their officer knew that they were parallel now with the
enemy's force.
Jacques and l'Anglais went out to collect firewood, for they thought it
worth while to make coffee during their halt. These two passed well out
of sight of the rest round the base of the hill, and walked suddenly
and unsuspectingly on to two of the scouts of the enemy's force, who,
being a little more quick than either Jacques or l'Anglais, informed
them that they were prisoners and must come with them. Jacques,
however, temporised; he pointed out to these scouts of the "reds" that
he and his companion were, like their captors, mounted men, and they
certainly could not walk and leave their horses to break loose and
perhaps damage themselves. They had tied their horses up round the
corner, said Jacques, and if their captors would only come with them
they would get the animals and follow as prisoners without trouble.
The two "reds" hesitated a bit, but finally saw reason in this, and,
thinking that their two prisoners were quite alone, followed without
dismounting round to where the horses were supposed to be tied. So well
was Lenoir's little camp located that the two "reds" followed Jacques
and l'Anglais almost into it before they perceived that they were in
the vicinity of a force far stronger than their two selves. When they
grasped the situation fully, they put spurs to their mounts, turned,
and fled. Jacques grabbed at the bridle rein of one, but missed, and
l'Anglais was so lucky as to secure the helmet of the other man, which
he tied to his saddle by way of a trophy. The two "reds," who were well
mounted, went off round the base of the hill and vanished; apparently
they formed a patrol on the extreme flank of the red force, for no
other men appeared to reinforce or replace them while the little party
of "blues" remained halted.
The men of the blue patrol got their firewood and made coffee, which at
that hour of the morning was more to them than food. More quickly than
he had at first intended Lenoir bade them tighten girths and mount, for
he feared lest the patrol which they had encountered would carry news
of their presence, and bring down on them a greater force from which it
might be impossible to escape.
Through the early hours of the day they rode, sometimes on roads,
sometimes across country. The average of their course took them over
two miniature mountain ranges, and on the second of these little hill
ranges they saw, very far off, a body of cavalry advancing across
country. Corporal Jean, together with Jacques, got down from their
horses and set up a heliograph, with which they tried to "call up" the
troops away on the plain. They could get only fragmentary answers from
the other people's heliographs; Lenoir sat on his horse beside them and
waited for a coherent message, but evidently the cavalry force would
not trust them, nor reveal its own identity, for all Jean could get out
of it, after persistent calling up, was the query, "Who are you?"
"Don't tell them," said Lenoir, "but ask them that yourself."
This Jean had already done, but he tried it again with no better result
than before. By this time they could see that the cavalry signallers
who had stopped to answer them were getting left far behind by their
main body, and Jean, finding that he could get no satisfaction out of
them, packed up his own heliograph and mounted again. They went on down
the hill into a shallow valley through which flowed another little
river. At the foot of the hills they halted, and Guillaumette went back
on foot to the top of the hill to keep guard while the others rested.
After half an hour one of the others relieved him from this duty, and
both men reported that the country all round was clear of enemies, or
friends. This was as Lenoir had anticipated, for he had judged by this
time they would be well behind the main body of the advancing red force.
They made of this a long halt for the sake of their horses, which
had already done the equivalent of a day's work. It was late in the
afternoon, and the power of the sun had almost gone, when they slung
their saddles on their horses again, and girthed up. The valley through
which the little river flowed lay level before them for miles, and
they rode down it toward where a curve of the hills on either side
prevented sight of their destination. That curve seemed ever to recede
as they rode, and the sun dropped over the crests of the western hills,
leaving the men chilled and tired. By order of Lenoir, who set the
example, they dismounted and trudged on, leading their horses--all save
l'Anglais, who left his reins on his horse's neck and trusted to the
animal to follow him. L'Anglais and his horse were good friends.
Dusk fell on them as they mounted again; on their left the little river
had been companion of their journey since leaving the last range of
hills, but now they turned away to the right and ascended slightly
from the valley. Suddenly the ground fell away from before them, and
they went down past three houses to a railway station and goods yard,
in which stacks of forage and other stores, covered by waterproof
sheets, lay with only one man to guard them, one who was unsuspecting
of surprise and easily captured. Lenoir left here all his men with the
exception of Pierre and l'Anglais, and these he took with him away out
to the other side of the village. Beyond the houses the officer and his
two men sat down on the ground, waiting. At last the moon rose, and
they espied a tent almost concealed among trees. Within the tent they
found a corporal and a squad of men belonging to a squadron of train,
all asleep. Lenoir wakened the corporal and informed him that he and
all his party were captured, and that the stores under their charge
were subject to the orders of the officer commanding the blue army.
That was the end of the task. With his little squad of scouts Lenoir
had captured the unguarded stores of the red force, and had thus
rendered ineffective anything that they might accomplish in the matter
of field operations. Theoretically the red force was beaten on its
first day in the field, but in actual fact the stores went up from the
captured base to the red army, as if no capture had been accomplished,
for it would not do to go to the expense of moving out two army corps
from barracks for the purpose of manoeuvres, and then cancelling the
manoeuvres because a cavalry patrol had, by means of hard riding and
good cross-country judgment, achieved a theoretical victory. Practice
has shown that in real war a chance for such an achievement as that of
Lenoir's patrol does not occur in one out of a thousand situations,
and in actual war, also, no commander would be so foolish as to leave
his chief supplies in charge of a corporal and squad of men of a
squadron of train. Adequate protection is always afforded to lines of
communication by an attacking force in war.
The incident is noteworthy, however, in that it affords an example
of the way in which military plans are thought out. The commander
responsible for the conception of Lenoir's mission judged exactly
what line of country would be clear for such an advance. He could
not know whether or no his judgment would be at fault, but he saw
that the plan was worth the risk of an officer and a dozen or so
of men, whose absence would not materially weaken his force. Some
slight psychological knowledge must have been his as well, for even
on manoeuvres a commanding officer usually protects his lines of
communication, and the base from which his stores are sent, more
effectually than did this red commander. Again, the way in which
Lenoir chose his men is noteworthy. He picked the best scouts from
the squadron to which he belonged; possibly, had he chosen to look
throughout the whole regiment, he might have obtained even better men
to accompany him, but he chose men whom he knew to be good riders,
careful of their horses, and able to undergo a long march. The two
signallers represented a minimum that he must take if he wished to
send or receive messages to or from any other force. As a matter of
fact nothing occurred to render it necessary that any individual scout
should be placed in a position where the exercise of initiative would
be an essential; neither were the signallers called on for special
exertions, or for the full exercise of their special department of
knowledge, but they might have been. Lenoir chose his men with a view
to compressing the greatest possible effectiveness into the smallest
number compatible with the accomplishment of his mission. He chose them
also with a view, not to what they actually did as individuals, but
with a view of the demands that might have been made on them. As the
affair turned out, they simply had a quietly good time in this "base"
village until the manoeuvres concluded; Lenoir saw to it that the
horses received all necessary attention, and for the rest he left his
men to their own devices. And one may trust a soldier, either conscript
or volunteer, to make life worth living when given such a chance as
this.
It was a week or more before the scout of the red force got his helmet
back. He met l'Anglais by appointment in the canteen devoted to the
use of the blue cavalry, and received back the headgear undamaged. It
may be said in conclusion that he compensated l'Anglais in the usual
fashion--and any soldier will know what that means.