A PECULIAR WAR?
Such are the facts of the South African War, our only great war since
the Crimea, and the first serious test for the whole world of the
smokeless magazine rifle. What results can we place to the credit of the
_arme blanche_?
1. The pursuit at _Elandslaagte_ (October 21, 1899), on the second day
of hostilities: Boers killed, wounded, and prisoners, say fifty. (No
figures are forthcoming, but I think fifty is on the safe side.)
2. _Klip Drift_ (February 15, 1900): A “penetrating,” semi-aggressive
charge, in widely extended order, by a very large force, with a big
backing of Infantry and Artillery, through a gap in a small hostile
skirmishing screen. Boer casualties about fifteen.
3. _Diamond Hill_ (June 11, 1900): Two brave but insignificant little
charges, which received as much punishment as they gave. Boer casualties
about seventeen.
4. _Welgevonden_ (February 12, 1901): A small charge in the open. Boer
casualties and prisoners about twenty.
Not a single example of true shock.
This gives a record of about a hundred casualties and prisoners due
directly to the _arme blanche_. There may, no doubt, have been a few
others in unrecorded episodes. To be well on the safe side, let us put
the total at 200. All the other damage inflicted by the Cavalry, whether
in offence or defence, was inflicted through the agency of the carbine
or rifle. The opportunities lost through over-training in the steel and
inexperience in the firearm are beyond computation.
With the exception of an unknown, but certainly small, proportion of
casualties caused by Artillery, all the other losses in action, British
and Boer, during the war were caused by the rifle, and all of our own
casualties, close upon 30,000 in number, were (with the same exception)
inflicted by mounted riflemen.
From the first to the last day of the war the rifle dominated every
encounter, small or great, Elandslaagte and the rest included. Awaking
finally to this fact, but at least a year too late, we converted our
Cavalry into mounted riflemen. Every possible function and every
possible species of encounter which mounted men can conceivably
undertake in any war was illustrated again and again. In reconnaissance,
in raids, in protective work and independent work, in pursuit and
retreat, in battle and out of battle, acting as divisions, brigades,
regiments, squadrons, troops, patrols, or as single scouts, the Cavalry
were submitted to every sort of test during more than two and a half
years. All our other mounted troops and all the Boer troops were
submitted to similar tests. Out of it all emerges the single type of
mounted rifleman, competent to do all duties alike, and incapable of
doing any of them well unless he is as skilled in the rifle as he is on
the horse—competent, too, if required, to perform functions never before
dreamt of by any European Cavalry—to make, hold, and storm
entrenchments, and to take his place in the main line of battle.
Here is a mass of evidence, vast, various, cogent. For the last time, I
ask, was the war “peculiar”? Of course it was peculiar. Every war is
peculiar. Terrain differs, races differ, degrees of civilization and
stamps of military organization differ, quarrels and aims differ,
aptitudes and temperaments differ, and, lastly, with the progress of
science, weapons differ. That brings us to the point—the only point
relevant to our inquiry: Were the peculiarities of the Boer War such as
to invalidate the conclusions developed in its course as to the armament
and tactics of mounted troops?
Even that way of putting the question is a little too wide. In Great
Britain, at any rate, one big conclusion is admittedly valid for all
future wars—namely, that the Cavalry must carry a good rifle, not a bad
carbine, and must be able to use it with far more freedom and skill than
they ever dreamed of before the war. We have got that far, and stopped.
Shrinking from anything radical, taking refuge in compromise, we have
fashioned in theory, and only in theory, an ideal hybrid, perfect both
in shock and the rifle, and given him the formula for a hybrid “Cavalry
spirit,” which is quoted at the beginning of this volume. But—and this
reservation is vital—we have taught him in “Cavalry Training” to rely
mainly on shock and the “terror of cold steel,” which “nothing can
replace.”
That settles the final form of our question: Were the peculiarities of
the war such as to justify the re-establishment of the lance and sword
in their old position as the dominant weapons of Cavalry? Remember the
proved penalties of error, if error there be—the extra weight and extra
visibility of equipment, when every additional ounce of weight and every
additional inch of vulnerable and visible surface tells, to say nothing
of the complications, moral and physical, caused by allegiance to two
diametrically opposite tactical ideals and tactical systems.
The answer we shall give to the question carries with it answers to many
more. Are we justified in reverting to exactly the same old view of
“Mounted Infantry” as existed before the war, and which the war,
regarded as an episode by itself, reduced to ridicule? Was the war so
abnormal that we are still in our handbook of “Mounted Infantry
Training” to lay down, foremost among the purposes for which that arm is
to be employed, the purpose of “forming a pivot of manœuvre for
Cavalry, of supporting them generally with their fire, and ... of giving
to the Cavalry such Infantry support, when they are acting at a distance
from other troops, as will prevent the necessity of the Cavalry
regiments being employed in any other capacity than that of their purely
Cavalry rôle.”[66] Prodigious indeed must be the abnormalities which
would warrant the fresh enunciation of such a "general principle"! Note
the words “Infantry support,” both in their context and in connection
with the opening paragraph of the handbook, to the effect that “Mounted
Infantry are Infantry soldiers governed in their tactical employment by
the principles of Infantry training.” Substitute the synonymous word
“riflemen” for “Infantry” in the three cases where the latter word is
used, and there is, indeed, a substratum of very sound truth in the
proposition. But it is truth which would be heresy to the authorities.
For them, apparently, it was Infantry who, under British leading,
relieved Mafeking, charged at Bothaville and Roodekraal, pursued at the
Biggarsberg and Wildfontein, saved the guns at Sannah’s Post, and
scouted, raided, and screened everywhere. It must have been Infantry,
moreover, disguised as Cavalry, who held the Colesberg lines,
intercepted Cronje on the Modder, and ran to earth Lotter; Infantry,
under Boer leading, who captured a third of the main army’s transport at
Waterval, intervened brilliantly at the climax of the battle of
Paardeberg, ambuscaded and pursued at Sannah’s Post, raided Cape Colony,
Natal, and the railway communications, and charged at Bakenlaagte and
Roodewal. Was the war really so peculiar as to warrant such grotesque
inferences as these? Was a war which produced not a single example of
true shock so peculiar as to justify the vague and unintelligible
instructions to Yeomanry—namely, that they are to be “so trained as to
be capable of performing all the duties allotted to Cavalry except those
connected with shock action”? And what of our mounted forces overseas?
