Where all three conditions, situation, intrinsic strength, and abundant

resources, are found in the same place, it becomes of great consequence

strategically and may be of the very first importance, though not

always. For it must be remarked that there are other considerations,

lesser in the purely military point of view, which enhance the

consequence of a seaport even strategically; such as its being a great

mart of trade, a blow to which would cripple the prosperity of the

country; or the capital, the fall of which has a political effect

additional to its importance otherwise.

I. _Situation_

Of the three principal conditions, the first, situation, is the most

indispensable; because strength and resources can be artificially

supplied or increased, but it passes the power of man to change the

situation of a port which lies outside the limits of strategic effect.

Generally, value of situation depends upon nearness to a sea route; to

those lines of trade which, when drawn upon the ocean common, are as

imaginary as the parallels of the chart, yet as really and usefully

exist. If the position be on two routes at the same time, that is, near

the crossing, the value is enhanced. A cross-roads is essentially a

central position, facilitating action in as many directions as there are

roads. Those familiar with works on the art of land war will recognize

the analogies. The value becomes yet more marked if, by the lay of the

land, the road to be followed becomes very narrow; as at the Straits of

Gibraltar, the English Channel, and in a less degree the Florida Strait.

Perhaps narrowing should be applied to every inlet of the sea, by which

trade enters into and is distributed over a great extent of country;

such as the mouth of the Mississippi, of the Dutch and German rivers,

New York harbor, etc. As regards the sea, however, harbors or the mouths

of rivers are usually _termini_ or _entrepôts_, at which goods are

transshipped before going farther. If the road be narrowed to a mere

canal, or to the mouth of a river, the point to which vessels must come

is reduced almost to the geometrical definition of a point and near-by

positions have great command. Suez presents this condition now, and

Panama soon will.

Analogously, positions in narrow seas are more important than those in

the great ocean, because it is less possible to avoid them by a circuit.

If these seas are not merely the ends—“_termini_”—of travel but

“highways,” parts of a continuous route; that is, if commerce not only

comes to them but passes through to other fields beyond, the number of

passing ships is increased and thereby the strategic value of the

controlling points....

[Illustrations are here employed to show that, owing to the freedom of

movements on the open sea, dangerous positions when not located in

narrow channels are more easily avoided than on land. Hence “_fausses

routes et moments perdus_,” in Napoleon’s phrase, play an important part

in naval operations, as shown by Napoleon’s route to Egypt via Malta and

Crete, and Rozhestvensky’s choice of routes before Tsushima. On the

other hand, obstacles when they exist are impassable. Only submarines

can avoid danger by transit over land.—EDITOR.]

II. _Military Strength_

A. _Defensive Strength._ [Military strength is considered in two

aspects, (A) defensive, and (B) offensive. Under defensive strength, it

is first pointed out that, as illustrated by Port Arthur and Santiago,

coast bases are in chief danger of capture from the land side. While it

is the business of the navy to prevent the landing of forces, its

operations, though defensive in result, must be offensive in character,

and not confined to the vicinity of the bases.—EDITOR.]

In the sphere of maritime war, the navy represents the army in the

field; and the fortified strategic harbors, upon which it falls back as

ports of refuge after battle or defeat, for repairs or for supplies,

correspond precisely to strongholds, like Metz, Strasburg, Ulm, upon

which, systematically occupied with reference to the strategic character

of the theater of war, military writers agree the defense of a country

must be founded. The foundation, however, must not be taken for the

superstructure for which it exists. In war, the defensive exists mainly

that the offensive may act more freely. In sea warfare, the offensive is

assigned to the navy; and if the latter assumes to itself the defensive,

it simply locks up a part of its trained men in garrisons, which could

be filled as well by forces that have not their peculiar skill. To this

main proposition I must add a corollary, that if the defense of ports,

many in number, be attributed to the navy, experience shows that the

navy will be subdivided among them to an extent that will paralyze its

efficiency. I was amused, but at the same time instructed as to popular

understanding of war, by the consternation aroused in Great Britain by

one summer’s maneuvers, already alluded to, and the remedy proposed in

some papers. It appeared that several seaports were open to bombardment

and consequent exaction of subsidies by a small squadron, and it was

gravely urged that the navy should be large enough to spare a small

detachment to each port. Of what use is a navy, if it is to be thus

whittled away? But a popular outcry will drown the voice of military

experience.

... The strictly defensive strength of a seaport depends therefore upon

permanent works, the provision of which is not the business of naval

officers. The navy is interested in them because, when effective, they

release it from any care about the port; from defensive action to the

offensive, which is its proper sphere.

There is another sense in which a navy is regarded as defensive; namely,

that the existence of an adequate navy protects from invasion by

commanding the sea. That is measurably and in very large degree true,

and is a strategic function of great importance; but this is a wholly

different question from that of the defensive strength of seaports, of

strategic points, with which we are now dealing. It therefore will be

postponed, with a simple warning against the opinion that because the

navy thus defends there is no need for local protection of the strategic

ports; no need, that is, for fortifications. This view affirms that a

military force can always, under all circumstances, dispense with secure

bases of operations; in other words, that it can never be evaded, nor

know momentary mishap.

I have now put before you reasons for rejecting the opinion that the

navy is the proper instrument, generally speaking, for coast defense in

the narrow sense of the expression, which limits it to the defense of

ports. The reasons given may be summed up, and reduced to four

principles, as follows:

1. That for the same amount of offensive power, floating batteries, or

vessels of very little mobility, are less strong defensively against

naval attack than land works are.

2. That by employing able-bodied seafaring men to defend harbors you

lock up offensive strength in an inferior, that is, in a defensive,

effort.

3. That it is injurious to the _morale_ and skill of seamen to keep them

thus on the defensive and off the sea. This has received abundant

historical proof in the past.

4. That in giving up the offensive the navy gives up its proper sphere,

which is also the most effective.

B. _Offensive Strength._—The offensive strength of a seaport, considered

independently of its strategic situation and of its natural and acquired

resources, consists in its capacity:

1. To assemble and hold a large military force, of both ships of war and

transports.

2. To launch such force safely and easily into the deep.

3. To follow it with a continued support until the campaign is ended. In

such support are always to be reckoned facilities for docking, as the

most important of all supports.

[These points are discussed in detail. It is noted that a port with

two outlets, like New York and Vladivostok, has a decided

advantage.—EDITOR.]

III. _Resources_

The wants of a navy are so many and so varied that it would be time lost

to name them separately. The resources which meet them may be usefully

divided under two heads, natural and artificial. The latter, again, may

be conveniently and accurately subdivided into resources developed by

man in his peaceful occupation and use of a country, and those which are

immediately and solely created for the maintenance of war.

Other things being equal, the most favorable condition is that where

great natural resources, joined to a good position for trade, have drawn

men to settle and develop the neighboring country. Where the existing

resources are purely artificial and for war, the value of the port, in

so far, is inferior to that of one where the ordinary occupations of the

people supply the necessary resources. To use the phraseology of our

subject, a seaport that has good strategic situation and great military

strength, but to which all resources must be brought from a distance, is

much inferior to a similar port having a rich and developed friendly

region behind it. Gibraltar and ports on small islands, like Santa Lucia

and Martinique, labor under this disadvantage, as compared with ports of

England, France, the United States; or even of a big island like Cuba,

if the latter be developed by an industrial and commercial people.

7. STRATEGIC LINES[25]

_Communications_

The most important of strategic lines are those which concern the

communications. Communications dominate war. This has peculiar force on

shore, because an army is immediately dependent upon supplies frequently

renewed. It can endure a brief interruption much less readily than a

fleet can, because ships carry the substance of communications largely

in their own bottoms. So long as the fleet is able to face the enemy at

sea, communications mean essentially, not geographical lines, like the

roads an army has to follow, but those necessaries, supplies of which

the ships cannot carry in their own hulls beyond a limited amount. These

are, first, fuel; second, ammunition; last of all, food. These

necessaries, owing to the facility of water transportation as compared

with land, can accompany the movements of a fleet in a way impossible to

the train of an army. An army train follows rather than accompanies, by

roads which may be difficult and must be narrow; whereas maritime roads

are easy, and inimitably wide.

Nevertheless, all military organizations, land or sea, are ultimately

dependent upon open communications with the basis of the national power;

and the line of communications is doubly of value, because it usually

represents also the line of retreat. Retreat is the extreme expression

of dependence upon the home base. In the matter of communications, free

supplies and open retreat are two essentials to the _safety_ of an army

or of a fleet. Napoleon at Marengo in 1800, and again at Ulm in 1805,

succeeded in placing himself upon the Austrian line of communication and

of retreat, in force sufficient to prevent supplies coming forward from

the base, or the army moving backward to the base. At Marengo there was

a battle, at Ulm none; but at each the results depended upon the same

condition,—the line of communication controlled by the enemy. In the War

of Secession the forts of the Mississippi were conquered as soon as

Farragut’s fleet, by passing above, held their line of communications.

Mantua in 1796 was similarly conquered as soon as Napoleon had placed

himself upon the line of retreat of its garrison. It held out for six

months, very properly; but the rest of the campaign was simply an effort

of the outside Austrians to drive the French off the line, and thus to

reinforce the garrison or to enable it to retreat.

