The power and efficiency of an army consist in the amount of the power
and efficiency of its elements, in the health, strength, and energy of
its members. No army can be strong, however numerous its soldiers, if
they are weak; nor is it completely strong, unless every member is in
full vigor. The weakness of any part, however small, diminishes, to that
extent, the force of the whole; and the increase of power in any part
adds so much to the total strength.
In order, then, to have a strong and effective army, it is necessary not
only to have a sufficient number of men, but that each one of these
should have in himself the greatest amount of force, the fullest health
and energy the human body can present.
This is usually regarded in the original creation of an army. The
soldiers are picked men. None but those of perfect form, complete in all
their organization and functions, and free from every defect or disease,
are intended to be admitted. The general community, in civil life,
includes not only the strong and healthy, but also the defective, the
weak, and the sick, the blind, the halt, the consumptive, the rheumatic,
the immature in childhood, and the exhausted and decrepit in age.
In the enlistment of recruits, the candidates for the army are rigidly
examined, and none are admitted except such as appear to be mentally and
physically sound and perfect. Hence, many who offer their services to
the Government are rejected, and sometimes the proportion accepted is
very small.
In Great Britain and Ireland, during the twenty years from 1832 to 1851
inclusive, 305,897 applied for admission into the British army. Of
these, 97,457, or 32 per cent., were rejected, and only 208,440, or 68
per cent., were accepted.[2]
In France, during thirteen years, 1831 to 1843 inclusive, 2,280,540 were
offered for examination as candidates for the army. Of these, 182,664,
being too short, though perhaps otherwise in possession of all the
requisites of health, were not examined, leaving 2,097,876, who were
considered as candidates for examination. Of these, 680,560, or 32.5 per
cent, were rejected on account of physical unfitness, and only
1,417,316, or 67.5 per cent., were allowed to join the army.[3]
The men who ordinarily offer for the American army, in time of peace,
are of still inferior grade, as to health and strength. In the year
1852, at the several recruiting-stations, 16,114 presented themselves
for enlistment, and 10,945, or 67.9 per cent., were rejected, for
reasons not connected with health:--
3,162 too young,
732 too old,
1,806 too short,
657 married,
2,434 could not speak English,
32 extremely ignorant,
1,965 intemperate,
106 of bad morals,
51 had been in armies from which
--------- they had deserted,
Total, 10,945
All of these may have been in good health.
Of the remainder, 5,169, who were subjects of further inquiry, 2,443
were rejected for reasons connected with their physical or mental
condition:--
243 mal-formed,
630 unsound in physical constitution,
16 unsound in mind,
314 had diseased eyes,
55 had diseased ears,
314 had hernia,
1,071 had varicose veins,
-------
Total, 2,443
Only 2,726 were accepted, being 52.7 per cent, of those who were
examined, and less than 17 per cent., or about one-sixth, of all who
offered themselves as candidates for the army, in that year.[4]
In time of peace, the character of the men who desire to become soldiers
differs with the degree of public prosperity. When business is good,
most men obtain employment in the more desirable and profitable
avocations of civil life. Then a larger proportion of those who are
willing to enter the army are unfitted, by their habits or their health,
for the occupations of peace, and go to the rendezvous only as a last
resort, to obtain their bread. But when business falters, a larger and a
better class are thrown out of work, and are glad to enter the service
of the country by bearing arms. The year 1852 was one of prosperity, and
affords, therefore, no indication of the class and character of men who
are willing to enlist in the average years. The Government Reports state
that in some other years 6,383 were accepted and 3,617 rejected out of
10,000 that offered to enlist. But in time of war, when the country is
endangered, and men have a higher motive for entering its service than
mere employment and wages, those of a better class both as to character
and health flock to the army; and in the present war, the army is
composed, in great degree, of men of the highest personal character and
social position, who leave the most desirable and lucrative employments
to serve their country as soldiers.
As, then, the army excludes, or intends to exclude, from its ranks all
the defective, weak, and sick, it begins with a much higher average of
health and vigor, a greater power of action, of endurance, and of
resisting the causes of disease, than the mass of men of the same ages
in civil life. It is composed of men in the fulness of strength and
efficiency. This is the vital machinery with which Governments propose
to do their martial work; and the amount of vital force which belongs to
these living machines, severally and collectively, is the capital with
which they intend to accomplish their purposes. Every wise Government
begins the business of war with a good capital of life, a large quantity
of vital force in its army. So far they do well; but more is necessary.
This complete and fitting preparation alone is not sufficient to carry
on the martial process through weeks and months of labor and privation.
Not only must the living machinery of bone and flesh be well selected,
but its force must be sustained, it must be kept in the most effective
condition and in the best and most available working order. For this
there are two established conditions, that admit of no variation nor
neglect: first, a sufficient supply of suitable nutriment, and faithful
regard to all the laws of health; and, second, the due appropriation of
the vital force that is thus from day to day created.
A due supply of appropriate food and of pure air, sufficient protection
and cleansing of the surface, moderate labor and refreshing rest, are
the necessary conditions of health, and cannot be disregarded, in the
least degree, without a loss of force. The privation of even a single
meal, or the use of food that is hard of digestion or innutritious, and
the loss of any of the needful sleep, are followed by a corresponding
loss of effective power, as surely as the slackened fire in the furnace
is followed by lessened steam and power in the engine.