Suppose a war on Colonial soil against a European army—to my mind a far
more likely contingency than a war on European soil—suppose (merely for
the sake of argument) such a war in South Africa, where we should be
aided both by Dutch and British mounted troops. Was the great war of
1899–1902 so peculiar as to warrant our telling the Boer troops or the
Imperial Light Horse that they are not fit “to discharge Cavalry
duties”?
-----
Footnote 66:
I am quite aware that under present arrangements our Mounted Infantry
are allotted the duties of Divisional Cavalry, but this circumstance
does not affect the general principles laid down for their action,
which remain the same, and postulate the inferiority of mounted troops
without steel weapons. The contradiction in terms exhibited by the
nomenclature only serves to emphasize the confusion of thought
involved.
-----
There is a big case, an authoritative case, an overwhelmingly convincing
case, founded on a reasoned analysis of the campaign, to be made out
here by the advocates of the _arme blanche_ if they are to justify
existing practice. When, where, and by whom has this authoritative case
been presented? I am at a loss to say. Directly we begin to grapple with
this allegation of abnormality we find we are fighting with phantoms,
with nebulous, elusive, and often mutually contradictory arguments held,
some by one person, some by another. I scarcely know how far I need
engage in this ghostly conflict. I have exhorted the reader from the
first, in following my review of the war, to picture for himself
parallel situations in a European war, distinguishing relevant from
irrelevant peculiarities, and, without being led astray by mere names
and labels, to test weapons and the tactical theories based on them by
facts. I have endeavoured to assist him by analysis and comment, and I
believe at one time or another I have dealt with every abnormality which
is alleged to quash the verdict against the _arme blanche_. But I am not
sanguine enough to hope that I have carried conviction, and I venture
now to deal once more in a separate chapter with the allegation as a
whole. In order to narrow the controversy within incontestably sound and
fair limits, I will take the three powerful advocates of the _arme
blanche_ to whom I alluded in my first chapter, and from whom I have
since frequently quoted—General Sir John French, Mr. Goldman, and
General von Bernhardi. The last we may regard as the most powerful of
all, since his book, “Cavalry in Future Wars,” translated by Mr.
Goldman, and furnished with an introduction by General French, is not
only described by the latter officer as being the last word of logic and
wisdom on all Cavalry matters without exception, but has been largely
drawn upon in practice by the compilers of our own “Cavalry Training.”
In General French’s long and warmly written introduction, levelled
avowedly against the “misleading conclusions” of those who criticize
shock, only one short passage is to be found in which the South African
War—our own great war—is so much as alluded to, and then only to be
dismissed with a shrug of the shoulders as almost irrelevant to the
controversy. Both the allusion and its context are, I am afraid, rather
obscure, so I give the paragraph in full:
“In dwelling so persistently upon the necessity for Cavalry being
trained to the highest possible pitch to meet the enemy’s Cavalry, I
do not wish to be misunderstood. I agree absolutely with the author in
the principle he lays down that the Cavalry fight is only a means to
an end, but it is the most important means, and I have thought it
right to comment upon this because it is a principle which in this
country, since the South African War, we have been very much inclined
to overlook. _To place a force of Cavalry in the field in support of a
great army which is deficient in the power to overcome the opposing
Cavalry_, is to act like one who would despatch a squadron of
war-vessels badly armed, badly trained, and ill-found, to blockade a
distant coast-line defended by a powerful fleet. What is the naval
fight in the open sea but a means to an end? It would be as sensible
to dwell on the inutility and waste of a duel between hostile fleets
as to lay down the principle that the ‘Cavalry battle’ in no way
affects the mutual situation of hostile armies” (p. 26).
Sincerely desirous of understanding the General’s meaning, I confess
that this passage baffles me, and I scarcely know what it would convey
to a reader fresh from the study of our war. Do the words which I have
italicized imply that the non-Cavalry portion of our “great army,” the
Infantry and Artillery, were not worthy of the “support” of our Cavalry,
and denied that arm a chance of distinguishing itself in the “Cavalry
fight”—that is, presumably the shock fight? That cannot be the sense
intended, for the imputation not only would never be made by General
French, but is in itself indefensible. I need not argue that proposition
again. If any narrative of the war does not disprove it to the most
cursory reader, my previous narrative and comments would add no further
conviction.
We must arrive at some other interpretation; and yet there seems to be
no other that does not involve the writer in self-refutation. Read
literally, the sentence compares “a force of Cavalry” (sent out under
the circumstances described) to a squadron of war-vessels badly armed,
badly trained, and ill-found, while the unequal naval fight with the
“great fleet,” which results, is intended surely to be analogous to the
“Cavalry fight.” Both are “means to an end”—in the one case to landing
and invasion, in the other to the destruction of a hostile army. In the
last sentence the simile becomes more precise, the “duel” between
hostile fleets being expressly likened to the “Cavalry battle,” and very
aptly likened, if we do not assume with General French that the Cavalry
battle must inevitably be a shock battle. It is true that in the case of
the South African War the simile is impaired by the fact that the
“opposing Cavalry,” constituting as they did the entire hostile force,
cannot be regarded as the counterpart of our Cavalry. But, disregarding
that material point, where does the simile lead us? To the conclusion
that our Cavalry were badly armed, badly trained, and ill-found. That is
admittedly true of armament and training; for the rifle has been
permanently substituted for the carbine, and “thorough efficiency” in
its use officially enjoined ever since, while the steel weapon, during
the war, failed. “Ill-found” might refer to horses. But the General, as
the context shows, does not mean to take this dangerous line of
argument. Who, then, were the troops referred to? No part of the army
was “ill-found” by comparison with the Boers, who in most of the
resources possessed by great and wealthy nations were miserably
ill-found, and were reduced for the last year to destitution. “Badly
armed,” except in the case of the Cavalry, is another misnomer. The
Infantry were armed with the best modern rifle, and although the
Artillery at first found their guns outranged, they soon received the
aid of naval and other heavy guns, and always had an overwhelming
numerical superiority over the Boers. “Badly trained” does, indeed,
apply in a certain sense to the whole army, particularly to its
practical organization for war. But it applies, too, to the Boers, and
in the latter respect far more pertinently.
