BERNHARDI AND “CAVALRY TRAINING”
There, indeed, is the grand paradox. Quite convinced as patriotic
Englishmen that we did better in South Africa than the Germans could
have done, we nevertheless turn to Germany for light and leading on the
mounted problems of to-day. Though I name Germany in particular, and
would be justified, for the purposes of my argument, in confining myself
to Germany, it need scarcely be added that Continental practice in
general has a fatally strong influence on British practice. One may
argue interminably, and perhaps not without some success, against the
alleged peculiarities of the Boer War, but in the last resort one meets
that most exasperating, because most intangible and inconclusive, of all
arguments—"other nations believe in the _arme blanche_. Germany, for
example, believes in it. Germany has a large and magnificent army;
therefore, Germany and the other nations must be right." As a moderate
and sober expression of this view, I quote the following from a leading
article which appeared in the _Times_ of September 16, 1909—an article
itself founded on the views of the able Military Correspondent of that
journal, given after the manœuvres of 1909:
“Prominent among these”—_i.e._, erroneous schools of thought arising
from South African experience—"is that which, in the campaigns of the
future, _assigns to Cavalry the rôle of Mounted Infantry_. As our
Military Correspondent points out, Continental nations, to whom our
own records, as well as those of the Russo-Japanese War, are equally
open, and who are among the most intelligent and _experienced_ in
military affairs, maintain large forces of Cavalry, and train them in
a certain manner for a certain purpose. As our army is officially
designed to fight a _civilized_ enemy, it follows that we _must not be
deficient in a weapon possessed by potential foes_. It is therefore
necessary that the one Cavalry division we possess should compare
favourably in quality with the squadrons that it may have to meet,
whose _numerical superiority_ is not a matter of doubt."
Although almost every word in this paragraph invites criticism, I need
call attention only to those I have italicized:
1. “The rôle of Mounted Infantry,” in effect, begs the whole question.
It instantly calls up the starved and stunted functions of that arm, as
it is now organized and trained, and by innuendo suggests something
utterly devoid of dash and mobility.
2. “Experienced.” Russia I shall come to later. When have Germany,
Austria, or France had national experience, in civilized war, of the
smokeless magazine rifle?
3. “Civilized.” Were the Boers not a civilized enemy?
4. “Numerical superiority.” The suggestion is that, having a small force
of Cavalry, we should be all the more careful to obtain excellence in
the _arme blanche_. This is, indeed, an amazing argument. Is our
solitary division to court brute physical collisions with the
Continental masses? Even “Cavalry Training” admits that the smaller the
force, the greater the necessity of relying on the rifle. Think of South
Africa—of Bergendal, for example, and scores of other actions! The
admission, of course, gravely imperils the _arme blanche_, because it
implies, what is the literal truth, that the rifle can impose tactics on
the steel. But how escape the admission?
5. “It follows that we must not be deficient in a weapon possessed by
potential foes.”
That will serve as a text for this chapter. Observe that the doctrine of
mere imitation is put in its frankest form. Our Lancers already carry
three different weapons. If Germany were to add a fourth or a fifth, in
that case, too, it would “follow,” no doubt, that we must “not be
deficient.” If we act on this principle at all, it was surely a pity
that we did not act upon it when the Boer War was imminent. Our
“potential foes” then possessed a weapon in which our Cavalry were
lamentably deficient, and lacked a weapon which proved to be nothing but
an encumbrance to our Cavalry. Did those circumstances prevent us from
sending our Cavalry to the war equipped and trained on Crimean lines,
more than forty years out of date? Do they prevent Mr. Goldman, even
now, from denying that, even for South Africa, that equipment and
training were wrong? What I want to lay stress on is the absence of any
recognition that there are some general principles at stake. Votes are
counted, selected foreign votes, given by “potential foes” to whom our
“records are open,” being regarded as equal in value to our own.
America, not being a “potential foe,” has no vote. Colonel Repington
himself, in the _Times_ of September 14, briefly disposed of the
question in just this way. Yet he is too able a man not to know that
imitation is not a principle, that counting votes is not decisive, and
that the _arme blanche_ must be justified by arguments based on the
facts of modern war. Is he prepared so to justify it? I have never seen
his full profession of faith. I always seem to detect in his writing the
attitude of one who on this matter passively accepts the official
doctrine as it stands, and who works with enthusiasm and vigour to make
a success of an existing system. After all, I seem to hear him saying,
we cannot go far wrong, because our potential foes believe in the same
system. I may be in error, but I venture to issue the challenge to him
to expound, illustrate, and justify the _arme blanche_ theory; to
declare for the “terror of cold steel,” for the dash which can only be
inspired by the steel weapon, for the power of the steel to impose
tactics on the rifle, for the inevitable shock duel; and to state
whether he agrees with General French, or Mr. Goldman, or General von
Bernhardi, as to the nature of the abnormalities which make the lesson
of the Boer War negligible. If he will help with his keen logic to
illuminate the maze of contradictions through which I shall thread my
way in this and the next chapter, he will do a still greater service to
the true interests of the Cavalry. He will admit that he has undergone
conversion since 1904. At a time when he and all the world were under
the hallucination that the Cossacks were good mounted riflemen, he wrote
that the tactics necessary to destroy them would be the Boer tactics,
and that they were “not to be beaten by serried ranks, classic charges,”
and “prehistoric methods” of that sort (_Times_, April 2, 1904).
General von Bernhardi’s work, “Cavalry in Future Wars,” admittedly
inspires British Cavalry practice. Is he, _in the matter of the steel
weapon_, a trustworthy guide?
Let me first recall the attitude of the German General Staff towards the
mounted problems raised by our war. The whole of the issue we are
discussing is “taboo” to them. Indeed, the whole mounted question is
“taboo” to them. In the rare comments on mounted action—comments
confined mainly to the Kimberley operations, and referred to in my own
Chapters VI. and VII.—the German Official Historian never so much as by
a line even indirectly contrasts the relative powers of mounted riflemen
and Cavalry. During the period covered by the History, he speaks of the
Boers nearly always as though they were Infantry, and alludes in general
terms to their “purely defensive powers,” in spite of incidents—rare, no
doubt, in the early stages, but strongly suggestive of the future—like
Talana Hill, Nicholson’s Nek, Wagon Hill, Spion Kop, Waterval,
Kitchener’s Kopje, Sannah’s Post, all of which occurred within the
period described. And just at the time of Sannah’s Post and De Wet’s
raids, when the Boers were beginning a consistent development of
aggressive mobility, not in the “regular” battles, where in numbers they
were hopelessly outmatched, but in independent adventure; just,
moreover, when aggressive mounted effort on our side was beginning to be
more urgently necessary than ever before, the detailed narrative ends.
After March, 1900, “the battles furnish in their details little
instruction of tactical value,”[74] and the whole campaign from
Bloemfontein to Komati Poort receives only a brief summary. The guerilla
war—a wholly mounted war—obtains half a page.
-----
Footnote 74:
“The War in South Africa” (March to September, 1900), (translated by
Colonel Du Cane), p. 288.