_Importance of Sea Communications_[26]

Except Russia and Japan, the nations actively concerned in this great

problem [the problem of Asia] rest, for home bases, upon remote

countries. We find therefore two classes of powers: those whose

communication is by land, and those who depend upon the sea. The sea

lines are the most numerous and easy, and they will probably be

determinative of the courses of trade. Among them there are two the

advantages of which excel all others—for Europe by Suez, from America by

way of the Pacific Ocean. The latter will doubtless receive further

modification by an isthmian canal, extending the use of the route to the

Atlantic seaboard of America, North and South.

Communications dominate war; broadly considered, they are the most

important single element in strategy, political or military. In its

control over them has lain the pre-eminence of sea power—as an influence

upon the history of the past; and in this it will continue, for the

attribute is inseparable from its existence. This is evident because,

for reasons previously explained, transit in large quantities and for

great distances is decisively more easy and copious by water than by

land. The sea, therefore, is the great medium of communications—of

commerce. The very sound, “commerce,” brings with it a suggestion of the

sea, for it is maritime commerce that has in all ages been most fruitful

of wealth; and wealth is but the concrete expression of a nation’s

energy of life, material and mental. The power, therefore, to insure

these communications to one’s self, and to interrupt them for an

adversary, affects the very root of a nation’s vigor, as in military

operations it does the existence of an army, or as the free access to

rain and sun—communication from without—does the life of a plant. This

is the prerogative of the sea powers; and this chiefly—if not, indeed,

this alone—they have to set off against the disadvantage of position and

of numbers under which, with reference to land power, they labor in

Asia. It is enough. Pressure afar off—diversion—is adequate to relieve

that near at hand, as Napoleon expected to conquer Pondicherry on the

banks of the Vistula. But if the sea powers embrace the proposition that

has found favor in America, and, by the concession of immunity to an

enemy’s commerce in time of war, surrender their control of maritime

communications, they will have abdicated the scepter of the sea, for

they will have abandoned one chief means by which pressure in one

quarter—the sea—balances pressure in a remote and otherwise inaccessible

quarter. Never was moment for such abandonment less propitious than the

present, when the determination of influence in Asia is at stake.

8. OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS[27]

[The situation here considered is that of a fleet that has driven the

enemy from a base in the theater of war, but has still to cope with the

enemy fleet falling back on another base.—EDITOR.]

The case of further advance from your new base may not be complicated by

the consideration of great distance. The next step requisite to be taken

may be short, as from Cuba to Jamaica; or it may be that the enemy’s

fleet is still at sea, in which case it is the great objective, now as

always. Its being at sea may be because retreating, from the position

you have occupied, towards his remoter base; either because conscious of

inferiority, or, perhaps, after a defeat more or less decisive. It will

then be necessary to act with rapidity, in order to cut off the enemy

from his port of destination. If there is reason to believe that you can

overtake and pass him with superior force, every effort to do so must be

made. The direction of his retreat is known or must be ascertained, and

it will be borne in mind that the base to which he is retreating and his

fleet are separated parts of one force, the union of which must be

prevented. In such a case, the excuses frequently made for a sluggish

pursuit ashore, such as fatigue of troops, heavy roads, etc., do not

apply. Crippled battleships must be dropped, or ordered to follow with

the colliers. Such a pursuit presumes but one disadvantage to the

chasing fleet, viz., that it is leaving its coal base while the chase is

approaching his; and this, if the calculations are close, may give the

pursuing admiral great anxiety. Such anxieties are the test and penalty

of greatness. In such cases, excuses for failure attributed to shortness

of coal will be closely scrutinized; and justly. In all other respects,

superiority must be assumed, because on no other condition could such

headlong pursuit be made. It aims at a great success, and successes will

usually be in proportion to superiority, either original or acquired.

“What the country needs,” said Nelson, “is the annihilation of the

enemy. Only numbers can annihilate.”

If such a chase follow a battle, it can scarcely fail that the weaker

party—the retreating party—is also distressed by crippled ships, which

he may be forced to abandon—or fight. Strenuous, unrelaxing pursuit is

therefore as imperative after a battle as is courage during it. Great

political results often flow from correct military action; a fact which

no military commander is at liberty to ignore. He may very well not know

of those results; it is enough to know that they may happen, and nothing

can excuse his losing a point which by exertion he might have scored.

Napoleon, says Jomini, never forgave the general who in 1796, by resting

his troops a couple of hours, failed to get between an Austrian division

and Mantua, in which it was seeking refuge, and by his neglect found it.

The failure of Admiral de Tourville to pursue vigorously the defeated

Dutch and English fleet, after the battle of Beachy Head, in 1690,

caused that victory to be indecisive, and helped to fasten the crown of

England on the head of a Dutch King, who was the soul of the alliance

against France. Slackness in following up victory had thus a decisive

influence upon the results of the whole war, both on the continent and

the sea. I may add, it has proved injurious to the art of naval

strategy, by the seeming confirmation it has given to the theory of the

“fleet in being.” It was not the beaten and crippled English and Dutch

“fleet in being” that prevented an invasion of England. It was the

weakness or inertness of Tourville, or the unreadiness of the French

transports.

Similarly, the refusal of Admiral Hotham to pursue vigorously a beaten

French fleet in 1795, unquestionably not only made that year’s campaign

indecisive, but made possible Napoleon’s Italian campaign of 1796, from

which flowed his whole career and its effects upon history. The same

dazzling career received its sudden mortal stab when, in the height of

his crushing advance in Spain, with its capital in his hands, at the

very moment when his vast plans seemed on the eve of accomplishment, a

more enterprising British leader, Sir John Moore, moved his petty army

to Sahagun, on the flank of Napoleon’s communications between France and

Madrid. The blow recoiled upon Moore, who was swept as by a whirlwind to

Coruña, and into the sea; but Spain was saved. The Emperor could not

retrieve the lost time and opportunity. He could not return to Madrid in

person, but had to entrust to several subordinates the task which only

his own supreme genius could successfully supervise. From the military

standpoint, his downfall dates from that day. The whole career of

Wellington, to Waterloo, lay in the womb of Moore’s daring conception.

But for that, wrote Napier, the Peninsular War would not have required a

chronicler.

An admiral may not be able to foresee such remote consequences of his

action, but he can safely adopt the principle expressed by Nelson, in

the instance just cited, after hearing his commander-in-chief say they

had done well enough: “If ten ships out of eleven were taken, I would

never call it well enough, if we were able to get at the eleventh.”

The relations between the fleets of Admirals Rozhestvensky and Togo

prior to their meeting off Tsushima bore no slight resemblance to those

between a pursued and a pursuing fleet. The Russian fleet, which had

started before the Port Arthur division succumbed, was placed by that

event in the position of a fleet which has suffered defeat so severe

that its first effort must be to escape into its own ports. This was so

obvious that many felt a retreat upon the Baltic was the only course

left open; but, failing that, Rozhestvensky argued that he should rush

on to Vladivostok at once, before the Japanese should get again into the

best condition to intercept him, by repairing their ships, cleaning the

bottoms, and refreshing the ships’ companies. Instead of so ordering,

the Russian government decided to hold him at Nossi-Bé (the north end of

Madagascar), pending a reinforcement to be sent under Admiral

Nebogatoff. Something is to be said for both views, in the abstract; but

considering that the reinforcement was heterogeneous and inferior in

character, that the Russian first aim was not battle but escape to

Vladivostok, and, especially, that the Japanese were particularly

anxious to obtain the use of delay for the very purpose Rozhestvensky

feared, it seems probable that he was right. In any event, he was

delayed at Nossi-Bé from January 9 to March 16; and afterwards at

Kamranh Bay in French Cochin-China, from April 14 to May 9, when

Nebogatoff joined. Allowing time for coaling and refitting, this

indicates a delay of sixty to seventy days; the actual time underway

from Nossi-Bé to Tsushima being only forty-five days. Thus, but for the

wait for Nebogatoff, the Russian division would have reached Tsushima

two months before it did, or about March 20.

Togo did not have to get ahead of a flying fleet, for by the fortune of

position he was already ahead of it; but he did have to select the best

position for intercepting it, as well as to decide upon his general

course of action: whether, for instance, he should advance to meet it;

whether he should attempt embarrassment by his superior force of torpedo

vessels, so as to cripple or destroy some of its units, thus reducing

further a force already inferior; also the direction and activities of

his available scouts. His action may be taken as expressing his opinions

on these subjects. He did not advance; he did not attempt harassment

prior to meeting; he concentrated his entire battle force on the line by

which he expected the enemy must advance; and he was so far in ignorance

of their movements that he received information only on the very morning

of the battle. This was well enough; but it is scarcely unreasonable to

say it might have been bettered. The Japanese, however, had behind them

a large part of a successful naval campaign, the chief points of which

it is relevant to our subject to note. They had first by a surprise

attack inflicted a marked injury on the enemy’s fleet, which obtained

for them a time of delay and opportunity during its enforced inactivity.

They had then reduced one of the enemy’s two naval bases, and destroyed

the division sheltered in it. By this they had begun to beat the enemy

in detail, and had left the approaching reinforcement only one possible

port of arrival.