I have no desire idly to split straws. If the passage I have quoted
formed part of a reasoned argument for the abnormality of our great war,
I agree that it would be unfair to make too much of a case of obscure
exposition. But it stands alone, and I am justified in criticizing the
attitude of mind which permits so high a Cavalry authority as General
French, in an essay part of which is explicitly directed against the
advocates of mounted riflemen, to treat so vaguely and superficially the
great national struggle which, for the time being, at any rate, did
confirm their views. My justification is the greater in that such an
attitude of mind is strictly typical of a great number of the adherents
of the shock system. Pressed, they are altogether unable to put into
precise language their reasons for disregarding the Boer War. In a later
chapter, when dealing with the Manchurian War, I shall have to refer to
General French’s equally inadequate treatment of the theme of another
case of abnormality.
In the meantime I can do no better than take two propositions from the
paragraph quoted above, about which there can be no doubt. (1) A
“Cavalry battle” without shock is inconceivable to General French. There
must be either shock or no battle, for surely no opponent of shock would
go so far as to argue that, shock being a thing of the past, it was
“inutility and waste” for opposing sets of mounted troops to fight with
one another at all, in any way? We have here, in an unusually extreme
form, that theory of the inevitable shock duel between opposing
Cavalries to which I alluded in my second chapter. It occurs again on
page xxii of the same Introduction.
“How, I ask, can the Cavalry perform its rôle in war until the enemy’s
Cavalry is defeated and paralyzed? I challenge any Cavalry officer,
British or foreign, to deny the principle that Cavalry, _acting as
such against its own arm_, can never attain complete success unless it
is proficient in shock tactics.”
Here is the case complete, but, alas! strangely qualified by the words I
have italicized. Is there some _arrière-pensée_ here? What if the
hostile Cavalry, like the Boers, do not believe in shock? Surely, the
case thus stated begs the whole question at issue. Observe that the
underlying axiom is that the steel can always impose tactics on the
firearm. Contrast this axiom with the facts of the Boer War, where the
Boers were the “opposing Cavalry,” and were admittedly strong enough,
though in what way we are not told, to throw into prominence the many
defects of the great army sent to overcome them. And, by the way, we may
remind the General that it _did_ overcome them in the end, mainly
through the improvisation of mounted riflemen (whom he ignores
altogether), and through the assimilation of the Cavalry to that type.
(2) The other clear deduction from the paragraph is this, that the Boers
were, on the whole, from whatever cause, a formidable enemy. They are
compared to a powerful fleet, and we are represented, in whatever
capacity, as suffering from certain weaknesses. That is the general
colour of the argument, and I draw the reader’s attention to it, because
the gist of Mr. Goldman’s argument is of a precisely opposite character;
and this contradiction, in one form or another, runs through all the
hazy generalizations that one hears expressed in public or private on
the topic of abnormality.
To the best of my belief, Mr. Goldman is the only writer who has had the
courage to set forth categorically, in the form of a reasoned argument
designed expressly to prove the superiority of Cavalry over mounted
riflemen, the various grounds for regarding the South African War as
abnormal. He does this in his Appendix A. to “With French in South
Africa” (1903), and again in his preface to Von Bernhardi’s “Cavalry in
Future Wars.”
Before examining these grounds it is essential to know what Mr. Goldman
means by a “mounted rifleman.” Here is his appreciation, on page 408 of
the former book: “... the horseman armed only with a rifle. We may
assume that he has received the special Cavalry training aforesaid, and
that in every way he is qualified to perform the duties of Cavalry.” (I
do not know what to make of this curious admission.) “But he is equipped
solely to fight on foot. Hence, no sooner does it become necessary for
him to assume the offensive than he is forced to dismount, and from that
moment his rate of progress depends solely upon the pace he can walk.”
Truly, a poor creature! But we think of South Africa and rub our eyes.
Was this the figure cut by mounted riflemen, Boer and British, in South
Africa? It may be said without exaggeration that all the “offensive”
mounted work was done by mounted riflemen or by Cavalry acting as such.
And think of the charges—Bakenlaagte, for example. At what moment did
Botha’s men begin to “assume the offensive”? According to Mr. Goldman,
when they “dismounted.” And when was that? Within point-blank range of
our guns, after a charge of a mile and a half.
To proceed with the quotation: “Moreover, he has given hostages to
fortune. His led horses being an easy prey to a handful of mounted
horsemen, he cannot leave them far behind, for, should he lose them, his
usefulness for reconnoitring purposes is gone; the opposing Cavalry will
merely push on and through the gap he has left in his screen.” We rub
our eyes again. When did Boer led horses fall a prey to Cavalry, acting
as “Cavalry”? Not in a single instance. As for the idea that the mounted
rifleman is handicapped for “reconnoitring purposes”—after all the
bitter losses and humiliations from which we suffered in South Africa
through imperfect reconnaissance, one can only regard the suggestion
with respectful amazement. Similarly with the suggestion about “pushing
through gaps in screens.” This, as I have repeatedly pointed out, is
what the Cavalry could _not_ do. Their inability to do it was the
predominant characteristic of all the fighting in which they were
engaged—with one only apparent exception—the Klip Drift charge, where
the screen was not a screen, but an isolated skirmishing line of 900 men
and 2 guns, which was pierced without shock, and almost without
bloodshed, by 5,000 horsemen, covered by the fire of 56 guns, and
supported by a division of Infantry.
To proceed: “It must be remembered that the mounted rifleman cannot
fight on horseback. He has no weapon for that purpose, so that his only
means of taking the offensive is to act on foot.... If in open country,
the mounted rifleman cannot hope to meet the Cavalryman mounted. In
these circumstances he is practically unarmed; for the firmest believer
in the rifle will scarcely maintain that the rifle-fire of mounted men
is a serious quantity; anyone who has experienced it knows how perfectly
ineffective it is.” Well, I leave the reader to judge of the soundness
of all this, in view of our experiences in South Africa. It reads like a
dream. Is it, to say the least, an adequate treatment of the theme?
Surely it would be wiser to make some overt reference to the fine
examples of aggressive mobility shown by our Colonial irregulars, or to
the Boer charges, if only for the sake of proving their negligibility.