-----
Then comes a “tactical retrospect,” in which it becomes perfectly clear
that for the writer the whole interest of the war centres in the
development of fire-tactics for riflemen. Whether they have horses in
the background or not seems to be immaterial, and for practical purposes
he assumes that they have not. This assumption destroys the value of
more than half his criticism. The whole point was that the Boer riflemen
were mounted riflemen, able, by the rifle, to defend a position in small
force against superior force, and, by the horse, to leave that position
when it became too hot. Obviously these men, though they could be, and
were, attacked vehemently by Infantry, could never, unless they courted
suicide, be defeated and destroyed by Infantry, who walk and do not
ride. Obviously, too, you cannot expect even the best Infantry under the
best leaders eternally to sustain at the highest level the ardour of the
fire-fight on foot unless they know that riflemen equal in mobility to
the enemy—that is, mounted riflemen—are co-operating with equal ardour
and efficiency for that defeat and destruction of the mounted enemy
which mounted men can alone ensure. This sense of skilled and effective
co-operation is exactly what our Infantry did not have, from causes I
need not enter into again. The German critic is blind to the defect,
because he is blind to the whole mounted problem. Regarding the Boers as
Infantry, he regards our Infantry and the Generals who controlled them
as solely responsible for the incompleteness of our victories, and goes
to the monstrous length of attributing this incomplete achievement
partly to the “inferior quality of a mercenary army.”
The writer of the retrospect knew that the Boers had horses, for in one
passage he alludes to their “mobility,” and he knew that we had a large
body of Cavalry and mounted riflemen, for in another solitary passage he
casually alludes to their ineffective turning movements. But the
“Infantry fight,” which in all war “decides the battle,” is the main
theme throughout, and remarkably interesting the critic’s observations
are. So far as they go, they apply just as closely to mounted riflemen
as to Infantry, though the critic himself is wholly unconscious of the
analogy and of the implied condemnation he over and over again makes on
the theory underlying the steel armament of Cavalry.
If he had proceeded with a study of the war, and had thoroughly digested
the fact that the Boers not only had horses, but could attack, what
would have been his conclusions? If only he had thoroughly realized that
our Infantry had not horses, he would, I am sure, have modified some of
his strictures on the use of that arm, on the excessive “dread of
losses,” and so on. Some inkling of the truth that mobility often
transcends vulnerability, and that mounted riflemen can in the long run
be thoroughly defeated only by mounted riflemen, would have dawned upon
him. But who knows? So strange and persistent is his reticence about the
_arme blanche_, so outspoken his surprise and delight when—for example,
at Paardeberg—he finds Cavalry using the carbine with success, that one
would almost imagine he had received the _mot d’ordre_ for silence on
the whole topic. However, let this be clear, at any rate: (1) That there
is no explicit comfort for the _arme blanche_ in any page of these two
volumes; (2) that there is no suggestion of any peculiarity or
abnormality in the Boer War which renders its lessons inapplicable to
future wars. Mr. Goldman’s case for peculiarity crumbles in the light of
this searching analysis of fire-tactics. Substitute “mounted riflemen”
for “riflemen” in cases where the facts obviously demand the change, and
the whole structure of “strategical mishandling” and slack Boer
resistance falls to pieces. The idea that the Boers needed only the
_arme blanche_ to make them formidable is refuted a hundred times by
implication.
And now let us turn to Bernhardi. Here, by a welcome contrast, we have
an enthusiast for the mounted arm. Not a disproportionately ardent
enthusiast by any means. Armament apart, not a word he says in support
of the profound importance of Cavalry in future wars is exaggerated. On
the contrary, he underrates their rôle, as I shall show. The Boers, in
the one allusion to them, are not “Infantry” for him, but “Cavalry,” and
he has evidently been deeply impressed by the bearing of our war upon
Cavalry problems—how deeply impressed it is impossible to say. His first
edition was published in 1899, just before the war began; the second,
which Mr. Goldman has translated, in 1902, when it was barely over. His
strong views on the great importance of fire-action were evidently
inspired by the American Civil War and by the poor performances of the
shock-trained European Cavalries, including those of the Prussian
Cavalry, in the wars of 1866, 1870, and 1877. In his second edition he
never illustrates specifically from our war, probably from lack of
sufficiently full information. But his allusion to the remarkable
character of the Boer charges is in harmony with the whole spirit which
pervades his chapters on fire-action.
Any Englishman who is aware of the fact that our own “Cavalry Training”
is based, sometimes to the extent of textual quotation, on Bernhardi’s
work, and, on the recommendation of General French, resorting to that
work not merely as the most complete and brilliant exposition of modern
Cavalry theory, but as a refutation of the opponents of shock, must be
struck at the very outset by two singular circumstances:
1. The dominant feature of the book is insistence on fire.
2. So far from representing German practice, Bernhardi writes avowedly
as the revolutionary reformer of a dangerously antiquated system, upheld
by authorities whom long years of peace and the memories of a war far
too easily won have drugged into unintelligent lethargy. In 1899, when,
without a suspicion of our own defects, we were complacently beginning a
war which threw Cavalry defects into the strongest possible light,
Bernhardi was fiercely combating these very defects in the face of a
strongly hostile professional and public opinion. In the preface to his
edition of 1902, when our war was ending, he complains that “of the
demands which I put forward concerning the organization and equipment of
the [German] Cavalry, none have as yet been put into execution,” though
he concedes that the “necessity of reforms” has “made progress.”
Organization is of no immediate concern to us. By equipment we find
later that he refers (among other less important points) to the
rearmament of the Cavalry with a firearm “ballistically equal in all
respects to the rifle of the Infantry”—that is, to a reform adopted by
us during the war, and retained ever since. Some of his recommendations
for the education of Cavalry officers in the rudiments of fire-tactics
would make our youngest Yeomanry subaltern blush. On the importance of
fire for Cavalry there is nothing in the book which has not been
commonplace to all intelligent critics of the American Civil War of
1862–65.
Now I want to give the reader a warning and a suggestion. The warning is
not to assume that Bernhardi is representative of “other nations.” The
German Cavalry is now only just about to be equipped with a good
firearm. Count Wrangel is preaching to the Austrian Cavalry a doctrine
in flat contradiction to Bernhardi’s. The French Cavalry, General de
Negrier tells us, _s’obstinent dans leur rêve_ of classic charges and
contempt for fire-tactics.[75] My suggestion is this—that we should
measure Bernhardi’s views by the reactionary views which he set out to
fight. He is a German, writing exclusively to Germans, ruthlessly
exposing German defects, and making his remedies conform to these
defects. His only allusion to British Cavalry is when he speaks, on page
185, of “Anglo-maniacs and faddists” in connection with a question of
breaking horses. After all, the most passionate reformer must limit
himself to more or less feasible aims. I do not mean for a moment that
the General consciously refrained from giving overstrong meat to babes;
but when we remember the _milieu_ in which he lived, the influence to
which, during his whole life, he was subjected, and the mountains of
prejudice which he had to surmount, it seems marvellous, not that he
should go no farther than he does go on the path of intelligent reform,
but that he should have gone as far. As a matter of worldly wisdom, de
Negrier is probably wrong in telling to a yet more backward Cavalry the
full, logical, scathing truth about the archaic absurdities of shock.