If a flying fleet has been lost to sight and has but one port of refuge,

pursuit, of course, will be directed upon that port; but if there are

more, the chasing admiral will have to decide upon what point to direct

his fleet, and will send out despatch vessels in different directions to

find the enemy and transmit intelligence. Cruisers engaged in such duty

should be notified of the intended or possible movements of the fleet,

and when practicable should be sent in couples; for although wireless

telegraphy has now superseded the necessity of sending one back with

information, while the other remains in touch with the enemy, accidents

may happen, and in so important a matter it seems expedient to double

precautions. The case resembles duplicating important correspondence;

for wireless cannot act before it has news, and to obtain news objects

must be seen. It is to be remembered, too, that wireless messages may be

intercepted, to the serious disadvantage of the sender. It seems

possible that conjunctures may arise when it will be safer to send a

vessel with tidings rather than commit them to air waves.

Thus, in theory, and to make execution perfect,—to capture, so to say,

Nelson’s eleventh ship,—the aim must be to drive the enemy out of every

foothold in the whole theater of war, and particularly to destroy or

shut up his fleet. Having accomplished the great feature of the task by

getting hold of the most decisive position, further effort must be

directed towards, possibly not upon, those points which may serve him

still for bases. In so doing, your fleet must not be divided, unless

overwhelmingly strong, and must not extend its lines of communication

beyond the power of protecting them, unless it be for a dash of limited

duration.

If compelled to choose between fortified ports of the enemy and his

fleet, the latter will be regarded as the true objective; but a blockade

of the ports, or an attack upon them, may be the surest means of

bringing the ships within reach. Thus, in the War of American

Independence, the siege of Gibraltar compelled the British fleet on more

than one occasion to come within fighting reach of the enemy’s

blockading fleet, in order to throw in supplies. That the allies did not

attack, except on one occasion, does not invalidate the lesson. Corbett

in his “Seven Years’ War” points out very justly, in Byng’s celebrated

failure, which cost him his life, that if he had moved against the

French transports, in a neighboring bay, the French admiral would have

had to attack, and the result might have been more favorable to the

British. Such movements are essentially blows at the communications of

the enemy, and if aimed without unduly risking your own will be in

thorough accord with the most assured principles of strategy. A

militarily effective blockade of a base essential to the enemy will

force his fleet either to fight or to abandon the theater of war. Thus,

as has been pointed out elsewhere, in Suffren’s campaign in Indian Seas,

so long as Trincomalee was in possession of the British, a threat at it

was sure to bring them out to fight, although it was not their principal

base. The abandonment of the theater of war by the navy will cause the

arsenal to fall in time, through failure of resources, as Gibraltar must

have fallen if the British fleet had not returned and supplied it at

intervals. Such a result, however, is less complete than a victory over

the enemy’s navy, which would lead to the same end, and so be a double

success, ships _and_ port.

9. THE VALUE OF THE DEFENSIVE[28]

It is true that in certain respects the defensive has advantages, the

possession of which may even justify an expression, which has been

stated as a maxim of war, that “Defense is a stronger form of war than

Offense is.” I do not like the expression, for it seems to me misleading

as to the determinative characteristics of a defensive attitude; but it

may pass, if properly qualified. What is meant by it is that in a

particular operation, or even in a general plan, the party on the

defense, since he makes no forward movement for the time, can strengthen

his preparations, make deliberate and permanent dispositions; while the

party on the offensive, being in continual movement, is more liable to

mistake, of which the defense may take advantage, and in any case has to

accept as part of his problem the disadvantage, to him, of the

accumulated preparations that the defense has been making while he has

been marching. The extreme example of preparation is a fortified

permanent post; but similar instances are found in a battle field

carefully chosen for advantages of ground, where attack is awaited, and

in a line of ships, which by the solidarity of its order, and deployment

of broadside, awaits an enemy who has to approach in column with

disadvantage as to train of guns. In so far, the _form_ taken by the

defense is stronger than the _form_ assumed for the moment by the

offense.

If you will think clearly, you will recognize that at Tsushima the

Japanese were on the defensive, for their object was to stop, to thwart,

the Russian attempt. Essentially, whatever the tactical method they

adopted, they were to spread their broadsides across the road to

Vladivostok, and await. The Russians were on the offensive, little as we

are accustomed so to regard them; they had to get through to

Vladivostok—if they could. They had to hold their course to the place,

and to break through the Japanese,—if they could. In short, they were on

the offensive, and the form of their approach had to be in column, bows

on,—a weaker form,—which they had to abandon, tactically, as soon as

they came under fire.

In our hostilities with Spain, also, Cervera’s movement before reaching

Santiago was offensive in character, the attitude of the United States

defensive; that is, he was trying to effect something which the American

Navy was set to prevent. There being three principal Spanish ports,

Havana, Cienfuegos, and Santiago, we could not be certain for which he

would try, and should have been before two in such force that an attempt

by him would have assured a battle. We were strong enough for such a

disposition. The two ports thus to be barred were evidently Havana and

Cienfuegos. The supposed necessity for defending our northern coast left

Cienfuegos open. Had Cervera made for it, he would have reached it

before the Flying Squadron did. The need for keeping the Flying Squadron

in Hampton Roads was imaginary, but it none the less illustrates the

effect of inadequate coast defenses upon the military plan of the

nation.

The author whom I quote (Corbett, “Seven Years’ War,” Vol. I, p. 92),

who himself quotes from one of the first of authorities, Clausewitz, has

therefore immediately to qualify his maxim, thus:

“When we say that defense is a stronger form of war, _that is, that it

requires a smaller force, if soundly designed_, we are speaking, of

course, only of one certain line of operations. If we do not know the

general line of operation on which the enemy intends to attack, and so

cannot mass our force upon it, then defense is weak, because we are

compelled to distribute our force so as to be strong enough to stop the

enemy on any line of operations he may adopt.”

Manifestly, however, a force capable of being strong enough on several

lines of operation to stop an enemy possesses a superiority that should

take the offensive. In the instance just cited, of Cervera’s approach,

the American true policy of concentration would have had to yield to

distribution, between Cienfuegos and Havana. Instead of a decisive

superiority on one position, there would have been a bare equality upon

two. Granting an enemy of equal skill and training, the result might

have been one way or the other; and the only compensation would have

been that the enemy would have been so badly handled that, to use

Nelson’s phrase, he would give no more trouble that season, and the

other American division would have controlled the seas, as Togo did

after August 10, 1904. From the purely professional point of view it is

greatly to be regretted that the Spaniards and Russians showed such poor

professional aptitude.

The radical disadvantage of the defensive is evident. It not only is the

enforced attitude of a weaker party, but it labors under the further

onerous uncertainty where the offensive may strike, when there is more

than one line of operation open to him, as there usually is. This tends

to entail dissemination of force. The advantages of the defensive have

been sufficiently indicated; they are essentially those of deliberate

preparation, shown in precautions of various kinds. In assuming the

defensive you take for granted the impossibility of your own permanent

advance and the ability of the enemy to present himself before your

front in superior numbers; unless you can harass him on the way and

cause loss enough to diminish the inequality. Unless such disparity

exists, you should be on the offensive. On the other hand, in the

defensive it has to be taken for granted that you have on your side a

respectable though inferior battle fleet, and a sea frontier possessing

a certain number of ports which cannot be reduced without regular

operations, in which the armed shipping can be got ready for battle, and

to which, as to a base, they can retire for refit. Without these two

elements there can be no serious defense.

10. COMMERCE-DESTROYING AND BLOCKADE[29]

It is desirable to explain here what was, and is, the particular

specific utility of operations directed toward the destruction of an

enemy’s commerce; what its bearing upon the issues of war; and how,

also, it affects the relative interests of antagonists, unequally paired

in the matter of sea power. Without attempting to determine precisely

the relative importance of internal and external commerce, which varies

with each country, and admitting that the length of transportation

entails a distinct element of increased cost upon the articles

transported, it is nevertheless safe to say that, to nations having free

access to the sea, the export and import trade is a very large factor in

national prosperity and comfort. At the very least, it increases by so

much the aggregate of commercial transactions, while the ease and

copiousness of water carriage go far to compensate for the increase of

distance. Furthermore, the public revenue of maritime states is largely

derived from duties on imports. Hence arises, therefore, a large source

of wealth, of money; and money—ready money or substantial credit—is

proverbially the sinews of war, as the War of 1812 was amply to

demonstrate. Inconvertible assets, as business men know, are a very

inefficacious form of wealth in tight times; and war is always a tight

time for a country, a time in which its positive wealth, in the shape of

every kind of produce, is of little use, unless by freedom of exchange

it can be converted into cash for governmental expenses. To this sea

commerce greatly contributes, and the extreme embarrassment under which

the United States as a nation labored in 1814 was mainly due to

commercial exclusion from the sea. To attack the commerce of the enemy

is therefore to cripple him, in the measure of success achieved, in the

particular factor which is vital to the maintenance of war. Moreover, in

the complicated conditions of mercantile activity no one branch can be

seriously injured without involving others.

