principle than the work of Brig. Gen. Paul B. Malone of St.
Aignan-sur-Cher, France, in 1919. He took over a command where
slackness and indiscipline were general. The men were suffering
terrible privation and too many of their officers were indifferent to
their needs. Many of the men had been battle casualties. Some had been
discharged from hospitals before their wounds were healed. The mess
was abominable. The camp was short of firewood and other supply. In
freezing weather, men were sleeping on the ground with only a pair of
blankets apiece. The death toll from influenza, pneumonia, and the
aggravation of battle wounds rose daily. Despair and resentment over
these conditions began to express itself in semiviolent form. Every
fresh breach of discipline was countered with harassing punishments
until an air of wretched stagnation hung over the whole camp. General
Pershing visited the base. The men refused to form for him. When he
tried to address them at a mass meeting, they wouldn't hear him out.
Instead of taking any action against the men, he sent for General
Malone.
The new commander arrived without any instructions except to determine
what was wrong and correct it. With soldierly instinct, he recognized
that the indiscipline of the camp was an effect and not a cause. But
even as he gave orders for relieving the physical distress of the men,
he demanded that they return to orderly habits.
He walked around the areas. Already, on his order, duck-boards were
being laid through the mud, and the whole physical setup was in
process of reorganization. The men, grown listless from weeks of
mistreatment, paid no heed. "Get on your feet! I'm your general. I
respect you but I want your respect," were his words. They restored
the situation. The first impact of this one man on that camp was never
forgotten by anyone who saw it. It is a point to remember: _A firm
hold at the beginning pays tenfold the dividend of a timid approach,
followed by a show of firmness later on._ Within 48 hours the physical
condition of the camp was showing improvement and 60,000 men were
again doing their duty and bearing themselves in a military manner.
The lessons from this one incident stand out like beams from a
searchlight battery.
_One man is able to accomplish a miracle by an act of will accompanied
by good works._
_The morale of the force flows from the self-discipline of the
commander, and in turn, the discipline of the force is reestablished
by the upsurge of its moral power._
_The inculcation of military habits and thoughts is the only means by
which these forces may be made to work together toward more perfect
ends, so that control can be exercised promptly._
When the redeployment period which followed World War II threatened a
complete collapse to the morale of the general military establishment,
the remedy attempted by some unit leaders was to relax discipline and
the work requirement all around. Other officers met this crisis by
improving the conditions of work, setting an example which proved to
the men that they believed in its importance and paying sedulous
attention to the personal problems of those within the unit. They
found that they could still get superior performance in the midst of
chaos. Organic strength materializes in the same way on the field of
war. _However adverse the general situation, men will stick to the one
man who knows what he wants to do and welcomes them to a full share in
the enterprise._
The rule applies in matters great and small. No man who leads a squad
or a squadron, a group of men or a group of armies, can develop within
his force a well-placed confidence in its own powers, if he is
uncertain of himself or doubtful of his object. The moral level of his
men is mainly according to the manner in which he expresses his
personal force working with, and for, them. If he is timid or aloof,
uncommunicative and unenthusiastic, prone to stand on his dignity and
devoid of interest in the human stuff of those who are within his
charge, they will not respond to him, and he will have raised a main
barrier to his own success. If, given a course or taking one of his
own choice, he worries so greatly about the obstacles in his way that
he cannot make penetrating search for the clear channel, he will
waste the powers of his men even though he may have won their
sympathy.
It would be futile to make these comments on the nature of moral
leading if it were not fully within the power of the average young
officer to cut his cloth according to the suggested pattern. The
commonplace that human nature cannot be changed is untrue. The
characters of each of us, and of all of our acquaintances, are greatly
affected by circumstances. No man's impulses are fixed from the
beginning by his native disposition; they remain plastic until the
hour of his death, and whatever touches his circumference, influences
them for better or worse. _The power of decision develops only out of
practice. There is nothing mystic about it. It comes of a clear-eyed
willingness to accept life's risks, recognizing that only the
enfeebled are comforted by thoughts of an existence devoid of
struggle._
Nothing more radical is being suggested here than that the officer who
would make certain that the morale of his men will prove equal to
every change cannot do better than concentrate his best efforts upon
his primary military obligation--his duty to them. They dupe only
themselves who believe that there is a brand of military efficiency
which consists in moving smartly, expediting papers and achieving
perfection in formations, while at the same time slighting or ignoring
the human nature of those whom they command. The art of leadership,
the art of command, whether the forces be large or small, is the art
of dealing with humanity. Only the officer who dedicates his thought
and energy to his men can convert into coherent military force their
desire to be of service to the country. Such were the fundamental
values which Napoleon had in mind when he said that those who would
learn the art of war should study the Great Captains. He was not
speaking of tactics and strategy. He was pointing to the success of
Alexander, Caesar, and Hannibal in moulding raw human nature, and to
their understanding of the thinking of their men and of how to direct
it toward military advantage. These are the grand objects.
