UNDER WHAT CONDITIONS REAL COMBATANTS ARE OBTAINED AND HOW THE
FIGHTING OF OUR DAYS, IN ORDER TO BE WELL DONE, REQUIRES THEM TO BE
MORE DEPENDABLE THAN IN ANCIENT COMBAT
Let us repeat now, what we said at the beginning of this study. Man
does not enter battle to fight, but for victory. He does everything
that he can to avoid the first and obtain the second. The continued
improvement of all appliances of war has no other goal than the
annihilation of the enemy. Absolute bravery, which does not refuse
battle even on unequal terms, trusting only to God or to destiny, is
not natural in man; it is the result of moral culture. It is
infinitely rare, because in the face of danger the animal sense of
self-preservation always gains the upper hand. Man calculates his
chances, with what errors we are about to see.
Now, man has a horror of death. In the bravest, a great sense of duty,
which they alone are capable of understanding and living up to, is
paramount. But the mass always cowers at sight of the phantom, death.
Discipline is for the purpose of dominating that horror by a still
greater horror, that of punishment or disgrace. But there always comes
an instant when natural horror gets an upper hand over discipline, and
the fighter flees. "Stop, stop, hold out a few minutes, an instant
more, and you are victor! You are not even wounded yet,--if you turn
your back you are dead!" He does not hear, he cannot hear any more. He
is full of fear. How many armies have sworn to conquer or perish? How
many have kept their oaths? An oath of sheep to stand up against
wolves. History shows, not armies, but firm souls who have fought unto
death, and the devotion of Thermopylae is therefore justly immortal.
Here we are again brought to the consideration of essential truths,
enunciated by many men, now forgotten or unknown.
To insure success in the rude test of conflict, it is not sufficient
to have a mass composed of valiant men like the Gauls or the Germans.
The mass needs, and we give it, leaders who have the firmness and
decision of command proceeding from habit and an entire faith in their
unquestionable right to command as established by tradition, law and
society.
We add good arms. We add methods of fighting suitable to these arms
and those of the enemy and which do not overtax the physical and moral
forces of man. We add also a rational decentralization that permits
the direction and employment of the efforts of all even to the last
man.
We animate with passion, a violent desire for independence, a
religious fanaticism, national pride, a love of glory, a madness for
possession. An iron discipline, which permits no one to escape action,
secures the greatest unity from top to bottom, between all the
elements, between the commanding officers, between the commanding
officers and men, between the soldiers.
Have we then a solid army? Not yet. Unity, that first and supreme
force of armies, is sought by enacting severe laws of discipline
supported by powerful passions. But to order discipline is not enough.
A vigilance from which no one may escape in combat should assure the
maintenance of discipline. Discipline itself depends on moral pressure
which actuates men to advance from sentiments of fear or pride. But it
depends also on surveillance, the mutual supervision of groups of men
who know each other well.
A wise organization insures that the personnel of combat groups
changes as little as possible, so that comrades in peace time
maneuvers shall be comrades in war. From living together, and obeying
the same chiefs, from commanding the same men, from sharing fatigue
and rest, from cooeperation among men who quickly understand each other
in the execution of warlike movements, may be bred brotherhood,
professional knowledge, sentiment, above all unity. The duty of
obedience, the right of imposing discipline and the impossibility of
escaping from it, would naturally follow.
And now confidence appears.
It is not that enthusiastic and thoughtless confidence of tumultous or
unprepared armies which goes up to the danger point and vanishes
rapidly, giving way to a contrary sentiment, which sees treason
everywhere. It is that intimate confidence, firm and conscious, which
does not forget itself in the heat of action and which alone makes
true combatants.
Then we have an army; and it is no longer difficult to explain how men
carried away by passions, even men who know how to die without
flinching, without turning pale, really strong in the presence of
death, but without discipline, without solid organization, are
vanquished by others individually less valiant, but firmly, jointly
and severally combined.
One loves to picture an armed mob upsetting all obstacles and carried
away by a blast of passion.
There is more imagination than truth in that picture. If the struggle
depended on individuals, the courageous, impassioned men, composing
the mob would have more chance of victory. But in any body of troops,
in front of the enemy, every one understands that the task is not the
work of one alone, that to complete it requires team work. With his
comrades in danger brought together under unknown leaders, he feels
the lack of union, and asks himself if he can count on them. A thought
of mistrust leads to hesitation. A moment of it will kill the
offensive spirit.
Unity and confidence cannot be improvised. They alone can create that
mutual trust, that feeling of force which gives courage and daring.
Courage, that is the temporary domination of will over instinct,
brings about victory.
Unity alone then produces fighters. But, as in everything, there are
degrees of unity. Let us see whether modern is in this respect less
exacting than ancient combat.
In ancient combat there was danger only at close quarters. If the
troops had enough morale (which Asiatic hordes seldom had) to meet the
enemy at broadsword's length, there was an engagement. Whoever was
that close knew that he would be killed if he turned his back;
because, as we have seen, the victors lost but few and the vanquished
were exterminated. This simple reasoning held the men and made them
fight, if it was but for an instant.
Neglecting the exceptional and very rare circumstances, which may
bring two forces together, action to-day is brought on and fought out
from afar. Danger begins at great distances, and it is necessary to
advance for a long time under fire which at each step becomes heavier.
The vanquished loses prisoners, but often, in dead and in wounded, he
does not lose more than the victor.