This particular passage may have been written before Mr. Goldman (whose
narrative of the war ends at Komati Poort) had had full opportunity to
study final developments, but his book was published in 1903; he was
cognizant when he wrote, at any rate, of Sannah’s Post, and in his
preface to, and notes upon Bernhardi (1906 and 1909), he maintains an
equally icy silence upon the achievements of mounted riflemen in South
Africa, until a passage of warm praise from Bernhardi himself extorts
from him the footnote, inaccurate as to facts and mistaken in criticism,
which I quoted in the last chapter (p. 254).
I need not pursue this quotation further. The writer eventually admits
that in an “enclosed country” (what of the South African terrain?) the
mounted rifleman has a certain value, but the most he will yield is that
here the “mounted rifleman and the Cavalryman are on an equality.”
Truly, an astonishing conclusion! Surely part of this Appendix must have
been written before the war and left unrevised? Even then the writer was
old-fashioned, for the Mounted Infantry Regulations of 1899, while
warning that arm in a general way that they “needed the assistance of
Cavalry,” told them that when they cannot get this assistance, their
“best security was to be keeping in broken, intersected, woody, or
marshy ground, where they would have a _great advantage over Cavalry_.”
It is indisputable that men who spend their whole time in practising
rifle-tactics, must be more efficient than men who spend half or more
than half their time on shock-tactics. The strange thing is, that Mr.
Goldman, in another connection, himself quotes the official warning with
approval, as putting the mounted riflemen in their right place. Yet, we
may well ask, when in South Africa did mounted riflemen ask for the
assistance of Cavalry—that is to say, of Cavalry “as such,” to use
General French’s expression? How often, on the other hand, did Cavalry,
as such, ask for the support of mounted riflemen, as such?
And these mounted riflemen of ours, who came in so many thousands from
so many lands, to do such splendid and such absolutely indispensable
work for the Empire? Not a single allusion to them either in this essay
or in the Preface to Bernhardi. Boers alone are used for illustration.
Anyone without knowledge of the war would infer that the whole of the
mounted work on our side had been done by Cavalry. Nor is the conversion
of the Cavalry themselves into mounted riflemen mentioned.
One further question of definition before I proceed to the
“peculiarities” of the war. What does Mr. Goldman mean by “shock”? He
does not define it, nor does “Cavalry Training,” wisely enough, attempt
a definition; but under the heading “Shock Action” (p. 410), he adduces
as an example of shock the Klip Drift charge, where the Cavalry files
were eight yards apart, and the immediate objective of the charge was a
sprinkling of extended skirmishers. I should weary the reader if I again
exposed this fallacy at length. Shock means impact. This charge was not
shock, by any interpretation of that word, nor in the sense in which
Bernhardi or any European Cavalry understands it. It was the right
pattern of charge, but, as after experience proved, it was essentially
the pattern of charge appropriate to mounted riflemen, and it was
through blindness to this fundamental difference that the Cavalry never
made another like it.
Now for Mr. Goldman’s “abnormalities.”
1. _Terrain._—To take this point first, as the least important. Indeed,
I scarcely know whether to take it seriously or not. It is rarely
expressed elsewhere, and I think Mr. Goldman himself regards it as a
desperate resource. After saying, broadly, that “certain physical and
local conditions go far to explain why the Cavalry were not more
effective with the lance and sabre,”[67] he complains that the
“boundless plains” were “seamed with ridges and watercourses,” while
“the shock-tactics of Cavalry require open ground free from large
obstructions like rocky kopjes, thick bush, and strong fences” (_i.e._,
wire fences, which, as he admits, were easily cut, and in time became no
hindrance). But, while condemning, apparently, the whole of the
Transvaal, he cautiously admits that in the Free State “the conditions
were favourable.” Was there ever a more remarkable example of
under-statement? What does he expect? Where is his ideal battle-ground
of the future? Taken as a whole, South Africa, though its rolling plains
were not quite so flat or so free from fences and dongas as the plains
of Northern Manchuria, may be regarded as one of the most perfect
manœuvring grounds for Cavalry which the civilized world contains. Of
course, there were “obstructions” even in the most favourable areas,
and, of course, these obstructions had a way of coming into prominence
when fighting was afoot. Battles are not fought on billiard-tables. One
side or the other usually seeks defensible positions. And why should
Cavalry complain of irregularities? How effect surprise on a dead-level
plain? It was by _using_ irregularities that mounted riflemen won their
most brilliant successes in South Africa. Shock is extinct, precisely
because the ground which it imperatively demands makes Cavalry most
vulnerable to fire and least capable of surprise.
-----
Footnote 67:
“With French in South Africa,” p. 422.
-----
2. _Bad Condition of Horses and Poor Remounts._—I dealt with this point
in Chapters VI. and VII. The difficulties of the long voyage and
acclimatization, and the imperfections of the remount system, are well
known. A preventable cause of wastage, careless management and riding,
is also scarcely disputed. On the debatable point of over-weight, Mr.
Goldman, in a separate Appendix, contends that the horses were
needlessly over-loaded. All causes together do not explain away tactical
facts covering two years. The more closely these facts are
scrutinized—even those of actions like Poplar Grove, where the excuse
has been most loudly raised—the less adequate the explanation. On
inspection it always turns out that the enemy’s skill with the firearm,
and our own deficiencies in that respect, are the principal cause of
imperfect achievement. Where the Cavalry showed skill with the firearm
there they obtained their tactical successes, irrespective of the
condition of their horses. In the excellent Colesberg operations no
complaint was raised about the horses. When were sabres drawn? Once, but
without result, owing to delaying rifle-fire. In the arduous operations
for the relief of Kimberley, when the horses were at their worst, the
Cavalry achieved their most important success, by intercepting and
containing Cronje. On the strategical aspect of these operations, the
use of lance and sabre, as combatant weapons, had no bearing whatever.
Men do not ride better or quicker for carrying steel weapons; on the
contrary, the extra weight and the habits instilled by the shock theory
are a hindrance to mobility. Tactically, the Cavalry succeeded or failed
in proportion to their skilful or unskilful use of carbine and horse
combined; succeeded signally at the Drifts, where they held up Cronje;
failed signally in the pursuit north from Kimberley. On the Natal side,
the Cavalry horses were as fresh at Talana, a case of failure, as at
Elandslaagte, the solitary case of a successful charge. As for Poplar
Grove, which Mr. Goldman singles out for illustration, let me give his
own words: “How could horses pursue a fleet and mobile enemy after a
long day’s engagement, in which they had covered forty miles, and had
turned the Boers out of position after position?” How indeed? Does Mr.
