Upon taking over warfare, science stripped it of its picturesqueness.
The commanding general no longer cavorts upon his charger, nor smiles as
the bullets whistle about him, while he stands surrounded by an
ornamental general staff, whose breasts are covered with ribbons and
medals representing every known variety of hardware, whether monarchical
or republican.
Today the general sits in a room, surrounded by telephones and telegraph
apparatus. If he smiles at all, it is only before the camera.
An officer scarcely ever uses a sword, nor does he strut about adorned
with all his crosses and medals, nor does he wear the resplendent
uniforms of other days. On the contrary, his uniform is ugly and dirt
coloured, and innocent of devices.
This officer is without initiative, he is subordinated to a fixed
general plan; surprises on either one side or the other, are almost out
of the question.
The plan of battle is rigid and detailed. It permits neither originality
nor display of individuality upon the part of the generals, the lesser
officers, or the private soldiers. The individual is swallowed up by the
collective force. Outstanding types do not occur; nobody develops the
marked personality of the generals of the old school.
Besides this, individual bravery, when not reinforced by other
qualities, is of less and less consequence. The bold, adventurous youth
who, years ago, would have been an embryo Murat, Messina, Espartero or
Prim, would be rejected today to make room for a mechanic who had the
skill to operate a machine, or for an aviator or an engineer who might
be capable of solving in a crisis a problem of pressing danger.
The prestige of the soldier, even upon the battle field, has fallen
today below that of the man of science.