This may be called the financial and political effect of “commerce

destroying,” as the modern phrase runs. In military effect, it is

strictly analogous to the impairing of an enemy’s communications, of the

line of supplies connecting an army with its base of operations, upon

the maintenance of which the life of the army depends. Money, credit, is

the life of war; lessen it, and vigor flags; destroy it, and resistance

dies. No resource then remains except to “make war support war;” that

is, to make the vanquished pay the bills for the maintenance of the army

which has crushed him, or which is proceeding to crush whatever

opposition is left alive. This, by the extraction of private money, and

of supplies for the use of his troops, from the country in which he was

fighting, was the method of Napoleon, than whom no man held more

delicate views concerning the gross impropriety of capturing private

property at sea, whither his power did not extend. Yet this, in effect,

is simply another method of forcing the enemy to surrender a large part

of his means, so weakening him, while transferring it to the victor for

the better propagation of hostilities. The exaction of a pecuniary

indemnity from the worsted party at the conclusion of a war, as is

frequently done, differs from the seizure of property in transit afloat

only in method, and as peace differs from war. In either case, money or

money’s worth is exacted; but when peace supervenes, the method of

collection is left to the Government of the country, in pursuance of its

powers of taxation, to distribute the burden among the people; whereas

in war, the primary object being immediate injury to the enemy’s

fighting power, it is not only legitimate in principle, but particularly

effective, to seek the disorganization of his financial system by a

crushing attack upon one of its important factors, because effort thus

is concentrated on a readily accessible, fundamental element of his

general prosperity. That the loss falls directly on individuals, or a

class, instead of upon the whole community, is but an incident of war,

just as some men are killed and others not. Indirectly, but none the

less surely, the whole community, and, what is more important, the

organized government, are crippled; offensive powers impaired.

But while this is the absolute tendency of war against commerce, common

to all cases, the relative value varies greatly with the countries

having recourse to it. It is a species of hostilities easily

extemporized by a great maritime nation; it therefore favors one whose

policy is not to maintain a large naval establishment. It opens a field

for a sea militia force, requiring little antecedent military training.

Again, it is a logical military reply to commercial blockade, which is

the most systematic, regularized, and extensive form of

commerce-destruction known to war. Commercial blockade is not to be

confounded with the military measure of confining a body of hostile

ships of war to their harbor, by stationing before it a competent force.

It is directed against merchant vessels, and is not a military operation

in the narrowest sense, in that it does not necessarily involve

fighting, nor propose the capture of the blockaded harbor. It is not

usually directed against military ports, unless these happen to be also

centers of commerce. Its object, which was the paramount function of the

United States Navy during the Civil War, dealing probably the most

decisive blow inflicted upon the Confederacy, is the destruction of

commerce by closing the ports of egress and ingress. Incidental to that,

all ships, neutrals included, attempting to enter or depart, after

public notification through customary channels, are captured and

confiscated as remorselessly as could be done by the most greedy

privateer. Thus constituted, the operation receives far wider scope than

commerce-destruction on the high seas; for this is confined to

merchantmen of belligerents, while commercial blockade, by universal

consent, subjects to capture neutrals who attempt to infringe it,

because, by attempting to defeat the efforts of one belligerent, they

make themselves parties to the war.

In fact, commercial blockade, though most effective as a military

measure in broad results, is so distinctly commerce-destructive in

essence, that those who censure the one form must logically proceed to

denounce the other. This, as has been seen, Napoleon did; alleging in

his Berlin Decree, in 1806, that war cannot be extended to any private

property whatever, and that the right of blockade is restricted to

_fortified_ places, actually invested by competent forces. This he had

the face to assert, at the very moment when he was compelling every

vanquished state to extract, from the private means of its subjects,

coin running up to hundreds of millions to replenish his military chest

for further extension of hostilities. Had this dictum been accepted

international law in 1861, the United States could not have closed the

ports of the Confederacy, the commerce of which would have proceeded

unmolested; and hostile measures being consequently directed against

men’s persons instead of their trade, victory, if accomplished at all,

would have cost three lives for every two actually lost.

It is apparent, immediately on statement, that against

commerce-destruction by blockade, the recourse of the weaker maritime

belligerent is commerce-destruction by cruisers on the high sea.

Granting equal efficiency in the use of either measure, it is further

plain that the latter is intrinsically far less efficacious. To cut off

access to a city is much more certainly accomplished by holding the

gates than by scouring the country in search of persons seeking to

enter. Still, one can but do what one can. In 1861 to 1865, the Southern

Confederacy, unable to shake off the death grip fastened on its throat,

attempted counteraction by means of the “Alabama,” “Sumter,” and their

less famous consorts, with what disastrous influence upon the

navigation—the shipping—of the Union it is needless to insist. But while

the shipping of the opposite belligerent was in this way not only

crippled, but indirectly was swept from the seas, the Confederate

cruisers, not being able to establish a blockade, could not prevent

neutral vessels from carrying on the commerce of the Union. This

consequently suffered no serious interruption; whereas the produce of

the South, its inconvertible wealth—cotton chiefly—was practically

useless to sustain the financial system and credit of the people. So, in

1812 and the two years following, the United States flooded the seas

with privateers, producing an effect upon British commerce which, though

inconclusive singly, doubtless co-operated powerfully with other motives

to dispose the enemy to liberal terms of peace. It was the reply, and

the only possible reply, to the commercial blockade, the grinding

efficacy of which it will be a principal object of these pages to

depict. The issue to us has been accurately characterized by Mr. Henry

Adams, in the single word “Exhaustion.”[30]

Both parties to the War of 1812 being conspicuously maritime in

disposition and occupation, while separated by three thousand miles of

ocean, the sea and its navigable approaches became necessarily the most

extensive scene of operations. There being between them great inequality

of organized naval strength and of pecuniary resources, they inevitably

resorted, according to their respective force, to one or the other form

of maritime hostilities against commerce which have been indicated. To

this procedure combats on the high seas were merely incidental.

Tradition, professional pride, and the combative spirit inherent in both

peoples, compelled fighting when armed vessels of nearly equal strength

met; but such contests, though wholly laudable from the naval

standpoint, which under ordinary circumstances cannot afford to

encourage retreat from an equal foe, were indecisive of general results,

however meritorious in particular execution. They had no effect upon the

issue, except so far as they inspired moral enthusiasm and confidence.

Still more, in the sequel they have had a distinctly injurious effect

upon national opinion in the United States. In the brilliant exhibition

of enterprise, professional skill, and usual success, by its naval

officers and seamen, the country has forgotten the precedent neglect of

several administrations to constitute the navy as strong in proportion

to the means of the country as it was excellent through the spirit and

acquirements of its officers. Sight also has been lost of the actual

conditions of repression, confinement, and isolation, enforced upon the

maritime frontier during the greater part of the war, with the misery

and mortification thence ensuing. It has been widely inferred that the

maritime conditions in general were highly flattering to national pride,

and that a future emergency could be confronted with the same supposed

facility, and as little preparation, as the odds of 1812 are believed to

have been encountered and overcome. This mental impression, this

picture, is false throughout, alike in its grouping of incidents, in its

disregard of proportion, and in its ignoring of facts. The truth of this

assertion will appear in due course of this narrative, and it will be

seen that, although relieved by many brilliant incidents, indicative of

the real spirit and capacity of the nation, the record upon the whole is

one of gloom, disaster, and governmental incompetence, resulting from

lack of national preparation, due to the obstinate and blind

prepossessions of the Government, and, in part, of the people.

_Command of the Sea Decisive_[31]

It is not the taking of individual ships or convoys, be they few or

many, that strikes down the money power of a nation; it is the

possession of that overbearing power on the sea which drives the enemy’s

flag from it, or allows it to appear only as a fugitive; and which, by

controlling the great common, closes the highways by which commerce

moves to and from the enemy’s shores. This overbearing power can only be

exercised by great navies, and by them (on the broad sea) less

efficiently now than in the days when the neutral flag had not its

present immunity.[32] It is not unlikely that, in the event of a war

between maritime nations, an attempt may be made by the one having a

great sea power and wishing to break down its enemy’s commerce, to

interpret the phrase “effective blockade” in the manner that best suits

its interests at the time; to assert that the speed and disposal of its

ships make the blockade effective at much greater distances and with

fewer ships than formerly. The determination of such a question will

depend, not upon the weaker belligerent, but upon neutral powers; it

will raise the issue between belligerent and neutral rights; and if the

belligerent have a vastly overpowering navy he may carry his point, just

as England, when possessing the mastery of the seas, long refused to

admit the doctrine of the neutral flag covering the goods.

11. STRATEGIC FEATURES OF THE GULF OF MEXICO AND THE CARIBBEAN[33]

In the special field proposed for our study, there are two principal

points of such convergence—or divergence: the mouth of the Mississippi

River, and the Central-American Isthmus. At the time when these lectures

were first written the opinion of the world was hesitating between

Panama and Nicaragua as the best site for a canal through the Isthmus.

This question having now been settled definitively in favor of Panama,

the particular point of convergence for trade routes passing through the

Caribbean for the Pacific will continue at Colon, whither it for so long

has been determined because there is the terminus of the Panama

Railroad.

These two meeting points or cross-roads have long been, and still are,

points of supreme interest to all mankind. At the one all the highways

of the Mississippi valley, all the tributaries and sub-tributaries of

the great river, meet, and thence they part. At the other all highways

between the Atlantic and Pacific focus and intersect. The advancing

population and development of the Mississippi valley, and the completion

of the Panama Canal, will work together to cause this international

interest to grow proportionately in the future. Among the great Powers

of the world, no one is concerned so vitally in this progress as is the

United States; because of her possession of one of these centers, the

mouth of the Mississippi with its huge back country, and because of her

geographical nearness to the other. This peculiar interest, which is

natural and inevitable in virtue of proximity, is emphasized by the

national policy known as the Monroe Doctrine; and still more by the

particular result of the Doctrine which has involved the control,

administration, and military protection of that belt of Isthmian

territory called the Panama Canal Zone.