Goldman seriously expect or demand that in our next war, after four
months of hostilities we shall be provided with super-horses capable of
the kind of feat suggested—that is, of beginning a galloping pursuit
_after_ fighting over forty miles of country? But this is a case where
the reading of facts makes such a difference. In point of fact the
_conditions of pursuit_ began to be present after twelve miles. The full
forty miles can only be arrived at (as I pointed out in my narrative) by
counting the unnecessary détours and countermarches caused by failure to
break down or ride past trivial flank and rear-guards. In these and many
other later operations I have pointed out the intimate connection
between horse-wastage and deficiency in direct aggressive power.
From the capture of Bloemfontein to the end of the war the complaint
about horses has less and less force. The remount system, of course, was
greatly improved. Although the difficulty of acclimatizing foreign
animals was never properly overcome, owing to the ceaselessly voracious
demands of the field-columns, horses poured into South Africa from all
quarters of the globe at an enormous rate, while no less than 158,000
native South African ponies (exclusive of large numbers captured on the
veld) were supplied by the Remount Department. Whatever the condition of
the horses from time to time, the tactical incidents are of the same
general character. Nor, it need scarcely be added, was the disability
confined to the Cavalry. All our mounted troops were similarly affected,
and the Boers, in spite of their possession of the hardy native pony,
must be regarded as being on the whole in a worse position. From first
to last they were confined to their domestic supply, and, as I have
pointed out, from Paardeberg onwards they suffered considerably from
shortage of horses.[68] Their advantages were a light load and good
horsemanship.
-----
Footnote 68:
On the subject of horses see _Times_ History, vol. vi., part ii.,
chapter vi. The total number provided for the British army was 518,794
(mules 150,781). The net wastage accounted for was in horses 347,007
(mules 53,339). The Boers took the field with 50,000 to 60,000 horses,
which were renewed several times. Their net wastage is estimated
conjecturally at 100,000.
-----
Lastly, let me remind the reader of what I believe to be the real gist
and essence of this complaint about horses. The theory of shock among
several other rigorous conditions presupposes the presence at any and
every moment of fresh horses capable of bearing down upon their
objective at a gallop, and during the last fifty yards at the “charge,”
and in perfect formation. This condition alone is enough to make shock a
negligible factor in future wars—_if_, that is, Cavalry are going to
play the great part in war which they should play, but which they have
not played for the last forty years. Mounted riflemen are subject to no
such conditions, and would lose half their value if they were. Picture a
Boer charge—the little grass-fed ponies breaking from their “trippling”
trot to what would correspond in European Cavalry to a moderate canter.
3. _Lack of Opportunity._—From ground and horses we pass to the more
important part of Mr. Goldman’s case for “abnormality.”[69] Though he
never admits that Cavalry work fell short in any respect in South
Africa, he is evidently conscious that this perfection needs much
special proof, and he falls back on the proposition that they did not
have a proper chance of distinguishing themselves in their own special
line. Two absolutely distinct causes—the one domestic, the other
external—are represented as having produced this lack of opportunity:
(_a_) They were not employed properly—_i.e._, as the context shows, by
Lord Roberts in particular, though he is not named.
(_b_) That the Boers, owing to their habit of retiring without “fighting
to a finish,” did not permit the Cavalry to “discharge Cavalry duties.”
-----
Footnote 69:
I ought, perhaps, to allude to another argument which appears in Mr.
Goldman’s Preface to Bernhardi, though it is expressed in very vague
terms, and the meaning is beyond me: “The Cavalry, after the first few
weeks of 1900, as an effective force had practically ceased to exist.”
Figures of strength and disposition will be found in my previous
chapters.
-----
I have alluded in previous chapters to both these points. Let me add a
word more.
As to (_a_), Mr. Goldman’s argument is vitiated from beginning to end by
that old confusion between strategy and tactics, between mobility and
combat, which lies at the root of _arme blanche_ doctrine. The express
point he is arguing, remember, is the relative value of Cavalry and
mounted riflemen, of the steel weapon and the firearm, or, to be more
accurate, the steel weapon plus the firearm, and the firearm alone. Now,
the horse, whether used strategically or tactically, is common to both
types. Weapons are used only in combat. We are concerned, then, purely,
with a question of weapons and of combat. Strategy only concerns us in
that the ultimate end of all strategy is combat. If there were to be no
combat, equipment for a strategical errand would be vastly simplified.
We should discard all weapons and all ammunition, and use the lightest
men we could possibly find. In defending the steel weapon, therefore,
and in showing that it had not its proper opportunities, we should
expect to find Mr. Goldman dwelling on tactical opportunities. Quite the
reverse. His complaint—both in the Appendix to his own book and in his
Preface to Bernhardi—is that the Cavalry were denied strategical
opportunities. If he proved this up to the hilt, he would not have
furthered the _arme blanche_ theory one whit. But does he prove it?
“Strategical” is, of course, ambiguous, but let us follow his loose
employment of the word in calling the Kimberley raid “strategical.” He
would not—and, indeed, does not—contend that at that period Roberts
denied the Cavalry independent opportunities. He begins with the general
advance of May, 1900.
But, again, we must pause to define the terms we are using. Mr.
Goldman’s definition of the “strategical use of Cavalry” is on page 412
of “With French in South Africa”: “The use of that arm in such a fashion
that, _without of necessity engaging in any tactical action_, certain
well-defined effects are produced.” Note the words I have italicized,
for they prepare the way in advance for Mr. Goldman’s appreciation of
the action of Zand River, which he gives as a “concrete case to explain
his argument.” “At that action French’s Cavalry division was employed on
the extreme left flank of the army to produce _a purely tactical
effect_.... His operations _could only, and did only_, have the effect
of causing the enemy gradually and in perfect order to withdraw from the
position commanding the river.... The effect was _purely tactical_, for
the early withdrawal of the enemy, unbeaten, undemoraiized, gave no
chance to Cavalry shock action.” What is the inner meaning of this
contempt for “purely tactical effects”? Simply this, that our Cavalry,
owing to their armament and methods, were outmatched in combat by the
Boers. Let the reader examine once more the facts and maps of this
action in the “Official History,” the _Times_ History, Mr. Goldman’s own
narrative, or any other. He will see that “could only” and “did only”
are synonymous terms to Mr. Goldman. Eight thousand Boers held a
twenty-five mile front, with their main strength in the centre and left,
against nearly 40,000 British troops, of whom 13,000 were mounted.