Whosoever, then, wishes to sustain his own forces or those of his
laborers with the least cost, and use them with the greatest effect,
must take Nature on her own terms. It is vain to try to evade or alter
her conditions. The Kingdom of Heaven is not divided against itself. It
makes no compromises, not even for the necessities of nations. It will
not consent that any one, even the least, of its laws shall be set
aside, to advance any other, however important. Each single law stands
by itself, and exacts complete obedience to its own requirements: it
gives its own rewards and inflicts its own punishments. The stomach will
not digest tough and hard or old salted meats, or heavy bread, without
demanding and receiving a great and perhaps an almost exhausting
proportion of the nervous energies. The nutritive organs will not create
vigorous muscles and effective limbs, unless the blood is constantly and
appropriately recruited. The lungs will not decarbonize and purify the
blood with foul air, that has been breathed over and over and lost its
oxygen. However noble or holy the purpose for which human power is to be
used, it will not be created, except according to the established
conditions. The strength of the warrior in battle cannot be sustained,
except in the appointed way, even though the fate of all humanity depend
on his exertions.
Nature keeps an exact account with all her children, and gives power in
proportion to their fulfilment of her conditions. She measures out and
sustains vital force according to the kind and fitness of the raw
material provided for her. When we deal liberally with her, she deals
liberally with us. For everything we give to her she makes a just
return. The stomach, the nutrient arteries, the lungs, have no love, no
patriotism, no pity; but they are perfectly honest. The healthy
digestive organs will extract and pay over to the blood-vessels just so
much of the nutritive elements as the food we eat contains in an
extractible form, and no more; and for this purpose they will demand and
take just so much of the nervous energy as may be needed. The nutrient
arteries will convert into living flesh just so much of the nutritive
elements as the digestive organs give them, and no more. The lungs will
send out from the body as many of the atoms of exhausted and dead flesh
as the oxygen we give them will convert into carbonic acid and water,
and this is all they can do. In these matters, the vital organs are as
honest and as faithful as the boiler, that gives forth steam in the
exact ratio of the heat which the burning fuel evolves and the fitness
of the water that is supplied to it; and neither can be persuaded to do
otherwise. The living machine of bone and flesh and the dead machine of
iron prepare their forces according to the means they have, not
according to the ulterior purpose to which those forces are to be
applied. They do this alike for all. They do it as well for the sinner
as for the saint,--as well for the traitorous Secessionist striving to
destroy his country as for the patriot endeavoring to sustain it.
In neither case is it a matter of will, but of necessity. The amount of
power to be generated in both living and dead machines is simply a
question of quality and quantity of provision for the purpose. So much
food, air, protection given produce so much strength. A proposition to
reduce the amount of either of these necessarily involves the
proposition to reduce the available force. Whoever determines to eat or
give his men less or poorer food, or impure air, practically determines
to do less work. In all this management of the human body, we are sure
to get what we pay for, and we are equally sure not to get what we do
not pay for.
All Governments have tried, and are now, in various degrees, trying, the
experiment of privation in their armies. The soldier cannot carry with
him the usual means and comforts of home. He must give these up the
moment he enters the martial ranks, and reduce his apparatus of living
to the smallest possible quantity. He must generally limit himself to a
portable house, kitchen, cooking-apparatus, and wardrobe, and to an
entire privation of furniture, and sometimes submit to a complete
destitution of everything except the provision he may carry in his
haversack and the blanket he can carry on his back. When stationary, he
commonly sleeps in barracks; but he spends most of his time in the field
and sleeps in tents. Occasionally he is compelled to sleep in the open
air, without any covering but his blanket, and to cook in an
extemporized kitchen, which he may make of a few stones piled together
or of a hole in the earth, with only a kettle, that he carries on his
back, for cooking-apparatus. In all cases and conditions, whether in
fort or in field, in barrack, tent, or open air, he is limited to the
smallest artificial habitation, the least amount of furniture and
conveniences, the cheapest and most compact food, and the rudest
cookery. He is, therefore, never so well protected against the elements,
nor, when sleeping under cover, so well supplied with air for
respiration, as he is at home. Moreover, when lodging abroad, he cannot
take his choice of places; he is liable, from the necessities of war, to
encamp in wet and malarious spots, and to be exposed to chills and
miasms of unhealthy districts. He is necessarily exposed to weather of
every kind,--to cold, to rains, to storms; and when wet, he has not the
means of warming himself, nor of drying or changing his clothing. His
life, though under martial discipline, is irregular. At times, he has to
undergo severe and protracted labors, forced marches, and the violent
and long-continued struggles of combat; at other times, he has not
exercise sufficient for health. His food is irregularly served. He is
sometimes short of provisions, and compelled to pass whole days in
abstinence or on shore allowance. Occasionally he cannot obtain even
water to drink, through hours of thirsty toil. No Government nor
managers of war have ever yet been able to make exact and unfailing
provision for the wants and necessities of their armies, as men usually
do for themselves and their families at home.