[Illustration: GULF OF MEXICO AND CARIBBEAN SEA]

[In the intervening pages, it is shown that the triangle drawn on the

map (p. 101) includes all points of strategic importance, these being

indicated by black squares. Cuba is the key to the Gulf of Mexico, and

also controls three entrances to the Caribbean—the Yucatan, Windward,

and Mona Passages. The entrances, the chief points of destination

(Jamaica and the Isthmus), and the routes thither, constitute the main

objects of military control in the Caribbean.—EDITOR.]

... Taking all together, control over transit depending upon situation

only, other conditions being equal, is greatest with Jamaica, next with

Cuba, least with the Lesser Antilles.

Accepting these conclusions as to control over transit, we now revert to

that question to which all other inquiries are subsidiary, namely, Which

of the three bases of operations in the Caribbean—one of the Lesser

Antilles, Jamaica, or Cuba with its sphere of influence—is most powerful

for military control of the principal objective points in the same sea?

These principal objectives are Jamaica and the Isthmus; concerning the

relative importance of which it may be remarked that, while the Isthmus

intrinsically, and to the general interest of the world, is incomparably

the more valuable, the situation of Jamaica gives such command over all

the approaches to the Isthmus, as to make it in a military sense the

predominant factor in the control of the Caribbean. Jamaica is a

pre-eminent instance of central position, conferring the advantage of

interior lines, for action in every direction within the field to which

it belongs.

Military control depends chiefly upon two things, position and active

military strength. As equal military strength has been assumed

throughout, it is now necessary only to compare the positions held by

other states in the field with that of the occupant of Cuba. This

inquiry also is limited to the ability either to act offensively against

these objective points, or, on the contrary, to defend them if already

held by oneself or an ally; transit having been considered already.

Control by virtue of position, over a point external to your territory,

depends upon nearness in point of time and upon the absence of obstacles

capable of delaying or preventing your access to it.

Both Santiago (or Guantanamo) and Cienfuegos are nearer to the Isthmus

than is any other one of the first-class strategic points that have been

chosen on the _borders_ of the Caribbean Sea, including Samana Bay and

St. Thomas. They are little more than half the distance of the British

Santa Lucia and the French Martinique. The formidable island and

military stronghold of Jamaica, _within_ the sea, is nearer the Isthmus

than Guantanamo is, by one hundred and fifty miles, and than Cienfuegos

by yet more.

Taking into consideration situation only, Jamaica is admirably placed

for the control of the Caribbean. It is equidistant from Colon, from the

Yucatan Passage, and from the Mona Passage. It shares with Guantanamo

and Santiago control of the Windward Passage, and of that along the

south coast of Cuba; while, with but a slight stretching out of its arm,

it reaches the routes from the Gulf of Mexico to the Isthmus. Above all,

as towards Cuba, it so blocks the road to the Isthmus that any attempt

directed upon the Isthmus from Cuba must first have to account with the

military and naval forces of Jamaica.

There are, however, certain deductions to be made from the strength of

Jamaica that do not apply as forcibly to Cuba. Leaving to one side the

great and widely scattered colonial system of Great Britain, which

always throws that empire on the defensive and invites division of the

fleet, owing to the large number of points open to attack, and confining

our attention strictly to the field before us, it will be observed that

in a scheme of British operations Jamaica is essentially, as has been

said before, an advanced post; singularly well situated, it is true, but

still with long and difficult communications. Its distance from Antigua,

a possible intermediate base of supplies, is over nine hundred miles;

from Santa Lucia, the chief British naval station in the Lesser

Antilles, over one thousand miles, not less than three days’ economical

steaming. Great Britain, if at war with a state possessing Cuba, is shut

out from the Windward Passage by Guantanamo, and from the Gulf of Mexico

by Havana. The Mona Passage, also, though not necessarily closed, will

be too dangerous to be relied upon. For these reasons, in order to

maintain communications with Jamaica, an intermediate position and

depot, like Santa Lucia, will be urgently needed. Supplies coming from

Bermuda, Halifax, or England would probably have to be collected first

there, or at Antigua, and thence make a more secure, but still exposed,

voyage to Kingston. The north coasts of Cuba and Haiti must be looked

upon as practically under the control of the Cuban fleet, in consequence

of the command which it exercises over the Windward Passage, by virtue

of position.

The possessor of Cuba, on the contrary, by his situation has open

communication with the Gulf of Mexico, which amounts to saying that he

has all the resources of the United States at his disposal, through the

Mississippi Valley. Cruisers from Jamaica attempting to intercept that

trade would be at a great disadvantage, especially as to coal, compared

with their enemy resting upon Havana. Cruisers from Havana, reaching

their cruising ground with little or no consumption, can therefore

remain longer, and consequently are equivalent to a greater number of

ships. On the other hand, cruisers from Santiago could move almost with

impunity by the north side of Haiti as far as the Mona Passage, and

beyond that without any other risk than that of meeting and fighting

vessels of equal size. If they stretch their efforts toward the Anegada

Passage, they would feel the same disadvantage, relatively to cruisers

from Santa Lucia, that Jamaica cruisers in the Gulf would undergo as

compared with those from Havana; but by inclining their course more to

the northward, to or about the point Q (see map, page 101), they would

there be equidistant from Guantanamo and Santa Lucia, and so on an

equality with the latter, while at the same time in a position gravely

to endanger supplies from any point in North America. If it be replied

that Bermuda can take care of these cruisers at Q, the answer is plain:

on the supposition of equal forces, it can do so only by diminishing the

force at Santa Lucia. In short, when compared with Jamaica, in respect

of strategic relations to Bermuda, Halifax, and Santa Lucia, Cuba enjoys

the immense advantage of a central position, and of interior lines of

communication, with consequent concentration of force and effort.

It is not easy to see how, in the face of these difficulties, Great

Britain, in the supposed case of equal force in this theater of war,

could avoid dividing her fleet sufficiently to put Jamaica at a

disadvantage as to Cuba. In truth, Cuba here enjoys not only the other

advantages of situation already pointed out, but also that of being

central as regards the enemy’s positions; and what is, perhaps, even

more important, she possesses secure interior land lines of supply and

coal between the points of her base, while covering the sea lines in her

rear, in the Gulf of Mexico. For Guantanamo and Santiago have

communication by rail with Havana, while the island itself covers the

lines from Havana to the Gulf coast of the United States; whereas

Jamaica depends wholly upon the sea, by lines of communication not

nearly as well sheltered.

Contrasted with Cuba, Jamaica is seen to be, as has been more than once

said, a strong advanced post, thrust well forward into the face of an

enemy to which it is much inferior in size and resources, and therefore

dependent for existence upon its power of holding out, despite uncertain

and possibly suspended communication. Its case resembles that of

Minorca, Malta, Gibraltar, the endurance of which, when cut off from the

sea, has always been measurable. The question here before us, however,

is not that of mere holding out on the defensive, which would be

paralysis. If Cuba can reduce Jamaica to a passive defensive, Jamaica

disappears as a factor in the control of the Caribbean and Isthmus—no

obstacle then stands in the way of Cuba using her nearness to Panama. If

Cuba can bring about a scarcity of coal at Kingston she achieves a

strategic advantage; if a coal famine, the enemy’s battle fleet must

retire, probably to the Lesser Antilles.

The case of Jamaica, contrasted with Cuba, covers that of all strategic

points on the borders of the Caribbean Sea, east, west, north, or south.

Almost on the border itself, although within it, Jamaica has in

nearness, in situation, in size, and in resources, a decisive advantage

over any of the ports of Haiti or of the smaller islands. If Jamaica is

inferior to Cuba, then is each of the other points on the circumference,

and, it may be added, all of them together....

[It is shown that, while Santa Lucia is essential to Jamaica, the two

are too far apart to work together in concert. As for the Lesser

Antilles, they may be said to control the approaches from Europe, while

Cuba controls those from North America; but the Antilles are twice as

far from the Isthmus as Cuba is, and much weaker in resources.—EDITOR.]

As to resources, those of all the West India islands for war will depend

mainly upon the policy and preparation of the governments. Except Cuba,

they are deficient in natural resources adequately developed. Outside of

direct governmental action it can only be said that the much greater

population of Cuba will draw more supplies and furnish more material for

troops and garrisons. At present, as already noted, the resources of the

United States are in effect also the resources of Cuba.

As between the three possible bases for attempted control of the

Caribbean, no doubts can remain that Cuba is the most powerful, Jamaica

next, and the Antilles least. Jamaica being where it is, Cuba cannot put

forth her power against the Isthmus or against the lines of transit in

the Caribbean, until she has materially reduced, if not neutralized, the

offensive power of her smaller opponent. Upon the supposition of equal

fleets, if the Cuban fleet move against the Isthmus, or into the

Caribbean, it uncovers its communications; if it seeks to cover these,

it divides its force. Jamaica exactly meets the case supposed in a

previous chapter: “If, in moving upon the coveted objective you pass by

a strategic point held by the enemy, capable of sheltering his ships—a

point from which he may probably intercept your supplies of coal or

ammunition, the circle of influence of that point will require your

attention and reduce your force.”