-----
Footnote 75:
_Revue des deux Mondes_, August, 1908.
-----
Read Bernhardi in the light of these circumstances. The early chapters
must, I think, have fairly horrified our _arme blanche_ school. He runs
amok among all the cherished traditions which held good from the Crimea
to Talana Hill.
“The Art of War has been revolutionized (_inter alia_) by ‘arms of
precision’” (p. 1).
Compare Mr. Goldman’s definition of the Art of War, in so far as that
art was misunderstood by the Boers.[76] On page 9 Bernhardi says:
“As far as the Infantry are concerned, it will be quite the exception
to encounter them in closed bodies; generally we shall have to ride
against extended lines, which offer a most unfavourable target for our
purpose.”
-----
Footnote 76:
_Vide supra_, p. 286.
-----
Absolutely correct, if we remember that by “our purpose” he refers to
the steel weapon, showing at the outset that he does not realize the
nature, as he certainly does not contemplate the adoption of the mounted
rifleman’s charge.
“Thus, essentially the Cavalry has been driven out of its former place
of honour on the battle-fields of the plains, and has been compelled
to seek the _assistance of the cover the ground affords_ in order to
carry its own power of destruction into immediate contact with its
enemy, and only under most exceptionally favourable conditions will it
still be possible to deliver a charge” (he means an _arme blanche_
charge) “direct across the open” (pp. 9, 10).
He should add, of course, what South Africa proved, and the Japanese
Cavalry confirmed on the plains of Mukden—that mounted riflemen have
taken the “place of honour” vacated by Cavalry. But his instinct about
terrain is sound at bottom. Contrast the demoralizing doctrine of
“Cavalry ground,” and Mr. Goldman’s complaint that even South Africa was
not “open” enough for Cavalry. Contrast his view of “obstructions,” and
his failure to perceive what Bernhardi clearly perceives—that
inequalities and obstructions, so far from being a hindrance to mounted
troops, are in modern war increasingly necessary for effective action in
surprise, and ought to be a matter of rejoicing, not lamentation.
“The possible participation of the civilian inhabitants of the invaded
Nation in the War will hamper most severely all forms of Cavalry
action other than on the battle-field” (p. 10).
This, of course, is an allusion to the _francs-tireurs_ of 1870, who
made it unsafe for the Prussian Cavalry to go about alone. I commend it
to those who regard our guerilla war in particular as of no concern to
Cavalry. The implication, of course, is that the steel is useless in
these conditions. And the same is implied elsewhere of all the duties of
scouting and reconnaissance, save alone for the gigantic preliminary
shock duel which is to clear the road for reconnaissance, and to which I
shall have to recur later.
On the steel in pursuit, Bernhardi is almost ironical. Only when
“troops of low quality, beaten, without officers, weary and hungry,
lose all cohesion, when with baggage, wounded and stragglers, they are
driven back over crowded roads, and then, no matter how well they are
armed, they are an easy prey to a pursuing Cavalry. The man who throws
his rifle away, or shoots in the air, will not find salvation either
in clip-loading or smokeless powder against the lance in the hands of
a relentless pursuing Cavalry” (p. 15).
We may add—and I am sure he would admit—that men who throw their rifles
away are an easy prey to any form of physical compulsion. They will
surrender to a riding-whip. For sheer rapid killing just conceive of the
frightful efficacy of the rifle, as proved by our war! If the horsemen
insist on remaining on their horses among these terrified sheep, and if
they do not use rifle-fire from the saddle, would not a revolver be at
least as effective as a sword or lance? Of course the whole conception
of such a pursuit with the steel on any considerable scale is the old
Cavalry chimera so rarely seen in practice, never seen in the European
wars from 1866 onwards, never seen in the Boer War, never seen in
Manchuria. In other passages Bernhardi himself practically admits that
it is a chimera.
“The same holds good for the fight itself. We cannot attack even
inferior Infantry as long as it only keeps the muzzle of its rifles
down and shoots straight; but once it is morally broken and surprised,
then the greatest results are still to be achieved even on an open
battle-field” (p. 15).
The amazing thing is that in passages like this, where he is thinking
mainly of the deficiencies of the steel, Bernhardi seems for the moment
to forget that pure mounted riflemen, and even the hybrids, perfect in
both weapons, who represent his own ideal, have the same _defensive_
power as Infantry, to say nothing of the additional offensive (and
defensive) power conferred by the horse. When, in other passages, he is
thinking mainly of the excellence of the firearm, he is fully alive to
the close analogy with Infantry, and goes to the extreme length of
insisting that Cavalry shall actually be as good as Infantry at their
own game of _fire_. They _can_ be as good, he says, and if they are not
as good, for Heaven’s sake, don’t tell them so, or you will destroy
their _dash!_ (p. 249). And they should have a firearm superior even to
the Infantry rifle (p. 176). These three passages, on pages 15, 176, and
249, read together, give us in one more form the _reductio ad absurdum_
of the steel weapon. Postulating equal fire-efficiency for Cavalry and
Infantry, read the first passage over again, substituting “Cavalry” for
“Infantry.” “We cannot attack [_i.e._, with the steel] even inferior
Cavalry [much less inferior mounted riflemen of the pure type] as long
as it only keeps the muzzles of its rifles down and shoots straight.”
The rest is a truism: morally broken troops of course get beaten. And
now postulate superior Cavalry, or, better still, superior mounted
riflemen of the pure type, with their full aggressive powers. What
becomes of the steel? In Bernhardi part of the confusion is due to the
fact that he does not recognize the pure type of mounted rifleman at
all, not even in the half-developed form of our Mounted Infantry. Having
started from the _a priori_ unreasoned dogma that however reduced the
opportunities for the steel, it must be retained, he is continually
endeavouring to obtain the benefit of both worlds, and involving himself
thereby in palpable contradictions and inconsistencies. Our own
authorities are more careful in avoiding the direct _reductio ad
absurdum_. In borrowing from Bernhardi for the purposes of “Cavalry
Training,” they eschew passages like those I have quoted hitherto, which
to English ears would mean the downfall of the steel, and rely on less
compromising matter.
In Chapter IV, “Increased Importance of Dismounted Action” (note in
“dismounted action” the old, ineradicable assumption that “mounted
action” is only associated with the steel), he is in the height of what
I may call his “fire-mood,” and is very reticent about the _arme
blanche_. The firearm, which, remember, should be a _better_ weapon, if
anything, than the Infantry rifle, is given many offensive as well as
defensive rôles. Pursuits, for example, must not be “frontal,” because
“Cavalry can easily be held up by any rear-guard position in which a few
intact troops remain.” But who, we wonder, are these “intact troops”?
Why not Cavalry, or mounted riflemen, as in South Africa? Is not
rear-guard work a conventional and normal function of Cavalry itself?
And if it is a case of Cavalry versus Cavalry, why not shock, at the
compulsion of one side or the other? On the next page the General
himself is demonstrating the value of Cavalry in rear-guard work, and
insisting on the paramount importance of the firearm in it.