Aiming at envelopment and destruction, Roberts gave the Cavalry a
supremely important tactical object. Of the two turning forces employed,
two brigades of Cavalry, supported by 2,200 mounted riflemen, were to
make an extensive sweep round the Boer right flank, and gain an
intercepting position at Ventersburg Road Station. The Cavalry got well
round to the rear in very good time (for the movement was a complete
surprise to Botha), but were subsequently checked by small flank-guards.
One brigade was badly mauled, and the whole division was delayed long
enough to enable Botha to withdraw his whole force in safety. The Lancer
brigade, near the railway, and next in line to French’s division, though
lightly opposed, showed no greater aggressive capacity (see “Official
History,” vol. iii., p. 56, and map), and the same applies to the
remaining Cavalry brigade on our extreme right. Mr. Goldman is content:
there could not have been any “tactical effect.” The logical inference
is that Cavalry can have no tactical value at all.[70] For he does not
suggest _any tactical_ alternative for them. One tactical retort to
these immense Boer extensions was, as I indicated, a piercing movement;
but Mr. Goldman makes no such suggestion, although in the same Appendix
(under “Security and Information”) he expressly gives as one of many
normal Cavalry functions that of “piercing the opposing Cavalry screen
with a division or divisions cut loose from the main army.” As I have
pointed out, for purposes of analogy, the Boer army on this, as on so
many other occasions, did represent a Cavalry screen.
-----
Footnote 70:
This, as I shall show in the next chapter, is precisely the conclusion
reached unconsciously by Bernhardi, and consciously by Wrangel. Their
only tactical rôle _with the steel_ is in the “collision of Cavalry
masses”—_i.e._, between masses of Cavalry who both believe in the
steel and engage on that understanding.
-----
And what is his suggested strategical alternative? This, that the
Cavalry division should have been, say, “100 miles to the north of the
main army, moving south, while our main army moved north.” The effect on
the “ill-disciplined Boer troops” would have been “incalculable,” and
then, in some unexplained way, would have come the “opportunity for the
shock tactics of Cavalry.” How wonderfully simple war seems to Mr.
Goldman, and how carelessly he must have read his master, Bernhardi, who
makes short work of this conception of miraculously easy and effective
raids in modern war! But let us look a little closer. The Cavalry had
arrived from Bloemfontein at Smalldeel, freshly remounted, on the 8th.
On the 9th French’s two brigades covered twenty miles of their turning
movement. On the 10th, the day of the battle, they covered upwards of
thirty miles, and their horses were too tired for them to be able to act
on the suggestion of Roberts for an enveloping march that same night
round the Boer army and to the north of Kroonstad. Starting at 6.30 a.m.
next day, they were too late to produce any important results.
The tasks set the Cavalry, whether we call them strategical or tactical,
were as heavy and responsible as the most ardent leader could desire.
This craving for grandiose strategical “effects” without combat is
thoroughly unhealthy and distorted. I venture to lay down the
proposition that no Cavalry has a right to complain of strategical
mishandling until it has proved beyond question high combative capacity.
With carbines and inadequate fire-training this high standard was beyond
the reach of the Cavalry. It has been said that Roberts misused them in
the Middelburg operations of July 23–25, 1900. Study the facts. French
had planned a very extensive circuit. Roberts, who had no spare mounted
troops for his main columns, prescribed a shorter curve. On the 24th
both Cavalry Brigades, even with the help of Hutton’s mixed force of
3,000 men, were held up for four hours by a small rear-guard.
Casualties, two men wounded. It is impossible to assume that a wider
circuit against so mobile an enemy would have produced important
results.
Genuine strategical independence for a purely Cavalry force, on the
lines of the great Civil War raids, was never in question during this
period, and would have been useless if feasible.[71] The nearest
approach to such an expedition was the futile divisional march of 173
miles across the Eastern Transvaal in October, 1900, where some Infantry
and a few mounted riflemen, besides masses of ox transport, accompanied
the column. There was no mobility worth the name; the column became
nothing more than an escort to its own transport. The Kimberley raid was
not, of course, one of strategical independence. The division as a whole
was never more than twenty miles from large portions of the main army,
and was not rationed independently for a longer period than three days.
Kimberley was a friendly town, and after the return of the main army, on
which the force was dependent for all but temporary supplies, forage ran
out owing to De Wet’s stroke at Waterval. Mounted riflemen were
associated with Cavalry, and the Cavalry themselves won success by
acting well as mounted riflemen.
-----
Footnote 71:
See Bernhardi’s warning, “Cavalry in Future Wars,” pp. 169, 170.
-----
Mr. Goldman’s idea that hundred-mile circuits would end in
“opportunities for shock” is utterly chimerical. It is against all
evidence, from this war and others, European, American, or Asiatic, and
Bernhardi scouts it.[72] The ride from Kimberley on February 15,
selected by Mr. Goldman as a case where for once “Cavalry” were used in
a proper “strategical” manner, did not end in shock; on the contrary, it
ended in tactical fire-action pure and simple. The chance for
interception was of the same tactical character at Zand River. In point
of fact, at one moment during the latter action an attempt was actually
made at an open-order Cavalry charge, by a brigade against about 200
Boers.[73] It came to nothing. And the reason, as given by Mr. Goldman
and the Official Historian? Horses too much blown. And yet Mr. Goldman
cries out for hundred-mile expeditions which are to culminate—with fresh
horses—in shock.
-----
Footnote 72:
“Cavalry in Future Wars,” p. 51. Non-frontal pursuits, especially
“strategical” pursuits, are to be by fire-action.
Footnote 73:
Mr. Goldman’s estimate. The _Times_ Historian speaks of a “party,” the
Official History a “commando.” The total force detached by Botha
against the division was certainly very small.