In that case it was laid down that, if you cannot observe the port

without reducing your fleet below that of the enemy, you must not divide

it; either the intermediate point must be taken, or, if you think you

can accomplish your special aim with the supplies on board, you may cut

loose from your base, giving up your communications. Undoubtedly, the

same difficulty would be felt by the Jamaica fleet, if it moved away

from home leaving the Cuban fleet in port in Santiago or Guantanamo;

but, of the two, Jamaica has the inside track. It is not so with

operations based upon the Lesser Antilles only, and directed against the

Isthmus, or against any position in the western basin of the Caribbean,

Cuba being hostile; the line of communication in that case is so long as

to be a very serious comparative disadvantage.

Upon the whole, then, Jamaica, though less powerful than Cuba, seems to

deserve the title of the “key to the Caribbean.” Only when Cuba has

mastered it can she predominantly control the positions of that sea. But

if Jamaica in this sense be the key, Cuba has the grip that can wrest it

away. Secure as to her own communications, in the rear, towards the Gulf

of Mexico, Cuba has it in her power to impose upon her enemy a line so

long and insecure as to be finally untenable. First a scarcity of coal,

then a famine, lastly the retreat of the Jamaica fleet to the most

available coal station. Such is the solution I believe possible to the

military problem of the Caribbean as dependent upon geographical

conditions,—that is, upon positions; concerning which Napoleon has said

that “War is a business of positions.” The instant the Cuban fleet has

gained a decided superiority over that of Jamaica, it can take a

position covering at once the approaches to that island and the Windward

Channel, keeping all its own ships in hand while cutting off the enemy’s

supplies and reinforcements. The converse is not true of the Jamaica

fleet, in case it gains a momentary superiority, because the southern

ports of Cuba should be able to receive supplies by land, from the Gulf

of Mexico through Havana.

The general discussion of the strategic features of the Gulf of Mexico

and Caribbean ends here; but the treatment of the subject will not be

complete, unless there be some further specific consideration of the

bearing which the conclusions reached have upon the facilities of the

United States for naval action in the region studied.

[The political developments between 1887 and 1911 are here considered,

including the growth of the American Navy; the construction of the

Panama Canal; the acquisition by the United States of strategic points

along the line from Key West to Culebra Island, centering at Guantanamo

and “most effectual for military and naval action in the Caribbean;”

and, finally, our increased responsibilities arising from the growth of

the German Navy and the consequent limitation of England’s co-operation

in support of the Monroe Doctrine.—EDITOR.]

... The Caribbean Sea and the Isthmus of Panama furnish the student of

naval strategy with a very marked illustration of the necessity of such

cohesion and mutual support between military positions assumed; as well

as between those positions and the army in the field,—that is, the navy.

It affords therefore a subject of the first importance for such a

student to master, and that in fuller detail than is expedient for a

series of lectures, the object of which should be to suggest lines of

thought, rather than to attempt exhaustive treatment. For an American

naval officer, the intimate relation of the Isthmus and its coming canal

to the mutual support of the Atlantic and Pacific coasts renders the

subject doubly interesting. This interest is yet farther increased by

the consideration that the general international importance to commerce

of such a point as the Canal can scarcely fail to make the conditions of

its tenure and use a source of international difference and negotiation,

which often are war under another form; that is, the solution depends

upon military power, even though held in the background. There are

questions other than commercial dependent upon the tenure of the

Isthmus, of which I will not here speak explicitly. To appreciate them

fully there must be constant reading and reflection upon the general

topics of the day.

One thing is sure: in the Caribbean Sea is the strategic key to the two

great oceans, the Atlantic and Pacific, our own chief maritime

frontiers.

12. PRINCIPLES OF NAVAL ADMINISTRATION

_Opposing Elements_[34]

Administration being a term of very general application, it will be

expected that that of the navy should present close analogies, and even

points of identity, with other forms of administration; for instance,

that in it, as elsewhere, efficiency of result will be better secured by

individual responsibility than by collective responsibility. But, along

with general resemblance, naval administration is very clearly and

sharply differentiated by the presence of an element which is foreign to

almost all other activities of life in countries like Great Britain and

the United States. The military factor is to it not merely incidental,

but fundamental; whatever other result may be achieved, naval

administration has failed unless it provides to the nation an efficient

fighting body, directed by well-trained men, animated by a strong

military spirit. On the other hand, many of the operations connected

with it differ from those common to civil life only in a certain

particularity of method. This is true in principal measure of the

financial management, of the medical establishment, and to a

considerable though much smaller degree of the manufacturing processes

connected with the production of naval material. The business routine of

even the most military department of a naval administration is in itself

more akin to civil than to military life: but it by no means follows

that those departments would be better administered under men of civil

habits of thought than by those of military training. The method exists

for the result, and an efficient fighting body is not to be attained by

weakening the appreciation of military necessities at the very fountain

head of their supply in the administration. This necessary appreciation

can be the result only of personal experience of good and bad through

the formative period of life.

We find, therefore, at the very outset of our inquiry two fundamental

yet opposing elements, neither of which can be eliminated. Nor can they

be reconciled, in the sense of becoming sympathetic. In its proper

manifestation the jealousy between the civil and military spirits is a

healthy symptom. They can be made to work together harmoniously and

efficiently; to complement, not to antagonize each other; provided means

are taken to ensure to each its due relative precedence and weight in

the determination of practical questions.

Historically, the institution and development of naval administration

has been essentially a civil process, the object of which has been to

provide and keep in readiness a national weapon for war. The end is

war—fighting; the instrument is the navy; the means are the various

activities which we group under the head of administration. Of these

three, the end necessarily conditions the others. The proverb is

familiar, “He who wills the end wills the means.” Whatever is essential

to the spirit and organization of the navy afloat, to its efficiency for

war, must find itself adequately represented in the administration, in

order that the exigencies of fighting may be kept well to the front in

governmental and national consideration. Since armies and navies have

existed as permanent national institutions, there has been a constant

struggle on the part of the military element to keep the end—fighting,

or readiness to fight—superior to mere administrative considerations.

This is but natural, for all men tend to magnify their office. The

military man having to do the fighting, considers that the chief

necessity; the administrator equally naturally tends to think the smooth

running of the machine the most admirable quality. Both are necessary;

but the latter cannot obtain under the high pressure of war unless in

peace the contingency of war has dictated its system. There is a quaint,

well-worn story, which yet may be new to some readers, of an

administrator who complained that his office was working admirably until

war came and threw everything out of gear.

The opposition between civil and military, necessitating their due

adjustment, may be said to be original, of the nature of things. It is

born with naval administration. Corresponding roughly to these primary

factors are the two principal activities in which administration is

exerted—organization and execution. These also bear to each other the

relation of means to end. Organization is not for itself, but is a means

to an ultimate executive action; in the case of a navy, to war or to the

prevention of war. It is, therefore, in its end—war—that organization

must find the conditions dictating its character. Whatever the system

adopted, it must aim above all at perfect efficiency in military action;

and the nearer it approaches to this ideal the better it is. It would

seem that this is too obvious for mention. It may be for mention; but

not for reiteration. The long record of naval history on the side of

administration shows a constant predominance of other considerations,

and the abiding necessity for insisting, in season and out of season,

that the one test of naval administration is not the satisfactory or

economical working of the office, as such, but the readiness of the navy

in all points for war. The one does not exclude the other; but there is

between them the relation of greater and less.

Both organization and execution are properties alike of the active navy,

the instrument for war, and of the naval administration, the means which

has been constituted to create and maintain the instrument; but from

their respective spheres, and in proportion to their relative nearness

to the great final end of war, the one or the other characteristic is

found predominant. The naval officer on board his ship, face to face

with the difficulties of the profession, and in daily contact with the

grim implements which remind him of the eventualities of his calling,

naturally sees in organization mainly a means to an end. Some indeed

fall short. The martinet is a man to whom the organization is more than

a means; but he is the exception. Naval administration, on the other

hand, in the common acceptation of the term, is mostly office work. It

comes into contact with the navy proper chiefly through official

correspondence, less by personal intercourse with the officers

concerned; still less by immediate contact with the daily life of the

profession, which it learns at second hand. It consequently tends to

overvalue the orderly routine and observance of the system by which it

receives information, transmits orders, checks expenditure, files

returns, and, in general, keeps with the service the touch of paper; in

short, the organization which has been created for facilitating its own

labors. In due measure these are imperatively necessary; but it is

undeniable that the practical tendency is to exaggerate their importance

relatively to the executive end proposed. The writer was once visiting a

French captain, who in the course of the interview took up wearily a

mass of papers from a desk beside him. “I wonder,” said he, “whether all

this is as bad with you as with us. Look at our Navy Register;” and

dividing the pages into two parts, severally about one-sixth and

five-sixths of the whole, he continued, “This, the smaller, is the Navy;

and that is the Administration.” No wonder he had papers galore;

administration needs papers, as a mill needs grist.

Even in the case of naval officers entering administrative offices, the

influence of prolonged tenure is in the same direction. The habits of a

previous lifetime doubtless act as a check, in proportion to the

strength they have acquired in the individual. They serve as an

invaluable leaven, not only to his own thought but to that of his

associates. Nevertheless, the experience is general that permanence in

an office essentially civil tends to deaden the intimate appreciation of

naval exigencies; yet upon this alone can thrive that sympathy between

the administrative and executive functions of the navy which is

requisite to efficiency. The habit of the arm-chair easily prevails over

that of the quarterdeck; it is more comfortable. For this reason, in the

best-considered systems, a frequent exchange between the civil and

military parts of their profession, between the administrative offices

and the army or fleet, is thought expedient for officers who show

aptitude for the former. It is better for them personally, better for

the administration, and consequently better for the service at large. It

prevails extensively in the United States Navy, where it is frequently

the subject of ill-instructed outside criticism on the score of

sea-officers being on “shore duty.” Without asserting that the exact

proportions of service are always accurately observed, it may be

confidently affirmed that the interchange between the civil and military

occupations tends to facilitate the smooth working of both, by promoting

mutual understanding of conditions and difficulties.