His further views on pursuit have been incorporated in “Cavalry
Training.” Pursuits are to be on “parallel lines” and on the enemy’s
flanks, or by way of anticipation, on his extreme rear—circumstances
where the “principal rôle falls to the firearm, for only in the
fire-fight is it possible to break off an attack without loss in order
to appear again at some other point.” This passage, of course, is
another implicit abandonment of the whole case for the steel. Think it
out, and you will see that I am not exaggerating. It is transferred
textually to “Cavalry Training” (p. 229), but, wisely enough, it appears
at the respectful distance of forty-two pages from the general remarks
on the “Employment of Cavalry,” where, among opportunities for the use
of the firearm (pp. 186, 187), pursuit is not mentioned, and where the
whole tenor of the instruction is that fire-action is only to be used
when “_the situation imperatively demands it_.” Think this matter out in
the light of “fire-fights” in South Africa (Roodewal, for example) or
anywhere else, including, of course, fire-fights between or against
Cavalry or mounted riflemen. What is the use of a weapon which admits of
no tactical elasticity, for that is what it comes to, which can be used
only when you are so certain of complete and _final_ success that you
need not even contemplate another attack at another point? This, of
course, is the real reason for that idleness on the battle-field, that
strange lack of dash which, by the admission of their own military
authorities from Von Moltke downwards, characterized the Cavalries
engaged in the wars of 1866 and 1870. And then there were no magazine
rifles. Cavalry dash in South Africa was sapped by faith in the steel,
and only partially restored by faith in the rifle. It is the old story:
the charge must be the climax of a fire-fight, and therefore it must be
inspired by fire. Under modern conditions you cannot mix the two sets of
tactics; they are antagonistic and incompatible.
The passage goes on: “The charge, then, will only secure a greater
result than dismounted action when the tactical cohesion of the enemy
has been dissolved and his fire-power broken—that is to say, generally
it will be of greater service in tactical than in strategical pursuits”
(pp. 51, 52). We know from the passage quoted on page 302 what Bernhardi
means by “dissolved tactical cohesion.” He means circumstances in which
any weapon and any charge will secure surrender. In the next words he
falls accidentally into the old error of confusing combat with mobility.
What difference does it make to the efficacy of a weapon whether combat
has been brought about tactically or strategically?
But, taking the words as they stand, what a light they throw on South
Africa and the complaints of strategical mishandling and lack of
opportunity! How in the world does Mr. Goldman reconcile them with his
contempt for “tactical effects” and his conception of vast _strategical_
circuits ending in _shock_-tactics? I need scarcely remind the reader
that in all the actions on the main line of advance from Paardeberg and
Poplar Grove to Bergendal, from February to September, 1900, the
conditions of pursuit may be truly said to have been present from the
very outset, owing to the great disparity of forces. Roberts was
continually endeavouring to do exactly what Bernhardi recommends, to
initiate for his mounted troops, not frontal but parallel pursuits, or
anticipatory pursuits on the enemy’s extreme rear. He failed because (1)
the enemy were themselves skilled mounted riflemen, who were able to
hold very extensive fronts with very few men; (2) because our Cavalry
were deficient in the very quality which Bernhardi says is
essential—fire-power. And now let us read a little farther and see what
Bernhardi says in contemplating this very contingency of wide fronts on
pages 53, 54, under “Turning Movements Impracticable.” Here he strongly
censures the fallacious idea that Cavalry “possesses in its mobility the
infallible means of circumventing points of resistance.” “Width of the
(enemy’s) front” (and the reader will remember the prodigious extent of
the thinly-held Boer fronts) is one of the first obstacles named. Others
are summarized in the following paragraph, which I commend particularly
to Mr. Goldman:
“The theory that Cavalry, thanks to its mobility, can always ride
round and turn the positions it encounters, breaks down in practice
before the tactical and strategical demands upon the arm, partly by
reason of the _local conditions_, and partly because of the
consideration which has to be given to _time_, to the _endurance of
the horses_, and the position of the following columns” (p. 54).
Apply these remarks to battle-fields, such as Diamond Hill and Zand
River, upon which I commented in Chapters IX. and XII. The logical
alternative to circumventing tactics was, as I pointed out, piercing
tactics, not the still wider circumventions which French favoured. But
piercing tactics signified fire-tactics, and, since the enemy was
mounted, swift, aggressive fire-tactics, either into decisive range or
through the whole of a fire-zone, with a wheel back from the rear,
should the enemy hold their ground. Bernhardi’s alternative is of
precisely the same nature. “The actual assault remains necessary now,”
and it is the assault by _fire_. Only, alas! it is always the wholly
“dismounted” assault.
Two pages later, after censuring another error, which I have several
times alluded to—namely, that of “overrating the power of Horse
Artillery to clear the road for Cavalry” (pp. 54 and 178), we come to
his allusion to the Boer charges on horseback (p. 56). Surely these must
have given him, after all he has said, _furieusement à penser_. But no.
What have “habits and instincts” to do with immemorial official creeds?
A page later he is qualifying his remarks about Horse Artillery for the
express purpose of admitting that guns are very necessary indeed for
covering Cavalry _fire-tactics_, which, by his hypothesis, must be
“dismounted.” I would give much to know exactly what effect upon his
mind was made by Mr. Goldman’s deprecatory footnote to the effect that
the Boer charges were not “Cavalry” charges, but Mounted Infantry
charges; for, remember, he does not recognize Mounted Infantry at all.
The real truth is, of course, that when Bernhardi wrote his second
edition he knew very little about the last half of our war. No foreign
observers were there, and the German official witnesses had decided that
there was to be no “tactical interest” after March, 1900. It is doubtful
whether the greater number of the charges had even taken place when
Bernhardi went to press. Mr. Goldman takes pains to assure him that
there were only “one or two” after all. And the whole of our Cavalry
school has been assuring him ever since that the war, and especially the
guerilla war, was so abnormal as to be quite uninteresting to Cavalry.
So error propagates error.
We are prepared, then, for the inevitable. Since for Bernhardi Cavalry
must have some “mounted” tactics, clearly those mounted tactics must be
derived from the steel. Yet, by the end of Chapter iv., what a chasm
seems to have intervened between the firearm and the steel! For the
latter weapon he has, explicitly or implicitly, eliminated every
combative opportunity save those of complete demoralization in the
enemy. The General leaps the chasm with splendid intrepidity. Hitherto
the natural inference from his writing is that the firearm has far
surpassed the steel in importance, and in several later passages, after
leaping the chasm, he speaks of its importance as “equal.” But in the
first lines of Chapter v., “Tactical Leading in Mounted Combats,” when
his revolutionary instincts must be curbed, all he admits is that
dismounted action has “increased considerably in importance.” Then
follows the explicit recantation, the confession of the true faith:
“It nevertheless remains the fact that the combat with cold steel
remains the chief _raison d’être_ of the Cavalry, and when the
principles have to be considered according to which troops have to be
employed upon the battle-field, the actual collision of Cavalry
‘masses’ remains the predominant factor.”
The logical hiatus, so familiar in all writers on shock, is complete.