-----
No one, of course, would go so far as to assert positively either of
Roberts or of any Commander-in-Chief in any war that he never once
missed an opportunity for the strategical use for _mounted troops_. That
is a different matter altogether. The issue lies between steel-armed
troops and the mounted riflemen, whom Mr. Goldman ignores. Why not a
bare allusion to Plumer’s brilliant defence of Rhodesia, or to the
relief of Mafeking—a strategical march of 250 miles in fourteen days,
with fire-fights _en route_, by irregulars?
With regard to General Buller’s use of Cavalry I need add nothing to my
criticisms in Chapters VIII. and IX. His fault was to carry disbelief in
the steel for the Boer War to the extent of disbelieving in Cavalry
altogether for that war, a wholly unwarrantable point of view, derived
from an equally distorted conception of the utility of Cavalry.
(_b_) _Refusal of the Boers to Stand._—The facts speak for themselves.
Only by avoiding the whole topic of Boer aggression, and by treating
Boer rear-guard skill as a non-Cavalry quality which “made pursuit
practically impossible,” is the point even arguable. Indeed, I approach
it again with the utmost reluctance; for Mr. Goldman’s _idée fixe_ that
the Boers were from first to last mortally afraid of the lance and sword
carries him to lengths where no upholder of mounted riflemen who
respects and admires the Cavalry and attacks only their weapons and
methods can consent to follow him. I shall refrain from making
controversial use of these passages, and shall confine myself, briefly,
to less difficult ground.
Mr. Goldman is probably thinking mainly of the operations of Lord
Roberts, though his proposition is general (p. 420). He would scarcely
contend that the Boers did not “stand” from November, 1899, to March,
1900, on the Tugela heights, or that they did not show positively
aggressive qualities and outmatch our Cavalry at Talana and the battle
of Ladysmith. With all his belief in the steel, he would scarcely in set
terms allege that regular Cavalry would have defended or attacked Spion
Kop or Pieter’s Hill better than they were in fact defended and
attacked. But these were tactical occasion, presumably with no “tactical
effects” to be produced. What, then, of Elandslaagte?
As for the main operations under Lord Roberts, has Mr. Goldman ever
seriously reflected upon the relative numbers engaged? Of course, the
Boers frequently showed moral weakness—we ourselves were not exempt—but
they did not fear the _sword_. Assuredly they “stood” at Paardeberg to
their ruin; but was there shock at Paardeberg? Assuredly they may be
said to have stood at Dornkop and at the two days’ battle of Diamond
Hill, where Cavalry were hotly engaged, and at Bergendal, where
seventy-four Boer Cavalry (though Mr. Goldman would never admit they
were “Cavalry”) delayed an army and were ejected by Infantry. In the
other actions of this period, as I have pointed out, their retreats were
conducted in an orderly manner and with small loss.
Let me lay down another proposition, which I believe all Cavalrymen will
agree to. No one on behalf of Cavalry has a right to make a general
complaint of pusillanimity or insufficient resistance on the part of the
enemy, unless (_a_) that enemy has had something approaching numerical
equality; or (_b_) has been forced into disastrous retreats, with loss
of guns, transport, etc.; or unless (_c_) the Infantry and mounted
riflemen associated with the Cavalry have not been seriously engaged. On
this latter point the facts of the war and statistics of losses are
decisive. There is something that makes the brain a little dizzy about
the first two conditions, but the whole case for the _arme blanche_
teems with paradoxes which can only be met by the method of _reductio ad
absurdum_.
Finally, I ask again, as I asked above, what is the real meaning of this
complaint about lack of resistance? Simply this, that the Boers would
not engage in shock and imposed fire-tactics on the Cavalry. In his
remarks on terrain (p. 423) Mr. Goldman reveals the truth. “Favourable
on the whole as the ground was in the Free State, in the presence of
Cavalry operating on favourable ground the Boers refused to give
battle.” Well, I can only ask the reader to study as one example among
scores Mr. Goldman’s own example, Zand River, noting (1) that we were
nearly five times superior in total strength, and in guns, and that the
regular Cavalry, reckoned apart from mounted riflemen and Infantry,
amounted to five-eighths of the whole Boer army; (2) that the terrain
was as suitable for shock manœuvre as any Cavalry could expect to
obtain, and such as they very rarely would obtain in any probable
European battle-field; (3) the tactical incidents of the Cavalry turning
movement, the offensive strokes by the Boers, and the failure of our
charge. How could the Cavalry lose 224 horses and 161 men in casualties
and prisoners and fail in their tactical task, unless someone “gave
battle”? In other words, “battle” is synonymous with “shock.” Nothing
but shock counts.
Time has convinced Mr. Goldman more and more strongly of this truth. In
his Preface to Bernhardi he lectures the Boers in a vein of
compassionate condescension on their ignorance of the “Art of War.” It
is true enough that there was much in the art of war which the Boers did
not understand, or understood fatally late. But what does their mentor,
for the purposes of his argument in this Preface, mean by the “Art of
War”? He means shock, though he gives it the customary name of “mounted
action.”
“Had the Boers understood the Art of War and taken advantage of the
openings which their superior mobility gave them, or had they been
possessed of a body of Cavalry capable of mounted action, say at
Magersfontein, they might repeatedly have wrought confusion in our
ranks.”
This passage sets the crown upon the case for “peculiarity.” I leave it
as it stands without further comment.
Such are Mr. Goldman’s reasons for regarding his South African War as a
vindication of the _arme blanche_. I have not discussed them at
excessive length. They are extreme views, but such views, if honestly
expounded, as Mr. Goldman expounds them, must be extreme. Many people
vaguely entertain similar ideas, but if they take the pains to work them
out with facts and maps, they will either be forced to similar
extremities or will abandon them altogether. In my next two chapters I
shall give further proof of the astounding contradictions in which _arme
blanche_ doctrine abounds.