_The British System_[35]

[From 1660 to 1832, British naval administration was divided between a

civilian “Navy Board” and a military “Board of Admiralty.”—EDITOR.]

Divided control means divided responsibility; and that in turn means no

responsibility, or at least one very hard to fix. The abuses that grew

up, especially in the dockyards, the effect of which of course was

transmitted to the navy that depended upon them, led to a loud outcry

throughout the service towards the end of the eighteenth century; but

horses are not swapped when crossing streams, and the exigencies of the

great wars which ended in 1815 made it long impossible to attempt the

revolutionary change needed. This was carried out in 1832 by the

Government which came in with the Reform Bill of 1830. The spirit of the

innovation was summarized in the expression, “Individual (undivided)

Responsibility.” The Navy Board disappeared altogether. The civil

functions which in the process of centuries had accumulated in its

hands, and had culminated by successive additions into a very numerous

and loose aggregation of officials, were concentrated into five heads,

having separate and independent responsibilities; in this resembling the

chiefs of bureau in the United States Naval Administration. Each of the

five was specifically under one of the members of the Admiralty Board,

who thus represented that particular interest of the Navy in the Board

regarded as a consultative body. Admiral Sir Vesey Hamilton writes:

“This was a consolidation of functions and a subordination of the civil

branches to the Admiralty as a whole ... under the Board of Admiralty

collectively and under the Lords individually.” While the First Lord is

a civilian, the majority of the other members of the Admiralty are naval

officers. Authority, therefore, is in civil hands, while military

influence enters strongly.

While I highly appreciate the value of this latter factor, particularly

as the sea lords do not consequently give up their profession, but

remain actively connected with it, it appears to my observation of human

nature that the system has some of the disadvantages of a council of

war, tending to make responsibility elusive. I question, in short, the

entire soundness of a scheme which by its nature, if not by specific

provision, inclines to place executive action in the hands of a

consultative body. It seems to sap individual responsibility; not

perhaps in subordinates, but, what is much worse, in the head, in the

commander-in-chief of the administration, upon whom depend the great

determinative lines of provision and of policy. In conception, the

Admiralty is primarily a Board, secondarily individual members. For

individual responsibility at the head, too much depends upon the

personality of the First Lord, too little upon his position. Since these

lines were first written, five years ago, it may fairly be inferred,

from the language of the English Press, that very decisive changes of

policy have been adopted which are attributed popularly, and even

professionally, to the dominating influence of one of the “Sea” Lords.

During a brief period in 1827, as two centuries before, an arrangement

more formally ideal obtained. The Duke of Clarence, afterwards William

IV, being appointed Lord High Admiral, the Admiralty Board lapsed as a

board and became his council. The modification here made in deference to

royal blood might well serve as a model for naval administration; a head

with advisers feels responsibility more than a head with associates. It

should go without saying that in any case the head must be good.

In the United States Naval Administration the head is one man, with no

division of responsibility. His own superior, the President, may control

his action, as may Congress by law; but this, as far as it goes, is

simply a transfer of responsibility in its entirety. It is not a

division. The Secretary of the Navy has no associates, but he has

subordinates. In them he has capable advisers, so far as he chooses to

use them; but he can transfer to them no responsibility, except that of

doing as he tells them. The responsibility of decision is his alone. The

law constitutes them subordinate executive officers, just as it

constitutes a lieutenant in the navy; but it does not constitute them

advisers, and there is in their position nothing which compels the

Secretary to hear their advice, still less to accept it. Each is

independent of the others, and there is nothing in law to compel

conference between them. The Secretary may assemble them, or any number

of them, as a board for consultation, in his presence or otherwise; but

there is nothing in the system which obliges him to do so. Unity of

action between several naval technical experts, each of whom is

represented in the planning and maintenance of every naval vessel, and

some in every element of naval military efficiency, depends entirely

upon the co-ordinating force of the Secretary, who is a civilian,

possibly with only more or less outside knowledge of the subject. The

system provides no strictly professional unifying force, such as the

Board of Admiralty, which has a numerical preponderance of combatant

sea-officers, each of whom has in individual control one or more of the

technical administrative departments, and may be supposed therefore to

be fully informed of its arguments in any technical matter under

discussion. The constitution of the Admiralty Board also ensures that

all technical details and their effect upon naval efficiency shall be

scrutinized from the point of view of the men who shall do the work of

war. The American plan fixes the very strictest individual

responsibility in the Secretary, and in his principal subordinates, the

chiefs of bureau. His duties are universal and supreme, theirs sharply

defined and mutually independent. This result appears to me superior to

the British, but it has the defects of its qualities; not too much

independence in responsibility, but, so far as the system goes, too

little co-ordination. As I said of the responsibility of the First Lord,

unity of action depends too much on the personality of the Secretary.

_The United States System_[36]

The United States system of naval administration has progressed

successively, and without breach of legislative continuity, from the

simple rudimentary organ, the one man, in whom all functions as well as

all responsibility were centered, through the phase of a complex organ

with aggregate functions and responsibilities, defined, but still

undifferentiated, into an organization elaborate in form, if not final

in development. The process has been from first to last consistent in

principle. The sole control and single responsibility of the

Secretary—the representative of the President—have been preserved

throughout, and all other responsibility is, and has been, not only

subordinate to him but derivative from him, as a branch derives its

being from the root. Moreover, consistency has also been maintained in

restricting the administration thus evolved to the civil function which

it essentially is. From the first departure, in the institution of the

Board of Commissioners, to the present time, it has not had military

authority properly so-called. It has had necessary authority in matters

pertaining to a military establishment, but it has had no direction of

activities in themselves essentially military; that has remained with

the Secretary, and is by him transferred only to officers properly

military in function. Finally, the principle of particular

responsibility has been strictly followed. Within the limits of the duty

assigned, the corporate responsibility of the Board in its day was, and

the individual responsibility of each bureau chief now is, as certain

and defined as that of the Secretary.

The defect of the system is that no means is provided for co-ordinating

the action of the bureaus,[37] except the single authority of the

Secretary. This, in his beginning days of inexperience, together with

his preoccupations with the numerous collateral engagements attendant

upon all positions of public responsibility, will most usually be

inadequate to the task. To indicate a defect is not to prescribe a

remedy; and the purpose of this article is to show things as they are,

not to advocate particular changes. One of the ablest administrative

sea-officers, both afloat and ashore, that I have known in my

professional career, stated before a Congressional committee that he had

“always believed it would be wise to have a board of five officers for

the purpose of harmonizing difficulties between bureaus, settling upon a

ship-building policy, and other matters that embarrass the head of the

Department on account of a lack of professional knowledge.” I do not

undertake to pass an opinion upon this particular suggestion, but

confine myself to remarking that the fault in the system certainly

exists, and that any remedy requires the careful observance of two

points: 1, that the adviser, one or a board, be wholly clear of

administrative activity; and, 2, that he or they be advisers only, pure

and simple, with no power to affect the individual responsibility of

decision. This must be preserved under whatever method, as the

Secretary’s privilege as well as his obligation.

13. THE MILITARY RULE OF OBEDIENCE[38]

It may be asserted, as perhaps the most tenable general definition of

the principle upon which the rule of obedience rests, that the spirit of

obedience, as distinguished from its letter, consists in faithfully

forwarding the general object to which the officer’s particular command

is contributing. This finds expression in the well-known directive

maxim, “March to the sound of the guns.” In doubtful cases, however,—and

by doubtful I mean cases where action other than that prescribed in the

orders seems expedient,—liberty of judgment is conditioned by the

officer’s acquaintance with the plans of his superior. If his knowledge

is imperfect, or altogether lacking, the doing that which at the moment

seems wise to himself may be to defeat a much more important object, or

to dissolve the bonds of a combined movement to which his co-operation

is essential. If, under such circumstances of ignorance, resting only

upon his own sagacity or surmises, he errs either in his reading of his

commander’s general purpose, or in his decision as to his own action,

and through such error disobeys, he cannot complain if he receive

censure or punishment. He has violated a recognized rule without

adequate reason. The rectitude of his intentions may clear him of moral

blame, though not necessarily even so; for the duty of obedience is not

merely military, but moral. It is not an arbitrary rule, but one

essential and fundamental; the expression of a principle without which

military organization would go to pieces, and military success be

impossible. Consequently, even where the individual purpose may be

demonstrably honest, not willful, blame adheres and punishment may

follow, according to the measure of the delinquency, though that be due

to nothing worse than personal incompetency....