There is no attempt made to bridge it. One can almost hear the ghost of
Frederick the Great whispering in the impious General’s ear: “What is
all this despicable talk about dismounting? Betray the steel? Never!”
Remark that in making this sudden transition the General passes
instantly from a general consideration of the uses of Cavalry in war,
mainly fire-uses (where any weapon is mentioned at all), to the specific
consideration of the “collision of Cavalry masses,” which I will assume
for the moment to mean the inter-Cavalry shock fight, the absence of
which, from modern battle-fields, he, like General French, seems to
regard as unthinkable. “Battle-field,” in its context, evidently means
“general battle-field of all arms.” Previously, in Chapter ii., he has
referred to that other opportunity for the “Cavalry duel”—namely, in
strategical reconnaissance by the independent Cavalry, where, also, I
take him to assume that the duel is a _shock_ duel. This battle-field
“collision” is the “predominant factor,” and it is here, if I read his
real inner meaning aright, and, for practical purposes, here only, that
the steel weapon will find its opportunity.
‘If I read his real inner meaning aright;’ I am bound to make that
reservation. One has to make such reservations in criticizing all
“shock” literature at the present day, because the irruption of the
unruly firearm into the sacred precincts of shock results in obscurities
the task of unravelling which can only be compared to the elucidation of
a difficult Greek text. Two incompatible things have to be reconciled,
and it is beyond the wit of man to depict their reconciliation in clear
and logical language. How easy it would have been for Bernhardi (if he
really meant it) to say early in his book, “For Cavalry the predominant
factor is the collision (_i.e._, the _mutual_ collision) of Cavalry
masses. In this inevitable class of encounter the steel is, and must be,
supreme; therefore the steel must be the dominant weapon for Cavalry.
Otherwise, and for all other purposes (except, for example, the pursuit
of utterly demoralized Infantry and one or two other very rare
opportunities) the firearm has usurped its place,” and then arrange his
treatment of the subject frankly and clearly from this point of view.
Then—if one only could extort from him his definition of a “mass”—one
would have something concrete and definite to deal with. But such a
course would have compelled him to rewrite his entire work, and to open
his eyes to the inconsistencies with which it teems, just as the same
course would compel the compilers of “Cavalry Training” to court
self-stultification. It is ludicrous first to vest Cavalry with the full
fire-power of Infantry, who are to have no fear of Cavalry, and then to
say that the steel weapon must decide the mutual combats of Cavalry, who
are riflemen plus horses. Even as it is, the jar of the ill-locked
points (if I may change my metaphor) is audible as Bernhardi passes from
one set of rails to the other. By the time he has reached this Chapter
v. he has already, thanks to fire, almost banished the “battle-field”
from consideration. “Cavalry has been driven out of its former place of
honour on the battle-fields of the plains” (_i.e._, from the only
terrain fit for shock). But surely the collision of Cavalry masses on
the battle-field, this “predominant factor,” must involve a “place of
honour.” What can there be more honourable than the defeat of the
enemy’s mounted troops? In South Africa such a defeat would have
signified the defeat of the whole Boer army on any given occasion. But I
do not want to cavil over words. Take the General’s summary at the end
of Chapter ii., “Duties during the War.”
“If, after this short survey of the many fields of action open to
horsemen in the future, we ask the decisive question, ‘Which tasks in
the future will need to be most carefully kept in mind in the
organization and training of this arm in peace-time?’ we shall not be
able to conceal from ourselves that it is in the _strategical handling
of the Cavalry that by far the greatest possibilities lie_. Charges
even of numerically considerable bodies on the battle-field can only
lead to success under very special conditions, and even for the
protection of a retreat our rôle can only be a subordinate one. But
for reconnaissance and screening, for operations against the enemy’s
communications, for the pursuit of a beaten enemy, and all similar
operations of warfare, the Cavalry is, and remains, the principal arm.
Here no other can take its place, for none possesses the requisite
mobility and independence.”
The meaning of this is plain, if we remember that Bernhardi contemplates
only one type of horsemen, Cavalry, which are the only troops with the
“requisite mobility and independence” to reconnoitre, screen, and
pursue. It is a truism that horses facilitate these objects. Their
weapon is a distinct question, and all that precedes is an implicit
condemnation of the steel, at any rate for anything in the nature of
mixed combat. The reader will bear in mind the passages on pursuit.
Now, in the light of this passage and all that precedes it, read the
chapter on “Leading in Mounted Combats.” Combats against whom? Surely
against mounted Cavalry? Surely “collision” must, in its context, mean
that? Yet for twenty full pages we read on, more and more bewildered,
through passages more and more suggestive of mixed general combat, until
on page 83 we come with a shock to the isolated consideration of
“Cavalry duels,” which he declares to be “essential,” though he admits
that they led to “mutual paralysis” and “deadlock” during the war of
1870. A moment later, and for the rest of the chapter, he is deep once
more in fire and all that appertains to fire on the modern
“battle-field.” And he ends with an eloquent purple patch on the “real
work” of Cavalry being in _pursuit_.
Happily, in the case of Bernhardi, one is dealing with what _au fond_ is
not a complex mental structure. He does not arrange his subject with any
ulterior purpose. He does not seriously attempt to reconcile faith with
science, the _arme blanche_ with the firearm. He passes from one to the
other with complete _insouciance_, instinctively locking the
thought-tight door which divides them, and bestowing on both the
enthusiasm of an ardent nature. But the enthusiasm is of significantly
different qualities. For the firearm it is predominantly technical and
scientific; for the _arme blanche_ it is romantic. In this very chapter,
having delivered himself of the _raison d’être_, he enlarges on the
difficulties of manœuvring and leading masses of Cavalry for shock,
and shows himself acutely alive to the artificiality of the whole
system, to its liability to fall to pieces under stress of a few
rifle-shots, and to the absolute impossibility of effecting a sudden
tactical transformation to fire-action under pressure of unforeseen
conditions, after an advance has begun. The steel is treated poetically.
For some reason it has always been regarded as a poetical element in
war. In these days of scientific brutality, the less poetry unfounded on
hard science and hard facts the better. It is better to be busy in
battle with a prosaic weapon than to be idly weaving dreams which never
come true. In Bernhardi, the poetry being on the surface, the profound
physical and moral fallacies, underlying the _arme blanche_ for Cavalry,
become the more patent.
Take, for example, this conception of the indispensable inter-Cavalry
_shock_ fight, which, as I say, I think he really believes to be the
only serious rôle of the steel, though, by the way, he never explicitly
says in speaking specifically of the Cavalry duel, that it must be a
_shock_ duel (p. 83). I suspect that such a categorical axiom would
revolt his common sense. Remember once more that he regards the ideal
Cavalry _qua_ riflemen, as the _equals_ of Infantry, technically and
morally. Read back, or forward, and see what he says about the steel
versus Infantry, about Cavalry having been driven out of their place of
honour on the battle-fields of the _plains_, about the revolution in
conditions caused by arms of precision, etc. Then recollect that
Cavalry, unlike Infantry, have horses, allow for country which is not a
plain, and construct your own picture of the duel. Lastly, test your
picture by South African experience, where the duel, without a trace of
shock, lasted for two and a half years, and include, as the finishing
touch, the fact, which Bernhardi only once dimly adumbrates and has not
seriously envisaged, that mounted riflemen can charge.