Ancient combat was fought in groups close together, within a small
space, in open ground, in full view of one another, without the
deafening noise of present day arms. Men in formation marched into an
action that took place on the spot and did not carry them thousands of
feet away from the starting point. The surveillance of the leaders was
easy, individual weakness was immediately checked. General
consternation alone caused flight.
To-day fighting is done over immense spaces, along thinly drawn out
lines broken every instant by the accidents and the obstacles of the
terrain. From the time the action begins, as soon as there are rifle
shots, the men spread out as skirmishers or, lost in the inevitable
disorder of a rapid march, [28] escape the supervision of their
commanding officers. A considerable number conceal themselves; [29]
they get away from the engagement and diminish by just so much
the material and moral effect and confidence of the brave ones
who remain. This can bring about defeat.
But let us look at man himself in ancient combat and in modern. In
ancient combat:--I am strong, apt, vigorous, trained, full of
calmness, presence of mind; I have good offensive and defensive
weapons and trustworthy companions of long standing. They do not let
me be overwhelmed without aiding me. I with them, they with me, we are
invincible, even invulnerable. We have fought twenty battles and not
one of us remained on the field. It is necessary to support each other
in time; we see it clearly; we are quick to replace ourselves, to put
a fresh combatant in front of a fatigued adversary. We are the legions
of Marius, fifty thousand who have held out against the furious
avalanches of the Cimbri. We have killed one hundred and forty
thousand, taken prisoner sixty thousand, while losing but two or three
hundred of our inexperienced soldiers.
To-day, as strong, firm, trained, and courageous as I am, I can never
say; I shall return. I have no longer to do with men, whom I do not
fear, I have to do with fate in the form of iron and lead. Death is in
the air, invisible and blind, whispering, whistling. As brave, good,
trustworthy, and devoted as my companions may be, they do not shield
me. Only,--and this is abstract and less immediately intelligible to
all than the material support of ancient combat,--only I imagine that
the more numerous we are who run a dangerous risk, the greater is the
chance for each to escape therefrom. I also know that, if we have that
confidence which none of us should lack in action, we feel, and we
are, stronger. We begin more resolutely, are ready to keep up the
struggle longer, and therefore finish it more quickly.
We finish it! But in order to finish it, it is necessary to advance,
to attack the enemy, [30] and infantryman or troopers, we are naked
against iron, naked against lead, which cannot miss at close range.
Let us advance in any case, resolutely. Our adversary will not stand
at the point-blank range of our rifle, for the attack is never mutual,
we are sure of that. We have been told so a thousand times. We have
seen it. But what if matters should change now! Suppose the enemy
stands at point-blank range! What of that?
How far this is from Roman confidence!
In another place we have shown that in ancient times to retire from
action was both a difficult and perilous matter for the soldier.
To-day the temptation is much stronger, the facility greater and the
peril less.
Now, therefore, combat exacts more moral cohesion, greater unity than
previously. A last remark on the difficulty of obtaining it will
complete the demonstration.
Since the invention of fire arms, the musket, the rifle, the cannon,
the distances of mutual aid and support have increased among the
different arms. [31]
Besides, the facility of communications of all kinds permits the
assembling on a given territory of enormous forces. For these reasons,
as we have stated, battle fields have become immense.
Supervision becomes more and more difficult. Direction being more
distant tends more often to escape from the supreme commanders and the
subordinate leaders. The certain and inevitable disorder, which a body
of troops always presents in action, is with the moral effect of
modern appliances, becoming greater every day. In the midst of the
confusion and the vacillation of firing lines, men and commanding
officers often lose each other.
Troops immediately and hotly engaged, such as companies and squads,
can maintain themselves only if they are well-organized and serve as
supports or rallying points to those out of place. Battles tend to
become now, more than they have ever been, the battles of men.
This ought not to be true! Perhaps. But the fact is that it is true.
Not all troops are immediately or hotly engaged in battle. Commanding
officers always try to keep in hand, as long as possible, some troops
capable of marching, acting at any moment, in any direction. To-day,
like yesterday, like to-morrow, the decisive action is that of formed
troops. Victory belongs to the commander who has known how to keep
them in good order, to hold them, and to direct them.
That is incontrovertible.
But commanders can hold out decisive reserves only if the enemy has
been forced to commit his.
In troops which do the fighting, the men and the officers closest to
them, from corporal to battalion commander, have a more independent
action than ever. As it is alone the vigor of that action, more
independent than ever of the direction of higher commanders, which
leaves in the hands of higher commanders available forces which can be
directed at a decisive moment, that action becomes more preponderant
than ever. Battles, now more than ever, are battles of men, of
captains. They always have been in fact, since in the last analysis
the execution belongs to the man in ranks. But the influence of the
latter on the final result is greater than formerly. From that comes
the maxim of to-day: The battles of men.
Outside of the regulations on tactics and discipline, there is an
evident necessity for combating the hazardous predominance of the
action of the soldier over that of the commander. It is necessary to
delay as long as possible, that instant which modern conditions tend
to hasten--the instant when the soldier gets from under the control of
the commander.
This completes the demonstration of the truth stated before: Combat
requires to-day, in order to give the best results, a moral cohesion,
a unity more binding than at any other time. [32] It is as true as it
is clear, that, if one does not wish bonds to break, one must make
them elastic in order to strengthen them.