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diff --git a/1946-0.txt b/1946-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..789496b --- /dev/null +++ b/1946-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,30155 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of On War, by Carl von Clausewitz + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: On War + +Author: Carl von Clausewitz + +Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1946] +[Last updated: January 10, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON WAR *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + + + + + + + + +On War + +by General Carl von Clausewitz + +TRANSLATED BY COLONEL J.J. GRAHAM + +1874 was 1st edition of this translation. 1909 was the London reprinting. + +NEW AND REVISED EDITION WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY +COLONEL F.N. MAUDE C.B. (LATE R.E.) + + +EIGHTH IMPRESSION IN THREE VOLUMES + + + + + +Contents + + +INTRODUCTION +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION +NOTICE +THE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR + + +BRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL CLAUSEWITZ + +BOOK I. ON THE NATURE OF WAR +CHAPTER I. What is War? +CHAPTER II. Ends and Means in War +CHAPTER III. The Genius for War +CHAPTER IV. Of Danger in War +CHAPTER V. Of Bodily Exertion in War +CHAPTER VI. Information in War +CHAPTER VII. Friction in War +CHAPTER VIII. Concluding Remarks, Book I + +BOOK II. ON THE THEORY OF WAR +CHAPTER I. Branches of the Art of War +CHAPTER II. On the Theory of War +CHAPTER III. Art or Science of War +CHAPTER IV. Methodicism +CHAPTER V. Criticism +CHAPTER VI. On Examples + +BOOK III. OF STRATEGY IN GENERAL +CHAPTER I. Strategy +CHAPTER II. Elements of Strategy +CHAPTER III. Moral Forces +CHAPTER IV. The Chief Moral Powers +CHAPTER V. Military Virtue of an Army +CHAPTER VI. Boldness +CHAPTER VII. Perseverance +CHAPTER VIII. Superiority of Numbers +CHAPTER IX. The Surprise +CHAPTER X. Stratagem +CHAPTER XI. Assembly of Forces in Space +CHAPTER XII. Assembly of Forces in Time +CHAPTER XIII. Strategic Reserve +CHAPTER XIV. Economy of Forces +CHAPTER XV. Geometrical Element +CHAPTER XVI. On the Suspension of the Act in War +CHAPTER XVII. On the Character of Modern War +CHAPTER XVIII. Tension and Rest + +BOOK IV. THE COMBAT +CHAPTER I. Introductory +CHAPTER II. Character of a Modern Battle +CHAPTER III. The Combat in General +CHAPTER IV. The Combat in General (_continuation_) +CHAPTER V. On the Signification of the Combat +CHAPTER VI. Duration of Combat +CHAPTER VII. Decision of the Combat +CHAPTER VIII. Mutual Understanding as to a Battle +CHAPTER IX. The Battle +CHAPTER X. Effects of Victory +CHAPTER XI. The Use of the Battle +CHAPTER XII. Strategic Means of Utilising Victory +CHAPTER XIII. Retreat After a Lost Battle +CHAPTER XIV. Night Fighting + +BOOK V. MILITARY FORCES + CHAPTER I. General Scheme + CHAPTER II. Theatre of War, Army, Campaign + CHAPTER III. Relation of Power + CHAPTER IV. Relation of the Three Arms + CHAPTER V. Order of Battle of an Army + CHAPTER VI. General Disposition of an Army + CHAPTER VII. Advanced Guard and Out-Posts + CHAPTER VIII. Mode of Action of Advanced Corps + CHAPTER IX. Camps + CHAPTER X. Marches + CHAPTER XI. Marches (_continued_) + CHAPTER XII. Marches (_continued_) + CHAPTER XIII. Cantonments + CHAPTER XIV. Subsistence + CHAPTER XV. Base of Operations + CHAPTER XVI. Lines of Communication + CHAPTER XVII. On Country and Ground + CHAPTER XVIII. Command of Ground + +BOOK VI. DEFENCE + CHAPTER I. Offence and Defence + CHAPTER II. The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Tactics + CHAPTER III. The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other in Strategy + CHAPTER IV. Convergence of Attack and Divergence of Defence + CHAPTER V. Character of Strategic Defensive + CHAPTER VI. Extent of the Means of Defence + CHAPTER VII. Mutual Action and Reaction of Attack and Defence + CHAPTER VIII. Methods of Resistance + CHAPTER IX. Defensive Battle + CHAPTER X. Fortresses + CHAPTER XI. Fortresses (_continued_) + CHAPTER XII. Defensive Position + CHAPTER XIII. Strong Positions and Entrenched Camps + CHAPTER XIV. Flank Positions + CHAPTER XV. Defence of Mountains + CHAPTER XVI. Defence of Mountains (_continued_) + CHAPTER XVII. Defence of Mountains (_continued_) + CHAPTER XVIII. Defence of Streams and Rivers + CHAPTER XIX. Defence of Streams and Rivers (_continued_) + CHAPTER XX. A. Defence of Swamps + CHAPTER XX. B. Inundations + CHAPTER XXI. Defence of Forests + CHAPTER XXII. The Cordon + CHAPTER XXIII. Key of the Country + CHAPTER XXIV. Operating Against a Flank + CHAPTER XXV. Retreat into the Interior of the Country + CHAPTER XXVI. Arming the Nation + CHAPTER XXVII. Defence of a Theatre of War + CHAPTER XXVIII. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_) + CHAPTER XXIX. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_)—Successive Resistance + CHAPTER XXX. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_)—When No Decision is Sought For + +BOOK VII. THE ATTACK + CHAPTER I. The Attack in Relation to the Defence + CHAPTER II. Nature of the Strategical Attack + CHAPTER III. On the Objects of Strategical Attack + CHAPTER IV. Decreasing Force of the Attack + CHAPTER V. Culminating Point of the Attack + CHAPTER VI. Destruction of the Enemy’s Armies + CHAPTER VII. The Offensive Battle + CHAPTER VIII. Passage of Rivers + CHAPTER IX. Attack on Defensive Positions + CHAPTER X. Attack on an Entrenched Camp + CHAPTER XI. Attack on a Mountain Range + CHAPTER XII. Attack on Cordon Lines + CHAPTER XIII. Manœuvering + CHAPTER XIV. Attack on Morasses, Inundations, Woods + CHAPTER XV. Attack on a Theatre of War with the View to a Decision + CHAPTER XVI. Attack on a Theatre of War without the View to a Great Decision + CHAPTER XVII. Attack on Fortresses + CHAPTER XVIII. Attack on Convoys + CHAPTER XIX. Attack on the Enemy’s Army in its Cantonments + CHAPTER XX. Diversion + CHAPTER XXI. Invasion + CHAPTER XXII. On the Culminating Point of Victory + +BOOK VIII. PLAN OF WAR + CHAPTER I. Introduction + CHAPTER II. Absolute and Real War + CHAPTER III. A. Interdependence of the Parts in a War + CHAPTER III. B. On the Magnitude of the Object of the War and the Efforts to be Made + CHAPTER IV. Ends in War More Precisely Defined—Overthrow of the Enemy + CHAPTER V. Ends in War More Precisely Defined (_continued_)—Limited Object + CHAPTER VI. A. Influence of the Political Object on the Military Object + CHAPTER VI. B. War as an Instrument of Policy + CHAPTER VII. Limited Object—Offensive War + CHAPTER VIII. Limited Object—Defence + CHAPTER IX. Plan of War When the Destruction of the Enemy is the Object + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The Germans interpret their new national colours—black, red, and +white—by the saying, “Durch Nacht und Blut zur licht.” (“Through night +and blood to light”), and no work yet written conveys to the thinker a +clearer conception of all that the red streak in their flag stands for +than this deep and philosophical analysis of “War” by Clausewitz. + +It reveals “War,” stripped of all accessories, as the exercise of force +for the attainment of a political object, unrestrained by any law save +that of expediency, and thus gives the key to the interpretation of +German political aims, past, present, and future, which is +unconditionally necessary for every student of the modern conditions of +Europe. Step by step, every event since Waterloo follows with logical +consistency from the teachings of Napoleon, formulated for the first +time, some twenty years afterwards, by this remarkable thinker. + +What Darwin accomplished for Biology generally Clausewitz did for the +Life-History of Nations nearly half a century before him, for both have +proved the existence of the same law in each case, viz., “The survival +of the fittest”—the “fittest,” as Huxley long since pointed out, not +being necessarily synonymous with the ethically “best.” Neither of +these thinkers was concerned with the ethics of the struggle which each +studied so exhaustively, but to both men the phase or condition +presented itself neither as moral nor immoral, any more than are +famine, disease, or other natural phenomena, but as emanating from a +force inherent in all living organisms which can only be mastered by +understanding its nature. It is in that spirit that, one after the +other, all the Nations of the Continent, taught by such drastic lessons +as Königgrätz and Sedan, have accepted the lesson, with the result that +to-day Europe is an armed camp, and _peace is maintained by the +equilibrium of forces, and will continue just as long as this +equilibrium exists, and no longer._ + +Whether this state of equilibrium is in itself a good or desirable +thing may be open to argument. I have discussed it at length in my “War +and the World’s Life”; but I venture to suggest that to no one would a +renewal of the era of warfare be a change for the better, as far as +existing humanity is concerned. Meanwhile, however, with every year +that elapses the forces at present in equilibrium are changing in +magnitude—the pressure of populations which have to be fed is rising, +and an explosion along the line of least resistance is, sooner or +later, inevitable. + +As I read the teaching of the recent Hague Conference, no responsible +Government on the Continent is anxious to form in themselves that line +of least resistance; _they_ know only too well what War would mean; and +we alone, absolutely unconscious of the trend of the dominant thought +of Europe, are pulling down the dam which may at any moment let in on +us the flood of invasion. + +Now no responsible man in Europe, perhaps least of all in Germany, +thanks us for this voluntary destruction of our defences, for all who +are of any importance would very much rather end their days in peace +than incur the burden of responsibility which War would entail. But +they realise that the gradual dissemination of the principles taught by +Clausewitz has created a condition of molecular tension in the minds of +the Nations they govern analogous to the “critical temperature of water +heated above boiling-point under pressure,” which may at any moment +bring about an explosion which they will be powerless to control. + +The case is identical with that of an ordinary steam boiler, delivering +so and so many pounds of steam to its engines as long as the envelope +can contain the pressure; but let a breach in its continuity +arise—relieving the boiling water of all restraint—and in a moment the +whole mass flashes into vapour, developing a power no work of man can +oppose. + +The ultimate consequences of defeat no man can foretell. The only way +to avert them is to ensure victory; and, again following out the +principles of Clausewitz, victory can only be ensured by the creation +in peace of an organisation which will bring every available man, +horse, and gun (or ship and gun, if the war be on the sea) in the +shortest possible time, and with the utmost possible momentum, upon the +decisive field of action—which in turn leads to the final doctrine +formulated by Von der Goltz in excuse for the action of the late +President Kruger in 1899: + +“The Statesman who, knowing his instrument to be ready, and seeing War +inevitable, hesitates to strike first is guilty of a crime against his +country.” + +It is because this sequence of cause and effect is absolutely unknown +to our Members of Parliament, elected by popular representation, that +all our efforts to ensure a lasting peace by securing _efficiency with +economy_ in our National Defences have been rendered nugatory. + +This estimate of the influence of Clausewitz’s sentiments on +contemporary thought in Continental Europe may appear exaggerated to +those who have not familiarised themselves with M. Gustav de Bon’s +exposition of the laws governing the formation and conduct of crowds I +do not wish for one minute to be understood as asserting that +Clausewitz has been conscientiously studied and understood in _any_ +Army, not even in the Prussian, but his work has been the ultimate +foundation on which every drill regulation in Europe, except our own, +has been reared. It is this ceaseless repetition of his fundamental +ideas to which one-half of the male population of every Continental +Nation has been subjected for two to three years of their lives, which +has tuned their minds to vibrate in harmony with his precepts, and +those who know and appreciate this fact at its true value have only to +strike the necessary chords in order to evoke a response sufficient to +overpower any other ethical conception which those who have not +organised their forces beforehand can appeal to. + +The recent set-back experienced by the Socialists in Germany is an +illustration of my position. The Socialist leaders of that country are +far behind the responsible Governors in their knowledge of the +management of crowds. The latter had long before (in 1893, in fact) +made their arrangements to prevent the spread of Socialistic propaganda +beyond certain useful limits. As long as the Socialists only threatened +capital they were not seriously interfered with, for the Government +knew quite well that the undisputed sway of the employer was not for +the ultimate good of the State. The standard of comfort must not be +pitched too low if men are to be ready to die for their country. But +the moment the Socialists began to interfere seriously with the +discipline of the Army the word went round, and the Socialists lost +heavily at the polls. + +If this power of predetermined reaction to acquired ideas can be evoked +successfully in a matter of internal interest only, in which the +“obvious interest” of the vast majority of the population is so clearly +on the side of the Socialist, it must be evident how enormously greater +it will prove when set in motion against an external enemy, where the +“obvious interest” of the people is, from the very nature of things, as +manifestly on the side of the Government; and the Statesman who failed +to take into account the force of the “resultant thought wave” of a +crowd of some seven million men, all trained to respond to their +ruler’s call, would be guilty of treachery as grave as one who failed +to strike when he knew the Army to be ready for immediate action. + +As already pointed out, it is to the spread of Clausewitz’s ideas that +the present state of more or less immediate readiness for war of all +European Armies is due, and since the organisation of these forces is +uniform this “more or less” of readiness exists in precise proportion +to the sense of duty which animates the several Armies. Where the +spirit of duty and self-sacrifice is low the troops are unready and +inefficient; where, as in Prussia, these qualities, by the training of +a whole century, have become instinctive, troops really are ready to +the last button, and might be poured down upon any one of her +neighbours with such rapidity that the very first collision must +suffice to ensure ultimate success—a success by no means certain if the +enemy, whoever he may be, is allowed breathing-time in which to set his +house in order. + +An example will make this clearer. In 1887 Germany was on the very +verge of War with France and Russia. At that moment her superior +efficiency, the consequence of this inborn sense of duty—surely one of +the highest qualities of humanity—was so great that it is more than +probable that less than six weeks would have sufficed to bring the +French to their knees. Indeed, after the first fortnight it would have +been possible to begin transferring troops from the Rhine to the +Niemen; and the same case may arise again. But if France and Russia had +been allowed even ten days’ warning the German plan would have been +completely defeated. France alone might then have claimed all the +efforts that Germany could have put forth to defeat her. + +Yet there are politicians in England so grossly ignorant of the German +reading of the Napoleonic lessons that they expect that Nation to +sacrifice the enormous advantage they have prepared by a whole century +of self-sacrifice and practical patriotism by an appeal to a Court of +Arbitration, and the further delays which must arise by going through +the medieval formalities of recalling Ambassadors and exchanging +ultimatums. + +Most of our present-day politicians have made their money in business—a +“form of human competition greatly resembling War,” to paraphrase +Clausewitz. Did they, when in the throes of such competition, send +formal notice to their rivals of their plans to get the better of them +in commerce? Did Mr. Carnegie, the arch-priest of Peace at any price, +when he built up the Steel Trust, notify his competitors when and how +he proposed to strike the blows which successively made him master of +millions? Surely the Directors of a Great Nation may consider the +interests of their shareholders—i.e., the people they govern—as +sufficiently serious not to be endangered by the deliberate sacrifice +of the preponderant position of readiness which generations of +self-devotion, patriotism and wise forethought have won for them? + +As regards the strictly military side of this work, though the recent +researches of the French General Staff into the records and documents +of the Napoleonic period have shown conclusively that Clausewitz had +never grasped the essential point of the Great Emperor’s strategic +method, yet it is admitted that he has completely fathomed the spirit +which gave life to the form; and notwithstanding the variations in +application which have resulted from the progress of invention in every +field of national activity (not in the technical improvements in +armament alone), this spirit still remains the essential factor in the +whole matter. Indeed, if anything, modern appliances have intensified +its importance, for though, with equal armaments on both sides, the +form of battles must always remain the same, the facility and certainty +of combination which better methods of communicating orders and +intelligence have conferred upon the Commanders has rendered the +control of great masses immeasurably more certain than it was in the +past. + +Men kill each other at greater distances, it is true—but killing is a +constant factor in all battles. The difference between “now and then” +lies in this, that, thanks to the enormous increase in range (the +essential feature in modern armaments), it is possible to concentrate +by surprise, on any chosen spot, a man-killing power fully twentyfold +greater than was conceivable in the days of Waterloo; and whereas in +Napoleon’s time this concentration of man-killing power (which in his +hands took the form of the great case-shot attack) depended almost +entirely on the shape and condition of the ground, which might or might +not be favourable, nowadays such concentration of fire-power is almost +independent of the country altogether. + +Thus, at Waterloo, Napoleon was compelled to wait till the ground +became firm enough for his guns to gallop over; nowadays every gun at +his disposal, and five times that number had he possessed them, might +have opened on any point in the British position he had selected, as +soon as it became light enough to see. + +Or, to take a more modern instance, viz., the battle of St. +Privat-Gravelotte, August 18, 1870, where the Germans were able to +concentrate on both wings batteries of two hundred guns and upwards, it +would have been practically impossible, owing to the section of the +slopes of the French position, to carry out the old-fashioned case-shot +attack at all. Nowadays there would be no difficulty in turning on the +fire of two thousand guns on any point of the position, and switching +this fire up and down the line like water from a fire-engine hose, if +the occasion demanded such concentration. + +But these alterations in method make no difference in the truth of the +picture of War which Clausewitz presents, with which every soldier, and +above all every Leader, should be saturated. + +Death, wounds, suffering, and privation remain the same, whatever the +weapons employed, and their reaction on the ultimate nature of man is +the same now as in the struggle a century ago. It is this reaction that +the Great Commander has to understand and prepare himself to control; +and the task becomes ever greater as, fortunately for humanity, the +opportunities for gathering experience become more rare. + +In the end, and with every improvement in science, the result depends +more and more on the character of the Leader and his power of resisting +“the sensuous impressions of the battlefield.” Finally, for those who +would fit themselves in advance for such responsibility, I know of no +more inspiring advice than that given by Krishna to Arjuna ages ago, +when the latter trembled before the awful responsibility of launching +his Army against the hosts of the Pandav’s: + +This Life within all living things, my Prince, +Hides beyond harm. Scorn thou to suffer, then, +For that which cannot suffer. Do thy part! +Be mindful of thy name, and tremble not. +Nought better can betide a martial soul +Than lawful war. Happy the warrior +To whom comes joy of battle.... +. . . But if thou shunn'st +This honourable field—a Kshittriya— +If, knowing thy duty and thy task, thou bidd'st +Duty and task go by—that shall be sin! +And those to come shall speak thee infamy +From age to age. But infamy is worse +For men of noble blood to bear than death! +. . . . . . +Therefore arise, thou Son of Kunti! Brace +Thine arm for conflict; nerve thy heart to meet, +As things alike to thee, pleasure or pain, +Profit or ruin, victory or defeat. +So minded, gird thee to the fight, for so +Thou shalt not sin! + + +COL. F. N. MAUDE, C.B., _late_ R.E. + + + +PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION + +It will naturally excite surprise that a preface by a female hand +should accompany a work on such a subject as the present. For my +friends no explanation of the circumstance is required; but I hope by a +simple relation of the cause to clear myself of the appearance of +presumption in the eyes also of those to whom I am not known. + +The work to which these lines serve as a preface occupied almost +entirely the last twelve years of the life of my inexpressibly beloved +husband, who has unfortunately been torn too soon from myself and his +country. To complete it was his most earnest desire; but it was not his +intention that it should be published during his life; and if I tried +to persuade him to alter that intention, he often answered, half in +jest, but also, perhaps, half in a foreboding of early death: “_Thou_ +shalt publish it.” These words (which in those happy days often drew +tears from me, little as I was inclined to attach a serious meaning to +them) make it now, in the opinion of my friends, a duty incumbent on me +to introduce the posthumous works of my beloved husband, with a few +prefatory lines from myself; and although here may be a difference of +opinion on this point, still I am sure there will be no mistake as to +the feeling which has prompted me to overcome the timidity which makes +any such appearance, even in a subordinate part, so difficult for a +woman. + +It will be understood, as a matter of course, that I cannot have the +most remote intention of considering myself as the real editress of a +work which is far above the scope of my capacity: I only stand at its +side as an affectionate companion on its entrance into the world. This +position I may well claim, as a similar one was allowed me during its +formation and progress. Those who are acquainted with our happy married +life, and know how we shared _everything_ with each other—not only joy +and sorrow, but also every occupation, every interest of daily +life—will understand that my beloved husband could not be occupied on a +work of this kind without its being known to me. Therefore, no one can +like me bear testimony to the zeal, to the love with which he laboured +on it, to the hopes which he bound up with it, as well as the manner +and time of its elaboration. His richly gifted mind had from his early +youth longed for light and truth, and, varied as were his talents, +still he had chiefly directed his reflections to the science of war, to +which the duties of his profession called him, and which are of such +importance for the benefit of States. Scharnhorst was the first to lead +him into the right road, and his subsequent appointment in 1810 as +Instructor at the General War School, as well as the honour conferred +on him at the same time of giving military instruction to H.R.H. the +Crown Prince, tended further to give his investigations and studies +that direction, and to lead him to put down in writing whatever +conclusions he arrived at. A paper with which he finished the +instruction of H.R.H. the Crown Prince contains the germ of his +subsequent works. But it was in the year 1816, at Coblentz, that he +first devoted himself again to scientific labours, and to collecting +the fruits which his rich experience in those four eventful years had +brought to maturity. He wrote down his views, in the first place, in +short essays, only loosely connected with each other. The following, +without date, which has been found amongst his papers, seems to belong +to those early days. + +“In the principles here committed to paper, in my opinion, the chief +things which compose Strategy, as it is called, are touched upon. I +looked upon them only as materials, and had just got to such a length +towards the moulding them into a whole. + +“These materials have been amassed without any regularly preconceived +plan. My view was at first, without regard to system and strict +connection, to put down the results of my reflections upon the most +important points in quite brief, precise, compact propositions. The +manner in which Montesquieu has treated his subject floated before me +in idea. I thought that concise, sententious chapters, which I proposed +at first to call grains, would attract the attention of the intelligent +just as much by that which was to be developed from them, as by that +which they contained in themselves. I had, therefore, before me in +idea, intelligent readers already acquainted with the subject. But my +nature, which always impels me to development and systematising, at +last worked its way out also in this instance. For some time I was able +to confine myself to extracting only the most important results from +the essays, which, to attain clearness and conviction in my own mind, I +wrote upon different subjects, to concentrating in that manner their +spirit in a small compass; but afterwards my peculiarity gained +ascendency completely—I have developed what I could, and thus naturally +have supposed a reader not yet acquainted with the subject. + +“The more I advanced with the work, and the more I yielded to the +spirit of investigation, so much the more I was also led to system; and +thus, then, chapter after chapter has been inserted. + +“My ultimate view has now been to go through the whole once more, to +establish by further explanation much of the earlier treatises, and +perhaps to condense into results many analyses on the later ones, and +thus to make a moderate whole out of it, forming a small octavo volume. +But it was my wish also in this to avoid everything common, everything +that is plain of itself, that has been said a hundred times, and is +generally accepted; for my ambition was to write a book that would not +be forgotten in two or three years, and which any one interested in the +subject would at all events take up more than once.” + +In Coblentz, where he was much occupied with duty, he could only give +occasional hours to his private studies. It was not until 1818, after +his appointment as Director of the General Academy of War at Berlin, +that he had the leisure to expand his work, and enrich it from the +history of modern wars. This leisure also reconciled him to his new +avocation, which, in other respects, was not satisfactory to him, as, +according to the existing organisation of the Academy, the scientific +part of the course is not under the Director, but conducted by a Board +of Studies. Free as he was from all petty vanity, from every feeling of +restless, egotistical ambition, still he felt a desire to be really +useful, and not to leave inactive the abilities with which God had +endowed him. In active life he was not in a position in which this +longing could be satisfied, and he had little hope of attaining to any +such position: his whole energies were therefore directed upon the +domain of science, and the benefit which he hoped to lay the foundation +of by his work was the object of his life. That, notwithstanding this, +the resolution not to let the work appear until after his death became +more confirmed is the best proof that no vain, paltry longing for +praise and distinction, no particle of egotistical views, was mixed up +with this noble aspiration for great and lasting usefulness. + +Thus he worked diligently on, until, in the spring of 1830, he was +appointed to the artillery, and his energies were called into activity +in such a different sphere, and to such a high degree, that he was +obliged, for the moment at least, to give up all literary work. He then +put his papers in order, sealed up the separate packets, labelled them, +and took sorrowful leave of this employment which he loved so much. He +was sent to Breslau in August of the same year, as Chief of the Second +Artillery District, but in December recalled to Berlin, and appointed +Chief of the Staff to Field-Marshal Count Gneisenau (for the term of +his command). In March 1831, he accompanied his revered Commander to +Posen. When he returned from there to Breslau in November after the +melancholy event which had taken place, he hoped to resume his work and +perhaps complete it in the course of the winter. The Almighty has +willed it should be otherwise. On the 7th November he returned to +Breslau; on the 16th he was no more; and the packets sealed by himself +were not opened until after his death. + +The papers thus left are those now made public in the following +volumes, exactly in the condition in which they were found, without a +word being added or erased. Still, however, there was much to do before +publication, in the way of putting them in order and consulting about +them; and I am deeply indebted to several sincere friends for the +assistance they have afforded me, particularly Major O’Etzel, who +kindly undertook the correction of the Press, as well as the +preparation of the maps to accompany the historical parts of the work. +I must also mention my much-loved brother, who was my support in the +hour of my misfortune, and who has also done much for me in respect of +these papers; amongst other things, by carefully examining and putting +them in order, he found the commencement of the revision which my dear +husband _wrote in the year_ 1827, and mentions in the _Notice_ +hereafter annexed as a work he had in view. This revision has been +inserted in the place intended for it in the first book (for it does +not go any further). + +There are still many other friends to whom I might offer my thanks for +their advice, for the sympathy and friendship which they have shown me; +but if I do not name them all, they will, I am sure, not have any +doubts of my sincere gratitude. It is all the greater, from my firm +conviction that all they have done was not only on my own account, but +for the friend whom God has thus called away from them so soon. + +If I have been highly blessed as the wife of such a man during one and +twenty years, so am I still, notwithstanding my irreparable loss, by +the treasure of my recollections and of my hopes, by the rich legacy of +sympathy and friendship which I owe the beloved departed, by the +elevating feeling which I experience at seeing his rare worth so +generally and honourably acknowledged. + +The trust confided to me by a Royal Couple is a fresh benefit for which +I have to thank the Almighty, as it opens to me an honourable +occupation, to which I devote myself. May this occupation be blessed, +and may the dear little Prince who is now entrusted to my care, some +day read this book, and be animated by it to deeds like those of his +glorious ancestors. + +Written at the Marble Palace, Potsdam, 30th June, 1832. + + +MARIE VON CLAUSEWITZ, +_Born_ Countess Brühl, +Oberhofmeisterinn to H.R.H. the Princess William. + + + +NOTICE + +I look upon the first six books, of which a fair copy has now been +made, as only a mass which is still in a manner without form, and which +has yet to be again revised. In this revision the two kinds of War will +be everywhere kept more distinctly in view, by which all ideas will +acquire a clearer meaning, a more precise direction, and a closer +application. The two kinds of War are, first, those in which the object +is the _overthrow of the enemy_, whether it be that we aim at his +destruction, politically, or merely at disarming him and forcing him to +conclude peace on our terms; and next, those in which our object is +_merely to make some conquests on the frontiers of his country_, either +for the purpose of retaining them permanently, or of turning them to +account as matter of exchange in the settlement of a peace. Transition +from one kind to the other must certainly continue to exist, but the +completely different nature of the tendencies of the two must +everywhere appear, and must separate from each other things which are +incompatible. + +Besides establishing this real difference in Wars, another practically +necessary point of view must at the same time be established, which is, +that _War is only a continuation of State policy by other means_. This +point of view being adhered to everywhere, will introduce much more +unity into the consideration of the subject, and things will be more +easily disentangled from each other. Although the chief application of +this point of view does not commence until we get to the eighth book, +still it must be completely developed in the first book, and also lend +assistance throughout the revision of the first six books. Through such +a revision the first six books will get rid of a good deal of dross, +many rents and chasms will be closed up, and much that is of a general +nature will be transformed into distinct conceptions and forms. + +The seventh book—on attack—for the different chapters of which sketches +are already made, is to be considered as a reflection of the sixth, and +must be completed at once, according to the above-mentioned more +distinct points of view, so that it will require no fresh revision, but +rather may serve as a model in the revision of the first six books. + +For the eighth book—on the _Plan of a War_, that is, of the +organisation of a whole War in general—several chapters are designed, +but they are not at all to be regarded as real materials, they are +merely a track, roughly cleared, as it were, through the mass, in order +by that means to ascertain the points of most importance. They have +answered this object, and I propose, on finishing the seventh book, to +proceed at once to the working out of the eighth, where the two points +of view above mentioned will be chiefly affirmed, by which everything +will be simplified, and at the same time have a spirit breathed into +it. I hope in this book to iron out many creases in the heads of +strategists and statesmen, and at least to show the object of action, +and the real point to be considered in War. + +Now, when I have brought my ideas clearly out by finishing this eighth +book, and have properly established the leading features of War, it +will be easier for me to carry the spirit of these ideas in to the +first six books, and to make these same features show themselves +everywhere. Therefore I shall defer till then the revision of the first +six books. + +Should the work be interrupted by my death, then what is found can only +be called a mass of conceptions not brought into form; but as these are +open to endless misconceptions, they will doubtless give rise to a +number of crude criticisms: for in these things, every one thinks, when +he takes up his pen, that whatever comes into his head is worth saying +and printing, and quite as incontrovertible as that twice two make +four. If such a one would take the pains, as I have done, to think over +the subject, for years, and to compare his ideas with military history, +he would certainly be a little more guarded in his criticism. + +Still, notwithstanding this imperfect form, I believe that an impartial +reader thirsting for truth and conviction will rightly appreciate in +the first six books the fruits of several years’ reflection and a +diligent study of War, and that, perhaps, he will find in them some +leading ideas which may bring about a revolution in the theory of War. + +_Berlin_, 10_th July_, 1827. + + +Besides this notice, amongst the papers left the following unfinished +memorandum was found, which appears of very recent date: + +The manuscript on the conduct of the _Grande Guerre_, which will be +found after my death, in its present state can only be regarded as a +collection of materials from which it is intended to construct a theory +of War. With the greater part I am not yet satisfied; and the sixth +book is to be looked at as a mere essay: I should have completely +remodelled it, and have tried a different line. + +But the ruling principles which pervade these materials I hold to be +the right ones: they are the result of a very varied reflection, +keeping always in view the reality, and always bearing in mind what I +have learnt by experience and by my intercourse with distinguished +soldiers. + +The seventh book is to contain the attack, the subjects of which are +thrown together in a hasty manner: the eighth, the plan for a War, in +which I would have examined War more especially in its political and +human aspects. + +The first chapter of the first book is the only one which I consider as +completed; it will at least serve to show the manner in which I +proposed to treat the subject throughout. + +The theory of the _Grande Guerre_, or Strategy, as it is called, is +beset with extraordinary difficulties, and we may affirm that very few +men have clear conceptions of the separate subjects, that is, +conceptions carried up to their full logical conclusions. In real +action most men are guided merely by the tact of judgment which hits +the object more or less accurately, according as they possess more or +less genius. + +This is the way in which all great Generals have acted, and therein +partly lay their greatness and their genius, that they always hit upon +what was right by this tact. Thus also it will always be in action, and +so far this tact is amply sufficient. But when it is a question, not of +acting oneself, but of convincing others in a consultation, then all +depends on clear conceptions and demonstration of the inherent +relations, and so little progress has been made in this respect that +most deliberations are merely a contention of words, resting on no firm +basis, and ending either in every one retaining his own opinion, or in +a compromise from mutual considerations of respect, a middle course +really without any value.(*) + +(*) Herr Clausewitz evidently had before his mind the endless +consultations at the Headquarters of the Bohemian Army in the Leipsic +Campaign 1813. + + +Clear ideas on these matters are therefore not wholly useless; besides, +the human mind has a general tendency to clearness, and always wants to +be consistent with the necessary order of things. + +Owing to the great difficulties attending a philosophical construction +of the Art of War, and the many attempts at it that have failed, most +people have come to the conclusion that such a theory is impossible, +because it concerns things which no standing law can embrace. We should +also join in this opinion and give up any attempt at a theory, were it +not that a great number of propositions make themselves evident without +any difficulty, as, for instance, that the defensive form, with a +negative object, is the stronger form, the attack, with the positive +object, the weaker—that great results carry the little ones with +them—that, therefore, strategic effects may be referred to certain +centres of gravity—that a demonstration is a weaker application of +force than a real attack, that, therefore, there must be some special +reason for resorting to the former—that victory consists not merely in +the conquest on the field of battle, but in the destruction of armed +forces, physically and morally, which can in general only be effected +by a pursuit after the battle is gained—that successes are always +greatest at the point where the victory has been gained, that, +therefore, the change from one line and object to another can only be +regarded as a necessary evil—that a turning movement is only justified +by a superiority of numbers generally or by the advantage of our lines +of communication and retreat over those of the enemy—that flank +positions are only justifiable on similar grounds—that every attack +becomes weaker as it progresses. + + + +THE INTRODUCTION OF THE AUTHOR + +That the conception of the scientific does not consist alone, or +chiefly, in system, and its finished theoretical constructions, +requires nowadays no exposition. System in this treatise is not to be +found on the surface, and instead of a finished building of theory, +there are only materials. + +The scientific form lies here in the endeavour to explore the nature of +military phenomena to show their affinity with the nature of the things +of which they are composed. Nowhere has the philosophical argument been +evaded, but where it runs out into too thin a thread the Author has +preferred to cut it short, and fall back upon the corresponding results +of experience; for in the same way as many plants only bear fruit when +they do not shoot too high, so in the practical arts the theoretical +leaves and flowers must not be made to sprout too far, but kept near to +experience, which is their proper soil. + +Unquestionably it would be a mistake to try to discover from the +chemical ingredients of a grain of corn the form of the ear of corn +which it bears, as we have only to go to the field to see the ears +ripe. Investigation and observation, philosophy and experience, must +neither despise nor exclude one another; they mutually afford each +other the rights of citizenship. Consequently, the propositions of this +book, with their arch of inherent necessity, are supported either by +experience or by the conception of War itself as external points, so +that they are not without abutments.(*) + +(*) That this is not the case in the works of many military writers +especially of those who have aimed at treating of War itself in a +scientific manner, is shown in many instances, in which by their +reasoning, the pro and contra swallow each other up so effectually that +there is no vestige of the tails even which were left in the case of +the two lions. + + +It is, perhaps, not impossible to write a systematic theory of War full +of spirit and substance, but ours hitherto, have been very much the +reverse. To say nothing of their unscientific spirit, in their striving +after coherence and completeness of system, they overflow with +commonplaces, truisms, and twaddle of every kind. If we want a striking +picture of them we have only to read Lichtenberg’s extract from a code +of regulations in case of fire. + +If a house takes fire, we must seek, above all things, to protect the +right side of the house standing on the left, and, on the other hand, +the left side of the house on the right; for if we, for example, should +protect the left side of the house on the left, then the right side of +the house lies to the right of the left, and consequently as the fire +lies to the right of this side, and of the right side (for we have +assumed that the house is situated to the left of the fire), therefore +the right side is situated nearer to the fire than the left, and the +right side of the house might catch fire if it was not protected before +it came to the left, which is protected. Consequently, something might +be burnt that is not protected, and that sooner than something else +would be burnt, even if it was not protected; consequently we must let +alone the latter and protect the former. In order to impress the thing +on one’s mind, we have only to note if the house is situated to the +right of the fire, then it is the left side, and if the house is to the +left it is the right side. + +In order not to frighten the intelligent reader by such commonplaces, +and to make the little good that there is distasteful by pouring water +upon it, the Author has preferred to give in small ingots of fine metal +his impressions and convictions, the result of many years’ reflection +on War, of his intercourse with men of ability, and of much personal +experience. Thus the seemingly weakly bound-together chapters of this +book have arisen, but it is hoped they will not be found wanting in +logical connection. Perhaps soon a greater head may appear, and instead +of these single grains, give the whole in a casting of pure metal +without dross. + + + +BRIEF MEMOIR OF GENERAL CLAUSEWITZ +(BY TRANSLATOR) + +The Author of the work here translated, General Carl Von Clausewitz, +was born at Burg, near Magdeburg, in 1780, and entered the Prussian +Army as Fahnenjunker (_i.e._, ensign) in 1792. He served in the +campaigns of 1793-94 on the Rhine, after which he seems to have devoted +some time to the study of the scientific branches of his profession. In +1801 he entered the Military School at Berlin, and remained there till +1803. During his residence there he attracted the notice of General +Scharnhorst, then at the head of the establishment; and the patronage +of this distinguished officer had immense influence on his future +career, and we may gather from his writings that he ever afterwards +continued to entertain a high esteem for Scharnhorst. In the campaign +of 1806 he served as Aide-de-camp to Prince Augustus of Prussia; and +being wounded and taken prisoner, he was sent into France until the +close of that war. On his return, he was placed on General +Scharnhorst’s Staff, and employed in the work then going on for the +reorganisation of the Army. He was also at this time selected as +military instructor to the late King of Prussia, then Crown Prince. In +1812 Clausewitz, with several other Prussian officers, having entered +the Russian service, his first appointment was as Aide-de-camp to +General Phul. Afterwards, while serving with Wittgenstein’s army, he +assisted in negotiating the famous convention of Tauroggen with York. +Of the part he took in that affair he has left an interesting account +in his work on the “Russian Campaign.” It is there stated that, in +order to bring the correspondence which had been carried on with York +to a termination in one way or another, the Author was despatched to +York’s headquarters with two letters, one was from General d’Auvray, +the Chief of the Staff of Wittgenstein’s army, to General Diebitsch, +showing the arrangements made to cut off York’s corps from Macdonald +(this was necessary in order to give York a plausible excuse for +seceding from the French); the other was an intercepted letter from +Macdonald to the Duke of Bassano. With regard to the former of these, +the Author says, “it would not have had weight with a man like York, +but for a military justification, if the Prussian Court should require +one as against the French, it was important.” + +The second letter was calculated at the least to call up in General +York’s mind all the feelings of bitterness which perhaps for some days +past had been diminished by the consciousness of his own behaviour +towards the writer. + +As the Author entered General York’s chamber, the latter called out to +him, “Keep off from me; I will have nothing more to do with you; your +d——d Cossacks have let a letter of Macdonald’s pass through them, which +brings me an order to march on Piktrepohnen, in order there to effect +our junction. All doubt is now at an end; your troops do not come up; +you are too weak; march I must, and I must excuse myself from further +negotiation, which may cost me my head.” The Author said that he would +make no opposition to all this, but begged for a candle, as he had +letters to show the General, and, as the latter seemed still to +hesitate, the Author added, “Your Excellency will not surely place me +in the embarrassment of departing without having executed my +commission.” The General ordered candles, and called in Colonel von +Roeder, the chief of his staff, from the ante-chamber. The letters were +read. After a pause of an instant, the General said, “Clausewitz, you +are a Prussian, do you believe that the letter of General d’Auvray is +sincere, and that Wittgenstein’s troops will really be at the points he +mentioned on the 31st?” The Author replied, “I pledge myself for the +sincerity of this letter upon the knowledge I have of General d’Auvray +and the other men of Wittgenstein’s headquarters; whether the +dispositions he announces can be accomplished as he lays down I +certainly cannot pledge myself; for your Excellency knows that in war +we must often fall short of the line we have drawn for ourselves.” The +General was silent for a few minutes of earnest reflection; then he +held out his hand to the Author, and said, “You have me. Tell General +Diebitsch that we must confer early to-morrow at the mill of Poschenen, +and that I am now firmly determined to separate myself from the French +and their cause.” The hour was fixed for 8 A.M. After this was settled, +the General added, “But I will not do the thing by halves, I will get +you Massenbach also.” He called in an officer who was of Massenbach’s +cavalry, and who had just left them. Much like Schiller’s Wallenstein, +he asked, walking up and down the room the while, “What say your +regiments?” The officer broke out with enthusiasm at the idea of a +riddance from the French alliance, and said that every man of the +troops in question felt the same. + +“You young ones may talk; but my older head is shaking on my +shoulders,” replied the General.(*) + +(*) “Campaign in Russia in 1812”; translated from the German of General +Von Clausewitz (by Lord Ellesmere). + + +After the close of the Russian campaign Clausewitz remained in the +service of that country, but was attached as a Russian staff officer to +Blücher’s headquarters till the Armistice in 1813. + +In 1814, he became Chief of the Staff of General Walmoden’s +Russo-German Corps, which formed part of the Army of the North under +Bernadotte. His name is frequently mentioned with distinction in that +campaign, particularly in connection with the affair of Goehrde. + +Clausewitz re-entered the Prussian service in 1815, and served as Chief +of the Staff to Thielman’s corps, which was engaged with Grouchy at +Wavre, on the 18th of June. + +After the Peace, he was employed in a command on the Rhine. In 1818, he +became Major-General, and Director of the Military School at which he +had been previously educated. + +In 1830, he was appointed Inspector of Artillery at Breslau, but soon +after nominated Chief of the Staff to the Army of Observation, under +Marshal Gneisenau on the Polish frontier. + +The latest notices of his life and services are probably to be found in +the memoirs of General Brandt, who, from being on the staff of +Gneisenau’s army, was brought into daily intercourse with Clausewitz in +matters of duty, and also frequently met him at the table of Marshal +Gneisenau, at Posen. + +Amongst other anecdotes, General Brandt relates that, upon one +occasion, the conversation at the Marshal’s table turned upon a sermon +preached by a priest, in which some great absurdities were introduced, +and a discussion arose as to whether the Bishop should not be made +responsible for what the priest had said. This led to the topic of +theology in general, when General Brandt, speaking of himself, says, “I +expressed an opinion that theology is only to be regarded as an +historical process, as a _moment_ in the gradual development of the +human race. This brought upon me an attack from all quarters, but more +especially from Clausewitz, who ought to have been on my side, he +having been an adherent and pupil of Kiesewetter’s, who had +indoctrinated him in the philosophy of Kant, certainly diluted—I might +even say in homœopathic doses.” This anecdote is only interesting as +the mention of Kiesewetter points to a circumstance in the life of +Clausewitz that may have had an influence in forming those habits of +thought which distinguish his writings. + +“The way,” says General Brandt, “in which General Clausewitz judged of +things, drew conclusions from movements and marches, calculated the +times of the marches, and the points where decisions would take place, +was extremely interesting. Fate has unfortunately denied him an +opportunity of showing his talents in high command, but I have a firm +persuasion that as a strategist he would have greatly distinguished +himself. As a leader on the field of battle, on the other hand, he +would not have been so much in his right place, from a _manque +d’habitude du commandement_, he wanted the art _d’enlever les +troupes_.” + +After the Prussian Army of Observation was dissolved, Clausewitz +returned to Breslau, and a few days after his arrival was seized with +cholera, the seeds of which he must have brought with him from the army +on the Polish frontier. His death took place in November 1831. + +His writings are contained in nine volumes, published after his death, +but his fame rests most upon the three volumes forming his treatise on +“War.” In the present attempt to render into English this portion of +the works of Clausewitz, the translator is sensible of many +deficiencies, but he hopes at all events to succeed in making this +celebrated treatise better known in England, believing, as he does, +that so far as the work concerns the interests of this country, it has +lost none of the importance it possessed at the time of its first +publication. + +J. J. GRAHAM (_Col._) + + + +BOOK I. ON THE NATURE OF WAR + + + +CHAPTER I. What is War? + +1. INTRODUCTION. + + +We propose to consider first the single elements of our subject, then +each branch or part, and, last of all, the whole, in all its +relations—therefore to advance from the simple to the complex. But it +is necessary for us to commence with a glance at the nature of the +whole, because it is particularly necessary that in the consideration +of any of the parts their relation to the whole should be kept +constantly in view. + +2. DEFINITION. + + +We shall not enter into any of the abstruse definitions of War used by +publicists. We shall keep to the element of the thing itself, to a +duel. War is nothing but a duel on an extensive scale. If we would +conceive as a unit the countless number of duels which make up a War, +we shall do so best by supposing to ourselves two wrestlers. Each +strives by physical force to compel the other to submit to his will: +each endeavours to throw his adversary, and thus render him incapable +of further resistance. + +_War therefore is an act of violence intended to compel our opponent to +fulfil our will._ + +Violence arms itself with the inventions of Art and Science in order to +contend against violence. Self-imposed restrictions, almost +imperceptible and hardly worth mentioning, termed usages of +International Law, accompany it without essentially impairing its +power. Violence, that is to say, physical force (for there is no moral +force without the conception of States and Law), is therefore the +_means;_ the compulsory submission of the enemy to our will is the +ultimate object. In order to attain this object fully, the enemy must +be disarmed, and disarmament becomes therefore the immediate _object_ +of hostilities in theory. It takes the place of the final object, and +puts it aside as something we can eliminate from our calculations. + +3. UTMOST USE OF FORCE. + + +Now, philanthropists may easily imagine there is a skilful method of +disarming and overcoming an enemy without great bloodshed, and that +this is the proper tendency of the Art of War. However plausible this +may appear, still it is an error which must be extirpated; for in such +dangerous things as War, the errors which proceed from a spirit of +benevolence are the worst. As the use of physical power to the utmost +extent by no means excludes the co-operation of the intelligence, it +follows that he who uses force unsparingly, without reference to the +bloodshed involved, must obtain a superiority if his adversary uses +less vigour in its application. The former then dictates the law to the +latter, and both proceed to extremities to which the only limitations +are those imposed by the amount of counter-acting force on each side. + +This is the way in which the matter must be viewed and it is to no +purpose, it is even against one’s own interest, to turn away from the +consideration of the real nature of the affair because the horror of +its elements excites repugnance. + +If the Wars of civilised people are less cruel and destructive than +those of savages, the difference arises from the social condition both +of States in themselves and in their relations to each other. Out of +this social condition and its relations War arises, and by it War is +subjected to conditions, is controlled and modified. But these things +do not belong to War itself; they are only given conditions; and to +introduce into the philosophy of War itself a principle of moderation +would be an absurdity. + +Two motives lead men to War: instinctive hostility and hostile +intention. In our definition of War, we have chosen as its +characteristic the latter of these elements, because it is the most +general. It is impossible to conceive the passion of hatred of the +wildest description, bordering on mere instinct, without combining with +it the idea of a hostile intention. On the other hand, hostile +intentions may often exist without being accompanied by any, or at all +events by any extreme, hostility of feeling. Amongst savages views +emanating from the feelings, amongst civilised nations those emanating +from the understanding, have the predominance; but this difference +arises from attendant circumstances, existing institutions, &c., and, +therefore, is not to be found necessarily in all cases, although it +prevails in the majority. In short, even the most civilised nations may +burn with passionate hatred of each other. + +We may see from this what a fallacy it would be to refer the War of a +civilised nation entirely to an intelligent act on the part of the +Government, and to imagine it as continually freeing itself more and +more from all feeling of passion in such a way that at last the +physical masses of combatants would no longer be required; in reality, +their mere relations would suffice—a kind of algebraic action. + +Theory was beginning to drift in this direction until the facts of the +last War(*) taught it better. If War is an _act_ of force, it belongs +necessarily also to the feelings. If it does not originate in the +feelings, it _reacts_, more or less, upon them, and the extent of this +reaction depends not on the degree of civilisation, but upon the +importance and duration of the interests involved. + +(*) Clausewitz alludes here to the “Wars of Liberation,” 1813, 14, 15. + + +Therefore, if we find civilised nations do not put their prisoners to +death, do not devastate towns and countries, this is because their +intelligence exercises greater influence on their mode of carrying on +War, and has taught them more effectual means of applying force than +these rude acts of mere instinct. The invention of gunpowder, the +constant progress of improvements in the construction of firearms, are +sufficient proofs that the tendency to destroy the adversary which lies +at the bottom of the conception of War is in no way changed or modified +through the progress of civilisation. + +We therefore repeat our proposition, that War is an act of violence +pushed to its utmost bounds; as one side dictates the law to the other, +there arises a sort of reciprocal action, which logically must lead to +an extreme. This is the first reciprocal action, and the first extreme +with which we meet (_first reciprocal action_). + +4. THE AIM IS TO DISARM THE ENEMY. + + +We have already said that the aim of all action in War is to disarm the +enemy, and we shall now show that this, theoretically at least, is +indispensable. + +If our opponent is to be made to comply with our will, we must place +him in a situation which is more oppressive to him than the sacrifice +which we demand; but the disadvantages of this position must naturally +not be of a transitory nature, at least in appearance, otherwise the +enemy, instead of yielding, will hold out, in the prospect of a change +for the better. Every change in this position which is produced by a +continuation of the War should therefore be a change for the worse. The +worst condition in which a belligerent can be placed is that of being +completely disarmed. If, therefore, the enemy is to be reduced to +submission by an act of War, he must either be positively disarmed or +placed in such a position that he is threatened with it. From this it +follows that the disarming or overthrow of the enemy, whichever we call +it, must always be the aim of Warfare. Now War is always the shock of +two hostile bodies in collision, not the action of a living power upon +an inanimate mass, because an absolute state of endurance would not be +making War; therefore, what we have just said as to the aim of action +in War applies to both parties. Here, then, is another case of +reciprocal action. As long as the enemy is not defeated, he may defeat +me; then I shall be no longer my own master; he will dictate the law to +me as I did to him. This is the second reciprocal action, and leads to +a second extreme (_second reciprocal action_). + +5. UTMOST EXERTION OF POWERS. + + +If we desire to defeat the enemy, we must proportion our efforts to his +powers of resistance. This is expressed by the product of two factors +which cannot be separated, namely, _the sum of available means_ and +_the strength of the Will_. The sum of the available means may be +estimated in a measure, as it depends (although not entirely) upon +numbers; but the strength of volition is more difficult to determine, +and can only be estimated to a certain extent by the strength of the +motives. Granted we have obtained in this way an approximation to the +strength of the power to be contended with, we can then take of our own +means, and either increase them so as to obtain a preponderance, or, in +case we have not the resources to effect this, then do our best by +increasing our means as far as possible. But the adversary does the +same; therefore, there is a new mutual enhancement, which, in pure +conception, must create a fresh effort towards an extreme. This is the +third case of reciprocal action, and a third extreme with which we meet +(_third reciprocal action_). + +6. MODIFICATION IN THE REALITY. + + +Thus reasoning in the abstract, the mind cannot stop short of an +extreme, because it has to deal with an extreme, with a conflict of +forces left to themselves, and obeying no other but their own inner +laws. If we should seek to deduce from the pure conception of War an +absolute point for the aim which we shall propose and for the means +which we shall apply, this constant reciprocal action would involve us +in extremes, which would be nothing but a play of ideas produced by an +almost invisible train of logical subtleties. If, adhering closely to +the absolute, we try to avoid all difficulties by a stroke of the pen, +and insist with logical strictness that in every case the extreme must +be the object, and the utmost effort must be exerted in that direction, +such a stroke of the pen would be a mere paper law, not by any means +adapted to the real world. + +Even supposing this extreme tension of forces was an absolute which +could easily be ascertained, still we must admit that the human mind +would hardly submit itself to this kind of logical chimera. There would +be in many cases an unnecessary waste of power, which would be in +opposition to other principles of statecraft; an effort of Will would +be required disproportioned to the proposed object, which therefore it +would be impossible to realise, for the human will does not derive its +impulse from logical subtleties. + +But everything takes a different shape when we pass from abstractions +to reality. In the former, everything must be subject to optimism, and +we must imagine the one side as well as the other striving after +perfection and even attaining it. Will this ever take place in reality? +It will if, + +(1) War becomes a completely isolated act, which arises suddenly, and +is in no way connected with the previous history of the combatant +States. + +(2) If it is limited to a single solution, or to several simultaneous +solutions. + +(3) If it contains within itself the solution perfect and complete, +free from any reaction upon it, through a calculation beforehand of the +political situation which will follow from it. + +7. WAR IS NEVER AN ISOLATED ACT. + + +With regard to the first point, neither of the two opponents is an +abstract person to the other, not even as regards that factor in the +sum of resistance which does not depend on objective things, viz., the +Will. This Will is not an entirely unknown quantity; it indicates what +it will be to-morrow by what it is to-day. War does not spring up quite +suddenly, it does not spread to the full in a moment; each of the two +opponents can, therefore, form an opinion of the other, in a great +measure, from what he is and what he does, instead of judging of him +according to what he, strictly speaking, should be or should do. But, +now, man with his incomplete organisation is always below the line of +absolute perfection, and thus these deficiencies, having an influence +on both sides, become a modifying principle. + +8. WAR DOES NOT CONSIST OF A SINGLE INSTANTANEOUS BLOW. + + +The second point gives rise to the following considerations:— + +If War ended in a single solution, or a number of simultaneous ones, +then naturally all the preparations for the same would have a tendency +to the extreme, for an omission could not in any way be repaired; the +utmost, then, that the world of reality could furnish as a guide for us +would be the preparations of the enemy, as far as they are known to us; +all the rest would fall into the domain of the abstract. But if the +result is made up from several successive acts, then naturally that +which precedes with all its phases may be taken as a measure for that +which will follow, and in this manner the world of reality again takes +the place of the abstract, and thus modifies the effort towards the +extreme. + +Yet every War would necessarily resolve itself into a single solution, +or a sum of simultaneous results, if all the means required for the +struggle were raised at once, or could be at once raised; for as one +adverse result necessarily diminishes the means, then if all the means +have been applied in the first, a second cannot properly be supposed. +All hostile acts which might follow would belong essentially to the +first, and form, in reality only its duration. + +But we have already seen that even in the preparation for War the real +world steps into the place of mere abstract conception—a material +standard into the place of the hypotheses of an extreme: that therefore +in that way both parties, by the influence of the mutual reaction, +remain below the line of extreme effort, and therefore all forces are +not at once brought forward. + +It lies also in the nature of these forces and their application that +they cannot all be brought into activity at the same time. These forces +are _the armies actually on foot, the country_, with its superficial +extent and its population, _and the allies_. + +In point of fact, the country, with its superficial area and the +population, besides being the source of all military force, constitutes +in itself an integral part of the efficient quantities in War, +providing either the theatre of war or exercising a considerable +influence on the same. + +Now, it is possible to bring all the movable military forces of a +country into operation at once, but not all fortresses, rivers, +mountains, people, &c.—in short, not the whole country, unless it is so +small that it may be completely embraced by the first act of the War. +Further, the co-operation of allies does not depend on the Will of the +belligerents; and from the nature of the political relations of states +to each other, this co-operation is frequently not afforded until after +the War has commenced, or it may be increased to restore the balance of +power. + +That this part of the means of resistance, which cannot at once be +brought into activity, in many cases, is a much greater part of the +whole than might at first be supposed, and that it often restores the +balance of power, seriously affected by the great force of the first +decision, will be more fully shown hereafter. Here it is sufficient to +show that a complete concentration of all available means in a moment +of time is contradictory to the nature of War. + +Now this, in itself, furnishes no ground for relaxing our efforts to +accumulate strength to gain the first result, because an unfavourable +issue is always a disadvantage to which no one would purposely expose +himself, and also because the first decision, although not the only +one, still will have the more influence on subsequent events, the +greater it is in itself. + +But the possibility of gaining a later result causes men to take refuge +in that expectation, owing to the repugnance in the human mind to +making excessive efforts; and therefore forces are not concentrated and +measures are not taken for the first decision with that energy which +would otherwise be used. Whatever one belligerent omits from weakness, +becomes to the other a real objective ground for limiting his own +efforts, and thus again, through this reciprocal action, extreme +tendencies are brought down to efforts on a limited scale. + +9. THE RESULT IN WAR IS NEVER ABSOLUTE. + + +Lastly, even the final decision of a whole War is not always to be +regarded as absolute. The conquered State often sees in it only a +passing evil, which may be repaired in after times by means of +political combinations. How much this must modify the degree of +tension, and the vigour of the efforts made, is evident in itself. + +10. THE PROBABILITIES OF REAL LIFE TAKE THE PLACE OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF +THE EXTREME AND THE ABSOLUTE. + + +In this manner, the whole act of War is removed from the rigorous law +of forces exerted to the utmost. If the extreme is no longer to be +apprehended, and no longer to be sought for, it is left to the judgment +to determine the limits for the efforts to be made in place of it, and +this can only be done on the data furnished by the facts of the real +world by the LAWS OF PROBABILITY. Once the belligerents are no longer +mere conceptions, but individual States and Governments, once the War +is no longer an ideal, but a definite substantial procedure, then the +reality will furnish the data to compute the unknown quantities which +are required to be found. + +From the character, the measures, the situation of the adversary, and +the relations with which he is surrounded, each side will draw +conclusions by the law of probability as to the designs of the other, +and act accordingly. + +11. THE POLITICAL OBJECT NOW REAPPEARS. + + +Here the question which we had laid aside forces itself again into +consideration (see No. 2), viz., the political object of the War. The +law of the extreme, the view to disarm the adversary, to overthrow him, +has hitherto to a certain extent usurped the place of this end or +object. Just as this law loses its force, the political must again come +forward. If the whole consideration is a calculation of probability +based on definite persons and relations, then the political object, +being the original motive, must be an essential factor in the product. +The smaller the sacrifice we demand from ours, the smaller, it may be +expected, will be the means of resistance which he will employ; but the +smaller his preparation, the smaller will ours require to be. Further, +the smaller our political object, the less value shall we set upon it, +and the more easily shall we be induced to give it up altogether. + +Thus, therefore, the political object, as the original motive of the +War, will be the standard for determining both the aim of the military +force and also the amount of effort to be made. This it cannot be in +itself, but it is so in relation to both the belligerent States, +because we are concerned with realities, not with mere abstractions. +One and the same political object may produce totally different effects +upon different people, or even upon the same people at different times; +we can, therefore, only admit the political object as the measure, by +considering it in its effects upon those masses which it is to move, +and consequently the nature of those masses also comes into +consideration. It is easy to see that thus the result may be very +different according as these masses are animated with a spirit which +will infuse vigour into the action or otherwise. It is quite possible +for such a state of feeling to exist between two States that a very +trifling political motive for War may produce an effect quite +disproportionate—in fact, a perfect explosion. + +This applies to the efforts which the political object will call forth +in the two States, and to the aim which the military action shall +prescribe for itself. At times it may itself be that aim, as, for +example, the conquest of a province. At other times the political +object itself is not suitable for the aim of military action; then such +a one must be chosen as will be an equivalent for it, and stand in its +place as regards the conclusion of peace. But also, in this, due +attention to the peculiar character of the States concerned is always +supposed. There are circumstances in which the equivalent must be much +greater than the political object, in order to secure the latter. The +political object will be so much the more the standard of aim and +effort, and have more influence in itself, the more the masses are +indifferent, the less that any mutual feeling of hostility prevails in +the two States from other causes, and therefore there are cases where +the political object almost alone will be decisive. + +If the aim of the military action is an equivalent for the political +object, that action will in general diminish as the political object +diminishes, and in a greater degree the more the political object +dominates. Thus it is explained how, without any contradiction in +itself, there may be Wars of all degrees of importance and energy, from +a War of extermination down to the mere use of an army of observation. +This, however, leads to a question of another kind which we have +hereafter to develop and answer. + +12. A SUSPENSION IN THE ACTION OF WAR UNEXPLAINED BY ANYTHING SAID AS +YET. + + +However insignificant the political claims mutually advanced, however +weak the means put forth, however small the aim to which military +action is directed, can this action be suspended even for a moment? +This is a question which penetrates deeply into the nature of the +subject. + +Every transaction requires for its accomplishment a certain time which +we call its duration. This may be longer or shorter, according as the +person acting throws more or less despatch into his movements. + +About this more or less we shall not trouble ourselves here. Each +person acts in his own fashion; but the slow person does not protract +the thing because he wishes to spend more time about it, but because by +his nature he requires more time, and if he made more haste would not +do the thing so well. This time, therefore, depends on subjective +causes, and belongs to the length, so called, of the action. + +If we allow now to every action in War this, its length, then we must +assume, at first sight at least, that any expenditure of time beyond +this length, that is, every suspension of hostile action, appears an +absurdity; with respect to this it must not be forgotten that we now +speak not of the progress of one or other of the two opponents, but of +the general progress of the whole action of the War. + +13. THERE IS ONLY ONE CAUSE WHICH CAN SUSPEND THE ACTION, AND THIS +SEEMS TO BE ONLY POSSIBLE ON ONE SIDE IN ANY CASE. + + +If two parties have armed themselves for strife, then a feeling of +animosity must have moved them to it; as long now as they continue +armed, that is, do not come to terms of peace, this feeling must exist; +and it can only be brought to a standstill by either side by one single +motive alone, which is, THAT HE WAITS FOR A MORE FAVOURABLE MOMENT FOR +ACTION. Now, at first sight, it appears that this motive can never +exist except on one side, because it, eo ipso, must be prejudicial to +the other. If the one has an interest in acting, then the other must +have an interest in waiting. + +A complete equilibrium of forces can never produce a suspension of +action, for during this suspension he who has the positive object (that +is, the assailant) must continue progressing; for if we should imagine +an equilibrium in this way, that he who has the positive object, +therefore the strongest motive, can at the same time only command the +lesser means, so that the equation is made up by the product of the +motive and the power, then we must say, if no alteration in this +condition of equilibrium is to be expected, the two parties must make +peace; but if an alteration is to be expected, then it can only be +favourable to one side, and therefore the other has a manifest interest +to act without delay. We see that the conception of an equilibrium +cannot explain a suspension of arms, but that it ends in the question +of the EXPECTATION OF A MORE FAVOURABLE MOMENT. + +Let us suppose, therefore, that one of two States has a positive +object, as, for instance, the conquest of one of the enemy’s +provinces—which is to be utilised in the settlement of peace. After +this conquest, his political object is accomplished, the necessity for +action ceases, and for him a pause ensues. If the adversary is also +contented with this solution, he will make peace; if not, he must act. +Now, if we suppose that in four weeks he will be in a better condition +to act, then he has sufficient grounds for putting off the time of +action. + +But from that moment the logical course for the enemy appears to be to +act that he may not give the conquered party THE DESIRED time. Of +course, in this mode of reasoning a complete insight into the state of +circumstances on both sides is supposed. + +14. THUS A CONTINUANCE OF ACTION WILL ENSUE WHICH WILL ADVANCE TOWARDS +A CLIMAX. + + +If this unbroken continuity of hostile operations really existed, the +effect would be that everything would again be driven towards the +extreme; for, irrespective of the effect of such incessant activity in +inflaming the feelings, and infusing into the whole a greater degree of +passion, a greater elementary force, there would also follow from this +continuance of action a stricter continuity, a closer connection +between cause and effect, and thus every single action would become of +more importance, and consequently more replete with danger. + +But we know that the course of action in War has seldom or never this +unbroken continuity, and that there have been many Wars in which action +occupied by far the smallest portion of time employed, the whole of the +rest being consumed in inaction. It is impossible that this should be +always an anomaly; suspension of action in War must therefore be +possible, that is no contradiction in itself. We now proceed to show +how this is. + +15. HERE, THEREFORE, THE PRINCIPLE OF POLARITY IS BROUGHT INTO +REQUISITION. + + +As we have supposed the interests of one Commander to be always +antagonistic to those of the other, we have assumed a true _polarity_. +We reserve a fuller explanation of this for another chapter, merely +making the following observation on it at present. + +The principle of polarity is only valid when it can be conceived in one +and the same thing, where the positive and its opposite the negative +completely destroy each other. In a battle both sides strive to +conquer; that is true polarity, for the victory of the one side +destroys that of the other. But when we speak of two different things +which have a common relation external to themselves, then it is not the +things but their relations which have the polarity. + +16. ATTACK AND DEFENCE ARE THINGS DIFFERING IN KIND AND OF UNEQUAL +FORCE. POLARITY IS, THEREFORE, NOT APPLICABLE TO THEM. + + +If there was only one form of War, to wit, the attack of the enemy, +therefore no defence; or, in other words, if the attack was +distinguished from the defence merely by the positive motive, which the +one has and the other has not, but the methods of each were precisely +one and the same: then in this sort of fight every advantage gained on +the one side would be a corresponding disadvantage on the other, and +true polarity would exist. + +But action in War is divided into two forms, attack and defence, which, +as we shall hereafter explain more particularly, are very different and +of unequal strength. Polarity therefore lies in that to which both bear +a relation, in the decision, but not in the attack or defence itself. + +If the one Commander wishes the solution put off, the other must wish +to hasten it, but only by the same form of action. If it is A’s +interest not to attack his enemy at present, but four weeks hence, then +it is B’s interest to be attacked, not four weeks hence, but at the +present moment. This is the direct antagonism of interests, but it by +no means follows that it would be for B’s interest to attack A at once. +That is plainly something totally different. + +17. THE EFFECT OF POLARITY IS OFTEN DESTROYED BY THE SUPERIORITY OF THE +DEFENCE OVER THE ATTACK, AND THUS THE SUSPENSION OF ACTION IN WAR IS +EXPLAINED. + + +If the form of defence is stronger than that of offence, as we shall +hereafter show, the question arises, Is the advantage of a deferred +decision as great on the one side as the advantage of the defensive +form on the other? If it is not, then it cannot by its counter-weight +over-balance the latter, and thus influence the progress of the action +of the War. We see, therefore, that the impulsive force existing in the +polarity of interests may be lost in the difference between the +strength of the offensive and the defensive, and thereby become +ineffectual. + +If, therefore, that side for which the present is favourable, is too +weak to be able to dispense with the advantage of the defensive, he +must put up with the unfavourable prospects which the future holds out; +for it may still be better to fight a defensive battle in the +unpromising future than to assume the offensive or make peace at +present. Now, being convinced that the superiority of the defensive(*) +(rightly understood) is very great, and much greater than may appear at +first sight, we conceive that the greater number of those periods of +inaction which occur in war are thus explained without involving any +contradiction. The weaker the motives to action are, the more will +those motives be absorbed and neutralised by this difference between +attack and defence, the more frequently, therefore, will action in +warfare be stopped, as indeed experience teaches. + +(*) It must be remembered that all this antedates by some years the +introduction of long-range weapons. + + +18 A SECOND GROUND CONSISTS IN THE IMPERFECT KNOWLEDGE OF +CIRCUMSTANCES. + + +But there is still another cause which may stop action in War, viz., an +incomplete view of the situation. Each Commander can only fully know +his own position; that of his opponent can only be known to him by +reports, which are uncertain; he may, therefore, form a wrong judgment +with respect to it upon data of this description, and, in consequence +of that error, he may suppose that the power of taking the initiative +rests with his adversary when it lies really with himself. This want of +perfect insight might certainly just as often occasion an untimely +action as untimely inaction, and hence it would in itself no more +contribute to delay than to accelerate action in War. Still, it must +always be regarded as one of the natural causes which may bring action +in War to a standstill without involving a contradiction. But if we +reflect how much more we are inclined and induced to estimate the power +of our opponents too high than too low, because it lies in human nature +to do so, we shall admit that our imperfect insight into facts in +general must contribute very much to delay action in War, and to modify +the application of the principles pending our conduct. + +The possibility of a standstill brings into the action of War a new +modification, inasmuch as it dilutes that action with the element of +time, checks the influence or sense of danger in its course, and +increases the means of reinstating a lost balance of force. The greater +the tension of feelings from which the War springs, the greater +therefore the energy with which it is carried on, so much the shorter +will be the periods of inaction; on the other hand, the weaker the +principle of warlike activity, the longer will be these periods: for +powerful motives increase the force of the will, and this, as we know, +is always a factor in the product of force. + +19. FREQUENT PERIODS OF INACTION IN WAR REMOVE IT FURTHER FROM THE +ABSOLUTE, AND MAKE IT STILL MORE A CALCULATION OF PROBABILITIES. + + +But the slower the action proceeds in War, the more frequent and longer +the periods of inaction, so much the more easily can an error be +repaired; therefore, so much the bolder a General will be in his +calculations, so much the more readily will he keep them below the line +of the absolute, and build everything upon probabilities and +conjecture. Thus, according as the course of the War is more or less +slow, more or less time will be allowed for that which the nature of a +concrete case particularly requires, calculation of probability based +on given circumstances. + +20. THEREFORE, THE ELEMENT OF CHANCE ONLY IS WANTING TO MAKE OF WAR A +GAME, AND IN THAT ELEMENT IT IS LEAST OF ALL DEFICIENT. + + +We see from the foregoing how much the objective nature of War makes it +a calculation of probabilities; now there is only one single element +still wanting to make it a game, and that element it certainly is not +without: it is chance. There is no human affair which stands so +constantly and so generally in close connection with chance as War. But +together with chance, the accidental, and along with it good luck, +occupy a great place in War. + +21. WAR IS A GAME BOTH OBJECTIVELY AND SUBJECTIVELY. + + +If we now take a look at the _subjective nature_ of War, that is to +say, at those conditions under which it is carried on, it will appear +to us still more like a game. Primarily the element in which the +operations of War are carried on is danger; but which of all the moral +qualities is the first in danger? _Courage_. Now certainly courage is +quite compatible with prudent calculation, but still they are things of +quite a different kind, essentially different qualities of the mind; on +the other hand, daring reliance on good fortune, boldness, rashness, +are only expressions of courage, and all these propensities of the mind +look for the fortuitous (or accidental), because it is their element. + +We see, therefore, how, from the commencement, the absolute, the +mathematical as it is called, nowhere finds any sure basis in the +calculations in the Art of War; and that from the outset there is a +play of possibilities, probabilities, good and bad luck, which spreads +about with all the coarse and fine threads of its web, and makes War of +all branches of human activity the most like a gambling game. + +22. HOW THIS ACCORDS BEST WITH THE HUMAN MIND IN GENERAL. + + +Although our intellect always feels itself urged towards clearness and +certainty, still our mind often feels itself attracted by uncertainty. +Instead of threading its way with the understanding along the narrow +path of philosophical investigations and logical conclusions, in order, +almost unconscious of itself, to arrive in spaces where it feels itself +a stranger, and where it seems to part from all well-known objects, it +prefers to remain with the imagination in the realms of chance and +luck. Instead of living yonder on poor necessity, it revels here in the +wealth of possibilities; animated thereby, courage then takes wings to +itself, and daring and danger make the element into which it launches +itself as a fearless swimmer plunges into the stream. + +Shall theory leave it here, and move on, self-satisfied with absolute +conclusions and rules? Then it is of no practical use. Theory must also +take into account the human element; it must accord a place to courage, +to boldness, even to rashness. The Art of War has to deal with living +and with moral forces, the consequence of which is that it can never +attain the absolute and positive. There is therefore everywhere a +margin for the accidental, and just as much in the greatest things as +in the smallest. As there is room for this accidental on the one hand, +so on the other there must be courage and self-reliance in proportion +to the room available. If these qualities are forthcoming in a high +degree, the margin left may likewise be great. Courage and +self-reliance are, therefore, principles quite essential to War; +consequently, theory must only set up such rules as allow ample scope +for all degrees and varieties of these necessary and noblest of +military virtues. In daring there may still be wisdom, and prudence as +well, only they are estimated by a different standard of value. + +23. WAR IS ALWAYS A SERIOUS MEANS FOR A SERIOUS OBJECT. ITS MORE +PARTICULAR DEFINITION. + + +Such is War; such the Commander who conducts it; such the theory which +rules it. But War is no pastime; no mere passion for venturing and +winning; no work of a free enthusiasm: it is a serious means for a +serious object. All that appearance which it wears from the varying +hues of fortune, all that it assimilates into itself of the +oscillations of passion, of courage, of imagination, of enthusiasm, are +only particular properties of this means. + +The War of a community—of whole Nations, and particularly of civilised +Nations—always starts from a political condition, and is called forth +by a political motive. It is, therefore, a political act. Now if it was +a perfect, unrestrained, and absolute expression of force, as we had to +deduct it from its mere conception, then the moment it is called forth +by policy it would step into the place of policy, and as something +quite independent of it would set it aside, and only follow its own +laws, just as a mine at the moment of explosion cannot be guided into +any other direction than that which has been given to it by preparatory +arrangements. This is how the thing has really been viewed hitherto, +whenever a want of harmony between policy and the conduct of a War has +led to theoretical distinctions of the kind. But it is not so, and the +idea is radically false. War in the real world, as we have already +seen, is not an extreme thing which expends itself at one single +discharge; it is the operation of powers which do not develop +themselves completely in the same manner and in the same measure, but +which at one time expand sufficiently to overcome the resistance +opposed by inertia or friction, while at another they are too weak to +produce an effect; it is therefore, in a certain measure, a pulsation +of violent force more or less vehement, consequently making its +discharges and exhausting its powers more or less quickly—in other +words, conducting more or less quickly to the aim, but always lasting +long enough to admit of influence being exerted on it in its course, so +as to give it this or that direction, in short, to be subject to the +will of a guiding intelligence., if we reflect that War has its root in +a political object, then naturally this original motive which called it +into existence should also continue the first and highest consideration +in its conduct. Still, the political object is no despotic lawgiver on +that account; it must accommodate itself to the nature of the means, +and though changes in these means may involve modification in the +political objective, the latter always retains a prior right to +consideration. Policy, therefore, is interwoven with the whole action +of War, and must exercise a continuous influence upon it, as far as the +nature of the forces liberated by it will permit. + +24. WAR IS A MERE CONTINUATION OF POLICY BY OTHER MEANS. + + +We see, therefore, that War is not merely a political act, but also a +real political instrument, a continuation of political commerce, a +carrying out of the same by other means. All beyond this which is +strictly peculiar to War relates merely to the peculiar nature of the +means which it uses. That the tendencies and views of policy shall not +be incompatible with these means, the Art of War in general and the +Commander in each particular case may demand, and this claim is truly +not a trifling one. But however powerfully this may react on political +views in particular cases, still it must always be regarded as only a +modification of them; for the political view is the object, War is the +means, and the means must always include the object in our conception. + +25. DIVERSITY IN THE NATURE OF WARS. + + +The greater and the more powerful the motives of a War, the more it +affects the whole existence of a people. The more violent the +excitement which precedes the War, by so much the nearer will the War +approach to its abstract form, so much the more will it be directed to +the destruction of the enemy, so much the nearer will the military and +political ends coincide, so much the more purely military and less +political the War appears to be; but the weaker the motives and the +tensions, so much the less will the natural direction of the military +element—that is, force—be coincident with the direction which the +political element indicates; so much the more must, therefore, the War +become diverted from its natural direction, the political object +diverge from the aim of an ideal War, and the War appear to become +political. + +But, that the reader may not form any false conceptions, we must here +observe that by this natural tendency of War we only mean the +philosophical, the strictly logical, and by no means the tendency of +forces actually engaged in conflict, by which would be supposed to be +included all the emotions and passions of the combatants. No doubt in +some cases these also might be excited to such a degree as to be with +difficulty restrained and confined to the political road; but in most +cases such a contradiction will not arise, because by the existence of +such strenuous exertions a great plan in harmony therewith would be +implied. If the plan is directed only upon a small object, then the +impulses of feeling amongst the masses will be also so weak that these +masses will require to be stimulated rather than repressed. + +26. THEY MAY ALL BE REGARDED AS POLITICAL ACTS. + + +Returning now to the main subject, although it is true that in one kind +of War the political element seems almost to disappear, whilst in +another kind it occupies a very prominent place, we may still affirm +that the one is as political as the other; for if we regard the State +policy as the intelligence of the personified State, then amongst all +the constellations in the political sky whose movements it has to +compute, those must be included which arise when the nature of its +relations imposes the necessity of a great War. It is only if we +understand by policy not a true appreciation of affairs in general, but +the conventional conception of a cautious, subtle, also dishonest +craftiness, averse from violence, that the latter kind of War may +belong more to policy than the first. + +27. INFLUENCE OF THIS VIEW ON THE RIGHT UNDERSTANDING OF MILITARY +HISTORY, AND ON THE FOUNDATIONS OF THEORY. + + +We see, therefore, in the first place, that under all circumstances War +is to be regarded not as an independent thing, but as a political +instrument; and it is only by taking this point of view that we can +avoid finding ourselves in opposition to all military history. This is +the only means of unlocking the great book and making it intelligible. +Secondly, this view shows us how Wars must differ in character +according to the nature of the motives and circumstances from which +they proceed. + +Now, the first, the grandest, and most decisive act of judgment which +the Statesman and General exercises is rightly to understand in this +respect the War in which he engages, not to take it for something, or +to wish to make of it something, which by the nature of its relations +it is impossible for it to be. This is, therefore, the first, the most +comprehensive, of all strategical questions. We shall enter into this +more fully in treating of the plan of a War. + +For the present we content ourselves with having brought the subject up +to this point, and having thereby fixed the chief point of view from +which War and its theory are to be studied. + +28. RESULT FOR THEORY. + + +War is, therefore, not only chameleon-like in character, because it +changes its colour in some degree in each particular case, but it is +also, as a whole, in relation to the predominant tendencies which are +in it, a wonderful trinity, composed of the original violence of its +elements, hatred and animosity, which may be looked upon as blind +instinct; of the play of probabilities and chance, which make it a free +activity of the soul; and of the subordinate nature of a political +instrument, by which it belongs purely to the reason. + +The first of these three phases concerns more the people the second, +more the General and his Army; the third, more the Government. The +passions which break forth in War must already have a latent existence +in the peoples. The range which the display of courage and talents +shall get in the realm of probabilities and of chance depends on the +particular characteristics of the General and his Army, but the +political objects belong to the Government alone. + +These three tendencies, which appear like so many different law-givers, +are deeply rooted in the nature of the subject, and at the same time +variable in degree. A theory which would leave any one of them out of +account, or set up any arbitrary relation between them, would +immediately become involved in such a contradiction with the reality, +that it might be regarded as destroyed at once by that alone. + +The problem is, therefore, that theory shall keep itself poised in a +manner between these three tendencies, as between three points of +attraction. + +The way in which alone this difficult problem can be solved we shall +examine in the book on the “Theory of War.” In every case the +conception of War, as here defined, will be the first ray of light +which shows us the true foundation of theory, and which first separates +the great masses and allows us to distinguish them from one another. + + + +CHAPTER II. Ends and Means in War + +Having in the foregoing chapter ascertained the complicated and +variable nature of War, we shall now occupy ourselves in examining into +the influence which this nature has upon the end and means in War. + +If we ask, first of all, for the object upon which the whole effort of +War is to be directed, in order that it may suffice for the attainment +of the political object, we shall find that it is just as variable as +are the political object and the particular circumstances of the War. + +If, in the next place, we keep once more to the pure conception of War, +then we must say that the political object properly lies out of its +province, for if War is an act of violence to compel the enemy to +fulfil our will, then in every case all depends on our overthrowing the +enemy, that is, disarming him, and on that alone. This object, +developed from abstract conceptions, but which is also the one aimed at +in a great many cases in reality, we shall, in the first place, examine +in this reality. + +In connection with the plan of a campaign we shall hereafter examine +more closely into the meaning of disarming a nation, but here we must +at once draw a distinction between three things, which, as three +general objects, comprise everything else within them. They are the +_military power, the country_, and _the will of the enemy_. + +The military power must be destroyed, that is, reduced to such a state +as not to be able to prosecute the War. This is the sense in which we +wish to be understood hereafter, whenever we use the expression +“destruction of the enemy’s military power.” + +The _country_ must be conquered, for out of the country a new military +force may be formed. + +But even when both these things are done, still the War, that is, the +hostile feeling and action of hostile agencies, cannot be considered as +at an end as long as the _will_ of the enemy is not subdued also; that +is, its Government and its Allies must be forced into signing a peace, +or the people into submission; for whilst we are in full occupation of +the country, the War may break out afresh, either in the interior or +through assistance given by Allies. No doubt, this may also take place +after a peace, but that shows nothing more than that every War does not +carry in itself the elements for a complete decision and final +settlement. + +But even if this is the case, still with the conclusion of peace a +number of sparks are always extinguished which would have smouldered on +quietly, and the excitement of the passions abates, because all those +whose minds are disposed to peace, of which in all nations and under +all circumstances there is always a great number, turn themselves away +completely from the road to resistance. Whatever may take place +subsequently, we must always look upon the object as attained, and the +business of War as ended, by a peace. + +As protection of the country is the primary object for which the +military force exists, therefore the natural order is, that first of +all this force should be destroyed, then the country subdued; and +through the effect of these two results, as well as the position we +then hold, the enemy should be forced to make peace. Generally the +destruction of the enemy’s force is done by degrees, and in just the +same measure the conquest of the country follows immediately. The two +likewise usually react upon each other, because the loss of provinces +occasions a diminution of military force. But this order is by no means +necessary, and on that account it also does not always take place. The +enemy’s Army, before it is sensibly weakened, may retreat to the +opposite side of the country, or even quite outside of it. In this +case, therefore, the greater part or the whole of the country is +conquered. + +But this object of War in the abstract, this final means of attaining +the political object in which all others are combined, the _disarming +the enemy_, is rarely attained in practice and is not a condition +necessary to peace. Therefore it can in no wise be set up in theory as +a law. There are innumerable instances of treaties in which peace has +been settled before either party could be looked upon as disarmed; +indeed, even before the balance of power had undergone any sensible +alteration. Nay, further, if we look at the case in the concrete, then +we must say that in a whole class of cases, the idea of a complete +defeat of the enemy would be a mere imaginative flight, especially when +the enemy is considerably superior. + +The reason why the object deduced from the conception of War is not +adapted in general to real War lies in the difference between the two, +which is discussed in the preceding chapter. If it was as pure theory +gives it, then a War between two States of very unequal military +strength would appear an absurdity; therefore impossible. At most, the +inequality between the physical forces might be such that it could be +balanced by the moral forces, and that would not go far with our +present social condition in Europe. Therefore, if we have seen Wars +take place between States of very unequal power, that has been the case +because there is a wide difference between War in reality and its +original conception. + +There are two considerations which as motives may practically take the +place of inability to continue the contest. The first is the +improbability, the second is the excessive price, of success. + +According to what we have seen in the foregoing chapter, War must +always set itself free from the strict law of logical necessity, and +seek aid from the calculation of probabilities; and as this is so much +the more the case, the more the War has a bias that way, from the +circumstances out of which it has arisen—the smaller its motives are, +and the excitement it has raised—so it is also conceivable how out of +this calculation of probabilities even motives to peace may arise. War +does not, therefore, always require to be fought out until one party is +overthrown; and we may suppose that, when the motives and passions are +slight, a weak probability will suffice to move that side to which it +is unfavourable to give way. Now, were the other side convinced of this +beforehand, it is natural that he would strive for this probability +only, instead of first wasting time and effort in the attempt to +achieve the total destruction of the enemy’s Army. + +Still more general in its influence on the resolution to peace is the +consideration of the expenditure of force already made, and further +required. As War is no act of blind passion, but is dominated by the +political object, therefore the value of that object determines the +measure of the sacrifices by which it is to be purchased. This will be +the case, not only as regards extent, but also as regards duration. As +soon, therefore, as the required outlay becomes so great that the +political object is no longer equal in value, the object must be given +up, and peace will be the result. + +We see, therefore, that in Wars where one side cannot completely disarm +the other, the motives to peace on both sides will rise or fall on each +side according to the probability of future success and the required +outlay. If these motives were equally strong on both sides, they would +meet in the centre of their political difference. Where they are strong +on one side, they might be weak on the other. If their amount is only +sufficient, peace will follow, but naturally to the advantage of that +side which has the weakest motive for its conclusion. We purposely pass +over here the difference which the _positive_ and _negative_ character +of the political end must necessarily produce practically; for although +that is, as we shall hereafter show, of the highest importance, still +we are obliged to keep here to a more general point of view, because +the original political views in the course of the War change very much, +and at last may become totally different, _just because they are +determined by results and probable events_. + +Now comes the question how to influence the probability of success. In +the first place, naturally by the same means which we use when the +object is the subjugation of the enemy, by the destruction of his +military force and the conquest of his provinces; but these two means +are not exactly of the same import here as they would be in reference +to that object. If we attack the enemy’s Army, it is a very different +thing whether we intend to follow up the first blow with a succession +of others, until the whole force is destroyed, or whether we mean to +content ourselves with a victory to shake the enemy’s feeling of +security, to convince him of our superiority, and to instil into him a +feeling of apprehension about the future. If this is our object, we +only go so far in the destruction of his forces as is sufficient. In +like manner, the conquest, of the enemy’s provinces is quite a +different measure if the object is not the destruction of the enemy’s +Army. In the latter case the destruction of the Army is the real +effectual action, and the taking of the provinces only a consequence of +it; to take them before the Army had been defeated would always be +looked upon only as a necessary evil. On the other hand, if our views +are not directed upon the complete destruction of the enemy’s force, +and if we are sure that the enemy does not seek but fears to bring +matters to a bloody decision, the taking possession of a weak or +defenceless province is an advantage in itself, and if this advantage +is of sufficient importance to make the enemy apprehensive about the +general result, then it may also be regarded as a shorter road to +peace. + +But now we come upon a peculiar means of influencing the probability of +the result without destroying the enemy’s Army, namely, upon the +expeditions which have a direct connection with political views. If +there are any enterprises which are particularly likely to break up the +enemy’s alliances or make them inoperative, to gain new alliances for +ourselves, to raise political powers in our own favour, &c. &c., then +it is easy to conceive how much these may increase the probability of +success, and become a shorter way towards our object than the routing +of the enemy’s forces. + +The second question is how to act upon the enemy’s expenditure in +strength, that is, to raise the price of success. + +The enemy’s outlay in strength lies in the _wear and tear_ of his +forces, consequently in the _destruction_ of them on our part, and in +the _loss_ of _provinces_, consequently the _conquest_ of them by us. + +Here, again, on account of the various significations of these means, +so likewise it will be found that neither of them will be identical in +its signification in all cases if the objects are different. The +smallness in general of this difference must not cause us perplexity, +for in reality the weakest motives, the finest shades of difference, +often decide in favour of this or that method of applying force. Our +only business here is to show that, certain conditions being supposed, +the possibility of attaining our purpose in different ways is no +contradiction, absurdity, nor even error. + +Besides these two means, there are three other peculiar ways of +directly increasing the waste of the enemy’s force. The first is +_invasion_, that is _the occupation of the enemy’s territory, not with +a view to keeping it_, but in order to levy contributions upon it, or +to devastate it. + +The immediate object here is neither the conquest of the enemy’s +territory nor the defeat of his armed force, but merely to _do him +damage in a general way_. The second way is to select for the object of +our enterprises those points at which we can do the enemy most harm. +Nothing is easier to conceive than two different directions in which +our force may be employed, the first of which is to be preferred if our +object is to defeat the enemy’s Army, while the other is more +advantageous if the defeat of the enemy is out of the question. +According to the usual mode of speaking, we should say that the first +is primarily military, the other more political. But if we take our +view from the highest point, both are equally military, and neither the +one nor the other can be eligible unless it suits the circumstances of +the case. The third, by far the most important, from the great number +of cases which it embraces, is the _wearing out_ of the enemy. We +choose this expression not only to explain our meaning in few words, +but because it represents the thing exactly, and is not so figurative +as may at first appear. The idea of wearing out in a struggle amounts +in practice to _a gradual exhaustion of the physical powers and of the +will by the long continuance of exertion_. + +Now, if we want to overcome the enemy by the duration of the contest, +we must content ourselves with as small objects as possible, for it is +in the nature of the thing that a great end requires a greater +expenditure of force than a small one; but the smallest object that we +can propose to ourselves is simple passive resistance, that is a combat +without any positive view. In this way, therefore, our means attain +their greatest relative value, and therefore the result is best +secured. How far now can this negative mode of proceeding be carried? +Plainly not to absolute passivity, for mere endurance would not be +fighting; and the defensive is an activity by which so much of the +enemy’s power must be destroyed that he must give up his object. That +alone is what we aim at in each single act, and therein consists the +negative nature of our object. + +No doubt this negative object in its single act is not so effective as +the positive object in the same direction would be, supposing it +successful; but there is this difference in its favour, that it +succeeds more easily than the positive, and therefore it holds out +greater certainty of success; what is wanting in the efficacy of its +single act must be gained through time, that is, through the duration +of the contest, and therefore this negative intention, which +constitutes the principle of the pure defensive, is also the natural +means of overcoming the enemy by the duration of the combat, that is of +wearing him out. + +Here lies the origin of that difference of _Offensive_ and _Defensive_, +the influence of which prevails throughout the whole province of War. +We cannot at present pursue this subject further than to observe that +from this negative intention are to be deduced all the advantages and +all the stronger forms of combat which are on the side of the +_Defensive_, and in which that philosophical-dynamic law which exists +between the greatness and the certainty of success is realised. We +shall resume the consideration of all this hereafter. + +If then the negative purpose, that is the concentration of all the +means into a state of pure resistance, affords a superiority in the +contest, and if this advantage is sufficient to _balance_ whatever +superiority in numbers the adversary may have, then the mere _duration_ +of the contest will suffice gradually to bring the loss of force on the +part of the adversary to a point at which the political object can no +longer be an equivalent, a point at which, therefore, he must give up +the contest. We see then that this class of means, the wearing out of +the enemy, includes the great number of cases in which the weaker +resists the stronger. + +Frederick the Great, during the Seven Years’ War, was never strong +enough to overthrow the Austrian monarchy; and if he had tried to do so +after the fashion of Charles the Twelfth, he would inevitably have had +to succumb himself. But after his skilful application of the system of +husbanding his resources had shown the powers allied against him, +through a seven years’ struggle, that the actual expenditure of +strength far exceeded what they had at first anticipated, they made +peace. + +We see then that there are many ways to one’s object in War; that the +complete subjugation of the enemy is not essential in every case; that +the destruction of the enemy’s military force, the conquest of the +enemy’s provinces, the mere occupation of them, the mere invasion of +them—enterprises which are aimed directly at political objects—lastly, +a passive expectation of the enemy’s blow, are all means which, each in +itself, may be used to force the enemy’s will according as the peculiar +circumstances of the case lead us to expect more from the one or the +other. We could still add to these a whole category of shorter methods +of gaining the end, which might be called arguments ad hominem. What +branch of human affairs is there in which these sparks of individual +spirit have not made their appearance, surmounting all formal +considerations? And least of all can they fail to appear in War, where +the personal character of the combatants plays such an important part, +both in the cabinet and in the field. We limit ourselves to pointing +this out, as it would be pedantry to attempt to reduce such influences +into classes. Including these, we may say that the number of possible +ways of reaching the object rises to infinity. + +To avoid under-estimating these different short roads to one’s purpose, +either estimating them only as rare exceptions, or holding the +difference which they cause in the conduct of War as insignificant, we +must bear in mind the diversity of political objects which may cause a +War—measure at a glance the distance which there is between a death +struggle for political existence and a War which a forced or tottering +alliance makes a matter of disagreeable duty. Between the two +innumerable gradations occur in practice. If we reject one of these +gradations in theory, we might with equal right reject the whole, which +would be tantamount to shutting the real world completely out of sight. + +These are the circumstances in general connected with the aim which we +have to pursue in War; let us now turn to the means. + +There is only one single means, it is the _Fight_. However diversified +this may be in form, however widely it may differ from a rough vent of +hatred and animosity in a hand-to-hand encounter, whatever number of +things may introduce themselves which are not actual fighting, still it +is always implied in the conception of War that all the effects +manifested have their roots in the combat. + +That this must always be so in the greatest diversity and complication +of the reality is proved in a very simple manner. All that takes place +in War takes place through armed forces, but where the forces of War, +_i.e._, armed men, are applied, there the idea of fighting must of +necessity be at the foundation. + +All, therefore, that relates to forces of War—all that is connected +with their creation, maintenance, and application—belongs to military +activity. + +Creation and maintenance are obviously only the means, whilst +application is the object. + +The contest in War is not a contest of individual against individual, +but an organised whole, consisting of manifold parts; in this great +whole we may distinguish units of two kinds, the one determined by the +subject, the other by the object. In an Army the mass of combatants +ranges itself always into an order of new units, which again form +members of a higher order. The combat of each of these members forms, +therefore, also a more or less distinct unit. Further, the motive of +the fight; therefore its object forms its unit. + +Now, to each of these units which we distinguish in the contest we +attach the name of combat. + +If the idea of combat lies at the foundation of every application of +armed power, then also the application of armed force in general is +nothing more than the determining and arranging a certain number of +combats. + +Every activity in War, therefore, necessarily relates to the combat +either directly or indirectly. The soldier is levied, clothed, armed, +exercised, he sleeps, eats, drinks, and marches, all _merely to fight +at the right time and place_. + +If, therefore, all the threads of military activity terminate in the +combat, we shall grasp them all when we settle the order of the +combats. Only from this order and its execution proceed the effects, +never directly from the conditions preceding them. Now, in the combat +all the action is directed to the _destruction_ of the enemy, or rather +of _his fighting powers_, for this lies in the conception of combat. +The destruction of the enemy’s fighting power is, therefore, always the +means to attain the object of the combat. + +This object may likewise be the mere destruction of the enemy’s armed +force; but that is not by any means necessary, and it may be something +quite different. Whenever, for instance, as we have shown, the defeat +of the enemy is not the only means to attain the political object, +whenever there are other objects which may be pursued as the aim in a +War, then it follows of itself that such other objects may become the +object of particular acts of Warfare, and therefore also the object of +combats. + +But even those combats which, as subordinate acts, are in the strict +sense devoted to the destruction of the enemy’s fighting force need not +have that destruction itself as their first object. + +If we think of the manifold parts of a great armed force, of the number +of circumstances which come into activity when it is employed, then it +is clear that the combat of such a force must also require a manifold +organisation, a subordinating of parts and formation. There may and +must naturally arise for particular parts a number of objects which are +not themselves the destruction of the enemy’s armed force, and which, +while they certainly contribute to increase that destruction, do so +only in an indirect manner. If a battalion is ordered to drive the +enemy from a rising ground, or a bridge, &c., then properly the +occupation of any such locality is the real object, the destruction of +the enemy’s armed force which takes place only the means or secondary +matter. If the enemy can be driven away merely by a demonstration, the +object is attained all the same; but this hill or bridge is, in point +of fact, only required as a means of increasing the gross amount of +loss inflicted on the enemy’s armed force. It is the case on the field +of battle, much more must it be so on the whole theatre of war, where +not only one Army is opposed to another, but one State, one Nation, one +whole country to another. Here the number of possible relations, and +consequently possible combinations, is much greater, the diversity of +measures increased, and by the gradation of objects, each subordinate +to another the first means employed is further apart from the ultimate +object. + +It is therefore for many reasons possible that the object of a combat +is not the destruction of the enemy’s force, that is, of the force +immediately opposed to us, but that this only appears as a means. But +in all such cases it is no longer a question of complete destruction, +for the combat is here nothing else but a measure of strength—has in +itself no value except only that of the present result, that is, of its +decision. + +But a measuring of strength may be effected in cases where the opposing +sides are very unequal by a mere comparative estimate. In such cases no +fighting will take place, and the weaker will immediately give way. + +If the object of a combat is not always the destruction of the enemy’s +forces therein engaged—and if its object can often be attained as well +without the combat taking place at all, by merely making a resolve to +fight, and by the circumstances to which this resolution gives +rise—then that explains how a whole campaign may be carried on with +great activity without the actual combat playing any notable part in +it. + +That this may be so military history proves by a hundred examples. How +many of those cases can be justified, that is, without involving a +contradiction and whether some of the celebrities who rose out of them +would stand criticism, we shall leave undecided, for all we have to do +with the matter is to show the possibility of such a course of events +in War. + +We have only one means in War—the battle; but this means, by the +infinite variety of paths in which it may be applied, leads us into all +the different ways which the multiplicity of objects allows of, so that +we seem to have gained nothing; but that is not the case, for from this +unity of means proceeds a thread which assists the study of the +subject, as it runs through the whole web of military activity and +holds it together. + +But we have considered the destruction of the enemy’s force as one of +the objects which maybe pursued in War, and left undecided what +relative importance should be given to it amongst other objects. In +certain cases it will depend on circumstances, and as a general +question we have left its value undetermined. We are once more brought +back upon it, and we shall be able to get an insight into the value +which must necessarily be accorded to it. + +The combat is the single activity in War; in the combat the destruction +of the enemy opposed to us is the means to the end; it is so even when +the combat does not actually take place, because in that case there +lies at the root of the decision the supposition at all events that +this destruction is to be regarded as beyond doubt. It follows, +therefore, that the destruction of the enemy’s military force is the +foundation-stone of all action in War, the great support of all +combinations, which rest upon it like the arch on its abutments. All +action, therefore, takes place on the supposition that if the solution +by force of arms which lies at its foundation should be realised, it +will be a favourable one. The decision by arms is, for all operations +in War, great and small, what cash payment is in bill transactions. +However remote from each other these relations, however seldom the +realisation may take place, still it can never entirely fail to occur. + +If the decision by arms lies at the foundation of all combinations, +then it follows that the enemy can defeat each of them by gaining a +victory on the field, not merely in the one on which our combination +directly depends, but also in any other encounter, if it is only +important enough; for every important decision by arms—that is, +destruction of the enemy’s forces—reacts upon all preceding it, +because, like a liquid element, they tend to bring themselves to a +level. + +Thus, the destruction of the enemy’s armed force appears, therefore, +always as the superior and more effectual means, to which all others +must give way. + +It is, however, only when there is a supposed equality in all other +conditions that we can ascribe to the destruction of the enemy’s armed +force the greater efficacy. It would, therefore, be a great mistake to +draw the conclusion that a blind dash must always gain the victory over +skill and caution. An unskilful attack would lead to the destruction of +our own and not of the enemy’s force, and therefore is not what is here +meant. The superior efficacy belongs not to the _means_ but to the +_end_, and we are only comparing the effect of one realised purpose +with the other. + +If we speak of the destruction of the enemy’s armed force, we must +expressly point out that nothing obliges us to confine this idea to the +mere physical force; on the contrary, the moral is necessarily implied +as well, because both in fact are interwoven with each other, even in +the most minute details, and therefore cannot be separated. But it is +just in connection with the inevitable effect which has been referred +to, of a great act of destruction (a great victory) upon all other +decisions by arms, that this moral element is most fluid, if we may use +that expression, and therefore distributes itself the most easily +through all the parts. + +Against the far superior worth which the destruction of the enemy’s +armed force has over all other means stands the expense and risk of +this means, and it is only to avoid these that any other means are +taken. That these must be costly stands to reason, for the waste of our +own military forces must, _ceteris paribus_, always be greater the more +our aim is directed upon the destruction of the enemy’s power. + +The danger lies in this, that the greater efficacy which we seek +recoils on ourselves, and therefore has worse consequences in case we +fail of success. + +Other methods are, therefore, less costly when they succeed, less +dangerous when they fail; but in this is necessarily lodged the +condition that they are only opposed to similar ones, that is, that the +enemy acts on the same principle; for if the enemy should choose the +way of a great decision by arms, _our means must on that account be +changed against our will, in order to correspond with his_. Then all +depends on the issue of the act of destruction; but of course it is +evident that, _ceteris paribus_, in this act we must be at a +disadvantage in all respects because our views and our means had been +directed in part upon other objects, which is not the case with the +enemy. Two different objects of which one is not part, the other +exclude each other, and therefore a force which may be applicable for +the one may not serve for the other. If, therefore, one of two +belligerents is determined to seek the great decision by arms, then he +has a high probability of success, as soon as he is certain his +opponent will not take that way, but follows a different object; and +every one who sets before himself any such other aim only does so in a +reasonable manner, provided he acts on the supposition that his +adversary has as little intention as he has of resorting to the great +decision by arms. + +But what we have here said of another direction of views and forces +relates only to other _positive objects_, which we may propose to +ourselves in War, besides the destruction of the enemy’s force, not by +any means to the pure defensive, which may be adopted with a view +thereby to exhaust the enemy’s forces. In the pure defensive the +positive object is wanting, and therefore, while on the defensive, our +forces cannot at the same time be directed on other objects; they can +only be employed to defeat the intentions of the enemy. + +We have now to consider the opposite of the destruction of the enemy’s +armed force, that is to say, the preservation of our own. These two +efforts always go together, as they mutually act and react on each +other; they are integral parts of one and the same view, and we have +only to ascertain what effect is produced when one or the other has the +predominance. The endeavour to destroy the enemy’s force has a positive +object, and leads to positive results, of which the final aim is the +conquest of the enemy. The preservation of our own forces has a +negative object, leads therefore to the defeat of the enemy’s +intentions, that is to pure resistance, of which the final aim can be +nothing more than to prolong the duration of the contest, so that the +enemy shall exhaust himself in it. + +The effort with a positive object calls into existence the act of +destruction; the effort with the negative object awaits it. + +How far this state of expectation should and may be carried we shall +enter into more particularly in the theory of attack and defence, at +the origin of which we again find ourselves. Here we shall content +ourselves with saying that the awaiting must be no absolute endurance, +and that in the action bound up with it the destruction of the enemy’s +armed force engaged in this conflict may be the aim just as well as +anything else. It would therefore be a great error in the fundamental +idea to suppose that the consequence of the negative course is that we +are precluded from choosing the destruction of the enemy’s military +force as our object, and must prefer a bloodless solution. The +advantage which the negative effort gives may certainly lead to that, +but only at the risk of its not being the most advisable method, as +that question is dependent on totally different conditions, resting not +with ourselves but with our opponents. This other bloodless way cannot, +therefore, be looked upon at all as the natural means of satisfying our +great anxiety to spare our forces; on the contrary, when circumstances +are not favourable, it would be the means of completely ruining them. +Very many Generals have fallen into this error, and been ruined by it. +The only necessary effect resulting from the superiority of the +negative effort is the delay of the decision, so that the party acting +takes refuge in that way, as it were, in the expectation of the +decisive moment. The consequence of that is generally _the postponement +of the action_ as much as possible in time, and also in space, in so +far as space is in connection with it. If the moment has arrived in +which this can no longer be done without ruinous disadvantage, then the +advantage of the negative must be considered as exhausted, and then +comes forward unchanged the effort for the destruction of the enemy’s +force, which was kept back by a counterpoise, but never discarded. + +We have seen, therefore, in the foregoing reflections, that there are +many ways to the aim, that is, to the attainment of the political +object; but that the only means is the combat, and that consequently +everything is subject to a supreme law: which is the _decision by +arms;_ that where this is really demanded by one, it is a redress which +cannot be refused by the other; that, therefore, a belligerent who +takes any other way must make sure that his opponent will not take this +means of redress, or his cause may be lost in that supreme court; hence +therefore the destruction of the enemy’s armed force, amongst all the +objects which can be pursued in War, appears always as the one which +overrules all others. + +What may be achieved by combinations of another kind in War we shall +only learn in the sequel, and naturally only by degrees. We content +ourselves here with acknowledging in general their possibility, as +something pointing to the difference between the reality and the +conception, and to the influence of particular circumstances. But we +could not avoid showing at once that the _bloody solution of the +crisis_, the effort for the destruction of the enemy’s force, is the +firstborn son of War. If when political objects are unimportant, +motives weak, the excitement of forces small, a cautious commander +tries in all kinds of ways, without great crises and bloody solutions, +to twist himself skilfully into a peace through the characteristic +weaknesses of his enemy in the field and in the Cabinet, we have no +right to find fault with him, if the premises on which he acts are well +founded and justified by success; still we must require him to remember +that he only travels on forbidden tracks, where the God of War may +surprise him; that he ought always to keep his eye on the enemy, in +order that he may not have to defend himself with a dress rapier if the +enemy takes up a sharp sword. + +The consequences of the nature of War, how ends and means act in it, +how in the modifications of reality it deviates sometimes more, +sometimes less, from its strict original conception, fluctuating +backwards and forwards, yet always remaining under that strict +conception as under a supreme law: all this we must retain before us, +and bear constantly in mind in the consideration of each of the +succeeding subjects, if we would rightly comprehend their true +relations and proper importance, and not become involved incessantly in +the most glaring contradictions with the reality, and at last with our +own selves. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Genius for War + +Every special calling in life, if it is to be followed with success, +requires peculiar qualifications of understanding and soul. Where these +are of a high order, and manifest themselves by extraordinary +achievements, the mind to which they belong is termed GENIUS. + +We know very well that this word is used in many significations which +are very different both in extent and nature, and that with many of +these significations it is a very difficult task to define the essence +of Genius; but as we neither profess to be philosopher nor grammarian, +we must be allowed to keep to the meaning usual in ordinary language, +and to understand by “genius” a very high mental capacity for certain +employments. + +We wish to stop for a moment over this faculty and dignity of the mind, +in order to vindicate its title, and to explain more fully the meaning +of the conception. But we shall not dwell on that (genius) which has +obtained its title through a very great talent, on genius properly so +called, that is a conception which has no defined limits. What we have +to do is to bring under consideration every common tendency of the +powers of the mind and soul towards the business of War, the whole of +which common tendencies we may look upon as the ESSENCE OF MILITARY +GENIUS. We say “common,” for just therein consists military genius, +that it is not one single quality bearing upon War, as, for instance, +courage, while other qualities of mind and soul are wanting or have a +direction which is unserviceable for War, but that it is AN HARMONIOUS +ASSOCIATION OF POWERS, in which one or other may predominate, but none +must be in opposition. + +If every combatant required to be more or less endowed with military +genius, then our armies would be very weak; for as it implies a +peculiar bent of the intelligent powers, therefore it can only rarely +be found where the mental powers of a people are called into +requisition and trained in many different ways. The fewer the +employments followed by a Nation, the more that of arms predominates, +so much the more prevalent will military genius also be found. But this +merely applies to its prevalence, by no means to its degree, for that +depends on the general state of intellectual culture in the country. If +we look at a wild, warlike race, then we find a warlike spirit in +individuals much more common than in a civilised people; for in the +former almost every warrior possesses it, whilst in the civilised +whole, masses are only carried away by it from necessity, never by +inclination. But amongst uncivilised people we never find a really +great General, and very seldom what we can properly call a military +genius, because that requires a development of the intelligent powers +which cannot be found in an uncivilised state. That a civilised people +may also have a warlike tendency and development is a matter of course; +and the more this is general, the more frequently also will military +spirit be found in individuals in their armies. Now as this coincides +in such case with the higher degree of civilisation, therefore from +such nations have issued forth the most brilliant military exploits, as +the Romans and the French have exemplified. The greatest names in these +and in all other nations that have been renowned in War belong strictly +to epochs of higher culture. + +From this we may infer how great a share the intelligent powers have in +superior military genius. We shall now look more closely into this +point. + +War is the province of danger, and therefore courage above all things +is the first quality of a warrior. + +Courage is of two kinds: first, physical courage, or courage in +presence of danger to the person; and next, moral courage, or courage +before responsibility, whether it be before the judgment-seat of +external authority, or of the inner power, the conscience. We only +speak here of the first. + +Courage before danger to the person, again, is of two kinds. First, it +may be indifference to danger, whether proceeding from the organism of +the individual, contempt of death, or habit: in any of these cases it +is to be regarded as a permanent condition. + +Secondly, courage may proceed from positive motives, such as personal +pride, patriotism, enthusiasm of any kind. In this case courage is not +so much a normal condition as an impulse. + +We may conceive that the two kinds act differently. The first kind is +more certain, because it has become a second nature, never forsakes the +man; the second often leads him farther. In the first there is more of +firmness, in the second, of boldness. The first leaves the judgment +cooler, the second raises its power at times, but often bewilders it. +The two combined make up the most perfect kind of courage. + +War is the province of physical exertion and suffering. In order not to +be completely overcome by them, a certain strength of body and mind is +required, which, either natural or acquired, produces indifference to +them. With these qualifications, under the guidance of simply a sound +understanding, a man is at once a proper instrument for War; and these +are the qualifications so generally to be met with amongst wild and +half-civilised tribes. If we go further in the demands which War makes +on it, then we find the powers of the understanding predominating. War +is the province of uncertainty: three-fourths of those things upon +which action in War must be calculated, are hidden more or less in the +clouds of great uncertainty. Here, then, above all a fine and +penetrating mind is called for, to search out the truth by the tact of +its judgment. + +An average intellect may, at one time, perhaps hit upon this truth by +accident; an extraordinary courage, at another, may compensate for the +want of this tact; but in the majority of cases the average result will +always bring to light the deficient understanding. + +War is the province of chance. In no sphere of human activity is such a +margin to be left for this intruder, because none is so much in +constant contact with him on all sides. He increases the uncertainty of +every circumstance, and deranges the course of events. + +From this uncertainty of all intelligence and suppositions, this +continual interposition of chance, the actor in War constantly finds +things different from his expectations; and this cannot fail to have an +influence on his plans, or at least on the presumptions connected with +these plans. If this influence is so great as to render the +pre-determined plan completely nugatory, then, as a rule, a new one +must be substituted in its place; but at the moment the necessary data +are often wanting for this, because in the course of action +circumstances press for immediate decision, and allow no time to look +about for fresh data, often not enough for mature consideration. + +But it more often happens that the correction of one premise, and the +knowledge of chance events which have arisen, are not sufficient to +overthrow our plans completely, but only suffice to produce hesitation. +Our knowledge of circumstances has increased, but our uncertainty, +instead of having diminished, has only increased. The reason of this +is, that we do not gain all our experience at once, but by degrees; +thus our determinations continue to be assailed incessantly by fresh +experience; and the mind, if we may use the expression, must always be +“under arms.” + +Now, if it is to get safely through this perpetual conflict with the +unexpected, two qualities are indispensable: in the first place an +intellect which, even in the midst of this intense obscurity, is not +without some traces of inner light, which lead to the truth, and then +the courage to follow this faint light. The first is figuratively +expressed by the French phrase _coup d’œil_. The other is _resolution_. +As the battle is the feature in War to which attention was originally +chiefly directed, and as time and space are important elements in it, +more particularly when cavalry with their rapid decisions were the +chief arm, the idea of rapid and correct decision related in the first +instance to the estimation of these two elements, and to denote the +idea an expression was adopted which actually only points to a correct +judgment by eye. Many teachers of the Art of War then gave this limited +signification as the definition of _coup d’œil_. But it is undeniable +that all able decisions formed in the moment of action soon came to be +understood by the expression, as, for instance, the hitting upon the +right point of attack, &c. It is, therefore, not only the physical, but +more frequently the mental eye which is meant in _coup d’œil_. +Naturally, the expression, like the thing, is always more in its place +in the field of tactics: still, it must not be wanting in strategy, +inasmuch as in it rapid decisions are often necessary. If we strip this +conception of that which the expression has given it of the +over-figurative and restricted, then it amounts simply to the rapid +discovery of a truth which to the ordinary mind is either not visible +at all or only becomes so after long examination and reflection. + +Resolution is an act of courage in single instances, and if it becomes +a characteristic trait, it is a habit of the mind. But here we do not +mean courage in face of bodily danger, but in face of responsibility, +therefore, to a certain extent against moral danger. This has been +often called _courage d’esprit_, on the ground that it springs from the +understanding; nevertheless, it is no act of the understanding on that +account; it is an act of feeling. Mere intelligence is still not +courage, for we often see the cleverest people devoid of resolution. +The mind must, therefore, first awaken the feeling of courage, and then +be guided and supported by it, because in momentary emergencies the man +is swayed more by his feelings than his thoughts. + +We have assigned to resolution the office of removing the torments of +doubt, and the dangers of delay, when there are no sufficient motives +for guidance. Through the unscrupulous use of language which is +prevalent, this term is often applied to the mere propensity to daring, +to bravery, boldness, or temerity. But, when there are _sufficient +motives_ in the man, let them be objective or subjective, true or +false, we have no right to speak of his resolution; for, when we do so, +we put ourselves in his place, and we throw into the scale doubts which +did not exist with him. + +Here there is no question of anything but of strength and weakness. We +are not pedantic enough to dispute with the use of language about this +little misapplication, our observation is only intended to remove wrong +objections. + +This resolution now, which overcomes the state of doubting, can only be +called forth by the intellect, and, in fact, by a peculiar tendency of +the same. We maintain that the mere union of a superior understanding +and the necessary feelings are not sufficient to make up resolution. +There are persons who possess the keenest perception for the most +difficult problems, who are also not fearful of responsibility, and yet +in cases of difficulty cannot come to a resolution. Their courage and +their sagacity operate independently of each other, do not give each +other a hand, and on that account do not produce resolution as a +result. The forerunner of resolution is an act of the mind making +evident the necessity of venturing, and thus influencing the will. This +quite peculiar direction of the mind, which conquers every other fear +in man by the fear of wavering or doubting, is what makes up resolution +in strong minds; therefore, in our opinion, men who have little +intelligence can never be resolute. They may act without hesitation +under perplexing circumstances, but then they act without reflection. +Now, of course, when a man acts without reflection he cannot be at +variance with himself by doubts, and such a mode of action may now and +then lead to the right point; but we say now as before, it is the +average result which indicates the existence of military genius. Should +our assertion appear extraordinary to any one, because he knows many a +resolute hussar officer who is no deep thinker, we must remind him that +the question here is about a peculiar direction of the mind, and not +about great thinking powers. + +We believe, therefore, that resolution is indebted to a special +direction of the mind for its existence, a direction which belongs to a +strong head rather than to a brilliant one. In corroboration of this +genealogy of resolution we may add that there have been many instances +of men who have shown the greatest resolution in an inferior rank, and +have lost it in a higher position. While, on the one hand, they are +obliged to resolve, on the other they see the dangers of a wrong +decision, and as they are surrounded with things new to them, their +understanding loses its original force, and they become only the more +timid the more they become aware of the danger of the irresolution into +which they have fallen, and the more they have formerly been in the +habit of acting on the spur of the moment. + +From the _coup d’œil_ and resolution we are naturally to speak of its +kindred quality, _presence of mind_, which in a region of the +unexpected like War must act a great part, for it is indeed nothing but +a great conquest over the unexpected. As we admire presence of mind in +a pithy answer to anything said unexpectedly, so we admire it in a +ready expedient on sudden danger. Neither the answer nor the expedient +need be in themselves extraordinary, if they only hit the point; for +that which as the result of mature reflection would be nothing unusual, +therefore insignificant in its impression on us, may as an +instantaneous act of the mind produce a pleasing impression. The +expression “presence of mind” certainly denotes very fitly the +readiness and rapidity of the help rendered by the mind. + +Whether this noble quality of a man is to be ascribed more to the +peculiarity of his mind or to the equanimity of his feelings, depends +on the nature of the case, although neither of the two can be entirely +wanting. A telling repartee bespeaks rather a ready wit, a ready +expedient on sudden danger implies more particularly a well-balanced +mind. + +If we take a general view of the four elements composing the atmosphere +in which War moves, of _danger, physical effort, uncertainty_, and +_chance_, it is easy to conceive that a great force of mind and +understanding is requisite to be able to make way with safety and +success amongst such opposing elements, a force which, according to the +different modifications arising out of circumstances, we find termed by +military writers and annalists as _energy, firmness, staunchness, +strength of mind and character_. All these manifestations of the heroic +nature might be regarded as one and the same power of volition, +modified according to circumstances; but nearly related as these things +are to each other, still they are not one and the same, and it is +desirable for us to distinguish here a little more closely at least the +action of the powers of the soul in relation to them. + +In the first place, to make the conception clear, it is essential to +observe that the weight, burden, resistance, or whatever it may be +called, by which that force of the soul in the General is brought to +light, is only in a very small measure the enemy’s activity, the +enemy’s resistance, the enemy’s action directly. The enemy’s activity +only affects the General directly in the first place in relation to his +person, without disturbing his action as Commander. If the enemy, +instead of two hours, resists for four, the Commander instead of two +hours is four hours in danger; this is a quantity which plainly +diminishes the higher the rank of the Commander. What is it for one in +the post of Commander-in-Chief? It is nothing. + +Secondly, although the opposition offered by the enemy has a direct +effect on the Commander through the loss of means arising from +prolonged resistance, and the responsibility connected with that loss, +and his force of will is first tested and called forth by these anxious +considerations, still we maintain that this is not the heaviest burden +by far which he has to bear, because he has only himself to settle +with. All the other effects of the enemy’s resistance act directly upon +the combatants under his command, and through them react upon him. + +As long as his men full of good courage fight with zeal and spirit, it +is seldom necessary for the Chief to show great energy of purpose in +the pursuit of his object. But as soon as difficulties arise—and that +must always happen when great results are at stake—then things no +longer move on of themselves like a well-oiled machine, the machine +itself then begins to offer resistance, and to overcome this the +Commander must have a great force of will. By this resistance we must +not exactly suppose disobedience and murmurs, although these are +frequent enough with particular individuals; it is the whole feeling of +the dissolution of all physical and moral power, it is the heartrending +sight of the bloody sacrifice which the Commander has to contend with +in himself, and then in all others who directly or indirectly transfer +to him their impressions, feelings, anxieties, and desires. As the +forces in one individual after another become prostrated, and can no +longer be excited and supported by an effort of his own will, the whole +inertia of the mass gradually rests its weight on the Will of the +Commander: by the spark in his breast, by the light of his spirit, the +spark of purpose, the light of hope, must be kindled afresh in others: +in so far only as he is equal to this, he stands above the masses and +continues to be their master; whenever that influence ceases, and his +own spirit is no longer strong enough to revive the spirit of all +others, the masses drawing him down with them sink into the lower +region of animal nature, which shrinks from danger and knows not shame. +These are the weights which the courage and intelligent faculties of +the military Commander have to overcome if he is to make his name +illustrious. They increase with the masses, and therefore, if the +forces in question are to continue equal to the burden, they must rise +in proportion to the height of the station. + +Energy in action expresses the strength of the motive through which the +action is excited, let the motive have its origin in a conviction of +the understanding, or in an impulse. But the latter can hardly ever be +wanting where great force is to show itself. + +Of all the noble feelings which fill the human heart in the exciting +tumult of battle, none, we must admit, are so powerful and constant as +the soul’s thirst for honour and renown, which the German language +treats so unfairly and tends to depreciate by the unworthy associations +in the words _Ehrgeiz_ (greed of honour) and _Ruhmsucht_ (hankering +after glory). No doubt it is just in War that the abuse of these proud +aspirations of the soul must bring upon the human race the most +shocking outrages, but by their origin they are certainly to be counted +amongst the noblest feelings which belong to human nature, and in War +they are the vivifying principle which gives the enormous body a +spirit. Although other feelings may be more general in their influence, +and many of them—such as love of country, fanaticism, revenge, +enthusiasm of every kind—may seem to stand higher, the thirst for +honour and renown still remains indispensable. Those other feelings may +rouse the great masses in general, and excite them more powerfully, but +they do not give the Leader a desire to will more than others, which is +an essential requisite in his position if he is to make himself +distinguished in it. They do not, like a thirst for honour, make the +military act specially the property of the Leader, which he strives to +turn to the best account; where he ploughs with toil, sows with care, +that he may reap plentifully. It is through these aspirations we have +been speaking of in Commanders, from the highest to the lowest, this +sort of energy, this spirit of emulation, these incentives, that the +action of armies is chiefly animated and made successful. And now as to +that which specially concerns the head of all, we ask, Has there ever +been a great Commander destitute of the love of honour, or is such a +character even conceivable? + +_Firmness_ denotes the resistance of the will in relation to the force +of a single blow, _staunchness_ in relation to a continuance of blows. +Close as is the analogy between the two, and often as the one is used +in place of the other, still there is a notable difference between them +which cannot be mistaken, inasmuch as firmness against a single +powerful impression may have its root in the mere strength of a +feeling, but staunchness must be supported rather by the understanding, +for the greater the duration of an action the more systematic +deliberation is connected with it, and from this staunchness partly +derives its power. + +If we now turn to _strength of mind or soul_, then the first question +is, What are we to understand thereby? + +Plainly it is not vehement expressions of feeling, nor easily excited +passions, for that would be contrary to all the usage of language, but +the power of listening to reason in the midst of the most intense +excitement, in the storm of the most violent passions. Should this +power depend on strength of understanding alone? We doubt it. The fact +that there are men of the greatest intellect who cannot command +themselves certainly proves nothing to the contrary, for we might say +that it perhaps requires an understanding of a powerful rather than of +a comprehensive nature; but we believe we shall be nearer the truth if +we assume that the power of submitting oneself to the control of the +understanding, even in moments of the most violent excitement of the +feelings, that power which we call _self-command_, has its root in the +heart itself. It is, in point of fact, another feeling, which in strong +minds balances the excited passions without destroying them; and it is +only through this equilibrium that the mastery of the understanding is +secured. This counterpoise is nothing but a sense of the dignity of +man, that noblest pride, that deeply-seated desire of the soul always +to act as a being endued with understanding and reason. We may +therefore say that a strong mind is one which does not lose its balance +even under the most violent excitement. + +If we cast a glance at the variety to be observed in the human +character in respect to feeling, we find, first, some people who have +very little excitability, who are called phlegmatic or indolent. + +Secondly, some very excitable, but whose feelings still never overstep +certain limits, and who are therefore known as men full of feeling, but +sober-minded. + +Thirdly, those who are very easily roused, whose feelings blaze up +quickly and violently like gunpowder, but do not last. + +Fourthly, and lastly, those who cannot be moved by slight causes, and +who generally are not to be roused suddenly, but only gradually; but +whose feelings become very powerful and are much more lasting. These +are men with strong passions, lying deep and latent. + +This difference of character lies probably close on the confines of the +physical powers which move the human organism, and belongs to that +amphibious organisation which we call the nervous system, which appears +to be partly material, partly spiritual. With our weak philosophy, we +shall not proceed further in this mysterious field. But it is important +for us to spend a moment over the effects which these different natures +have on, action in War, and to see how far a great strength of mind is +to be expected from them. + +Indolent men cannot easily be thrown out of their equanimity, but we +cannot certainly say there is strength of mind where there is a want of +all manifestation of power. + +At the same time, it is not to be denied that such men have a certain +peculiar aptitude for War, on account of their constant equanimity. +They often want the positive motive to action, impulse, and +consequently activity, but they are not apt to throw things into +disorder. + +The peculiarity of the second class is that they are easily excited to +act on trifling grounds, but in great matters they are easily +overwhelmed. Men of this kind show great activity in helping an +unfortunate individual, but by the distress of a whole Nation they are +only inclined to despond, not roused to action. + +Such people are not deficient in either activity or equanimity in War; +but they will never accomplish anything great unless a great +intellectual force furnishes the motive, and it is very seldom that a +strong, independent mind is combined with such a character. + +Excitable, inflammable feelings are in themselves little suited for +practical life, and therefore they are not very fit for War. They have +certainly the advantage of strong impulses, but that cannot long +sustain them. At the same time, if the excitability in such men takes +the direction of courage, or a sense of honour, they may often be very +useful in inferior positions in War, because the action in War over +which commanders in inferior positions have control is generally of +shorter duration. Here one courageous resolution, one effervescence of +the forces of the soul, will often suffice. A brave attack, a +soul-stirring hurrah, is the work of a few moments, whilst a brave +contest on the battle-field is the work of a day, and a campaign the +work of a year. + +Owing to the rapid movement of their feelings, it is doubly difficult +for men of this description to preserve equilibrium of the mind; +therefore they frequently lose head, and that is the worst phase in +their nature as respects the conduct of War. But it would be contrary +to experience to maintain that very excitable spirits can never +preserve a steady equilibrium—that is to say, that they cannot do so +even under the strongest excitement. Why should they not have the +sentiment of self-respect, for, as a rule, they are men of a noble +nature? This feeling is seldom wanting in them, but it has not time to +produce an effect. After an outburst they suffer most from a feeling of +inward humiliation. If through education, self-observance, and +experience of life, they have learned, sooner or later, the means of +being on their guard, so that at the moment of powerful excitement they +are conscious betimes of the counteracting force within their own +breasts, then even such men may have great strength of mind. + +Lastly, those who are difficult to move, but on that account +susceptible of very deep feelings, men who stand in the same relation +to the preceding as red heat to a flame, are the best adapted by means +of their Titanic strength to roll away the enormous masses by which we +may figuratively represent the difficulties which beset command in War. +The effect of their feelings is like the movement of a great body, +slower, but more irresistible. + +Although such men are not so likely to be suddenly surprised by their +feelings and carried away so as to be afterwards ashamed of themselves, +like the preceding, still it would be contrary to experience to believe +that they can never lose their equanimity, or be overcome by blind +passion; on the contrary, this must always happen whenever the noble +pride of self-control is wanting, or as often as it has not sufficient +weight. We see examples of this most frequently in men of noble minds +belonging to savage nations, where the low degree of mental cultivation +favours always the dominance of the passions. But even amongst the most +civilised classes in civilised States, life is full of examples of this +kind—of men carried away by the violence of their passions, like the +poacher of old chained to the stag in the forest. + +We therefore say once more a strong mind is not one that is merely +susceptible of strong excitement, but one which can maintain its +serenity under the most powerful excitement, so that, in spite of the +storm in the breast, the perception and judgment can act with perfect +freedom, like the needle of the compass in the storm-tossed ship. + +By the term _strength of character_, or simply _character_, is denoted +tenacity of conviction, let it be the result of our own or of others’ +views, and whether they are principles, opinions, momentary +inspirations, or any kind of emanations of the understanding; but this +kind of firmness certainly cannot manifest itself if the views +themselves are subject to frequent change. This frequent change need +not be the consequence of external influences; it may proceed from the +continuous activity of our own mind, in which case it indicates a +characteristic unsteadiness of mind. Evidently we should not say of a +man who changes his views every moment, however much the motives of +change may originate with himself, that he has character. Only those +men, therefore, can be said to have this quality whose conviction is +very constant, either because it is deeply rooted and clear in itself, +little liable to alteration, or because, as in the case of indolent +men, there is a want of mental activity, and therefore a want of +motives to change; or lastly, because an explicit act of the will, +derived from an imperative maxim of the understanding, refuses any +change of opinion up to a certain point. + +Now in War, owing to the many and powerful impressions to which the +mind is exposed, and in the uncertainty of all knowledge and of all +science, more things occur to distract a man from the road he has +entered upon, to make him doubt himself and others, than in any other +human activity. + +The harrowing sight of danger and suffering easily leads to the +feelings gaining ascendency over the conviction of the understanding; +and in the twilight which surrounds everything a deep clear view is so +difficult that a change of opinion is more conceivable and more +pardonable. It is, at all times, only conjecture or guesses at truth +which we have to act upon. This is why differences of opinion are +nowhere so great as in War, and the stream of impressions acting +counter to one’s own convictions never ceases to flow. Even the +greatest impassibility of mind is hardly proof against them, because +the impressions are powerful in their nature, and always act at the +same time upon the feelings. + +When the discernment is clear and deep, none but general principles and +views of action from a high standpoint can be the result; and on these +principles the opinion in each particular case immediately under +consideration lies, as it were, at anchor. But to keep to these results +of bygone reflection, in opposition to the stream of opinions and +phenomena which the present brings with it, is just the difficulty. +Between the particular case and the principle there is often a wide +space which cannot always be traversed on a visible chain of +conclusions, and where a certain faith in self is necessary and a +certain amount of scepticism is serviceable. Here often nothing else +will help us but an imperative maxim which, independent of reflection, +at once controls it: that maxim is, in all doubtful cases to adhere to +the first opinion, and not to give it up until a clear conviction +forces us to do so. We must firmly believe in the superior authority of +well-tried maxims, and under the dazzling influence of momentary events +not forget that their value is of an inferior stamp. By this preference +which in doubtful cases we give to first convictions, by adherence to +the same our actions acquire that stability and consistency which make +up what is called character. + +It is easy to see how essential a well-balanced mind is to strength of +character; therefore men of strong minds generally have a great deal of +character. + +Force of character leads us to a spurious variety of it—OBSTINACY. + +It is often very difficult in concrete cases to say where the one ends +and the other begins; on the other hand, it does not seem difficult to +determine the difference in idea. + +Obstinacy is no fault of the understanding; we use the term as denoting +a resistance against our better judgment, and it would be inconsistent +to charge that to the understanding, as the understanding is the power +of judgment. Obstinacy is A FAULT OF THE FEELINGS or heart. This +inflexibility of will, this impatience of contradiction, have their +origin only in a particular kind of egotism, which sets above every +other pleasure that of governing both self and others by its own mind +alone. We should call it a kind of vanity, were it not decidedly +something better. Vanity is satisfied with mere show, but obstinacy +rests upon the enjoyment of the thing. + +We say, therefore, force of character degenerates into obstinacy +whenever the resistance to opposing judgments proceeds not from better +convictions or a reliance upon a trustworthy maxim, but from a feeling +of opposition. If this definition, as we have already admitted, is of +little assistance practically, still it will prevent obstinacy from +being considered merely force of character intensified, whilst it is +something essentially different—something which certainly lies close to +it and is cognate to it, but is at the same time so little an +intensification of it that there are very obstinate men who from want +of understanding have very little force of character. + +Having in these high attributes of a great military Commander made +ourselves acquainted with those qualities in which heart and head +co-operate, we now come to a speciality of military activity which +perhaps may be looked upon as the most marked if it is not the most +important, and which only makes a demand on the power of the mind +without regard to the forces of feelings. It is the connection which +exists between War and country or ground. + +This connection is, in the first place, a permanent condition of War, +for it is impossible to imagine our organised Armies effecting any +operation otherwise than in some given space; it is, secondly, of the +most decisive importance, because it modifies, at times completely +alters, the action of all forces; thirdly, while on the one hand it +often concerns the most minute features of locality, on the other it +may apply to immense tracts of country. + +In this manner a great peculiarity is given to the effect of this +connection of War with country and ground. If we think of other +occupations of man which have a relation to these objects, on +horticulture, agriculture, on building houses and hydraulic works, on +mining, on the chase, and forestry, they are all confined within very +limited spaces which may be soon explored with sufficient exactness. +But the Commander in War must commit the business he has in hand to a +corresponding space which his eye cannot survey, which the keenest zeal +cannot always explore, and with which, owing to the constant changes +taking place, he can also seldom become properly acquainted. Certainly +the enemy generally is in the same situation; still, in the first +place, the difficulty, although common to both, is not the less a +difficulty, and he who by talent and practice overcomes it will have a +great advantage on his side; secondly, this equality of the difficulty +on both sides is merely an abstract supposition which is rarely +realised in the particular case, as one of the two opponents (the +defensive) usually knows much more of the locality than his adversary. + +This very peculiar difficulty must be overcome by a natural mental gift +of a special kind which is known by the—too restricted—term of +_Ortsinn_ sense of locality. It is the power of quickly forming a +correct geometrical idea of any portion of country, and consequently of +being able to find one’s place in it exactly at any time. This is +plainly an act of the imagination. The perception no doubt is formed +partly by means of the physical eye, partly by the mind, which fills up +what is wanting with ideas derived from knowledge and experience, and +out of the fragments visible to the physical eye forms a whole; but +that this whole should present itself vividly to the reason, should +become a picture, a mentally drawn map, that this picture should be +fixed, that the details should never again separate themselves—all that +can only be effected by the mental faculty which we call imagination. +If some great poet or painter should feel hurt that we require from his +goddess such an office; if he shrugs his shoulders at the notion that a +sharp gamekeeper must necessarily excel in imagination, we readily +grant that we only speak here of imagination in a limited sense, of its +service in a really menial capacity. But, however slight this service, +still it must be the work of that natural gift, for if that gift is +wanting, it would be difficult to imagine things plainly in all the +completeness of the visible. That a good memory is a great assistance +we freely allow, but whether memory is to be considered as an +independent faculty of the mind in this case, or whether it is just +that power of imagination which here fixes these things better on the +memory, we leave undecided, as in many respects it seems difficult upon +the whole to conceive these two mental powers apart from each other. + +That practice and mental acuteness have much to do with it is not to be +denied. Puysegur, the celebrated Quartermaster-General of the famous +Luxemburg, used to say that he had very little confidence in himself in +this respect at first, because if he had to fetch the _parole_ from a +distance he always lost his way. + +It is natural that scope for the exercise of this talent should +increase along with rank. If the hussar and rifleman in command of a +patrol must know well all the highways and byways, and if for that a +few marks, a few limited powers of observation, are sufficient, the +Chief of an Army must make himself familiar with the general +geographical features of a province and of a country; must always have +vividly before his eyes the direction of the roads, rivers, and hills, +without at the same time being able to dispense with the narrower +“sense of locality” (_Ortsinn_). No doubt, information of various kinds +as to objects in general, maps, books, memoirs, and for details the +assistance of his Staff, are a great help to him; but it is +nevertheless certain that if he has himself a talent for forming an +ideal picture of a country quickly and distinctly, it lends to his +action an easier and firmer step, saves him from a certain mental +helplessness, and makes him less dependent on others. + +If this talent then is to be ascribed to imagination, it is also almost +the only service which military activity requires from that erratic +goddess, whose influence is more hurtful than useful in other respects. + +We think we have now passed in review those manifestations of the +powers of mind and soul which military activity requires from human +nature. Everywhere intellect appears as an essential co-operative +force; and thus we can understand how the work of War, although so +plain and simple in its effects, can never be conducted with +distinguished success by people without distinguished powers of the +understanding. + +When we have reached this view, then we need no longer look upon such a +natural idea as the turning an enemy’s position, which has been done a +thousand times, and a hundred other similar conceptions, as the result +of a great effort of genius. + +Certainly one is accustomed to regard the plain honest soldier as the +very opposite of the man of reflection, full of inventions and ideas, +or of the brilliant spirit shining in the ornaments of refined +education of every kind. This antithesis is also by no means devoid of +truth; but it does not show that the efficiency of the soldier consists +only in his courage, and that there is no particular energy and +capacity of the brain required in addition to make a man merely what is +called a true soldier. We must again repeat that there is nothing more +common than to hear of men losing their energy on being raised to a +higher position, to which they do not feel themselves equal; but we +must also remind our readers that we are speaking of pre-eminent +services, of such as give renown in the branch of activity to which +they belong. Each grade of command in War therefore forms its own +stratum of requisite capacity of fame and honour. + +An immense space lies between a General—that is, one at the head of a +whole War, or of a theatre of War—and his Second in Command, for the +simple reason that the latter is in more immediate subordination to a +superior authority and supervision, consequently is restricted to a +more limited sphere of independent thought. This is why common opinion +sees no room for the exercise of high talent except in high places, and +looks upon an ordinary capacity as sufficient for all beneath: this is +why people are rather inclined to look upon a subordinate General grown +grey in the service, and in whom constant discharge of routine duties +has produced a decided poverty of mind, as a man of failing intellect, +and, with all respect for his bravery, to laugh at his simplicity. It +is not our object to gain for these brave men a better lot—that would +contribute nothing to their efficiency, and little to their happiness; +we only wish to represent things as they are, and to expose the error +of believing that a mere bravo without intellect can make himself +distinguished in War. + +As we consider distinguished talents requisite for those who are to +attain distinction, even in inferior positions, it naturally follows +that we think highly of those who fill with renown the place of Second +in Command of an Army; and their seeming simplicity of character as +compared with a polyhistor, with ready men of business, or with +councillors of state, must not lead us astray as to the superior nature +of their intellectual activity. It happens sometimes that men import +the fame gained in an inferior position into a higher one, without in +reality deserving it in the new position; and then if they are not much +employed, and therefore not much exposed to the risk of showing their +weak points, the judgment does not distinguish very exactly what degree +of fame is really due to them; and thus such men are often the occasion +of too low an estimate being formed of the characteristics required to +shine in certain situations. + +For each station, from the lowest upwards, to render distinguished +services in War, there must be a particular genius. But the title of +genius, history and the judgment of posterity only confer, in general, +on those minds which have shone in the highest rank, that of +Commanders-in-Chief. The reason is that here, in point of fact, the +demand on the reasoning and intellectual powers generally is much +greater. + +To conduct a whole War, or its great acts, which we call campaigns, to +a successful termination, there must be an intimate knowledge of State +policy in its higher relations. The conduct of the War and the policy +of the State here coincide, and the General becomes at the same time +the Statesman. + +We do not give Charles XII. the name of a great genius, because he +could not make the power of his sword subservient to a higher judgment +and philosophy—could not attain by it to a glorious object. We do not +give that title to Henry IV. (of France), because he did not live long +enough to set at rest the relations of different States by his military +activity, and to occupy himself in that higher field where noble +feelings and a chivalrous disposition have less to do in mastering the +enemy than in overcoming internal dissension. + +In order that the reader may appreciate all that must be comprehended +and judged of correctly at a glance by a General, we refer to the first +chapter. We say the General becomes a Statesman, but he must not cease +to be the General. He takes into view all the relations of the State on +the one hand; on the other, he must know exactly what he can do with +the means at his disposal. + +As the diversity, and undefined limits, of all the circumstances bring +a great number of factors into consideration in War, as the most of +these factors can only be estimated according to probability, +therefore, if the Chief of an Army does not bring to bear upon them a +mind with an intuitive perception of the truth, a confusion of ideas +and views must take place, in the midst of which the judgment will +become bewildered. In this sense, Buonaparte was right when he said +that many of the questions which come before a General for decision +would make problems for a mathematical calculation not unworthy of the +powers of Newton or Euler. + +What is here required from the higher powers of the mind is a sense of +unity, and a judgment raised to such a compass as to give the mind an +extraordinary faculty of vision which in its range allays and sets +aside a thousand dim notions which an ordinary understanding could only +bring to light with great effort, and over which it would exhaust +itself. But this higher activity of the mind, this glance of genius, +would still not become matter of history if the qualities of +temperament and character of which we have treated did not give it +their support. + +Truth alone is but a weak motive of action with men, and hence there is +always a great difference between knowing and action, between science +and art. The man receives the strongest impulse to action through the +feelings, and the most powerful succour, if we may use the expression, +through those faculties of heart and mind which we have considered +under the terms of resolution, firmness, perseverance, and force of +character. + +If, however, this elevated condition of heart and mind in the General +did not manifest itself in the general effects resulting from it, and +could only be accepted on trust and faith, then it would rarely become +matter of history. + +All that becomes known of the course of events in War is usually very +simple, and has a great sameness in appearance; no one on the mere +relation of such events perceives the difficulties connected with them +which had to be overcome. It is only now and again, in the memoirs of +Generals or of those in their confidence, or by reason of some special +historical inquiry directed to a particular circumstance, that a +portion of the many threads composing the whole web is brought to +light. The reflections, mental doubts, and conflicts which precede the +execution of great acts are purposely concealed because they affect +political interests, or the recollection of them is accidentally lost +because they have been looked upon as mere scaffolding which had to be +removed on the completion of the building. + +If, now, in conclusion, without venturing upon a closer definition of +the higher powers of the soul, we should admit a distinction in the +intelligent faculties themselves according to the common ideas +established by language, and ask ourselves what kind of mind comes +closest to military genius, then a look at the subject as well as at +experience will tell us that searching rather than inventive minds, +comprehensive minds rather than such as have a special bent, cool +rather than fiery heads, are those to which in time of War we should +prefer to trust the welfare of our women and children, the honour and +the safety of our fatherland. + + + +CHAPTER IV. Of Danger in War + +Usually before we have learnt what danger really is, we form an idea of +it which is rather attractive than repulsive. In the intoxication of +enthusiasm, to fall upon the enemy at the charge—who cares then about +bullets and men falling? To throw oneself, blinded by excitement for a +moment, against cold death, uncertain whether we or another shall +escape him, and all this close to the golden gate of victory, close to +the rich fruit which ambition thirsts for—can this be difficult? It +will not be difficult, and still less will it appear so. But such +moments, which, however, are not the work of a single pulse-beat, as is +supposed, but rather like doctors’ draughts, must be taken diluted and +spoilt by mixture with time—such moments, we say, are but few. + +Let us accompany the novice to the battle-field. As we approach, the +thunder of the cannon becoming plainer and plainer is soon followed by +the howling of shot, which attracts the attention of the inexperienced. +Balls begin to strike the ground close to us, before and behind. We +hasten to the hill where stands the General and his numerous Staff. +Here the close striking of the cannon balls and the bursting of shells +is so frequent that the seriousness of life makes itself visible +through the youthful picture of imagination. Suddenly some one known to +us falls—a shell strikes amongst the crowd and causes some involuntary +movements—we begin to feel that we are no longer perfectly at ease and +collected; even the bravest is at least to some degree confused. Now, a +step farther into the battle which is raging before us like a scene in +a theatre, we get to the nearest General of Division; here ball follows +ball, and the noise of our own guns increases the confusion. From the +General of Division to the Brigadier. He, a man of acknowledged +bravery, keeps carefully behind a rising ground, a house, or a tree—a +sure sign of increasing danger. Grape rattles on the roofs of the +houses and in the fields; cannon balls howl over us, and plough the air +in all directions, and soon there is a frequent whistling of musket +balls. A step farther towards the troops, to that sturdy infantry which +for hours has maintained its firmness under this heavy fire; here the +air is filled with the hissing of balls which announce their proximity +by a short sharp noise as they pass within an inch of the ear, the +head, or the breast. + +To add to all this, compassion strikes the beating heart with pity at +the sight of the maimed and fallen. The young soldier cannot reach any +of these different strata of danger without feeling that the light of +reason does not move here in the same medium, that it is not refracted +in the same manner as in speculative contemplation. Indeed, he must be +a very extraordinary man who, under these impressions for the first +time, does not lose the power of making any instantaneous decisions. It +is true that habit soon blunts such impressions; in half in hour we +begin to be more or less indifferent to all that is going on around us: +but an ordinary character never attains to complete coolness and the +natural elasticity of mind; and so we perceive that here again ordinary +qualities will not suffice—a thing which gains truth, the wider the +sphere of activity which is to be filled. Enthusiastic, stoical, +natural bravery, great ambition, or also long familiarity with +danger—much of all this there must be if all the effects produced in +this resistant medium are not to fall far short of that which in the +student’s chamber may appear only the ordinary standard. + +Danger in War belongs to its friction; a correct idea of its influence +is necessary for truth of perception, and therefore it is brought under +notice here. + + + +CHAPTER V. Of Bodily Exertion in War + +If no one were allowed to pass an opinion on the events of War, except +at a moment when he is benumbed by frost, sinking from heat and thirst, +or dying with hunger and fatigue, we should certainly have fewer +judgments correct _objectively;_ but they would be so, _subjectively_, +at least; that is, they would contain in themselves the exact relation +between the person giving the judgment and the object. We can perceive +this by observing how modestly subdued, even spiritless and desponding, +is the opinion passed upon the results of untoward events by those who +have been eye-witnesses, but especially if they have been parties +concerned. This is, according to our view, a criterion of the influence +which bodily fatigue exercises, and of the allowance to be made for it +in matters of opinion. + +Amongst the many things in War for which no tariff can be fixed, bodily +effort may be specially reckoned. Provided there is no waste, it is a +coefficient of all the forces, and no one can tell exactly to what +extent it may be carried. But what is remarkable is, that just as only +a strong arm enables the archer to stretch the bowstring to the utmost +extent, so also in War it is only by means of a great directing spirit +that we can expect the full power latent in the troops to be developed. +For it is one thing if an Army, in consequence of great misfortunes, +surrounded with danger, falls all to pieces like a wall that has been +thrown down, and can only find safety in the utmost exertion of its +bodily strength; it is another thing entirely when a victorious Army, +drawn on by proud feelings only, is conducted at the will of its Chief. +The same effort which in the one case might at most excite our pity +must in the other call forth our admiration, because it is much more +difficult to sustain. + +By this comes to light for the inexperienced eye one of those things +which put fetters in the dark, as it were, on the action of the mind, +and wear out in secret the powers of the soul. + +Although here the question is strictly only respecting the extreme +effort required by a Commander from his Army, by a leader from his +followers, therefore of the spirit to demand it and of the art of +getting it, still the personal physical exertion of Generals and of the +Chief Commander must not be overlooked. Having brought the analysis of +War conscientiously up to this point, we could not but take account +also of the weight of this small remaining residue. + +We have spoken here of bodily effort, chiefly because, like danger, it +belongs to the fundamental causes of friction, and because its +indefinite quantity makes it like an elastic body, the friction of +which is well known to be difficult to calculate. + +To check the abuse of these considerations, of such a survey of things +which aggravate the difficulties of War, nature has given our judgment +a guide in our sensibilities, just as an individual cannot with +advantage refer to his personal deficiencies if he is insulted and +ill-treated, but may well do so if he has successfully repelled the +affront, or has fully revenged it, so no Commander or Army will lessen +the impression of a disgraceful defeat by depicting the danger, the +distress, the exertions, things which would immensely enhance the glory +of a victory. Thus our feeling, which after all is only a higher kind +of judgment, forbids us to do what seems an act of justice to which our +judgment would be inclined. + + + +CHAPTER VI. Information in War + +By the word “information” we denote all the knowledge which we have of +the enemy and his country; therefore, in fact, the foundation of all +our ideas and actions. Let us just consider the nature of this +foundation, its want of trustworthiness, its changefulness, and we +shall soon feel what a dangerous edifice War is, how easily it may fall +to pieces and bury us in its ruins. For although it is a maxim in all +books that we should trust only certain information, that we must be +always suspicious, that is only a miserable book comfort, belonging to +that description of knowledge in which writers of systems and +compendiums take refuge for want of anything better to say. + +Great part of the information obtained in War is contradictory, a still +greater part is false, and by far the greatest part is of a doubtful +character. What is required of an officer is a certain power of +discrimination, which only knowledge of men and things and good +judgment can give. The law of probability must be his guide. This is +not a trifling difficulty even in respect of the first plans, which can +be formed in the chamber outside the real sphere of War, but it is +enormously increased when in the thick of War itself one report follows +hard upon the heels of another; it is then fortunate if these reports +in contradicting each other show a certain balance of probability, and +thus themselves call forth a scrutiny. It is much worse for the +inexperienced when accident does not render him this service, but one +report supports another, confirms it, magnifies it, finishes off the +picture with fresh touches of colour, until necessity in urgent haste +forces from us a resolution which will soon be discovered to be folly, +all those reports having been lies, exaggerations, errors, &c. &c. In a +few words, most reports are false, and the timidity of men acts as a +multiplier of lies and untruths. As a general rule, every one is more +inclined to lend credence to the bad than the good. Every one is +inclined to magnify the bad in some measure, and although the alarms +which are thus propagated like the waves of the sea subside into +themselves, still, like them, without any apparent cause they rise +again. Firm in reliance on his own better convictions, the Chief must +stand like a rock against which the sea breaks its fury in vain. The +_rôle_ is not easy; he who is not by nature of a buoyant disposition, +or trained by experience in War, and matured in judgment, may let it be +his rule to do violence to his own natural conviction by inclining from +the side of fear to that of hope; only by that means will he be able to +preserve his balance. This difficulty of seeing things correctly, which +is one of the greatest sources of friction in War, makes things appear +quite different from what was expected. The impression of the senses is +stronger than the force of the ideas resulting from methodical +reflection, and this goes so far that no important undertaking was ever +yet carried out without the Commander having to subdue new doubts in +himself at the time of commencing the execution of his work. Ordinary +men who follow the suggestions of others become, therefore, generally +undecided on the spot; they think that they have found circumstances +different from what they had expected, and this view gains strength by +their again yielding to the suggestions of others. But even the man who +has made his own plans, when he comes to see things with his own eyes +will often think he has done wrong. Firm reliance on self must make him +proof against the seeming pressure of the moment; his first conviction +will in the end prove true, when the foreground scenery which fate has +pushed on to the stage of War, with its accompaniments of terrific +objects, is drawn aside and the horizon extended. This is one of the +great chasms which separate _conception_ from _execution_. + + + +CHAPTER VII. Friction in War + +As long as we have no personal knowledge of War, we cannot conceive +where those difficulties lie of which so much is said, and what that +genius and those extraordinary mental powers required in a General have +really to do. All appears so simple, all the requisite branches of +knowledge appear so plain, all the combinations so unimportant, that in +comparison with them the easiest problem in higher mathematics +impresses us with a certain scientific dignity. But if we have seen +War, all becomes intelligible; and still, after all, it is extremely +difficult to describe what it is which brings about this change, to +specify this invisible and completely efficient factor. + +Everything is very simple in War, but the simplest thing is difficult. +These difficulties accumulate and produce a friction which no man can +imagine exactly who has not seen War, Suppose now a traveller, who +towards evening expects to accomplish the two stages at the end of his +day’s journey, four or five leagues, with post-horses, on the high +road—it is nothing. He arrives now at the last station but one, finds +no horses, or very bad ones; then a hilly country, bad roads; it is a +dark night, and he is glad when, after a great deal of trouble, he +reaches the next station, and finds there some miserable accommodation. +So in War, through the influence of an infinity of petty circumstances, +which cannot properly be described on paper, things disappoint us, and +we fall short of the mark. A powerful iron will overcomes this +friction; it crushes the obstacles, but certainly the machine along +with them. We shall often meet with this result. Like an obelisk +towards which the principal streets of a town converge, the strong will +of a proud spirit stands prominent and commanding in the middle of the +Art of War. + +Friction is the only conception which in a general way corresponds to +that which distinguishes real War from War on paper. The military +machine, the Army and all belonging to it, is in fact simple, and +appears on this account easy to manage. But let us reflect that no part +of it is in one piece, that it is composed entirely of individuals, +each of which keeps up its own friction in all directions. +Theoretically all sounds very well: the commander of a battalion is +responsible for the execution of the order given; and as the battalion +by its discipline is glued together into one piece, and the chief must +be a man of acknowledged zeal, the beam turns on an iron pin with +little friction. But it is not so in reality, and all that is +exaggerated and false in such a conception manifests itself at once in +War. The battalion always remains composed of a number of men, of whom, +if chance so wills, the most insignificant is able to occasion delay +and even irregularity. The danger which War brings with it, the bodily +exertions which it requires, augment this evil so much that they may be +regarded as the greatest causes of it. + +This enormous friction, which is not concentrated, as in mechanics, at +a few points, is therefore everywhere brought into contact with chance, +and thus incidents take place upon which it was impossible to +calculate, their chief origin being chance. As an instance of one such +chance: the weather. Here the fog prevents the enemy from being +discovered in time, a battery from firing at the right moment, a report +from reaching the General; there the rain prevents a battalion from +arriving at the right time, because instead of for three it had to +march perhaps eight hours; the cavalry from charging effectively +because it is stuck fast in heavy ground. + +These are only a few incidents of detail by way of elucidation, that +the reader may be able to follow the author, for whole volumes might be +written on these difficulties. To avoid this, and still to give a clear +conception of the host of small difficulties to be contended with in +War, we might go on heaping up illustrations, if we were not afraid of +being tiresome. But those who have already comprehended us will permit +us to add a few more. + +Activity in War is movement in a resistant medium. Just as a man +immersed in water is unable to perform with ease and regularity the +most natural and simplest movement, that of walking, so in War, with +ordinary powers, one cannot keep even the line of mediocrity. This is +the reason that the correct theorist is like a swimming master, who +teaches on dry land movements which are required in the water, which +must appear grotesque and ludicrous to those who forget about the +water. This is also why theorists, who have never plunged in +themselves, or who cannot deduce any generalities from their +experience, are unpractical and even absurd, because they only teach +what every one knows—how to walk. + +Further, every War is rich in particular facts, while at the same time +each is an unexplored sea, full of rocks which the General may have a +suspicion of, but which he has never seen with his eye, and round +which, moreover, he must steer in the night. If a contrary wind also +springs up, that is, if any great accidental event declares itself +adverse to him, then the most consummate skill, presence of mind, and +energy are required, whilst to those who only look on from a distance +all seems to proceed with the utmost ease. The knowledge of this +friction is a chief part of that so often talked of, experience in War, +which is required in a good General. Certainly he is not the best +General in whose mind it assumes the greatest dimensions, who is the +most over-awed by it (this includes that class of over-anxious +Generals, of whom there are so many amongst the experienced); but a +General must be aware of it that he may overcome it, where that is +possible, and that he may not expect a degree of precision in results +which is impossible on account of this very friction. Besides, it can +never be learnt theoretically; and if it could, there would still be +wanting that experience of judgment which is called tact, and which is +always more necessary in a field full of innumerable small and +diversified objects than in great and decisive cases, when one’s own +judgment may be aided by consultation with others. Just as the man of +the world, through tact of judgment which has become habit, speaks, +acts, and moves only as suits the occasion, so the officer experienced +in War will always, in great and small matters, at every pulsation of +War as we may say, decide and determine suitably to the occasion. +Through this experience and practice the idea comes to his mind of +itself that so and so will not suit. And thus he will not easily place +himself in a position by which he is compromised, which, if it often +occurs in War, shakes all the foundations of confidence and becomes +extremely dangerous. + +It is therefore this friction, or what is so termed here, which makes +that which appears easy in War difficult in reality. As we proceed, we +shall often meet with this subject again, and it will hereafter become +plain that besides experience and a strong will, there are still many +other rare qualities of the mind required to make a man a consummate +General. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Concluding Remarks, Book I + +Those things which as elements meet together in the atmosphere of War +and make it a resistant medium for every activity we have designated +under the terms danger, bodily effort (exertion), information, and +friction. In their impedient effects they may therefore be comprehended +again in the collective notion of a general friction. Now is there, +then, no kind of oil which is capable of diminishing this friction? +Only one, and that one is not always available at the will of the +Commander or his Army. It is the habituation of an Army to War. + +Habit gives strength to the body in great exertion, to the mind in +great danger, to the judgment against first impressions. By it a +valuable circumspection is generally gained throughout every rank, from +the hussar and rifleman up to the General of Division, which +facilitates the work of the Chief Commander. + +As the human eye in a dark room dilates its pupil, draws in the little +light that there is, partially distinguishes objects by degrees, and at +last knows them quite well, so it is in War with the experienced +soldier, whilst the novice is only met by pitch dark night. + +Habituation to War no General can give his Army at once, and the camps +of manœuvre (peace exercises) furnish but a weak substitute for it, +weak in comparison with real experience in War, but not weak in +relation to other Armies in which the training is limited to mere +mechanical exercises of routine. So to regulate the exercises in peace +time as to include some of these causes of friction, that the judgment, +circumspection, even resolution of the separate leaders may be brought +into exercise, is of much greater consequence than those believe who do +not know the thing by experience. It is of immense importance that the +soldier, high or low, whatever rank he has, should not have to +encounter in War those things which, when seen for the first time, set +him in astonishment and perplexity; if he has only met with them one +single time before, even by that he is half acquainted with them. This +relates even to bodily fatigues. They should be practised less to +accustom the body to them than the mind. In War the young soldier is +very apt to regard unusual fatigues as the consequence of faults, +mistakes, and embarrassment in the conduct of the whole, and to become +distressed and despondent as a consequence. This would not happen if he +had been prepared for this beforehand by exercises in peace. + +Another less comprehensive but still very important means of gaining +habituation to War in time of peace is to invite into the service +officers of foreign armies who have had experience in War. Peace seldom +reigns over all Europe, and never in all quarters of the world. A State +which has been long at peace should, therefore, always seek to procure +some officers who have done good service at the different scenes of +Warfare, or to send there some of its own, that they may get a lesson +in War. + +However small the number of officers of this description may appear in +proportion to the mass, still their influence is very sensibly felt.(*) +Their experience, the bent of their genius, the stamp of their +character, influence their subordinates and comrades; and besides that, +if they cannot be placed in positions of superior command, they may +always be regarded as men acquainted with the country, who may be +questioned on many special occasions. + +(*) The War of 1870 furnishes a marked illustration. Von Moltke and von +Goeben, not to mention many others, had both seen service in this +manner, the former in Turkey and Syria, the latter in Spain—EDITOR. + + + +BOOK II. ON THE THEORY OF WAR + + + +CHAPTER I. Branches of the Art of War + +War in its literal meaning is fighting, for fighting alone is the +efficient principle in the manifold activity which in a wide sense is +called War. But fighting is a trial of strength of the moral and +physical forces by means of the latter. That the moral cannot be +omitted is evident of itself, for the condition of the mind has always +the most decisive influence on the forces employed in War. + +The necessity of fighting very soon led men to special inventions to +turn the advantage in it in their own favour: in consequence of these +the mode of fighting has undergone great alterations; but in whatever +way it is conducted its conception remains unaltered, and fighting is +that which constitutes War. + +The inventions have been from the first weapons and equipments for the +individual combatants. These have to be provided and the use of them +learnt before the War begins. They are made suitable to the nature of +the fighting, consequently are ruled by it; but plainly the activity +engaged in these appliances is a different thing from the fight itself; +it is only the preparation for the combat, not the conduct of the same. +That arming and equipping are not essential to the conception of +fighting is plain, because mere wrestling is also fighting. + +Fighting has determined everything appertaining to arms and equipment, +and these in turn modify the mode of fighting; there is, therefore, a +reciprocity of action between the two. + +Nevertheless, the fight itself remains still an entirely special +activity, more particularly because it moves in an entirely special +element, namely, in the element of danger. + +If, then, there is anywhere a necessity for drawing a line between two +different activities, it is here; and in order to see clearly the +importance of this idea, we need only just to call to mind how often +eminent personal fitness in one field has turned out nothing but the +most useless pedantry in the other. + +It is also in no way difficult to separate in idea the one activity +from the other, if we look at the combatant forces fully armed and +equipped as a given means, the profitable use of which requires nothing +more than a knowledge of their general results. + +The Art of War is therefore, in its proper sense, the art of making use +of the given means in fighting, and we cannot give it a better name +than the “_Conduct of War_.” On the other hand, in a wider sense all +activities which have their existence on account of War, therefore the +whole creation of troops, that is levying them, arming, equipping, and +exercising them, belong to the Art of War. + +To make a sound theory it is most essential to separate these two +activities, for it is easy to see that if every act of War is to begin +with the preparation of military forces, and to presuppose forces so +organised as a primary condition for conducting War, that theory will +only be applicable in the few cases to which the force available +happens to be exactly suited. If, on the other hand, we wish to have a +theory which shall suit most cases, and will not be wholly useless in +any case, it must be founded on those means which are in most general +use, and in respect to these only on the actual results springing from +them. + +The conduct of War is, therefore, the formation and conduct of the +fighting. If this fighting was a single act, there would be no +necessity for any further subdivision, but the fight is composed of a +greater or less number of single acts, complete in themselves, which we +call combats, as we have shown in the first chapter of the first book, +and which form new units. From this arises the totally different +activities, that of the _formation_ and _conduct_ of these single +combats in themselves, and the _combination_ of them with one another, +with a view to the ultimate object of the War. The first is called +_tactics_, the other _strategy_. + +This division into tactics and strategy is now in almost general use, +and every one knows tolerably well under which head to place any single +fact, without knowing very distinctly the grounds on which the +classification is founded. But when such divisions are blindly adhered +to in practice, they must have some deep root. We have searched for +this root, and we might say that it is just the usage of the majority +which has brought us to it. On the other hand, we look upon the +arbitrary, unnatural definitions of these conceptions sought to be +established by some writers as not in accordance with the general usage +of the terms. + +According to our classification, therefore, tactics _is the theory of +the use of military forces in combat_. Strategy _is the theory of the +use of combats for the object of the War_. + +The way in which the conception of a single, or independent combat, is +more closely determined, the conditions to which this unit is attached, +we shall only be able to explain clearly when we consider the combat; +we must content ourselves for the present with saying that in relation +to space, therefore in combats taking place at the same time, the unit +reaches just as far as _personal command_ reaches; but in regard to +time, and therefore in relation to combats which follow each other in +close succession, it reaches to the moment when the crisis which takes +place in every combat is entirely passed. + +That doubtful cases may occur, cases, for instance, in which several +combats may perhaps be regarded also as a single one, will not +overthrow the ground of distinction we have adopted, for the same is +the case with all grounds of distinction of real things which are +differentiated by a gradually diminishing scale. There may, therefore, +certainly be acts of activity in War which, without any alteration in +the point of view, may just as well be counted strategic as tactical; +for example, very extended positions resembling a chain of posts, the +preparations for the passage of a river at several points, &c. + +Our classification reaches and covers only the _use of the military +force_. But now there are in War a number of activities which are +subservient to it, and still are quite different from it; sometimes +closely allied, sometimes less near in their affinity. All these +activities relate to the _maintenance of the military force_. In the +same way as its creation and training precede its use, so its +maintenance is always a necessary condition. But, strictly viewed, all +activities thus connected with it are always to be regarded only as +preparations for fighting; they are certainly nothing more than +activities which are very close to the action, so that they run through +the hostile act alternate in importance with the use of the forces. We +have therefore a right to exclude them as well as the other preparatory +activities from the Art of War in its restricted sense, from the +conduct of War properly so called; and we are obliged to do so if we +would comply with the first principle of all theory, the elimination of +all heterogeneous elements. Who would include in the real “conduct of +War” the whole litany of subsistence and administration, because it is +admitted to stand in constant reciprocal action with the use of the +troops, but is something essentially different from it? + +We have said, in the third chapter of our first book, that as the fight +or combat is the only directly effective activity, therefore the +threads of all others, as they end in it, are included in it. By this +we meant to say that to all others an object was thereby appointed +which, in accordance with the laws peculiar to themselves, they must +seek to attain. Here we must go a little closer into this subject. + +The subjects which constitute the activities outside of the combat are +of various kinds. + +The one part belongs, in one respect, to the combat itself, is +identical with it, whilst it serves in another respect for the +maintenance of the military force. The other part belongs purely to the +subsistence, and has only, in consequence of the reciprocal action, a +limited influence on the combats by its results. The subjects which in +one respect belong to the fighting itself are _marches, camps_, and +_cantonments_, for they suppose so many different situations of troops, +and where troops are supposed there the idea of the combat must always +be present. + +The other subjects, which only belong to the maintenance, are +_subsistence, care of the sick_, the _supply and repair of arms and +equipment_. + +Marches are quite identical with the use of the troops. The act of +marching in the combat, generally called manoeuvring, certainly does +not necessarily include the use of weapons, but it is so completely and +necessarily combined with it that it forms an integral part of that +which we call a combat. But the march outside the combat is nothing but +the execution of a strategic measure. By the strategic plan is settled +_when, where, and with what forces_ a battle is to be delivered—and to +carry that into execution the march is the only means. + +The march outside of the combat is therefore an instrument of strategy, +but not on that account exclusively a subject of strategy, for as the +armed force which executes it may be involved in a possible combat at +any moment, therefore its execution stands also under tactical as well +as strategic rules. If we prescribe to a column its route on a +particular side of a river or of a branch of a mountain, then that is a +strategic measure, for it contains the intention of fighting on that +particular side of the hill or river in preference to the other, in +case a combat should be necessary during the march. + +But if a column, instead of following the road through a valley, +marches along the parallel ridge of heights, or for the convenience of +marching divides itself into several columns, then these are tactical +arrangements, for they relate to the manner in which we shall use the +troops in the anticipated combat. + +The particular order of march is in constant relation with readiness +for combat, is therefore tactical in its nature, for it is nothing more +than the first or preliminary disposition for the battle which may +possibly take place. + +As the march is the instrument by which strategy apportions its active +elements, the combats, but these last often only appear by their +results and not in the details of their real course, it could not fail +to happen that in theory the instrument has often been substituted for +the efficient principle. Thus we hear of a decisive skilful march, +allusion being thereby made to those combat-combinations to which these +marches led. This substitution of ideas is too natural and conciseness +of expression too desirable to call for alteration, but still it is +only a condensed chain of ideas in regard to which we must never omit +to bear in mind the full meaning, if we would avoid falling into error. + +We fall into an error of this description if we attribute to +strategical combinations a power independent of tactical results. We +read of marches and manœuvres combined, the object attained, and at the +same time not a word about combat, from which the conclusion is drawn +that there are means in War of conquering an enemy without fighting. +The prolific nature of this error we cannot show until hereafter. + +But although a march can be regarded absolutely as an integral part of +the combat, still there are in it certain relations which do not belong +to the combat, and therefore are neither tactical nor strategic. To +these belong all arrangements which concern only the accommodation of +the troops, the construction of bridges, roads, &c. These are only +conditions; under many circumstances they are in very close connection, +and may almost identify themselves with the troops, as in building a +bridge in presence of the enemy; but in themselves they are always +activities, the theory of which does not form part of the theory of the +conduct of War. + +Camps, by which we mean every disposition of troops in concentrated, +therefore in battle order, in contradistinction to cantonments or +quarters, are a state of rest, therefore of restoration; but they are +at the same time also the strategic appointment of a battle on the +spot, chosen; and by the manner in which they are taken up they contain +the fundamental lines of the battle, a condition from which every +defensive battle starts; they are therefore essential parts of both +strategy and tactics. + +Cantonments take the place of camps for the better refreshment of the +troops. They are therefore, like camps, strategic subjects as regards +position and extent; tactical subjects as regards internal +organisation, with a view to readiness to fight. + +The occupation of camps and cantonments no doubt usually combines with +the recuperation of the troops another object also, for example, the +covering a district of country, the holding a position; but it can very +well be only the first. We remind our readers that strategy may follow +a great diversity of objects, for everything which appears an advantage +may be the object of a combat, and the preservation of the instrument +with which War is made must necessarily very often become the object of +its partial combinations. + +If, therefore, in such a case strategy ministers only to the +maintenance of the troops, we are not on that account out of the field +of strategy, for we are still engaged with the use of the military +force, because every disposition of that force upon any point Whatever +of the theatre of War is such a use. + +But if the maintenance of the troops in camp or quarters calls forth +activities which are no employment of the armed force, such as the +construction of huts, pitching of tents, subsistence and sanitary +services in camps or quarters, then such belong neither to strategy nor +tactics. + +Even entrenchments, the site and preparation of which are plainly part +of the order of battle, therefore tactical subjects, do not belong to +the theory of the conduct of War so far as respects the _execution of +their construction_ the knowledge and skill required for such work +being, in point of fact, qualities inherent in the nature of an +organised Army; the theory of the combat takes them for granted. + +Amongst the subjects which belong to the mere keeping up of an armed +force, because none of the parts are identified with the combat, the +victualling of the troops themselves comes first, as it must be done +almost daily and for each individual. Thus it is that it completely +permeates military action in the parts constituting strategy—we say +parts constituting strategy, because during a battle the subsistence of +troops will rarely have any influence in modifying the plan, although +the thing is conceivable enough. The care for the subsistence of the +troops comes therefore into reciprocal action chiefly with strategy, +and there is nothing more common than for the leading strategic +features of a campaign and War to be traced out in connection with a +view to this supply. But however frequent and however important these +views of supply may be, the subsistence of the troops always remains a +completely different activity from the use of the troops, and the +former has only an influence on the latter by its results. + +The other branches of administrative activity which we have mentioned +stand much farther apart from the use of the troops. The care of sick +and wounded, highly important as it is for the good of an Army, +directly affects it only in a small portion of the individuals +composing it, and therefore has only a weak and indirect influence upon +the use of the rest. The completing and replacing articles of arms and +equipment, except so far as by the organism of the forces it +constitutes a continuous activity inherent in them—takes place only +periodically, and therefore seldom affects strategic plans. + +We must, however, here guard ourselves against a mistake. In certain +cases these subjects may be really of decisive importance. The distance +of hospitals and depôts of munitions may very easily be imagined as the +sole cause of very important strategic decisions. We do not wish either +to contest that point or to throw it into the shade. But we are at +present occupied not with the particular facts of a concrete case, but +with abstract theory; and our assertion therefore is that such an +influence is too rare to give the theory of sanitary measures and the +supply of munitions and arms an importance in theory of the conduct of +War such as to make it worth while to include in the theory of the +conduct of War the consideration of the different ways and systems +which the above theories may furnish, in the same way as is certainly +necessary in regard to victualling troops. + +If we have clearly understood the results of our reflections, then the +activities belonging to War divide themselves into two principal +classes, into such as are only “_preparations for War_” and into the +“_War itself._” This division must therefore also be made in theory. + +The knowledge and applications of skill in the preparations for War are +engaged in the creation, discipline, and maintenance of all the +military forces; what general names should be given to them we do not +enter into, but we see that artillery, fortification, elementary +tactics, as they are called, the whole organisation and administration +of the various armed forces, and all such things are included. But the +theory of War itself occupies itself with the use of these prepared +means for the object of the war. It needs of the first only the +results, that is, the knowledge of the principal properties of the +means taken in hand for use. This we call “The Art of War” in a limited +sense, or “Theory of the Conduct of War,” or “Theory of the Employment +of Armed Forces,” all of them denoting for us the same thing. + +The present theory will therefore treat the combat as the real contest, +marches, camps, and cantonments as circumstances which are more or less +identical with it. The subsistence of the troops will only come into +consideration like _other given circumstances_ in respect of its +results, not as an activity belonging to the combat. + +The Art of War thus viewed in its limited sense divides itself again +into tactics and strategy. The former occupies itself with the form of +the separate combat, the latter with its use. Both connect themselves +with the circumstances of marches, camps, cantonments only through the +combat, and these circumstances are tactical or strategic according as +they relate to the form or to the signification of the battle. + +No doubt there will be many readers who will consider superfluous this +careful separation of two things lying so close together as tactics and +strategy, because it has no direct effect on the conduct itself of War. +We admit, certainly that it would be pedantry to look for direct +effects on the field of battle from a theoretical distinction. + +But the first business of every theory is to clear up conceptions and +ideas which have been jumbled together, and, we may say, entangled and +confused; and only when a right understanding is established, as to +names and conceptions, can we hope to progress with clearness and +facility, and be certain that author and reader will always see things +from the same point of view. Tactics and strategy are two activities +mutually permeating each other in time and space, at the same time +essentially different activities, the inner laws and mutual relations +of which cannot be intelligible at all to the mind until a clear +conception of the nature of each activity is established. + +He to whom all this is nothing, must either repudiate all theoretical +consideration, _or his understanding has not as yet been pained_ by the +confused and perplexing ideas resting on no fixed point of view, +leading to no satisfactory result, sometimes dull, sometimes fantastic, +sometimes floating in vague generalities, which we are often obliged to +hear and read on the conduct of War, owing to the spirit of scientific +investigation having hitherto been little directed to these subjects. + + + +CHAPTER II. On the Theory of War + +1. THE FIRST CONCEPTION OF THE “ART OF WAR” WAS MERELY THE PREPARATION +OF THE ARMED FORCES. + + +Formerly by the term “Art of War,” or “Science of War,” nothing was +understood but the totality of those branches of knowledge and those +appliances of skill occupied with material things. The pattern and +preparation and the mode of using arms, the construction of +fortifications and entrenchments, the organism of an army and the +mechanism of its movements, were the subject; these branches of +knowledge and skill above referred to, and the end and aim of them all +was the establishment of an armed force fit for use in War. All this +concerned merely things belonging to the material world and a one-sided +activity only, and it was in fact nothing but an activity advancing by +gradations from the lower occupations to a finer kind of mechanical +art. The relation of all this to War itself was very much the same as +the relation of the art of the sword cutler to the art of using the +sword. The employment in the moment of danger and in a state of +constant reciprocal action of the particular energies of mind and +spirit in the direction proposed to them was not yet even mooted. + +2. TRUE WAR FIRST APPEARS IN THE ART OF SIEGES. + + +In the art of sieges we first perceive a certain degree of guidance of +the combat, something of the action of the intellectual faculties upon +the material forces placed under their control, but generally only so +far that it very soon embodied itself again in new material forms, such +as approaches, trenches, counter-approaches, batteries, &c., and every +step which this action of the higher faculties took was marked by some +such result; it was only the thread that was required on which to +string these material inventions in order. As the intellect can hardly +manifest itself in this kind of War, except in such things, so +therefore nearly all that was necessary was done in that way. + +3. THEN TACTICS TRIED TO FIND ITS WAY IN THE SAME DIRECTION. + + +Afterwards tactics attempted to give to the mechanism of its joints the +character of a general disposition, built upon the peculiar properties +of the instrument, which character leads indeed to the battle-field, +but instead of leading to the free activity of mind, leads to an Army +made like an automaton by its rigid formations and orders of battle, +which, movable only by the word of command, is intended to unwind its +activities like a piece of clockwork. + +4. THE REAL CONDUCT OF WAR ONLY MADE ITS APPEARANCE INCIDENTALLY AND +INCOGNITO. + + +The conduct of War properly so called, that is, a use of the prepared +means adapted to the most special requirements, was not considered as +any suitable subject for theory, but one which should be left to +natural talents alone. By degrees, as War passed from the hand-to-hand +encounters of the middle ages into a more regular and systematic form, +stray reflections on this point also forced themselves into men’s +minds, but they mostly appeared only incidentally in memoirs and +narratives, and in a certain measure incognito. + +5. REFLECTIONS ON MILITARY EVENTS BROUGHT ABOUT THE WANT OF A THEORY. + + +As contemplation on War continually increased, and its history every +day assumed more of a critical character, the urgent want appeared of +the support of fixed maxims and rules, in order that in the +controversies naturally arising about military events the war of +opinions might be brought to some one point. This whirl of opinions, +which neither revolved on any central pivot nor according to any +appreciable laws, could not but be very distasteful to people’s minds. + +6. ENDEAVOURS TO ESTABLISH A POSITIVE THEORY. + + +There arose, therefore, an endeavour to establish maxims, rules, and +even systems for the conduct of War. By this the attainment of a +positive object was proposed, without taking into view the endless +difficulties which the conduct of War presents in that respect. The +conduct of War, as we have shown, has no definite limits in any +direction, while every system has the circumscribing nature of a +synthesis, from which results an irreconcileable opposition between +such a theory and practice. + +7. LIMITATION TO MATERIAL OBJECTS. + + +Writers on theory felt the difficulty of the subject soon enough, and +thought themselves entitled to get rid of it by directing their maxims +and systems only upon material things and a one-sided activity. Their +aim was to reach results, as in the science for the preparation for +War, entirely certain and positive, and therefore only to take into +consideration that which could be made matter of calculation. + +8. SUPERIORITY OF NUMBERS. + + +The superiority in numbers being a material condition, it was chosen +from amongst all the factors required to produce victory, because it +could be brought under mathematical laws through combinations of time +and space. It was thought possible to leave out of sight all other +circumstances, by supposing them to be equal on each side, and +therefore to neutralise one another. This would have been very well if +it had been done to gain a preliminary knowledge of this one factor, +according to its relations, but to make it a rule for ever to consider +superiority of numbers as the sole law; to see the whole secret of the +Art of War in the formula, _in a certain time, at a certain point, to +bring up superior masses_—was a restriction overruled by the force of +realities. + +9. VICTUALLING OF TROOPS. + + +By one theoretical school an attempt was made to systematise another +material element also, by making the subsistence of troops, according +to a previously established organism of the Army, the supreme +legislator in the higher conduct of War. In this way certainly they +arrived at definite figures, but at figures which rested on a number of +arbitrary calculations, and which therefore could not stand the test of +practical application. + +10. BASE. + + +An ingenious author tried to concentrate in a single conception, that +of a BASE, a whole host of objects amongst which sundry relations even +with immaterial forces found their way in as well. The list comprised +the subsistence of the troops, the keeping them complete in numbers and +equipment, the security of communications with the home country, +lastly, the security of retreat in case it became necessary; and, first +of all, he proposed to substitute this conception of a base for all +these things; then for the base itself to substitute its own length +(extent); and, last of all, to substitute the angle formed by the army +with this base: all this was done to obtain a pure geometrical result +utterly useless. This last is, in fact, unavoidable, if we reflect that +none of these substitutions could be made without violating truth and +leaving out some of the things contained in the original conception. +The idea of a base is a real necessity for strategy, and to have +conceived it is meritorious; but to make such a use of it as we have +depicted is completely inadmissible, and could not but lead to partial +conclusions which have forced these theorists into a direction opposed +to common sense, namely, to a belief in the decisive effect of the +enveloping form of attack. + +11. INTERIOR LINES. + + +As a reaction against this false direction, another geometrical +principle, that of the so-called interior lines, was then elevated to +the throne. Although this principle rests on a sound foundation, on the +truth that the combat is the only effectual means in War, still it is, +just on account of its purely geometrical nature, nothing but another +case of one-sided theory which can never gain ascendency in the real +world. + +12. ALL THESE ATTEMPTS ARE OPEN TO OBJECTION. + + +All these attempts at theory are only to be considered in their +analytical part as progress in the province of truth, but in their +synthetical part, in their precepts and rules, they are quite +unserviceable. + +They strive after determinate quantities, whilst in War all is +undetermined, and the calculation has always to be made with varying +quantities. + +They direct the attention only upon material forces, while the whole +military action is penetrated throughout by intelligent forces and +their effects. + +They only pay regard to activity on one side, whilst War is a constant +state of reciprocal action, the effects of which are mutual. + +13. AS A RULE THEY EXCLUDE GENIUS. + + +All that was not attainable by such miserable philosophy, the offspring +of partial views, lay outside the precincts of science—and was the +field of genius, which RAISES ITSELF ABOVE RULES. + +Pity the warrior who is contented to crawl about in this beggardom of +rules, which are too bad for genius, over which it can set itself +superior, over which it can perchance make merry! What genius does must +be the best of all rules, and theory cannot do better than to show how +and why it is so. + +Pity the theory which sets itself in opposition to the mind! It cannot +repair this contradiction by any humility, and the humbler it is so +much the sooner will ridicule and contempt drive it out of real life. + +14. THE DIFFICULTY OF THEORY AS SOON AS MORAL QUANTITIES COME INTO +CONSIDERATION. + + +Every theory becomes infinitely more difficult from the moment that it +touches on the province of moral quantities. Architecture and painting +know quite well what they are about as long as they have only to do +with matter; there is no dispute about mechanical or optical +construction. But as soon as the moral activities begin their work, as +soon as moral impressions and feelings are produced, the whole set of +rules dissolves into vague ideas. + +The science of medicine is chiefly engaged with bodily phenomena only; +its business is with the animal organism, which, liable to perpetual +change, is never exactly the same for two moments. This makes its +practice very difficult, and places the judgment of the physician above +his science; but how much more difficult is the case if a moral effect +is added, and how much higher must we place the physician of the mind? + +15. THE MORAL QUANTITIES MUST NOT BE EXCLUDED IN WAR. + + +But now the activity in War is never directed solely against matter; it +is always at the same time directed against the intelligent force which +gives life to this matter, and to separate the two from each other is +impossible. + +But the intelligent forces are only visible to the inner eye, and this +is different in each person, and often different in the same person at +different times. + +As danger is the general element in which everything moves in War, it +is also chiefly by courage, the feeling of one’s own power, that the +judgment is differently influenced. It is to a certain extent the +crystalline lens through which all appearances pass before reaching the +understanding. + +And yet we cannot doubt that these things acquire a certain objective +value simply through experience. + +Every one knows the moral effect of a surprise, of an attack in flank +or rear. Every one thinks less of the enemy’s courage as soon as he +turns his back, and ventures much more in pursuit than when pursued. +Every one judges of the enemy’s General by his reputed talents, by his +age and experience, and shapes his course accordingly. Every one casts +a scrutinising glance at the spirit and feeling of his own and the +enemy’s troops. All these and similar effects in the province of the +moral nature of man have established themselves by experience, are +perpetually recurring, and therefore warrant our reckoning them as real +quantities of their kind. What could we do with any theory which should +leave them out of consideration? + +Certainly experience is an indispensable title for these truths. With +psychological and philosophical sophistries no theory, no General, +should meddle. + +16. PRINCIPAL DIFFICULTY OF A THEORY FOR THE CONDUCT OF WAR. + + +In order to comprehend clearly the difficulty of the proposition which +is contained in a theory for the conduct of War, and thence to deduce +the necessary characteristics of such a theory, we must take a closer +view of the chief particulars which make up the nature of activity in +War. + +17. FIRST SPECIALITY.—MORAL FORCES AND THEIR EFFECTS. (HOSTILE +FEELING.) + + +The first of these specialities consists in the moral forces and +effects. + +The combat is, in its origin, the expression of _hostile feeling_, but +in our great combats, which we call Wars, the hostile feeling +frequently resolves itself into merely a hostile _view_, and there is +usually no innate hostile feeling residing in individual against +individual. Nevertheless, the combat never passes off without such +feelings being brought into activity. National hatred, which is seldom +wanting in our Wars, is a substitute for personal hostility in the +breast of individual opposed to individual. But where this also is +wanting, and at first no animosity of feeling subsists, a hostile +feeling is kindled by the combat itself; for an act of violence which +any one commits upon us by order of his superior, will excite in us a +desire to retaliate and be revenged on him, sooner than on the superior +power at whose command the act was done. This is human, or animal if we +will; still it is so. We are very apt to regard the combat in theory as +an abstract trial of strength, without any participation on the part of +the feelings, and that is one of the thousand errors which theorists +deliberately commit, because they do not see its consequences. + +Besides that excitation of feelings naturally arising from the combat +itself, there are others also which do not essentially belong to it, +but which, on account of their relationship, easily unite with +it—ambition, love of power, enthusiasm of every kind, &c. &c. + +18. THE IMPRESSIONS OF DANGER. (COURAGE.) + + +Finally, the combat begets the element of danger, in which all the +activities of War must live and move, like the bird in the air or the +fish in the water. But the influences of danger all pass into the +feelings, either directly—that is, instinctively—or through the medium +of the understanding. The effect in the first case would be a desire to +escape from the danger, and, if that cannot be done, fright and +anxiety. If this effect does not take place, then it is _courage_, +which is a counterpoise to that instinct. Courage is, however, by no +means an act of the understanding, but likewise a feeling, like fear; +the latter looks to the physical preservation, courage to the moral +preservation. Courage, then, is a nobler instinct. But because it is +so, it will not allow itself to be used as a lifeless instrument, which +produces its effects exactly according to prescribed measure. Courage +is therefore no mere counterpoise to danger in order to neutralise the +latter in its effects, but a peculiar power in itself. + +19. EXTENT OF THE INFLUENCE OF DANGER. + + +But to estimate exactly the influence of danger upon the principal +actors in War, we must not limit its sphere to the physical danger of +the moment. It dominates over the actor, not only by threatening him, +but also by threatening all entrusted to him, not only at the moment in +which it is actually present, but also through the imagination at all +other moments, which have a connection with the present; lastly, not +only directly by itself, but also indirectly by the responsibility +which makes it bear with tenfold weight on the mind of the chief actor. +Who could advise, or resolve upon a great battle, without feeling his +mind more or less wrought up, or perplexed by, the danger and +responsibility which such a great act of decision carries in itself? We +may say that action in War, in so far as it is real action, not a mere +condition, is never out of the sphere of danger. + +20. OTHER POWERS OF FEELING. + + +If we look upon these affections which are excited by hostility and +danger as peculiarly belonging to War, we do not, therefore, exclude +from it all others accompanying man in his life’s journey. They will +also find room here frequently enough. Certainly we may say that many a +petty action of the passions is silenced in this serious business of +life; but that holds good only in respect to those acting in a lower +sphere, who, hurried on from one state of danger and exertion to +another, lose sight of the rest of the things of life, _become unused +to deceit_, because it is of no avail with death, and so attain to that +soldierly simplicity of character which has always been the best +representative of the military profession. In higher regions it is +otherwise, for the higher a man’s rank, the more he must look around +him; then arise interests on every side, and a manifold activity of the +passions of good and bad. Envy and generosity, pride and humility, +fierceness and tenderness, all may appear as active powers in this +great drama. + +21. PECULIARITY OF MIND. + + +The peculiar characteristics of mind in the chief actor have, as well +as those of the feelings, a high importance. From an imaginative, +flighty, inexperienced head, and from a calm, sagacious understanding, +different things are to be expected. + +22. FROM THE DIVERSITY IN MENTAL INDIVIDUALITIES ARISES THE DIVERSITY +OF WAYS LEADING TO THE END. + + +It is this great diversity in mental individuality, the influence of +which is to be supposed as chiefly felt in the higher ranks, because it +increases as we progress upwards, which chiefly produces the diversity +of ways leading to the end noticed by us in the first book, and which +gives, to the play of probabilities and chance, such an unequal share +in determining the course of events. + +23. SECOND PECULIARITY.—LIVING REACTION. + + +The second peculiarity in War is the living reaction, and the +reciprocal action resulting therefrom. We do not here speak of the +difficulty of estimating that reaction, for that is included in the +difficulty before mentioned, of treating the moral powers as +quantities; but of this, that reciprocal action, by its nature, opposes +anything like a regular plan. The effect which any measure produces +upon the enemy is the most distinct of all the data which action +affords; but every theory must keep to classes (or groups) of +phenomena, and can never take up the really individual case in itself: +that must everywhere be left to judgment and talent. It is therefore +natural that in a business such as War, which in its plan—built upon +general circumstances—is so often thwarted by unexpected and singular +accidents, more must generally be left to talent; and less use can be +made of a _theoretical guide_ than in any other. + +24. THIRD PECULIARITY.—UNCERTAINTY OF ALL DATA. + + +Lastly, the great uncertainty of all data in War is a peculiar +difficulty, because all action must, to a certain extent, be planned in +a mere twilight, which in addition not unfrequently—like the effect of +a fog or moonshine—gives to things exaggerated dimensions and an +unnatural appearance. + +What this feeble light leaves indistinct to the sight talent must +discover, or must be left to chance. It is therefore again talent, or +the favour of fortune, on which reliance must be placed, for want of +objective knowledge. + +25. POSITIVE THEORY IS IMPOSSIBLE. + + +With materials of this kind we can only say to ourselves that it is a +sheer impossibility to construct for the Art of War a theory which, +like a scaffolding, shall ensure to the chief actor an external support +on all sides. In all those cases in which he is thrown upon his talent +he would find himself away from this scaffolding of theory and in +opposition to it, and, however many-sided it might be framed, the same +result would ensue of which we spoke when we said that talent and +genius act beyond the law, and theory is in opposition to reality. + +26. MEANS LEFT BY WHICH A THEORY IS POSSIBLE (THE DIFFICULTIES ARE NOT +EVERYWHERE EQUALLY GREAT). + + +Two means present themselves of getting out of this difficulty. In the +first place, what we have said of the nature of military action in +general does not apply in the same manner to the action of every one, +whatever may be his standing. In the lower ranks the spirit of +self-sacrifice is called more into request, but the difficulties which +the understanding and judgment meet with are infinitely less. The field +of occurrences is more confined. Ends and means are fewer in number. +Data more distinct; mostly also contained in the actually visible. But +the higher we ascend the more the difficulties increase, until in the +Commander-in-Chief they reach their climax, so that with him almost +everything must be left to genius. + +Further, according to a division of the subject in _agreement with its +nature_, the difficulties are not everywhere the same, but diminish the +more results manifest themselves in the material world, and increase +the more they pass into the moral, and become motives which influence +the will. Therefore it is easier to determine, by theoretical rules, +the order and conduct of a battle, than the use to be made of the +battle itself. Yonder physical weapons clash with each other, and +although mind is not wanting therein, matter must have its rights. But +in the effects to be produced by battles when the material results +become motives, we have only to do with the moral nature. In a word, it +is easier to make a theory for _tactics_ than for _strategy_. + +27. THEORY MUST BE OF THE NATURE OF OBSERVATIONS NOT OF DOCTRINE. + + +The second opening for the possibility of a theory lies in the point of +view that it does not necessarily require to be a _direction_ for +action. As a general rule, whenever an _activity_ is for the most part +occupied with the same objects over and over again, with the same ends +and means, although there may be trifling alterations and a +corresponding number of varieties of combination, such things are +capable of becoming a subject of study for the reasoning faculties. But +such study is just the most essential part of every _theory_, and has a +peculiar title to that name. It is an analytical investigation of the +subject that leads to an exact knowledge; and if brought to bear on the +results of experience, which in our case would be military history, to +a thorough familiarity with it. The nearer theory attains the latter +object, so much the more it passes over from the objective form of +knowledge into the subjective one of skill in action; and so much the +more, therefore, it will prove itself effective when circumstances +allow of no other decision but that of personal talents; it will show +its effects in that talent itself. If theory investigates the subjects +which constitute War; if it separates more distinctly that which at +first sight seems amalgamated; if it explains fully the properties of +the means; if it shows their probable effects; if it makes evident the +nature of objects; if it brings to bear all over the field of War the +light of essentially critical investigation—then it has fulfilled the +chief duties of its province. It becomes then a guide to him who wishes +to make himself acquainted with War from books; it lights up the whole +road for him, facilitates his progress, educates his judgment, and +shields him from error. + +If a man of expertness spends half his life in the endeavour to clear +up an obscure subject thoroughly, he will probably know more about it +than a person who seeks to master it in a short time. Theory is +instituted that each person in succession may not have to go through +the same labour of clearing the ground and toiling through his subject, +but may find the thing in order, and light admitted on it. It should +educate the mind of the future leader in War, or rather guide him in +his self-instruction, but not accompany him to the field of battle; +just as a sensible tutor forms and enlightens the opening mind of a +youth without, therefore, keeping him in leading strings all through +his life. + +If maxims and rules result of themselves from the considerations which +theory institutes, if the truth accretes itself into that form of +crystal, then theory will not oppose this natural law of the mind; it +will rather, if the arch ends in such a keystone, bring it prominently +out; but so does this, only in order to satisfy the philosophical law +of reason, in order to show distinctly the point to which the lines all +converge, not in order to form out of it an algebraical formula for use +upon the battle-field; for even these maxims and rules serve more to +determine in the reflecting mind the leading outline of its habitual +movements than as landmarks indicating to it the way in the act of +execution. + +28. BY THIS POINT OF VIEW THEORY BECOMES POSSIBLE, AND CEASES TO BE IN +CONTRADICTION TO PRACTICE. + + +Taking this point of view, there is a possibility afforded of a +satisfactory, that is, of a useful, theory of the conduct of War, never +coming into opposition with the reality, and it will only depend on +rational treatment to bring it so far into harmony with action that +between theory and practice there shall no longer be that absurd +difference which an unreasonable theory, in defiance of common sense, +has often produced, but which, just as often, narrow-mindedness and +ignorance have used as a pretext for giving way to their natural +incapacity. + +29. THEORY THEREFORE CONSIDERS THE NATURE OF ENDS AND MEANS—ENDS AND +MEANS IN TACTICS. + + +Theory has therefore to consider the nature of the means and ends. + +In tactics the means are the disciplined armed forces which are to +carry on the contest. The object is victory. The precise definition of +this conception can be better explained hereafter in the consideration +of the combat. Here we content ourselves by denoting the retirement of +the enemy from the field of battle as the sign of victory. By means of +this victory strategy gains the object for which it appointed the +combat, and which constitutes its special signification. This +signification has certainly some influence on the nature of the +victory. A victory which is intended to weaken the enemy’s armed forces +is a different thing from one which is designed only to put us in +possession of a position. The signification of a combat may therefore +have a sensible influence on the preparation and conduct of it, +consequently will be also a subject of consideration in tactics. + +30. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ALWAYS ATTEND THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS. + + +As there are certain circumstances which attend the combat throughout, +and have more or less influence upon its result, therefore these must +be taken into consideration in the application of the armed forces. + +These circumstances are the locality of the combat (ground), the time +of day, and the weather. + +31. LOCALITY. + + +The locality, which we prefer leaving for solution, under the head of +“Country and Ground,” might, strictly speaking, be without any +influence at all if the combat took place on a completely level and +uncultivated plain. + +In a country of steppes such a case may occur, but in the cultivated +countries of Europe it is almost an imaginary idea. Therefore a combat +between civilised nations, in which country and ground have no +influence, is hardly conceivable. + +32. TIME OF DAY. + + +The time of day influences the combat by the difference between day and +night; but the influence naturally extends further than merely to the +limits of these divisions, as every combat has a certain duration, and +great battles last for several hours. In the preparations for a great +battle, it makes an essential difference whether it begins in the +morning or the evening. At the same time, certainly many battles may be +fought in which the question of the time of day is quite immaterial, +and in the generality of cases its influence is only trifling. + +33. WEATHER. + + +Still more rarely has the weather any decisive influence, and it is +mostly only by fogs that it plays a part. + +34. END AND MEANS IN STRATEGY. + + +Strategy has in the first instance only the victory, that is, the +tactical result, as a means to its object, and ultimately those things +which lead directly to peace. The application of its means to this +object is at the same time attended by circumstances which have an +influence thereon more or less. + +35. CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ATTEND THE APPLICATION OF THE MEANS OF +STRATEGY. + + +These circumstances are country and ground, the former including the +territory and inhabitants of the whole theatre of war; next the time of +the day, and the time of the year as well; lastly, the weather, +particularly any unusual state of the same, severe frost, &c. + +36. THESE FORM NEW MEANS. + + +By bringing these things into combination with the results of a combat, +strategy gives this result—and therefore the combat—a special +signification, places before it a particular object. But when this +object is not that which leads directly to peace, therefore a +subordinate one, it is only to be looked upon as a means; and therefore +in strategy we may look upon the results of combats or victories, in +all their different significations, as means. The conquest of a +position is such a result of a combat applied to ground. But not only +are the different combats with special objects to be considered as +means, but also every higher aim which we may have in view in the +combination of battles directed on a common object is to be regarded as +a means. A winter campaign is a combination of this kind applied to the +season. + +There remain, therefore, as objects, only those things which may be +supposed as leading _directly_ to peace, Theory investigates all these +ends and means according to the nature of their effects and their +mutual relations. + +37. STRATEGY DEDUCES ONLY FROM EXPERIENCE THE ENDS AND MEANS TO BE +EXAMINED. + + +The first question is, How does strategy arrive at a complete list of +these things? If there is to be a philosophical inquiry leading to an +absolute result, it would become entangled in all those difficulties +which the logical necessity of the conduct of War and its theory +exclude. It therefore turns to experience, and directs its attention on +those combinations which military history can furnish. In this manner, +no doubt, nothing more than a limited theory can be obtained, which +only suits circumstances such as are presented in history. But this +incompleteness is unavoidable, because in any case theory must either +have deduced from, or have compared with, history what it advances with +respect to things. Besides, this incompleteness in every case is more +theoretical than real. + +One great advantage of this method is that theory cannot lose itself in +abstruse disquisitions, subtleties, and chimeras, but must always +remain practical. + +38. HOW FAR THE ANALYSIS OF THE MEANS SHOULD BE CARRIED. + + +Another question is, How far should theory go in its analysis of the +means? Evidently only so far as the elements in a separate form present +themselves for consideration in practice. The range and effect of +different weapons is very important to tactics; their construction, +although these effects result from it, is a matter of indifference; for +the conduct of War is not making powder and cannon out of a given +quantity of charcoal, sulphur, and saltpetre, of copper and tin: the +given quantities for the conduct of War are arms in a finished state +and their effects. Strategy makes use of maps without troubling itself +about triangulations; it does not inquire how the country is subdivided +into departments and provinces, and how the people are educated and +governed, in order to attain the best military results; but it takes +things as it finds them in the community of European States, and +observes where very different conditions have a notable influence on +War. + +39. GREAT SIMPLIFICATION OF THE KNOWLEDGE REQUIRED. + + +That in this manner the number of subjects for theory is much +simplified, and the knowledge requisite for the conduct of War much +reduced, is easy to perceive. The very great mass of knowledge and +appliances of skill which minister to the action of War in general, and +which are necessary before an army fully equipped can take the field, +unite in a few great results before they are able to reach, in actual +War, the final goal of their activity; just as the streams of a country +unite themselves in rivers before they fall into the sea. Only those +activities emptying themselves directly into the sea of War have to be +studied by him who is to conduct its operations. + +40. THIS EXPLAINS THE RAPID GROWTH OF GREAT GENERALS, AND WHY A GENERAL +IS NOT A MAN OF LEARNING. + + +This result of our considerations is in fact so necessary, any other +would have made us distrustful of their accuracy. Only thus is +explained how so often men have made their appearance with great +success in War, and indeed in the higher ranks even in supreme Command, +whose pursuits had been previously of a totally different nature; +indeed how, as a rule, the most distinguished Generals have never risen +from the very learned or really erudite class of officers, but have +been mostly men who, from the circumstances of their position, could +not have attained to any great amount of knowledge. On that account +those who have considered it necessary or even beneficial to commence +the education of a future General by instruction in all details have +always been ridiculed as absurd pedants. It would be easy to show the +injurious tendency of such a course, because the human mind is trained +by the knowledge imparted to it and the direction given to its ideas. +Only what is great can make it great; the little can only make it +little, if the mind itself does not reject it as something repugnant. + +41. FORMER CONTRADICTIONS. + + +Because this simplicity of knowledge requisite in War was not attended +to, but that knowledge was always jumbled up with the whole impedimenta +of subordinate sciences and arts, therefore the palpable opposition to +the events of real life which resulted could not be solved otherwise +than by ascribing it all to genius, which requires no theory and for +which no theory could be prescribed. + +42. ON THIS ACCOUNT ALL USE OF KNOWLEDGE WAS DENIED, AND EVERYTHING +ASCRIBED TO NATURAL TALENTS. + + +People with whom common sense had the upper hand felt sensible of the +immense distance remaining to be filled up between a genius of the +highest order and a learned pedant; and they became in a manner +free-thinkers, rejected all belief in theory, and affirmed the conduct +of War to be a natural function of man, which he performs more or less +well according as he has brought with him into the world more or less +talent in that direction. It cannot be denied that these were nearer to +the truth than those who placed a value on false knowledge: at the same +time it may easily be seen that such a view is itself but an +exaggeration. No activity of the human understanding is possible +without a certain stock of ideas; but these are, for the greater part +at least, not innate but acquired, and constitute his knowledge. The +only question therefore is, of what kind should these ideas be; and we +think we have answered it if we say that they should be directed on +those things which man has directly to deal with in War. + +43. THE KNOWLEDGE MUST BE MADE SUITABLE TO THE POSITION. + + +Inside this field itself of military activity, the knowledge required +must be different according to the station of the Commander. It will be +directed on smaller and more circumscribed objects if he holds an +inferior, upon greater and more comprehensive ones if he holds a higher +situation. There are Field Marshals who would not have shone at the +head of a cavalry regiment, and _vice versa_. + +44. THE KNOWLEDGE IN WAR IS VERY SIMPLE, BUT NOT, AT THE SAME TIME, +VERY EASY. + + +But although the knowledge in War is simple, that is to say directed to +so few subjects, and taking up those only in their final results, the +art of execution is not, on that account, easy. Of the difficulties to +which activity in War is subject generally, we have already spoken in +the first book; we here omit those things which can only be overcome by +courage, and maintain also that the activity of mind, is only simple, +and easy in inferior stations, but increases in difficulty with +increase of rank, and in the highest position, in that of +Commander-in-Chief, is to be reckoned among the most difficult which +there is for the human mind. + +45. OF THE NATURE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE. + + +The Commander of an Army neither requires to be a learned explorer of +history nor a publicist, but he must be well versed in the higher +affairs of State; he must know, and be able to judge correctly of +traditional tendencies, interests at stake, the immediate questions at +issue, and the characters of leading persons; he need not be a close +observer of men, a sharp dissector of human character, but he must know +the character, the feelings, the habits, the peculiar faults and +inclinations of those whom he is to command. He need not understand +anything about the make of a carriage, or the harness of a battery +horse, but he must know how to calculate exactly the march of a column, +under different circumstances, according to the time it requires. These +are matters the knowledge of which cannot be forced out by an apparatus +of scientific formula and machinery: they are only to be gained by the +exercise of an accurate judgment in the observation of things and of +men, aided by a special talent for the apprehension of both. + +The necessary knowledge for a high position in military action is +therefore distinguished by this, that by observation, therefore by +study and reflection, it is only to be attained through a special +talent which as an intellectual instinct understands how to extract +from the phenomena of life only the essence or spirit, as bees do the +honey from the flowers; and that it is also to be gained by experience +of life as well as by study and reflection. Life will never bring forth +a Newton or an Euler by its rich teachings, but it may bring forth +great calculators in War, such as Condé or Frederick. + +It is therefore not necessary that, in order to vindicate the +intellectual dignity of military activity, we should resort to untruth +and silly pedantry. There never has been a great and distinguished +Commander of contracted mind, but very numerous are the instances of +men who, after serving with the greatest distinction in inferior +positions, remained below mediocrity in the highest, from insufficiency +of intellectual capacity. That even amongst those holding the post of +Commander-in-Chief there may be a difference according to the degree of +their plenitude of power is a matter of course. + +46. SCIENCE MUST BECOME ART. + + +Now we have yet to consider one condition which is more necessary for +the knowledge of the conduct of War than for any other, which is, that +it must pass completely into the mind and almost completely cease to be +something objective. In almost all other arts and occupations of life +the active agent can make use of truths which he has only learnt once, +and in the spirit and sense of which he no longer lives, and which he +extracts from dusty books. Even truths which he has in hand and uses +daily may continue something external to himself, If the architect +takes up a pen to settle the strength of a pier by a complicated +calculation, the truth found as a result is no emanation from his own +mind. He had first to find the data with labour, and then to submit +these to an operation of the mind, the rule for which he did not +discover, the necessity of which he is perhaps at the moment only +partly conscious of, but which he applies, for the most part, as if by +mechanical dexterity. But it is never so in War. The moral reaction, +the ever-changeful form of things, makes it necessary for the chief +actor to carry in himself the whole mental apparatus of his knowledge, +that anywhere and at every pulse-beat he may be capable of giving the +requisite decision from himself. Knowledge must, by this complete +assimilation with his own mind and life, be converted into real power. +This is the reason why everything seems so easy with men distinguished +in War, and why everything is ascribed to natural talent. We say +natural talent, in order thereby to distinguish it from that which is +formed and matured by observation and study. + +We think that by these reflections we have explained the problem of a +theory of the conduct of War; and pointed out the way to its solution. + +Of the two fields into which we have divided the conduct of War, +tactics and strategy, the theory of the latter contains unquestionably, +as before observed, the greatest difficulties, because the first is +almost limited to a circumscribed field of objects, but the latter, in +the direction of objects leading directly to peace, opens to itself an +unlimited field of possibilities. Since for the most part the +Commander-in-Chief has only to keep these objects steadily in view, +therefore the part of strategy in which he moves is also that which is +particularly subject to this difficulty. + +Theory, therefore, especially where it comprehends the highest +services, will stop much sooner in strategy than in tactics at the +simple consideration of things, and content itself to assist the +Commander to that insight into things which, blended with his whole +thought, makes his course easier and surer, never forces him into +opposition with himself in order to obey an objective truth. + + + +CHAPTER III. Art or Science of War + +1.—USAGE STILL UNSETTLED +(POWER AND KNOWLEDGE. SCIENCE WHEN MERE KNOWING; ART, WHEN DOING, IS +THE OBJECT.) + + +The choice between these terms seems to be still unsettled, and no one +seems to know rightly on what grounds it should be decided, and yet the +thing is simple. We have already said elsewhere that “knowing” is +something different from “doing.” The two are so different that they +should not easily be mistaken the one for the other. The “doing” cannot +properly stand in any book, and therefore also Art should never be the +title of a book. But because we have once accustomed ourselves to +combine in conception, under the name of theory of Art, or simply Art, +the branches of knowledge (which may be separately pure sciences) +necessary for the practice of an Art, therefore it is consistent to +continue this ground of distinction, and to call everything Art when +the object is to carry out the “doing” (being able), as for example, +Art of building; Science, when merely knowledge is the object; as +Science of mathematics, of astronomy. That in every Art certain +complete sciences may be included is intelligible of itself, and should +not perplex us. But still it is worth observing that there is also no +science without a mixture of Art. In mathematics, for instance, the use +of figures and of algebra is an Art, but that is only one amongst many +instances. The reason is, that however plain and palpable the +difference is between knowledge and power in the composite results of +human knowledge, yet it is difficult to trace out their line of +separation in man himself. + +2. DIFFICULTY OF SEPARATING PERCEPTION FROM JUDGMENT. +(ART OF WAR.) + + +All thinking is indeed Art. Where the logician draws the line, where +the premises stop which are the result of cognition—where judgment +begins, there Art begins. But more than this even the perception of the +mind is judgment again, and consequently Art; and at last, even the +perception by the senses as well. In a word, if it is impossible to +imagine a human being possessing merely the faculty of cognition, +devoid of judgment or the reverse, so also Art and Science can never be +completely separated from each other. The more these subtle elements of +light embody themselves in the outward forms of the world, so much the +more separate appear their domains; and now once more, where the object +is creation and production, there is the province of Art; where the +object is investigation and knowledge Science holds sway.—After all +this it results of itself that it is more fitting to say Art of War +than Science of War. + +So much for this, because we cannot do without these conceptions. But +now we come forward with the assertion that War is neither an Art nor a +Science in the real signification, and that it is just the setting out +from that starting-point of ideas which has led to a wrong direction +being taken, which has caused War to be put on a par with other arts +and sciences, and has led to a number of erroneous analogies. + +This has indeed been felt before now, and on that it was maintained +that War is a handicraft; but there was more lost than gained by that, +for a handicraft is only an inferior art, and as such is also subject +to definite and rigid laws. In reality the Art of War did go on for +some time in the spirit of a handicraft—we allude to the times of the +Condottieri—but then it received that direction, not from intrinsic but +from external causes; and military history shows how little it was at +that time in accordance with the nature of the thing. + +3. WAR IS PART OF THE INTERCOURSE OF THE HUMAN RACE. + + +We say therefore War belongs not to the province of Arts and Sciences, +but to the province of social life. It is a conflict of great interests +which is settled by bloodshed, and only in that is it different from +others. It would be better, instead of comparing it with any Art, to +liken it to business competition, which is also a conflict of human +interests and activities; and it is still more like State policy, which +again, on its part, may be looked upon as a kind of business +competition on a great scale. Besides, State policy is the womb in +which War is developed, in which its outlines lie hidden in a +rudimentary state, like the qualities of living creatures in their +germs.(*) + +(*) The analogy has become much closer since Clausewitz’s time. Now +that the first business of the State is regarded as the development of +facilities for trade, War between great nations is only a question of +time. No Hague Conferences can avert it—EDITOR. + + +4. DIFFERENCE. + + +The essential difference consists in this, that War is no activity of +the will, which exerts itself upon inanimate matter like the mechanical +Arts; or upon a living but still passive and yielding subject, like the +human mind and the human feelings in the ideal Arts, but against a +living and reacting force. How little the categories of Arts and +Sciences are applicable to such an activity strikes us at once; and we +can understand at the same time how that constant seeking and striving +after laws like those which may be developed out of the dead material +world could not but lead to constant errors. And yet it is just the +mechanical Arts that some people would imitate in the Art of War. The +imitation of the ideal Arts was quite out of the question, because +these themselves dispense too much with laws and rules, and those +hitherto tried, always acknowledged as insufficient and one-sided, are +perpetually undermined and washed away by the current of opinions, +feelings, and customs. + +Whether such a conflict of the living, as takes place and is settled in +War, is subject to general laws, and whether these are capable of +indicating a useful line of action, will be partly investigated in this +book; but so much is evident in itself, that this, like every other +subject which does not surpass our powers of understanding, may be +lighted up, and be made more or less plain in its inner relations by an +inquiring mind, and that alone is sufficient to realise the idea of a +THEORY. + + + +CHAPTER IV. Methodicism + +In order to explain ourselves clearly as to the conception of method, +and method of action, which play such an important part in War, we must +be allowed to cast a hasty glance at the logical hierarchy through +which, as through regularly constituted official functionaries, the +world of action is governed. + +_Law_, in the widest sense strictly applying to perception as well as +action, has plainly something subjective and arbitrary in its literal +meaning, and expresses just that on which we and those things external +to us are dependent. As a subject of cognition, _Law_ is the relation +of things and their effects to one another; as a subject of the will, +it is a motive of action, and is then equivalent to _command_ or +_prohibition_. + +_Principle_ is likewise such a law for action, except that it has not +the formal definite meaning, but is only the spirit and sense of law in +order to leave the judgment more freedom of application when the +diversity of the real world cannot be laid hold of under the definite +form of a law. As the judgment must of itself suggest the cases in +which the principle is not applicable, the latter therefore becomes in +that way a real aid or guiding star for the person acting. + +Principle is _objective_ when it is the result of objective truth, and +consequently of equal value for all men; it is _subjective_, and then +generally called _maxim_ if there are subjective relations in it, and +if it therefore has a certain value only for the person himself who +makes it. + +_Rule_ is frequently taken in the sense of _Law_, and then means the +same as _Principle_, for we say “no rule without exceptions,” but we do +not say “no law without exceptions,” a sign that with _Rule_ we retain +to ourselves more freedom of application. + +In another meaning _Rule_ is the means used of discerning a recondite +truth in a particular sign lying close at hand, in order to attach to +this particular sign the law of action directed upon the whole truth. +Of this kind are all the rules of games of play, all abridged processes +in mathematics, &c. + +_Directions_ and _instructions_ are determinations of action which have +an influence upon a number of minor circumstances too numerous and +unimportant for general laws. + +Lastly, _Method, mode of acting_, is an always recurring proceeding +selected out of several possible ones; and _Methodicism_ (METHODISMUS) +is that which is determined by methods instead of by general principles +or particular prescriptions. By this the cases which are placed under +such methods must necessarily be supposed alike in their essential +parts. As they cannot all be this, then the point is that at least as +many as possible should be; in other words, that Method should be +calculated on the most probable cases. Methodicism is therefore not +founded on determined particular premises, but on the average +probability of cases one with another; and its ultimate tendency is to +set up an average truth, the constant and uniform, application of which +soon acquires something of the nature of a mechanical appliance, which +in the end does that which is right almost unwittingly. + +The conception of law in relation to perception is not necessary for +the conduct of War, because the complex phenomena of War are not so +regular, and the regular are not so complex, that we should gain +anything more by this conception than by the simple truth. And where a +simple conception and language is sufficient, to resort to the complex +becomes affected and pedantic. The conception of law in relation to +action cannot be used in the theory of the conduct of War, because +owing to the variableness and diversity of the phenomena there is in it +no determination of such a general nature as to deserve the name of +law. + +But principles, rules, prescriptions, and methods are conceptions +indispensable to a theory of the conduct of War, in so far as that +theory leads to positive doctrines, because in doctrines the truth can +only crystallise itself in such forms. + +As tactics is the branch of the conduct of War in which theory can +attain the nearest to positive doctrine, therefore these conceptions +will appear in it most frequently. + +Not to use cavalry against unbroken infantry except in some case of +special emergency, only to use firearms within effective range in the +combat, to spare the forces as much as possible for the final +struggle—these are tactical principles. None of them can be applied +absolutely in every case, but they must always be present to the mind +of the Chief, in order that the benefit of the truth contained in them +may not be lost in cases where that truth can be of advantage. + +If from the unusual cooking by an enemy’s camp his movement is +inferred, if the intentional exposure of troops in a combat indicates a +false attack, then this way of discerning the truth is called rule, +because from a single visible circumstance that conclusion is drawn +which corresponds with the same. + +If it is a rule to attack the enemy with renewed vigour, as soon as he +begins to limber up his artillery in the combat, then on this +particular fact depends a course of action which is aimed at the +general situation of the enemy as inferred from the above fact, namely, +that he is about to give up the fight, that he is commencing to draw +off his troops, and is neither capable of making a serious stand while +thus drawing off nor of making his retreat gradually in good order. + +_Regulations_ and _methods_ bring preparatory theories into the conduct +of War, in so far as disciplined troops are inoculated with them as +active principles. The whole body of instructions for formations, +drill, and field service are regulations and methods: in the drill +instructions the first predominate, in the field service instructions +the latter. To these things the real conduct of War attaches itself; it +takes them over, therefore, as given modes of proceeding, and as such +they must appear in the theory of the conduct of War. + +But for those activities retaining freedom in the employment of these +forces there cannot be regulations, that is, definite instructions, +because they would do away with freedom of action. Methods, on the +other hand, as a general way of executing duties as they arise, +calculated, as we have said, on an average of probability, or as a +dominating influence of principles and rules carried through to +application, may certainly appear in the theory of the conduct of War, +provided only they are not represented as something different from what +they are, not as the absolute and necessary modes of action (systems), +but as the best of general forms which may be used as shorter ways in +place of a particular disposition for the occasion, at discretion. + +But the frequent application of methods will be seen to be most +essential and unavoidable in the conduct of War, if we reflect how much +action proceeds on mere conjecture, or in complete uncertainty, because +one side is prevented from learning all the circumstances which +influence the dispositions of the other, or because, even if these +circumstances which influence the decisions of the one were really +known, there is not, owing to their extent and the dispositions they +would entail, sufficient time for the other to carry out all necessary +counteracting measures—that therefore measures in War must always be +calculated on a certain number of possibilities; if we reflect how +numberless are the trifling things belonging to any single event, and +which therefore should be taken into account along with it, and that +therefore there is no other means to suppose the one counteracted by +the other, and to base our arrangements only upon what is of a general +nature and probable; if we reflect lastly that, owing to the increasing +number of officers as we descend the scale of rank, less must be left +to the true discernment and ripe judgment of individuals the lower the +sphere of action, and that when we reach those ranks where we can look +for no other notions but those which the regulations of the service and +experience afford, we must help them with the methodic forms bordering +on those regulations. This will serve both as a support to their +judgment and a barrier against those extravagant and erroneous views +which are so especially to be dreaded in a sphere where experience is +so costly. + +Besides this absolute need of method in action, we must also +acknowledge that it has a positive advantage, which is that, through +the constant repetition of a formal exercise, a readiness, precision, +and firmness is attained in the movement of troops which diminishes the +natural friction, and makes the machine move easier. + +Method will therefore be the more generally used, become the more +indispensable, the farther down the scale of rank the position of the +active agent; and on the other hand, its use will diminish upwards, +until in the highest position it quite disappears. For this reason it +is more in its place in tactics than in strategy. + +War in its highest aspects consists not of an infinite number of little +events, the diversities in which compensate each other, and which +therefore by a better or worse method are better or worse governed, but +of separate great decisive events which must be dealt with separately. +It is not like a field of stalks, which, without any regard to the +particular form of each stalk, will be mowed better or worse, according +as the mowing instrument is good or bad, but rather as a group of large +trees, to which the axe must be laid with judgment, according to the +particular form and inclination of each separate trunk. + +How high up in military activity the admissibility of method in action +reaches naturally determines itself, not according to actual rank, but +according to things; and it affects the highest positions in a less +degree, only because these positions have the most comprehensive +subjects of activity. A constant order of battle, a constant formation +of advance guards and outposts, are methods by which a General ties not +only his subordinates’ hands, but also his own in certain cases. +Certainly they may have been devised by himself, and may be applied by +him according to circumstances, but they may also be a subject of +theory, in so far as they are based on the general properties of troops +and weapons. On the other hand, any method by which definite plans for +wars or campaigns are to be given out all ready made as if from a +machine are absolutely worthless. + +As long as there exists no theory which can be sustained, that is, no +enlightened treatise on the conduct of War, method in action cannot but +encroach beyond its proper limits in high places, for men employed in +these spheres of activity have not always had the opportunity of +educating themselves, through study and through contact with the higher +interests. In the impracticable and inconsistent disquisitions of +theorists and critics they cannot find their way, their sound common +sense rejects them, and as they bring with them no knowledge but that +derived from experience, therefore in those cases which admit of, and +require, a free individual treatment they readily make use of the means +which experience gives them—that is, an imitation of the particular +methods practised by great Generals, by which a method of action then +arises of itself. If we see Frederick the Great’s Generals always +making their appearance in the so-called oblique order of battle, the +Generals of the French Revolution always using turning movements with a +long, extended line of battle, and Buonaparte’s lieutenants rushing to +the attack with the bloody energy of concentrated masses, then we +recognise in the recurrence of the mode of proceeding evidently an +adopted method, and see therefore that method of action can reach up to +regions bordering on the highest. Should an improved theory facilitate +the study of the conduct of War, form the mind and judgment of men who +are rising to the highest commands, then also method in action will no +longer reach so far, and so much of it as is to be considered +indispensable will then at least be formed from theory itself, and not +take place out of mere imitation. However pre-eminently a great +Commander does things, there is always something subjective in the way +he does them; and if he has a certain manner, a large share of his +individuality is contained in it which does not always accord with the +individuality of the person who copies his manner. + +At the same time, it would neither be possible nor right to banish +subjective methodicism or manner completely from the conduct of War: it +is rather to be regarded as a manifestation of that influence which the +general character of a War has upon its separate events, and to which +satisfaction can only be done in that way if theory is not able to +foresee this general character and include it in its considerations. +What is more natural than that the War of the French Revolution had its +own way of doing things? and what theory could ever have included that +peculiar method? The evil is only that such a manner originating in a +special case easily outlives itself, because it continues whilst +circumstances imperceptibly change. This is what theory should prevent +by lucid and rational criticism. When in the year 1806 the Prussian +Generals, Prince Louis at Saalfeld, Tauentzien on the Dornberg near +Jena, Grawert before and Ruechel behind Kappellendorf, all threw +themselves into the open jaws of destruction in the oblique order of +Frederick the Great, and managed to ruin Hohenlohe’s Army in a way that +no Army was ever ruined, even on the field of battle, all this was done +through a manner which had outlived its day, together with the most +downright stupidity to which methodicism ever led. + + + +CHAPTER V. Criticism + +The influence of theoretical principles upon real life is produced more +through criticism than through doctrine, for as criticism is an +application of abstract truth to real events, therefore it not only +brings truth of this description nearer to life, but also accustoms the +understanding more to such truths by the constant repetition of their +application. We therefore think it necessary to fix the point of view +for criticism next to that for theory. + +From the simple narration of an historical occurrence which places +events in chronological order, or at most only touches on their more +immediate causes, we separate the CRITICAL. + +In this CRITICAL three different operations of the mind may be +observed. + +First, the historical investigation and determining of doubtful facts. +This is properly historical research, and has nothing in common with +theory. + +Secondly, the tracing of effects to causes. This is the REAL CRITICAL +INQUIRY; it is indispensable to theory, for everything which in theory +is to be established, supported, or even merely explained, by +experience can only be settled in this way. + +Thirdly, the testing of the means employed. This is criticism, properly +speaking, in which praise and censure is contained. This is where +theory helps history, or rather, the teaching to be derived from it. + +In these two last strictly critical parts of historical study, all +depends on tracing things to their primary elements, that is to say, up +to undoubted truths, and not, as is so often done, resting half-way, +that is, on some arbitrary assumption or supposition. + +As respects the tracing of effect to cause, that is often attended with +the insuperable difficulty that the real causes are not known. In none +of the relations of life does this so frequently happen as in War, +where events are seldom fully known, and still less motives, as the +latter have been, perhaps purposely, concealed by the chief actor, or +have been of such a transient and accidental character that they have +been lost for history. For this reason critical narration must +generally proceed hand in hand with historical investigation, and still +such a want of connection between cause and effect will often present +itself, that it does not seem justifiable to consider effects as the +necessary results of known causes. Here, therefore must occur, that is, +historical results which cannot be made use of for teaching. All that +theory can demand is that the investigation should be rigidly conducted +up to that point, and there leave off without drawing conclusions. A +real evil springs up only if the known is made perforce to suffice as +an explanation of effects, and thus a false importance is ascribed to +it. + +Besides this difficulty, critical inquiry also meets with another great +and intrinsic one, which is that the progress of events in War seldom +proceeds from one simple cause, but from several in common, and that it +therefore is not sufficient to follow up a series of events to their +origin in a candid and impartial spirit, but that it is then also +necessary to apportion to each contributing cause its due weight. This +leads, therefore, to a closer investigation of their nature, and thus a +critical investigation may lead into what is the proper field of +theory. + +The critical CONSIDERATION, that is, the testing of the means, leads to +the question, Which are the effects peculiar to the means applied, and +whether these effects were comprehended in the plans of the person +directing? + +The effects peculiar to the means lead to the investigation of their +nature, and thus again into the field of theory. + +We have already seen that in criticism all depends upon attaining to +positive truth; therefore, that we must not stop at arbitrary +propositions which are not allowed by others, and to which other +perhaps equally arbitrary assertions may again be opposed, so that +there is no end to pros and cons; the whole is without result, and +therefore without instruction. + +We have seen that both the search for causes and the examination of +means lead into the field of theory; that is, into the field of +universal truth, which does not proceed solely from the case +immediately under examination. If there is a theory which can be used, +then the critical consideration will appeal to the proofs there +afforded, and the examination may there stop. But where no such +theoretical truth is to be found, the inquiry must be pushed up to the +original elements. If this necessity occurs often, it must lead the +historian (according to a common expression) into a labyrinth of +details. He then has his hands full, and it is impossible for him to +stop to give the requisite attention everywhere; the consequence is, +that in order to set bounds to his investigation, he adopts some +arbitrary assumptions which, if they do not appear so to him, do so to +others, as they are not evident in themselves or capable of proof. + +A sound theory is therefore an essential foundation for criticism, and +it is impossible for it, without the assistance of a sensible theory, +to attain to that point at which it commences chiefly to be +instructive, that is, where it becomes demonstration, both convincing +and sans réplique. + +But it would be a visionary hope to believe in the possibility of a +theory applicable to every abstract truth, leaving nothing for +criticism to do but to place the case under its appropriate law: it +would be ridiculous pedantry to lay down as a rule for criticism that +it must always halt and turn round on reaching the boundaries of sacred +theory. The same spirit of analytical inquiry which is the origin of +theory must also guide the critic in his work; and it can and must +therefore happen that he strays beyond the boundaries of the province +of theory and elucidates those points with which he is more +particularly concerned. It is more likely, on the contrary, that +criticism would completely fail in its object if it degenerated into a +mechanical application of theory. All positive results of theoretical +inquiry, all principles, rules, and methods, are the more wanting in +generality and positive truth the more they become positive doctrine. +They exist to offer themselves for use as required, and it must always +be left for judgment to decide whether they are suitable or not. Such +results of theory must never be used in criticism as rules or norms for +a standard, but in the same way as the person acting should use them, +that is, merely as aids to judgment. If it is an acknowledged principle +in tactics that in the usual order of battle cavalry should be placed +behind infantry, not in line with it, still it would be folly on this +account to condemn every deviation from this principle. Criticism must +investigate the grounds of the deviation, and it is only in case these +are insufficient that it has a right to appeal to principles laid down +in theory. If it is further established in theory that a divided attack +diminishes the probability of success, still it would be just as +unreasonable, whenever there is a divided attack and an unsuccessful +issue, to regard the latter as the result of the former, without +further investigation into the connection between the two, as where a +divided attack is successful to infer from it the fallacy of that +theoretical principle. The spirit of investigation which belongs to +criticism cannot allow either. Criticism therefore supports itself +chiefly on the results of the analytical investigation of theory; what +has been made out and determined by theory does not require to be +demonstrated over again by criticism, and it is so determined by theory +that criticism may find it ready demonstrated. + +This office of criticism, of examining the effect produced by certain +causes, and whether a means applied has answered its object, will be +easy enough if cause and effect, means and end, are all near together. + +If an Army is surprised, and therefore cannot make a regular and +intelligent use of its powers and resources, then the effect of the +surprise is not doubtful.—If theory has determined that in a battle the +convergent form of attack is calculated to produce greater but less +certain results, then the question is whether he who employs that +convergent form had in view chiefly that greatness of result as his +object; if so, the proper means were chosen. But if by this form he +intended to make the result more certain, and that expectation was +founded not on some exceptional circumstances (in this case), but on +the general nature of the convergent form, as has happened a hundred +times, then he mistook the nature of the means and committed an error. + +Here the work of military investigation and criticism is easy, and it +will always be so when confined to the immediate effects and objects. +This can be done quite at option, if we abstract the connection of the +parts with the whole, and only look at things in that relation. + +But in War, as generally in the world, there is a connection between +everything which belongs to a whole; and therefore, however small a +cause may be in itself, its effects reach to the end of the act of +warfare, and modify or influence the final result in some degree, let +that degree be ever so small. In the same manner every means must be +felt up to the ultimate object. + +We can therefore trace the effects of a cause as long as events are +worth noticing, and in the same way we must not stop at the testing of +a means for the immediate object, but test also this object as a means +to a higher one, and thus ascend the series of facts in succession, +until we come to one so absolutely necessary in its nature as to +require no examination or proof. In many cases, particularly in what +concerns great and decisive measures, the investigation must be carried +to the final aim, to that which leads immediately to peace. + +It is evident that in thus ascending, at every new station which we +reach a new point of view for the judgment is attained, so that the +same means which appeared advisable at one station, when looked at from +the next above it may have to be rejected. + +The search for the causes of events and the comparison of means with +ends must always go hand in hand in the critical review of an act, for +the investigation of causes leads us first to the discovery of those +things which are worth examining. + +This following of the clue up and down is attended with considerable +difficulty, for the farther from an event the cause lies which we are +looking for, the greater must be the number of other causes which must +at the same time be kept in view and allowed for in reference to the +share which they have in the course of events, and then eliminated, +because the higher the importance of a fact the greater will be the +number of separate forces and circumstances by which it is conditioned. +If we have unravelled the causes of a battle being lost, we have +certainly also ascertained a part of the causes of the consequences +which this defeat has upon the whole War, but only a part, because the +effects of other causes, more or less according to circumstances, will +flow into the final result. + +The same multiplicity of circumstances is presented also in the +examination of the means the higher our point of view, for the higher +the object is situated, the greater must be the number of means +employed to reach it. The ultimate object of the War is the object +aimed at by all the Armies simultaneously, and it is therefore +necessary that the consideration should embrace all that each has done +or could have done. + +It is obvious that this may sometimes lead to a wide field of inquiry, +in which it is easy to wander and lose the way, and in which this +difficulty prevails—that a number of assumptions or suppositions must +be made about a variety of things which do not actually appear, but +which in all probability did take place, and therefore cannot possibly +be left out of consideration. + +When Buonaparte, in 1797,(*) at the head of the Army of Italy, advanced +from the Tagliamento against the Archduke Charles, he did so with a +view to force that General to a decisive action before the +reinforcements expected from the Rhine had reached him. If we look, +only at the immediate object, the means were well chosen and justified +by the result, for the Archduke was so inferior in numbers that he only +made a show of resistance on the Tagliamento, and when he saw his +adversary so strong and resolute, yielded ground, and left open the +passages, of the Norican Alps. Now to what use could Buonaparte turn +this fortunate event? To penetrate into the heart of the Austrian +empire itself, to facilitate the advance of the Rhine Armies under +Moreau and Hoche, and open communication with them? This was the view +taken by Buonaparte, and from this point of view he was right. But now, +if criticism places itself at a higher point of view—namely, that of +the French Directory, which body could see and know that the Armies on +the Rhine could not commence the campaign for six weeks, then the +advance of Buonaparte over the Norican Alps can only be regarded as an +extremely hazardous measure; for if the Austrians had drawn largely on +their Rhine Armies to reinforce their Army in Styria, so as to enable +the Archduke to fall upon the Army of Italy, not only would that Army +have been routed, but the whole campaign lost. This consideration, +which attracted the serious attention of Buonaparte at Villach, no +doubt induced him to sign the armistice of Leoben with so much +readiness. + +(*) Compare _Hinterlassene Werke_, 2nd edition, vol. iv. p. 276 _et +seq._ + + +If criticism takes a still higher position, and if it knows that the +Austrians had no reserves between the Army of the Archduke Charles and +Vienna, then we see that Vienna became threatened by the advance of the +Army of Italy. + +Supposing that Buonaparte knew that the capital was thus uncovered, and +knew that he still retained the same superiority in numbers over the +Archduke as he had in Styria, then his advance against the heart of the +Austrian States was no longer without purpose, and its value depended +on the value which the Austrians might place on preserving their +capital. If that was so great that, rather than lose it, they would +accept the conditions of peace which Buonaparte was ready to offer +them, it became an object of the first importance to threaten Vienna. +If Buonaparte had any reason to know this, then criticism may stop +there, but if this point was only problematical, then criticism must +take a still higher position, and ask what would have followed if the +Austrians had resolved to abandon Vienna and retire farther into the +vast dominions still left to them. But it is easy to see that this +question cannot be answered without bringing into the consideration the +probable movements of the Rhine Armies on both sides. Through the +decided superiority of numbers on the side of the French—130,000 to +80,000—there could be little doubt of the result; but then next arises +the question, What use would the Directory make of a victory; whether +they would follow up their success to the opposite frontiers of the +Austrian monarchy, therefore to the complete breaking up or overthrow +of that power, or whether they would be satisfied with the conquest of +a considerable portion to serve as a security for peace? The probable +result in each case must be estimated, in order to come to a conclusion +as to the probable determination of the Directory. Supposing the result +of these considerations to be that the French forces were much too weak +for the complete subjugation of the Austrian monarchy, so that the +attempt might completely reverse the respective positions of the +contending Armies, and that even the conquest and occupation of a +considerable district of country would place the French Army in +strategic relations to which they were not equal, then that result must +naturally influence the estimate of the position of the Army of Italy, +and compel it to lower its expectations. And this, it was no doubt +which influenced Buonaparte, although fully aware of the helpless +condition of the Archduke, still to sign the peace of Campo Formio, +which imposed no greater sacrifices on the Austrians than the loss of +provinces which, even if the campaign took the most favourable turn for +them, they could not have reconquered. But the French could not have +reckoned on even the moderate treaty of Campo Formio, and therefore it +could not have been their object in making their bold advance if two +considerations had not presented themselves to their view, the first of +which consisted in the question, what degree of value the Austrians +would attach to each of the above-mentioned results; whether, +notwithstanding the probability of a satisfactory result in either of +these cases, would it be worth while to make the sacrifices inseparable +from a continuance of the War, when they could be spared those +sacrifices by a peace on terms not too humiliating? The second +consideration is the question whether the Austrian Government, instead +of seriously weighing the possible results of a resistance pushed to +extremities, would not prove completely disheartened by the impression +of their present reverses. + +The consideration which forms the subject of the first is no idle piece +of subtle argument, but a consideration of such decidedly practical +importance that it comes up whenever the plan of pushing War to the +utmost extremity is mooted, and by its weight in most cases restrains +the execution of such plans. + +The second consideration is of equal importance, for we do not make War +with an abstraction but with a reality, which we must always keep in +view, and we may be sure that it was not overlooked by the bold +Buonaparte—that is, that he was keenly alive to the terror which the +appearance of his sword inspired. It was reliance on that which led him +to Moscow. There it led him into a scrape. The terror of him had been +weakened by the gigantic struggles in which he had been engaged; in the +year 1797 it was still fresh, and the secret of a resistance pushed to +extremities had not been discovered; nevertheless even in 1797 his +boldness might have led to a negative result if, as already said, he +had not with a sort of presentiment avoided it by signing the moderate +peace of Campo Formio. + +We must now bring these considerations to a close—they will suffice to +show the wide sphere, the diversity and embarrassing nature of the +subjects embraced in a critical examination carried to the fullest +extent, that is, to those measures of a great and decisive class which +must necessarily be included. It follows from them that besides a +theoretical acquaintance with the subject, natural talent must also +have a great influence on the value of critical examinations, for it +rests chiefly with the latter to throw the requisite light on the +interrelations of things, and to distinguish from amongst the endless +connections of events those which are really essential. + +But talent is also called into requisition in another way. Critical +examination is not merely the appreciation of those means which have +been actually employed, but also of all possible means, which therefore +must be suggested in the first place—that is, must be discovered; and +the use of any particular means is not fairly open to censure until a +better is pointed out. Now, however small the number of possible +combinations may be in most cases, still it must be admitted that to +point out those which have not been used is not a mere analysis of +actual things, but a spontaneous creation which cannot be prescribed, +and depends on the fertility of genius. + +We are far from seeing a field for great genius in a case which admits +only of the application of a few simple combinations, and we think it +exceedingly ridiculous to hold up, as is often done, the turning of a +position as an invention showing the highest genius; still nevertheless +this creative self-activity on the part of the critic is necessary, and +it is one of the points which essentially determine the value of +critical examination. + +When Buonaparte on 30th July, 1796,(*) determined to raise the siege of +Mantua, in order to march with his whole force against the enemy, +advancing in separate columns to the relief of the place, and to beat +them in detail, this appeared the surest way to the attainment of +brilliant victories. These victories actually followed, and were +afterwards again repeated on a still more brilliant scale on the +attempt to relieve the fortress being again renewed. We hear only one +opinion on these achievements, that of unmixed admiration. + +(*) Compare _Hinterlassene Werke_, 2nd edition, vol. iv. p. 107 _et +seq_. + + +At the same time, Buonaparte could not have adopted this course on the +30th July without quite giving up the idea of the siege of Mantua, +because it was impossible to save the siege train, and it could not be +replaced by another in this campaign. In fact, the siege was converted +into a blockade, and the town, which if the siege had continued must +have very shortly fallen, held out for six months in spite of +Buonaparte’s victories in the open field. + +Criticism has generally regarded this as an evil that was unavoidable, +because critics have not been able to suggest any better course. +Resistance to a relieving Army within lines of circumvallation had +fallen into such disrepute and contempt that it appears to have +entirely escaped consideration as a means. And yet in the reign of +Louis XIV. that measure was so often used with success that we can only +attribute to the force of fashion the fact that a hundred years later +it never occurred to any one even to propose such a measure. If the +practicability of such a plan had ever been entertained for a moment, a +closer consideration of circumstances would have shown that 40,000 of +the best infantry in the world under Buonaparte, behind strong lines of +circumvallation round Mantua, had so little to fear from the 50,000 men +coming to the relief under Wurmser, that it was very unlikely that any +attempt even would be made upon their lines. We shall not seek here to +establish this point, but we believe enough has been said to show that +this means was one which had a right to a share of consideration. +Whether Buonaparte himself ever thought of such a plan we leave +undecided; neither in his memoirs nor in other sources is there any +trace to be found of his having done so; in no critical works has it +been touched upon, the measure being one which the mind had lost sight +of. The merit of resuscitating the idea of this means is not great, for +it suggests itself at once to any one who breaks loose from the +trammels of fashion. Still it is necessary that it should suggest +itself for us to bring it into consideration and compare it with the +means which Buonaparte employed. Whatever may be the result of the +comparison, it is one which should not be omitted by criticism. + +When Buonaparte, in February, 1814,(*) after gaining the battles at +Etoges, Champ-Aubert, and Montmirail, left Blücher’s Army, and turning +upon Schwartzenberg, beat his troops at Montereau and Mormant, every +one was filled with admiration, because Buonaparte, by thus throwing +his concentrated force first upon one opponent, then upon another, made +a brilliant use of the mistakes which his adversaries had committed in +dividing their forces. If these brilliant strokes in different +directions failed to save him, it was generally considered to be no +fault of his, at least. No one has yet asked the question, What would +have been the result if, instead of turning from Blücher upon +Schwartzenberg, he had tried another blow at Blücher, and pursued him +to the Rhine? We are convinced that it would have completely changed +the course of the campaign, and that the Army of the Allies, instead of +marching to Paris, would have retired behind the Rhine. We do not ask +others to share our conviction, but no one who understands the thing +will doubt, at the mere mention of this alternative course, that it is +one which should not be overlooked in criticism. + +(*) Compare _Hinterlassene Werke_, 2nd edition. vol. vii. p. 193 _et +seq_. + + +In this case the means of comparison lie much more on the surface than +in the foregoing, but they have been equally overlooked, because +one-sided views have prevailed, and there has been no freedom of +judgment. + +From the necessity of pointing out a better means which might have been +used in place of those which are condemned has arisen the form of +criticism almost exclusively in use, which contents itself with +pointing out the better means without demonstrating in what the +superiority consists. The consequence is that some are not convinced, +that others start up and do the same thing, and that thus discussion +arises which is without any fixed basis for the argument. Military +literature abounds with matter of this sort. + +The demonstration we require is always necessary when the superiority +of the means propounded is not so evident as to leave no room for +doubt, and it consists in the examination of each of the means on its +own merits, and then of its comparison with the object desired. When +once the thing is traced back to a simple truth, controversy must +cease, or at all events a new result is obtained, whilst by the other +plan the _pros_ and _cons_ go on for ever consuming each other. + +Should we, for example, not rest content with assertion in the case +before mentioned, and wish to prove that the persistent pursuit of +Blücher would have been more advantageous than the turning on +Schwartzenberg, we should support the arguments on the following simple +truths: + +1. In general it is more advantageous to continue our blows in one and +the same direction, because there is a loss of time in striking in +different directions; and at a point where the moral power is already +shaken by considerable losses there is the more reason to expect fresh +successes, therefore in that way no part of the preponderance already +gained is left idle. + +2. Because Blücher, although weaker than Schwartzenberg, was, on +account of his enterprising spirit, the more important adversary; in +him, therefore, lay the centre of attraction which drew the others +along in the same direction. + +3. Because the losses which Blücher had sustained almost amounted to a +defeat, which gave Buonaparte such a preponderance over him as to make +his retreat to the Rhine almost certain, and at the same time no +reserves of any consequence awaited him there. + +4. Because there was no other result which would be so terrific in its +aspects, would appear to the imagination in such gigantic proportions, +an immense advantage in dealing with a Staff so weak and irresolute as +that of Schwartzenberg notoriously was at this time. What had happened +to the Crown Prince of Wartemberg at Montereau, and to Count +Wittgenstein at Mormant, Prince Schwartzenberg must have known well +enough; but all the untoward events on Blücher’s distant and separate +line from the Marne to the Rhine would only reach him by the avalanche +of rumour. The desperate movements which Buonaparte made upon Vitry at +the end of March, to see what the Allies would do if he threatened to +turn them strategically, were evidently done on the principle of +working on their fears; but it was done under far different +circumstances, in consequence of his defeat at Laon and Arcis, and +because Blücher, with 100,000 men, was then in communication with +Schwartzenberg. + +There are people, no doubt, who will not be convinced on these +arguments, but at all events they cannot retort by saying, that “whilst +Buonaparte threatened Schwartzenberg’s base by advancing to the Rhine, +Schwartzenberg at the same time threatened Buonaparte’s communications +with Paris,” because we have shown by the reasons above given that +Schwartzenberg would never have thought of marching on Paris. + +With respect to the example quoted by us from the campaign of 1796, we +should say: Buonaparte looked upon the plan he adopted as the surest +means of beating the Austrians; but admitting that it was so, still the +object to be attained was only an empty victory, which could have +hardly any sensible influence on the fall of Mantua. The way which we +should have chosen would, in our opinion, have been much more certain +to prevent the relief of Mantua; but even if we place ourselves in the +position of the French General and assume that it was not so, and look +upon the certainty of success to have been less, the question then +amounts to a choice between a more certain but less useful, and +therefore less important, victory on the one hand, and a somewhat less +probable but far more decisive and important victory, on the other +hand. Presented in this form, boldness must have declared for the +second solution, which is the reverse of what took place, when the +thing was only superficially viewed. Buonaparte certainly was anything +but deficient in boldness, and we may be sure that he did not see the +whole case and its consequences as fully and clearly as we can at the +present time. + +Naturally the critic, in treating of the means, must often appeal to +military history, as experience is of more value in the Art of War than +all philosophical truth. But this exemplification from history is +subject to certain conditions, of which we shall treat in a special +chapter and unfortunately these conditions are so seldom regarded that +reference to history generally only serves to increase the confusion of +ideas. + +We have still a most important subject to consider, which is, How far +criticism in passing judgments on particular events is permitted, or in +duty bound, to make use of its wider view of things, and therefore also +of that which is shown by results; or when and where it should leave +out of sight these things in order to place itself, as far as possible, +in the exact position of the chief actor? + +If criticism dispenses praise or censure, it should seek to place +itself as nearly as possible at the same point of view as the person +acting, that is to say, to collect all he knew and all the motives on +which he acted, and, on the other hand, to leave out of the +consideration all that the person acting could not or did not know, and +above all, the result. But this is only an object to aim at, which can +never be reached because the state of circumstances from which an event +proceeded can never be placed before the eye of the critic exactly as +it lay before the eye of the person acting. A number of inferior +circumstances, which must have influenced the result, are completely +lost to sight, and many a subjective motive has never come to light. + +The latter can only be learnt from the memoirs of the chief actor, or +from his intimate friends; and in such things of this kind are often +treated of in a very desultory manner, or purposely misrepresented. +Criticism must, therefore, always forego much which was present in the +minds of those whose acts are criticised. + +On the other hand, it is much more difficult to leave out of sight that +which criticism knows in excess. This is only easy as regards +accidental circumstances, that is, circumstances which have been mixed +up, but are in no way necessarily related. But it is very difficult, +and, in fact, can never be completely done with regard to things really +essential. + +Let us take first, the result. If it has not proceeded from accidental +circumstances, it is almost impossible that the knowledge of it should +not have an effect on the judgment passed on events which have preceded +it, for we see these things in the light of this result, and it is to a +certain extent by it that we first become acquainted with them and +appreciate them. Military history, with all its events, is a source of +instruction for criticism itself, and it is only natural that criticism +should throw that light on things which it has itself obtained from the +consideration of the whole. If therefore it might wish in some cases to +leave the result out of the consideration, it would be impossible to do +so completely. + +But it is not only in relation to the result, that is, with what takes +place at the last, that this embarrassment arises; the same occurs in +relation to preceding events, therefore with the data which furnished +the motives to action. Criticism has before it, in most cases, more +information on this point than the principal in the transaction. Now it +may seem easy to dismiss from the consideration everything of this +nature, but it is not so easy as we may think. The knowledge of +preceding and concurrent events is founded not only on certain +information, but on a number of conjectures and suppositions; indeed, +there is hardly any of the information respecting things not purely +accidental which has not been preceded by suppositions or conjectures +destined to take the place of certain information in case such should +never be supplied. Now is it conceivable that criticism in after times, +which has before it as facts all the preceding and concurrent +circumstances, should not allow itself to be thereby influenced when it +asks itself the question, What portion of the circumstances, which at +the moment of action were unknown, would it have held to be probable? +We maintain that in this case, as in the case of the results, and for +the same reason, it is impossible to disregard all these things +completely. + +If therefore the critic wishes to bestow praise or blame upon any +single act, he can only succeed to a certain degree in placing himself +in the position of the person whose act he has under review. In many +cases he can do so sufficiently near for any practical purpose, but in +many instances it is the very reverse, and this fact should never be +overlooked. + +But it is neither necessary nor desirable that criticism should +completely identify itself with the person acting. In War, as in all +matters of skill, there is a certain natural aptitude required which is +called talent. This may be great or small. In the first case it may +easily be superior to that of the critic, for what critic can pretend +to the skill of a Frederick or a Buonaparte? Therefore, if criticism is +not to abstain altogether from offering an opinion where eminent talent +is concerned, it must be allowed to make use of the advantage which its +enlarged horizon affords. Criticism must not, therefore, treat the +solution of a problem by a great General like a sum in arithmetic; it +is only through the results and through the exact coincidences of +events that it can recognise with admiration how much is due to the +exercise of genius, and that it first learns the essential combination +which the glance of that genius devised. + +But for every, even the smallest, act of genius it is necessary that +criticism should take a higher point of view, so that, having at +command many objective grounds of decision, it may be as little +subjective as possible, and that the critic may not take the limited +scope of his own mind as a standard. + +This elevated position of criticism, its praise and blame pronounced +with a full knowledge of all the circumstances, has in itself nothing +which hurts our feelings; it only does so if the critic pushes himself +forward, and speaks in a tone as if all the wisdom which he has +obtained by an exhaustive examination of the event under consideration +were really his own talent. Palpable as is this deception, it is one +which people may easily fall into through vanity, and one which is +naturally distasteful to others. It very often happens that although +the critic has no such arrogant pretensions, they are imputed to him by +the reader because he has not expressly disclaimed them, and then +follows immediately a charge of a want of the power of critical +judgment. + +If therefore a critic points out an error made by a Frederick or a +Buonaparte, that does not mean that he who makes the criticism would +not have committed the same error; he may even be ready to grant that +had he been in the place of these great Generals he might have made +much greater mistakes; he merely sees this error from the chain of +events, and he thinks that it should not have escaped the sagacity of +the General. + +This is, therefore, an opinion formed through the connection of events, +and therefore through the RESULT. But there is another quite different +effect of the result itself upon the judgment, that is if it is used +quite alone as an example for or against the soundness of a measure. +This may be called JUDGMENT ACCORDING TO THE RESULT. Such a judgment +appears at first sight inadmissible, and yet it is not. + +When Buonaparte marched to Moscow in 1812, all depended upon whether +the taking of the capital, and the events which preceded the capture, +would force the Emperor Alexander to make peace, as he had been +compelled to do after the battle of Friedland in 1807, and the Emperor +Francis in 1805 and 1809 after Austerlitz and Wagram; for if Buonaparte +did not obtain a peace at Moscow, there was no alternative but to +return—that is, there was nothing for him but a strategic defeat. We +shall leave out of the question what he did to get to Moscow, and +whether in his advance he did not miss many opportunities of bringing +the Emperor Alexander to peace; we shall also exclude all consideration +of the disastrous circumstances which attended his retreat, and which +perhaps had their origin in the general conduct of the campaign. Still +the question remains the same, for however much more brilliant the +course of the campaign up to Moscow might have been, still there was +always an uncertainty whether the Emperor Alexander would be +intimidated into making peace; and then, even if a retreat did not +contain in itself the seeds of such disasters as did in fact occur, +still it could never be anything else than a great strategic defeat. If +the Emperor Alexander agreed to a peace which was disadvantageous to +him, the campaign of 1812 would have ranked with those of Austerlitz, +Friedland, and Wagram. But these campaigns also, if they had not led to +peace, would in all probability have ended in similar catastrophes. +Whatever, therefore, of genius, skill, and energy the Conqueror of the +World applied to the task, this last question addressed to fate(*) +remained always the same. Shall we then discard the campaigns of 1805, +1807, 1809, and say on account of the campaign of 1812 that they were +acts of imprudence; that the results were against the nature of things, +and that in 1812 strategic justice at last found vent for itself in +opposition to blind chance? That would be an unwarrantable conclusion, +a most arbitrary judgment, a case only half proved, because no human, +eye can trace the thread of the necessary connection of events up to +the determination of the conquered Princes. + +(*) “Frage an der Schicksal,” a familiar quotation from Schiller.—TR. + + +Still less can we say the campaign of 1812 merited the same success as +the others, and that the reason why it turned out otherwise lies in +something unnatural, for we cannot regard the firmness of Alexander as +something unpredictable. + +What can be more natural than to say that in the years 1805, 1807, +1809, Buonaparte judged his opponents correctly, and that in 1812 he +erred in that point? On the former occasions, therefore, he was right, +in the latter wrong, and in both cases we judge by the _result_. + +All action in War, as we have already said, is directed on probable, +not on certain, results. Whatever is wanting in certainty must always +be left to fate, or chance, call it which you will. We may demand that +what is so left should be as little as possible, but only in relation +to the particular case—that is, as little as is possible in this one +case, but not that the case in which the least is left to chance is +always to be preferred. That would be an enormous error, as follows +from all our theoretical views. There are cases in which the greatest +daring is the greatest wisdom. + +Now in everything which is left to chance by the chief actor, his +personal merit, and therefore his responsibility as well, seems to be +completely set aside; nevertheless we cannot suppress an inward feeling +of satisfaction whenever expectation realises itself, and if it +disappoints us our mind is dissatisfied; and more than this of right +and wrong should not be meant by the judgment which we form from the +mere result, or rather that we find there. + +Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the satisfaction which our mind +experiences at success, the pain caused by failure, proceed from a sort +of mysterious feeling; we suppose between that success ascribed to good +fortune and the genius of the chief a fine connecting thread, invisible +to the mind’s eye, and the supposition gives pleasure. What tends to +confirm this idea is that our sympathy increases, becomes more decided, +if the successes and defeats of the principal actor are often repeated. +Thus it becomes intelligible how good luck in War assumes a much nobler +nature than good luck at play. In general, when a fortunate warrior +does not otherwise lessen our interest in his behalf, we have a +pleasure in accompanying him in his career. + +Criticism, therefore, after having weighed all that comes within the +sphere of human reason and conviction, will let the result speak for +that part where the deep mysterious relations are not disclosed in any +visible form, and will protect this silent sentence of a higher +authority from the noise of crude opinions on the one hand, while on +the other it prevents the gross abuse which might be made of this last +tribunal. + +This verdict of the result must therefore always bring forth that which +human sagacity cannot discover; and it will be chiefly as regards the +intellectual powers and operations that it will be called into +requisition, partly because they can be estimated with the least +certainty, partly because their close connection with the will is +favourable to their exercising over it an important influence. When +fear or bravery precipitates the decision, there is nothing objective +intervening between them for our consideration, and consequently +nothing by which sagacity and calculation might have met the probable +result. + +We must now be allowed to make a few observations on the instrument of +criticism, that is, the language which it uses, because that is to a +certain extent connected with the action in War; for the critical +examination is nothing more than the deliberation which should precede +action in War. We therefore think it very essential that the language +used in criticism should have the same character as that which +deliberation in War must have, for otherwise it would cease to be +practical, and criticism could gain no admittance in actual life. + +We have said in our observations on the theory of the conduct of War +that it should educate the mind of the Commander for War, or that its +teaching should guide his education; also that it is not intended to +furnish him with positive doctrines and systems which he can use like +mental appliances. But if the construction of scientific formulae is +never required, or even allowable, in War to aid the decision on the +case presented, if truth does not appear there in a systematic shape, +if it is not found in an indirect way, but directly by the natural +perception of the mind, then it must be the same also in a critical +review. + +It is true as we have seen that, wherever complete demonstration of the +nature of things would be too tedious, criticism must support itself on +those truths which theory has established on the point. But, just as in +War the actor obeys these theoretical truths rather because his mind is +imbued with them than because he regards them as objective inflexible +laws, so criticism must also make use of them, not as an external law +or an algebraic formula, of which fresh proof is not required each time +they are applied, but it must always throw a light on this proof +itself, leaving only to theory the more minute and circumstantial +proof. Thus it avoids a mysterious, unintelligible phraseology, and +makes its progress in plain language, that is, with a clear and always +visible chain of ideas. + +Certainly this cannot always be completely attained, but it must always +be the aim in critical expositions. Such expositions must use +complicated forms of science as sparingly as possible, and never resort +to the construction of scientific aids as of a truth apparatus of its +own, but always be guided by the natural and unbiassed impressions of +the mind. + +But this pious endeavour, if we may use the expression, has +unfortunately seldom hitherto presided over critical examinations: the +most of them have rather been emanations of a species of vanity—a wish +to make a display of ideas. + +The first evil which we constantly stumble upon is a lame, totally +inadmissible application of certain one-sided systems as of a formal +code of laws. But it is never difficult to show the one-sidedness of +such systems, and this only requires to be done once to throw discredit +for ever on critical judgments which are based on them. We have here to +deal with a definite subject, and as the number of possible systems +after all can be but small, therefore also they are themselves the +lesser evil. + +Much greater is the evil which lies in the pompous retinue of technical +terms—scientific expressions and metaphors, which these systems carry +in their train, and which like a rabble-like the baggage of an Army +broken away from its Chief—hang about in all directions. Any critic who +has not adopted a system, either because he has not found one to please +him, or because he has not yet been able to make himself master of one, +will at least occasionally make use of a piece of one, as one would use +a ruler, to show the blunders committed by a General. The most of them +are incapable of reasoning without using as a help here and there some +shreds of scientific military theory. The smallest of these fragments, +consisting in mere scientific words and metaphors, are often nothing +more than ornamental flourishes of critical narration. Now it is in the +nature of things that all technical and scientific expressions which +belong to a system lose their propriety, if they ever had any, as soon +as they are distorted, and used as general axioms, or as small +crystalline talismans, which have more power of demonstration than +simple speech. + +Thus it has come to pass that our theoretical and critical books, +instead of being straightforward, intelligible dissertations, in which +the author always knows at least what he says and the reader what he +reads, are brimful of these technical terms, which form dark points of +interference where author and reader part company. But frequently they +are something worse, being nothing but hollow shells without any +kernel. The author himself has no clear perception of what he means, +contents himself with vague ideas, which if expressed in plain language +would be unsatisfactory even to himself. + +A third fault in criticism is the _misuse_ of _historical examples_, +and a display of great reading or learning. What the history of the Art +of War is we have already said, and we shall further explain our views +on examples and on military history in general in special chapters. One +fact merely touched upon in a very cursory manner may be used to +support the most opposite views, and three or four such facts of the +most heterogeneous description, brought together out of the most +distant lands and remote times and heaped up, generally distract and +bewilder the judgment and understanding without demonstrating anything; +for when exposed to the light they turn out to be only trumpery +rubbish, made use of to show off the author’s learning. + +But what can be gained for practical life by such obscure, partly +false, confused arbitrary conceptions? So little is gained that theory +on account of them has always been a true antithesis of practice, and +frequently a subject of ridicule to those whose soldierly qualities in +the field are above question. + +But it is impossible that this could have been the case, if theory in +simple language, and by natural treatment of those things which +constitute the Art of making War, had merely sought to establish just +so much as admits of being established; if, avoiding all false +pretensions and irrelevant display of scientific forms and historical +parallels, it had kept close to the subject, and gone hand in hand with +those who must conduct affairs in the field by their own natural +genius. + + + +CHAPTER VI. On Examples + +Examples from history make everything clear, and furnish the best +description of proof in the empirical sciences. This applies with more +force to the Art of War than to any other. General Scharnhorst, whose +handbook is the best ever written on actual War, pronounces historical +examples to be of the first importance, and makes an admirable use of +them himself. Had he survived the War in which he fell,(*) the fourth +part of his revised treatise on artillery would have given a still +greater proof of the observing and enlightened spirit in which he +sifted matters of experience. + +But such use of historical examples is rarely made by theoretical +writers; the way in which they more commonly make use of them is rather +calculated to leave the mind unsatisfied, as well as to offend the +understanding. We therefore think it important to bring specially into +view the use and abuse of historical examples. + +(*) General Scharnhorst died in 1813, of a wound received in the battle +of Bautzen or Grosz Gorchen—EDITOR. + + +Unquestionably the branches of knowledge which lie at the foundation of +the Art of War come under the denomination of empirical sciences; for +although they are derived in a great measure from the nature of things, +still we can only learn this very nature itself for the most part from +experience; and besides that, the practical application is modified by +so many circumstances that the effects can never be completely learnt +from the mere nature of the means. + +The effects of gunpowder, that great agent in our military activity, +were only learnt by experience, and up to this hour experiments are +continually in progress in order to investigate them more fully. That +an iron ball to which powder has given a velocity of 1000 feet in a +second, smashes every living thing which it touches in its course is +intelligible in itself; experience is not required to tell us that; but +in producing this effect how many hundred circumstances are concerned, +some of which can only be learnt by experience! And the physical is not +the only effect which we have to study, it is the moral which we are in +search of, and that can only be ascertained by experience; and there is +no other way of learning and appreciating it but by experience. In the +middle ages, when firearms were first invented, their effect, owing to +their rude make, was materially but trifling compared to what it now +is, but their effect morally was much greater. One must have witnessed +the firmness of one of those masses taught and led by Buonaparte, under +the heaviest and most unintermittent cannonade, in order to understand +what troops, hardened by long practice in the field of danger, can do, +when by a career of victory they have reached the noble principle of +demanding from themselves their utmost efforts. In pure conception no +one would believe it. On the other hand, it is well known that there +are troops in the service of European Powers at the present moment who +would easily be dispersed by a few cannon shots. + +But no empirical science, consequently also no theory of the Art of +War, can always corroborate its truths by historical proof; it would +also be, in some measure, difficult to support experience by single +facts. If any means is once found efficacious in War, it is repeated; +one nation copies another, the thing becomes the fashion, and in this +manner it comes into use, supported by experience, and takes its place +in theory, which contents itself with appealing to experience in +general in order to show its origin, but not as a verification of its +truth. + +But it is quite otherwise if experience is to be used in order to +overthrow some means in use, to confirm what is doubtful, or introduce +something new; then particular examples from history must be quoted as +proofs. + +Now, if we consider closely the use of historical proofs, four points +of view readily present themselves for the purpose. + +First, they may be used merely as an _explanation_ of an idea. In every +abstract consideration it is very easy to be misunderstood, or not to +be intelligible at all: when an author is afraid of this, an +exemplification from history serves to throw the light which is wanted +on his idea, and to ensure his being intelligible to his reader. + +Secondly, it may serve as an _application_ of an idea, because by means +of an example there is an opportunity of showing the action of those +minor circumstances which cannot all be comprehended and explained in +any general expression of an idea; for in that consists, indeed, the +difference between theory and experience. Both these cases belong to +examples properly speaking, the two following belong to historical +proofs. + +Thirdly, a historical fact may be referred to particularly, in order to +support what one has advanced. This is in all cases sufficient, if we +have _only_ to prove the _possibility_ of a fact or effect. + +Lastly, in the fourth place, from the circumstantial detail of a +historical event, and by collecting together several of them, we may +deduce some theory, which therefore has its true _proof_ in this +testimony itself. + +For the first of these purposes all that is generally required is a +cursory notice of the case, as it is only used partially. Historical +correctness is a secondary consideration; a case invented might also +serve the purpose as well, only historical ones are always to be +preferred, because they bring the idea which they illustrate nearer to +practical life. + +The second use supposes a more circumstantial relation of events, but +historical authenticity is again of secondary importance, and in +respect to this point the same is to be said as in the first case. + +For the third purpose the mere quotation of an undoubted fact is +generally sufficient. If it is asserted that fortified positions may +fulfil their object under certain conditions, it is only necessary to +mention the position of Bunzelwitz(*) in support of the assertion. + +(*) Frederick the Great’s celebrated entrenched camp in 1761. + + +But if, through the narrative of a case in history, an abstract truth +is to be demonstrated, then everything in the case bearing on the +demonstration must be analysed in the most searching and complete +manner; it must, to a certain extent, develop itself carefully before +the eyes of the reader. The less effectually this is done the weaker +will be the proof, and the more necessary it will be to supply the +demonstrative proof which is wanting in the single case by a number of +cases, because we have a right to suppose that the more minute details +which we are unable to give neutralise each other in their effects in a +certain number of cases. + +If we want to show by example derived from experience that cavalry are +better placed behind than in a line with infantry; that it is very +hazardous without a decided preponderance of numbers to attempt an +enveloping movement, with widely separated columns, either on a field +of battle or in the theatre of war—that is, either tactically or +strategically—then in the first of these cases it would not be +sufficient to specify some lost battles in which the cavalry was on the +flanks and some gained in which the cavalry was in rear of the +infantry; and in the tatter of these cases it is not sufficient to +refer to the battles of Rivoli and Wagram, to the attack of the +Austrians on the theatre of war in Italy, in 1796, or of the French +upon the German theatre of war in the same year. The way in which these +orders of battle or plans of attack essentially contributed to +disastrous issues in those particular cases must be shown by closely +tracing out circumstances and occurrences. Then it will appear how far +such forms or measures are to be condemned, a point which it is very +necessary to show, for a total condemnation would be inconsistent with +truth. + +It has been already said that when a circumstantial detail of facts is +impossible, the demonstrative power which is deficient may to a certain +extent be supplied by the number of cases quoted; but this is a very +dangerous method of getting out of the difficulty, and one which has +been much abused. Instead of one well-explained example, three or four +are just touched upon, and thus a show is made of strong evidence. But +there are matters where a whole dozen of cases brought forward would +prove nothing, if, for instance, they are facts of frequent occurrence, +and therefore a dozen other cases with an opposite result might just as +easily be brought forward. If any one will instance a dozen lost +battles in which the side beaten attacked in separate converging +columns, we can instance a dozen that have been gained in which the +same order was adopted. It is evident that in this way no result is to +be obtained. + +Upon carefully considering these different points, it will be seen how +easily examples may be misapplied. + +An occurrence which, instead of being carefully analysed in all its +parts, is superficially noticed, is like an object seen at a great +distance, presenting the same appearance on each side, and in which the +details of its parts cannot be distinguished. Such examples have, in +reality, served to support the most contradictory opinions. To some +Daun’s campaigns are models of prudence and skill. To others, they are +nothing but examples of timidity and want of resolution. Buonaparte’s +passage across the Noric Alps in 1797 may be made to appear the noblest +resolution, but also as an act of sheer temerity. His strategic defeat +in 1812 may be represented as the consequence either of an excess, or +of a deficiency, of energy. All these opinions have been broached, and +it is easy to see that they might very well arise, because each person +takes a different view of the connection of events. At the same time +these antagonistic opinions cannot be reconciled with each other, and +therefore one of the two must be wrong. + +Much as we are obliged to the worthy Feuquieres for the numerous +examples introduced in his memoirs—partly because a number of +historical incidents have thus been preserved which might otherwise +have been lost, and partly because he was one of the first to bring +theoretical, that is, abstract, ideas into connection with the +practical in war, in so far that the cases brought forward may be +regarded as intended to exemplify and confirm what is theoretically +asserted—yet, in the opinion of an impartial reader, he will hardly be +allowed to have attained the object he proposed to himself, that of +proving theoretical principles by historical examples. For although he +sometimes relates occurrences with great minuteness, still he falls +short very often of showing that the deductions drawn necessarily +proceed from the inner relations of these events. + +Another evil which comes from the superficial notice of historical +events, is that some readers are either wholly ignorant of the events, +or cannot call them to remembrance sufficiently to be able to grasp the +author’s meaning, so that there is no alternative between either +accepting blindly what is said, or remaining unconvinced. + +It is extremely difficult to put together or unfold historical events +before the eyes of a reader in such a way as is necessary, in order to +be able to use them as proofs; for the writer very often wants the +means, and can neither afford the time nor the requisite space; but we +maintain that, when the object is to establish a new or doubtful +opinion, one single example, thoroughly analysed, is far more +instructive than ten which are superficially treated. The great +mischief of these superficial representations is not that the writer +puts his story forward as a proof when it has only a false title, but +that he has not made himself properly acquainted with the subject, and +that from this sort of slovenly, shallow treatment of history, a +hundred false views and attempts at the construction of theories arise, +which would never have made their appearance if the writer had looked +upon it as his duty to deduce from the strict connection of events +everything new which he brought to market, and sought to prove from +history. + +When we are convinced of these difficulties in the use of historical +examples, and at the same time of the necessity (of making use of such +examples), then we shall also come to the conclusion that the latest +military history is naturally the best field from which to draw them, +inasmuch as it alone is sufficiently authentic and detailed. + +In ancient times, circumstances connected with War, as well as the +method of carrying it on, were different; therefore its events are of +less use to us either theoretically or practically; in addition to +which, military history, like every other, naturally loses in the +course of time a number of small traits and lineaments originally to be +seen, loses in colour and life, like a worn-out or darkened picture; so +that perhaps at last only the large masses and leading features remain, +which thus acquire undue proportions. + +If we look at the present state of warfare, we should say that the Wars +since that of the Austrian succession are almost the only ones which, +at least as far as armament, have still a considerable similarity to +the present, and which, notwithstanding the many important changes +which have taken place both great and small, are still capable of +affording much instruction. It is quite otherwise with the War of the +Spanish succession, as the use of fire-arms had not then so far +advanced towards perfection, and cavalry still continued the most +important arm. The farther we go back, the less useful becomes military +history, as it gets so much the more meagre and barren of detail. The +most useless of all is that of the old world. + +But this uselessness is not altogether absolute, it relates only to +those subjects which depend on a knowledge of minute details, or on +those things in which the method of conducting war has changed. +Although we know very little about the tactics in the battles between +the Swiss and the Austrians, the Burgundians and French, still we find +in them unmistakable evidence that they were the first in which the +superiority of a good infantry over the best cavalry was, displayed. A +general glance at the time of the Condottieri teaches us how the whole +method of conducting War is dependent on the instrument used; for at no +period have the forces used in War had so much the characteristics of a +special instrument, and been a class so totally distinct from the rest +of the national community. The memorable way in which the Romans in the +second Punic War attacked the Carthaginan possessions in Spain and +Africa, while Hannibal still maintained himself in Italy, is a most +instructive subject to study, as the general relations of the States +and Armies concerned in this indirect act of defence are sufficiently +well known. + +But the more things descend into particulars and deviate in character +from the most general relations, the less we can look for examples and +lessons of experience from very remote periods, for we have neither the +means of judging properly of corresponding events, nor can we apply +them to our completely different method of War. + +Unfortunately, however, it has always been the fashion with historical +writers to talk about ancient times. We shall not say how far vanity +and charlatanism may have had a share in this, but in general we fail +to discover any honest intention and earnest endeavour to instruct and +convince, and we can therefore only look upon such quotations and +references as embellishments to fill up gaps and hide defects. + +It would be an immense service to teach the Art of War entirely by +historical examples, as Feuquieres proposed to do; but it would be full +work for the whole life of a man, if we reflect that he who undertakes +it must first qualify himself for the task by a long personal +experience in actual War. + +Whoever, stirred by ambition, undertakes such a task, let him prepare +himself for his pious undertaking as for a long pilgrimage; let him +give up his time, spare no sacrifice, fear no temporal rank or power, +and rise above all feelings of personal vanity, of false shame, in +order, according to the French code, to speak _the Truth, the whole +Truth, and nothing but the Truth._ + + + +BOOK III. OF STRATEGY IN GENERAL + + + +CHAPTER I. Strategy + +In the second chapter of the second book, Strategy has been defined as +“the employment of the battle as the means towards the attainment of +the object of the War.” Properly speaking it has to do with nothing but +the battle, but its theory must include in this consideration the +instrument of this real activity—the armed force—in itself and in its +principal relations, for the battle is fought by it, and shows its +effects upon it in turn. It must be well acquainted with the battle +itself as far as relates to its possible results, and those mental and +moral powers which are the most important in the use of the same. + +Strategy is the employment of the battle to gain the end of the War; it +must therefore give an aim to the whole military action, which must be +in accordance with the object of the War; in other words, Strategy +forms the plan of the War, and to this end it links together the series +of acts which are to lead to the final decision, that, is to say, it +makes the plans for the separate campaigns and regulates the combats to +be fought in each. As these are all things which to a great extent can +only be determined on conjectures some of which turn out incorrect, +while a number of other arrangements pertaining to details cannot be +made at all beforehand, it follows, as a matter of course, that +Strategy must go with the Army to the field in order to arrange +particulars on the spot, and to make the modifications in the general +plan, which incessantly become necessary in War. Strategy can therefore +never take its hand from the work for a moment. + +That this, however, has not always been the view taken is evident from +the former custom of keeping Strategy in the cabinet and not with the +Army, a thing only allowable if the cabinet is so near to the Army that +it can be taken for the chief head-quarters of the Army. + +Theory will therefore attend on Strategy in the determination of its +plans, or, as we may more properly say, it will throw a light on things +in themselves, and on their relations to each other, and bring out +prominently the little that there is of principle or rule. + +If we recall to mind from the first chapter how many things of the +highest importance War touches upon, we may conceive that a +consideration of all requires a rare grasp of mind. + +A Prince or General who knows exactly how to organise his War according +to his object and means, who does neither too little nor too much, +gives by that the greatest proof of his genius. But the effects of this +talent are exhibited not so much by the invention of new modes of +action, which might strike the eye immediately, as in the successful +final result of the whole. It is the exact fulfilment of silent +suppositions, it is the noiseless harmony of the whole action which we +should admire, and which only makes itself known in the total result. +Inquirer who, tracing back from the final result, does not perceive the +signs of that harmony is one who is apt to seek for genius where it is +not, and where it cannot be found. + +The means and forms which Strategy uses are in fact so extremely +simple, so well known by their constant repetition, that it only +appears ridiculous to sound common sense when it hears critics so +frequently speaking of them with high-flown emphasis. Turning a flank, +which has been done a thousand times, is regarded here as a proof of +the most brilliant genius, there as a proof of the most profound +penetration, indeed even of the most comprehensive knowledge. Can there +be in the book-world more absurd productions?(*) + +(*) This paragraph refers to the works of Lloyd, Bülow, indeed to all +the eighteenth-century writers, from whose influence we in England are +not even yet free.—ED. + + +It is still more ridiculous if, in addition to this, we reflect that +the same critic, in accordance with prevalent opinion, excludes all +moral forces from theory, and will not allow it to be concerned with +anything but the material forces, so that all must be confined to a few +mathematical relations of equilibrium and preponderance, of time and +space, and a few lines and angles. If it were nothing more than this, +then out of such a miserable business there would not be a scientific +problem for even a schoolboy. + +But let us admit: there is no question here about scientific formulas +and problems; the relations of material things are all very simple; the +right comprehension of the moral forces which come into play is more +difficult. Still, even in respect to them, it is only in the highest +branches of Strategy that moral complications and a great diversity of +quantities and relations are to be looked for, only at that point where +Strategy borders on political science, or rather where the two become +one, and there, as we have before observed, they have more influence on +the “how much” and “how little” is to be done than on the form of +execution. Where the latter is the principal question, as in the single +acts both great and small in War, the moral quantities are already +reduced to a very small number. + +Thus, then, in Strategy everything is very simple, but not on that +account very easy. Once it is determined from the relations of the +State what should and may be done by War, then the way to it is easy to +find; but to follow that way straightforward, to carry out the plan +without being obliged to deviate from it a thousand times by a thousand +varying influences, requires, besides great strength of character, +great clearness and steadiness of mind, and out of a thousand men who +are remarkable, some for mind, others for penetration, others again for +boldness or strength of will, perhaps not one will combine in himself +all those qualities which are required to raise a man above mediocrity +in the career of a general. + +It may sound strange, but for all who know War in this respect it is a +fact beyond doubt, that much more strength of will is required to make +an important decision in Strategy than in tactics. In the latter we are +hurried on with the moment; a Commander feels himself borne along in a +strong current, against which he durst not contend without the most +destructive consequences, he suppresses the rising fears, and boldly +ventures further. In Strategy, where all goes on at a slower rate, +there is more room allowed for our own apprehensions and those of +others, for objections and remonstrances, consequently also for +unseasonable regrets; and as we do not see things in Strategy as we do +at least half of them in tactics, with the living eye, but everything +must be conjectured and assumed, the convictions produced are less +powerful. The consequence is that most Generals, when they should act, +remain stuck fast in bewildering doubts. + +Now let us cast a glance at history—upon Frederick the Great’s campaign +of 1760, celebrated for its fine marches and manœuvres: a perfect +masterpiece of Strategic skill as critics tell us. Is there really +anything to drive us out of our wits with admiration in the King’s +first trying to turn Daun’s right flank, then his left, then again his +right, &c.? Are we to see profound wisdom in this? No, that we cannot, +if we are to decide naturally and without affectation. What we rather +admire above all is the sagacity of the King in this respect, that +while pursuing a great object with very limited means, he undertook +nothing beyond his powers, and _just enough_ to gain his object. This +sagacity of the General is visible not only in this campaign, but +throughout all the three Wars of the Great King! + +To bring Silesia into the safe harbour of a well-guaranteed peace was +his object. + +At the head of a small State, which was like other States in most +things, and only ahead of them in some branches of administration; he +could not be an Alexander, and, as Charles XII, he would only, like +him, have broken his head. We find, therefore, in the whole of his +conduct of War, a controlled power, always well balanced, and never +wanting in energy, which in the most critical moments rises to +astonishing deeds, and the next moment oscillates quietly on again in +subordination to the play of the most subtle political influences. +Neither vanity, thirst for glory, nor vengeance could make him deviate +from his course, and this course alone it is which brought him to a +fortunate termination of the contest. + +These few words do but scant justice to this phase of the genius of the +great General; the eyes must be fixed carefully on the extraordinary +issue of the struggle, and the causes which brought about that issue +must be traced out, in order thoroughly to understand that nothing but +the King’s penetrating eye brought him safely out of all his dangers. + +This is one feature in this great Commander which we admire in the +campaign of 1760—and in all others, but in this especially—because in +none did he keep the balance even against such a superior hostile +force, with such a small sacrifice. + +Another feature relates to the difficulty of execution. Marches to turn +a flank, right or left, are easily combined; the idea of keeping a +small force always well concentrated to be able to meet the enemy on +equal terms at any point, to multiply a force by rapid movement, is as +easily conceived as expressed; the mere contrivance in these points, +therefore, cannot excite our admiration, and with respect to such +simple things, there is nothing further than to admit that they are +simple. + +But let a General try to do these things like Frederick the Great. Long +afterwards authors, who were eyewitnesses, have spoken of the danger, +indeed of the imprudence, of the King’s camps, and doubtless, at the +time he pitched them, the danger appeared three times as great as +afterwards. + +It was the same with his marches, under the eyes, nay, often under the +cannon of the enemy’s Army; these camps were taken up, these marches +made, not from want of prudence, but because in Daun’s system, in his +mode of drawing up his Army, in the responsibility which pressed upon +him, and in his character, Frederick found that security which +justified his camps and marches. But it required the King’s boldness, +determination, and strength of will to see things in this light, and +not to be led astray and intimidated by the danger of which thirty +years after people still wrote and spoke. Few Generals in this +situation would have believed these simple strategic means to be +practicable. + +Again, another difficulty in execution lay in this, that the King’s +Army in this campaign was constantly in motion. Twice it marched by +wretched cross-roads, from the Elbe into Silesia, in rear of Daun and +pursued by Lascy (beginning of July, beginning of August). It required +to be always ready for battle, and its marches had to be organised with +a degree of skill which necessarily called forth a proportionate amount +of exertion. Although attended and delayed by thousands of waggons, +still its subsistence was extremely difficult. In Silesia, for eight +days before the battle of Leignitz, it had constantly to march, +defiling alternately right and left in front of the enemy:—this costs +great fatigue, and entails great privations. + +Is it to be supposed that all this could have been done without +producing great friction in the machine? Can the mind of a Commander +elaborate such movements with the same ease as the hand of a land +surveyor uses the astrolabe? Does not the sight of the sufferings of +their hungry, thirsty comrades pierce the hearts of the Commander and +his Generals a thousand times? Must not the murmurs and doubts which +these cause reach his ear? Has an ordinary man the courage to demand +such sacrifices, and would not such efforts most certainly demoralise +the Army, break up the bands of discipline, and, in short, undermine +its military virtue, if firm reliance on the greatness and +infallibility of the Commander did not compensate for all? Here, +therefore, it is that we should pay respect; it is these miracles of +execution which we should admire. But it is impossible to realise all +this in its full force without a foretaste of it by experience. He who +only knows War from books or the drill-ground cannot realise the whole +effect of this counterpoise in action; _we beg him, therefore, to +accept from us on faith and trust all that he is unable to supply from +any personal experiences of his own._ + +This illustration is intended to give more clearness to the course of +our ideas, and in closing this chapter we will only briefly observe +that in our exposition of Strategy we shall describe those separate +subjects which appear to us the most important, whether of a moral or +material nature; then proceed from the simple to the complex, and +conclude with the inner connection of the whole act of War, in other +words, with the plan for a War or campaign. + +OBSERVATION. + + +In an earlier manuscript of the second book are the following passages +endorsed by the author himself _to be used for the first Chapter of the +second Book:_ the projected revision of that chapter not having been +made, the passages referred to are introduced here in full. + + +By the mere assemblage of armed forces at a particular point, a battle +there becomes possible, but does not always take place. Is that +possibility now to be regarded as a reality and therefore an effective +thing? Certainly, it is so by its results, and these effects, whatever +they may be, can never fail. + +1. POSSIBLE COMBATS ARE ON ACCOUNT OF THEIR RESULTS TO BE LOOKED UPON +AS REAL ONES. + + +If a detachment is sent away to cut off the retreat of a flying enemy, +and the enemy surrenders in consequence without further resistance, +still it is through the combat which is offered to him by this +detachment sent after him that he is brought to his decision. + +If a part of our Army occupies an enemy’s province which was +undefended, and thus deprives the enemy of very considerable means of +keeping up the strength of his Army, it is entirely through the battle +which our detached body gives the enemy to expect, in case he seeks to +recover the lost province, that we remain in possession of the same. + +In both cases, therefore, the mere possibility of a battle has produced +results, and is therefore to be classed amongst actual events. Suppose +that in these cases the enemy has opposed our troops with others +superior in force, and thus forced ours to give up their object without +a combat, then certainly our plan has failed, but the battle which we +offered at (either of) those points has not on that account been +without effect, for it attracted the enemy’s forces to that point. And +in case our whole undertaking has done us harm, it cannot be said that +these positions, these possible battles, have been attended with no +results; their effects, then, are similar to those of a lost battle. + +In this manner we see that the destruction of the enemy’s military +forces, the overthrow of the enemy’s power, is only to be done through +the effect of a battle, whether it be that it actually takes place, or +that it is merely offered, and not accepted. + +2. TWOFOLD OBJECT OF THE COMBAT. + + +But these effects are of two kinds, direct and indirect they are of the +latter, if other things intrude themselves and become the object of the +combat—things which cannot be regarded as the destruction of enemy’s +force, but only leading up to it, certainly by a circuitous road, but +with so much the greater effect. The possession of provinces, towns, +fortresses, roads, bridges, magazines, &c., may be the _immediate_ +object of a battle, but never the ultimate one. Things of this +description can never be, looked upon otherwise than as means of +gaining greater superiority, so as at last to offer battle to the enemy +in such a way that it will be impossible for him to accept it. +Therefore all these things must only be regarded as intermediate links, +steps, as it were, leading up to the effectual principle, but never as +that principle itself. + +3. EXAMPLE. + + +In 1814, by the capture of Buonaparte’s capital the object of the War +was attained. The political divisions which had their roots in Paris +came into active operation, and an enormous split left the power of the +Emperor to collapse of itself. Nevertheless the point of view from +which we must look at all this is, that through these causes the forces +and defensive means of Buonaparte were suddenly very much diminished, +the superiority of the Allies, therefore, just in the same measure +increased, and any further resistance then became _impossible_. It was +this impossibility which produced the peace with France. If we suppose +the forces of the Allies at that moment diminished to a like extent +through external causes;—if the superiority vanishes, then at the same +time vanishes also all the effect and importance of the taking of +Paris. + +We have gone through this chain of argument in order to show that this +is the natural and only true view of the thing from which it derives +its importance. It leads always back to the question, What at any given +moment of the War or campaign will be the probable result of the great +or small combats which the two sides might offer to each other? In the +consideration of a plan for a campaign, this question only is decisive +as to the measures which are to be taken all through from the very +commencement. + +4. WHEN THIS VIEW IS NOT TAKEN, THEN A FALSE VALUE IS GIVEN TO OTHER +THINGS. + + +If we do not accustom ourselves to look upon War, and the single +campaigns in a War, as a chain which is all composed of battles strung +together, one of which always brings on another; if we adopt the idea +that the taking of a certain geographical point, the occupation of an +undefended province, is in itself anything; then we are very likely to +regard it as an acquisition which we may retain; and if we look at it +so, and not as a term in the whole series of events, we do not ask +ourselves whether this possession may not lead to greater disadvantages +hereafter. How often we find this mistake recurring in military +history. + +We might say that, just as in commerce the merchant cannot set apart +and place in security gains from one single transaction by itself, so +in War a single advantage cannot be separated from the result of the +whole. Just as the former must always operate with the whole bulk of +his means, just so in War, only the sum total will decide on the +advantage or disadvantage of each item. + +If the mind’s eye is always directed upon the series of combats, so far +as they can be seen beforehand, then it is always looking in the right +direction, and thereby the motion of the force acquires that rapidity, +that is to say, willing and doing acquire that energy which is suitable +to the matter, and which is not to be thwarted or turned aside by +extraneous influences.(*) + +(*) The whole of this chapter is directed against the theories of the +Austrian Staff in 1814. It may be taken as the foundation of the modern +teaching of the Prussian General Staff. See especially von Kämmer.—ED. + + + +CHAPTER II. Elements of Strategy + +The causes which condition the use of the combat in Strategy may be +easily divided into elements of different kinds, such as the moral, +physical, mathematical, geographical and statistical elements. + +The first class includes all that can be called forth by moral +qualities and effects; to the second belong the whole mass of the +military force, its organisation, the proportion of the three arms, &c. +&c.; to the third, the angle of the lines of operation, the concentric +and eccentric movements in as far as their geometrical nature has any +value in the calculation; to the fourth, the influences of country, +such as commanding points, hills, rivers, woods, roads, &c. &c.; +lastly, to the fifth, all the means of supply. The separation of these +things once for all in the mind does good in giving clearness and +helping us to estimate at once, at a higher or lower value, the +different classes as we pass onwards. For, in considering them +separately, many lose of themselves their borrowed importance; one +feels, for instance, quite plainly that the value of a base of +operations, even if we look at nothing in it but its relative position +to the line of operations, depends much less in that simple form on the +geometrical element of the angle which they form with one another, than +on the nature of the roads and the country through which they pass. + +But to treat upon Strategy according to these elements would be the +most unfortunate idea that could be conceived, for these elements are +generally manifold, and intimately connected with each other in every +single operation of War. We should lose ourselves in the most soulless +analysis, and as if in a horrid dream, we should be for ever trying in +vain to build up an arch to connect this base of abstractions with +facts belonging to the real world. Heaven preserve every theorist from +such an undertaking! We shall keep to the world of things in their +totality, and not pursue our analysis further than is necessary from +time to time to give distinctness to the idea which we wish to impart, +and which has come to us, not by a speculative investigation, but +through the impression made by the realities of War in their entirety. + + + +CHAPTER III. Moral Forces + +We must return again to this subject, which is touched upon in the +third chapter of the second book, because the moral forces are amongst +the most important subjects in War. They form the spirit which +permeates the whole being of War. These forces fasten themselves +soonest and with the greatest affinity on to the Will which puts in +motion and guides the whole mass of powers, uniting with it as it were +in one stream, because this is a moral force itself. Unfortunately they +will escape from all book-analysis, for they will neither be brought +into numbers nor into classes, and require to be both seen and felt. + +The spirit and other moral qualities which animate an Army, a General, +or Governments, public opinion in provinces in which a War is raging, +the moral effect of a victory or of a defeat, are things which in +themselves vary very much in their nature, and which also, according as +they stand with regard to our object and our relations, may have an +influence in different ways. + +Although little or nothing can be said about these things in books, +still they belong to the theory of the Art of War, as much as +everything else which constitutes War. For I must here once more repeat +that it is a miserable philosophy if, according to the old plan, we +establish rules and principles wholly regardless of all moral forces, +and then, as soon as these forces make their appearance, we begin to +count exceptions which we thereby establish as it were theoretically, +that is, make into rules; or if we resort to an appeal to genius, which +is above all rules, thus giving out by implication, not only that rules +were only made for fools, but also that they themselves are no better +than folly. + +Even if the theory of the Art of War does no more in reality than +recall these things to remembrance, showing the necessity of allowing +to the moral forces their full value, and of always taking them into +consideration, by so doing it extends its borders over the region of +immaterial forces, and by establishing that point of view, condemns +beforehand every one who would endeavour to justify himself before its +judgment seat by the mere physical relations of forces. + +Further out of regard to all other so-called rules, theory cannot +banish the moral forces beyond its frontier, because the effects of the +physical forces and the moral are completely fused, and are not to be +decomposed like a metal alloy by a chemical process. In every rule +relating to the physical forces, theory must present to the mind at the +same time the share which the moral powers will have in it, if it would +not be led to categorical propositions, at one time too timid and +contracted, at another too dogmatical and wide. Even the most +matter-of-fact theories have, without knowing it, strayed over into +this moral kingdom; for, as an example, the effects of a victory cannot +in any way be explained without taking into consideration the moral +impressions. And therefore the most of the subjects which we shall go +through in this book are composed half of physical, half of moral +causes and effects, and we might say the physical are almost no more +than the wooden handle, whilst the moral are the noble metal, the real +bright-polished weapon. + +The value of the moral powers, and their frequently incredible +influence, are best exemplified by history, and this is the most +generous and the purest nourishment which the mind of the General can +extract from it.—At the same time it is to be observed, that it is less +demonstrations, critical examinations, and learned treatises, than +sentiments, general impressions, and single flashing sparks of truth, +which yield the seeds of knowledge that are to fertilise the mind. + +We might go through the most important moral phenomena in War, and with +all the care of a diligent professor try what we could impart about +each, either good or bad. But as in such a method one slides too much +into the commonplace and trite, whilst real mind quickly makes its +escape in analysis, the end is that one gets imperceptibly to the +relation of things which everybody knows. We prefer, therefore, to +remain here more than usually incomplete and rhapsodical, content to +have drawn attention to the importance of the subject in a general way, +and to have pointed out the spirit in which the views given in this +book have been conceived. + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Chief Moral Powers + +These are _The Talents of the Commander; The Military Virtue of the +Army; Its National feeling_. Which of these is the most important no +one can tell in a general way, for it is very difficult to say anything +in general of their strength, and still more difficult to compare the +strength of one with that of another. The best plan is not to +undervalue any of them, a fault which human judgment is prone to, +sometimes on one side, sometimes on another, in its whimsical +oscillations. It is better to satisfy ourselves of the undeniable +efficacy of these three things by sufficient evidence from history. + +It is true, however, that in modern times the Armies of European states +have arrived very much at a par as regards discipline and fitness for +service, and that the conduct of War has—as philosophers would +say—naturally developed itself, thereby become a method, common as it +were to all Armies, so that even from Commanders there is nothing +further to be expected in the way of application of special means of +Art, in the limited sense (such as Frederick the Second’s oblique +order). Hence it cannot be denied that, as matters now stand, greater +scope is afforded for the influence of National spirit and habituation +of an army to War. A long peace may again alter all this.(*) + +(*) Written shortly after the Great Napoleonic campaigns. + + +The national spirit of an Army (enthusiasm, fanatical zeal, faith, +opinion) displays itself most in mountain warfare, where every one down +to the common soldier is left to himself. On this account, a +mountainous country is the best campaigning ground for popular levies. + +Expertness of an Army through training, and that well-tempered courage +which holds the ranks together as if they had been cast in a mould, +show their superiority in an open country. + +The talent of a General has most room to display itself in a closely +intersected, undulating country. In mountains he has too little command +over the separate parts, and the direction of all is beyond his powers; +in open plains it is simple and does not exceed those powers. + +According to these undeniable elective affinities, plans should be +regulated. + + + +CHAPTER V. Military Virtue of an Army + +This is distinguished from mere bravery, and still more from enthusiasm +for the business of War. The first is certainly a necessary constituent +part of it, but in the same way as bravery, which is a natural gift in +some men, may arise in a soldier as a part of an Army from habit and +custom, so with him it must also have a different direction from that +which it has with others. It must lose that impulse to unbridled +activity and exercise of force which is its characteristic in the +individual, and submit itself to demands of a higher kind, to +obedience, order, rule, and method. Enthusiasm for the profession gives +life and greater fire to the military virtue of an Army, but does not +necessarily constitute a part of it. + +War is a special business, and however general its relations may be, +and even if all the male population of a country, capable of bearing +arms, exercise this calling, still it always continues to be different +and separate from the other pursuits which occupy the life of man.—To +be imbued with a sense of the spirit and nature of this business, to +make use of, to rouse, to assimilate into the system the powers which +should be active in it, to penetrate completely into the nature of the +business with the understanding, through exercise to gain confidence +and expertness in it, to be completely given up to it, to pass out of +the man into the part which it is assigned to us to play in War, that +is the military virtue of an Army in the individual. + +However much pains may be taken to combine the soldier and the citizen +in one and the same individual, whatever may be done to nationalise +Wars, and however much we may imagine times have changed since the days +of the old Condottieri, never will it be possible to do away with the +individuality of the business; and if that cannot be done, then those +who belong to it, as long as they belong to it, will always look upon +themselves as a kind of guild, in the regulations, laws and customs in +which the “Spirit of War” by preference finds its expression. And so it +is in fact. Even with the most decided inclination to look at War from +the highest point of view, it would be very wrong to look down upon +this corporate spirit (_esprit de corps_) which may and should exist +more or less in every Army. This corporate spirit forms the bond of +union between the natural forces which are active in that which we have +called military virtue. The crystals of military virtue have a greater +affinity for the spirit of a corporate body than for anything else. + +An Army which preserves its usual formations under the heaviest fire, +which is never shaken by imaginary fears, and in the face of real +danger disputes the ground inch by inch, which, proud in the feeling of +its victories, never loses its sense of obedience, its respect for and +confidence in its leaders, even under the depressing effects of defeat; +an Army with all its physical powers, inured to privations and fatigue +by exercise, like the muscles of an athlete; an Army which looks upon +all its toils as the means to victory, not as a curse which hovers over +its standards, and which is always reminded of its duties and virtues +by the short catechism of one idea, namely the _honour of its +arms;_—Such an Army is imbued with the true military spirit. + +Soldiers may fight bravely like the Vendéans, and do great things like +the Swiss, the Americans, or Spaniards, without displaying this +military virtue. A Commander may also be successful at the head of +standing Armies, like Eugene and Marlborough, without enjoying the +benefit of its assistance; we must not, therefore, say that a +successful War without it cannot be imagined; and we draw especial +attention to that point, in order the more to individualise the +conception which is here brought forward, that the idea may not +dissolve into a generalisation and that it may not be thought that +military virtue is in the end everything. It is not so. Military virtue +in an Army is a definite moral power which may be supposed wanting, and +the influence of which may therefore be estimated—like any instrument +the power of which may be calculated. + +Having thus characterised it, we proceed to consider what can be +predicated of its influence, and what are the means of gaining its +assistance. + +Military virtue is for the parts, what the genius of the Commander is +for the whole. The General can only guide the whole, not each separate +part, and where he cannot guide the part, there military virtue must be +its leader. A General is chosen by the reputation of his superior +talents, the chief leaders of large masses after careful probation; but +this probation diminishes as we descend the scale of rank, and in just +the same measure we may reckon less and less upon individual talents; +but what is wanting in this respect military virtue should supply. The +natural qualities of a warlike people play just this part: _bravery, +aptitude, powers of endurance_ and _enthusiasm._ + +These properties may therefore supply the place of military virtue, and +_vice versa_, from which the following may be deduced: + +1. Military virtue is a quality of standing Armies only, but they +require it the most. In national risings its place is supplied by +natural qualities, which develop themselves there more rapidly. + +2. Standing Armies opposed to standing Armies, can more easily dispense +with it, than a standing Army opposed to a national insurrection, for +in that case, the troops are more scattered, and the divisions left +more to themselves. But where an Army can be kept concentrated, the +genius of the General takes a greater place, and supplies what is +wanting in the spirit of the Army. Therefore generally military virtue +becomes more necessary the more the theatre of operations and other +circumstances make the War complicated, and cause the forces to be +scattered. + +From these truths the only lesson to be derived is this, that if an +Army is deficient in this quality, every endeavour should be made to +simplify the operations of the War as much as possible, or to introduce +double efficiency in the organisation of the Army in some other +respect, and not to expect from the mere name of a standing Army, that +which only the veritable thing itself can give. + +The military virtue of an Army is, therefore, one of the most important +moral powers in War, and where it is wanting, we either see its place +supplied by one of the others, such as the great superiority of +generalship or popular enthusiasm, or we find the results not +commensurate with the exertions made.—How much that is great, this +spirit, this sterling worth of an army, this refining of ore into the +polished metal, has already done, we see in the history of the +Macedonians under Alexander, the Roman legions under Cesar, the Spanish +infantry under Alexander Farnese, the Swedes under Gustavus Adolphus +and Charles XII, the Prussians under Frederick the Great, and the +French under Buonaparte. We must purposely shut our eyes against all +historical proof, if we do not admit, that the astonishing successes of +these Generals and their greatness in situations of extreme difficulty, +were only possible with Armies possessing this virtue. + +This spirit can only be generated from two sources, and only by these +two conjointly; the first is a succession of campaigns and great +victories; the other is, an activity of the Army carried sometimes to +the highest pitch. Only by these, does the soldier learn to know his +powers. The more a General is in the habit of demanding from his +troops, the surer he will be that his demands will be answered. The +soldier is as proud of overcoming toil, as he is of surmounting danger. +Therefore it is only in the soil of incessant activity and exertion +that the germ will thrive, but also only in the sunshine of victory. +Once it becomes a _strong tree_, it will stand against the fiercest +storms of misfortune and defeat, and even against the indolent +inactivity of peace, at least for a time. It can therefore only be +created in War, and under great Generals, but no doubt it may last at +least for several generations, even under Generals of moderate +capacity, and through considerable periods of peace. + +With this generous and noble spirit of union in a line of veteran +troops, covered with scars and thoroughly inured to War, we must not +compare the self-esteem and vanity of a standing Army,(*) held together +merely by the glue of service-regulations and a drill book; a certain +plodding earnestness and strict discipline may keep up military virtue +for a long time, but can never create it; these things therefore have a +certain value, but must not be over-rated. Order, smartness, good will, +also a certain degree of pride and high feeling, are qualities of an +Army formed in time of peace which are to be prized, but cannot stand +alone. The whole retains the whole, and as with glass too quickly +cooled, a single crack breaks the whole mass. Above all, the highest +spirit in the world changes only too easily at the first check into +depression, and one might say into a kind of rhodomontade of alarm, the +French _sauve que peut_.—Such an Army can only achieve something +through its leader, never by itself. It must be led with double +caution, until by degrees, in victory and hardships, the strength grows +into the full armour. Beware then of confusing the SPIRIT of an Army +with its temper. + +(*) Clausewitz is, of course, thinking of the long-service standing +armies of his own youth. Not of the short-service standing armies of +to-day (EDITOR). + + + +CHAPTER VI. Boldness + +The place and part which boldness takes in the dynamic system of +powers, where it stands opposed to Foresight and prudence, has been +stated in the chapter on the certainty of the result in order thereby +to show, that theory has no right to restrict it by virtue of its +legislative power. + +But this noble impulse, with which the human soul raises itself above +the most formidable dangers, is to be regarded as an active principle +peculiarly belonging to War. In fact, in what branch of human activity +should boldness have a right of citizenship if not in War? + +From the transport-driver and the drummer up to the General, it is the +noblest of virtues, the true steel which gives the weapon its edge and +brilliancy. + +Let us admit in fact it has in War even its own prerogatives. Over and +above the result of the calculation of space, time, and quantity, we +must allow a certain percentage which boldness derives from the +weakness of others, whenever it gains the mastery. It is therefore, +virtually, a creative power. This is not difficult to demonstrate +philosophically. As often as boldness encounters hesitation, the +probability of the result is of necessity in its favour, because the +very state of hesitation implies a loss of equilibrium already. It is +only when it encounters cautious foresight—which we may say is just as +bold, at all events just as strong and powerful as itself—that it is at +a disadvantage; such cases, however, rarely occur. Out of the whole +multitude of prudent men in the world, the great majority are so from +timidity. + +Amongst large masses, boldness is a force, the special cultivation of +which can never be to the detriment of other forces, because the great +mass is bound to a higher will by the frame-work and joints of the +order of battle and of the service, and therefore is guided by an +intelligent power which is extraneous. Boldness is therefore here only +like a spring held down until its action is required. + +The higher the rank the more necessary it is that boldness should be +accompanied by a reflective mind, that it may not be a mere blind +outburst of passion to no purpose; for with increase of rank it becomes +always less a matter of self-sacrifice and more a matter of the +preservation of others, and the good of the whole. Where regulations of +the service, as a kind of second nature, prescribe for the masses, +reflection must be the guide of the General, and in his case individual +boldness in action may easily become a fault. Still, at the same time, +it is a fine failing, and must not be looked at in the same light as +any other. Happy the Army in which an untimely boldness frequently +manifests itself; it is an exuberant growth which shows a rich soil. +Even foolhardiness, that is boldness without an object, is not to be +despised; in point of fact it is the same energy of feeling, only +exercised as a kind of passion without any co-operation of the +intelligent faculties. It is only when it strikes at the root of +obedience, when it treats with contempt the orders of superior +authority, that it must be repressed as a dangerous evil, not on its +own account but on account of the act of disobedience, for there is +nothing _in War_ which is of _greater importance than obedience_. + +The reader will readily agree with us that, supposing an equal degree +of discernment to be forthcoming in a certain number of cases, a +thousand times as many of them will end in disaster through +over-anxiety as through boldness. + +One would suppose it natural that the interposition of a reasonable +object should stimulate boldness, and therefore lessen its intrinsic +merit, and yet the reverse is the case in reality. + +The intervention of lucid thought or the general supremacy of mind +deprives the emotional forces of a great part of their power. On that +account _boldness becomes of rarer occurrence the higher we ascend the +scale of rank_, for whether the discernment and the understanding do or +do not increase with these ranks still the Commanders, in their several +stations as they rise, are pressed upon more and more severely by +objective things, by relations and claims from without, so that they +become the more perplexed the lower the degree of their individual +intelligence. This so far as regards War is the chief foundation of the +truth of the French proverb:— + +“Tel brille au second qui s’éclipse au premier.” + + +Almost all the Generals who are represented in history as merely having +attained to mediocrity, and as wanting in decision when in supreme +command, are men celebrated in their antecedent career for their +boldness and decision.(*) + +(*) Beaulieu, Benedek, Bazaine, Buller, Melas, Mack. &c. &c. + + +In those motives to bold action which arise from the pressure of +necessity we must make a distinction. Necessity has its degrees of +intensity. If it lies near at hand, if the person acting is in the +pursuit of his object driven into great dangers in order to escape +others equally great, then we can only admire his resolution, which +still has also its value. If a young man to show his skill in +horsemanship leaps across a deep cleft, then he is bold; if he makes +the same leap pursued by a troop of head-chopping Janissaries he is +only resolute. But the farther off the necessity from the point of +action, the greater the number of relations intervening which the mind +has to traverse; in order to realise them, by so much the less does +necessity take from boldness in action. If Frederick the Great, in the +year 1756, saw that War was inevitable, and that he could only escape +destruction by being beforehand with his enemies, it became necessary +for him to commence the War himself, but at the same time it was +certainly very bold: for few men in his position would have made up +their minds to do so. + +Although Strategy is only the province of Generals-in-Chief or +Commanders in the higher positions, still boldness in all the other +branches of an Army is as little a matter of indifference to it as +their other military virtues. With an Army belonging to a bold race, +and in which the spirit of boldness has been always nourished, very +different things may be undertaken than with one in which this virtue, +is unknown; for that reason we have considered it in connection with an +Army. But our subject is specially the boldness of the General, and yet +we have not much to say about it after having described this military +virtue in a general way to the best of our ability. + +The higher we rise in a position of command, the more of the mind, +understanding, and penetration predominate in activity, the more +therefore is boldness, which is a property of the feelings, kept in +subjection, and for that reason we find it so rarely in the highest +positions, but then, so much the more should it be admired. Boldness, +directed by an overruling intelligence, is the stamp of the hero: this +boldness does not consist in venturing directly against the nature of +things, in a downright contempt of the laws of probability, but, if a +choice is once made, in the rigorous adherence to that higher +calculation which genius, the tact of judgment, has gone over with the +speed of lightning. The more boldness lends wings to the mind and the +discernment, so much the farther they will reach in their flight, so +much the more comprehensive will be the view, the more exact the +result, but certainly always only in the sense that with greater +objects greater dangers are connected. The ordinary man, not to speak +of the weak and irresolute, arrives at an exact result so far as such +is possible without ocular demonstration, at most after diligent +reflection in his chamber, at a distance from danger and +responsibility. Let danger and responsibility draw close round him in +every direction, then he loses the power of comprehensive vision, and +if he retains this in any measure by the influence of others, still he +will lose his power of _decision_, because in that point no one can +help him. + +We think then that it is impossible to imagine a distinguished General +without boldness, that is to say, that no man can become one who is not +born with this power of the soul, and we therefore look upon it as the +first requisite for such a career. How much of this inborn power, +developed and moderated through education and the circumstances of +life, is left when the man has attained a high position, is the second +question. The greater this power still is, the stronger will genius be +on the wing, the higher will be its flight. The risks become always +greater, but the purpose grows with them. Whether its lines proceed out +of and get their direction from a distant necessity, or whether they +converge to the keystone of a building which ambition has planned, +whether Frederick or Alexander acts, is much the same as regards the +critical view. If the one excites the imagination more because it is +bolder, the other pleases the understanding most, because it has in it +more absolute necessity. + +We have still to advert to one very important circumstance. + +The spirit of boldness can exist in an Army, either because it is in +the people, or because it has been generated in a successful War +conducted by able Generals. In the latter case it must of course be +dispensed with at the commencement. + +Now in our days there is hardly any other means of educating the spirit +of a people in this respect, except by War, and that too under bold +Generals. By it alone can that effeminacy of feeling be counteracted, +that propensity to seek for the enjoyment of comfort, which cause +degeneracy in a people rising in prosperity and immersed in an +extremely busy commerce. + +A Nation can hope to have a strong position in the political world only +if its character and practice in actual War mutually support each other +in constant reciprocal action. + + + +CHAPTER VII. Perseverance + +The reader expects to hear of angles and lines, and finds, instead of +these citizens of the scientific world, only people out of common life, +such as he meets with every day in the street. And yet the author +cannot make up his mind to become a hair’s breadth more mathematical +than the subject seems to him to require, and he is not alarmed at the +surprise which the reader may show. + +In War more than anywhere else in the world things happen differently +to what we had expected, and look differently when near, to what they +did at a distance. With what serenity the architect can watch his work +gradually rising and growing into his plan. The doctor although much +more at the mercy of mysterious agencies and chances than the +architect, still knows enough of the forms and effects of his means. In +War, on the other hand, the Commander of an immense whole finds himself +in a constant whirlpool of false and true information, of mistakes +committed through fear, through negligence, through precipitation, of +contraventions of his authority, either from mistaken or correct +motives, from ill will, true or false sense of duty, indolence or +exhaustion, of accidents which no mortal could have foreseen. In short, +he is the victim of a hundred thousand impressions, of which the most +have an intimidating, the fewest an encouraging tendency. By long +experience in War, the tact is acquired of readily appreciating the +value of these incidents; high courage and stability of character stand +proof against them, as the rock resists the beating of the waves. He +who would yield to these impressions would never carry out an +undertaking, and on that account _perseverance_ in the proposed object, +as long as there is no decided reason against it, is a most necessary +counterpoise. Further, there is hardly any celebrated enterprise in War +which was not achieved by endless exertion, pains, and privations; and +as here the weakness of the physical and moral man is ever disposed to +yield, only an immense force of will, which manifests itself in +perseverance admired by present and future generations, can conduct to +our goal. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Superiority of Numbers + +This is in tactics, as well as in Strategy, the most general principle +of victory, and shall be examined by us first in its generality, for +which we may be permitted the following exposition: + +Strategy fixes the point where, the time when, and the numerical force +with which the battle is to be fought. By this triple determination it +has therefore a very essential influence on the issue of the combat. If +tactics has fought the battle, if the result is over, let it be victory +or defeat, Strategy makes such use of it as can be made in accordance +with the great object of the War. This object is naturally often a very +distant one, seldom does it lie quite close at hand. A series of other +objects subordinate themselves to it as means. These objects, which are +at the same time means to a higher purpose, may be practically of +various kinds; even the ultimate aim of the whole War may be a +different one in every case. We shall make ourselves acquainted with +these things according as we come to know the separate objects which +they come, in contact with; and it is not our intention here to embrace +the whole subject by a complete enumeration of them, even if that were +possible. We therefore let the employment of the battle stand over for +the present. + +Even those things through which Strategy has an influence on the issue +of the combat, inasmuch as it establishes the same, to a certain extent +decrees them, are not so simple that they can be embraced in one single +view. For as Strategy appoints time, place and force, it can do so in +practice in many ways, each of which influences in a different manner +the result of the combat as well as its consequences. Therefore we +shall only get acquainted with this also by degrees, that is, through +the subjects which more closely determine the application. + +If we strip the combat of all modifications which it may undergo +according to its immediate purpose and the circumstances from which it +proceeds, lastly if we set aside the valour of the troops, because that +is a given quantity, then there remains only the bare conception of the +combat, that is a combat without form, in which we distinguish nothing +but the number of the combatants. + +This number will therefore determine victory. Now from the number of +things above deducted to get to this point, it is shown that the +superiority in numbers in a battle is only one of the factors employed +to produce victory that therefore so far from having with the +superiority in number obtained all, or even only the principal thing, +we have perhaps got very little by it, according as the other +circumstances which co-operate happen to vary. + +But this superiority has degrees, it may be imagined as twofold, +threefold or fourfold, and every one sees, that by increasing in this +way, it must (at last) overpower everything else. + +In such an aspect we grant, that the superiority in numbers is the most +important factor in the result of a combat, only it must be +sufficiently great to be a counterpoise to all the other co-operating +circumstances. The direct result of this is, that the greatest possible +number of troops should be brought into action at the decisive point. + +Whether the troops thus brought are sufficient or not, we have then +done in this respect all that our means allowed. This is the first +principle in Strategy, therefore in general as now stated, it is just +as well suited for Greeks and Persians, or for Englishmen and +Mahrattas, as for French and Germans. But we shall take a glance at our +relations in Europe, as respects War, in order to arrive at some more +definite idea on this subject. + +Here we find Armies much more alike in equipment, organisation, and +practical skill of every kind. There only remains a difference in the +military virtue of Armies, and in the talent of Generals which may +fluctuate with time from side to side. If we go through the military +history of modern Europe, we find no example of a Marathon. + +Frederick the Great beat 80,000 Austrians at Leuthen with about 30,000 +men, and at Rosbach with 25,000 some 50,000 allies; these are however +the only instances of victories gained against an enemy double, or more +than double in numbers. Charles XII, in the battle of Narva, we cannot +well quote, for the Russians were at that time hardly to be regarded as +Europeans, also the principal circumstances, even of the battle, are +too little known. Buonaparte had at Dresden 120,000 against 220,000, +therefore not the double. At Kollin, Frederick the Great did not +succeed, with 30,000 against 50,000 Austrians, neither did Buonaparte +in the desperate battle of Leipsic, where he was 160,000 strong, +against 280,000. + +From this we may infer, that it is very difficult in the present state +of Europe, for the most talented General to gain a victory over an +enemy double his strength. Now if we see double numbers prove such a +weight in the scale against the greatest Generals, we may be sure, that +in ordinary cases, in small as well as great combats, an important +superiority of numbers, but which need not be over two to one, will be +sufficient to ensure the victory, however disadvantageous other +circumstances may be. Certainly, we may imagine a defile which even +tenfold would not suffice to force, but in such a case it can be no +question of a battle at all. + +We think, therefore, that under our conditions, as well as in all +similar ones, the superiority at the decisive point is a matter of +capital importance, and that this subject, in the generality of cases, +is decidedly the most important of all. The strength at the decisive +point depends on the absolute strength of the Army, and on skill in +making use of it. + +The first rule is therefore to enter the field with an Army as strong +as possible. This sounds very like a commonplace, but still it is +really not so. + +In order to show that for a long time the strength of forces was by no +means regarded as a chief point, we need only observe, that in most, +and even in the most detailed histories of the Wars in the eighteenth +century, the strength of the Armies is either not given at all, or only +incidentally, and in no case is any special value laid upon it. +Tempelhof in his history of the Seven Years’ War is the earliest writer +who gives it regularly, but at the same time he does it only very +superficially. + +Even Massenbach, in his manifold critical observations on the Prussian +campaigns of 1793-94 in the Vosges, talks a great deal about hills and +valleys, roads and footpaths, but does not say a syllable about mutual +strength. + +Another proof lies in a wonderful notion which haunted the heads of +many critical historians, according to which there was a certain size +of an Army which was the best, a normal strength, beyond which the +forces in excess were burdensome rather than serviceable.(*) + +(*) Tempelhof and Montalembert are the first we recollect as +examples—the first in a passage of his first part, page 148; the other +in his correspondence relative to the plan of operations of the +Russians in 1759. + + +Lastly, there are a number of instances to be found, in which all the +available forces were not really brought into the battle,(*) or into +the War, because the superiority of numbers was not considered to have +that importance which in the nature of things belongs to it. + +(*) The Prussians at Jena, 1806. Wellington at Waterloo. + + +If we are thoroughly penetrated with the conviction that with a +considerable superiority of numbers everything possible is to be +effected, then it cannot fail that this clear conviction reacts on the +preparations for the War, so as to make us appear in the field with as +many troops as possible, and either to give us ourselves the +superiority, or at least to guard against the enemy obtaining it. So +much for what concerns the absolute force with which the War is to be +conducted. + +The measure of this absolute force is determined by the Government; and +although with this determination the real action of War commences, and +it forms an essential part of the Strategy of the War, still in most +cases the General who is to command these forces in the War must regard +their absolute strength as a given quantity, whether it be that he has +had no voice in fixing it, or that circumstances prevented a sufficient +expansion being given to it. + +There remains nothing, therefore, where an absolute superiority is not +attainable, but to produce a relative one at the decisive point, by +making skilful use of what we have. + +The calculation of space and time appears as the most essential thing +to this end—and this has caused that subject to be regarded as one +which embraces nearly the whole art of using military forces. Indeed, +some have gone so far as to ascribe to great strategists and tacticians +a mental organ peculiarly adapted to this point. + +But the calculation of time and space, although it lies universally at +the foundation of Strategy, and is to a certain extent its daily bread, +is still neither the most difficult, nor the most decisive one. + +If we take an unprejudiced glance at military history, we shall find +that the instances in which mistakes in such a calculation have proved +the cause of serious losses are very rare, at least in Strategy. But if +the conception of a skilful combination of time and space is fully to +account for every instance of a resolute and active Commander beating +several separate opponents with one and the same army (Frederick the +Great, Buonaparte), then we perplex ourselves unnecessarily with +conventional language. For the sake of clearness and the profitable use +of conceptions, it is necessary that things should always be called by +their right names. + +The right appreciation of their opponents (Daun, Schwartzenberg), the +audacity to leave for a short space of time a small force only before +them, energy in forced marches, boldness in sudden attacks, the +intensified activity which great souls acquire in the moment of danger, +these are the grounds of such victories; and what have these to do with +the ability to make an exact calculation of two such simple things as +time and space? + +But even this ricochetting play of forces, “when the victories at +Rosbach and Montmirail give the impulse to victories at Leuthen and +Montereau,” to which great Generals on the defensive have often +trusted, is still, if we would be clear and exact, only a rare +occurrence in history. + +Much more frequently the relative superiority—that is, the skilful +assemblage of superior forces at the decisive point—has its foundation +in the right appreciation of those points, in the judicious direction +which by that means has been given to the forces from the very first, +and in the resolution required to sacrifice the unimportant to the +advantage of the important—that is, to keep the forces concentrated in +an overpowering mass. In this, Frederick the Great and Buonaparte are +particularly characteristic. + +We think we have now allotted to the superiority in numbers the +importance which belongs to it; it is to be regarded as the fundamental +idea, always to be aimed at before all and as far as possible. + +But to regard it on this account as a necessary condition of victory +would be a complete misconception of our exposition; in the conclusion +to be drawn from it there lies nothing more than the value which should +attach to numerical strength in the combat. If that strength is made as +great as possible, then the maxim is satisfied; a review of the total +relations must then decide whether or not the combat is to be avoided +for want of sufficient force.(*) + +(*) Owing to our freedom from invasion, and to the condition which +arise in our Colonial Wars, we have not yet, in England, arrived at a +correct appreciation of the value of superior numbers in War, and still +adhere to the idea of an Army just “big enough,” which Clausewitz has +so unsparingly ridiculed. (EDITOR.) + + + +CHAPTER IX. The Surprise + +From the subject of the foregoing chapter, the general endeavour to +attain a relative superiority, there follows another endeavour which +must consequently be just as general in its nature: this is the +_surprise_ of the enemy. It lies more or less at the foundation of all +undertakings, for without it the preponderance at the decisive point is +not properly conceivable. + +The surprise is, therefore, not only the means to the attainment of +numerical superiority; but it is also to be regarded as a substantive +principle in itself, on account of its moral effect. When it is +successful in a high degree, confusion and broken courage in the +enemy’s ranks are the consequences; and of the degree to which these +multiply a success, there are examples enough, great and small. We are +not now speaking of the particular surprise which belongs to the +attack, but of the endeavour by measures generally, and especially by +the distribution of forces, to surprise the enemy, which can be +imagined just as well in the defensive, and which in the tactical +defence particularly is a chief point. + +We say, surprise lies at the foundation of all undertakings without +exception, only in very different degrees according to the nature of +the undertaking and other circumstances. + +This difference, indeed, originates in the properties or peculiarities +of the Army and its Commander, in those even of the Government. + +Secrecy and rapidity are the two factors in this product and these +suppose in the Government and the Commander-in-Chief great energy, and +on the part of the Army a high sense of military duty. With effeminacy +and loose principles it is in vain to calculate upon a surprise. But so +general, indeed so indispensable, as is this endeavour, and true as it +is that it is never wholly unproductive of effect, still it is not the +less true that it seldom succeeds to a _remarkable_ degree, and this +follows from the nature of the idea itself. We should form an erroneous +conception if we believed that by this means chiefly there is much to +be attained in War. In idea it promises a great deal; in the execution +it generally sticks fast by the friction of the whole machine. + +In tactics the surprise is much more at home, for the very natural +reason that all times and spaces are on a smaller scale. It will, +therefore, in Strategy be the more feasible in proportion as the +measures lie nearer to the province of tactics, and more difficult the +higher up they lie towards the province of policy. + +The preparations for a War usually occupy several months; the assembly +of an Army at its principal positions requires generally the formation +of depôts and magazines, and long marches, the object of which can be +guessed soon enough. + +It therefore rarely happens that one State surprises another by a War, +or by the direction which it gives the mass of its forces. In the +seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when War turned very much upon +sieges, it was a frequent aim, and quite a peculiar and important +chapter in the Art of War, to invest a strong place unexpectedly, but +even that only rarely succeeded.(*) + +(*) Railways, steamships, and telegraphs have, however, enormously +modified the relative importance and practicability of surprise. +(EDITOR.) + + +On the other hand, with things which can be done in a day or two, a +surprise is much more conceivable, and, therefore, also it is often not +difficult thus to gain a march upon the enemy, and thereby a position, +a point of country, a road, &c. But it is evident that what surprise +gains in this way in easy execution, it loses in the efficacy, as the +greater the efficacy the greater always the difficulty of execution. +Whoever thinks that with such surprises on a small scale, he may +connect great results—as, for example, the gain of a battle, the +capture of an important magazine—believes in something which it is +certainly very possible to imagine, but for which there is no warrant +in history; for there are upon the whole very few instances where +anything great has resulted from such surprises; from which we may +justly conclude that inherent difficulties lie in the way of their +success. + +Certainly, whoever would consult history on such points must not depend +on sundry battle steeds of historical critics, on their wise dicta and +self-complacent terminology, but look at facts with his own eyes. There +is, for instance, a certain day in the campaign in Silesia, 1761, +which, in this respect, has attained a kind of notoriety. It is the +22nd July, on which Frederick the Great gained on Laudon the march to +Nossen, near Neisse, by which, as is said, the junction of the Austrian +and Russian armies in Upper Silesia became impossible, and, therefore, +a period of four weeks was gained by the King. Whoever reads over this +occurrence carefully in the principal histories,(*) and considers it +impartially, will, in the march of the 22nd July, never find this +importance; and generally in the whole of the fashionable logic on this +subject, he will see nothing but contradictions; but in the proceedings +of Laudon, in this renowned period of manœuvres, much that is +unaccountable. How could one, with a thirst for truth, and clear +conviction, accept such historical evidence? + +(*) Tempelhof, The Veteran, Frederick the Great. Compare also +(Clausewitz) “_Hinterlassene Werke_,” vol. x., p. 158. + + +When we promise ourselves great effects in a campaign from the +principle of surprising, we think upon great activity, rapid +resolutions, and forced marches, as the means of producing them; but +that these things, even when forthcoming in a very high degree, will +not always produce the desired effect, we see in examples given by +Generals, who may be allowed to have had the greatest talent in the use +of these means, Frederick the Great and Buonaparte. The first when he +left Dresden so suddenly in July 1760, and falling upon Lascy, then +turned against Dresden, gained nothing by the whole of that intermezzo, +but rather placed his affairs in a condition notably worse, as the +fortress Glatz fell in the meantime. + +In 1813, Buonaparte turned suddenly from Dresden twice against Blücher, +to say nothing of his incursion into Bohemia from Upper Lusatia, and +both times without in the least attaining his object. They were blows +in the air which only cost him time and force, and might have placed +him in a dangerous position in Dresden. + +Therefore, even in this field, a surprise does not necessarily meet +with great success through the mere activity, energy, and resolution of +the Commander; it must be favoured by other circumstances. But we by no +means deny that there can be success; we only connect with it a +necessity of favourable circumstances, which, certainly do not occur +very frequently, and which the Commander can seldom bring about +himself. + +Just those two Generals afford each a striking illustration of this. We +take first Buonaparte in his famous enterprise against Blücher’s Army +in February 1814, when it was separated from the Grand Army, and +descending the Marne. It would not be easy to find a two days’ march to +surprise the enemy productive of greater results than this; Blücher’s +Army, extended over a distance of three days’ march, was beaten in +detail, and suffered a loss nearly equal to that of defeat in a great +battle. This was completely the effect of a surprise, for if Blücher +had thought of such a near possibility of an attack from Buonaparte(*) +he would have organised his march quite differently. To this mistake of +Blücher’s the result is to be attributed. Buonaparte did not know all +these circumstances, and so there was a piece of good fortune that +mixed itself up in his favour. + +(*) Blücher believed his march to be covered by Pahlen’s Cossacks, but +these had been withdrawn without warning to him by the Grand Army +Headquarters under Schwartzenberg. + + +It is the same with the battle of Liegnitz, 1760. Frederick the Great +gained this fine victory through altering during the night a position +which he had just before taken up. Laudon was through this completely +surprised, and lost 70 pieces of artillery and 10,000 men. Although +Frederick the Great had at this time adopted the principle of moving +backwards and forwards in order to make a battle impossible, or at +least to disconcert the enemy’s plans, still the alteration of position +on the night of the 14-15 was not made exactly with that intention, but +as the King himself says, because the position of the 14th did not +please him. Here, therefore, also chance was hard at work; without this +happy conjunction of the attack and the change of position in the +night, and the difficult nature of the country, the result would not +have been the same. + +Also in the higher and highest province of Strategy there are some +instances of surprises fruitful in results. We shall only cite the +brilliant marches of the Great Elector against the Swedes from +Franconia to Pomerania and from the Mark (Brandenburg) to the Pregel in +1757, and the celebrated passage of the Alps by Buonaparte, 1800. In +the latter case an Army gave up its whole theatre of war by a +capitulation, and in 1757 another Army was very near giving up its +theatre of war and itself as well. Lastly, as an instance of a War +wholly unexpected, we may bring forward the invasion of Silesia by +Frederick the Great. Great and powerful are here the results +everywhere, but such events are not common in history if we do not +confuse with them cases in which a State, for want of activity and +energy (Saxony 1756, and Russia, 1812), has not completed its +preparations in time. + +Now there still remains an observation which concerns the essence of +the thing. A surprise can only be effected by that party which gives +the law to the other; and he who is in the right gives the law. If we +surprise the adversary by a wrong measure, then instead of reaping good +results, we may have to bear a sound blow in return; in any case the +adversary need not trouble himself much about our surprise, he has in +our mistake the means of turning off the evil. As the offensive +includes in itself much more positive action than the defensive, so the +surprise is certainly more in its place with the assailant, but by no +means invariably, as we shall hereafter see. Mutual surprises by the +offensive and defensive may therefore meet, and then that one will have +the advantage who has hit the nail on the head the best. + +So should it be, but practical life does not keep to this line so +exactly, and that for a very simple reason. The moral effects which +attend a surprise often convert the worst case into a good one for the +side they favour, and do not allow the other to make any regular +determination. We have here in view more than anywhere else not only +the chief Commander, but each single one, because a surprise has the +effect in particular of greatly loosening unity, so that the +individuality of each separate leader easily comes to light. + +Much depends here on the general relation in which the two parties +stand to each other. If the one side through a general moral +superiority can intimidate and outdo the other, then he can make use of +the surprise with more success, and even reap good fruit where properly +he should come to ruin. + + + +CHAPTER X. Stratagem + +Stratagem implies a concealed intention, and therefore is opposed to +straightforward dealing, in the same way as wit is the opposite of +direct proof. It has therefore nothing in common with means of +persuasion, of self-interest, of force, but a great deal to do with +deceit, because that likewise conceals its object. It is itself a +deceit as well when it is done, but still it differs from what is +commonly called deceit, in this respect that there is no direct breach +of word. The deceiver by stratagem leaves it to the person himself whom +he is deceiving to commit the errors of understanding which at last, +flowing into _one_ result, suddenly change the nature of things in his +eyes. We may therefore say, as nit is a sleight of hand with ideas and +conceptions, so stratagem is a sleight of hand with actions. + +At first sight it appears as if Strategy had not improperly derived its +name from stratagem; and that, with all the real and apparent changes +which the whole character of War has undergone since the time of the +Greeks, this term still points to its real nature. + +If we leave to tactics the actual delivery of the blow, the battle +itself, and look upon Strategy as the art of using this means with +skill, then besides the forces of the character, such as burning +ambition which always presses like a spring, a strong will which hardly +bends &c. &c., there seems no subjective quality so suited to guide and +inspire strategic activity as stratagem. The general tendency to +surprise, treated of in the foregoing chapter, points to this +conclusion, for there is a degree of stratagem, be it ever so small, +which lies at the foundation of every attempt to surprise. + +But however much we feel a desire to see the actors in War outdo each +other in hidden activity, readiness, and stratagem, still we must admit +that these qualities show themselves but little in history, and have +rarely been able to work their way to the surface from amongst the mass +of relations and circumstances. + +The explanation of this is obvious, and it is almost identical with the +subject matter of the preceding chapter. + +Strategy knows no other activity than the regulating of combat with the +measures which relate to it. It has no concern, like ordinary life, +with transactions which consist merely of words—that is, in +expressions, declarations, &c. But these, which are very inexpensive, +are chiefly the means with which the wily one takes in those he +practises upon. + +That which there is like it in War, plans and orders given merely as +make-believers, false reports sent on purpose to the enemy—is usually +of so little effect in the strategic field that it is only resorted to +in particular cases which offer of themselves, therefore cannot be +regarded as spontaneous action which emanates from the leader. + +But such measures as carrying out the arrangements for a battle, so far +as to impose upon the enemy, require a considerable expenditure of time +and power; of course, the greater the impression to be made, the +greater the expenditure in these respects. And as this is usually not +given for the purpose, very few demonstrations, so-called, in Strategy, +effect the object for which they are designed. In fact, it is dangerous +to detach large forces for any length of time merely for a trick, +because there is always the risk of its being done in vain, and then +these forces are wanted at the decisive point. + +The chief actor in War is always thoroughly sensible of this sober +truth, and therefore he has no desire to play at tricks of agility. The +bitter earnestness of necessity presses so fully into direct action +that there is no room for that game. In a word, the pieces on the +strategical chess-board want that mobility which is the element of +stratagem and subtility. + +The conclusion which we draw, is that a correct and penetrating eye is +a more necessary and more useful quality for a General than craftiness, +although that also does no harm if it does not exist at the expense of +necessary qualities of the heart, which is only too often the case. + +But the weaker the forces become which are under the command of +Strategy, so much the more they become adapted for stratagem, so that +to the quite feeble and little, for whom no prudence, no sagacity is +any longer sufficient at the point where all art seems to forsake him, +stratagem offers itself as a last resource. The more helpless his +situation, the more everything presses towards one single, desperate +blow, the more readily stratagem comes to the aid of his boldness. Let +loose from all further calculations, freed from all concern for the +future, boldness and stratagem intensify each other, and thus collect +at one point an infinitesimal glimmering of hope into a single ray, +which may likewise serve to kindle a flame. + + + +CHAPTER XI. Assembly of Forces in Space + +The best Strategy is _always to be very strong_, first generally then +at the decisive point. Therefore, apart from the energy which creates +the Army, a work which is not always done by the General, there is no +more imperative and no simpler law for Strategy than to _keep the +forces concentrated_.—No portion is to be separated from the main body +unless called away by some urgent necessity. On this maxim we stand +firm, and look upon it as a guide to be depended upon. What are the +reasonable grounds on which a detachment of forces may be made we shall +learn by degrees. Then we shall also see that this principle cannot +have the same general effects in every War, but that these are +different according to the means and end. + +It seems incredible, and yet it has happened a hundred times, that +troops have been divided and separated merely through a mysterious +feeling of conventional manner, without any clear perception of the +reason. + +If the concentration of the whole force is acknowledged as the norm, +and every division and separation as an exception which must be +justified, then not only will that folly be completely avoided, but +also many an erroneous ground for separating troops will be barred +admission. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Assembly of Forces in Time + +We have here to deal with a conception which in real life diffuses many +kinds of illusory light. A clear definition and development of the idea +is therefore necessary, and we hope to be allowed a short analysis. + +War is the shock of two opposing forces in collision with each other, +from which it follows as a matter of course that the stronger not only +destroys the other, but carries it forward with it in its movement. +This fundamentally admits of no successive action of powers, but makes +the simultaneous application of all forces intended for the shock +appear as a primordial law of War. + +So it is in reality, but only so far as the struggle resembles also in +practice a mechanical shock, but when it consists in a lasting, mutual +action of destructive forces, then we can certainly imagine a +successive action of forces. This is the case in tactics, principally +because firearms form the basis of all tactics, but also for other +reasons as well. If in a fire combat 1000 men are opposed to 500, then +the gross loss is calculated from the amount of the enemy’s force and +our own; 1000 men fire twice as many shots as 500, but more shots will +take effect on the 1000 than on the 500 because it is assumed that they +stand in closer order than the other. If we were to suppose the number +of hits to be double, then the losses on each side would be equal. From +the 500 there would be for example 200 disabled, and out of the body of +1000 likewise the same; now if the 500 had kept another body of equal +number quite out of fire, then both sides would have 800 effective men; +but of these, on the one side there would be 500 men quite fresh, fully +supplied with ammunition, and in their full vigour; on the other side +only 800 all alike shaken in their order, in want of sufficient +ammunition and weakened in physical force. The assumption that the 1000 +men merely on account of their greater number would lose twice as many +as 500 would have lost in their place, is certainly not correct; +therefore the greater loss which the side suffers that has placed the +half of its force in reserve, must be regarded as a disadvantage in +that original formation; further it must be admitted, that in the +generality of cases the 1000 men would have the advantage at the first +commencement of being able to drive their opponent out of his position +and force him to a retrograde movement; now, whether these two +advantages are a counterpoise to the disadvantage of finding ourselves +with 800 men to a certain extent disorganised by the combat, opposed to +an enemy who is not materially weaker in numbers and who has 500 quite +fresh troops, is one that cannot be decided by pursuing an analysis +further, we must here rely upon experience, and there will scarcely be +an officer experienced in War who will not in the generality of cases +assign the advantage to that side which has the fresh troops. + +In this way it becomes evident how the employment of too many forces in +combat may be disadvantageous; for whatever advantages the superiority +may give in the first moment, we may have to pay dearly for in the +next. + +But this danger only endures as long as the disorder, the state of +confusion and weakness lasts, in a word, up to the crisis which every +combat brings with it even for the conqueror. Within the duration of +this relaxed state of exhaustion, the appearance of a proportionate +number of fresh troops is decisive. + +But when this disordering effect of victory stops, and therefore only +the moral superiority remains which every victory gives, then it is no +longer possible for fresh troops to restore the combat, they would only +be carried along in the general movement; a beaten Army cannot be +brought back to victory a day after by means of a strong reserve. Here +we find ourselves at the source of a highly material difference between +tactics and strategy. + +The tactical results, the results within the four corners of the +battle, and before its close, lie for the most part within the limits +of that period of disorder and weakness. But the strategic result, that +is to say, the result of the total combat, of the victories realised, +let them be small or great, lies completely (beyond) outside of that +period. It is only when the results of partial combats have bound +themselves together into an independent whole, that the strategic +result appears, but then, the state of crisis is over, the forces have +resumed their original form, and are now only weakened to the extent of +those actually destroyed (placed _hors de combat_). + +The consequence of this difference is, that tactics can make a +continued use of forces, Strategy only a simultaneous one.(*) + +(*) See chaps. xiii., and xiv., Book III and chap. xxix. Book V.—TR. + + +If I cannot, in tactics, decide all by the first success, if I have to +fear the next moment, it follows of itself that I employ only so much +of my force for the success of the first moment as appears sufficient +for that object, and keep the rest beyond the reach of fire or conflict +of any kind, in order to be able to oppose fresh troops to fresh, or +with such to overcome those that are exhausted. But it is not so in +Strategy. Partly, as we have just shown, it has not so much reason to +fear a reaction after a success realised, because with that success the +crisis stops; partly all the forces strategically employed are not +necessarily weakened. Only so much of them as have been tactically in +conflict with the enemy’s force, that is, engaged in partial combat, +are weakened by it; consequently, only so much as was unavoidably +necessary, but by no means all which was strategically in conflict with +the enemy, unless tactics has expended them unnecessarily. Corps which, +on account of the general superiority in numbers, have either been +little or not at all engaged, whose presence alone has assisted in the +result, are after the decision the same as they were before, and for +new enterprises as efficient as if they had been entirely inactive. How +greatly such corps which thus constitute our excess may contribute to +the total success is evident in itself; indeed, it is not difficult to +see how they may even diminish considerably the loss of the forces +engaged in tactical, conflict on our side. + +If, therefore, in Strategy the loss does not increase with the number +of the troops employed, but is often diminished by it, and if, as a +natural consequence, the decision in our favor is, by that means, the +more certain, then it follows naturally that in Strategy we can never +employ too many forces, and consequently also that they must be applied +simultaneously to the immediate purpose. + +But we must vindicate this proposition upon another ground. We have +hitherto only spoken of the combat itself; it is the real activity in +War, but men, time, and space, which appear as the elements of this +activity, must, at the same time, be kept in view, and the results of +their influence brought into consideration also. + +Fatigue, exertion, and privation constitute in War a special principle +of destruction, not essentially belonging to contest, but more or less +inseparably bound up with it, and certainly one which especially +belongs to Strategy. They no doubt exist in tactics as well, and +perhaps there in the highest degree; but as the duration of the +tactical acts is shorter, therefore the small effects of exertion and +privation on them can come but little into consideration. But in +Strategy on the other hand, where time and space, are on a larger +scale, their influence is not only always very considerable, but often +quite decisive. It is not at all uncommon for a victorious Army to lose +many more by sickness than on the field of battle. + +If, therefore, we look at this sphere of destruction in Strategy in the +same manner as we have considered that of fire and close combat in +tactics, then we may well imagine that everything which comes within +its vortex will, at the end of the campaign or of any other strategic +period, be reduced to a state of weakness, which makes the arrival of a +fresh force decisive. We might therefore conclude that there is a +motive in the one case as well as the other to strive for the first +success with as few forces as possible, in order to keep up this fresh +force for the last. + +In order to estimate exactly this conclusion, which, in many cases in +practice, will have a great appearance of truth, we must direct our +attention to the separate ideas which it contains. In the first place, +we must not confuse the notion of reinforcement with that of fresh +unused troops. There are few campaigns at the end of which an increase +of force is not earnestly desired by the conqueror as well as the +conquered, and indeed should appear decisive; but that is not the point +here, for that increase of force could not be necessary if the force +had been so much larger at the first. But it would be contrary to all +experience to suppose that an Army coming fresh into the field is to be +esteemed higher in point of moral value than an Army already in the +field, just as a tactical reserve is more to be esteemed than a body of +troops which has been already severely handled in the fight. Just as +much as an unfortunate campaign lowers the courage and moral powers of +an Army, a successful one raises these elements in their value. In the +generality of cases, therefore, these influences are compensated, and +then there remains over and above as clear gain the habituation to War. +We should besides look more here to successful than to unsuccessful +campaigns, because when the greater probability of the latter may be +seen beforehand, without doubt forces are wanted, and, therefore, the +reserving a portion for future use is out of the question. + +This point being settled, then the question is, Do the losses which a +force sustains through fatigues and privations increase in proportion +to the size of the force, as is the case in a combat? And to that we +answer “No.” + +The fatigues of War result in a great measure from the dangers with +which every moment of the act of War is more or less impregnated. To +encounter these dangers at all points, to proceed onwards with security +in the execution of one’s plans, gives employment to a multitude of +agencies which make up the tactical and strategic service of the Army. +This service is more difficult the weaker an Army is, and easier as its +numerical superiority over that of the enemy increases. Who can doubt +this? A campaign against a much weaker enemy will therefore cost +smaller efforts than against one just as strong or stronger. + +So much for the fatigues. It is somewhat different with the privations; +they consist chiefly of two things, the want of food, and the want of +shelter for the troops, either in quarters or in suitable camps. Both +these wants will no doubt be greater in proportion as the number of men +on one spot is greater. But does not the superiority in force afford +also the best means of spreading out and finding more room, and +therefore more means of subsistence and shelter? + +If Buonaparte, in his invasion of Russia in 1812, concentrated his Army +in great masses upon one single road in a manner never heard of before, +and thus caused privations equally unparalleled, we must ascribe it to +his maxim _that it is impossible to be too strong at the decisive +point_. Whether in this instance he did not strain the principle too +far is a question which would be out of place here; but it is certain +that, if he had made a point of avoiding the distress which was by that +means brought about, he had only to advance on a greater breadth of +front. Room was not wanted for the purpose in Russia, and in very few +cases can it be wanted. Therefore, from this no ground can be deduced +to prove that the simultaneous employment of very superior forces must +produce greater weakening. But now, supposing that in spite of the +general relief afforded by setting apart a portion of the Army, wind +and weather and the toils of War had produced a diminution even on the +part which as a spare force had been reserved for later use, still we +must take a comprehensive general view of the whole, and therefore ask, +Will this diminution of force suffice to counterbalance the gain in +forces, which we, through our superiority in numbers, may be able to +make in more ways than one? + +But there still remains a most important point to be noticed. In a +partial combat, the force required to obtain a great result can be +approximately estimated without much difficulty, and, consequently, we +can form an idea of what is superfluous. In Strategy this may be said +to be impossible, because the strategic result has no such well-defined +object and no such circumscribed limits as the tactical. Thus what can +be looked upon in tactics as an excess of power, must be regarded in +Strategy as a means to give expansion to success, if opportunity offers +for it; with the magnitude of the success the gain in force increases +at the same time, and in this way the superiority of numbers may soon +reach a point which the most careful economy of forces could never have +attained. + +By means of his enormous numerical superiority, Buonaparte was enabled +to reach Moscow in 1812, and to take that central capital. Had he by +means of this superiority succeeded in completely defeating the Russian +Army, he would, in all probability, have concluded a peace in Moscow +which in any other way was much less attainable. This example is used +to explain the idea, not to prove it, which would require a +circumstantial demonstration, for which this is not the place.(*) + +(*) Compare Book VII., second edition, p. 56. + + +All these reflections bear merely upon the idea of a successive +employment of forces, and not upon the conception of a reserve properly +so called, which they, no doubt, come in contact with throughout, but +which, as we shall see in the following chapter, is connected with some +other considerations. + +What we desire to establish here is, that if in tactics the military +force through the mere duration of actual employment suffers a +diminution of power, if time, therefore, appears as a factor in the +result, this is not the case in Strategy in a material degree. The +destructive effects which are also produced upon the forces in Strategy +by time, are partly diminished through their mass, partly made good in +other ways, and, therefore, in Strategy it cannot be an object to make +time an ally on its own account by bringing troops successively into +action. + +We say on “its own account,” for the influence which time, on account +of other circumstances which it brings about but which are different +from itself can have, indeed must necessarily have, for one of the two +parties, is quite another thing, is anything but indifferent or +unimportant, and will be the subject of consideration hereafter. + +The rule which we have been seeking to set forth is, therefore, that +all forces which are available and destined for a strategic object +should be _simultaneously_ applied to it; and this application will be +so much the more complete the more everything is compressed into one +act and into one movement. + +But still there is in Strategy a renewal of effort and a persistent +action which, as a chief means towards the ultimate success, is more +particularly not to be overlooked, it is the _continual development of +new forces_. This is also the subject of another chapter, and we only +refer to it here in order to prevent the reader from having something +in view of which we have not been speaking. + +We now turn to a subject very closely connected with our present +considerations, which must be settled before full light can be thrown +on the whole, we mean the _strategic reserve_. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. Strategic Reserve + +A reserve has two objects which are very distinct from each other, +namely, first, the prolongation and renewal of the combat, and +secondly, for use in case of unforeseen events. The first object +implies the utility of a successive application of forces, and on that +account cannot occur in Strategy. Cases in which a corps is sent to +succour a point which is supposed to be about to fall are plainly to be +placed in the category of the second object, as the resistance which +has to be offered here could not have been sufficiently foreseen. But a +corps which is destined expressly to prolong the combat, and with that +object in view is placed in rear, would be only a corps placed out of +reach of fire, but under the command and at the disposition of the +General Commanding in the action, and accordingly would be a tactical +and not a strategic reserve. + +But the necessity for a force ready for unforeseen events may also take +place in Strategy, and consequently there may also be a strategic +reserve, but only where unforeseen events are imaginable. In tactics, +where the enemy’s measures are generally first ascertained by direct +sight, and where they may be concealed by every wood, every fold of +undulating ground, we must naturally always be alive, more or less, to +the possibility of unforeseen events, in order to strengthen, +subsequently, those points which appear too weak, and, in fact, to +modify generally the disposition of our troops, so as to make it +correspond better to that of the enemy. + +Such cases must also happen in Strategy, because the strategic act is +directly linked to the tactical. In Strategy also many a measure is +first adopted in consequence of what is actually seen, or in +consequence of uncertain reports arriving from day to day, or even from +hour to hour, and lastly, from the actual results of the combats it is, +therefore, an essential condition of strategic command that, according +to the degree of uncertainty, forces must be kept in reserve against +future contingencies. + +In the defensive generally, but particularly in the defence of certain +obstacles of ground, like rivers, hills, &c., such contingencies, as is +well known, happen constantly. + +But this uncertainty diminishes in proportion as the strategic activity +has less of the tactical character, and ceases almost altogether in +those regions where it borders on politics. + +The direction in which the enemy leads his columns to the combat can be +perceived by actual sight only; where he intends to pass a river is +learnt from a few preparations which are made shortly before; the line +by which he proposes to invade our country is usually announced by all +the newspapers before a pistol shot has been fired. The greater the +nature of the measure the less it will take the enemy by surprise. Time +and space are so considerable, the circumstances out of which the +action proceeds so public and little susceptible of alteration, that +the coming event is either made known in good time, or can be +discovered with reasonable certainty. + +On the other hand the use of a reserve in this province of Strategy, +even if one were available, will always be less efficacious the more +the measure has a tendency towards being one of a general nature. + +We have seen that the decision of a partial combat is nothing in +itself, but that all partial combats only find their complete solution +in the decision of the total combat. + +But even this decision of the total combat has only a relative meaning +of many different gradations, according as the force over which the +victory has been gained forms a more or less great and important part +of the whole. The lost battle of a corps may be repaired by the victory +of the Army. Even the lost battle of an Army may not only be +counterbalanced by the gain of a more important one, but converted into +a fortunate event (the two days of Kulm, August 29 and 30, 1813(*)). No +one can doubt this; but it is just as clear that the weight of each +victory (the successful issue of each total combat) is so much the more +substantial the more important the part conquered, and that therefore +the possibility of repairing the loss by subsequent events diminishes +in the same proportion. In another place we shall have to examine this +more in detail; it suffices for the present to have drawn attention to +the indubitable existence of this progression. + +(*) Refers to the destruction of Vandamme’s column, which had been sent +unsupported to intercept the retreat of the Austrians and Prussians +from Dresden—but was forgotten by Napoleon.—EDITOR. + + +If we now add lastly to these two considerations the third, which is, +that if the persistent use of forces in tactics always shifts the great +result to the end of the whole act, law of the simultaneous use of the +forces in Strategy, on the contrary, lets the principal result (which +need not be the final one) take place almost always at the commencement +of the great (or whole) act, then in these three results we have +grounds sufficient to find strategic reserves always more superfluous, +always more useless, always more dangerous, the more general their +destination. + +The point where the idea of a strategic reserve begins to become +inconsistent is not difficult to determine: it lies in the SUPREME +DECISION. Employment must be given to all the forces within the space +of the supreme decision, and every reserve (active force available) +which is only intended for use after that decision is opposed to common +sense. + +If, therefore, tactics has in its reserves the means of not only +meeting unforeseen dispositions on the part of the enemy, but also of +repairing that which never can be foreseen, the result of the combat, +should that be unfortunate; Strategy on the other hand must, at least +as far as relates to the capital result, renounce the use of these +means. As A rule, it can only repair the losses sustained at one point +by advantages gained at another, in a few cases by moving troops from +one point to another; the idea of preparing for such reverses by +placing forces in reserve beforehand, can never be entertained in +Strategy. + +We have pointed out as an absurdity the idea of a strategic reserve +which is not to co-operate in the capital result, and as it is so +beyond a doubt, we should not have been led into such an analysis as we +have made in these two chapters, were it not that, in the disguise of +other ideas, it looks like something better, and frequently makes its +appearance. One person sees in it the acme of strategic sagacity and +foresight; another rejects it, and with it the idea of any reserve, +consequently even of a tactical one. This confusion of ideas is +transferred to real life, and if we would see a memorable instance of +it we have only to call to mind that Prussia in 1806 left a reserve of +20,000 men cantoned in the Mark, under Prince Eugene of Wurtemberg, +which could not possibly reach the Saale in time to be of any use, and +that another force Of 25,000 men belonging to this power remained in +East and South Prussia, destined only to be put on a war-footing +afterwards as a reserve. + +After these examples we cannot be accused of having been fighting with +windmills. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. Economy of Forces + +The road of reason, as we have said, seldom allows itself to be reduced +to a mathematical line by principles and opinions. There remains always +a certain margin. But it is the same in all the practical arts of life. +For the lines of beauty there are no abscissae and ordinates; circles +and ellipses are not described by means of their algebraical formulae. +The actor in War therefore soon finds he must trust himself to the +delicate tact of judgment which, founded on natural quickness of +perception, and educated by reflection, almost unconsciously seizes +upon the right; he soon finds that at one time he must simplify the law +(by reducing it) to some prominent characteristic points which form his +rules; that at another the adopted method must become the staff on +which he leans. + +As one of these simplified characteristic points as a mental appliance, +we look upon the principle of watching continually over the +co-operation of all forces, or in other words, of keeping constantly in +view that no part of them should ever be idle. Whoever has forces where +the enemy does not give them sufficient employment, whoever has part of +his forces on the march—that is, allows them to lie dead—while the +enemy’s are fighting, he is a bad manager of his forces. In this sense +there is a waste of forces, which is even worse than their employment +to no purpose. If there must be action, then the first point is that +all parts act, because the most purposeless activity still keeps +employed and destroys a portion of the enemy’s force, whilst troops +completely inactive are for the moment quite neutralised. Unmistakably +this idea is bound up with the principles contained in the last three +chapters, it is the same truth, but seen from a somewhat more +comprehensive point of view and condensed into a single conception. + + + +CHAPTER XV. Geometrical Element + +The length to which the geometrical element or form in the disposition +of military force in War can become a predominant principle, we see in +the art of fortification, where geometry looks after the great and the +little. Also in tactics it plays a great part. It is the basis of +elementary tactics, or of the theory of moving troops; but in field +fortification, as well as in the theory of positions, and of their +attack, its angles and lines rule like law givers who have to decide +the contest. Many things here were at one time misapplied, and others +were mere fribbles; still, however, in the tactics of the present day, +in which in every combat the aim is to surround the enemy, the +geometrical element has attained anew a great importance in a very +simple, but constantly recurring application. Nevertheless, in tactics, +where all is more movable, where the moral forces, individual traits, +and chance are more influential than in a war of sieges, the +geometrical element can never attain to the same degree of supremacy as +in the latter. But less still is its influence in Strategy; certainly +here, also, form in the disposition of troops, the shape of countries +and states is of great importance; but the geometrical element is not +decisive, as in fortification, and not nearly so important as in +tactics.—The manner in which this influence exhibits itself, can only +be shown by degrees at those places where it makes its appearance, and +deserves notice. Here we wish more to direct attention to the +difference which there is between tactics and Strategy in relation to +it. + +In tactics time and space quickly dwindle to their absolute minimum. If +a body of troops is attacked in flank and rear by the enemy, it soon +gets to a point where retreat no longer remains; such a position is +very close to an absolute impossibility of continuing the fight; it +must therefore extricate itself from it, or avoid getting into it. This +gives to all combinations aiming at this from the first commencement a +great efficiency, which chiefly consists in the disquietude which it +causes the enemy as to consequences. This is why the geometrical +disposition of the forces is such an important factor in the tactical +product. + +In Strategy this is only faintly reflected, on account of the greater +space and time. We do not fire from one theatre of war upon another; +and often weeks and months must pass before a strategic movement +designed to surround the enemy can be executed. Further, the distances +are so great that the probability of hitting the right point at last, +even with the best arrangements, is but small. + +In Strategy therefore the scope for such combinations, that is for +those resting on the geometrical element, is much smaller, and for the +same reason the effect of an advantage once actually gained at any +point is much greater. Such advantage has time to bring all its effects +to maturity before it is disturbed, or quite neutralised therein, by +any counteracting apprehensions. We therefore do not hesitate to regard +as an established truth, that in Strategy more depends on the number +and the magnitude of the victorious combats, than on the form of the +great lines by which they are connected. + +A view just the reverse has been a favourite theme of modern theory, +because a greater importance was supposed to be thus given to Strategy, +and, as the higher functions of the mind were seen in Strategy, it was +thought by that means to ennoble War, and, as it was said—through a new +substitution of ideas—to make it more scientific. We hold it to be one +of the principal uses of a complete theory openly to expose such +vagaries, and as the geometrical element is the fundamental idea from +which theory usually proceeds, therefore we have expressly brought out +this point in strong relief. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. On the Suspension of the Act in War + +If one considers War as an act of mutual destruction, we must of +necessity imagine both parties as making some progress; but at the same +time, as regards the existing moment, we must almost as necessarily +suppose the one party in a state of expectation, and only the other +actually advancing, for circumstances can never be actually the same on +both sides, or continue so. In time a change must ensue, from which it +follows that the present moment is more favourable to one side than the +other. Now if we suppose that both commanders have a full knowledge of +this circumstance, then the one has a motive for action, which at the +same time is a motive for the other to wait; therefore, according to +this it cannot be for the interest of both at the same time to advance, +nor can waiting be for the interest of both at the same time. This +opposition of interest as regards the object is not deduced here from +the principle of general polarity, and therefore is not in opposition +to the argument in the fifth chapter of the second book; it depends on +the fact that here in reality the same thing is at once an incentive or +motive to both commanders, namely the probability of improving or +impairing their position by future action. + +But even if we suppose the possibility of a perfect equality of +circumstances in this respect, or if we take into account that through +imperfect knowledge of their mutual position such an equality may +appear to the two Commanders to subsist, still the difference of +political objects does away with this possibility of suspension. One of +the parties must of necessity be assumed politically to be the +aggressor, because no War could take place from defensive intentions on +both sides. But the aggressor has the positive object, the defender +merely a negative one. To the first then belongs the positive action, +for it is only by that means that he can attain the positive object; +therefore, in cases where both parties are in precisely similar +circumstances, the aggressor is called upon to act by virtue of his +positive object. + +Therefore, from this point of view, a suspension in the act of Warfare, +strictly speaking, is in contradiction with the nature of the thing; +because two Armies, being two incompatible elements, should destroy one +another unremittingly, just as fire and water can never put themselves +in equilibrium, but act and react upon one another, until one quite +disappears. What would be said of two wrestlers who remained clasped +round each other for hours without making a movement. Action in War, +therefore, like that of a clock which is wound up, should go on running +down in regular motion.—But wild as is the nature of War it still wears +the chains of human weakness, and the contradiction we see here, viz., +that man seeks and creates dangers which he fears at the same time will +astonish no one. + +If we cast a glance at military history in general, we find so much the +opposite of an incessant advance towards the aim, that _standing still_ +and _doing nothing_ is quite plainly the _normal condition_ of an Army +in the midst of War, _acting_, the _exception_. This must almost raise +a doubt as to the correctness of our conception. But if military +history leads to this conclusion when viewed in the mass the latest +series of campaigns redeems our position. The War of the French +Revolution shows too plainly its reality, and only proves too clearly +its necessity. In these operations, and especially in the campaigns of +Buonaparte, the conduct of War attained to that unlimited degree of +energy which we have represented as the natural law of the element. +This degree is therefore possible, and if it is possible then it is +necessary. + +How could any one in fact justify in the eyes of reason the expenditure +of forces in War, if acting was not the object? The baker only heats +his oven if he has bread to put into it; the horse is only yoked to the +carriage if we mean to drive; why then make the enormous effort of a +War if we look for nothing else by it but like efforts on the part of +the enemy? + +So much in justification of the general principle; now as to its +modifications, as far as they lie in the nature of the thing and are +independent of special cases. + +There are three causes to be noticed here, which appear as innate +counterpoises and prevent the over-rapid or uncontrollable movement of +the wheel-work. + +The first, which produces a constant tendency to delay, and is thereby +a retarding principle, is the natural timidity and want of resolution +in the human mind, a kind of inertia in the moral world, but which is +produced not by attractive, but by repellent forces, that is to say, by +dread of danger and responsibility. + +In the burning element of War, ordinary natures appear to become +heavier; the impulsion given must therefore be stronger and more +frequently repeated if the motion is to be a continuous one. The mere +idea of the object for which arms have been taken up is seldom +sufficient to overcome this resistant force, and if a warlike +enterprising spirit is not at the head, who feels himself in War in his +natural element, as much as a fish in the ocean, or if there is not the +pressure from above of some great responsibility, then standing still +will be the order of the day, and progress will be the exception. + +The second cause is the imperfection of human perception and judgment, +which is greater in War than anywhere, because a person hardly knows +exactly his own position from one moment to another, and can only +conjecture on slight grounds that of the enemy, which is purposely +concealed; this often gives rise to the case of both parties looking +upon one and the same object as advantageous for them, while in reality +the interest of one must preponderate; thus then each may think he acts +wisely by waiting another moment, as we have already said in the fifth +chapter of the second book. + +The third cause which catches hold, like a ratchet wheel in machinery, +from time to time producing a complete standstill, is the greater +strength of the defensive form. A may feel too weak to attack B, from +which it does not follow that B is strong enough for an attack on A. +The addition of strength, which the defensive gives is not merely lost +by assuming the offensive, but also passes to the enemy just as, +figuratively expressed, the difference of _a_ + _b_ and _a_ – _b_ is +equal to 2_b_. Therefore it may so happen that both parties, at one and +the same time, not only feel themselves too weak to attack, but also +are so in reality. + +Thus even in the midst of the act of War itself, anxious sagacity and +the apprehension of too great danger find vantage ground, by means of +which they can exert their power, and tame the elementary impetuosity +of War. + +However, at the same time these causes without an exaggeration of their +effect, would hardly explain the long states of inactivity which took +place in military operations, in former times, in Wars undertaken about +interests of no great importance, and in which inactivity consumed +nine-tenths of the time that the troops remained under arms. This +feature in these Wars, is to be traced principally to the influence +which the demands of the one party, and the condition, and feeling of +the other, exercised over the conduct of the operations, as has been +already observed in the chapter on the essence and object of War. + +These things may obtain such a preponderating influence as to make of +War a half-and-half affair. A War is often nothing more than an armed +neutrality, or a menacing attitude to support negotiations or an +attempt to gain some small advantage by small exertions, and then to +wait the tide of circumstances, or a disagreeable treaty obligation, +which is fulfilled in the most niggardly way possible. + +In all these cases in which the impulse given by interest is slight, +and the principle of hostility feeble, in which there is no desire to +do much, and also not much to dread from the enemy; in short, where no +powerful motives press and drive, cabinets will not risk much in the +game; hence this tame mode of carrying on War, in which the hostile +spirit of real War is laid in irons. + +The more War becomes in this manner devitalised so much the more its +theory becomes destitute of the necessary firm pivots and buttresses +for its reasoning; the necessary is constantly diminishing, the +accidental constantly increasing. + +Nevertheless in this kind of Warfare, there is also a certain +shrewdness, indeed, its action is perhaps more diversified, and more +extensive than in the other. Hazard played with realeaux of gold seems +changed into a game of commerce with groschen. And on this field, where +the conduct of War spins out the time with a number of small +flourishes, with skirmishes at outposts, half in earnest half in jest, +with long dispositions which end in nothing with positions and marches, +which afterwards are designated as skilful only because their +infinitesimally small causes are lost, and common sense can make +nothing of them, here on this very field many theorists find the real +Art of War at home: in these feints, parades, half and quarter thrusts +of former Wars, they find the aim of all theory, the supremacy of mind +over matter, and modern Wars appear to them mere savage fisticuffs, +from which nothing is to be learnt, and which must be regarded as mere +retrograde steps towards barbarism. This opinion is as frivolous as the +objects to which it relates. Where great forces and great passions are +wanting, it is certainly easier for a practised dexterity to show its +game; but is then the command of great forces, not in itself a higher +exercise of the intelligent faculties? Is then that kind of +conventional sword-exercise not comprised in and belonging to the other +mode of conducting War? Does it not bear the same relation to it as the +motions upon a ship to the motion of the ship itself? Truly it can take +place only under the tacit condition that the adversary does no better. +And can we tell, how long he may choose to respect those conditions? +Has not then the French Revolution fallen upon us in the midst of the +fancied security of our old system of War, and driven us from Chalons +to Moscow? And did not Frederick the Great in like manner surprise the +Austrians reposing in their ancient habits of War, and make their +monarchy tremble? Woe to the cabinet which, with a shilly-shally +policy, and a routine-ridden military system, meets with an adversary +who, like the rude element, knows no other law than that of his +intrinsic force. Every deficiency in energy and exertion is then a +weight in the scales in favour of the enemy; it is not so easy then to +change from the fencing posture into that of an athlete, and a slight +blow is often sufficient to knock down the whole. + +The result of all the causes now adduced is, that the hostile action of +a campaign does not progress by a continuous, but by an intermittent +movement, and that, therefore, between the separate bloody acts, there +is a period of watching, during which both parties fall into the +defensive, and also that usually a higher object causes the principle +of aggression to predominate on one side, and thus leaves it in general +in an advancing position, by which then its proceedings become modified +in some degree. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. On the Character of Modern War + +The attention which must be paid to the character of War as it is now +made, has a great influence upon all plans, especially on strategic +ones. + +Since all methods formerly usual were upset by Buonaparte’s luck and +boldness, and first-rate Powers almost wiped out at a blow; since the +Spaniards by their stubborn resistance have shown what the general +arming of a nation and insurgent measures on a great scale can effect, +in spite of weakness and porousness of individual parts; since Russia, +by the campaign of 1812 has taught us, first, that an Empire of great +dimensions is not to be conquered (which might have been easily known +before), secondly, that the probability of final success does not in +all cases diminish in the same measure as battles, capitals, and +provinces are lost (which was formerly an incontrovertible principle +with all diplomatists, and therefore made them always ready to enter at +once into some bad temporary peace), but that a nation is often +strongest in the heart of its country, if the enemy’s offensive power +has exhausted itself, and with what enormous force the defensive then +springs over to the offensive; further, since Prussia (1813) has shown +that sudden efforts may add to an Army sixfold by means of the militia, +and that this militia is just as fit for service abroad as in its own +country;—since all these events have shown what an enormous factor the +heart and sentiments of a Nation may be in the product of its political +and military strength, in fine, since governments have found out all +these additional aids, it is not to be expected that they will let them +lie idle in future Wars, whether it be that danger threatens their own +existence, or that restless ambition drives them on. + +That a War which is waged with the whole weight of the national power +on each side must be organised differently in principle to those where +everything is calculated according to the relations of standing Armies +to each other, it is easy to perceive. Standing Armies once resembled +fleets, the land force the sea force in their relations to the +remainder of the State, and from that the Art of War on shore had in it +something of naval tactics, which it has now quite lost. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. Tension and Rest + +_The Dynamic Law of War_ + + +We have seen in the sixteenth chapter of this book, how, in most +campaigns, much more time used to be spent in standing still and +inaction than in activity. + +Now, although, as observed in the preceding chapter we see quite a +different character in the present form of War, still it is certain +that real action will always be interrupted more or less by long +pauses; and this leads to the necessity of our examining more closely +the nature of these two phases of War. + +If there is a suspension of action in War, that is, if neither party +wills something positive, there is rest, and consequently equilibrium, +but certainly an equilibrium in the largest signification, in which not +only the moral and physical war-forces, but all relations and +interests, come into calculation. As soon as ever one of the two +parties proposes to himself a new positive object, and commences active +steps towards it, even if it is only by preparations, and as soon as +the adversary opposes this, there is a tension of powers; this lasts +until the decision takes place—that is, until one party either gives up +his object or the other has conceded it to him. + +This decision—the foundation of which lies always in the +combat—combinations which are made on each side—is followed by a +movement in one or other direction. + +When this movement has exhausted itself, either in the difficulties +which had to be mastered, in overcoming its own internal friction, or +through new resistant forces prepared by the acts of the enemy, then +either a state of rest takes place or a new tension with a decision, +and then a new movement, in most cases in the opposite direction. + +This speculative distinction between equilibrium, tension, and motion +is more essential for practical action than may at first sight appear. + +In a state of rest and of equilibrium a varied kind of activity may +prevail on one side that results from opportunity, and does not aim at +a great alteration. Such an activity may contain important combats—even +pitched battles—but yet it is still of quite a different nature, and on +that account generally different in its effects. + +If a state of tension exists, the effects of the decision are always +greater partly because a greater force of will and a greater pressure +of circumstances manifest themselves therein; partly because everything +has been prepared and arranged for a great movement. The decision in +such cases resembles the effect of a mine well closed and tamped, +whilst an event in itself perhaps just as great, in a state of rest, is +more or less like a mass of powder puffed away in the open air. + +At the same time, as a matter of course, the state of tension must be +imagined in different degrees of intensity, and it may therefore +approach gradually by many steps towards the state of rest, so that at +the last there is a very slight difference between them. + +Now the real use which we derive from these reflections is the +conclusion that every measure which is taken during a state of tension +is more important and more prolific in results than the same measure +could be in a state of equilibrium, and that this importance increases +immensely in the highest degrees of tension. + +The cannonade of Valmy, September 20, 1792, decided more than the +battle of Hochkirch, October 14, 1758. + +In a tract of country which the enemy abandons to us because he cannot +defend it, we can settle ourselves differently from what we should do +if the retreat of the enemy was only made with the view to a decision +under more favourable circumstances. Again, a strategic attack in +course of execution, a faulty position, a single false march, may be +decisive in its consequence; whilst in a state of equilibrium such +errors must be of a very glaring kind, even to excite the activity of +the enemy in a general way. + +Most bygone Wars, as we have already said, consisted, so far as regards +the greater part of the time, in this state of equilibrium, or at least +in such short tensions with long intervals between them, and weak in +their effects, that the events to which they gave rise were seldom +great successes, often they were theatrical exhibitions, got up in +honour of a royal birthday (Hochkirch), often a mere satisfying of the +honour of the arms (Kunersdorf), or the personal vanity of the +commander (Freiberg). + +That a Commander should thoroughly understand these states, that he +should have the tact to act in the spirit of them, we hold to be a +great requisite, and we have had experience in the campaign of 1806 how +far it is sometimes wanting. In that tremendous tension, when +everything pressed on towards a supreme decision, and that alone with +all its consequences should have occupied the whole soul of the +Commander, measures were proposed and even partly carried out (such as +the reconnaissance towards Franconia), which at the most might have +given a kind of gentle play of oscillation within a state of +equilibrium. Over these blundering schemes and views, absorbing the +activity of the Army, the really necessary means, which could alone +save, were lost sight of. + +But this speculative distinction which we have made is also necessary +for our further progress in the construction of our theory, because all +that we have to say on the relation of attack and defence, and on the +completion of this double-sided act, concerns the state of the crisis +in which the forces are placed during the tension and motion, and +because all the activity which can take place during the condition of +equilibrium can only be regarded and treated as a corollary; for that +crisis is the real War and this state of equilibrium only its +reflection. + + + +BOOK IV THE COMBAT + + + +CHAPTER I. Introductory + +Having in the foregoing book examined the subjects which may be +regarded as the efficient elements of War, we shall now turn our +attention to the combat as the real activity in Warfare, which, by its +physical and moral effects, embraces sometimes more simply, sometimes +in a more complex manner, the object of the whole campaign. In this +activity and in its effects these elements must therefore, reappear. + +The formation of the combat is tactical in its nature; we only glance +at it here in a general way in order to get acquainted with it in its +aspect as a whole. In practice the minor or more immediate objects give +every combat a characteristic form; these minor objects we shall not +discuss until hereafter. But these peculiarities are in comparison to +the general characteristics of a combat mostly only insignificant, so +that most combats are very like one another, and, therefore, in order +to avoid repeating that which is general at every stage, we are +compelled to look into it here, before taking up the subject of its +more special application. + +In the first place, therefore, we shall give in the next chapter, in a +few words, the characteristics of the modern battle in its tactical +course, because that lies at the foundation of our conceptions of what +the battle really is. + + + +CHAPTER II. Character of a Modern Battle + +According to the notion we have formed of tactics and strategy, it +follows, as a matter of course, that if the nature of the former is +changed, that change must have an influence on the latter. If tactical +facts in one case are entirely different from those in another, then +the strategic, must be so also, if they are to continue consistent and +reasonable. It is therefore important to characterise a general action +in its modern form before we advance with the study of its employment +in strategy. + +What do we do now usually in a great battle? We place ourselves quietly +in great masses arranged contiguous to and behind one another. We +deploy relatively only a small portion of the whole, and let it wring +itself out in a fire-combat which lasts for several hours, only +interrupted now and again, and removed hither and thither by separate +small shocks from charges with the bayonet and cavalry attacks. When +this line has gradually exhausted part of its warlike ardour in this +manner and there remains nothing more than the cinders, it is +withdrawn(*) and replaced by another. + +(*) The relief of the fighting line played a great part in the battles +of the Smooth-Bore era; it was necessitated by the fouling of the +muskets, physical fatigue of the men and consumption of ammunition, and +was recognised as both necessary and advisable by Napoleon +himself.—EDITOR. + + +In this manner the battle on a modified principle burns slowly away +like wet powder, and if the veil of night commands it to stop, because +neither party can any longer see, and neither chooses to run the risk +of blind chance, then an account is taken by each side respectively of +the masses remaining, which can be called still effective, that is, +which have not yet quite collapsed like extinct volcanoes; account is +taken of the ground gained or lost, and of how stands the security of +the rear; these results with the special impressions as to bravery and +cowardice, ability and stupidity, which are thought to have been +observed in ourselves and in the enemy are collected into one single +total impression, out of which there springs the resolution to quit the +field or to renew the combat on the morrow. + +This description, which is not intended as a finished picture of a +modern battle, but only to give its general tone, suits for the +offensive and defensive, and the special traits which are given, by the +object proposed, the country, &c. &c., may be introduced into it, +without materially altering the conception. + +But modern battles are not so by accident; they are so because the +parties find themselves nearly on a level as regards military +organisation and the knowledge of the Art of War, and because the +warlike element inflamed by great national interests has broken through +artificial limits and now flows in its natural channel. Under these two +conditions, battles will always preserve this character. + +This general idea of the modern battle will be useful to us in the +sequel in more places than one, if we want to estimate the value of the +particular co-efficients of strength, country, &c. &c. It is only for +general, great, and decisive combats, and such as come near to them +that this description stands good; inferior ones have changed their +character also in the same direction but less than great ones. The +proof of this belongs to tactics; we shall, however, have an +opportunity hereafter of making this subject plainer by giving a few +particulars. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Combat in General + +The Combat is the real warlike activity, everything else is only its +auxiliary; let us therefore take an attentive look at its nature. + +Combat means fighting, and in this the destruction or conquest of the +enemy is the object, and the enemy, in the particular combat, is the +armed force which stands opposed to us. + +This is the simple idea; we shall return to it, but before we can do +that we must insert a series of others. + +If we suppose the State and its military force as a unit, then the most +natural idea is to imagine the War also as one great combat, and in the +simple relations of savage nations it is also not much otherwise. But +our Wars are made up of a number of great and small simultaneous or +consecutive combats, and this severance of the activity into so many +separate actions is owing to the great multiplicity of the relations +out of which War arises with us. + +In point of fact, the ultimate object of our Wars, the political one, +is not always quite a simple one; and even were it so, still the action +is bound up with such a number of conditions and considerations to be +taken into account, that the object can no longer be attained by one +single great act but only through a number of greater or smaller acts +which are bound up into a whole; each of these separate acts is +therefore a part of a whole, and has consequently a special object by +which it is bound to this whole. + +We have already said that every strategic act can be referred to the +idea of a combat, because it is an employment of the military force, +and at the root of that there always lies the idea of fighting. We may +therefore reduce every military activity in the province of Strategy to +the unit of single combats, and occupy ourselves with the object of +these only; we shall get acquainted with these special objects by +degrees as we come to speak of the causes which produce them; here we +content ourselves with saying that every combat, great or small, has +its own peculiar object in subordination to the main object. If this is +the case then, the destruction and conquest of the enemy is only to be +regarded as the means of gaining this object; as it unquestionably is. + +But this result is true only in its form, and important only on account +of the connection which the ideas have between themselves, and we have +only sought it out to get rid of it at once. + +What is overcoming the enemy? Invariably the destruction of his +military force, whether it be by death, or wounds, or any means; +whether it be completely or only to such a degree that he can no longer +continue the contest; therefore as long as we set aside all special +objects of combats, we may look upon the complete or partial +destruction of the enemy as the only object of all combats. + +Now we maintain that in the majority of cases, and especially in great +battles, the special object by which the battle is individualised and +bound up with the great whole is only a weak modification of that +general object, or an ancillary object bound up with it, important +enough to individualise the battle, but always insignificant in +comparison with that general object; so that if that ancillary object +alone should be obtained, only an unimportant part of the purpose of +the combat is fulfilled. If this assertion is correct, then we see that +the idea, according to which the destruction of the enemy’s force is +only the means, and something else always the object, can only be true +in form, but, that it would lead to false conclusions if we did not +recollect that this destruction of the enemy’s force is comprised in +that object, and that this object is only a weak modification of it. +Forgetfulness of this led to completely false views before the Wars of +the last period, and created tendencies as well as fragments of +systems, in which theory thought it raised itself so much the more +above handicraft, the less it supposed itself to stand in need of the +use of the real instrument, that is the destruction of the enemy’s +force. + +Certainly such a system could not have arisen unless supported by other +false suppositions, and unless in place of the destruction of the +enemy, other things had been substituted to which an efficacy was +ascribed which did not rightly belong to them. We shall attack these +falsehoods whenever occasion requires, but we could not treat of the +combat without claiming for it the real importance and value which +belong to it, and giving warning against the errors to which merely +formal truth might lead. + +But now how shall we manage to show that in most cases, and in those of +most importance, the destruction of the enemy’s Army is the chief +thing? How shall we manage to combat that extremely subtle idea, which +supposes it possible, through the use of a special artificial form, to +effect by a small direct destruction of the enemy’s forces a much +greater destruction indirectly, or by means of small but extremely +well-directed blows to produce such paralysation of the enemy’s forces, +such a command over the enemy’s will, that this mode of proceeding is +to be viewed as a great shortening of the road? Undoubtedly a victory +at one point may be of more value than at another. Undoubtedly there is +a scientific arrangement of battles amongst themselves, even in +Strategy, which is in fact nothing but the Art of thus arranging them. +To deny that is not our intention, but we assert that the direct +destruction of the enemy’s forces is everywhere predominant; we contend +here for the overruling importance of this destructive principle and +nothing else. + +We must, however, call to mind that we are now engaged with Strategy, +not with tactics, therefore we do not speak of the means which the +former may have of destroying at a small expense a large body of the +enemy’s forces, but under direct destruction we understand the tactical +results, and that, therefore, our assertion is that only great tactical +results can lead to great strategical ones, or, as we have already once +before more distinctly expressed it, _the tactical successes_ are of +paramount importance in the conduct of War. + +The proof of this assertion seems to us simple enough, it lies in the +time which every complicated (artificial) combination requires. The +question whether a simple attack, or one more carefully prepared, +_i.e._, more artificial, will produce greater effects, may undoubtedly +be decided in favour of the latter as long as the enemy is assumed to +remain quite passive. But every carefully combined attack requires time +for its preparation, and if a counter-stroke by the enemy intervenes, +our whole design may be upset. Now if the enemy should decide upon some +simple attack, which can be executed in a shorter time, then he gains +the initiative, and destroys the effect of the great plan. Therefore, +together with the expediency of a complicated attack we must consider +all the dangers which we run during its preparation, and should only +adopt it if there is no reason to fear that the enemy will disconcert +our scheme. Whenever this is the case we must ourselves choose the +simpler, _i.e._, quicker way, and lower our views in this sense as far +as the character, the relations of the enemy, and other circumstances +may render necessary. If we quit the weak impressions of abstract ideas +and descend to the region of practical life, then it is evident that a +bold, courageous, resolute enemy will not let us have time for +wide-reaching skilful combinations, and it is just against such a one +we should require skill the most. By this it appears to us that the +advantage of simple and direct results over those that are complicated +is conclusively shown. + +Our opinion is not on that account that the simple blow is the best, +but that we must not lift the arm too far for the time given to strike, +and that this condition will always lead more to direct conflict the +more warlike our opponent is. Therefore, far from making it our aim to +gain upon the enemy by complicated plans, we must rather seek to be +beforehand with him by greater simplicity in our designs. + +If we seek for the lowest foundation-stones of these converse +propositions we find that in the one it is ability, in the other, +courage. Now, there is something very attractive in the notion that a +moderate degree of courage joined to great ability will produce greater +effects than moderate ability with great courage. But unless we suppose +these elements in a disproportionate relation, not logical, we have no +right to assign to ability this advantage over courage in a field which +is called danger, and which must be regarded as the true domain of +courage. + +After this abstract view we shall only add that experience, very far +from leading to a different conclusion, is rather the sole cause which +has impelled us in this direction, and given rise to such reflections. + +Whoever reads history with a mind free from prejudice cannot fail to +arrive at a conviction that of all military virtues, energy in the +conduct of operations has always contributed the most to the glory and +success of arms. + +How we make good our principle of regarding the destruction of the +enemy’s force as the principal object, not only in the War as a whole +but also in each separate combat, and how that principle suits all the +forms and conditions necessarily demanded by the relations out of which +War springs, the sequel will show. For the present all that we desire +is to uphold its general importance, and with this result we return +again to the combat. + + + +CHAPTER IV. The Combat in General (_continuation_) + +In the last chapter we showed the destruction of the enemy as the true +object of the combat, and we have sought to prove by a special +consideration of the point, that this is true in the majority of cases, +and in respect to the most important battles, because the destruction +of the enemy’s Army is always the preponderating object in War. The +other objects which may be mixed up with this destruction of the +enemy’s force, and may have more or less influence, we shall describe +generally in the next chapter, and become better acquainted with by +degrees afterwards; here we divest the combat of them entirely, and +look upon the destruction of the enemy as the complete and sufficient +object of any combat. + +What are we now to understand by destruction of the enemy’s Army? A +diminution of it relatively greater than that on our own side. If we +have a great superiority in numbers over the enemy, then naturally the +same absolute amount of loss on both sides is for us a smaller one than +for him, and consequently may be regarded in itself as an advantage. As +we are here considering the combat as divested of all (other) objects, +we must also exclude from our consideration the case in which the +combat is used only indirectly for a greater destruction of the enemy’s +force; consequently also, only that direct gain which has been made in +the mutual process of destruction, is to be regarded as the object, for +this is an absolute gain, which runs through the whole campaign, and at +the end of it will always appear as pure profit. But every other kind +of victory over our opponent will either have its motive in other +objects, which we have completely excluded here, or it will only yield +a temporary relative advantage. An example will make this plain. + +If by a skilful disposition we have reduced our opponent to such a +dilemma, that he cannot continue the combat without danger, and after +some resistance he retires, then we may say, that we have conquered him +at that point; but if in this victory we have expended just as many +forces as the enemy, then in closing the account of the campaign, there +is no gain remaining from this victory, if such a result can be called +a victory. Therefore the overcoming the enemy, that is, placing him in +such a position that he must give up the fight, counts for nothing in +itself, and for that reason cannot come under the definition of object. +There remains, therefore, as we have said, nothing over except the +direct gain which we have made in the process of destruction; but to +this belong not only the losses which have taken place in the course of +the combat, but also those which, after the withdrawal of the conquered +part, take place as direct consequences of the same. + +Now it is known by experience, that the losses in physical forces in +the course of a battle seldom present a great difference between victor +and vanquished respectively, often none at all, sometimes even one +bearing an inverse relation to the result, and that the most decisive +losses on the side of the vanquished only commence with the retreat, +that is, those which the conqueror does not share with him. The weak +remains of battalions already in disorder are cut down by cavalry, +exhausted men strew the ground, disabled guns and broken caissons are +abandoned, others in the bad state of the roads cannot be removed +quickly enough, and are captured by the enemy’s troops, during the +night numbers lose their way, and fall defenceless into the enemy’s +hands, and thus the victory mostly gains bodily substance after it is +already decided. Here would be a paradox, if it did not solve itself in +the following manner. + +The loss in physical force is not the only one which the two sides +suffer in the course of the combat; the moral forces also are shaken, +broken, and go to ruin. It is not only the loss in men, horses and +guns, but in order, courage, confidence, cohesion and plan, which come +into consideration when it is a question whether the fight can be still +continued or not. It is principally the moral forces which decide here, +and in all cases in which the conqueror has lost as heavily as the +conquered, it is these alone. + +The comparative relation of the physical losses is difficult to +estimate in a battle, but not so the relation of the moral ones. Two +things principally make it known. The one is the loss of the ground on +which the fight has taken place, the other the superiority of the +enemy’s. The more our reserves have diminished as compared with those +of the enemy, the more force we have used to maintain the equilibrium; +in this at once, an evident proof of the moral superiority of the enemy +is given which seldom fails to stir up in the soul of the Commander a +certain bitterness of feeling, and a sort of contempt for his own +troops. But the principal thing is, that men who have been engaged for +a long continuance of time are more or less like burnt-out cinders; +their ammunition is consumed; they have melted away to a certain +extent; physical and moral energies are exhausted, perhaps their +courage is broken as well. Such a force, irrespective of the diminution +in its number, if viewed as an organic whole, is very different from +what it was before the combat; and thus it is that the loss of moral +force may be measured by the reserves that have been used as if it were +on a foot-rule. + +Lost ground and want of fresh reserves, are, therefore, usually the +principal causes which determine a retreat; but at the same time we by +no means exclude or desire to throw in the shade other reasons, which +may lie in the interdependence of parts of the Army, in the general +plan, &c. + +Every combat is therefore the bloody and destructive measuring of the +strength of forces, physical and moral; whoever at the close has the +greatest amount of both left is the conqueror. + +In the combat the loss of moral force is the chief cause of the +decision; after that is given, this loss continues to increase until it +reaches its culminating-point at the close of the whole act. This then +is the opportunity the victor should seize to reap his harvest by the +utmost possible restrictions of his enemy’s forces, the real object of +engaging in the combat. On the beaten side, the loss of all order and +control often makes the prolongation of resistance by individual units, +by the further punishment they are certain to suffer, more injurious +than useful to the whole. The spirit of the mass is broken; the +original excitement about losing or winning, through which danger was +forgotten, is spent, and to the majority danger now appears no longer +an appeal to their courage, but rather the endurance of a cruel +punishment. Thus the instrument in the first moment of the enemy’s +victory is weakened and blunted, and therefore no longer fit to repay +danger by danger. + +This period, however, passes; the moral forces of the conquered will +recover by degrees, order will be restored, courage will revive, and in +the majority of cases there remains only a small part of the +superiority obtained, often none at all. In some cases, even, although +rarely, the spirit of revenge and intensified hostility may bring about +an opposite result. On the other hand, whatever is gained in killed, +wounded, prisoners, and guns captured can never disappear from the +account. + +The losses in a battle consist more in killed and wounded; those after +the battle, more in artillery taken and prisoners. The first the +conqueror shares with the conquered, more or less, but the second not; +and for that reason they usually only take place on one side of the +conflict, at least, they are considerably in excess on one side. + +Artillery and prisoners are therefore at all times regarded as the true +trophies of victory, as well as its measure, because through these +things its extent is declared beyond a doubt. Even the degree of moral +superiority may be better judged of by them than by any other relation, +especially if the number of killed and wounded is compared therewith; +and here arises a new power increasing the moral effects. + +We have said that the moral forces, beaten to the ground in the battle +and in the immediately succeeding movements, recover themselves +gradually, and often bear no traces of injury; this is the case with +small divisions of the whole, less frequently with large divisions; it +may, however, also be the case with the main Army, but seldom or never +in the State or Government to which the Army belongs. These estimate +the situation more impartially, and from a more elevated point of view, +and recognise in the number of trophies taken by the enemy, and their +relation to the number of killed and wounded, only too easily and well, +the measure of their own weakness and inefficiency. + +In point of fact, the lost balance of moral power must not be treated +lightly because it has no absolute value, and because it does not of +necessity appear in all cases in the amount of the results at the final +close; it may become of such excessive weight as to bring down +everything with an irresistible force. On that account it may often +become a great aim of the operations of which we shall speak elsewhere. +Here we have still to examine some of its fundamental relations. + +The moral effect of a victory increases, not merely in proportion to +the extent of the forces engaged, but in a progressive ratio—that is to +say, not only in extent, but also in its intensity. In a beaten +detachment order is easily restored. As a single frozen limb is easily +revived by the rest of the body, so the courage of a defeated +detachment is easily raised again by the courage of the rest of the +Army as soon as it rejoins it. If, therefore, the effects of a small +victory are not completely done away with, still they are partly lost +to the enemy. This is not the case if the Army itself sustains a great +defeat; then one with the other fall together. A great fire attains +quite a different heat from several small ones. + +Another relation which determines the moral value of a victory is the +numerical relation of the forces which have been in conflict with each +other. To beat many with few is not only a double success, but shows +also a greater, especially a more general superiority, which the +conquered must always be fearful of encountering again. At the same +time this influence is in reality hardly observable in such a case. In +the moment of real action, the notions of the actual strength of the +enemy are generally so uncertain, the estimate of our own commonly so +incorrect, that the party superior in numbers either does not admit the +disproportion, or is very far from admitting the full truth, owing to +which, he evades almost entirely the moral disadvantages which would +spring from it. It is only hereafter in history that the truth, long +suppressed through ignorance, vanity, or a wise discretion, makes its +appearance, and then it certainly casts a lustre on the Army and its +Leader, but it can then do nothing more by its moral influence for +events long past. + +If prisoners and captured guns are those things by which the victory +principally gains substance, its true crystallisations, then the plan +of the battle should have those things specially in view; the +destruction of the enemy by death and wounds appears here merely as a +means to an end. + +How far this may influence the dispositions in the battle is not an +affair of Strategy, but the decision to fight the battle is in intimate +connection with it, as is shown by the direction given to our forces, +and their general grouping, whether we threaten the enemy’s flank or +rear, or he threatens ours. On this point, the number of prisoners and +captured guns depends very much, and it is a point which, in many +cases, tactics alone cannot satisfy, particularly if the strategic +relations are too much in opposition to it. + +The risk of having to fight on two sides, and the still more dangerous +position of having no line of retreat left open, paralyse the movements +and the power of resistance; further, in case of defeat, they increase +the loss, often raising it to its extreme point, that is, to +destruction. Therefore, the rear being endangered makes defeat more +probable, and, at the same time, more decisive. + +From this arises, in the whole conduct of the War, especially in great +and small combats, a perfect instinct to secure our own line of retreat +and to seize that of the enemy; this follows from the conception of +victory, which, as we have seen, is something beyond mere slaughter. + +In this effort we see, therefore, the first immediate purpose in the +combat, and one which is quite universal. No combat is imaginable in +which this effort, either in its double or single form, does not go +hand in hand with the plain and simple stroke of force. Even the +smallest troop will not throw itself upon its enemy without thinking of +its line of retreat, and, in most cases, it will have an eye upon that +of the enemy also. + +We should have to digress to show how often this instinct is prevented +from going the direct road, how often it must yield to the difficulties +arising from more important considerations: we shall, therefore, rest +contented with affirming it to be a general natural law of the combat. + +It is, therefore, active; presses everywhere with its natural weight, +and so becomes the pivot on which almost all tactical and strategic +manœuvres turn. + +If we now take a look at the conception of victory as a whole, we find +in it three elements:— + +1. The greater loss of the enemy in physical power. + +2. In moral power. + +3. His open avowal of this by the relinquishment of his intentions. + +The returns made up on each side of losses in killed and wounded, are +never exact, seldom truthful, and in most cases, full of intentional +misrepresentations. Even the statement of the number of trophies is +seldom to be quite depended on; consequently, when it is not +considerable it may also cast a doubt even on the reality of the +victory. Of the loss in moral forces there is no reliable measure, +except in the trophies: therefore, in many cases, the giving up the +contest is the only real evidence of the victory. It is, therefore, to +be regarded as a confession of inferiority—as the lowering of the flag, +by which, in this particular instance, right and superiority are +conceded to the enemy, and this degree of humiliation and disgrace, +which, however, must be distinguished from all the other moral +consequences of the loss of equilibrium, is an essential part of the +victory. It is this part alone which acts upon the public opinion +outside the Army, upon the people and the Government in both +belligerent States, and upon all others in any way concerned. + +But renouncement of the general object is not quite identical with +quitting the field of battle, even when the battle has been very +obstinate and long kept up; no one says of advanced posts, when they +retire after an obstinate combat, that they have given up their object; +even in combats aimed at the destruction of the enemy’s Army, the +retreat from the battlefield is not always to be regarded as a +relinquishment of this aim, as for instance, in retreats planned +beforehand, in which the ground is disputed foot by foot; all this +belongs to that part of our subject where we shall speak of the +separate object of the combat; here we only wish to draw attention to +the fact that in most cases the giving up of the object is very +difficult to distinguish from the retirement from the battlefield, and +that the impression produced by the latter, both in and out of the +Army, is not to be treated lightly. + +For Generals and Armies whose reputation is not made, this is in itself +one of the difficulties in many operations, justified by circumstances +when a succession of combats, each ending in retreat, may appear as a +succession of defeats, without being so in reality, and when that +appearance may exercise a very depressing influence. It is impossible +for the retreating General by making known his real intentions to +prevent the moral effect spreading to the public and his troops, for to +do that with effect he must disclose his plans completely, which of +course would run counter to his principal interests to too great a +degree. + +In order to draw attention to the special importance of this conception +of victory we shall only refer to the battle of Soor,(*) the trophies +from which were not important (a few thousand prisoners and twenty +guns), and where Frederick proclaimed his victory by remaining for five +days after on the field of battle, although his retreat into Silesia +had been previously determined on, and was a measure natural to his +whole situation. According to his own account, he thought he would +hasten a peace by the moral effect of his victory. Now although a +couple of other successes were likewise required, namely, the battle at +Katholisch Hennersdorf, in Lusatia, and the battle of Kesseldorf, +before this peace took place, still we cannot say that the moral effect +of the battle of Soor was _nil_. + +(*) Soor, or Sohr, Sept. 30, 1745; Hennersdorf, Nov. 23, 1745; +Kealteldorf, Dec. 15, 1745, all in the Second Silesian War. + + +If it is chiefly the moral force which is shaken by defeat, and if the +number of trophies reaped by the enemy mounts up to an unusual height, +then the lost combat becomes a rout, but this is not the necessary +consequence of every victory. A rout only sets in when the moral force +of the defeated is very severely shaken then there often ensues a +complete incapability of further resistance, and the whole action +consists of giving way, that is of flight. + +Jena and Belle Alliance were routs, but not so Borodino. + +Although without pedantry we can here give no single line of +separation, because the difference between the things is one of +degrees, yet still the retention of the conception is essential as a +central point to give clearness to our theoretical ideas and it is a +want in our terminology that for a victory over the enemy tantamount to +a rout, and a conquest of the enemy only tantamount to a simple +victory, there is only one and the same word to use. + + + +CHAPTER V. On the Signification of the Combat + +Having in the preceding chapter examined the combat in its absolute +form, as the miniature picture of the whole War, we now turn to the +relations which it bears to the other parts of the great whole. First +we inquire what is more precisely the signification of a combat. + +As War is nothing else but a mutual process of destruction, then the +most natural answer in conception, and perhaps also in reality, appears +to be that all the powers of each party unite in one great volume and +all results in one great shock of these masses. There is certainly much +truth in this idea, and it seems to be very advisable that we should +adhere to it and should on that account look upon small combats at +first only as necessary loss, like the shavings from a carpenter’s +plane. Still, however, the thing cannot be settled so easily. + +That a multiplication of combats should arise from a fractioning of +forces is a matter of course, and the more immediate objects of +separate combats will therefore come before us in the subject of a +fractioning of forces; but these objects, and together with them, the +whole mass of combats may in a general way be brought under certain +classes, and the knowledge of these classes will contribute to make our +observations more intelligible. + +Destruction of the enemy’s military forces is in reality the object of +all combats; but other objects may be joined thereto, and these other +objects may be at the same time predominant; we must therefore draw a +distinction between those in which the destruction of the enemy’s +forces is the principal object, and those in which it is more the +means. The destruction of the enemy’s force, the possession of a place +or the possession of some object may be the general motive for a +combat, and it may be either one of these alone or several together, in +which case however usually one is the principal motive. Now the two +principal forms of War, the offensive and defensive, of which we shall +shortly speak, do not modify the first of these motives, but they +certainly do modify the other two, and therefore if we arrange them in +a scheme they would appear thus:— + + OFFENSIVE. DEFENSIVE. 1. Destruction + of enemy’s force 1. Destruction of enemy’s force. 2. Conquest of + a place. 2. Defence of a place. 3. Conquest of some + object. 3. Defence of some object. + +These motives, however, do not seem to embrace completely the whole of +the subject, if we recollect that there are reconnaissances and +demonstrations, in which plainly none of these three points is the +object of the combat. In reality we must, therefore, on this account be +allowed a fourth class. Strictly speaking, in reconnaissances in which +we wish the enemy to show himself, in alarms by which we wish to wear +him out, in demonstrations by which we wish to prevent his leaving some +point or to draw him off to another, the objects are all such as can +only be attained indirectly and _under the pretext of one of the three +objects specified in the table_, usually of the second; for the enemy +whose aim is to reconnoitre must draw up his force as if he really +intended to attack and defeat us, or drive us off, &c. &c. But this +pretended object is not the real one, and our present question is only +as to the latter; therefore, we must to the above three objects of the +offensive further add a fourth, which is to lead the enemy to make a +false conclusion. That offensive means are conceivable in connection +with this object, lies in the nature of the thing. + +On the other hand we must observe that the defence of a place may be of +two kinds, either absolute, if as a general question the point is not +to be given up, or relative if it is only required for a certain time. +The latter happens perpetually in the combats of advanced posts and +rear guards. + +That the nature of these different intentions of a combat must have an +essential influence on the dispositions which are its preliminaries, is +a thing clear in itself. We act differently if our object is merely to +drive an enemy’s post out of its place from what we should if our +object was to beat him completely; differently, if we mean to defend a +place to the last extremity from what we should do if our design is +only to detain the enemy for a certain time. In the first case we +trouble ourselves little about the line of retreat, in the latter it is +the principal point, &c. + +But these reflections belong properly to tactics, and are only +introduced here by way of example for the sake of greater clearness. +What Strategy has to say on the different objects of the combat will +appear in the chapters which touch upon these objects. Here we have +only a few general observations to make, first, that the importance of +the object decreases nearly in the order as they stand above, +therefore, that the first of these objects must always predominate in +the great battle; lastly, that the two last in a defensive battle are +in reality such as yield no fruit, they are, that is to say, purely +negative, and can, therefore, only be serviceable, indirectly, by +facilitating something else which is positive. _It is, therefore, a bad +sign of the strategic situation if battles of this kind become too +frequent._ + + + +CHAPTER VI. Duration of Combat + +If we consider the combat no longer in itself but in relation to the +other forces of War, then its duration acquires a special importance. + +This duration is to be regarded to a certain extent as a second +subordinate success. For the conqueror the combat can never be finished +too quickly, for the vanquished it can never last too long. A speedy +victory indicates a higher power of victory, a tardy decision is, on +the side of the defeated, some compensation for the loss. + +This is in general true, but it acquires a practical importance in its +application to those combats, the object of which is a relative +defence. + +Here the whole success often lies in the mere duration. This is the +reason why we have included it amongst the strategic elements. + +The duration of a combat is necessarily bound up with its essential +relations. These relations are, absolute magnitude of force, relation +of force and of the different arms mutually, and nature of the country. +Twenty thousand men do not wear themselves out upon one another as +quickly as two thousand: we cannot resist an enemy double or three +times our strength as long as one of the same strength; a cavalry +combat is decided sooner than an infantry combat; and a combat between +infantry only, quicker than if there is artillery(*) as well; in hills +and forests we cannot advance as quickly as on a level country; all +this is clear enough. + +(*) The increase in the relative range of artillery and the +introduction of shrapnel has altogether modified this conclusion. + + +From this it follows, therefore, that strength, relation of the three +arms, and position, must be considered if the combat is to fulfil an +object by its duration; but to set up this rule was of less importance +to us in our present considerations than to connect with it at once the +chief results which experience gives us on the subject. + +Even the resistance of an ordinary Division of 8000 to 10,000 men of +all arms even opposed to an enemy considerably superior in numbers, +will last several hours, if the advantages of country are not too +preponderating, and if the enemy is only a little, or not at all, +superior in numbers, the combat will last half a day. A Corps of three +or four Divisions will prolong it to double the time; an Army of 80,000 +or 100,000 to three or four times. Therefore the masses may be left to +themselves for that length of time, and no separate combat takes place +if within that time other forces can be brought up, whose co-operation +mingles then at once into one stream with the results of the combat +which has taken place. + +These calculations are the result of experience; but it is important to +us at the same time to characterise more particularly the moment of the +decision, and consequently the termination. + + + +CHAPTER VII. Decision of the Combat + +No battle is decided in a single moment, although in every battle there +arise moments of crisis, on which the result depends. The loss of a +battle is, therefore, a gradual falling of the scale. But there is in +every combat a point of time (*) + +(*) Under the then existing conditions of armament understood. This +point is of supreme importance, as practically the whole conduct of a +great battle depends on a correct solution of this question—viz., How +long can a given command prolong its resistance? If this is incorrectly +answered in practice—the whole manœuvre depending on it may +collapse—_e.g._, Kouroupatkin at Liao-Yang, September 1904. + + +when it may be regarded as decided, in such a way that the renewal of +the fight would be a new battle, not a continuation of the old one. To +have a clear notion on this point of time, is very important, in order +to be able to decide whether, with the prompt assistance of +reinforcements, the combat can again be resumed with advantage. + +Often in combats which are beyond restoration new forces are sacrificed +in vain; often through neglect the decision has not been seized when it +might easily have been secured. Here are two examples, which could not +be more to the point: + +When the Prince of Hohenlohe, in 1806, at Jena,(*) with 35,000 men +opposed to from 60,000 to 70,000, under Buonaparte, had accepted +battle, and lost it—but lost it in such a way that the 35,000 might be +regarded as dissolved—General Rüchel undertook to renew the fight with +about 12,000; the consequence was that in a moment his force was +scattered in like manner. + +(*) October 14, 1806. + + +On the other hand, on the same day at Auerstadt, the Prussians +maintained a combat with 25,000, against Davoust, who had 28,000, until +mid-day, without success, it is true, but still without the force being +reduced to a state of dissolution without even greater loss than the +enemy, who was very deficient in cavalry;—but they neglected to use the +reserve of 18,000, under General Kalkreuth, to restore the battle +which, under these circumstances, it would have been impossible to +lose. + +Each combat is a whole in which the partial combats combine themselves +into one total result. In this total result lies the decision of the +combat. This success need not be exactly a victory such as we have +denoted in the sixth chapter, for often the preparations for that have +not been made, often there is no opportunity if the enemy gives way too +soon, and in most cases the decision, even when the resistance has been +obstinate, takes place before such a degree of success is attained as +would completely satisfy the idea of a victory. + +We therefore ask, Which is commonly the moment of the decision, that is +to say, that moment when a fresh, effective, of course not +disproportionate, force, can no longer turn a disadvantageous battle? + +If we pass over false attacks, which in accordance with their nature +are properly without decision, then, + +1. If the possession of a movable object was the object of the combat, +the loss of the same is always the decision. + +2. If the possession of ground was the object of the combat, then the +decision generally lies in its loss. Still not always, only if this +ground is of peculiar strength, ground which is easy to pass over, +however important it may be in other respects, can be re-taken without +much danger. + +3. But in all other cases, when these two circumstances have not +already decided the combat, therefore, particularly in case the +destruction of the enemy’s force is the principal object, the decision +is reached at that moment when the conqueror ceases to feel himself in +a state of disintegration, that is, of unserviceableness to a certain +extent, when therefore, there is no further advantage in using the +successive efforts spoken of in the twelfth chapter of the third book. +On this ground we have given the strategic unity of the battle its +place here. + +A battle, therefore, in which the assailant has not lost his condition +of order and perfect efficiency at all, or, at least, only in a small +part of his force, whilst the opposing forces are, more or less, +disorganised throughout, is also not to be retrieved; and just as +little if the enemy has recovered his efficiency. + +The smaller, therefore, that part of a force is which has really been +engaged, the greater that portion which as reserve has contributed to +the result only by its presence. So much the less will any new force of +the enemy wrest again the victory from our hands, and that Commander +who carries out to the furthest with his Army the principle of +conducting the combat with the greatest economy of forces, and making +the most of the moral effect of strong reserves, goes the surest way to +victory. We must allow that the French, in modern times, especially +when led by Buonaparte, have shown a thorough mastery in this. + +Further, the moment when the crisis-stage of the combat ceases with the +conqueror, and his original state of order is restored, takes place +sooner the smaller the unit he controls. A picket of cavalry pursuing +an enemy at full gallop will in a few minutes resume its proper order, +and the crisis ceases. A whole regiment of cavalry requires a longer +time. It lasts still longer with infantry, if extended in single lines +of skirmishers, and longer again with Divisions of all arms, when it +happens by chance that one part has taken one direction and another +part another direction, and the combat has therefore caused a loss of +the order of formation, which usually becomes still worse from no part +knowing exactly where the other is. Thus, therefore, the point of time +when the conqueror has collected the instruments he has been using, and +which are mixed up and partly out of order, the moment when he has in +some measure rearranged them and put them in their proper places, and +thus brought the battle-workshop into a little order, this moment, we +say, is always later, the greater the total force. + +Again, this moment comes later if night overtakes the conqueror in the +crisis, and, lastly, it comes later still if the country is broken and +thickly wooded. But with regard to these two points, we must observe +that night is also a great means of protection, and it is only seldom +that circumstances favour the expectation of a successful result from a +night attack, as on March 10, 1814, at Laon,(*) where York against +Marmont gives us an example completely in place here. In the same way a +wooded and broken country will afford protection against a reaction to +those who are engaged in the long crisis of victory. Both, therefore, +the night as well as the wooded and broken country are obstacles which +make the renewal of the same battle more difficult instead of +facilitating it. + +(*) The celebrated charge at night upon Marmont’s Corps. + + +Hitherto, we have considered assistance arriving for the losing side as +a mere increase of force, therefore, as a reinforcement coming up +directly from the rear, which is the most usual case. But the case is +quite different if these fresh forces come upon the enemy in flank or +rear. + +On the effect of flank or rear attacks so far as they belong to +Strategy, we shall speak in another place: such a one as we have here +in view, intended for the restoration of the combat, belongs chiefly to +tactics, and is only mentioned because we are here speaking of tactical +results, our ideas, therefore, must trench upon the province of +tactics. + +By directing a force against the enemy’s flank and rear its efficacy +may be much intensified; but this is so far from being a necessary +result always that the efficacy may, on the other hand, be just as much +weakened. The circumstances under which the combat has taken place +decide upon this part of the plan as well as upon every other, without +our being able to enter thereupon here. But, at the same time, there +are in it two things of importance for our subject: first, _flank and +rear attacks have, as a rule, a more favourable effect on the +consequences of the decision than upon the decision itself_. Now as +concerns the retrieving a battle, the first thing to be arrived at +above all is a favourable decision and not magnitude of success. In +this view one would therefore think that a force which comes to +re-establish our combat is of less assistance if it falls upon the +enemy in flank and rear, therefore separated from us, than if it joins +itself to us directly; certainly, cases are not wanting where it is so, +but we must say that the majority are on the other side, and they are +so on account of the second point which is here important to us. + +This second point _is the moral effect of the surprise, which, as a +rule, a reinforcement coming up to re-establish a combat has generally +in its favour._ Now the effect of a surprise is always heightened if it +takes place in the flank or rear, and an enemy completely engaged in +the crisis of victory in his extended and scattered order, is less in a +state to counteract it. Who does not feel that an attack in flank or +rear, which at the commencement of the battle, when the forces are +concentrated and prepared for such an event would be of little +importance, gains quite another weight in the last moment of the +combat. + +We must, therefore, at once admit that in most cases a reinforcement +coming up on the flank or rear of the enemy will be more efficacious, +will be like the same weight at the end of a longer lever, and +therefore that under these circumstances, we may undertake to restore +the battle with the same force which employed in a direct attack would +be quite insufficient. Here results almost defy calculation, because +the moral forces gain completely the ascendency. This is therefore the +right field for boldness and daring. + +The eye must, therefore, be directed on all these objects, all these +moments of co-operating forces must be taken into consideration, when +we have to decide in doubtful cases whether or not it is still possible +to restore a combat which has taken an unfavourable turn. + +If the combat is to be regarded as not yet ended, then the new contest +which is opened by the arrival of assistance fuses into the former; +therefore they flow together into one common result, and the first +disadvantage vanishes completely out of the calculation. But this is +not the case if the combat was already decided; then there are two +results separate from each other. Now if the assistance which arrives +is only of a relative strength, that is, if it is not in itself alone a +match for the enemy, then a favourable result is hardly to be expected +from this second combat: but if it is so strong that it can undertake +the second combat without regard to the first, then it may be able by a +favourable issue to compensate or even overbalance the first combat, +but never to make it disappear altogether from the account. + +At the battle of Kunersdorf,(*) Frederick the Great at the first onset +carried the left of the Russian position, and took seventy pieces of +artillery; at the end of the battle both were lost again, and the whole +result of the first combat was wiped out of the account. Had it been +possible to stop at the first success, and to put off the second part +of the battle to the coming day, then, even if the King had lost it, +the advantages of the first would always have been a set off to the +second. + +(*) August 12, 1759. + + +But when a battle proceeding disadvantageously is arrested and turned +before its conclusion, its minus result on our side not only disappears +from the account, but also becomes the foundation of a greater victory. +If, for instance, we picture to ourselves exactly the tactical course +of the battle, we may easily see that until it is finally concluded all +successes in partial combats are only decisions in suspense, which by +the capital decision may not only be destroyed, but changed into the +opposite. The more our forces have suffered, the more the enemy will +have expended on his side; the greater, therefore, will be the crisis +for the enemy, and the more the superiority of our fresh troops will +tell. If now the total result turns in our favour, if we wrest from the +enemy the field of battle and recover all the trophies again, then all +the forces which he has sacrificed in obtaining them become sheer gain +for us, and our former defeat becomes a stepping-stone to a greater +triumph. The most brilliant feats which with victory the enemy would +have so highly prized that the loss of forces which they cost would +have been disregarded, leave nothing now behind but regret at the +sacrifice entailed. Such is the alteration which the magic of victory +and the curse of defeat produces in the specific weight of the same +elements. + +Therefore, even if we are decidedly superior in strength, and are able +to repay the enemy his victory by a greater still, it is always better +to forestall the conclusion of a disadvantageous combat, if it is of +proportionate importance, so as to turn its course rather than to +deliver a second battle. + +Field-Marshal Daun attempted in the year 1760 to come to the assistance +of General Laudon at Leignitz, whilst the battle lasted; but when he +failed, he did not attack the King next day, although he did not want +for means to do so. + +For these reasons serious combats of advance guards which precede a +battle are to be looked upon only as necessary evils, and when not +necessary they are to be avoided.(*) + +(*) This, however, was not Napoleon’s view. A vigorous attack of his +advance guard he held to be necessary always, to fix the enemy’s +attention and “paralyse his independent will-power.” It was the failure +to make this point which, in August 1870, led von Moltke repeatedly +into the very jaws of defeat, from which only the lethargy of Bazaine +on the one hand and the initiative of his subordinates, notably of von +Alvensleben, rescued him. This is the essence of the new Strategic +Doctrine of the French General Staff. See the works of Bonnal, Foch, +&C.—EDITOR + + +We have still another conclusion to examine. + +If on a regular pitched battle, the decision has gone against one, this +does not constitute a motive for determining on a new one. The +determination for this new one must proceed from other relations. This +conclusion, however, is opposed by a moral force, which we must take +into account: it is the feeling of rage and revenge. From the oldest +Field-Marshal to the youngest drummer-boy this feeling is general, and, +therefore, troops are never in better spirits for fighting than when +they have to wipe out a stain. This is, however, only on the +supposition that the beaten portion is not too great in proportion to +the whole, because otherwise the above feeling is lost in that of +powerlessness. + +There is therefore a very natural tendency to use this moral force to +repair the disaster on the spot, and on that account chiefly to seek +another battle if other circumstances permit. It then lies in the +nature of the case that this second battle must be an offensive one. + +In the catalogue of battles of second-rate importance there are many +examples to be found of such retaliatory battles; but great battles +have generally too many other determining causes to be brought on by +this weaker motive. + +Such a feeling must undoubtedly have led the noble Blücher with his +third Corps to the field of battle on February 14, 1814, when the other +two had been beaten three days before at Montmirail. Had he known that +he would have come upon Buonaparte in person, then, naturally, +preponderating reasons would have determined him to put off his revenge +to another day: but he hoped to revenge himself on Marmont, and instead +of gaining the reward of his desire for honourable satisfaction, he +suffered the penalty of his erroneous calculation. + +On the duration of the combat and the moment of its decision depend the +distances from each other at which those masses should be placed which +are intended to fight _in conjunction with_ each other. This +disposition would be a tactical arrangement in so far as it relates to +one and the same battle; it can, however, only be regarded as such, +provided the position of the troops is so compact that two separate +combats cannot be imagined, and consequently that the space which the +whole occupies can be regarded strategically as a mere point. But in +War, cases frequently occur where even those forces intended to fight +_in unison_ must be so far separated from each other that while their +union for one common combat certainly remains the principal object, +still the occurrence of separate combats remains possible. Such a +disposition is therefore strategic. + +Dispositions of this kind are: marches in separate masses and columns, +the formation of advance guards, and flanking columns, also the +grouping of reserves intended to serve as supports for more than one +strategic point; the concentration of several Corps from widely +extended cantonments, &c. &c. We can see that the necessity for these +arrangements may constantly arise, and may consider them something like +the small change in the strategic economy, whilst the capital battles, +and all that rank with them are the gold and silver pieces. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Mutual Understanding as to a Battle + +No battle can take place unless by mutual consent; and in this idea, +which constitutes the whole basis of a duel, is the root of a certain +phraseology used by historical writers, which leads to many indefinite +and false conceptions. + +According to the view of the writers to whom we refer, it has +frequently happened that one Commander has offered battle to the other, +and the latter has not accepted it. + +But the battle is a very modified duel, and its foundation is not +merely in the mutual wish to fight, that is in consent, but in the +objects which are bound up with the battle: these belong always to a +greater whole, and that so much the more, as even the whole war +considered as a “combat-unit” has political objects and conditions +which belong to a higher standpoint. The mere desire to conquer each +other therefore falls into quite a subordinate relation, or rather it +ceases completely to be anything of itself, and only becomes the nerve +which conveys the impulse of action from the higher will. + +Amongst the ancients, and then again during the early period of +standing Armies, the expression that we had offered battle to the enemy +in vain, had more sense in it than it has now. By the ancients +everything was constituted with a view to measuring each other’s +strength in the open field free from anything in the nature of a +hindrance,(*) and the whole Art of War consisted in the organisation, +and formation of the Army, that is in the order of battle. + +(*) Note the custom of sending formal challenges, fix time and place +for action, and “enhazelug” the battlefield in Anglo-Saxon times.—ED. + + +Now as their Armies regularly entrenched themselves in their camps, +therefore the position in a camp was regarded as something +unassailable, and a battle did not become possible until the enemy left +his camp, and placed himself in a practicable country, as it were +entered the lists. + +If therefore we hear about Hannibal having offered battle to Fabius in +vain, that tells us nothing more as regards the latter than that a +battle was not part of his plan, and in itself neither proves the +physical nor moral superiority of Hannibal; but with respect to him the +expression is still correct enough in the sense that Hannibal really +wished a battle. + +In the early period of modern Armies, the relations were similar in +great combats and battles. That is to say, great masses were brought +into action, and managed throughout it by means of an order of battle, +which like a great helpless whole required a more or less level plain +and was neither suited to attack, nor yet to defence in a broken, close +or even mountainous country. The defender therefore had here also to +some extent the means of avoiding battle. These relations although +gradually becoming modified, continued until the first Silesian War, +and it was not until the Seven Years’ War that attacks on an enemy +posted in a difficult country gradually became feasible, and of +ordinary occurrence: ground did not certainly cease to be a principle +of strength to those making use of its aid, but it was no longer a +charmed circle, which shut out the natural forces of War. + +During the past thirty years War has perfected itself much more in this +respect, and there is no longer anything which stands in the way of a +General who is in earnest about a decision by means of battle; he can +seek out his enemy, and attack him: if he does not do so he cannot take +credit for having wished to fight, and the expression he offered a +battle which his opponent did not accept, therefore now means nothing +more than that he did not find circumstances advantageous enough for a +battle, an admission which the above expression does not suit, but +which it only strives to throw a veil over. + +It is true the defensive side can no longer refuse a battle, yet he may +still avoid it by giving up his position, and the _rôle_ with which +that position was connected: this is however half a victory for the +offensive side, and an acknowledgment of his superiority for the +present. + +This idea in connection with the cartel of defiance can therefore no +longer be made use of in order by such rhodomontade to qualify the +inaction of him whose part it is to advance, that is, the offensive. +The defender who as long as he does not give way, must have the credit +of willing the battle, may certainly say, he has offered it if he is +not attacked, if that is not understood of itself. + +But on the other hand, he who now wishes to, and can retreat cannot +easily be forced to give battle. Now as the advantages to the aggressor +from this retreat are often not sufficient, and a substantial victory +is a matter of urgent necessity for him, in that way the few means +which there are to compel such an opponent also to give battle are +often sought for and applied with particular skill. + +The principal means for this are—first _surrounding_ the enemy so as to +make his retreat impossible, or at least so difficult that it is better +for him to accept battle; and, secondly, _surprising_ him. This last +way, for which there was a motive formerly in the extreme difficulty of +all movements, has become in modern times very inefficacious. + +From the pliability and manoeuvring capabilities of troops in the +present day, one does not hesitate to commence a retreat even in sight +of the enemy, and only some special obstacles in the nature of the +country can cause serious difficulties in the operation. + +As an example of this kind the battle of Neresheim may be given, fought +by the Archduke Charles with Moreau in the Rauhe Alp, August 11, 1796, +merely with a view to facilitate his retreat, although we freely +confess we have never been able quite to understand the argument of the +renowned general and author himself in this case. + +The battle of Rosbach(*) is another example, if we suppose the +commander of the allied army had not really the intention of attacking +Frederick the Great. + +(*) November 5, 1757. + + +Of the battle of Soor,(*) the King himself says that it was only fought +because a retreat in the presence of the enemy appeared to him a +critical operation; at the same time the King has also given other +reasons for the battle. + +(*) Or Sohr, September 30, 1745. + + +On the whole, regular night surprises excepted, such cases will always +be of rare occurrence, and those in which an enemy is compelled to +fight by being practically surrounded, will happen mostly to single +corps only, like Mortier’s at Dürrenstein 1809, and Vandamme at Kulm, +1813. + + + +CHAPTER IX. The Battle(*) + +(*) Clausewitz still uses the word “die Hauptschlacht” but modern usage +employs only the word “die Schlacht” to designate the decisive act of a +whole campaign—encounters arising from the collision or troops marching +towards the strategic culmination of each portion or the campaign are +spoken of either as “Treffen,” _i.e._, “engagements” or “Gefecht,” +_i.e._, “combat” or “action.” Thus technically, Gravelotte was a +“Schlacht,” _i.e._, “battle,” but Spicheren, Woerth, Borny, even +Vionville were only “Treffen.” + + +ITS DECISION + + +What is a battle? A conflict of the main body, but not an unimportant +one about a secondary object, not a mere attempt which is given up when +we see betimes that our object is hardly within our reach: it is a +conflict waged with all our forces for the attainment of a decisive +victory. + +Minor objects may also be mixed up with the principal object, and it +will take many different tones of colour from the circumstances out of +which it originates, for a battle belongs also to a greater whole of +which it is only a part, but because the essence of War is conflict, +and the battle is the conflict of the main Armies, it is always to be +regarded as the real centre of gravity of the War, and therefore its +distinguishing character is, that unlike all other encounters, it is +arranged for, and undertaken with the sole purpose of obtaining a +decisive victory. + +This has an influence on the _manner of its decision_, on the _effect +of the victory contained in it_, and determines _the value which theory +is to assign to it as a means to an end._ + +On that account we make it the subject of our special consideration, +and at this stage before we enter upon the special ends which may be +bound up with it, but which do not essentially alter its character if +it really deserves to be termed a battle. + +If a battle takes place principally on its own account, the elements of +its decision must be contained in itself; in other words, victory must +be striven for as long as a possibility or hope remains. It must not, +therefore, be given up on account of secondary circumstances, but only +and alone in the event of the forces appearing completely insufficient. + +Now how is that precise moment to be described? + +If a certain artificial formation and cohesion of an Army is the +principal condition under which the bravery of the troops can gain a +victory, as was the case during a great part of the period of the +modern Art of War, _then the breaking up of this formation_ is the +decision. A beaten wing which is put out of joint decides the fate of +all that was connected with it. If as was the case at another time the +essence of the defence consists in an intimate alliance of the Army +with the ground on which it fights and its obstacles, so that Army and +position are only one, then the _conquest_ of _an essential point_ in +this position is the decision. It is said the key of the position is +lost, it cannot therefore be defended any further; the battle cannot be +continued. In both cases the beaten Armies are very much like the +broken strings of an instrument which cannot do their work. + +That geometrical as well as this geographical principle which had a +tendency to place an Army in a state of crystallising tension which did +not allow of the available powers being made use of up to the last man, +have at least so far lost their influence that they no longer +predominate. Armies are still led into battle in a certain order, but +that order is no longer of decisive importance; obstacles of ground are +also still turned to account to strengthen a position, but they are no +longer the only support. + +We attempted in the second chapter of this book to take a general view +of the nature of the modern battle. According to our conception of it, +the order of battle is only a disposition of the forces suitable to the +convenient use of them, and the course of the battle a mutual slow +wearing away of these forces upon one another, to see which will have +soonest exhausted his adversary. + +The resolution therefore to give up the fight arises, in a battle more +than in any other combat, from the relation of the fresh reserves +remaining available; for only these still retain all their moral +vigour, and the cinders of the battered, knocked-about battalions, +already burnt out in the destroying element, must not be placed on a +level with them; also lost ground as we have elsewhere said, is a +standard of lost moral force; it therefore comes also into account, but +more as a sign of loss suffered than for the loss itself, and the +number of fresh reserves is always the chief point to be looked at by +both Commanders. + +In general, an action inclines in one direction from the very +commencement, but in a manner little observable. This direction is also +frequently given in a very decided manner by the arrangements which +have been made previously, and then it shows a want of discernment in +that General who commences battle under these unfavourable +circumstances without being aware of them. Even when this does not +occur it lies in the nature of things that the course of a battle +resembles rather a slow disturbance of equilibrium which commences +soon, but as we have said almost imperceptibly at first, and then with +each moment of time becomes stronger and more visible, than an +oscillating to and fro, as those who are misled by mendacious +descriptions usually suppose. + +But whether it happens that the balance is for a long time little +disturbed, or that even after it has been lost on one side it rights +itself again, and is then lost on the other side, it is certain at all +events that in most instances the defeated General foresees his fate +long before he retreats, and that cases in which some critical event +acts with unexpected force upon the course of the whole have their +existence mostly in the colouring with which every one depicts his lost +battle. + +We can only here appeal to the decision of unprejudiced men of +experience, who will, we are sure, assent to what we have said, and +answer for us to such of our readers as do not know War from their own +experience. To develop the necessity of this course from the nature of +the thing would lead us too far into the province of tactics, to which +this branch of the subject belongs; we are here only concerned with its +results. + +If we say that the defeated General foresees the unfavourable result +usually some time before he makes up his mind to give up the battle, we +admit that there are also instances to the contrary, because otherwise +we should maintain a proposition contradictory in itself. If at the +moment of each decisive tendency of a battle it should be considered as +lost, then also no further forces should be used to give it a turn, and +consequently this decisive tendency could not precede the retreat by +any length of time. Certainly there are instances of battles which +after having taken a decided turn to one side have still ended in +favour of the other; but they are rare, not usual; these exceptional +cases, however, are reckoned upon by every General against whom fortune +declares itself, and he must reckon upon them as long as there remains +a possibility of a turn of fortune. He hopes by stronger efforts, by +raising the remaining moral forces, by surpassing himself, or also by +some fortunate chance that the next moment will bring a change, and +pursues this as far as his courage and his judgment can agree. We shall +have something more to say on this subject, but before that we must +show what are the signs of the scales turning. + +The result of the whole combat consists in the sum total of the results +of all partial combats; but these results of separate combats are +settled by different considerations. + +First by the pure moral power in the mind of the leading officers. If a +General of Division has seen his battalions forced to succumb, it will +have an influence on his demeanour and his reports, and these again +will have an influence on the measures of the Commander-in-Chief; +therefore even those unsuccessful partial combats which to all +appearance are retrieved, are not lost in their results, and the +impressions from them sum themselves up in the mind of the Commander +without much trouble, and even against his will. + +Secondly, by the quicker melting away of our troops, which can be +easily estimated in the slow and relatively(*) little tumultuary course +of our battles. + +(*) Relatively, that is say to the shock of former days. + + +Thirdly, by lost ground. + +All these things serve for the eye of the General as a compass to tell +the course of the battle in which he is embarked. If whole batteries +have been lost and none of the enemy’s taken; if battalions have been +overthrown by the enemy’s cavalry, whilst those of the enemy everywhere +present impenetrable masses; if the line of fire from his order of +battle wavers involuntarily from one point to another; if fruitless +efforts have been made to gain certain points, and the assaulting +battalions each, time been scattered by well-directed volleys of grape +and case;—if our artillery begins to reply feebly to that of the +enemy—if the battalions under fire diminish unusually, fast, because +with the wounded crowds of unwounded men go to the rear;—if single +Divisions have been cut off and made prisoners through the disruption +of the plan of the battle;—if the line of retreat begins to be +endangered: the Commander may tell very well in which direction he is +going with his battle. The longer this direction continues, the more +decided it becomes, so much the more difficult will be the turning, so +much the nearer the moment when he must give up the battle. We shall +now make some observations on this moment. + +We have already said more than once that the final decision is ruled +mostly by the relative number of the fresh reserves remaining at the +last; that Commander who sees his adversary is decidedly superior to +him in this respect makes up his mind to retreat. It is the +characteristic of modern battles that all mischances and losses which +take place in the course of the same can be retrieved by fresh forces, +because the arrangement of the modern order of battle, and the way in +which troops are brought into action, allow of their use almost +generally, and in each position. So long, therefore, as that Commander +against whom the issue seems to declare itself still retains a +superiority in reserve force, he will not give up the day. But from the +moment that his reserves begin to become weaker than his enemy’s, the +decision may be regarded as settled, and what he now does depends +partly on special circumstances, partly on the degree of courage and +perseverance which he personally possesses, and which may degenerate +into foolish obstinacy. How a Commander can attain to the power of +estimating correctly the still remaining reserves on both sides is an +affair of skilful practical genius, which does not in any way belong to +this place; we keep ourselves to the result as it forms itself in his +mind. But this conclusion is still not the moment of decision properly, +for a motive which only arises gradually does not answer to that, but +is only a general motive towards resolution, and the resolution itself +requires still some special immediate causes. Of these there are two +chief ones which constantly recur, that is, the danger of retreat, and +the arrival of night. + +If the retreat with every new step which the battle takes in its course +becomes constantly in greater danger, and if the reserves are so much +diminished that they are no longer adequate to get breathing room, then +there is nothing left but to submit to fate, and by a well-conducted +retreat to save what, by a longer delay ending in flight and disaster, +would be lost. + +But night as a rule puts an end to all battles, because a night combat +holds out no hope of advantage except under particular circumstances; +and as night is better suited for a retreat than the day, so, +therefore, the Commander who must look at the retreat as a thing +inevitable, or as most probable, will prefer to make use of the night +for his purpose. + +That there are, besides the above two usual and chief causes, yet many +others also, which are less or more individual and not to be +overlooked, is a matter of course; for the more a battle tends towards +a complete upset of equilibrium the more sensible is the influence of +each partial result in hastening the turn. Thus the loss of a battery, +a successful charge of a couple of regiments of cavalry, may call into +life the resolution to retreat already ripening. + +As a conclusion to this subject, we must dwell for a moment on the +point at which the courage of the Commander engages in a sort of +conflict with his reason. + +If, on the one hand the overbearing pride of a victorious conqueror, if +the inflexible will of a naturally obstinate spirit, if the strenuous +resistance of noble feelings will not yield the battlefield, where they +must leave their honour, yet on the other hand, reason counsels not to +give up everything, not to risk the last upon the game, but to retain +as much over as is necessary for an orderly retreat. However highly we +must esteem courage and firmness in War, and however little prospect +there is of victory to him who cannot resolve to seek it by the +exertion of all his power, still there is a point beyond which +perseverance can only be termed desperate folly, and therefore can meet +with no approbation from any critic. In the most celebrated of all +battles, that of Belle-Alliance, Buonaparte used his last reserve in an +effort to retrieve a battle which was past being retrieved. He spent +his last farthing, and then, as a beggar, abandoned both the +battle-field and his crown. + + + +CHAPTER X. Effects of Victory + +According to the point from which our view is taken, we may feel as +much astonished at the extraordinary results of some great battles as +at the want of results in others. We shall dwell for a moment on the +nature of the effect of a great victory. + +Three things may easily be distinguished here: the effect upon the +instrument itself, that is, upon the Generals and their Armies; the +effect upon the States interested in the War; and the particular result +of these effects as manifested in the subsequent course of the +campaign. + +If we only think of the trifling difference which there usually is +between victor and vanquished in killed, wounded, prisoners, and +artillery lost on the field of battle itself, the consequences which +are developed out of this insignificant point seem often quite +incomprehensible, and yet, usually, everything only happens quite +naturally. + +We have already said in the seventh chapter that the magnitude of a +victory increases not merely in the same measure as the vanquished +forces increase in number, but in a higher ratio. The moral effects +resulting from the issue of a great battle are greater on the side of +the conquered than on that of the conqueror: they lead to greater +losses in physical force, which then in turn react on the moral +element, and so they go on mutually supporting and intensifying each +other. On this moral effect we must therefore lay special weight. It +takes an opposite direction on the one side from that on the other; as +it undermines the energies of the conquered so it elevates the powers +and energy of the conqueror. But its chief effect is upon the +vanquished, because here it is the direct cause of fresh losses, and +besides it is homogeneous in nature with danger, with the fatigues, the +hardships, and generally with all those embarrassing circumstances by +which War is surrounded, therefore enters into league with them and +increases by their help, whilst with the conqueror all these things are +like weights which give a higher swing to his courage. It is therefore +found, that the vanquished sinks much further below the original line +of equilibrium than the conqueror raises himself above it; on this +account, if we speak of the effects of victory we allude more +particularly to those which manifest themselves in the army. If this +effect is more powerful in an important combat than in a smaller one, +so again it is much more powerful in a great battle than in a minor +one. The great battle takes place for the sake of itself, for the sake +of the victory which it is to give, and which is sought for with the +utmost effort. Here on this spot, in this very hour, to conquer the +enemy is the purpose in which the plan of the War with all its threads +converges, in which all distant hopes, all dim glimmerings of the +future meet, fate steps in before us to give an answer to the bold +question.—This is the state of mental tension not only of the Commander +but of his whole Army down to the lowest waggon-driver, no doubt in +decreasing strength but also in decreasing importance. + +According to the nature of the thing, a great battle has never at any +time been an unprepared, unexpected, blind routine service, but a grand +act, which, partly of itself and partly from the aim of the Commander, +stands out from amongst the mass of ordinary efforts, sufficiently to +raise the tension of all minds to a higher degree. But the higher this +tension with respect to the issue, the more powerful must be the effect +of that issue. + +Again, the moral effect of victory in our battles is greater than it +was in the earlier ones of modern military history. If the former are +as we have depicted them, a real struggle of forces to the utmost, then +the sum total of all these forces, of the physical as well as the +moral, must decide more than certain special dispositions or mere +chance. + +A single fault committed may be repaired next time; from good fortune +and chance we can hope for more favour on another occasion; but the sum +total of moral and physical powers cannot be so quickly altered, and, +therefore, what the award of a victory has decided appears of much +greater importance for all futurity. Very probably, of all concerned in +battles, whether in or out of the Army, very few have given a thought +to this difference, but the course of the battle itself impresses on +the minds of all present in it such a conviction, and the relation of +this course in public documents, however much it may be coloured by +twisting particular circumstances, shows also, more or less, to the +world at large that the causes were more of a general than of a +particular nature. + +He who has not been present at the loss of a great battle will have +difficulty in forming for himself a living or quite true idea of it, +and the abstract notions of this or that small untoward affair will +never come up to the perfect conception of a lost battle. Let us stop a +moment at the picture. + +The first thing which overpowers the imagination—and we may indeed say, +also the understanding—is the diminution of the masses; then the loss +of ground, which takes place always, more or less, and, therefore, on +the side of the assailant also, if he is not fortunate; then the +rupture of the original formation, the jumbling together of troops, the +risks of retreat, which, with few exceptions may always be seen +sometimes in a less sometimes in a greater degree; next the retreat, +the most part of which commences at night, or, at least, goes on +throughout the night. On this first march we must at once leave behind, +a number of men completely worn out and scattered about, often just the +bravest, who have been foremost in the fight who held out the longest: +the feeling of being conquered, which only seized the superior officers +on the battlefield, now spreads through all ranks, even down to the +common soldiers, aggravated by the horrible idea of being obliged to +leave in the enemy’s hands so many brave comrades, who but a moment +since were of such value to us in the battle, and aggravated by a +rising distrust of the chief, to whom, more or less, every subordinate +attributes as a fault the fruitless efforts he has made; and this +feeling of being conquered is no ideal picture over which one might +become master; it is an evident truth that the enemy is superior to us; +a truth of which the causes might have been so latent before that they +were not to be discovered, but which, in the issue, comes out clear and +palpable, or which was also, perhaps, before suspected, but which in +the want of any certainty, we had to oppose by the hope of chance, +reliance on good fortune, Providence or a bold attitude. Now, all this +has proved insufficient, and the bitter truth meets us harsh and +imperious. + +All these feelings are widely different from a panic, which in an army +fortified by military virtue never, and in any other, only +exceptionally, follows the loss of a battle. They must arise even in +the best of Armies, and although long habituation to War and victory +together with great confidence in a Commander may modify them a little +here and there, they are never entirely wanting in the first moment. +They are not the pure consequences of lost trophies; these are usually +lost at a later period, and the loss of them does not become generally +known so quickly; they will therefore not fail to appear even when the +scale turns in the slowest and most gradual manner, and they constitute +that effect of a victory upon which we can always count in every case. + +We have already said that the number of trophies intensifies this +effect. + +It is evident that an Army in this condition, looked at as an +instrument, is weakened! How can we expect that when reduced to such a +degree that, as we said before, it finds new enemies in all the +ordinary difficulties of making War, it will be able to recover by +fresh efforts what has been lost! Before the battle there was a real or +assumed equilibrium between the two sides; this is lost, and, +therefore, some external assistance is requisite to restore it; every +new effort without such external support can only lead to fresh losses. + +Thus, therefore, the most moderate victory of the chief Army must tend +to cause a constant sinking of the scale on the opponent’s side, until +new external circumstances bring about a change. If these are not near, +if the conqueror is an eager opponent, who, thirsting for glory, +pursues great aims, then a first-rate Commander, and in the beaten Army +a true military spirit, hardened by many campaigns are required, in +order to stop the swollen stream of prosperity from bursting all +bounds, and to moderate its course by small but reiterated acts of +resistance, until the force of victory has spent itself at the goal of +its career. + +And now as to the effect of defeat beyond the Army, upon the Nation and +Government! It is the sudden collapse of hopes stretched to the utmost, +the downfall of all self-reliance. In place of these extinct forces, +fear, with its destructive properties of expansion, rushes into the +vacuum left, and completes the prostration. It is a real shock upon the +nerves, which one of the two athletes receives from the electric spark +of victory. And that effect, however different in its degrees, is never +completely wanting. Instead of every one hastening with a spirit of +determination to aid in repairing the disaster, every one fears that +his efforts will only be in vain, and stops, hesitating with himself, +when he should rush forward; or in despondency he lets his arm drop, +leaving everything to fate. + +The consequence which this effect of victory brings forth in the course +of the War itself depend in part on the character and talent of the +victorious General, but more on the circumstances from which the +victory proceeds, and to which it leads. Without boldness and an +enterprising spirit on the part of the leader, the most brilliant +victory will lead to no great success, and its force exhausts itself +all the sooner on circumstances, if these offer a strong and stubborn +opposition to it. How very differently from Daun, Frederick the Great +would have used the victory at Kollin; and what different consequences +France, in place of Prussia, might have given a battle of Leuthen! + +The conditions which allow us to expect great results from a great +victory we shall learn when we come to the subjects with which they are +connected; then it will be possible to explain the disproportion which +appears at first sight between the magnitude of a victory and its +results, and which is only too readily attributed to a want of energy +on the part of the conqueror. Here, where we have to do with the great +battle in itself, we shall merely say that the effects now depicted +never fail to attend a victory, that they mount up with the intensive +strength of the victory—mount up more the more the whole strength of +the Army has been concentrated in it, the more the whole military power +of the Nation is contained in that Army, and the State in that military +power. + +But then the question may be asked, Can theory accept this effect of +victory as absolutely necessary?—must it not rather endeavour to find +out counteracting means capable of neutralising these effects? It seems +quite natural to answer this question in the affirmative; but heaven +defend us from taking that wrong course of most theories, out of which +is begotten a mutually devouring _Pro et Contra_. + +Certainly that effect is perfectly necessary, for it has its foundation +in the nature of things, and it exists, even if we find means to +struggle against it; just as the motion of a cannon ball is always in +the direction of the terrestrial, although when fired from east to west +part of the general velocity is destroyed by this opposite motion. + +All War supposes human weakness, and against that it is directed. + +Therefore, if hereafter in another place we examine what is to be done +after the loss of a great battle, if we bring under review the +resources which still remain, even in the most desperate cases, if we +should express a belief in the possibility of retrieving all, even in +such a case; it must not be supposed we mean thereby that the effects +of such a defeat can by degrees be completely wiped out, for the forces +and means used to repair the disaster might have been applied to the +realisation of some positive object; and this applies both to the moral +and physical forces. + +Another question is, whether, through the loss of a great battle, +forces are not perhaps roused into existence, which otherwise would +never have come to life. This case is certainly conceivable, and it is +what has actually occurred with many Nations. But to produce this +intensified reaction is beyond the province of military art, which can +only take account of it where it might be assumed as a possibility. + +If there are cases in which the fruits of a victory appear rather of a +destructive nature in consequence of the reaction of the forces which +it had the effect of rousing into activity—cases which certainly are +very exceptional—then it must the more surely be granted, that there is +a difference in the effects which one and the same victory may produce +according to the character of the people or state, which has been +conquered. + + + +CHAPTER XI. The Use of the Battle + +Whatever form the conduct of War may take in particular cases, and +whatever we may have to admit in the sequel as necessary respecting it: +we have only to refer to the conception of War to be convinced of what +follows: + +1. The destruction of the enemy’s military force, is the leading +principle of War, and for the whole chapter of positive action the +direct way to the object. + +2. This destruction of the enemy’s force, must be principally effected +by means of battle. + +3. Only great and general battles can produce great results. + +4. The results will be greatest when combats unite themselves in one +great battle. + +5. It is only in a great battle that the General-in-Chief commands in +person, and it is in the nature of things, that he should place more +confidence in himself than in his subordinates. + +From these truths a double law follows, the parts of which mutually +support each other; namely, that the destruction of the enemy’s +military force is to be sought for principally by great battles, and +their results; and that the chief object of great battles must be the +destruction of the enemy’s military force. + +No doubt the annihilation-principle is to be found more or less in +other means—granted there are instances in which through favourable +circumstances in a minor combat, the destruction of the enemy’s forces +has been disproportionately great (Maxen), and on the other hand in a +battle, the taking or holding a single post may be predominant in +importance as an object—but as a general rule it remains a paramount +truth, that battles are only fought with a view to the destruction of +the enemy’s Army, and that this destruction can only be effected by +their means. + +The battle may therefore be regarded as War concentrated, as the centre +of effort of the whole War or campaign. As the sun’s rays unite in the +focus of the concave mirror in a perfect image, and in the fulness of +their heat; to the forces and circumstances of War, unite in a focus in +the great battle for one concentrated utmost effort. + +The very assemblage of forces in one great whole, which takes place +more or less in all Wars, indicates an intention to strike a decisive +blow with this whole, either voluntarily as assailant, or constrained +by the opposite party as defender. When this great blow does not +follow, then some modifying, and retarding motives have attached +themselves to the original motive of hostility, and have weakened, +altered or completely checked the movement. But also, even in this +condition of mutual inaction which has been the key-note in so many +Wars, the idea of a possible battle serves always for both parties as a +point of direction, a distant focus in the construction of their plans. +The more War is War in earnest, the more it is a venting of animosity +and hostility, a mutual struggle to overpower, so much the more will +all activities join deadly contest, and also the more prominent in +importance becomes the battle. + +In general, when the object aimed at is of a great and positive nature, +one therefore in which the interests of the enemy are deeply concerned, +the battle offers itself as the most natural means; it is, therefore, +also the best as we shall show more plainly hereafter: and, as a rule, +when it is evaded from aversion to the great decision, punishment +follows. + +The positive object belong to the offensive, and therefore the battle +is also more particularly his means. But without examining the +conception of offensive and defensive more minutely here, we must still +observe that, even for the defender in most cases, there is no other +effectual means with which to meet the exigencies of his situation, to +solve the problem presented to him. + +The battle is the bloodiest way of solution. True, it is not merely +reciprocal slaughter, and its effect is more a killing of the enemy’s +courage than of the enemy’s soldiers, as we shall see more plainly in +the next chapter—but still blood is always its price, and slaughter its +character as well as name;(*) from this the humanity in the General’s +mind recoils with horror. + +(*) “_Schlacht_”, from schlachten = to slaughter. + + +But the soul of the man trembles still more at the thought of the +decision to be given with one single blow. _in one point_ of space and +time all action is here pressed together, and at such a moment there is +stirred up within us a dim feeling as if in this narrow space all our +forces could not develop themselves and come into activity, as if we +had already gained much by mere time, although this time owes us +nothing at all. This is all mere illusion, but even as illusion it is +something, and the same weakness which seizes upon the man in every +other momentous decision may well be felt more powerfully by the +General, when he must stake interests of such enormous weight upon one +venture. + +Thus, then, Statesmen and Generals have at all times endeavoured to +avoid the decisive battle, seeking either to attain their aim without +it, or dropping that aim unperceived. Writers on history and theory +have then busied themselves to discover in some other feature in these +campaigns not only an equivalent for the decision by battle which has +been avoided, but even a higher art. In this way, in the present age, +it came very near to this, that a battle in the economy of War was +looked upon as an evil, rendered necessary through some error +committed, a morbid paroxysm to which a regular prudent system of War +would never lead: only those Generals were to deserve laurels who knew +how to carry on War without spilling blood, and the theory of War—a +real business for Brahmins—was to be specially directed to teaching +this. + +Contemporary history has destroyed this illusion,(*) but no one can +guarantee that it will not sooner or later reproduce itself, and lead +those at the head of affairs to perversities which please man’s +weakness, and therefore have the greater affinity for his nature. +Perhaps, by-and-by, Buonaparte’s campaigns and battles will be looked +upon as mere acts of barbarism and stupidity, and we shall once more +turn with satisfaction and confidence to the dress-sword of obsolete +and musty institutions and forms. If theory gives a caution against +this, then it renders a real service to those who listen to its warning +voice. _May we succeed in lending a hand to those who in our dear +native land are called upon to speak with authority on these matters, +that we may be their guide into this field of inquiry, and excite them +to make a candid examination of the subject_.(**) + +(*) On the Continent only, it still preserves full vitality in the +minds of British politicians and pressmen.—EDITOR. + +(**) This prayer was abundantly granted—_vide_ the German victories of +1870.—EDITOR. + + +Not only the conception of War but experience also leads us to look for +a great decision only in a great battle. From time immemorial, only +great victories have led to great successes on the offensive side in +the absolute form, on the defensive side in a manner more or less +satisfactory. Even Buonaparte would not have seen the day of Ulm, +unique in its kind, if he had shrunk from shedding blood; it is rather +to be regarded as only a second crop from the victorious events in his +preceding campaigns. It is not only bold, rash, and presumptuous +Generals who have sought to complete their work by the great venture of +a decisive battle, but also fortunate ones as well; and we may rest +satisfied with the answer which they have thus given to this vast +question. + +Let us not hear of Generals who conquer without bloodshed. If a bloody +slaughter is a horrible sight, then that is a ground for paying more +respect to War, but not for making the sword we wear blunter and +blunter by degrees from feelings of humanity, until some one steps in +with one that is sharp and lops off the arm from our body. + +We look upon a great battle as a principal decision, but certainly not +as the only one necessary for a War or a campaign. Instances of a great +battle deciding a whole campaign, have been frequent only in modern +times, those which have decided a whole War, belong to the class of +rare exceptions. + +A decision which is brought about by a great battle depends naturally +not on the battle itself, that is on the mass of combatants engaged in +it, and on the intensity of the victory, but also on a number of other +relations between the military forces opposed to each other, and +between the States to which these forces belong. But at the same time +that the principal mass of the force available is brought to the great +duel, a great decision is also brought on, the extent of which may +perhaps be foreseen in many respects, though not in all, and which +although not the only one, still is the _first_ decision, and as such, +has an influence on those which succeed. Therefore a deliberately +planned great battle, according to its relations, is more or less, but +always in some degree, to be regarded as the leading means and central +point of the whole system. The more a General takes the field in the +true spirit of War as well as of every contest, with the feeling and +the idea, that is the conviction, that he must and will conquer, the +more he will strive to throw every weight into the scale in the first +battle, hope and strive to win everything by it. Buonaparte hardly ever +entered upon a War without thinking of conquering his enemy at once in +the first battle,(*) and Frederick the Great, although in a more +limited sphere, and with interests of less magnitude at stake, thought +the same when, at the head of a small Army, he sought to disengage his +rear from the Russians or the Federal Imperial Army. + +(*) This was Moltke’s essential idea in his preparations for the War of +1870. See his secret memorandum issued to G.O.C.s on May 7. 1870, +pointing to a battle on the Upper Saar as his primary purpose.—EDITOR. + + +The decision which is given by the great battle, depends, we have said, +partly on the battle itself, that is on the number of troops engaged, +and partly on the magnitude of the success. + +How the General may increase its importance in respect to the first +point is evident in itself and we shall merely observe that according +to the importance of the great battle, the number of cases which are +decided along with it increases, and that therefore Generals who, +confident in themselves have been lovers of great decisions, have +always managed to make use of the greater part of their troops in it +without neglecting on that account essential points elsewhere. + +As regards the consequences or speaking more correctly the +effectiveness of a victory, that depends chiefly on four points: + +1. On the tactical form adopted as the order of battle. + +2. On the nature of the country. + +3. On the relative proportions of the three arms. + +4. On the relative strength of the two Armies. + +A battle with parallel fronts and without any action against a flank +will seldom yield as great success as one in which the defeated Army +has been turned, or compelled to change front more or less. In a broken +or hilly country the successes are likewise smaller, because the power +of the blow is everywhere less. + +If the cavalry of the vanquished is equal or superior to that of the +victor, then the effects of the pursuit are diminished, and by that +great part of the results of victory are lost. + +Finally it is easy to understand that if superior numbers are on the +side of the conqueror, and he uses his advantage in that respect to +turn the flank of his adversary, or compel him to change front, greater +results will follow than if the conqueror had been weaker in numbers +than the vanquished. The battle of Leuthen may certainly be quoted as a +practical refutation of this principle, but we beg permission for once +to say what we otherwise do not like, _no rule without an exception._ + +In all these ways, therefore, the Commander has the means of giving his +battle a decisive character; certainly he thus exposes himself to an +increased amount of danger, but his whole line of action is subject to +that dynamic law of the moral world. + +There is then nothing in War which can be put in comparison with the +great battle in point of importance, _and the acme of strategic ability +is displayed in the provision of means for this great event, in the +skilful determination of place and time, and direction of troops, and +in the good use made of success._ + +But it does not follow from the importance of these things that they +must be of a very complicated and recondite nature; all is here rather +simple, the art of combination by no means great; but there is great +need of quickness in judging of circumstances, need of energy, steady +resolution, a youthful spirit of enterprise—heroic qualities, to which +we shall often have to refer. There is, therefore, but little wanted +here of that which can be taught by books and there is much that, if it +can be taught at all, must come to the General through some other +medium than printer’s type. + +The impulse towards a great battle, the voluntary, sure progress to it, +must proceed from a feeling of innate power and a clear sense of the +necessity; in other words, it must proceed from inborn courage and from +perceptions sharpened by contact with the higher interests of life. + +Great examples are the best teachers, but it is certainly a misfortune +if a cloud of theoretical prejudices comes between, for even the +sunbeam is refracted and tinted by the clouds. To destroy such +prejudices, which many a time rise and spread themselves like a miasma, +is an imperative duty of theory, for the misbegotten offspring of human +reason can also be in turn destroyed by pure reason. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Strategic Means of Utilising Victory + +The more difficult part, viz., that of perfectly preparing the victory, +is a silent service of which the merit belongs to Strategy and yet for +which it is hardly sufficiently commended. It appears brilliant and +full of renown by turning to good account a victory gained. + +What may be the special object of a battle, how it is connected with +the whole system of a War, whither the career of victory may lead +according to the nature of circumstances, where its culminating-point +lies—all these are things which we shall not enter upon until +hereafter. But under any conceivable circumstances the fact holds good, +that without a pursuit no victory can have a great effect, and that, +however short the career of victory may be, it must always lead beyond +the first steps in pursuit; and in order to avoid the frequent +repetition of this, we shall now dwell for a moment on this necessary +supplement of victory in general. + +The pursuit of a beaten Army commences at the moment that Army, giving +up the combat, leaves its position; all previous movements in one +direction and another belong not to that but to the progress of the +battle itself. Usually victory at the moment here described, even if it +is certain, is still as yet small and weak in its proportions, and +would not rank as an event of any great positive advantage if not +completed by a pursuit on the first day. Then it is mostly, as we have +before said, that the trophies which give substance to the victory +begin to be gathered up. Of this pursuit we shall speak in the next +place. + +Usually both sides come into action with their physical powers +considerably deteriorated, for the movements immediately preceding have +generally the character of very urgent circumstances. The efforts which +the forging out of a great combat costs, complete the exhaustion; from +this it follows that the victorious party is very little less +disorganised and out of his original formation than the vanquished, and +therefore requires time to reform, to collect stragglers, and issue +fresh ammunition to those who are without. All these things place the +conqueror himself in the state of crisis of which we have already +spoken. If now the defeated force is only a detached portion of the +enemy’s Army, or if it has otherwise to expect a considerable +reinforcement, then the conqueror may easily run into the obvious +danger of having to pay dear for his victory, and this consideration, +in such a case, very soon puts an end to pursuit, or at least restricts +it materially. Even when a strong accession of force by the enemy is +not to be feared, the conqueror finds in the above circumstances a +powerful check to the vivacity of his pursuit. There is no reason to +fear that the victory will be snatched away, but adverse combats are +still possible, and may diminish the advantages which up to the present +have been gained. Moreover, at this moment the whole weight of all that +is sensuous in an Army, its wants and weaknesses, are dependent on the +will of the Commander. All the thousands under his command require rest +and refreshment, and long to see a stop put to toil and danger for the +present; only a few, forming an exception, can see and feel beyond the +present moment, it is only amongst this little number that there is +sufficient mental vigour to think, after what is absolutely necessary +at the moment has been done, upon those results which at such a moment +only appear to the rest as mere embellishments of victory—as a luxury +of triumph. But all these thousands have a voice in the council of the +General, for through the various steps of the military hierarchy these +interests of the sensuous creature have their sure conductor into the +heart of the Commander. He himself, through mental and bodily fatigue, +is more or less weakened in his natural activity, and thus it happens +then that, mostly from these causes, purely incidental to human nature, +less is done than might have been done, and that generally what is done +is to be ascribed entirely to the _thirst for glory_, the _energy_, +indeed also the _hard-heartedness_ of the General-in-Chief. It is only +thus we can explain the hesitating manner in which many Generals follow +up a victory which superior numbers have given them. The first pursuit +of the enemy we limit in general to the extent of the first day, +including the night following the victory. At the end of that period +the necessity of rest ourselves prescribes a halt in any case. + +This first pursuit has different natural degrees. + +The first is, if cavalry alone are employed; in that case it amounts +usually more to alarming and watching than to pressing the enemy in +reality, because the smallest obstacle of ground is generally +sufficient to check the pursuit. Useful as cavalry may be against +single bodies of broken demoralised troops, still when opposed to the +bulk of the beaten Army it becomes again only the auxiliary arm, +because the troops in retreat can employ fresh reserves to cover the +movement, and, therefore, at the next trifling obstacle of ground, by +combining all arms they can make a stand with success. The only +exception to this is in the case of an army in actual flight in a +complete state of dissolution. + +The second degree is, if the pursuit is made by a strong advance-guard +composed of all arms, the greater part consisting naturally of cavalry. +Such a pursuit generally drives the enemy as far as the nearest strong +position for his rear-guard, or the next position affording space for +his Army. Neither can usually be found at once, and, therefore, the +pursuit can be carried further; generally, however, it does not extend +beyond the distance of one or at most a couple of leagues, because +otherwise the advance-guard would not feel itself sufficiently +supported. The third and most vigorous degree is when the victorious +Army itself continues to advance as far as its physical powers can +endure. In this case the beaten Army will generally quit such ordinary +positions as a country usually offers on the mere show of an attack, or +of an intention to turn its flank; and the rear-guard will be still +less likely to engage in an obstinate resistance. + +In all three cases the night, if it sets in before the conclusion of +the whole act, usually puts an end to it, and the few instances in +which this has not taken place, and the pursuit has been continued +throughout the night, must be regarded as pursuits in an exceptionally +vigorous form. + +If we reflect that in fighting by night everything must be, more or +less, abandoned to chance, and that at the conclusion of a battle the +regular cohesion and order of things in an army must inevitably be +disturbed, we may easily conceive the reluctance of both Generals to +carrying on their business under such disadvantageous conditions. If a +complete dissolution of the vanquished Army, or a rare superiority of +the victorious Army in military virtue does not ensure success, +everything would in a manner be given up to fate, which can never be +for the interest of any one, even of the most fool-hardy General. As a +rule, therefore, night puts an end to pursuit, even when the battle has +only been decided shortly before darkness sets in. This allows the +conquered either time for rest and to rally immediately, or, if he +retreats during the night it gives him a march in advance. After this +break the conquered is decidedly in a better condition; much of that +which had been thrown into confusion has been brought again into order, +ammunition has been renewed, the whole has been put into a fresh +formation. Whatever further encounter now takes place with the enemy is +a new battle not a continuation of the old, and although it may be far +from promising absolute success, still it is a fresh combat, and not +merely a gathering up of the _débris_ by the victor. + +When, therefore, the conqueror can continue the pursuit itself +throughout the night, if only with a strong advance-guard composed of +all arms of the service, the effect of the victory is immensely +increased, of this the battles of Leuthen and La Belle Alliance(*) are +examples. + +(*) Waterloo. + + +The whole action of this pursuit is mainly tactical, and we only dwell +upon it here in order to make plain the difference which through it may +be produced in the effect of a victory. + +This first pursuit, as far as the nearest stopping-point, belongs as a +right to every conqueror, and is hardly in any way connected with his +further plans and combinations. These may considerably diminish the +positive results of a victory gained with the main body of the Army, +but they cannot make this first use of it impossible; at least cases of +that kind, if conceivable at all, must be so uncommon that they should +have no appreciable influence on theory. And here certainly we must say +that the example afforded by modern Wars opens up quite a new field for +energy. In preceding Wars, resting on a narrower basis, and altogether +more circumscribed in their scope, there were many unnecessary +conventional restrictions in various ways, but particularly in this +point. _The conception, Honour of Victory_ seemed to Generals so much +by far the chief thing that they thought the less of the complete +destruction of the enemy’s military force, as in point of fact that +destruction of force appeared to them only as one of the many means in +War, not by any means as the principal, much less as the only means; so +that they the more readily put the sword in its sheath the moment the +enemy had lowered his. Nothing seemed more natural to them than to stop +the combat as soon as the decision was obtained, and to regard all +further carnage as unnecessary cruelty. Even if this false philosophy +did not determine their resolutions entirely, still it was a point of +view by which representations of the exhaustion of all powers, and +physical impossibility of continuing the struggle, obtained readier +evidence and greater weight. Certainly the sparing one’s own instrument +of victory is a vital question if we only possess this one, and foresee +that soon the time may arrive when it will not be sufficient for all +that remains to be done, for every continuation of the offensive must +lead ultimately to complete exhaustion. But this calculation was still +so far false, as the further loss of forces by a continuance of the +pursuit could bear no proportion to that which the enemy must suffer. +That view, therefore, again could only exist because the military +forces were not considered the vital factor. And so we find that in +former Wars real heroes only—such as Charles XII., Marlborough, Eugene, +Frederick the Great—added a vigorous pursuit to their victories when +they were decisive enough, and that other Generals usually contented +themselves with the possession of the field of battle. In modern times +the greater energy infused into the conduct of Wars through the greater +importance of the circumstances from which they have proceeded has +thrown down these conventional barriers; the pursuit has become an +all-important business for the conqueror; trophies have on that account +multiplied in extent, and if there are cases also in modern Warfare in +which this has not been the case, still they belong to the list of +exceptions, and are to be accounted for by peculiar circumstances. + +At Gorschen(*) and Bautzen nothing but the superiority of the allied +cavalry prevented a complete rout, at Gross Beeren and Dennewitz the +ill-will of Bernadotte, the Crown Prince of Sweden; at Laon the +enfeebled personal condition of Blücher, who was then seventy years old +and at the moment confined to a dark room owing to an injury to his +eyes. + +(*) Gorschen or Lutzen, May 2, 1813; Gross Beeren and Dennewitz, August +22, 1813; Bautzen. May 22, 1913; Laon, March 10 1813. + + +But Borodino is also an illustration to the point here, and we cannot +resist saying a few more words about it, partly because we do not +consider the circumstances are explained simply by attaching blame to +Buonaparte, partly because it might appear as if this, and with it a +great number of similar cases, belonged to that class which we have +designated as so extremely rare, cases in which the general relations +seize and fetter the General at the very beginning of the battle. +French authors in particular, and great admirers of Buonaparte +(Vaudancourt, Chambray, Ségur), have blamed him decidedly because he +did not drive the Russian Army completely off the field, and use his +last reserves to scatter it, because then what was only a lost battle +would have been a complete rout. We should be obliged to diverge too +far to describe circumstantially the mutual situation of the two +Armies; but this much is evident, that when Buonaparte passed the +Niemen with his Army the same corps which afterwards fought at Borodino +numbered 300,000 men, of whom now only 120,000 remained, he might +therefore well be apprehensive that he would not have enough left to +march upon Moscow, the point on which everything seemed to depend. The +victory which he had just gained gave him nearly a certainty of taking +that capital, for that the Russians would be in a condition to fight a +second battle within eight days seemed in the highest degree +improbable; and in Moscow he hoped to find peace. No doubt the complete +dispersion of the Russian Army would have made this peace much more +certain; but still the first consideration was to get to Moscow, that +is, to get there with a force with which he should appear dictator over +the capital, and through that over the Empire and the Government. The +force which he brought with him to Moscow was no longer sufficient for +that, as shown in the sequel, but it would have been still less so if, +in scattering the Russian Army, he had scattered his own at the same +time. Buonaparte was thoroughly alive to all this, and in our eyes he +stands completely justified. But on that account this case is still not +to be reckoned amongst those in which, through the general relations, +the General is interdicted from following up his victory, for there +never was in his case any question of mere pursuit. The victory was +decided at four o’clock in the afternoon, but the Russians still +occupied the greater part of the field of battle; they were not yet +disposed to give up the ground, and if the attack had been renewed, +they would still have offered a most determined resistance, which would +have undoubtedly ended in their complete defeat, but would have cost +the conqueror much further bloodshed. We must therefore reckon the +Battle of Borodino as amongst battles, like Bautzen, left unfinished. +At Bautzen the vanquished preferred to quit the field sooner; at +Borodino the conqueror preferred to content himself with a half +victory, not because the decision appeared doubtful, but because he was +not rich enough to pay for the whole. + +Returning now to our subject, the deduction from our reflections in +relation to the first stage of pursuit is, that the energy thrown into +it chiefly determines the value of the victory; that this pursuit is a +second act of the victory, in many cases more important also than the +first, and that strategy, whilst here approaching tactics to receive +from it the harvest of success, exercises the first act of her +authority by demanding this completion of the victory. + +But further, the effects of victory are very seldom found to stop with +this first pursuit; now first begins the real career to which victory +lent velocity. This course is conditioned as we have already said, by +other relations of which it is not yet time to speak. But we must here +mention, what there is of a general character in the pursuit in order +to avoid repetition when the subject occurs again. + +In the further stages of pursuit, again, we can distinguish three +degrees: the simple pursuit, a hard pursuit, and a parallel march to +intercept. + +The simple _following_ or _pursuing_ causes the enemy to continue his +retreat, until he thinks he can risk another battle. It will therefore +in its effect suffice to exhaust the advantages gained, and besides +that, all that the enemy cannot carry with him, sick, wounded, and +disabled from fatigue, quantities of baggage, and carriages of all +kinds, will fall into our hands, but this mere following does not tend +to heighten the disorder in the enemy’s Army, an effect which is +produced by the two following causes. + +If, for instance, instead of contenting ourselves with taking up every +day the camp the enemy has just vacated, occupying just as much of the +country as he chooses to abandon, we make our arrangements so as every +day to encroach further, and accordingly with our advance-guard +organised for the purpose, attack his rear-guard every time it attempts +to halt, then such a course will hasten his retreat, and consequently +tend to increase his disorganisation.