One searches the whole of his volume in vain for light upon the
profoundly difficult questions which arise from this intermixture of
steel-tactics and fire-tactics in one Arm. Though in spirit the whole
book is a recognition of the fact that the firearm is absolute arbiter
of modern combats, directly he regards the steel in isolation he becomes
completely absorbed in “mass” formations, and in every species of drill
and manœuvre which is antagonistic to, and abhorrent to,
fire-tactics. In this steel mood there is no confusion in his mind about
the meaning of “shock.” There is no compromise toward “extensions.” For
Cavalry charging against Cavalry (pp. 221, 222), “it is a vital article
of faith that only the closest knee-to-knee riding—jamming the files
together by pressure from the flanks—will guarantee victory or their
personal safety.” Against “Infantry” (and why not against dismounted
Cavalry?) the utmost he concedes is that the “files must be loosened,
and every horse go in his normal stride,” but perfect cohesion and
symmetry must be maintained. In other words, the essence of true
shock—heavy impact—is retained without any qualification. The General,
from his own point of view, is perfectly right. Unlike Mr. Goldman, he
would have ridiculed the idea that there was shock at Klip Drift with
the troopers many yards apart.
And now contrast the directions of our own “Cavalry Training,” whose
compilers, more sophisticated than the innocent Bernhardi, cannot
proceed too far in defining shock and the purposes of shock for fear of
falling into transparent solecisms. Section 103 (p. 125) is entitled
“Instruction in the Attack against Cavalry.” (Note the tacit assumption
that Cavalry are always on horseback and always on plains, for on any
other interpretation the section is meaningless.) The charge, it is laid
down, must have “rapidity and vehemence ... firm cohesion, highest
speed, and determination to win, ...” but “cohesion” is only further
defined as “riding close.” If this is a symptom of compromise, it is
fatal compromise from the point of view of shock; for I noticed that in
criticizing inter-Cavalry charges at the Cavalry manœuvres of 1909,
the Military Correspondent of the _Times_ repeatedly censured the lack
of cohesion and “boot-to-boot” riding as likely to cause failure against
“the best foreign horsemen.”[77] What a satire on our imitative policy!
But in Section 104 (p. 129), “Instruction in the Attack against Infantry
and Guns,” a reason appears for some anticipatory tinge of compromise.
“The troop will usually attack in an _extended formation_.” And here,
too, according to Colonel Repington, the Cavalry in 1909 were not up to
the mark, this time from excess of cohesion.[78] Again we see the fatal
results of compromise.
-----
Footnote 77:
_Times_, September 2, 16, etc., 1909.
Footnote 78:
_Times_, September 16, 1909.
-----
All this would be anathema to Bernhardi, who by a singular irony is the
model of our Cavalry School. He knew what shock was, and however
flagrant the inconsistencies he was drawn into, clung honestly to that
true conception. Our authorities know perfectly well that these extended
formations are utterly incompatible with shock, and ought to know from
South African experience that they are only strictly compatible with a
fire-object and a fire-spirit. Then, indeed, they are formidable.
Had I space I could multiply examples of inconsistency in Bernhardi’s
book. How, after war experience of our own, the _arme blanche_ school in
this country had the courage to enlist under his banner was a mystery to
me on first reading his book, until I came to that blessed formula on
page 90, which I had better repeat once more.
“Moreover, in the power of holding the balance correctly between
fire-power and shock, and in the training for the former never to
allow the troops to lose confidence in the latter, lies the real
essence of the Cavalry spirit.”
This is his solitary attempt at verbal reconciliation. It is, of course,
only verbal. The counsel of perfection is never fortified by practical
instruction. There is scarcely an attempt to show that it is humanly
possible to create the ideal hybrid, or to show, even if it be created,
how to combine harmoniously the two sets of incompatible functions in
one scheme of tactics. On the contrary, the deeper he gets into the
topic of training the more patent becomes the impossibility of
performing this miracle.
The Austrians are more logical. Count Wrangel says:
"The ideal would perhaps be for them [_i.e._, Cavalry] to do each
equally willingly—_i.e._, to be equally efficient with the carbine as
with the _arme blanche_; in this we include, besides sword and lance,
horsemanship. _The attainment of this ideal is, in our opinion,
practically impossible._ Not only on account of the short service,
which scarcely is sufficient to make a man at one and the same time a
clever rider, swordsman, and shooter, but also because the sword and
the carbine are such _different masters_ that the Cavalryman simply
cannot serve both with the same love.
“It requires quite a different temperament to ride to the attack with
drawn sword at the gallop than it does to wait for hours placidly
aiming in a fire position.” (Observe that Wrangel has never heard of
rifle charges, and thinks that both sides in South Africa sat out the
war “placidly aiming.”)
"As long as we lay principal stress on good dashing horsemanship and
the clever handling of the _arme blanche_, and relegate training with
the rifle to the second place, so long shall we foster the _offensive_
spirit of our Cavalry" (“Cavalry in the Russo-Japanese War,” p. 55).
Wrangel is wrong, but he is frank. De Negrier is both frank and right in
dismissing the steel save for occasions when "_la panique saisit les
troupes en désordre_." Right, too, are the Americans.
Bernhardi’s book is a crushing refutation of Wrangel, and a vindication
of de Negrier. Indeed, in his heart of hearts I believe he suspects his
formula of balance to be only a counsel of perfection, for in the lines
which immediately precede it he implies that only a leader of very rare
genius will be capable of combining both systems. As for the
men—silence. The formula, moreover, must be read in its context. At the
moment he is in his fire-mood, addressing remarks on the “tactical
conduct of dismounted actions” to a Cavalry of whose abysmal ignorance
and incapacity in that branch of war he cannot speak too strongly. He is
sweetening the pill to the refractory patient.
Our own soldiers refuse to follow Lord Roberts and de Negrier, and
cannot officially say what Wrangel says, because there are still some
memories of South Africa left, and Wrangel’s opinion is simply pre-South
African opinion as embodied in the pre-war Manual. So they have taken
Bernhardi’s formula (“Cavalry Training,” p. 187), add on their own
account that “thorough perfection” in both weapons is necessary
(Wrangel’s impossibility), and by an ambiguous mixture of contradictory
counsels manage to save their face in the matter of fire while actually
insinuating the full truth of Wrangel’s view as to the paramount
importance of the steel. The formula of balance is sandwiched between
two passages on the same page which reduce the idea of “balance” to a
nullity, and which I must now repeat again. The first is:
“Squadrons must be able to attack on foot _when the situation
imperatively demands it_.”
The second is:
“It must be accepted as a principle that the rifle, effective as it
is, cannot replace the effect produced by the speed of the horse, the
magnetism of the charge, and the _terror of cold steel_. For when
opportunities for mounted action occur, these characteristics combine
to inspire such dash, enthusiasm, and moral ascendency that Cavalry is
rendered irresistible.”
And we may add that immediately before this latter passage comes another
which suggests Wrangel’s idea that fire-action is mainly defensive.