Diligence in the care of men, administration of all organizational
affairs according to a standard of resolute justice, military bearing
in one's self, and finally, an understanding of the simple facts that
men in a fighting establishment wish to think of themselves in that
light and that all military information is nourishing to their spirits
and their lives, are the four fundamentals by which the commander
builds an all-sufficing morale in those within his charge.
There are other motor forces and mechanisms, most of which come under
the heading of management principles, and are therefore discussed in
other portions of this volume. The exception is the greatest force of
all--patriotism. It may be deemed beyond argument that belief in the
social order and political doctrine of their country is the foundation
of a loyal, willing spirit in military forces. Yet this alone cannot
assure efficiency in training or a battle _elan_ which is the result
of proper training methods. There is nothing more soulless than a
religion without good works unless it be a patriotism which does not
concern itself with the welfare and dignity of the individual. This is
a simple idea though wise men in all ages have recognized it as one of
the most profound truths. From Aristotle on down the philosophers have
said that the main force in shaping the characters of men is not
teaching and preaching, though these too are important, but the social
framework in which a man lives. In an age when there is widespread
presumption that practical problems can be solved by phrases, the
military body needs more than ever to hold steadfastly to first
principles. It does no good for an officer to talk patriotism to his
men unless he stands four-square with them, and they see in him a
symbol of what is right with the country. Under those circumstances,
he can always talk to them about the cause, and what he says will be a
tonic to morale.
In the Normandy invasion, a young commander of paratroops, Lt. Col.
Edward C. Krause, was given the task of capturing a main enemy
communications center. Three hours before the take-off he assembled
his Battalion, held a small American flag in front of them and said
these words; "This is the first flag raised over the city of Naples.
You put it there. I want it to be the first flag raised over a
liberated town in France. The mission is that we will put it up in
Ste. Mere Eglise before dawn. You have only one order--to come and
fight with me wherever you land. When you get to Ste. Mere Eglise, I
will be there."
The assignment was kept. Next morning, Krause and his men raised the
flag together, even before they had completed capture of the town. As
Americans go, they were extremely rugged individualists. But they were
proud of every line of that story.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ESPRIT
To proceed toward a better understanding of _esprit_ and its part in
the building of military forces, it is necessary to look beyond the
organization and consider the man.
The life of any socially upright individual is organized around only a
few basic loyalties and the degree of satisfaction which he derives
from existence can usually be measured in terms of his service to
them. He is loyal first to himself, for failing that, he fails in
loyalty to all else. If he cannot acquit himself ably for his own
sake, he cannot do honor to anything less personal. Along with loyalty
to self come loyalty to our beliefs, loyalty to family, loyalty to
country, loyalty to friends, and loyalty to humanity in general.
Stated as a factual and not as an ideal matter, the interesting and
important thing that happens to a man when he enters military service
is that, the moment he takes the oath, loyalty to the arms he bears
ranks first on the list, above all other loyalties. To get ahead, to
serve himself well, he must persevere in ways that are most useful to
the organization. If the circumstances of his family are reduced
because of this new loyalty, his means of compensating them is to
strive for such honor as may come to him through service to the United
States. In his life, service to country is no longer a beautiful
abstraction; it is the sternly concrete and unremitting obligation of
service to the regiment, the group or the ship's company. He parts
with old friends and finds new ones.
In this radical reorientation of the individual life and the arbitrary
imposition of a commanding loyalty is to be found the key to the
esprit of any military organization. Too long esprit has been regarded
as something bequeathed to the unit by the dead hand of tradition.
There is nothing moribund about it. It is a dynamic and vital
substance conducted to the living by the living. We can banish from
our minds the idea that esprit is what the regiment, the ship or the
company gives the man because of some spark which its past deeds and
the legends thereof have lighted in him. Esprit, at all times, is what
the unit gives the man, in terms of spiritual force translated into
constructive good. Considering what the unit has taken from him
initially, its obligation is great indeed.
To see this clearly, we need to look once again at what happens to the
individual when he puts on the uniform. The basis of his life changes
in broad and fundamental ways. His legal status is changed; the extent
and intensity of his obligations are magnified. He puts aside the
banner of individualism for that of obedience. Yet in the words of
Chester Barnard: "Scarcely a man, I think, who has felt the
annihilation of his personality in some organized system, has not also
felt that the same system belonged to him because of his own free will
he chose to make it so."