—This it will principally effect +by the character of continuous flight, which his retreat will thus +assume. Nothing has such a depressing influence on the soldier, as the +sound of the enemy’s cannon afresh at the moment when, after a forced +march he seeks some rest; if this excitement is continued from day to +day for some time, it may lead to a complete rout. There lies in it a +constant admission of being obliged to obey the law of the enemy, and +of being unfit for any resistance, and the consciousness of this cannot +do otherwise than weaken the moral of an Army in a high degree. The +effect of pressing the enemy in this way attains a maximum when it +drives the enemy to make night marches. If the conqueror scares away +the discomfited opponent at sunset from a camp which has just been +taken up either for the main body of the Army, or for the rear-guard, +the conquered must either make a night march, or alter his position in +the night, retiring further away, which is much the same thing; the +victorious party can on the other hand pass the night in quiet. + +The arrangement of marches, and the choice of positions depend in this +case also upon so many other things, especially on the supply of the +Army, on strong natural obstacles in the country, on large towns, &c. +&c., that it would be ridiculous pedantry to attempt to show by a +geometrical analysis how the pursuer, being able to impose his laws on +the retreating enemy, can compel him to march at night while he takes +his rest. But nevertheless it is true and practicable that marches in +pursuit may be so planned as to have this tendency, and that the +efficacy of the pursuit is very much enchanced thereby. If this is +seldom attended to in the execution, it is because such a procedure is +more difficult for the pursuing Army, than a regular adherence to +ordinary marches in the daytime. To start in good time in the morning, +to encamp at mid-day, to occupy the rest of the day in providing for +the ordinary wants of the Army, and to use the night for repose, is a +much more convenient method than to regulate one’s movements exactly +according to those of the enemy, therefore to determine nothing till +the last moment, to start on the march, sometimes in the morning, +sometimes in the evening, to be always for several hours in the +presence of the enemy, and exchanging cannon shots with him, and +keeping up skirmishing fire, to plan manœuvres to turn him, in short, +to make the whole outlay of tactical means which such a course renders +necessary. All that naturally bears with a heavy weight on the pursuing +Army, and in War, where there are so many burdens to be borne, men are +always inclined to strip off those which do not seem absolutely +necessary. These observations are true, whether applied to a whole Army +or as in the more usual case, to a strong advance-guard. For the +reasons just mentioned, this second method of pursuit, this continued +pressing of the enemy pursued is rather a rare occurrence; even +Buonaparte in his Russian campaign, 1812, practised it but little, for +the reasons here apparent, that the difficulties and hardships of this +campaign, already threatened his Army with destruction before it could +reach its object; on the other hand, the French in their other +campaigns have distinguished themselves by their energy in this point +also. + +Lastly, the third and most effectual form of pursuit is, the parallel +march to the immediate object of the retreat. + +Every defeated Army will naturally have behind it, at a greater or less +distance, some point, the attainment of which is the first purpose in +view, whether it be that failing in this its further retreat might be +compromised, as in the case of a defile, or that it is important for +the point itself to reach it before the enemy, as in the case of a +great city, magazines, &c., or, lastly, that the Army at this point +will gain new powers of defence, such as a strong position, or junction +with other corps. + +Now if the conqueror directs his march on this point by a lateral road, +it is evident how that may quicken the retreat of the beaten Army in a +destructive manner, convert it into hurry, perhaps into flight.(*) The +conquered has only three ways to counteract this: the first is to throw +himself in front of the enemy, in order by an unexpected attack to gain +that probability of success which is lost to him in general from his +position; this plainly supposes an enterprising bold General, and an +excellent Army, beaten but not utterly defeated; therefore, it can only +be employed by a beaten Army in very few cases. + +(*) This point is exceptionally well treated by von Bernhardi in his +“Cavalry in Future Wars.” London: Murray, 1906. + + +The second way is hastening the retreat; but this is just what the +conqueror wants, and it easily leads to immoderate efforts on the part +of the troops, by which enormous losses are sustained, in stragglers, +broken guns, and carriages of all kinds. + +The third way is to make a _détour_, and get round the nearest point of +interception, to march with more ease at a greater distance from the +enemy, and thus to render the haste required less damaging. This last +way is the worst of all, it generally turns out like a new debt +contracted by an insolvent debtor, and leads to greater embarrassment. +There are cases in which this course is advisable; others where there +is nothing else left; also instances in which it has been successful; +but upon the whole it is certainly true that its adoption is usually +influenced less by a clear persuasion of its being the surest way of +attaining the aim than by another inadmissible motive—this motive is +the dread of encountering the enemy. Woe to the Commander who gives in +to this! However much the moral of his Army may have deteriorated, and +however well founded may be his apprehensions of being at a +disadvantage in any conflict with the enemy, the evil will only be made +worse by too anxiously avoiding every possible risk of collision. +Buonaparte in 1813 would never have brought over the Rhine with him the +30,000 or 40,000 men who remained after the battle of Hanau,(*) if he +had avoided that battle and tried to pass the Rhine at Mannheim or +Coblenz. It is just by means of small combats carefully prepared and +executed, and in which the defeated army being on the defensive, has +always the assistance of the ground—it is just by these that the moral +strength of the Army can first be resuscitated. + +(*) At Hanau (October 30, 1813), the Bavarians some 50,000 strong threw +themselves across the line of Napoleon’s retreat from Leipsic. By a +masterly use of its artillery the French tore the Bavarians asunder and +marched on over their bodies.—EDITOR. + + +The beneficial effect of the smallest successes is incredible; but with +most Generals the adoption of this plan implies great self-command. The +other way, that of evading all encounter, appears at first so much +easier, that there is a natural preference for its adoption. It is +therefore usually just this system of evasion which best, promotes the +view of the pursuer, and often ends with the complete downfall of the +pursued; we must, however, recollect here that we are speaking of a +whole Army, not of a single Division, which, having been cut off, is +seeking to join the main Army by making a _détour;_ in such a case +circumstances are different, and success is not uncommon. But there is +one condition requisite to the success of this race of two Corps for an +object, which is that a Division of the pursuing army should follow by +the same road which the pursued has taken, in order to pick up +stragglers, and keep up the impression which the presence of the enemy +never fails to make. Blücher neglected this in his, in other respects +unexceptionable, pursuit after La Belle Alliance. + +Such marches tell upon the pursuer as well as the pursued, and they are +not advisable if the enemy’s Army rallies itself upon another +considerable one; if it has a distinguished General at its head, and if +its destruction is not already well prepared. But when this means can +be adopted, it acts also like a great mechanical power. The losses of +the beaten Army from sickness and fatigue are on such a +disproportionate scale, the spirit of the Army is so weakened and +lowered by the constant solicitude about impending ruin, that at last +anything like a well organised stand is out of the question; every day +thousands of prisoners fall into the enemy’s hands without striking a +blow. In such a season of complete good fortune, the conqueror need not +hesitate about dividing his forces in order to draw into the vortex of +destruction everything within reach of his Army, to cut off +detachments, to take fortresses unprepared for defence, to occupy large +towns, &c. &c. He may do anything until a new state of things arises, +and the more he ventures in this way the longer will it be before that +change will take place. There is no want of examples of brilliant +results from grand decisive victories, and of great and vigorous +pursuits in the wars of Buonaparte. We need only quote Jena 1806, +Ratisbonne 1809, Leipsic 1813, and Belle- Alliance 1815. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. Retreat After a Lost Battle + +In a lost battle the power of an Army is broken, the moral to a greater +degree than the physical. A second battle unless fresh favourable +circumstances come into play, would lead to a complete defeat, perhaps, +to destruction. This is a military axiom. According to the usual course +the retreat is continued up to that point where the equilibrium of +forces is restored, either by reinforcements, or by the protection of +strong fortresses, or by great defensive positions afforded by the +country, or by a separation of the enemy’s force. The magnitude of the +losses sustained, the extent of the defeat, but still more the +character of the enemy, will bring nearer or put off the instant of +this equilibrium. How many instances may be found of a beaten Army +rallied again at a short distance, without its circumstances having +altered in any way since the battle. The cause of this may be traced to +the moral weakness of the adversary, or to the preponderance gained in +the battle not having been sufficient to make lasting impression. + +To profit by this weakness or mistake of the enemy, not to yield one +inch breadth more than the pressure of circumstances demands, but above +all things, in order to keep up the moral forces to as advantageous a +point as possible, a slow retreat, offering incessant resistance, and +bold courageous counterstrokes, whenever the enemy seeks to gain any +excessive advantages, are absolutely necessary. Retreats of great +Generals and of Armies inured to War have always resembled the retreat +of a wounded lion, such is, undoubtedly, also the best theory. + +It is true that at the moment of quitting a dangerous position we have +often seen trifling formalities observed which caused a waste of time, +and were, therefore, attended with danger, whilst in such cases +everything depends on getting out of the place speedily. Practised +Generals reckon this maxim a very important one. But such cases must +not be confounded with a general retreat after a lost battle. Whoever +then thinks by a few rapid marches to gain a start, and more easily to +recover a firm standing, commits a great error. The first movements +should be as small as possible, and it is a maxim in general not to +suffer ourselves to be dictated to by the enemy. This maxim cannot be +followed without bloody fighting with the enemy at our heels, but the +gain is worth the sacrifice; without it we get into an accelerated pace +which soon turns into a headlong rush, and costs merely in stragglers +more men than rear-guard combats, and besides that extinguishes the +last remnants of the spirit of resistance. + +A strong rear-guard composed of picked troops, commanded by the bravest +General, and supported by the whole Army at critical moments, a careful +utilisation of ground, strong ambuscades wherever the boldness of the +enemy’s advance-guard, and the ground, afford opportunity; in short, +the preparation and the system of regular small battles,—these are the +means of following this principle. + +The difficulties of a retreat are naturally greater or less according +as the battle has been fought under more or less favourable +circumstances, and according as it has been more or less obstinately +contested. The battle of Jena and La Belle-Alliance show how impossible +anything like a regular retreat may become, if the last man is used up +against a powerful enemy. + +Now and again it has been suggested(*) to divide for the purpose of +retreating, therefore to retreat in separate divisions or even +eccentrically. Such a separation as is made merely for convenience, and +along with which concentrated action continues possible and is kept in +view, is not what we now refer to; any other kind is extremely +dangerous, contrary to the nature of the thing, and therefore a great +error. Every lost battle is a principle of weakness and +disorganisation; and the first and immediate desideratum is to +concentrate, and in concentration to recover order, courage, and +confidence. The idea of harassing the enemy by separate corps on both +flanks at the moment when he is following up his victory, is a perfect +anomaly; a faint-hearted pedant might be overawed by his enemy in that +manner, and for such a case it may answer; but where we are not sure of +this failing in our opponent it is better let alone. If the strategic +relations after a battle require that we should cover ourselves right +and left by detachments, so much must be done, as from circumstances is +unavoidable, but this fractioning must always be regarded as an evil, +and we are seldom in a state to commence it the day after the battle +itself. + +(*) Allusion is here made to the works of Lloyd Bülow and others. + + +If Frederick the Great after the battle of Kollin,(*) and the raising +of the siege of Prague retreated in three columns that was done not out +of choice, but because the position of his forces, and the necessity of +covering Saxony, left him no alternative, Buonaparte after the battle +of Brienne,(**) sent Marmont back to the Aube, whilst he himself passed +the Seine, and turned towards Troyes; but that this did not end in +disaster, was solely owing to the circumstance that the Allies, instead +of pursuing divided their forces in like manner, turning with the one +part (Blücher) towards the Marne, while with the other +(Schwartzenberg), from fear of being too weak, they advanced with +exaggerated caution. + +(*) June 19, 1757. + +(**) January 30, 1814. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. Night Fighting + +The manner of conducting a combat at night, and what concerns the +details of its course, is a tactical subject; we only examine it here +so far as in its totality it appears as a special strategic means. + +Fundamentally every night attack is only a more vehement form of +surprise. Now at the first look of the thing such an attack appears +quite pre-eminently advantageous, for we suppose the enemy to be taken +by surprise, the assailant naturally to be prepared for everything +which can happen. What an inequality! Imagination paints to itself a +picture of the most complete confusion on the one side, and on the +other side the assailant only occupied in reaping the fruits of his +advantage. Hence the constant creation of schemes for night attacks by +those who have not to lead them, and have no responsibility, whilst +these attacks seldom take place in reality. + +These ideal schemes are all based on the hypothesis that the assailant +knows the arrangements of the defender because they have been made and +announced beforehand, and could not escape notice in his +reconnaissances, and inquiries; that on the other hand, the measures of +the assailant, being only taken at the moment of execution, cannot be +known to the enemy. But the last of these is not always quite the case, +and still less is the first. If we are not so near the enemy as to have +him completely under our eye, as the Austrians had Frederick the Great +before the battle of Hochkirch (1758), then all that we know of his +position must always be imperfect, as it is obtained by +reconnaissances, patrols, information from prisoners, and spies, +sources on which no firm reliance can be placed because intelligence +thus obtained is always more or less of an old date, and the position +of the enemy may have been altered in the meantime. Moreover, with the +tactics and mode of encampment of former times it was much easier than +it is now to examine the position of the enemy. A line of tents is much +easier to distinguish than a line of huts or a bivouac; and an +encampment on a line of front, fully and regularly drawn out, also +easier than one of Divisions formed in columns, the mode often used at +present. We may have the ground on which a Division bivouacs in that +manner completely under our eye, and yet not be able to arrive at any +accurate idea. + +But the position again is not all that we want to know the measures +which the defender may take in the course of the combat are just as +important, and do not by any means consist in mere random shots. These +measures also make night attacks more difficult in modern Wars than +formerly, because they have in these campaigns an advantage over those +already taken. In our combats the position of the defender is more +temporary than definitive, and on that account the defender is better +able to surprise his adversary with unexpected blows, than he could +formerly.(*) + +(*) All these difficulties obviously become increased as the power of +the weapons in use tends to keep the combatants further apart.—EDITOR. + + +Therefore what the assailant knows of the defensive previous to a night +attack, is seldom or never sufficient to supply the want of direct +observation. + +But the defender has on his side another small advantage as well, which +is that he is more at home than the assailant, on the ground which +forms his position, and therefore, like the inhabitant of a room, will +find his way about it in the dark with more ease than a stranger. He +knows better where to find each part of his force, and therefore can +more readily get at it than is the case with his adversary. + +From this it follows, that the assailant in a combat at night feels the +want of his eyes just as much as the defender, and that therefore, only +particular reasons can make a night attack advisable. + +Now these reasons arise mostly in connection with subordinate parts of +an Army, rarely with the Army itself; it follows that a night attack +also as a rule can only take place with secondary combats, and seldom +with great battles. + +We may attack a portion of the enemy’s Army with a very superior force, +consequently enveloping it with a view either to take the whole, or to +inflict very severe loss on it by an unequal combat, provided that +other circumstances are in our favour. But such a scheme can never +succeed except by a great surprise, because no fractional part of the +enemy’s Army would engage in such an unequal combat, but would retire +instead. But a surprise on an important scale except in rare instances +in a very close country, can only be effected at night. If therefore we +wish to gain such an advantage as this from the faulty disposition of a +portion of the enemy’s Army, then we must make use of the night, at all +events, to finish the preliminary part even if the combat itself should +not open till towards daybreak. This is therefore what takes place in +all the little enterprises by night against outposts, and other small +bodies, the main point being invariably through superior numbers, and +getting round his position, to entangle him unexpectedly in such a +disadvantageous combat, that he cannot disengage himself without great +loss. + +The larger the body attacked the more difficult the undertaking, +because a strong force has greater resources within itself to maintain +the fight long enough for help to arrive. + +On that account the whole of the enemy’s Army can never in ordinary +cases be the object of such an attack for although it has no assistance +to expect from any quarter outside itself, still, it contains within +itself sufficient means of repelling attacks from several sides +particularly in our day, when every one from the commencement is +prepared for this very usual form of attack. Whether the enemy can +attack us on several sides with success depends generally on conditions +quite different from that of its being done unexpectedly; without +entering here into the nature of these conditions, we confine ourselves +to observing, that with turning an enemy, great results, as well as +great dangers are connected; that therefore, if we set aside special +circumstances, nothing justifies it but a great superiority, just such +as we should use against a fractional part of the enemy’s Army. + +But the turning and surrounding a small fraction of the enemy, and +particularly in the darkness of night, is also more practicable for +this reason, that whatever we stake upon it, and however superior the +force used may be, still probably it constitutes only a limited portion +of our Army, and we can sooner stake that than the whole on the risk of +a great venture. Besides, the greater part or perhaps the whole serves +as a support and rallying-point for the portion risked, which again +very much diminishes the danger of the enterprise. + +Not only the risk, but the difficulty of execution as well confines +night enterprises to small bodies. As surprise is the real essence of +them so also stealthy approach is the chief condition of execution: but +this is more easily done with small bodies than with large, and for the +columns of a whole Army is seldom practicable. For this reason such +enterprises are in general only directed against single outposts, and +can only be feasible against greater bodies if they are without +sufficient outposts, like Frederick the Great at Hochkirch.(*) This +will happen seldomer in future to Armies themselves than to minor +divisions. + +(*) October 14, 1758. + + +In recent times, when War has been carried on with so much more +rapidity and vigour, it has in consequence often happened that Armies +have encamped very close to each other, without having a very strong +system of outposts, because those circumstances have generally occurred +just at the crisis which precedes a great decision. + +But then at such times the readiness for battle on both sides is also +more perfect; on the other hand, in former Wars it was a frequent +practice for armies to take up camps in sight of each other, when they +had no other object but that of mutually holding each other in check, +consequently for a longer period. How often Frederick the Great stood +for weeks so near to the Austrians, that the two might have exchanged +cannon shots with each other. + +But these practices, certainly more favourable to night attacks, have +been discontinued in later days; and armies being now no longer in +regard to subsistence and requirements for encampment, such independent +bodies complete in themselves, find it necessary to keep usually a +day’s march between themselves and the enemy. If we now keep in view +especially the night attack of an army, it follows that sufficient +motives for it can seldom occur, and that they fall under one or other +of the following classes. + +1. An unusual degree of carelessness or audacity which very rarely +occurs, and when it does is compensated for by a great superiority in +moral force. + +2. A panic in the enemy’s army, or generally such a degree of +superiority in moral force on our side, that this is sufficient to +supply the place of guidance in action. + +3. Cutting through an enemy’s army of superior force, which keeps us +enveloped, because in this all depends on surprise, and the object of +merely making a passage by force, allows a much greater concentration +of forces. + +4. Finally, in desperate cases, when our forces have such a +disproportion to the enemy’s, that we see no possibility of success, +except through extraordinary daring. + +But in all these cases there is still the condition that the enemy’s +army is under our eyes, and protected by no advance-guard. + +As for the rest, most night combats are so conducted as to end with +daylight, so that only the approach and the first attack are made under +cover of darkness, because the assailant in that manner can better +profit by the consequences of the state of confusion into which he +throws his adversary; and combats of this description which do not +commence until daybreak, in which the night therefore is only made use +of to approach, are not to be counted as night combats. + + + +BOOK V MILITARY FORCES + + + +CHAPTER I. General Scheme + +We shall consider military forces: + +1. As regards their numerical strength and organisation. + +2. In their state independent of fighting. + +3. In respect of their maintenance; and, lastly, + +4. In their general relations to country and ground. + +Thus we shall devote this book to the consideration of things +appertaining to an army, which only come under the head of _necessary +conditions of fighting_, but do not constitute the fight itself. They +stand in more or less close connection with and react upon the +fighting, and therefore, in considering the application of the combat +they must often appear; but we must first consider each by itself, as a +whole, in its essence and peculiarities. + + + +CHAPTER II. Theatre of War, Army, Campaign + +The nature of the things does not allow of a completely satisfactory +definition of these three factors, denoting respectively, space, mass, +and time in war; but that we may not sometimes be quite misunderstood, +we must try to make somewhat plainer the usual meaning of these terms, +to which we shall in most cases adhere. + +1.—Theatre of War. + + +This term denotes properly such a portion of the space over which war +prevails as has its boundaries protected, and thus possesses a kind of +independence. This protection may consist in fortresses, or important +natural obstacles presented by the country, or even in its being +separated by a considerable distance from the rest of the space +embraced in the war.—Such a portion is not a mere piece of the whole, +but a small whole complete in itself; and consequently it is more or +less in such a condition that changes which take place at other points +in the seat of war have only an indirect and no direct influence upon +it. To give an adequate idea of this, we may suppose that on this +portion an advance is made, whilst in another quarter a retreat is +taking place, or that upon the one an army is acting defensively, +whilst an offensive is being carried on upon the other. Such a clearly +defined idea as this is not capable of universal application; it is +here used merely to indicate the line of distinction. + +2.—Army. + + +With the assistance of the conception of a Theatre of War, it is very +easy to say what an Army is: it is, in point of fact, the mass of +troops in the same Theatre of War. But this plainly does not include +all that is meant by the term in its common usage. Blücher and +Wellington commanded each a separate army in 1815, although the two +were in the same Theatre of War. The chief command is, therefore, +another distinguishing sign for the conception of an Army. At the same +time this sign is very nearly allied to the preceding, for where things +are well organised, there should only exist one supreme command in a +Theatre of War, and the commander-in-chief in a particular Theatre of +War should always have a proportionate degree of independence. + +The mere absolute numerical strength of a body of troops is less +decisive on the subject than might at first appear. For where several +Armies are acting under one command, and upon one and the same Theatre +of War, they are called Armies, not by reason of their strength, but +from the relations antecedent to the war (1813, the Silesian Army, the +Army of the North, etc), and although we should divide a great mass of +troops intended to remain in the same Theatre into corps, we should +never divide them into Armies, at least, such a division would be +contrary to what seems to be the meaning which is universally attached +to the term. On the other hand, it would certainly be pedantry to apply +the term Army to each band of irregular troops acting independently in +a remote province: still we must not leave unnoticed that it surprises +no one when the Army of the Vendeans in the Revolutionary War is spoken +of, and yet it was not much stronger. + +The conceptions of Army and Theatre of War therefore, as a rule, go +together, and mutually include each other. + +3.—Campaign. + + +Although the sum of all military events which happen in all the +Theatres of War in one year is often called a _Campaign_, still, +however, it is more usual and more exact to understand by the term the +events in _one single_ Theatre of War. But it is worse still to connect +the notion of a Campaign with the period of one year, for wars no +longer divide themselves naturally into Campaigns of a year’s duration +by fixed and long periods in winter quarters. As, however, the events +in a Theatre of War of themselves form certain great chapters—if, for +instance, the direct effects of some more or less great catastrophe +cease, and new combinations begin to develop themselves—therefore these +natural subdivisions must be taken into consideration in order to allot +to each year (Campaign) its complete share of events. No one would make +the Campaign of 1812 terminate at Memel, where the armies were on the +1st January, and transfer the further retreat of the French until they +recrossed the Elbe to the campaign of 1813, as that further retreat was +plainly only a part of the whole retreat from Moscow. + +That we cannot give these conceptions any greater degree of +distinctness is of no consequence, because they cannot be used as +philosophical definitions for the basis of any kind of propositions. +They only serve to give a little more clearness and precision to the +language we use. + + + +CHAPTER III. Relation of Power + +In the eighth chapter of the third book we have spoken of the value of +superior numbers in battles, from which follows as a consequence the +superiority of numbers in general in strategy. So far the importance of +the relations of power is established: we shall now add a few more +detailed considerations on the subject. + +An unbiassed examination of modern military history leads to the +conviction that the _superiority in numbers becomes every day more +decisive;_ the principle of assembling the greatest possible numbers +for a decisive battle may therefore be regarded as more important than +ever. + +Courage and the spirit of an army have, in all ages, multiplied its +physical powers, and will continue to do so equally in future; but we +find also that at certain periods in history a superiority in the +organisation and equipment of an army has given a great moral +preponderance; we find that at other periods a great superiority in +mobility had a like effect; at one time we see a new system of tactics +brought to light; at another we see the art of war developing itself in +an effort to make a skilful use of ground on great general principles, +and by such means here and there we find one general gaining great +advantages over another; but even this tendency has disappeared, and +wars now go on in a simpler and more natural manner.—If, divesting +ourselves of any preconceived notions, we look at the experiences of +recent wars, we must admit that there are but little traces of any of +the above influences, either throughout any whole campaign, or in +engagements of a decisive character—that is, the great battle, +respecting which term we refer to the second chapter of the preceding +book. + +Armies are in our days so much on a par in regard to arms, equipment, +and drill, that there is no very notable difference between the best +and the worst in these things. A difference may still be observed, +resulting from the superior instruction of the scientific corps, but in +general it only amounts to this, that one is the inventor and +introducer of improved appliances, which the other immediately +imitates. Even the subordinate generals, leaders of corps and +divisions, in all that comes within the scope of their sphere, have in +general everywhere the same ideas and methods, so that, except the +talent of the commander-in-chief—a thing entirely dependent on chance, +and not bearing a constant relation to the standard of education +amongst the people and the army—there is nothing now but habituation to +war which can give one army a decided superiority over another. The +nearer we approach to a state of equality in all these things, the more +decisive becomes the relation in point of numbers. + +The character of modern battles is the result of this state of +equality. Take for instance the battle of Borodino, where the first +army in the world, the French, measured its strength with the Russian, +which, in many parts of its organisation, and in the education of its +special branches, might be considered the furthest behindhand. In the +whole battle there is not one single trace of superior art or +intelligence, it is a mere trial of strength between the respective +armies throughout; and as they were nearly equal in that respect, the +result could not be otherwise than a gradual turn of the scale in +favour of that side where there was the greatest energy on the part of +the commander, and the most experience in war on the part of the +troops. We have taken this battle as an illustration, because in it +there was an equality in the numbers on each side such as is rarely to +be found. + +We do not maintain that all battles exactly resemble this, but it shows +the dominant tone of most of them. + +In a battle in which the forces try their strength on each other so +leisurely and methodically, an excess of force on one side must make +the result in its favour much more certain. And it is a fact that we +may search modern military history in vain for a battle in which an +army has beaten another double its own strength, an occurrence by no +means uncommon in former times. Buonaparte, the greatest general of +modern times, in all his great victorious battles—with one exception, +that of Dresden, 1813—had managed to assemble an army superior in +numbers, or at least very little inferior, to that of his opponent, and +when it was impossible for him to do so, as at Leipsic, Brienne, Laon, +and Belle-Alliance, he was beaten. + +The absolute strength is in strategy generally a given quantity, which +the commander cannot alter. But from this it by no means follows that +it is impossible to carry on a war with a decidedly inferior force. War +is not always a voluntary act of state policy, and least of all is it +so when the forces are very unequal: consequently, any relation of +forces is imaginable in war, and it would be a strange theory of war +which would wish to give up its office just where it is most wanted. + +However desirable theory may consider a proportionate force, still it +cannot say that no use can be made of the most disproportionate. No +limits can be prescribed in this respect. + +The weaker the force the more moderate must be the object it proposes +to itself, and the weaker the force the shorter time it will last. In +these two directions there is a field for weakness to give way, if we +may use this expression. Of the changes which the measure of the force +produces in the conduct of war, we can only speak by degrees, as these +things present themselves; at present it is sufficient to have +indicated the general point of view, but to complete that we shall add +one more observation. + +The more that an army involved in an unequal combat falls short of the +number of its opponents, the greater must be the tension of its powers, +the greater its energy when danger presses. If the reverse takes place, +and instead of heroic desperation a spirit of despondency ensues, then +certainly there is an end to every art of war. + +If with this energy of powers is combined a wise moderation in the +object proposed, then there is that play of brilliant actions and +prudent forbearance which we admire in the wars of Frederick the Great. + +But the less that this moderation and caution can effect, the more must +the tension and energy of the forces become predominant. When the +disproportion of forces is so great that no modification of our own +object can ensure us safety from a catastrophe, or where the probable +continuance of the danger is so great that the greatest economy of our +powers can no longer suffice to bring us to our object, then the +tension of our powers should be concentrated for one desperate blow; he +who is pressed on all sides expecting little help from things which +promise none, will place his last and only reliance in the moral +ascendancy which despair gives to courage, and look upon the greatest +daring as the greatest wisdom,—at the same time employ the assistance +of subtle stratagem, and if he does not succeed, will find in an +honourable downfall the right to rise hereafter. + + + +CHAPTER IV. Relation of the Three Arms + +We shall only speak of the three principal arms: Infantry, Cavalry, and +Artillery. + +We must be excused for making the following analysis which belongs more +to tactics, but is necessary to give distinctness to our ideas. + +The combat is of two kinds, which are essentially different: the +destructive principle of fire, and the hand to hand or personal combat. +This latter, again, is either attack or defence. (As we here speak of +elements, attack and defence are to be understood in a perfectly +absolute sense.) Artillery, obviously, acts only with the destructive +principle of fire. Cavalry only with personal combat. Infantry with +both. + +In close combat the essence of defence consists in standing firm, as if +rooted to the ground; the essence of the attack is movement. Cavalry is +entirely deficient in the first quality; on the other hand, it +possesses the latter in an especial manner. It is therefore only suited +for attack. Infantry has especially the property of standing firm, but +is not altogether without mobility. + +From this division of the elementary forces of war into different arms, +we have as a result, the superiority and general utility of Infantry as +compared with the other two arms, from its being the only arm which +unites in itself all the three elementary forces. A further deduction +to be drawn is, that the combination of the three arms leads to a more +perfect use of the forces, by affording the means of strengthening at +pleasure either the one or the other of the principles which are united +in an unalterable manner in Infantry. + +The destructive principle of fire is in the wars of the present time +plainly beyond measure the most effective; nevertheless, the close +combat, man to man, is just as plainly to be regarded as the real basis +of combat. For that reason, therefore, an army of artillery only would +be an absurdity in war, but an army of cavalry is conceivable, only it +would possess very little intensity of force An army of infantry alone +is not only conceivable but also much the strongest of the three. The +three arms, therefore, stand in this order in reference to independent +value—Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery. + +But this order does not hold good if applied to the relative importance +of each arm when they are all three acting in conjunction. As the +destructive principle is much more effective than the principle of +motion, therefore the complete want of cavalry would weaken an army +less than the total want of artillery. + +An army consisting of infantry and artillery alone, would certainly +find itself in a disagreeable position if opposed to an army composed +of all three arms; but if what it lacked in cavalry was compensated for +by a proportionate increase of infantry, it would still, by a somewhat +different mode of acting, be able to do very well with its tactical +economy. Its outpost service would cause some embarrassment; it would +never be able to pursue a beaten enemy with great vivacity, and it must +make a retreat with greater hardships and efforts; but these +inconveniences would still never be sufficient in themselves to drive +it completely out of the field.—On the other hand, such an army opposed +to one composed of infantry and cavalry only would be able to play a +very good part, while it is hardly conceivable that the latter could +keep the field at all against an army made up of all three arms. + +Of course these reflections on the relative importance of each single +arm result only from a consideration of the generality of events in +war, where one case compensates another; and therefore it is not our +intention to apply the truth thus ascertained to each individual case +of a particular combat. A battalion on outpost service or on a retreat +may, perhaps, choose to have with it a squadron in preference to a +couple of guns. A body of cavalry with horse artillery, sent in rapid +pursuit of, or to cut off, a flying enemy wants no infantry, etc., etc. + +If we summarise the results of these considerations they amount to +this. + +1. That infantry is the most independent of the three arms. + +2. Artillery is quite wanting in independence. + +3. Infantry is the most important in the combination of the three arms. + +4. Cavalry can the most easily be dispensed with. + +5. A combination of the three arms gives the greatest strength. + +Now, if the combination of the three gives the greatest strength, it is +natural to inquire what is the best absolute proportion of each, but +that is a question which it is almost impossible to answer. + +If we could form a comparative estimate of the cost of organising in +the first instance, and then provisioning and maintaining each of the +three arms, and then again of the relative amount of service rendered +by each in war, we should obtain a definite result which would give the +best proportion in the abstract. But this is little more than a play of +the imagination. The very first term in the comparison is difficult to +determine, that is to say, one of the factors, the cost in money, is +not difficult to find; but another, the value of men’s lives, is a +computation which no one would readily try to solve by figures. + +Also the circumstance that each of the three arms chiefly depends on a +different element of strength in the state—Infantry on the number of +the male population, cavalry on the number of horses, artillery on +available financial means—introduces into the calculation some +heterogeneous conditions, the overruling influence of which may be +plainly observed in the great outlines of the history of different +people at various periods. + +As, however, for other reasons we cannot altogether dispense with some +standard of comparison, therefore, in place of the whole of the first +term of the comparison we must take only that one of its factors which +can be ascertained, namely, the cost in money. Now on this point it is +sufficient for our purpose to assume that, in general, a squadron of +150 horsemen, a battalion of infantry 800 strong, a battery of +artillery consisting of 8 six-pounders, cost nearly the same, both as +respects the expense of formation and of maintenance. + +With regard to the other member of the comparison, that is, how much +service the one arm is capable of rendering as compared with the +others, it is much less easy to find any distinct quantity. The thing +might perhaps be possible if it depended merely on the destroying +principle; but each arm is destined to its own particular use, +therefore has its own particular sphere of action, which, again, is not +so distinctly defined that it might not be greater or less through +modifications only in the mode of conducting the war, without causing +any decided disadvantage. + +We are often told of what experience teaches on this subject, and it is +supposed that military history affords the information necessary for a +settlement of the question, but every one must look upon all that as +nothing more than a way of talking, which, as it is not derived from +anything of a primary and necessary nature, does not deserve attention +in an analytical examination. + +Now although a fixed ratio as representing the best proportion between +the three arms is conceivable, but is an x which it is impossible to +find, a mere imaginary quantity, still it is possible to appreciate the +effects of having a great superiority or a great inferiority in one +particular arm as compared with the same arm in the enemy’s army. + +Artillery increases the destructive principle of fire; it is the most +redoubtable of arms, and its want, therefore, diminishes very +considerably the intensive force of an army. On the other hand, it is +the least moveable, consequently, makes an army more unwieldy; further, +it always requires a force for its support, because it is incapable of +close combat; if it is too numerous, so that the troops appointed for +its protection are not able to resist the attacks of the enemy at every +point, it is often lost, and from that follows a fresh disadvantage, +because of the three arms it is the only one which in its principal +parts, that is guns and carriages, the enemy can soon use against us. + +Cavalry increases the principle of mobility in an army. If too few in +number the brisk flame of the elements of war is thereby weakened, +because everything must be done slower (on foot), everything must be +organised with more care; the rich harvest of victory, instead of being +cut with a scythe, can only be reaped with a sickle. + +An excess of cavalry can certainly never be looked upon as a direct +diminution of the combatant force, as an organic disproportion, but it +may certainly be so indirectly, on account of the difficulty of feeding +that arm, and also if we reflect that instead of a surplus of 10,000 +horsemen not required we might have 50,000 infantry. + +These peculiarities arising from the preponderance of one arm are the +more important to the art of war in its limited sense, as that art +teaches the use of whatever forces are forthcoming; and when forces are +placed under the command of a general, the proportion of the three arms +is also commonly already settled without his having had much voice in +the matter. + +If we would form an idea of the character of warfare modified by the +preponderance of one or other of the three arms it is to be done in the +following manner:— + +An excess of artillery leads to a more defensive and passive character +in our measures; our interest will be to seek security in strong +positions, great natural obstacles of ground, even in mountain +positions, in order that the natural impediments we find in the ground +may undertake the defence and protection of our numerous artillery, and +that the enemy’s forces may come themselves and seek their own +destruction. The whole war will be carried on in a serious formal +minuet step. + +On the other hand, a want of artillery will make us prefer the +offensive, the active, the mobile principle; marching, fatigue, +exertion, become our special weapons, thus the war will become more +diversified, more lively, rougher; small change is substituted for +great events. + +With a very numerous cavalry we seek wide plains, and take to great +movements. At a greater distance from the enemy we enjoy more rest and +greater conveniences without conferring the same advantages on our +adversary. We may venture on bolder measures to outflank him, and on +more daring movements generally, as we have command over space. In as +far as diversions and invasions are true auxiliary means of war we +shall be able to make use of them with greater facility. + +A decided want of cavalry diminishes the force of mobility in an army +without increasing its destructive power as an excess of artillery +does. Prudence and method become then the leading characteristics of +the war. Always to remain near the enemy in order to keep him +constantly in view—no rapid, still less hurried movements, everywhere a +slow pushing on of well concentrated masses—a preference for the +defensive and for broken country, and, when the offensive must be +resorted to, the shortest road direct to the centre of force in the +enemy’s army—these are the natural tendencies or principles in such +cases. + +These different forms which warfare takes according as one or other of +the three arms preponderates, seldom have an influence so complete and +decided as alone, or chiefly to determine the direction of a whole +undertaking. Whether we shall act strategically on the offensive or +defensive, the choice of a theatre of war, the determination to fight a +great battle, or adopt some other means of destruction, are points +which must be determined by other and more essential considerations, at +least, if this is not the case, it is much to be feared that we have +mistaken minor details for the chief consideration. But although this +is so, although the great questions must be decided before on other +grounds, there still always remains a certain margin for the influence +of the preponderating arm, for in the offensive we can always be +prudent and methodical, in the defensive bold and enterprising, etc., +etc., through all the different stages and gradations of the military +life. + +On the other hand, the nature of a war may have a notable influence on +the proportions of the three arms. + +First, a national war, kept up by militia and a general levy +(Landsturm), must naturally bring into the field a very numerous +infantry; for in such wars there is a greater want of the means of +equipment than of men, and as the equipment consequently is confined to +what is indisputably necessary, we may easily imagine, that for every +battery of eight pieces, not only one, but two or three battalions +might be raised. + +Second, if a weak state opposed to a powerful one cannot take refuge in +a general call of the male population to regular military service, or +in a militia system resembling it, then the increase of its artillery +is certainly the shortest way of bringing up its weak army nearer to an +equality with that of the enemy, for it saves men, and intensifies the +essential principle of military force, that is, the destructive +principle. Any way, such a state will mostly be confined to a limited +theatre, and therefore this arm will be better suited to it. Frederick +the Great adopted this means in the later period of the Seven Years’ +War. + +Third, cavalry is the arm for movement and great decisions; its +increase beyond the ordinary proportions is therefore important if the +war extends over a great space, if expeditions are to be made in +various directions, and great and decisive blows are intended. +Buonaparte is an example of this. + +That the offensive and defensive do not properly in themselves exercise +an influence on the proportion of cavalry will only appear plainly when +we come to speak of these two methods of acting in war; in the +meantime, we shall only remark that both assailant and defender as a +rule traverse the same spaces in war, and may have also, at least in +many cases, the same decisive intentions. We remind our readers of the +campaign of 1812. + +It is commonly believed that, in the middle ages, cavalry was much more +numerous in proportion to infantry, and that the difference has been +gradually on the decrease ever since. Yet this is a mistake, at least +partly. The proportion of cavalry was, according to numbers, on the +average perhaps, not much greater; of this we may convince ourselves by +tracing, through the history of the middle ages, the detailed +statements of the armed forces then employed. Let us only think of the +masses of men on foot who composed the armies of the Crusaders, or the +masses who followed the Emperors of Germany on their Roman expeditions. +It was in reality the importance of the cavalry which was so much +greater in those days; it was the stronger arm, composed of the flower +of the people, so much so that, although always very much weaker +actually in numbers, it was still always looked upon as the chief +thing, infantry was little valued, hardly spoken of; hence has arisen +the belief that its numbers were few. No doubt it happened oftener than +it does now, that in incursions of small importance in France, Germany, +and Italy, a small army was composed entirely of cavalry; as it was the +chief arm, there is nothing inconsistent in that; but these cases +decide nothing if we take a general view, as they are greatly +outnumbered by cases of greater armies of the period constituted +differently. It was only when the obligations to military service +imposed by the feudal laws had ceased, and wars were carried on by +soldiers enlisted, hired, and paid—when, therefore, wars depended on +money and enlistment, that is, at the time of the Thirty Years’ War, +and the wars of Louis XIV.—that this employment of great masses of +almost useless infantry was checked, and perhaps in those days they +might have fallen into the exclusive use of cavalry, if infantry had +not just then risen in importance through the improvements in +fire-arms, by which means it maintained its numerical superiority in +proportion to cavalry; at this period, if infantry was weak, the +proportion was as one to one, if numerous as three to one. + +Since then cavalry has always decreased in importance according as +improvements in the use of fire-arms have advanced. This is +intelligible enough in itself, but the improvement we speak of does not +relate solely to the weapon itself and the skill in handling it; we +advert also to greater ability in using troops armed with this weapon. +At the battle of Mollwitz the Prussian army had brought the fire of +their infantry to such a state of perfection, that there has been no +improvement since then in that sense. On the other hand, the use of +infantry in broken ground and as skirmishers has been introduced more +recently, and is to be looked upon as a very great advance in the art +of destruction. + +Our opinion is, therefore, that the relation of cavalry has not much +changed as far as regards numbers, but as regards its importance, there +has been a great alteration. This seems to be a contradiction, but is +not so in reality. The infantry of the middle ages, although forming +the greater proportion of an army, did not attain to that proportion by +its value as compared to cavalry, but because all that could not be +appointed to the very costly cavalry were handed over to the infantry; +this infantry was, therefore, merely a last resource; and if the number +of cavalry had depended merely on the value set on that arm, it could +never have been too great. Thus we can understand how cavalry, in spite +of its constantly decreasing importance, may still, perhaps, have +importance enough to keep its numerical relation at that point which it +has hitherto so constantly maintained. + +It is a remarkable fact that, at least since the wars of the Austrian +succession, the proportion of cavalry to infantry has changed very +little, the variation being constantly between a fourth, a fifth or a +sixth; this seems to indicate that those proportions meet the natural +requirements of an army, and that these numbers give the solution which +it is impossible to find in a direct manner. We doubt, however, if this +is the case, and we find the principal instances of the employment of a +numerous cavalry sufficiently accounted for by other causes. + +Austria and Russia are states which have kept up a numerous cavalry, +because they retain in their political condition the fragments of a +Tartar organisation. Buonaparte for his purposes could never be strong +enough in cavalry; when he had made use of the conscription as far as +possible, he had no ways of strengthening his armies, but by increasing +the auxiliary arms, as they cost him more in money than in men. Besides +this, it stands to reason that in military enterprises of such enormous +extent as his, cavalry must have a greater value than in ordinary +cases. + +Frederick the Great it is well known reckoned carefully every recruit +that could be saved to his country; it was his great business to keep +up the strength of his army, as far as possible at the expense of other +countries. His reasons for this are easy to conceive, if we remember +that his small dominions did not then include Prussia and the +Westphalian provinces. Cavalry was kept complete by recruitment more +easily than infantry, irrespective of fewer men being required; in +addition to which, his system of war was completely founded on the +mobility of his army, and thus it was, that while his infantry +diminished in number, his cavalry was always increasing itself till the +end of the Seven Years’ War. Still at the end of that war it was hardly +more than a fourth of the number of infantry that he had in the field. + +At the period referred to there is no want of instances, also of armies +entering the field unusually weak in cavalry, and yet carrying off the +victory. The most remarkable is the battle of Gross-gorschen. If we +only count the French divisions which took part in the battle, +Buonaparte was 100,000 strong, of which 5,000 were cavalry, 90,000 +infantry; the Allies had 70,000, of which 25,000 were cavalry and +40,000 infantry. Thus, in place of the 20,000 cavalry on the side of +the Allies in excess of the total of the French cavalry, Buonaparte had +only 50,000 additional infantry when he ought to have had 100,000. As +he gained the battle with that superiority in infantry, we may ask +whether it was at all likely that he would have lost it if the +proportions had been 140,000 to 40,000. + +Certainly the great advantage of our superiority in cavalry was shown +immediately after the battle, for Buonaparte gained hardly any trophies +by his victory. The gain of a battle is therefore not everything,—but +is it not always the chief thing? + +If we put together these considerations, we can hardly believe that the +numerical proportion between cavalry and infantry which has existed for +the last eighty years is the natural one, founded solely on their +absolute value; we are much rather inclined to think, that after many +fluctuations, the relative proportions of these arms will change +further in the same direction as hitherto, and that the fixed number of +cavalry at last will be considerably less. + +With respect to artillery, the number of guns has naturally increased +since its first invention, and according as it has been made lighter +and otherwise improved; still since the time of Frederick the Great, it +has also kept very much to the same proportion of two or three guns per +1,000 men, we mean at the commencement of a campaign; for during its +course artillery does not melt away as fast as infantry, therefore at +the end of a campaign the proportion is generally notably greater, +perhaps three, four, or five guns per 1,000 men. Whether this is the +natural proportion, or that the increase of artillery may be carried +still further, without prejudice to the whole conduct of war, must be +left for experience to decide. + +The principal results we obtain from the whole of these considerations, +are— + +1. That infantry is the chief arm, to which the other two are +subordinate. + +2. That by the exercise of great skill and energy in command, the want +of the two subordinate arms may in some measure be compensated for, +provided that we are much stronger in infantry; and the better the +infantry the easier this may be done. + +3. That it is more difficult to dispense with artillery than with +cavalry, because it is the chief principle of destruction, and its mode +of fighting is more amalgamated with that of infantry. + +4. That artillery being the strongest arm, as regards destructive +action, and cavalry the weakest in that respect, the question must in +general arise, how much artillery can we have without inconvenience, +and what is the least proportion of cavalry we require? + + + +CHAPTER V. Order of Battle of an Army + +The order of battle is that division and formation of the different +arms into separate parts or sections of the whole Army, and that form +of general position or disposition of those parts which is to be the +norm throughout the whole campaign or war. + +It consists, therefore, in a certain measure, of an arithmetical and a +geometrical element, _the division_ and the _form of disposition_. The +first proceeds from the permanent peace organisation of the army; +adopts as units certain parts, such as battalions, squadrons, and +batteries, and with them forms units of a higher order up to the +highest of all, the whole army, according to the requirements of +predominating circumstances. In like manner, the form of disposition +comes from the elementary tactics, in which the army is instructed and +exercised in time of peace, which must be looked upon as a property in +the troops that cannot be essentially modified at the moment war breaks +out, the disposition connects these tactics with the conditions which +the use of the troops in war and in large masses demands, and thus it +settles in a general way the rule or norm in conformity with which the +troops are to be drawn up for battle. + +This has been invariably the case when great armies have taken the +field, and there have been times when this form was considered as the +most essential part of the battle. + +In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when the improvements in +the firearms of infantry occasioned a great increase of that arm, and +allowed of its being deployed in such long thin lines, the order of +battle was thereby simplified, but, at the same time it became more +difficult and more artificial in the carrying out, and as no other way +of disposing of cavalry at the commencement of a battle was known but +that of posting them on the wings, where they were out of the fire and +had room to move, therefore in the order of battle the army always +became a closed inseparable whole. If such an army was divided in the +middle, it was like an earthworm cut in two: the wings had still life +and the power of motion, but they had lost their natural functions. The +army lay, therefore, in a manner under a spell of unity, and whenever +any parts of it had to be placed in a separate position, a small +organisation and disorganisation became necessary. The marches which +the whole army had to make were a condition in which, to a certain +extent, it found itself out of rule. If the enemy was at hand, the +march had to be arranged in the most artificial manner, and in order +that one line or one wing might be always at the prescribed distance +from the other, the troops had to scramble over everything: marches had +also constantly to be stolen from the enemy, and this perpetual theft +only escaped severe punishment through one circumstance, which was, +that the enemy lay under the same ban. + +Hence, when, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, it was +discovered that cavalry would serve just as well to protect a wing if +it stood in rear of the army as if it were placed on the prolongation +of the line, and that, besides this, it might be applied to other +purposes than merely fighting a duel with the enemy’s cavalry, a great +step in advance was made, because now the army in its principal +extension or front, which is always the breadth of its order of battle +(position), consisted entirely of homogeneous members, so that it could +be formed of any number of parts at pleasure, each part like another +and like the whole. In this way it ceased to be one single piece and +became an articulated whole, consequently pliable and manageable: the +parts might be separated from the whole and then joined on again +without difficulty, the order of battle always remained the same.—Thus +arose the corps consisting of all arms, that is, thus such an +organisation became possible, for the want of it had been felt long +before. + +That all this relates to the combat is very natural. The battle was +formerly the whole war, and will always continue to be the principal +part of it; but, the order of battle belongs generally more to tactics +than strategy, and it is only introduced here to show how tactics in +organising the whole into smaller wholes made preparations for +strategy. + +The greater armies become, the more they are distributed over wide +spaces and the more diversified the action and reaction of the +different parts amongst themselves, the wider becomes the field of +strategy, and, therefore, then the order of battle, in the sense of our +definition, must also come into a kind of reciprocal action with +strategy, which manifests itself chiefly at the extreme points where +tactics and strategy meet, that is, at those moments when the general +distribution of the combatant forces passes into the special +dispositions for the combat. + +We now turn to those three points, the _division, combination of arms_, +and _order of battle_ (_disposition_) in a strategic point of view. + +1.—Division. + + +In strategy we must never ask what is to be the strength of a division +or a corps, but how many corps or division an army should have. There +is nothing more unmanageable than an army divided into three parts, +except it be one divided into only two, in which case the chief command +must be almost neutralised. + +To fix the strength of great and small corps, either on the grounds of +elementary tactics or on higher grounds, leaves an incredibly wide +field for arbitrary judgment, and heaven knows what strange modes of +reasoning have sported in this wide field. On the other hand, the +necessity of forming an independent whole (army) into a certain number +of parts is a thing as obvious as it is positive, and this idea +furnishes real strategic motives for determining the number of the +greater divisions of an army, consequently their strength, whilst the +strength of the smaller divisions, such as companies, battalions, etc., +is left to be determined by tactics. + +We can hardly imagine the smallest independent body in which there are +not at least three parts to be distinguished, that one part may be +thrown out in advance, and another part be left in rear: that four is +still more convenient follows of itself, if we keep in view that the +middle part, being the principal division, ought to be stronger than +either of the others; in this way, we may proceed to make out eight, +which appears to us to be the most suitable number for an army if we +take one part for an advanced guard as a constant necessity, three for +the main body, that is a right wing, centre and left wing, two +divisions for reserve, and one to detach to the right, one to the left. +Without pedantically ascribing a great importance to these numbers and +figures, we certainly believe that they represent the most usual and +frequently recurring strategic disposition, and on that account one +that is convenient. + +Certainly it seems that the supreme direction of an army (and the +direction of every whole) must be greatly facilitated if there are only +three or four subordinates to command, but the commander-in-chief must +pay dearly for this convenience in a twofold manner. In the first +place, an order loses in rapidity, force, and exactness if the +gradation ladder down which it has to descend is long, and this must be +the case if there are corps-commanders between the division leaders and +the chief; secondly, the chief loses generally in his own proper power +and efficiency the wider the spheres of action of his immediate +subordinates become. A general commanding 100,000 men in eight +divisions exercises a power which is greater in intensity than if the +100,000 men were divided into only three corps. There are many reasons +for this, but the most important is that each commander looks upon +himself as having a kind of proprietary right in his own corps, and +always opposes the withdrawal from him of any portion of it for a +longer or shorter time. A little experience of war will make this +evident to any one. + +But on the other hand the number of divisions must not be too great, +otherwise disorder will ensue. It is difficult enough to manage eight +divisions from one head quarter, and the number should never be allowed +to exceed ten. But in a division in which the means of circulating +orders are much less, the smaller normal number four, or at most five, +may be regarded as the more suitable. + +If these factors, five and ten, will not answer, that is, if the +brigades are too strong, then _corps d’armée_ must be introduced; but +we must remember that by so doing, a new power is created, which at +once very much lowers all other factors. + +But now, what is too strong a brigade? The custom is to make them from +2,000 to 5,000 men strong, and there appear to be two reasons for +making the latter number the limit; the first is that a brigade is +supposed to be a subdivision which can be commanded by one man +directly, that is, through the compass of his voice: the second is that +any larger body of infantry should not be left without artillery, and +through this first combination of arms a special division of itself is +formed. + +We do not wish to involve ourselves in these tactical subtilties, +neither shall we enter upon the disputed point, where and in what +proportions the combination of all three arms should take place, +whether with divisions of 8,000 to 12,000 men, or with corps which are +20,000 to 30,000 men strong. The most decided opponent of these +combinations will scarcely take exception at the mere assertion, that +nothing but this combination of the three arms can make a division +independent, and that therefore, for such as are intended to be +frequently detached separately, it is at least very desirable. + +An army of 200,000 men in ten divisions, the divisions composed of five +brigades each, would give brigades 4,000 strong. We see here no +disproportion. Certainly this army might also be divided into five +corps, the corps into four divisions, and the division into four +brigades, which makes the brigade 2,500 men strong; but the first +distribution, looked at in the abstract, appears to us preferable, for +besides that, in the other, there is one more gradation of rank, five +parts are too few to make an army manageable; four divisions, in like +manner, are too few for a corps, and 2,500 men is a weak brigade, of +which, in this manner, there are eighty, whereas the first formation +has only fifty, and is therefore simpler. All these advantages are +given up merely for the sake of having only to send orders to half as +many generals. Of course the distribution into corps is still more +unsuitable for smaller armies. + +This is the abstract view of the case. The particular case may present +good reasons for deciding otherwise. Likewise, we must admit that, +although eight or ten divisions may be directed when united in a level +country, in widely extended mountain positions the thing might perhaps +be impossible. A great river which divides an army into halves, makes a +commander for each half indispensable; in short, there are a hundred +local and particular objects of the most decisive character, before +which all rules must give way. + +But still, experience teaches us, that these abstract grounds come most +frequently into use and are seldomer overruled by others than we should +perhaps suppose. + +We wish further to explain clearly the scope of the foregoing +considerations by a simple outline, for which purpose we now place the +different points of most importance next to each other. + +As we mean by the term numbers, or parts of a whole, only those which +are made by the primary, therefore the immediate division, we say. + +1. If a whole has too few members it is unwieldy. + +2. If the parts of a whole body are too large, the power of the +superior will is thereby weakened. + +3. With every additional step through which an order has to pass, it is +weakened in two ways: in one way by the loss of force, which it suffers +in its passage through an additional step; in another way by the longer +time in its transmission. + +The tendency of all this is to show that the number of co-ordinate +divisions should be as great, and the gradational steps as few as +possible; and the only limitation to this conclusion is, that in armies +no more than from eight to ten, and in subordinate corps no more than +from four or at most six, subdivisions can be conveniently directed. + +2.—Combination of Arms. + + +For strategy the combination of the three arms in the order of battle +is only important in regard to those parts of the army which, according +to the usual order of things, are likely to be frequently employed in a +detached position, where they may be obliged to engage in an +independent combat. Now it is in the nature of things, that the members +of the first class, and for the most part only these, are destined for +detached positions, because, as we shall see elsewhere, detached +positions are most generally adopted upon the supposition and the +necessity of a body independent in itself. + +In a strict sense strategy would therefore only require a permanent +combination of arms in army corps, or where these do not exist, in +divisions, leaving it to circumstances to determine when a provisional +combination of the three arms shall be made in subdivisions of an +inferior order. + +But it is easy to see that, when corps are of considerable size, such +as 30,000 or 40,000 men, they can seldom find themselves in a situation +to take up a completely connected position in mass. With corps of such +strength, a combination of the arms in the divisions is therefore +necessary. No one who has had any experience in war, will treat lightly +the delay which occurs when pressing messages have to be sent to some +other perhaps distant point before cavalry can be brought to the +support of infantry—to say nothing of the confusion which takes place. + +The details of the combination of the three arms, how far it should +extend, how low down it should be carried, what proportions should be +observed, the strength of the reserves of each to be set apart—these +are all purely tactical considerations. + +3.—The Disposition. + + +The determination as to the relations in space, according to which the +parts of an army amongst themselves are to be drawn up in order of +battle, is likewise completely a tactical subject, referring solely to +the battle. No doubt there is also a strategic disposition of the +parts; but it depends almost entirely on determinations and +requirements of the moment, and what there is in it of the rational, +does not come within the meaning of the term “order of battle.” We +shall therefore treat of it in the following chapter under the head of +_Disposition of an Army_. + +The order of battle of an army is therefore the organisation and +disposition of it in mass ready prepared for battle. Its parts are +united in such a manner that both the tactical and strategical +requirements of the moment can be easily satisfied by the employment of +single parts drawn from the general mass. When such momentary exigency +has passed over, these parts resume their original place, and thus the +order of battle becomes the first step to, and principal foundation of, +that wholesome methodicism which, like the beat of a pendulum, +regulates the work in war, and of which we have already spoken in the +fourth chapter of the Second Book. + + + +CHAPTER VI. General Disposition of an Army + +Between the moment of the first assembling of military forces, and that +of the solution arrived at maturity when strategy has brought the army +to the decisive point, and each particular part has had its position +and rôle pointed out by tactics, there is in most cases a long +interval; it is the same between one decisive catastrophe and another. + +Formerly these intervals in a certain measure did not belong to war at +all. Take for example the manner in which Luxemburg encamped and +marched. We single out this general because he is celebrated for his +camps and marches, and therefore may be considered a representative +general of his period, and from the _Histoire de la Flandre militaire_, +we know more about him than about other generals of the time. + +The camp was regularly pitched with its rear close to a river, or +morass, or a deep valley, which in the present day would be considered +madness. The direction in which the enemy lay had so little to do with +determining the front of the army, that cases are very common in which +the rear was towards the enemy and the front towards their own country. +This now unheard of mode of proceeding is perfectly unintelligible, +unless we suppose that in the choice of camps the convenience of the +troops was the chief, indeed almost the only consideration, and +therefore look upon the state of being in camp as a state outside of +the action of war, a kind of withdrawal behind the scenes, where one is +quite at ease. The practice of always resting the rear upon some +obstacle may be reckoned the only measure of security which was then +taken, of course, in the sense of the mode of conducting war in that +day, for such a measure was quite inconsistent with the possibility of +being compelled to fight in that position. But there was little reason +for apprehension on that score, because the battles generally depended +on a kind of mutual understanding, like a duel, in which the parties +repair to a convenient rendezvous. As armies, partly on account of +their numerous cavalry, which in the decline of its splendour was still +regarded, particularly by the French, as the principal arm, partly on +account of the unwieldy organisation of their order of battle, could +not fight in every description of country, an army in a close broken +country was as it were under the protection of a neutral territory, and +as it could itself make but little use of broken ground, therefore, it +was deemed preferable to go to meet an enemy seeking battle. We know, +indeed, that Luxemburg’s battles at Fleurus, Stienkirk, and Neerwinden, +were conceived in a different spirit; but this spirit had only just +then under this great general freed itself from the old method, and it +had not yet reacted on the method of encampment. Alterations in the art +of war originate always in matters of a decisive nature, and then lead +by degrees to modifications in other things. The expression _il va à la +guerre_, used in reference to a partizan setting out to watch the +enemy, shows how little the state of an army in camp was considered to +be a state of real warfare. + +It was not much otherwise with the marches, for the artillery then +separated itself completely from the rest of the army, in order to take +advantage of better and more secure roads, and the cavalry on the wings +generally took the right alternately, that each might have in turn its +share of the honour of marching on the right. + +At present (that is, chiefly since the Silesian wars) the situation out +of battle is so thoroughly influenced by its connection with battle +that the two states are in intimate correlation, and the one can no +longer be completely imagined without the other. Formerly in a campaign +the battle was the real weapon, the situation at other times only the +handle—the former the steel blade, the other the wooden haft glued to +it, the whole therefore composed of heterogeneous parts,—now the battle +is the edge, the situation out of the battle the back of the blade, the +whole to be looked upon as metal completely welded together, in which +it is impossible any longer to distinguish where the steel ends and the +iron begins. + +This state in war outside of the battle is now partly regulated by the +organisation and regulations with which the army comes prepared from a +state of peace, partly by the tactical and strategic arrangements of +the moment. The three situations in which an army may be placed are in +quarters, on a march, or in camp. All three belong as much to tactics +as to strategy, and these two branches, bordering on each other here in +many ways, often seem to, or actually do, incorporate themselves with +each other, so that many dispositions may be looked upon at the same +time as both tactical and strategic. + +We shall treat of these three situations of an army outside of the +combat in a general way, before any special objects come into +connection with them; but we must, first of all, consider the general +disposition of the forces, because that is a superior and more +comprehensive measure, determining as respects camps, cantonments, and +marches. + +If we look at the disposition of the forces in a general way, that is, +leaving out of sight any special object, we can only imagine it as a +unit, that is, as a whole, intended to fight all together, for any +deviation from this simplest form would imply a special object. Thus +arises, therefore, the conception of an army, let it be small or large. + +Further, when there is an absence of any special end, there only +remains as the sole object the preservation of the army itself, which +of course includes its security. That the army shall be able to exist +without inconvenience, and that it shall be able to concentrate without +difficulty for the purpose of fighting, are, therefore, the two +requisite conditions. From these result, as desirable, the following +points more immediately applying to subjects concerning the existence +and security of the army. + +1. Facility of subsistence. + +2. Facility of providing shelter for the troops. + +3. Security of the rear. + +4. An open country in front. + +5. The position itself in a broken country. + +6. Strategic points d’appui. + +7. A suitable distribution of the troops. + +Our elucidation of these several points is as follows: + +The first two lead us to seek out cultivated districts, and great towns +and roads. They determine measures in general rather than in +particular. + +In the chapter on lines of communication will be found what we mean by +security of the rear. The first and most important point in this +respect is that the centre of the position should be at a right angle +with the principal line of retreat adjoining the position. + +Respecting the fourth point, an army certainly cannot look over an +expanse of country in its front as it overlooks the space directly +before it when in a tactical position for battle. But the strategic +eyes are the advanced guard, scouts and patrols sent forward, spies, +etc., etc., and the service will naturally be easier for these in an +open than in an intersected country. The fifth point is merely the +reverse of the fourth. + +Strategical points d’appui differ from tactical in these two respects, +that the army need not be in immediate contact with them, and that, on +the other hand, they must be of greater extent. The cause of this is +that, according to the nature of the thing, the relations to time and +space in which strategy moves are generally on a greater scale than +those of tactics. If, therefore, an army posts itself at a distance of +a mile from the sea coast or the banks of a great river, it leans +strategically on these obstacles, for the enemy cannot make use of such +a space as this to effect a strategic turning movement. Within its +narrow limits he cannot adventure on marches miles in length, occupying +days and weeks. On the other hand, in strategy, a lake of several miles +in circumference is hardly to be looked upon as an obstacle; in its +proceedings, a few miles to the right or left are not of much +consequence. Fortresses will become strategic points d’appui, according +as they are large, and afford a wide sphere of action for offensive +combinations. + +The disposition of the army in separate masses may be done with a view +either to special objects and requirements, or to those of a general +nature; here we can only speak of the latter. + +The first general necessity is to push forward the advanced guard and +the other troops required to watch the enemy. + +The second is that, with very large armies, the reserves are usually +placed several miles in rear, and consequently occupy a separate +position. + +Lastly, the covering of both wings of an army usually requires a +separate disposition of particular corps. + +By this covering it is not at all meant that a portion of the army is +to be detached to defend the space round its wings, in order to prevent +the enemy from approaching these weak points, as they are called: who +would then defend the wings of these flanking corps? This kind of idea, +which is so common, is complete nonsense. The wings of an army are in +themselves not weak points of an army for this reason, that the enemy +also has wings, and cannot menace ours without placing his own in +jeopardy. It is only if circumstances are unequal, if the enemy’s army +is larger than ours, if his lines of communication are more secure (see +Lines of Communication), it is only then that the wings become weak +parts; but of these special cases we are not now speaking, therefore, +neither of a case in which a flanking corps is appointed in connection +with other combinations to defend effectually the space on our wings, +for that no longer belongs to the category of general dispositions. + +But although the wings are not particularly weak parts still they are +particularly important, because here, on account of flanking movements +the defence is not so simple as in front, measures are more complicated +and require more time and preparation. For this reason it is necessary +in the majority of cases to protect the wings specially against +unforeseen enterprises on the part of the enemy, and this is done by +placing stronger masses on the wings than would be required for mere +purposes of observation. To press heavily these masses, even if they +oppose no very serious resistance, more time is required, and the +stronger they are the more the enemy must develop his forces and his +intentions, and by that means the object of the measure is attained; +what is to be done further depends on the particular plans of the +moment. We may therefore regard corps placed on the wings as lateral +advanced guards, intended to retard the advance of the enemy through +the space beyond our wings and give us time to make dispositions to +counteract his movement. + +If these corps are to fall back on the main body and the latter is not +to make a backward movement at the same time, then it follows of itself +that they must not be in the same line with the front of the main body, +but thrown out somewhat forwards, because when a retreat is to be made, +even without being preceded by a serious engagement, they should not +retreat directly on the side of the position. + +From these reasons of a subjective nature, as they relate to the inner +organisation of an army, there arises a natural system of disposition, +composed of four or five parts according as the reserve remains with +the main body or not. + +As the subsistence and shelter of the troops partly decide the choice +of a position in general, so also they contribute to a disposition in +separate divisions. The attention which they demand comes into +consideration along with the other considerations above mentioned; and +we seek to satisfy the one without prejudice to the other. In most +cases, by the division of an army into five separate corps, the +difficulties of subsistence and quartering will be overcome, and no +great alteration will afterwards be required on their account. + +We have still to cast a glance at the distances at which these +separated corps may be allowed to be placed, if we are to retain in +view the advantage of mutual support, and, therefore, of concentrating +for battle. On this subject we remind our readers of what is said in +the chapters on the duration and decision of the combat, according to +which no absolute distance, but only the most general, as it were, +average rules can be given, because absolute and relative strength of +arms and country have a great influence. + +The distance of the advanced guard is the easiest to fix, as in +retreating it falls back on the main body of the army, and, therefore, +may be at all events at a distance of a long day’s march without +incurring the risk of being obliged to fight an independent battle. But +it should not be sent further in advance than the security of the army +requires, because the further it has to fall back the more it suffers. + +Respecting corps on the flanks, as we have already said, the combat of +an ordinary division of 8000 to 10,000 men usually lasts for several +hours, even for half a day before it is decided; on that account, +therefore, there need be no hesitation in placing such a division at a +distance of some leagues or one or two miles, and for the same reason, +corps of three or four divisions may be detached a day’s march or a +distance of three or four miles. + +From this natural and general disposition of the main body, in four or +five divisions at particular distances, a certain method has arisen of +dividing an army in a mechanical manner whenever there are no strong +special reasons against this ordinary method. + +But although we assume that each of these distinct parts of an army +shall be competent to undertake an independent combat, and it may be +obliged to engage in one, it does not therefore by any means follow +that the real object of fractioning an army is that the parts should +fight separately; the necessity for this distribution of the army is +mostly only a condition of existence imposed by time. If the enemy +approaches our position to try the fate of a general action, the +strategic period is over, everything concentrates itself into the one +moment of the battle, and therewith terminates and vanishes the object +of the distribution of the army. As soon as the battle commences, +considerations about quarters and subsistence are suspended; the +observation of the enemy before our front and on our flanks has +fulfilled the purpose of checking his advance by a partial resistance, +and now all resolves itself into the one great unit—the great battle. +The best criterion of skill in the disposition of an army lies in the +proof that the distribution has been considered merely as a condition, +as a necessary evil, but that united action in battle has been +considered the object of the disposition. + + + +CHAPTER VII. Advanced Guard and Out-Posts + +These two bodies belong to that class of subjects into which both the +tactical and strategic threads run simultaneously. On the one hand we +must reckon them amongst those provisions which give form to the battle +and ensure the execution of tactical plans; on the other hand, they +frequently lead to independent combats, and on account of their +position, more or less distant from the main body, they are to be +regarded as links in the strategic chain, and it is this very feature +which obliges us to supplement the preceding chapter by devoting a few +moments to their consideration. + +Every body of troops, when not completely in readiness for battle, +requires an advanced guard to learn the approach of the enemy, and to +gain further particulars respecting his force before he comes in sight, +for the range of vision, as a rule, does not go much beyond the range +of firearms. But what sort of man would he be who could not see farther +than his arms can reach! The foreposts are the eyes of the army, as we +have already said. The want of them, however, is not always equally +great; it has its degrees. The strength of armies and the extent of +ground they cover, time, place, contingencies, the method of making +war, even chance, are all points which have an influence in the matter; +and, therefore, we cannot wonder that military history, instead of +furnishing any definite and simple outlines of the method of using +advanced guards and outposts, only presents the subject in a kind of +chaos of examples of the most diversified nature. + +Sometimes we see the security of an army intrusted to a corps regularly +appointed to the duty of advanced guard; at another time a long line of +separate outposts; sometimes both these arrangements co-exist, +sometimes neither one nor the other; at one time there is only one +advanced guard in common for the whole of the advancing columns; at +another time, each column has its own advanced guard. We shall +endeavour to get a clear idea of what the subject really is, and then +see whether we can arrive at some principles capable of application. + +If the troops are on the march, a detachment of more or less strength +forms its van or advanced guard, and in case of the movement of the +army being reversed, this same detachment will form the rearguard. If +the troops are in cantonments or camp, an extended line of weak posts, +forms the vanguard, _the outposts_. It is essentially in the nature of +things, that, when the army is halted, a greater extent of space can +and must be watched than when the army is in motion, and therefore in +the one case the conception of a chain of posts, in the other that of a +concentrated corps arises of itself. + +The actual strength of an advanced guard, as well as of outposts, +ranges from a considerable corps, composed of an organisation of all +three arms, to a regiment of hussars, and from a strongly entrenched +defensive line, occupied by portions of troops from each arm of the +service, to mere outlying pickets, and their supports detached from the +camp. The services assigned to such vanguards range also from those of +mere observation to an offer of opposition or resistance to the enemy, +and this opposition may not only be to give the main body of the army +the time which it requires to prepare for battle, but also to make the +enemy develop his plans, and intentions, which consequently makes the +observation far more important. + +According as more or less time is required to be gained, according as +the opposition to be offered is calculated upon and intended to meet +the special measures of the enemy, so accordingly must the strength of +the advanced guard and outposts be proportioned. + +Frederick the Great, a general above all others ever ready for battle, +and who almost directed his army in battle by word of command, never +required strong outposts. We see him therefore constantly encamping +close under the eyes of the enemy, without any great apparatus of +outposts, relying for his security, at one place on a hussar regiment, +at another on a light battalion, or perhaps on the pickets, and +supports furnished from the camp. On the march, a few thousand horse, +generally furnished by the cavalry on the flanks of the first line, +formed his advanced guard, and at the end of the march rejoined the +main body. He very seldom had any corps permanently employed as +advanced guard. + +When it is the intention of a small army, by using the whole weight of +its mass with great vigour and activity, to make the enemy feel the +effect of its superior discipline and the greater resolution of its +commander, then almost every thing must be done _sous la barbe de +l’ennemi_, in the same way as Frederick the Great did when opposed to +Daun. A system of holding back from the enemy, and a very formal, and +extensive system of outposts would neutralise all the advantages of the +above kind of superiority. The circumstance that an error of another +kind, and the carrying out Frederick’s system too far, may lead to a +battle of Hochkirch, is no argument against this method of acting; we +should rather say, that as there was only one battle of Hochkirch in +all the Silesian war, we ought to recognise in this system a proof of +the King’s consummate ability. + +Napoleon, however, who commanded an army not deficient in discipline +and firmness, and who did not want for resolution himself, never moved +without a strong advanced guard. There are two reasons for this. + +The first is to be found in the alteration in tactics. A whole army is +no longer led into battle as one body by mere word of command, to +settle the affair like a great duel by more or less skill and bravery; +the combatants on each side now range their forces more to suit the +peculiarities of the ground and circumstances, so that the order of +battle, and consequently the battle itself, is a whole made up of many +parts, from which there follows, that the simple determination to fight +becomes a regularly formed plan, and the word of command a more or less +long preparatory arrangement. For this time and data are required. + +The second cause lies in the great size of modern armies. Frederick +brought thirty or forty thousand men into battle; Napoleon from one to +two hundred thousand. + +We have selected these examples because every one will admit, that two +such generals would never have adopted any systematic mode of +proceeding without some good reason. Upon the whole, there has been a +general improvement in the use of advanced guards and outposts in +modern wars; not that every one acted as Frederick, even in the +Silesian wars, for at that time the Austrians had a system of strong +outposts, and frequently sent forward a corps as advanced guard, for +which they had sufficient reason from the situation in which they were +placed. Just in the same way we find differences enough in the mode of +carrying on war in more modern times. Even the French Marshals +Macdonald in Silesia, Oudinot and Ney in the Mark (Brandenburg), +advanced with armies of sixty or seventy thousand men, without our +reading of their having had any advanced guard.—We have hitherto been +discussing advanced guards and outposts in relation to their numerical +strength; but there is another difference which we must settle. It is +that, when an army advances or retires on a certain breadth of ground, +it may have a van and rear guard in common for all the columns which +are marching side by side, or each column may have one for itself. In +order to form a clear idea on this subject, we must look at it in this +way. + +The fundamental conception of an advanced guard, when a corps is so +specially designated, is that its mission is the security of the main +body or centre of the army. If this main body is marching upon several +contiguous roads so close together that they can also easily serve for +the advanced guard, and therefore be covered by it, then the flank +columns naturally require no special covering. + +But those corps which are moving at great distances, in reality as +detached corps, must provide their own van-guards. The same applies +also to any of those corps which belong to the central mass, and owing +to the direction that the roads may happen to take, are too far from +the centre column. Therefore there will be as many advanced guards, as +there are columns virtually separated from each other; if each of these +advanced guards is much weaker than one general one would be, then they +fall more into the class of other tactical dispositions, and there is +no advanced guard in the strategic tableau. But if the main body or +centre has a much larger corps for its advanced guard, then that corps +will appear as the advanced guard of the whole, and will be so in many +respects. + +But what can be the reason for giving the centre a van-guard so much +stronger than the wings? The following three reasons. + +1. Because the mass of troops composing the centre is usually much more +considerable. + +2. Because plainly the central point of a strip of country along which +the front of an army is extended must always be the most important +point, as all the combinations of the campaign relate mostly to it, and +therefore the field of battle is also usually nearer to it than to the +wings. + +3. Because, although a corps thrown forward in front of the centre does +not directly protect the wings as a real vanguard, it still contributes +greatly to their security indirectly. For instance, the enemy cannot in +ordinary cases pass by such a corps within a certain distance in order +to effect any enterprise of importance against one of the wings, +because he has to fear an attack in flank and rear. Even if this check +which a corps thrown forward in the centre imposes on the enemy is not +sufficient to constitute complete security for the wings, it is at all +events sufficient to relieve the flanks from all apprehension in a +great many cases. + +The van-guard of the centre, if much stronger than that of a wing, that +is to say, if it consists of a special corps as advanced guard, has +then not merely the mission of a van-guard intended to protect the +troops in its rear from sudden surprise; it also operates in more +general strategic relations as an army corps thrown forward in advance. + +The following are the purposes for which such a corps may be used, and +therefore those which determine its duties in practice. + +1. To insure a stouter resistance, and make the enemy advance with more +caution; consequently to do the duties of a van-guard on a greater +scale, whenever our arrangements are such as to require time before +they can be carried into effect. + +2. If the central mass of the army is very large, to be able to keep +this unwieldy body at some distance from the enemy, while we still +remain close to him with a more moveable body of troops. + +3. That we may have a corps of observation close to the enemy, if there +are any other reasons which require us to keep the principal mass of +the army at a considerable distance. + +The idea that weaker look-out posts, mere partisan corps, might answer +just as well for this observation is set aside at once if we reflect +how easily a weak corps might be dispersed, and how very limited also +are its means of observation as compared with those of a considerable +corps. + +4. In the pursuit of the enemy. A single corps as advanced guard, with +the greater part of the cavalry attached to it, can move quicker, +arriving later at its bivouac, and moving earlier in the morning than +the whole mass. + +5. Lastly, on a retreat, as rearguard, to be used in defending the +principal natural obstacles of ground. In this respect also the centre +is exceedingly important. At first sight it certainly appears as if +such a rearguard would be constantly in danger of having its flanks +turned. But we must remember that, even if the enemy succeeds in +overlapping the flanks to some extent, he has still to march the whole +way from there to the centre before he can seriously threaten the +central mass, which gives time to the rearguard of the centre to +prolong its resistance, and remain in rear somewhat longer. On the +other hand, the situation becomes at once critical if the centre falls +back quicker than the wings; there is immediately an appearance as if +the line had been broken through, and even the very idea or appearance +of that is to be dreaded. At no time is there a greater necessity for +concentration and holding together, and at no time is this more +sensibly felt by every one than on a retreat. The intention always is, +that the wings in case of extremity should close upon the centre; and +if, on account of subsistence and roads, the retreat has to be made on +a considerable width (of country), still the movement generally ends by +a concentration on the centre. If we add to these considerations also +this one, that the enemy usually advances with his principal force in +the centre and with the greatest energy against the centre, we must +perceive that the rear guard of the centre is of special importance. + +Accordingly, therefore, a special corps should always be thrown forward +as an advanced guard in every case where one of the above relations +occurs. These relations almost fall to the ground if the centre is not +stronger than the wings, as, for example, Macdonald when he advanced +against Blücher, in Silesia, in 1813, and the latter, when he made his +movement towards the Elbe. Both of them had three corps, which usually +moved in three columns by different roads, the heads of the columns in +line. On this account no mention is made of their having had advanced +guards. + +But this disposition in three columns of equal strength is one which is +by no means to be recommended, partly on that account, and also because +the division of a whole army into three parts makes it very +unmanageable, as stated in the fifth chapter of the third book. + +When the whole is formed into a centre with two wings separate from it, +which we have represented in the preceding chapter as the most natural +formation as long as there is no particular object for any other, the +corps forming the advanced guard, according to the simplest notion of +the case, will have its place in front of the centre, and therefore +before the line which forms the front of the wings; but as the first +object of corps thrown out on the flanks is to perform the same office +for the sides as the advanced guard for the front, it will very often +happen that these corps will be in line with the advanced guard, or +even still further thrown forward, according to circumstances. + +With respect to the strength of an advanced guard we have little to +say, as now very properly it is the general custom to detail for that +duty one or more component parts of the army of the first class, +reinforced by part of the cavalry: so that it consists of a corps, if +the army is formed in corps; of a division, if the organisation is in +divisions. + +It is easy to perceive that in this respect also the great number of +higher members or divisions is an advantage. + +How far the advanced guard should be pushed to the front must entirely +depend on circumstances; there are cases in which it may be more than a +day’s march in advance, and others in which it should be immediately +before the front of the army. If we find that in most cases between one +and three miles is the distance chosen, that shows certainly that +circumstances have usually pointed out this distance as the best; but +we cannot make of it a rule by which we are to be always guided. + +In the foregoing observations we have lost sight altogether of +_outposts_, and therefore we must now return to them again. + +In saying, at the commencement, that the relations between outposts and +stationary troops is similar to that between advanced guards and troops +in motion, our object was to refer the conceptions back to their +origin, and keep them distinct in future; but it is clear that if we +confine ourselves strictly to the words we should get little more than +a pedantic distinction. + +If an army on the march halts at night to resume the march next +morning, the advanced guard must naturally do the same, and always +organise the outpost duty, required both for its own security and that +of the main body, without on that account being changed from an +advanced guard into a line of outposts. To satisfy the notion of that +transformation, the advanced guard would have to be completely broken +up into a chain of small posts, having either only a very small force, +or none at all in a form approaching to a mass. In other words, the +idea of a line of outposts must predominate over that of a concentrated +corps. + +The shorter the time of rest of the army, the less complete does the +covering of the army require to be, for the enemy has hardly time to +learn from day to day what is covered and what is not. The longer the +halt is to be the more complete must be the observation and covering of +all points of approach. As a rule, therefore, when the halt is long, +the vanguard becomes always more and more extended into a line of +posts. Whether the change becomes complete, or whether the idea of a +concentrated corps shall continue uppermost, depends chiefly on two +circumstances. The first is the proximity of the contending armies, the +second is the nature of the country. + +If the armies are very close in comparison to the width of their front, +then it will often be impossible to post a vanguard between them, and +the armies are obliged to place their dependence on a chain of +outposts. + +A concentrated corps, as it covers the approaches to the army less +directly, generally requires more time and space to act efficiently; +and therefore, if the army covers a great extent of front, as in +cantonments, and a corps standing in mass is to cover all the avenues +of approach, it is necessary that we should be at a considerable +distance from the enemy; on this account winter quarters, for instance, +are generally covered by a cordon of posts. + +The second circumstance is the nature of the country; where, for +example, any formidable obstacle of ground affords the means of forming +a strong line of posts with but few troops, we should not neglect to +take advantage of it. + +Lastly, in winter quarters, the rigour of the season may also be a +reason for breaking up the advanced guard into a line of posts, because +it is easier to find shelter for it in that way. + +The use of a reinforced line of outposts was brought to great +perfection by the Anglo-Dutch army, during the campaign of 1794 and +1795, in the Netherlands, when the line of defence was formed by +brigades composed of all arms, in single posts, and supported by a +reserve. Scharnhorst, who was with that army, introduced this system +into the Prussian army on the Passarge in 1807. Elsewhere in modern +times, it has been little adopted, chiefly because the wars have been +too rich in movement. But even when there has been occasion for its use +it has been neglected, as for instance, by Murat, at Tarutino. A wider +extension of his defensive line would have spared him the loss of +thirty pieces of artillery in a combat of out-posts. + +It cannot be disputed that in certain circumstances, great advantages +may be derived from this system. We propose to return to the subject on +another occasion. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Mode of Action of Advanced Corps + +We have just seen how the security of the army is expected, from the +effect which an advanced guard and flank corps produce on an advancing +enemy. Such corps are always to be considered as very weak whenever we +imagine them in conflict with the main body of the enemy, and therefore +a peculiar mode of using them is required, that they may fulfil the +purpose for which they are intended, without incurring the risk of the +serious loss which is to be feared from this disproportion in strength. + +The object of a corps of this description, is to observe the enemy, and +to delay his progress. + +For the first of these purposes a smaller body would never be +sufficient, partly because it would be more easily driven back, partly +because its means of observation that is its eyes could not reach as +far. + +But the observation must be carried to a high point; the enemy must be +made to develop his whole strength before such a corps, and thereby +reveal to a certain extent, not only his force, but also his plans. + +For this its mere presence would be sufficient, and it would only be +necessary to wait and see the measures by which the enemy seeks to +drive it back, and then commence its retreat at once. + +But further, it must also delay the advance of the enemy, and that +implies actual resistance. + +Now how can we conceive this waiting until the last moment, as well as +this resistance, without such a corps being in constant danger of +serious loss? Chiefly in this way, that the enemy himself is preceded +by an advanced guard, and therefore does not advance at once with all +the outflanking and overpowering weight of his whole force. Now, if +this advance guard is also from the commencement superior to our +advanced corps, as we may naturally suppose it is intended it should +be, and if the enemy’s main body is also nearer to his advanced guard +than we are to ours, and if that main body, being already on the march, +will soon be on the spot to support the attack of his advanced guard +with all his strength, still this first act, in which our advanced +corps has to contend with the enemy’s advanced guard, that is with a +force not much exceeding its own, ensures at once a certain gain of +time, and thus allows of our watching the adversary’s movements for +some time without endangering our own retreat. + +But even a certain amount of resistance which such a corps can offer in +a suitable position is not attended with such disadvantage as we might +anticipate in other cases through the disproportion in the strength of +the forces engaged. The chief danger in a contest with a superior enemy +consists always in the possibility of being turned and placed in a +critical situation by the enemy enveloping our position; but in the +case to which our attention is now directed, a risk of this description +is very much less, owing to the advancing enemy never knowing exactly +how near there may be support from the main body of his opponent’s army +itself, which may place his advanced column between two fires. The +consequence is, that the enemy in advancing keeps the heads of his +single columns as nearly as possible in line, and only begins very +cautiously to attempt to turn one or other wing after he has +sufficiently reconnoitred our position. While the enemy is thus feeling +about and moving guardedly, the corps we have thrown forward has time +to fall back before it is in any serious danger. + +As for the length of the resistance which such a corps should offer +against the attack in front, or against the commencement of any turning +movement, that depends chiefly on the nature of the ground and the +proximity of the enemy’s supports. If this resistance is continued +beyond its natural measure, either from want of judgment or from a +sacrifice being necessary in order to give the main body the time it +requires, the consequence must always be a very considerable loss. + +It is only in rare instances, and more especially when some local +obstacle is favourable, that the resistance actually made in such a +combat can be of importance, and the duration of the little battle of +such a corps would in itself be hardly sufficient to gain the time +required; that time is really gained in a threefold manner, which lies +in the nature of the thing, viz.: + +1. By the more cautious, and consequently slower advance of the enemy. + +2. By the duration of the actual resistance offered. + +3. By the retreat itself. + +This retreat must be made as slowly as is consistent with safety. If +the country affords good positions they should be made use of, as that +obliges the enemy to organise fresh attacks and plans for turning +movements, and by that means more time is gained. Perhaps in a new +position a real combat even may again be fought. + +We see that the opposition to the enemy’s progress by actual fighting +and the retreat are completely combined with one another, and that the +shortness of the duration of the fights must be made up for by their +frequent repetition. + +This is the kind of resistance which an advanced corps should offer. +The degree of effect depends chiefly on the strength of the corps, and +the configuration of the country; next on the length of the road which +the corps has to march over, and the support which it receives. + +A small body, even when the forces on both sides are equal can never +make as long a stand as a considerable corps; for the larger the masses +the more time they require to complete their action, of whatever kind +it may be. In a mountainous country the mere marching is of itself +slower, the resistance in the different positions longer, and attended +with less danger, and at every step favourable positions may be found. + +As the distance to which a corps is pushed forward increases so will +the length of its retreat, and therefore also the absolute gain of time +by its resistance; but as such a corps by its position has less power +of resistance in itself, and is less easily reinforced, its retreat +must be made more rapidly in proportion than if it stood nearer the +main body, and had a shorter distance to traverse. + +The support and means of rallying afforded to an advanced corps must +naturally have an influence on the duration of the resistance, as all +the time that prudence requires for the security of the retreat is so +much taken from the resistance, and therefore diminishes its amount. + +There is a marked difference in the time gained by the resistance of an +advanced corps when the enemy makes his first appearance after midday; +in such a case the length of the night is so much additional time +gained, as the advance is seldom continued throughout the night. Thus +it was that, in 1815, on the short distance from Charleroi to Ligny, +not more than two miles,(*) the first Prussian corps under General +Ziethen, about 30,000 strong, against Buonaparte at the head of 120,000 +men, was enabled to gain twenty-four hours for the Prussian army then +engaged in concentrating. The first attack was made on General Ziethen +about nine o’clock on the morning of 15th June, and the battle of Ligny +did not commence until about two on the afternoon of 16th. General +Ziethen suffered, it is true, very considerable loss, amounting to five +or six thousand men killed, wounded or prisoners. + +(*) Here, as well as elsewhere, by the word mile, the German mile is +meant.—Tr. + + +If we refer to experience the following are the results, which may +serve as a basis in any calculations of this kind. + +A division of ten or twelve thousand men, with a proportion of cavalry, +a day’s march of three or four miles in advance in an ordinary country, +not particularly strong, will be able to detain the enemy (including +time occupied in the retreat) about half as long again as he would +otherwise require to march over the same ground, but if the division is +only a mile in advance, then the enemy ought to be detained about twice +or three times as long as he otherwise would be on the march. + +Therefore supposing the distance to be a march of four miles, for which +usually ten hours are required, then from the moment that the enemy +appears in force in front of the advanced corps, we may reckon upon +fifteen hours before he is in a condition to attack our main body. On +the other hand, if the advanced guard is posted only a mile in advance, +then the time which will elapse before our army can be attacked will be +more than three or four hours, and may very easily come up to double +that, for the enemy still requires just as much time to mature his +first measures against our advanced guard, and the resistance offered +by that guard in its original position will be greater than it would be +in a position further forward. + +The consequence is, that in the first of these supposed cases the enemy +cannot easily make an attack on our main body on the same day that he +presses back the advanced corps, and this exactly coincides with the +results of experience. Even in the second case the enemy must succeed +in driving our advanced guard from its ground in the first half of the +day to have the requisite time for a general action. + +As the night comes to our help in the first of these supposed cases, we +see how much time may be gained by an advanced guard thrown further +forward. + +With reference to corps placed on the sides or flanks, the object of +which we have before explained, the mode of action is in most cases +more or less connected with circumstances which belong to the province +of immediate application. The simplest way is to look upon them as +advanced guards placed on the sides, which being at the same time +thrown out somewhat in advance, retreat in an oblique direction upon +the army. + +As these corps are not immediately in the front of the army, and cannot +be so easily supported as a regular advanced guard, they would, +therefore, be exposed to greater danger if it was not that the enemy’s +offensive power in most cases is somewhat less at the outer extremities +of his line, and in the worst cases such corps have sufficient room to +give way without exposing the army so directly to danger as a flying +advanced guard would in its rapid retreat. + +The most usual and best means of supporting an advanced corps is by a +considerable body of cavalry, for which reason, when necessary from the +distance at which the corps is advanced, the reserve cavalry is posted +between the main body and the advanced corps. + +The conclusion to be drawn from the preceding reflections is, that an +advanced corps effects more by its presence than by its efforts, less +by the combats in which it engages than by the possibility of those in +which it might engage: that it should never attempt to stop the enemy’s +movements, but only serve like a pendulum to moderate and regulate +them, so that they may be made matter of calculation. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Camps + +We are now considering the three situations of an army outside of the +combat only strategically, that is, so far as they are conditioned by +place, time, and the number of the effective force. All those subjects +which relate to the internal arrangement of the combat and the +transition into the state of combat belong to tactics. + +The disposition in camps, under which we mean every disposition of an +army except in quarters, whether it be in tents, huts, or bivouac, is +strategically completely identical with the combat which is contingent +upon such disposition. Tactically, it is not so always, for we can, for +many reasons, choose a site for encamping which is not precisely +identical with the proposed field of battle. Having already said all +that is necessary on the disposition of an army, that is, on the +position of the different parts, we have only to make some observations +on camps in connection with their history. + +In former times, that is, before armies grew once more to considerable +dimensions, before wars became of greater duration, and their partial +acts brought into connection with a whole or general plan, and up to +the time of the war of the French Revolution, armies always used tents. +This was their normal state. With the commencement of the mild season +of the year they left their quarters, and did not again take them up +until winter set in. Winter quarters at that time must to a certain +extent be looked upon as a state of no war, for in them the forces were +neutralised, the whole clockwork stopped, quarters to refresh an army +which preceded the real winter quarters, and other temporary +cantonments, for a short time within contracted limits were +transitional and exceptional conditions. + +This is not the place to enquire how such a periodical voluntary +neutralisation of power consisted with, or is now consistent with the +object and being of war; we shall come to that subject hereafter. +Enough that it was so. + +Since the wars of the French Revolution, armies have completely done +away with the tents on account of the encumbrance they cause. Partly it +is found better for an army of 100,000 men to have, in place of 6,000 +tent horses, 5,000 additional cavalry, or a couple of hundred extra +guns, partly it has been found that in great and rapid operations a +load of tents is a hindrance, and of little use. + +But this change is attended with two drawbacks, viz., an increase of +casualties in the force, and greater wasting of the country. + +However slight the protection afforded by a roof of common tent +cloth,—it cannot be denied that on a long continuance it is great +relief to the troops. For a single day the difference is small, because +a tent is little protection against wind and cold, and does not +completely exclude wet; but this small difference, if repeated two or +three hundred times in a year, becomes important. A greater loss +through sickness is just a natural result. + +How the devastation of the country is increased through the want of +tents for the troops requires no explanation. + +One would suppose that on account of these two reactionary influences +the doing away with tents must have diminished again the energy of war +in another way, that troops must remain longer in quarters, and from +want of the requisites for encampment must forego many positions which +would have been possible had tents been forthcoming. + +This would indeed have been the case had there not been, in the same +epoch of time, an enormous revolution in war generally, which swallowed +up in itself all these smaller subordinate influences. + +The elementary fire of war has become so overpowering, its energy so +extraordinary, that these regular periods of rest also have +disappeared, and every power presses forward with persistent force +towards the great decision, which will be treated of more fully in the +ninth book. Under these circumstances, therefore, any question about +effects on an army from the discontinuance of the use of tents in the +field is quite thrown into the shade. Troops now occupy huts, or +bivouac under the canopy of heaven, without regard to season of the +year, weather, or locality, just according as the general plan and +object of the campaign require. + +Whether war will in the future continue to maintain, under all +circumstances and at all times, this energy, is a question we shall +consider hereafter; where this energy is wanting, the want of tents is +calculated to exercise some influence on the conduct of war; but that +this reaction will ever be strong enough to bring back the use of tents +is very doubtful, because now that much wider limits have been opened +for the elements of war it will never return within its old narrow +bounds, except occasionally for a certain time and under certain +circumstances, only to break out again with the all-powerful force of +its nature. Permanent arrangements for an army must, therefore, be +based only upon that nature. + + + +CHAPTER X. Marches + +Marches are a mere passage from one position to another under two +primary conditions. + +The first is the due care of the troops, so that no forces shall be +squandered uselessly when they might be usefully employed; the second, +is precision in the movements, so that they may fit exactly. If we +marched 100,000 men in one single column, that is, upon one road +without intervals of time, the rear of the column would never arrive at +the proposed destination on the same day with the head of the column; +we must either advance at an unusually slow pace, or the mass would, +like a thread of water, disperse itself in drops; and this dispersion, +together with the excessive exertion laid upon those in rear owing to +the length of the column, would soon throw everything into confusion. + +If from this extreme we take the opposite direction, we find that the +smaller the mass of troops in one column the greater the ease and +precision with which the march can be performed. The result of this is +the need of a _division_ quite irrespective of that division of an army +in separate parts which belongs to its position; therefore, although +the division into columns of march originates in the strategic +disposition in general, it does not do so in every particular case. A +great mass which is to be concentrated at any one point must +necessarily be divided for the march. But even if a disposition of the +army in separate parts causes a march in separate divisions, sometimes +the conditions of the primitive disposition, sometimes those of the +march, are paramount. For instance, if the disposition of the troops is +one made merely for rest, one in which a battle is not expected, then +the conditions of the march predominate, and these conditions are +chiefly the choice of good, well-frequented roads. Keeping in view this +difference, we choose a road in the one case on account of the quarters +and camping ground, in the other we take the quarters and camps such as +they are, on account of the road. When a battle is expected, and +everything depends on our reaching a particular point with a mass of +troops, then we should think nothing of getting to that point by even +the worst by-roads, if necessary; if, on the other hand, we are still +on the journey to the theatre of war, then the nearest great roads are +selected for the columns, and we look out for the best quarters and +camps that can be got near them. + +Whether the march is of the one kind or the other, if there is a +possibility of a combat, that is within the whole region of actual war, +it is an invariable rule in the modern art of war to organise the +columns so that the mass of troops composing each column is fit of +itself to engage in an independent combat. This condition is satisfied +by the combination of the three arms, by an organised subdivision of +the whole, and by the appointment of a competent commander. Marches, +therefore, have been the chief cause of the new order of battle, and +they profit most by it. + +When in the middle of the last century, especially in the theatre of +war in which Frederick II. was engaged, generals began to look upon +movement as a principle belonging to fighting, and to think of gaining +the victory by the effect of unexpected movements, the want of an +organised order of battle caused the most complicated and laborious +evolutions on a march. In carrying out a movement near the enemy, an +army ought to be always ready to fight; but at that time they were +never ready to fight unless the whole army was collectively present, +because nothing less than the army constituted a complete whole. In a +march to a flank, the second line, in order to be always at the +regulated distance, that is about a quarter of a mile from the first, +had to march up hill and down dale, which demanded immense exertion, as +well as a great stock of local knowledge; for where can one find two +good roads running parallel at a distance of a quarter of a mile from +each other? The cavalry on the wings had to encounter the same +difficulties when the march was direct to the front. There was other +difficulty with the artillery, which required a road for itself, +protected by infantry; for the lines of infantry required to be +continuous lines, and the artillery increased the length of their +already long trailing columns still more, and threw all their regulated +distances into disorder. It is only necessary to read the dispositions +for marches in Tempelhof’s History of the Seven Years’ War, to be +satisfied of all these incidents and of the restraints thus imposed on +the action of war. + +But since then the modern art of war has subdivided armies on a regular +principle, so that each of the principal parts forms in itself a +complete whole, of small proportions, but capable of acting in battle +precisely like the great whole, except in one respect, which is, that +the duration of its action must be shorter. The consequence of this +change is, that even when it is intended that the whole force should +take part in a battle, it is no longer necessary to have the columns so +close to each other that they may unite before the commencement of the +combat; it is sufficient now if the concentration takes place in the +course of the action. + +The smaller a body of troops the more easily it can be moved, and +therefore the less it requires that subdivision which is not a result +of the separate disposition, but of the unwieldiness of the mass. A +small body, therefore, can march upon one road, and if it is to advance +on several lines it easily finds roads near each other which are as +good as it requires. The greater the mass the greater becomes the +necessity for subdividing, the greater becomes the number of columns, +and the want of made roads, or even great high roads, consequently also +the distance of the columns from each other. Now the danger of this +subdivision is arithmetically expressed in an inverse ratio to the +necessity for it. The smaller the parts are, the more readily must they +be able to render assistance to each other; the larger they are, the +longer they can be left to depend on themselves. If we only call to +mind what has been said in the preceding book on this subject, and also +consider that in cultivated countries at a few miles distance from the +main road there are always other tolerably good roads running in a +parallel direction, it is easy to see that, in regulating a march, +there are no great difficulties which make rapidity and precision in +the advance incompatible with the proper concentration of force. In a +mountainous country parallel roads are both scarce, and the +difficulties of communication between them great; but the defensive +powers of a single column are very much greater. + +In order to make this idea clearer let us look at it for a moment in a +concrete form. + +A division of 8,000 men, with its artillery and other carriages, takes +up, as we know by experience in ordinary cases, a space of one league; +if, therefore, two divisions march one after the other on the same +road, the second arrives one hour after the first; but now, as said in +the sixth chapter of the fourth book, a division of this strength is +quite capable of maintaining a combat for several hours, even against a +superior force, and, therefore, supposing the worst, that is, supposing +the first had to commence a fight instantaneously, still the second +division would not arrive too late. Further, within a league right and +left of the road on which we march, in the cultivated countries of +central Europe there are, generally, lateral roads which can be used +for a march, so that there is no necessity to go across country, as was +so often done in the Seven Years’ War. + +Again, it is known by experience that the head of a column composed of +four divisions and a reserve of cavalry, even on indifferent roads, +generally gets over a march of three miles in eight hours; now, if we +reckon for each division one league in depth, and the same for the +reserve cavalry and artillery, then the whole march will last thirteen +hours. This is no great length of time, and yet in this case forty +thousand men would have marched over the same road. But with such a +mass as this we can make use of lateral roads, which are to be found at +a greater distance, and therefore easily shorten the march. If the mass +of troops marching on the same road is still greater than above +supposed, then it is a case in which the arrival of the whole on the +same day is no longer indispensable, for such masses never give battle +now the moment they meet, usually not until the next day. + +We have introduced these concrete cases, not as exhausting +considerations of this kind, but to make ourselves more intelligible, +and by means of this glance at the results of experience to show that +in the present mode of conducting war the organisation of marches no +longer offers such great difficulties; that the most rapid marches, +executed with the greatest precision, no longer require either that +peculiar skill or that exact knowledge of the country which was needed +for Frederick’s rapid and exact marches in the Seven Years’ War. +Through the existing organisation of armies, they rather go on now +almost of themselves, at least without any great preparatory plans. In +times past, battles were conducted by mere word of command, but marches +required a regular plan, now the order of battle requires the latter, +and for a march the word of command almost suffices. + +As is well known, all marches are either perpendicular [to the front] +or parallel. The latter, also called flank marches, alter the +geometrical position of the divisions; those parts which, in position, +were in line, will follow one another, and _vice versa_. Now, although +the line of march may be at any angle with the front, still the order +of the march must decidedly be of one or other of these classes. + +This geometrical alteration could only be completely carried out by +tactics, and by it only through the file-march as it is called, which, +with great masses, is impossible. Far less is it possible for strategy +to do it. The parts which changed their geometrical relation in the old +order of battle were only the centre and wings; in the new they are the +divisions of the first rank corps, divisions, or even brigades, +according to the organisation of the army. Now, the consequences above +deduced from the new order of battle have an influence here also, for +as it is no longer so necessary, as formerly, that the whole army +should be assembled before action commences, therefore the greater care +is taken that those troops which march together form one whole (a +unit). If two divisions were so placed that one formed the reserve to +the other, and that they were to advance against the enemy upon two +roads, no one would think of sending a portion of each division by each +of the roads, but a road would at once be assigned to each division; +they would therefore march side by side, and each general of division +would be left to provide a reserve for himself in case of a combat. +Unity of command is much more important than the original geometrical +relation; if the divisions reach their new position without a combat, +they can resume their previous relations. Much less if two divisions, +standing together, are to make a _parallel_ (flank) march upon two +roads should we think of placing the second line or reserve of each +division on the rear road; instead of that, we should allot to each of +the divisions one of the roads, and therefore during the march consider +one division as forming the reserve to the other. If an army in four +divisions, of which three form the front line and the fourth the +reserve, is to march against the enemy in that order, then it is +natural to assign a road to each of the divisions in front, and cause +the reserve to follow the centre. If there are not three roads at a +suitable distance apart, then we need not hesitate at once to march +upon two roads, as no serious inconvenience can arise from so doing. + +It is the same in the opposite case, the flank march. + +Another point is the march off of columns from the right flank or left. +In parallel marches (marches to a flank) the thing is plain in itself. +No one would march off from the right to make a movement to the left +flank. In a march to the front or rear, the order of march should +properly be chosen according to the direction of the lines of roads in +respect to the future line of deployment. This may also be done +frequently in tactics, as its spaces are smaller, and therefore a +survey of the geometrical relations can be more easily taken. In +strategy it is quite impossible, and therefore although we have seen +here and there a certain analogy brought over into strategy from +tactics, it was mere pedantry. Formerly the whole order of march was a +purely tactical affair, because the army on a march remained always an +indivisible whole, and looked to nothing but a combat of the whole; yet +nevertheless Schwerin, for example, when he marched off from his +position near Brandeis, on the 5th of May, could not tell whether his +future field of battle would be on his right or left, and on this +account he was obliged to make his famous countermarch. + +If an army in the old order of battle advanced against the enemy in +four columns, the cavalry in the first and second lines on each wing +formed the two exterior columns, the two lines of infantry composing +the wings formed the two central columns. Now these columns could march +off all from the right or all from the left, or the right wing from the +right, the left wing from the left, or the left from the right, and the +right from the left. In the latter case it would have been called +“double column from the centre.” But all these forms, although they +ought to have had a relation directly to the future deployment, were +really all quite indifferent in that respect. When Frederick the Great +entered on the battle of Leuthen, his army had been marched off by +wings from the right in four columns, therefore the wonderful +transition to a march off in order of battle, as described by all +writers of history, was done with the greatest ease, because it +happened that the king chose to attack the left wing of the Austrians; +had he wanted to turn their right, he must have countermarched his +army, as he did at Prague. + +If these forms did not meet that object in those days, they would be +mere trifling as regards it now. We know now just as little as formerly +the situation of the future battle-field in reference to the road we +take; and the little loss of time occasioned by marching off in +inverted order is now infinitely less important than formerly. The new +order of battle has further a beneficial influence in this respect, +that it is now immaterial which division arrives first or which brigade +is brought under fire first. + +Under these circumstances the march off from the right or left is of no +consequence now, otherwise than that when it is done alternately it +tends to equalise the fatigue which the troops undergo. This, which is +the only object, is certainly an important one for retaining both modes +of marching off with large bodies. + +The advance from the centre as a definite evolution naturally comes to +an end on account of what has just been stated, and can only take place +accidentally. An advance from the centre by one and the same column in +strategy is, in point of fact, nonsense, for it supposes a double road. + +The order of march belongs, moreover, more to the province of tactics +than to that of strategy, for it is the division of a whole into parts, +which, after the march, are once more to resume the state of a whole. +As, however, in modern warfare the formal connection of the parts is +not required to be constantly kept up during a march, but on the +contrary, the parts during the march may become further separated, and +therefore be left more to their own resources, therefore it is much +easier now for independent combats to happen in which the parts have to +sustain themselves, and which, therefore must be reckoned as complete +combats in themselves, and on that account we have thought it necessary +to say so much on the subject. + +Further, an order of battle in three parts in juxtaposition being, as +we have seen in the second 1 chapter of this book, the most natural +where no special object predominates, from that results also that the +order of march in three columns is the most natural. + +It only remains to observe that the notion of a column in strategy does +not found itself mainly on the line of march of one body of troops. The +term is used in strategy to designate masses of troops marching on the +same road on different days as well. For the division into columns is +made chiefly to shorten and facilitate the march, as a small number +marches quicker and more conveniently than large bodies. But this end +may, be attained by marching troops on different days, as well as by +marching them on different roads. + + + +CHAPTER XI. Marches (_Continued_) + +Respecting the length of a march and the time it requires, it is +natural for us to depend on the general results of experience. + +For our modern armies it has long been settled that a march of three +miles should be the usual day’s work which, on long distances, may be +set down as an average distance of two miles per day, allowing for the +necessary rest days, to make such repairs of all kinds as may be +required. + +Such a march in a level country, and on tolerable roads will occupy a +division of 8,000 men from eight to ten hours; in a hilly country from +ten to twelve hours. If several divisions are united in one column, the +march will occupy a couple of hours longer, without taking into account +the intervals which must elapse between the departure of the first and +succeeding divisions. + +We see, therefore, that the day is pretty well occupied with such a +march; that the fatigue endured by a soldier loaded with his pack for +ten or twelve hours is not to be judged of by that of an ordinary +journey of three miles on foot which a person, on tolerable roads, +might easily get over in five hours. + +The longest marches to be found in exceptional instances are of five, +or at most six miles a day; for a continuance four. + +A march of five miles requires a halt for several hours; and a division +of 8,000 men will not do it, even on a good road, in less than sixteen +hours. If the march is one of six miles, and that there are several +divisions in the column, we may reckon upon at least twenty hours. + +We here mean the march of a number of whole divisions at once, from one +camp to another, for that is the usual form of marches made on a +theatre of war. When several divisions are to march in one column, the +first division to move is assembled and marched off earlier than the +rest, and therefore arrives at its camping ground so much the sooner. +At the same time this difference can still never amount to the whole +time, which corresponds to the depth of a division on the line of +march, and which is so well expressed in French, as the time it +requires for its _découlement_ (running down). The soldier is, +therefore, saved very little fatigue in this way, and every march is +very much lengthened in duration in proportion as the number of troops +to be moved increases. To assemble and march off the different brigades +of a division, in like manner at different times, is seldom +practicable, and for that reason we have taken the division itself as +the unit. + +In long distances, when troops march from one cantonment into another, +and go over the road in small bodies, and without points of assembly, +the distance they go over daily may certainly be increased, and in +point of fact it is so, from the necessary detours in getting to +quarters. + +But those marches, on which troops have to assemble daily in divisions, +or perhaps in corps, and have an additional move to get into quarters, +take up the most time, and are only advisable in rich countries, and +where the masses of troops are not too large, as in such cases the +greater facilility of subsistence and the advantage of the shelter +which the troops obtain compensate sufficiently for the fatigue of a +longer march. The Prussian army undoubtedly pursued a wrong system in +their retreat in 1806 in taking up quarters for the troops every night +on account of subsistence. They could have procured subsistence in +bivouacs, and the army would not have been obliged to spend fourteen +days in getting over fifty miles of ground, which, after all, they only +accomplished by extreme efforts. + +If a bad road or a hilly country has to be marched over, all these +calculations as to time and distance undergo such modifications that it +is difficult to estimate, with any certainty, in any particular case, +the time required for a march; much less, then, can any general theory +be established. All that theory can do is to direct attention to the +liability to error with which we are here beset. To avoid it the most +careful calculation is necessary, and a large margin for unforeseen +delays. The influence of weather and condition of the troops also come +into consideration. + +Since the doing away with tents and the introduction of the system of +subsisting troops by compulsory demands for provisions on the spot, the +baggage of an army has been very sensibly diminished, and as a natural +and most important consequence we look first for an acceleration in the +movements of an army, and, therefore, of course, an increase in the +length of the day’s march. This, however, is only realized under +certain circumstances. + +Marches within the theatre of war have been very little accelerated by +this means, for it is well known that for many years whenever the +object required marches of unusual length it has always been the +practice to leave the baggage behind or send it on beforehand, and, +generally, to keep it separate from the troops during the continuance +of such movements, and it had in general no influence on the movement, +because as soon as it was out of the way, and ceased to be a direct +impediment, no further trouble was taken about it, whatever damage it +might suffer in that way. Marches, therefore, took place in the Seven +Years’ War, which even now cannot be surpassed; as an instance we cite +Lascy’s march in 1760, when he had to support the diversion of the +Russians on Berlin, on that occasion he got over the road from +Schweidnitz to Berlin through Lusatia, a distance of 225 miles, in ten days, averaging, therefore, twenty-two miles a day, which, for +a Corps of 15,000, would be an extraordinary march even in these days. + +On the other hand, through the new method of supplying troops the +movements of armies have acquired a new _retarding_ principle. If +troops have partly to procure supplies for themselves, which often +happens, then they require more time for the service of supply than +would be necessary merely to receive rations from provision wagons. +Besides this, on marches of considerable duration troops cannot be +encamped in such large numbers at any one point; the divisions must be +separated from one another, in order the more easily to manage for +them. Lastly, it almost always happens that it is necessary to place +part of the army, particularly the cavalry, in quarters. All this +occasions on the whole a sensible delay. We find, therefore, that +Buonaparte in pursuit of the Prussians in 1806, with a view to cut off +their retreat, and Blücher in 1815, in pursuit of the French, with a +like object, only accomplished thirty miles in ten days, a rate which +Frederick the Great was able to attain in his marches from Saxony to +Silesia and back, notwithstanding all the train that he had to carry +with him. + +At the same time the mobility and handiness, if we may use such an +expression, of the parts of an army, both great and small, on the +theatre of war have very perceptibly gained by the diminution of +baggage. Partly, inasmuch as while the number of cavalry and guns is +the same, there are fewer horses, and therefore, there is less forage +required; partly, inasmuch as we are no longer so much tied to any one +position, because we have not to be for ever looking after a long train +of baggage dragging after us. + +Marches such as that, which, after raising the siege of Olmütz, 1758, +Frederick the Great made with 4,000 carriages, the escort of which +employed half his army broken up into single battalions and companies, +could not be effected now in presence of even the most timid adversary. + +On long marches, as from the Tagus to the Niemen, that lightening of +the army is more sensibly felt, for although the usual measure of the +day’s march remains the same on account of the carriages still +remaining, yet, in cases of great urgency, we can exceed that usual +measure at a less sacrifice. + +Generally the diminution of baggage tends more to a saving of power +than to the acceleration of movement. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Marches (_continued_) + +We have now to consider the destructive influence which marches have +upon an army. It is so great that it may be regarded as an active +principle of destruction, just as much as the combat. + +One single moderate march does not wear down the instrument, but a +succession of even moderate marches is certain to tell upon it, and a +succession of severe ones will, of course, do so much sooner. + +At the actual scene of war, want of food and shelter, bad broken-up +roads, and the necessity of being in a perpetual state of readiness for +battle, are causes of an excessive strain upon our means, by which men, +cattle, carriages of every description as well as clothing are ruined. + +It is commonly said that a long rest does not suit the physical health +of an army; that at such a time there is more sickness than during +moderate activity. No doubt sickness will and does occur if soldiers +are packed too close in confined quarters; but the same thing would +occur if these were quarters taken up on the march, and the want of air +and exercise can never be the cause of such sicknesses, as it is so +easy to give the soldier both by means of his exercises. + +Only think for a moment, when the organism of a human being is in a +disordered and fainting state, what a difference it must make to him +whether he falls sick in a house or is seized in the middle of a high +road, up to his knees in mud, under torrents of rain, and loaded with a +knapsack on his back; even if he is in a camp he can soon be sent to +the next village, and will not be entirely without medical assistance, +whilst on a march he must be for hours without any assistance, and then +be made to drag himself along for miles as a straggler. How many +trifling illnesses by that means become serious, how many serious ones +become mortal. Let us consider how an ordinary march in the dust, and +under the burning rays of a summer sun may produce the most excessive +heat, in which state, suffering from intolerable thirst, the soldier +then rushes to the fresh spring of water, to bring back for himself +sickness and death. + +It is not our object by these reflections to recommend less activity in +war; the instrument is there for use, and if the use wears away the +instrument that is only in the natural order of things; we only wish to +see every thing put in its right place, and to oppose that theoretical +bombast according to which the most astonishing surprises the most +rapid movements, the most incessant activity cost nothing, and are +painted as rich mines which the indolence of the general leaves +unworked. It is very much the same with these mines as with those from +which gold and silver are obtained; nothing is seen but the produce, +and no one asks about the value of the work which has brought this +produce to light. + +On long marches outside a theatre of war, the conditions under which +the march is made are no doubt usually easier, and the daily losses +smaller, but on that account men with the slightest sickness are +generally lost to the army for some time, as it is difficult for +convalescents to overtake an army constantly advancing. + +Amongst the cavalry the number of lame horses and horses with sore +backs rises in an increasing ratio, and amongst the carriages many +break down or require repair. It never fails, therefore, that at the +end of a march of 100 miles or more, an army arrives much weakened, +particularly as regards its cavalry and train. + +If such marches are necessary on the theatre of war, that is under the +eyes of the enemy, then that disadvantage is added to the other, and +from the two combined the losses with large masses of troops, and under +conditions otherwise unfavourable may amount to something incredible. + +Only a couple of examples in order to illustrate our ideas. + +When Buonaparte crossed the Niemen on 24th June, 1812, the enormous +centre of his army with which he subsequently marched against Moscow +numbered 301,000 men. At Smolensk, on the 15th August, he detached +13,500, leaving, it is to be supposed, 287,500. The actual state of his +army however at that date was only 182,000; he had therefore lost +105,000.(*) Bearing in mind that up to that time only two engagements +to speak of had taken place, one between Davoust and Bragathion, the +other between Murat and Tolstoy-Osterman, we may put down the losses of +the French army in action at 10,000 men at most, and therefore the +losses in sick and stragglers within fifty-two days on a march of about +seventy miles direct to his front, amounted to 95,000, that is a third +part of the whole army. + +(*) All these figures are taken from Chambray. Vergl. Bd. vii. 2te +Auflage, § 80, ff. + + +Three weeks later, at the time of the battle of Borodino, the loss +amounted to 144,000 (including the casualties in the battle), and eight +days after that again, at Moscow, the number was 198,000. The losses of +this army in general were at the commencement of the campaign at the +rate of 1/150daily, subsequently they rose to 1/120, and in the last +period they increased to 1/19 of the original strength. + +The movement of Napoleon from the passage of the Niemen up to Moscow +certainly may be called a persistent one; still, we must not forget +that it lasted eighty-two days, in which time he only accomplished 120 +miles, and that the French army upon two occasions made regular halts, +once at Wilna for about fourteen days, and the other time at Witebsk +for about eleven days, during which periods many stragglers had time to +rejoin. This fourteen weeks’ advance was not made at the worst season +of the year, nor over the worst of roads, for it was summer, and the +roads along which they marched were mostly sand. It was the immense +mass of troops collected on one road, the want of sufficient +subsistence, and an enemy who was on the retreat, but by no means in +flight, which were the adverse conditions. + +Of the retreat of the French army from Moscow to the Niemen, we shall +say nothing, but this we may mention, that the Russian army following +them left Kaluga 120,000 strong, and reached Wilna with 30,000. Every +one knows how few men were lost in actual combats during that period. + +One more example from Blücher’s campaign of 1813 in Silesia and Saxony, +a campaign very remarkable not for any long march but for the amount of +marching to and fro. York’s corps of Blücher’s army began this campaign +16th August about 40,000 strong, and was reduced to 12,000 at the +battle of Leipsic, 19th October. The principal combats which this corps +fought at Goldberg, Lowenberg, on the Katsbach, at Wartenburg, and +Mockern (Leipsic) cost it, on the authority of the best writers, 12,000 +men. According to that their losses from other causes in eight weeks +amounted to 16,000, or two-fifths of the whole. + +We must, therefore, make up our minds to great wear and tear of our own +forces, if we are to carry on a war rich in movements, we must arrange +the rest of our plan accordingly, and above all things the +reinforcements which are to follow. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. Cantonments + +In the modern system of war cantonments have become again +indispensable, because neither tents nor a complete military train make +an army independent of them. Huts and open-air camps (bivouacs as they +are called), however far such arrangements may be carried, can still +never become the usual way of locating troops without sickness gaining +the upper hand, and prematurely exhausting their strength, sooner or +later, according to the state of the weather or climate. The campaign +in Russia in 1812 is one of the few in which, in a very severe climate, +the troops, during the six months that it lasted hardly ever lay in +cantonments. But what was the consequence of this extreme effort, which +should be called an extravagance, if that term was not much more +applicable to the political conception of the enterprise! + +Two things interfere with the occupation of cantonments the proximity +of the enemy, and the rapidity of movement. For these reasons they are +quitted as soon as the decision approaches, and cannot be again taken +up until the decision is over. + +In modern wars, that’s, in all campaigns during the last twenty-five +years which occur to us at this moment, the military element has acted +with full energy. Nearly all that was possible has generally been done +in them, as far as regards activity and the utmost effort of force; but +all these campaigns have been of short duration, they have seldom +exceeded half a year; in most of them a few months sufficed to bring +matters to a crisis, that is, to a point where the vanquished enemy saw +himself compelled to sue for an armistice or at once for peace, or to a +point where, on the conqueror’s part, the impetus of victory had +exhausted itself. During this period of extreme effort there could be +little question of cantonments, for even in the victorious march of the +pursuer, if there was no longer any danger, the rapidity of movement +made that kind of relief impossible. + +But when from any cause the course of events is less impetuous, when a +more even oscillation and balancing of forces takes place, then the +housing of troops must again become a foremost subject for attention. +This want has some influence even on the conduct of war itself, partly +in this way, that we seek to gain more time and security by a stronger +system of outposts, by a more considerable advanced guard thrown +further forward; and partly in this way, that our measures are governed +more by the richness and fertility of the country than by the tactical +advantages which the ground affords in the geometrical relations of +lines and points. A commercial town of twenty or thirty thousand +inhabitants, a road thickly studded with large villages or flourishing +towns give such facilities for the assembling in one position large +bodies of troops, and this concentration gives such a freedom and such +a latitude for movement as fully compensate for the advantages which +the better situation of some point may otherwise present. + +On the form to be followed in arranging cantonments we have only a few +observations to make, as this subject belongs for the most part to +tactics. + +The housing of troops comes under two heads, inasmuch as it can either +be the main point or only a secondary consideration. If the disposition +of the troops in the course of a campaign is regulated by grounds +purely tactical and strategical, and if, as is done more especially +with cavalry, they are directed for their comfort to occupy the +quarters available in the vicinity of the point of concentration of the +army, then the quarters are subordinate considerations and substitutes +for camps; they must, therefore, be chosen within such a radius that +the troops can reach the point of assembly in good time. But if an army +takes up quarters to rest and refresh, then the housing of the troops +is the main point, and other measures, consequently also the selection +of the particular point of assembly, will be influenced by that object. + +The first question for examination here is as to the general form of +the cantonments as a whole. The usual form is that of a very long oval, +a mere widening as it were of the tactical order of battle. The point +of assembly for the army is in front, the head-quarters in rear. Now +these three arrangements are, in point of fact, adverse, indeed almost +opposed, to the safe assembly of the army on the approach of the enemy. + +The more the cantonments form a square, or rather a circle, the quicker +the troops can concentrate at one point, that is the centre. The +further the place of assembly is placed in rear, the longer the enemy +will be in reaching it, and, therefore, the more time is left us to +assemble. A point of assembly in rear of the cantonments can never be +in danger. And, on the other hand, the farther the head-quarters are in +advance, so much the sooner reports arrive, therefore so much the +better is the commander informed of everything. At the same time, the +first named arrangements are not devoid of points which deserve some +attention. + +By the extension of cantonments in width, we have in view the +protection of the country which would otherwise be laid under +contributions by the enemy. But this motive is neither thoroughly +sound, nor is it very important. It is only sound as far as regards the +country on the extremity of the wings, but does not apply at all to +intermediate spaces existing between separate divisions of the army, if +the quarters of those divisions are drawn closer round their point of +assembly, for no enemy will then venture into those intervals of space. +And it is not very important, because there are simpler means of +shielding the districts in our vicinity from the enemy’s requisitions +than scattering the army itself. + +The placing of the point of assembly in front is with a view to +covering the quarters, for the following reasons: In the first place, a +body of troops, suddenly called to arms, always leaves behind it in +cantonments a tail of stragglers sick, baggage, provisions, etc., etc. +which may easily fall into the enemy’s hands if the point of assembly +is placed in rear. In the second place, we have to apprehend that if +the enemy with some bodies of cavalry passes by the advanced guard, or +if it is defeated in any way, he may fall upon scattered regiments or +battalions. If he encounters a force drawn up in good order, although +it is weak, and in the end must be overpowered, still he is brought to +a stop, and in that way time is gained. + +As respects the position of the head-quarters, it is generally supposed +that it cannot be made too secure. + +According to these different considerations, we may conclude that the +best arrangement for districts of cantonments is where they take an +oblong form, approaching the square or circle, have the point of +assembly in the centre, and the head-quarters placed on the front line, +well protected by considerable masses of troops. + +What we have said as to covering of the wings in treating of the +disposition of the army in general, applies here also; therefore corps +detached from the main body, right and left, although intended to fight +in conjunction with the rest, will have particular points of assembly +of their own in the same line with the main body. + +Now, if we reflect that the nature of a country, on the one hand, by +favourable features in the ground determines the most natural point of +assembly, and on the other hand, by the positions of towns and villages +determines the most suitable situation for cantonments, then we must +perceive how very rarely any geometrical form can be decisive in our +present subject. But yet it was necessary to direct attention to it, +because, like all general laws, it affects the generality of cases in a +greater or less degree. + +What now remains to be said as to an advantageous position for +cantonments is that they should be taken up behind some natural +obstacle of ground affording cover, whilst the sides next the enemy can +be watched by small but numerous detached parties; or they may be taken +up behind fortresses, which, when circumstances prevent any estimate +being formed of the strength of their garrisons, impose upon the enemy +a greater feeling of respect and and caution. + +We reserve the subject of winter quarters, covered by defensive works +for a separate article. + +The quarters taken up by troops on a march differ from those called +standing cantonments in this way, that, in order to save the troops +from unnecessary marching, cantonments on a march are taken up as much +as possible along the lines of march, and are not at any considerable +distance on either side of these roads; if their extension in this +sense does not exceed a short day’s march, the arrangement is not one +at all unfavourable to the quick concentration of the army. + +In all cases in presence of the enemy, according to the technical +phrase in use, that is in all cases where there is no considerable +interval between the advance guards of the two armies respectively, the +extent of the cantonments and the time required to assemble the army +determine the strength and position of the advanced guard and outposts; +but when these must be suited to the enemy and circumstances, then, on +the contrary, the extent of the cantonments must depend on the time +which we can count upon by the resistance of the advance guard. + +In the third(*) chapter of this book, we have stated how this +resistance, in the case of an advanced corps, may be estimated. From +the time of that resistance we must deduct the time required for +transmission of reports and getting the men under arms, and the +remainder only is the time available for assembling at the point of +concentration. + +(*) 8th Chapter.—Tr. + + +We shall conclude here also by establishing our ideas in the form of a +result, such as is usual under ordinary circumstances. If the distance +at which the advanced guard is detached is the same as the radius of +the cantonments, and the point of assembly is fixed in the centre of +the cantonments, the time which is gained by checking the enemy’s +advance would be available for the transmission of intelligence and +getting under arms, and would in most cases be sufficient, even +although the communication is not made by means of signals, +cannon-shots, etc., but simply by relays of orderlies, the only really +sure method. + +With an advanced guard pushed forward three miles in front, our +cantonments might therefore cover a space of thirty square miles. In a +moderately-peopled country there would be 10,000 houses in this space, +which for an army of 50,000, after deducting the advanced guard, would +be four men to a billet, therefore very comfortable quarters; and for +an army of twice the strength nine men to a billet, therefore still not +very close quarters. On the other hand, if the advanced guard is only +one mile in front, we could only occupy a space of four square miles; +for although the time gained does not diminish exactly in proportion as +the distance of the advanced guard diminishes, and even with a distance +of one mile we may still calculate on a gain of six hours, yet the +necessity for caution increases when the enemy is so close. But in such +a space an army of 50,000 men could only find partial accommodation, +even in a very thickly populated country. + +From all this we see what an important part is played here by great or +at least considerable towns, which afford convenience for sheltering +10,000 or even 20,000 men almost at one point. + +From this result it follows that, if we are not very close to the +enemy, and have a suitable advanced guard we might remain in +cantonments, even if the enemy is concentrated, as Frederick the Great +did at Breslau in the beginning of the year 1762, and Buonaparte at +Witebsk in 1812. But although by preserving a right distance and by +suitable arrangements we have no reason to fear not being able to +assemble in time, even opposite an enemy who is concentrated, yet we +must not forget that an army engaged in assembling itself in all haste +can do nothing else in that time; that it is therefore, for a time at +least, not in a condition to avail itself in an instant of fortuitous +opportunities, which deprives it of the greater part of its really +efficient power. The consequence of this is, that an army should only +break itself up completely in cantonments under some one or other of +the three following cases: + +1. If the enemy does the same. + +2. If the condition of the troops makes it unavoidable. + +3. If the more immediate object with the army is completely limited to +the maintenance of a strong position, and therefore the only point of +importance is concentrating the troops at that point in good time. + +The campaign of 1815 gives a very remarkable example of the assembly of +an army from cantonments. General Ziethen, with Blücher’s advanced +guard, 30,000 men, was posted at Charleroi, only two miles from +Sombreff, the place appointed for the assembly of the army. The +farthest cantonments of the army were about eight miles from Sombreff, +that is, on the one side beyond Ciney, and on the other near Liége. +Notwithstanding this, the troops cantoned about Ciney were assembled at +Ligny several hours before the battle began, and those near Liége +(Bulow’s Corps) would have been also, had it not been for accident and +faulty arrangements in the communication of orders and intelligence. + +Unquestionably, proper care for the security of the Prussian army was +not taken; but in explanation we must say that the arrangements were +made at a time when the French army was still dispersed over widely +extended cantonments, and that the real fault consisted in not altering +them the moment the first news was received that the enemy’s troops +were in movement, and that Buonaparte had joined the army. + +Still it remains noteworthy that the Prussian army was able in any way +to concentrate at Sombreff before the attack of the enemy. Certainly, +on the night of the 14th, that is, twelve hours before Ziethen was +actually attacked, Blücher received information of the advance of the +enemy, and began to assemble his army; but on the 15th at nine in the +morning, Ziethen was already hotly engaged, and it was not until the +same moment that General Thielman at Ciney first received orders to +march to Namur. He had therefore then to assemble his divisions, and to +march six and a half miles to Sombreff, which he did in 24 hours. +General Bulow would also have been able to arrive about the same time, +if the order had reached him as it should have done. + +But Buonaparte did not resolve to make his attack on Ligny until two in +the afternoon of the 16th. The apprehension of having Wellington on the +one side of him, and Blücher on the other, in other words, the +disproportion in the relative forces, contributed to this slowness; +still we see how the most resolute commander may be detained by the +cautious feeling of the way which is always unavoidable in cases which +are to a certain degree complicated. + +Some of the considerations here raised are plainly more tactical than +strategic in their nature; but we have preferred rather to encroach a +little than to run the risk of not being sufficiently explicit. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. Subsistence + +This subject has acquired much greater importance in modern warfare +from two causes in particular. First, because the armies in general are +now much greater than those of the middle ages, and even those of the +old world; for, although formerly armies did appear here and there +which equalled or even surpassed modern ones in size, still these were +only rare and transient occurrences, whilst in modern military history, +since the time of Louis XIV, armies have always been very strong in +number. But the second cause is still more important, and belongs +entirely to modern times. It is the very much closer inner connection +which our wars have in themselves, the constant state of readiness for +battle of the belligerents engaged in carrying them on. Almost all old +wars consist of single unconnected enterprises, which are separated +from each other by intervals during which the war in reality either +completely rested, and only still existed in a political sense, or when +the armies at least had removed so far from each other that each, +without any care about the army opposite, only occupied itself with its +own wants. + +Modern wars, that is, the wars which have taken place since the Peace +of Westphalia, have, through the efforts of respective governments, +taken a more systematic connected form; the military object, in +general, predominates everywhere, and demands also that arrangements +for subsistence shall be on an adequate scale. Certainly there were +long periods of inaction in the wars of the seventeenth and eighteenth +centuries, almost amounting to a cessation of war; these are the +regular periods passed in cantonments; still even those periods were +subordinate to the military object; they were caused by the inclemency +of the season, not by any necessity arising out of the subsistence of +the troops, and as they regularly terminated with the return of summer, +therefore we may say at all events uninterrupted action was the rule of +war during the fine season of the year. + +As the transition from one situation or method of action to another +always takes place gradually so it was in the case before us. In the +wars against Louis XIV. the allies used still to send their troops into +winter cantonments in distant provinces in order to subsist them the +more easily; in the Silesian war that was no longer done. + +This systematic and connected form of carrying on war only became +possible when states took regular troops into their service in place of +the feudal armies. The obligation of the feudal law was then commuted +into a fine or contribution: personal service either came to an end, +enlistment being substituted, or it was only continued amongst the +lowest classes, as the nobility regarded the furnishing a quota of men +(as is still done in Russia and Hungary) as a kind of tribute, a tax in +men. In every case, as we have elsewhere observed, armies became +henceforward, an instrument of the cabinet, their principal basis being +the treasury or the revenue of the government. + +Just the same kind of thing which took place in the mode of raising and +keeping up an establishment of troops could not but follow in the mode +of subsisting them. The privileged classes having been released from +the first of these services on payment of a contribution in money, the +expense of the latter could not be again imposed on them quite so +easily. The cabinet and the treasury had therefore to provide for the +subsistence of the army, and could not allow it to be maintained in its +own country at the expense of the people. Administrations were +therefore obliged to look upon the subsistence of the army as an affair +for which they were specially responsible. The subsistence thus became +more difficult in two ways: first, because it was an affair belonging +to government, and next, because the forces required to be permanently +embodied to confront those kept up in other states. + +Thus arose a separate military class in the population, with an +independent organisation provided for its subsistence, and carried out +to the utmost possible perfection. + +Not only were stores of provisions collected, either by purchase or by +deliveries in kind from the landed estates (Dominiallieferungen), +consequently from distant points, and lodged in magazines, but they +were also forwarded from these by means of special wagons, baked near +the quarters of the troops in ovens temporarily established, and from +thence again carried away at last by the troops, by means of another +system of transport attached to the army itself. We take a glance at +this system not merely from its being characteristic of the military +arrangements of the period, but also because it is a system which can +never be entirely done away; some parts of it must continually +reappear. + +Thus military organisation strove perpetually towards becoming more +independent of people and country. + +The consequence was that in this manner war became certainly a more +systematic and more regular affair, and more subordinated to the +military, that is the political object; but it was at the same time +also much straitened and impeded in its movement, and infinitely +weakened in energy. For now an army was tied to its magazines, limited +to the working powers of its transport service, and it naturally +followed that the tendency of everything was to economise the +subsistence of the troops. The soldier fed on a wretched pittance of +bread, moved about like a shadow, and no prospect of a change for the +better comforted him under his privations. + +Whoever treats this miserable way of feeding soldiers as a matter of no +moment, and points to what Frederick the Great did with soldiers +subsisted in this manner, only takes a partial view of the matter. The +power of enduring privations is one of the finest virtues in a soldier, +and without it no army is animated with the true military spirit; but +such privation must be of a temporary kind, commanded by the force of +circumstances, and not the consequence of a wretchedly bad system, or +of a parsimonious abstract calculation of the smallest ration that a +man can exist upon. When such is the case the powers of the men +individually will always deteriorate physically and morally. What +Frederick the Great managed to do with his soldiers cannot be taken as +a standard for us, partly because he was opposed to those who pursued a +similar system, partly because we do not know how much more he might +have effected if he had been able to let his troops live as Buonaparte +allowed his whenever circumstances permitted. + +The feeding of horses by an artificial system of supply is, however, an +experiment which has not been tried, because forage is much more +difficult to provide on account of its bulk. A ration for a horse +weighs about ten times as much as one for a man, and the number of +horses with an army is more than one-tenth the number of men, at +present it is one-fourth to one-third, and formerly it was one-third to +one-half, therefore the weight of the forage required is three, four, +or five times as much as that of the soldier’s rations required for the +same period of time; on this account the shortest and most direct means +were taken to meet the wants of an army in this respect, that is by +foraging expeditions. Now these expeditions occasioned great +inconvenience in the conduct of war in other ways, first by making it a +principal object to keep the war in the enemy’s country; and next +because they made it impossible to remain very long in one part of the +country. However, at the time of the Silesian war, foraging expeditions +were much less frequent, they were found to occasion a much greater +drain upon the country, and much greater waste than if the requirements +were satisfied by means of requisitions and imposts. + +When the French Revolution suddenly brought again upon the war stage a +national army, the means which governments could command were found +insufficient, and the whole system of war, which had its origin in the +limited extent of these means, and found again its security in this +limitation, fell to pieces, and of course in the downfall of the whole +was included that of the branch of which we are now speaking, the +system of subsistence. Without troubling themselves about magazines, +and still less about such an organisation as the artificial clockwork +of which we have spoken, by which the different divisions of the +transport service went round like a wheel, the leading spirits of the +revolution sent their soldiers into the field, forced their generals to +fight, subsisted, reinforced their armies, and kept alive the war by a +system of exaction, and of helping themselves to all they required by +robbery and plunder. + +Between these two extremes the war under Buonaparte, and against him, +preserved a sort of medium, that is to say, it just made use of such +means as suited it best amongst all that were available; and so it will +be also in future. + +The modern method of subsisting troops, that is, seizing every thing +which is to be found in the country without regard to _meum et tuum_ +may be carried out in four different ways: that is, subsisting on the +inhabitant, contributions which the troops themselves look after, +general contributions and magazines. All four are generally applied +together, one generally prevailing more than the others: still it +sometimes happens that only one is applied entirely by itself. + +1.—Living on the inhabitants, or on the community, which is the same +thing. + + +If we bear in mind that in a community consisting even as it does in +great towns, of consumers only, there must always be provisions enough +to last for several days, we may easily see that the most densely +populated place can furnish food and quarters for a day for about as +many troops as there are inhabitants, and for a less number of troops +for several days without the necessity of any particular previous +preparation. In towns of considerable size this gives a very +satisfactory result, because it enables us to subsist a large force at +one point. But in smaller towns, or even in villages, the supply would +be far from sufficient; for a population of 3,000 or 4,000 in a square +mile which would be large in such a space, would only suffice to feed +3,000 or 4,000 soldiers, and if the whole mass of troops is great they +would have to be spread over such an extent of country at this rate as +would hardly be consistent with other essential points. But in level +countries, and even in small towns, the quantity of those kinds of +provisions which are essential in war is generally much greater; the +supply of bread which a peasant has is generally adequate to the +consumption of his family for several, perhaps from eight to fourteen +days; meat can be obtained daily, vegetable productions are generally +forthcoming in sufficient quantity to last till the following crop. +Therefore in quarters which have never been occupied there is no +difficulty in subsisting troops three or four times the number of the +inhabitants for several days, which again is a very satisfactory +result. According to this, where the population is about 2,000 or 3,000 +per square mile, and if no large town is included, a column of 30,000 +would require about four square miles, which would be a length of side +of two miles. Therefore for an army of 90,000, which we may reckon at +about 75,000 combatants, if marching in three columns contiguous to +each other, we should require to take up a front six miles in breadth +in case three roads could be found within that breadth. + +If several columns follow one another into these cantonments, then +special measures must be adopted by the civil authorities, and in that +way there can be no great difficulty in obtaining all that is required +for a day or two more. Therefore if the above 90,000 are followed the +day after by a like number, even these last would suffer no want; this +makes up the large number of 150,000 combatants. + +Forage for the horses occasions still less difficulty, as it neither +requires grinding nor baking, and as there must be forage forthcoming +in sufficient quantity to last the horses in the country until next +harvest, therefore even where there is little stall-feeding, still +there should be no want, only the deliveries of forage should certainly +be demanded from the community at large, not from the inhabitants +individually. Besides, it is supposed that some attention is, of +course, paid to the nature of the country in making arrangements for a +march, so as not to send cavalry mostly into places of commerce and +manufactures, and into districts where there is no forage. + +The conclusion to be drawn from this hasty glance is, therefore, that +in a moderately populated country, that is, a country of from 2,000 to +3,000 souls per square mile, an army of 150,000 combatants may be +subsisted by the inhabitants and community for one or two days within +such a narrow space as will not interfere with its concentration for +battle, that is, therefore, that such an army can be subsisted on a +continuous march without magazines or other preparation. + +On this result were based the enterprises of the French army in the +revolutionary war, and under Buonaparte. They marched from the Adige to +the Lower Danube, and from the Rhine to the Vistula, with little means +of subsistence except upon the inhabitants, and without ever suffering +want. As their undertakings depended on moral and physical superiority, +as they were attended with certain results, and were never delayed by +indecision or caution, therefore their progress in the career of +victory was generally that of an uninterrupted march. + +If circumstances are less favourable, if the population is not so +great, or if it consists more of artisans than agriculturists, if the +soil is bad, the country already several times overrun—then of course +the results will fall short of what we have supposed. Still, we must +remember that if the breadth of the front of a column is extended from +two miles to three, we get a superficial extent of country more than +double in size, that is, instead of four we command nine square miles, +and that this is still an extent which in ordinary cases will always +admit of concentration for action; we see therefore that even under +unfavourable circumstances this method of subsistence will still be +always compatible with a continuous march. + +But if a halt of several days takes place, then great distress must +ensue if preparations have not been made beforehand for such an event +in other ways. Now these preparatory measures are of two kinds, and +without them a considerable army even now cannot exist. The first is +equipping the troops with a wagon train, by means of which bread or +flour, as the most essential part of their subsistence, can be carried +with them for a few, that is, for three or four days; if to this we add +three or four days’ rations which the soldier himself can carry, then +we have provided what is most indispensable in the way of subsistence +for eight days. + +The second arrangement is that of a regular commissariat, which +whenever there is a moment’s halt gathers provisions from distant +localities, so that at any moment we can pass over from the system of +quartering on the inhabitants to a different system. + +Subsisting in cantonments has the immense advantage that hardly any +transport is required, and that it is done in the shortest time, but +certainly it supposes as a prior condition that cantonments can be +provided for all the troops. + +2.—Subsistence through exactions enforced by the troops themselves. + + +If a single battalion occupies a camp, this camp may be placed in the +vicinity of some villages, and these may receive notice to furnish +subsistence; then the method of subsistence would not differ +essentially from the preceding mode. But, as is most usual, if the mass +of troops to be encamped at some one point is much larger, there is no +alternative but to make a collection in common within the circle of +districts marked out for the purpose, collecting sufficient for the +supply of one of the parts of the army, a brigade or division, and +afterwards to make a distribution from the common stock thus collected. + +The first glance shows that by such a mode of proceeding the +subsistence of a large army would be a matter of impossibility. The +collection made from the stores in any given district in the country +will be much less than if the troops had taken up their quarters in the +same district, for when thirty or forty men take possession of a +farmer’s house they can if necessary collect the last mouthful, but one +officer sent with a few men to collect provisions has neither time nor +means to hunt out all the provisions that may be stored in a house, +often also he has not the means of transport; he will therefore only be +able to collect a small proportion of what is actually forthcoming. +Besides, in camps the troops are crowded together in such a manner at +one point, that the range of country from which provisions can be +collected in a hurry is not of sufficient extent to furnish the whole +of what is required. What could be done in the way of supplying 30,000 +men, within a circle of a mile in diameter, or from an area of three or +four square miles? Moreover it would seldom be possible to collect even +what there is, for the most of the nearest adjacent villages would be +occupied by small bodies of troops, who would not allow anything to be +removed. Lastly, by such a measure there would be the greatest waste, +because some men would get more than they required, whilst a great deal +would be lost, and of no benefit to any one. + +The result is, therefore, that the subsistence of troops by forced +contributions in this manner can only be adopted with success when the +bodies of troops are not too large, not exceeding a division of 8,000 +or 10,000 men, and even then it is only to be resorted to as an +unavoidable evil. + +It cannot in general be avoided in the case of troops directly in front +of the enemy, such as advanced guards and outposts, when the army is +advancing, because these bodies must arrive at points where no +preparations could have been made, and they are usually too far from +the stores collected for the rest of the army; further, in the case of +moveable columns acting independently; and lastly, in all cases where +by chance there is neither time nor means to procure subsistence in any +other way. + +The more troops are accustomed to live by regular requisitions, the +more time and circumstances permit the adoption of that way of +subsisting, then the more satisfactory will be the result. But time is +generally wanting, for what the troops get for themselves directly is +got much quicker. + +3.—By regular requisitions. + + +This is unquestionably the simplest and most efficacious means of +subsisting troops, and it has been the basis of all modern wars. + +It differs from the preceding way chiefly by its having the +co-operation of the local authorities. The supply in this case must not +be carried off forcibly just from the spot where it is found, but be +regularly delivered according to an equitable division of the burden. +This division can only be made by the recognised official authorities +of the country. + +In this all depends on time. The more time there is, the more general +can the division be made, the less will it press on individuals, and +the more regular will be the result. Even purchases may be made with +ready money to assist, in which way it will approach the mode which +follows next in order (Magazines). In all assemblages of troops in +their own country there is no difficulty in subsisting by regular +requisitions; neither, as a rule, is there any in retrograde movements. +On the other hand, in all movements into a country of which we are not +in possession, there is very little time for such arrangements, seldom +more than the one day which the advanced guard is in the habit of +preceding the army. With the advanced guard the requisitions are sent +to the local officials, specifying how many rations they are to have +ready at such and such places. As these can only be furnished from the +immediate neighbourhood, that is, within a circuit of a couple of miles +round each point, the collections so made in haste will never be nearly +sufficient for an army of considerable strength, and consequently, if +the troops do not carry with them enough for several days, they will +run short. It is therefore the duty of the commissariat to economise +what is received, and only to issue to those troops who have nothing. +With each succeeding day, however, the embarrassment diminishes; that +is to say, if the distances from which provisions can be procured +increase in proportion to the number of days, then the superficial area +over which the contributions can be levied increases as the squares of +the distances gained. If on the first day only four square miles have +been drawn upon, on the next day we shall have sixteen, on the third, +thirty-six; therefore on the second day twelve more than on the first, +and on the third day twenty more than on the second. + +Of course this is a mere rough estimate of what may take place, subject +to many modifying circumstances which may intervene, of which the +principal is, that one district may not be capable of contributing like +another. But on the other hand, we must also remember that the radius +within which we can levy may increase more than two miles a day in +width, perhaps three or four, or in many places still more. + +The due execution of these requisitions is enforced by detachments +placed under the orders of the official functionaries, but still more +by the fear of responsibility, punishment, and ill-treatment which, in +such cases, like a general weight, presses on the whole population. + +However, it is not our intention to enter into details—into the whole +machinery of commissariat and army subsistence; we have only results in +view. + +The result to be derived from a common-sense view of all the +circumstances in general, and the view which the experience of the wars +since the French revolution tends to confirm is,—that even the largest +army, if it carries with it provisions for a few days, may undoubtedly +be subsisted by contributions which, commencing at the moment of +entering a country, affect at first only the districts in the immediate +vicinity of the army, but afterwards, in the course of time, are levied +on a greater scale, over a range of country always increasing, and with +an ever increasing weight of authority. + +This resource has no limits except those of the exhaustion, +impoverishment, and devastation of the country. When the stay of an +invading army is of some duration, the administration of this system at +last is handed over to those in the highest official capacity; and they +naturally do all they can to equalise its pressure as much as possible, +and to alleviate the weight of the tax by purchases; at the same time, +even an invader, when his stay is prolonged in his enemy’s country, is +not usually so barbarous and reckless as to lay upon that country the +entire burden of his support; thus the system of contributions of +itself gradually approaches to that of magazines, at the same time +without ever ceasing altogether, or sensibly losing any of that +influence which it exercises on the operations of the war; for there is +a wide difference between a case in which some of the resources which +have been drawn from a country are replaced by supplies brought from +more distant parts (the country, however, still remaining substantially +the source on which the army depends for its supplies), and the case of +an army which—as in the eighteenth century—provides for all its wants +from its own resources, the country in which it is operating +contributing, as a rule, nothing towards its support. + +The great difference consists in two things,—namely, the employment of +the transport of the country, and its ovens. In this way, that enormous +burden of any army, that incubus which is always destroying its own +work, a military transport train, is almost got rid of. + +It is true that even now no army can do entirely without some +subsistence wagons, but the number is immensely diminished, and little +more is required than sufficient to carry the surplus of one day on +till the next. Peculiar circumstances, as in Russia in 1812, may even +again compel an army to carry an enormous train, and also field-ovens; +but in the first place these are exceptional cases; for how seldom will +it happen that 300,000 men make a hostile advance of 130 miles upon +almost a single road, and that through countries such as Poland and +Russia, and shortly before the season of harvest; and in the next +place, any means of supply attached to an army in such cases, may be +looked upon as only an assistance in case of need, the contributions of +the country being always regarded as the groundwork of the whole system +of supply. + +Since the first campaigns of the French revolutionary war, the +requisition system has formed constantly the mainstay of their armies, +the armies opposed to them were also obliged to adopt the same system, +and it is not at all likely that it will ever be abandoned. There is no +other which can be substituted for it with the same results, both as +regards its simplicity and freedom from restraint, and also as respects +energy in the prosecution of the war. As an army is seldom distressed +for provisions during the first three or four weeks of a campaign +whatever direction it takes, and afterwards can be assisted by +magazines, we may very well say that by this method war has acquired +the most perfect freedom of action. Certainly difficulties may be +greater in one direction than in another, and that may carry weight in +preliminary deliberation; but we can never encounter an absolute +impossibility, and the attention which is due to the subject of +subsistence can never decide a question imperatively. To this there is +only one exception, which is a retreat through an enemy’s country. In +such a case many of the inconveniences connected with subsistence meet +together. The operation is one of a continuous nature, generally +carried on without a halt worth speaking of; there is, therefore, no +time to procure provisions; the circumstances under which the operation +commences are generally unfavourable, it is therefore necessary to keep +the troops in masses, and a dispersion in cantonments, or even any +considerable extension in the width of the column cannot be allowed; +the hostile feeling of the country precludes the chance of any +collection of contributions by mere orders issued without the support +of a force capable of executing the order; and, lastly, the moment is +most auspicious for the inhabitants to give vent to their feelings by +acts of hostility. On account of all this, an army so situated is +generally obliged to confine itself strictly to its previously prepared +lines of communication and retreat. + +When Buonaparte had to retreat in 1812, it was impossible for him to do +so by any other line but the one upon which he had advanced, on account +of the subsistence of his army; and if he had attempted any other he +would only have plunged into more speedy and certain destruction; all +the censure therefore passed on him by even French writers as well as +by others with regard to this point is sheer nonsense. + +4.