“Experience in war and peace teaches us that the average leader is only
too ready to resort to dismounted action, which often results in acting
defensively.” It is true that the compilers add that it is important to
lay stress on offensive tactics for Cavalry, _even when fighting on
foot_, but what chance has that little proviso when they are told in the
next breath that dash comes from the steel?
That assertion is far more sweeping and positive than anything to be
found in Bernhardi, who would stultify himself if he spoke in such a
general way of the “imperative demands of the situation,” of the
“defensive” function of the firearm, or of the “terror of cold steel.”
His whole work is a demonstration, not only of the pressing importance
of dash in aggressive fire-action, but of the fact that “even inferior”
riflemen, unless in a state of abject panic, do not and need not have
the smallest fear of the sword and lance, and to say in so many words
that the only persons terrified by those weapons are the Cavalry
themselves (who are also riflemen) is more than he could do. I have
pointed out that he does make a belated attempt to define, at any rate
inferentially, the function of the steel. “Cavalry Training” makes none.
Hence “terror” is permissible.
Of course, our official drill-book, in spite of its struggles for
compromise, cannot hide the old _reductio ad absurdum_. Here is its list
of occasions (pp. 186, 187) which demand fire-action: (1) Enemy
entrenched; (2) enemy occupying “broken or intersected ground” (_e.g._,
most of England and much of Europe); (3) enemy’s convoy marching under
escort; (4) enemy occupying extended position (in other words, the enemy
in his normal position in all modern war); (5) covering a retreat; (6)
enabling a scattered force to concentrate with a view to “decisive
mounted action”; (7) in the case of numerical inferiority in Cavalry; to
which we must add (8) (from p. 215) “occupying localities for defence”;
(9) patrol work (where combat is necessary); and (10) (from p. 229) in
pursuit, (where, following Bernhardi, the method is to be by fire,
except in case of complete demoralization of the enemy). And yet, in the
face of this exhaustive list, Cavalry are only to act by fire when the
“situation imperatively demands it!” I think, perhaps, that of all the
list No. (3) is the one which appeals most to the sense of humour—if it
were a case for humour. It is the only unmistakable allusion to the Boer
War in the whole handbook. Otherwise that war might never have been
fought, for all the direct recognition it obtains. The idea is, I
suppose, that reverses were specially associated with convoys, so that
some special concession to fire is needed in that connection to lull the
doubts of questioning minds. Unhappily the concession, if it is to be
reconciled with the efficacy of the steel weapon at all, cannot possibly
be expressed in intelligible language. Why in the world should “mounted
attack” on a convoy involve abnormally “wide outflanking operations” (p.
188)? The escort, pinned more or less closely to a mass of transport,
is, on the contrary, abnormally devoid of independent mobility, and
abnormally open to direct attack at the will of the aggressor. And what
is the meaning of this implied distinction between the “outflanking”
character of a “mounted attack” and the direct character of a
fire-attack? Cannot shock charges be direct, frontal? Observe the
revenge which overtakes timid concession. Here is one more implicit
betrayal of the steel, one more case of confusion between mobility and
combat. Whether you attack the advance-guard, or rear-guard, or
flank-guards of a convoy makes no difference to the weapon. If your
shock charge is of any use, use it. And the bitter irony of it all is
that it was in the attack upon convoys, or columns hampered by a large
transport, that the Boers used the “mounted attack” with the most
effect. But it was not the mounted attack meant by “Cavalry Training.”
It was the rifle charge, as at Yzer Spruit, Kleinfontein, Vlakfontein,
etc. (Chapter XI. above).
Bernhardi, in many other respects, is a sounder guide to the value of
fire-action than “Cavalry Training.” He insists, for instance (p. 176),
on the vital point that the firearm should be carried on the back, “as
is the practice of all races of born horsemen,” not attached to the
saddle, as our Cavalry carry it, and shows thereby that he is more alive
than they are to the real spirit of fire. Although, regardless of
consistency, he blurts out truths about fire which cut at the root of
the steel theory, he generally succeeds in avoiding statements about
steel which would nullify his conclusions about fire.
To illustrate this, let me return once more to the “shock duel,” as
between (1) independent Cavalries operating strategically, (2) on the
general battle-field. The former case is dealt with in “Cavalry
Training” on pages 193, 194, and in Bernhardi on pages 29–31; the later
case on page 206 of our Manual, and on pages 82–84 of the German book.
Bernhardi talks always in vague terms of the Cavalry duel, without
mentioning shock, though I grant that he assumes it. But I am perfectly
sure that he would not go so far as to say what “Cavalry Training” says
on page 194: “On such occasions dismounted action will at the best have
but a _negative_ result,” and within the space of a few lines to
contrast this “dismounted” action (so limited) with a “vigorous mounted
offensive.” Even with his non-recognition of mounted fire-action, this
is just the kind of proposition which he seems, by a sane, if
unconscious, instinct, to avoid. In point of fact, on page 267 he uses
the epithet “negative” for exactly the opposite purpose, applying it to
the “results obtained by our Cavalry in 1866 and 1870 ... simply and
solely because in _equipment and training_ they lagged behind the
requirements of the time,” a passage which must be read with page 83,
where he deplores the “mutual paralysis” of the duels of 1870. And all
this, let it be remarked, while still believing, with “Cavalry
Training,” that fire-action is of an essentially dismounted,
semi-stationary character, in spite of the lessons of South Africa. If
his pen had begun to frame the word “negative” in the sense intended by
“Cavalry Training,” he would in that instant have been converted.
The solemn discussion of the indispensable _shock_ duel in modern war
reminds one of the polemics of medieval schoolmen. It is carried on _in
vacuo_, without the remotest application to the facts of war, without
even one backward glance at South Africa, without support even from the
wars of 1866, 1870, and 1877, and without a gleam of encouragement from
the Russo-Japanese War. Bernhardi on page 83 makes a pathetic effort to
explain its failure at Mars la Tour, and the consequent absence of any
decisive effect of the Prussian Cavalry upon the battle-field, in spite
of their superiority, by saying vaguely that “neither their training nor
the comprehension of their duties was on a level with the requirements
of the time.” For the real reason turn to his chapters on fire-action
and to the passage I have just quoted from page 267, noting “equipment.”