To that must be added the further thought that while the military
service is antecedent to the individual who enters it, that individual
is also in a sense antecedent to the service. He becomes a factor in
the equation which expresses the achievement or the failure of the
service in its particular mission. The thoughtful commander will give
careful regard to that relationship. One man cannot make or break an
Army or a Navy, but he can help break it, since each service at all
times derives its nature from the quality and wills of its men.
General Harbord, in _The American Army in France_, expressed it this
way: "Discipline and morale influence the inarticulate vote that is
constantly taken by masses of men when the order comes to move
forward--a variant of the crowd psychology that inclines it to follow
a leader. But the Army does not move forward until the motion has
carried. 'Unanimous consent' only follows cooperation between the
individual men in ranks."
But we can go one step beyond General Harbord's suggestion that the
multiplied individual acceptance of a command alone gives that command
authority. It is not less true that the multiplied rejection of a
command nullifies it. In other words, authority is the creature rather
than the creator of discipline and obedience. In the more recent
experiences of our arms, under the stresses of battle, there are many
instances of troops being given orders, and refusing to obey. In every
case, the root cause was lack of confidence in the wisdom and ability
of those who led. When a determining number of men in ranks have lost
the will to obey, their erstwhile leader has _ipso facto_ lost the
capacity to command. _In the final analysis, authority is contingent
upon respect far more truly than respect is founded upon authority._
In the words of Col. G. F. R. Henderson: "It is the leader who reckons
with the human nature of his troops, and of the enemy, rather than
with their mere physical attributes, numbers, armament and the like,
who can hope to follow in Napoleon's footsteps."
_Esprit_ then is the product of a thriving mutual confidence between
the leader and the led, founded on the faith that together they
possess a superior quality and capability. The failure of the spirit
of any military organization is less frequently due to what men have
forgotten than to what they can't forget. No "imperishable record" of
past greatness can make men serve with any greater vigor if they are
being served badly. Nor can it sustain the fighting will of the
organization so much as one mil beyond the radius within which living
associations enable men to think great thoughts and act with nobility
toward their fellows. Unless the organization's past conveys to its
officers a sense of having been especially chosen, and unless they
respond to this trust by developing a complete sense of duty toward
their men, the old battle records might as well be poured down the
drain, since they will not rally a single man in the hour of danger.
Said Col. LeRoy P. Hunt in a mimeographed notice to his troops just
prior to the Guadalcanal landing: "We are meeting a tough and wily
opponent but he is not sufficiently tough and wily to overcome us
because We Are Marines." (The capitals are Hunt's.)
Personality plays a part in the ability to command, both under
training conditions and under fire. But though a man be a veritable
John Paul Jones or Mad Anthony Wayne in the time of action, his
hardihood will never wholly undo any prior neglect of his men. While
men may be rallied for a short space by someone setting an example of
great courage, they can be kept in line under conditions of increasing
stress and mounting hardship only when loyalty is based upon a respect
which the commander has won by consistently thoughtful regard for the
welfare and rights of his men, and a correct measuring of his
responsibility to them.
There are a few governing principles, and before considering their
application in detail we should think first about the file. He is a
Man; he expects to be treated as an adult, not as a schoolboy. He has
rights; they must be made known to him and thereafter respected. He
has ambition; it must be stirred. He has a belief in fair play; it
must be honored. He has the need of comradeship; it must be supplied.
He has imagination; it must be stimulated. He has a sense of personal
dignity; it must not be broken down. He has pride; it can be satisfied
and made the bedrock of his character once he gains assurance that he
is playing a useful and respected part in a superior and successful
organization. To give men working as a group the feeling of great
accomplishment together is the acme of inspired leadership.
In the degree that the disciplinary method and the training procedure
of the military service, and the common sense of his superiors,
combine to nourish these satisfactions in the individual, _esprit de
corps_ comes into being and furthers his advance in the practice of
arms and his potential usefulness as a fighting man. He becomes loyal
because loyalty has been given to him. He learns to serve an ideal
because an ideal has served him. For it is to be remembered that it is
always the Army, the Navy or the nation that disengages the man from
his old moorings, but it is the regiment or the ship's company which
gives him a fresh anchor and enables him to feel secure again. The
service cancels out the man's old life; the unit gives him a fresh
start in a new environment, which may prove salutary or utterly
damnable, as the man and the unit together make it. Where there is
enlightened leading, neither can fail the other. _The majority of men,
so long as they are treated fairly and feel that good use is being
made of their powers, will rejoice in a new sense of unity with new
companions even more than they will mind the increased separation from
their old associations._ The ability to adjust is itself a landmark of
success in the life of a normal individual.