I come to the last of the triumvirate, General von Bernhardi himself. It
is a relief. We begin to breathe fresh air after an atmosphere which, I
believe the reader will agree with me, becomes sometimes almost
unbearably close and enervating. When censure of the Commander-in-Chief,
depreciation of a brave enemy, implied depreciation of our own mounted
riflemen, complaints about ground, complaints about horses, complaints
about anything and everything but the one thing which really merited
complaint, when apology and insinuation are carried so far, we begin to
long for something stimulating and straightforward, and in Bernhardi we
get it. On his work I shall have to write more fully in the next
chapter. At this moment I wish only to call attention to his view of the
“peculiarity” of the Boer War. It is contained in half a dozen lines on
page 56 of “Cavalry in Future Wars.” He has just been praising the Boer
charges as having achieved “brilliant results,” in spite of “any kind of
tactical training for this particular purpose.” (What a curious
sidelight that latter remark throws on official views of "training"!) He
adds:
“Certainly weapons and numbers have altered materially since the days
of the American Civil War, and the experiences of South Africa,
largely conditioned by the peculiar topographical conditions and the
out-of-door habits and sporting instincts of the Boers, cannot be
transferred to European circumstances without important
modifications.”
That is all he explicitly says about the Boer War. But the reader will
see at once that here is a totally different point of view from that of
Mr. Goldman, whose thesis is that the Boers were not formidable enough
to be fit adversaries for our Cavalry, that they would not “stand,” and
that their great deficiency was lack of a steel weapon and shock power.
The idea underlying Bernhardi’s vague words is much more akin to that
contained in the passage quoted from Sir John French, and, of course, it
is essentially the right idea. I pass by the “peculiar topographical
conditions.” Without further elaboration, we need not take the words to
mean in set terms that South Africa was less favourable for shock
manœuvre than Europe. The kernel lies in the “outdoor habits and
sporting instincts,” creating conditions which “cannot be transferred to
European circumstances without important modification.” These words,
read in connection with the “brilliant results” of the Boer charges, can
only signify that town-bred Europeans cannot hope to imitate methods,
excellent in themselves, but demanding outdoor habits and sporting
instincts.
This idea, expressed in one shadowy form or another, of an element of
superiority in the Boers, is very common; commoner, I think, on the
whole than its antitype, the idea of inferiority, though I have more
than once heard both propounded, unconsciously, in the same breath by
the same person. But it is never in this country voiced authoritatively;
and with good reason, for it shakes to its foundations the whole fabric
of the shock system and opens up a line of thought which can end only in
one way. Mr. Goldman does not even hint at it, except in connection with
that strange faculty for fighting _defensive_ rear-guard actions which
he regards as quite outside the topic of Cavalry. General French, while
implying that the Boers were formidable, is silent about the reason.
Let us face this shadowy argument for what it is worth. What does it
mean? That we cannot train our Cavalry to become genuinely mobile
mounted riflemen, with the rifle charge as their tactical climax instead
of the shock charge, which is not a climax at all, but an isolated
species of encounter in glaring conflict with real battle conditions?
The contention, if it is really made, is absurd. If we cannot
artificially create inbred instincts and habits so strong as those of
the Boers, we have the advantage of moral and tactical discipline,
acquired only too late by the Boers. We can work in the right direction
on the magnificent material we have, and instead of imbuing the wrong
spirit deliberately imbue the right spirit. We can teach our men to
“fight up” to the charge and rely on one and the same weapon both for
the process of “fighting up” and for the charge itself, when and where
the actual mounted charge is necessary. The tactical form of the Boer
and British rifle charge—that is, in successive lines and with wide
intervals—was precisely the same as our own open-order steel charge as
practised at Klip Drift and at the present moment. The crucial
difference lay in spirit and object; the spirit leading up to the charge
was that of the rifle, and the object was that of overcoming the enemy
with the rifle, not necessarily in a mêlée unless by way of pursuit, but
at decisive range.
Is saddle-fire an accomplishment our Cavalry cannot acquire—an
accomplishment which at this very moment we inculcate for “picked men
and scouts” of the Mounted Infantry, a force with not a quarter of the
mounted training that the Cavalry receive? For professional troops it
cannot be more difficult to acquire than skill with the steel weapon on
horseback. That is an art which, as everybody knows, demands long and
continuous drill and practice. Indeed, it must demand longer drill and
practice, because true shock—that is, heavy impact—involves close,
knee-to-knee formations, rigid, mechanical, symmetrical, not only
difficult to attain in themselves, but exceedingly difficult to combine
with the free and effective use of steel weapons. Obviously, neither
saddle-fire nor the use of steel weapons can safely be enjoined in times
of peace for volunteer troops like our Yeomanry, for example, who obtain
at the most a fortnight’s continuous field training in the year.
I ask the reader seriously to follow out the train of thought suggested
by those pregnant words “outdoor habits and sporting instincts.” Is it
not common sense that these habits and instincts, fortified by drill and
discipline, must be the very foundation of mounted success in war, and
is not a system of tactics founded upon them likely to be a good system?
Should it not be the aim of a highly-civilized industrial people to aim
at approximating as far as possible to such a system? Or, taking as
their starting-point indoor habits and urban instincts, are they to
persist in working in the opposite direction? Was it not the possession
of these habits and instincts by such a large number of Americans at the
time of the Civil War that led to the brilliant achievements of Cavalry
in that war, mainly through trained reliance on the firearm, imperfect
weapon as it was? Was not our own possession of sporting and hunting
aptitudes, embodied in Englishmen and Colonials alike, our very
salvation in South Africa? Of course it was. Wherever these natural
instincts were strong enough to burst the bonds of ancient tradition,
there we obtained enterprising Cavalry leaders. The same instincts
called into being many good leaders among Infantrymen, gunners, and
sappers, and among ordinary civilians from every quarter of the Empire.
Do we not pride ourselves on this fact? Is it not a commonplace in every
Englishman’s mouth that, hard and bitter as the struggle was, “no other
nation”—and among other nations Germany is often instanced—could have
engaged in it so successfully as ourselves? There is sound truth in the
boast. But it is the emptiest and silliest of boasts if we do not
recognize the meaning behind it, which is nothing but this—that we have
a greater proportion of men in our Empire who possess those outdoor
habits and sporting instincts which take shape in skilled mounted
riflemen. And when we envisage a European war, are we to forget this
boast and, ignoring not only our own priceless experience but our own
innate capacities, revert to the antiquated European system?
If there are other arguments for “peculiarity,” I do not know them. But
if I have carried my readers with me, they will agree that in this
chapter and every other, in investigating and combating alleged
peculiarities I have, in fact, been pursuing phantom arguments round the
circumference of a vicious circle. Disguise it as we may, the real
peculiarity of the Boer War was that the Boer horsemen did not carry
steel weapons. European Cavalries do. Let us turn to Europe.