No man wrestled with the question more vigorously than Nelson; none

found greater exasperation than he did in the too often successful

opposition of the letter to the demands of his impetuous spirit for

co-operation, addressed to men over whom he had not immediate control;

none was more generous in his attitude to subordinates who overrode or

overpassed his own orders, provided he saw in their acts the intelligent

and honest will to forward his purposes. Obedience he certainly

required; but he recognized that, given a capable and zealous man,

better work would usually be had by permitting a certain elasticity of

initiative, provided it was accompanied by accurate knowledge of his

general wishes. These he was always most careful to impart; in nothing

was he more precise or particular. If he allowed large liberty in the

letter, he expected close observance of, nay, rather, participation in,

the spirit of his ideas. He was not tolerant of incapacity, nor would he

for a moment bear willful disregard of his plans. When considerations of

high policy entertained by himself were crossed by Sidney Smith, his

language became peremptory. “_As this is in strict opposition to my

opinion_, which is _never to suffer any one individual Frenchman to quit

Egypt, I strictly charge and command you_ never to give any French ship

or man leave to quit Egypt.” The italics are his own; and he adds again,

as though distrustful still: “You are to put my orders in force, not on

any pretense to permit a single Frenchman to leave Egypt.” The severity

of the tone sufficiently proves his disposition to enforce the strictest

rule, where necessary to control individuals; but a more liberal

reliance upon principle, in preference to rule, was his habit. None, it

may be added, illustrated more copiously than he, when a junior, the

obedience of the spirit and the disobedience of the letter. His practice

was in this consistent in all stages of his career. Unfortunately, the

example may tempt smaller men to follow where their heads are not steady

enough to keep their feet.

Of course, thinking and feeling thus, he gave frequent expression to his

views, and these, coming from a man of his military genius, are often

very illuminative. There is one such that is singularly applicable to

our present purpose, of searching for the underlying principle which

governs the duty and observance of obedience, and determines its

absolute necessity to all military action. “I find few think as I do,

but to obey orders is all perfection. What would my superiors direct,

did they know what is passing under my nose? To serve my King and to

destroy the French I consider as the great order of all, from which

little ones spring, and if one of these little ones militate against it,

I go back to obey the great order.”

14. PREPAREDNESS FOR NAVAL WAR[39]

Preparation for war, rightly understood, A falls under two

heads,—preparation and preparedness. The one is a question mainly of

material, and is constant in its action. The second involves an idea of

completeness. When, at a particular moment, preparations are completed,

one is prepared—not otherwise. There may have been made a great deal of

very necessary preparation for war without being prepared. Every

constituent of preparation may be behindhand, or some elements may be

perfectly ready, while others are not. In neither case can a state be

said to be prepared.

In the matter of preparation for war, one clear idea should be absorbed

first by every one who, recognizing that war is still a possibility,

desires to see his country ready. This idea is that, however defensive

in origin or in political character a war may be, the assumption of a

simple defensive in war is ruin. War, once declared, must be waged

offensively, aggressively. The enemy must not be fended off, but smitten

down. You may then spare him every exaction, relinquish every gain; but

till down he must be struck incessantly and remorselessly.

Preparation, like most other things, is a question both of kind and of

degree, of quality and of quantity. As regards degree, the general lines

upon which it is determined have been indicated broadly in the preceding

part of this article. The measure of degree is the estimated force which

the strongest probable enemy can bring against you, allowance being made

for clear drawbacks upon his total force, imposed by his own

embarrassments and responsibilities in other parts of the world. The

calculation is partly military, partly political, the latter, however,

being the dominant factor in the premises.

In kind, preparation is twofold,—defensive and offensive. The former

exists chiefly for the sake of the latter, in order that offense, the

determining factor in war, may put forth its full power, unhampered by

concern for the protection of the national interests or for its own

resources. In naval war, coast defense is the defensive factor, the navy

the offensive. Coast defense, when adequate, assures the naval

commander-in-chief that his base of operations—the dockyards and coal

depots—is secure. It also relieves him and his government, by the

protection afforded to the chief commercial centers, from the necessity

of considering them, and so leaves the offensive arm perfectly free.

Coast defense implies coast attack. To what attacks are coast liable?

Two, principally,—blockade and bombardment. The latter, being the more

difficult, includes the former, as the greater does the lesser. A fleet

that can bombard can still more easily blockade. Against bombardment the

necessary precaution is gun-fire, of such power and range that a fleet

cannot lie within bombarding distance. This condition is obtained, where

surroundings permit, by advancing the line of guns so far from the city

involved that bombarding distance can be reached only by coming under

their fire. But it has been demonstrated, and is accepted, that, owing

to their rapidity of movement,—like a flock of birds on the wing,—a

fleet of ships can, without disabling loss, pass by guns before which

they could not lie. Hence arises the necessity of arresting or delaying

their progress by blocking channels, which in modern practice is done by

lines of torpedoes. The mere moral effect of the latter is a deterrent

to a dash past,—by which, if successful, a fleet reaches the rear of the

defenses, and appears immediately before the city, which then lies at

its mercy.

Coast defense, then, implies gun power and torpedo lines placed as

described. Be it said in passing that only places of decisive

importance, commercially or militarily, need such defenses. Modern

fleets cannot afford to waste ammunition in bombarding unimportant

towns,—at least when so far from their own base as they would be on our

coast. It is not so much a question of money as of frittering their

fighting strength. It would not pay.

Even coast defense, however, although essentially passive, should have

an element of offensive force, local in character, distinct from the

offensive navy, of which nevertheless it forms a part. To take the

offensive against a floating force it must itself be afloat—naval. This

offensive element of coast defense is to be found in the torpedo-boat,

in its various developments. It must be kept distinct in idea from the

sea-going fleet, although it is, of course, possible that the two may

act in concert. The war very well may take such a turn that the

sea-going navy will find, its best preparation for initiating an

offensive movement to be by concentrating in a principal seaport.

Failing such a contingency, however, and in and for coast defense in its

narrower sense, there should be a local flotilla of small

torpedo-vessels, which by their activity should make life a burden to an

outside enemy. A distinguished British admiral, now dead, has said that

he believed half the captains of a blockading fleet would break down—“go

crazy” were the words repeated to me—under the strain of modern

conditions. The expression, of course, was intended simply to convey a

sense of the immensity of suspense to be endured. In such a flotilla,

owing to the smallness of its components, and to the simplicity of their

organization and functions, is to be found the best sphere for naval

volunteers; the duties could be learned with comparative ease, and the

whole system is susceptible of rapid development. Be it remembered,

however, that it is essentially defensive, only incidentally offensive,

in character.

Such are the main elements of coast defense—guns, lines of torpedoes,

torpedo-boats. Of these none can be extemporized, with the possible

exception of the last, and that would be only a makeshift. To go into

details would exceed the limits of an article,—require a brief treatise.

Suffice it to say, without the first two, coast cities are open to

bombardment; without the last, they can be blockaded freely, unless

relieved by the sea-going navy. Bombardment and blockade are recognized

modes of warfare, subject only to reasonable notification,—a concession

rather to humanity and equity than to strict law.[40] Bombardment and

blockade directed against great national centers, in the close and

complicated network of national and commercial interests as they exist

in modern times, strike not only the point affected, but every corner of

the land.

The offensive in naval war, as has been said, is the function of the

sea-going navy—of the battleships, and of the cruisers of various sizes

and purposes, including sea-going torpedo-vessels capable of

accompanying a fleet, without impeding its movements by their loss of

speed or unseaworthiness. Seaworthiness, and reasonable speed under all

weather conditions, are qualities necessary to every constituent of a

fleet; but, over and above these, the backbone and real power of any

navy are the vessels which, by due proportion of defensive and offensive

powers, are capable of taking and giving hard knocks. All others are but

subservient to these, and exist only for them.

What is that strength to be? Ships answering to this description are the

_kind_ which make naval strength; what is to be its _degree_? What their

number? The answer—a broad formula—is that it must be great enough to

take the sea, and to fight, with reasonable chances of success, the

largest force likely to be brought against it, as shown by calculations

which have been indicated previously. Being, as we claim, and as our

past history justifies us in claiming, a nation indisposed to

aggression, unwilling to extend our possessions or our interests by war,

the measure of strength we set ourselves depends, necessarily, not upon

our projects of aggrandizement, but upon the disposition of others to

thwart what we consider our reasonable policy, which they may not so

consider. When they resist, what force can they bring against us? That

force must be naval; we have no exposed point upon which land

operations, decisive in character, can be directed. This is the kind of

the hostile force to be apprehended. What may its size be? There is the

measure of our needed strength. The calculation may be intricate, the

conclusion only approximate and probable, but it is the nearest reply we

can reach. So many ships of such and such sizes, so many guns, so much

ammunition—in short, so much naval material.

In the material provisions that have been summarized under the two chief

heads of defense and offense—in coast defense under its three principal

requirements, guns, lines of stationary torpedoes, and torpedo-boats,

and in a navy able to keep the sea in the presence of a probable

enemy—consist what may be called most accurately preparations for war.

In so far as the United States is short in them, she is at the mercy of

an enemy whose naval strength is greater than that of her own available

navy. If her navy cannot keep the enemy off the coast, blockade at least

is possible. If, in addition, there are no harbor torpedo-boats,

blockade is easy. If, further, guns and torpedo lines are deficient,

bombardment comes within the range of possibility, and may reach even

the point of entire feasibility. There will be no time for preparation

after war begins.

[The remainder of the essay considers the vital problem of supplying the

navy with trained men, both in active service and in reserve. It is

pointed out that, of the two systems, compulsory enlistments for short

service and voluntary enlistments for long service, the second system,

which is the one employed by the United States, produces fewer though

better trained reserves; and it therefore necessitates a larger standing

force.—EDITOR.]