This is the primary gift of the organization to the man and the
primary advantage of its relationship to him. Once it has given the
file a sense of belonging, it restores his balance. It is this feeling
of possession which is the beginning of true esprit. Without it, the
man becomes a derelict. Indeed, we may go so far as to say that the
man who lacks it, and does not aspire to it, will almost invariably be
unsuited for combat or any military responsibility of consequence, not
because he is disrespectful of tradition, but because he is a social
outcast with no sense of duty to his fellows.
Referring once again to the list of satisfactions due the man, it will
be noted that they differ little, if at all, from the demands of his
spirit before he has put on the uniform. But there should be marked
also the vital difference that whereas a complex of social and
economic forces and of totally disconnected influences contribute to
his outlook so long as he is a civilian, the measure of his
satisfactions is almost wholly in the hands of the organization once
he has raised his right hand and taken the oath of military service to
country. The condition of his health, the amount of his pay, the
organization of his leisure time, his diet, his sleeping habits, his
sex problems, even the manner in which he shaves and wears his hair,
are matters of organizational concern. Within the new company, he may
either attain greatly, or miserably fail. It should speak to him with
the voice of Stentor, the bronze voice of 10,000 men--meaning the
thousand or so who are still with the ship, the group or the regiment,
and the thousands who are in the shadows but who once served it well,
thereby inspiring those who follow to give an extra portion of service
to their fellows. Unless tradition has that effect upon the living, it
will not produce esprit, but military "mossbackism."
What does this imply in terms of practical application? Simply that
the custodianship of esprit must ever be in the hands of the officer
corps. When the heart of the organization is sound, officership is
able to see its own reflection in the eyes of the enlisted man. For
this simple reason: insofar as his ability to mould the character of
troops is concerned, the qualifying test of the leader is the judgment
placed upon his military abilities by those who serve under him. If
they do not deem him fit to command, he cannot train them to obey. But
if they see in one man directly over them a steady example, the
strongest of their number will model after him, instead of sagging
because of weakness elsewhere in the command structure.
This point is irreducible. Though an officer have absolute confidence
in himself, and though he have an instinct amounting to genius for the
material things of war, these otherwise considerable gifts will avail
him little or nothing if his _manner_ is such that his troops remain
unconvinced of his capacity and doubtful of his power to maintain
command in periods of extreme trial. He will fail because he has not
sufficiently regarded the LAW OF PERSONALITY--LOOKS, ACTIONS, WORDS.
Among military men, there has been much mistaken praise for the virtue
of "mechanical obedience." There is no such thing. Men think in their
smallest actions; if this were not so, it would not be possible to
lead them. What has been blindly termed "mechanical response" requires
perhaps a higher concentration of will than any other type of action,
and hence of thought itself, since the two are inseparable. The forces
in which this characteristic was outstanding have been those which
were led with the highest degree of intelligence and of understanding
of human nature. For unity of spirit and of action, which is the
essence of _esprit de corps_, is of all military miracles the most
difficult to achieve.
Yet its abiding principle is simple. It comes of integrity and
clarification of purpose. The able officer is not a Saul waiting for
the light to strike him on the Damascus road, but a Paul having a
clear understanding that unless the trumpet give forth a certain sound
at all times, none shall prepare himself for the battle.
Given such officers, the organization comes to possess a sense of
unity and of fraternity in its routine existence which expresses
itself as the force of cohesion in the hour when all ranks are
confronted by a common danger. It is not because of mutual enthusiasm
for an honored name but because of mutual confidence in one another
that the ranks of old regiments or the bluejackets serving a ship with
a great tradition are able to convert their esprit into battle
discipline. Under stress they move and act together because they have
imbibed the great lesson, and experience has made its application
almost instinctive, that only in unity is there safety. They believe
that they can trust their comrades and commanders as they would trust
their next of kin. They have learned the necessity of mutual support
and a common danger serves but to bind the ranks closer.
But the race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong.
The newest unit--one born only yesterday--is as susceptible to a
vaulting esprit as any which traces its founding to the beginnings of
the Republic. Led by those who themselves are capable of great
endeavour, who are quick to encourage and slow to disparage, and are
ever ready to make due acknowledgment of worthy effort and to let men
know wherein they are forging ahead, any military organization serving
our flag will come to count this among its strengths.
There are no tricks to the building of esprit. Its techniques are
those which come naturally in the course of stimulating the interest
of ranks in all of the great fundamentals of the military profession,
rather than selling short their intelligence, and taking it for
granted that they want nothing beyond the routine of work, liberty,
mess call, and payday.