The truth is that their training for shock was _too_ good, and the
comprehension of their shock duties so rooted as to be paralyzing. Why
should the Cavalry, of all arms, have lacked dash when the rest of the
Prussian army was afire with dash, when Infantry commanders had so often
to be blamed for excessive rashness? Why, indeed, save that Cavalry dash
was founded on the wrong weapon? As usual, when hard pressed, Bernhardi
relapses into poetry, and urges his Cavalry to “stake their souls” and
“risk the last man and the last horse” (p. 84). How strangely these
antique dithyrambs ring! Do not Infantry stake their souls, and risk
their last man, and all the rest of it? Not a whit braver than the
Cavalry, did not they, simply because they had a good weapon, show more
aggressive tackling power in South Africa than the Cavalry? It is cruel
to brave men to give them a bad weapon, tell them to found their dash on
it, and then to blame them for lack of dash; doubly cruel and doubly
absurd to tell them that they are _par excellence_ an arm of _offence_,
as “Cavalry Training” tells them on page 187. They are not a more
offensive arm than Infantry or Artillery. Defensive soldiers are a
contradiction in terms. How explain the mechanical repetition, decade
after decade, in spite of all disillusionment, of this axiom—that it is
peculiarly the province of Cavalry to sacrifice their last man in
winning victories? As a fact, all arms, in honourable rivalry, must and
do make supreme sacrifices for supreme ends. The explanation is that the
_arme blanche_ is solely a weapon of offence, which has lost its utility
and kept its fascination. The idea, I think, can be traced to the days
when the duties of reconnaissance were relatively light, and when
Cavalry were reserved on the battle-field for special steel functions,
such as pursuit, or some desperate assault. All that is changed, by
universal recognition. Reconnaissance is infinitely more difficult,
exhausting, and important. On the battle-field special opportunities for
the steel never, in fact, arise. But Cavalry must be busy, and busy with
the rifle.
A last word on the “Cavalry duel.” That it must be one of the grand
objects of Cavalry to overcome the enemy’s Cavalry is a truism. Whether,
in the strategical action of independent Cavalry for the purpose of
discovering hostile intentions and dispositions, it is best to pursue
from the beginning a policy of wide dispersion, or to concentrate at the
outset and drive the enemy’s independent Cavalry off the field, has
often been debated, and is settled now by Bernhardi and “Cavalry
Training” in favour of concentration. It is all pure theory, unsupported
by any facts either from Manchuria or from South Africa, where our
reconnaissance was very bad. Let us, however, for the sake of argument,
follow them. But that this collision, either of the concentrated
independent Cavalries, or of concentrated Cavalries, in whatever
capacity, on the battle-field, must take the form of shock, and can only
be decided by shock, is, surely, a preposterous thing for serious men to
waste time in proving. De Negrier, with the simplest illustrations from
modern war, kills it with ridicule. In England, at any rate, you cannot
get conditions of shock for large masses of Cavalry without deliberate
selection from a small choice of areas. In practising as independent
units, so as to represent rival strategical Cavalries, we choose
suitable areas, and arrange for shock ground adaptable to it. In
practising for the general battle-field we can obtain the conditions for
shock between large masses of opposing Cavalry only by arranging
friendly appointments between the two sides, as at Lambourne Downs on
the third day of the general Army manœuvres of 1909. And in all
cases, of course, we carefully impress upon both Cavalries that
collisions without shock are “negative.” Perhaps war in England is
another “peculiar” war, like the Boer War. But in regard to terrain
every war in Europe will be “peculiarly” bad for shock, as compared with
South Africa.
Probe to the bottom this delusion about the “negative” effect of
fire-action, and you will find for the hundredth time the confusion
between mobility and combat. Suppose that one of the Cavalries consists
at a given moment of Infantry, a paradoxical state of things which often
happened with the Japanese in Manchuria. The action of this Infantry
will not be _negative_, as against Cavalry using shock and only shock.
Consult “Infantry Training” and the Manchurian War, and you will find
that Infantry, averagely well led and trained, can go where they please,
both in reconnaissance and combat, without fear of the _lance or sword_.
Where they fail is in mobility, and that is why we use horsemen for all
the duties of war which require high mobility. If the horsemen have
Infantry rifles, and use them well, in conjunction with the horse, then,
indeed, in combat as well as in speed, in tactical as well as in
strategical mobility, they outmatch Infantry, and impose _negative_
action on them. Not otherwise, and precisely the same thing applies _a
fortiori_ to mounted combats.
Another point: What are “masses”? I take the word from Bernhardi, who
seems not to contemplate shock without great masses, the greater the
better. Between the mass and the patrol, where is shock to come in? The
patrol, where combat is necessary, according to “Cavalry Training,” acts
chiefly with fire, and Bernhardi says the same. For what size of unit
does shock begin to be specially applicable? “Cavalry Training” is dumb.
Bernhardi, more frank, as usual, seems to imply that it is really
applicable only to very large masses. But why this mystery? Why should
not even patrols use it? Shock is silent, and therefore suitable. Does
it make any difference whether the unit is 10, 50, or 100 strong, or
500, or 1,000, or 5,000? From the _arme blanche_ point of view it is
wiser to leave the question unanswered. The answer would throw a flood
of light on the “peculiar” conditions of South Africa, where during a
great part of the war the numbers engaged were comparatively small.
Once more I commend this topic to those Yeomanry officers who are asking
for the sword, not with the ambitious dream of using it in “mass,” but
with the idea that for small casual combats it is a necessity. It was
_never_ so used in South Africa, and if they realized what inexperience
with the rifle involved for the Yeomanry in that war—what miserable
humiliations and losses—they would be silent. But why should they be
silent, as things are? High authorities tell them the war was peculiar,
and recommend them to study German books. It is difficult to speak with
restraint on this matter.
Let the reader study closely “Cavalry Training” and “Mounted Infantry
Training” in the light both of Bernhardi and of the South African War.
Without undervaluing their many excellences, let him apply the
searchlight to all parts which have any bearing on weapons, and ask
himself whether that point has been thoroughly thought out, and brought
logically into line with modern experience. I have said little about
“Mounted Infantry Training.” I wonder what Bernhardi would think of it.
Tantalizing speculation! Would he give them “the place of honour on the
battle-fields of the plains” which he denies to Cavalry? Would he give
them or deny them reconnaissance and pursuit? How would he class them?
What would his feeling be when he found them exhorted in one breath to
use saddle-fire in the manner of the Boers (with their congenital
“habits and instincts”), and in the next to form square to repel
Cavalry—a form of defence abandoned even by Infantry?
I now leave Bernhardi, whom, if he be intelligently read, with an eye to
the Cavalry for which he wrote, I venture to regard as one of the most
serious enemies the steel has ever had, and one of the best advocates of
the rifle.
But when we compare him, in his two diverse moods, with the German
Official Historians with the Austrian Count Wrangel, with the British
“Cavalry Training,” with the French system of training, with Colonel
Repington, General French, and Mr. Goldman, and with the facts of modern
war, what irreconcilable contradictions, what a tangle of
self-refutation and mutual refutation!
And what is our grand motive in following this _enfant terrible_? I
repeat the words which were my text: “We must not be deficient in a
weapon possessed by potential foes.” Probably the same motive dimly
influences our potential foes. Who knows how far this imitative instinct
extends? It must strike foreigners as a very remarkable fact that in
spite of a three years’ war without shock we have reverted to shock. To
whom do they probably look for the explanation? No doubt to
distinguished soldiers now in high authority, and so the process of
mutual mystification goes on, the blind leading the blind. But the
proverb scarcely applies to the case of Bernhardi’s influence upon our
own Cavalry. That, it seems to me, is the case of a guide with a sure
instinct, but short sight, leading one who knows the way, but has
wilfully bandaged his eyes.
Of European nations we alone know the full truth, because we alone have
evolved the first-class mounted rifleman, and we alone know his supreme
value. England bought that secret with two hundred millions of money and
twenty thousand lives. Why not make use of it?