—Subsistence from Magazines. + + +If we are to make a generic distinction between this method of +subsisting troops and the preceding, it must be by an organisation such +as existed for about thirty years at the close of the seventeenth and +during the eighteenth century. Can this organisation ever reappear? + +Certainly we cannot conceive how it can be dispensed with if great +armies are to be bound down for seven, ten, or twelve years long to one +spot, as they have been formerly in the Netherlands, on the Rhine, in +Upper Italy, Silesia, and Saxony; for what country can continue for +such a length of time to endure the burden of two great armies, making +it the entire source of their supplies, without being utterly ruined in +the end, and therefore gradually becoming unable to meet the demands? + +But here naturally arises the question: shall the war prescribe the +system of subsistence, or shall the latter dictate the nature of the +war? To this we answer: the system of subsistence will control the war, +in the first place, as far as the other conditions on which it depends +permit; but when the latter are encroached upon, the war will react on +the subsistence system, and in such case determine the same. + +A war carried on by means of the system of requisitions and local +supplies furnished on the spot has such an advantage over one carried +on in dependence on issues from magazines, that the latter does not +look at all like the same instrument. No state will therefore venture +to encounter the former with the latter; and if any war minister should +be so narrow-minded and blind to circumstances as to ignore the real +relation which the two systems bear to each other, by sending an army +into the field to live upon the old system, the force of circumstances +would carry the commander of that army along with it in its course, and +the requisition system would burst forth of itself. If we consider +besides, that the great expense attending such an organisation must +necessarily reduce the extent of the armament in other respects, +including of course the actual number of combatant soldiers, as no +state has a superabundance of wealth, then there seems no probability +of any such organisation being again resorted to unless it should be +adopted by the belligerents by mutual agreement, an idea which is a +mere play of the imagination. + +Wars therefore may be expected henceforward always to commence with the +requisition system; how much one or other government will do to +supplement the same by an artificial organisation to spare their own +country, etc., etc., remains to be seen; that it will not be overmuch +we may be certain, for at such moments the tendency is to look to the +most urgent wants, and an artificial system of subsisting troops does +not come under that category. + +But now, if a war is not so decisive in its results, if its operations +are not so comprehensive as is consistent with its real nature, then +the requisition system will begin to exhaust the country in which it is +carried on to that degree that either peace must be made, or means must +be found to lighten the burden on the country, and to become +independent of it for the supplies of the army. The latter was the case +of the French army under Buonaparte in Spain, but the first happens +much more frequently. In most wars the exhaustion of the state +increases to that degree that, instead of thinking of prosecuting the +war at a still greater expense, the necessity for peace becomes so +urgent as to be imperative. Thus from this point of view the modern +method of carrying on war has a tendency to shorten the duration of +wars. + +At the same time we shall not positively deny the possibility of the +old system of subsistence reappearing in future wars; it will perhaps +be resorted to by belligerents hereafter, where the nature of their +mutual relations urge them to it, and circumstances are favourable to +its adoption; but we can never perceive in that system a natural +organisation; it is much rather an abnormal growth permitted by +circumstances, but which can never spring from war in its true sense. +Still less can we consider that form or system as any improvement in +war on the ground of its being more humane, for war itself is not a +humane proceeding. + +Whatever method of providing subsistence may be chosen, it is but +natural that it should be more easily carried out in rich and +well-peopled countries, than in the midst of a poor and scanty +population. That the population should be taken into consideration, +lies in the double relation which that element bears to the quantity of +provisions to be found in a country: first because, where the +consumption is large, the provision to meet that consumption is also +large; and in the next place, because as a rule a large population +produces also largely. From this we must certainly except districts +peopled chiefly by manufacturers, particularly when, as is often the +case, such districts lie in mountain valleys surrounded by unproductive +land; but in the generality of cases it is always very much easier to +feed troops in a well populated than in a thinly inhabited country. An +army of 100,000 men cannot be supported on four hundred square miles +inhabited by 400,000 people, as well as it would be on four hundred +square miles with a population of 2,000,000 inhabitants, even supposing +the soil equally good in the two cases. Besides, the roads and means of +water-carriage are much better in rich countries and afford a greater +choice, being more numerous, the means of transport are more abundant, +the commercial relations easier and more certain. In a word, there is +infinitely less difficulty in supporting an army in Flanders than in +Poland. + +The consequence is, that war with its manifold suckers fixes itself by +preference along high roads, near populous towns, in the fertile +valleys of large rivers, or along such sea-coasts as are well +frequented. + +This shows clearly how the subsistence of troops may have a general +influence upon the direction and form of military undertakings, and +upon the choice of a theatre of war and lines of communication. + +The extent of this influence, what weight shall attach to the facility +or difficulty of provisioning the troops, all that in the calculation +depends very much on the way in which the war is to be conducted. If it +is to be carried on in its real spirit, that is, with the unbridled +force which belongs to its element, with a constant pressing forward +to, or seeking for the combat and decisive solution, then the +sustenance of the troops although an important, is but a subordinate, +affair; but if there is to be a state of equilibrium during which the +armies move about here and there in the same province for several +years, then the subsistence must often become the principal thing, the +intendant the commander-in-chief, and the conduct of the war an +administration of wagons. + +There are numberless campaigns of this kind in which nothing took +place; the plans miscarried, the forces were used to no purpose, the +only excuse being the plea of a want of subsistence; on the other hand +Buonaparte used to say “_Qu’on ne me parle pas des vivres!_” + +Certainly that general in the Russian campaign proved that such +recklessness may be carried too far, for not to say that perhaps his +whole campaign was ruined through that cause alone, which at best would +be only a supposition, still it is beyond doubt that to his want of +regard to the subsistence of his troops he was indebted for the +extraordinary melting away of his army on his advance, and for its +utter ruin on the retreat. + +But while fully recognising in Buonaparte the eager gambler who +ventures on many a mad extreme, we may justly say that he and the +revolutionary generals who preceded him dispelled a powerful prejudice +in respect to the subsistence of troops, and showed that it should +never be looked upon in any other light than as a _condition_ of war, +never as an object. + +Besides, it is with privation in war just as with physical exertion and +danger; the demands which the general can make on his army are without +any defined bounds; an iron character demands more than a feeble +sensitive man; also the endurance of an army differs in degree, +according as habit, military spirit, confidence in and affection +towards the commander, or enthusiasm for the cause of fatherland, +sustain the will and energy of the soldier. But this we may look upon +as an established principle, that privation and want, however far they +may be carried, should never be otherwise regarded than as +transition-states which should be succeeded by a state of abundance, +indeed even by superfluity. Can there be any thing more touching than +the thought of so many thousand soldiers, badly clothed, with packs on +their backs weighing thirty or forty pounds, toiling over every kind of +road, in every description of weather, for days and days continually on +the march, health and life for ever in peril, and for all that unable +to get a sufficiency of dry bread. Any one who knows how often this +happens in war, is at a loss to know how it does not oftener lead to a +refusal of the will and powers to submit any longer to such exactions, +and how the mere bent constantly given to the imagination of human +beings in one direction, is capable of first calling forth, and then +supporting such incredible efforts. + +Let any one then, who imposes great privations on his men because great +objects demand such a trial of endurance, always bear in mind as a +matter of prudence, if not prompted to it by his own feelings, that +there is a recompence for such sacrifices which he is bound to pay at +some other time. + +We have now to consider the difference which takes place in respect to +the question of subsistence in war, according as the action is +offensive or defensive. + +The defensive is in a position to make uninterrupted use of the +subsistence which he has been able to lay in beforehand, as long as his +defensive act continues. The defensive side therefore can hardly be in +want of the necessaries of life, particularly if he is in his own +country; but even in the enemy’s this holds good. The offensive on the +other hand is moving away from his resources, and as long as he is +advancing, and even during the first weeks after he stops, must procure +from day to day what he requires, and this can very rarely be done +without want and inconvenience being felt. + +This difficulty is felt in its fullest force at two particular periods, +first in the advance, before the decision takes place; then the +supplies of the defensive side are all at hand, whilst the assailant +has been obliged to leave his behind; he is obliged to keep his masses +concentrated, and therefore cannot spread his army over any +considerable space; even his transport cannot keep close to him when he +commences his movements preliminary to a battle. If his preparations +have not been very well made, it may easily happen at this moment that +his army may be in want of supplies for several days before the +decisive battle, which certainly is not a means of bringing them into +the fight in the highest state of efficiency. + +The second time a state of want arises is at the end of a victorious +career, if the lines of communication begin to be too long, especially +if the war is carried on in a poor, sparsely-populated country, and +perhaps also in the midst of a people whose feelings are hostile. What +an enormous difference between a line of communication from Wilna to +Moscow, on which every carriage must be forcibly seized, and a line +from Cologne by Liége, Louvain, Brussels, Mons, and Valenciennes to +Paris, where a mercantile contract or a bill of exchange would suffice +to procure millions of rations. + +Frequently has the difficulty we are now speaking of resulted in +obscuring the splendour of the most brilliant victories, reduced the +powers of the victorious army, rendered retreat necessary, and then by +degrees ended in producing all the symptoms of a real defeat. + +Forage, of which, as we have before said, there is usually at first the +least deficiency, will run short soonest if a country begins to become +exhausted, for it is the most difficult supply to procure from a +distance, on account of its bulk, and the horse feels the effect of low +feeding much sooner than the man. For this reason, an over-numerous +cavalry and artillery may become a real burden, and an element of +weakness to an army. + + + +CHAPTER XV. Base of Operations + +If an army sets out on any expedition, whether it be to attack the +enemy and his theatre of war, or to take post on its own frontier, it +continues in a state of necessary dependence on the sources from which +it draws its subsistence and reinforcements, and must maintain its +communication with them, as they are the conditions of its existence +and preservation. This dependence increases in intensity and extent in +proportion to the size of the army. But now it is neither always +possible nor requisite that the army should continue in direct +communication with the whole of its own country; it is sufficient if it +does so with that portion immediately in its rear, and which is +consequently covered by its position. In this portion of the country +then, as far as necessary, special depôts of provisions are formed, and +arrangements are made for regularly forwarding reinforcements and +supplies. This strip of territory is therefore the foundation of the +army and of all its undertakings, and the two must be regarded as +forming in connection only one whole. If the supplies for their greater +security are lodged in fortified places, the idea of a base becomes +more distinct; but the idea does not originate in any arrangement of +that kind, and in a number of cases no such arrangement is made. + +But a portion of the enemy’s territory may also become a base for our +army, or, at least, form part of it; for when an army penetrates into +an enemy’s land, a number of its wants are supplied from that part of +the country which is taken possession of; but it is then a necessary +condition that we are completely masters of this portion of territory, +that is, certain of our orders being obeyed within its limits. This +certainty, however, seldom extends beyond the reach of our ability to +keep the inhabitants in awe by small garrisons, and detachments moving +about from place to place, and that is not very far in general. The +consequence is, that in the enemy’s country, the part of territory from +which we can draw supplies is seldom of sufficient extent to furnish +all the supplies we require, and we must therefore still depend on our +own land for much, and this brings us back again to the importance of +that part of our territory immediately in rear of our army as an +indispensable portion of our base. + +The wants of an army may be divided into two classes, first those which +every cultivated country can furnish; and next those which can only be +obtained from those localities where they are produced. The first are +chiefly provisions, the second the means of keeping an army complete in +every way. The first can therefore be obtained in the enemy’s country; +the second, as a rule, can only be furnished by our own country, for +example men, arms, and almost all munitions of war. Although there are +exceptions to this classification in certain cases, still they are few +and trifling, and the distinction we have drawn is of standing +importance, and proves again that the communication with our own +country is indispensable. + +Depôts of provisions and forage are generally formed in open towns, +both in the enemy’s and in our own country, because there are not as +many fortresses as would be required for these bulky stores continually +being consumed, and wanted sometimes here, sometimes there, and also +because their loss is much easier to replace; on the other hand, stores +to keep the army complete, such as arms, munition of war, and articles +of equipment are never lodged in open places in the vicinity of the +theatre of war if it can be avoided, but are rather brought from a +distance, and in the enemy’s country never stored anywhere but in +fortresses. From this point, again, it may be inferred that the base is +of more importance in relation to supplies intended to refit an army +than in relation to provisions for food. + +Now, the more means of each kind are collected together in great +magazines before being brought into use, the more, therefore, all +separate streams unite in great reservoirs, so much the more may these +be regarded as taking the place of the whole country, and so much the +more will the conception of a base fix itself upon these great depôts +of supply; but this must never go so far that any such place becomes +looked upon as constituting a base in itself alone. + +If these sources of supply and refitment are abundant, that is, if the +tracts of territory are wide and rich, if the stores are collected in +great depôts to be more speedily brought into use, if these depôts are +covered in a military sense in one way or another, if they are in close +proximity to the army and accessible by good roads, if they extend +along a considerable width in the rear of the army or surround it in +part as well—then follows a greater vitality for the army, as well as a +greater freedom in its movements. Attempts have been made to sum up all +the advantages which an army derives from being so situated in one +single conception, that is, the extent of the base of operations. By +the relation which this base bears to the object of the undertakings, +by the angle which its extremities make with this object (supposed as a +point), it has been attempted to express the whole sum of the +advantages and disadvantages which accrue to an army from the position +and nature of its sources of supply and equipment; but it is plain this +elegant piece of geometrical refinement is merely a play of fancy, as +it is founded on a series of substitutions which must all be made at +the expense of truth. As we have seen, the base of an army is a triple +formation in connection with the situation in which an army is placed: +the resources of the country adjacent to the position of the army, the +depôts of stores which have been made at particular points, and the +_province_ from which these stores are derived or collected. These +three things are separated in space, and cannot be collected into one +whole, and least of all can we substitute for them a line which is to +represent the width of the base, a line which is generally imagined in +a manner perfectly arbitrary, either from one fortress to another or +from one capital of a province to another, or along a political +boundary of a country. Neither can we determine precisely the mutual +relation of these three steps in the formation of a base, for in +reality they blend themselves with each other always more or less. In +one case the surrounding country affords largely the means of refitting +an army with things which otherwise could only be obtained from a long +distance; in another case we are obliged to get even food from a long +distance. Sometimes the nearest fortresses are great arsenals, ports, +or commercial cities, which contain all the military resources of a +whole state, sometimes they are nothing but old, feeble ramparts, +hardly sufficient for their own defence. + +The consequence is that all deductions from the length of the base of +operations and its angles, and the whole theory of war founded on these +data, as far as its geometrical phase, have never met with any +attention in real war, and in theory they have only caused wrong +tendencies. But as the basis of this chain of reasoning is a truth, and +only the conclusions drawn are false, this same view will easily and +frequently thrust itself forward again. + +We think, therefore, that we cannot go beyond acknowledging generally +the influence of a base on military enterprises, that at the same time +there are no means of framing out of this maxim any serviceable rules +by a few abstract ideas; but that in each separate case the whole of +the things which we have specified must be _kept in view together_. + +When once arrangements are made within a certain radius to provide the +means of subsisting an army and keeping it complete in every respect, +and with a view to operations in a certain direction, then, even in our +own country, this district only is to be regarded as the base of the +army; and as any alteration of a base requires time and labour, +therefore an army cannot change its base every day, even in its own +country, and this again limits it always more or less in the direction +of its operations. If, then, in operating against an enemy’s country we +take the whole line of our own frontier, where it forms a boundary +between the two countries as our base, we may do so in a general sense, +in so far that we might make those preparations which constitute a base +anywhere on that frontier; but it will not be a base at any moment if +preparations have not been already made everywhere. When the Russian +army retreated before the French in 1812, at the beginning of the +campaign the whole of Russia might have been considered as its base, +the more so because the vast extent of the country offered the army +abundance of space in any direction it might select. This is no +illusory notion, as it was actually realised at a subsequent time, when +other Russian armies from different quarters entered the field; but +still at every period throughout the campaign the base of the Russian +army was not so extensive; it was principally confined to the road on +which the whole train of transport to and from their army was +organised. This limitation prevented the Russian army, for instance, +from making the further retreat which became necessary after the three +days’ fighting at Smolensk in any direction but that of Moscow, and so +hindered their turning suddenly in the direction of Kaluga, as was +proposed in order to draw the enemy away from Moscow. Such a change of +direction could only have been possible by having been prepared for +long beforehand. + +We have said that the dependence on the base increases in intensity and +extent with the size of the army, which is easy to understand. An army +is like a tree. From the ground out of which it grows it draws its +nourishment; if it is small it can easily be transplanted, but this +becomes more difficult as it increases in size. A small body of troops +has also its channels, from which it draws the sustenance of life, but +it strikes root easily where it happens to be; not so a large army. +When, therefore, we talk of the influence of the base on the operations +of an army, the dimensions of the army must always serve as the scale +by which to measure the magnitude of that influence. + +Further it is consistent with the nature of things that for the +immediate wants of the present hour the _subsistence_ is the main +point, but for the general efficiency of the army through a long period +of time the _refitment_ and _recruitment_ are the more important, +because the latter can only be done from particular sources while the +former may be obtained in many ways; this again defines still more +distinctly the influence of the base on the operations of the army. + +However great that influence may be, we must never forget that it +belongs to those things which can only show a decisive effect after +some considerable time, and that therefore the question always remains +what may happen in that time. The value of a base of operations will +seldom determine the choice of an undertaking in the first instance. +Mere difficulties which may present themselves in this respect must be +put side by side and compared with other means actually at our command; +obstacles of this nature often vanish before the force of decisive +victories. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Lines of Communication + +The roads which lead from the position of an army to those points in +its rear where its depôts of supply and means of recruiting and +refitting its forces are principally united, and which it also in all +ordinary cases chooses for its retreat, have a double signification; in +the first place, they are its _lines of communication_ for the constant +nourishment of the combatant force, and next they are _roads of +retreat_. + +We have said in the preceding chapter, that, although according to the +present system of subsistence, an army is chiefly fed from the district +in which it is operating, it must still be looked upon as forming a +whole with its base. The lines of communication belong to this whole; +they form the connection between the army and its base, and are to be +considered as so many great vital arteries. Supplies of every kind, +convoys of munitions, detachments moving backwards and forwards, posts, +orderlies, hospitals, depôts, reserves of stores, agents of +administration, all these objects are constantly making use of these +roads, and the total value of these services is of the utmost +importance to the army. + +These great channels of life must therefore neither be permanently +severed, nor must they be of too great length, or beset with +difficulties, because there is always a loss of strength on a long +road, which tends to weaken the condition of an army. + +By their second purpose, that is as lines of retreat, they constitute +in a real sense the strategic rear of the army. + +For both purposes the value of these roads depends on their _length_, +their _number_, their _situation_, that is their general direction, and +their direction specially as regards the army, their _nature_ as roads, +_difficulties_ of _ground_, the _political relations and feeling of +local population_, and lastly, on the _protection_ they derive from +fortresses or natural obstacles in the country. + +But all the roads which lead from the point occupied by an army to its +sources of existence and power, are not on that account necessarily +lines of communication for that army. They may no doubt be used for +that purpose, and may be considered as supplementary of the system of +communication, but that system is confined to the lines regularly +prepared for the purpose. Only those roads on which magazines, +hospitals, stations, posts for despatches and letters are organised +under commandants with police and garrisons, can be looked upon as real +lines of communication. But here a very important difference between +our own and the enemy’s army makes its appearance, one which is often +overlooked. An army, even in its own country, has its prepared lines of +communication, but it is not completely limited to them, and can in +case of need change its line, taking some other which presents itself, +for it is every where at home, has officials in authority, and the +friendly feeling of the people. Therefore, although other roads may not +be as good as those at first selected there is nothing to prevent their +being used, and the use of them is not to be regarded as _impossible_ +in case the army is turned and obliged to change its front. An army in +an enemy’s country on the contrary can as a rule only look upon those +roads as lines of communication upon which it has advanced; and hence +arises through small and almost invisible causes a great difference in +operating. The army in the enemy’s country takes under its protection +the organisation which, as it advances, it necessarily introduces to +form its lines of communication; and in general, inasmuch as terror, +and the presence of an enemy’s army in the country invests these +measures in the eyes of the inhabitants with all the weight of +unalterable necessity, the inhabitants may even be brought to regard +them as an alleviation of the evils inseparable from war. Small +garrisons left behind in different places support and maintain this +system. But if these commissaries, commandants of stations, police, +fieldposts, and the rest of the apparatus of administration, were sent +to some distant road upon which the army had not been seen, the +inhabitants then would look upon such measures as a burden which they +would gladly get rid of, and if the most complete defeats and +catastrophes had not previously spread terror throughout the land, the +probability is that these functionaries would be treated as enemies, +and driven away with very rough usage. Therefore in the first place it +would be necessary to establish garrisons to subjugate the new line, +and these garrisons would require to be of more than ordinary strength, +and still there would always be a danger of the inhabitants rising and +attempting to overpower them. In short, an army marching into an +enemy’s country is destitute of the mechanism through which obedience +is rendered; it has to institute its officials into their places, which +can only be done by a strong hand, and this cannot be effected +thoroughly without sacrifices and difficulties, nor is it the work of a +moment—From this it follows that a change of the system of +communication is much less easy of accomplishment in an enemy’s country +than in our own, where it is at least possible; and it also follows +that the army is more restricted in its movements, and must be much +more sensitive about any demonstrations against its communications. + +But the choice and organisation of lines of communication is from the +very commencement subject also to a number of conditions by which it is +restricted. Not only must they be in a general sense good high roads, +but they will be the more serviceable the wider they are, the more +populous and wealthy towns they pass through, the more strong places +there are which afford them protection. Rivers, also, as means of water +communication, and bridges as points of passage, have a decisive weight +in the choice. It follows from this that the situation of a line of +communication, and consequently the road by which an army proceeds to +commence the offensive, is only a matter of free choice up to a certain +point, its situation being dependent on certain geographical relations. + +All the foregoing circumstances taken together determine the strength +or weakness of the communication of an army with its base, and this +result, compared with one similarly obtained with regard to the enemy’s +communications, decides which of the two opponents is in a position to +operate against the other’s lines of communication, or to cut off his +retreat, that is, in technical language to _turn him_. Setting aside +all considerations of moral or physical superiority, that party can +only effectually accomplish this whose communications are the strongest +of the two, for otherwise the enemy saves himself in the shortest mode, +by a counterstroke. + +Now this turning can, by reason of the double signification of these +lines, have also two purposes. Either the communications may be +interfered with and interrupted, that the enemy may melt away by +degrees from want, and thus be compelled to retreat, or the object may +be directly to cut off the retreat. + +With regard to the first, we have to observe that a mere momentary +interruption will seldom have any effect while armies are subsisted as +they now are; a certain time is requisite to produce an effect in this +way in order that the losses of the enemy by frequent repetition may +compensate in number for the small amount he suffers in each case. One +single enterprise against the enemy’s flank, which might have been a +decisive stroke in those days when thousands of bread-waggons traversed +the lines of communication, carrying out the systematised method then +in force for subsisting troops, would hardly produce any effect now, if +ever so successful; one convoy at most might be seized, which would +cause the enemy some partial damage, but never compel him to retreat. + +The consequence is, that enterprises of this description on a flank, +which have always been more in fashion in books than in real warfare, +now appear less of a practical nature than ever, and we may safely say +that there is no danger in this respect to any lines of communication +but such as are very long, and otherwise unfavourably circumstanced, +more especially by being exposed everywhere and at any moment to +attacks from an _insurgent population_. + +With respect to the cutting off an enemy’s retreat, we must not be +overconfident in this respect either of the consequences of threatening +or closing the enemy’s lines of retreat, as recent experience has shown +that, when troops are good and their leader resolute, it is _more +difficult_ to make them prisoners, than it is for them to cut their way +through the force opposed to them. + +The means of shortening and protecting long lines of communication are +very limited. The seizure of some fortresses adjacent to the position +taken up by the army, and on the roads leading to the rear—or in the +event of there being no fortresses in the country, the construction of +temporary defences at suitable points—the kind treatment of the people +of the country, strict discipline on the military roads, good police, +and active measures to improve the roads, are the only means by which +the evil may be diminished, but it is one which can never be entirely +removed. + +Furthermore, what we said when treating of the question of subsistence +with respect to the roads which the army should chose by preference, +applies also particularly to lines of communication. The best lines of +communication are roads leading through the most flourishing towns and +the most important provinces; they ought to be preferred, even if +considerably longer, and in most cases they exercise an important +influence on the definitive disposition of the army. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. On Country and Ground + +Quite irrespective of their influence as regards the means of +subsistence of an army, country and ground bear another most intimate +and never-failing relation to the business of war, which is their +decisive influence on the battle, both upon what concerns its course, +as well as upon the preparation for it, and the use to be made of it. +We now proceed to consider country and ground in this phase, that is, +in the full meaning of the French expression “_Terrain._” + +The way to make use of them is a subject which lies mostly within the +province of tactics, but the effects resulting from them appear in +strategy; a battle in the mountains is, in its consequences as well as +in itself, quite a different thing from a battle on a level plain. + +But until we have studied the distinction between offensive and +defensive, and examined the nature of each separately and fully, we +cannot enter upon the consideration of the principal features of the +ground in their effects; we must therefore for the present confine +ourselves to an investigation of its general properties. There are +three properties through which the ground has an influence on action in +war; that is, as presenting an obstacle to approach, as an obstacle to +an extensive view, and as protection against the effect of fire-arms; +all other effects may be traced back to these three. + +Unquestionably this threefold influence of ground has a tendency to +make warfare more diversified, more complicated, and more scientific, +for they are plainly three more quantities which enter into military +combinations. + +A completely level plain, quite open at the same time, that is, a tract +of country which cannot influence war at all, has no existence except +in relation to small bodies of troops, and with respect to them only +for the duration of some given moment of time. When larger bodies are +concerned, and a longer duration of time, accidents of ground mix +themselves up with the action of such bodies, and it is hardly possible +in the case of a whole army to imagine any particular moment, such as a +battle, when the ground would not make its influence felt. + +This influence is therefore never in abeyance, but it is certainly +stronger or weaker according to the nature of the country. + +If we keep in view the great mass of topographical phenomena we find +that countries deviate from the idea of perfectly open level plains +principally in three ways: first by the form of the ground, that is, +hills and valleys; then by woods, marshes, and lakes as natural +features; and lastly, by such changes as have been introduced by the +hand of man. Through each of these three circumstances there is an +increase in the influence of ground on the operations of war. If we +trace them up to a certain distance we have mountainous country, a +country little cultivated and covered with woods and marshes, and the +well cultivated. The tendency in each case is to render war more +complicated and connected with art. + +The degree of influence which cultivation exercises is greater or less +according to the nature of the cultivation; the system pursued in +Flanders, Holstein, and some other countries, where the land is +intersected in every direction with ditches, dykes, hedges, and walls, +interspersed with many single dwellings and small woods has the +greatest effect on war. + +The conduct of war is therefore of the easiest kind in a level +moderately-cultivated country. This however only holds good in quite a +general sense, leaving entirely out of consideration the use which the +defensive can make of obstacles of ground. + +Each of these three kinds of ground has an effect in its own way on +movement, on the range of sight, and in the cover it affords. + +In a thickly-wooded country the obstacle to sight preponderates; in a +mountainous country, the difficulty of movement presents the greatest +obstacle to an enemy; in countries very much cultivated both these +obstacles exist in a medium degree. + +As thick woods render great portions of ground in a certain manner +impracticable for military movements, and as, besides the difficulty +which they oppose to movement they also obstruct the view, thereby +preventing the use of means to clear a passage, the result is that they +simplify the measures to be adopted on one side in proportion as they +increase the difficulties with which the other side has to contend. +Although it is difficult practically to concentrate forces for action +in a wooded country, still a partition of forces does not take place to +the same extent as it usually does in a mountainous country, or in a +country very much intersected with canals, rivers, &c.: in other words, +the partition of forces in such a country is more unavoidable but not +so great. + +In mountains, the obstacles to movement preponderate and take effect in +two ways, because in some parts the country is quite impassable, and +where it is practicable we must move slower and with greater +difficulty. On this account the rapidity of all movements is much +diminished in mountains, and all operations are mixed up with a larger +quantity of the element of time. But the ground in mountains has also +the special property peculiar to itself, that one point commands +another. We shall devote the following chapter to the discussion of the +subject of commanding heights generally, and shall only here remark +that it is this peculiarity which causes the great partition of forces +in operations carried on amongst mountains, for particular points thus +acquire importance from the influence they have upon other points in +addition to any intrinsic value which they have in themselves. + +As we have elsewhere observed, each of these three kinds of ground in +proportion as its own special peculiarity has a tendency to an extreme, +has in the same degree a tendency to lower the influence of the supreme +command, increasing in like manner the independent action of +subordinates down to the private soldier. The greater the partition of +any force, the less an undivided control is possible, so much the more +are subordinates left to themselves; that is self-evident. Certainly +when the partition of a force is greater, then through the diversity of +action and greater scope in the use of means the influence of +intelligence must increase, and even the commander-in-chief may show +his talents to advantage under such circumstances; but we must here +repeat what has been said before, that in war the sum total of single +results decides more than the form or method in which they are +connected, and therefore, if we push our present considerations to an +extreme case, and suppose a whole army extended in a line of +skirmishers so that each private soldier fights his own little battle, +more will depend on the sum of single victories gained than on the form +in which they are connected; for the benefit of good combinations can +only follow from positive results, not from negative. Therefore in such +a case the courage, the dexterity, and the spirit of individuals will +prove decisive. It is only when two opposing armies are on a par as +regards military qualities, or that their peculiar properties hold the +balance even, that the talent and judgment of the commander become +again decisive. The consequence is that national armies and insurgent +levies, etc., etc., in which, at least in the individual, the warlike +spirit is highly excited, although they are not superior in skill and +bravery, are still able to maintain a superiority by a great dispersion +of their forces favoured by a difficult country, and that they can only +maintain themselves for a continuance upon that kind of system, because +troops of this description are generally destitute of all the qualities +and virtues which are indispensable when tolerably large numbers are +required to act as a united body. + +Also in the nature of forces there are many gradations between one of +these extremes and the other, for the very circumstance of being +engaged in the defence of its own country gives to even a regular +standing army something of the character of a national army, and makes +it more suited for a war waged by an army broken up into detachments. + +Now the more these qualifications and influences are wanting in an +army, the greater they are on the side of its opponent, so much the +more will it dread being split into fractions, the more it will avoid a +broken country; but to avoid fighting in such a description of country +is seldom a matter of choice; we cannot choose a theatre of war like a +piece of merchandise from amongst several patterns, and thus we find +generally that armies which from their nature fight with advantage in +concentrated masses, exhaust all their ingenuity in trying to carry out +their system as far as possible in direct opposition _to the nature of +the country_. They must in consequence submit to other disadvantages, +such as scanty and difficult subsistence for the troops, bad quarters, +and in the combat numerous attacks from all sides; but the disadvantage +of giving up their own special advantage would be greater. + +These two tendencies in opposite directions, the one to concentration +the other to dispersion of forces, prevail more or less according as +the nature of the troops engaged incline them more to one side or the +other, but however decided the tendency, the one side cannot always +remain with his forces concentrated, neither can the other expect +success by following his system of warfare in scattered bodies on all +occasions. The French were obliged to resort to partitioning their +forces in Spain, and the Spaniards, whilst defending their country by +means of an insurgent population, were obliged to try the fate of great +battles in the open field with part of their forces. + +Next to the connection which country and ground have with the general, +and especially with the political, composition of the forces engaged, +the most important point is the relative proportion of the three arms. + +In all countries which are difficult to traverse, whether the obstacles +are mountains, forests, or a peculiar cultivation, a numerous cavalry +is useless: that is plain in itself; it is just the same with artillery +in wooded countries; there will probably be a want of room to use it +with effect, of roads to transport it, and of forage for the horses. +For this arm highly cultivated countries are less disadvantageous, and +least of all a mountainous country. Both, no doubt, afford cover +against its fire, and in that respect they are unfavourable to an arm +which depends entirely on its fire: both also often furnish means for +the enemy’s infantry to place the heavy artillery in jeopardy, as +infantry can pass anywhere; but still in neither is there in general +any want of space for the use of a numerous artillery, and in +mountainous countries it has this great advantage, that its effects are +prolonged and increased in consequence of the movements of the enemy +being slower. + +But it is undeniable that infantry has a decided advantage over every +other arm in difficult country, and that, therefore, in such a country +its number may considerably exceed the usual proportion. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. Command of Ground + +The word “command” has a charm in the art of war peculiar to itself, +and in fact to this element belongs a great part, perhaps half the +influence which ground exercises on the use of troops. Here many of the +sacred relics of military erudition have their root, as, for instance, +commanding positions, key positions, strategic manœuvres, etc. We shall +take as clear a view of the subject as we can without prolixity, and +pass in review the true and the false, reality and exaggeration. + +Every exertion of physical force if made upwards is more difficult than +if it is made in the contrary direction (downwards); consequently it +must be so in fighting; and there are three evident reasons why it is +so. First, every height may be regarded as an obstacle to approach; +secondly, although the range is not perceptibly greater in shooting +down from a height, yet, all geometrical relations being taken into +consideration, we have a better chance of hitting than in the opposite +case; thirdly, an elevation gives a better command of view. How all +these advantages unite themselves together in battle we are not +concerned with here; we collect the sum total of the advantages which +tactics derives from elevation of position and combine them in one +whole which we regard as the first strategic advantage. + +But the first and last of these advantages that have been enumerated +must appear once more as advantages of strategy itself, for we march +and reconnoitre in strategy as well as in tactics; if, therefore, an +elevated position is an obstacle to the approach of those on lower +ground, that is the second; and the better command of view which this +elevated position affords is the third advantage which strategy may +derive in this way. + +Of these elements is composed the power of dominating, overlooking, +commanding; from these sources springs the sense of superiority and +security which is felt in standing on the brow of a hill and looking at +the enemy below, and the feeling of weakness and apprehension which +pervades the minds of those below. Perhaps the total impression made is +at the same time stronger than it ought to be, because the advantage of +the higher ground strikes the senses more than the circumstances which +modify that advantage. Perhaps the impression made surpasses that which +the truth warrants, in which case the effect of imagination must be +regarded as a new element, which exaggerates the effect produced by an +elevation of ground. + +At the same time the advantage of greater facility of movement is not +absolute, and not always in favour of the side occupying the higher +position; it is only so when his opponent wishes to attack him; it is +not if the combatants are separated by a great valley, and it is +actually in favour of the army on the lower ground if both wish to +fight in the plain (battle of Hohenfriedberg). Also the power of +overlooking, or command of view, has likewise great limitations. A +wooded country in the valley below, and often the very masses of the +mountains themselves on which we stand, obstruct the vision. Countless +are the cases in which we might seek in vain on the spot for those +advantages of an elevated position which a map would lead us to expect; +and we might often be led to think we had only involved ourselves in +all kinds of disadvantages, the very opposite of the advantages we +counted upon. But these limitations and conditions do not abrogate or +destroy the superiority which the more elevated position confers, both +on the defensive and offensive. We shall point out, in a few words, how +this is the case with each. + +Out of the three strategic advantages of the more elevated ground, _the +greater tactical strength, the more difficult approach_, and _the +better view_, the first two are of such a nature that they belong +really to the defensive only; for it is only in holding firmly to a +position that we can make use of them, whilst the other side +(offensive) in moving cannot remove them and take them with him; but +the third advantage can be made use of by the offensive just as well as +by the defensive. + +From this it follows that the more elevated ground is highly important +to the defensive, and as it can only be maintained in a decisive way in +mountainous countries, therefore it would seem to follow, as a +consequence, that the defensive has an important advantage in mountain +positions. How it is that, through other circumstances, this is not so +in reality, we shall show in the chapter on the defence of mountains. + +We must first of all make a distinction if the question relates merely +to commanding ground at one single point, as, for example, a position +for an army; in such case the strategic advantages rather merge in the +tactical one of a battle fought under advantageous circumstances; but +if now we imagine a considerable tract of country—suppose a whole +province—as a regular slope, like the declivity at a general watershed, +so that we can make several marches, and always hold the upper ground, +then the strategic advantages become greater, because we can now use +the advantages of the more elevated ground not only in the combination +of our forces with each other for one particular combat, but also in +the combination of several combats with one another. Thus it is with +the defensive. + +As regards the offensive, it enjoys to a certain extent the same +advantages as the defensive from the more elevated ground; for this +reason that the stragetic attack is not confined to one act like the +tactical. The strategic advance is not the continuous movement of a +piece of wheelwork; it is made in single marches with a longer or +shorter interval between them, and at each halting point the assailant +is just as much acting on the defensive as his adversary. + +Through the advantage of a better view of the surrounding country, an +elevated position confers, in a certain measure, on the offensive as +well as the defensive, a power of action which we must not omit to +notice; it is the facility of operating with separate masses. For each +portion of a force separately derives the same advantages which the +whole derives from this more elevated position; by this—a separate +corps, let it be strong or weak in numbers, is stronger than it would +otherwise be, and we can venture to take up a position with less danger +than we could if it had not that particular property of being on an +elevation. The advantages which are to be derived from such separate +bodies of troops is a subject for another place. + +If the possession of more elevated ground is combined with other +geographical advantages which are in our favour, if the enemy finds +himself cramped in his movements from other causes, as, for instance, +by the proximity of a large river, such disadvantages of his position +may prove quite decisive, and he may feel that he cannot too soon +relieve himself from such a position. No army can maintain itself in +the valley of a great river if it is not in possession of the heights +on each side by which the valley is formed. + +The possession of elevated ground may therefore become virtually +command, and we can by no means deny that this idea represents a +reality. But nevertheless the expressions “commanding ground,” +“sheltering position,” “key of the country,” in so far as they are +founded on the nature of heights and descents, are hollow shells +without any sound kernel. These imposing elements of theory have been +chiefly resorted to in order to give a flavour to the seeming +commonplace of military combinations; they have become the darling +themes of learned soldiers, the magical wands of adepts in strategy, +and neither the emptiness of these fanciful conceits, nor the frequent +contradictions which have been given to them by the results of +experience have sufficed to convince authors, and those who read their +books, that with such phraseology they are drawing water in the leaky +vessel of the Danaides. The conditions have been mistaken for the thing +itself, the instrument for the hand. The occupation of such and such a +position or space of ground, has been looked upon as an exercise of +power like a thrust or a cut, the ground or position itself as a +substantive quantity; whereas the one is like the lifting of the arm, +the other is nothing but the lifeless instrument, a mere property which +can only realise itself upon an object, a mere sign of plus or minus +which wants the figures or quantities. This cut and thrust, this +object, this quantity, is _a victorious battle;_ it alone really +counts; with it only can we reckon; and we must always have it in view, +as well in giving a critical judgment in literature as in real action +in the field. + +Consequently, if nothing but the number and value of victorious combats +decides in war, it is plain that the comparative value of the opposing +armies and ability of their respective leaders again rank as the first +points for consideration, and that the part which the influence of +ground plays can only be one of an inferior grade. + + + +BOOK VI DEFENCE + + + +CHAPTER I. Offence and Defence + +1.—Conception of Defence. + + +What is defence in conception? The warding off a blow. What is then its +characteristic sign? The state of expectancy (or of waiting for this +blow). This is the sign by which we always recognise an act as of a +defensive character, and by this sign alone can the defensive be +distinguished from the offensive in war. But inasmuch as an absolute +defence completely contradicts the idea of war, because there would +then be war carried on by one side only, it follows that the defence in +war can only be relative and the above distinguishing signs must +therefore only be applied to the essential idea or general conception: +it does not apply to all the separate acts which compose the war. A +partial combat is defensive if we receive the onset, the charge of the +enemy; a battle is so if we receive the attack, that is, wait for the +appearance of the enemy before our position and within range of our +fire; a campaign is defensive if we wait for the entry of the enemy +into our theatre of war. In all these cases the sign of waiting for and +warding off belongs to the general conception, without any +contradiction arising with the conception of war, for it may be to our +advantage to wait for the charge against our bayonets, or the attack on +our position or our theatre of war. But as we must return the enemy’s +blows if we are really to carry on war on our side, therefore this +offensive act in defensive war takes place more or less under the +general title defensive—that is to say, the offensive of which we make +use falls under the conception of position or theatre of war. We can, +therefore, in a defensive campaign fight offensively, in a defensive +battle we may use some divisions for offensive purposes, and lastly, +while remaining in position awaiting the enemy’s onslaught, we still +make use of the offensive by sending at the same time balls into the +enemy’s ranks. The defensive form in war is therefore no mere shield +but a shield formed of blows delivered with skill. + +2.—Advantages of the Defensive. + + +What is the object of defence? _To preserve_. To preserve is easier +than to acquire; from which follows at once that the means on both +sides being supposed equal, the defensive is easier than the offensive. +But in what consists the greater facility of preserving or keeping +possession? In this, that all time which is not turned to any account +falls into the scale in favour of the defence. He reaps where he has +not sowed. Every suspension of offensive action, either from erroneous +views, from fear or from indolence, is in favour of the side acting +defensively. This advantage saved the State of Prussia from ruin more +than once in the Seven Years’ War. It is one which derives itself from +the conception and object of the defensive, lies in the nature of all +defence, and in ordinary life, particularly in legal business which +bears so much resemblance to war, it is expressed by the Latin proverb, +_Beati sunt possidentes_. Another advantage arising from the nature of +war and belonging to it exclusively, is the aid afforded by locality or +ground; this is one of which the defensive form has a preferential use. + +Having established these general ideas we now turn more directly to the +subject. + +In tactics every combat, great or small, is _defensive_ if we leave the +initiative to the enemy, and wait for his appearance in our front. From +that moment forward we can make use of all offensive means without +losing the said two advantages of the defence, namely, that of waiting +for, and that of ground. In strategy, at first, the campaign represents +the battle, and the theatre of war the position; but afterwards the +whole war takes the place of the campaign, and the whole country that +of the theatre of war, and in both cases the defensive remains that +which it was in tactics. + +It has been already observed in a general way that the defensive is +easier than the offensive; but as the defensive has a negative object, +that of _preserving_, and the offensive a positive object that of +_conquering_, and as the latter increases our own means of carrying on +war, but the preserving does not, therefore in order to express +ourselves distinctly, we must say, _that the defensive form of war is +in itself stronger than the offensive_. This is the result we have been +desirous of arriving at; for although it lies completely in the nature +of the thing, and has been confirmed by experience a thousand times, +still it is completely contrary to prevalent opinion—a proof how ideas +may be confused by superficial writers. + +If the defensive is the stronger form of conducting war, but has a +negative object, it follows of itself that we must only make use of it +so long as our weakness compels us to do so, and that we must give up +that form as soon as we feel strong enough to aim at the positive +object. Now as the state of our circumstances is usually improved in +the event of our gaining a victory through the assistance of the +defensive, it is therefore, also, the natural course in war to begin +with the defensive, and to end with the offensive. It is therefore just +as much in contradiction with the conception of war to suppose the +defensive the ultimate object of the war as it was a contradiction to +understand passivity to belong to all the parts of the defensive, as +well as to the defensive as a whole. In other words: a war in which +victories are merely used to ward off blows, and where there is no +attempt to return the blow, would be just as absurd as a battle in +which the most absolute defence (passivity) should everywhere prevail +in all measures. + +Against the justice of this general view many examples might be quoted +in which the defensive continued defensive to the last, and the +assumption of the offensive was never contemplated; but such an +objection could only be urged if we lost sight of the fact that here +the question is only about general ideas (abstract ideas), and that +examples in opposition to the general conception we are discussing are +all of them to be looked upon as cases in which the time for the +possibility of offensive reaction had not yet arrived. + +In the Seven Years’ War, at least in the last three years of it, +Frederick the Great did not think of an offensive; indeed we believe +further, that generally speaking, he only acted on the offensive at any +time in this war as the best means of defending himself; his whole +situation compelled him to this course, and it is natural that a +general should aim more immediately at that which is most in accordance +with the situation in which he is placed for the time being. +Nevertheless, we cannot look at this example of a defence upon a great +scale without supposing that the idea of a possible counterstroke +against Austria lay at the bottom of the whole of it, and saying to +ourselves, the moment for that counterstroke had not arrived before the +war came to a close. The conclusion of peace shows that this idea is +not without foundation even in this instance; for what could have +actuated the Austrians to make peace except the thought that they were +not in a condition with their own forces alone to make head against the +talent of the king; that to maintain an equilibrium their exertions +must be greater than heretofore, and that the slightest relaxation of +their efforts would probably lead to fresh losses of territory. And, in +fact, who can doubt that if Russia, Sweden, and the army of the German +Empire had ceased to act together against Frederick the Great he would +have tried to conquer the Austrians again in Bohemia and Moravia? + +Having thus defined the true meaning of the defensive, having defined +its boundaries, we return again to the assertion that the defensive _is +the stronger form of making war._ + +Upon a closer examination, and comparison of the offensive and +defensive, this will appear perfectly plain; but for the present we +shall confine ourselves to noticing the contradiction in which we +should be involved with ourselves, and with the results of experience +by maintaining the contrary to be the fact. If the offensive form was +the stronger there would be no further occasion ever to use the +defensive, as it has merely a negative object, every one would be for +attacking, and the defensive would be an absurdity. On the other hand, +it is very natural that the higher object should be purchased by +greater sacrifices. Whoever feels himself strong enough to make use of +the weaker form has it in his power to aim at the greater object; +whoever sets before himself the smaller object can only do so in order +to have the benefit of the stronger form—If we look to experience, such +a thing is unheard of as any one carrying on a war upon two different +theatres—offensively on one with the weaker army, and defensively on +the other with his strongest force But if the reverse of this has +everywhere and at all times taken place that shows plainly that +generals although their own inclination prompts them to the offensive, +still hold the defensive to be the stronger form. We have still in the +next chapters to explain some preliminary points. + + + +CHAPTER II. The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other +in Tactics + +First of all we must inquire into the circumstances which give the +victory in a battle. + +Of superiority of numbers, and bravery, discipline, or other qualities +of an army, we say nothing here, because, as a rule, they depend on +things which lie out of the province of the art of war in the sense in +which we are now considering it; besides which they exercise the same +effect in the offensive as the defensive; and, moreover also, the +superiority in _numbers in general_ cannot come under consideration +here, as the number of troops is likewise a given quantity or +condition, and does not depend on the will or pleasure of the general. +Further, these things have no particular connection with attack and +defence. But, irrespective of these things, there are other three which +appear to us of decisive importance, these are: _surprise, advantage of +ground_, and _the attack from several quarters_. The surprise produces +an effect by opposing to the enemy a great many more troops than he +expected at some particular point. The superiority in numbers in this +case is very different to a general superiority of numbers; it is the +most powerful agent in the art of war.—The way in which the advantage +of ground contributes to the victory is intelligible enough of itself, +and we have only one observation to make which is, that we do not +confine our remarks to obstacles which obstruct the advance of an +enemy, such as scarped grounds, high hills, marshy streams, hedges, +inclosures, etc.; we also allude to the advantage which ground affords +as cover, under which troops are concealed from view. Indeed we may say +that even from ground which is quite unimportant a person acquainted +with the locality may derive assistance. The attack from several +quarters includes in itself all tactical turning movements great and +small, and its effects are derived partly from the double execution +obtained in this way from fire-arms, and partly from the enemy’s dread +of his retreat being cut off. + +Now how do the offensive and defensive stand respectively in relation +to these things? + +Having in view the three principles of victory just described, the +answer to this question is, that only a small portion of the first and +last of these principles is in favour of the offensive, whilst the +greater part of them, and the whole of the second principle, are at the +command of the party acting defensively. + +The offensive side can only have the advantage of one complete surprise +of the whole mass with the whole, whilst the defensive is in a +condition to surprise incessantly, throughout the whole course of the +combat, by the force and form which he gives to his partial attacks. + +The offensive has greater facilities than the defensive for surrounding +and cutting off the whole, as the latter is in a manner in a fixed +position while the former is in a state of movement having reference to +that position. But the superior advantage for an enveloping movement, +which the offensive possesses, as now stated, is again limited to a +movement against the whole mass; for during the course of the combat, +and with separate divisions of the force, it is easier for the +defensive than for the offensive to make attacks from several quarters, +_because, as we have already said, the former is in a better situation +to surprise by the force and form of his attacks._ + +That the defensive in an especial manner enjoys the assistance which +ground affords is plain in itself; as to what concerns the advantage +which the defensive has in surprising by the force and form of his +attacks, that results from the offensive being obliged to approach by +roads and paths where he may be easily observed, whilst the defensive +conceals his position, and, until almost the decisive moment, remains +invisible to his opponent.—Since the true method of defence has been +adopted, reconnaissances have gone quite out of fashion, that is to +say, they have become impossible. Certainly reconnaissances are still +made at times, but they seldom bring home much with them. Immense as is +the advantage of being able to examine well a position, and become +perfectly acquainted with it before a battle, plain as it is that he +(the defensive) who lies in wait near such a chosen position can much +more easily effect a surprise than his adversary, yet still to this +very hour the old notion is not exploded that a battle which is +accepted is half lost. This comes from the old kind of defensive +practised twenty years ago, and partly also in the Seven Years’ War, +when the only assistance expected from the ground was that it should be +difficult of approach in front (by steep mountain slopes, etc., etc.), +when the little depth of the positions and the difficulty of moving the +flanks produced such weakness that the armies dodged one another from +one hill to another, which increased the evil. If some kind of support +were found on which to rest the wings, then all depended on preventing +the army stretched along between these points, like a piece of work on +an embroidery frame, from being broken through at any point. The ground +occupied possessed a direct value at every point, and therefore a +direct defence was required everywhere. Under such circumstances, the +idea of making a movement or attempting a surprise during the battle +could not be entertained; it was the exact reverse of what constitutes +a good defence, and of that which the defence has actually become in +modern warfare. + +In reality, contempt for the defensive has always been the result of +some particular method of defence having become worn out (outlived its +period); and this was just the case with the method we have now +mentioned, for in times antecedent to the period we refer to, that very +method was superior to the offensive. + +If we go through the progressive development of the modern art of war, +we find that at the commencement—that is the Thirty Years’ War and the +war of the Spanish Succession—the deployment and drawing up of the army +in array, was one of the great leading points connected with the +battle. It was the most important part of the plan of the battle. This +gave the defensive, as a rule, a great advantage, as he was already +drawn up and deployed. As soon as the troops acquired greater +capability of manœuvring, this advantage ceased, and the superiority +passed over to the side of the offensive for a time. Then the defensive +sought shelter behind rivers or deep valleys, or on high land. The +defensive thus recovered the advantage, and continued to maintain it +until the offensive acquired such increased mobility and expertness in +manœuvring that he himself could venture into broken ground and attack +in separate columns, and therefore became able _to turn_ his adversary. +This led to a gradual increase in the length of positions, in +consequence of which, no doubt, it occurred to the offensive to +concentrate at a few points, and break through the enemy’s thin line. +The offensive thus, for a third time, gained the ascendancy, and the +defence was again obliged to alter its system. This it has done in +recent wars by keeping its forces concentrated in large masses, the +greater part not deployed, and, where possible, concealed, thus merely +taking up a position in readiness to act according to the measures of +the enemy as soon as they are sufficiently revealed. + +This does not preclude a partially passive defence of the ground; its +advantage is too great for it not to be used a hundred times in a +campaign. But that kind of passive defence of the ground is usually no +longer the principal affair: that is what we have to do with here. + +If the offensive should discover some new and powerful element which it +can bring to its assistance—an event not very probable, seeing the +point of simplicity and natural order to which all is now brought—then +the defence must again alter its method. But the defensive is always +certain of the assistance of ground, which insures to it in general its +natural superiority, as the special properties of country and ground +exercise a greater influence than ever on actual warfare. + + + +CHAPTER III. The Relations of the Offensive and Defensive to Each Other +in Strategy + +Let us ask again, first of all, what are the circumstances which insure +a successful result in strategy? + +In strategy there is no victory, as we have before said. On the one +hand, the strategic success is the successful preparation of the +tactical victory; the greater this strategic success, the more probable +becomes the victory in the battle. On the other hand, strategic success +lies in the making use of the victory gained. The more events the +strategic combinations can in the sequel include in the consequences of +a battle gained, the more strategy can lay hands on amongst the wreck +of all that has been shaken to the foundation by the battle, the more +it sweeps up in great masses what of necessity has been gained with +great labour by many single hands in the battle, the grander will be +its success.—Those things which chiefly lead to this success, or at +least facilitate it, consequently the leading principles of efficient +action in strategy, are as follow:— + +1. The advantage of ground. + +2. The surprise, let it be either in the form of an actual attack by +surprise or by the unexpected display of large forces at certain +points. + +3. The attack from several quarters (all three, as in tactics). + +4. The assistance of the theatre of war by fortresses, and everything +belonging to them. + +5. The support of the people. + +6. The utilisation of great moral forces. + +Now, what are the relations of offensive and defensive with respect to +these things? + +The party on the defensive has the advantage of ground; the offensive +side that of the attack by surprise in strategy, as in tactics But +respecting the surprise, we must observe that it is infinitely more +efficacious and important in strategy than in tactics. In the latter, a +surprise seldom rises to the level of a great victory, while in +strategy it often finishes the war at one stroke. But at the same time +we must observe that the advantageous use of this means supposes some +_great_ and _uncommon_, as well as _decisive_ error committed by the +adversary, therefore it does not alter the balance much in favour of +the offensive. + +The surprise of the enemy, by placing superior forces in position at +certain points, has again a great resemblance to the analogous case in +tactics. Were the defensive compelled to distribute his forces upon +several points of approach to his theatre of war, then the offensive +would have plainly the advantage of being able to fall upon one point +with all his weight. But here also, the new art of acting on the +defensive by a different mode of proceeding has imperceptibly brought +about new principles. If the defensive side does not apprehend that the +enemy, by making use of an undefended road, will throw himself upon +some important magazine or depôt, or on some unprepared fortification, +or on the capital itself.—and if he is not reduced to the alternative +of opposing the enemy on the road he has chosen, or of having his +retreat cut off, then there are no peremptory grounds for dividing his +forces; for if the offensive chooses a different road from that on +which the defensive is to be found, then some days later the latter can +march against his opponent with his whole force upon the road he has +chosen; besides, he may at the same time, in most cases, rest satisfied +that the offensive will do him the honour to seek him out.—If the +offensive is obliged to advance with his forces divided, which is often +unavoidable on account of subsistence, then plainly the defensive has +the advantage on his side of being able to fall in force upon a +fraction of the enemy. + +Attacks in flank and rear, which in strategy mean on the sides and +reverse of the theatre of war, are of a very different nature to +attacks so called in tactics. + +1st. There is no bringing the enemy under two fires, because we cannot +fire from one end of a theatre of war to the other. + +2nd. The apprehension of losing the line of retreat is very much less, +for the spaces in strategy are so great that they cannot be barred as +in tactics. + +3rd. In strategy, on account of the extent of space embraced, the +efficacy of interior, that is of shorter lines, is much greater, and +this forms a great safeguard against attacks from several directions. + +4th. A new principle makes its appearance in the sensibility, which is +felt as to lines of communication, that is in the effect which is +produced by merely interrupting them. + +Now it confessedly lies in the nature of things, that on account of the +greater spaces in strategy, the enveloping attack, or the attack from +several sides, as a rule is only possible for the side which has the +initiative, that is the offensive, and that the defensive is not in a +condition, as he is in tactics, in the course of the action, to turn +the tables on the enemy by surrounding him, because he has it not in +his power either to draw up his forces with the necessary depth +relatively, or to conceal them sufficiently: but then, of what use is +the facility of enveloping to the offensive, if its advantages are not +forthcoming? We could not therefore bring forward the enveloping attack +in strategy as a principle of victory in general, if its influence on +the lines of communication did not come into consideration. But this +factor is seldom great at the first moment, when attack and defence +first meet, and while they are still opposed to each other in their +original position; it only becomes great as a campaign advances, when +the offensive in the enemy’s country is by degrees brought into the +condition of defensive; then the lines of communication of this new +party acting on the defensive, become weak, and the party originally on +the defensive, in assuming the offensive can derive advantage from this +weakness. But who does not see that this casual superiority of the +attack is not to be carried to the credit of the offensive in general, +for it is in reality created out of the superior relations of the +defensive. + +The fourth principle, the _Assistance of the Theatre of War_, is +naturally an advantage on the side of the defensive. If the attacking +army opens the campaign, it breaks away from its own theatre, and is +thus weakened, that is, it leaves fortresses and depôts of all kinds +behind it. The greater the sphere of operations which must be +traversed, the more it will be weakened (by marches and garrisons); the +army on the defensive continues to keep up its connection with +everything, that is, it enjoys the support of its fortresses, is not +weakened in any way, and is near to its sources of supply. + +_The support of the population_ as a fifth principle is not realised in +every defence, for a defensive campaign may be carried on in the +enemy’s country, but still this principle is only derived from the idea +of the defensive, and applies to it in the majority of cases. Besides +by this is meant chiefly, although not exclusively, the effect of +calling out the last Reserves, and even of a national armament, the +result of which is that all friction is diminished, and that all +resources are sooner forthcoming and flow in more abundantly. + +The campaign of 1812, gives as it were in a magnifying glass a very +clear illustration of the effect of the means specified under +principles 3 and 4. 500,000 men passed the Niemen, 120,000 fought at +Borodino, and much fewer arrived at Moscow. + +We may say that the effect itself of this stupendous attempt was so +disastrous that even if the Russians had not assumed any offensive at +all, they would still have been secure from any fresh attempt at +invasion for a considerable time. It is true that with the exception of +Sweden there is no country in Europe which is situated like Russia, but +the efficient principle is always the same, the only distinction being +in the greater or less degree of its strength. + +If we add to the fourth and fifth principles, the consideration that +these forces of the defensive belong to the original defensive, that is +the defensive carried on in our own soil, and that they are much weaker +if the defence takes place in an enemy’s country and is mixed up with +an offensive undertaking, then from that there is a new disadvantage +for the offensive, much the same as above, in respect to the third +principle; for the offensive is just as little composed entirely of +active elements, as the defensive of mere warding off blows; indeed +every attack which does not lead directly to peace must inevitably end +in the defensive. + +Now, if all defensive elements which are brought into use in the attack +are weakened by its nature, that is by belonging to the attack, then +this must also be considered as a general disadvantage of the +offensive. + +This is far from being an idle piece of logical refinement, on the +contrary we should rather say that in it lies the chief disadvantage of +the offensive in general, and therefore from the very commencement of, +as well as throughout every combination for a strategic attack, most +particular attention ought to be directed to this point, that is to the +defensive, which may follow, as we shall see more plainly when we come +to the book on plans of campaigns. + +The great moral forces which at times saturate the element of war, as +it were with a leaven of their own, which therefore the commander in +certain cases can use to assist the other means at his command, are to +be supposed just as well on the side of the defensive as of the +offensive; at least those which are more especially in favour of the +attack, such as confusion and disorder in the enemy’s ranks—do not +generally appear until after the decisive stroke is given, and +consequently seldom contribute beforehand to produce that result. + +We think we have now sufficiently established our proposition, that the +_defensive is a stronger form of war than the offensive;_ but there +still remains to be mentioned one small factor hitherto unnoticed. It +is the high spirit, the feeling of superiority in an army which springs +from a consciousness of belonging to the attacking party. The thing is +in itself a fact, but the feeling soon merges into the more general and +more powerful one which is imparted by victory or defeat, by the talent +or incapacity of the general. + + + +CHAPTER IV. Convergence of Attack and Divergence of Defence + +These two conceptions, these forms in the use of offensive and +defensive, appear so frequently in theory and reality, that the +imagination is involuntarily disposed to look upon them as intrinsic +forms, necessary to attack and defence, which, however, is not really +the case, as the smallest reflection will show. We take the earliest +opportunity of examining them, that we may obtain once for all clear +ideas respecting them, and that, in proceeding with our consideration +of the relations of attack and defence, we may be able to set these +conceptions aside altogether, and not have our attention for ever +distracted by the appearance of advantage and the reverse which they +cast upon things. We treat them here as pure abstractions, extract the +conception of them like an essence, and reserve our remarks on the part +which it has in actual things for a future time. + +The defending party, both in tactics and in strategy, is supposed to be +waiting in expectation, therefore standing, whilst the assailant is +imagined to be in movement, and in movement expressly directed against +that standing adversary. It follows from this, necessarily, that +turning and enveloping is at the option of the assailant only, that is +to say, as long as his movement and the immobility of the defensive +continue. This freedom of choice of the mode of attack, whether it +shall be convergent or not, according as it shall appear advantageous +or otherwise, ought to be reckoned as an advantage to the offensive in +general. But this choice is free only in tactics; it is not always +allowed in strategy. In the first, the points on which the wings rest +are hardly ever absolutely secure; but they are very frequently so in +strategy, as when the front to be defended stretches in a straight line +from one sea to another, or from one neutral territory to another. In +such cases, the attack cannot be made in a convergent form, and the +liberty of choice is limited. It is limited in a still more +embarrassing manner if the assailant is obliged to operate by +converging lines. Russia and France cannot attack Germany in any other +way than by converging lines; therefore they cannot attack with their +forces united. Now if we assume as granted that the concentric form in +the action of forces in the majority of cases is the weaker form, then +the advantage which the assailant possesses in the greater freedom of +choice may probably be completely outweighed by the disadvantage, in +other cases, of being compelled to make use of the weaker form. + +We proceed to examine more closely the action of these forms, both in +tactics and in strategy. + +It has been considered one of the chief advantages of giving a +concentric direction to forces, that is, operating from the +circumference of a circle towards the centre, that the further the +forces advance, the nearer they approach to each other; the fact is +true, but the supposed advantage is not; for the tendency to union is +going on equally on both sides; consequently, the equilibrium is not +disturbed. It is the same in the dispersion of force by eccentric +movements. + +But another and a real advantage is, that forces operating on +converging lines direct their action towards a _common point_, those +operating on diverging lines do not.—Now what are the effects of the +action in the two cases? Here we must separate tactics from strategy. + +We shall not push the analysis too far, and therefore confine ourselves +to the following points as the advantages of the action in tactics. + +1. A cross fire, or, at least, an increased effect of fire, as soon as +all is brought within a certain range. + +2. Attack of one and the same point from several sides. + +3. The cutting off the retreat. + +The interception of a retreat may be also conceived strategically, but +then it is plainly much more difficult, because great spaces are not +easily blocked. The attack upon one and the same body from several +quarters is generally more effectual and decisive, the smaller this +body is, the nearer it approaches to the lowest limit—that of a single +combatant. An army can easily give battle on several sides, a division +less easily, a battalion only when formed in mass, a single man not at +all. Now strategy, in its province, deals with large masses of men, +extensive spaces, and considerable duration of time; with tactics, it +is the reverse. From this follows that the attack from several sides in +strategy cannot have the same results as in tactics. + +The effect of fire does not come within the scope of strategy; but in +its place there is something else. It is that tottering of the base +which every army feels when there is a victorious enemy in its rear, +whether near or far off. + +It is, therefore, certain that the concentric action of forces has an +advantage in this way, that the action or effect against a is at the +same time one against _b_, without its force against _a_ being +diminished, and that the action against _b_ is likewise action against +_a_. The whole, therefore, is not _a_ + _b_, but something more; and +this advantage is produced both in tactics and strategy, although +somewhat differently in each. + +Now what is there in the eccentric or divergent action of forces to +oppose to this advantage? Plainly the advantage of having the forces in +greater proximity to each other, and the moving on _interior lines_. It +is unnecessary to demonstrate how this can become such a multiplier of +forces that the assailant cannot encounter the advantage it gives his +opponent unless he has a great superiority of force.—When once the +defensive has adopted the principle of movement (movement which +certainly commences later than that of the assailant, but still time +enough to break the chains of paralysing inaction), then this advantage +of greater concentration and the interior lines tends much more +decisively, and in most cases more effectually, towards victory than +the concentric form of the attack. But victory must precede the +realisation of this superiority; we must conquer before we can think of +cutting off an enemy’s retreat. In short, we see that there is here a +relation similar to that which exists between attack and defence +generally; the concentric form leads to brilliant results, the +advantages of the eccentric are more secure: the former is the weaker +form with the positive object; the latter, the stronger form with the +negative object. In this way these two forms seem to us to be brought +nearly to an even balance. Now if we add to this that the defence, not +being always absolute, is also not always precluded from using its +forces on converging lines, we have no longer a right to believe that +this converging form is alone sufficient to ensure to the offensive a +superiority over the defensive universally, and thus we set ourselves +free from the influence which that opinion usually exercises over the +judgment, whenever there is an opportunity. + +What has been said up to the present, relates to both tactics and +strategy; we have still a most important point to bring forward, which +applies to strategy only. The advantage of interior lines increases +with the distances to which these lines relate. In distances of a few +thousand yards, or a half mile, the time which is gained, cannot of +course be as much as in distances of several days’ march, or indeed, of +twenty or thirty miles; the first, that is, the small distances, +concerns tactics, the greater ones belong to strategy. But, although we +certainly require more time, to reach an object in strategy, than in +tactics, and an army is not so quickly defeated as a battalion, still, +these periods of time in strategy can only increase up to a certain +point; that is, they can only last until a battle takes place, or, +perhaps, over and above that, for the few days during which a battle +may be avoided without serious loss. Further, there is a much greater +difference in the real start in advance, which is gained in one case, +as compared with the other. Owing to the insignificance of the +distances in tactics, the movements of one army in a battle, take place +almost in sight of the other; the army, therefore, on the exterior +line, will generally very soon be made aware of what his adversary is +doing. From the long distances, with which strategy has to deal, it +very seldom happens, that the movement of one army, is not concealed +from the other for at least a day, and there are numerous instances, in +which especially if the movement is only partial, such as a +considerable detachment, that it remains secret for weeks.—It is easy +to see, what a great advantage this power of concealing movements must +be to that party, who through the nature of his position has reason to +desire it most. + +We here close our considerations on the convergent and divergent use of +forces, and the relation of those forms to attack and defence, +proposing to return to the subject at another time. + + + +CHAPTER V. Character of the Strategic Defensive + +We have already explained what the defensive is generally, namely, +nothing more than a stronger form of carrying on war, by means of which +we endeavour to wrest a victory, in order, after having gained a +superiority, to pass over to the offensive, that is to the positive +object of war. + +Even if the intention of a war is only the maintenance of the existing +situation of things, the _status quo_, still a mere parrying of a blow +is something quite contradictory to the conception of the term war, +because the conduct of war is unquestionably no mere state of +endurance. If the defender has obtained an important advantage, then +the defensive form has done its part, and under the protection of this +success he must give back the blow, otherwise he exposes himself to +certain destruction; common sense points out that iron should be struck +while it is hot, that we should use the advantage gained to guard +against a second attack. How, when and where this reaction shall +commence is subject certainly to a number of other conditions, which we +can only explain hereafter. For the present we keep to this, that we +must always consider this transition to an offensive return as a +natural tendency of the defensive, therefore as an essential element of +the same, and always conclude that there is something wrong in the +management of a war when a victory gained through the defensive form is +not turned to good account in any manner, but allowed to wither away. + +A swift and vigorous assumption of the offensive—the flashing sword of +vengeance—is the most brilliant point in the defensive; he who does not +at once think of it at the right moment, or rather he who does not from +the first include this transition in his idea of the defensive will +never understand the superiority of the defensive as a form of war; he +will be for ever thinking only of the means which will be consumed by +the enemy and gained by ourselves through the offensive, which means +however depend not on tying the knot, but on untying it. Further, it is +a stupid confusion of ideas if, under the term offensive, we always +understand sudden attack or surprise, and consequently under defensive +imagine nothing but embarrassment and confusion. + +It is true that a conqueror makes his determination to go to war sooner +than the unconscious defender, and if he knows how to keep his measures +properly secret, he may also perhaps take the defender unawares; but +that is a thing quite foreign to war itself, for it should not be so. +War actually takes place more for the defensive than for the conqueror, +for invasion only calls forth resistance, and it is not until there is +resistance that there is war. A conqueror is always a lover of peace +(as Buonaparte always asserted of himself); he would like to make his +entry into our state unopposed; in order to prevent this, we must +choose war, and therefore also make preparations, that is in other +words, it is just the weak, or that side which must defend itself, +which should be always armed in order not to be taken by surprise; so +it is willed by the art of war. + +The appearance of one side sooner than the other in the theatre of war +depends, besides, in most cases on things quite different from a view +to offensive or defensive. But although a view to one or other of these +forms is not the cause, it is often the result of this priority of +appearance. Whoever is first ready will on that account go to work +offensively, if the advantage of surprise is sufficiently great to make +it expedient; and the party who is the last to be ready can only then +in some measure compensate for the disadvantage which threatens him by +the advantages of the defensive. + +At the same time, it must be looked upon in general as an advantage for +the offensive, that he can make that good use of being the first in the +field which has been noticed in the third book; only this general +advantage is not an absolute necessity in every case. + +If, therefore, we imagine to ourselves a defensive, such as it should +be, we must suppose it with every possible preparation of all means, +with an army fit for, and inured to, war, with a general who does not +wait for his adversary with anxiety from an embarrassing feeling of +uncertainty, but from his own free choice, with cool presence of mind, +with fortresses which do not dread a siege, and lastly, with a loyal +people who fear the enemy as little as he fears them. With such +attributes the defensive will act no such contemptible part in +opposition to the offensive, and the latter will not appear such an +easy and certain form of war, as it does in the gloomy imaginations of +those who can only see in the offensive courage, strength of will, and +energy; in the defensive, helplessness and apathy. + + + +CHAPTER VI. Extent of the Means of Defence + +We have shown in the second and third chapters of this book how the +defence has a natural advantage in the employment of those things, +which,—irrespective of the absolute strength and qualities of the +combatant force,—influence the tactical as well as the strategic +result, namely, the advantage of ground, sudden attack, attack from +several directions (converging form of attack), the assistance of the +theatre of war, support of the people, and the utilising great moral +forces. We think it useful now to cast again a glance over the extent +of the means which are at command of the defensive in particular, and +which are to be regarded as the columns of the different orders of +architecture in his edifice. + +1.—Landwehr (Militia). + + +This force has been used in modern times to combat the enemy on foreign +soil; and it is not to be denied that its organisation in many states, +for instance in Prussia, is of such a kind, that it may almost be +regarded as part of the standing army, therefore it does not belong to +the defensive exclusively. At the same time, we must not overlook the +fact, that the very great use made of it in 1813-14-15 was the result +of defensive war; that it is organised in very few places to the same +degree as in Prussia, and that always when its organisation falls below +the level of complete efficiency, it is better suited for the defensive +than for the offensive. But besides that, there always lies in the idea +of a militia the notion of a very extensive more or less voluntary +co-operation of the whole mass of the people in support of the war, +with all their physical powers, as well as with their feelings, and a +ready sacrifice of all they possess. The more its organisation deviates +from this, so much the more the force thus created will become a +standing army under another name, and the more it will have the +advantages of such a force; but it will also lose in proportion the +advantages which belong properly to the militia, those of being a +force, the limits of which are undefined, and capable of being easily +increased by appealing to the feelings and patriotism of the people. In +these things lies the essence of a militia; in its organisation, +latitude must be allowed for this co-operation of the whole people; if +we seek to obtain something extraordinary from a militia, we are only +following a shadow. + +But now the close relationship between this essence of a militia +system, and the conception of the defensive, is not to be denied, +neither can it be denied that such a militia will always belong more to +the defensive form than to the offensive, and that it will manifest +chiefly in the defensive, those effects through which it surpasses the +attack. + +2.—Fortresses. + + +The assistance afforded by fortresses to the offensive does not extend +beyond what is given by those close upon the frontiers, and is only +feeble in influence; the assistance which the defensive can derive from +this reaches further into the heart of the country, and therefore more +of them can be brought into use, and their utility itself differs in +the degree of its intensity. A fortress which is made the object of a +regular siege, and holds out, is naturally of more considerable weight +in the scales of war, than one which by the strength of its works +merely forbids the idea of its capture, and therefore neither occupies +nor consumes any of the enemy’s forces. + +3.—The People. + + +Although the influence of a single inhabitant of the theatre of war on +the course of the war in most cases is not more perceptible than the +co-operation of a drop of water in a whole river, still even in cases +where there is no such thing as a general rising of the people, the +_total influence_ of the inhabitants of a country in war is anything +but imperceptible. Every thing goes on easier in our own country, +provided it is not opposed by the general feeling of the population. +All contributions great and small, are only yielded to the enemy under +the compulsion of direct force; that operation must be undertaken by +the troops, and cost the employment of many men as well as great +exertions. The defensive receives all he wants, if not always +voluntarily, as in cases of enthusiastic devotion, still through the +long-used channels of submission to the state on the part of the +citizens, which has become second nature, and which besides that, is +enforced by the terrors of the law with which the army has nothing to +do. But the spontaneous co-operation of the people proceeding from true +attachment is in all cases most important, as it never fails in all +those points where service can be rendered without any sacrifice. We +shall only notice one point, which is of the highest importance in war, +that is _intelligence_, not so much special, great and important +information through persons employed, as that respecting the +innumerable little matters in connection with which the daily service +of an army is carried on in uncertainty, and with regard to which a +good understanding with the inhabitants gives the defensive a general +advantage. + +If we ascend from this quite general and never failing beneficial +influence, up to special cases in which the populace begins to take +part in the war, and then further up to the highest degree, where as in +Spain, the war, as regards its leading events is chiefly a war carried +on by the people themselves, we may see that we have here virtually a +new power rather than a manifestation of increased cooperation on the +part of the people, and therefore that— + +4.—The National Armament, + + +or general call to arms, may be considered as a particular means of +defence. + +5.—Allies. + + +Finally, we may further reckon _allies_ as the last support of the +defensive. Naturally we do not mean ordinary allies, which the +assailant may likewise have; we speak of those _essentially interested +in maintaining_ the integrity of the country. If for instance we look +at the various states composing Europe at the present time, we find +(without speaking of a systematically regulated balance of power and +interests, as that does not exist, and therefore is often with justice +disputed, still, unquestionably) that the great and small states and +interests of nations are interwoven with each other in a most +diversified and changeable manner, each of these points of intersection +forms a binding knot, for in it the direction of the one gives +equilibrium to the direction of the other; by all these knots +therefore, evidently a more or less compact connection of the whole +will be formed, and this general connection must be partially +overturned by every change. In this manner the whole relations of all +states to each other serve rather to preserve the stability of the +whole than to produce changes, that is to say, _this tendency_ to +stability exists in general. + +This we conceive to be the true notion of a balance of power, and in +this sense it will always of itself come into existence, wherever there +are extensive connections between civilised states. + +How far this tendency of the general interests to the maintenance of +the existing state of things is efficient is another question; at all +events we can conceive some changes in the relations of single states +to each other, which promote this efficiency of the whole, and others +which obstruct it. In the first case they are efforts to perfect the +political balance, and as these have the same tendency as the universal +interests, they will also be supported by the majority of these +interests. But in the other case, they are of an abnormal nature, undue +activity on the part of some single states, real maladies; still that +these should make their appearance in a whole with so little cohesion +as an assemblage of great and little states is not to be wondered at, +for we see the same in that marvellously organised whole, the natural +world. + +If in answer we are reminded of instances in history where single +states have effected important changes, solely for their own benefit, +without any effort on the part of the whole to prevent the same, or +cases where a single state has been able to raise itself so much above +others as to become almost the arbiter of the whole,—then our answer is +that these examples by no means prove that a tendency of the interests +of the whole in favour of stability does not exist, they only show that +its action was not powerful enough at the moment. The effort towards an +object is a different thing from the motion towards it. At the same +time it is anything but a nullity, of which we have the best +exemplification in the dynamics of the heavens. + +We say, the tendency of equilibrium is to the maintenance of the +existing state, whereby we certainly assume that rest, that is +equilibrium, existed in this state; for where that has been already +disturbed, tension has already commenced, and there the equilibrium may +certainly also tend to a change. But if we look to the nature of the +thing, this change can only affect some few separate states, never the +majority, and therefore it is certain that the preservation of the +latter is supported and secured through the collective interests of the +whole—certain also that each single state which has not against it a +tension of the whole will have more interest in favour of its defence +than opposition to it. + +Whoever laughs at these reflections as utopian dreams, does so at the +expense of philosophical truth. Although we may learn from it the +relations which the essential elements of things bear to each other, it +would be rash to attempt to deduce laws from the same by which each +individual case should be governed without regard to any accidental +disturbing influences. But when a person, in the words of a great +writer, “_never rises above anecdote_,” builds all history on it, +begins always with the most individual points, with the climaxes of +events, and only goes down just so deep as he finds a motive for doing, +and therefore never reaches to the lowest foundation of the predominant +general relations, his opinion will never have any value beyond the one +case, and to him, that which philosophy proves to be applicable to +cases in general, will only appear a dream. + +Without that general striving for rest and the maintenance of the +existing condition of things, a number of civilised states could not +long live quietly side by side; they must necessarily become fused into +one. Therefore, as Europe has existed in its present state for more +than a thousand years, we can only regard the fact as a result of that +tendency of the collective interests; and if the protection afforded by +the whole has not in every instance proved strong enough to preserve +the independence of each individual state, such exceptions are to be +regarded as irregularities in the life of the whole, which have not +destroyed that life, but have themselves been mastered by it. + +It would be superfluous to go over the mass of events in which changes +which would have disturbed the balance too much have been prevented or +reversed by the opposition more or less openly declared of other +states. They will be seen by the most cursory glance at history. We +only wish to say a few words about a case which is always on the lips +of those who ridicule the idea of a political balance, and because it +appears specially applicable here as a case in which an unoffending +state, acting on the defensive, succumbed without receiving any foreign +aid. We allude to Poland. That a state of eight millions of inhabitants +should disappear, should be divided amongst three others without a +sword being drawn by any of the rest of the European states, appears, +at first sight, a fact which either proves conclusively the general +inefficiency of the political balance, or at least shows that it is +inefficient to a very great extent in some instances. That a state of +such extent should disappear, a prey to others, and those already the +most powerful (Russia and Austria), appears such a very extreme case +that it will be said, if an event of this description could not rouse +the collective interests of all free states, then the efficient action +which this collective interest should display for the benefit of +individual states is imaginary. But we still maintain that a single +case, however striking, does not negative the general truth, and we +assert next that the downfall of Poland is also not so unaccountable as +may at first sight appear. Was Poland really to be regarded as a +European state, as a homogeneous member of the community of nations in +Europe? No! It was a Tartar state, which instead of being located, like +the Tartars of the Crimea, on the Black Sea, on the confines of the +territory inhabited by the European community, had its habitation in +the midst of that community on the Vistula. We neither desire by this +to speak disrespectfully of the Poles, nor to justify the partition of +their country, but only to look at things as they really are. For a +hundred years this country had ceased to play any independent part in +European politics, and had been only an apple of discord for the +others. It was impossible that for a continuance it could maintain +itself amongst the others with its state and constitution unaltered: an +essential alteration in its Tartar nature would have been the work of +not less than half, perhaps a whole century, supposing the chief men of +that nation had been in favour of it. But these men were far too +thorough Tartars to wish any such change. Their turbulent political +condition, and their unbounded levity went hand in hand, and so they +tumbled into the abyss. Long before the partition of Poland the +Russians had become quite at home there, the idea of its being an +independent state, with boundaries of its own, had ceased, and nothing +is more certain than that Poland, if it had not been partitioned, must +have become a Russian province. If this had not been so, and if Poland +had been a state capable of making a defence, the three powers would +not so readily have proceeded to its partition, and those powers most +interested in maintaining its integrity, like France, Sweden and +Turkey, would have been able to co-operate in a very different manner +towards its preservation. But if the maintenance of a state is entirely +dependent on external support, then certainly too much is asked. + +The partition of Poland had been talked of frequently for a hundred +years, and for that time the country had been not like a private house, +but like a public road, on which foreign armies were constantly +jostling one another. Was it the business of other states to put a stop +to this; were they constantly to keep the sword drawn to preserve the +political inviolability of the Polish frontier? That would have been to +demand a moral impossibility. Poland was at this time politically +little better than an uninhabited steppe; and as it is impossible that +defenceless steppes, lying in the midst of other countries should be +guarded for ever from invasion, therefore it was impossible to preserve +the integrity of this state, as it was called. For all these reasons +there is as little to cause wonder in the noiseless downfall of Poland +as in the silent conquest of the Crimean Tartars; the Turks had a +greater interest in upholding the latter than any European state had in +preserving the independence of Poland, but they saw that it would be a +vain effort to try to protect a defenceless steppe.— + +We return to our subject, and think we have proved that the defensive +in general may count more on foreign aid than the offensive; he may +reckon the more certainly on it in proportion as his existence is of +importance to others, that is to say, the sounder and more vigorous his +political and military condition. + +Of course the subjects which have been here enumerated as means +properly belonging to the defensive will not be at the command of each +particular defensive. Sometimes one, sometimes another, may be wanting; +but they all belong to the idea of the defensive as a whole. + + + +CHAPTER VII. Mutual Action and Reaction of Attack and Defence + +We shall now consider attack and defence separately, as far as they can +be separated from each other. We commence with the defensive for the +following reasons:—It is certainly very natural and necessary to base +the rules for the defence upon those of the offensive, and _vice +versâ;_ but one of the two must still have a third point of departure, +if the whole chain of ideas is to have a beginning, that is, to be +possible. The first question concerns this point. + +If we reflect upon the commencement of war philosophically, the +conception of war properly does not originate with the _offensive_, as +that form has for its absolute object, not so much _fighting_ as the +_taking possession of something._ The idea of war arises first by the +_defensive_, for that form has the battle for its direct object, as +warding off and fighting plainly are one and the same. The warding off +is directed entirely against the attack; therefore supposes it, +necessarily; but the attack is not directed against the warding off; it +is directed upon something else—the _taking possession;_ consequently +does not presuppose the warding off. It lies, therefore, in the nature +of things, that the party who first brings the element of war into +action, the party from whose point of view two opposite parties are +first conceived, also establishes the first laws of war, and that party +is the _defender_. We are not speaking of any individual case; we are +only dealing with a general, an abstract case, which theory imagines in +order to determine the course it is to take. + +By this we now know where to look for this fixed point, outside and +independent of the reciprocal effect of attack and defence, and that it +is in the defensive. + +If this is a logical consequence, the defensive must have motives of +action, even when as yet he knows nothing of the intentions of the +offensive; and these motives of action must determine the organisation +of the means of fighting. On the other hand, as long as the offensive +knows nothing of the plans of his adversary, there are no motives of +action for him, no grounds for the application of his military means. +He can do nothing more than take these means along with him, that is, +take possession by means of his army. And thus it is also in point of +fact; for to carry about the apparatus of war is not to use it; and the +offensive who takes such things with him, on the quite general +supposition that he may require to use them, and who, instead of taking +possession of a country by official functionaries and proclamations, +does so with an army, has not as yet committed, properly speaking, any +act of warfare; but the defensive who both collects his apparatus of +war, and disposes of it with a view to fighting, is the first to +exercise an act which really accords with the conception of war. + +The second question is now: what is theoretically the nature of the +motives which must arise in the mind of the defensive first, before the +attack itself is thought of? Plainly the advance made with a view to +taking possession, which we have imagined extraneous to the war, but +which is the foundation of the opening chapter. The defence is to +oppose this advance; therefore in idea we must connect this advance +with the land (country); and thus arise the first most general measures +of the defensive. When these are once established, then upon them the +application of the offensive is founded, and from a consideration of +the means which the offensive then applies, new principles again of +defence are derived. Now here is the reciprocal effect which theory can +follow in its inquiry, as long as it finds the fresh results which are +produced are worth examination. + +This little analysis was necessary in order to give more clearness and +stability to what follows, such as it is; it is not made for the field +of battle, neither is it for the generals of the future; it is only for +the army of theorists, who have made a great deal too light of the +subject hitherto. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Methods of Resistance + +The conception of the defence is warding off; in this warding off lies +the state of expectance, and this state of expectance we have taken as +the chief characteristic of the defence, and at the same time as its +principal advantage. + +But as the defensive in war cannot be a state of endurance, therefore +this state of expectation is only a relative, not an absolute state; +the subjects with which this waiting for is connected are, as regards +space, either the country, or the theatre of war, or the position, and, +as regards time, the war, the campaign, or the battle. That these +subjects are no immutable units, but only the centres of certain +limited regions, which run into one another and are blended together, +we know; but in practical life we must often be contented only to group +things together, not rigidly to separate them; and these conceptions +have, in the real world itself, sufficient distinctness to be made use +of as centres round which we may group other ideas. + +A defence of the country, therefore, only waits for attack on the +country; a defence of a theatre of war an attack on the theatre of war; +and the defence of a position the attack of that position. Every +positive, and consequently more or less offensive, kind of action which +the defensive uses after the above period of waiting for, does not +negative the idea of the continuance of the defensive; for the state of +expectation, which is the chief sign of the same, and its chief +advantage, has been realised. + +The conception of war, campaign, and battle, in relation to time, are +coupled respectively with the ideas of country, theatre of war, and +position, and on that account they have the same relations to the +present subject. + +The defensive consists, therefore, of two heterogeneous parts, the +state of expectancy and that of action. By having referred the first to +a definite subject, and therefore given it precedence of action, we +have made it possible to connect the two into one whole. But an act of +the defensive, especially a considerable one, such as a campaign or a +whole war, does not, as regards time, consist of two great halves, the +first the state of mere expectation, the second entirely of a state of +action; it is a state of alternation between the two, in which the +state of expectation can be traced through the whole act of the +defensive like a continuous thread. + +We give to this state of expectation so much importance simply because +it is demanded by the nature of the thing. In preceding theories of war +it has certainly never been brought forward as an independent +conception, but in reality it has always served as a guide, although +often unobserved. It is such a fundamental part of the whole act of +war, that the one without the other appears almost impossible; and we +shall therefore often have occasion to recur to it hereafter by calling +attention to its effects in the dynamic action of the powers called +into play. + +For the present we shall employ ourselves in explaining how the +principle of the state of expectation runs through the act of defence, +and what are the successive stages in the defence itself which have +their origin in this state. + +In order to establish our ideas on subjects of a more simple kind, we +shall defer the defence of a country, a subject on which a very great +diversity of political influences exercises a powerful effect, until we +come to the Book on the Plan of War; and as on the other hand, the +defensive act in a position or in a battle is matter of tactics, which +only forms a starting point for strategic action as a _whole_, we shall +take the defence of a _theatre, of war_ as being the subject, in which +we can best show the relations of the defensive. + +We have said, that the state of expectation and of action—which last is +always a counterstroke, therefore a reaction—are both essential parts +of the defensive; for without the first, there would be no defensive, +without the second no war. This view led us before to the idea of the +defensive being nothing but the _stronger form of war, in order the +more certainly to conquer the enemy;_ this idea we must adhere to +throughout, partly because it alone saves us in the end from absurdity, +partly, because the more vividly it is impressed on the mind, so much +the greater is the energy it imparts to the whole act of the defensive. + +If therefore we should make a distinction between the reaction, +constituting the second element of the defensive, and the other element +which consists in reality in the repulse only of the enemy;—if we +should look at expulsion from the country, from the theatre of war, in +such a light as to see in it alone the _necessary thing_ by itself, the +ultimate object beyond the attainment of which our efforts should not +be carried, and on the other hand, regard the possibility of a reaction +carried still further, and _passing into the real strategic attack_, as +a subject foreign to and of no consequence to the defence,—such a view +would be _in opposition to_ the nature of the idea above represented, +and therefore we cannot look upon this distinction as really existing, +and we must adhere to our assertion, that the idea of _revenge_ must +always be at the bottom of every defensive; for otherwise, however much +damage might be occasioned to the enemy, by a successful issue of the +first reaction, there would always be a deficiency in the necessary +balance of the dynamic relations of the attack and defence. + +We say, then, the defensive is the more powerful form of making war, in +order to overcome the enemy more easily, and we leave to circumstances +to determine whether this victory over the object against which the +defence was commenced is sufficient or not. + +But as the defensive is inseparable from the idea of the state of +expectation, that object, _the defeat of the enemy_, only exists +conditionally, that is, only if the offensive takes place; and +otherwise (that is, if the offensive stroke does not follow) of course +the defensive is contented with the maintenance of its possessions; +this maintenance is therefore its object in the state of expectation, +that is, its immediate object; and it is only as long as it contents +itself with this more modest end, that it preserves the advantages of +the stronger form of war. + +If we suppose an army with its theatre of war intended for defence, the +defence may be made as follows: + +1. By attacking the enemy the moment he enters the theatre of war. +(Mollwitz, Hohenfriedberg). + +2. By taking up a position close on the frontier, and waiting till the +enemy appears with the intention of attacking it, in order then to +attack him (Czaslau, Soor, Rosbach). Plainly this second mode of +proceeding, partakes more of endurance, we “wait for” longer; and +although the _time_ gained by it as compared with that gained in the +first, may be very little, or none at all if the enemy’s attack +actually takes place, still, the battle which in the first case was +certain, is in the second much less certain, perhaps the enemy may not +be able to make up his mind to attack; the advantage of the “waiting +for,” is then at once greater. + +3. By the army in such position not only awaiting the decision of the +enemy to fight a battle, that is his appearance in front of the +position, but also waiting to be actually assaulted (in order to keep +to the same general, Bunzelwitz). In such case, we fight a regular +defensive battle, which however, as we have before said, may include +offensive movements with one or more parts of the army. Here also, as +before, the gain of time does not come into consideration, but the +determination of the enemy is put to a new proof; many a one has +advanced to the attack, and at the last moment, or after one attempt +given it up, finding the position of the enemy too strong. + +4. By the army transferring its defence to the heart of the country. +The object of retreating into the interior is to cause a diminution in +the enemy’s strength, and to wait until its effects are such that his +forward march is of itself discontinued, or at least until the +resistance which we can offer him at the end of his career is such as +he can no longer overcome. + +This case is exhibited in the simplest and plainest manner, when the +defensive can leave one or more of his fortresses behind him, which the +offensive is obliged to besiege or blockade. It is clear in itself, how +much his forces must be weakened in this way, and what a chance there +is of an opportunity for the defensive to attack at some point with +superior forces. + +But even when there are no fortresses, a retreat into the interior of +the country may procure by degrees for the defender that necessary +equilibrium or that superiority which was wanting to him on the +frontier; for every forward movement in the strategic attack lessens +its force, partly absolutely, partly through the separation of forces +which becomes necessary, of which we shall say more under the head of +the “Attack.” We anticipate this truth here as we consider it as a fact +sufficiently exemplified in all wars. + +Now in this fourth case the gain of time is to be looked upon as the +principal point of all. If the assailant lays siege to our fortresses, +we have time till their probable fall, (which may be some weeks or in +some cases months); but if the weakening, that is the expenditure, of +the force of the attack is caused by the advance, and the garrisoning +or occupation of certain points, therefore merely through the length of +the assailant’s march, then the time gained in most cases becomes +greater, and our action is not so much restricted in point of time. + +Besides the altered relations between offensive and defensive in regard +to power which is brought about at the end of this march, we must bring +into account in favour of the defensive an _increased_ amount of the +_advantage_ of the state of “waiting for.” Although the assailant by +this advance may not in reality be weakened to such a degree that he is +unfit to attack our main body where he halts, still he will probably +want resolution to do so, for that is an act requiring more resolution +in the position in which he is now placed, than would have sufficed +when operations had not extended beyond the frontier: partly, because +the powers are weakened, and no longer in fresh vigour, while the +danger is increased; partly, because with an irresolute commander the +possession of that portion of the country which has been obtained is +often sufficient to do away with all idea of a battle, because he +either really believes or assumes as a pretext, that it is no longer +necessary. By the offensive thus declining to attack, the defensive +certainly does not acquire, as he would on the frontier, a sufficient +result of a negative kind, but still there is a great gain of time. + +It is plain that, in all the four methods indicated, the defensive has +the benefit of the ground or country, and likewise that he can by that +means bring into cooperation his fortresses and the people; moreover +these efficient principles increase at each fresh stage of the defence, +for they are a chief means of bringing about the weakening of the +enemy’s force in the fourth stage. Now as the advantages of the “state +of expectation” increase in the same direction, therefore it follows of +itself that these stages are to be regarded as a real intensifying of +the defence, and that this form of war always gains in strength the +more it differs from the offensive. We are not afraid on this account +of any one accusing us of holding the opinion that the most passive +defence would therefore be the best. The action of resistance is not +weakened at each new stage, it is only _delayed, postponed_. But the +assertion that a stouter resistance can be offered in a strong +judiciously entrenched position, and also that when the enemy has +exhausted his strength in fruitless efforts against such a position a +more effective counterstroke may be levelled at him, is surely not +unreasonable. Without the advantage of position Daun would not have +gained the victory at Kollin, and as Frederick the Great only brought +off 18,000 men from the field of battle, if Daun had pursued him with +more energy the victory might have been one of the most brilliant in +military history. + +We therefore maintain, that at each new stage of the defensive the +preponderance, or more correctly speaking, the counterpoise increases +in favour of the defensive, and consequently there is also a gain in +power for the counterstroke. + +Now are these advantages of the increasing force of the defensive to be +had for nothing? By no means, for the sacrifice with which they are +purchased increases in the same proportion. + +If we wait for the enemy within our own theatre of war, however near +the border of our territory the decision takes place, still this +theatre of war is entered by the enemy, which must entail a sacrifice +on our part; whereas, had we made the attack, this disadvantage would +have fallen on the enemy. If we do not proceed at once to meet the +enemy and attack him, our loss will be the greater, and the extent of +the country which the enemy will overrun, as well as the time which he +requires to reach our position, will continually increase. If we wish +to give battle on the defensive, and we therefore leave its +determination and the choice of time for it to the enemy, then perhaps +he may remain for some time in occupation of the territory which he has +taken, and the time which through his deferred decision we are allowed +to gain will in that manner be paid for by us. The sacrifices which +must be made become still more burdensome if a retreat into the heart +of the country takes place. + +But all these sacrifices on the part of the defensive, at most only +occasion him in general a loss of power which merely diminishes his +military force _indirectly_, therefore, at a later period, and not +directly, and often so indirectly that its effect is hardly felt at +all. The defensive, therefore, strengthens himself for the present +moment at the expense of the future, that is to say, he borrows, as +every one must who is too poor for the circumstances in which he is +placed. + +Now, if we would examine the result of these different forms of +resistance, we must look to the _object of the aggression_. This is, to +obtain possession of our theatre of war, or, at least, of an important +part of it, for under the conception of the whole, at least the greater +part must be understood, as the possession of a strip of territory few +miles in extent is, as a rule, of no real consequence in strategy. As +long, therefore, as the aggressor is not in possession of this, that +is, as long as from fear of our force he has either not yet advanced to +the attack of the theatre of war, or has not sought to find us in our +position, or has declined the combat we offer, the object of the +defence is fulfilled, and the effects of the measures taken for the +defensive have therefore been successful. At the same time this result +is only a _negative one_, which certainly cannot directly give the +force for a real counterstroke. But it may give it _indirectly_, that +is to say, it is on the way to do so; for the time which elapses _the +aggression loses_, and every loss of time is a disadvantage, and must +weaken in some way the party who suffers the loss. + +Therefore in the first three stages of the defensive, that is, if it +takes place on the frontier, _the non-decision is already a result in +favour of the defensive._ + +But it is not so with the fourth. + +If the enemy lays siege to our fortresses we must relieve them in time, +to do this we must therefore bring about the decision by positive +action. + +This is likewise the case if the enemy follows us into the interior of +the country without besieging any of our places. Certainly in this case +we have more time; we can wait until the enemy’s weakness is extreme, +but still it is always an indispensable condition that we are at last +to act. The enemy is now, perhaps, in possession of the whole territory +which was the object of his aggression, but it is only lent to him; the +tension continues, and the decision is yet pending. As long as the +defensive is gaining strength and the aggressor daily becoming weaker, +the postponement of the decision is in the interest of the former: but +as soon as the culminating point of this progressive advantage has +arrived, as it must do, were it only by the ultimate influence of the +general loss to which the offensive has exposed himself, it is time for +the defender to proceed to action, and bring on a solution, and the +advantage of the “waiting for” may be considered as completely +exhausted. + +There can naturally be no point of time fixed generally at which this +happens, for it is determined by a multitude of circumstances and +relations; but it may be observed that the winter is usually a natural +turning point. If we cannot prevent the enemy from wintering in the +territory which he has seized, then, as a rule, it must be looked upon +as given up. We have only, however, to call to mind Torres Vedras, to +see that this is no general rule. + +What is now the solution generally? + +We have always supposed it in our observations in the form of a battle; +but in reality, this is not necessary, for a number of combinations of +battles with separate corps may be imagined, which may bring about a +change of affairs, either because they have really ended with +bloodshed, or because their probable result makes the retreat of the +enemy necessary. + +Upon the theatre of war itself there can be no other solution; that is +a necessary consequence of our view of war; for, in fact, even if an +enemy’s army, merely from want of provisions, commences his retreat, +still it takes place from the state of restraint in which our sword +holds him; if our army was not in the way he would soon be able to +provision his forces. + +Therefore, even at the end of his aggressive course, when the enemy is +suffering the heavy penalty of his attack, when detachments, hunger, +and sickness have weakened and worn him out, it is still always the +dread of our sword which causes him to turn about, and allow everything +to go on again as usual. But nevertheless, there is a great difference +between such a solution and one which takes place on the frontier. + +In the latter case our arms only were opposed to his to keep him in +check, or carry destruction into his ranks; but at the end of the +aggressive career the enemy’s forces, by their own exertions, are half +destroyed, by which our arms acquire a totally different value, and +therefore, although they are the final they are not the only means +which have produced the solution. This destruction of the enemy’s +forces in the advance prepares the solution, and may do so to this +extent, that the mere possibility of a reaction on our part may cause +the retreat, consequently a reversal of the situation of affairs. In +this case, therefore, we can practically ascribe the solution to +nothing else than the efforts made in the advance. Now, in point of +fact we shall find no case in which the sword of the defensive has not +co-operated; but, for the practical view, it is important to +distinguish which of the two principles is the predominating one. + +In this sense we think we may say that there is a double solution in +the defensive, consequently a double kind of reaction, according as the +aggressor is ruined by the _sword of the defensive_, or _by his own +efforts_. + +That the first kind of solution predominates in the first three steps +of the defence, the second in the fourth, is evident in itself; and the +latter will, in most cases, only come to pass by the retreat being +carried deep into the heart of the country, and nothing but the +prospect of that result can be a sufficient motive for such a retreat, +considering the great sacrifices which it must cost. + +We have, therefore, ascertained that there are two different principles +of defence; there are cases in military history where they each appear +as separate and distinct as it is possible for an elementary conception +to appear in practical life. When Frederick the Great attacked the +Austrians at Hohenfriedberg, just as they were descending from the +Silesian mountains, their force could not have been weakened in any +sensible manner by detachments or fatigue; when, on the other hand, +Wellington, in his entrenched camp at Torres Vedras, waited till +hunger, and the severity of the weather, had reduced Massena’s army to +such extremities that they commenced to retreat of themselves, the +sword of the defensive party had no share in the weakening of the +enemy’s army. In other cases, in which they are combined with each +other in a variety of ways, still, one of them distinctly predominates. +This was the case in the year 1812. In that celebrated campaign such a +number of bloody encounters took place as might, under other +circumstances, have sufficed for a most complete decision by the sword; +nevertheless, there is hardly any campaign in which we can so plainly +see how the aggressor may be ruined by his own efforts. Of the 300,000 +men composing the French centre only about 90,000 reached Moscow; not +more than 13,000 were detached; consequently there had been a loss of +197,000 men, and certainly not a third of that loss can be put to +account of battles. + +All campaigns which are remarkable for temporising, as it is called, +like those of the famous Fabius Cunctator, have been calculated chiefly +on the destruction of the enemy by his own efforts. This principle has +been the leading one in many campaigns without that point being almost +ever mentioned; and it is only when we disregard the specious reasoning +of historians, and look at things clearly with our own eyes, that we +are led to this real cause of many a solution. + +By this we believe we have unravelled sufficiently those ideas which +lie at the root of the defensive, and that in the two great kinds of +defence we have shown plainly and made intelligible how the principle +of the waiting for runs through the whole system and connects itself +with positive action in such a manner that, sooner or later, action +does take place, and that then the advantage of the attitude of waiting +for appears to be exhausted. + +We think, now, that in this way we have gone over and brought into view +everything comprised in the province of the defensive. At the same +time, there are subjects of sufficient importance in themselves to form +separate chapters, that is, points for consideration in themselves, and +these we must also study; for example, the nature and influence of +fortified places, entrenched camps, defence of mountains and rivers, +operations against the flank, etc., etc. We shall treat of them in +subsequent chapters, but none of these things lie outside of the +preceding sequence of ideas; they are only to be regarded as a closer +application of it to locality and circumstances. That order of ideas +has been deduced from the conception of the defensive, and from its +relation to the offensive; we have connected these simple ideas with +reality, and therefore shown the way by which we may return again from +the reality to those simple ideas, and obtain firm ground, and not be +forced in reasoning to take refuge on points of support which +themselves vanish in the air. + +But resistance by the sword may wear such an altered appearance, assume +such a different character, through the multiplicity of ways of +combining battles, especially in cases where these are not actually +realised, but become effectual merely through their possibility, that +we might incline to the opinion that there must be some other efficient +active principle still to be discovered; between the sanguinary defeat +in a simple battle, and the effects of strategic combinations which do +not bring the thing nearly so far as actual combat, there seems such a +difference, that it is necessary to suppose some fresh force, something +in the same way as astronomers have decided on the existence of other +planets from the great space between Mars and Jupiter. + +If the assailant finds the defender in a strong position which he +thinks he cannot take, or behind a large river which he thinks he +cannot cross, or even if he fears that by advancing further he will not +be able to subsist his army, in all these cases it is nothing but the +sword of the defensive which produces the effect; for it is the fear of +being conquered by this sword, either in a great battle or at some +specially important points, which compels the aggressor to stop, only +he will either not admit that at all, or does not admit it in a +straightforward way. + +Now even if it is granted that, where there has been a decision without +bloodshed, the combat merely _offered_, but not accepted, has been the +ultimate cause of the decision, it will still be thought that in such +cases the really effectual principle is the _strategic combination of_ +these combats and not their tactical decision, and that this +superiority of the strategic combination could only have been thought +of because there are other defensive means which may be considered +besides an actual appeal to the sword. We admit this, and it brings us +just to the point we wished to arrive at, which is as follows: if the +tactical result of a battle must be the _foundation_ of all strategic +combinations, then it is always possible and to be feared that the +assailant may lay hold of this principle, and above all things direct +his efforts to be superior in the hour of decision, in order to baffle +the strategic combination; and that therefore this strategic +combination can _never be regarded as something all-sufficient in +itself;_ that it only has a value when either on one ground or another +we can look forward to the tactical solution without any misgivings. In +order to make ourselves intelligible in a few words, we shall merely +call to our readers’ recollection how such a general as Buonaparte +marched without hesitation through the whole web of his opponents’ +strategic plans, to seek for the battle itself, because he had no +doubts as to its issue. Where, therefore, strategy had not directed its +whole effort to ensure a preponderance over him in this battle, where +it engaged in finer (feebler) plans, there it was rent asunder like a +cobweb. But a general like Daun might be checked by such measures; it +would therefore be folly to offer Buonaparte and his army what the +Prussian army of the Seven Years’ War dared to offer Daun and his +contemporaries. Why?—Because Buonaparte knew right well that all +depended on the tactical issue, and made certain of gaining it; whereas +with Daun it was very different in both respects. + +_On this account_ we hold it therefore to be serviceable to show that +every strategic combination rests only upon the tactical results, and +that these are everywhere, in the bloody as well as in the bloodless +solution, the real fundamental grounds of the ultimate decision. It is +only if we have no reason to fear that decision, whether on account of +the character or the situation of the enemy, or on account of the moral +and physical equality of the two armies, or on account of our own +superiority—it is only then that we can expect something from strategic +combinations in themselves without battles. + +Now if a great many campaigns are to be found within the compass of +military history in which the assailant gives up the offensive without +any blood being spilt in fight, in which, therefore, strategic +combinations show themselves effectual to that degree, this may lead to +the idea that these combinations have at least great inherent force in +themselves, and might in general decide the affair alone, where too +great a preponderance in the tactical results is not supposed on the +side of the aggressor. To this we answer that, if the question is about +things which have their origin in the theatre of war, and consequently +belong to the war itself, this idea is also equally false; and we add +that the cause of the failure of most attacks is to be found in the +higher, the political relations of war. + +The general relations out of which a war springs, and which naturally +constitute its foundation, determine also its character; on this +subject we shall have more to say hereafter, in treating of the plan of +a war. But these general relations have converted most wars into +half-and-half things, into which real hostility has to force its way +through such a conflict of interests, that it is only a very weak +element at the last. This effect must naturally show itself chiefly and +with most force on the side of the offensive, _the side of positive +action_. One cannot therefore wonder if such a short-winded, +consumptive attack is brought to a standstill by the touch of a finger. +Against a weak resolution so fettered by a thousand considerations, +that it has hardly any existence, a mere show of resistance is often +enough. + +It is not the number of unassailable positions in all directions, not +the formidable look of the dark mountain masses encamped round the +theatre of war, or the broad river which passes through it, not the +ease with which certain combinations of battles can effectually +paralyse the muscle which should strike the blow against us—none of +these things are the true causes of the numerous successes which the +defensive gains on bloodless fields; the cause lies in the weakness of +the will with which the assailant puts forward his hesitating feet. + +These counteracting influences may and ought to be taken into +consideration, but they should only be looked upon in their true light, +and their effects should not be ascribed to other things, namely the +things of which alone we are now treating. We must not omit to point +out in an emphatic manner how easily military history in this respect +may become a perpetual liar and deceiver if criticism is not careful +about taking a correct point of view. + +Let us now consider, in what we may call their ordinary form, the many +offensive campaigns which have miscarried without a bloody solution. + +The assailant advances into the enemy’s country, drives back his +opponent a little way, but finds it too serious a matter to bring on a +decisive battle. He therefore remains standing opposite to him; acts as +if he had made a conquest, and had nothing else to do but to protect +it; as if it was the enemy’s business to seek the battle, as if he +offered it to him daily, etc., etc. These are the _representations_ +with which the commander deludes his army, his government, the world, +even himself. But the truth is, that he finds the enemy in a position +too strong for him. We do not now speak of a case where an aggressor +does not proceed with his attack because he can make no use of a +victory, because at the end of his first bound he has not enough +impulsive force left to begin another. Such a case supposes an attack +which has been successful, a real conquest; but we have here in view +the case where an assailant sticks fast half way to his intended +conquest. + +He is now waiting to take advantage of favourable circumstances, of +which favourable circumstances there is in general no prospect, for the +aggression now intended shows at once that there is no better prospect +from the future than from the present; it is, therefore, a further +illusion. If now, as is commonly the case, the undertaking is in +connection with other simultaneous operations, then what they do not +want to do themselves is transferred to other shoulders, and their own +inactivity is ascribed to want of support and proper co-operation. +Insurmountable obstacles are talked of, and motives in justification +are discovered in the most confused and subtil considerations. Thus the +forces of the assailant are wasted away in inactivity, or rather in a +partial activity, destitute of any utility. The defensive gains time, +the greatest gain to him; bad weather arrives, and the aggression ends +by the return of the aggressor to winter quarters in his own theatre of +war. + +A tissue of false representations thus passes into history in place of +the simple real ground of absence of any result, namely _fear of the +enemy’s sword_. When criticism takes up such a campaign, it wearies +itself in the discussion of a number of motives and counter-motives, +which give no satisfactory result, because they all dwindle into +vapour, and we have not descended to the real foundation of the truth. +The opposition through which the elementary energy of war, and +therefore of the offensive in particular, becomes weakened, lies for +the most part in the relations and views of states, and these are +always concealed from the world, from the mass of the people belonging +to the state, as well as from the army, and very often from the +general-in-chief. No one will account for his faint-heartedness by the +admission that he feared he could not attain the desired object with +the force at his disposal, or that new enemies would be roused, or that +he did not wish to make his allies too powerful, etc. Such things are +hushed up; but as occurrences have to be placed before the world in a +presentable form, therefore the commander is obliged, either on his own +account or on that of his government to pass off a tissue of fictitious +motives. This ever-recurring deception in military dialectics has +ossified into systems in theory, which, of course, are equally devoid +of truth. Theory can never be deduced from the essence of things except +by following the simple thread of cause and effect, as we have tried to +do. + +If we look at military history with this feeling of suspicion, then a +great parade of mere words about offensive and defensive collapses, and +the simple idea of it, which we have given, comes forward of itself. We +believe it therefore to be applicable to the whole domain of the +defensive, and that we must adhere closely to it in order to obtain +that clear view of the mass of events by which alone we can form +correct judgments. + +We have still to inquire into the question of the employment of these +different forms of defence. + +As they are merely gradations of the same which must be purchased by a +higher sacrifice, corresponding to the increased intensity of the form, +there would seem to be sufficient in that view to indicate always to +the general which he should choose, provided there are no other +circumstances which interfere. He would, in fact, choose that form +which appeared sufficient to give his force the requisite degree of +defensive power and no more, that there might be no unnecessary waste +of his force. But we must not overlook the circumstance that the room +given for choice amongst these different forms is generally very +circumscribed, because other circumstances which must be attended to +necessarily urge a preference for one or other of them. For a retreat +into the interior of the country a considerable superficial space is +required, or such a condition of things as existed in Portugal (1810), +where one ally (England) gave support in rear, and another (Spain) with +its wide territory, considerably diminished the impulsive force of the +enemy. The position of the fortresses more on the frontier or more in +the interior may likewise decide for or against such a plan; but still +more the nature of the country and ground, the character, habits, and +feelings of the inhabitants. The choice between an offensive or +defensive battle may be decided by the plans of the enemy, by the +peculiar qualities of both armies and their generals; lastly, the +possession of an excellent position or line of defence, or the want of +them may determine for one or the other;—in short, at the bare mention +of these things, we can perceive that the choice of the form of +defensive must in many cases be determined more by them than by the +mere relative strength of the armies. As we shall hereafter enter more +into detail on the more important subjects which have just been touched +upon, the influence which they must have upon the choice will then +develop itself more distinctly, and in the end the whole will be +methodised in the Book on Plans of Wars and Campaigns. + +But this influence will not, in general, be decisive unless the +inequality in the strength of the opposing armies is trifling; in the +opposite case (as in the generality of cases), the relation of the +numerical strength will be decisive. There is ample proof, in military +history, that it has done so heretofore, and that without the chain of +reasoning by which it has been brought out here; therefore in a manner +intuitively by _mere tact of judgment_, like most things that happen in +war. It was the same general who at the head of the same army, and on +the same theatre of war, fought the battle of Hohenfriedberg, and at +another time took up the camp of Bunzelwitz. Therefore even Frederick +the Great, a general above all inclined to the offensive as regards the +battle, saw himself compelled at last, by a great disproportion of +force, to resort to a real defensive position; and Buonaparte, who was +once in the habit of falling on his enemy like a wild boar, have we not +seen him, when the proportion of force turned against him, in August +and September, 1813, turn himself hither and thither as if he had been +pent up in a cage, instead of rushing forward recklessly upon some one +of his adversaries? And in October of the same year, when the +disproportion reached its climax, have we not seen him at Leipsic, +seeking shelter in the angle formed by the Parth, the Elster, and +Pleiss, as it were waiting for his enemy in the corner of a room, with +his back against the wall? + +We cannot omit to observe, that from this chapter, more than from any +other in our book, it is plainly shown that our object is not to lay +down new principles and methods of conducting war, but merely to +investigate what has long existed in its innermost relations, and to +reduce it to its simplest elements. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Defensive Battle + +We have said, in the preceding chapter, that the defender, in his +defensive, would make use of a battle, technically speaking, of a +purely offensive character, if, at the moment the enemy invades his +theatre of war, he marches against him and attacks him; but that he +might also wait for the appearance of the enemy in his front, and then +pass over to the attack; in which case also the battle tactically would +be again an offensive battle, although in a modified form; and lastly, +that he might wait till the enemy attacked his position, and then +oppose him both by holding a particular spot, and by offensive action +with portions of his force. In all this we may imagine several +different gradations and shades, deviating always more from the +principle of a positive counterstroke, and passing into that of the +defence of a spot of ground. We cannot here enter on the subject of how +far this should be carried, and which is the most advantageous +proportion of the two elements of offensive and defensive, as regards +the winning a decisive victory. But we maintain that when such a result +is desired, the offensive part of the battle should never be completely +omitted, and we are convinced that all the effects of a decisive +victory may and must be produced by this offensive part, just as well +as in a purely tactical offensive battle. + +In the same manner as the field of battle is only a point in strategy, +the duration of a battle is only, strategically, an instant of time, +and the end and result, not the course of a battle, constitutes a +strategic quantity. + +Now, if it is true that a complete victory may result from the +offensive elements which lie in every defensive battle, then there +would be no fundamental difference between an offensive and a defensive +battle, as far as regards strategic combinations; we are indeed +convinced that this is so, but the thing wears a different appearance. +In order to fix the subject more distinctly in the eye, to make our +view clear and thereby remove the appearance now referred to, we shall +sketch, hastily, the picture of a defensive battle, such as we imagine +it. + +The defensive waits the attack in a position; for this he has selected +proper ground, and turned it to the best account, that is, he has made +himself well acquainted with the locality, thrown up strong +entrenchments at some of the most important points, opened and levelled +communications, constructed batteries, fortified villages, and looked +out places where he can draw up his masses under cover, etc., etc., +etc. Whilst the forces on both sides are consuming each other at the +different points where they come into contact, the advantage of a front +more or less strong, the approach to which is made difficult by one or +more parallel trenches or other obstacles, or also by the influence of +some strong commanding points, enables him with a _small part of his +force_ to destroy _great numbers of the enemy_ at every stage of the +defence up to the heart of the position. The points of support which he +has given his wings secure him from any sudden attack from several +quarters; the covered ground which he has chosen for his masses makes +the enemy cautious, indeed timid, and affords the defensive the means +of diminishing by partial and successful attacks the general backward +movement which goes on as the combat becomes gradually concentrated +within narrower limits. The defender therefore casts a contented look +at the battle as it burns in a moderate blaze before him;—but he does +not reckon that his resistance in front can last for ever;—he does not +think his flanks impregnable;—he does not expect that the whole course +of the battle will be changed by the successful charge of a few +battalions or squadrons. His position is _deep_, for each part in the +scale of gradation of the order of battle, from the division down to +the battalion, has its reserve for unforeseen events, and for a renewal +of the fight; and at the same time an important mass, one fifth to a +quarter of the whole, is kept quite in the rear out of the battle, so +far back as to be quite out of fire, and if possible so far as to be +beyond the circuitous line by which the enemy might attempt to turn +either flank. With this corps he intends to cover his flanks from wider +and greater turning movements, secure himself against unforeseen +events, and in the latter stage of the battle, when the assailant’s +plan is fully developed, when the most of his troops have been brought +into action, he will throw this mass on a part of the enemy’s army, and +open at that part of the field a smaller offensive battle on his own +part, using all the elements of attack, such as charges, surprise, +turning movements, and by means of this pressure against the centre of +gravity of the battle, now only resting on a point, make the whole +recoil. + +This is the normal idea which we have formed of a defensive battle, +based on the tactics of the present day. In this battle the general +turning movement made by the assailant in order to assist his attack, +and at the same time with a view to make the results of victory more +complete, is replied to by a partial turning movement on the part of +the defensive, that is, by the turning of that part of the assailant’s +force used by him in the attempt to turn. This partial movement may be +supposed sufficient to destroy the effect of the enemy’s attempt, but +it cannot lead to a like general enveloping of the assailant’s army; +and there will always be a distinction in the features of a victory on +this account, that the side fighting an offensive battle encircles the +enemy’s army, and acts towards the centre of the same, while the side +fighting on the defensive acts more or less from the centre to the +circumference, in the direction of the radii. + +On the field of battle itself, and in the first stages of the pursuit, +the enveloping form must always be considered the most effectual; we do +not mean on account of its form generally, we only mean in the event of +its being carried out to such an extreme as to limit very much the +enemy’s means of retreat during the battle. But it is just against this +extreme point that the enemy’s positive counter-effort is directed, and +in many cases where this effort is not sufficient to obtain a victory, +it will at least suffice to protect him from such an extreme as we +allude to. But we must always admit that this danger, namely, of having +the line of retreat seriously contracted, is particularly great in +defensive battles, and if it cannot be guarded against, the results in +the battle itself, and in the first stage of the retreat are thereby +very much enhanced in favour of the enemy. + +But as a rule this danger does not extend beyond the first stage of the +retreat, that is, until night-fall; on the following day enveloping is +at an end, and both parties are again on an equality in this respect. + +Certainly the defender may have lost his principal line of retreat, and +therefore be placed in a disadvantageous strategic situation for the +future; but in most cases the turning movement itself will be at an +end, because it was only planned to suit the field of battle, and +therefore cannot apply much further. But what will take place, on the +other hand, if the _defender_ is victorious? A division of the defeated +force. This may facilitate the retreat at the first moment, but _next +day a concentration of all parts_ is the one thing most needful. Now if +the victory is a most decisive one, if the defender pursues with great +energy, this concentration will often become impossible, and from this +separation of the beaten force the worst consequences may follow, which +may go on step by step to a complete rout. If Buonaparte had conquered +at Leipsic, the allied army would have been completely cut in two, +which would have considerably lowered their relative strategic +position. At Dresden, although Buonaparte certainly did not fight a +regular defensive battle, the attack had the geometrical form of which +we have been speaking, that is, from the centre to the circumference; +the embarrassment of the Allies in consequence of their separation, is +well known, an embarrassment from which they were only relieved by the +victory on the Katzbach, the tidings of which caused Buonaparte to +return to Dresden with the Guard. + +This battle on the Katzbach itself is a similar example. In it the +defender, at the last moment passes over to the offensive, and +consequently operates on diverging lines; the French corps were thus +wedged asunder, and several days after, as the fruits of the victory, +Puthod’s division fell into the hands of the Allies. + +The conclusion we draw from this is, that if the assailant, by the +concentric form which is homogeneous to him, has the means of giving +expansion to his victory, on the other hand the defender also, by the +divergent form which is homogeneous to the defence, acquires a a means +of giving greater results to his victory than would be the case by a +merely parallel position and perpendicular attack, and we think that +one means is at least as good as the other. + +If in military history we rarely find such great victories resulting +from the defensive battle as from the offensive, that proves nothing +against our assertion that the one is as well suited to produce victory +as the other; the real cause is in the very different relations of the +defender. The army acting on the defensive is generally the weaker of +the two, not only in the amount of his forces, but also in every other +respect; he either is, or thinks he is, not in a condition to follow up +his victory with great results, and contents himself with merely +fending off the danger and saving the honour of his arms. That the +defender by inferiority of force and other circumstances may be tied +down to that degree we do not dispute, but there is no doubt that this, +which is only the consequence of a contingent necessity, has often been +assumed to be the consequence of that part which every defender has to +play: and thus in an absurd manner it has become a prevalent view of +the defensive that its battles should really be confined to warding off +the attacks of the enemy, and not directed to the destruction of the +enemy. We hold this to be a prejudicial error, a regular substitution +of the form for the thing itself; and we maintain unreservedly that in +the form of war which we call _defence_, the victory may not only be +more probable, but may also attain the same magnitude and efficacy as +in the attack, and that this may be the case not only in the _total +result_ of all the combats which constitute campaign, but also in any +_particular_ battle, if the necessary degree of force and energy is not +wanting. + + + +CHAPTER X. Fortresses + +Formerly, and up to the time of great standing armies, fortresses, that +is castles and fortified towns, were only built for the defence and +protection of the inhabitants. The baron, if he saw himself pressed on +all sides, took refuge in his castle to gain time and wait a more +favourable moment; and towns sought by their walls to keep off the +passing hurricane of war. This simplest and most natural object of +fortresses did not continue to be the only one; the relation which such +a place acquired with regard to the whole country and to troops acting +here and there in the country soon gave these fortified points a wider +importance, a signification which made itself felt beyond their walls, +and contributed essentially to the conquest or occupation of the +country, to the successful or unsuccessful issue of the whole contest, +and in this manner they even became a means of making war more of a +connected whole. Thus fortresses acquired that strategic significance +which for a time was regarded as so important that it dictated the +leading features of the plans of campaigns, which were more directed to +the taking of one or more fortresses than the destruction of the +enemy’s army in the field. Men reverted to the cause of the importance +of these places, that is to the connection between a fortified point, +and the country, and the armies; and then thought that they could not +be sufficiently particular or too philosophical in choosing the points +to be fortified. In these abstract objects the original one was almost +lost sight of, and at length they came to the idea of fortresses +without either towns or inhabitants. + +On the other hand, the times are past in which the mere enclosure of a +place with walls, without any military preparations, could keep a place +dry during an inundation of war sweeping over the whole country. Such a +possibility rested partly on the division of nations formerly into +small states, partly on the periodical character of the incursions then +in vogue, which had fixed and very limited duration, almost in +accordance with the seasons, as either the feudal forces hastened home, +or the pay for the condottieri used regularly to run short. Since large +standing armies, with powerful trains of artillery mow down the +opposition of walls or ramparts as it were with a machine, neither town +nor other small corporation has any longer an inclination to hazard all +their means only to be taken a few weeks or months later, and then to +be treated so much the worse. Still less can it be the interest of an +army to break itself up into garrisons for a number of strong places, +which may for a time retard the progress of the enemy, but must in the +end submit. We must always keep enough forces, over and above those in +garrison, to make us equal to the enemy in the open field, unless we +can depend on the arrival of an ally, who will relieve our strong +places and set our army free. Consequently the number of fortresses has +necessarily much diminished, and this has again led to the abandonment +of the idea of directly protecting the population and property in towns +by fortifications, and promoted the other idea of regarding the +fortresses as an indirect protection to the country, which they secure +by their strategic importance as knots which hold together the +strategic web. + +Such has been the course of ideas, not only in books but also in actual +experience, at the same time, as usually happens, it has been much more +spun out in books. + +Natural as was this tendency of things, still these ideas were carried +out to an extreme, and mere crotchets and fancies displaced the sound +core of a natural and urgent want. We shall look into these simple and +important wants when we enumerate the objects and conditions of +fortresses all together; we shall thereby advance from the simple to +the more complicated, and in the succeeding chapter we shall see what +is to be deduced therefrom as to the determination of the position and +number of fortresses. + +The efficacy of a fortress is plainly composed of two different +elements, the passive and the active. By the first it shelters the +place, and all that it contains; by the other it possesses a certain +influence over the adjacent country, even beyond the range of its guns. + +This active element consists in the attacks which the garrison may +undertake upon every enemy who approaches within a certain distance. +The larger the garrison, so much the stronger numerically will be the +detachments that may be employed on such expeditions, and the stronger +such detachments the wider as a rule will be the range of their +operations; from which it follows that the sphere of the active +influence of a great fortress is not only greater in intensity but also +more extensive than that of a small one. But the active element itself +is again, to a certain extent, of two kinds, consisting namely of +enterprises of the garrison proper, and of enterprises which other +bodies of troops, great and small, not belonging to the garrison but in +co-operation with it, may be able to carry out. For instance, corps +which independently would be too weak to face the enemy, may, through +the shelter which, in case of necessity, the walls of a fortress afford +them, be able to maintain themselves in the country, and to a certain +extent to command it. + +The enterprises which the garrison of a fortress can venture to +undertake are always somewhat restricted. Even in the case of large +places and strong garrisons, the bodies of troops which can be employed +on such operations are mostly inconsiderable as compared with the +forces in the field, and their average sphere of action seldom exceeds +a couple of days’ marches. If the fortress is small, the detachments it +can send out are quite insignificant and the range of their activity +will generally be confined to the nearest villages. But corps which do +not belong to the garrison, and therefore are not under the necessity +of returning to the place, are thereby much more at liberty in their +movements, and by their means, if other circumstances are favourable, +the external zone of action of a fortress may be immensely extended. +Therefore if we speak of the active influence of fortresses in general +terms, we must always keep this feature of the same principally in +view. + +But even the smallest active element of the weakest garrison, is still +essential for the different objects which fortresses are destined to +fulfil, for strictly speaking even the most passive of all the +functions of a fortress (defence against attack) cannot be imagined +exclusive of that active agency. At the same time it is evident that +amongst the different purposes which a fortress may have to answer +generally, or in this or that moment, the passive element will be most +required at one time, the active at another. The role which a fortress +is to fulfil may be perfectly simple, and the action of the place will +in such case be to a certain extent direct; it may be partly +complicated, and the action then becomes more or less indirect. We +shall examine these subjects separately, commencing with the first; but +at the outset we must state that a fortress may be intended to answer +several of these purposes, perhaps all of them, either at once, or at +least at different stages of the war. + +We say, therefore, that fortresses are great and most important +supports of the defensive. + +1. _As secure depots of stores of all kinds._ The assailant during his +aggression subsists his army from day to day; the defensive usually +must have made preparations long beforehand, he need not therefore draw +provisions exclusively from the district he occupies, and which he no +doubt desires to spare. Storehouses are therefore for him a great +necessity. The provisions of all kinds which the aggressor possesses +are in his rear as he advances, and are therefore exempt from the +dangers of the theatre of war, while those of the defensive are exposed +to them. If these provisions of all kinds are not in _fortified +places_, then a most injurious effect on the operations in the field is +the consequence, and the most extended and compulsory positions often +become necessary in order to cover depots or sources of supply. + +An army on the defensive without fortresses has a hundred vulnerable +spots; it is a body without armour. + +2. _As a protection to great and wealthy towns_. This purpose is +closely allied to the first, for great and wealthy towns, especially +commercial ones, are the natural storehouses of an army; as such their +possession and loss affects the army directly. Besides this, it is also +always worth while to preserve this portion of the national wealth, +partly on account of the resources which they furnish directly, partly +because, in negotiations for peace, an important place is in itself a +valuable weight thrown into the scale. + +This use of fortresses has been too little regarded in modern times, +and yet it is one of the most natural, and one which has a most +powerful effect, and is the least liable to mistakes. If there was a +country in which not only all great and rich cities, but all populous +places as well were fortified, and defended by the inhabitants and the +people belonging to the adjacent districts, then by that means the +expedition of military operation would be so much reduced, and the +people attacked would press with so great a part of their whole weight +in the scales, that the talent as well as the force of will of the +enemy’s general would sink to nothing. + +We just mention this ideal application of fortification to a country to +do justice to what we have just supposed to be the proper use of +fortresses, and that the importance of the _direct_ protection which +they afford may not be overlooked for a moment; but in any other +respect this idea will not again interrupt our considerations, for +amongst the whole number of fortresses there must always be some which +must be more strongly fortified than others, to serve as the real +supports of the active army. + +The purposes specified under 1 and 2 hardly call forth any other but +the passive action of fortresses. + +3. _As real barriers_, they close the roads, and in most cases the +rivers, on which they are situated. + +It is not as easy as is generally supposed to find a practicable +lateral road which passes round a fortress, for this turning must be +made, not only out of reach of the guns of this place, but also by a +detour greater or less, to avoid sorties of the garrison. + +If the country is in the least degree difficult, there are often delays +connected with the slightest deviation of the road which may cause the +loss of a whole day’s march, and, if the road is much used, may become +of great importance. + +How they may have an influence on enterprises by closing the navigation +of a river is clear in itself. + +4. _As tactical points d’appui_. As the diameter of the zone covered by +the fire of even a very inferior class of fortifications is usually +some leagues, fortresses may be considered always as the best points +d’appui for the flanks of a position. A lake of several miles long is +certainly an excellent support for the wing of an army, and yet a +fortress of moderate size is better. The flank does not require to rest +close upon it, as the assailant, for the sake of his retreat, would not +throw himself between our flank and that obstacle. + +5. _As a station_ (_or stage_). If fortresses are on the line of +communication of the defensive, as is generally the case, they serve as +halting places for all that passes up and down these lines. The chief +danger to lines of communication is from irregular bands, whose action +is always of the nature of a shock. If a valuable convoy, on the +approach of such a comet, can reach a fortress by hastening the march +or quickly turning, it is saved, and may wait there till the danger is +past. Further, all troops marching to or from the army, after halting +here for a a few days, are better able to hasten the remainder of the +march, and a halting day is just the time of greatest danger. In this +way a fortress situated half way on a line of communication of 30 miles +shortens the line in a manner one half. + +6. _As places of refuge for weak or defeated corps._ Under the guns of +a moderate sized fortress every corps is safe from the enemy’s blows, +even if no entrenched camp is specially prepared for them. No doubt +such a corps must give up its further retreat if it waits too long; but +this is no great sacrifice in cases where a further retreat would only +end in complete destruction. + +In many cases a fortress can ensure a few days’ halt without the +retreat being altogether stopped. For the slightly wounded and +fugitives who precede a beaten army, it is especially suited as a place +of refuge, where they can wait to rejoin their corps. + +If Magdeburg had lain on the direct line of the Prussian retreat in +1806, and if that line had not been already lost at Auerstadt, the army +could easily have halted for three or four days near that great +fortress, and rallied and reorganised itself. But even as it was it +served as a rallying point for the remains of Hohenlohe’s corps, which +there first resumed the appearance of an army. + +It is only by actual experience in war itself that the beneficial +influence of fortresses close at hand in disastrous times can be +rightly understood. They contain powder and arms, forage and bread, +give covering to the sick, security to the sound, and recovery of sense +to the panic-stricken. They are like an hostelry in the desert. + +In the four last named purposes it is evident that the active agency of +fortresses is called more into requisition. + +7. _As a real shield against the enemy’s aggression._ Fortresses which +the defender leaves in his front break the stream of the enemy’s attack +like blocks of ice. The enemy must at least invest them, and requires +for that, if the garrisons are brave and enterprising, perhaps double +their strength. But, besides, these garrisons may and do mostly consist +in part of troops, who, although competent to duty in a garrison, are +not fit for the field—half trained militia, invalids, convalescents, +armed citizens, landsturm, etc. The enemy, therefore, in such case is +perhaps weakened four times more than we are. + +This disproportionate weakening of the enemy’s power is the first and +most important but not the only advantage which a besieged fortress +affords by its resistance. From the moment that the enemy crosses our +line of fortresses, all his movements become much more constrained; he +is limited in his lines of retreat, and must constantly attend to the +direct covering of the sieges which he undertakes. + +Here, therefore, fortresses co-operate with the defensive act in a most +extensive and decisive manner, and of all the objects that they can +have, this may be regarded as the most important. + +If this use of fortresses—far from being seen regularly repeating +itself—seldom comparatively occurs in military history, the cause is to +be found in the character of most wars, this means being to a certain +extent far too decisive and too thoroughly effectual for them, the +explanation of which we leave till hereafter. + +In this use of fortresses it is chiefly their offensive power that is +called for, at least it is that by which their effectual action is +chiefly produced. If a fortress was no more to an aggressor than a +point which could not be occupied by him, it might be an obstacle to +him, but not to such a degree as to compel him to lay siege to it But +as he cannot leave six, eight, or ten thousand men to do as they like +in his rear, he is obliged to invest the place with a sufficient force, +and if he desires that this investment should not continue to employ so +large a detachment, he must convert the investment into a siege, and +take the place. From the moment the siege commences, it is then chiefly +the passive efficacy of the fortress which comes into action. + +All the destinations of fortresses which we have been hitherto +considering are fulfilled in a simple and mainly in a direct manner. On +the other hand, in the next two objects the method of action is more +complicated. + +8. _As a protection to extended cantonments._ That a moderate-sized +fortress closes the approach to cantonments lying behind it for a width +of three or four milesis a simple result of its existence; but how such +a place comes to have the honour of covering a line of cantonments +fifteen or twenty miles in length, which we find frequently spoken of +in military history as a fact—that requires investigation as far as it +has really taken place, and refutation so far as it may be mere +illusion. + +The following points offer themselves for consideration:— + +(1.) That the place in itself blocks one of the main roads, and really +covers a breadth of three or four miles of country. + +(2.) That it may be regarded as an exceptionally strong advanced post, +or that it affords a more complete observation of the country, to which +may be added facilities in the way of secret information through the +ordinary relations of civil life which exist between a great town and +the adjacent districts It is natural that in a place of six, eight or +ten thousand inhabitants, one should be able to learn more of what is +going on in the neighbourhood than in a mere village, the quarters of +an ordinary outpost. + +(3.) That smaller corps are appuyed on it, derive from it protection +and security, and from time to time can advance towards the enemy, it +may be to bring in intelligence, or, in case he attempts to turn the +fortress, to underdertake something against his rear; that therefore +although a fortress, cannot quit its place, still it may have the +efficacy of an advanced corps (Fifth Book, eighth Chapter). + +(4.) That the defender, after assembling his corps, can take up his +position at a point directly behind this fortress, which the assailant +cannot reach without becoming exposed to danger from the fortress in +his rear. + +No doubt every attack on a line of cantonments as such is to be taken +in the sense of a surprise, or rather, we are only speaking here of +that kind of attack; now it is evident in itself that an attack by +surprise accomplishes its effect in a much shorter space of time than a +regular attack on a theatre of war. Therefore, although in the latter +case, a fortress which is to be passed by must necessarily be invested +and kept in check, this investment will not be so indispensable in the +case of a mere sudden attack on cantonments, and therefore in the same +proportion the fortress will be less an obstacle to the attack of the +cantonments. That is true enough; also the cantonments lying at a +distance of six to eight miles from the fortress cannot be directly +protected by it; but the object of such a sudden attack does not +consist alone in the attack of a few cantonments. Until we reach the +book on attack we cannot describe circumstantially the real object of +such a sudden attack and what may be expected from it; but this much we +may say at present, that its principal results are obtained, not by the +actual attack on some isolated quarters, but by the series of combats +which the aggressor forces on single corps not in proper order, and +more bent upon hurrying to certain points than upon fighting. But this +attack and pursuit will always be in a direction more or less towards +the centre of the enemy’s cantonments, and, therefore, an important +fortress lying before this centre will certainly prove a very great +impediment to the attack. + +If we reflect on these four points in the whole of their effects, we +see that an important fortress in a direct and in an indirect way +certainly gives some security to a much greater extent of cantonments +than we should think at first sight. “Some security” we say, for all +these indirect agencies do not render the advance of the enemy +impossible; they only make it _more difficult_, and a _more serious +consideration;_ consequently less probable and less of a danger for the +defensive. But that is also all that was required, and all that should +be understood in this case under the term covering. The real direct +security must be attained by means of outposts and the arrangement of +the cantonments themselves. + +There is, therefore, some truth in ascribing to a great fortress the +capability of covering a wide extent of cantonments lying in rear of +it; but it is also not to be denied that often in plans of real +campaigns, but still oftener in historical works, we meet with vague +and empty expressions, or illusory views in connection with this +subject. For if that covering is only realised by the co-operation of +several circumstances, if it then also only produces a diminution of +the danger, we can easily see that, in particular cases, through +special circumstances, above all, through the boldness of the enemy, +this whole covering may prove an illusion, and therefore in actual war +we must not content ourselves with assuming hastily at once the +efficacy of such and such a fortress, but carefully examine and study +each single case on its own merits. + +9. _As covering a province not occupied._ If during war province is +either not occupied at all, or only occupied by an insufficient force, +and likewise exposed more or less to incursions from flying columns, +then a fortress, if not too unimportant in size, may be looked upon as +a covering, or, if we prefer, as a security for this province. As a +security it may at all events be regarded, for an enemy cannot become +master of the province until he has taken it, and that gives us time to +hasten to its defence. But the actual covering can certainly only be +supposed very indirect, or as _not preperly belonging to it_. That is, +the fortress by its active opposition can only in some measure check +the incursions of hostile bands. If this opposition is limited to +merely what the garrison can effect, then the result must be little +indeed, for the garrisons of such places are generally weak and usually +consist of infantry only, and that not of the best quality. The idea +gains a little more reality if small columns keep themselves in +communication with the place, making it their base and place of retreat +in case of necessity. + +10. _As the focus of a general arming of the nation._ Provisions, arms, +and munitions can never be supplied in a regular manner in a People’s +War; on the other hand, it is just in the very nature of such a war to +do the best we can; in that way a thousand small sources furnishing +means of resistance are opened which otherwise might have remained +unused; and it is easy to see that a strong commodious fortress, as a +great magazine of these things, can well give to the whole defence more +force and intensity, more cohesion, and greater results. + +Besides, a fortress is a place of refuge for wounded, the seat of the +civil functionaries, the treasury, the point of assembly for the +greater enterprises, etc., etc.; lastly, a nucleus of resistance which +during the siege places the enemy’s force in a condition which +facilitates and favours the attacks of national levies acting in +conjunction. + +11. _For the defence of rivers and mountains._ Nowhere can a fortress +answer so many purposes, undertake to play so many parts, as when it is +situated on a great river. It secures the passage at any time at that +spot, and hinders that of the enemy for several miles each way, it +commands the use of the river for commercial purposes, receives all +ships within its walls, blocks bridges and roads, and helps the +indirect defence of the river, that is, the defence by a position on +the enemy’s side. It is evident that, by its influence in so many ways, +it very greatly facilitates the defence of the river, and may be +regarded as an essential part of that defence. + +Fortresses in mountains are important in a similar manner. They there +form the knots of whole systems of roads, which have their commencement +and termination at that spot; they thus command the whole country which +is traversed by these roads, and they may be regarded as the true +buttresses of the whole defensive system. + + + +CHAPTER XI. Fortresses (_Continued_) + +We have discussed the object of fortresses: now for their situation. At +first the subject seems very complicated, when we think of the +diversity of objects, each of which may again be modified by the +locality; but such a view has very little foundation if we keep to the +essence of the thing, and guard against unnecessary subtilties. + +It is evident that all these demands are at once satisfied, if, in +those districts of country which are to be regarded as the theatre of +war, all the largest and richest towns on the great high roads +connecting the two countries with each other are fortified, more +particularly those adjacent to harbours and bays of the sea, or +situated on large rivers and in mountains. Great towns and great roads +always go hand in hand, and both have also a natural connection with +great rivers and the coasts of the sea, all these four conditions, +therefore, agree very well with each other, and give rise to no +incongruity; on the other hand, it is not the same with mountains, for +large towns are seldom found there. If, therefore, the position and +direction of a mountain chain makes it favourable to a defensive line, +it is necessary to close its roads and passes by small forts, built for +this purpose only, and at the least possible cost, the great outlay on +works of fortification being reserved for the important places of arms +in the level country. + +We have not yet noticed the frontiers of the state, nor said anything +of the geometrical form of the whole system of fortresses, nor of the +other geographical points in connection with their situation, because +we regard the objects above mentioned as the most essential, and are of +opinion that in many cases they alone are sufficient, particularly in +small states. But, at the same time, other considerations may be +admitted, and may be imperative in countries of a greater superficial +extent, which either have a great many important towns and roads, or, +on the contrary, are almost without any, which are either very rich, +and, possessing already many fortresses, still want new ones, or those +which, on the other hand, are very poor, and under the necessity of +making a few answer, in short, in cases where the number of fortresses +does not correspond with the number of important towns and roads which +present themselves, being either considerably greater or less. + +We shall now cast a glance at the nature of such other considerations. + +The chief questions which remain relate to + +1. The choice of the principal roads, if the two countries are +connected by more roads than we wish to fortify. + +2. Whether the fortresses are to be placed on the frontier only, or +spread over the country. Or, + +3. Whether they shall be distributed uniformly, or in groups. + +4. Circumstances relating to the geography of the country to which it +is necessary to pay attention. + +A number of other points with respect to the geometrical form of the +line of fortifications, such as whether they should be placed in a +single line or in several lines, that is, whether they do more service +when placed one behind another, or side by side in line with each +other; whether they should be chequer-wise, or in a straight line; or +whether they should take the form of a fortification itself, with +salients and re-entering angles all these we look upon as empty +subtilties, that is, considerations so insignificant, that, compared +with the really important points, they are not worth notice; and we +only mention them here because they are not merely treated of in many +books, but also a great deal more is made of this rubbish than it is +worth. + +As regards the first question, in order to place it in a clearer light +we shall merely instance the relation of the south of Germany to +France, that is, to the upper Rhine. If, without reference to the +number of separate states composing this district of country, we +suppose it a whole which is to be fortified strategically, much doubt +will arise, for a great number of very fine roads lead from the Rhine +into the interior of Franconia, Bavaria and Austria. Certainly, towns +are not wanting which surpass others in size and importance, as +Nuremburg, Wurzburg, Ulm, Augsburg, and Munich; but if we are not +disposed to fortify all, there is no alternative but to make a +selection. If, further, in accordance with our view, the fortification +of the greatest and wealthiest is held to be the principal thing, still +it is not to be denied that, owing to the distance between Nuremburg +and Munich, the first has a very different strategic signification from +the second; and therefore it always remains to be considered whether it +would not be better, in place of Nuremburg, to fortify some other place +in the neighbourhood of Munich, even if the place is one of less +importance in itself. + +As concerns the decision in such cases, that is, answering the first +question, we must refer to what has been said in the chapters on the +general plan of defence, and on the choice of points of attack. +Wherever the most natural point of attack is situated, there the +defensive arrangements should be made by preference. + +Therefore, amongst a number of great roads leading from the enemy’s +country into ours, we should first of all fortify that which leads most +directly to the heart of our dominions, or that which, traversing +fertile provinces, or running parallel to navigable rivers, facilitates +the enemy’s undertaking, and then we may rest secure. The assailant +then encounters these works, or should he resolve to pass them by, he +will naturally offer a favourable opportunity for operations against +his flank. + +Vienna is the heart of South Germany, and plainly Munich or Augsburg, +in relation to France alone (Switzerland and Italy being therefore +supposed neutral) would be more efficient as a principal fortress than +Nuremburg or Wurzburg. But if, at the same time, we look at the roads +leading from Italy into Germany by Switzerland and the Tyrol, this will +become still more evident, because, in relation to these, Munich and +Augsburg will always be places of importance, whereas Wurzburg and +Nuremburg are much the same, in this respect, as if they did not exist. + +We turn now to the second question Whether the fortresses should be +placed on the frontier, or distributed over the country? In the first +place, we must observe, that, as regards small states, this question is +superfluous, for what are called _strategic frontiers_ coincide, in +their case, nearly with the whole country. The larger the state is +supposed to be in the consideration of this question, the plainer +appears the necessity for its being answered. + +The most natural answer is, that fortresses belong to the frontiers, +for they are to defend the state, and the state is defended as long as +the frontiers are defended. This argument may be valid in the abstract, +but the following considerations will show that it is subject to very +many modifications. + +Every defence which is calculated chiefly on foreign assistance lays +great value on gaining time; it is not a vigorous counterstroke, but a +slow proceeding, in which the chief gain consists more in delay than in +any weakening of the enemy which is effected. But now it lies in the +nature of the thing that, supposing all other circumstances alike, +fortresses which are spread over the whole country, and include between +them a very considerable area of territory, will take longer to capture +than those squeezed together in a close line on the frontier. Further, +in all cases in which the object is to overcome the enemy through the +length of his communications, and the difficulty of his existence +therefore in countries which can chiefly reckon on this kind of +reaction, it would be a complete contradiction to have the defensive +preparations of this kind only on the frontier. Lastly, let us also +remember that, if circumstances will in any way allow of it, the +fortification of the capital is a main point; that according to our +principles the chief towns and places of commerce in the provinces +demand it likewise; that rivers passing through the country, mountains, +and other irregular features of ground, afford advantages for new lines +of defence; that many towns, through their strong natural situation, +invite fortification; moreover, that certain accessories of war, such +as manufactories of arms, &c., are better placed in the interior of the +country than on the frontier, and their value well entitles them to the +protection of works of fortification; then we see that there is always +more or less occasion for the construction of fortresses in the +interior of a country; on this account we are of opinion, that although +states which possess a great number of fortresses are right in placing +the greater number on the frontier, still it would be a great mistake +if the interior of the country was left entirely destitute of them. We +think that this mistake has been made in a remarkable degree in France. +A great doubt may with reason arise if the border provinces of a +country contain no considerable towns, such towns lying further back +towards the interior, as is the case in South Germany in particular, +where Swabia is almost destitute of great towns, whilst Bavaria +contains a large number. We do not hold it to be necessary to remove +these doubts once for all on general grounds, believing that in such +cases, in order to arrive at a solution, reasons derived from the +particular situation must come into consideration. Still we must call +attention to the closing remarks in this chapter. + +The third question Whether fortresses should be disposed in groups, or +more equally distributed? will, if we reflect upon it, seldom arise; +still we must not, for that reason, set it down as a useless subtilty, +because certainly a group of two, three, or four fortresses, which are +only a few days’ march from a common centre, give that point and the +army placed there such strength, that, if other conditions allowed of +it, in some measure one would be very much tempted to form such a +strategic bastion. + +The last point concerns the other geographical properties of the points +to be chosen. That fortresses on the sea, on streams and great rivers, +and in mountains, are doubly effective, has been already stated to be +one of the principal considerations; but there are a number of other +points in connection with fortresses to which regard must be paid. + +If a fortress cannot lie on the river itself, it is better not to place +it near, but at a distance of ten or twelve miles from it; otherwise, +the river intersects, and lowers the value of the sphere of action of +the fortress in all those points above mentioned.(*) + +(*) Philippsburg was the pattern of a badly-placed fortress; it +resembled a fool standing with his nose close to a wall. + + +This is not the same in mountains, because there the movement of large +or small masses upon particular points is not restricted in the same +degree as it is by a river. But fortresses on the enemy’s side of a +mountain are not well placed, because they are difficult to succour. If +they are on our side, the difficulty of laying siege to them is very +great, as the mountains cut across the enemy’s line of communication. +We give Olmütz, 1758, as an example. + +It is easily seen that impassable forests and marshes have a similar +effect to that of rivers. + +The question has been often raised as to whether towns situated in a +very difficult country are well or ill suited for fortresses. As they +can be fortified and defended at a small expense, or be made much +stronger, often impregnable, at an equal expenditure, and the services +of a fortress are always more passive than active, it does not seem +necessary to attach much importance to the objection that they can +easily be blockaded. + +If we now, in conclusion, cast a retrospective glance over our simple +system of fortification for a country, we may assert that it rests on +comprehensive data, lasting in their nature, and directly connected +with the foundations of the state itself, not on transient views on +war, fashionable for a day; not on imaginary strategic niceties, nor on +requirements completely singular in character an error which might be +attended with irreparable consequences if allowed to influence the +construction of fortresses intended to last five hundred, perhaps a +thousand, years. Silberberg, in Silesia, built by Frederick the Great +on one of the ridges of the Sudetics, has, from the complete alteration +in circumstances which has since taken place, lost almost entirely its +importance and object, whilst Breslau, if it had been made a strong +place of arms, and continued to be so, would have always maintained its +value against the French, as well as against the Russians, Poles, and +Austrians. + +Our reader will not overlook the fact that these considerations are not +raised on the supposed case of a state providing itself with a set of +new fortifications; they would be useless if such was their object, as +such a case seldom, if ever, happens; but they may all arise at the +designing of each single fortification. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Defensive Position + +Every position in which we accept battle, at the same time making use +of the ground as a means of protection, is a _defensive position_, and +it makes no difference in this respect whether we act more passively or +more offensively in the action. This follows from the general view of +the defensive which we have given. + +Now we may also apply the term to every position in which an army +whilst marching to encounter the enemy would certainly accept battle if +the latter sought for it. In point of fact, most battles take place in +this way, and in all the middle ages no other was ever thought of. That +is, however, not the kind of position of which we are now speaking; by +far the greater number of positions are of this kind, and the +conception of a _position_ in contradistinction to a _camp taken up on +the march_ would suffice for that. A position which is specially called +a _defensive position_ must therefore have some other distinguishing +characteristics. + +In the decisions which take place in an ordinary position, the idea of +time evidently predominates; the armies march against each other in +order to come to an engagement: the place is a subordinate point, all +that is required from it is that it should not be unsuitable. But in a +real defensive position the idea of _place_ predominates; the decision +is to be realised on this _spot_, or rather, chiefly _through_ this +spot. That is the only kind of position we have here in view. + +Now the connection of place is a double one; that is, in the first +instance, inasmuch as a force posted at this point exercises a certain +influence upon the war in general; and next, inasmuch as the local +features of the ground contribute to the strength of the army and +afford protection: in a word, a strategic and a tactical connection. + +Strictly speaking, the term _defensive position_ has its origin only in +connection with tactics, for its connection with strategy, namely, that +an army posted at this point by its presence serves to defend the +country, will also suit the case of an army acting offensively. + +The strategic effect to be derived from a position cannot be shown +completely until hereafter, when we discuss the defence of a theatre of +war; we shall therefore only consider it here as far as can be done at +present, and for that end we must examine more closely the nature of +two ideas which have a similarity and are often mistaken for one +another, that is, the _turning a position_, and _the passing by it_. + +The turning a position relates to its front, and is done either by an +attack upon the side of the position or on its rear, or by acting +against its lines of retreat and communication. + +The first of these, that is, an attack on flank or rear is tactical in +its nature. In our days in which the mobility of troops is so great, +and all plans of battles have more or less in view the turning or +enveloping the enemy, every position must accordingly be adapted to +meet such measures, and one to deserve the name of strong must, with a +strong front, allow at least of good combinations for battle on the +sides and rear as well, in case of their being menaced. In this way a +position will not become untenable by the enemy turning it with a view +to an attack on the flank or rear, as the battle which then takes place +was provided for in the choice of the position, and should ensure the +defender all the advantages which he could expect from this position +generally. + +If the position _is turned_ by the enemy with a view to acting against +the lines of retreat and communication, this is a _strategic_ relation, +and the question is how long the position can be maintained, and +whether we cannot outbid the enemy by a scheme like his own, both these +questions depend on the situation of the point (strategically), that +is, chiefly on the relations of the lines of communication of both +combatants. A good position should secure to the army on the defensive +the advantage in this point. In any case the position will not be +rendered of no effect in this way, as the enemy is neutralised by the +position when he is occupied by it in the manner supposed. + +But if the assailant, without troubling himself about the existence of +the army awaiting his attack in a defensive position, advances with his +main body by another line in pursuit of his object, then he _passes by +the position;_ and if he can do this with impunity, and really does it, +he will immediately enforce the abandonment of the position, +consequently put an end to its usefulness. + +There is hardly any position in the world which, in the simple sense of +the words, cannot be passed by, for cases such as the isthmus of +Perekop are so rare that they are hardly worth attention. The +impossibility of passing by must therefore be understood as merely +applying to the disadvantages in which the assailant would become +involved if he set about such an operation. We shall have a more +fitting opportunity to state these disadvantages in the twenty-seventh +chapter; whether small or great, in every case they are the equivalent +of the tactical effect which the position is capable of producing but +which has not been realised, and in common with it constitute the +object of the position. + +From the preceding observations, therefore, two strategic properties of +the defensive position have resulted: + +1. That it cannot be passed round. + +2. That in the struggle for the lines of communication it gives the +defender advantages. + +Here we have to add two other strategic properties, namely— + +3. That the relation of the lines of communication may also have a +favourable influence on the form of combat; and + +4. That the general influence of the country is advantageous. + +For the relation of the lines of communication has an influence not +only upon the possibility or impossibility of passing by a position or +of cutting off the enemy’s supplies, but also on the whole course of +the battle. An oblique line of retreat facilitates a tactical turning +movement on the part of the assailant, and paralyses our own tactical +movements during the battle. But an oblique position in relation to the +lines of communication is often not the fault of tactics but a +consequence of a defective strategic point; it is, for example, not to +be avoided when the road changes direction in the vicinity of the +position (Borodino, 1812); the assailant is then in such a position +that he can turn our line _without deviating from, his own +perpendicular disposition._ + +Further, the aggressor has much greater freedom for tactical movement +if he commands several roads for his retreat whilst we are limited to +one. In such cases the tactical skill of the defensive will be exerted +in vain to overcome the disadvantageous influence resulting from the +strategic relations. + +Lastly as regards the fourth point, such a disadvantageous general +influence may predominate in the other characteristics of ground, that +the most careful choice, and the best use of tactical means, can do +nothing to combat them. Under such circumstances the chief points are +as follows: + +1. The defensive must particularly seek for the advantage of being able +to overlook his adversary, so that he may be able swiftly to throw +himself upon him inside the limits of his position. It is only when the +local difficulties of approach combine with these two conditions that +the ground is really favourable to the defensive. + +On the other hand, those points which are under the influence of +commanding ground are disadvantageous to him; also most positions in +mountains (of which we shall speak more particularly in the chapters on +mountain warfare). Further, positions which rest one flank on +mountains, for such a position certainly makes the _passing by_ more +difficult, but facilitates a _turning movement_. Of the same kind are +all positions which have a mountain immediately in their front, and +generally all those which bear relation to the description of ground +above specified. + +As an example of the opposite of these disadvantageous properties, we +shall only instance the case of a position which has a mountain in +rear; from this so many advantages result that it may be assumed in +general to be one of the most favourable of all positions for the +defensive. + +2. A country may correspond more or less to the character and +composition of an army. A very numerous cavalry is a proper reason for +seeking an open country. Want of this arm, perhaps also of artillery, +while we have at command a courageous infantry inured to war, and +acquainted with the country, make it advisable to take advantage of a +difficult, close country. + +We do not here enter into particulars respecting the tactical relation +which the local features of a defensive position bear to the force +which is to occupy it. We only speak of the total result, as that only +is a strategic quantity. + +Undoubtedly a position in which an army is to await the full force of +the hostile attack, should give the troops such an important advantage +of ground as may be considered a multiplier of its force. Where nature +does much, but not to the full as much as we want, the art of +entrenchment comes to our help. In this way it happens not unfrequently +that some parts become _unassailable_, and not unusually the whole is +made so: plainly in this last case, the whole nature of the measure is +changed. It is then no longer a battle under advantageous conditions +which we seek, and in this battle the issue of the campaign, but an +issue without a battle. Whilst we occupy with our force an unassailable +position, we directly refuse the battle, and oblige our enemy to seek +for a solution in some other way. + +We must, therefore, completely separate these two cases, and shall +speak of the latter in the following chapter, under the title of a +_strong position_. + +But the defensive position with which we have now to do is nothing more +than a field of battle with the addition of advantages in our favour; +and that it should become a field of battle, the advantages in our +favour must not be _too great_. But now what degree of strength may +such a position have? Plainly more in proportion as our enemy is more +determined on the attack, and that depends on the nature of the +individual case. Opposed to a Buonaparte, we may and should withdraw +behind stronger ramparts than before a Daun or a Schwartzenburg. + +If certain portions of a position are unattackable, say the front, then +that is to be taken as a separate factor of its whole strength, for the +forces not required at that point are available for employment +elsewhere; but we must not omit to observe that whilst the enemy is +kept completely off such impregnable points, the form of his attack +assumes quite a different character, and we must ascertain, in the +first instance, how this alteration will suit our situation. + +For instance, to take up a position, as has often been done, so close +behind a great river that it is to be looked upon as covering the +front, is nothing else but to make the river a point of support for the +right or left flank; for the enemy is naturally obliged to cross +further to the right or left, and cannot attack without changing his +front: the chief question, therefore, is what advantages or +disadvantages does that bring to us? + +According to our opinion, a defensive position will come the nearer to +the true ideal of such a position the more its strength is hid from +observation, and the more it is favourable to our surprising the enemy +by our combinations in the battle. Just as we advisably endeavour to +conceal from the enemy the whole strength of our forces and our real +intentions, so in the same way we should seek to conceal from the enemy +the advantages which we expect to derive from the form of the ground. +This of course can only be done to a certain degree, and requires, +perhaps, a peculiar mode of proceeding, hitherto but little attempted. + +The vicinity of a considerable fortress, in whatever direction it may +be, confers on every position a great advantage over the enemy in the +movement and use of the forces belonging to it. By suitable +field-works, the want of natural strength at particular points may be +remedied, and in that manner the great features of the battle may be +settled beforehand at will; these are the means of strengthening by +art; if with these we combine a good selection of those natural +obstacles of ground which impede the effective action of the enemy’s +forces without making action absolutely impossible, if we turn to the +best account the advantage we have over the enemy in knowing the +ground, which he does not, so that we succeed in concealing our +movements better than he does his, and that we have a general +superiority over him in unexpected movements in the course of the +battle, then from these advantages united, there may result in our +favour an overpowering and decisive influence in connection with the +ground, under the power of which the enemy will succumb, without +knowing the real cause of his defeat. This is what we understand under +_defensive position_, and we consider it one of the greatest advantages +of defensive war. + +Leaving out of consideration particular circumstances, we may assume +that an undulating, not too well, but still not too little, cultivated +country affords the most positions of this kind. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. Strong Positions and Entrenched Camps + +We have said in the preceding chapter that a position so strong through +nature, assisted by art, that it is unassailable, does not come under +the meaning of an advantageous field of battle, but belongs to a +peculiar class of things. We shall in this chapter take a review of +what constitutes the nature of this peculiarity, and on account of the +analogy between such positions and fortresses, call them _strong +positions_. + +Merely by entrenchments alone they can hardly be formed, except as +entrenched camps resting on fortresses; but still less are they to be +found ready formed entirely by natural obstacles. Art usually lends a +hand to assist nature, and therefore they are frequently designated as +_entrenched_ camps or positions. At the same time, that term may really +be applied to any position strengthened more or less by field works, +which need have nothing in common with the nature of the position we +are now considering. + +The object of a strong position is to make the force there stationed in +point of fact unattackable, and by that means, either really to cover a +certain space directly, or only the troops which occupy that space in +order then, through them, in another way to effect the covering of the +country indirectly. The first was the signification of the _lines_ of +former times, for instance, those on the French frontier; the latter, +is that of _entrenched camps_ laid out near fortresses, and showing a +front in every direction. + +If, for instance, the front of a position is so strong by works and +hindrances to approach that an attack is impossible, then the enemy is +compelled to turn it, to make his attack on a side of it or in rear. +Now to prevent this being easily done, _points d’appui_ were sought for +these lines, which should give them a certain degree of support on the +side, such as the Rhine and the Vosges give the lines in Alsace. The +longer the front of such a line the more easily it can be protected +from being turned, because every movement to turn it is attended with +danger to the side attempting the movement, the danger increasing in +proportion as the required movement causes a greater deviation from the +normal direction of the attacking force. Therefore, a considerable +length of front, which can be made unassailable, and good +flank-supports, ensure the possibility of protecting a large space of +territory directly from hostile invasion: at least, that was the view +in which works of this class originated; that was the object of the +lines in Alsace, with their right flank on the Rhine and the left on +the Vosges; and the lines in Flanders, fifteen miles long, resting +their right on the Scheldt and the fortress of Tournay, their left on +the sea. + +But when we have not the advantages of such a long well-defended front, +and good flank-supports, if the country is to be held generally by a +force well entrenched, then that force (and its position) must be +protected against being turned by such an arrangement that it can show +a front in every direction. But then the idea of _a thoroughly covered +tract of country_ vanishes, for such a position is only strategically a +point which covers the force occupying it, and thus secures to that +force the power of keeping the field, that is to say, _maintaining +itself in the country_. Such a camp cannot be _turned_, that is, cannot +be attacked in flank or rear by reason of those parts being weaker than +its front, for it can show front in all directions, and is equally +strong everywhere. But such a camp can be _passed by_, and that much +easier than a fortified line, because its extent amounts to nothing. + +Entrenched camps connected with fortresses are in reality of this +second kind, for the object of them is to protect the troops assembled +in them; but their further strategic meaning, that is, the application +of this protected force, is somewhat different from that of other +fortified camps. + +Having given this explanation of the origin of these three different +defensive means, we shall now proceed to consider the value of each of +them separately, under the heads of _strong lines, strong positions_, +and _entrenched camps resting on fortresses._ + +1. _Lines_.—They are the worst kind of cordon war: the obstacle which +they present to the aggressor is of no value at all unless they are +defended by a powerful fire; in themselves they are simply worthless. +But now the extent to which an army can furnish an effective fire is +generally very small in proportion to the extent of country to be +defended; the lines can, therefore, only be short, and consequently +cover only a small extent of country, or the army will not be able +really to defend the lines at all points. In consequence of this, the +idea was started of not occupying all points in the line, but only +watching them, and defending them by means of strong reserves, in the +same way as a small river may be defended; but this procedure is in +opposition to the nature of the means. If the natural obstacles of the +ground are so great that such a method of defence could be applied, +then the entrenchments were needless, and entail danger, for that +method of defence is not local, and entrenchments are only suited to a +strictly local defence; but if the entrenchments themselves are to be +considered the chief impediments to approach, then we may easily +conceive that an _undefended_ line will not have much to say as an +obstacle to approach. What is a twelve or fifteen feet ditch, and a +rampart ten or twelve feet high, against the united efforts of many +thousands, if these efforts are not hindered by the fire of an enemy? +The consequence, therefore, is, that if such lines are short and +tolerably well defended by troops, they can be _turned;_ but if they +are extensive, and not sufficiently occupied, they can be attacked in +front, and taken without much difficulty. + +Now as lines of this description tie the troops down to a local +defence, and take away from them all mobility, they are a bad and +senseless means to use against an enterprising enemy. If we find them +long retained in modern wars in spite of these objections, the cause +lies entirely in the low degree of energy impressed on the conduct of +war, one consequence of which was, that seeming difficulties often +effected quite as much as real ones. Besides, in most campaigns these +lines were used merely for a secondary defence against irregular +incursions; if they have been found not wholly inefficacious for that +purpose, we must only keep in view, at the same time, how much more +usefully the troops required for their defence might have been employed +at other points. In the latest wars such lines have been out of the +question, neither do we find any trace of them; and it is doubtful if +they will ever re-appear. + +2. _Positions._—The defence of a tract of country continues (as we +shall show more plainly in the 27th chapter) as long as the force +designated for it maintains itself there, and only ceases if that force +removes and abandons it. + +If a force is to maintain itself in any district of country which is +attacked by very superior forces, the means of protecting this force +against the power of the sword by a position which is unassailable is a +first consideration. + +Now such a position, as before said, must be able to show a front in +all directions; and in conformity with the _usual_ extent of tactical +positions, if the force is not _very large_ (and a large force would be +contrary to the nature of the supposed case) it would take up a very +small space, which, in the course of the combat, would be exposed to so +many disadvantages that, even if strengthened in every possible way by +entrenchments, we could hardly expect to make a successful defence. +Such a camp, showing front in every direction, must therefore +necessarily have an extent of sides proportionably great; but these +sides must likewise be as good as unassailable; to give this requisite +strength, notwithstanding the required extension, is not within the +compass of the art of field fortification; it is therefore a +fundamental condition that such a camp must derive part of its strength +from natural impediments of ground which render many places impassable +and others difficult to pass. In order, therefore, to be able to apply +this defensive means, it is necessary to find such a spot, and when +that is wanting, the object cannot be attained merely by field works. +These considerations relate more immediately to tactical results in +order that we may first establish the existence of this strategic +means; we mention as examples for illustration, Pirna, Bunzelwitz, +Colberg, Torres Vedras, and Drissa. Now, as respects the strategic +properties and effects. The first condition is naturally that the force +which occupies this camp shall have its subsistence secured for some +time, that is, for as long as we think the camp will be required, and +this is only possible when the position has behind it a port, like +Colberg and Torres Vedras, or stands in connection with a fortress like +Bunzelwitz and Pirna, or has large depôts within itself or in the +immediate vicinity, like Drissa. + +It is only in the first case that the provisioning can be ensured for +any time we please; in the second and third cases, it can only be so +for a more or less limited time, so that in this point there is always +danger. From this appears how the difficulty of subsistence debars the +use of many strong points which otherwise would be suitable for +entrenched positions, and, therefore, makes those that are eligible +_scarce_. + +In order to ascertain the eligibility of a position of this +description, its advantages and defects, we must ask ourselves what the +aggressor can do against it. + +_a._ The assailant can pass by this strong position, pursue his +enterprise, and watch the position with a greater or less force. + +We must here make a distinction between the cases of a position which +is occupied by the main body, and one only occupied by an inferior +force. + +In the first case the passing by the position can only benefit the +assailant, if, besides the principal force of the defendant, there is +also some other attainable and _decisive object of attack_, as, for +instance, the capture of a fortress or a capital city, etc. But even if +there is such an object, he can only follow it if the strength of his +base and the direction of his lines of communication are such that he +has no cause to fear operations against his strategic flanks. + +The conclusions to be drawn from this with respect to the admissibility +and eligibility of a strong position for the main body of the +defender’s army are, that it is only an advisable position when either +the possibility of operating against the strategic flank of the +aggressor is so decisive that we may be sure beforehand of being able +in that way to keep him at a point where his army can effect nothing, +or in a case where there is no object attainable by the aggressor for +which the defence need be uneasy. If there is such an object, and the +strategic flank of the assailant cannot be seriously menaced, then such +position should not be taken up, or if it is it should only be as a +feint to see whether the assailant can be imposed upon respecting its +value; this is always attended with the danger, in case of failure, of +being too late to reach the point which is threatened. + +If the strong position is only held by an inferior force, then the +aggressor can never be at a loss for a further object of attack, +because he has it in the main body itself of the enemy’s army; in this +case, therefore, the value of the position is entirely limited to the +means which it affords of operating against the enemy’s strategic +flank, and depends upon that condition. + +_b._ If the assailant does not venture to pass by a position, he can +invest it and reduce it by famine. But this supposes two conditions +beforehand: first, that the position is not open in rear, and secondly, +that the assailant is sufficiently strong to be able to make such an +investment. If these two conditions are united then the assailant’s +army certainly would be neutralised for a time by this strong position, +but at the same time, the defensive pays the price of this advantage by +a loss of his defensive force. + +From this, therefore, we deduce that the occupation of such a strong +position with the main body is a measure only to be taken,— + +_aa._ When the rear is perfectly safe (Torres Vedras). + +_bb._ When we foresee that the enemy’s force is not strong enough +formally to invest us in our camp. Should the enemy attempt the +investment with insufficient means, then we should be able to sally out +of the camp and beat him in detail. + +_cc._ When we can count upon relief like the Saxons at Pirna, 1756, and +as took place in the main at Prague, because Prague could only be +regarded as an entrenched camp in which Prince Charles would not have +allowed himself to be shut up if he had not known that the Moravian +army could liberate him. + +One of these three conditions is therefore absolutely necessary to +justify the choice of a strong position for the main body of an army; +at the same time we must add that the two last are bordering on a great +danger for the defensive. + +But if it is a question of exposing an inferior corps to the risk of +being sacrificed for the benefit of the whole, then these conditions +disappear, and the only point to decide is whether by such a sacrifice +a greater evil may be avoided. This will seldom happen; at the same +time it is certainly not inconceivable. The entrenched camp at Pirna +prevented Frederick the Great from attacking Bohemia, as he would have +done, in the year 1756. The Austrians were at that time so little +prepared, that the loss of that kingdom appears beyond doubt; and +perhaps, a greater loss of men would have been connected with it than +the 17,000 allied troops who capitulated in the Pirna camp. + +_c._ If none of those possibilities specified under _a_ and _b_ are in +favour of the aggressor; if, therefore, the conditions which we have +there laid down for the defensive are fulfilled, then there remains +certainly nothing to be done by the assailant but to fix himself before +the position, like a setter before a covey of birds, to spread himself, +perhaps, as much as possible by detachments over the country, and +contenting himself with these small and indecisive advantages to leave +the real decision as to the possession of territory to the future. In +this case the position has fulfilled its object. + +3. _Entrenched camps near fortresses._—They belong, as already said, to +the class of entrenched positions generally, in so far, as they have +for their object to cover not a tract of territory, but an armed force +against a hostile attack, and only differ in reality from the other in +this, that with the fortress they make up an inseparable whole, by +which they naturally acquire much greater strength. + +But there follows further from the above the undermentioned special +points. + +_a._ That they may also have the particular object of rendering the +siege of the fortress either impossible or extremely difficult. This +object may be worth a great sacrifice of troops if the place is a port +which cannot be blockaded, but in any other case we have to take care +lest the place is one which may be reduced by hunger so soon that the +sacrifice of any considerable number of troops is not justifiable. + +_b._ Entrenched camps can be formed near fortresses for smaller bodies +of troops than those in the open field. Four or five thousand men may +be invincible under the walls of a fortress, when, on the contrary, in +the strongest camp in the world, formed in the open field, they would +be lost. + +_c._ They may be used for the assembly and organisation of forces which +have still too little solidity to be trusted in contact with the enemy, +without the support afforded by the works of the place, as for example, +recruits, militia, national levies, etc. + +They might, therefore, be recommended as a very useful measure, in many +ways, if they had not the immense disadvantage of injuring the +fortress, more or less, when they cannot be occupied; and to provide +the fortress always with a garrison, in some measure sufficient to +occupy the camp also, would be much too onerous a condition. + +We are, therefore, very much inclined to consider them only advisable +for places on a sea coast, and as more injurious than useful in all +other cases. + +If, in conclusion, we should summarise our opinion in a general view, +then strong and entrenched positions are— + +1. The more requisite the smaller the country, the less the space +afforded for a retreat. + +2. The less dangerous the more surely we can reckon on succouring or +relieving them by other forces, or by the inclemency of season, or by a +rising of the nation, or by want, &c. + +3. The more efficacious, the weaker the elementary force of the enemy’s +attack. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. Flank Positions + +We have only allotted to this prominent conception, in the world of +ordinary military theory, a special chapter in dictionary fashion, that +it may the more easily be found; for we do not believe that anything +independent in itself is denoted by the term. + +Every position which is to be held, even if the enemy passes by it, is +a flank position; for from the moment that he does so it can have no +other efficacy but that which it exercises on the enemy’s strategic +flank. Therefore, necessarily, all _strong positions_ are flank +positions as well; for as they cannot be attacked, the enemy +accordingly is driven to pass them by, therefore they can only have a +value by their influence on his strategic flank. The direction of the +proper front of a strong position is quite immaterial, whether it runs +parallel with the enemy’s strategic flank, as Colberg, or at right +angles as Bunzelwitz and Drissa, for a strong position must front every +way. + +But it may also be desirable still to maintain a position which is +_not_ unassailable, even if the enemy passes by it, should its +situation, for instance, give us such a preponderating advantage in the +comparative relations of the lines of retreat and communication, that +we can not only make an efficacious attack on the strategic flank of +the advancing enemy, but also that the enemy alarmed for his own +retreat is unable to seize ours entirely; for if that last is not the +case, then because our position is not a strong, that is not an +_unassailable one_, we should run the risk of being obliged to fight +without having the command of any retreat. + +The year 1806 affords an example which throws a light on this. The +disposition of the Prussian army, on the right bank of the Saal, might +in respect to Buonaparte’s advance by Hof, have become in every sense a +flank position, if the army had been drawn up with its front parallel +to the Saal, and there, in that position, waited the progress of +events. + +If there had not been here such a disproportion of moral and physical +powers, if there had only been a Daun at the head of the French army, +then the Prussian position might have shown its efficacy by a most +brilliant result. To pass it by was quite impossible; that was +acknowledged by Buonaparte, by his resolution to attack it; in severing +from it the line of retreat even Buonaparte himself did not +_completely_ succeed, and if the disproportion in physical and moral +relations had not been quite so great, that would have been just as +little practicable as the passing it by, for the Prussian army was in +much less danger from its left wing being overpowered than the French +army would have been by the defeat of their left wing. Even with the +disproportion of physical and moral power as it existed, a resolute and +sagacious exercise of the command would still have given great hopes of +a victory. There was nothing to prevent the Duke of Brunswick from +making arrangements on the 13th, so that on the morning of the 14th, at +day-break, he might have opposed 80,000 men to the 60,000 with which +Buonaparte passed the Saal, near Jena and Dornburg. Had even this +superiority in numbers, and the steep valley of the Saal behind the +French not been sufficient to procure a decisive victory, still it was +a fortunate concurrence of circumstances, and if with such advantages +no successful decision could be gained, no decision was to be expected +in that district of country; and we should, therefore, have retreated +further, in order to gain reinforcements and weaken the enemy. + +The Prussian position on the Saal, therefore, although assailable, +might have been regarded as a flank position in respect to the great +road through Hof; but like every position which can be attacked, that +property is not to be attributed to it absolutely, because it would +only have become so if the enemy had not attempted to attack it. + +Still less would it bespeak a clear idea if those positions which +_cannot_ be maintained after the enemy has passed by them, and from +which, in consequence of that, the defensive seeks to attack the +assailant’s flank, were called _flank positions_ merely because his +attack is directed against a flank; for this flank attack has hardly +anything to do with the position itself, or, at least, is not mainly +produced by its properties, as is the case in the action against a +strategic flank. + +It appears from this that there is nothing new to establish with regard +to the properties of a flank position. A few words only on the +character of the measure may properly be introduced here; we set aside, +however, completely strong positions in the true sense, as we have said +enough about them already. + +A flank position which is not assailable is an extremely efficacious +instrument, but certainly just on that account a dangerous one. If the +assailant is checked by it, then we have obtained a great effect by a +small expenditure of force; it is the pressure of the finger on the +long lever of a sharp bit. But if the effect is too insignificant, if +the assailant is not stopped, then the defensive has more or less +imperilled his retreat, and must seek to escape either in haste and by +a detour—consequently under very unfavourable circumstances, or he is +in danger of being compelled to fight without any line of retreat being +open to him. Against a bold adversary, having the moral superiority, +and seeking a decisive solution, this means is therefore extremely +hazardous and entirely out of place, as shown by the example of 1806 +above quoted. On the other hand, when used against a cautious opponent +in a war of mere observation, it may be reckoned one of the best means +which the defensive can adopt. The Duke Ferdinand’s defence of the +Weser by his position on the left bank, and the well-known positions of +Schmotseifen and Landshut are examples of this; only the latter, it is +true, by the catastrophe which befell Fouqué’s corps in 1760, also +shows the danger of a false application. + + + +CHAPTER XV. Defence of Mountains + +The influence of mountains on the conduct of war is very great; the +subject, therefore, is very important for theory. As this influence +introduces into action a retarding principle, it belongs chiefly to the +defensive. We shall therefore discuss it here in a wider sense than +that conveyed by the simple conception, defence of mountains. As we +have discovered in our consideration of the subject results which run +counter to general opinion in many points, we shall therefore be +obliged to enter into rather an elaborate analysis of it. + +We shall first examine the tactical nature of the subject, in order to +gain the point where it connects itself with strategy. + +The endless difficulty attending the march of large columns on mountain +roads, the extraordinary strength which a small post obtains by a steep +scarp covering its front, and by ravines right and left supporting its +flanks, are unquestionably the principal causes why such efficacy and +strength are universally attributed to the defence of mountains, so +that nothing but the peculiarities in armament and tactics at certain +periods has prevented large masses of combatants from engaging in it. + +When a column, winding like a serpent, toils its way through narrow +ravines up to the top of a mountain, and passes over it at a snail’s +pace, artillery and train-drivers, with oaths and shouts, flogging +their over-driven cattle through the narrow rugged roads, each broken +waggon has to be got out of the way with indescribable trouble, whilst +all behind are detained, cursing and blaspheming, every one then thinks +to himself, Now if the enemy should appear with only a few hundred men, +he might disperse the whole. From this has originated the expression +used by historical writers, when they describe a narrow pass as a place +where “a handful of men might keep an army in check.” At the same time, +every one who has had any experience in war knows, or ought to know, +that such a march through mountains has little or nothing in common +with _the attack_ of these same mountains, and that therefore to infer +from the _difficulty_ of marching through mountains that the difficulty +of attacking them must be much greater is a false conclusion. + +It is natural enough that an inexperienced person should thus argue, +and it is almost as natural that the art of war itself for a certain +time should have been entangled in the same error, for the fact which +it related to was almost as new at that time to those accustomed to war +as to the uninitiated. Before the Thirty Years’ War, owing to the deep +order of battle, the numerous cavalry, the rude fire-arms, and other +peculiarities, it was quite unusual to make use of formidable obstacles +of ground in war, and a formal defence of mountains, at least by +regular troops, was almost impossible. It was not until a more extended +order of battle was introduced, and that infantry and their arms became +the chief part of an army, that the use which might be made of hills +and valleys occurred to men’s minds. But it was not until a hundred +years afterwards, or about the middle of the eighteenth century, that +the idea became fully developed. + +The second circumstance, namely, the great defensive capability which +might be given to a small post planted on a point difficult of access, +was still more suited to lead to an exaggerated idea of the strength of +mountain defences. The opinion arose that it was only necessary to +multiply such a post by a certain number to make an army out of a +battalion, a chain of mountains out of a mountain. + +It is undeniable that a small post acquires an extraordinary strength +by selecting a good position in a mountainous country. A small +detatchment, which would be driven off in the level country by a couple +of squadrons, and think itself lucky to save itself from rout or +capture by a hasty retreat, can in the mountains stand up before a +whole army, and, as one might say, with a kind of tactical effrontery +exact the military honour of a regular attack, of having its flank +turned, etc., etc. How it obtains this defensive power, by obstacles to +approach, _points d’appui_ for its flanks, and new positions which it +finds on its retreat, is a subject for tactics to explain; we accept it +as an established fact. + +It was very natural to believe that a number of such posts placed in a +line would give a very strong, almost unassailable front, and all that +remained to be done was to prevent the position from being turned by +extending it right and left until either flank-supports were met with +commensurate with the importance of the whole, or until the extent of +the position itself gave security against turning movements. A +mountainous country specially invites such a course by presenting such +a succession of defensive positions, each one apparently better than +another, that one does not know where to stop; and therefore it ended +in all and every approach to the mountains within a certain distance +being guarded, with a view to defence, and ten or fifteen single posts, +thus spread over a space of about ten miles or more, were supposed to +bid defiance to that odious turning movement. Now as the connection +between these posts was considered sufficiently secure by the +intervening spaces, being ground of an impassable nature (columns at +that time not being able to quit the regular roads), it was thought a +wall of brass was thus presented to the enemy. As an extra precaution, +a few battalions, some horse artillery, and a dozen squadrons of +cavalry, formed a reserve to provide against the event of the line +being unexpectedly burst through at any point. + +No one will deny that the prevalence of this idea is shown by history, +and it is not certain that at this day we are completely emancipated +from these errors. + +The course of improvement in tactics since the Middle Ages, with the +ever increasing strength of armies, likewise contributed to bring +mountainous districts in this sense more within the scope of military +action. + +The chief characteristic of mountain defence is its complete passivity; +in this light the tendency towards the defence of mountains was very +natural before armies attained to their present capability of movement. +But armies were constantly becoming greater, and on account of the +effect of fire-arms began to extend more and more into long thin lines +connected with a great deal of art, and on that account very difficult, +often almost impossible, to move. To dispose, in order of battle, such +an artistic machine, was often half a day’s work, and half the battle; +and almost all which is now attended to in the preliminary plan of the +battle was included in this first disposition or drawing up. After this +work was done it was therefore difficult to make any modifications to +suit new circumstances which might spring up; from this it followed +that the assailant, being the last to form his line of battle, +naturally adapted it to the order of battle adopted by the enemy, +without the latter being able in turn to modify his in accordance. The +attack thus acquired a general superiority, and the defensive had no +other means of reinstating the balance than that of seeking protection +from the impediments of ground, and for this nothing was so favourable +in general as mountainous ground. Thus it became an object to couple, +as it were, the army with a formidable obstacle of ground, and the two +united then made common cause. The battalion defended the mountain, and +the mountain the battalion; so the passive defence through the aid of +mountainous ground became highly efficacious, and there was no other +evil in the thing itself except that it entailed a greater loss of +freedom of movement, but of that quality they did not understand the +particular use at that time. + +When two antagonistic systems act upon each other, the exposed, that +is, the weak point on the one side always draws upon itself the blows +from the other side. If the defensive becomes fixed, and as it were, +spell-bound in posts, which are in themselves strong, and can not be +taken, the aggressor then becomes bold in turning movements, because he +has no apprehension about his own flanks. This is what took place—The +_turning_, as it was called, soon became the order of the day: to +counteract this, positions were extended more and more; they were thus +weakened in front, and the offensive suddenly turned upon that part: +instead of trying to outflank by extending, the assailant now +concentrated his masses for attack at some one point, and the line was +broken. This is nearly what took place in regard to mountain defences +according to the latest modern history. + +The offensive had thus again gained a preponderance through the greater +mobility of troops; and it was only through the same means that the +defence could seek for help. But mountainous ground by its nature is +opposed to mobility, and thus the whole theory of mountain defence +experienced, if we may use the expression, a defeat like that which the +armies engaged in it in the Revolutionary war so often suffered. + +But that we may not reject the good with the bad, and allow ourselves +to be carried along by the stream of commonplace to assertions which, +in actual experience, would be refuted a thousand times by the force of +circumstances, we must distinguish the effects of mountain defence +according to the nature of the cases. + +The principal question to be decided here, and that which throws the +greatest light over the whole subject is, whether the resistance which +is intended by the defence of mountains is to be _relative_ or +_absolute_—whether it is only intended to last for a time, or is meant +to end in a decisive victory. For a resistance of the first kind +mountainous ground is in a high degree suitable, and introduces into it +a very powerful element of strength; for one of the latter kind, on the +contrary, it is in general not at all suitable, or only so in some +special cases. + +In mountains every movement is slower and more difficult, costs also +more time, and more men as well, if within the sphere of danger. But +the loss of the assailant in time and men is the standard by which the +defensive resistance is measured. As long as the movement is all on the +side of the offensive so long the defensive has a marked advantage; but +as soon as the defensive resorts to this principle of movement also, +that advantage ceases. Now from the nature of the thing, that is to +say, on tactical grounds, a relative resistance allows of a much +greater degree of passivity than one which is intended to lead to a +decisive result, and it allows this passivity to be carried to an +extreme, that is, to the end of the combat, which in the other case can +never happen. The impeding element of mountain ground, which as a +medium of greater density weakens all positive activity, is, therefore, +completely suited to the passive defence. + +We have already said that a small post acquires an extraordinary +strength by the nature of the ground; but although this tactical result +in general requires no further proof, we must add to what we have said +some explanation. We must be careful here to draw a distinction between +what is relatively and what is absolutely small. If a body of troops, +let its size be what it may, isolates a portion of itself in a +position, this portion may possibly be exposed to the attack of the +whole body of the enemy’s troops, therefore of a superior force, in +opposition to which it is itself small. There, as a rule, no absolute +but only a relative defence can be the object. The smaller the post in +relation to the whole body from which it is detached and in relation to +the whole body of the enemy, the more this applies. + +But a post also which is small in an absolute sense, that is, one which +is not opposed by an enemy superior to itself, and which, therefore, +may aspire to an absolute defence, a real victory, will be infinitely +better off in mountains than a large army, and can derive more +advantage from the ground as we shall show further on. + +Our conclusion, therefore, is, that a small post in mountains possesses +great strength. How this may be of decisive utility in all cases which +depend entirely on a _relative_ defence is plain of itself; but will it +be of the same decisive utility for the _absolute_ defence by a whole +army? This is the question which we now propose to examine. + +First of all we ask whether a front line composed of several posts has, +as has hitherto been assumed, the same strength proportionally as each +post singly. This is certainly not the case, and to suppose so would +involve one of two errors. + +In the first place, a country _without roads_ is often confounded with +one which is _quite impassable_. Where a column, or where artillery and +cavalry cannot _march_, infantry may still, in general, be able to +pass, and even artillery may often be brought there as well, for the +movements made in a battle by excessive efforts of short duration are +not to be judged of by the same scale as marches. The secure connection +of the single posts with one another rests therefore on an illusion, +and the flanks are in reality in danger. + +Or next it is supposed, a line of small posts, which are very strong in +front, are also equally strong on their flanks, because a ravine, a +precipice, etc., etc., form excellent supports for a small post. But +why are they so?—not because they make it impossible to turn the post, +but because they cause the enemy an expenditure of time and of force, +which gives scope for the effectual action of the post. The enemy who, +in spite of the difficulty of the ground, wishes, and in fact is +obliged, to turn such a post, because the front is unassailable +requires, perhaps, half-a-day to execute his purpose, and cannot after +all accomplish it without some loss of men. Now if such a post can be +succoured, or if it is only designed to resist for a certain space of +time, or lastly, if it is able to cope with the enemy, then the flank +supports have done their part, and we may say the position had not only +a strong front, but strong flanks as well. But it is not the same if it +is a question of a line of posts, forming part of an extended mountain +position. None of these three conditions are realised in that case. The +enemy attacks one point with an overwhelming force, the support in rear +is perhaps slight, and yet it is a question of absolute resistance. +Under such circumstances the flank supports of such posts are worth +nothing. + +Upon a weak point like this the attack usually directs its blows. The +assault with concentrated, and therefore very superior forces, upon a +point in front, may certainly _be met by a resistance, which is very +violent as regards that point, but which is unimportant as regards the +whole._ After it is overcome, the line is pierced, and the object of +the attack attained. + +From this it follows that the relative resistance in mountain warfare +is, in general, greater than in a level country, that it is +comparatively greatest in small posts, and does not increase in the +same measure as the masses increase. + +Let us now turn to the real object of great battles generally—to the +_positive victory_ which may also be the object in the defence of +mountains. If the whole mass, or the principal part of the force, is +employed for that purpose, then _the defence of mountains_ changes +itself _eo ipso_ into a _defensive battle in the mountains_. A battle, +that is the application of all our powers to the destruction of the +enemy is now the form, a victory the object of the combat. The defence +of mountains which takes place in this combat, appears now a +subordinate consideration, for it is no longer the object, it is only +the means. Now in this view, how does the ground in mountains answer to +the object? + +The character of a defensive battle is a passive reaction in front, and +an increased active reaction in rear; but for this the ground in +mountains is a paralysing principle. There are two reasons for this: +first, want of roads affording means of rapidly moving in all +directions, from the rear towards the front, and even the sudden +tactical attack is hampered by the unevenness of ground; secondly, a +free view over the country, and the enemy’s movements is not to be had. +The ground in mountains, therefore, ensures in this case to the enemy +the same advantages which it gave to us in the front, and deadens all +the better half of the resistance. To this is to be added a third +objection, namely the danger of being cut off. Much as a mountainous +country is favourable to a retreat, made under a pressure exerted along +the whole front, and great as may be the loss of time to an enemy who +makes a turning movement in such a country, still these again are only +advantages in the case of a _relative defence_, advantages which have +no connection with the decisive battle, the resistance to the last +extremity. The resistance will last certainly somewhat longer, that is +until the enemy has reached a point with his flank-columns which +menaces or completely bars our retreat. Once he has gained such a point +then relief is a thing hardly possible. No act of the offensive which +we can make from the rear can drive him out again from the _points +which threaten us;_ no desperate assault with our whole mass can clear +the passage _which he blocks_. Whoever thinks he discovers in this a +contradiction, and believes that the advantages which the assailant has +in mountain warfare, must also accrue to the defensive in an attempt to +cut his way through, forgets the difference of circumstances. The corps +which opposes the passage is not engaged in an _absolute_ defence, a +few hours’ resistance will probably be sufficient; it is, therefore, in +the situation of a small post. Besides this, its opponent is no longer +in full possession of all his fighting powers; he is thrown into +disorder, wants ammunition, etc. Therefore, in any view, the chance of +cutting through is small, and this is the danger that the defensive +fears above all; this fear is at work even during the battle, and +enervates every fibre of the struggling athlete. A nervous sensibility +springs up on the flanks, and every small detachment which the +aggressor makes a display of on any wooded eminence in our rear, is for +him a new lever, helping on the victory. + +These disadvantages will, for the most part, disappear, leaving all the +advantages, if the defence of a mountain district consists in the +concentrated disposition of the army on an extensive mountain plateau. +There we may imagine a very strong front; flanks very difficult of +approach, and yet the most perfect freedom of movement, both within and +in rear of the position. Such a position would be one of the strongest +that there can be, but it is little more than an illusion, for although +most mountains are more easily traversed along their crests than on +their declivities, yet most plateaux of mountains are either too small +for such a purpose, or they have no proper right to be called plateaux, +and are so termed more in a geological, than in a geometrical sense. + +For smaller bodies of troops, the disadvantages of a defensive position +in mountains diminish as we have already remarked. The cause of this +is, that such bodies take up less space, and require fewer roads for +retreat, etc., etc. A single hill is not a mountain system, and has not +the same disadvantages. The smaller the force, the more easily it can +establish itself on a single ridge or hill, and the less will be the +necessity for it to get entangled in the intricacies of countless steep +mountain gorges. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Defence of Mountains (_Continued_) + +We now proceed to the strategic use of the tactical results developed +in the preceding chapter. We make a distinction between the following +points: + +1. A mountainous district as a battle-field. + +2. The influence which the possession of it exercises on other parts of +the country. + +3. Its effect as a strategic barrier. + +4. The attention which it demands in respect to the supply of the +troops. + +The first and most important of these heads, we must again subdivide as +follows: + +_a._ A general action. + +_b._ Inferior combats. + +1. A mountain system as a battle-field. + + +We have shown in the preceding chapter how unfavourable _mountain +ground_ is to the defensive in a _decisive battle_, and, on the other +hand, how much it favours the assailant. This runs exactly counter to +the generally received opinion; but then how many other things there +are which general opinion confuses; how little does it draw +distinctions between things which are of the most opposite nature! From +the powerful resistance which small bodies of troops may offer in a +mountainous country, common opinion becomes impressed with an idea that +all mountain defence is extremely strong, and is astonished when any +one denies that this great strength is communicated to the greatest act +of all defence, the defensive battle. On the other hand, it is +instantly ready, whenever a battle is lost by the defensive in mountain +warfare, to point out the inconceivable error of a system of cordon +war, without any regard to the fact that in the nature of things such a +system is unavoidable in mountain warfare. We do not hesitate to put +ourselves in direct opposition to such an opinion, and at the same time +we must mention, that to our great satisfaction, we have found our +views supported in the works of an author whose opinion ought to have +great weight in this matter; we allude to the history of the campaigns +of 1796 and 1797, by the Archduke Charles, himself a good historical +writer, a good critic, and above all, a good general. + +We can only characterise it as a lamentable position when the weaker +defender, who has laboriously, by the greatest effort, assembled all +his forces, in order to make the assailant feel the effect of his love +of Fatherland, of his enthusiasm and his ability, in a decisive battle +when he on whom every eye is fixed in anxious expectation, having +betaken himself to the obscurity of thickly veiled mountains, and +hampered in every movement by the obstinate ground, stands exposed to +the thousand possible forms of attack which his powerful adversary can +use against him. Only towards one single side is there still left an +open field for his intelligence, and that is in making all possible use +of every obstacle of ground; but this leads close to the borders of the +disastrous war of cordons, which, under all circumstances, is to be +avoided. Very far therefore from seeing a refuge for the defensive, in +a mountainous country, when a decisive battle is sought, we should +rather advise a general in such a case to avoid such a field by every +possible means. + +It is true, however, that this is sometimes impossible; but the battle +will then necessarily have a very different character from one in a +level country: the disposition of the troops will be much more extended +in most cases twice or three times the length; the resistance more +passive, the counter blow much less effective. These are influences of +mountain ground which are inevitable; still, in such a battle the +defensive is not to be converted into a mere defence of mountains; the +predominating character must be a concentrated order of battle in the +mountains, in which everything unites into _one_ battle, and passes as +much as possible under the eye of _one_ commander, and in which there +are sufficient reserves to make the decision something more than a mere +warding off, a mere holding up of the shield. This condition is +indispensable, but difficult to realise; and the drifting into the pure +defence of mountains comes so naturally, that we cannot be surprised at +its often happening; the danger in this is so great that theory cannot +too urgently raise a warning voice. + +Thus much as to a decisive battle with the main body of the army. + +For combats of minor significance and importance, a mountainous +country, on the other hand, may be very favourable, because the main +point in them is not absolute defence, and because no decisive results +are coupled with them. We may make this plainer by enumerating the +objects of this reaction. + +_a._ Merely to gain time. This motive occurs a hundred times: always in +the case of a defensive line formed with the view of observation; +besides that, in all cases in which a reinforcement is expected. + +_b._ The repulse of a mere demonstration or minor enterprise of the +enemy. If a province is guarded by mountains which are defended by +troops, then this defence, however weak, will always suffice to prevent +partisan attacks and expeditions intended to plunder the country. +Without the mountains, such a weak chain of posts would be useless. + +_c._ To make demonstrations on our own part. It will be some time yet +before general opinion with respect to mountains will be brought to the +right point; until then an enemy may at any time be met with who is +afraid of them, and shrinks back from them in his undertakings. In such +a case, therefore, the principal body may also be used for the defence +of a mountain system. In wars carried on with little energy or +movement, this state of things will often happen; but it must always be +a condition then that we neither design to accept a general action in +this mountain position, nor can be compelled to do so. + +_d._ In general, a mountainous country is suited for all positions in +which we do not intend to accept any great battle, for each of the +separate parts of the army is stronger there, and it is only the whole +that is weaker; besides, in such a position, it is not so easy to be +suddenly attacked and forced into a decisive battle. + +_e._ Lastly, a mountainous country is the true region for the efforts +of a people in arms. But while national risings should always be +supported by small bodies of regular troops, on the other hand, the +proximity of a great army seems to have an unfavourable effect upon +movements of this kind; this motive, therefore, as a rule, will never +give occasion for transferring the whole army to the mountains. + +Thus much for mountains in connection with the positions which may be +taken up there for battle. + +2. The influence of mountains on other parts of the country. + + +Because, as we have seen, it is so easy in mountainous ground to secure +a considerable tract of territory by small posts, so weak in numbers +that in a district easily traversed they could not maintain themselves, +and would be continually exposed to danger; because every step forward +in mountains which have been occupied by the enemy must be made much +more slowly than in a level country, and therefore cannot be made at +the same rate with him therefore the question, Who is in possession? is +also much more important in reference to mountains than to any other +tract of country of equal extent. In an open country, the possession +may change from day to day. The mere advance of strong detachments +compels the enemy to give up the country we want to occupy. But it is +not so in mountains; there a very stout resistance is possible by much +inferior forces, and for that reason, if we require a portion of +country which includes mountains, enterprises of a special nature, +formed for the purpose, and often necessitating a considerable +expenditure of time as well as of men, are always required in order to +obtain possession. If, therefore, the mountains of a country are not +the theatre of the principal operations of a war, we cannot, as we +should were it the case of a district of level country, look upon the +possession of the mountains as dependent on and a necessary consequence +of our success at other parts. + +A mountainous district has therefore much more independence, and the +possession of it is much firmer and less liable to change. If we add to +this that a ridge of mountains from its crests affords a good view over +the adjacent open country, whilst it remains itself veiled in +obscurity, we may therefore conceive that when we are close to +mountains, without being in actual possession of them, they are to be +regarded as a constant source of disadvantage a sort of laboratory of +hostile forces; and this will be the case in a still greater degree if +the mountains are not only occupied by the enemy, but also form part of +his territory. The smallest bodies of adventurous partisans always find +shelter there if pursued, and can then sally forth again with impunity +at other points; the largest bodies, under their cover, can approach +unperceived, and our forces must, therefore, always keep at a +sufficient distance if they would avoid getting within reach of their +dominating influence if they would not be exposed to disadvantageous +combats and sudden attacks which they cannot return. + +In this manner every mountain system, as far as a certain distance, +exercises a very great influence over the lower and more level country +adjacent to it. Whether this influence shall take effect momentarily, +for instance in a battle (as at Maltsch on the Rhine, 1796) or only +after some time upon the lines of communication, depends on the local +relations; whether or not it shall be overcome through some decisive +event happening in the valley or level country, depends on the +relations of the armed forces to each other respectively. + +Buonaparte, in 1805 and 1809, advanced upon Vienna without troubling +himself much about the Tyrol; but Moreau had to leave Swabia in 1796, +chiefly because he was not master of the more elevated parts of the +country, and too many troops were required to watch them. In campaigns, +in which there is an evenly balanced series of alternate successes on +each side, we shall not expose ourselves to the constant disadvantage +of the mountains remaining in possession of the enemy: we need, +therefore, only endeavour to seize and retain possession of that +portion of them which is required on account of the direction of the +principal lines of our attack; this generally leads to the mountains +being the arena of the separate minor combats which take place between +forces on each side. But we must be careful of overrating the +importance of this circumstance, and being led to consider a +mountain-chain as the key to the whole in all cases, and its possession +as the main point. When a victory is the object sought; then it is the +principal, object; and if the victory is gained, other things can be +regulated according to the paramount requirement of the situation. + +3. Mountains considered in their aspect of a strategic barrier. + + +We must divide this subject under two heads. + +The first is again that of a decisive battle. We can, for instance, +consider the mountain chain as a river, that is, as a barrier with +certain points of passage, which may afford us an opportunity of +gaining a victory, because the enemy will be compelled by it to divide +his forces in advancing, and is tied down to certain roads, which will +enable us with our forces concentrated behind the mountains to fall +upon fractions of his force. As the assailant on his march through the +mountains, irrespective of all other considerations, cannot march in a +single column because he would thus expose himself to the danger of +getting engaged in a decisive battle with only one line of retreat, +therefore, the defensive method recommends itself certainly on +substantial grounds. But as the conception of mountains and their +outlets is very undefined, the question of adopting this plan depends +entirely on the nature of the country itself, and it can only be +pointed out as possible whilst it must also be considered as attended +with two disadvantages, the first is, that if the enemy receives a +severe blow, he soon finds shelter in the mountains; the second is, +that he is in possession of the higher ground, which, although not +decisive, must still always be regarded as a disadvantage for the +pursuer. + +We know of no battle given under such circumstances unless the battle +with Alvinzi in 1796 can be so classed. But that the case _may_ occur +is plain from Buonaparte’s passage of the Alps in the year 1800, when +Melas might and should have fallen on him with his whole force before +he had united his columns. + +The second influence which mountains may have as a barrier is that +which they have upon the lines of communication if they cross those +lines. Without taking into account what may be done by erecting forts +at the points of passage and by arming the people, the bad roads in +mountains at certain seasons of the year may of themselves alone prove +at once destructive to an army; they have frequently compelled a +retreat after having first sucked all the marrow and blood out of the +army. If, in addition, troops of active partisans hover round, or there +is a national rising to add to the difficulties, then the enemy’s army +is obliged to make large detachments, and at last driven to form strong +posts in the mountains and thus gets engaged in one of the most +disadvantageous situations that can be in an offensive war. + +4. Mountains in their relation to the provisioning of an army. + + +This is a very simple subject, easy to understand. The opportunity to +make the best use of them in this respect is when the assailant is +either obliged to remain in the mountains, or at least to leave them +close in his rear. + +These considerations on the defence of mountains, which, in the main, +embrace all mountain warfare, and, by their reflection, throw also the +necessary light on offensive war, must not be deemed incorrect or +impracticable because we can neither make plains out of mountains, nor +hills out of plains, and the choice of a theatre of war is determined +by so many other things that it appears as if there was little margin +left for considerations of this kind. In affairs of magnitude it will +be found that this margin is not so small. If it is a question of the +disposition and effective employment of the principal force, and that, +even in the moment of a decisive battle, by a few marches more to the +front or rear an army can be brought out of mountain ground into the +level country, then a resolute concentration of the chief masses in the +plain will neutralise the adjoining mountains. + +We shall now once more collect the light which has been thrown on the +subject, and bring it to a focus in one distinct picture. + +We maintain and believe we have shown, that mountains, both tactically +and strategically, are in general unfavourable to the defensive, +meaning thereby, that kind of defensive which is _decisive_, on the +result of which the question of the possession or loss of the country +depends. They limit the view and prevent movements in every direction; +they force a state of passivity, and make it necessary to stop every +avenue or passage, which always leads more or less to a war of cordons. +We should therefore, if possible, avoid mountains with the principal +mass of our force, and leave them on one side, or keep them before or +behind us. + +At the same time, we think that, for minor operations and objects, +there is an element of increased strength to be found in mountain +ground; and after what has been said, we shall not be accused of +inconsistency in maintaining that such a country is the real place of +refuge for the weak, that is, for those who dare not any longer seek an +absolute decision. On the other hand again, the advantages derived from +a mountainous country by troops acting an inferior rôle cannot be +participated in by large masses of troops. + +Still all these considerations will hardly counteract the impressions +made on the senses. The imagination not only of the inexperienced but +also of all those accustomed to bad methods of war will still feel in +the concrete case such an overpowering dread of the difficulties which +the inflexible and retarding nature of mountainous ground opposes to +all the movements of an assailant, that they will hardly be able to +look upon our opinion as anything but a most singular paradox. Then +again, with those who take a general view, the history of the last +century (with its peculiar form of war) will take the place of the +impressions of the senses, and therefore there will be but few who will +not still adhere to the belief that Austria, for example, should be +better able to defend her states on the Italian side than on the side +of the Rhine. On the other hand, the French who carried on war for +twenty years under a leader both energetic and indifferent to minor +considerations, and have constantly before their eyes the successful +results thus obtained, will, for some time to come, distinguish +themselves in this as well as in other cases by the tact of a practised +judgment. + +Does it follow from this that a state would be better protected by an +open country than by mountains, that Spain would be stronger without +the Pyrenees; Lombardy more difficult of access without the Alps, and a +level country such as North Germany more difficult to conquer than a +mountainous country? To these false deductions we shall devote our +concluding remarks. + +We do not assert that Spain would be stronger without the Pyrenees than +_with_ them, but we say that a Spanish army, feeling itself strong +enough to engage in a decisive battle, would do better by concentrating +itself in a position behind the Ebro, than by fractioning itself +amongst the fifteen passes of the Pyrenees. But the influence of the +Pyrenees on war is very far from being set aside on that account. We +say the same respecting an Italian army. If it divided itself in the +High Alps it would be vanquished by each resolute commander it +encountered, without even the alternative of victory or defeat; whilst +in the plains of Turin it would have the same chance as every other +army. But still no one can on that account suppose that it is desirable +for an aggressor to have to march over masses of mountains such as the +Alps, and to leave them behind. Besides, a determination to accept a +great battle in the plains, by no means excludes a preliminary defence +of the mountains by subordinate forces, an arrangement very advisable +in respect to such masses as the Alps and Pyrenees. Lastly, it is far +from our intention to argue that the conquest of a mountainous country +is easier than that of a level(*) one, unless a single victory sufficed +to prostrate the enemy completely. After this victory ensues a state of +defence for the conqueror, during which the mountainous ground must be +as disadvantageous to the assailant as it was to the defensive, and +even more so. If the war continues, if foreign assistance arrives, if +the people take up arms, this reaction will gain strength from a +mountainous country. + +(*) As it is conceived that the words “_ebenen_” and “_gebirgigen_” in +this passage in the original have by some means become transposed, +their equivalents—_level_ and _mountainous_—are here placed in the +order in which it is presumed the author intended the words to +stand.—Tr. + + +It is here as in dioptrics, the image represented becomes more luminous +when moved in a certain direction, not, however, as far as one pleases, +but only until the focus is reached, beyond that the effect is +reversed. + +If the defensive is weaker in the mountains, that would seem to be a +reason for the assailant to prefer a line of operations in the +mountains. But this will seldom occur, because the difficulties of +supporting an army, and those arising from the roads, the uncertainty +as to whether the enemy will accept battle in the mountains, and even +whether he will take up a position there with his principal force, tend +to neutralise that possible advantage. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. Defence of Mountains (_continued_) + +In the fifteenth chapter we spoke of the nature of combats in +mountains, and in the sixteenth of the use to be made of them by +strategy, and in so doing we often came upon the idea of _mountain +defence_, without stopping to consider the form and details of such a +measure. We shall now examine it more closely. + +As mountain systems frequently extend like streaks or belts over the +surface of the earth, and form the division between streams flowing in +different directions, consequently the separation between whole water +systems, and as this general form repeats itself in the parts composing +that whole, inasmuch as these parts diverge from the main chain in +branches or ridges, and then form the separation between lesser water +systems; hence the idea of a system of mountain defence has naturally +founded itself in the first instance, and afterwards developed itself, +upon the conception of the general form of mountains, that of an +obstacle, like a great barrier, having greater length than breadth. +Although geologists are not yet agreed as to the origin of mountains +and the laws of their formation, still in every case the course of the +waters indicates in the shortest and surest manner the general form of +the system, whether the action of the water has contributed to give +that general form (according to the aqueous theory), or that the course +of the water is a consequence of the form of the system itself. It was, +therefore, very natural again, in devising a system of mountain +defence, to take the course of the waters as a guide, as those courses +form a natural series of levels, from which we can obtain both the +general height and the general profile of the mountain, while the +valleys formed by the streams present also the best means of access to +the heights, because so much of the effect of the erosive and alluvial +action of the water is permanent, that the inequalities of the slopes +of the mountain are smoothed down by it to one regular slope. Hence, +therefore, the idea of mountain defence would assume that, when a +mountain ran about parallel with the front to be defended, it was to be +regarded as a great obstacle to approach, as a kind of rampart, the +gates of which were formed by the valleys. The real defence was then to +be made on the crest of this rampart, (that is, on the edge of the +plateau which crowned the mountain) and cut the valleys transversely. +If the line of the principal mountain-chain formed somewhat of a right +angle with the front of defence, then one of the principal branches +would be selected to be used instead; thus the line chosen would be +parallel to one of the principal valleys, and run up to the principal +ridge, which might be regarded as the extremity. + +We have noticed this scheme for mountain defence founded on the +geological structure of the earth, because it really presented itself +in theory for some time, and in the so-called “theory of ground” the +laws of the process of aqueous action have been mixed up with the +conduct of war. + +But all this is so full of false hypotheses and incorrect +substitutions, that when these are abstracted, nothing in reality +remains to serve as the basis of any kind of a system. + +The principal ridges of real mountains are far too impracticable and +inhospitable to place large masses of troops upon them; it is often the +same with the adjacent ridges, they are often too short and irregular. +Plateaux do not exist on all mountain ridges, and where they are to be +found they are mostly narrow, and therefore unfit to accommodate many +troops; indeed, there are few mountains which, closely examined, will +be found surmounted by an uninterrupted ridge, or which have their +sides at such an angle that they form in some measure practicable +slopes, or, at least, a succession of terraces. The principal ridge +winds, bends, and splits itself; immense branches launch into the +adjacent country in curved lines, and lift themselves often just at +their termination to a greater height than the main ridge itself; +promontories then join on, and form deep valleys which do not +correspond with the general system. Thus it is that, when several lines +of mountains cross each other, or at those points from which they +branch out, the conception of a small band or belt is completely at an +end, and gives place to mountain and water lines radiating from a +centre in the form of a star. + +From this it follows, and it will strike those who have examined +mountain-masses in this manner the more forcibly, that the idea of a +systematic disposition is out of the question, and that to adhere to +such an idea as a fundamental principle for our measures would be +wholly impracticable. There is still one important point to notice +belonging to the province of practical application. + +If we look closely at mountain warfare in its tactical aspects, it is +evident that these are of two principal kinds, the first of which is +the defence of steep slopes, the second is that of narrow valleys. Now +this last, which is often, indeed almost generally, highly favourable +to the action of the defence, is not very compatible with the +disposition on the principal ridge, for the occupation of the valley +_itself_ is often required and that at its outer extremity nearest to +the open country, not at its commencement, because there its sides are +steeper. Besides, this defence of valleys offers a means of defending +mountainous districts, even when the ridge itself affords no position +which can be occupied; the rôle which it performs is, therefore, +generally greater in proportion as the masses of the mountains are +higher and more inaccessible. + +The result of all these considerations is, that we must entirely give +up the idea of a defensible line more or less regular, and coincident +with one of the geological lines, and must look upon a mountain range +as merely a surface intersected and broken with inequalities and +obstacles strewed over it in the most diversified manner, the features +of which we must try to make the best use of which circumstances +permit; that therefore, although a knowledge of the geological features +of the ground is indispensable to a clear conception of the form of +mountain masses, it is of little value in the organisation of defensive +measures. + +Neither in the war of the Austrian Succession, nor in the Seven Years’ +War, nor in those of the French Revolution, do we find military +dispositions which comprehended a whole mountain system, and in which +the defence was systematised in accordance with the leading features of +that system. Nowhere do we find armies on the principal ridges always +in position on the slopes. Sometimes at a greater, sometimes at a lower +elevation; sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another; parallel, +at right angles, and obliquely; with and against the watercourse; in +lofty mountains, such as the Alps, frequently extended along the +valleys; amongst mountains of a inferior class, like the Sudetics (and +this is the strangest anomaly), at the middle of the declivity, as it +sloped towards the defender, therefore with the principal ridge in +front, like the position in which Frederick the Great, in 1762, covered +the siege of Schwednitz, with the “hohe Eule” before the front of his +camp. + +The celebrated positions, Schmotseifen and Landshut, in the Seven +Years’ War, are for the most part in the bottoms of valleys. It is the +same with the position of Feldkirch, in the Vorarlsberg. In the +campaigns of 1799 and 1800, the chief posts, both of the French and +Austrians, were always quite in the valleys, not merely across them so +as to close them, but also parallel with them, whilst the ridges were +either not occupied at all, or merely by a few single posts. + +The crests of the higher Alps in particular are so difficult of access, +and afford so little space for the accommodation of troops, that it +would be impossible to place any considerable bodies of men there. Now +if we must positively have armies in mountains to keep possession of +them, there is nothing to be done but to place them in the valleys. At +first sight this appears erroneous, because, in accordance with the +prevalent theoretical ideas, it will be said, the heights command the +valleys. But that is really not the case. Mountain ridges are only +accessible by a few paths and rude tracks, with a few exceptions only +passable for infantry, whilst the carriage roads are in the valleys. +The enemy can only appear there at certain points with infantry; but in +these mountain masses the distances are too great for any effective +fire of small arms, and therefore a position in the valleys is less +dangerous than it appears. At the same time, the valley defence is +exposed to another great danger, that of being cut off. The enemy can, +it is true, only descend into the valley with infantry, at certain +points, slowly and with great exertion; he cannot, therefore, take us +by surprise; but none of the positions we have in the valley defend the +outlets of such paths into the valley. The enemy can, therefore, bring +down large masses gradually, then spread out, and burst through the +thin and from that moment weak line, which, perhaps, has nothing more +for its protection than the rocky bed of a shallow mountain-stream. But +now retreat, which must always be made piecemeal in a valley, until the +outlet from the mountains is reached, is impossible for many parts of +the line of troops; and that was the reason that the Austrians in +Switzerland almost always lost a third, or a half of their troops taken +prisoners.— + +Now a few words on the usual way of dividing troops in such a method of +defence. + +Each of the subordinate positions is in relation with a position taken +up by the principal body of troops, more or less in the centre of the +whole line, on the principal road of approach. From this central +position, other corps are detached right and left to occupy the most +important points of approach, and thus the whole is disposed in a line, +as it were, of three, four, five, six posts, &c. How far this +fractioning and extension of the line shall be carried, must depend on +the requirements of each individual case. An extent of a couple of +marches, that is, six to eight miles is of moderate length, and we have +seen it carried as far as twenty or thirty miles. + +Between each of these separate posts, which are one or two leagues from +each other, there will probably be some approaches of inferior +importance, to which afterwards attention must be directed. Some very +good posts for a couple of battalions each are selected, which form a +good connection between the chief posts, and they are occupied. It is +easy to see that the distribution of the force may be carried still +further, and go down to posts occupied only by single companies and +squadrons; and this has often happened. There are, therefore, in this +no general limits to the extent of fractioning. On the other hand, the +strength of each post must depend on the strength of the whole; and +therefore we can say nothing as to the possible or natural degree which +should be observed with regard to the strength of the principal posts. +We shall only append, as a guide, some maxims which are drawn from +experience and the nature of the case. + +1. The more lofty and inaccessible the mountains are, so much the +further this separation of divisions of the force not only may be, _but +also must be_, carried; for the less any portion of a country can be +kept secure by combinations dependent on the movement of troops, so +much the more must the security be obtained by direct covering. The +defence of the Alps requires a much greater division of force, and +therefore approaches nearer to the cordon system, than the defence of +the Vosges or the Giant mountains. + +2. Hitherto, wherever defence of mountains has taken place, such a +division of the force employed has been made that the chief posts have +generally consisted of only one line of infantry, and in a second line, +some squadrons of cavalry; at all events, only the chief post +established in the centre has perhaps had some battalions in a second +line. + +3. A strategic reserve, to reinforce any point attacked, has very +seldom been kept in rear, because the extension of front made the line +feel too weak already in all parts. On this account the support which a +post attacked has received, has generally been furnished from other +posts in the line not themselves attacked. + +4. Even when the division of the forces has been relatively moderate, +and the strength of each single post considerable, the principal +resistance has been always confined to a local defence; and if once the +enemy succeeded in wresting a post, it has been impossible to recover +it by any supports afterwards arriving. + +How much, according to this, may be expected from mountain defence, in +what cases this means may be used, how far we can and may go in the +extension and fractioning of the forces—these are all questions which +theory must leave to the tact of the general. It is enough if it tells +him what these means really are, and what rôle they can perform in the +active operations of the army. + +A general who allows himself to be beaten in an extended mountain +position deserves to be brought before a court martial. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. Defence of Streams and Rivers + +Streams and large rivers, in so far as we speak of their defence, +belong, like mountains, to the category of strategic barriers. But they +differ from mountains in two respects. The one concerns their relative, +the other their absolute defence. + +Like mountains, they strengthen the relative defence; but one of their +peculiarities is, that they are like implements of hard and brittle +metal, they either stand every blow without bending, or their defence +breaks and then ends altogether. If the river is very large, and the +other conditions are favourable, then the passage may be absolutely +impossible. But if the defence of any river is forced at one point, +then there cannot be, as in mountain warfare, a persistent defence +afterwards; the affair is finished with that one act, unless that the +river itself runs between mountains. + +The other peculiarity of rivers in relation to war is, that in many +cases they admit of very good, and in general of better combinations +than mountains for a decisive battle. + +Both again have this property in common, that they are dangerous and +seductive objects which have often led to false measures, and placed +generals in awkward situations. We shall notice these results in +examining more closely the defence of rivers. + +Although history is rather bare in examples of rivers defended with +success, and therefore the opinion is justified that rivers and streams +are no such formidable barriers as was once supposed, when an absolute +defensive system seized all means of strengthening itself which the +country offered, still the influence which they exercise to the +advantage of the battle, as well as of the defence of a country, cannot +be denied. + +In order to look over the subject in a connected form, we shall specify +the different points of view from which we propose to examine it. + +First and foremost, the strategic results which streams and rivers +produce through their defence, must be distinguished from the influence +which they have on the defence of a country, even when not themselves +specially defended. + +Further, the defence itself may take three different forms:— + +1. An absolute defence with the main body. + +2. A mere demonstration of resistance. + +3. A relative resistance by subordinate bodies of troops, such as +outposts, covering lines, flanking corps, etc. + +Lastly, we must distinguish three different degrees or kinds of +defence, in each of its forms, namely— + +1. A direct defence by opposing the passage. + +2. A rather indirect one, by which the river and its valley are only +used as a means towards a better combination for the battle. + +3. A completely direct one, by holding an unassailable position on the +enemy’s side of the river. + +We shall subdivide our observations, in conformity with these three +degrees, and after we have made ourselves acquainted with each of them +in its relation to the first, which is the most important of the forms, +we shall then proceed to do the same in respect to their relations to +the other two. Therefore, first, the direct defence, that is, such a +defence as is to prevent the passage of the enemy’s army itself. + +This can only come into the question in relation to large rivers, that +is, great bodies of water. + +The combinations of space, time, and force, which require to be looked +into as elements of this theory of defence, make the subject somewhat +complicated, so that it is not easy to gain a sure point from which to +commence. The following is the result at which every one will arrive on +full consideration. + +The time required to build a bridge determines the distance from each +other at which the corps charged with the defence of the river should +be posted. If we divide the whole length of the line of defence by this +distance, we get the number of corps required for the defence; if with +that number we divide the mass of troops disposable, we shall get the +strength of each corps. If we now compare the strength of each single +corps with the number of troops which the enemy, by using all the means +in his power, can pass over during the construction of his bridge, we +shall be able to judge how far we can expect a successful resistance. +For we can only assume the forcing of the passage to be impossible when +the defender is able to attack the troops passed over with a +_considerable numerical superiority_, say _the double_, before the +bridge is completed. An illustration will make this plain. + +If the enemy requires twenty-four hours for the construction of a +bridge, and if he can by other means only pass over 20,000 men in those +twenty-four hours, whilst the defender within twelve hours can appear +at any point whatever with 20,000 men, in such case the passage cannot +be forced; for the defender will arrive when the enemy engaged in +crossing has only passed over the half of 20,000. Now as in twelve +hours, the time for conveying intelligence included, we can march four +miles, therefore every eight miles 20,000 men would be required, which +would make 60,000 for the defence of a length of twenty-four miles of +river. These would be sufficient for the appearance of 20,000 men at +any point, even if the enemy attempted the passage at two points at the +same time; if at only one point twice 20,000 could be brought to oppose +him at that single point. + +Here, then, there are three circumstances exercising a decisive +influence: (1) the breadth of the river; (2) the means of passage, for +the two determine both the time required to construct the bridge, and +the number of troops that can cross during the time the bridge is being +built; (3) the strength of the defender’s army. The strength of the +enemy’s force itself does not as yet come into consideration. According +to this theory we may say that there is a point at which the +possibility of crossing completely stops, and that no numerical +superiority on the part of the enemy would enable him to force a +passage. + +This is the simple theory of the direct defence of a river, that is, of +a defence intended to prevent the enemy from finishing his bridge and +from making the passage itself; in this there is as yet no notice taken +of the effect of demonstrations which the enemy may use. We shall now +bring into consideration particulars in detail, and measures requisite +for such a defence. + +Setting aside, in the first place, geographical peculiarities, we have +only to say that the corps as proposed by the present theory, must be +posted close to the river, and each corps in itself concentrated. It +must be close to the river, because every position further back +lengthens unnecessarily and uselessly the distance to be gone over to +any point menaced; for as the waters of the river give security against +any important movement on the part of the enemy, a reserve in rear is +not required, as it is for an ordinary line of defence, where there is +no river in front. Besides, the roads running parallel to and near a +river up and down, are generally better than transverse roads from the +interior leading to any particular points on the river. Lastly, the +river is unquestionably better watched by corps thus placed than by a +mere chain of posts, more particularly as the commanders are all close +at hand.—Each of these corps must be concentrated in itself, because +otherwise all the calculation as to time would require alteration. He +who knows the loss of time in effecting a concentration, will easily +comprehend that just in this concentrated position lies the great +efficacy of the defence. No doubt, at first sight, it is very tempting +to make the crossing, even in boats, impossible for the enemy by a line +of posts; but with a few exceptions of points, specially favourable for +crossing, such a measure would be extremely prejudicial. To say nothing +of the objection that the enemy can generally drive off such a post by +bringing a superior force to bear on it from the opposite side, it is, +as a rule, a waste of strength, that is to say, the most that can be +obtained by any such post, is to compel the enemy to choose another +point of passage. If, therefore, we are not so strong that we can treat +and defend the river like a ditch of a fortress, a case for which no +new precept is required, such a method of directly defending the bank +of a river leads necessarily away from the proposed object. Besides +these general principles for positions, we have to consider—first, the +examination of the special peculiarities of the river; second, the +removal of all means of passage; third, the influence of any fortresses +situated on the river. + +A river, considered as a line of defence, must have at the extremities +of the line, right and left, _points d’appui_, such as, for instance, +the sea, or a neutral territory; or there must be other causes which +make it impracticable for the enemy to turn the line of defence by +crossing beyond its extremities. Now, as neither such flank supports +nor such impediments are to be found, unless at considerable distances, +we see at once that the defence of a river must embrace a considerable +portion of its length, and that, therefore, the possibility of a +defence by placing a large body of troops behind a relatively short +length of the river vanishes from the class of possible facts (to which +we must always confine ourselves). We say _a relatively short length of +the river_, by which we mean a length which does not very much exceed +that which the same number of troops would usually occupy on an +ordinary position in line without a river. Such cases, we say, do not +occur, and every direct defence of a river always becomes a kind of +cordon system, at least as far as regards the extension of the troops, +and therefore is not at all adapted to oppose a turning movement on the +part of the enemy in the same manner which is natural to an army in a +concentrated position. Where, therefore, such turning movement is +possible, the direct defence of the river, however promising its +results in other respects, is a measure in the highest degree +dangerous. + +Now, as regards the portion of the river between its extreme points, of +course we may suppose that all points within that portion are not +equally well suited for crossing. This subject admits of being somewhat +more precisely determined in the abstract, but not positively fixed, +for the very smallest local peculiarity often decides more than all +which looks great and important in books. Besides, it is wholly +unnecessary to lay down any rules on this subject, for the appearance +of the river, and the information to be obtained from those residing +near it, will always amply suffice, without referring back to books. + +As matters of detail, we may observe that roads leading down upon a +river, its affluents, the great towns through which it passes, and +lastly above all, its islands, generally favour a passage the most; +that on the other hand, the elevation of one bank over another, and the +bend in the course of the river at the point of passage, which usually +act such a prominent rôle in books, are seldom of any consequence. The +reason of this is, that the presumed influence of these two things +rests on the limited idea of an absolute defence of the river bank—a +case which seldom or never happens in connection with great rivers. + +Now, whatever may be the nature of the circumstances which make it +easier to cross a river at particular points, they must have an +influence on the position of the troops, and modify the general +geometrical law; but it is not advisable to deviate too far from that +law, relying on the difficulties of the passage at many points. The +enemy would choose exactly those spots which are the least favourable +by nature for crossing, if he knew that these are the points where +there is the least likelihood of meeting us. + +In any case the strongest possible occupation of islands is a measure +to be recommended, because a serious attack on an island indicates in +the surest way the intended point of passage. + +As the corps stationed close to a river must be able to move either up +or down along its banks according as circumstances require, therefore +if there is no road parallel to the river, one of the most essential +preparatory measures for the defence of the river is to put the nearest +small roads running in a parallel direction into suitable order, and to +construct such short roads of connection as may be necessary. + +The second point on which we have to speak, is the removal of the means +of crossing.—On the river itself the thing is no easy matter, at least +requires considerable time; but on the affluents which fall into the +river, particularly those on the enemy’s side, the difficulties are +almost insurmountable, as these branch rivers are generally already in +the hands of the enemy. For that reason it is important to close the +mouths of such rivers by fortifications. + +As the equipment for crossing rivers which an enemy brings with him, +that is his pontoons, are rarely sufficient for the passage of great +rivers, much depends on the means to be found on the river itself, its +affluents, and in the great towns adjacent, and lastly, on the timber +for building boats and rafts in forests near the river. There are cases +in which all these circumstances are so unfavourable, that the crossing +of a river is by that means almost an impossibility. + +Lastly, the fortresses, which lie on both sides, or on the enemy’s side +of the river, serve both to prevent any crossing at any points near +them, up or down the river, and as a means of closing the mouths of +affluents, as well as to receive immediately all craft or boats which +may be seized. + +So much as to the direct defence of a river, on the supposition that it +is one containing a great volume of water. If a deep valley with +precipitous sides or marshy banks, are added to the barrier of the +river itself, then the difficulty of passing and the strength of the +defence are certainly increased; but the volume of water is not made up +for by such obstacles, for they constitute no absolute severance of the +country, which is an _indispensable_ condition of direct defence. + +If we are asked what rôle such a direct river defence can play in the +strategic plan of the campaign, we must admit that it can never lead to +a decisive victory, partly because the object is not to let the enemy +pass over to our side at all, or to crush the first mass of any size +which passes; partly because the river prevents our being able to +convert the advantages gained into a decisive victory by sallying forth +in force. + +On the other hand, the defence of a river in this way may produce a +great gain of time, which is generally all important for the defensive. +The collecting the means of crossing, takes up often much time; if +several attempts fail a good deal more time is gained. If the enemy, on +account of the river, gives his forces an entirely different direction, +then still further advantages may be gained by that means. Lastly, +whenever the enemy is not in downright earnest about advancing, a river +will occasion a stoppage in his movements and thereby afford a durable +protection to the country. + +A direct defence of a river, therefore, when the masses of troops +engaged are considerable, the river large, and other circumstances +favourable, may be regarded as a very good defensive means, and may +yield results to which commanders in modern times (influenced only by +the thought of unfortunate attempts to defend rivers, which failed from +insufficient means), have paid too little attention. For if, in +accordance with the supposition just made (which may easily be realized +in connection with such rivers as the Rhine or the Danube), an +efficient defence of 24 miles of river is possible by 60,000 men in +face of a very considerably superior force, we may well say that such a +result deserves consideration. + +We say, in opposition to a _considerably superior force_, and must +again recur to that point. According to the theory we have propounded, +all depends on the means of crossing, and nothing on the numerical +strength of the force seeking to cross, always supposing it is not less +than the force which defends the river. This appears very +extraordinary, and yet it is true. But we must take care not to forget +that most defences of rivers, or, more properly speaking, the whole, +have no absolute _points d’appui_, therefore, may be turned, and this +turning movement will be very much easier if the enemy has very +superior numbers. + +If now we reflect that such a direct defence of a river, even if +overcome by the enemy, is by no means to be compared to a lost battle, +and can still less lead to a complete defeat, since only a part of our +force has been engaged, and the enemy, detained by the tedious crossing +over of his troops on a single bridge, cannot immediately follow up his +victory, we shall be the less disposed to despise this means of +defence. + +In all the practical affairs of human life it is important to hit the +right point; and so also, in the defence of a river, it makes a great +difference whether we rightly appreciate our situation in all its +relations; an apparently insignificant circumstance may essentially +alter the case, and make a measure which is wise and effective in one +instance, a disastrous mistake in another. This difficulty of forming a +right judgment and of avoiding the notion that “a river is a river” is +perhaps greater here than anywhere else, therefore we must especially +guard against false applications and interpretations; but having done +so, we have also no hesitation in plainly declaring that we do not +think it worth while to listen to the cry of those who, under the +influence of some vague feeling, and without any fixed idea, expect +everything from attack and movement, and think they see the most true +picture of war in a hussar at full gallop brandishing his sword over +his head. + +Such ideas and feelings are not always all that is required (we shall +only instance here the once famous dictator Wedel, at Züllichau, in +1759); but the worst of all is that they are seldom durable, and they +forsake the general at the last moment if great complex cases branching +out into a thousand relations bear heavily upon him. + +We therefore believe that a direct defence of a river with large bodies +of troops, under favourable conditions, can lead to successful results +if we content ourselves with a moderate negative: but this does not +hold good in the case of smaller masses. Although 60,000 men on a +certain length of river could prevent an army of 100,000 or more from +passing, a corps of 10,000 on the same length would not be able to +oppose the passage of a corps of 10,000 men, indeed, probably, not of +one half that strength if such a body chose to run the risk of placing +itself on the same side of the river with an enemy so much superior in +numbers. The case is clear, as the means of passing do not alter. + +We have as yet said little about feints or demonstrations of crossing, +as they do not essentially come into consideration in the direct +defence of a river, for partly such defence is not a question of +concentration of the army at one point, but each corps has the defence +of a portion of the river distinctly allotted to it; partly such +simulated intentions of crossing are also very difficult under the +circumstances we have supposed. If, for instance, the means of crossing +in themselves are already limited, that is, not in such abundance as +the assailant must desire to ensure the success of his undertaking, he +will then hardly be able or willing to apply a large share to a mere +demonstration: at all events the mass of troops to be passed over at +the true point of crossing must be so much the less, and the defender +gains again in time what through uncertainty he may have lost. + +This direct defence, as a rule, seems only suitable to large rivers, +and on the last half of their course. + +The second form of defence is suitable for smaller rivers with deep +valleys, often also for very unimportant ones. It consists in a +position taken up further back from the river at such a distance that +the enemy’s army may either be caught in detail after the passage (if +it passes at several points at the same time) or if the passage is made +by the whole at one point, then near the river, hemmed in upon one +bridge and road. An army with the rear pressed close against a river or +a deep valley, and confined to one line of retreat, is in a most +disadvantageous position for battle; in the making proper use of this +circumstance, consists precisely the most efficacious defence of rivers +of moderate size, and running in deep valleys. + +The disposition of an army in large corps close to a river which we +consider the best in a direct defence, supposes that the enemy cannot +pass the river unexpectedly and in great force, because otherwise, by +making such a disposition, there would be great danger of being beaten +in detail. If, therefore, the circumstances which favour the defence +are not sufficiently advantageous, if the enemy has already in hand +ample means of crossing, if the river has many islands or fords, if it +is not broad enough, if we are too weak, etc., etc., then the idea of +that method may be dismissed: the troops for the more secure connection +with each other must be drawn back a little from the river, and all +that then remains to do is to ensure the most rapid concentration +possible upon that point where the enemy attempts to cross, so as to be +able to attack him before he has gained so much ground that he has the +command of several passages. In the present case the river or its +valley must be watched and partially defended by a chain of outposts +whilst the army is disposed in several corps at suitable points and at +a certain distance (usually a few leagues) from the river. + +The most difficult point lies here in the passage through the narrow +way formed by the river and its valley. It is not now only the volume +of water in the river with which we are concerned, but the whole of the +defile, and, as a rule, a deep rocky valley is a greater impediment to +pass than a river of considerable breadth. The difficulty of the march +of a large body of troops through a long defile is in reality much +greater than appears at first consideration. The time required is very +considerable; and the danger that the enemy during the march may make +himself master of the surrounding heights must cause disquietude. If +the troops in front advance too far, they encounter the enemy too soon, +and are in danger of being overpowered; if they remain near the point +of passage then they fight in the worst situation. The passage across +such an obstacle of ground with a view to measure strength with the +enemy on the opposite side is, therefore, a bold undertaking, or it +implies very superior numbers and great confidence in the commander. + +Such a defensive line cannot certainly be extended to such a length as +in the direct defence of a great river, for it is intended to fight +with the whole force united, and the passages, however difficult, +cannot be compared in that respect with those over a large river; it +is, therefore, much easier for the enemy to make a turning movement +against us. But at the same time, such a movement carries him out of +his natural direction (for we suppose, as is plain in itself, that the +valley crosses that direction at about right angles), and the +disadvantageous effect of a confined line of retreat only disappears +gradually, not at once, so that the defender will still always have +some advantage over the advancing foe, although the latter is not +caught exactly at the crisis of the passage, but by the detour he makes +is enabled to get a little more room to move. + +As we are not speaking of rivers in connection only with the mass of +their waters, but have rather more in view the deep cleft or channel +formed by their valleys, we must explain that under the term we do not +mean any regular mountain gorge, because then all that has been said +about mountains would be applicable. But, as every one knows, there are +many level districts where the channels of even the smallest streams +have deep and precipitous sides; and, besides these, such as have +marshy banks, or whose banks are otherwise difficult of approach, +belong to the same class. + +Under these conditions, therefore, an army on the defensive, posted +behind a large river or deep valley with steep sides, is in a very +excellent position, and this sort of river defence is a strategic +measure of the best kind. + +Its defect (the point on which the defender is very apt to err) is the +over-extension of the defending force. It is so natural in such a case +to be drawn on from one point of passage to another, and to miss the +right point where we ought to stop; but then, if we do not succeed in +fighting with the whole army united, we miss the intended effect; a +defeat in battle, the necessity of retreat, confusion in many ways and +losses reduce the army nearly to ruin, even although the resistance has +not been pushed to an extremity. + +In saying that the defensive, under the above conditions, should not +extend his forces widely, that he should be in any case able to +assemble all his forces on the evening of the day on which the enemy +passes, enough is said, and it may stand in place of all combinations +of time, power, and space, things which, in this case, must depend on +many local points. + +The battle to which these circumstances lead must have a special +character—that of the greatest impetuosity on the side of the defender. +The feigned passages by which the enemy will keep him for some time in +uncertainty—will, in general prevent his discovering the real point of +crossing a moment too soon. The peculiar advantages of the situation of +the defender consist in the disadvantageous situation of the enemy’s +corps just immediately in his front; if other corps, having passed at +other points, menace his flank, he cannot, as in a defensive battle, +counteract such movements by vigorous blows from his rear, for that +would be to sacrifice the above-mentioned advantage of his situation; +he must, therefore, decide the affair in his front before such other +corps can arrive and become dangerous, that is, he must attack what he +has before him as swiftly and vigorously as possible, and decide all by +its defeat. + +But the object of _this_ form of river defence can never be the repulse +of a very greatly superior force, as is conceivable in the direct +defence of a large river; for as a rule we have really to deal with the +bulk of the enemy’s force, and although we do so under favourable +circumstances, still it is easy to see the relation between the forces +must soon be felt. + +This is the nature of the defence of rivers of a moderate size and deep +valleys when the principal masses of the armies are concerned, for in +respect to them the considerable resistance which can be offered on the +ridges or scarps of the valley stands no comparison with the +disadvantages of a scattered position, and to them a decisive victory +is a matter of necessity. But if nothing more is wanted but the +reinforcement of a secondary line of defence which is intended to hold +out for a short time, and which can calculate on support, then +certainly a direct defence of the scarps of the valley, or even of the +river bank, may be made; and although the same advantages are not to be +expected here as in mountain positions, still the resistance will +always last longer than in an ordinary country. Only one circumstance +makes this measure very dangerous, if not impossible: it is when the +river has many windings and sharp turnings, which is just what is often +the case when a river runs in a deep valley, Only look at the course of +the Mosel. In a case of its defence, the corps in advance on the +salients of the bends would almost inevitably be lost in the event of a +retreat. + +That a great river allows the same defensive means, the same form of +defence, which we have pointed out as best suited for rivers of a +moderate size, in connection with the mass of an army, and also under +much more favourable circumstances, is plain of itself. It will come +into use more especially when the point with the defender is to gain a +decisive victory (Aspern). + +The case of an army drawn up with its front close on a river, or +stream, or deep valley, in order by that means to command a tactical +obstacle to the approach to its position, or to strengthen its front, +is quite a different one, the detailed examination of which belongs to +tactics. Of the effect of this we shall only say this much, that it is +founded on a delusion.—If the cleft in the ground is very considerable, +the front of the position becomes absolutely unassailable. Now, as +there is no more difficulty in passing round such a position than any +other, it is just the same as if the defender had himself gone out of +the way of the assailant, yet that could hardly be the object of the +position. A position of this kind can, therefore, only be advisable +when, as a consequence of its position, it threatens the communications +of the assailant, so that every deviation by him from the direct road +is fraught with consequences altogether too serious to be risked. + +In this second form of defence, feigned passages are much more +dangerous, for the assailant can make them more easily, while, on the +other hand, the proposition for the defender is, to assemble his whole +army at the right point. But the defender is certainly not quite so +much limited for time here, because the advantage of his situation +lasts until the assailant has massed his whole force, and made himself +master of several crossings; moreover, also, the simulated attack has +not the same degree of effect here as in the defence of a cordon, where +all must be held, and where, therefore, in the application of the +reserve, it is not merely a question, as in our proposition, where the +enemy has his principal force, but the much more difficult one, Which +is the point he will first seek to force? + +With respect to both forms of defence of large and small rivers, we +must observe generally, that if they are undertaken in the haste and +confusion of a retreat, without preparation, without the removal of all +means of passage, and without an exact knowledge of the country, they +cannot certainly fulfil what has been here supposed; in most such +cases, nothing of the kind is to be calculated upon; and therefore it +will be always a great error for an army to divide itself over extended +positions. + +As everything usually miscarries in war, if it is not done upon clear +convictions and with the whole will and energy, so a _river defence_ +will generally end badly when it is only resorted to because we have +not the heart to meet the enemy in the open field, and hope that the +broad river or the deep valley will stop him. When that is the case, +there is so little confidence in the actual situation that both the +general and his army are usually filled with anxious forebodings, which +are almost sure to be realized quick enough. A battle in the open field +does not suppose a perfectly equal state of circumstances beforehand, +like a duel; and the defender who does not know how to gain for himself +any advantages, either through the special nature of the defence, +through rapid marches, or by knowledge of the country and freedom of +movement, is one whom nothing can save, and least of all will a river +or its valley be able to help him. + +The third form of defence—by a strong position taken up on the enemy’s +side of the river—founds its efficacy on the danger in which it places +the enemy of having his communications cut by the river, and being thus +limited to some bridges. It follows, as a matter of course, that we are +only speaking of great rivers with a great volume of water, as these +alone can lead to such results, whilst a river which is merely in a +deep ravine usually affords such a number of passages that all danger +of the above disappears. + +But the position of the defensive must be very strong, almost +unassailable; otherwise he would just meet the enemy half way, and give +up his advantages. But if it is of such strength that the enemy +resolves not to attack it, he will, under certain circumstances, be +confined thereby to the same bank with the defender. If the assailant +crosses, he exposes his communications; but certainly, at the same +time, he threatens ours. Here, as in all cases in which one army passes +by another, the great point is, whose communications, by their number, +situation, and other circumstances, are the best secured, and which has +also, in other respects, most to lose, therefore can be outbid by his +opponent; lastly, which possesses still in his army the most power of +victory upon which he can depend in an extreme case. The influence of +the river merely amounts to this, that it augments the danger of such a +movement for both parties, as both are dependent on bridges. Now, in so +far as we can assume that, according to the usual course of things, the +passage of the defender, as well as of his depôts of all kinds, are +better secured by fortresses than those of the offensive, in so far is +such a defence conceivable, and one which might be substituted for the +direct defence when circumstances are not favourable to that form. +Certainly then the river is not defended by the army, nor the army by +the river, but by the connection between the two the country is +defended, which is the main point. + +At the same time it must be granted that this mode of defence, without +a decisive blow, and resembling the state of tension of two electric +currents, of which the atmospheres only are as yet in contact, cannot +stop any very powerful impulsive force. It might be applicable against +even a great superiority of force on the side of the enemy, if their +army is commanded by a cautious general, wanting in decision, and never +disposed to push forward with energy; it might also answer when a kind +of oscillation towards equality between the contending forces has +previously arisen, and nothing but small advantages are looked for on +either side. But if we have to deal with superior forces, led by a bold +general, we are upon a dangerous course, very close to an abyss. + +This form of defence looks so bold, and at the same time so scientific, +that it might be called the elegant; but as elegance easily merges into +folly, and as it is not so easily excused in war as in society, +therefore we have had as yet few instances of this elegant art. From +this third mode a special means of assistance for the first two forms +is developed, that is, by the permanent occupation of a bridge and a +_tête du pont_ to keep up a constant threat of crossing. + +Besides the object of an absolute defence with the main body, each of +the three modes of defence may also have that of a _feigned defence_. + +This show of a resistance, which it is not intended really to offer, is +an act which is combined with many other measures, and fundamentally +with every position which is anything more than a camp of route; but +the feigned defence of a great river becomes a complete stratagem in +this way, that it is necessary to adopt actually more or less a number +of measures of detail, and that its action is usually on a greater +scale and of longer duration than that of any other; for the act of +passing a great river in sight of an army is always an important step +for the assailant, one over which he often ponders long, or which he +postpones to a more favourable moment. + +For such a feigned defence it is therefore requisite that the main army +should divide and post itself along the river, (much in the same manner +as for a real defence); but as the intention of a mere demonstration +shows that circumstances are not favourable enough for a real defence, +therefore, from that measure as it always occasions a more or less +extended and scattered disposition, the danger of serious loss may very +easily arise if the corps should get engaged in a real resistance, even +if not carried to an extremity; it would then be in the true sense a +half measure. In a demonstration of defence, therefore, arrangement +must be made for a sure concentration of the army at a point +considerably (perhaps several days’ march) in rear, and the defence +should not be carried beyond what is consistent with this arrangement. + +In order to make our views plainer, and to show the importance of such +a defensive demonstration, let us refer to the end of the campaign of +1813. Buonaparte repassed the Rhine with forty or fifty thousand men. +To attempt to defend this river with such a force at all points where +the Allies, according to the direction of their forces, might easily +pass, that is, between Manheim and Nimeguen, would have been to attempt +an impossibility. The only idea which Buonaparte could therefore +entertain was to offer his first real resistance somewhere on the +French Meuse, where he could make his appearance with his army in some +measure reinforced. Had he at once withdrawn his forces to that point, +the Allies would have followed close at his heels; had he placed his +army in cantonments for rest behind the Rhine, the same thing must have +taken place almost as soon, for at the least show of desponding caution +on his part, the Allies would have sent over swarms of Cossacks and +other light troops in pursuit, and, if that measure produced good +results, other corps would have followed. The French corps had +therefore nothing for it but to take steps to defend the Rhine in +earnest. As Buonaparte could foresee that this defence must end in +nothing whenever, the Allies seriously undertook to cross the river, it +may therefore be regarded in the light of a mere demonstration, in +which the French corps incurred hardly any danger, as their point of +concentration lay on the Upper Moselle. Only Macdonald, who, as is +known, was at Nimeguen with twenty thousand men, committed a mistake in +deferring his retreat till fairly compelled to retire, for this delay +prevented his joining Buonaparte before the battle of Brienne, as the +retreat was not forced on him until after the arrival of Winzurgerode’s +corps in January. This defensive demonstration on the Rhine, therefore, +produced the result of checking the Allies in their advance, and +induced them to postpone the crossing of the river until their +reinforcements arrived, which did not take place for six weeks. These +six weeks were of infinite value to Buonaparte. Without this defensive +demonstration on the Rhine, Paris would have become the next immediate +object after the victory of Leipsic, and it would have been impossible +for the French to have given battle on that side of their capital. + +In a river defence of the second class, therefore, in that of rivers of +a smaller size, such demonstrations may also be used, but they will +generally be less effectual, because mere attempts to cross are in such +a case easier, and therefore the spell is sooner broken. + +In the third kind of river defence, a demonstration would in all +probability be still less effectual, and produce no more result than +that of the occupation of any other temporary position. + +Lastly, the two first forms of defence are very well suited to give a +chain of outposts, or any other defensive line (cordon) established for +a secondary object, or to a corps of observation, much greater and more +reliable strength than it would have without the river. In all these +cases the question is limited to a relative resistance, and that must +naturally be considerably strengthened by such a great natural +obstacle. At the same time, we must not think only of the relative +quantity of time gained by the resistance in fight in a case of this +sort, but also of the many anxieties which such undertakings usually +excite in the mind of the enemy, and which in ninety-nine cases out of +a hundred lead to his giving up his plans if not urged or pressed by +necessity. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. Defence of Streams and Rivers (_continued_) + +We have still to add something respecting the influence of streams and +rivers on the defence of a country, even when they are not themselves +defended. + +Every important river, with its main valley and its adjacent valleys, +forms a very considerable obstacle in a country, and in that way it is, +therefore, advantageous to defence in general; but its peculiar +influence admits of being more particularly specified in its principal +effects. + +First we must distinguish whether it flows parallel to the frontier, +that is, the general strategic front, or at an oblique or a right angle +to it. In the case of the parallel direction we must observe the +difference between having our own army or that of the enemy behind it, +and in both cases again the distance between it and the army. + +An army on the defensive, having behind it a large river within easy +reach (but not less than a day’s march), and on that river an adequate +number of secure crossings, is unquestionably in a much stronger +situation than it would be without the river; for if it loses a little +in freedom of movement by the requisite care for the security of the +crossings, still it gains much more by the security of its strategic +rear, that means chiefly of its lines of communication. In all this we +allude to a defence in _our own country;_ for in the enemy’s country, +although his army might be before us, we should still have always more +or less to apprehend his appearance behind us on the other side of the +river, and then the river, involving as it does narrow defiles in +roads, would be more disadvantageous than otherwise in its effect on +our situation. The further the river is behind the army, the less +useful it will be, and at certain distances its influence disappears +altogether. + +If an advancing army has to leave a river in its rear, the river cannot +be otherwise than prejudicial to its movements, for it restricts the +communications of the army to a few single passages. When Prince Henry +marched against the Russians on the right bank of the Oder near +Breslau, he had plainly a _point d’appui_ in the Oder flowing behind +him at a day’s march; on the other hand, when the Russians under +Cznernitschef passed the Oder subsequently, they were in a very +embarrassing situation, just through the risk of losing their line of +retreat, which was limited to one bridge. + +If a river crosses the theatre of war more or less at a right angle +with the strategic front, then the advantage is again on the side of +the defensive; for, in the first place, there are generally a number of +good positions leaning on the river, and covered in front by the +transverse valleys connected with the principal valley (like the Elbe +for the Prussians in the Seven Years’ War); secondly, the assailant +must leave one side of the river or the other unoccupied, or he must +divide his forces; and such division cannot fail to be in favour again +of the defensive, because he will be in possession of more well secured +passages than the assailant. We need only cast a glance over the whole +Seven Years’ War, to be convinced that the Oder and Elbe were very +useful to Frederick the Great in the defence of his theatre of war +(namely Silesia, Saxony and the Mark), and consequently a great +impediment to the conquest of these provinces by the Austrians and +Russians, although there was no real defence of those rivers in the +whole Seven Years’ War, and their course is mostly, as connected with +the enemy, at an oblique or a right angle rather than parallel with the +front. + +It is only the convenience of a river as a means of transport, when its +course is more or less in a perpendicular direction, which can, in +general, be advantageous to the assailant; in that respect it may be so +for this reason, that as he has the longer line of communication, and, +therefore, the greater difficulty in the transport of all he requires, +water carriage may relieve him of a great deal of trouble and prove +very useful. The defender, on his side, certainly has it in his power +to close the navigation within his own frontier by fortresses; still +even by that means the advantages which the river affords the assailant +will not be lost so far as regards its course up to that frontier. But +if we reflect upon the fact that many rivers are often not navigable, +even where they are of no unimportant breadth as respects other +military relations, that others are not navigable at all seasons, that +the ascent against the stream is tedious, that the winding of a river +often doubles its length, that the chief communications between +countries now are high roads, and that now more than ever the wants of +an army are supplied from the country adjacent to the scene of its +operations, and not by carriage from distant parts,—we can well see +that the use of a river does not generally play such a prominent part +in the subsistence of troops as is usually represented in books, and +that its influence on the march of events is therefore very remote and +uncertain. + + + +CHAPTER XX. A. Defence of Swamps + +Very large wide swamps, such as the Bourtang Moor in North Germany, are +so uncommon that it is not worth while to lose time over them; but we +must not forget that certain lowlands and marshy banks of small rivers +are more common, and form very considerable obstacles of ground which +may be, and often have been, used for defensive purposes. + +Measures for their defence are certainly very like those for the +defence of rivers, at the same time there are some peculiarties to be +specially noticed. The first and principal one is, that a marsh which +except on the causeway is impracticable for infantry is much more +difficult to cross than any river; for, in the first place, a causeway +is not so soon built as a bridge; secondly, there are no means at hand +by which the troops to cover the construction of the dyke or causeway +can be sent across. No one would begin to build a bridge without using +some of the boats to send over an advanced guard in the first instance; +but in the case of a morass no similar assistance can be employed; the +easiest way to make a crossing for infantry over a morass is by means +of planks, but when the morass is of some width, this is a much more +tedious process than the crossing of the first boats on a river. If +now, besides, there is in the middle of the morass a river which cannot +be passed without a bridge, the crossing of the first detachment of +troops becomes a still more difficult affair, for although single +passengers may get across on boards, the heavy material required for +bridge building cannot be so transported. This difficulty on many +occasions may be insurmountable. + +A second peculiarity of a swamp is, that the means used to cross cannot +be completely removed like those, used for passing a river; bridges may +be broken, or so completely destroyed that they can never be used +again; the most that can be done with dykes is to cut them, which is +not doing much. If there is a river in the middle, the bridge can of +course be taken away, but the whole passage will not by that means be +destroyed in the same degree as that of a large river by the +destruction of a bridge. The natural consequence is that dykes which +exist must always be occupied in force and strenuously defended if we +desire to derive any general advantage from the morass. + +On the one hand, therefore, we are compelled to adopt a local defence, +and on the other, such a defence is favoured by the difficulty of +passing at other parts. From these two peculiarities the result is, +that the defence of a swamp must be more local and passive than that of +a river. + +It follows from this that we must be stronger in a relative degree than +in the direct defence of a river, consequently that the line of defence +must not be of great length, especially in cultivated countries, where +the number of passages, even under the most favourable circumstances +for defence, is still very great. + +In this respect, therefore, swamps are inferior to great rivers, and +this is a point of great importance, for all local defence is illusory +and dangerous to an extreme. But if we reflect that such swamps and low +grounds generally have a breadth with which that of the largest rivers +in Europe bears no comparison, and that consequently a post stationed +for the defence of a passage is never in danger of being overpowered by +the fire from the other side, that the effects of its own fire over a +long narrow dyke is greatly increased, and that the time required to +pass such a defile, perhaps a quarter or half a mile long, is much +longer than would suffice to pass an ordinary bridge: if we consider +all this, we must admit that such low lands and morasses, if means of +crossing are not too numerous, belong to the strongest lines of defence +which can be formed. + +An indirect defence, such as we made ourselves acquainted with in the +case of streams and rivers, in which obstacles of ground are made use +of to bring on a great battle under advantageous circumstances, is +generally quite as applicable to morasses. + +The third method of a river-defence by means of a position on the +enemy’s side would be too hazardous on account of the toilsome nature +of the crossing. + +It is extremely dangerous to venture on the defence of such morasses, +soft meadows, bogs, etc., as are not quite impassable beyond the dykes. +One single line of crossing discovered by the enemy is sufficient to +pierce the whole line of defence which, in case of a serious +resistance, is always attended with great loss to the defender. + + + +B. Inundations + +Now we have still to consider inundations. As defensive means and also +as phenomena in the natural world they have unquestionably the nearest +resemblance to morasses. + +They are not common certainly; perhaps Holland is the only country in +Europe where they constitute a phenomenon which makes them worth notice +in connection with our object; but just that country, on account of the +remarkable campaigns of 1672 and 1787, as well as on account of its +important relation in itself to both France and Germany, obliges us to +devote some consideration to this matter. + +The character of these Dutch inundations differs from ordinary swampy +and impassable wet low lands in the following respects: + +1. The soil itself is dry and consists either of dry meadows or of +cultivated fields. + +2. For purposes of irrigation or of drainage, a number of small ditches +of greater or loss depth and breadth intersect the country in such a +way that they may be seen running in lines in parallel directions. + +3. Larger canals, inclosed by dykes and intended for irrigation, +drainage, and transit of vessels, run through the country in all +possible directions and are of such a size that they can only be passed +on bridges. + +4. The level of the ground throughout the whole district subject to +inundation, lies perceptibly under the level of the sea, therefore, of +course, under that of the canals. + +5. The consequence of this is, that by means of cutting the dams, +closing and opening the sluices, the whole country can be laid under +water, so that there are no dry roads except on the tops of the dykes, +all others being either entirely under water or, at least, so soaked +that they become no longer fit for use. Now, if even the inundation is +only three or four feet deep, so that, perhaps, for short distances it +might be waded through, still even that is made impossible on account +of the smaller ditches mentioned under No. 2, which are not visible. It +is only where these ditches have a corresponding direction, so that we +can move between two of them without crossing either, that the +inundation does not constitute in effect an absolute bar to all +communication. It is easy to conceive that this exception to the +general obstruction can only be for short distances, and, therefore, +can only be used for tactical purposes of an entirely special +character. + +From all this we deduce + +1. That the assailant’s means of moving are limited to a more or less +small number of practicable lines, which run along very narrow dykes, +and usually have a wet ditch on the right and left, consequently form +very long defiles. + +2. That every defensive preparation upon such a dam may be easily +strengthened to such a degree as to become impregnable. + +3. But that, because the defensive is so hemmed in, he must confine +himself to the most passive resistance as respects each isolated point, +and consequently must look for his safety entirely from passive +resistance. + +4. That in such a country it is not a system of a single defensive +line, closing the country like a simple barrier, but that as in every +direction the same obstacle to movement exists, and the same security +for flanks may be found, new posts may incessantly be formed, and in +this manner any portion of the first defensive line, if lost, may be +replaced by a new piece. We may say that the number of combinations +here, like those on a chessboard, are infinite. + +5. But while this general condition of a country is only conceivable +along with the supposition of a high degree of cultivation and a dense +population, it follows of itself that the number of passages, and +therefore the number of posts required or their defence, must be very +great in comparison to other strategetic dispositions; from which again +we have, as a consequence, that such a defensive line must not be long. + +The principal line of defence in Holland is from Naarden on the Zuyder +Zee (the greater part of the way behind the Vecht), to Gorcum on the +Waal, that is properly to the Biesbosch, its extent being about eight +miles. For the defence of this line a force of 25,000 to 30,000 was +employed in 1672, and again in 1787. If we could reckon with certainty +upon an invincible resistance, the results would certainly be very +great, at least for the provinces of Holland lying behind that line. + +In 1672 the line actually withstood very superior forces led by great +generals, first Condé, and afterwards Luxembourg, who had under their +command 40,000 to 50,000 men, and yet would not assault, preferring to +wait for the winter, which did not prove severe enough. On the other +hand, the resistance which was made on this first line in 1787 amounted +to nothing, and even that which was made by a second line much shorter, +between the Zuyder Zee and the lake of Haarlem, although somewhat more +effective, was overcome by the Duke of Brunswick in one day, through a +very skilful tactical disposition well adapted to the locality, and +this although the Prussian force actually engaged in the attack was +little, if at all, superior in numbers to the troops guarding the +lines. + +The different result in the two cases is to be attributed to the +difference in the supreme command. In the year 1672 the Dutch were +surprised by Louis XIV., while everything was on a peace establishment, +in which, as is well known, there breathed very little military spirit +as far as concerned land forces. For that reason the greater number of +the fortresses were deficient in all articles of material and +equipment, garrisoned only by weak bodies of hired troops, and defended +by governors who were either native-born incapables, or treacherous +foreigners. Thus all the Brandenburg fortresses on the Rhine, +garrisoned by Dutch, as well as all their own places situated to the +east of the line of defence above described, except Groningen, very +soon fell into the hands of the French, and for the most part without +any real defence. And in the conquest of this great number of places +consisted the chief exertions of the French army, 150,000 strong, at +that time. + +But when, after the murder of the brothers De Witt, in August 1672, the +Prince of Orange came to the head of affairs, bringing unity to the +measures for national defence, there was still time to close the +defensive line above-mentioned, and all the measures then adopted +harmonised so well with each other that neither Condé nor Luxembourg, +who commanded the French armies left in Holland after the departure of +the two armies under Turenne and Louis in person, would venture to +attempt anything against the separate posts. + +In the year 1787 all was different. It was not the Republic of seven +united provinces, but only the province of Holland which had to resist +the invasion. The conquest of all the fortresses, which had been the +principal object in 1672, was therefore not the question; the defence +was confined at once to the line we have described. But the assailant +this time, instead of 150,000 men, had only 25,000, and was no mighty +sovereign of a great country adjoining Holland, but the subordinate +general of a distant prince, himself by no means independent in many +respects. The people in Holland, like those everywhere else at that +time, were divided into two parties, but the republican spirit in +Holland was decidedly predominant, and had at the same time attained +even to a kind of enthusiastic excitement. Under these circumstances +the resistance in the year 1787 ought to have ensured at least as great +results as that of 1672. But there was one important difference, which +is, that in the year 1787 unity of command was entirely wanting. What +in 1672 had been left to the wise, skilful, and energetic guidance of +the Prince of Orange, was entrusted to a so called Defence Commission +in 1787, which although it included in its number men of energy, was +not in a position to infuse into its work the requisite unity of +measures, and to inspire others with that confidence which was wanted +to prevent the whole instrument from proving imperfect and inefficient +in use. + +We have dwelt for a moment on this example, in order to give more +distinctness to the conception of this defensive measure, and at the +same time to show the difference in the effects produced, according as +more or less unity and sequence prevail in the direction of the whole. + +Although the organisation and method of defence of such a defensive +line are tactical subjects, still, in connection with the latter, which +is the nearest allied to strategy, we cannot omit to make an +observation to which the campaign of 1787 gives occasion. + +We think, namely, that however passive the defence must naturally be at +each point in a line of this kind, still an offensive action from some +one point of the line is not impossible, and may not be unproductive of +good results if the enemy, as was the case in 1787, is not decidedly +very superior. For although such an attack must be executed by means of +dykes, and on that account cannot certainly have the advantage of much +freedom of movement or of any great impulsive force, nevertheless, it +is impossible for the offensive side to occupy all the dykes and roads +which he does not require for his own purposes, and therefore the +defensive with his better knowledge of the country, and being in +possession of the strong points, should be able by some of the +unoccupied dykes to effect a real flank attack against the columns of +the assailant, or to cut them off from their sources of supply. If now, +on the other hand, we reflect for a moment on the constrained position +in which the assailant is placed, how much more dependent he is on his +communications than in almost any other conceivable case, we may well +imagine that every sally on the part of the defensive side which has +the remotest possibility of success must at once as a demonstration be +most effective. We doubt very much if the prudent and cautious duke of +Brunswick would have ventured to approach Amsterdam if the Dutch had +only made such a demonstration, from Utrecht for instance. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. Defence of Forests + +Above all things we must distinguish thick tangled and impassable +forests from extensive woods under a certain degree of culture, which +are partly quite clear, partly intersected by numerous roads. + +Whenever the object is to form a defensive line, the latter should be +left in rear or avoided as much as possible. The defensive requires +more than the assailant to see clearly round him, partly because, as a +rule, he is the weaker, partly because the natural advantages of his +position cause him to develop his plans later than the assailant. If he +should place a woody district before him he would be fighting like a +blind man against one with his eyesight. If he should place himself in +the middle of the wood then both would be blind, but that equality of +condition is just what would not answer the natural requirements of the +defender. + +Such a wooded country can therefore not be brought into any favourable +connection with the defensive except it is kept in rear of the +defender’s army, so as to conceal from the enemy all that takes place +behind that army, and at the same time to be available as an assistance +to cover and facilitate the retreat. + +At present we only speak of forests in level country, for where the +decided mountain character enters into combination, its influence +becomes predominant over tactical and strategic measures, and we have +already treated of those subjects elsewhere. + +But impassable forests, that is, such as can only be traversed on +certain roads, afford advantages in an indirect defence similar to +those which the defence derives from mountains for bringing on a battle +under favourable circumstances; the army can await the enemy behind the +wood in a more or less concentrated position with a view to falling on +him the moment he debouches from the road defiles. Such a forest +resembles mountain in its effects more than a river: for it affords, it +is true, only one very long and difficult defile, but it is in respect +to the retreat rather advantageous than otherwise. + +But a direct defence of forests, let them be ever so impracticable, is +a very hazardous piece of work for even the thinnest chain of outposts; +for abattis are only imaginary barriers, and no wood is so completely +impassable that it cannot be penetrated in a hundred places by small +detachments, and these, in their relation to a chain of defensive +posts, may be likened to the first drops of water which ooze through a +roof and are soon followed by a general rush of water. + +Much more important is the influence of great forests of every kind in +connection with the arming of a nation; they are undoubtedly the true +element for such levies; if, therefore, the strategic plan of defence +can be so arranged that the enemy’s communications pass through great +forests, then, by that means, another mighty lever is brought into use +in support of the work of defence. + + + +CHAPTER XX. The Cordon + +The term cordon is used to denote every defensive plan which is +intended directly to cover a whole district of country by a line of +posts in connection with each other. We say _directly_, for several +corps of a great army posted in line with each other might protect a +large district of country from invasion without forming a cordon; but +then this protection would not be direct, but through the effect of +combinations and movements. + +It is evident at a glance that such a long defensive line as that must +be, which is to cover an extensive district of country directly, can +only have a very small degree of defensive stamina. Even when very +large bodies of troops occupy the lines this would be the case if they +were attacked by corresponding masses. The object of a cordon can +therefore only be to resist a weak blow, whether that the weakness +proceeds from a feeble will or the smallness of the force employed. + +With this view the wall of China was built: a protection against the +inroads of Tartars. This is the intention of all lines and frontier +defences of the European States bordering on Asia and Turkey. Applied +in this way the cordon system is neither absurd nor does it appear +unsuitable to its purpose. Certainly it is not sufficient to stop all +inroads, but it will make them more difficult and therefore of less +frequent occurrence, and this is a point of considerable importance +where relations subsist with people like those of Asia, whose passions +and habits have a perpetual tendency to war. + +Next to this class of cordons come the lines, which, in the wars of +modern times have been formed between European States, such as the +French lines on the Rhine and in the Netherlands. These were originally +formed only with a view to protect a country against inroads made for +the purpose of levying contributions or living at the expense of the +enemy. They are, therefore, only intended to check minor operations, +and consequently it is also meant that they should be defended by small +bodies of troops. But, of course, in the event of the enemy’s principal +force taking its direction against these lines, the defender must also +use his principal force in their defence, an event by no means +conducive to the best defensive arrangements. On account of this +disadvantage and because the protection against incursions in temporary +war is quite a minor object, by which through the very existence of +these lines an excessive expenditure of troops may easily be caused, +their formation is looked upon in our day as a pernicious measure. The +more power and energy thrown into the prosecution of the war the more +useless and dangerous this means becomes. + +Lastly, all very extended lines of outposts covering the quarters of an +army and intended to offer a certain amount of resistance come under +the head of cordons. + +This defensive measure is chiefly designed as an impediment to raids, +and other such minor expeditions directed against single cantonments, +and for this purpose it may be quite sufficient if favoured by the +country. Against an advance of the main body of the enemy the +opposition offered can be only relative, that is, intended to gain +time: but as this gain of time will be but inconsiderable in most +cases, this object may be regarded as a very minor consideration in the +establishment of these lines. The assembling and advance of the enemy’s +army itself can never take place so unobservedly that the defender gets +his first information of it through his outposts; when such is the case +he is much to be pitied. + +Consequently, in this case also, the cordon is only intended to resist +the attack of a weak force, and the object, therefore, in this and in +the other two cases is not at variance with the means. + +But that an army formed for the defence of a country should spread +itself out in a long line of defensive posts opposite to the enemy, +that it should disperse itself in a cordon form, seems to be so absurd +that we must seek to discover the circumstances and motives which lead +to and accompany such a proceeding. + +Every position in a mountainous country, even if taken up with the view +of a battle with the whole force united, is and must necessarily be +more extended than a position in a level country. It _may be_ because +the aid of the ground augments very much the force of the resistance; +it _must be_ because a wider basis of retreat is required, as we have +shown in the chapter on mountain defences. But if there is no near +prospect of a battle, if it is probable that the enemy will remain in +his position opposite to us for some time without undertaking anything +unless tempted by some very favourable opportunity which may present +itself (the usual state of things in most wars formerly), then it is +also natural not to limit ourselves merely to the occupation of so much +country as is absolutely necessary, but to hold as much right or left +as is consistent with the security of the army, by which we obtain many +advantages, as we shall presently show. In open countries with plenty +of communications, this object may be effected to a greater extent than +in mountains, through the principle of _movement_, and for that reason +the extension and dispersion of the troops is less necessary in an open +country; it would also be much more dangerous there on account of the +inferior capability of resistance of each part. + +But in mountains where all occupation of ground is more dependent on +local defence, where relief cannot so soon be afforded to a point +menaced, and where, when once the enemy has got possession of a point, +it is more difficult to dislodge him by a force slightly superior—in +mountains, under these circumstances, we shall always come to a form of +position which, if not strictly speaking a cordon, still approaches +very near to it, being a line of defensive posts. From such a +disposition, consisting of several detached posts, to the cordon +system, there is still certainly a considerable step, but it is one +which generals, nevertheless, often take without being aware of it, +being drawn on from one step to another. First, the covering and the +possession of the country is the object of the dispersion; afterwards +it is the security of the army itself. Every commander of a post +calculates the advantage which may be derived from this or that point +connected with the approach to his position on the right or the left, +and thus the whole progresses insensibly from one degree of subdivision +to another. + +A cordon war, therefore, carried on by the principal force of an army, +is not to be considered a form of war designedly chosen with a view to +stopping every blow which the enemy’s forces might attempt, but a +situation which the army is drawn into in the pursuit of a very +different object, namely, the holding and covering the country against +an enemy who has no decisive undertaking in view. Such a situation must +always be looked upon as a mistake; and the motives through which +generals have been lured by degrees into allowing one small post after +another, are contemptible in connection with the object of a large +army; this point of view shows, at all events, the possibility of such +a mistake. That it is really an error, namely, a mistaken appreciation +of our own position, and that of the enemy is sometimes not observed, +and it is spoken of as an erroneous _system_. But this same system, +when it is pursued with advantage, or, at all events, without causing +damage, is quietly approved. Every one praises the _faultless_ +campaigns of Prince Henry in the Seven Years’ War, because they have +been pronounced so by the king, although these campaigns exhibit the +most decided and most incomprehensible examples of chains of posts so +extended that they may just with as much propriety be called cordons as +any that ever were. We may completely justify these positions by +saying, the prince knew his opponent; he knew that he had no +enterprises of a decisive character to apprehend from that quarter, and +as the object of his position besides was to occupy always as much +territory as possible, he therefore carried out that object as far as +circumstances in any way permitted. If the prince had once been +unfortunate with one of these cobwebs, and had met with a severe loss, +we should not say that he had pursued a faulty system of warfare, but +that he had been mistaken about a measure and had applied it to a case +to which it was not suited. + +While we thus seek to explain how the cordon system, as it is called, +may be resorted to by the principal force in a theatre in war, and how +it may even be a judicious and useful measure, and, therefore, far from +being an absurdity, we must, at the same time, acknowledge that there +appear to have been instances where generals or their staff have +overlooked the real meaning or object of a cordon system, and assumed +its relative value to be a general one; conceiving it to be really +suited to afford protection against every kind of attack, instances, +therefore, where there was no mistaken application of the measure but a +complete misunderstanding of its nature; we shall further allow that +this very absurdity amongst others seems to have taken place in the +defence of the Vosges by the Austrian and Prussian armies in 1793 and +1794. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. Key to the Country + +There is no theoretical idea in the art of war which has played such a +part in criticism as that we are now entering upon. It is the “great +war steed” in all accounts of battles and campaigns; the most frequent +point of view in all arguments, and one of those fragments of +scientific form with which critics make a show of learning. And yet the +conception embodied in it has never yet been established, nor has it +ever been clearly explained. + +We shall try to ascertain its real meaning, and then see how far it can +be made available for practical use. + +We treat of it here because the defence of mountains, river defences, +as well as the conceptions of strong and entrenched camps with which it +closely connects itself, required to have precedence. + +The indefinite confused conception which is concealed behind this +ancient military metaphor has sometimes signified the most exposed part +of a country at other times the strongest. + +If there is any spot without the _possession of which no one dare +venture to penetrate into an enemy’s country_ that may, with propriety, +be called the key of that country. But this simple, though certainly at +the same time also, barren notion has not satisfied theorists, and they +have amplified it, and under the term key of a country imagined +_points_ which _decide upon the possession of the whole country._ + +When the Russians wanted to advance into the Crimean peninsula, they +were obliged to make themselves masters of the isthmus of Perekop and +its lines, not so much to gain an entrance generally—for Lascy turned +it twice (1737 and 1738)—but to be able to establish themselves with +tolerable security in the Crimea. That is very simple, but we gain very +little in this through the conception of a key-point. But if it might +be said, Whoever has possession of the district of Langres commands all +France as far as Paris—that is to say, it only rests with himself to +take possession—that is plainly a very different thing, something of +much higher importance. According to the first kind of conception the +possession of the country cannot be thought of without the possession +of the point which we have called key; that is a thing which is +intelligible to the most ordinary capacity: but according to the second +kind of conception, the possession of the point which we have called +key, cannot be imagined without the possession of the country following +as a necessary consequence; that is plainly, something marvellous, +common sense is no longer sufficient to grasp this, the magic of the +occult sciences must be called into requisition. This cabala came into +existence in works published fifty years ago, and reached its zenith at +the end of the last century; and notwithstanding the irresistible +force, certainty and distinctness with which Buonaparte’s method of +conducting war carried conviction generally, this cabala has, +nevertheless, still managed, we say, to spin out the thread of its +tenacious existence through the medium of books. + +(Setting aside for a moment _our_ conception of the key-point) it is +self-evident that in every country there are points of _commanding_ +importance, where several roads meet, where our means of subsistence +may be conveniently collected, which have the advantage of being +centrally situated with reference to other important points, the +possession of which in short meets many requirements and affords many +advantages. Now, if generals wishing to express the importance of such +a point by one word have called it the _key of the land_, it would be +pedantic affectation to take offence at their using that term; on the +contrary we should rather say the term is very expressive and pleasing. +But if we try to convert this mere flower of speech into the germ of a +system branching out like a tree into many ramifications, common sense +rises in opposition, and demands that the expression should be +restricted to its true value. + +In order to develop a system out of the expression, it was necessary to +resort to something more distinct and absolute than the practical, but +certainly very indefinite, meaning attaching to the term in the +narrations of generals when speaking of their military enterprises. And +from amongst all its various relations, that of high ground was chosen. + +Where a road traverses a mountain ridge, we thank heaven when we get to +the top and have only to descend. This feeling so natural to a single +traveller is still more so in the case of an army All difficulties seem +to be overcome, and so they are indeed in most instances; we find that +the descent is easy, and we are conscious of a kind of feeling of +superiority over any one who would stop us; we have an extensive view +over the country, and command it with a look beforehand. Thus the +highest point on a road over a mountain is always considered to possess +a decisive importance, and it does in fact in the majority of cases, +but by no means in all. Such points are very often described in the +despatches of generals by the name of key-points; but certainly again +in a somewhat different and generally in a more restricted sense. This +idea has been the starting point of a false theory (of which, perhaps, +Lloyd may be regarded as the founder); and on this account, elevated +points from which several roads descend into the adjacent country, came +to be regarded as the keypoints of the country—as points which +_command_ the country. It was natural that this view should amalgamate +itself with one very nearly connected with it, that of a _systematic +defence of mountains_, and that the matter should thus be driven still +further into the regions of the illusory; added to which many tactical +elements connected with the defence of mountains came into play, and +thus the idea of the highest _point in the road_ was soon abandoned, +and the highest point generally of the whole mountain system, that is +the point of the _watershed_, was substituted for it as the key of the +country. + +Now just at that time, that is the latter half of the preceding +century, more definite ideas on the forms given to the surface of the +earth through aqueous action became current; thus natural science lent +a hand to the theory of war by this geological system, and then every +barrier of practical truth was broken through, and reasoning floated in +the illusory system of a geological analogy. In consequence of this, +about the end of the eighteenth century we heard, or rather we _read_, +of nothing but the sources of the Rhine and Danube. It is true that +this nuisance prevailed mostly in books, for only a small portion of +book wisdom ever reaches the real world, and the more foolish a theory +the less it will attain to practice; but this of which we are now +speaking has not been unproductive of injury to Germany by its +practical effects, therefore we are not fighting with a windmill, in +proof of which we shall quote two examples; first, the important but +very scientific campaigns of the Prussian army, 1793 and 1794 in the +Vosges, the theoretical key to which will be found in the works of +Gravert and Massenbach; secondly, the campaign of 1814, when, on the +principle of the same theory, an army of 200,000 men was led by the +nose through Switzerland on to the plateau of Langres as it is called. + +But a high point in a country from which all its waters flow, is +generally nothing more than a high point; and all that in exaggeration +and false application of ideas, true in themselves, was written at the +end of the eighteenth and commencement of the nineteenth centuries, +about its influence on military events, is completely imaginary. If the +Rhine and Danube and all the six rivers of Germany had their common +source on the top of one mountain, that mountain would not on that +account have any claim to any greater military value than being suited +for the position of a trigonometrical point. For a signal tower it +would be less useful, still less so for a vidette, and for a whole army +worth just nothing at all. + +To seek for a _key-position_ therefore in the so called _key country_, +that is where the different branches of the mountains diverge from a +common point, and at the highest source of its waters, is merely an +idea in books, which is overthrown by nature itself, because nature +does not make the ridges and valleys so easy to descend as is assumed +by the hitherto so called theory of ground, but distributes peaks and +gorges, in the most irregular manner, and not unfrequently the lowest +water level is surrounded by the loftiest masses of mountain. If any +one questions military history on the subject, he will soon convince +himself that the leading geological points of a country exercise very +little regular influence on the use of the country for the purposes of +war, and that little is so over-balanced by other local circumstances, +and other requirements, that a line of positions may often run quite +close to one of the points we are discussing without having been in any +way attracted there by that point. + +We have only dwelt so long upon this false idea because a whole—and +very pretentious—system has built itself upon it. We now leave it, and +turn back to our own views. + +We say, then, that if the expression, _key-position_, is to represent +an independent conception in strategy, it must only be that of a +locality the possession of which is indispensable before daring to +enter the enemy’s country. But if we choose to designate by that term +every convenient point of entrance to a country, or every advantageous +central point in the country, then the term loses its real meaning +(that is, its value), and denotes something which may be found anywhere +more or less. It then becomes a mere pleasing figure of speech. + +But positions such as the term conveys to our mind are very rarely +indeed to be found. In general, the best key to the country lies in the +enemy’s army; and when the idea of country predominates over that of +the armed force, some very specially advantageous circumstances must +prevail. These, according to our opinion, may be recognised by their +tending to two principal results: first, that the force occupying the +position, through the help of the ground, obtains extraordinary +capability of tactical resistance; second, that the enemy’s lines of +communication can be sooner effectively threatened from this position +than he can threaten ours. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. Operating Against a Flank + +We need hardly observe that we speak of the strategic flank, that is, a +side of the theatre of war, and that the attack from one side in +battle, or the tactical movement against a flank, must not be +confounded with it; and even in cases in which the strategic operation +against a flank, in its last stage, ends in the tactical operation, +they can quite easily be kept separate, because the one never follows +necessarily out of the other. + +These flanking movements, and the flanking positions connected with +them, belong also to the mere useless pageantry of theory, which is +seldom met with in actual war. Not that the means itself is either +ineffectual or illusory, but because both sides generally seek to guard +themselves against its effects; and cases in which this is impossible +are rare. Now in these uncommon cases this means has often also proved +highly efficacious, and for this reason, as well as on account of the +constant watching against it which is required in war, it is important +that it should be clearly explained in theory. Although the strategic +operation against a flank can naturally be imagined, not only on the +part of the defensive, but also on that of the offensive, still it has +much more affinity with the first, and therefore finds its place under +the head of defensive means. + +Before we enter into the subject, we must establish the simple +principle, which must never be lost sight of afterwards in the +consideration of the subject, that troops which are to act against the +rear or flank of the enemy cannot be employed against his front, and +that, therefore, whether it be in tactics or strategy, it is a +completely false kind of notion to consider that _coming on the rear_ +of the enemy is at once an advantage in itself. In itself, it is as yet +nothing; but it will become something in connection with other things, +and something either advantageous or the reverse, according to the +nature of these things, the examination of which now claims our +attention. + +First, in the action against the strategic flank, we must make a +distinction between two objects of that measure—between the action +merely against the _communications_, and that against the _line of +retreat_, with which, at the same time, an effect upon the +communications may also be combined. + +When Daun, in 1758, sent a detachment to seize the convoys on their way +to the siege of Olmütz, he had plainly no intention of impeding the +king’s retreat into Silesia; he rather wished to bring about that +retreat, and would willingly have opened the line to him. + +In the campaign of 1812, the object of all the expeditionary corps that +were detached from the Russian army in the months of September and +October, was only to intercept the communications, not to stop the +retreat; but the latter was quite plainly the design of the Moldavian +army which, under Tschitschagof, marched against the Beresina, as well +as of the attack which General Wittgenstein was commissioned to make on +the French corps stationed on the Dwina. + +These examples are merely to make the exposition clearer. + +The action against the lines of communication is directed against the +enemy’s convoys, against small detachments following in rear of the +army, against couriers and travellers, small depôts, etc.; in fact, +against all the means which the enemy requires to keep his army in a +vigorous and healthy condition; its object is, therefore, to weaken the +condition of the enemy in this respect, and by this means to cause him +to retreat. + +The action against the enemy’s line of retreat is to cut his army off +from that line. It cannot effect this object unless the enemy really +determines to retreat; but it may certainly cause him to do so by +threatening his line of retreat, and, therefore, it may have the same +effect as the action against the line of communication, by working as a +demonstration. But as already said, none of these effects are to be +expected from the mere turning which has been effected, from the mere +geometrical form given to the disposition of the troops, they only +result from the conditions suitable to the same. + +In order to learn more distinctly these conditions, we shall separate +completely the two actions against the flank, and first consider that +which is directed against the communications. + +Here we must first establish two principal conditions, one or other of +which must always be forthcoming. + +The first is, that the forces used for this action against the flank of +the enemy must be so insignificant in numbers that their absence is not +observed in front. + +The second, that the enemy’s army has run its career, and therefore can +neither make use of a fresh victory over our army, nor can he pursue us +if we evade a combat by moving out of the way. + +This last case, which is by no means so uncommon as might be supposed, +we shall lay aside for the moment, and occupy ourselves with the +accessory conditions of the first. + +The first of these is, that the communications have a certain length, +and cannot be protected by a few good posts; the second point is, that +the situation of the line is such as exposes it to our action. + +This weakness of the line may arise in two ways—either by its +direction, if it is not perpendicular to the strategic front of the +enemy’s army, or because his lines of communication pass through our +territory; if both these circumstances exist, the line is so much the +more exposed. These two relations require a closer examination. + +One would think that when it is a question of covering a line of +communication forty or fifty miles long, it is of little consequence +whether the position occupied by an army standing at one extremity of +this line forms an oblique angle or a right angle in reference to it, +as the breadth of the position is little more than a mere point in +comparison to the line; and yet it is not so unimportant as it may +seem. When an army is posted at a right angle with its communications, +it is difficult, even with a considerable superiority, to interrupt the +communications by any detachments or partisans sent out for the +purpose. If we think only of the difficulty of covering absolutely a +certain space, we should not believe this, but rather suppose, on the +contrary, that it must be very difficult for an army to protect its +rear (that is, the country behind it) against all expeditions which an +enemy superior in numbers may undertake. Certainly, if we could look at +everything in war as it is on a sheet of paper! Then the party covering +the line, in his uncertainty as to the point where light troops or +partisans may appear, would be in a certain measure blind, and only the +partisans would see. But if we think of the uncertainty and +insufficiency of intelligence gained in war, and know that both parties +are incessantly groping in the dark, then we easily perceive that a +detached corps sent round the enemy’s flank to gain his rear is in the +position of a man engaged in a fray with numbers in a dark room. In the +end he must fall; and so must it also be with bands who get round an +army occupying a perpendicular position, and who therefore place +themselves near to the enemy, but widely separated from their own +people. Not only is there danger of losing numbers in this way; there +is also a risk of the whole instrument itself being blunted +immediately; for the very first misfortune which happens to one such +party will make all the others timid, and instead of bold attacks and +insolent dodging, the only play will be constant running away. + +Through this difficulty, therefore, an army occupying a perpendicular +position covers the nearest points on its line of communications for a +distance of two or three marches, according to the strength of the +army; but those nearest points are just those which are most in danger, +as they are the nearest to the enemy. + +On the other hand, in the case of a decidedly oblique position, no such +part of the line of communication is covered; the smallest pressure, +the most insignificant attempt on the part of the enemy, leads at once +to a vulnerable point. + +But now, what is it which determines the front of a position, if it is +not just the direction perpendicular to the line of communication? The +front of the enemy; but then, again, this may be equally as well +supposed as dependent on our front. Here there is a reciprocal effect, +for the origin of which we must search. + +[Illustration: lines of communication] + + +If we suppose the lines of communication of the assailant, _a b_, so +situated with respect to those of the enemy, _c d_, that the two lines +form a considerable angle with each other, it is evident that if the +defensive wishes to take up a position at _e_, where the two lines +intersect, the assailant from _b_, by the mere geometrical relation, +could compel him to form front opposite to him, and thus to lay bare +his communications. The case would be reversed if the defensive took up +his position on this side of the point of junction, about _d_; then the +assailant must make front towards him, if so be that his line of +operations, which closely depends on geographical conditions, cannot be +arbitrarily changed, and moved, for instance, to the direction _a d_. +From this it would seem to follow that the defender has an advantage in +this system of reciprocal action, because he only requires to take a +position on this side of the intersection of the two lines. But very +far from attaching any importance to this geometrical element, we only +brought it into consideration to make ourselves the better understood; +and we are rather of opinion that local and generally individual +relations have much more to do with determining the position of the +defender; that, therefore, it is quite impossible to lay down in +general which of two belligerents will be obliged soonest to expose his +communications. + +If the lines of communication of both sides lie in one and the same +direction, then whichever of the two parties takes up an oblique +position will certainly compel his adversary to do the same. But then +there is nothing gained geometrically by this, and both parties attain +the same advantages and disadvantages. + +In the continuation of our considerations we shall, therefore, confine +ourselves to the case of the line of communication of one side only +being exposed. + +Now as regards the second disadvantageous relation of a line of +communication, that is to say, when it runs through an enemy’s country, +it is clear in itself how much the line is compromised by that +circumstance, if the inhabitants of the country have taken up arms; and +consequently the case must be looked at as if a body of the enemy was +posted all along the line; this body, it is true, is in itself weak +without solidity or intensive force; but we must also take into +consideration what the close contact and influence of such a hostile +force may nevertheless effect through the number of points which offer +themselves one after another on long lines of communication. That +requires no further explanation. But even if the enemy’s subjects have +not taken up arms, and even if there is no militia in the country, or +other military organisation, indeed if the people are even very +unwarlike in spirit, still the mere relation of the people as subjects +to a hostile government is a disadvantage for the lines of +communication of the other side which is always felt. The assistance +which expeditionary forces and partisans derive merely through a better +understanding with the people, through a knowledge of the country and +its inhabitants, through good information, through the support of +official functionaries, is, for them, of decided value; and this +support every such body will enjoy without any special effort on its +own part. Added to this, within a certain distance there will not be +wanting fortresses, rivers, mountains, or other places of refuge, which +of ordinary right belong to the enemy, if they have not been formally +taken possession of and occupied by our troops. + +Now in such a case as is here supposed, especially if attended with +other favourable circumstances, it is possible to act against the +communications of an army, although their direction is perpendicular to +the position of that army; for the detachments employed for the purpose +do not then require to fall back always on their own army, because +being in their own country they are safe enough if they only make their +escape. + +We have, therefore, now ascertained that— + +1. A considerable length, + +2. An oblique direction, + +3. An enemy’s province, + +are the principal circumstances under which the lines of communication +of an army may be interrupted by a relatively small proportion of armed +forces on the side of the enemy; in order to make this interruption +effectual, a fourth condition is still requisite, which is a certain +duration of time. Respecting this point, we beg attention to what has +been said in the fifteenth chapter of the fifth book. + +But these four conditions are only the chief points which relate to the +subject; a number of local and special circumstances attach themselves +to these, and often attain to an influence more decisive and important +than that of the principal ones themselves. Selecting only the most +essential, we mention the state of the roads, the nature of the country +through which they pass, the means of cover which are afforded by +rivers, mountains, and morasses, the seasons and weather, the +importance of particular convoys, such as siege trains, the number of +light troops, etc., etc. + +On all these circumstances, therefore, will depend the effect with +which a general can act on his opponent’s communications; and by +comparing the result of the whole of these circumstances on the one +side with the result of the whole on the other, we obtain a just +estimate of the relative advantages of both systems of communication, +on which will depend which of the two generals can play the highest +game. + +What here seems so prolix in the explanation is often decided in the +concrete case at first sight; but still, the tact of a practised +judgment is required for that, and person must have thought over every +one of the cases now developed in order to see in its true light the +absurdity of those critical writers who think they have settled +something by the mere words “turning” and “acting on a flank,” without +giving their reasons. + +We now come to the _second chief condition_, under which the strategic +action against the enemy’s flank may take place. + +If the enemy is hindered from advancing by any other cause but the +resistance which our army opposes, let that cause be what it may, then +our army has no reason to be apprehensive about weakening itself by +sending out detachments to harass the enemy; for if the enemy should +attempt to chastise us by an attack, we have only to yield some ground +and decline the combat. This is what was done by the chief Russian army +at Moscow in 1812. But it is not at all necessary that everything +should be again on the same great scale as in that campaign for such a +case to happen again. In the first Silesian war, Frederick the Great +was each time in this situation, on the frontiers of Bohemia and +Moravia, and in the complex affairs relating to generals and their +armies, many causes of different kinds, particularly political ones, +may be imagined, which make further advance an impossibility. + +As in the case now supposed more forces may be spared to act against +the enemy’s flank, the other conditions need not be quite so +favourable: even the nature of our communications in relation to those +of the enemy need not give us the advantage in that respect, as an +enemy who is not in a condition to make any particular use of our +further retreat is not likely to use his right to retaliate, but will +rather be anxious about the direct covering of his own line of retreat. + +Such a situation is therefore very well suited to obtain for us, by +means less brilliant and complete but less dangerous than a victory, +those results which it would be too great a risk to seek to obtain by a +battle. + +As in such a case we feel little anxiety about exposing our own line of +communications, by taking up a position on one or other flank, and as +the enemy by that means may always be comspelled to form front +obliquely to his line of communications, therefore _this one_ of the +conditions above named will seldom fail to occur. The more the rest of +the conditions, as well as other circumstances, co-operate, so much the +more certain are we of success from the means now in question; but the +fewer favourable circumstances exist, the more will all depend on +superior skill in combination, and promptitude and precision in the +execution. + +Here is the proper field for strategic manœuvres, such as are to be +found so frequently in the Seven Years’ War, in Silesia and Saxony, and +in the campaigns of 1760 and 1762. If, in many wars in which only a +moderate amount of elementary force is displayed, such strategic +manœuvring very often appears, this is not because the commander on +each occasion found himself at the end of his career, but because want +of resolution and courage, and of an enterprising spirit, and dread of +responsibility, have often supplied the place of real impediments; for +a case in point, we have only to call to mind Field Marshal Daun. + +As a summary of the results of our considerations, we may say, that the +action against a flank is most effectual— + +1. In the defensive; + +2. Towards the end of a campaign; + +3. Above all, in a retreat into the heart of the country; and + +4. In connection with a general arming of the people. + +On the mode of executing this action against the communications, we +have only a few words to say. + +The enterprises must be conducted by skilful detachment leaders, who, +at the head of small bodies, by bold marches and attacks, fall upon the +enemy’s weak garrisons, convoys, and small detachments on the march +here and there, encourage the national levies (_landsturm_), and +sometimes join with them in particular undertakings. These parties must +be more numerous than strong individually, and so organised that it may +be possible to unite several of them for any greater undertaking +without any obstacle from the vanity or caprice of any of the single +leaders. + +We have now to speak of the action against the enemy’s line of retreat. + +Here we must keep in view, above all things, the principle with which +we commenced, that forces destined to operate in rear cannot be used in +front; that, therefore, the action against the rear or flanks is not an +increase of force in itself; it is only to be regarded as a more +powerful application (or employment) of the same; increasing the degree +of success in prospect, but also increasing the degree of risk. + +Every opposition offered with the sword which is not of a direct and +simple nature, has a tendency to raise the result at the cost of its +certainty. An operation against the enemy’s flank, whether with one +compact force, or with separate bodies converging from several +quarters, belongs to this category. + +But now, if cutting off the enemy’s retreat is not to be a mere +demonstration, but is seriously intended, the real solution is a +decisive battle, or, at least, the conjunction of all the conditions +for the same; and just in this solution we find again the two elements +above-mentioned—the greater result and the greater danger. Therefore, +if a general is to stand justified in adopting this method of action, +his reasons must be favourable conditions. + +In this method of resistance we must distinguish the two forms already +mentioned. The first is, if a general with his whole force intends to +attack the enemy in rear, either from a position taken up on the flank +for that purpose, or by a formal turning movement; the second is, if he +divides his forces, and, by an enveloping position with one part, +threatens the enemy’s rear, with the other part his front. + +The result is intensified in both cases alike, that is—either there is +a real interception of the retreat, and consequently the enemy’s army +taken prisoners, or the greater part scattered, or there may be a long +and hasty retreat of the enemy’s force to escape the danger. + +But the intensified risk is different in the two cases. + +If we turn the enemy with our whole force, the danger lies in the +laying open our own rear; and hence the question again depends on the +relation of the mutual lines of retreat, just as in the action against +the lines of communication, it depended on the relation of those lines. + +Now certainly the defender, if he is in his own country, is less +restricted than the assailant, both as to his lines of retreat and +communication, and in so far is therefore in a better position to turn +his adversary strategically; but this general relation is not of a +sufficiently decisive character to be used as the foundation of a +practical method; therefore, nothing but the whole of the relations in +each individual case can decide. + +Only so much we may add, that favourable conditions are naturally more +common in wide spheres of action than in small; more common, also, on +the side of independent states than on that of weak ones, dependent on +foreign aid, and whose armies must, therefore, constantly have their +attention bent on the point of junction with the auxiliary army; +lastly, they become most favorable for the defender towards the close +of the campaign, when the impulsive force of the assailant is somewhat +spent; very much, again, in the same manner as in the case of the lines +of communication. + +Such a flank position as the Russians took up with such advantage on +the road from Moscow to Kaluga, when Buonaparte’s aggressive force was +spent, would have brought them into a scrape at the commencement of the +campaign at the camp of Drissa, if they had not been wise enough to +change their plan in good time. + +The other method of turning the enemy, and cutting off his retreat by +dividing our force, entails the risk attending a division of our own +force, whilst the enemy, having the advantage of interior lines, +retains his forces united, and therefore has the power of acting with +superior numbers against one of our divisions. This is a disadvantage +which nothing can remove, and in exposing ourselves to it, we can only +be justified by one of three principal reasons:— + +1. The original division of the force which makes such a method of +action necessary, unless we incur a great loss of time. + +2. A great moral and physical superiority, which justifies the adoption +of a decisive method. + +3. The want of impulsive force in the enemy as soon as he has arrived +at the culminating point of his career. + +When Frederick the Great invaded Bohemia, 1757, on converging lines, he +had not in view to combine an attack in front with one on the strategic +rear, at all events, this was by no means his principal object, as we +shall more fully explain elsewhere, but in any case it is evident that +there never could have been any question of a concentration of forces +in Silesia or Saxony before the invasion, as he would thereby have +sacrificed all the advantages of a surprise. + +When the allies formed their plan for the second part of the campaign +of 1813, looking to their great superiority in numbers, they might very +well at that time entertain the idea of attacking Buonaparte’s right on +the Elbe with their main force, and of thus shifting the theatre of war +from the Oder to the Elbe. Their ill-success at Dresden is to be +ascribed not to this general plan but to their faulty dispositions both +strategic and tactical. They could have concentrated 220,000 men at +Dresden against Buonaparte’s 130,000, a proportion of numbers eminently +favourable (at Leipsic, at least, the proportion was as 285 : 157). It +is true that Buonaparte had distributed his forces too evenly for the +particular system of a defence upon one line (in Silesia 70,000 against +90,000, in the Mark—Brandenburg—70,000 against 110,000), but at all +events it would have been difficult for him, without completely +abandoning Silesia, to assemble on the Elbe a force which could have +contended with the principal army of the allies in a decisive battle. +The allies could also have easily called up the army of Wrede to the +Maine, and employed it to try to cut Buonaparte off from the road to +Mayence. + +Lastly, in 1812, the Russians might have directed their army of +Moldavia upon Volhynia and Lithuania in order to move it forward +afterwards against the rear of the principal French army, because it +was quite certain that Moscow must be the extreme point of the French +line of operations. For any part of Russia beyond Moscow there was +nothing to fear in that campaign, therefore the Russian main army had +no cause to consider itself too weak. + +This same scheme formed part of the disposition of the forces laid down +in the first defensive plan proposed by General Phul, according to +which the army of Barclay was to occupy the camp at Drissa, whilst that +under Bragathion was to press forward against the rear of the main +French army. But what a difference of circumstances in the two cases! +In the first of them the French were three times as strong as the +Russians; in the second, the Russians were decidedly superior. In the +first, Buonaparte’s great army had in it an impulsive force which +carried it to Moscow 80 miles beyond Drissa: in the second, it is unfit +to make a day’s march beyond Moscow; in the first, the line of retreat +on the Niemen did not exceed 30 miles: in the second it was 112. The +same action against the enemy’s retreat therefore, which was so +successful in the second case, would, in the first, have been the +wildest folly. + +As the action against the enemy’s line of retreat, if it is more than a +demonstration, becomes a formal attack from the rear, there remains +therefore still a good deal to be said on the subject, but it will come +in more appropriately in the book upon the attack; we shall therefore +break off here and content ourselves with having given the conditions +under which this kind of reaction may take place. + +Very commonly the design of causing the enemy to retreat by menacing +his line of retreat, is understood to imply rather a mere demonstration +than the actual execution of the threat. If it was necessary that every +efficacious demonstration should be founded on the actual +practicability of real action, which seems a matter of course at first +sight, then it would accord with the same in all respects. But this is +not the case: on the contrary, in the chapter on demonstrations we +shall see that they are connected with conditions somewhat different, +at all events in some respects, we therefore refer our readers to that +chapter. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. Retreat into the Interior of the Country + +We have considered the voluntary retreat into the heart of the country +as a particular indirect form of defence through which it is expected +the enemy will be destroyed, not so much by the sword as by exhaustion +from his own efforts. In this case, therefore, a great battle is either +not supposed, or it is assumed to take place when the enemy’s forces +are considerably reduced. + +Every assailant in advancing diminishes his military strength by the +advance; we shall consider this more in detail in the seventh book; +here we must assume that result which we may the more readily do as it +is clearly shown by military history in every campaign in which there +has been a considerable advance. + +This loss in the advance is increased if the enemy has not been beaten, +but withdraws of his own accord with his forces intact, and offering a +steady continuous resistance, sells every step of ground at a bloody +price, so that the advance is a continuous combat for ground and not a +mere pursuit. + +On the other hand, the losses which a party on the defensive suffers on +a retreat, are much greater if his retreat has been preceded by a +defeat in battle than if his retreat is voluntary. For if he is able to +offer the pursuer the daily resistance which we expect on a voluntary +retreat, his losses would be _at least_ the same in that way, over and +above which those sustained in the battle have still to be added. But +how contrary to the nature of the thing such a supposition as this +would be! The best army in the world if obliged to retire far into the +country after the loss of a battle, will suffer losses on the retreat, +_beyond measure out of proportion;_ and if the enemy is considerably +superior, as we suppose him, in the case of which we are now speaking, +if he pursues with great energy as has almost always been done in +modern wars, then there is the highest probability that a regular +flight takes place by which the army is usually completely ruined. + +A _regularly measured_ daily resistance, that is, one which each time +only lasts as long as the balance of success in the combat can be kept +wavering, and in which we secure ourselves from defeat by giving up the +ground which has been contested at the right moment, will cost the +assailant at least as many men as the defender in these combats, for +the loss which the latter by retiring now and again must unavoidably +suffer in prisoners, will be balanced by the losses of the other under +fire, as the assailant must always fight against the advantages of the +ground. It is true that the retreating side loses entirely all those +men who are badly wounded, but the assailant likewise loses all his in +the same case for the present, as they usually remain several months in +the hospitals. + +The result will be that the two armies will wear each other away in +nearly equal proportions in these perpetual collisions. + +It is quite different in the pursuit of a beaten army. Here the troops +lost in battle, the general disorganisation, the broken courage, the +anxiety about the retreat, make such a resistance on the part of the +retreating army very difficult, in many cases impossible; and the +pursuer who, in the former case, advances extremely cautiously, even +hesitatingly, like a blind man, always groping about, presses forward +in the latter case with the firm tread of the conqueror, with the +overweening spirit which good fortune imparts, with the confidence of a +demigod, and the more daringly he urges the pursuit so much the more he +hastens on things in the direction which they have already taken, +because here is the true field for the moral forces which intensify and +multiply themselves without being restricted to the rigid numbers and +measures of the physical world. + +It is therefore very plain how different will be the relations of two +armies according as it is by the first or the second of the above ways, +that they arrive at that point which may be regarded as the end of the +assailant’s course. + +This is merely the result of the mutual destruction; to this must now +be added the reductions which the advancing party suffers otherwise in +addition, and respecting which, as already said, we refer to the +seventh book; further, on the other hand, we have to take into account +reinforcements which the retreating party receives in the great +majority of cases, by forces subsequently joining him either in the +form of help from abroad or through persistent efforts at home. + +Lastly, there is, in the means of subsistence, such a disproportion +between the retreating side and the advancing, that the first not +uncommonly lives in superfluity when the other is reduced to want. + +The army in retreat has the means of collecting provisions everywhere, +and he marches towards them, whilst the pursuer must have everything +brought after him, which, as long as he is in motion, even with the +shortest lines of communication, is difficult, and on that account +begets scarcity from the very first. + +All that the country yields will be taken for the benefit of the +retreating army first, and will be mostly consumed. Nothing remains but +wasted villages and towns, fields from which the crops have been +gathered, or which are trampled down, empty wells, and muddy brooks. + +The pursuing army, therefore, from the very first day, has frequently +to contend with the most pressing wants. On taking the enemy’s supplies +he cannot reckon; it is only through accident, or some unpardonable +blunder on the part of the enemy, that here and there some little falls +into his hands. + +Thus there can be no doubt that in countries of vast dimensions, and +when there is no extraordinary disproportion between the belligerent +powers, a relation may be produced in this way between the military +forces, which holds out to the defensive an immeasurably greater chance +of a final result in his favour than he would have had if there had +been a great battle on the frontier. Not only does the probability of +gaining a victory become greater through this alteration in the +proportions of the contending armies, but the prospects of great +results from the victory are increased as well, through the change of +position. What a difference between a battle lost close to the frontier +of our country and one in the middle of the enemy’s country! Indeed, +the situation of the assailant is often such at the end of his first +start, that even a battle _gained_ may force him to retreat, because he +has neither enough impulsive power left to complete and make use of a +victory, nor is he in a condition to replace the forces he has lost. + +There is, therefore, an immense difference between a decisive blow at +the commencement and at the end of the attack. + +To the great advantage of this mode of defence are opposed two +drawbacks. The first is the loss which the country suffers through the +presence of the enemy in his advance, the other is the moral +impression. + +To protect the country from loss can certainly never be looked upon as +the object of the whole defence. That object is an advantageous peace. +To obtain that as surely as possible is the endeavour, and for it no +momentary sacrifice must he considered too great. At the same time, the +above loss, although it may not be decisive, must still be laid in the +balance, for it always affects our interests. + +This loss does not affect our army directly; it only acts upon it in a +more or less roundabout way, whilst the retreat itself directly +reinforces our army. It is, therefore, difficult to draw a comparison +between the advantage and disadvantage in this case; they are things of +a different kind, the action of which is not directed towards any +common point. We must, therefore, content ourselves with saying that +the loss is greater when we have to sacrifice fruitful provinces well +populated, and large commercial towns; but it arrives at a maximum when +at the same time we lose war-means either ready for use or in course of +preparation. + +The second counterpoise is the moral impression. There are cases in +which the commander must be above regarding such a thing, in which he +must quietly follow out his plans, and run the risk of the objections +which short-sighted despondency may offer; but nevertheless, this +impression is no phantom which should be despised. It is not like a +force which acts upon one point: but like a force which, with the speed +of lightning, penetrates every fibre, and paralyses all the powers +which should be in full activity, both in a nation and in its army. +There are indeed cases in which the cause of the retreat into the +interior of the country is quickly understood by both nation and army, +and trust, as well as hope, are elevated by the step; but such cases +are rare. More usually, the people and the army cannot distinguish +whether it is a voluntary movement or a precipitate retreat, and still +less whether the plan is one wisely adopted, with a view to ensure +ulterior advantages, or the result of fear of the enemy’s sword. The +people have a mingled feeling of sympathy and dissatisfaction at seeing +the fate of the provinces sacrificed; the army easily loses confidence +in its leaders, or even in itself, and the constant combats of the +rear-guard during the retreat, tend always to give new strength to its +fears. _These are consequences_ of the retreat about which we must +never deceive ourselves. And it certainly is—considered in itself—more +natural, simpler, nobler, and more in accordance with the moral +existence of a nation, to enter the lists at once, that the enemy may +out cross the frontiers of its people without being opposed by its +genius, and being called to a bloody account. + +These are the advantages and disadvantages of this kind of defence; now +a few words on its conditions and the circumstances which are in its +favour. + +A country of great extent, or at all events, a long line of retreat, is +the first and fundamental condition; for an advance of a few marches +will naturally not weaken the enemy seriously. Buonaparte’s centre, in +the year 1812, at Witepsk, was 250,000 strong, at Smolensk, 182,000, at +Borodino it had only diminished to 130,000, that is to say, had fallen +to about an equality with the Russian centre. Borodino is ninety miles +from the frontier; but it was not until they came near Moscow that the +Russians reached that decided superiority in numbers, which of itself +reversed the situation of the combatants so assuredly, that the French +victory at Malo Jaroslewetz could not essentially alter it again. + +No other European state has the dimensions of Russia, and in very few +can a line of retreat 100 miles long be imagined. But neither will a +power such as that of the French in 1812, easily appear under different +circumstances, still less such a superiority in numbers as existed at +the commencement of the campaign, when the French army had more than +double the numbers of its adversary, besides its undoubted moral +superiority. Therefore, what was here only effected at the end of 100 +miles, may perhaps, in other cases, be attained at the end of 50 or 30 +miles. + +The circumstances which favour this mode of defence are— + +1. A country only little cultivated. + +2. A loyal and warlike people. + +3. An inclement season. + +All these things increase the difficulty of maintaining an army, render +great convoys necessary, many detachments, harassing duties, cause the +spread of sickness, and make operations against the flanks easier for +the defender. + +Lastly, we have yet to speak of the absolute mass alone of the armed +force, as influencing the result. + +It lies in the nature of the thing itself that, irrespective of the +mutual relation of the forces opposed to each other, a small force is +sooner exhausted than a larger, and, therefore, that its career cannot +be so long, nor its theatre of war so wide. There is, therefore, to a +certain extent, a constant relation between the absolute size of an +army and the space which that army can occupy. It is out of the +question to try to express this relation by any figures, and besides, +it will always be modified by other circumstances; it is sufficient for +our purpose to say that these things necessarily have this relation +from their very nature. We may be able to march upon Moscow with +500,000 but not with 50,000, even if the relation of the invader’s army +to that of the defender in point of numbers were much more favourable +in the latter case. + +Now if we assume that there is this relation of absolute power to space +in two different cases, then it is certain that the effect of our +retreat into the interior in weakening the enemy will increase with the +masses. + +1. Subsistence and lodging of the troops become more difficult—for, +supposing the space which an army covers to increase in proportion to +the size of the army, still the subsistence for the army will never be +obtainable from this space alone, and everything which has to be +brought after an army is subject to greater loss also; the whole space +occupied is never used for covering for the troops, only a small part +of it is required, and this does not increase in the same proportion as +the masses. + +2. The advance is in the same manner more tedious in proportion as the +masses increase, consequently, the time is longer before the career of +aggression is run out, and the sum total of the daily losses is +greater. + +Three thousand men driving two thousand before them in an ordinary +country, will not allow them to march at the rate of 1, 2, or at most 3 +miles a day, and from time to time to make a few days’ halt. To come up +with them, to attack them, and force them to make a further retreat is +the work of a few hours; but if we multiply these masses by 100, the +case is altered. Operations for which a few hours sufficed in the first +case, require now a whole day, perhaps two. The contending forces +cannot remain together near one point; thereby, therefore, the +diversity of movements and combinations increases, and, consequently, +also the time required. But this places the assailant at a +disadvantage, because his difficulty with subsistence being greater, he +is obliged to extend his force more than the pursued, and, therefore, +is always in danger of being overpowered by the latter at some +particular point, as the Russians tried to do at Witepsk. + +3. The greater the masses are, the more severe are the exertions +demanded from each individual for the daily duties required +strategically and tactically. A hundred thousand men who have to march +to and from the point of assembly every day, halted at one time, and +then set in movement again, now called to arms, then cooking or +receiving their rations—a hundred thousand who must not go into their +bivouac until the necessary reports are delivered in from all +quarters—these men, as a rule, require for all these exertions +connected with the actual march, twice as much time as 50,000 would +require, but there are only twenty-four hours in the day for both. How +much the time and fatigue of the march itself differs according to the +size of the body of troops to be moved, has been shown in the ninth +chapter of the preceding book. Now, the retreating army, it is true, +partakes of these fatigues as well as the advancing, but they are much +greater for the latter:— + +1. because the mass of his troops is greater on account of the +superiority which we supposed, + +2. because the defender, by being always the party to yield ground, +purchases by this sacrifice the right of the initiative, and, +therefore, the right always to give the law to the other. He forms his +plan beforehand, which, in most cases, he can carry out unaltered, but +the aggressor, on the other hand, can only make his plans conformably +to those of his adversary, which he must in the first instance find +out. + +We must, however, remind our readers that we are speaking of the +pursuit of an enemy who has not suffered a defeat, who has not even +lost a battle. It is necessary to mention this, in order that we may +not be supposed to contradict what was said in the twelfth chapter of +our fourth book. + +But this privilege of giving the law to the enemy makes a difference in +saving of time, expenditure of force, as well as in respect of other +minor advantages which, in the long run, becomes very important. + +3. because the retreating force on the one hand does all he can to make +his own retreat easy, repairs roads, and bridges, chooses the most +convenient places for encampment, etc., and, on the other hand again, +does all he can to throw impediments in the way of the pursuer, as he +destroys bridges, by the mere act of marching makes bad roads worse, +deprives the enemy of good places for encampment by occupying them +himself, etc. + +Lastly, we must add still, as a specially favourable circumstance, the +war made by the people. This does not require further examination here, +as we shall allot a chapter to the subject itself. + +Hitherto, we have been engaged upon the advantages which such a retreat +ensures, the sacrifices which it requires, and the conditions which +must exist; we shall now say something of the mode of executing it. + +The first question which we have to propose to ourselves is with +reference to the direction of the retreat. + +It should be made into the _interior_ of the country, therefore, if +possible, towards a point where the enemy will be surrounded on all +sides by our provinces; there he will be exposed to their influence, +and we shall not be in danger _of being separated from the principal +mass of our territory_, which might happen if we chose a line too near +the frontier, as would have happened to the Russians in 1812 if they +had retreated to the south instead of the east. + +This is the condition which lies in the object of the measure itself. +Which point in the country is the best, how far the choice of that +point will accord with the design of covering the capital or any other +important point directly, or drawing the enemy away from the direction +of such important places depends on circumstances. + +If the Russians had well considered their retreat in 1812 beforehand, +and, therefore, made it completely in conformity with a regular plan, +they might easily, from Smolensk, have taken the road to Kaluga, which +they only took on leaving Moscow; it is very possible that under these +circumstances Moscow would have been entirely saved. + +That is to say, the French were about 130,000 strong at Borodino, and +there is no ground for assuming that they would have been any stronger +if this battle had been fought by the Russians half way to Kaluga +instead; now, how many of these men could they have spared to detach to +Moscow? Plainly, very few; but it is not with a few troops that an +expedition can be sent a distance of fifty miles (the distance from +Smolensk to Moscow) against such a place as Moscow. + +Supposing Buonaparte when at Smolensk, where he was 160,000 strong, had +thought he could venture to detach against Moscow before engaging in a +great battle, and had used 40,000 men for that purpose, leaving 120,000 +opposite the principal Russian army, in that case, these 120,000 men +would not have been more than 90,000 in the battle, that is 40,000 less +than the number which fought at Borodino; the Russians, therefore, +would have had a superiority in numbers of 30,000 men. Taking the +course of the battle of Borodino as a standard, we may very well assume +that with such a superiority they would have been victorious. At all +events, the relative situation of the parties would have been more +favourable for the Russians than it was at Borodino. But the retreat of +the Russians was not the result of a well-matured plan; they retreated +as far as they did because each time that they were on the point of +giving battle they did not consider themselves strong enough yet for a +great action; all their supplies and reinforcements were on the road +from Moscow to Smolensk, and it could not enter the head of anyone at +Smolensk to leave that road. But, besides, a victory between Smolensk +and Kaluga would never have excused, in the eyes of the Russians, the +offence of having left Moscow uncovered, and exposed it to the +possibility of being captured. + +Buonaparte, in 1813, would have secured Paris with more certainty from +an attack if he had taken up a position at some distance in a lateral +direction, somewhere behind the canal of Burgundy, leaving only with +the large force of National Guard in Paris a few thousand regular +troops. The allies would never have had the courage to march a corps of +50,000 or 60,000 against Paris whilst Buonaparte was in the field at +Auxerre with 100,000 men. If the case is supposed reversed, and the +allies in Buonaparte’s place, then no one, indeed, would have advised +them to leave the road open to their own capital with _Buonaparte_ for +their opponent. With such a preponderance he would not have hesitated a +moment about marching on the capital. So different is the effect under +the same circumstances but under different moral relations. + +As we shall have hereafter to return to this subject when treating of +the plan of a war, we shall only at present add that, when such a +lateral position is taken, the capital or place which it is the object +to protect, must, in every case, be capable of making some resistance +that it may not be occupied and laid under contribution by every flying +column or irregular band. + +But we have still to consider another peculiarity in the direction of +such a line of retreat, that is, a sudden _change of direction_. After +the Russians had kept the same direction as far as Moscow they left +that direction which would have taken them to Wladimir, and after first +taking the road to Riazan for some distance, they then transferred +their army to the Kaluga road. If they had been obliged to continue +their retreat they could easily have done so in this new direction +which would have led them to Kiew, therefore much nearer again to the +enemy’s frontier. That the French, even if they had still preserved a +large numerical superiority over the Russians, could not have +maintained their line of communication by Moscow under such +circumstances is clear in itself; they must have given up not only +Moscow but, in all probability, Smolensk also, therefore have again +abandoned the conquests obtained with so much toil, and contented +themselves with a theatre of war on this side the Beresina. + +Now, certainly, the Russian army would thus have got into the same +difficulty to which it would have exposed itself by taking the +direction of Kiew at first, namely, that of being separated from the +mass of its own territory; but this disadvantage would now have become +almost insignificant, for how different would have been the condition +of the French army if it had marched straight upon Kiew without making +the detour by Moscow. + +It is evident that such a sudden _change of direction_ of a line of +retreat, which is very practicable in a spacious country, ensures +remarkable advantages. + +1. It makes it impossible for the enemy (the advancing force) to +maintain his old line of communication: but the organisation of a new +one is always a difficult matter, in addition to which the change is +made gradually, therefore, probably, he has to try more than one new +line. + +2. If both parties in this manner approach the frontier again; the +position of the aggressor no longer covers his conquests, and he must +in all probability give them up. + +Russia with its enormous dimensions, is a country in which two armies +might in this manner regularly play at prisoners’ base (Zeck jagen). + +But such a change of the line of retreat is also possible in smaller +countries, when other circumstances are favourable, which can only be +judged of in each individual case, according to its different +relations. + +When the direction in which the enemy is to be drawn into the country +is once fixed upon, then it follows of itself that our principal army +should take that direction, for otherwise the enemy would not advance +in that direction, and if he even did we should not then be able to +impose upon him all the conditions above supposed. The question then +only remains whether we shall take this direction with our forces +undivided, or whether considerable portions should spread out laterally +and therefore give the retreat a divergent (eccentric) form. + +To this we answer that this latter form in itself is to be rejected. + +1. Because it divides our forces, whilst their concentration on one +point is just one of the chief difficulties for the enemy. + +2. Because the enemy gets the advantage of operating on interior lines, +can remain more concentrated than we are, consequently can appear in so +much the greater force at any one point. Now certainly this superiority +is less to be dreaded when we are following a system of constantly +giving way; but the very condition of this constantly yielding, is +always to continue formidable to the enemy and not to allow him to beat +us in detail, which might easily happen. A further object of such a +retreat, is to bring our principal force by degrees to a superiority of +numbers, and with this superiority to give a decisive blow, but that by +a partition of forces would become an uncertainty. + +3. Because as a general rule the concentric (convergent) action against +the enemy is not adapted to the weaker forces. + +4. Because many disadvantages of the weak points of the aggression +disappear when the defender’s army is divided into separate parts. + +The weakest features in a long advance on the part of the aggressor are +for instance;—the length of the lines of communication, and the +exposure of the strategic flanks. By the divergent form of retreat, the +aggressor is compelled to cause a portion of his force to show a front +to the flank, and this portion properly destined only to neutralise our +force immediately in his front, now effects to a certain extent +something else in addition, by covering a portion of the lines of +communication. + +For the mere strategic effect of the retreat, the divergent form is +therefore not favourable; but if it is to prepare an action hereafter +against the enemy’s line of retreat, then we must refer to what has +been said about that in the last chapter. + +There is _only one_ object which can give occasion to a divergent +retreat, that is when we can by that means protect provinces which +otherwise the enemy would occupy. + +What sections of territory the advancing foe will occupy right and left +of his course, can with tolerable accuracy be discerned by the point of +assembly of, and directions given to, his forces, by the situation of +his own provinces, fortresses, etc., in respect to our own. To place +troops in those districts of territory which he will in all probability +leave unoccupied, would be dangerous waste of our forces. But now +whether _by any disposition of our forces we shall be able to hinder +him_ from occupying those districts which in all probability he will +desire to occupy, is more difficult to decide, and it is therefore a +point, the solution of which depends much on tact of judgment. + +When the Russians retreated in 1812, they left 30,000 men under +Tormassow in Volhynia, to oppose the Austrian force which was expected +to invade that province. The size of the province, the numerous +obstacles of ground which the country presents, the near proportion +between the forces likely to come into conflict justified the Russians +in their expectations, that they would be able to keep the upper hand +in that quarter, or at least to maintain themselves near to their +frontier. By this, very important advantages might have resulted in the +sequel, which we shall not stop here to discuss; besides this, it was +almost impossible for these troops to have joined the main army in time +if they had wished. For these reasons, the determination to leave these +troops in Volhynia to carry on there a distinct war of their own, was +right. Now on the other hand, if according to the proposed plan of +campaign submitted by General Phul, only the army of Barclay (80,000 +men), was to retire to Drissa, and Bragathion’s army (40,000 men) was +to remain on the right flank of the French, with a view to subsequently +falling on their rear, it is evident at once that this corps could not +possibly maintain itself in South Lithuania so near to the rear of the +main body of the French army, and would soon have been destroyed by +their overwhelming masses. + +That the defender’s interest in itself is to give up as few provinces +as possible to the assailant is intelligible enough, but this is always +a secondary consideration; that the attack is also made more difficult +the smaller or rather narrower the theatre of war is to which we can +confine the enemy, is likewise clear in itself; but all this is +subordinate to the condition that in so doing we have the probability +of a result in our favour, and that the main body of the force on the +defensive will not be too much weakened; for upon that force we must +chiefly depend for the final solution, because the difficulties and +distress suffered by the main body of the enemy, first call forth his +determination to retreat, and increase in the greatest degree the loss +of physical and moral power therewith connected. + +The retreat into the interior of the country should therefore as a rule +be made directly before the enemy, and as slowly as possible, with an +army which has not suffered defeat and is undivided; and by its +incessant resistance it should force the enemy to a constant state of +readiness for battle, and to a ruinous expenditure of forces in +tactical and strategical measures of precaution. + +When both sides have in this manner reached the end of the aggressor’s +first start, the defender should then dispose his army in a position, +if such can be found, forming an oblique angle with the route of his +opponent, and operate against the enemy’s rear with all the means at +his command. + +The campaign of 1812 in Russia shows all these measures on a great +scale, and their effects, as it were, in a magnifying glass. Although +it was not a voluntary retreat, we may easily consider it from that +point of view. If the Russians with the experience they now have of the +results to be thus produced, had to undertake the defence of their +country over again, exactly under the same circumstances, they would do +voluntarily and systematically what in great part was done without a +definite plan in 1812; but it would be a great mistake to suppose that +there neither is nor can be any instance elsewhere of the same mode of +action where the dimensions of the Russian empire are wanting. + +Whenever a strategic attack, without coming to the issue of a battle, +is wrecked merely on the difficulties encountered, and the aggressor is +compelled to make a more or less disastrous retreat, there the chief +conditions and principal effects of this mode of defence will be found +to have taken place, whatever may be the modifying circumstances +otherwise with which it is accompanied. Frederick the Great’s campaign +of 1742 in Moravia, of 1744 in Bohemia, the French campaign of 1743 in +Austria and Bohemia, the Duke of Brunswick’s campaign of 1792 in +France, Massena’s winter campaign of 1810—11 in Portugal, are all cases +in which this is exemplified, although in smaller proportions and +relations; there are besides innumerable fragmentary operations of this +kind, the results of which, although not wholly, are still partly to be +ascribed to the principle which we here uphold; these we do not bring +forward, because it would necessitate a development of circumstances +which would lead us into too wide a field. + +In Russia, and in the other cases cited, the crisis or turn of affairs +took place without any successful battle, having given the decision at +the culminating point; but even when such an effect is not to be +expected, it is always a matter of immense importance in this mode of +defence to bring about such a relation of forces as makes victory +possible, and through that victory, as through a first blow, to cause a +movement which usually goes on increasing in its disastrous effects +according to the laws applicable to falling bodies. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. Arming the Nation + +A people’s war in civilised Europe is a phenomenon of the nineteenth +century. It has its advocates and its opponents: the latter either +considering it in a political sense as a revolutionary means, a state +of anarchy declared lawful, which is as dangerous as a foreign enemy to +social order at home; or on military grounds, conceiving that the +result is not commensurate with the expenditure of the nation’s +strength. The first point does not concern us here, for we look upon a +people’s war merely as a means of fighting, therefore, in its +connection with the enemy; but with regard to the latter point, we must +observe that a people’s war in general is to be regarded as a +consequence of the outburst which the military element in our day has +made through its old formal limits; as an expansion and strengthening +of the whole fermentation-process which we call war. The requisition +system, the immense increase in the size of armies by means of that +system, and the general liability to military service, the utilizing +militia, are all things which lie in the same direction, if we make the +limited military system of former days our starting point; and the +_levée en masse_, or arming of the people, now lies also in the same +direction. If the first named of these new aids to war are the natural +and necessary consequences of barriers thrown down; and if they have so +enormously increased the power of those who first used them, that the +enemy has been carried along in the current, and obliged to adopt them +likewise, this will be the case also with people-wars. In the +generality of cases, the people who make judicious use of this means, +will gain a proportionate superiority over those who despise its use. +If this be so, then the only question is whether this modern +intensification of the military element is, upon the whole, salutary +for the interests of humanity or otherwise,—a question which it would +be about as easy to answer as the question of war itself—we leave both +to philosophers. But the opinion may be advanced, that the resources +swallowed up in people’s wars might be more profitably employed, if +used in providing other military means; no very deep investigation, +however, is necessary to be convinced that these resources are for the +most part not disposable, and cannot be utilized in an arbitrary manner +at pleasure. One essential part that is the moral element, is not +called into existence until this kind of employment for it arises. + +We therefore do not ask again: how much does the resistance which the +whole nation in arms is capable of making, cost that nation? but we +ask: what is the effect which such a resistance can produce? What are +its conditions, and how is it to be used? + +It follows from the very nature of the thing that defensive means thus +widely dispersed, are not suited to great blows requiring concentrated +action in time and space. Its operation, like the process of +evaporation in physical nature, is according to the surface. The +greater that surface and the greater the contact with the enemy’s army, +consequently the more that army spreads itself out, so much the greater +will be the effects of arming the nation. Like a slow gradual heat, it +destroys the foundations of the enemy’s army. As it requires time to +produce its effects, therefore whilst the hostile elements are working +on each other, there is a state of tension which either gradually wears +out if the people’s war is extinguished at some points, and burns +slowly away at others, or leads to a crisis, if the flames of this +general conflagration envelop the enemy’s army, and compel it to +evacuate the country to save itself from utter destruction. In order +that this result should be produced by a national war alone, we must +suppose either a surface-extent of the dominions invaded, exceeding +that of any country in Europe, except Russia, or suppose a +disproportion between the strength of the invading army and the extent +of the country, such as never occurs in reality. Therefore, to avoid +following a phantom, we must imagine a people-war always in +combination, with a war carried on by a regular army, and both carried +on according to a plan embracing the operations of the whole. + +The conditions under which alone the people’s war can become effective +are the following— + +1. That the war is carried on in the heart of the country. + +2. That it cannot be decided by a single catastrophe. + +3. That the theatre of war embraces a considerable extent of country. + +4. That the national character is favourable to the measure. + +5. That the country is of a broken and difficult nature, either from +being mountainous, or by reason of woods and marshes, or from the +peculiar mode of cultivation in use. + +Whether the population is dense or otherwise, is of little consequence, +as there is less likelihood of a want of men than of anything else. +Whether the inhabitants are rich or poor is also a point by no means +decisive, at least it should not be; but it must be admitted that a +poor population accustomed to hard work and privations usually shows +itself more vigorous and better suited for war. + +One peculiarity of country which greatly favors the action of war +carried on by the people, is the scattered sites of the dwellings of +the country people, such as is to be found in many parts of Germany. +The country is thus more intersected an dcovered; the roads are worse, +although more numerous; the lodgement of troops is attended with +endless difficulties, but especially that peculiarity repeats itself on +a small scale, which a people-war possesses on a great scale, namely +that the principle of resistance exists everywhere, but is nowhere +tangible. If the inhabitants are collected in villages, the most +troublesome have troops quartered on them, or they are plundered as a +punishment, and their houses burnt, etc, a system which could not be +very easily carried out with a peasant community of Westphalia. + +National levies and armed peasantry cannot and should not be employed +against the main body of the enemy’s army, or even against any +considerable corps of the same, they must not attempt to crack the nut, +they must only gnaw on the surface and the borders. They should rise in +the provinces situated at one of the sides of the theatre of war, and +in which the assailant does not appear in force, in order to withdraw +these provinces entirely from his influence. Where no enemy is to be +found, there is no want of courage to oppose him, and at the example +thus given, the mass of the neighboring population gradually takes +fire. Thus the fire spreads as it does in heather, and reaching at last +that part of the surface of the soil on which the aggressor is based, +it seizes his lines of communication and preys upon the vital thread by +which his existence is supported. For although we entertain no +exaggerated ideas of the omnipotence of a people’s war, such as that it +is an inexhaustible, unconquerable element, over which the mere force +of an army has as little control as the human will has over the wind or +the rain; in short, although our opinion is not founded on flowery +ephemeral literature, still we must admit that armed peasants are not +to be driven before us in the same way as a body of soldiers who keep +together like a herd of cattle, and usually follow their noses. Armed +peasants, on the contrary, when broken, disperse in all directions, for +which no formal plan is required; through this circumstance, the march +of every small body of troops in a mountainous, thickly wooded, or even +broken country, becomes a service of a very dangerous character, for at +any moment a combat may arise on the march; if in point of fact no +armed bodies have even been seen for some time, yet the same peasants +already driven off by the head of a column, may at any hour make their +appearance in its rear. If it is an object to destroy roads or to block +up a defile; the means which outposts or detachments from an army can +apply to that purpose, bear about the same relation to those furnished +by a body of insurgent peasants, as the action of an automaton does to +that of a human being. The enemy has no other means to oppose to the +action of national levies except that of detaching numerous parties to +furnish escorts for convoys to occupy military stations, defiles, +bridges, etc. In proportion as the first efforts of the national levies +are small, so the detachments sent out will be weak in numbers, from +the repugnance to a great dispersion of forces; it is on these weak +bodies that the fire of the national war usually first properly kindles +itself, they are overpowered by numbers at some points, courage rises, +the love of fighting gains strength, and the intensity of this struggle +increases until the crisis approaches which is to decide the issue. + +According to our idea of a people’s war, it should, like a kind of +nebulous vapoury essence, never condense into a solid body; otherwise +the enemy sends an adequate force against this core, crushes it, and +makes a great many prisoners; their courage sinks; every one thinks the +main question is decided, any further effort useless, and the arms fall +from the hands of the people. Still, however, on the other hand, it is +necessary that this mist should collect at some points into denser +masses, and form threatening clouds from which now and again a +formidable flash of lightning may burst forth. These points are chiefly +on the flanks of the enemy’s theatre of war, as already observed. There +the armament of the people should be organised into greater and more +systematic bodies, supported by a small force of regular troops, so as +to give it the appearance of a regular force and fit it to venture upon +enterprises on a larger scale. From these points, the irregular +character in the organisation of these bodies should diminish in +proportion as they are to be employed more in the direction of the rear +of the enemy, where he is exposed to their hardest blows. These better +organised masses, are for the purpose of falling upon the larger +garrisons which the enemy leaves behind him. Besides, they serve to +create a feeling of uneasiness and dread, and increase the moral +impression of the whole, without them the total action would be wanting +in force, and the situation of the enemy upon the whole would not be +made sufficiently uncomfortable. + +The easiest way for a general to produce this more effective form of a +national armament, is to support the movement by small detachments sent +from the army. Without the support of a few regular troops as an +encouragement, the inhabitants generally want an impulse, and the +confidence to take up arms. The stronger these detachments are, the +greater will be their power of attraction, the greater will be the +avalanche which is to fall down. But this has its limits; partly, +first, because it would be detrimental to the army to cut it up into +detachments, for this secondary object to dissolve it, as it were, into +a body of irregulars, and form with it in all directions a weak +defensive line, by which we may be sure both the regular army and +national levies alike would become completely ruined; partly, secondly, +because experience seems to tell us that when there are too many +regular troops in a district, the people-war loses in vigour and +efficacy; the causes of this are in the first place, that too many of +the enemy’s troops are thus drawn into the district, and, in the second +place, that the inhabitants then rely on their own regular troops, and, +thirdly, because the presence of such large bodies of troops makes too +great demands on the powers of the people in other ways, that is, in +providing quarters, transport, contributions, etc., etc. + +Another means of preventing any serious reaction on the part of the +enemy against this popular movement constitutes, at the same time, a +leading principle in the method of using such levies; this is, that as +a rule, with this great strategic means of defence, a tactical defence +should seldom or ever take place. The character of a _combat with +national levies_ is the same as that of all combats of masses of troops +of an inferior quality, great impetuosity and fiery ardour at the +commencement, but little coolness or tenacity if the combat is +prolonged. Further, the defeat and dispersion of a body of national +levies is of no material consequence, as they lay their account with +that, but a body of this description must not be broken up by losses in +killed, wounded, and prisoners; a defeat of that kind would soon cool +their ardour. But both these peculiarities are entirely opposed to the +nature of a tactical defensive. In the defensive combat a persistent +slow systematic action is required, and great risks must be run; a mere +attempt, from which we can desist as soon as we please, can never lead +to results in the defensive. If, therefore, the national levies are +entrusted with the defence of any particular portion of territory, care +must be taken that the measure does not lead to a regular great +defensive combat; for if the circumstances were ever so favourable to +them, they would be sure to be defeated. They may, and should, +therefore, defend the approaches to mountains, dykes, over marshes, +river-passages, as long as possible; but when once they are broken, +they should rather disperse, and continue their defence by sudden +attacks, than concentrate and allow themselves to be shut up in some +narrow last refuge in a regular defensive position.—However brave a +nation may be, however warlike its habits, however intense its hatred +of the enemy, however favourable the nature of the country, it is an +undeniable fact that a people’s war cannot be kept up in an atmosphere +too full of danger. If, therefore, its combustible material is to be +fanned by any means into a considerable flame it must be at remote +points where there is more air, and where it cannot be extinguished by +one great blow. + +After these reflections, which are more of the nature of subjective +impressions than an objective analysis, because the subject is one as +yet of rare occurrence generally, and has been but imperfectly treated +of by those who have had actual experience for any length of time, we +have only to add that the strategic plan of defence can include in +itself the cooperation of a general arming of the people in two +different ways, that is, either as a last resource after a lost battle, +or as a natural assistance before a decisive battle has been fought. +The latter case supposes a retreat into the interior of the country, +and that indirect kind of reaction of which we have treated in the +eighth and twenty-fourth chapters of this book. We have, therefore, +here only to say a few words on the mission of the national levies +after a battle has been lost. + +No State should believe its fate, that is, its entire existence, to be +dependent upon one battle, let it be even the most decisive. If it is +beaten, the calling forth fresh power, and the natural weakening which +every offensive undergoes with time, may bring about a turn of fortune, +or assistance may come from abroad. No such urgent haste to die is +needed yet; and as by instinct the drowning man catches at a straw, so +in the natural course of the moral world a people should try the last +means of deliverance when it sees itself hurried along to the brink of +an abyss. + +However small and weak a State may be in comparison to its enemy, if it +foregoes a last supreme effort, we must say there is no longer any soul +left in it. This does not exclude the possibility of saving itself from +complete destruction by the purchase of peace at a sacrifice; but +neither does such an aim on its part do away with the utility of fresh +measures for defence; they will neither make peace more difficult nor +more onerous, but easier and better. They are still more necessary if +there is an expectation of assistance from those who are interested in +maintaining our political existence. Any government, therefore, which, +after the loss of a great battle, only thinks how it may speedily place +the nation in the lap of peace, and unmanned by the feeling of great +hopes disappointed, no longer feels in itself the courage or the desire +to stimulate to the utmost every element of force, completely +stultifies itself in such case through weakness, and shows itself +unworthy of victory, and, perhaps, just on that account, was incapable +of gaining one. + +However decisive, therefore, the overthrow may be which is experienced +by a State, still by a retreat of the army into the interior, the +efficacy of its fortresses and an arming of the people may be brought +into use. In connection with this it is advantageous if the flank of +the principal theatre of war is fenced in by mountains, or otherwise +very difficult tracts of country, which stand forth as bastions, the +strategic enfilade of which is to check the enemy’s progress. + +If the victorious enemy is engaged in siege works, if he has left +strong garrisons behind him everywhere to secure his communications, or +detached corps to make himself elbow-room, and to keep the adjacent +provinces in subjection, if he is already weakened by his various +losses in active means and material of war, then the moment is arrived +when the defensive army should again enter the lists, and by a +well-directed blow make the assailant stagger in his disadvantageous +position. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. Defence of a Theatre of War + +Having treated of the _most important defensive means_, we might +perhaps be contented to leave the manner in which these means attach +themselves to the plan of defence as a whole to be discussed in the +last Book, which will be devoted to the _Plan of a War;_ for from this +every secondary scheme, either of attack or defence, emanates and is +determined in its leading features; and moreover in many cases the plan +of the war itself is nothing more than the plan of the attack or +defence of the principal theatre of war. But we have not been able to +commence with war as a whole, although in war more than in any other +phase of human activity, the parts are shaped by the whole, imbued with +and essentially altered by its character; instead of that, we have been +obliged to make ourselves thoroughly acquainted, in the first instance, +with each single subject as a separate part. Without this progress from +the simple to the complex, a number of undefined ideas would have +overpowered us, and the manifold phases of reciprocal action in +particular would have constantly confused our conceptions. We shall +therefore still continue to advance towards the whole by one step at a +time; that is, we shall consider the defence of a theatre in itself, +and look for the thread by which the subjects already treated of +connect themselves with it. + +The defensive, according to our conception, is nothing _but the +stronger form of combat_. The preservation of our own forces and the +destruction of those of the enemy—in a word, the _victory_—is the aim +of this contest, but at the same time not its ultimate object. + +That object is the preservation of our own political state and the +subjugation of that of the enemy; or again, in one word, the _desired +peace_, because it is only by it that this conflict adjusts itself, and +ends in a common result. + +But what is the enemy’s state in connection with war? Above all things +its military force is important, then its territory; but certainly +there are also still many other things which, through particular +circumstances, may obtain a predominant importance; to these belong, +before all, foreign and domestic political relations, which sometimes +decide more than all the rest. But although the military force and the +territory of the enemy alone are still not the state itself, nor are +they the only connections which the state may have with the war, still +these two things are always preponderating, mostly immeasurably +surpassing all other connections in importance. Military force is to +protect the territory of the state, or to conquer that of an enemy; the +territory on the other hand, constantly nourishes and renovates the +military force. The two, therefore, depend on each other, mutually +support each other, are equal in importance one to the other. But still +there is a difference in their mutual relations. If the military force +is destroyed, that is completely defeated, rendered incapable of +further resistance, then the loss of the territory follows of itself; +but on the other hand, the destruction of the military force by no +means follows from the conquest of the country, because that force may +of its own accord evacuate the territory, in order afterwards to +reconquer it the more easily. Indeed, not only does the _complete_ +destruction of its army decide the fate of a country, but even every +_considerable weakening_ of its military force leads regularly to a +loss of territory; on the other hand, every considerable loss of +territory does not cause a proportionate diminution of military power; +in the long run it will do so, but not always within the space of time +in which a war is brought to a close. + +From this it follows that the preservation of our own military power, +and the diminution or destruction of that of the enemy, take precedence +in importance over the occupation of territory, and, therefore, is the +_first object_ which a general should strive for. The possession of +territory only presses for consideration _as an object_ if that means +(diminution or destruction of the enemy’s military force) has not +effected it. + +If the whole of the enemy’s military power was united in _one army_, +and if the whole war consisted of _one battle_, then the possession of +the country would depend on the issue of that battle; destruction of +the enemy’s military forces, conquest of his country and security of +our own, would follow from that result, and, in a certain measure, be +identical with it. Now the question is, what can induce the defensive +to deviate from this simplest form of the act of warfare, and +distribute his power in space? The answer is, the insufficiency of the +victory which he might gain with all his forces united. Every victory +has its sphere of influence. If this extends over the whole of the +enemy’s state, consequently over the whole of his military force and +his territory, that is, if all the parts are carried along in the same +movement, which we have impressed upon the core of his power, then such +a victory is all that we require, and a division of our forces would +not be justified by sufficient grounds. But if there are portions of +the enemy’s military force, and of country belonging to either party, +over which our victory would have no effect, then we must give +particular attention to those parts; and as we cannot unite territory +like a military force in one point, therefore we must divide our forces +for the purpose of attacking or defending those portions. + +It is only in small, compactly shaped states that it is possible to +have such a unity of military force, and that probably all depends upon +a victory over _that force_. Such a unity is practically impossible +when larger tracts of country, having for a great extent boundaries +conterminious with our own, are concerned, or in the case of an +alliance of several surrounding states against us. In such cases, +divisions of force must necessarily take place, giving occasion to +different theatres of war. + +The effect of a victory will naturally depend on its _greatness_, and +that on the mass of the _conquered troops_. Therefore _the blow_ which, +if successful, will produce the greatest effect, must be made against +_that part_ of the country where the greatest number of the enemy’s +forces are collected together; and the greater the mass of our own +forces which we use for this blow, so much the surer shall we be of +this success. This natural sequence of ideas leads us to an +illustration by which we shall see this truth more clearly; it is the +nature and effect of the centre of gravity in mechanics. + +As the centre of gravity is always situated where the greatest mass of +matter is collected, and as a shock against the centre of gravity of a +body always produces the greatest effect, and further, as the most +effective blow is struck with the centre of gravity of the power used, +so it is also in war. The armed forces of every belligerent, whether of +a single state or of an alliance of states, have a certain unity, and +in that way, connection; but where connection is there come in +analogies of the centre of gravity. There are, therefore, in these +armed forces certain centres of gravity, the movement and direction of +which decide upon other points, and these centres of gravity are +situated where the greatest bodies of troops are assembled. But just +as, in the world of inert matter, the action against the centre of +gravity has its measure and limits in the connection of the parts, so +it is in war, and here as well as there the force exerted may easily be +greater than the resistance requires, and then there is a blow in the +air, a waste of force. + +What a difference there is between the solidity of an army under _one_ +standard, led into battle under the personal command of _one_ general, +and that of an _allied army_ extended over 50 or 100 miles, or it may +be even based upon quite different sides (of the theatre of war). There +we see coherence in the strongest degree, unity most complete; here +unity in a very remote degree often only existing in the political view +held in common, and in that also in a miserable and insufficient +degree, the cohesion of parts mostly very weak, often quite an +illusion. + +Therefore, if on the one hand, the violence with which we wish to +strike the blow prescribes the greatest concentration of force, so in +like manner, on the other hand, we have to fear every undue excess as a +real evil, because it entails a waste of power, and that in turn a +_deficiency_ of power at other points. + +To distinguish these “_centra gravitatis_” in the enemy’s military +power, to discern their spheres of action is, therefore, a supreme act +of strategic judgment. We must constantly ask ourselves, what effect +the advance or retreat of part of the forces on either side will +produce on the rest. + +We do not by this lay claim in any way to the discovery of a new +method, we have only sought to explain the foundation of the method of +all generals, in every age, in a manner which may place its connection +with the nature of things in a clearer light. + +How this conception of the centre of gravity of the enemy’s force +affects the whole plan of the war, we shall consider in the last book, +for that is the proper place for the subject, and we have only borrowed +it from there to avoid leaving any break in the sequence of ideas. By +the introduction of this view we have seen the motives which occasion a +partition of forces in general. These consist fundamentally of two +interests which are in opposition to each other; the one, _the +possession of territory_ strives to divide the forces; the other, _the +effort of force against the centre of gravity of the enemy’s military +power_, combines them again up to a certain point. + +Thus it is that theatres of war or particular army regions originate. +These are those boundaries of the area of the country and of the forces +thereon distributed, within which every decision given by the principal +force of such a region extends itself _directly_ over the whole, and +carries on the whole with it in its own direction. We say _directly_, +because a decision on one theatre of war must naturally have also an +influence more or less over those adjoining it. + +Although it lies quite in the nature of the thing, we must again remind +our readers expressly that here as well as everywhere else our +definitions are only directed at the centres of certain speculative +regions, the limits of which we neither desire to, nor can we, define +by sharp lines. + +We think, therefore, a theatre of war, whether large or small, with its +military force, whatever may be the size of that, represents a unity +which maybe reduced to one centre of gravity. At this centre of gravity +the decision must take place, and to be conqueror here means to defend +the theatre of war in the widest sense. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. Defence of a Theatre of War—(_continued_) + +Defence, however, consists of two different elements, these are the +_decision_ and the _state of expectation_. The combination of these two +elements forms the subject of this chapter. + +First we must observe that the state of expectation is not, in point of +fact, the complete defence; it is only that province of the same in +which it proceeds to its aim. As long as a military force has not +abandoned the portion of territory placed under its guardianship, the +tension of forces on both sides created by the attack continues, and +this lasts until there is a decision. The decision itself can only be +regarded as having actually taken place when either the assailant or +defender has left the theatre of war. + +As long as an armed force maintains itself within its theatre, the +defence of the same continues, and in this sense the defence of the +theatre of war is identical with the defence _in the same_. Whether the +enemy in the meantime has obtained possession of much or little of that +section of country is not essential, for it is only lent to him until +the decision. + +But this kind of idea by which we wish to settle the proper relation of +the state of expectation to the whole is only correct when a decision +is really to take place, and is regarded by both parties as inevitable. +For it is only by that decision that the centres of gravity of the +respective forces, and the theatre of war determined through them are +_effectually_ hit. Whenever the idea of a decisive solution disappears, +then the centres of gravity are neutralised, indeed, in a certain +sense, the whole of the armed forces become so also, and now the +possession of territory, which forms the second principal branch of the +whole theatre of war, comes forward as the direct object. In other +words, the less a decisive blow is sought for by both sides in a war, +and the more it is merely a mutual observation of one another, so much +the more important becomes the possession of territory, so much the +more the defensive seeks to cover all directly, and the assailant seeks +to extend his forces in his advance. + +Now we cannot conceal from ourselves the fact that the majority of wars +and campaigns approach much more to a state of observation than to a +struggle for life or death, that is, a contest in which one at least of +the combatants uses every effort to bring about a complete decision. +This last character is only to be found in the wars of the nineteenth +century to such a degree that a theory founded on this point of view +can be made use of in relation to them. But as all future wars will +hardly have this character, and it is rather to be expected that they +will again show a tendency to the observation character, therefore any +theory to be practically useful must pay attention to that. Hence we +shall commence with the case in which the desire of a decision +permeates and guides the whole, therefore with _real_, or if we may use +the expression, _absolute war;_ then in another chapter we shall +examine those modifications which arise through the approach, in a +greater or less degree, to the state of a war of observation. + +In the first case (whether the decision is sought by the aggressor or +the defender) the defence of the theatre of war must consist in the +defender establishing himself there in such a manner, that in a +decision he will have an advantage on his side at any moment. This +decision may be either a battle, or a series of great combats, but it +may also consist in the resultant of mere relations, which arise from +the situation of the opposing forces, that is, _possible combats_. + +If the battle were not also the most powerful, the most usual and most +effectual means of a decision in war, as we think we have already shown +on several occasions, still the mere fact of its being in a general way +one of the means of reaching this solution, would be sufficient to +enjoin _the greatest concentration of our forces_ which circumstances +will in any way permit. A great battle upon the theatre of war is the +blow of the centre of force against the centre of force; the more +forces can be collected in the one or the other, the surer and greater +will be the effect. Therefore every separation of forces which is not +called for by an object (which either cannot itself be attained by the +successful issue of a battle, or which itself is necessary to the +successful issue of the battle) is _blameable_. + +But the greatest concentration of forces is not the only fundamental +condition; it is also requisite that they should have such a position +and place that the battle may be fought under favourable circumstances. + +The different steps in the defence which we have become acquainted with +in the chapter on the methods of defence, are completely homogeneous +with these fundamental conditions; there will therefore be no +difficulty in connecting them with the same, according to the special +requirements of each case. But there is one point which seems at first +sight to involve a contradiction in itself, and which, as one of the +most important in the defence, requires explanation so much the more. +It is the hitting upon the exact centre of gravity of the enemy’s +force. + +If the defender ascertains in time the roads by which the enemy will +advance, and upon which in particular the great mass of his force will +be found for a certainty, he may march against him on that road. This +will be the most usual case, for although the defence precedes the +attack in measures of a general nature, in the establishment of strong +places, great arsenals, and depôts, and in the peace establishment of +his army, and thus gives a line of direction to the assailant in his +preparations, still, when the campaign really opens, the defender, in +relation to the aggressor, has the peculiar advantage in general of +playing the last hand. + +To attack a foreign country with a large army, very considerable +preparations are required. Provisions, stores, and articles of +equipment of all kinds must be collected, which is a work of time. +While these preparations are going on, the defender has time to prepare +accordingly, in regard to which we must not forget that the defensive +requires less time, generally speaking, because in every state things +are prepared rather for the defensive than the offensive. + +But although this may hold good in the majority of cases, there is +always a possibility that, in particular cases, the defensive may +remain in uncertainty as to the principal line by which the enemy +intends to advance; and this case is more likely to occur when the +defence is dependent on measures which of themselves take a good deal +of time, as for example, the preparation of a strong position. Further, +supposing the defender places himself on the line by which the +aggressor is advancing, then, unless the defender is prepared to take +the initiative by attacking the aggressor, the latter may avoid the +position which the defender has taken up, by only altering a little his +line of advance, for in the cultivated parts of Europe we can never be +so situated that there are not roads to the right or left by which any +position may be avoided. Plainly, in such a case the defender could not +wait for his enemy in a position, or at least could not wait there in +the expectation of giving battle. + +But before entering on the means available to the defensive in this +case, we must inquire more particularly into the nature of such a case, +and the probability of its occurrence. + +Naturally there are in every State, and also in every theatre of war +(of which alone we are at present speaking), objects and points upon +which an attack is likely to be more efficacious than anywhere else. +Upon this we think it will be better to speak when we come to the +attack. Here we shall confine ourselves to observing that, if the most +advantageous object and point of attack is the motive for the assailant +in the direction of his blow, this motive reacts on the defensive, and +must be his guide in cases in which he knows nothing of the intentions +of his adversary. If the assailant does not take this direction which +is favourable to him, he foregoes part of his natural advantages. It is +evident that, if the defender has taken up a position in that +direction, the evading his position, or passing round, is not to be +done for nothing; it costs a sacrifice. From this it follows that there +is not on the side of the defender such a risk of _missing the +direction of his enemy;_ neither on the other hand, is it so easy for +the assailant _to pass round his adversary_ as appears at first sight, +because there exists beforehand a very distinct, and in most cases +preponderating, motive in favour of one or the other direction, and +that consequently the defender, although his preparations are fixed to +one spot, will not fail in most cases to come in contact with the mass +of the enemy’s forces. In other words, _if the defender has put himself +in the right position, he may be almost sure that the assailant will +come to meet him._ + +But by this we shall not and cannot deny the possibility of the +defender sometimes not meeting with the assailant after all these +arrangements, and therefore the question arises, what he should then +do, and how much of the real advantages of his position still remain +available to him. + +If we ask ourselves what means still remain generally to the defender +when the assailant passes by his position, they are the following:— + +1. To divide his forces instantly, so as to be certain to find the +assailant with one portion, and then to support that portion with the +other. + +2. To take up a position with his force united, and in case the +assailant passes by him, to push on rapidly in front of him by a +lateral movement. In most cases there will not be time to make such a +movement directly to a flank, it will therefore be necessary to take up +the new position somewhat further back. + +3. With his whole force to attack the enemy in flank. + +4. To operate against his communications. + +5. By a counter attack on _his_ theatre of war, to do exactly what the +enemy has done in passing by us. + +We introduce this last measure, because it is possible to imagine a +case in which it may be efficacious; but as it is in contradiction to +the object of the defence, that is, the grounds on which that form has +been chosen, therefore it can only be regarded as an abnormity, which +can only take place because the enemy has made some great mistake, or +because there are other special features in a particular case. + +Operating against the enemy’s communications implies that our own are +superior, which is also one of the fundamental requisites of a good +defensive position. But although on that ground this action may promise +the defender a certain amount of advantage, still, in the defence of a +theatre of war, it is seldom an operation suited to _lead to a +decision_, which we have supposed to be the object of the campaign. + +The dimensions of a single theatre of war are seldom so large that the +line of communications is exposed to much danger by their length, and +even if they were in danger, still the time which the assailant +requires for the execution of his blow is usually too short for his +progress to be arrested by the slow effects of the action against his +communications. + +Therefore this means (that is the action against the communications) +will prove quite inefficacious in most cases against an enemy +determined upon a decision, and also in case the defender seeks such a +solution. + +The object of the three other means which remain for the defender, is a +direct decision—a meeting of centre of force with centre of force; they +correspond better, therefore, with the thing required. But we shall at +once say that we decidedly prefer the third to the other two, and +without quite rejecting the latter, we hold the former to be in the +majority of cases the true means of defence. + +In a position where our forces are divided, there is always a danger of +getting involved in a war of posts, from which, if our adversary is +resolute, can follow, under the best of circumstances, only _a relative +defence on a large scale_, never a decision such as we desire; and even +if by superior tact we should be able to avoid this mistake, still, by +the preliminary resistance being with divided forces, the first shock +is sensibly weakened, and we can never be sure that the advanced corps +first engaged will not suffer disproportionate losses. To this is to be +added that the resistance of this corps which usually ends in its +falling back on the main body, appears to the troops in the light of a +lost combat, or miscarriage of plans, and the moral force suffers +accordingly. + +The second means, that of placing our whole force in front of the +enemy, in whichever direction he may bend his march, involves a risk of +our arriving too late, and thus between two measures, falling short of +both. Besides this, a defensive battle requires coolness and +consideration, a knowledge, indeed intimate knowledge of the country, +which cannot be expected in a hasty oblique movement to a flank. +Lastly, positions suitable for a good defensive battle-field are too +rarely to be met with to reckon upon them at every point of every road. + +On the other hand, the third means, namely to attack the enemy in +flank, therefore to give battle with a change of front, is attended +with great advantages. + +Firstly, there is always in this case, as we know, an exposure of the +lines of communication, here the lines of retreat, and in this respect +the defender has one advantage in his general relations as defender, +and next and chiefly, the advantage which we have claimed for the +strategic properties of his position at present. + +Secondly,—and this is the principal thing,—every assailant who attempts +to pass by his opponent is placed between two opposite tendencies. His +first desire is to advance to attain the object of his attack; but the +possibility of being attacked in flank at any moment, creates a +necessity for being prepared, at any moment, to deliver a blow in that +direction, and that too a blow with the mass of his forces. These two +tendencies are contradictory, and beget such a complication in the +internal relations (of his army), such a difficulty in the choice of +measures, if they are to suit every event, that there can hardly be a +more disagreeable position strategically. If the assailant knew with +certainty the moment when he would be attacked, he might prepare to +receive the enemy with skill and ability; but in his uncertainty on +this point, and pressed by the necessity of advancing, it is almost +certain that when the moment for battle arrives, it finds him in the +midst of hurried and half-finished preparations, and therefore by no +means in an advantageous relation to his enemy. + +If then there are favourable moments for the defender to deliver an +offensive battle, it is surely at such a moment as this, above all +others, that we may look for success. If we consider, further, that the +knowledge of the country and choice of ground are on the side of the +defender, that he can prepare his movements, and can time them, no one +can doubt that he possesses in such a situation a decided superiority, +strategically, over his adversary. + +We think, therefore, that a defender occupying a well chosen position, +with his forces united, may quietly wait for the enemy passing by his +army; should the enemy not attack him in his position, and that an +operation against the enemy’s communications does not suit the +circumstances, there still remains for him an excellent means of +bringing about a decision by resorting to a flank attack. + +If cases of this kind are hardly to be found in military history, the +reason is, partly, that the defender has seldom had the courage to +remain firm in such a position, but has either divided his forces, or +rashly thrown himself in front of his enemy by a cross or diagonal +march, or that no assailant dares to venture past the defender under +such circumstances, and in that way his movement usually comes to a +stand still. + +The defender is in this case compelled to resort to an offensive +battle: the further advantages of _the state of expectation of a strong +position, of good entrenchments_, etc., etc., he must give up; in most +cases the situation in which he finds the advancing enemy will not +quite make up for these advantages, for it is just to evade their +influence that the assailant has placed himself in his present +situation; still it always offers him _a certain compensation_, and +theory is therefore not just obliged to see a quantity disappear at +once from the calculation, to see the pro and contra mutually cancel +each other, as so often happens when critical writers of history +introduce a little bit of theory. + +It must not, in fact, be supposed that we are now dealing with logical +subtilties; the subject is rather one which the more it is practically +considered, the more it appears as an idea embracing the whole essence +of defensive war, everywhere dominating and regulating it. + +It is only by the determination on the part of the defender to assail +his opponent with all his force, the moment he passes by him, that he +avoids two pitfalls, close to which he is led by the defensive form; +that is a division of his force, and a hasty flank march to intercept +the assailant in front. In both he accepts the law of the assailant; in +both he seeks to aid himself through measures of a very critical +nature, and with a most dangerous degree of haste; and wherever a +resolute adversary, thirsting for victory and a decision, has +encountered such a system of defence, he has knocked it on the head. +But when the defender has assembled his forces at the right point to +fight a general action, if he is determined with this force, come what +will, to attack his enemy in flank, he has done right, and is in the +_right_ course, and he is supported by all the advantages which the +defence can give in his situation; his actions will then bear the stamp +_of good preparation, coolness, security, unity and simplicity._ + +We cannot here avoid mentioning a remarkable event in history, which +has a close analogy with the ideas now developed; we do so to +anticipate its being used in a wrong application. + +When the Prussian army was, in October, 1806, waiting in Thuringia for +the French under Buonaparte, the former was posted between the two +great roads on which the latter might be expected to advance, that is, +the road to Berlin by Erfurth, and that by Hof and Leipsic. The first +intention of breaking into Franconia straight through the Thuringian +Forest, and afterwards, when that plan was abandoned, the uncertainty +as to which of the roads the French would choose for their advance, +caused this intermediate position. As such, it must therefore have led +to the adoption of the measure we have been discussing, a hasty +interception of the enemy in front by a lateral movement. + +This was in fact the idea in case the enemy marched by Erfurth, for the +roads in that direction were good; on the other hand, the idea of a +movement of this description on the road by Hof could not be +entertained, partly because the army was two or three marches away from +that road, partly because the deep valley of the Saale interposed; +neither did this plan ever enter into the views of the Duke of +Brunswick, so that there was no kind of preparation made for carrying +it into effect, but it was always contemplated by Prince Hohenlohe, +that is, by Colonel Massenbach, who exerted all his influence to draw +the Duke into this plan. Still less could the idea be entertained of +leaving the position which had been taken on the left bank of the Saale +to try an offensive battle against Buonaparte on his advance, that is, +to such an attack in flank as we have been considering; for if the +Saale was an obstacle to intercepting the enemy in the last moment (_à +fortiori_) it would be a still greater obstacle to assuming the +offensive at a moment when the enemy would be in possession of the +opposite side of the river, at least partially. The Duke, therefore, +determined to wait behind the Saale to see what would happen, that is +to say, if we can call anything a determination which emanated from +this many-headed Headquarters’ Staff, and in this time of confusion and +utter indecision. + +Whatever may have been the true condition of affairs during this state +of expectation, the consequent situation of the army was this:— + +1. That the enemy might be attacked if he crossed the Saale to attack +the Prussian army. + +2. That if he did not march against that army, operations might be +commenced against his communications. + +3. If it should be found practicable and advisable, he might be +intercepted near Leipsic by a rapid flank march. + +In the first case, the Prussian army possessed a great strategic and +tactical advantage in the deep valley of the Saale. In the second, the +strategic advantage was just as great, for the enemy had only a very +narrow base between our position and the neutral territory of Bohemia, +whilst ours was extremely broad; even in the third case, our army, +covered by the Saale, was still by no means in a disadvantageous +situation. All these three measures, in spite of the confusion and want +of any clear perception at head-quarters, _were really discussed;_ but +certainly we cannot wonder that, although a right idea may have been +entertained, it should have entirely failed in the _execution_ by the +complete want of resolution and the confusion generally prevailing. + +In the two first cases, the position on the left bank of the Saale is +to be regarded as a real flank position, and it had undoubtedly as such +very great qualities; but in truth, against a very superior enemy, +_against a Buonaparte_, a flank position with an army that is not very +sure about what it is doing, _is a very bold measure_. + +After long hesitation, the Duke on the 13th adopted the last of the +plans proposed, but it was too late, Buonaparte had already commenced +to pass the Saale, and the battles of Jena and Auerstadt were +inevitable. The Duke, through his indecision, had set himself between +two stools; he quitted his first position too late _to push his army in +before the enemy_, and too soon for a battle suited to the object. +Nevertheless, the natural strength of this position proved itself so +far that the Duke was able to destroy the right wing of the enemy’s +army at Auerstadt, whilst Prince Hohenlohe, by a bloody retreat, was +still able to back out of the scrape; but at Auerstadt they did not +venture to realise the victory, which was _quite certain;_ and at Jena +they thought they might reckon upon one which was _quite impossible_. + +In any case, Buonaparte felt the strategic importance of the position +on the Saale so much, that he did not venture to pass it by, but +determined on a passage of the Saale in sight of the enemy. + +By what we have now said we think we have sufficiently specified the +relations between the defence and the attack when a decisive course of +action is intended, and we believe we have shown also the threads to +which, according to their situation and connection, the different +subjects of the plan of defence attach themselves. To go through the +different arrangements more in detail does not come within our views, +for that would lead us into a boundless field of particular cases. When +a general has laid down for his direction a distinct point, he will see +how far it agrees with geographical, statistical, and political +circumstances, the material and personal relations of his own army and +that of the enemy, and how the one or the other may require that his +plans should be modified in carrying them into effect. + +But in order more distinctly to connect and look closer at the +gradations in the defence specified in the chapter on the different +kinds of defence, we shall here lay before our readers what seems to us +most important, in relation to the same generally. + +1. Reasons for marching against the enemy with a view to an offensive +battle, may be as follows:— + +(_a_) If we know that the enemy is advancing with his forces very much +divided, and therefore we have reason to expect a victory, although we +are, upon the whole, much weaker. + +But such an advance on the part of the assailant is in itself very +improbable, and consequently, unless we know of it upon certain +information, the plan is not good; for to reckon upon it, and rest all +our hopes on it through a _mere supposition_, and without sufficient +motive, leads generally to a very dangerous situation. We do not, then, +find things as we expected; we are obliged to give up the offensive +battle, we are not prepared to fight on the defensive, we are obliged +to commence with a retreat against our will, and leave almost +everything to chance. + +This is very much what occurred in the defence, conducted by the army +under Dohna against the Russians, in the campaign of 1759, and which, +under General Wedel, ended in the unfortunate battle of Züllichau. + +This measure shortens matters so much that plan-makers are only too +ready to propose it, without taking much trouble to inquire how far the +hypothesis on which it rests is well founded. + +(_b_) If we are generally in sufficient strength for battle, and— + +(_c_) If a blundering, irresolute adversary specially invites an +attack. + +In this case the effect of surprise may be worth more than any +assistance furnished by the ground through a good position. It is the +real essence of good generalship thus to bring into play the power of +the moral forces;—but theory can never say loud enough nor often enough +there must be an _objective foundation_ for these suppositions; without +_such foundation_ to be always talking of surprises and the superiority +of novel or unusual modes of attack, and thereon to found plans, +considerations, criticisms, is acting without any grounds, and is +altogether objectionable. + +(_d_) When the nature of our army makes it specially suited for the +offensive. + +It was certainly not a visionary or false idea when Frederick the Great +conceived that in his mobile, courageous army, full of confidence in +him, obedient by habit, trained to precision, animated and elevated by +pride, and with its perfection in the oblique attack, he possessed an +instrument which, in his firm and daring hand, was much more suited to +attack than defence; all these qualities were wanting in his opponents, +and in this respect, therefore, he had the most decided superiority; to +make use of this was worth more to him, in most cases, than to take to +his assistance entrenchments and obstacles of ground.—But such a +superiority will always be rare; a well-trained army, thoroughly +practised in great movements, has only part of the above advantages. If +Frederick the Great maintained that the Prussian army was particularly +adapted for attack—and this has been incessantly repeated since his +time—still we should not attach too much weight to any such saying; in +most cases in war we feel more exhilarated, more courageous when acting +offensively than defensively: but this is a feeling which all troops +have in common, and there is hardly an army respecting which its +generals and leaders have not made the same assertion (as Frederick). +We must, therefore, not too readily rely on an appearance of +superiority, and through that neglect real advantages. + +A very natural and weighty reason for resorting to an offensive battle +may be the composition of the army as regards the three arms, for +instance, a numerous cavalry and little artillery. + +We continue the enumeration of reasons. + +(_e_) When we can nowhere find a good position. + +(_f_) When we must hasten with the decision. + +(_g_) Lastly, the combined influence of several or all of these +reasons. + +2. The waiting for the enemy in a locality where it is intended to +attack him (Minden, 1759) naturally proceeds from— + +_a_, there being no such disproportion of force to our disadvantage as +to make it necessary to seek a strong position and strengthen it by +entrenchments. + +_b_, a locality having been found particularly adapted to the purpose. +The properties which determine this belong to tactics; we shall only +observe that these properties chiefly consist in an easy approach for +the defender from his side, and in all kinds of obstacles on the side +next to the enemy. + +3. A position will be taken with the express intention of there waiting +the attack of the enemy— + +_a._ If the disproportion of forces compels us to seek cover from +natural obstacles or behind field-works. + +_b._ When the country affords an excellent position for our purpose. + +The two modes of defence, 2 and 3, will come more into consideration +according as we do not seek the decision itself, but content ourselves +with a negative result, and have reason to think that our opponent is +wavering and irresolute, and that he will in the end fail to carry out +his plans. + +4. An entrenched unassailable camp only fulfils the object— + +_a._ If it is situated at an extremely important strategic point. + +The character of such a position consists in this, that we cannot be +driven out of it; the enemy is therefore obliged to try some other +means, that is, to pursue his object without touching this camp, or to +blockade it and reduce it by starvation: if it is impossible for him to +do this, then the strategic qualities of the position must be very +great. + +_b._ If we have reason to expect aid from abroad. + +Such was the case with the Saxon army in its position at Pirna. +Notwithstanding all that has been said against the measure on account +of the ill-success which attended it in this instance, it is perfectly +certain that 17,000 Saxons could never have been able to neutralise +40,000 Prussians in any other way. If the Austrians were unable to make +better use of the superiority obtained at Lowositz, that only shows the +badness of their whole method of war, as well as of their whole +military organisation; and there cannot be a doubt that if the Saxons +instead of taking post in the camp at Pirna had retired into Bohemia, +Frederick the Great would have driven both Austrians and Saxons beyond +Prague, and taken that place in the same campaign. Whoever does not +admit the value of this advantage, and limits his consideration to the +capture of the whole Saxon army, shows himself incapable of making a +calculation of all the circumstances in a case of this kind, and +without calculation no certain deduction can be obtained. + +But as the cases _a_ and _b_ very rarely occur, therefore, the +entrenched camp is a measure which requires to be well considered, and +which is very seldom suitable in practice. The hope of _inspiring_ the +enemy _with respect_ by such a camp, and thus reducing him to a state +of complete inactivity, is attended with too much danger, namely, with +the danger of being obliged to fight without the possibility of +retreat. If Frederick the Great gained his object in this way at +Bunzelwitz, we must admire the correct judgment he formed of his +adversary, but we must certainly also lay more stress than usual on the +resources which he would have found at the last moment to clear a road +for the remnants of his army, and also on the _irresponsibility_ of a +king. + +5. If there is one or if there are several fortresses near the +frontier, then the great question arises, whether the defender should +seek an action before or behind them. The latter recommends itself— + +_a_, by the superiority of the enemy in numbers, which forces us to +break his power before coming to a final struggle. + +_b_, by these fortresses being near, so that the sacrifice of territory +is not greater than we are compelled to make. + +_c_, by the fitness _of the fortresses for defence_. + +One principal use of fortresses is unquestionably, or should be, to +break the enemy’s force in his advance and to weaken considerably that +portion which we intend to bring to an engagement. If we so seldom see +this use made of fortresses, that proceeds from the cases in which a +decisive battle is sought for by one of the opposing parties being very +rare. But that is the only kind of case which we treat of here. We +therefore look upon it as a principle equally simple and important in +all cases in which the defender has one or more fortresses near him, +that he should keep them before him, and give the decisive battle +behind them. We admit that a battle lost within the line of our +fortresses will compel us to retreat further into the interior of the +country than one lost on the other side, tactical results in both cases +being the same, although the causes of the difference have their origin +rather in the imagination than in real things; neither do we forget +that a battle may be given beyond the fortresses in a well chosen +position, whilst inside them the battle in most cases must be an +offensive one, particularly if the enemy is laying siege to a fortress +which is in danger of being lost; but what signify these nice shades of +distinction, as compared to the advantage that, in the decisive battle, +we meet the enemy weakened by a fourth or a third of his force, perhaps +one half if there are many fortresses? + +We think, therefore, that in all cases of _an inevitable decision_, +whether sought for by the offensive or the defensive, and that the +latter is not tolerably sure of a victory, or if the nature of the +country does not offer some most decisive reason to give battle in a +position further forward—in all these cases we say when a fortress is +situated near at hand and capable of defence, the defender should by +all means withdraw at once behind it, and let the decision take place +on this side, consequently with its co-operation. If he takes up his +position so close to the fortress that the assailant can neither form +the siege of nor blockade the place without first driving him off, he +places the assailant under the necessity of attacking him, the +defender, in his position. To us, therefore, of all defensive measures +in a critical situation, none appears so simple and efficacious as the +choice of a good position near to and behind a strong fortress. + +At the same time, the question would wear a different aspect if the +fortress was situated far back; for then it would be necessary to +abandon a considerable part of our theatre of war, a sacrifice which, +as we know, should not be made unless in a case of great urgency. In +such a case the measure would bear more resemblance to a retreat into +the interior of the country. + +Another condition is, the fitness of the place for defence. It is well +known that there are fortified places, especially large ones, which are +not fit to be brought into contact with an enemy’s army, because they +could not resist the sudden assault of a powerful force. In this case, +our position must at all events be so close behind that we could +support the garrison. + +Lastly, the retreat into the interior of the country is only a natural +resource under the following circumstances:— + +_a_, when owing to the physical and moral relation in which we stand as +respects the enemy, the idea of a successful resistance on the frontier +or near it cannot be entertained. + +_b_, when it is a principal object to gain time. + +_c_, when there are peculiarities in the country which are favourable +to the measure, a subject on which we have already treated in the +twenty-fifth chapter. + +We thus close the chapter on the defence of a theatre of war if a +decisive solution is sought for by one or other party, and is therefore +inevitable. But it must be particularly borne in mind, that events in +war do not exhibit themselves in such a pure abstract form, and that +therefore, if our maxims and arguments should be used in reasoning on +actual war, our thirtieth chapter should also be kept in view, and we +must suppose the general, in the majority of cases, as placed between +two tendencies, urged _more_ towards one or the other, according to +circumstances. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_) Successive +Resistance. + +We have proved, in the twelfth and thirteenth chapters, that in +strategy a successive resistance is inconsistent with the nature of the +thing, and that all forces available should be used simultaneously. + +As regards forces which are moveable, this requires no further +demonstration; but when we look at the seat of war itself, with its +fortresses, the natural divisions of the ground, and even the extent of +its surface as being also elements of war, then, these being immovable, +we can only either bring them gradually into use, or we must at once +place ourselves so far back, that all agencies of this kind which are +to be brought into activity are in our front. Then everything which can +contribute to weaken the enemy in the territory which he has occupied, +comes at once into activity, for the assailant must at least blockade +the defender’s fortresses, he must keep the country in subjection by +garrisons and other posts, he has long marches to make, and everything +he requires must be brought from a distance, etc. All these agencies +commence to work, whether the assailant makes _his advance before or +after_ a decision, but in the former case their influence is somewhat +greater. From this, therefore, it follows, that if the defender chooses +to transfer his decision to a point further back, he has thus the means +of bringing at once into play all these immovable elements of military +force. + +On the other hand, it is clear that this _transfer of the solution_ (on +the part of the defender) does not alter the extent of the influence of +a victory which the assailant gains. In treating of the attack, we +shall examine more closely the extent of the influence of a victory; +here we shall only observe that it reaches to the exhaustion of the +superiority, that is, the resultant of the physical and moral +relations. Now this superiority exhausts itself in the first place by +the duties required from the forces on the theatre of war, and secondly +by losses in combats; the diminution of force arising from these two +causes cannot be essentially altered, whether the combats take place at +the commencement or at the end, near the frontier, or further towards +the interior of the country (vom oder hinten). We think, for example, +that a victory gained by Buonaparte over the Russians at Wilna, 1812, +would have carried him just as far as that of Borodino—assuming that it +was equally great—and that a victory at Moscow would not have carried +him any further; Moscow was, in either case, the limit of this sphere +of victory. Indeed, it cannot be doubted for a moment that a decisive +battle on the frontier (for other reasons) would have produced much +greater results through victory, and then, perhaps, the sphere of its +influence would have been wider. Therefore, in this view, also, the +transfer of the decision to a point further back is not necessary for +the defence. + +In the chapter on the various means of resistance, that method of +delaying the decision, which may be regarded as an extreme form, was +brought before us under the name of _retreat into the interior_, and as +a particular method of defence, in which the object is rather that the +assailant should wear himself out, than that he should be destroyed by +the sword on the field of battle. But it is only when such an intention +predominates that the delaying of the decisive battle can be regarded +as a _peculiar method of resistance;_ for otherwise it is evident that +an infinite number of gradations may be conceived in this method, and +that these may be combined with all other means of defence. We +therefore look upon the greater or less co-operation of the theatre of +war, not as a special form of defence, but as nothing more than a +discretionary introduction into the defence of the immovable means of +resistance, just according as circumstances and the nature of the +situation may appear to require. + +But now, if the defender does not think he requires any assistance from +these immovable forces for his purposed decision, or if the further +sacrifice connected with the use of them is too great, then they are +kept in reserve for the future, and form a sort of succession of +reinforcements, which perhaps ensure the possibility of keeping the +moveable forces in such a condition that they will be able to follow up +the first favourable decision with a second, or perhaps in the same +manner even with a third, that is to say, in this manner a _successive_ +application of his forces becomes possible. + +If the defender loses a battle on the frontier, which does not amount +to a complete defeat, we may very well imagine that, by placing himself +behind the nearest fortress, he will then be in a condition to accept +battle again; indeed, if he is only dealing with an opponent who has +not much resolution, then, perhaps, some considerable obstacle of +ground will be quite sufficient as a means of stopping the enemy. + +There is, therefore, in strategy, in the use of the theatre of war as +well as in everything else, _an economy of force;_ the less one can +make suffice the better: but there must be sufficient, and here, as +well as in commerce, there is something to be thought of besides mere +niggardliness. + +But in order to prevent a great misconception, we must draw attention +to this, that the subject of our present consideration is not how much +resistance an army can offer, or the enterprises which it can undertake +after a lost battle, but only the result which we can promise ourselves +_beforehand_ from this second act in our defence; consequently, how +high we can estimate it in our plan. Here there is only one point +almost which the defender has to look to, which is the character and +the situation of his opponent. An adversary weak in character, with +little self-confidence, without noble ambition, placed under great +restrictions, will content himself, in case he is successful, with a +moderate advantage, and timidly hold back at every fresh offer of a +decision which the defender ventures to make. In this case the defender +may count upon the beneficial use of all the means of resistance of his +theatre of war in succession, in constantly fresh, although in +themselves small, combats, in which the prospect always brightens of an +ultimate decision in his favour. + +But who does not feel that we are now on the road to campaigns devoid +of decision, which are much more the field of a successive application +of force. Of these we shall speak in the following chapter. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. Defence of a Theatre of War (_continued_) When no Decision +is Sought for. + +Whether and how far a war is possible in which neither party acts on +the offensive, therefore in which neither combatant has a _positive +aim_, we shall consider in the last book; here it is not necessary for +us to occupy ourselves with the contradiction which this presents, +because on a single theatre of war we can easily suppose reasons for +such a defensive on both sides, consequent on the relations of each of +these parts to a whole. + +But in addition to the examples which history furnishes of particular +campaigns that have taken place without the focus of a necessary +solution, history also tells us of many others in which there was no +want of an assailant, consequently no want of a _positive will_ on one +side, but in which that will was so weak that instead of striving to +attain the object at any price, and forcing the _necessary_ decision, +it contented itself with such advantages as arose in a manner +spontaneously out of circumstances. Or the assailant pursued _no_ +self-selected end _at all_, but made his object depend on +circumstances, in the meanwhile gathering such fruits as presented +themselves from time to time. + +Although such an offensive which deviates very much from the strict +logical necessity of a direct march towards the object, and which, +almost like a lounger sauntering through the campaign, looking out +right and left for the cheap fruits of opportunity, differs very little +from the defensive itself, which allows the general to pick up what he +can in this way, still we shall give the closer philosophical +consideration of this kind of warfare a place in the book on the +attack. Here we shall confine ourselves to the conclusion that in such +a campaign the settlement of the whole question is not looked for by +either assailant or defender through a decisive battle, that, +therefore, the great battle is no longer the key-stone of the arch, +towards which all the lines of the strategic superstructure are +directed. Campaigns of this kind (as the history of all times and all +countries shows us) are not only numerous, but form such an +overwhelming majority, that the remainder only appear as exceptions. +Even if this proportion should alter in the future, still it is certain +that there will always be many such campaigns; and, therefore, in +studying the theory of the defence of a theatre of war, they must be +brought into consideration. We shall endeavour to describe the +peculiarities by which they are characterised. Real war will generally +be in a medium between the two different tendencies, sometimes +approaching nearer to one, sometimes to the other, and we can, +therefore, only see the practical effect of these peculiarities in the +modification which is produced, in the _absolute form_ of war by their +counteraction. We have already said in the third chapter of this book, +that the _state of expectation_ is one of the greatest advantages which +the defensive has over the offensive; as a general rule, it seldom +happens in life, and least of all in war, that _all_ that circumstances +would lead us to expect does actually take place. The imperfection of +human insight, the fear of evil results, accidents which derange the +development of designs in their execution, are causes through which +many of the transactions enjoined by circumstances are never realised +in the execution. In war where insufficiency of knowledge, the danger +of a catastrophe, the number of accidents are incomparably greater than +in any other branch of human activity, the number of shortcomings, if +we may so call them, must necessarily also be much greater. This is +then the rich field where the defensive gathers fruits which grow for +it spontaneously. If we add to this result of experience the +substantial importance of the possession of the surface of the ground +in war, then that maxim which has become a proverb, _beati sunt +possidentes_, holds good here as well as in peace. It is _this maxim_ +which here takes the place of the decision, that focus of all action in +every war directed to _mutual destruction_. It is fruitful beyond +measure, not in actions which it calls forth, but in motives for not +acting, and for all that action which is done in the interest of +inaction. When no decision is to be sought for or expected, there is no +reason for giving up anything, for that could only be done to gain +thereby some advantage in the decision. The consequence is that the +defender keeps all, or at least as much as he can (that is as much as +he can cover), and the assailant takes possession of so much as he can +without involving himself in a decision, (that is, he will extend +himself laterally as much as possible). We have only to deal with the +first in this place. + +Wherever the defender is not present with his military forces, the +assailant can take possession, and then the advantage of the state of +expectation is on _his side;_ hence the endeavour to cover the country +everywhere directly, and to take the chance of the assailant attacking +the troops posted for this purpose. + +Before we go further into the special properties of the defence, we +must extract from the book on the attack those objects which the +assailant usually aims at when the decision (by battle) is not sought. +They are as follows:— + +1. The seizure of a considerable strip of territory, as far as that can +be done without a decisive engagement. + +2. The capture of an important magazine under the same condition. + +3. The capture of a fortress not covered. No doubt a siege is more or +less a great operation, often requiring great labour; but it is an +undertaking which does not contain the elements of a catastrophe. If it +comes to the worst, the siege can be raised without thereby suffering a +great positive loss. + +4. Lastly, a successful combat of some importance, but in which there +is not much risked, and consequently not much to be gained; a combat +which takes place not as the cardinal knot of a whole strategic bond, +but on its own account for the sake of trophies or honour of the +troops. For such an object, of course, a combat is not fought _at any +price;_ we either wait for the chance of a favourable opportunity, or +seek to bring one about by skill. + +These four objects of attack give rise to the following efforts on the +part of the defence:— + +1. To cover the fortresses by keeping them behind us. + +2. To cover the country by extending the troops over it. + +3. Where the extension is not sufficient, to throw the army rapidly in +front of the enemy by a flank march. + +4. To guard against disadvantageous combats. + +It is clear that the object of the first three measures is to force on +the enemy the initiative, and to derive the utmost advantage from the +state of expectation, and this object is so deeply rooted in the nature +of the thing that it would be great folly to despise it _prima facie_. +It must necessarily occupy a higher place the less a decision is +expected, and it is the ruling principle in all such campaigns, even +although, apparently, a considerable degree of activity may be +manifested in small actions of an indecisive character. + +Hannibal as well as Fabius, and both Frederick the Great and Daun, have +done homage to this principle whenever they did not either seek for or +expect a decision. The fourth effort serves as a corrective to the +three others, it is their conditio _sine quâ non_. + +We shall now proceed to examine these subjects a little more closely. + +At first sight it appears somewhat preposterous to protect a fortress +from the enemy’s attack by placing an army in _front of it;_ such a +measure looks like a kind of pleonasm, as fortifications are built to +resist a hostile attack of themselves. Yet it is a measure which we see +resorted to thousands and thousands of times. But thus it is in the +conduct of war; the most common things often seem the most +incomprehensible. Who would presume to pronounce these thousands of +instances to be so many blunders on the ground of this seeming +inconsistency? The constant repetition of the measure shows that it +must proceed from some deep-seated motive. This reason is, however, no +other than that pointed out above, emanating from moral sluggishness +and inactivity. + +If the defender places himself in front of his fortress, the enemy +cannot attack it unless he first beats the army in front of it; but a +battle is a decision; if that is _not_ the enemy’s object then there +will be no battle, and the defender will remain in possession of his +fortress without striking a blow; consequently, whenever we do not +believe the enemy intends to fight a battle, we should venture on the +chance of his not making up his mind to do so, especially as in most +cases we still retain the power of withdrawing behind the fortress in a +moment, if, contrary to our expectation, the enemy should march to +attack us; the position before the fortress is in this way free from +danger, and the probability of maintaining the _status quo_ without any +sacrifice, is not even attended with the _slightest_ risk. + +If the defender places himself behind the fortress, he offers the +assailant an object which is exactly suited to the circumstances in +which the latter is placed. If the fortress is not of great strength, +and he is not quite unprepared, he will commence the siege: in order +that this may not end in the fall of the place, the defender must march +to its relief. The positive action, the initiative, is now laid on him, +and the adversary who by his siege is to be regarded as advancing +towards his object, is in the situation of occupier. + +Experience teaches that the matter always takes this turn, and it does +so naturally. A catastrophe, as we have before said, is not necessarily +bound up with a siege. Even a general, devoid of either the spirit of +enterprise or energy, who would never make up his mind to a battle, +will proceed to undertake a siege with perhaps nothing but field +artillery, when he can approach a fortress without risk. At the worst +he can abandon his undertaking without any positive loss. There always +remains to be considered the danger to which most fortresses are more +or less exposed, that of being taken by assault, or in some other +irregular manner, and this circumstance should certainly not be +overlooked by the defender in his calculation of probabilities. + +In weighing and considering the different chances, it seems natural +that the defender should look upon the probability of not having to +fight at all as more for his advantage than the probability of fighting +even under _favourable circumstances_. And thus it appears to us that +the practice of placing an army in the field before its fortress, is +both natural and fully explained. Frederick the Great, for instance, at +Glogau, against the Russians, at Schwednitz, Neiss, and Dresden, +against the Austrians, almost always adopted it. This measure, however, +brought misfortune on the Duke of Bevern at Breslau; _behind_ Breslau +he could not have been attacked; the superiority of the Austrians in +the king’s absence would soon cease, as he was approaching; and +therefore, by a position _behind_ Breslau, a battle might have been +avoided until Frederick’s arrival. No doubt the Duke would have +preferred that course if it had not been that it would have exposed +that important place to a bombardment, at which the king, who was +anything but tolerant on such occasions, would have been highly +displeased. _The attempt made_ by the Duke to protect Breslau by an +entrenched position taken up for the purpose, cannot after all be +disapproved, for it was very possible that Prince Charles of Lorraine, +contented with the capture of Schwednitz, and threatened by the march +of the king, would, by that position, have been prevented from +advancing farther. The best thing he could have done would have been to +refuse the battle at the last by withdrawing through Breslau at the +moment that the Austrians advanced to the attack; in this way he would +have got all the advantages of the state of expectation without paying +for them by a great danger. + +If we have here traced the position _before_ a fortress to reasons of a +superior and absolute order, and defended its adoption on those +grounds, we have still to observe that there is a motive of a secondary +class which, though a more obvious one, is not sufficient of itself +alone, not being absolute; we refer to the use which is made by armies +of the nearest fortress as a depôt of provisions and munitions of war. +This is so convenient, and presents so many advantages, that a general +will not easily make up his mind to draw his supplies of all kinds from +more distant places, or to lodge them in open towns. But if a fortress +is the great magazine of an army, then the position before it is +frequently a matter of absolute necessity, and in most cases is very +natural. But it is easy to see that this obvious motive, which is +easily over-valued by those who are not in the habit of looking far +before them, is neither sufficient to explain all cases, nor are the +circumstances connected with it of sufficient importance to entitle it +to give a final decision. + +The capture of one or more fortresses without risking a battle, is such +a very natural object of all attacks which do not aim at a decision on +the field of battle, that the defender makes it his principal business +to thwart this design. Thus it is that on theatres of war, containing a +number of fortresses, we find these places made the pivots of almost +all the movements; we find the assailant seeking to approach one of +them unexpectedly, and employing various feints to aid his purpose, and +the defender immediately seeking to stop him by well-prepared +movements. Such is the general character of almost all the campaigns of +Louis XIV. in the Netherlands up to the time of Marshal Saxe. + +So much for the covering of fortresses. + +The covering of a country by an extended disposition of forces, is only +conceivable in combination with very considerable obstacles of ground. +The great and small posts which must be formed for the purpose, can +only get a certain capability of resistance through strength of +position; and as natural obstacles are seldom found sufficient, +therefore field fortification is made use of as an assistance. But now +it is to be observed that, the power of resistance which is thus +obtained at any one point, is always only _relative_ (see the chapter +on the signification of the combat), and never to be regarded as +_absolute_. It may certainly happen that one such post may remain proof +against all attacks made upon it, and that therefore in a single +instance there may be an absolute result; but from the great number of +posts, any single one, in comparison to the whole, appears weak, and +exposed to the possible attack of an overwhelming force, and +consequently it would be unreasonable to place one’s dependence for +safety on the resistance of any one single post. In such an extended +position, we can therefore only count on a resistance of relative +length, and not upon a victory, properly speaking. This value of single +posts, at the same time, is also sufficient for the object, and for a +general calculation. In campaigns in which no great decision, no +irresistible march, towards the complete subjugation of the whole force +is to be feared, there is little risk in a combat of posts, even if it +ends in the loss of a post. There is seldom any further result in +connection with it than the loss of the post and a few trophies; the +influence of victory penetrates no further into the situation of +affairs, it does not tear down any part of the foundation to be +followed by a mass of building in ruin. In the worst case, if, for +instance, the whole defensive system is disorganised by the loss of a +single post, the defender has always time to concentrate his corps, and +with his whole force to _offer battle_, which the assailant, according +to our supposition, does not desire. Therefore also it usually happens +that with this concentration of force the act closes, and the further +advance of the assailant is stopped. A strip of land, a few men and +guns, are the losses of the defender, and with these results the +assailant is satisfied. + +To such a risk we say the defender may very well expose himself, if he +has, on the other hand, the possibility, or rather the probability, in +his favour, that the assailant from excessive caution will halt before +his posts without attacking them. Only in regard to this we must not +lose sight of the fact, that we are now supposing an assailant who will +not venture upon any great stroke, a moderate sized, but strong post +will very well serve to stop such an adversary, for although he can +undoubtedly make himself master of it, still the question arises as to +the price it will cost, and whether that price is not too high for any +use that he can make of the victory. + +In this way we may see how the powerful relative resistance which the +defender can obtain from an extended disposition, consisting of a +number of posts in juxtaposition with each other, may constitute a +satisfactory result in the calculation of his whole campaign. In order +to direct at once to the right point the glance which the reader, with +his mind’s eye, will here cast upon military history, we must observe +that these extended positions appear most frequently in the latter half +of a campaign, because by that time the defender has become thoroughly +acquainted with his adversary, with his projects, and his situation; +and the little quantity of the spirit of enterprise with which the +assailant started, is usually exhausted. + +In this defensive, in an extended position by which the _country_, the +_supplies_, the _fortresses_ are to be covered, all great natural +obstacles, such as streams, rivers, mountains, woods, morasses, must +naturally play a great part, and acquire a predominant importance. Upon +their use we refer to what has been already said on these subjects. + +It is through this predominant importance of the topographical element +that the knowledge and activity which are looked upon as the speciality +of the general staff of an army are more particularly called into +requisition. Now, as the staff of the army is usually that branch which +writes and publishes most, it follows that these parts of campaigns are +recorded more fully in history; and then again from that there follows +a not unnatural tendency to systematise them, and to frame out of the +historical solution of one case a general solution for all succeeding +cases. But this endeavour is futile, and therefore erroneous. Besides, +in this more passive kind of war, in this form of it which is tied to +localities, each case is different to another, and must be differently +treated. The ablest memoirs of a critical character respecting these +subjects are therefore only suited to make one acquainted with facts, +but never to serve as dictates. + +Natural, and at the same time meritorious, as is this industry which, +according to the general view, we have attributed to the staff in +particular, still we must raise a warning voice against usurpations +which often spring from it to the prejudice of the whole. The authority +acquired by those who are at the head of, and best acquainted with, +this branch of military service, gives them often a sort of general +dominion over people’s minds, beginning with the general himself, and +from this then springs a routine of ideas which causes an undue bias of +the mind. At last the general sees nothing but mountains and passes, +and that which should be a measure of free choice guided by +circumstances becomes mannerism, becomes second nature. + +Thus in the year 1793 and 1794, Colonel Grawert of the Prussian army, +who was the animating spirit of the staff at that time, and well known +as a regular man for mountains and passes, persuaded two generals of +the most opposite personal characteristics, the Duke of Brunswick and +General Mollendorf, into exactly the same method of carrying on war. + +That a defensive line parallel to the course of a formidable natural +obstacle may lead to a cordon war is quite plain. It must, in most +cases, necessarily lead to that if really the whole extent of the +theatre of war could be directly covered in that manner. But most +theatres of war have such an extent, that the normal tactical +disposition of the troops destined for its defence would be by no means +commensurate with that object; at the same time as the assailant, by +his own dispositions and other circumstances, is confined to certain +principal directions and great roads, and any great deviations from +these directions, even if he is only opposed to a very inactive +defender, would be attended with great embarrassment and disadvantage, +therefore generally all that the defender has to do is to cover the +country for a certain number of miles or marches right and left of +these principal lines of direction of his adversary. But again to +effect this covering, we may be contented with defensive posts on the +principal roads and means of approach, and merely watch the country +between by small posts of observation. The consequence of this is +certainly that the assailant may then pass a column between two of +these posts, and thus make the attack, which he has in view, upon one +post from several quarters at once. Now, these posts are in some +measure arranged to meet this, partly by their having supports for +their flanks, partly by the formation of flank defences (called +crochets), partly by their being able to receive assistance from a +reserve posted in rear, or by troops detached from adjoining posts. In +this manner the number of posts is reduced still more, and the result +is that an army engaged in a defence of this kind, usually divides +itself into four or five principal posts. + +For important points of approach, beyond a certain distance, and yet in +some measure threatened, special central points are established which, +in a certain measure, form small theatres of war within the principal +one. In this manner the Austrians, during the Seven Years’ War, +generally placed the main body of their army, in four or five posts in +the mountains of Lower Silesia; whilst a small almost independent corps +organised for itself a similar system of defence in Upper Silesia. + +Now, the further such a defensive system diverges from direct covering, +the more it must call to its assistance—mobility (active defence), and +even offensive means. Certain corps are considered reserves; besides +which, one post hastens to send to the help of another all the troops +it can spare. This assistance may be rendered either by hastening up +directly from the rear to reinforce and re-establish the passive +defence, or by attacking the enemy in flank, or even by menacing his +line of retreat. If the assailant threatens the flank of a post not +with direct attack, but only by a position through which he can act +upon the communications of this post, then either the corps which has +been advanced for this purpose must be attacked in earnest, or the way +of reprisal must be resorted to by acting in turn on the enemy’s +communications. + +We see, therefore, that however passive this defence is in the leading +ideas on which it is based, still it must comprise many active means, +and in its organisation may be forearmed in many ways against +complicated events. Usually those defences pass for the best which make +the most use of active or even offensive means; but this depends in +great part on the nature of the country, the characteristics of the +troops, and even on the talent of the general; partly we are also very +prone in general to expect too much from movement, and other auxiliary +measures of an active nature, and to place too little reliance on the +local defence of a formidable natural obstacle. We think we have thus +sufficiently explained what we understand by an extended line of +defence, and we now turn to the third auxiliary means, the placing +ourselves in front of the enemy by a rapid march to a flank. + +This means is necessarily one of those provided for that defence of a +country which we are now considering. In the first place the defender, +even with the most extended position, often cannot guard all the +approaches to his country which are menaced; next, in many cases, he +must be ready to repair with the bulk of his forces to any posts upon +which the bulk of the enemy’s force is about to be thrown, as otherwise +those posts would be too easily overpowered; lastly, a general who has +an aversion to confining his army to a passive resistance in an +extended position, must seek to attain his object, the protection of +the country, by rapid, well-planned, and well-conducted movements. The +greater the spaces which he leaves exposed, the greater the talent +required in planning the movements, in order to arrive anywhere at the +right moment of time. + +The natural consequence of striving to do this is, that in such a case, +positions which afford sufficient advantages to make an enemy give up +all idea of an attack as soon as our army, or only a portion of it, +reaches them, are sought for and prepared in all directions. As these +positions are again and again occupied, and all depends on reaching the +same in right time, they are in a certain measure the vowels of all +this method of carrying on war, which on that account has been termed a +_war of posts_. + +Just as an extended position, and the relative resistance in a war +_without great decisions_, do not present the dangers which are +inherent in its original nature, so in the same manner the intercepting +the enemy in front by a march to a flank is not so hazardous as it +would be in the immediate expectation of a great decision. To attempt +at the last moment in greatest haste (by a lateral movement) to thrust +in an army in front of an adversary of determined character, who is +both able and willing to deal heavy blows, and has no scruples about an +expenditure of forces, would be half way to a most decisive disaster; +for against an unhesitating blow delivered with the enemy’s whole +strength, such running and stumbling into a position would not do. But +against an opponent who, instead of taking up his work with his whole +hand, uses only the tips of his fingers, who does not know how to make +use of a great result, or rather of the opening for one, who only seeks +a trifling advantage but at small expense, against such an opponent +this kind of resistance certainly may be applied with effect. + +A natural consequence is, that this means also in general occurs +oftener in the last half of a campaign than at its commencement. + +Here, also, the general staff has an opportunity of displaying its +topographical knowledge in framing a system of combined measures, +connected with the choice and preparation of the positions and the +roads leading to them. + +When the whole object of one party is to gain in the end a certain +point, and the whole object of his adversary, on the other hand, is to +prevent his doing so, then both parties are often obliged to make their +movements under the eyes of each other; for this reason, these +movements must be made with a degree of precaution and precision not +otherwise required. Formerly, before the mass of an army was formed of +independent divisions, and even on the march was always regarded as an +indivisible whole, this precaution and precision was attended with much +more formality, and with the copious use of tactical skill. On these +occasions, certainly, single brigades were often obliged to leave the +general line of battle to secure particular points, and act an +independent part until the army arrived: but these were, and continued, +_anomalous proceedings;_ and the aim in the order of march generally +was to move the army from one point to another as a whole, preserving +its normal formation, and avoiding such exceptional proceedings as the +above as far as possible. Now that the parts of the main body of an +army are subdivided again into independent bodies, and those bodies can +venture to enter into an engagement with the mass of the enemy’s army, +provided the rest of the force of which it is a member is sufficiently +near to carry it on and finish it,—now such a flank march is attended +with less difficulty even under the eye of the enemy. What formerly +could only be effected through the actual mechanism of the order of +march, can now be done by starting single divisions at an earlier hour, +by hastening the march of others, and by the greater freedom in the +employment of the whole. + +By the means of defence just considered, the assailant can be prevented +from taking any fortress, from occupying any important extent of +country, or capturing magazines; and he will be prevented, if in every +direction combats are offered to him in which he can see little +probability of success, or too great danger of a reaction in case of +failure, or in general, an expenditure of force too great for his +object and existing relations. + +If now the defender succeeds in this triumph of his art and skill, and +the assailant, wherever he turns his eyes, sees prudent preparations +through which he is cut off from any prospect of attaining his modest +wishes: then the offensive principle often seeks to escape from the +difficulty in the satisfaction of the mere honour of its arms. The gain +of some combat of respectable importance, gives the arms of the victor +a semblance of superiority, appeases the vanity of the general, of the +court, of the army, and the people, and thus satisfies, to a certain +extent, the expectations which are naturally always raised when the +offensive is assumed. + +An advantageous combat of some importance merely for the sake of the +victory and some trophies, becomes, therefore, the last hope of the +assailant. No one must suppose that we here involve ourselves in a +contradiction, for we contend that we still continue within our _own +supposition_, that the good measures of the defender have deprived the +assailant of all expectation of attaining any one of those other +objects by means of a _successful combat!_ To warrant that expectation, +two conditions are required, that is, a _favourable termination to the +combat_, and next, _that the result shall lead really to the attainment +of one of those objects_. + +The first may very well take place without the second, and therefore +the defenders’ corps and posts singly are much more frequently in +danger of getting involved in disadvantageous combats if the assailant +merely aims at the _honour of the battle field_, than if he connects +with that a view to further advantages as well. + +If we place ourselves in Daun’s situation, and with his way of +thinking, then his venturing on the surprise of Hochkirch does not +appear inconsistent with his character, as long as we suppose him +aiming at nothing more than the trophies of the day. But a victory rich +in results, which would have compelled the king to abandon Dresden and +Neisse, appears an entirely different problem, one with which he would +not have been inclined to meddle. + +Let it not be imagined that these are trifling or idle distinctions; we +have, on the contrary, now before us one of the deepest-rooted, leading +principles of war. The signification of a combat is its very soul in +strategy, and we cannot too often repeat, that in strategy the leading +events always proceed from the ultimate views of the two parties, as it +were, from a conclusion of the whole train of ideas. This is why there +may be such a difference strategically between one battle and another, +that they can hardly be looked upon as the same means. + +Now, although the fruitless victory of the assailant can hardly be +considered any serious injury to the defence, still as the defender +will not willingly concede even _this_ advantage, particularly as we +never know what accident may also be connected with it, therefore the +defender requires to keep an incessant watch upon the situation of all +his corps and posts. No doubt here all greatly depends on the leaders +of those corps making suitable dispositions; but any one of them may be +led into an unavoidable catastrophe by injudicious orders imposed on +him by the general-in-chief. Who is not reminded here of Fouqué’s corps +at Landshut and of Fink’s at Maxen? + +In both cases Frederick the Great reckoned too much on customary ideas. +It was impossible that he could suppose 10,000 men capable of +successfully resisting 30,000 in the position of Landshut, or that Fink +could resist a superior force pouring in and overwhelming him on all +sides; but he thought the strength of the position of Landshut would be +accepted, like a bill of exchange, as heretofore, and that Daun would +see in the demonstration against his flank sufficient reason to +exchange his uncomfortable position in Saxony for the more comfortable +one in Bohemia. He misjudged Laudon in one case and Daun in the other, +and therein lies the error in these measures. + +But irrespective of such errors, into which even generals may fall who +are not so proud, daring, and obstinate as Frederick the Great in some +of his proceedings may certainly be termed, there is always, in respect +to the subject we are now considering, a great difficulty in this way, +that the general-in-chief cannot always expect all he desires from the +sagacity, good-will, courage and firmness of character of his +corps-commanders. He cannot, therefore, leave everything to their good +judgment; he must prescribe rules on many points by which their course +of action, being restricted, may easily become inconsistent with the +circumstances of the moment. This is, however, an unavoidable +inconvenience. Without an imperious commanding will, the influence of +which penetrates through the whole army, war cannot be well conducted; +and whoever would follow the practice of always expecting the best from +his subordinates, would from that very reason be quite unfit for a good +Commander of an army. + +Therefore the situation of every corps and post must be for ever kept +clearly in view, to prevent any of them being unexpectedly drawn into a +catastrophe. + +The aim of all these efforts is to preserve the _status quo_. The more +fortunate and successful these efforts are, the longer will the war +last at the same point; but the longer war continues at one point, the +greater become the cares for subsistence. + +In place of collections and contributions from the country, a system of +subsistence from magazines commences at once, or in a very short time; +in place of country waggons being collected upon each occasion, the +formation, more or less, of a regular transport takes place, composed +either of carriages of the country, or of those belonging to the army; +in short, there arises an approach to that regular system of feeding +troops from magazines, of which we have already treated in the +fourteenth chapter (On Subsistence). + +At the same time, it is not this which exercises a great influence on +this mode of conducting war, for as this mode, by its object and +character, is in fact already tied down to a limited space, therefore +the question of subsistence may very well have a part in determining +its action—and will do so in most cases—without altering the general +character of the war. On the other hand, the action of the belligerents +mutually against the lines of communications gains a much greater +importance for two reasons. Firstly, because in such campaigns, there +being no measures of a great and comprehensive kind, generals must +apply their energies to those of an inferior order; and secondly, +because here there is time enough to wait for the effect of this means. +The security of his line of communications is therefore specially +important to the defender, for although it is true that its +interruption cannot be an object of the hostile operations which take +place, yet it might compel him to retreat, and thus to leave other +objects open to attack. + +All the measures having for their object the protection of the area of +the theatre of war itself, must naturally also have the effect of +covering the lines of communication; their security is therefore in +part provided for in that way, and we have only to observe that it is a +principal condition in fixing upon a position. + +A _special_ means of security consists in the bodies of troops, both +small and large, escorting convoys. First, the most extended positions +are not sufficient to secure the lines of communication, and next, such +an escort is particularly necessary when the general wishes to avoid a +very extended position. Therefore, we find, in Tempelhof’s History of +the Seven Years’ War, instances without end in which Frederick the +Great caused his bread and flour waggons to be escorted by single +regiments of infantry or cavalry, sometimes also by whole brigades. On +the Austrian side we nowhere find mention of the same thing, which +certainly may be partly accounted for in this way, that they had no +such circumstantial historian on their side, but in part it is also to +be ascribed just to this, that they always took up much more extended +positions. + +Having now touched upon the four efforts which form the foundation of a +defensive _that does not aim at a decision_, and which are at the same +time, altogether free upon the whole from all offensive elements, we +must now say something of the offensive means with which they may +become more or less mixed up, in a certain measure flavoured. These +offensive means are chiefly:— + +1. Operating against the enemy’s communications, under which we +likewise include enterprises against his places of supply. + +2. Diversions and incursions within the enemy’s territory. + +3. Attacks on the enemy’s corps and posts, and even upon his main body, +under favourable circumstances, or the threat only of such intention. + +The first of these means is incessantly in action in all campaigns of +this kind, but in a certain measure quite quietly without actually +making its appearance. Every suitable position for the defender derives +a great part of its efficacy from the disquietude which it causes the +assailant in connection with his communications; and as the question of +subsistence in such warfare becomes, as we have already observed, one +of vital importance, affecting the assailant equally, therefore, +through this apprehension of offensive action, possibly resulting from +the enemy’s position, a great part of the strategic web is determined, +as we shall again find in treating of the attack. + +Not only this general influence, proceeding from the choice of +positions, which, like pressure in mechanics, produces an effect +_invisibly_, but also an actual offensive movement with part of the +army against the enemy’s lines of communication, comes within the +compass of such a defensive. But that it may be done with effect, _the +situation of the lines of communication, the nature of the country, and +the peculiar qualities of the troops_ must be specially propitious to +the undertaking. + +Incursions into the enemy’s country which have as their object +reprisals or levying contributions, cannot properly be regarded as +defensive means, they are rather true offensive means; but they are +usually combined with the object of a real diversion, which may be +regarded as a real defensive measure, as it is intended to weaken the +enemy’s force opposed to us. But as the above means may be used just as +well by the assailant, and in itself is a real attack, we therefore +think more suitable to leave its further examination for the next book. +Accordingly we shall only count it in here, in order to render a full +account of the arsenal of small offensive arms belonging to the +defender of a theatre of war, and for the present merely add that in +extent and importance it may attain to such a point, as to give the +whole war the _appearance_, and along with that the honour, of the +offensive. Of this nature are Frederick the Great’s enterprises in +Poland, Bohemia and Franconia, before the campaign of 1759. His +campaign itself is plainly a pure defence; these incursions into the +enemy’s territory, however, gave it the appearance of an aggression, +which perhaps had a special value on account of the moral effect. + +An attack on one of the enemy’s corps or on his main body must always +be kept in view as a necessary complement of the whole defence whenever +the aggressor takes the matter too easily, and on that account shows +himself very defenceless at particular points. Under this silent +condition the whole action takes place. But here also the defender, in +the same way as in operating against the communications of the enemy, +may go a step further in the province of the offensive, and just as +well as his adversary may make it his business to lie in wait _for a +favourable stroke_. In order to ensure a result in this field, he must +either be very decidedly superior in force to his opponent—which +certainly is inconsistent with the defensive in general, but still may +happen—or he must have a method and the talent of keeping his forces +more concentrated, and make up by activity and mobility for the danger +which he incurs in other respects. + +The first was Daun’s case in the Seven Years’ War; the latter, the case +of Frederick the Great. Still we hardly ever see Daun’s offensive make +its appearance except when Frederick the Great invited it by excessive +boldness and a display of contempt for him (Hochkirch, Maxen, +Landshut). On the other hand, we see Frederick the Great almost +constantly on the move in order to beat one or other of Daun’s corps +with his main body. He certainly seldom succeeded, at least, the +results were never great, because Daun, in addition to his great +superiority in numbers, had also a rare degree of prudence and caution; +but we must not suppose that, therefore, the king’s attempts were +altogether fruitless. In these attempts lay rather a very effectual +resistance; for the care and fatigue, which his adversary had to +undergo in order to avoid fighting at a disadvantage, neutralised those +forces which would otherwise have aided in advancing the offensive +action. Let us only call to mind the campaign of 1760, in Silesia, +where Daun and the Russians, out of sheer apprehension of being +attacked and beaten by the king, first here and then there, never could +succeed in making one step in advance. + +We believe we have now gone through all the subjects which form the +predominant ideas, the principal aims, and therefore the main stay, of +the whole action in the defence of a theatre of war when no idea of +decision is entertained. Our chief, and, indeed, sole object in +bringing them all close together, was to let the organism of the whole +strategic action be seen in one view; the particular measures by means +of which those subjects come to life, marches, positions, etc., etc., +we have already considered in detail. + +By now casting a glance once more at the whole of our subject, the idea +must strike us forcibly, that with such a weak offensive principle, +with so little desire for a decision on either side, with so little +positive motive, with so many counteracting influences of a subjective +nature, which stop us and hold us back, the essential difference +between attack and defence must always tend more to disappear. At the +opening of a campaign, certainly one party will enter the other’s +theatre of war, and in that manner, to a certain extent, such party +puts on the form of offensive. But it may very well take place, and +happens frequently that he must soon enough apply all his powers to +defend his own country on the enemy’s territory. Then both stand, in +reality, opposite one another in a state of mutual observation. Both +intent on losing nothing, perhaps both alike intent also on obtaining a +positive advantage. Indeed it may happen, as with Frederick the Great, +that the real defender aims higher in that way than his adversary. + +Now the more the assailant gives up the position of an enemy making +progress, the less the defender is menaced by him, and confined to a +strictly defensive attitude by the pressing claims of a regard for mere +safety, so much the more a similarity in the relations of the parties +is produced in which then the activity of both will be directed towards +gaining an advantage over his opponent, and protecting himself against +any disadvantage, therefore to a true strategic _manœuvring;_ and +indeed this is the character into which all campaigns resolve +themselves more or less, when the situation of the combatants or +political views do not allow of any great decision. + +In the following book we have allotted a chapter specially to the +subject of strategic manœuvres; but as this equipoised play of forces +has frequently been invested in theory with an importance to which it +is not entitled, we find ourselves under the necessity of examining the +subject more closely while we are treating of the defence, as it is in +that form of warfare more particularly that this false importance is +ascribed to strategic manœuvres. + +We call it an _equipoised play of forces_, for when there is no +movement of the whole body there is a state of equilibrium; where no +great object impels, there is no movement of the whole; therefore, in +such a case, the two parties, however unequal they may be, are still to +be regarded as in a state of equilibrium. From this state of +equilibrium of the whole now come forth the particular motives to +actions of a minor class and secondary objects. They can here develop +themselves, because they are no longer kept down by the pressure of a +great decision and great danger. Therefore, what can be lost or won +upon the whole is changed into small counters, and the action of the +war, as a whole, is broken up into smaller transactions. With these +smaller operations for smaller gains, a contest of skill now takes +place between the two generals; but as it is impossible in war to shut +out chance, and consequently good luck, therefore this contest will +never be otherwise than a _game_. In the meantime, here arise two other +questions, that is, whether in this manœuvring, chance will not have a +smaller, and superior intelligence a greater, share in the decision, +than where all concentrates itself into one single great act. The last +of these questions we must answer in the affirmative. The more complete +the organisation of the whole, the oftener time and space come into +consideration—the former by single moments, the latter at particular +points—so much the greater, plainly, will be the field for calculation, +therefore the greater the sway exercised by superior intelligence. What +the superior understanding gains is abstracted in part from chance, but +not necessarily altogether, and therefore we are not obliged to answer +the first question affirmatively. Moreover, we must not forget that a +superior understanding is not the only mental quality of a general; +courage, energy, resolution, presence of mind, etc., are qualities +which rise again to a higher value when all depends on one single great +decision; they will, therefore, have somewhat less weight when there is +an equipoised play of forces, and the predominating ascendancy of +sagacious calculation increases not only at the expense of chance, but +also at the expense of these qualities. On the other hand, these +brilliant qualities, at the moment of a great decision, may rob chance +of a great part of its power, and therefore, to a certain extent, +secure that which calculating intelligence in such cases would be +obliged to leave to chance. We see by this that here a conflict takes +place between several forces, and that we cannot positively assert that +there is a greater field left open to chance in the case of a great +decision, than in the total result when that equipoised play of forces +takes place. If we, therefore, see more particularly in this play of +forces a contest of mutual skill, that must only be taken to refer to +skill in sagacious calculation, and not to the sum total of military +genius. + +Now it is just from this aspect of strategic manœuvring that the whole +has obtained that false importance of which we have spoken above. In +the first place, in this skilfulness the whole genius of a general has +been supposed to consist; but this is a great mistake, for it is, as +already said, not to be denied that in moments of great decisions other +moral qualities of a general may have power to control the force of +events. If this power proceeds more from the impulse of noble feelings +and those sparks of genius which start up almost unconsciously, and +therefore does not proceed from long chains of thought, still it is not +the less a free citizen of the art of war, for that art is neither a +mere act of the understanding, nor are the activities of the +intellectual faculties its principal ones. Further, it has been +supposed that every active campaign without results must be owing to +that sort of skill on the part of one, or even of both generals, while +in reality it has always had its general and principal foundation just +in the general relations which have turned war into such a game. + +As most wars between civilised states have had for their object rather +the observation of the enemy than his destruction, therefore it was +only natural that the greater number of the campaigns should bear the +character of strategic manœuvring. Those amongst them which did not +bring into notice any renowned generals, attracted no attention; but +where there was a great commander on whom all eyes were fixed, or two +opposed to each other, like Turenne and Montecuculi, there the seal of +perfection has been stamped upon this whole art of manœuvring through +the names of these generals. A further consequence has then been that +this game has been looked upon as the summit of the art, as the +manifestation of its highest perfection, and consequently also as the +source at which the art of war must chiefly be studied. + +This view prevailed almost universally in the theoretical world before +the wars of the French Revolution. But when these wars at one stroke +opened to view a quite different world of phenomena in war, at first +somewhat rough and wild, but which afterwards, under Buonaparte +systematised into a method on a grand scale, produced results which +created astonishment amongst old and young, then people set themselves +free from the old models, and believed that all the changes they saw +resulted from modern discoveries, magnificent ideas, etc.; but also at +the same time, certainly from the changes in the state of society. It +was now thought that what was old would never more be required, and +would never even reappear. But as in such revolutions in opinions two +parties are always formed, so it was also in this instance, and the old +views found their champions, who looked upon the new phenomena as rude +blows of brute force, as a general decadence of the art; and held the +opinion that, in the evenly-balanced, nugatory, fruitless war game, the +perfection of the art is realised. There lies at the bottom of this +last view such a want of logic and philosophy, that it can only be +termed a hopeless, distressing confusion of ideas. But at the same time +the opposite opinion, that nothing like the past will ever reappear, is +very irrational. Of the novel appearances manifested in the domain of +the art of war, very few indeed are to be ascribed to new discoveries, +or to a change in the direction of ideas; they are chiefly attributable +to the alterations in the social state and its relations. But as these +took place just at the crisis of a state of fermentation, they must not +be taken as a norm; and we cannot, therefore, doubt that a great part +of the former manifestations of war, will again make their appearance. +This is not the place to enter further into these matters; it is enough +for us that by directing attention to the relation which this +even-balanced play of forces occupies in the whole conduct of a war, +and to its signification and connection with other objects, we have +shown that it is always produced by constraint laid on both parties +engaged in the contest, and by a military element greatly attenuated. +In this game one general may show himself more skilful than his +opponent; and therefore, if the strength of his army is equal, he may +also gain many advantages over him; or if his force is inferior, he +may, by his superior talent, keep the contest evenly balanced; but it +is completely contradictory to the nature of the thing to look here for +the highest honour and glory of a general; such a campaign is always +rather a certain sign that neither of the generals has any great +military talent, or that he who has talent is prevented by the force of +circumstances from venturing on a great decision; but when this is the +case, there is no scope afforded for the display of the highest +military genius. + +We have hitherto been engaged with the general character of strategic +manœuvring; we must now proceed to a special influence which it has on +the conduct of war, namely this, that it frequently leads the +combatants away from the principal roads and places into unfrequented, +or at least unimportant localities. When trifling interests, which +exist for a moment and then disappear, are paramount, the great +features of a country have less influence on the conduct of the war. We +therefore often find that bodies of troops move to points where we +should never look for them, judging only by the great and simple +requirements of the war; and that consequently, also, the changefulness +and diversity in the details of the contest as it progresses, are much +greater here than in wars directed to a great decision. Let us only +look how in the last five campaigns of the Seven Years’ War, in spite +of the relations in general remaining unchanged in themselves, each of +these campaigns took a different form, and, closely examined, no single +measure ever appears twice; and yet in these campaigns the offensive +principle manifests itself on the side of the allied army much more +decidedly than in most other earlier wars. + +In this chapter on the defence of a theatre of war, if no great +decision is proposed, we have only shown the tendencies of the action, +together with its combination, and the relations and character of the +same; the particular measures of which it is composed have been +described in detail in a former part of our work. Now the question +arises whether for these different tendencies of action no thoroughly +general comprehensive principles, rules, or methods can be given. To +this we reply that, as far as history is concerned, we have decidedly +not been led to any deductions of that kind through constantly +recurring forms; and at the same time, for a subject so diversified and +changeful in its general nature, we could hardly admit any theoretical +rule, except one founded on experience. A war directed to great +decisions is not only much simpler, but also much more in accordance +with nature; is more free from inconsistencies, more objective, more +restricted by a law of inherent necessity; hence the mind can prescribe +forms and laws for it; but for a war without a decision for its object, +this appears to us to be much more difficult. Even the two fundamental +principles of the earliest theories of strategy published in our times, +the _Breadth of the Base_, in Bulow, and the _Position on Interior +Lines_, in Jomini, if applied to the defence of a theatre of war, have +in no instance shown themselves absolute and effective. But being mere +forms, this is just where they should show themselves most efficacious, +because forms are always more efficacious, always acquire a +preponderance over other factors of the product, the more the action +extends over time and space. Notwithstanding this, we find that they +are nothing more than particular parts of the subject, and certainly +anything but decisive advantages. It is very clear that the peculiar +nature of the means and the relations must always from the first have a +great influence adverse to all general principles. What Daun did by the +extent and provident choice of positions, the king did by keeping his +army always concentrated, always hugging the enemy close, and by being +always ready to act extemporally with his whole army. The method of +each general proceeded not only from the nature of the army he +commanded, but also from the circumstances in which he was placed. To +extemporise movements is always much easier for a king than for any +commander who acts under responsibility. We shall here once more point +out particularly that the critic has no right to look upon the +different manners and methods which may make their appearance as +different degrees on the road to perfection, the one inferior to the +other; they are entitled to be treated as on an equality, and it must +rest with the judgment to estimate their relative fitness for use in +each particular case. + +To enumerate these different manners which may spring from the +particular nature of an army, of a country, or of circumstances, is not +our object here; the influence of these things generally we have +already noticed. + +We acknowledge, therefore, that in this chapter we are unable to give +any maxims, rules, or methods, because history does not furnish the +means; and on the contrary, at almost every moment, we there meet with +peculiarities such as are often quite inexplicable, and often also +surprise us by their singularity. But it is not on that account +unprofitable to study history in connection with this subject also. +Where neither system nor any dogmatic apparatus can be found, there may +still be truth, and this truth will then, in most cases, only be +discovered by a practised judgment and the tact of long experience. +Therefore, even if history does not here furnish any formula, we may be +certain that here as well as everywhere else, it will give us _exercise +for the judgment_. + +We shall only set up one comprehensive general principle, or rather we +shall reproduce, and present to view more vividly, in the form of a +separate principle, the natural presupposition of all that has now been +said. + +All the means which have been here set forth have only a _relative_ +value; they are all placed under the legal ban of a certain disability +on both sides; above this region a higher law prevails, and there is a +totally different world of phenomena. The general must never forget +this; he must never move in imaginary security within the narrower +sphere, as if he were in an _absolute_ medium; never look upon the +means which he employs here as the _necessary_ or as the _only means, +and still adhere to them, even when he himself already trembles at +their insufficiency_. + +From the point of view at which we have here placed ourselves, such an +error may appear to be almost impossible; but it is not impossible in +the real world, because there things do not appear in such sharp +contrast. + +We must just again remind our readers that, for the sake of giving +clearness, distinctness, and force to our ideas, we have always taken +as the subject of our consideration only the complete antithesis, that +is the two extremes of the question, but that the concrete case in war +generally lies between these two extremes, and is only influenced by +either of these extremes according to the degree in which it approaches +nearer towards it. + +Therefore, quite commonly, everything depends on the general making up +his own mind before all things as to whether his adversary has the +inclination and the means of outbidding him by the use of greater and +more decisive measures. As soon as he has reason to apprehend this, he +must give up small measures intended to ward off small disadvantages; +and the course which remains for him then is to put himself in a better +situation, by a voluntary sacrifice, in order to make himself equal to +a greater solution. In other words, the first requisite is that the +general should take the right scale in laying out his work. + +In order to give these ideas still more distinctness through the help +of real experience, we shall briefly notice a string of cases in which, +according to our opinion, a false criterion was made use of, that is, +in which one of the generals in the calculation of his operations very +much underestimated the decisive action intended by his adversary. We +begin with the opening of the campaign of 1757, in which the Austrians +showed by the disposition of their forces that they had not counted +upon so thorough an offensive as that adopted by Frederick the Great; +even the delay of Piccolomini’s corps on the Silesian frontier while +Duke Charles of Lorraine was in danger of having to surrender with his +whole army, is a similar case of complete misconception of the +situation. + +In 1758, the French were in the first place completely taken in as to +the effects of the convention of Kloster Seeven (a fact, certainly, +with which we have nothing to do here), and two months afterwards they +were completely mistaken in their judgment of what their opponent might +undertake, which, very shortly after, cost them the country between the +Weser and the Rhine. That Frederick the Great, in 1759, at Maxen, and +in 1760, at Landshut, completely misjudged his enemies in not supposing +them capable of such decisive measures has been already mentioned. + +But in all history we can hardly find a greater error in the criterion +than that in 1792. It was then imagined possible to turn the tide in a +national war by a moderate sized auxiliary army, which brought down on +those who attempted it the enormous weight of the whole French people, +at that time completely unhinged by political fanaticism. We only call +this error a great one because it has proved so since, and not because +it would have been easy to avoid it. As far as regards the conduct of +the war itself, it cannot be denied that the foundation of all the +disastrous years which followed was laid in the campaign of 1794. On +the side of the allies in that campaign, even the powerful nature of +the enemy’s system of attack was quite misunderstood, by opposing to it +a pitiful system of extended positions and strategic manœuvres; and +further in the want of unanimity between Prussia and Austria +politically, and the foolish abandonment of Belgium and the +Netherlands, we may also see how little presentiment the cabinets of +that day had of the force of the torrent which had just broken loose. +In the year 1796, the partial acts of resistance offered at Montenotte, +Lodi, etc., etc., show sufficiently how little the Austrians understood +the main point when confronted by a Buonaparte. + +In the year 1800 it was not by the direct effect of the surprise, but +by the false view which Melas took of the possible consequences of this +surprise, that his catastrophe was brought about. + +Ulm, in the year 1805, was the last knot of a loose network of +scientific but extremely feeble strategic combinations, good enough to +stop a Daun or a Lascy but not a Buonaparte, the Revolution’s Emperor. + +The indecision and embarrassment of the Prussians in 1806, proceeded +from antiquated, pitiful, impracticable views and measures being mixed +up with some lucid ideas and a true feeling of the immense importance +of the moment. If there had been a distinct consciousness and a +complete appreciation of the position of the country, how could they +have left 30,000 men in Prussia, and then entertained the idea of +forming a special theatre of war in Westphalia, and of gaining any +results from a trivial offensive such as that for which Ruchel’s and +the Weimar corps were intended? and how could they have talked of +danger to magazines and loss of this or that strip of territory in the +last moments left for deliberation? + +Even in 1812, in that grandest of all campaigns, there was no want at +first of unsound purposes proceeding from the use of an erroneous +standard Scale. In the head quarters at Wilna there was a party of men +of high mark who insisted on a battle on the frontier, in order that no +hostile foot should tread on Russian ground with impunity. That this +battle on the frontier _might_ be lost, nay, that it _would_ be lost, +these men certainly admitted; for although they did not know that there +would be 300,000 French to meet 80,000 Russians, still they knew that +the enemy was considerably superior in numbers. The chief error was in +the value which they ascribed to this battle; they thought it would be +a lost battle, like many other lost battles, whereas it may with +certainty be asserted that this great battle on the frontier would have +produced a succession of events completely different to those which +actually took place. Even the camp at Drissa was a measure at the root +of which there lay a completely erroneous standard with regard to the +enemy. If the Russian army had been obliged to remain there they would +have been completely isolated and cut off from every quarter, and then +the French army would not have been at a loss for means to compel the +Russians to lay down their arms. The designer of that camp never +thought of power and will on such a scale as that. + +But even Buonaparte sometimes used a false standard. After the +armistice of 1813 he thought to hold in check the subordinate armies of +the allies under Blücher and the Crown Prince of Sweden by corps which +were certainly not able to offer any effectual resistance, but which +might impose sufficiently on the cautious to prevent their risking +anything, as had so often been done in preceding wars. He did not +reflect sufficiently on the reaction proceeding from the deep-rooted +resentment with which both Blücher and Bulow were animated, and from +the imminent danger in which they were placed. + +In general, he under-estimated the enterprising spirit of old Blücher. +At Leipsic Blücher alone wrested from him the victory; at Laon Blücher +might have entirely ruined him, and if he did not do so the cause lay +in circumstances completely out of the calculation of Buonaparte; +lastly, at Belle-Alliance, the penalty of this mistake reached him like +a thunderbolt. + + + +SKETCHES FOR BOOK VII THE ATTACK + + + +CHAPTER I. The Attack in Relation to the Defence + +If two ideas form an exact logical antithesis, that is to say if the +one is the complement of the other, then, in fact, each one is implied +in the other; and when the limited power of our mind is insufficient to +apprehend both at once, and, by the mere antithesis, to recognise in +the one perfect conception the totality of the other also, still, at +all events, the one always throws on the other a strong, and in many +parts a sufficient light Thus we think the first chapter on the defence +throws a sufficient light on all the points of the attack which it +touches upon. But it is not so throughout in respect of every point; +the train of thought could nowhere be carried to a finality; it is, +therefore, natural that where the opposition of ideas does not lie so +immediately at the root of the conception as in the first chapters, all +that can be said about the attack does not follow directly from what +has been said on the defence. An alteration of our point of view brings +us nearer to the subject, and it is natural for us to observe, at this +closer point of view, that which escaped observation at our former +standpoint. What is thus perceived will, therefore, be the complement +of our former train of thought; and it will not unfrequently happen +that what is said on the attack will throw a new light on the defence. + +In treating of the attack we shall, of course, very frequently have the +same subjects before us with which our attention has been occupied in +the defence. But we have no intention, nor would it be consistent with +the nature of the thing, to adopt the usual plan of works on +engineering, and in treating of the attack, to circumvent or upset all +that we have found of positive value in the defence, by showing that +against every means of defence, there is an infallible method of +attack. The defence has its strong points and weak ones; if the first +are even not unsurmountable, still they can only be overcome at a +disproportionate price, and that must remain true from whatever point +of view we look at it, or we get involved in a contradiction. Further, +it is not our intention thoroughly to review the reciprocal action of +the means; each means of defence suggests a means of attack; but this +is often so evident, that there is no occasion to transfer oneself from +our standpoint in treating of the defence to a fresh one for the +attack, in order to perceive it; the one issues from the other of +itself. Our object is, in each subject, to set forth the peculiar +relations of the attack, so far as they do not directly come out of the +defence, and this mode of treatment must necessarily lead us to many +chapters to which there are no corresponding ones in the defence. + + + +CHAPTER II. Nature of the Strategical Attack + +We have seen that the defensive in war generally—therefore, also, the +strategic defensive—is no absolute state of expectancy and warding off, +therefore no completely passive state, but that it is a relative state, +and consequently impregnated more or less with offensive principles. In +the same way the offensive is no homogeneous whole, but incessantly +mixed up with the defensive. But there is this difference between the +two, that a defensive, without an offensive return blow, cannot be +conceived; that this return blow is a necessary constituent part of the +defensive, whilst in the attack, the blow or act is in itself one +complete idea. The defence in itself is not necessarily a part of the +attack; but time and space, to which it is inseparably bound, import +into it the defensive as a necessary evil. For in the _first_ place, +the attack cannot be continued uninterruptedly up to its conclusion, it +must have stages of rest, and in these stages, when its action is +neutralised, the state of defence steps in of itself; in the _second_ +place, the space which a military force, in its advance, leaves behind +it, and which is essential to its existence, cannot always be covered +by the attack itself, but must be specially protected. + +The act of attack in war, but particularly in that branch which is +called strategy, is therefore a perpetual alternating and combining of +attack and defence; but the latter is not to be regarded as an +effectual preparation for attack, as a means by which its force is +heightened, that is to say, not as an active principle, but purely as a +necessary evil; as the retarding weight arising from the specific +gravity of the mass; it is its original sin, its seed of mortality. We +say: a _retarding_ weight, because if the defence does not contribute +to strengthen the attack, it must tend to diminish its effect by the +very loss of time which it represents. But now, may not this defensive +element, which is contained in every attack, have over it a _positively +disadvantageous_ influence? If we suppose the _attack is the weaker, +the defence the stronger form of war_, it seems to follow that the +latter can not act in a positive sense prejudicially on the former; for +as long as we have sufficient force for the weaker form, we should have +more than enough for the stronger. In general—that is, as regards the +chief part—this is true: in its detail we shall analyse it more +precisely in the chapter on the _culminating point of victory;_ but we +must not forget that that superiority of the _strategic defence_ is +partly founded in this, that the attack itself cannot take place +without a mixture of defence, and of a defensive of a very weak kind; +what the assailant has to carry about with him of this kind are its +worst elements; with respect to these, that which holds good of the +whole, in a general sense, cannot be maintained; and therefore it is +conceivable that the defensive may act upon the attack positively as a +weakening principle. It is just in these moments of weak defensive in +the attack, that the positive action of the offensive principle in the +_defensive_ should be introduced. During the twelve hours rest which +usually succeeds a day’s work, what a difference there is between the +situation of the defender in his chosen, well-known, and prepared +position, and that of the assailant occupying a bivouac, into +which—like a blind man—he has groped his way, or during a longer period +of rest, required to obtain provisions and to await reinforcements, +etc., when the defender is close to his fortresses and supplies, whilst +the situation of the assailant, on the other hand, is like that of a +bird on a tree. Every attack must lead to a defence; what is to be the +result of that defence, depends on circumstances; these circumstances +may be very favourable if the enemy’s forces are destroyed; but they +may be very unfavourable if such is not the case. Although this +defensive does not belong to the attack itself, its nature and effects +must re-act on the attack, and must take part in determining its value. + +The deduction from this view is, that in every attack the defensive, +which is necessarily an inherent feature in the same, must come into +consideration, in order to see clearly the disadvantages to which it is +subject, and to be prepared for them. + +On the other hand, in another respect, the attack is always in itself +one and the same. But the defensive has its gradations according as the +principle of expectancy approaches to an end. This begets forms which +differ essentially from each other, as has been developed in the +chapter on the forms of defence. + +As the principle of the attack is _strictly_ active, and the defensive, +which connects itself with it, is only a dead weight; there is, +therefore, not the same kind of difference in it. No doubt, in the +energy employed in the attack, in the rapidity and force of the blow, +there may be a great difference, but only a difference in _degree_, not +in _form_.—It is quite possible to conceive even that the assailant may +choose a defensive form, the better to attain his object; for instance, +that he may choose a strong position, that he may be attacked there; +but such instances are so rare that we do not think it necessary to +dwell upon them in our grouping of ideas and facts, which are always +founded on the practical. We may, therefore, say that there are no such +gradations in the attack as those which present themselves in the +defence. + +Lastly, as a rule, the extent of the means of attack consists of the +armed force only; of course, we must add to these the fortresses, for +if in the vicinity of the theatre of war, they have a decided influence +on the attack. But this influence gradually diminishes as the attack +advances; and it is conceivable that, in the attack, its own fortresses +never can play such an important part as in the defence, in which they +often become objects of primary importance. The assistance of the +people may be supposed in co-operation with the attack, in those cases +in which the inhabitants of the country are better disposed towards the +invader of the country than they are to their own army; finally, the +assailant may also have allies, but then they are only the result of +special or accidental relations, not an assistance proceeding from the +nature of the aggressive. Although, therefore, in speaking of the +defence we have reckoned fortresses, popular insurrections, and allies +as available means of resistance; we cannot do the same in the attack; +there they belong to the nature of the thing; here they only appear +rarely, and for the most part accidentally. + + + +CHAPTER III. Of the Objects of Strategical Attack + +The overthrow of the enemy is the aim in war; destruction of the +hostile military forces, the means both in attack and defence. By the +destruction of the enemy’s military force, the defensive is led on to +the offensive, the offensive is led by it to the conquest of territory. +Territory is, therefore, the object of the attack; but that need not be +a whole country, it may be confined to a part, a province, a strip of +country, a fortress. All these things may have a substantial value from +their political importance, in treating for peace, whether they are +retained or exchanged. + +The object of the strategic attack is, therefore, conceivable in an +infinite number of gradations, from the conquest of the whole country +down to that of some insignificant place. As soon as this object is +attained, and the attack ceases, the defensive commences. We may, +therefore, represent to ourselves the strategic attack as a distinctly +limited unit. But it is not so if we consider the matter practically, +that is in accordance with actual phenomena. Practically the moments of +the attack, that is, its views and measures, often glide just as +imperceptibly into the defence as the plans of the defence into the +offensive. It is seldom, or at all events not always, that a general +lays down positively for himself what he will conquer, he leaves that +dependent on the course of events. His attack often leads him further +than he had intended; after rest more or less, he often gets renewed +strength, without our being obliged to make out of this two quite +different acts; at another time he is brought to a standstill sooner +than he expected, without, however, giving up his intentions, and +changing to a real defensive. We see, therefore, that if the successful +defence may change imperceptibly into the offensive; so on the other +hand an attack may, in like manner, change into a defence. These +gradations must be kept in view, in order to avoid making a wrong +application of what we have to say of the attack in general. + + + +CHAPTER IV. Decreasing Force of the Attack + +This is one of the principal points in strategy: on its right valuation +in the concrete, depends our being able to judge correctly what we are +able to do. + +The decrease of absolute power arises— + +1. Through the object of the attack, the occupation of the enemy’s +country; this generally commences first after the first decision, but +the attack does not cease upon the first decision. + +2. Through the necessity imposed on the attacking army to guard the +country in its rear, in order to preserve its line of communication and +means of subsistence. + +3. Through losses in action and through sickness. + +4. Distance of the various depôts of supplies and reinforcements. + +5. Sieges and blockades of fortresses. + +6. Relaxation of efforts. + +7. Secession of allies. + +But frequently, in opposition to these weakening causes, there may be +many others which contribute to strengthen the attack. It is clear, at +all events, that a net result can only be obtained by comparing these +different quantities; thus, for example, the weakening of the attack +may be partly or completely compensated, or even surpassed by the +weakening of the defensive. This last is a case which rarely happens; +we cannot always bring into the comparison any more forces than those +in the immediate front or at decisive points, not the whole of the +forces in the field.—Different examples: The French in Austria and +Prussia, in Russia; the allies in France, the French in Spain. + + + +CHAPTER V. Culminating Point of the Attack + +The success of the attack is the result of a present superiority of +force, it being understood that the moral as well as physical forces +are included. In the preceding chapter we have shown that the power of +the attack gradually exhausts itself; possibly at the same time the +superiority may increase, but in most cases it diminishes. The +assailant buys up prospective advantages which are to be turned to +account hereafter in negotiations for peace; but, in the meantime, he +has to pay down on the spot for them a certain amount of his military +force. If a preponderance on the side of the attack, although thus +daily diminishing, is still maintained until peace is concluded, the +object is attained. There are strategic attacks which have led to an +immediate peace but such instances are rare; the majority, on the +contrary, lead only to a point at which the forces remaining are just +sufficient to maintain a defensive, and to wait for peace. Beyond that +point the scale turns, there is a reaction; the violence of such a +reaction is commonly much greater than the force of the blow. This we +call the culminating point of the attack. As the object of the attack +is the possession of the enemy’s territory, it follows that the advance +must continue till the superiority is exhausted; this cause, therefore, +impels us towards the ultimate object, and may easily lead us beyond +it. If we reflect upon the number of the elements of which an equation +of the forces in action is composed, we may conceive how difficult it +is in many cases to determine which of two opponents has the +superiority on his side. Often all hangs on the silken thread of +imagination. + +Everything then depends on discovering the culminating point by the +fine tact of judgment. Here we come upon a seeming contradiction. The +defence is stronger than the attack; therefore we should think that the +latter can never lead us too far, for as long as the weaker form +remains strong enough for what is required, the stronger form ought to +be still more so. + + + +CHAPTER VI. Destruction of the Enemy’s Armies + +The destruction of the enemy’s armed forces is the means to the +end—What is meant by this—The price it costs—Different points of view +which are possible in respect to the subject. + +1, only to destroy as many as the object of the attack requires. + +2, or as many on the whole as is possible. + +3, the sparing of our own forces as the principal point of view. + +4, this may again be carried so far, that the assailant does nothing +towards the destruction of the enemy’s force _except when a favourable +opportunity offers_, which may also be the case with regard to the +object of the attack, as already mentioned in the third chapter. + +The only means of destroying the enemy’s armed force is by combat, but +this may be done in two ways: 1, directly, 2, indirectly, through a +combination of combats.—If, therefore, the battle is the chief means, +still it is not the only means. The capture of a fortress or of a +portion of territory, is in itself really a destruction of the enemy’s +force, and it may also lead to a still greater destruction, and +therefore, also, be an indirect means. + +The occupation of an undefended strip of territory, therefore, in +addition to the value which it has as a direct fulfilment of the end, +may also reckon as a destruction of the enemy’s force as well. The +manœuvring, so as to draw an enemy out of a district of country which +he has occupied, is somewhat similar, and must, therefore, only be +looked at from the same point of view, and not as a success of arms, +properly speaking—These means are generally estimated at more than they +are worth—they have seldom the value of a battle; besides which it is +always to be feared that the disadvantageous position to which they +lead, will be overlooked; they are seductive through the low price +which they cost. + +We must always consider means of this description as small investments, +from which only small profits are to be expected; as means suited only +to very limited State relations and weak motives. Then they are +certainly better than battles without a purpose—than victories, the +results of which cannot be realised to the full. + + + +CHAPTER VII. The Offensive Battle + +What we have said about the defensive battle throws a strong light upon +the offensive also. + +We there had in view that class of battle in which the defensive +appears most decidedly pronounced, in order that we might convey a more +vivid impression of its nature;—but only the fewer number are of that +kind; most battles are _demirencontres_ in which the defensive +character disappears to a great extent. It is otherwise with the +offensive battle: it preserves its character under all circumstances, +and can keep up that character the more boldly, as the defender is out +of his proper _esse_. For this reason, in the battle which is not +purely defensive and in the real _rencontres_, there always remains +also something of the difference of the character of the battle on the +one side and on the other. The chief distinctive characteristic of the +offensive battle is the manœuvre to turn or surround, therefore, the +initiative as well. + +A combat in lines, formed to envelope, has evidently in itself great +advantages; it is, however, a subject of tactics. The attack must not +give up these advantages because the defence has a means of +counteracting them; for the attack itself cannot make use of that +means, inasmuch as it is one that is too closely dependent upon other +things connected with the defence. To be able in turn to operate with +success against the flanks of an enemy, whose aim is to turn our line, +it is necessary to have a well chosen and well prepared position. But +what is much more important is, that all the advantages which the +defensive possesses, cannot be made use of; most defences are poor +makeshifts; the greater number of defenders find themselves in a very +harassing and critical position, in which, expecting the worst, they +meet the attack half way. The consequence of this is, that battles +formed with enveloping lines, or even with an oblique front, which +should properly result from an advantageous relation of the lines of +communication, are commonly the result of a moral and physical +preponderance (Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena). Besides, in the first battle +fought, the base of the assailant, if not superior to that of the +defender, is still mostly very wide in extent, on account of the +proximity of the frontier; he can, therefore, afford to venture a +little.—The flank-attack, that is, the battle with oblique front, is +moreover generally more efficacious than the enveloping form. It is an +erroneous idea that an enveloping strategic advance from the very +commencement must be connected with it, as at Prague. (That strategic +measure has seldom anything in common with it, and is very hazardous; +of which we shall speak further in the attack of a theatre of war.) + +As it is an object with the commander in the defensive battle to delay +the decision as long as possible, and gain time, because a defensive +battle undecided at sunset is commonly one gained: therefore the +commander, in the offensive battle, requires to hasten the decision; +but, on the other hand, there is a great risk in too much haste, +because it leads to a waste of forces. One peculiarity in the offensive +battle is the uncertainty, in most cases, as to the position of the +enemy; it is a complete groping about amongst things that are unknown +(Austerlitz, Wagram, Hohenlinden, Jena, Katzbach). The more this is the +case, so much the more concentration of forces becomes paramount, and +turning a flank to be preferred to surrounding. That the principal +fruits of victory are first gathered in the pursuit, we have already +learnt in the twelfth chapter of the 4th Book. According to the nature +of the thing, the pursuit is more an integral part of the whole action +in the offensive than in the defensive battle. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Passage of Rivers + +1. A large river which crosses the direction of the attack is always +very inconvenient for the assailant: for when he has crossed it he is +generally limited to one point of passage, and, therefore, unless he +remains close to the river he becomes very much hampered in his +movements. Whether he meditates bringing on a decisive battle after +crossing, or may expect the enemy to attack him, he exposes himself to +great danger; therefore, without a decided superiority, both in moral +and physical force, a general will not place himself in such a +position. + +2. From this mere disadvantage of placing a river behind an army, a +river is much oftener capable of defence than it would otherwise be. If +we suppose that this defence is not considered the only means of +safety, but is so planned that even if it fails, still a stand can be +made near the river, then the assailant in his calculations must add to +the resistance which he may experience in the defence of the river, all +the advantages mentioned in No. 1, as being on the side of the defender +of a river, and the effect of the two together is, that we usually see +generals show great respect to a river before they attack it if it is +defended. + +3. But in the preceding book we have seen, that under certain +conditions, the real defence of a river promises right good results; +and if we refer to experience, we must allow that such results follow +in reality much more frequently than theory promises, because in theory +we only calculate with real circumstances as we find them take place, +while in the execution, things commonly appear to the assailant much +more difficult than they really are, and they become therefore a +greater clog on his action. + +Suppose, for instance, an attack which is not intended to end in a +great solution, and which is not conducted with thorough energy, we may +be sure that in carrying it out a number of little obstacles and +accidents, which no theory could calculate upon, will start up to the +disadvantage of the assailant, because he is the acting party, and +must, therefore, come first into collision with such impediments. Let +us just think for a moment how often some of the insignificant rivers +of Lombardy have been successfully defended!—If, on the other hand, +cases may also be found in military history, in which the defence of +rivers has failed to realise what was expected of them, that lies in +the extravagant results sometimes looked for from this means; results +not founded in any kind of way on its tactical nature, but merely on +its well-known efficacy, to which people have thought there were no +bounds. + +4. It is only when the defender commits the mistake of placing his +entire dependence on the defence of a river, so that in case it is +forced he becomes involved in great difficulty, in a kind of +catastrophe, it is only then that the defence of a river can be looked +upon as a form of defence favourable to the attack, for it is certainly +easier to force the passage of a river than to gain an ordinary battle. + +5. It follows of itself from what has just been said that the defence +of a river may become of great value if no great solution is desired, +but where that is to be expected, either from the superior numbers or +energy of the enemy, then this means, if wrongly used, may turn to the +positive advantage of the assailant. + +6. There are very few river-lines of defence which cannot be turned +either on the whole length or at some particular point. Therefore the +assailant, superior in numbers and bent upon serious blows, has the +means of making a demonstration at one point and passing at another, +and then by superior numbers, and advancing, regardless of all +opposition, he can repair any disadvantageous relations in which he may +have been placed by the issue of the first encounters: for his general +superiority will enable him to do so. It very rarely happens that the +passage of a river is actually tactically forced by overpowering the +enemy’s principal post by the effect of superior fire and greater +valour on the part of the troops, and the expression, _forcing a +passage_ is only to be taken in a strategic sense, in so far that the +assailant by his passage at an undefended or only slightly defended +point within the line of defence, braves all the dangers which, in the +defender’s view, should result to him through the crossing.—But the +worst which an assailant can do, is to attempt a real passage at +several points, unless they lie close to each other and admit of all +the troops joining in the combat; for as the defender must necessarily +have his forces separated, therefore, if the assailant fractions his in +like manner, he throws away his natural advantage. In that way +Bellegarde lost the battle on the Mincio, 1814, where by chance both +armies passed at different points at the same time, and the Austrians +were more divided than the French. + +7. If the defender remains on this side of the river, it necessarily +follows that there are two ways to gain a strategic advantage over him: +either to pass at some point, regardless of his position, and so to +outbid him in the same means, or to give battle. In the first case, the +relations of the base and lines of communications should chiefly +decide, but it often happens that special circumstances exercise more +influence than general relations; he who can choose the best positions, +who knows best how to make his dispositions, who is better obeyed, +whose army marches fastest, etc., may contend with advantage against +general circumstances. As regards the second means, it presupposes on +the part of the assailant the means, suitable relations, and the +determination to fight; but when these conditions may be presupposed, +the defender will not readily venture upon this mode of defending a +river. + +8. As a final result, we must therefore give as our opinion that, +although the passage of a river in itself rarely presents great +difficulties, yet in all cases not immediately connected with a great +decision, so many apprehensions of the consequences and of future +complications are bound up with it, that at all events the progress of +the assailant may easily be so far arrested that he either leaves the +defender on this side the river, or he passes, and then remains close +to the river. For it rarely happens that two armies remain any length +of time confronting one another on different sides of a river. + +But also in cases of a great solution, a river is an important object; +it always weakens and deranges the offensive; and the most fortunate +thing, in this case is, if the defender is induced through that to look +upon the river as a tactical barrier, and to make the particular +defence of that barrier the principal act of his resistance, so that +the assailant at once obtains the advantage of being able to strike a +decisive blow in a very easy manner.—Certainly, in the first instance, +this blow will never amount to a complete defeat of the enemy, but it +will consist of several advantageous combats, and these bring about a +state of general relations very adverse to the enemy, as happened to +the Austrians on the Lower Rhine, 1796. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Attack on Defensive Positions + +In the book on the defence, it has been sufficiently explained how far +defensive positions can compel the assailant either to attack them, or +to give up his advance. Only those which can effect this are +subservient to our object, and suited to wear out or neutralise the +forces of the aggressor, either wholly or in part, and in so far the +attack can do nothing against such positions, that is to say, there are +no means at its disposal by which to counter-balance this advantage. +But defensive positions are not all really of this kind. If the +assailant sees he can pursue his object without attacking such a +position, it would be an error to make the attack; if he cannot follow +out his object, then it is a question whether he cannot manœuvre the +enemy out of his position by threatening his flank. It is only if such +means are ineffectual, that a commander determines on the attack of a +good position, and then an attack directed against one side, always in +general presents the less difficulty; but the choice of the side must +depend on the position and direction of the mutual lines of retreat, +consequently, on the threatening the enemy’s retreat, and covering our +own. Between these two objects a competition may arise, in which case +the first is entitled to the preference, as it is of an offensive +nature; therefore homogeneous with the attack, whilst the other is of a +defensive character. But it is certain, and may be regarded as a truth +of the first importance, that _to attack an enemy thoroughly inured to +war, in a good position, is a critical thing_. No doubt instances are +not wanting of such battles, and of successful ones too, as Torgau, +Wagram (we do not say Dresden, because we cannot call the enemy there +quite aguerried); but upon the whole, the danger is small, and it +vanishes altogether, opposed to the infinite number of cases in which +we have seen the most resolute commanders make their bow before such +positions. (Torres Vedras.) + +We must not, however, confuse the subject now before us with ordinary +battles. Most battles are real “_rencontres_,” in which one party +certainly occupies a position, but one which has not been prepared. + + + +CHAPTER X. Attack on an Entrenched Camp + +It was for a time the fashion to speak with contempt of entrenchments +and their utility. The cordon lines of the French frontier, which had +been often burst through; the entrenched camp at Breslau in which the +Duke of Bevern was defeated, the battle of Torgau, and several other +cases, led to this opinion of their value; and the victories of +Frederick the Great, gained by the principle of movement and the use of +the offensive, threw a fresh light on all kind of defensive action, all +fighting in a fixed position, particularly in intrenchments, and +brought them still more into contempt. Certainly, when a few thousand +men are to defend several miles of country, and when entrenchments are +nothing more than ditches reversed, they are worth nothing, and they +constitute a dangerous snare through the confidence which is placed in +them. But is it not inconsistent, or rather nonsensical, to extend this +view even to the _idea of field fortification_, in a mere swaggering +spirit (as Templehof does)? What would be the object of entrenchments +generally, if not to strengthen the defence? No, not only reason but +experience, in hundreds and thousands of instances, show that a +well-traced, sufficiently manned, and well defended entrenchment is, +_as a rule, to be looked upon as an impregnable point_, and is also so +regarded by the attack. Starting from this point of the efficiency of a +single entrenchment, we argue that there can be no doubt as to the +attack of an entrenched camp being a most difficult undertaking, and +one in which generally it will be impossible for the assailant to +succeed. + +It is consistent with the nature of an entrenched camp that it should +be weakly garrisoned; but with good, natural obstacles of ground and +strong field works, it is possible to bid defiance to superior numbers. +Frederick the Great considered the attack of the camp of Pirna as +impracticable, although he had at his command double the force of the +garrison; and although it has been since asserted, here and there, that +it was quite possible to have taken it; the only proof in favour of +this assertion is founded on the bad condition of the Saxon troops; an +argument which does not at all detract in any way from the value of +entrenchments. But it is a question, whether those who have since +contended not only for the feasibility but also for the facility of the +attack, would have made up their minds to execute it at the time. + +We, therefore, think that the attack of an entrenched camp belongs to +the category of quite exceptional means on the part of the offensive. +It is only if the entrenchments have been thrown up in haste are not +completed, still less strengthed by obstacles to prevent their being +approached, or when, as is often the case taken altogether, the whole +camp is only an outline of what it was intended to be, a half-finished +ruin, that then an attack on it may be advisable, and at the same time +become the road to gain an easy conquest over the enemy. + + + +CHAPTER XI. Attack on a Mountain + +From the fifth and following chapters of the sixth book, may be deduced +sufficiently the strategic relations of a mountain generally, both as +regards the defence and the attack. We have also there endeavoured to +explain the part which a mountain plays as a line of defence, properly +so called, and from that naturally follows how it is to be looked upon +in this signification from the side of the assailant. There remains, +therefore, little for us to say here on this important subject. Our +chief result was there that the defence must choose as his point of +view a secondary combat, or the entirely different one of a great +general action; that in the first case the attack of a mountain can +only be regarded as a necessary evil, because all the circumstances are +unfavourable to it; but in the second case the advantages are on the +side of the attack. + +An attack, therefore, armed with the means and the resolution for a +battle, will give the enemy a meeting in the mountains, and certainly +find his account in so doing. + +But we must here once more repeat that it will be difficult to obtain +respect for this conclusion, because it runs counter to appearances, +and is also, at first sight, contrary to the experience of war. It has +been observed, in most cases hitherto, that an army pressing forward to +the attack (whether seeking a great general action or not), has +considered it an unusual piece of good fortune if the enemy has not +occupied the intervening mountains, and has itself then hastened to be +beforehand in the occupation of them. No one will find this +forestalling of the enemy in any way inconsistent with the interests of +the assailant; in our view this is also quite admissible, only we must +point out clearly a fine distinction here between circumstances. + +An army advancing against the enemy, with the design of bringing him to +a general action, if it has to pass over an unoccupied range of +mountain, has naturally to apprehend that the enemy may, at the last +moment, block up those very passes which it proposes to use on its +march: in such a case, the assailant will by no means have the same +advantages as if the enemy occupied merely an ordinary mountain +position. The latter is, for instance, not then in a position extended +beyond measure, nor is he in uncertainty as to the road which the +assailant will take; the assailant has not been able to choose his road +with reference to the enemy’s position, and therefore this battle in +the mountains is not then united with all those advantages on his side +of which we have spoken in the sixth book; under such circumstances, +the defender might be found in an impregnable position—According to +this, the defender might even have means at his command of making +advantageous use of the mountains for a great battle.—This is, at any +rate, possible; but if we reflect on the difficulties which the +defender would have to encounter in establishing himself in a strong +position in the mountains just at the last moment, particularly if he +has left it entirely unoccupied before, we may put down this means of +defence as one upon which no dependence can be placed, and therefore as +one, the _probability_ of which the assailant has little reason to +dread. But even if it is a very improbable case, yet still it is +natural to fear it; for in war, many a thing is very natural, and yet +in a certain measure superfluous. + +But another measure which the assailant has to apprehend here is, a +preliminary defence of the mountains by an advanced guard or chain of +outposts. This means, also, will seldom accord with the interests of +the defender; but the assailant has not the means of discerning how far +it may be beneficial to the defender or otherwise, and therefore he has +only to provide against the worst. + +Further, our view by no means excludes the possibility of a position +being quite unassailable from the mountainous character of the ground: +there are such positions which are not, on that account, in the +mountains (Pirna, Schmotseifen, Meissen, Feldkirch), and it is just +because they are not in the mountains, that they are so well suited for +defence. We may also very well conceive that positions may be found in +mountains themselves where the defender might avoid the ordinary +disadvantages of mountain-positions, as, for instance, on lofty +_plateaux;_ but they are not common, and we can only take into our view +the generality of cases. + +It is just in military history that we see how little +mountain-positions are suited to decisive defensive battles, for great +generals have always preferred a position in the plains, when it was +their object to fight a battle of the first order; and throughout the +whole range of military history, there are no examples of decisive +battles in the mountains, except in the Revolutionary Wars, and even +there it was plainly a false application and analogy which led to the +use of mountain-positions, where of necessity a decisive battle had to +be fought (1793 and 1794 in the Vosges, and 1795, 1796, and 1797 in +Italy). Melas has been generally blamed for not having occupied the +Alpine passes in 1800; but such criticisms are nothing more than “early +notions”—we might say—childlike judgments founded on appearances. +Buonaparte, in Mela’s place, would just as little have thought of +occupying the passes. + +The dispositions for the attack of mountain-positions are mostly of a +tactical nature; but we think it necessary to insert here the following +remarks as to the general outline, consequently as to those parts which +come into immediate contact with, and are coincident with, strategy. + +1. As we cannot move wide of the roads in mountains as we can in other +districts, and form two or three columns out of one, when the exigency +of the moment requires that the mass of the troops should be divided; +but, on the contrary, we are generally confined to long defiles; the +advance in mountains must generally be made on several roads, or rather +upon a somewhat broader front. + +2. Against a mountain line of defence of wide extent, the attack must +naturally be made with concentrated forces; to surround the whole +cannot be thought of there, and if an important result is to be gained +from victory, it must be obtained rather by bursting through the +enemy’s line, and separating the wings, than by surrounding the force, +and so cutting it off. A rapid, continuous advance upon the enemy’s +principal line of retreat is there the natural endeavour of the +assailant. + +3. But if the enemy to be attacked occupies a position somewhat +concentrated, turning movements are an essential part of the scheme of +attack, as the front attacks fall upon the mass of the defender’s +forces; but the turning movements again must be made more with a view +to cutting off the enemy’s retreat, than as a tactical rolling up of +the flank or attack on the rear; for mountain positions are capable of +a prolonged resistance even in rear if forces are not wanting, and the +quickest result is invariably to be expected only from the enemy’s +apprehension of losing his line of retreat; this sort of uneasiness +arises sooner, and acts more powerfully in mountains, because, when it +comes to the worst, it is not so easy to make room sword in hand. A +mere demonstration is no sufficient means here; it might certainly +manœuvre the enemy out of his position, but would not ensure any +special result; the aim must therefore be to cut him off, in reality, +from his line of retreat. + + + +CHAPTER XII. Attack on Cordon Lines + +If a supreme decision should lie in their defence and their attack, +they place the assailant in an advantageous situation, for their wide +extent is still more in opposition to all the requirements of a +decisive battle than the direct defence of a river or a mountain range. +Eugene’s lines of Denain, 1712, are an illustration to the point here, +for their loss was quite equal to a complete defeat, but Villars would +hardly have gained such a victory against Eugene in a concentrated +position. If the offensive side does not possess the means required for +a decisive battle, then even lines are treated with respect, that is, +if they are occupied by the main body of an army; for instance, those +of Stollhofen, held by Louis of Baden in the year 1703, were respected +even by Villars. But if they are only held by a secondary force, then +it is merely a question of the strength of the corps which we can spare +for their attack. The resistance in such cases is seldom great, but at +the same time the result of the victory is seldom worth much. + +The circumvallation lines of a besieger have a peculiar character, of +which we shall speak in the chapter on the attack of a theatre of war. + +All positions of the cordon kind, as, for instance, entrenched lines of +outposts, etc., etc., have always this property, that they can be +easily broken through; but when they are not forced with a view of +going further and bringing on a decision, there is so little to be +gained in general by the attack, that it hardly repays the trouble +expended. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. Manœuvring + +1. We have already touched upon this subject in the thirtieth chapter +of the sixth book. It is one which concerns the defence and the attack +in common; nevertheless it has always in it something more of the +nature of the offensive than the defensive. We shall therefore now +examine it more thoroughly. + +2. Manœuvring is not only the opposite of executing the offensive by +force, by means of great battles; it stands also opposed to every such +execution of the offensive as proceeds directly from offensive means, +let it be either an operation against the enemy’s communications, or +line of retreat, a diversion, etc., etc. + +3. If we adhere to the ordinary use of the word, there is in the +conception of manœuvring an effect which is first _produced_, to a +certain extent, from nothing, that is, from a state of rest or +_equilibrium_ through the mistakes into which the enemy is enticed. It +is like the first moves in a game of chess. It is, therefore, a game of +evenly-balanced powers, to obtain results from favourable opportunity, +and then to use these as an advantage over the enemy. + +4. But those interests which, partly as the final object, partly as the +principal supports (pivot) of action, must be considered in this +matter, are chiefly:— + +(_a._) The subsistence from which it is our object to cut off the +enemy, or to impede his obtaining. + +(_b._) The junction with other corps. + +(_c._) The threatening other communications with the interior of the +country, or with other armies or corps. + +(_d._) Threatening the retreat. + +(_e._) Attack of isolated points with superior forces + +These five interests may establish themselves in the smallest features +of detail belonging to any particular situation; and any such object +then becomes, on that account, a point round which everything for a +time revolves. A bridge, a road, or an entrenchment, often thus plays +the principal part. It is easy to show in each case that it is only the +relation which any such object has to one of the above interests which +gives it importance. + +(_f._) The result of a successful manœuvre, then, is for the offensive, +or rather for the active party (which may certainly be just as well the +defensive), a piece of land, a magazine, etc. + +(_g._) In a strategic manœuvre two converse propositions appear, which +look like different manœuvres, and have sometimes served for the +derivation of false maxims and rules, and have four branches, which +are, however, in reality, all necessary constituents of the same thing, +and are to be regarded as such. The first antithesis is the surrounding +the enemy, and the operating on interior lines; the second is the +concentration of forces, and their extension over several posts. + +(_h._) As regards the first antithesis, we certainly cannot say that +one of its members deserves a general preference over the other; for +partly it is natural that action of one kind calls forth the other as +its natural counterpoise, its true remedy; partly the enveloping form +is homogeneous to the attack, but the use of interior lines to the +defence; and therefore, in most cases, the first is more suitable to +the offensive side, the latter to the defensive. That form will gain +the upper hand which is used with the greatest skill. + +(_i._) The branches of the other antithesis can just as little be +classed the one above the other. The stronger force has the choice of +extending itself over several posts; by that means he will obtain for +himself a convenient strategic situation, and liberty of action in many +respects, and spare the physical powers of his troops. The weaker, on +the other hand, must keep himself more concentrated, and seek by +rapidity of movement to counteract the disadvantage of his inferior +numbers. This greater mobility supposes greater readiness in marching. +The weaker must therefore put a greater strain on his physical and +moral forces,—a final result which we must naturally come upon +everywhere if we would always be consistent, and which, therefore, we +regard, to a certain extent, as the logical test of the reasoning. The +campaigns of Frederick the Great against Daun, in the years 1759 and +1760, and against Laudon, 1761, and Montecuculis against Turenne in +1673, 1675, have always been reckoned the most scientific combinations +of this kind, and from them we have chiefly derived our view. + +(_j._) Just as the four parts of the two antitheses above supposed must +not be abused by being made the foundation of false maxims and rules, +so we must also give a caution against attaching to other general +relations, such as base, ground, etc., an importance and a decisive +influence which they do not in reality possess. The smaller the +interests at stake, so much the more important the details of time and +place become, so much the more that which is general and great falls +into the background, having, in a certain measure no place in small +calculations. Is there to be found, viewed generally, a more absurd +situation than that of Turenne in 1675, when he stood with his back +close to the Rhine, his army along a line of three miles in extent, and +with his bridge of retreat at the extremity of his right wing? But his +measures answered their object, and it is not without reason that they +are acknowledged to show a high degree of skill and intelligence. We +can only understand this result and this skill when we look more +closely into details, and judge of them according to the value which +they must have had in this particular case. + +We are convinced that there are no rules of any kind for strategic +manœuvring; that no method, no general principle can determine the mode +of action; but that superior energy, precision, order, obedience, +intrepidity in the most special and trifling circumstances may find +means to obtain for themselves signal advantages, and that, therefore, +chiefly on those qualities will depend the victory in this sort of +contest. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. Attack on Morasses, Inundations, Woods + +Morasses, that is, impassable swamps, which are only traversed by a few +embankments, present peculiar difficulties to the tactical attack, as +we have stated in treating of the defence. Their breadth hardly ever +admits of the enemy being driven from the opposite bank by artillery, +and of the construction of a roadway across. The strategic consequence +is that endeavours are made to avoid attacking them by passing round +them. Where the state of culture, as in many low countries, is so great +that the means of passing are innumerable, the resistance of the +defender is still strong enough relatively, but it is proportionably +weakened for an absolute decision, and, therefore, wholly unsuitable +for it. On the other hand, if the low land (as in Holland) is aided by +inundations, the resistance may become absolute, and defy every attack. +This was shown in Holland in the year 1672, when, after the conquest +and occupation of all the fortresses outside the margin of the +inundation, 50,000 French troops became available, who,—first under +Condé and then under Luxemburg,—were unable to force the line of +inundation, although it was only defended by about 20,000 men. The +campaign of the Prussians, in 1787, under the Duke of Brunswick, +against the Dutch, ended, it is true, in a quite contrary way, as these +lines were then carried by a force very little superior to the +defenders, and with trifling loss; but the reason of that is to be +found in the dissensions amongst the defenders from political +animosities, and a want of unity in the command, and yet nothing is +more certain than that the success of the campaign, that is, the +advance through the last line of inundation up to the walls of +Amsterdam depended on a point of such extreme nicety that it is +impossible to draw any general deduction from this case. The point +alluded to was the leaving unguarded the Sea of Haarlem. By means of +this, the Duke turned the inundation line, and got in rear of the post +of Amselvoen. If the Dutch had had a couple of armed vessels on this +lake the duke would never have got to Amsterdam, for he was “_au bout +de son latin._” What influence that might have had on the conclusion of +peace does not concern us here, but it is certain that any further +question of carrying the last line of inundation would have been put an +end to completely. + +The winter is, no doubt, the natural enemy of this means of defence, as +the French have shown in 1794 and 1795, but it must be a _severe_ +winter. + +Woods, which are scarcely passable, we have also included amongst the +means which afford the defence powerful assistance. If they are of no +great depth then the assailant may force his way through by several +roads running near one another, and thus reach better ground, for no +one point can have any great tactical strength, as we can never suppose +a wood as absolutely impassable as a river or a morass.—But when, as in +Russia and Poland, a very large tract of country is nearly everywhere +covered with wood, and the assailant has not the power of getting +beyond it, then, certainly, his situation becomes very embarrassing. We +have only to think of the difficulties he must contend with to subsist +his army, and how little he can do in the depths of the forest to make +his ubiquitous adversary feel his superiority in numbers. Certainly +this is one of the worst situations in which the offensive can be +placed. + + + +CHAPTER XV. Attack on a Theatre of War with the View to a Decision + +Most of the subjects have been already touched upon in the sixth book, +and by their mere reflection, throw sufficient light on the attack. + +Moreover, the conception of an enclosed theatre of war, has a nearer +relation to the defence than to the attack. Many of the leading points, +_the object of attack, the sphere of action of victory_, etc., have +been already treated of in that book, and that which is most decisive +and essential on the nature of the attack, cannot be made to appear +until we get to the plan of war: still there remains a good deal to say +here, and we shall again commence with the campaign, _in which a great +decision is positively intended_. + +1. The first aim of the attack is a victory. To all the advantages +which the defender finds in the nature of his situation, the assailant +can only oppose superior numbers; and, perhaps, in addition, the slight +advantage which the feeling of being the offensive and advancing side +gives an army. The importance of this feeling, however, is generally +overrated; for it does not last long, and will not hold out against +real difficulties. Of course, we assume that the defender is as +faultless and judicious in all he does as the aggressor. Our object in +this observation is to set aside those vague ideas of sudden attack and +surprise, which, in the attack, are generally assumed to be fertile +sources of victory, and which yet, in reality, never occur except under +special circumstances. The nature of the real strategic surprise, we +have already spoken of elsewhere.—If, then, the attack is inferior in +physical power, it must have the ascendancy in moral power, in order to +make up for the disadvantages which are inherent in the offensive form; +if the superiority in that way is also wanting, then there are no good +grounds for the attack, and it will not succeed. + +2. As prudence is the real genius of the defender, so boldness and +self-confidence must animate the assailant. We do not mean that the +opposite qualities in each case may be altogether wanting, but that the +qualities named have the greatest affinity to the attack and defence +respectively. These qualities are only in reality necessary because +action in war is no mere mathematical calculation; it is activity which +is carried on if not in the dark, at all events in a feeble twilight, +in which we must trust ourselves to the leader who is best suited to +carry out the aim we have in view.—The weaker the defender shows +himself morally, the bolder the assailant should become. + +3. For victory, it is necessary that there should be a battle between +the enemy’s principal force and our own. This is less doubtful as +regards the attack than in regard to the defence, for the assailant +goes in search of the defender in his position. But we have maintained +(in treating of the defensive) that the offensive should not seek the +defender out if he has placed himself in a _false_ position, because he +may be sure that the defender will seek _him_ out, and then he will +have the advantage of fighting where the defender has not prepared the +ground. Here all depends on the road and direction which have the +greatest importance; this is a point which was not examined in the +defence, being reserved for the present chapter. We shall, therefore, +say what is necessary about it here. + +4. We have already pointed out those objects to which the attack should +be more immediately directed, and which, therefore, are the ends to be +obtained by victory; now, if these are within the theatre of war which +is attacked, and within the probable sphere of victory, then the road +to them is the natural direction of the blow to be struck. But we must +not forget that the object of the attack does not generally obtain its +signification until victory has been gained, and therefore the mind +must always embrace the idea of victory with it; the principal +consideration for the assailant is, therefore, not so much merely to +reach the object as to reach it a conqueror; therefore the direction of +his blow should be not so much on the object itself as on the way which +the enemy’s army must take to reach it. This way is the immediate +object of the attack. To fall in with the enemy before he has reached +this object, to cut him off from it, and in that position to beat +him—to do this is to gain an intensified victory.—If, for example, the +enemy’s capital is the object of the attack, and the defender has not +placed himself between it and the assailant, the latter would be wrong +in marching direct upon the capital, he would do much better by taking +his direction upon the line connecting the defender’s army with the +capital, and seeking there the victory which shall place the capital in +his hands. + +If there is no great object within the assailant’s sphere of victory, +then the enemy’s line of communication with the nearest great object to +him is the point of paramount importance. The question, then, for every +assailant to ask himself is, If I am successful in the battle, what is +the first use I shall make of the victory? The object to be gained, as +indicated by the answer to this question, shows the natural direction +for his blow. If the defender has placed himself in that direction, he +has done right, and there is nothing to do but to go and look for him +there. If his position is too strong, then the assailant must seek to +turn it, that is, make a virtue of necessity. But if the defender has +not placed himself on this right spot, then the assailant chooses that +direction, and as soon as he comes in line with the defender, if the +latter has not in the mean time made a lateral movement, and placed +himself across his path, he should turn himself in the direction of the +defender’s line of communication in order to seek an action there; if +the defender remains quite stationary, then the assailant must wheel +round towards him and attack him in rear. + +Of all the roads amongst which the assailant has a choice, the great +roads which serve the commerce of the country are always the best and +the most natural to choose. To avoid any very great bends, more direct +roads, even if smaller, must be chosen, for a line of retreat which +deviates much from a direct line is always perilous. + +5. The assailant, when he sets out with a view to a great decision, has +seldom any reason for dividing his forces, and if, notwithstanding +this, he does so, it generally proceeds from a want of clear views. He +should therefore only advance with his columns on such a width of front +as will admit of their all coming into action together. If the enemy +himself has divided his forces, so much the better for the assailant, +and to preserve this further advantage small demonstrations should be +made against the enemy’s corps which have separated from the main body; +these are the strategic _fausses attaques;_ a detachment of forces _for +this purpose_ would then be justifiable. + +Such separation into several columns as is indispensably necessary must +be made use of for the disposition of the tactical attack in the +enveloping form, for that form is natural to the attack, and must not +be disregarded without good reason. But it must be only of a tactical +nature, for a strategic envelopment when a great blow takes place, is a +complete waste of power. It can only be excused when the assailant is +so strong that there can be no doubt at all about the result. + +6. But the attack requires also prudence, for the assailant has also a +rear, and has communications which must be protected. This service of +protection must be performed as far as possible by the manner in which +the army advances, that is, _eo ipso_ by the army itself. If a force +must be specially detailed for this duty, and therefore a partition of +forces is required, this cannot but naturally weaken the force of the +blow itself.—As a large army is always in the habit of advancing with a +front of a day’s march at least in breadth, therefore, if the lines of +retreat and communication do not deviate much from the perpendicular, +the covering of those lines is in most cases attained by the front of +the army. + +Dangers of this description, to which the assailant is exposed, must be +measured chiefly by the situation and character of the adversary. When +everything lies under the pressure of an imminent great decision, there +is little room for the defender to engage in undertakings of this +description; the assailant has, therefore, in ordinary circumstances +not much to fear. But if the advance is over, if the assailant himself +is gradually passing into the defensive, then the covering of the rear +becomes every moment more necessary, becomes more a thing of the first +importance. For the rear of the assailant being naturally weaker than +that of the defender, therefore the latter, long before he passes over +to the real offensive, and even at the same time that he is yielding +ground, may have commenced to operate against the communications of the +assailant. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. Attack on a Theatre of War without the View to a Great +Decision + +1. Although there is neither the will nor the power sufficient for a +great decision, there may still exist a decided view in a strategic +attack, but it is directed against some secondary object. If the attack +succeeds, then, with the attainment of this object the whole falls +again into a state of rest and equilibrium. If difficulties to a +certain extent present themselves, the general progress of the attack +comes to a standstill before the object is gained. Then in its place +commences a mere occasional offensive or strategic manœuvring. This is +the character of most campaigns. + +2. The objects which may be the aim of an offensive of this description +are:— + +(_a._) _A strip of territory;_ gain in means of subsistence, perhaps +contributions, sparing our own territory, equivalents in negotiations +for peace—such are the advantages to be derived from this procedure. +Sometimes an idea of the credit of the army is attached to it, as was +perpetually the case in the wars of the French Marshals in the time of +Louis XIV. It makes a very important difference whether a portion of +territory can be kept or not. In general, the first is the case only +when the territory is on the edge of our own theatre of war, and forms +a natural complement of it. Only such portions come into consideration +as an equivalent in negotiating a peace, others are usually only taken +possession of for the duration of a campaign, and to be evacuated when +winter begins. + +(_b._) _One of the enemy’s principal magazines_. If it is not one of +considerable importance, it can hardly be looked upon as the object of +an offensive determining a whole campaign. It certainly in itself is a +loss to the defender, and a gain to the assailant; the great advantage, +however, from it for the latter, is that the loss may compel the +defender to retire a little and give up a strip of territory which he +would otherwise have kept. The capture of a magazine is therefore in +reality more a means, and is only spoken of here as an object, because, +until captured, it becomes, for the time being, the immediate definite +aim of action. + +(_c._) _The capture of a fortress._—We have made the siege of +fortresses the subject of a separate chapter, to which we refer our +readers. For the reasons there explained, it is easy to conceive how it +is that fortresses always constitute the best and most desirable +objects in those offensive wars and campaigns in which views cannot be +directed to the complete overthrow of the enemy or the conquest of an +important part of his territory. We may also easily understand how it +is that in the wars in the Low Countries, where fortresses are so +abundant, everything has always turned on the possession of one or +other of these fortresses, so much so, that the successive conquests of +whole provinces _never once appear as leading features;_ while, on the +other hand, each of these strong places used to be regarded as a +separate thing, which had an intrinsic value in itself, and more +attention was paid to the convenience and facility with which it could +be attacked than to the value of the place itself. + +At the same time, the attack of a place of some importance is always a +great undertaking, because it causes a very large expenditure; and, in +wars in which the whole is not staked at once on the game, this is a +matter which ought to be very much considered. Therefore, such a siege +takes its place here as one of the most important objects of a +strategic attack. The more unimportant a place is, or the less +earnestness there is about the siege, the smaller the preparations for +it, the more it is done as a thing _en passant_, so much the smaller +also will be the strategic object, and the more it will be a service +fit for small forces and limited views; and the whole thing then often +sinks into a kind of sham fight, in order to close the campaign with +honour, because as assailant it is incumbent to do something. + +(_d._) _A successful combat, encounter, or even battle_, for the sake +of trophies, or merely for the honour of the arms, sometimes even for +the mere ambition of the commanders. That this does happen no one can +doubt, unless he knows nothing at all of military history. In the +campaigns of the French during the reign of Louis XIV., the most of the +offensive battles were of this kind. But what is of more importance for +us is to observe that these things are not without objective value, +they are not the mere pastime of vanity; they have a very distinct +influence on peace, and therefore lead as it were direct to the object. +The military fame, the moral superiority of the army and of the +general, are things, the influence of which, although unseen, never +ceases to bear upon the whole action in war. + +The aim of such a combat of course presupposes; (_a_) that there is an +adequate prospect of victory, (_b_) that there is not a very heavy +stake dependent on the issue.—Such a battle fought in straitened +relations, and with a limited object, must naturally not be confounded +with a victory which is not turned to profitable account merely from +moral weakness. + +3. With the exception of the last of these objects (_d_) they may all +be attained without a combat of importance, and generally they are so +obtained by the offensive. Now, the means which the assailant has at +command without resorting to a decisive battle, are derived from the +interests which the defensive has to protect in his theatre of war; +they consist, therefore, in threatening his lines of communications, +either through objects connected with subsistence, as magazines, +fertile provinces, water communications, etc., or important points +(bridges, defiles, and such like,) or also by placing other corps in +the occupation of strong positions situated inconveniently near to him +and from which he cannot again drive us out; the seizure of important +towns, fertile districts, disturbed parts of the country, which may be +excited to rebellion, the threatening of weak allies, etc., etc. Should +the attack effectually interrupt the communications, and in such a +manner that the defender cannot re-establish them but at a great +sacrifice, it compels the defender to take up another position more to +the rear or to a flank to cover the objects, at the same time giving up +objects of secondary importance. Thus a strip of territory is left +open; a magazine or a fortress uncovered: the one exposed to be +overrun, the other to be invested. Out of this, combats greater or less +may arise, but in such case they are not sought for and treated as an +object of the war but as a necessary evil, and can never exceed a +certain degree of greatness and importance. + +4. The operation of the defensive on the communications of the +offensive, is a kind of reaction which in wars waged for the great +solution, can only take place when the lines of operation are very +long; on the other hand, this kind of reaction lies more in accordance +with the nature of things in wars which are not aimed at the great +solution. The enemy’s lines of communication are seldom very long in +such a case; but then, neither is it here so much a question of +inflicting great losses of this description on the enemy, a mere +impeding and cutting short his means of subsistence often produces an +effect, and what the lines want in length is made up for in some degree +by the length of time which can be expended in this kind of contest +with the enemy: for this reason, the covering his strategic flanks +becomes an important object for the assailant. If, therefore, a contest +(or rivalry) of this description takes place between the assailant and +defender, then the assailant must seek to compensate by numbers for his +natural disadvantages. If he retains sufficient power and resolution +still to venture a decisive stroke against one of the enemy’s corps, or +against the enemy’s main body itself, the danger which he thus holds +over the head of his opponent is his best means of covering himself. + +5. In conclusion, we must notice another great advantage which the +assailant certainly has over the defender in wars of this kind, which +is that of being better able to judge of the intentions and force of +his adversary than the latter can in turn of his. It is much more +difficult to discover in what degree an assailant is enterprising and +bold than when the defender has something of consequence in his mind. +Practically viewed, there usually lies already in the choice of the +defensive form of war a sort of guarantee that nothing positive is +intended; besides this, the preparations for a great reaction differ +much more from the ordinary preparations for defence than the +preparations for a great attack differ from those directed against +minor objects. Finally, the defender is obliged to take his measures +soonest of the two, which gives the assailant the advantage of playing +the last hand. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. Attack on Fortresses + +The attack on fortresses cannot of course come before us here in its +aspect as a branch of the science of fortification or military works; +we have only to consider the subject, first, in its relation to the +strategic object with which it is connected; secondly, as regards the +choice among several fortresses; and thirdly, as regards the manner in +which a siege should be covered. + +That the loss of a fortress weakens the defence, especially in case it +forms an essential part of that defence; that many conveniences accrue +to the assailant by gaining possession of one, inasmuch as he can use +it for magazines and depôts, and by means of it can cover districts of +country cantonments, etc.; that if his offensive at last should have to +be changed into the defensive, it forms the very best support for that +defensive—all these relations which fortresses bear to theatres of war, +in the course of a war, make themselves sufficiently evident by what +has been said about fortresses in the book on the Defence, the +reflection from which throws all the light required on these relations +with the attack. + +In relation to the taking of strong places, there is also a great +difference between campaigns which tend to a great decision and others. +In the first, a conquest of this description is always to be regarded +as an evil which is unavoidable. As long as there is yet a decision to +be made, we undertake no sieges but such as are positively unavoidable. +When the decision has been already given—the crisis, the utmost tension +of forces, some time passed—and when, therefore, a state of rest has +commenced, then the capture of strong places serves as a consolidation +of the conquests made, and then they can generally be carried out, if +not without effort and expenditure of force, at least without danger. +In the crisis itself the siege of a fortress heightens the intensity of +the crisis to the prejudice of the offensive; it is evident that +nothing so much weakens the force of the offensive, and therefore there +is nothing so certain to rob it of its preponderance for a season. But +there are cases in which the capture of this or that fortress is quite +unavoidable, if the offensive is to be continued, and in such case a +siege is to be considered as an intensified progress of the attack; the +crisis will be so much greater the less there has been decided +previously. All that remains now for consideration on this subject +belongs to the book on the plan of the war. + +In campaigns with a limited object, a fortress is generally not the +means but the end itself; it is regarded as a small independent +conquest, and as such has the following advantages over every other:— + +1. That a fortress is a small, distinctly-defined conquest, which does +not require a further expenditure of force, and therefore gives no +cause to fear a reaction. + +2. That in negotiating for peace, its value as an equivalent may be +turned to account. + +3. That a siege is a real progress of the attack, or at least seems so, +without constantly diminishing the force like every other advance of +the offensive. + +4. That the siege is an enterprise without a catastrophe. + +The result of these things is that the capture of one or more of the +enemy’s strong places, is very frequently the object of those strategic +attacks which cannot aim at any higher object. + +The grounds which decide the choice of the fortress which should be +attacked, in case that may be doubtful, generally are— + +(_a_) That it is one which can be easily kept, therefore stands high in +value as an equivalent in case of negotiations for peace. + +(_b_) That the means of taking it are at hand. Small means are only +sufficient to take small places; but it is better to take a small one +than to fail before a large one. + +(_c_) Its strength in engineering respects, which obviously is not +always in proportion to its importance in other respects. Nothing is +more absurd than to waste forces before a very strong place of little +importance, if a place of less strength may be made the object of +attack. + +(_d_) The strength of the armament and of the garrison as well. If a +fortress is weakly armed and insufficiently garrisoned, its capture +must naturally be easier; but here we must observe that the strength of +the garrison and armament, are to be reckoned amongst those things +which make up the total importance of the place, because garrison and +armaments are directly parts of the enemy’s military strength, which +cannot be said in the same measure of works of fortification. The +conquest of a fortress with a strong garrison can, therefore, much more +readily repay the sacrifice it costs than one with very strong works. + +(_e_) The facility of moving the siege train. Most sieges fail for want +of means, and the means are generally wanting from the difficulty +attending their transport. Eugene’s siege of Landreci, 1712, and +Frederick the Great’s siege of Olmütz, 1758, are very remarkable +instances in point. + +(_f_) Lastly, there remains the facility of covering the siege as a +point now to be considered. + +There are two essentially different ways by which a siege may be +covered: by entrenching the besieging force, that is, by a line of +circumvallation, and by what is called lines of observation. The first +of these methods has gone quite out of fashion, although evidently one +important point speaks in its favour, namely, that by this method the +force of the assailant does not suffer by division exactly that +weakening which is so generally found a great disadvantage at sieges. +But we grant there is still a weakening in another way, to a very +considerable degree, because— + +1. The position round the fortress, as a rule, is of too great extent +for the strength of the army. + +2. The garrison, the strength of which, added to that of the relieving +army, would only make up the force originally opposed to us, _under +these circumstances_ is to be looked upon as an enemy’s corps in the +middle of our camp, which, protected by its walls, is _invulnerable_, +or at least not to be overpowered, by which its power is immensely +increased. + +3. The defence of a line of circumvallation admits of nothing but the +most absolute defensive, because the circular order, facing outwards, +is the weakest and most disadvantageous of all possible orders of +battle, and is particularly unfavourable to any advantageous +counter-attacks. There is no alternative, in fact, but to defend +ourselves to the last extremity within the entrenchments. That these +circumstances may cause a greater diminution of the army than one-third +which, perhaps, would be occasioned by forming an army of observation, +is easy to conceive. If, added to that, we now think of the general +preference which has existed since the time of Frederick the Great for +the offensive, as it is called, (but which, in reality, is not always +so) for movements and manœuvres, and the aversion to entrenchments, we +shall not wonder at lines of circumvallation having gone quite out of +fashion. But this weakening of the tactical resistance is by no means +its only disadvantage; and we have only reckoned up the prejudices +which forced themselves into the judgment on the lines of +circumvallation next in order after that disadvantage, because they are +nearly akin to each other. A line of circumvallation only in reality +covers that portion of the theatre of war which it actually encloses; +all the rest is more or less given up to the enemy if special +detachments are not made use of to cover it, in which way the very +partition of force which it was intended to obviate takes place. Thus +the besieging army will be always in anxiety and embarrassment on +account of the convoys which it requires, and the covering the same by +lines of circumvallation, is not to be thought of if the army and the +siege supplies required are considerable, and the enemy is in the field +in strong force, unless under such conditions as are found in the +Netherlands, where there is a whole system of fortresses lying close to +each other, and intermediate lines connecting them, which cover the +rest of the theatre of war, and considerably shorten the lines by which +transport can be affected. In the time of Louis the Fourteenth the +conception of a theatre of war had not yet bound itself up with the +position of an army. In the Thirty Years’ War particularly, the armies +moved here and there sporadically before this or that fortress, in the +neighbourhood of which there was no enemy’s corps at all, and besieged +it as long as the siege equipment they had brought with them lasted, +and until an enemy’s army approached to relieve the place. Then lines +of circumvallation had their foundation in the nature of circumstances. + +In future it is not likely they will be often used again, unless where +the enemy in the field is very weak, or the conception of the theatre +of war vanishes before that of the siege. Then it will be natural to +keep all the forces united in the siege, as a siege by that means +unquestionably gains in energy in a high degree. + +The lines of circumvallation in the reign of Louis XIV., at Cambray and +Valenciennes, were of little use, as the former were stormed by +Turenne, opposed to Condé, the latter by Condé opposed to Turenne; but +we must not overlook the endless number of other cases in which they +were respected, even when there existed in the place the most urgent +need for relief; and when the commander on the defensive side was a man +of great enterprise, as in 1708, when Villars did not venture to attack +the allies in their lines at Lille. Frederick the Great at Olmütz, +1758, and at Dresden, 1760, although he had no regular lines of +circumvallation, had a system which in all essentials was identical; he +used the same army to carry on the siege, and also as a covering army. +The distance of the Austrian army induced him to adopt this plan at +Olmütz, but the loss of his convoy at Domstädtel made him repent it; at +Dresden in 1760 the motives which led him to this mode of proceeding, +were his contempt for the German States’ imperial army, and his desire +to take Dresden as soon as possible. + +Lastly, it is a disadvantage in lines of circumvallation, that in case +of a reverse it is more difficult to save the siege train. If a defeat +is sustained at a distance of one or more days’ march from the place +besieged, the siege may be raised before the enemy can arrive, and the +heavy trains may, in the mean time, gain also a day’s march. + +In taking up a position for an army of observation, an important +question to be considered is the distance at which it should be placed +from the besieged place. This question will, in most cases, be decided +by the nature of the country, or by the position of other armies or +corps with which the besiegers have to remain in communication. In +other respects, it is easy to see that, with a greater distance, the +siege is better covered, but that by a smaller distance, not exceeding +a few miles, the two armies are better able to afford each other mutual +support. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. Attack on Convoys + +The attack and defence of a convoy form a subject of tactics: we +should, therefore, have nothing to say upon the subject here if it was +not necessary, first, to demonstrate generally, to a certain extent, +the possibility of the thing, which can only be done from strategic +motives and relations. We should have had to speak of it in this +respect before when treating of the defence, had it not been that the +little which can be said about it can easily be framed to suit for both +attack and defence, while at the same time the first plays the higher +part in connection with it. + +A moderate convoy of three or four hundred wagons, let the load be what +it may, takes up half a mile, a large convoy is several miles in +length. Now, how is it possible to expect that the few troops usually +allotted to a convoy will suffice for its defence? If to this +difficulty we add the unwieldy nature of this mass, which can only +advance at the slowest pace, and which, besides, is always liable to be +thrown into disorder, and lastly, that every part of a convoy must be +equally protected, because the moment that one part is attacked by the +enemy, the whole is brought to a stop, and thrown into a state of +confusion, we may well ask,—how can the covering and defence of such a +train be possible at all? Or, in other words, why are not all convoys +taken when they are attacked, and why are not all attacked which +require an escort, or, which is the same thing, all that come within +reach of the enemy? It is plain that all tactical expedients, such as +Templehof’s most impracticable scheme of constantly halting and +assembling the convoy at short distances, and then moving off afresh: +and the much better plan of Scharnhorst, of breaking up the convoy into +several columns, are only slight correctives of a radical evil. + +The explanation consists in this, that by far the greater number of +convoys derive more security from the strategic situation in general, +than any other parts exposed to the attacks of the enemy, which bestows +on their limited means of defence a very much increased efficacy. +Convoys generally move more or less in rear of their own army, or, at +least, at a great distance from that of the enemy. The consequence is, +that only weak detachments can be sent to attack them, and these are +obliged to cover themselves by strong reserves. Added to this the +unwieldiness itself of the carriages used, makes it very difficult to +carry them off; the assailant must therefore, in general, content +himself with cutting the traces, taking away the horses, and blowing up +powder-wagons, by which the whole is certainly detained and thrown into +disorder, but not completely lost; by all this we may perceive, that +the security of such trains lies more in these general relations than +in the defensive power of its escort. If now to all this we add the +defence of the escort, which, although it cannot by marching resolutely +against the enemy directly cover the convoy, is still able to derange +the plan of the enemy’s attack; then, at last, the attack of a convoy, +instead of appearing easy and sure of success, will appear rather +difficult, and very uncertain in its result. + +But there remains still a chief point, which is the danger of the +enemy’s army, or one of its corps, retaliating on the assailants of its +convoy, and punishing it ultimately for the undertaking by defeating +it. The apprehension of this, puts a stop to many undertakings, without +the real cause ever appearing; so that the safety of the convoy is +attributed to the escort, and people wonder how a miserable +arrangement, such as an escort, should meet with such respect. In order +to feel the truth of this observation, we have only to think of the +famous retreat which Frederick the Great made through Bohemia after the +siege of Olmütz, 1758, when the half of his army was broken into a +column of companies to cover a convoy of 4,000 carriages. What +prevented Daun from falling on this monstrosity? The fear that +Frederick would throw himself upon him with the other half of his army, +and entangle him in a battle which Daun did not desire; what prevented +Laudon, who was constantly at the side of that convoy, from falling +upon it at Zischbowitz sooner and more boldly than he did? The fear +that he would get a rap over the knuckles. Ten miles from his main +army, and completely separated from it by the Prussian army, he thought +himself in danger of a serious defeat if the king, who had no reason at +that time to be concerned about Daun, should fall upon him with the +bulk of his forces. + +It is only if the strategic situation of an army involves it in the +unnatural necessity of connecting itself with its convoys by the flank +or by its front that then these convoys are really in great danger, and +become an advantageous object of attack for the enemy, if his position +allows him to detach troops for that purpose. The same campaign of 1758 +affords an instance of the most complete success of an undertaking of +this description, in the capture of the convoy at Domstädtel. The road +to Neiss lay on the left flank of the Prussian position, and the king’s +forces were so neutralised by the siege and by the corps watching Daun, +that the partizans had no reason to be uneasy about themselves, and +were able to make their attack completely at their ease. + +When Eugene besieged Landrecy in 1712, he drew his supplies for the +siege from Bouchain by Denain; therefore, in reality, from the front of +the strategic position. It is well known what means he was obliged to +use to overcome the difficulty of protecting his convoys on that +occasion, and in what embarrassments he involved himself, ending in a +complete change of circumstances. + +The conclusion we draw, therefore, is that however easy an attack on a +convoy may appear in its tactical aspect, still it has not much in its +favour on strategic grounds, and only promises important results in the +exceptional instances of lines of communication very much exposed. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. Attack on the Enemy’s Army in its Cantonments + +We have not treated of this subject in the defence, because a line of +cantonments is not to be regarded as a defensive means, but as a mere +existence of the army in a state which implies little readiness for +battle. In respect to this readiness for battle, we therefore did not +go beyond what we required to say in connection with this condition of +an army in the 13th chapter of the 5th book. + +But here, in considering the attack, we have to think of an enemy’s +army in cantonments in all respects as a special object; for, in the +first place, such an attack is of a very peculiar kind in itself; and, +in the next place, it may be considered as a strategic means of +particular efficacy. Here we have before us, therefore, not the +question of an onslaught on a single cantonment or a small corps +dispersed amongst a few villages, as the arrangements for that are +entirely of a tactical nature, but of the attack of a large army, +distributed in cantonments more or less extensive; an attack in which +the object is not the mere surprise of a single cantonment, but to +prevent the assembly of the army. + +The attack on an enemy’s army in cantonments is therefore the surprise +of an army not assembled. If this surprise succeeds fully, then the +enemy’s army is prevented from reaching its appointed place of +assembly, and, therefore, compelled to choose another more to the rear; +as this change of the point of assembly to the rear in a state of such +emergency can seldom be effected in less than a day’s march, but +generally will require several days, the loss of ground which this +occasions is by no means an insignificant loss; and this is the first +advantage gained by the assailant. + +But now, this surprise which is in connection with the general +relations, may certainly at the same time, in its commencement, be an +onslaught on some of the enemy’s single cantonments, not certainly upon +all, or upon a great many, because that would suppose a scattering of +the attacking army to an extent which could never be advisable. +Therefore, only the most advanced quarters, only those which lie in the +direction of the attacking columns, can be surprised, and even this +will seldom happen to many of them, as large forces cannot easily +approach unobserved. However, this element of the attack is by no means +to be disregarded; and we reckon the advantages which may be thus +obtained, as the second advantage of the surprise. + +A third advantage consists in the minor combats forced upon the enemy +in which his losses will be considerable. A great body of troops does +not assemble itself at once by single battalions at the spot appointed +for the general concentration of the army, but usually forms itself by +brigades, divisions, or corps, in the first place, and these masses +cannot then hasten at full speed to the rendezvous; in case of meeting +with an enemy’s column in their course, they are obliged to engage in a +combat; now, they may certainly come off victorious in the same, +particularly if the enemy’s attacking column is not of sufficient +strength, but in conquering, they lose time, and, in most cases, as may +be easily conceived, a corps, under such circumstances, and in the +general tendency to gain a point which lies to the rear, will not make +any beneficial use of its victory. On the other hand, they may be +beaten, and that is the most probable issue in itself, because they +have not time to organise a good resistance. We may, therefore, very +well suppose that in an attack well planned and executed, the assailant +through these partial combats will gather up a considerable number of +trophies, which become a principal point in the general result. + +Lastly, the fourth advantage, and the keystone of the whole, is a +certain momentary disorganisation and discouragement on the side of the +enemy, which, when the force is at last assembled, seldom allows of its +being immediately brought into action, and generally obliges the party +attacked to abandon still more ground to his assailant, and to make a +change generally in his plan of operations. + +Such are the proper results of a successful surprise of the enemy in +cantonments, that is, of one in which the enemy is prevented from +assembling his army without loss at the point fixed in his plan. But by +the nature of the case, success has many degrees; and, therefore, the +results may be very great in one case, and hardly worth mentioning in +another. But even when, through the complete success of the enterprise, +these results are considerable, they will seldom bear comparison with +the gain of a great battle, partly because, in the first place, the +trophies are seldom as great, and in the next, the moral impression +never strikes so deep. + +This general result must always be kept in view, that we may not +promise ourselves more from an enterprise of this kind than it can +give. Many hold it to be the _non plus ultra_ of offensive activity; +but it is not so by any means, as we may see from this analysis, as +well as from military history. + +One of the most brilliant surprises in history, is that made by the +Duke of Lorraine in 1643, on the cantonments of the French, under +General Ranzan, at Duttlingen. The corps was 16,000 men, and they lost +the General commanding, and 7,000 men; it was a complete defeat. The +want of outposts was the cause of the disaster. + +The surprise of Turenne at Mergentheim (Mariendal, as the French call +it,) in 1644, is in like manner to be regarded as equal to a defeat in +its effects, for he lost 3,000 men out of 8,000, which was principally +owing to his having been led into making an untimely stand after he got +his men assembled. Such results we cannot, therefore, often reckon +upon; it was rather the result of an ill-judged action than of the +surprise, properly speaking, for Turenne might easily have avoided the +action, and have rallied his troops upon those in more distant +quarters. + +A third noted surprise is that which Turenne made on the Allies under +the great Elector, the Imperial General Bournonville and the Duke of +Lorraine, in Alsace, in the year 1674. The trophies were very small, +the loss of the Allies did not exceed 2,000 or 3,000 men, which could +not decide the fate of a force of 50,000; but the Allies considered +that they could not venture to make any further resistance in Alsace, +and retired across the Rhine again. This strategic result was all that +Turenne wanted, but we must not look for the causes of it entirely in +the surprise. Turenne surprised the plans of his opponents more than +the troops themselves; the want of unanimity amongst the allied +generals and the proximity of the Rhine did the rest. This event +altogether deserves a closer examination, as it is generally viewed in +a wrong light. + +In 1741, Neipperg surprised Frederick the Great in his quarters; the +whole of the result was that the king was obliged to fight the battle +of Mollwitz before he had collected all his forces, and with a change +of front. + +In 1745, Frederick the Great surprised the Duke of Lorraine in his +cantonments in Lusatia; the chief success was through the real surprise +of one of the most important quarters, that of Hennersdorf, by which +the Austrians suffered a loss of 2,000 men; the general result was that +the Duke of Lorraine retreated to Bohemia by Upper Lusatia, but that +did not at all prevent his returning into Saxony by the left bank of +the Elbe, so that without the battle of Kesselsdorf, there would have +been no important result. + +1758. The Duke Ferdinand surprised the French quarters; the immediate +result was that the French lost some thousands of men, and were obliged +to take up a position behind the Aller. The moral effect may have been +of more importance, and may have had some influence on the subsequent +evacuation of Westphalia. + +If from these different examples we seek for a conclusion as to the +efficacy of this kind of attack, then only the two first can be put in +comparison with a battle gained. But the corps were only small, and the +want of outposts in the system of war in those days was a circumstance +greatly in favour of these enterprises. Although the four other cases +must be reckoned completely successful enterprises, it is plain that +not one of them is to be compared with a battle gained as respects its +result. The general result could not have taken place in any of them +except with an adversary weak in will and character, and therefore it +did not take place at all in the case of 1741. + +In 1806 the Prussian army contemplated surprising the French in this +manner in Franconia. The case promised well for a satisfactory result. +Buonaparte was not present, the French corps were in widely extended +cantonments; under these circumstances, the Prussian army, acting with +great resolution and activity, might very well reckon on driving the +French back across the Rhine, with more or less loss. But this was also +all; if they reckoned upon more, for instance, on following up their +advantages beyond the Rhine, or on gaining such a moral ascendancy, +that the French would not again venture to appear on the right bank of +the river in the same campaign, such an expectation had no sufficient +grounds whatever. + +In the beginning of August, 1812, the Russians from Smolensk meditated +falling upon the cantonments of the French when Napoleon halted his +army in the neighbourhood of Witepsk. But they wanted courage to carry +out the enterprise; and it was fortunate for them they did; for as the +French commander with his centre was not only more than twice the +strength of their centre, but also in himself the most resolute +commander that ever lived, as further, the loss of a few miles of +ground would have decided nothing, and there was no natural obstacle in +any feature of the country near enough up to which they might pursue +their success, and by that means, in some measure make it certain, and +lastly, as the war of the year 1812 was not in any way a campaign of +that kind, which draws itself in a languid way to a conclusion, but the +serious plan of an assailant who had made up his mind to conquer his +opponent completely,—therefore the trifling results to be expected from +a surprise of the enemy in his quarters, appear nothing else than +utterly disproportionate to the solution of the problem, they could not +justify a hope of making good by their means the great inequality of +forces and other relations. But this scheme serves to show how a +confused idea of the effect of this means may lead to an entirely false +application of the same. + +What has been hitherto said, places the subject in the light of a +_strategic means_. But it lies in its nature that its execution also is +not purely tactical, but in part belongs again to strategy so far, +particularly that such an attack is generally made on a front of +considerable width, and the army which carries it out can, and +generally will, come to blows before it is concentrated, so that the +whole is an agglomeration of partial combats. We must now add a few +words on the most natural organisation of such an attack. + +The first condition is:— + +(1.) To attack the front of the enemy’s quarters in a certain width of +front, for that is the only means by which we can really surprise +several cantonments, cut off others, and create generally that +disorganisation in the enemy’s army which is intended.—The number of, +and the intervals between, the columns must depend on circumstances. + +(2.) The direction of the different columns must converge upon a point +where it is intended they should unite; for the enemy ends more or less +with a concentration of his force, and therefore we must do the same. +This point of concentration should, if possible, be the enemy’s point +of assembly, or lie on his line of retreat, it will naturally be best +where that line crosses an important obstacle in the country. + +(3.) The separate columns when they come in contact with the enemy’s +forces must attack them with great determination, with dash and +boldness, as they have general relations in their favour, and daring is +always there in its right place. From this it follows that the +commanders of the separate columns must be allowed freedom of action +and full power in this respect. + +(4.) The tactical plan of attack against those of the enemy’s corps +that are the first to place themselves in position, must always be +directed to turn a flank, for the greatest result is always to be +expected by separating the corps, and cutting them off. + +(5.) Each of the columns must be composed of portions of the three +arms, and must not be stinted in cavalry, it may even sometimes be well +to divide amongst them the whole of the reserve cavalry; for it would +be a great mistake to suppose that this body of cavalry could play any +great part in a mass in an enterprise of this sort. The first village, +the smallest bridge, the most insignificant thicket would bring it to a +halt. + +(6.) Although it lies in the nature of a surprise that the assailant +should not send his advanced guard very far in front, that principle +only applies to the first approach to the enemy’s quarters. When the +fight has commenced in the enemy’s quarters, and therefore all that was +to be expected from actual surprise has been gained, then the columns +of the advanced guard of all arms should push on as far as possible, +for they may greatly increase the confusion on the side of the enemy by +more rapid movement. It is only by this means that it becomes possible +to carry off here and there the mass of baggage, artillery, +non-effectives, and camp-followers, which have to be dragged after a +cantonment suddenly broken up, and these advanced guards must also be +the chief instruments in turning and cutting off the enemy. + +(7.) Finally, the retreat in case of ill-success must be thought of, +and a rallying point be fixed upon beforehand. + + + +CHAPTER XX. Diversion + +According to the ordinary use of language, under the term diversion is +understood such an incursion into the enemy’s country as draws off a +portion of his force from the principal point. It is only when this is +the chief end in view, and not the gain of the object which is selected +as the point of attack, that it is an enterprise of a special +character, otherwise it is only an ordinary attack. + +Naturally the diversion must at the same time always have an object of +attack, for it is only the value of this object that will induce the +enemy to send troops for its protection; besides, in case the +undertaking does not succeed as a diversion, this object is a +compensation for the forces expended in the attempt. + +These objects of attack may be fortresses, or important magazines, or +rich and large towns, especially capital cities, contributions of all +kinds; lastly, assistance may be afforded in this way to discontented +subjects of the enemy. + +It is easy to conceive that diversions may be useful, but they +certainly are not so always; on the contrary, they are just as often +injurious. The chief condition is that they should withdraw from the +principal theatre of the war more of the enemy’s troops than we employ +on the diversion; for if they only succeed in drawing off just the same +number, then their efficacy as diversions, properly called, ceases, and +the undertaking becomes a mere subordinate attack. Even where, on +account of circumstances, we have in view to attain a very great end +with a very small force, as, for instance, to make an easy capture of +an important fortress, and another attack is made adjoining to the +principal attack, to assist the latter, that is no longer a diversion. +When two states are at war, and a third falls upon one of them, such an +event is very commonly called a diversion—but such an attack differs in +nothing from an ordinary attack except in its direction; there is, +therefore, no occasion to give it a particular name, for in theory it +should be a rule only to denote by particular names such things as are +in their nature distinct. + +But if small forces are to attract large ones, there must obviously be +some special cause, and, therefore, for the object of a diversion it is +not sufficient merely to detach some troops to a point not hitherto +occupied. + +If the assailant with a small corps of 1000 men overruns one of his +enemy’s provinces, not belonging to the theatre of war, and levies +contribution, etc., it is easy to see beforehand that the enemy cannot +put a stop to this by detaching 1000 men, but that if he means to +protect the province from invaders, he must at all events send a +considerably larger force. But it may be asked cannot a defender, +instead of protecting his own province, restore the balance by sending +a similar detachment to plunder a province in our country? Therefore, +if an advantage is to be obtained by an aggressor in this way, it must +first be ascertained that there is more to be got or to be threatened +in the defender’s provinces than in his own. If this is the case, then +no doubt a weak diversion will occupy a force on the enemy’s side +greater than that composing the enterprise. On the other hand, this +advantage naturally diminishes as the masses increase, for 50,000 men +can defend a province of moderate extent not only against equal but +even against somewhat superior numbers. The advantage of large +diversions is, therefore, very doubtful, and the greater they become +the more decisive must be the other circumstances which favour a +diversion if any good is to come out of such an enterprise upon the +whole. + +Now these favourable circumstances may be:— + +_a._ Forces which the assailant holds available for a diversion without +weakening the great mass of his force. + +_b._ Points belonging to the defender which are of vital importance to +him and can be threatened by a diversion. + +_c._ Discontented subjects of the same. + +_d._ A rich province which can supply a considerable quantity of +munitions of war. + +If only these diversions are undertaken, which, when tested by these +different considerations, promise results, it will be found that an +opportunity of making a diversion does not offer frequently. + +But now comes another important point. Every diversion brings war into +a district into which the war would not otherwise have penetrated: for +that reason it will always be the means, more or less, of calling forth +military forces which would otherwise have continued in abeyance, this +will be done in a way which will be very sensibly felt if the enemy has +any organised militia, and means of arming the nation at large. It is +quite in the natural order of things, and amply shown by experience, +that if a district is suddenly threatened by an enemy’s force, and +nothing has been prepared beforehand for its defence, all the most +efficient official functionaries immediately lay hold of and set in +motion every extraordinary means that can be imagined, in order to ward +off the impending danger. Thus, new powers of resistance spring up, +such as are next to a people’s war, and may easily excite one. + +This is a point which should be kept well in view in every diversion, +in order that we may not dig our own graves. + +The expeditions to North Holland in 1799, and to Walcheren in 1809, +regarded as diversions, are only to be justified in so far that there +was no other way of employing the English troops; but there is no doubt +that the sum total of the means of resistance of the French was thereby +increased, and every landing in France, would have just the same +effect. To threaten the French coast certainly offers great advantages, +because by that means an important body of troops becomes neutralised +in watching the coast, but a landing with a large force can never be +justifiable unless we can count on the assistance of a province in +opposition to the Government. + +The less a great decision is looked forward to in war the more will +diversions be allowable, but so much the smaller will also certainly be +the gain to be derived from them. They are only a means of bringing the +stagnant masses into motion. + +_Execution._ + + +1. A diversion may include in itself a real attack, then the execution +has no special character in itself except boldness and expedition. + +2. It may also have as an object to appear more than it really is, +being, in fact, a demonstration as well. The special means to be +employed in such a case can only suggest themselves to a subtil mind +well versed in men and in the existing state of circumstances. It +follows from the nature of the thing that there must be a great +fractioning of forces on such occasions. + +3. If the forces employed are not quite inconsiderable, and the retreat +is restricted to certain points, then a reserve on which the whole may +rally is an essential condition. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. Invasion + +Almost all that we have to say on this subject consists in an +explanation of the term. We find the expression very frequently used by +modern authors and also that they pretend to denote by it something +particular. _Guerre d’invasion_ occurs perpetually in French authors. +They use it as a term for every attack which enters deep into the +enemy’s country, and perhaps sometimes mean to apply it as the +antithesis to methodical attack, that is, one which only nibbles at the +frontier. But this is a very unphilosophical confusion of language. +Whether an attack is to be confined to the frontier or to be carried +into the heart of the country, whether it shall make the seizure of the +enemy’s strong places the chief object, or seek out the core of the +enemy’s power, and pursue it unremittingly, is the result of +circumstances, and not dependent on a system. In some cases, to push +forward may be more methodical, and at the same time more prudent than +to tarry on the frontier, but in most cases it is nothing else than +just the fortunate result of a vigorous _attack_, and consequently does +not differ from it in any respect. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. On the Culminating Point of Victory(*) + +(*) See Chapters IV. and V. + + +The conqueror in a war is not always in a condition to subdue his +adversary completely. Often, in fact, almost universally, there is a +culminating point of victory. Experience shows this sufficiently; but +as the subject is one especially important for the theory of war, and +the pivot of almost all plans of campaigns, while, at the same time, on +its surface some apparent contradictions glitter, as in ever-changing +colours, we therefore wish to examine it more closely, and look for its +essential causes. + +Victory, as a rule, springs from a preponderance of the sum of all the +physical and moral powers combined; undoubtedly it increases this +preponderance, or it would not be sought for and purchased at a great +sacrifice. Victory _itself_ does this unquestionably; also its +consequences have the same effect, but not to the utmost point +generally only up to a certain point. This point may be very near at +hand, and is sometimes so near that the whole of the results of a +victorious battle are confined to an increase of the moral superiority. +How this comes about we have now to examine. + +In the progress of action in war, the combatant force is incessantly +meeting with elements which strengthen it, and others which weaken it. +Hence it is a question of superiority on one side or the other. As +every diminution of power on one side is to be regarded as an increase +on the opposite, it follows, of course, that this double current, this +ebb and flow, takes place whether troops are advancing or retiring. + +It is therefore necessary to find out the principal cause of this +alteration in the one case to determine the other along with it. + +In advancing, the most important causes of the _increase of strength_ +which the assailant gains, are: + +1. The loss which the enemy’s army suffers, because it is usually +greater than that of the assailant. + +2. The loss which the enemy suffers in inert military means, such as +magazines, depôts, bridges, etc., and which the assailant does not +share with him. + +3. That from the moment the assailant enters the enemy’s territory, +there is a loss of provinces to the defence, consequently of the +sources of new military forces. + +4. That the advancing army gains a portion of those resources, in other +words, gains the advantage of living at the expense of the enemy. + +5. The loss of internal organisation and of the regular action of +everything on the side of the enemy. + +6. That the allies of the enemy secede from him, and others join the +conqueror. + +7. Lastly, the discouragement of the enemy who lets the arms, in some +measure, drop out of his hands. + +The causes of _decrease of strength_ in an army advancing, are: + +1. That it is compelled to lay siege to the enemy’s fortresses, to +blockade them or observe them; or that the enemy, who did the same +before the victory, in his retreat draws in these corps on his main +body. + +2. That from the moment the assailant enters the enemy’s territory, the +nature of the theatre of war is changed; it becomes hostile; we must +occupy it, for we cannot call any portion our own beyond what is in +actual occupation, and yet it everywhere presents difficulties to the +whole machine, which must necessarily tend to weaken its effects. + +3. That we are removing further away from our resources, whilst the +enemy is drawing nearer to his; this causes a delay in the replacement +of expended power. + +4. That the danger which threatens the state, rouses other powers to +its protection. + +5. Lastly, the greater efforts of the adversary, in consequence of the +increased danger, on the other hand, a relaxation of effort on the side +of the victorious state. + +All these advantages and disadvantages can exist together, meet each +other in a certain measure, and pursue their way in opposite +directions, except that the last meet as real opposites, cannot pass, +therefore mutually exclude each other. This alone shows how infinitely +different may be the effect of a victory according as it stuns the +vanquished or stimulates him to greater exertions. + +We shall now try to characterise, in a few words, each of these points +singly. + +1. The loss of the enemy when defeated, may be at the greatest in the +first moment of defeat, and then daily diminish in amount until it +arrives at a point where the balance is restored as regards our force; +but it may go on increasing every day in an ascending ratio. The +difference of situation and relations determines this. We can only say +that, in general, with a good army the first will be the case, with an +indifferent army the second; next to the spirit of the army, the spirit +of the Government is here the most important thing. It is of great +consequence in war to distinguish between the two cases in practice, in +order not to stop just at the point where we ought to begin in good +earnest, and _vice versâ_. + +2. The loss which the enemy sustains in that part of the apparatus of +war which is inert, may ebb and flow just in the same manner, and this +will depend on the accidental position and nature of the depôts from +which supplies are drawn. This subject, however, in the present day, +cannot be compared with the others in point of importance. + +3. The third advantage must necessarily increase as the army advances; +indeed, it may be said that it does not come into consideration until +an army has penetrated far into the enemy’s country; that is to say, +until a third or a fourth of the country has been left in rear. In +addition, the intrinsic value which a province has in connection with +the war comes also into consideration. + +In the same way the fourth advantage should increase with the advance. + +But with respect to these two last, it is also to be observed that +their influence on the combatant powers actually engaged in the +struggle, is seldom felt so immediately; they only work slowly and by a +circuitous course; therefore we should not bend the bow too much on +their account, that is to say, not place ourselves in any dangerous +position. + +The fifth advantage, again, only comes into consideration if we have +made a considerable advance, and if by the form of the enemy’s country +some provinces can be detached from the principal mass, as these, like +limbs compressed by ligatures, usually soon die off. + +As to six and seven, it is at least probable that they increase with +the advance; furthermore, we shall return to them hereafter. Let us now +pass on to the causes of weakness. + +1. The besieging, blockade, and investment of fortresses, generally +increase as the army advances. This weakening influence alone acts so +powerfully on the _condition of the combatant force_, that it may soon +outweigh all the advantages gained. No doubt, in modern times, a system +has been introduced of blockading places with a small number of troops, +or of watching them with a still smaller number; and also the enemy +must keep garrisons in them. Nevertheless, they remain a great element +of security. The garrisons consist very often in half of people, who +have taken no part in the war previously. Before those places which are +situated near the line of communication, it is necessary for the +assailant to leave a force at least double the strength of the +garrison; and if it is desirable to lay formal siege to, or to starve +out, one single considerable place, a small army is required for the +purpose. + +2. The second cause, the taking up a theatre of war in the enemy’s +country, increases necessarily with the advance, and if it does not +further weaken the condition of the combatant force at the moment, it +does so at all events in the long run. + +We can only regard as our theatre of war, so much of the enemy’s +country as we actually possess; that is to say, where we either have +small corps in the field, or where we have left here and there strong +garrisons in large towns, or stations along the roads, etc.; now, +however small the garrisons may be which are detached, still they +weaken the combatant force considerably. But this is the smallest evil. + +Every army has strategic flanks, that is, the country which borders +both sides of its lines of communications; the weakness of these parts +is not sensibly felt as long as the enemy is similarly situated with +respect to his. But that can only be the case as long as we are in our +own country; as soon as we get into the enemy’s country, the weakness +of these parts is felt very much, because the smallest enterprise +promises some result when directed against a long line only feebly, or +not all, covered; and these attacks may be made from any quarter in an +enemy’s country. + +The further we advance, the longer these flanks become, and the danger +arising from them is enhanced in an increased ratio, for not only are +they difficult to cover, but the spirit of enterprise is also first +roused in the enemy, chiefly by long insecure lines of communication, +and the consequences which their loss may entail in case of a retreat +are matter of grave consideration. + +All this contributes to place a fresh load on an advancing army at +every step of its progress; so that if it has not commenced with a more +than ordinary superiority, it will feel itself always more and more +cramped in its plans, gradually weakened in its impulsive force, and at +last in a state of uncertainty and anxiety as to its situation. + +3. The third cause, the distance from the source from which the +incessantly diminishing combatant force is to be just as incessantly +filled up, increases with the advance. A conquering army is like the +light of a lamp in this respect; the more the oil which feeds it sinks +in the reservoir and recedes from the focus of light, the smaller the +light becomes, until at length it is quite extinguished. + +The richness of the conquered provinces may certainly diminish this +evil very much, but can never entirely remove it, because there are +always a number of things which can only be supplied to the army from +its own country, men in particular; because the subsidies furnished by +the enemy's country are, in most cases, neither so promptly nor so +surely forthcoming as in our own country; because the means of meeting +any unexpected requirement cannot be so quickly procured; because +misunderstandings and mistakes of all kinds cannot so soon be +discovered and remedied. + +If a prince does not lead his army in person, as became the custom in +the last wars, if he is not anywhere near it, then another and very +great inconvenience arises in the loss of time occasioned by +communications backwards and forwards; for the fullest powers conferred +on a commander of an army, are never sufficient to meet every case in +the wide expanse of his activity. + +4. The change in political alliances. If these changes, produced by a +victory, should be such as are disadvantageous to the conqueror, they +will probably be so in a direct relation to his progress, just as is +the case if they are of an advantageous nature. This all depends on the +existing political alliances, interests, customs, and tendencies, on +princes, ministers, etc. In general, we can only say that when a great +state which has smaller allies is conquered, these usually secede very +soon from their alliance, so that the victor, in this respect, with +every blow becomes stronger; but if the conquered state is small, +protectors much sooner present themselves when his very existence is +threatened, and others, who have helped to place him in his present +embarrassment, will turn round to prevent his complete downfall. + +5. The increased resistance on the part of the enemy which is called +forth. Sometimes the enemy drops his weapon out of his hands from +terror and stupefaction; sometimes an enthusiastic paroxysm seizes him, +every one runs to arms, and the resistance is much stronger after the +first defeat than it was before. The character of the people and of the +Government, the nature of the country and its political alliances, are +here the data from which the probable effect must be conjectured. + +What countless differences these two last points alone make in the +plans which may and should be made in war in one case and another? +Whilst one, through an excess of caution, and what is called methodical +proceedings, fritters away his good fortune, another, from a want of +rational reflection, tumbles into destruction. + +In addition, we must here call to mind the supineness, which not +unfrequently comes over the victorious side, when danger is removed; +whilst, on the contrary, renewed efforts are then required in order to +follow up the success. If we cast a general glance over these different +and antagonistic principles, the deduction, doubtless is, that the +profitable use of the onward march in a war of aggression, in the +generality of cases, diminishes the preponderance with which the +assailant set out, or which has been gained by victory. + +Here the question must naturally strike us; if this be so, what is it +which impels the conqueror to follow up the career of victory to +continue the offensive? And can this really be called making further +use of the victory? Would it not be better to stop where as yet there +is hardly any diminution of the preponderance gained? + +To this we must naturally answer: the preponderance of combatant forces +is only the means, not the end. The end or object is to subdue the +enemy, or at least to take from him part of his territory, in order +thus to put ourselves in a condition to realize the value of the +advantages we have gained when we conclude a peace. Even if our aim is +to conquer the enemy completely, we must be content that, perhaps, +every step we advance, reduces our preponderance, but it does not +necessarily follow from this that it will be nil before the fall of the +enemy: the fall of the enemy may take place before that, and if it is +to be obtained by the last minimum of preponderance, it would be an +error not to expend it for that purpose. + +The preponderance which we have or acquire in war is, therefore, the +means, not the end, and it must be staked to gain the latter. But it is +necessary to know how far it will reach, in order not to go beyond that +point, and instead of fresh advantages, to reap disaster. + +It is not necessary to introduce special examples from experience in +order to prove that this is the way in which the strategic +preponderance exhausts itself in the strategic attack; it is rather the +multitude of instances which has forced us to investigate the causes of +it. It is only since the appearance of Buonaparte that we have known +campaigns between civilized nations, in which the preponderance has +led, without interruption, to the fall of the enemy; before his time, +every campaign ended with the victorious army seeking to win a point +where it could simply maintain itself in a state of equilibrium. At +this point, the movement of victory stopped, even if a retreat did not +become necessary. Now, this culminating point of victory will also +appear in the future, in all wars in which the overthrow of the enemy +is not the military object of the war; and the generality of wars will +still be of this kind. The natural aim of all single plans of campaigns +is the point at which the offensive changes into the defensive. + +But now, to overstep this point, is more than simply a _useless_ +expenditure of power, yielding no further result, it is a _destructive_ +step which causes reaction; and this re-action is, according to all +general experience, productive of most disproportionate effects. This +last fact is so common, and appears so natural and easy to understand +that we need not enter circumstantially into the causes. Want of +organisation in the conquered land, and the very opposite effect which +a serious loss instead of the looked-for fresh victory makes on the +feelings, are the chief causes in every case. The moral forces, courage +on the one side rising often to _audacity_, and extreme depression on +the other, now begin generally their active play. The losses on the +retreat are increased thereby, and the hitherto successful party now +generally thanks providence if he can escape with only the surrender of +all his gains, without losing some of his own territory. + +We must now clear up an apparent contradiction. + +It may be generally supposed that as long as progress in the attack +continues, there must still be a preponderance; and, that as the +defensive, which will commence at the end of the victorious career, is +a stronger form of war than the offensive, therefore, there is so much +the less danger of becoming unexpectedly the weaker party. But yet +there is, and keeping history in view, we must admit that the greatest +danger of a reverse is often just at the moment when the offensive +ceases and passes into the defensive. We shall try to find the cause of +this. + +The superiority which we have attributed to the defensive form of war +consists: + +1. In the use of ground. + +2. In the possession of a prepared theatre of war. + +3. In the support of the people. + +4. In the advantage of the state of expectancy. + +It must be evident that these principles cannot always be forthcoming +and active in a like degree; that, consequently, one defence is not +always like another; and therefore, also, that the defence will not +always have this same superiority over the offensive. This must be +particularly the case in a defensive, which commences after the +exhaustion of an offensive, and has its theatre of war usually situated +at the apex of an offensive triangle thrust far forward into the +country. Of the four principles above named, this defensive only enjoys +the first the use of the ground undiminished, the second generally +vanishes altogether, the third becomes negative, and the fourth is very +much reduced. A few more words, only by way of explanation, respecting +the last. + +If the imagined equilibrium, under the influence of which whole +campaigns have often passed without any results, because the side which +should assume the initiative is wanting in the necessary resolution, +and just therein lies, as we conceive, the advantage of the state of +expectancy if this equilibrium is disturbed by an offensive act, the +enemy’s interests damaged, and his will stirred up to action, then the +probability of his remaining in a state of indolent irresolution is +much diminished. A defence, which is organised on conquered territory, +has a much more irritating character than one upon our own soil; the +offensive principle is engrafted on it in a certain measure, and its +nature is thereby weakened. The quiet which Daun allowed Frederick II. +in Silesia and Saxony, he would never have granted him in Bohemia. + +Thus it is clear that the defensive, which is interwoven or mixed up +with an offensive undertaking, is weakened in all its chief principles; +and, therefore, will no longer have the preponderance which belongs to +it originally. + +As no defensive campaign is composed of purely defensive elements, so +likewise no offensive campaign is made up entirely of offensive +elements; because, besides the short intervals in every campaign, in +which both armies are on the defensive, every attack which does not +lead to a peace, must necessarily end in a defensive. + +In this manner it is the defensive itself which contributes to the +weakening of the offensive. This is so far from being an idle subtlety, +that on the contrary, we consider it a chief disadvantage of the attack +that we are afterwards reduced through it to a very disadvantageous +defensive. + +And this explains how the difference which originally exists between +the strength of the offensive and defensive forms in war is gradually +reduced. We shall now show how it may completely disappear, and the +advantage for a short time may change into the reverse. + +If we may be allowed to make use of an idea from nature, we shall be +able sooner to explain ourselves. It is the time which every force in +the material world requires to show its effect. A power, which if +applied slowly by degrees, would be sufficient to check a body in +motion, will be overcome by it if time fails. This law of the material +world is a striking illustration of many of the phenomena in our inner +life. If we are once roused to a certain train of thought, it is not +every motive sufficient in itself which can change or stop that current +of thought. Time, tranquillity and durable impressions on our senses +are required. So it is also in war. When once the mind has taken a +decided direction towards an object, or turned back towards a harbour +of refuge, it may easily happen that the motives which in the one base +naturally serve to restrain, and those which in the other as naturally +excite to enterprise, are not felt at once in their full force; and as +the progress of action in the mean time continues, one is carried along +by the stream of movement beyond the line of equilibrium, beyond the +culminating point, without being aware of it. Indeed, it may even +happen that, in spite of the exhaustion of force, the assailant, +supported by the moral forces which specially lie in the offensive, +like a horse drawing a load uphill, finds it less difficult to advance +than to stop. By this, we believe, we have now shown, without +contradiction in itself, how the assailant may pass that point, where, +if he had stopped at the right moment, he might still, through the +defensive, have had a result, that is equilibrium. Rightly to determine +this point is, therefore, important in framing a plan of a campaign, as +well for the offensive, that he may not undertake what is beyond his +powers (to a certain extent contract debts), as for the defensive, that +he may perceive and profit by this error if committed by the assailant. + +If now we look back at all the points which the commander should bear +in mind in making his determination, and remember that he can only +estimate the tendency and value of the most important of them through +the consideration of many other near and distant relations, that he +must to a certain extent _guess_ at them guess whether the enemy’s +army, after the first blow, will show a stronger core and increasing +solidity, or like a Bologna phial, will turn into dust as soon as the +surface is injured; guess the extent of weakness and prostration which +the drying up of certain sources, the interruption of certain +communications will produce on the military state of the enemy; guess +whether the enemy, from the burning pain of the blow which has been +dealt him, will collapse powerless, or whether, like a wounded bull, he +will rise to a state of fury; lastly, guess whether other powers will +be dismayed or roused, what political alliances are likely to be +dissolved, and what are likely to be formed. When we say that he must +hit all this, and much more, with the tact of his judgment, as the +rifleman hits a mark, it must be admitted that such an act of the human +mind is no trifle. A thousand wrong roads running here and there, +present themselves to the judgment; and whatever the number, the +confusion and complexity of objects leaves undone, is completed by the +sense of danger and responsibility. + +Thus it happens that the majority of generals prefer to fall short of +the mark rather than to approach too close; and thus it happens that a +fine courage and great spirit of enterprise often go beyond the point, +and therefore also fail to hit the mark. Only he that does great things +with small means has made a successful hit. + + + +SKETCHES FOR BOOK VIII PLAN OF WAR + + + +CHAPTER I. Introduction + +In the chapter on the essence and object of war, we sketched, in a +certain measure, its general conception, and pointed out its relations +to surrounding circumstances, in order to commence with a sound +fundamental idea. We there cast a glance at the manifold difficulties +which the mind encounters in the consideration of this subject, whilst +we postponed the closer examination of them, and stopped at the +conclusion, that the overthrow of the enemy, consequently the +destruction of his combatant force, is the chief object of the whole of +the action of war. This put us in a position to show in the following +chapter, that the means which the act of war employs is the combat +alone. In this manner, we think, we have obtained at the outset a +correct point of view. + +Having now gone through singly all the principal relations and forms +which appear in military action, but are extraneous to, or outside of, +the combat, in order that we might fix more distinctly their value, +partly through the nature of the thing, partly from the lessons of +experience which military history affords, purify them from, and root +out, those vague ambiguous ideas which are generally mixed up with +them, and also to put prominently forward the real object of the act of +war, the destruction of the enemy’s combatant force as the primary +object universally belonging to it; we now return to War as a whole, as +we propose to speak of the Plan of War, and of campaigns; and that +obliges us to revert to the ideas in our first book + +In these chapters, which are to deal with the whole question, is +contained strategy, properly speaking, in its most comprehensive and +important features. We enter this innermost part of its domain, where +all other threads meet, not without a degree of diffidence, which, +indeed, is amply justified + +If, on the one hand, we see how extremely simple the operations of war +appear; if we hear and read how the greatest generals speak of it, just +in the plainest and briefest manner, how the government and management +of this ponderous machine, with its hundred thousand limbs, is made no +more of in their lips than if they were only speaking of their own +persons, so that the whole tremendous act of war is individualised into +a kind of duel; if we find the motives also of their action brought +into connection sometimes with a few simple ideas, sometimes with some +excitement of feeling; if we see the easy, sure, we might almost say +light manner, in which they treat the subject and now see, on the other +hand, the immense number of circumstances which present themselves for +the consideration of the mind; the long, often indefinite, distances to +which the threads of the subject run out, and the number of +combinations which lie before us; if we reflect that it is the duty of +theory to embrace all this systematically, that is with clearness and +fullness, and always to refer the action to the necessity of a +sufficient cause, then comes upon us an overpowering dread of being +dragged down to a pedantic dogmatism, to crawl about in the lower +regions of heavy abstruse conceptions, where we shall never meet any +great captain, with his natural coup d’œil. If the result of an attempt +at theory is to be of this kind, it would have been as well, or rather, +it would have been better, not to have made the attempt; it could only +bring down on theory the contempt of genius, and the attempt itself +would soon be forgotten. And on the other hand, this facile coup d’œil +of the general, this simple art of forming notions, this +personification of the whole action of war, is so entirely and +completely the soul of the right method of conducting war, that in no +other but this broad way is it possible to conceive that freedom of the +mind which is indispensable if it is to dominate events, not to be +overpowered by them + +With some fear we proceed again; we can only do so by pursuing the way +which we have prescribed for ourselves from the first. Theory ought to +throw a clear light on the mass of objects, that the mind may the +easier find its bearings; theory ought to pull up the weeds which error +has sown broadcast; it should show the relations of things to each +other, separate the important from the trifling. Where ideas resolve +themselves spontaneously into such a core of Truth as is called +Principle, when they of themselves keep such a line as forms a rule, +Theory should indicate the same + +Whatever the mind seizes, the rays of light which are awakened in it by +this exploration amongst the fundamental notions of things, _that is +the assistance which Theory affords the mind_. Theory can give no +formulas with which to solve problems; it cannot confine the mind’s +course to the narrow line of necessity by Principles set up on both +sides. It lets the mind take a look at the mass of objects and their +relations, and then allows it to go free to the higher regions of +action, there to act according to the measure of its natural forces, +with the energy of the whole of those forces combined, and to grasp the +True and the Right, as one single clear idea, which shooting forth from +under the united pressure of all these forces, would seem to be rather +a product of feeling than of reflection. + + + +CHAPTER II. Absolute and Real War + +The Plan of the War comprehends the whole Military Act; through it that +Act becomes a whole, which must have one final determinate object, in +which all particular objects must become absorbed. No war is commenced, +or, at least, no war should be commenced, if people acted wisely, +without saying to themselves, What is to be attained by and in the +same; the first is the final object; the other is the intermediate aim. +By this chief consideration the whole course of the war is prescribed, +the extent of the means and the measure of energy are determined; its +influence manifests itself down to the smallest organ of action. + +We said, in the first chapter, that the overthrow of the enemy is the +natural end of the act of War; and that if we would keep within the +strictly philosophical limits of the idea, there can be no other in +reality. + +As this idea must apply to both the belligerent parties, it must +follow, that there can be no suspension in the Military Act, and peace +cannot take place until one or other of the parties concerned is +overthrown. + +In the chapter on the suspension of the Belligerent Act, we have shown +how the simple principle of hostility applied to its embodiment, man, +and all circumstances out of which it makes a war, is subject to checks +and modifications from causes which are inherent in the apparatus of +war. + +But this modification is not nearly sufficient to carry us from the +original conception of War to the concrete form in which it almost +everywhere appears. Most wars appear only as an angry feeling on both +sides, under the influence of which, each side takes up arms to protect +himself, and to put his adversary in fear, and—when opportunity offers, +to strike a blow. They are, therefore, not like mutually destructive +elements brought into collision, but like tensions of two elements +still apart which discharge themselves in small partial shocks. + +But what is now the non-conducting medium which hinders the complete +discharge? Why is the philosophical conception not satisfied? That +medium consists in the number of interests, forces, and circumstances +of various kinds, in the existence of the State, which are affected by +the war, and through the infinite ramifications of which the logical +consequence cannot be carried out as it would on the simple threads of +a few conclusions; in this labyrinth it sticks fast, and man, who in +great things as well as in small, usually acts more on the impulse of +ideas and feelings, than according to strictly logical conclusions, is +hardly conscious of his confusion, unsteadiness of purpose, and +inconsistency. + +But if the intelligence by which the war is decreed, could even go over +all these things relating to the war, without for a moment losing sight +of its aim, still all the other intelligences in the State which are +concerned may not be able to do the same; thus an opposition arises, +and with that comes the necessity for a force capable of overcoming the +inertia of the whole mass—a force which is seldom forthcoming to the +full. + +This inconsistency takes place on one or other of the two sides, or it +may be on both sides, and becomes the cause of the war being something +quite different to what it should be, according to the conception of +it—a half and half production, a thing without a perfect inner +cohesion. + +This is how we find it almost everywhere, and we might doubt whether +our notion of its absolute character or nature was founded in reality, +if we had not seen real warfare make its appearence in this absolute +completeness just in our own times. After a short introduction +performed by the French Revolution, the impetuous Buonaparte quickly +brought it to this point Under him it was carried on without slackening +for a moment until the enemy was prostrated, and the counter stroke +followed almost with as little remission. Is it not natural and +necessary that this phenomenon should lead us back to the original +conception of war with all its rigorous deductions? + +Shall we now rest satisfied with this idea, and judge of all wars +according to it, however much they may differ from it,—deduce from it +all the requirements of theory? + +We must decide upon this point, for we can say nothing trustworthy on +the Plan of War until we have made up our minds whether war should only +be of this kind, or whether it may be of another kind. + +If we give an affirmative to the first, then our Theory will be, in all +respects, nearer to the necessary, it will be a clearer and more +settled thing. But what should we say then of all wars since those of +Alexander up to the time of Buonaparte, if we except some campaigns of +the Romans? We should have to reject them in a lump, and yet we cannot, +perhaps, do so without being ashamed of our presumption. But an +additional evil is, that we must say to ourselves, that in the next ten +years there may perhaps be a war of that same kind again, in spite of +our Theory; and that this Theory, with a rigorous logic, is still quite +powerless against the force of circumstances. We must, therefore, +decide to construe war as it is to be, and not from pure conception, +but by allowing room for everything of a foreign nature which mixes up +with it and fastens itself upon it—all the natural inertia and friction +of its parts, the whole of the inconsistency, the vagueness and +hesitation (or timidity) of the human mind: we shall have to grasp the +idea that war, and the form which we give it, proceeds from ideas, +feelings, and circumstances, which dominate for the moment; indeed, if +we would be perfectly candid we must admit that this has even been the +case where it has taken its absolute character, that is, under +Buonaparte. + +If we must do so, if we must grant that war originates and takes its +form not from a final adjustment of the innumerable relations with +which it is connected, but from some amongst them which happen to +predominate; then it follows, as a matter of course, that it rests upon +a play of possibilities, probabilities, good fortune and bad, in which +rigorous logical deduction often gets lost, and in which it is in +general a useless, inconvenient instrument for the head; then it also +follows that war may be a thing which is sometimes war in a greater, +sometimes in a lesser degree. + +All this, theory must admit, but it is its duty to give the foremost +place to the absolute form of war, and to use that form as a general +point of direction, that whoever wishes to learn something from theory, +may accustom himself never to lose sight of it, to regard it as the +natural measure of all his hopes and fears, in order to approach it +_where he can, or where he must_. + +That a leading idea, which lies at the root of our thoughts and +actions, gives them a certain tone and character, even when the +immediately determining grounds come from totally different regions, is +just as certain as that the painter can give this or that tone to his +picture by the colours with which he lays on his ground. + +Theory is indebted to the last wars for being able to do this +effectually now. Without these warning examples of the destructive +force of the element set free, she might have talked herself hoarse to +no purpose; no one would have believed possible what all have now lived +to see realised. + +Would Prussia have ventured to penetrate into France in the year 1798 +with 70,000 men, if she had foreseen that the reaction in case of +failure would be so strong as to overthrow the old balance of power in +Europe? + +Would Prussia, in 1806, have made war with 100,000 against France, if +she had supposed that the first pistol shot would be a spark in the +heart of the mine, which would blow it into the air? + + + +CHAPTER III. A. Interdependence of the Parts in War + +According as we have in view the absolute form of war, or one of the +real forms deviating more or less from it, so likewise different +notions of its result will arise. + +In the absolute form, where everything is the effect of its natural and +necessary cause, one thing follows another in rapid succession; there +is, if we may use the expression, no neutral space; there is on account +of the manifold reactionary effects which war contains in itself,(*1) +on account of the connection in which, strictly speaking, the whole +series of combats,(*2) follow one after another, on account of the +culminating point which every victory has, beyond which losses and +defeats commence(*3) on account of all these natural relations of war +there is, I say, only _one result_, to wit, the _final result_. Until +it takes place nothing is decided, nothing won, nothing lost. Here we +may say indeed: the end crowns the work. In this view, therefore, war +is an indivisible whole, the parts of which (the subordinate results) +have no value except in their relation to this whole. The conquest of +Moscow, and of half Russia in 1812, was of no value to Buonaparte +unless it obtained for him the peace which he desired. But it was only +a part of his Plan of campaign; to complete that Plan, one part was +still wanted, the destruction of the Russian army; if we suppose this, +added to the other success, then the peace was as certain as it is +possible for things of this kind to be. This second part Buonaparte +missed at the right time, and he could never afterwards attain it, and +so the whole of the first part was not only useless, but fatal to him. + +(*1.) Book I., Chapter I. + + +(*2.) Book I., Chapter I. + + +(*3.) Book VII., Chapters IV. and V. (Culminating Point of Victory). + + +To this view of the relative connection of results in war, which may be +regarded as extreme, stands opposed another extreme, according to which +war is composed of single independent results, in which, as in any +number of games played, the preceding has no influence on the next +following; everything here, therefore, depends only on the sum total of +the results, and we can lay up each single one like a counter at play. + +Just as the first kind of view derives its truth from the nature of +things, so we find that of the second in history. There are cases +without number in which a small moderate advantage might have been +gained without any very onerous condition being attached to it. The +more the element of war is modified the more common these cases become; +but as little as the first of the views now imagined was ever +completely realised in any war, just as little is there any war in +which the last suits in all respects, and the first can be dispensed +with. + +If we keep to the first of these supposed views, we must perceive the +necessity of every war being looked upon as a whole from the very +commencement, and that at the very first step forwards, the commander +should have in his eye the object to which every line must converge. + +If we admit the second view, then subordinate advantages may be pursued +on their own account, and the rest left to subsequent events. + +As neither of these forms of conception is entirely without result, +therefore theory cannot dispense with either. But it makes this +difference in the use of them, that it requires the first to be laid as +a fundamental idea at the root of everything, and that the latter shall +only be used as a modification which is justified by circumstances. + +If Frederick the Great in the years 1742, 1744, 1757, and 1758, thrust +out from Silesia and Saxony a fresh offensive point into the Austrian +Empire, which he knew very well could not lead to a new and durable +conquest like that of Silesia and Saxony, it was done not with a view +to the overthrow of the Austrian Empire, but from a lesser motive, +namely, to gain time and strength; and it was optional with him to +pursue that subordinate object without being afraid that he should +thereby risk his whole existence.(*) But if Prussia in 1806, and +Austria in 1805, 1809, proposed to themselves a still more moderate +object, that of driving the French over the Rhine, they would not have +acted in a reasonable manner if they had not first scanned in their +minds the whole series of events which either, in the case of success, +or of the reverse, would probably follow the first step, and lead up to +peace. This was quite indispensable, as well to enable them to +determine with themselves how far victory might be followed up without +danger, and how and where they would be in a condition to arrest the +course of victory on the enemy’s side. + +(*) Had Frederick the Great gained the Battle of Kollen, and taken +prisoners the chief Austrian army with their two field marshals in +Prague, it would have been such a tremendous blow that he might then +have entertained the idea of marching to Vienna to make the Austrian +Court tremble, and gain a peace directly. This, in these times, +unparalleled result, which would have been quite like what we have seen +in our day, only still more wonderful and brilliant from the contest +being between a little David and a great Goliath, might very probably +have taken place after the gain of this one battle; but that does not +contradict the assertion above maintained, for it only refers to what +the king originally looked forward to from his offensive. The +surrounding and taking prisoners the enemy’s army was an event which +was beyond all calculation, and which the king never thought of, at +least not until the Austrians laid themselves open to it by the +unskilful position in which they placed themselves at Prague. + + +An attentive consideration of history shows wherein the difference of +the two cases consists. At the time of the Silesian War in the +eighteenth century, war was still a mere Cabinet affair, in which the +people only took part as a blind instrument; at the beginning of the +nineteenth century the people on each side weighed in the scale. The +commanders opposed to Frederick the Great were men who acted on +commission, and just on that account men in whom caution was a +predominant characteristic; the opponent of the Austrians and Prussians +may be described in a few words as the very god of war himself. + +Must not these different circumstances give rise to quite different +considerations? Should they not in the year 1805, 1806, and 1809 have +pointed to the extremity of disaster as a very close possibility, nay, +even a very great probability, and should they not at the same time +have led to widely different plans and measures from any merely aimed +at the conquest of a couple of fortresses or a paltry province? + +They did not do so in a degree commensurate with their importance, +although both Austria and Prussia, judging by their armaments, felt +that storms were brewing in the political atmosphere. They could not do +so because those relations at that time were not yet so plainly +developed as they have been since from history. It is just those very +campaigns of 1805, 1806, 1809, and following ones, which have made it +easier for us to form a conception of modern absolute war in its +destroying energy. + +Theory demands, therefore, that at the commencement of every war its +character and main outline shall be defined according to what the +political conditions and relations lead us to anticipate as probable. +The more, that according to this probability its character approaches +the form of absolute war, the more its outline embraces the mass of the +belligerent states and draws them into the vortex, so much the more +complete will be the relation of events to one another and the whole, +but so much the more necessary it will also be not to take the first +step without thinking what may be the last. + + + +B. On the Magnitude of the Object of the War, and the Efforts to be +Made. + +The compulsion which we must use towards our enemy will be regulated by +the proportions of our own and his political demands. In so far as +these are mutually known they will give the measure of the mutual +efforts; but they are not always quite so evident, and this may be a +first ground of a difference in the means adopted by each. + +The situation and relations of the states are not like each other; this +may become a second cause. + +The strength of will, the character and capabilities of the governments +are as little like; this is a third cause. + +These three elements cause an uncertainty in the calculation of the +amount of resistance to be expected, consequently an uncertainty as to +the amount of means to be applied and the object to be chosen. + +As in war the want of sufficient exertion may result not only in +failure but in positive harm, therefore, the two sides respectively +seek to outstrip each other, which produces a reciprocal action. + +This might lead to the utmost extremity of exertion, if it was possible +to define such a point. But then regard for the amount of the political +demands would be lost, the means would lose all relation to the end, +and in most cases this aim at an extreme effort would be wrecked by the +opposing weight of forces within itself. + +In this manner, he who undertakes war is brought back again into a +middle course, in which he acts to a certain extent upon the principle +of only applying so much force and aiming at such an object in war as +are just sufficient for the attainment of its political object. To make +this principle practicable he must renounce every absolute necessity of +a result, and throw out of the calculation remote contingencies. + +Here, therefore, the action of the mind leaves the province of science, +strictly speaking, of logic and mathematics, and becomes, in the widest +sense of the term, an art, that is, skill in discriminating, by the +tact of judgment among an infinite multitude of objects and relations, +that which is the most important and decisive. This tact of judgment +consists unquestionably more or less in some intuitive comparison of +things and relations by which the remote and unimportant are more +quickly set aside, and the more immediate and important are sooner +discovered than they could be by strictly logical deduction. + +In order to ascertain the real scale of the means which we must put +forth for war, we must think over the political object both on our own +side and on the enemy’s side; we must consider the power and position +of the enemy’s state as well as of our own, the character of his +government and of his people, and the capacities of both, and all that +again on our own side, and the political connections of other states, +and the effect which the war will produce on those States. That the +determination of these diverse circumstances and their diverse +connections with each other is an immense problem, that it is the true +flash of genius which discovers here in a moment what is right, and +that it would be quite out of the question to become master of the +complexity merely by a methodical study, this it is easy to conceive. + +In this sense Buonaparte was quite right when he said that it would be +a problem in algebra before which a Newton might stand aghast. + +If the diversity and magnitude of the circumstances and the uncertainty +as to the right measure augment in a high degree the difficulty of +obtaining a right result, we must not overlook the fact that although +the incomparable _importance_ of the matter does not increase the +complexity and difficulty of the problem, still it very much increases +the merit of its solution. In men of an ordinary stamp freedom and +activity of mind are depressed not increased by the sense of danger and +responsibility: but where these things give wings to strengthen the +judgment, there undoubtedly must be unusual greatness of soul. + +First of all, therefore, we must admit that the judgment on an +approaching war, on the end to which it should be directed, and on the +means which are required, can only be formed after a full consideration +of the whole of the circumstances in connection with it: with which +therefore must also be combined the most individual traits of the +moment; next, that this decision, like all in military life, cannot be +purely objective but must be determined by the mental and moral +qualities of princes, statesmen, and generals, whether they are united +in the person of one man or not. + +The subject becomes general and more fit to be treated of in the +abstract if we look at the general relations in which States have been +placed by circumstances at different times. We must allow ourselves +here a passing glance at history. + +Half-civilised Tartars, the Republics of ancient times, the feudal +lords and commercial cities of the Middle Ages, kings of the eighteenth +century, and, lastly, princes and people of the nineteenth century, all +carry on war in their own way, carry it on differently, with different +means, and for a different object. + +The Tartars seek new abodes. They march out as a nation with their +wives and children, they are, therefore, greater than any other army in +point of numbers, and their object is to make the enemy submit or expel +him altogether. By these means they would soon overthrow everything +before them if a high degree of civilisation could be made compatible +with such a condition. + +The old Republics with the exception of Rome were of small extent; +still smaller their armies, for they excluded the great mass of the +populace: they were too numerous and lay too close together not to find +an obstacle to great enterprises in the natural equilibrium in which +small separate parts always place themselves according to the general +law of nature: therefore their wars were confined to devastating the +open country and taking some towns in order to ensure to themselves in +these a certain degree of influence for the future. + +Rome alone forms an exception, but not until the later period of its +history. For a long time, by means of small bands, it carried on the +usual warfare with its neighbours for booty and alliances. It became +great more through the alliances which it formed, and through which +neighbouring peoples by degrees became amalgamated with it into one +whole, than through actual conquests. It was only after having spread +itself in this manner all over Southern Italy, that it began to advance +as a really conquering power. Carthage fell, Spain and Gaul were +conquered, Greece subdued, and its dominion extended to Egypt and Asia. +At this period its military power was immense, without its efforts +being in the same proportion. These forces were kept up by its riches; +it no longer resembled the ancient republics, nor itself as it had +been; it stands alone. + +Just as peculiar in their way are the wars of Alexander. With a small +army, but distinguished for its intrinsic perfection, he overthrew the +decayed fabric of the Asiatic States; without rest, and regardless of +risks, he traverses the breadth of Asia, and penetrates into India. No +republics could do this. Only a king, in a certain measure his own +condottiere, could get through so much so quickly. + +The great and small monarchies of the middle ages carried on their wars +with feudal armies. Everything was then restricted to a short period of +time; whatever could not be done in that time was held to be +impracticable. The feudal force itself was raised through an +organisation of vassaldom; the bond which held it together was partly +legal obligation, partly a voluntary contract; the whole formed a real +confederation. The armament and tactics were based on the right of +might, on single combat, and therefore little suited to large bodies. +In fact, at no period has the union of States been so weak, and the +individual citizen so independent. All this influenced the character of +the wars at that period in the most distinct manner. They were +comparatively rapidly carried out, there was little time spent idly in +camps, but the object was generally only punishing, not subduing, the +enemy. They carried off his cattle, burnt his towns, and then returned +home again. + +The great commercial towns and small republics brought forward the +condottieri. That was an expensive, and therefore, as far as visible +strength, a very limited military force; as for its intensive strength, +it was of still less value in that respect; so far from their showing +anything like extreme energy or impetuosity in the field, their combats +were generally only sham fights. In a word, hatred and enmity no longer +roused a state to personal activity, but had become articles of trade; +war lost great part of its danger, altered completely its nature, and +nothing we can say of the character it then assumed, would be +applicable to it in its reality. + +The feudal system condensed itself by degrees into a decided +territorial supremacy; the ties binding the State together became +closer; obligations which concerned the person were made subject of +composition; by degrees gold became the substitute in most cases, and +the feudal armies were turned into mercenaries. The condottieri formed +the connecting link in the change, and were therefore, for a time, the +instrument of the more powerful States; but this had not lasted long, +when the soldier, hired for a limited term, was turned into a _standing +mercenary_, and the military force of States now became an army, having +its base in the public treasury. + +It is only natural that the slow advance to this stage caused a +diversified interweaving of all three kinds of military force. Under +Henry IV. we find the feudal contingents, condottieri, and standing +army all employed together. The condottieri carried on their existence +up to the period of the Thirty Years’ War, indeed there are slight +traces of them even in the eighteenth century. + +The other relations of the States of Europe at these different periods +were quite as peculiar as their military forces. Upon the whole, this +part of the world had split up into a mass of petty States, partly +republics in a state of internal dissension, partly small monarchies in +which the power of the government was very limited and insecure. A +State in either of these cases could not be considered as a real unity; +it was rather an agglomeration of loosely connected forces. Neither, +therefore, could such a State be considered an intelligent being, +acting in accordance with simple logical rules. + +It is from this point of view we must look at the foreign politics and +wars of the Middle Ages. Let us only think of the continual expeditions +of the Emperors of Germany into Italy for five centuries, without any +substantial conquest of that country resulting from them, or even +having been so much as in view. It is easy to look upon this as a fault +repeated over and over again as a false view which had its root in the +nature of the times, but it is more in accordance with reason to regard +it as the consequence of a hundred important causes which we can +partially realise in idea, but the vital energy of which it is +impossible for us to understand so vividly as those who were brought +into actual conflict with them. As long as the great States which have +risen out of this chaos required time to consolidate and organise +themselves, their whole power and energy is chiefly directed to that +point; their foreign wars are few, and those that took place bear the +stamp of a State-unity not yet well cemented. + +The wars between France and England are the first that appear, and yet +at that time France is not to be considered as really a monarchy, but +as an agglomeration of dukedoms and countships; England, although +bearing more the semblance of a unity, still fought with the feudal +organisation, and was hampered by serious domestic troubles. + +Under Louis XI., France made its greatest step towards internal unity; +under Charles VIII. it appears in Italy as a power bent on conquest; +and under Louis XIV. it had brought its political state and its +standing army to the highest perfection. + +Spain attains to unity under Ferdinand the Catholic; through accidental +marriage connections, under Charles V., suddenly arose the great +Spanish monarchy, composed of Spain, Burgundy, Germany, and Italy +united. What this colossus wanted in unity and internal political +cohesion, it made up for by gold, and its standing army came for the +first time into collision with the standing army of France. After +Charles’s abdication, the great Spanish colossus split into two parts, +Spain and Austria. The latter, strengthened by the acquisition of +Bohemia and Hungary, now appears on the scene as a great power, towing +the German Confederation like a small vessel behind her. + +The end of the seventeenth century, the time of Louis XIV., is to be +regarded as the point in history at which the standing military power, +such as it existed in the eighteenth century, reached its zenith. That +military force was based on enlistment and money. States had organised +themselves into complete unities; and the governments, by commuting the +personal obligations of their subjects into a money payment, had +concentrated their whole power in their treasuries. Through the rapid +strides in social improvements, and a more enlightened system of +government, this power had become very great in comparison to what it +had been. France appeared in the field with a standing army of a couple +of hundred thousand men, and the other powers in proportion. + +The other relations of States had likewise altered. Europe was divided +into a dozen kingdoms and two republics; it was now conceivable that +two of these powers might fight with each other without ten times as +many others being mixed up in the quarrel, as would certainly have been +the case formerly. The possible combinations in political relations +were still manifold, but they could be discerned and determined from +time to time according to probability. + +Internal relations had almost everywhere settle down into a pure +monarchical form; the rights and influence of privileged bodies or +estates had gradually died away, and the cabinet had become a complete +unity, acting for the State in all its external relations. The time had +therefore come that a suitable instrument and a despotic will could +give war a form in accordance with the theoretical conception. + +And at this epoch appeared three new Alexanders Gustavus Adolphus, +Charles XII., and Frederick the Great, whose aim was by small but +highly-disciplined armies, to raise little States to the rank of great +monarchies, and to throw down everything that opposed them. If they had +had only to deal with Asiatic States, they would have more closely +resembled Alexander in the parts they acted. In any case, we may look +upon them as the precursors of Buonaparte as respects that which may be +risked in war. + +But what war gained on the one side in force and consistency was lost +again on the other side. + +Armies were supported out of the treasury, which the sovereign regarded +partly as his private purse, or at least as a resource belonging to the +government, and not to the people. Relations with other states, except +with respect to a few commercial subjects, mostly concerned only the +interests of the treasury or of the government, not those of the +people; at least ideas tended everywhere in that way. The cabinets, +therefore, looked upon themselves as the owners and administrators of +large estates, which they were continually seeking to increase without +the tenants on these estates being particularly interested in this +improvement. The people, therefore, who in the Tartar invasions were +everything in war, who, in the old republics, and in the Middle Ages, +(if we restrict the idea to those possessing the rights of citizens,) +were of great consequence, were in the eighteenth century, absolutely +nothing directly, having only still an indirect influence on the war +through their virtues and faults. + +In this manner, in proportion as the government separated itself from +the people, and regarded itself as the state, war became more +exclusively a business of the government, which it carried on by means +of the money in its coffers and the idle vagabonds it could pick up in +its own and neighbouring countries. The consequence of this was, that +the means which the government could command had tolerably well defined +limits, which could be mutually estimated, both as to their extent and +duration; this robbed war of its most dangerous feature: namely the +effort towards the extreme, and the hidden series of possibilities +connected therewith. + +The financial means, the contents of the treasury, the state of credit +of the enemy, were approximately known as well as the size of his army. +Any large increase of these at the outbreak of a war was impossible. +Inasmuch as the limits of the enemy’s power could thus be judged of, a +State felt tolerably secure from complete subjugation, and as the State +was conscious at the same time of the limits of its own means, it saw +itself restricted to a moderate aim. Protected from an extreme, there +was no necessity to venture on an extreme. Necessity no longer giving +an impulse in that direction, that impulse could only now be given by +courage and ambition. But these found a powerful counterpoise in the +political relations. Even kings in command were obliged to use the +instrument of war with caution. If the army was dispersed, no new one +could be got, and except the army there was nothing. This imposed as a +necessity great prudence in all undertakings. It was only when a +decided advantage seemed to present itself that they made use of the +costly instrument; to bring about such an opportunity was a general’s +art; but until it was brought about they floated to a certain degree in +an absolute vacuum, there was no ground of action, and all forces, that +is all designs, seemed to rest. The original motive of the aggressor +faded away in prudence and circumspection. + +Thus war, in reality, became a regular game, in which Time and Chance +shuffled the cards; but in its signification it was only diplomacy +somewhat intensified, a more vigorous way of negotiating, in which +battles and sieges were substituted for diplomatic notes. To obtain +some moderate advantage in order to make use of it in negotiations for +peace, was the aim even of the most ambitious. + +This restricted, shrivelled-up form of war proceeded, as we have said, +from the narrow basis on which it was supported. But that excellent +generals and kings, like Gustavus Adolphus, Charles XII., and Frederick +the Great, at the head of armies just as excellent, could not gain more +prominence in the general mass of phenomena that even these men were +obliged to be contented to remain at the ordinary level of moderate +results, is to be attributed to the balance of power in Europe. Now +that States had become greater, and their centres further apart from +each other, what had formerly been done through direct perfectly +natural interests, proximity, contact, family connections, personal +friendship, to prevent any one single State among the number from +becoming suddenly great was effected by a higher cultivation of the art +of diplomacy. Political interests, attractions and repulsions developed +into a very refined system, so that a cannon shot could not be fired in +Europe without all the cabinets having some interest in the occurrence. + +A new Alexander must therefore try the use of a good pen as well as his +good sword; and yet he never went very far with his conquests. + +But although Louis XIV. had in view to overthrow the balance of power +in Europe, and at the end of the seventeenth century had already got to +such a point as to trouble himself little about the general feeling of +animosity, he carried on war just as it had heretofore been conducted; +for while his army was certainly that of the greatest and richest +monarch in Europe, in its nature it was just like others. + +Plundering and devastating the enemy’s country, which play such an +important part with Tartars, with ancient nations, and even in the +Middle Ages, were no longer in accordance with the spirit of the age. +They were justly looked upon as unnecessary barbarity, which might +easily be retaliated, and which did more injury to the enemy’s subjects +than the enemy’s government, therefore, produced no effect beyond +throwing the nation back many stages in all that relates to peaceful +arts and civilisation. War, therefore, confined itself more and more +both as regards means and end, to the army itself. The army with its +fortresses, and some prepared positions, constituted a State in a +State, within which the element of war slowly consumed itself. All +Europe rejoiced at its taking this direction, and held it to be the +necessary consequence of the spirit of progress. Although there lay in +this an error, inasmuch as the progress of the human mind can never +lead to what is absurd, can never make five out of twice two, as we +have already said, and must again repeat, still upon the whole this +change had a beneficial effect for the people; only it is not to be +denied that it had a tendency to make war still more an affair of the +State, and to separate it still more from the interests of the people. +The plan of a war on the part of the state assuming the offensive in +those times consisted generally in the conquest of one or other of the +enemy’s provinces; the plan of the defender was to prevent this; the +particular plan of campaign was to take one or other of the enemy’s +fortresses, or to prevent one of our own from being taken; it was only +when a battle became unavoidable for this purpose that it was sought +for and fought. Whoever fought a battle without this unavoidable +necessity, from mere innate desire of gaining a victory, was reckoned a +general with too much daring. Generally the campaign passed over with +one siege, or if it was a very active one, with two sieges, and winter +quarters, which were regarded as a necessity, and during which, the +faulty arrangements of the one could never be taken advantage of by the +other, and in which the mutual relations of the two parties almost +entirely ceased, formed a distinct limit to the activity which was +considered to belong to one campaign. + +If the forces opposed were too much on an equality, or if the aggressor +was decidedly the weaker of the two, then neither battle nor siege took +place, and the whole of the operations of the campaign pivoted on the +maintenance of certain positions and magazines, and the regular +exhaustion of particular districts of country. + +As long as war was universally conducted in this manner, and the +natural limits of its force were so close and obvious, so far from +anything absurd being perceived in it, all was considered to be in the +most regular order; and criticism, which in the eighteenth century +began to turn its attention to the field of art in war, addressed +itself to details without troubling itself much about the beginning and +the end. Thus there was eminence and perfection of every kind, and even +Field Marshal Daun, to whom it was chiefly owing that Frederick the +Great completely attained his object, and that Maria Theresa completely +failed in hers, notwithstanding that could still pass for a great +General. Only now and again a more penetrating judgment made its +appearance, that is, sound common sense acknowledged that with superior +numbers something positive should be attained or war is badly +conducted, whatever art may be displayed. + +Thus matters stood when the French Revolution broke out; Austria and +Prussia tried their diplomatic art of war; this very soon proved +insufficient. Whilst, according to the usual way of seeing things, all +hopes were placed on a very limited military force in 1793, such a +force as no one had any conception of, made its appearance. War had +suddenly become again an affair of the people, and that of a people +numbering thirty millions, every one of whom regarded himself as a +citizen of the State. Without entering here into the details of +circumstances with which this great phenomenon was attended, we shall +confine ourselves to the results which interest us at present. By this +participation of the people in the war instead of a cabinet and an +army, a whole nation with its natural weight came into the scale. +Henceforward, the means available the efforts which might be called +forth had no longer any definite limits; the energy with which the war +itself might be conducted had no longer any counterpoise, and +consequently the danger for the adversary had risen to the extreme. + +If the whole war of the revolution passed over without all this making +itself felt in its full force and becoming quite evident; if the +generals of the revolution did not persistently press on to the final +extreme, and did not overthrow the monarchies in Europe; if the German +armies now and again had the opportunity of resisting with success, and +checking for a time the torrent of victory, the cause lay in reality in +that technical incompleteness with which the French had to contend, +which showed itself first amongst the common soldiers, then in the +generals, lastly, at the time of the Directory, in the Government +itself. + +After all this was perfected by the hand of Buonaparte, this military +power, based on the strength of the whole nation, marched over Europe, +smashing everything in pieces so surely and certainly, that where it +only encountered the old fashioned armies the result was not doubtful +for a moment. A re-action, however, awoke in due time. In Spain, the +war became of itself an affair of the people. In Austria, in the year +1809, the Government commenced extraordinary efforts, by means of +Reserves and Landwehr, which were nearer to the true object, and far +surpassed in degree what this State had hitherto conceived possible, In +Russia, in 1812, the example of Spain and Austria was taken as a +pattern, the enormous dimensions of that empire on the one hand allowed +the preparations, although too long deferred, still to produce effect; +and, on the other hand, intensified the effect produced. The result was +brilliant. In Germany, Prussia rose up the first, made the war a +national cause, and without either money or credit, and with a +population reduced one half, took the field with an army twice as +strong as that of 1806. The rest of Germany followed the example of +Prussia sooner or later, and Austria, although less energetic than in +1809, still also came forward with more than its usual strength. Thus +it was that Germany and Russia in the years 1813 and 1814, including +all who took an active part in, or were absorbed in these two +campaigns, appeared against France with about a million of men. + +Under these circumstances, the energy thrown into the conduct of the +war was quite different; and, although not quite on a level with that +of the French, although at some points timidity was still to be +observed, the course of the campaigns, upon the whole, may be said to +have been in the new, not in the old, style. In eight months the +theatre of war was removed from the Oder to the Seine. Proud Paris had +to bow its head for the first time; and the redoubtable Buonaparte lay +fettered on the ground. + +Therefore, since the time of Buonaparte, war, through being first on +one side, then again on the other, an affair of the whole nation, has +assumed quite a new nature, or rather it has approached much nearer to +its real nature, to its absolute perfection. The means then called +forth had no visible limit, the limit losing itself in the energy and +enthusiasm of the Government and its subjects. By the extent of the +means, and the wide field of possible results, as well as by the +powerful excitement of feeling which prevailed, energy in the conduct +of war was immensely increased; the object of its action was the +downfall of the foe; and not until the enemy lay powerless on the +ground was it supposed to be possible to stop or to come to any +understanding with respect to the mutual objects of the contest. + +Thus, therefore, the element of war, freed from all conventional +restrictions, broke loose, with all its natural force. The cause was +the participation of the people in this great _affair of State_, and +this participation arose partly from the effects of the French +Revolution on the internal affairs of countries, partly from the +threatening attitude of the French towards all nations. + +Now, whether this will be the case always in future, whether all wars +hereafter in Europe will be carried on with the whole power of the +States, and, consequently, will only take place on account of great +interests closely affecting the people, or whether a separation of the +interests of the Government from those of the people will gradually +again arise, would be a difficult point to settle; and, least of all, +shall we take upon us to settle it. But every one will agree with us, +that bounds, which to a certain extent existed only in an +unconsciousness of what is possible, when once thrown down, are not +easily built up again; and that, at least, whenever great interests are +in dispute, mutual hostility will discharge itself in the same manner +as it has done in our times. + +We here bring our historical survey to a close, for it was not our +design to give at a gallop some of the principles on which war has been +carried on in each age, but only to show how each period has had its +own peculiar forms of war, its own restrictive conditions, and its own +prejudices. Each period would, therefore, also keep its own theory of +war, even if every where, in early times, as well as in later, the task +had been undertaken of working out a theory on philosophical +principles. The events in each age must, therefore, be judged of in +connection with the peculiarities of the time, and only he who, less +through an anxious study of minute details than through an accurate +glance at the whole, can transfer himself into each particular age, is +fit to understand and appreciate its generals. + +But this conduct of war, conditioned by the peculiar relations of +States, and of the military force employed, must still always contain +in itself something more general, or rather something quite general, +with which, above everything, theory is concerned. + +The latest period of past time, in which war reached its absolute +strength, contains most of what is of general application and +necessary. But it is just as improbable that wars henceforth will all +have this grand character as that the wide barriers which have been +opened to them will ever be completely closed again. Therefore, by a +theory which only dwells upon this absolute war, all cases in which +external influences alter the nature of war would be excluded or +condemned as false. This cannot be the object of theory, which ought to +be the science of war, not under ideal but under real circumstances. +Theory, therefore, whilst casting a searching, discriminating and +classifying glance at objects, should always have in view the manifold +diversity of causes from which war may proceed, and should, therefore, +so trace out its great features as to leave room for what is required +by the exigencies of time and the moment. + +Accordingly, we must add that the object which every one who undertakes +war proposes to himself, and the means which he calls forth, are +determined entirely according to the particular details of his +position; and on that very account they will also bear in themselves +the character of the time and of the general relations; lastly, _that +they are always subject to the general conclusions to be deduced from +the nature of war_. + + + +CHAPTER IV. Ends in War More Precisely Defined +Overthrow of the Enemy + +The aim of war in conception must always be the overthrow of the enemy; +this is the fundamental idea from which we set out. + +Now, what is this overthrow? It does not always imply as necessary the +complete conquest of the enemy’s country. If the Germans had reached +Paris, in 1792, there—in all human probability—the war with the +Revolutionary party would have been brought to an end at once for a +season; it was not at all necessary at that time to beat their armies +beforehand, for those armies were not yet to be looked upon as potent +powers in themselves singly. On the other hand, in 1814, the allies +would not have gained everything by taking Paris if Buonaparte had +still remained at the head of a considerable army; but as his army had +nearly melted away, therefore, also in the year 1814 and 1815 the +taking of Paris decided all. If Buonaparte in the year 1812, either +before or after taking Moscow, had been able to give the Russian army +of 120,000 on the Kaluga road, a complete defeat, such as he gave the +Austrians in 1805, and the Prussian army, 1806, then the possession of +that capital would most probably have brought about a peace, although +an enormous tract of country still remained to be conquered. In the +year 1805 it was the battle of Austerlitz that was decisive; and, +therefore, the previous possession of Vienna and two-thirds of the +Austrian States, was not of sufficient weight to gain for Buonaparte a +peace; but, on the other hand also, after that battle of Austerlitz, +the integrity of Hungary, still intact, was not of sufficient weight to +prevent the conclusion of peace. In the Russian campaign, the complete +defeat of the Russian army was the last blow required: the Emperor +Alexander had no other army at hand, and, therefore, peace was the +certain consequence of victory. If the Russian army had been on the +Danube along with the Austrian, and had shared in its defeat, then +probably the conquest of Vienna would not have been necessary, and +peace would have been concluded in Linz. + +In other cases, the complete conquest of a country has not been +sufficient, as in the year 1807, in Prussia, when the blow levelled +against the Russian auxiliary army, in the doubtful battle of Eylau, +was not decisive enough, and the undoubted victory of Friedland was +required as a finishing blow, like the victory of Austerlitz in the +preceding year. + +We see that here, also, the result cannot be determined from general +grounds; the individual causes, which no one knows who is not on the +spot, and many of a moral nature which are never heard of, even the +smallest traits and accidents, which only appear in history as +anecdotes, are often decisive. All that theory can here say is as +follows:—That the great point is to keep the overruling relations of +both parties in view. Out of them a certain centre of gravity, a centre +of power and movement, will form itself, on which everything depends; +and against this centre of gravity of the enemy, the concentrated blow +of all the forces must be directed. + +The little always depends on the great, the unimportant on the +important, and the accidental on the essential. This must guide our +view. + +Alexander had his centre of gravity in his army, so had Gustavus +Adolphus, Charles XII., and Frederick the Great, and the career of any +one of them would soon have been brought to a close by the destruction +of his army: in States torn by internal dissensions, this centre +generally lies in the capital; in small states dependent on greater +ones, it lies generally in the army of these allies; in a confederacy, +it lies in the unity of interests; in a national insurrection, in the +person of the chief leader, and in public opinion; against these points +the blow must be directed. If the enemy by this loses his balance, no +time must be allowed for him to recover it; the blow must be +persistently repeated in the same direction, or, in other words, the +conqueror must always direct his blows upon the mass, but not against a +fraction of the enemy. It is not by conquering one of the enemy’s +provinces, with little trouble and superior numbers, and preferring the +more secure possession of this unimportant conquest to great results, +but by seeking out constantly the heart of the hostile power, and +staking everything in order to gain all, that we can effectually strike +the enemy to the ground. + +But whatever may be the central point of the enemy’s power against +which we are to direct our operations, still the conquest and +destruction of his army is the surest commencement, and in all cases, +the most essential. + +Hence we think that, according to the majority of ascertained facts, +the following circumstances chiefly bring about the overthrow of the +enemy. + +1. Dispersion of his army if it forms, in some degree, a potential +force. + +2. Capture of the enemy’s capital city, if it is both the centre of the +power of the State and the seat of political assemblies and actions. + +3. An effectual blow against the principal ally, if he is more powerful +than the enemy himself. + +We have always hitherto supposed the enemy in war as a unity, which is +allowable for considerations of a very general nature. But having said +that the subjugation of the enemy lies in the overcoming his +resistance, concentrated in the centre of gravity, we must lay aside +this supposition and introduce the case, in which we have to deal with +more than one opponent. + +If two or more States combine against a third, that combination +constitutes, in a political aspect, only _one_ war, at the same time +this political union has also its degrees. + +The question is whether each State in the coalition possesses an +independent interest in, and an independent force with which to +prosecute, the war; or whether there is one amongst them on whose +interests and forces those of the others lean for support. The more +that the last is the case, the easier it is to look upon the different +enemies as one alone, and the more readily we can simplify our +principal enterprise to one great blow; and as long as this is in any +way possible, it is the most thorough and complete means of success. + +We may, therefore, establish it as a principle, that if we can conquer +all our enemies by conquering one of them, the defeat of that one must +be the aim of the war, because in that one we hit the common centre of +gravity of the whole war. + +There are very few cases in which this kind of conception is not +admissible, and where this reduction of several centres of gravity to +one cannot be made. But if this cannot be done, then indeed there is no +alternative but to look upon the war as two or more separate wars, each +of which has its own aim. As this case supposes the substantive +independence of several enemies, consequently a great superiority of +the whole, therefore in this case the overthrow of the enemy cannot, in +general, come into question. + +We now turn more particularly to the question, When is such an object +possible and advisable? + +In the first place, our forces must be sufficient,— + +1. To gain a decisive victory over those of the enemy. + +2. To make the expenditure of force which may be necessary to follow up +the victory to a point at which it will no longer be possible for the +enemy to regain his balance. + +Next, we must feel sure that in our political situation, such a result +will not excite against us new enemies, who may compel us on the spot +to set free our first enemy. + +France, in the year 1806, was able completely to conquer Prussia, +although in doing so it brought down upon itself the whole military +power of Russia, because it was in a condition to cope with the +Russians in Prussia. + +France might have done the same in Spain in 1808 as far as regards +England, but not as regards Austria. It was compelled to weaken itself +materially in Spain in 1809, and must have quite given up the contest +in that country if it had not had otherwise great superiority both +physically and morally, over Austria. + +These three cases should therefore be carefully studied, that we may +not lose in the last the cause which we have gained in the former ones, +and be condemned in costs. + +In estimating the strength of forces, and that which may be effected by +them, the idea very often suggests itself to look upon time by a +dynamic analogy as a factor of forces, and to assume accordingly that +half efforts, or half the number of forces would accomplish in two +years what could only be effected in one year by the whole force +united. This view which lies at the bottom of military schemes, +sometimes clearly, sometimes less plainly, is completely wrong. + +An operation in war, like everything else upon earth, requires its +time; as a matter of course we cannot walk from Wilna to Moscow in +eight days; but there is no trace to be found in war of any reciprocal +action between time and force, such as takes place in dynamics. + +Time is necessary to both belligerents, and the only question is: which +of the two, judging by his position, has most reason to expect _special +advantages_ from time? Now (exclusive of peculiarities in the situation +on one side or the other) the _vanquished_ has plainly the most reason, +at the same time certainly not by dynamic, but by psychological laws. +Envy, jealousy, anxiety for self, as well as now and again magnanimity, +are the natural intercessors for the unfortunate; they raise up for him +on the one hand friends, and on the other hand weaken and dissolve the +coalition amongst his enemies. Therefore, by delay something +advantageous is more likely to happen for the conquered than for the +conqueror. Further, we must recollect that to make right use of a first +victory, as we have already shown, a great expenditure of force is +necessary; this is not a mere outlay once for all, but has to be kept +up like housekeeping, on a great scale; the forces which have been +sufficient to give us possession of a province, are not always +sufficient to meet this additional outlay; by degrees the strain upon +our resources becomes greater, until at last it becomes insupportable; +time, therefore, of itself may bring about a change. + +Could the contributions which Buonaparte levied from the Russians and +Poles, in money and in other ways, in 1812, have procured the hundreds +of thousands of men that he must have sent to Moscow in order to retain +his position there? + +But if the conquered provinces are sufficiently important, if there are +in them points which are essential to the well-being of those parts +which are not conquered, so that the evil, like a cancer, is +perpetually of itself gnawing further into the system, then it is +possible that the conqueror, although nothing further is done, may gain +more than he loses. Now in this state of circumstances, if no help +comes from without, then time may complete the work thus commenced; +what still remains unconquered will, perhaps, fall of itself. +Therefore, thus time may also become a factor of his forces, but this +can only take place if a return blow from the conquered is no longer +possible, a change of fortune in his favour no longer conceivable, when +therefore this factor of his forces is no longer of any value to the +conqueror; for he has accomplished the chief object, the danger of the +culminating point is past, in short, the enemy is already subdued. + +Our object in the above reasoning has been to show clearly that no +conquest can be finished too soon, that spreading it over a _greater +space of time_ than is absolutely necessary for its completion, instead +of _facilitating_ it, makes it more _difficult_. If this assertion is +true, it is further true also that if we are strong enough to effect a +certain conquest, we must also be strong enough to do it in one march +without intermediate stations. Of course we do not mean by this without +short halts, in order to concentrate the forces, and make other +indispensable arrangements. + +By this view, which makes the character of a speedy and persistent +effort towards a decision essential to offensive war, we think we have +completely set aside all grounds for _that_ theory which in place of +the irresistible continued following up of victory, would substitute a +slow methodical system as being more sure and prudent. But even for +those who have readily followed us so far, our assertion has, perhaps +after all, so much the appearance of a paradox, is at first sight so +much opposed and offensive to an opinion which, like an old prejudice, +has taken deep root, and has been repeated a thousand times in books, +that we considered it advisable to examine more closely the foundation +of those plausible arguments which may be advanced. + +It is certainly easier to reach an object near us than one at a +distance, but when the nearest one does not suit our purpose it does +not follow that dividing the work, that a resting point, will enable us +to get over the second half of the road easier. A small jump is easier +than a large one, but no one on that account, wishing to cross a wide +ditch, would jump half of it first. + +If we look closely into the foundation of the conception of the +so-called methodical offensive war, we shall find it generally consists +of the following things:— + +1. Conquest of those fortresses belonging to the enemy which we meet +with. + +2. Laying in the necessary supplies. + +3. Fortifying important points, as, _magazines, bridges, positions_, +etc. + +4. Resting the troops in quarters during winter, or when they require +to be recruited in health and refreshed. + +5. Waiting for the reinforcements of the ensuing year. + +If for the attainment of all these objects we make a formal division in +the course of the offensive action, a resting point in the movement, it +is supposed that we gain a new base and renewed force, as if our own +State was following up in the rear of the army, and that the latter +laid in renewed vigour for every fresh campaign. + +All these praiseworthy motives may make the offensive war more +convenient, but they do not make its results surer, and are generally +only make-believes to cover certain counteracting forces, such as the +feelings of the commander or irresolution in the cabinet. We shall try +to roll them up from the left flank. + +1. The waiting for reinforcements suits the enemy just as well, and is, +we may say, more to his advantage. Besides, it lies in the nature of +the thing that a State can place in line nearly as many combatant +forces in one year as in two; for all the actual increase of combatant +force in the second year is but trifling in relation to the whole. + +2. The enemy rests himself at the same time that we do. + +3. The fortification of towns and positions is not the work of the +army, and therefore no ground for any delay. + +4. According to the present system of subsisting armies, magazines are +more necessary when the army is in cantonments, than when it is +advancing. As long as we advance with success, we continually fall into +possession of some of the enemy’s provision depots, which assist us +when the country itself is poor. + +5. The taking of the enemy’s fortresses cannot be regarded as a +suspension of the attack: it is an intensified progress, and therefore +the seeming suspension which is caused thereby is not properly a case +such as we allude to, it is neither a suspension nor a modifying of the +use of force. But whether a regular siege, a blockade, or a mere +observation of one or other is most to the purpose, is a question which +can only be decided according to particular circumstances. We can only +say this in general, that in answering this question another must be +clearly decided, which is, whether the risk will not be too great if, +while only blockading, we at the same time make a further advance. +Where this is not the case, and when there is ample room to extend our +forces, it is better to postpone the formal siege till the termination +of the whole offensive movement. We must therefore take care not to be +led into the error of neglecting the essential, through the idea of +immediately making secure that which is conquered. + +No doubt it seems as if, by thus advancing, we at once hazard the loss +of what has been already gained. Our opinion, however, is that no +division of action, no resting point, no intermediate stations are in +accordance with the nature of offensive war, and that when the same are +unavoidable, they are to be regarded as an evil which makes the result +not more certain, but, on the contrary, more uncertain; and further, +that, strictly speaking, if from weakness or any cause we have been +obliged to stop, a second spring at the object we have in view is, as a +rule, impossible; but if such a second spring is possible, then the +stoppage at the intermediate station was unnecessary, and that when an +object at the very commencement is beyond our strength, it will always +remain so. + +We say, this appears to be the general truth, by which we only wish to +set aside the idea that time of itself can do something for the +advantage of the assailant. But as the political relations may change +from year to year, therefore, on that account alone, many cases may +happen which are exceptions to this general truth. + +It may appear perhaps as if we had left our general point of view, and +had nothing in our eye except offensive war; but it is not so by any +means. Certainly, he who can set before himself the complete overthrow +of the enemy as his object, will not easily be reduced to take refuge +in the defensive, the immediate object of which is only to keep +possession; but as we stand by the declaration throughout, that a +defensive without any positive principle is a contradiction in strategy +as well as in tactics, and therefore always come back to the fact that +every defensive, according to its strength, will seek to change to the +attack as soon as it has exhausted the advantages of the defensive, so +therefore, however great or small the defence may be, we still also +include in it contingently the overthrow of the enemy as an object +which this attack may have, and which is to be considered as the proper +object of the defensive, and we say that there may be cases in which +the assailant, notwithstanding he has in view such a great object, may +still prefer at first to make use of the defensive form. That this idea +is founded in reality is easily shown by the campaign of 1812. The +Emperor Alexander in engaging in the war did not perhaps think of +ruining his enemy completely, as was done in the sequel; but is there +anything which makes such an idea impossible? And yet, if so, would it +not still remain very natural that the Russians began the war on the +defensive? + + + +CHAPTER V. Ends in War More Precisely Defined (_continued_) Limited +Object + +In the preceding chapter we have said that, under the expression +“overthrow of the enemy,” we understand the real absolute aim of the +“act of war;” now we shall see what remains to be done when the +conditions under which this object might be attained do not exist. + +These conditions presuppose a great physical or moral superiority, or a +great spirit of enterprise, an innate propensity to extreme hazards. +Now where all this is not forthcoming, the aim in the act of war can +only be of two kinds; either the conquest of some small or moderate +portion of the enemy’s country, or the defence of our own until better +times; this last is the usual case in defensive war. + +Whether the one or the other of these aims is of the right kind, can +always be settled by calling to mind the expression used in reference +to the last. _The waiting till more favourable times_ implies that we +have reason to expect such times hereafter, and this waiting for, that +is, defensive war, is always based on this prospect; on the other hand, +offensive war, that is, the taking advantage of the present moment, is +always commanded when the future holds out a better prospect, not to +ourselves, but to our adversary. + +The third case, which is probably the most common, is when neither +party has anything definite to look for from the future, when therefore +it furnishes no motive for decision. In this case, the offensive war is +plainly imperative upon him who is politically the aggressor, that is, +who has the positive motive; for he has taken up arms with that object, +and every moment of time which is lost without any good reason, is so +much lost time _for him_. + +We have here decided for offensive or defensive war on grounds which +have nothing to do with the relative forces of the combatants +respectively, and yet it may appear that it would be nearer right to +make the choice of the offensive or defensive chiefly dependent on the +mutual relations of combatants in point of military strength; our +opinion is, that in doing so we should just leave the right road. The +logical correctness of our simple argument no one will dispute; we +shall now see whether in the concrete case it leads to the contrary. + +Let us suppose a small State which is involved in a contest with a very +superior power, and foresees that with each year its position will +become worse: should it not, if war is inevitable, make use of the time +when its situation is furthest from the worst? Then it must attack, not +because the attack in _itself_ ensures any advantages—it will rather +increase the disparity of forces—but because this State is under the +necessity of either bringing the matter completely to an issue before +the worst time arrives, or of gaining, at least, in the mean time, some +advantages which it may hereafter turn to account. This theory cannot +appear absurd. But if this small State is quite certain that the enemy +will advance against it, then, certainly, it can and may make use of +the defensive against its enemy to procure a first advantage; there is +then at any rate no danger of losing time. + +If, again, we suppose a small State engaged in war with a greater, and +that the future has no influence on their decisions, still, if the +small State is politically the assailant, we demand of it also that it +should go forward to its object. + +If it has had the audacity to propose to itself a positive end in the +face of superior numbers, then it must also act, that is, attack the +foe, if the latter does not save it the trouble. Waiting would be an +absurdity; unless at the moment of execution it has altered its +political resolution, a case which very frequently occurs, and +contributes in no small degree to give wars an indefinite character. + +These considerations on the limited object apply to its connection both +with offensive war and defensive war; we shall consider both in +separate chapters. But we shall first turn our attention to another +phase. + +Hitherto we have deduced the modifications in the object of war solely +from intrinsic reasons. The nature of the political view (or design) we +have only taken into consideration in so far as it is or is not +directed at something positive. Everything else in the political design +is in reality something extraneous to war; but in the second chapter of +the first book (End and Means in War) we have already admitted that the +nature of the political object, the extent of our own or the enemy’s +demand, and our whole political relation practically have a most +decisive influence on the conduct of the war, and we shall therefore +devote the following chapter to that subject specially. + + + +CHAPTER VI. A. Influence of the Political Object on the Military Object + +We never find that a State joining in the cause of another State, takes +it up with the same earnestness as its own. An auxiliary army of +moderate strength is sent; if it is not successful, then the ally looks +upon the affair as in a manner ended, and tries to get out of it on the +cheapest terms possible. + +In European politics it has been usual for States to pledge themselves +to mutual assistance by an alliance offensive and defensive, not so far +that the one takes part in the interests and quarrels of the other, but +only so far as to promise one another beforehand the assistance of a +fixed, generally very moderate, contingent of troops, without regard to +the object of the war, or the scale on which it is about to be carried +on by the principals. In a treaty of alliance of this kind, the ally +does not look upon himself as engaged with the enemy in a war properly +speaking, which should necessarily begin with a declaration of war, and +end with a treaty of peace. Still, this idea also is nowhere fixed with +any distinctness, and usage varies one way and another. + +The thing would have a kind of consistency, and it would be less +embarrassing to the theory of war if this promised contingent of ten, +twenty, or thirty thousand men was handed over entirely to the state +engaged in war, so that it could be used as required; it might then be +regarded as a subsidised force. But the usual practice is widely +different. Generally the auxiliary force has its own commander, who +depends only on his own government, and to whom they prescribe an +object such as best suits the shilly-shally measures they have in view. + +But even if two States go to war with a third, they do not always both +look in like measure upon this common enemy as one that they must +destroy or be destroyed by themselves, the business is often settled +like a commercial transaction; each, according to the amount of the +risk he incurs or the advantage to be expected, takes shares in the +concern to the extent of 30,000 or 40,000 men, and acts as if he could +not lose more than the amount of his investment. + +Not only is this the point of view taken when a State comes to the +assistance of another in a cause in which it has in a manner, little +concern, but even when both allies have a common and very considerable +interest at stake, nothing can be done except under diplomatic +reservation, and the contracting parties usually only agree to furnish +a small stipulated contingent, in order to employ the rest of the +forces according to the special ends to which policy may happen to lead +them. + +This way of regarding wars entered into by reason of alliances was +quite general, and was only obliged to give place to the natural way in +quite modern times, when the extremity of danger drove men’s minds into +the natural direction (as in the wars _against_ Buonaparte), and when +the most boundless power compelled them to it (as _under_ Buonaparte). +It was an abnormal thing, an anomaly, for war and peace are ideas which +in their foundation can have no gradations; nevertheless it was no mere +diplomatic offspring which the reason could look down upon, but deeply +rooted in the natural limitedness and weakness of human nature. + +Lastly, even in wars carried on without allies, the political cause of +a war has a great influence on the method in which it is conducted. + +If we only require from the enemy a small sacrifice, then we content +ourselves with aiming at a small equivalent by the war, and we expect +to attain that by moderate efforts. The enemy reasons in very much the +same way. Now, if one or the other finds that he has erred in his +reckoning that in place of being slightly superior to the enemy, as he +supposed, he is, if anything, rather weaker, still, at that moment, +money and all other means, as well as sufficient moral impulse for +greater exertions are very often deficient: in such a case he just does +what is called “the best he can;” hopes better things in the future, +although he has not the slightest foundation for such hope, and the +war, in the mean time drags itself feebly along, like a body worn out +with sickness. + +Thus it comes to pass that the reciprocal action, the rivalry, the +violence and impetuosity of war lose themselves in the stagnation of +weak motives, and that both parties move with a certain kind of +security in very circumscribed spheres. + +If this influence of the political object is once permitted, as it then +must be, there is no longer any limit, and we must be pleased to come +down to such warfare as consists in a _mere threatening of the enemy_ +and in _negotiating_. + +That the theory of war, if it is to be and to continue a philosophical +study, finds itself here in a difficulty is clear. All that is +essentially inherent in the conception of war seems to fly from it, and +it is in danger of being left without any point of support. But the +natural outlet soon shows itself. According as a modifying principle +gains influence over the act of war, or rather, the weaker the motives +to action become, the more the action will glide into a passive +resistance, the less eventful it will become, and the less it will +require guiding principles. All military art then changes itself into +mere prudence, the principal object of which will be to prevent the +trembling balance from suddenly turning to our disadvantage, and the +half war from changing into a complete one. + + + +B. War as an Instrument of Policy + +Having made the requisite examination on both sides of that state of +antagonism in which the nature of war stands with relation to other +interests of men individually and of the bond of society, in order not +to neglect any of the opposing elements, an antagonism which is founded +in our own nature, and which, therefore, no philosophy can unravel, we +shall now look for that unity into which, in practical life, these +antagonistic elements combine themselves by partly neutralising each +other. We should have brought forward this unity at the very +commencement, if it had not been necessary to bring out this +contradiction very plainly, and also to look at the different elements +separately. Now, this unity is _the conception that war is only a part +of political intercourse, therefore by no means an independent thing in +itself_. + +We know, certainly, that war is only called forth through the political +intercourse of Governments and nations; but in general it is supposed +that such intercourse is broken off by war, and that a totally +different state of things ensues, subject to no laws but its own. + +We maintain, on the contrary: that war is nothing but a continuation of +political intercourse, with a mixture of other means. We say, mixed +with other means, in order thereby to maintain at the same time that +this political intercourse does not cease by the war itself, is not +changed into something quite different, but that, in its essence, it +continues to exist, whatever may be the form of the means which it +uses, and that the chief lines on which the events of the war progress, +and to which they are attached, are only the general features of policy +which run all through the war until peace takes place. And how can we +conceive it to be otherwise? Does the cessation of diplomatic notes +stop the political relations between different nations and Governments? +Is not war merely another kind of writing and language for political +thoughts? It has certainly a grammar of its own, but its logic is not +peculiar to itself. + +Accordingly, war can never be separated from political intercourse, and +if, in the consideration of the matter, this is done in any way, all +the threads of the different relations are, to a certain extent, +broken, and we have before us a senseless thing without an object. + +This kind of idea would be indispensable even if war was perfect war, +the perfectly unbridled element of hostility, for all the circumstances +on which it rests, and which determine its leading features, viz., our +own power, the enemy’s power, allies on both sides, the characteristics +of the people and their Governments respectively, etc., as enumerated +in the first chapter of the first book, are they not of a political +nature, and are they not so intimately connected with the whole +political intercourse that it is impossible to separate them? But this +view is doubly indispensable if we reflect that real war is no such +consistent effort tending to an extreme, as it should be according to +the abstract idea, but a half and half thing, a contradiction in +itself; that, as such, it cannot follow its own laws, but must be +looked upon as a part of another whole, and this whole is policy. + +Policy in making use of war avoids all those rigorous conclusions which +proceed from its nature; it troubles itself little about final +possibilities, confining its attention to immediate probabilities. If +much uncertainty in the whole action ensues therefrom, if it thereby +becomes a sort of game, the policy of each cabinet places its +confidence in the belief that in this game it will surpass its +neighbour in skill and sharpsightedness. + +Thus policy makes out of the all-overpowering element of war a mere +instrument, changes the tremendous battle-sword, which should be lifted +with both hands and the whole power of the body to strike once for all, +into a light handy weapon, which is even sometimes nothing more than a +rapier to exchange thrusts and feints and parries. + +Thus the contradictions in which man, naturally timid, becomes involved +by war, may be solved, if we choose to accept this as a solution. + +If war belongs to policy, it will naturally take its character from +thence. If policy is grand and powerful, so will also be the war, and +this may be carried to the point at which war attains to _its absolute +form_. + +In this way of viewing the subject, therefore, we need not shut out of +sight the absolute form of war, we rather keep it continually in view +in the back ground. + +Only through this kind of view, war recovers unity; only by it can we +see all wars as things of one kind; and it is only through it that the +judgment can obtain the true and perfect basis and point of view from +which great plans may be traced out and determined upon. + +It is true the political element does not sink deep into the details of +war, Vedettes are not planted, patrols do not make their rounds from +political considerations, but small as is its influence in this +respect, it is great in the formation of a plan for a whole war, or a +campaign, and often even for a battle. + +For this reason we were in no hurry to establish this view at the +commencement. While engaged with particulars, it would have given us +little help; and, on the other hand, would have distracted our +attention to a certain extent; in the plan of a war or campaign it is +indispensable. + +There is, upon the whole, nothing more important in life than to find +out the right point of view from which things should be looked at and +judged of, and then to keep to that point; for we can only apprehend +the mass of events in their unity from one standpoint; and it is only +the keeping to one point of view that guards us from inconsistency. + +If, therefore, in drawing up a plan of a war it is not allowable to +have a two-fold or three-fold point of view, from which things may be +looked at, now with the eye of a soldier, then with that of an +administrator, and then again with that of a politician, etc., then the +next question is, whether _policy_ is necessarily paramount, and +everything else subordinate to it. + +That policy unites in itself, and reconciles all the interests of +internal administrations, even those of humanity, and whatever else are +rational subjects of consideration, is presupposed, for it is nothing +in itself, except a mere representative and exponent of all these +interests towards other States. That policy may take a false direction, +and may promote unfairly the ambitious ends, the private interests, the +vanity of rulers, does not concern us here; for, under no circumstances +can the art of war be regarded as its preceptor, and we can only look +at policy here as the representative of the interests generally of the +whole community. + +The only question, therefore, is, whether in framing plans for a war +the political point of view should give way to the purely military (if +such a point is conceivable), that is to say, should disappear +altogether, or subordinate itself to it, or whether the political is to +remain the ruling point of view, and the military to be considered +subordinate to it. + +That the political point of view should end completely when war begins, +is only conceivable in contests which are wars of life and death, from +pure hatred: as wars are in reality, they are as we before said, only +the expressions or manifestations of policy itself. The subordination +of the political point of view to the military would be contrary to +common sense, for policy has declared the war; it is the intelligent +faculty, war only the instrument, and not the reverse. The +subordination of the military point of view to the political is, +therefore, the only thing which is possible. + +If we reflect on the nature of real war, and call to mind what has been +said in the third chapter of this book, _that every war should be +viewed above all things according to the probability of its character, +and its leading features as they are to be deduced from the political +forces and proportions_, and that often—indeed we may safely affirm, in +our days, _almost_ always—war is to be regarded as an organic whole, +from which the single branches are not to be separated, in which +therefore every individual activity flows into the whole, and also has +its origin in the idea of this whole, then it becomes certain and +palpable to us that the superior stand-point for the conduct of the +war, from which its leading lines must proceed, can be no other than +that of policy. + +From this point of view the plans come, as it were, out of a cast; the +apprehension of them and the judgment upon them become easier and more +natural, our convictions respecting them gain in force, motives are +more satisfying, and history more intelligible. + +At all events, from this point of view, there is no longer in the +nature of things a necessary conflict between the political and +military interests, and where it appears it is therefore to be regarded +as imperfect knowledge only. That policy makes demands on the war which +it cannot respond to, would be contrary to the supposition that it +knows the instrument which it is going to use, therefore, contrary to a +natural and indispensable supposition. But if it judges correctly of +the march of military events, it is entirely its affair, and can be its +only to determine what are the events and what the direction of events +most favourable to the ultimate and great end of the war. + +In one word, the art of war in its highest point of view is policy, +but, no doubt, a policy which fights battles, instead of writing notes. + +According to this view, to leave a great military enterprise, or the +plan for one, to a _purely military judgment and decision_, is a +distinction which cannot be allowed, and is even prejudicial; indeed, +it is an irrational proceeding to consult professional soldiers on the +plan of a war, that they may give a _purely military opinion_ upon what +the cabinet should do; but still more absurd is the demand of Theorists +that a statement of the available means of war should be laid before +the general, that he may draw out a purely military plan for the war or +for a campaign, in accordance with those means. Experience in general +also teaches us that notwithstanding the multifarious branches and +scientific character of military art in the present day, still the +leading outlines of a war are always determined by the cabinet, that +is, if we would use technical language, by a political not a military +functionary. + +This is perfectly natural. None of the principal plans which are +required for a war can be made without an insight into the political +relations; and, in reality, when people speak, as they often do, of the +prejudicial influence of policy on the conduct of a war, they say in +reality something very different to what they intend. It is not this +influence but the policy itself which should be found fault with. If +policy is right, that is, if it succeeds in hitting the object, then it +can only act on the war in its sense, with advantage also; and if this +influence of policy causes a divergence from the object, the cause is +only to be looked for in a mistaken policy. + +It is only when policy promises itself a wrong effect from certain +military means and measures, an effect opposed to their nature, that it +can exercise a prejudicial effect on war by the course it prescribes. +Just as a person in a language with which he is not conversant +sometimes says what he does not intend, so policy, when intending +right, may often order things which do not tally with its own views. + +This has happened times without end, and it shows that a certain +knowledge of the nature of war is essential to the management of +political commerce. + +But before going further, we must guard ourselves against a false +interpretation of which this is very susceptible. We are far from +holding the opinion that a war minister, smothered in official papers, +a scientific engineer, or even a soldier who has been well tried in the +field, would, any of them, necessarily make the best minister of State +where the sovereign does not act for himself; or in other words, we do +not mean to say that this acquaintance with the nature of war is the +principal qualification for a war minister; elevation, superiority of +mind, strength of character, these are the principal qualifications +which he must possess; a knowledge of war may be supplied in one way or +the other. France was never worse advised in its military and political +affairs than by the two Brothers Belleisle and the Duke of Choiseul, +although all three were good soldiers. + +If war is to harmonise entirely with the political views and policy, to +accommodate itself to the means available for war, there is only one +alternative to be recommended when the statesman and soldier are not +combined in one person, which is, to make the chief commander a member +of the cabinet, that he may take part in its councils and decisions on +important occasions. But then again, this is only possible when the +cabinet, that is the government itself, is near the theatre of war, so +that things can be settled without a serious waste of time. + +This is what the Emperor of Austria did in 1809, and the allied +sovereigns in 1813, 1814, 1815, and the arrangement proved completely +satisfactory. + +The influence of any military man except the General-in Chief in the +cabinet, is extremely dangerous; it very seldom leads to able vigorous +action. The example of France in 1793, 1794, 1795, when Carnot, while +residing in Paris, managed the conduct of the war, is to be avoided, as +a system of terror is not at the command of any but a revolutionary +government. + +We shall now conclude with some reflections derived from history. + +In the last decennary of the past century, when that remarkable change +in the art of war in Europe took place by which the best armies found +that a part of their method of war had become utterly unserviceable, +and events were brought about of a magnitude far beyond what any one +had any previous conception of, it certainly appeared that a false +calculation of everything was to be laid to the charge of the art of +war. It was plain that while confined by habit within a narrow circle +of conceptions, she had been surprised by the force of a new state of +relations, lying, no doubt, outside that circle, but still not outside +the nature of things. + +Those observers who took the most comprehensive view, ascribed the +circumstance to the general influence which policy had exercised for +centuries on the art of war, and undoubtedly to its very great +disadvantage, and by which it had sunk into a half-measure, often into +mere sham fighting. They were right as to fact, but they were wrong in +attributing it to something accidental, or which might have been +avoided. + +Others thought that everything was to be explained by the momentary +influence of the particular policy of Austria, Prussia, England, etc., +with regard to their own interests respectively. + +But is it true that the real surprise by which men’s minds were seized, +was confined to the conduct of war, and did not rather relate to policy +itself? That is, as we should say: did the ill success proceed from the +influence of policy on the war, or from a wrong policy itself? + +The prodigious effects of the French revolution abroad were evidently +brought about much less through new methods and views introduced by the +French in the conduct of war than through the changes which it wrought +in state-craft and civil administration, in the character of +governments, in the condition of the people, etc. That other +governments took a mistaken view of all these things; that they +endeavoured, with their ordinary means, to hold their own against +forces of a novel kind, and overwhelming in strength; all that was a +blunder in policy. + +Would it have been possible to perceive and mend this error by a scheme +for the war from a purely military point of view? Impossible. For if +there had been, even in reality, a philosophical strategist, who merely +from the nature of the hostile elements, had foreseen all the +consequences, and prophesied remote possibilities, still it would have +been purely impossible to have turned such wisdom to account. + +If policy had risen to a just appreciation of the forces which had +sprung up in France, and of the new relations in the political state of +Europe, it might have foreseen the consequences, which must follow in +respect to the great features of war, and it was only in this way that +it could arrive at a correct view of the extent of the means required +as well as of the best use to make of those means. + +We may therefore say, that the twenty years’ victories of the +revolution are chiefly to be ascribed to the erroneous policy of the +governments by which it was opposed. + +It is true these errors first displayed themselves in the war, and the +events of the war completely disappointed the expectations which policy +entertained. But this did not take place because policy neglected to +consult its military advisers. That art of war in which the politician +of the day could believe, namely, that derived from the reality of war +at that time, that which belonged to the policy of the day, that +familiar instrument which policy had hitherto used—_that_ art of war, I +say, was naturally involved in the error of policy, and therefore could +not teach it anything better. It is true that war itself underwent +important alterations both in its nature and forms, which brought it +nearer to its absolute form; but these changes were not brought about +because the French Government had, to a certain extent, delivered +itself from the leading-strings of policy; they arose from an altered +policy, produced by the French Revolution, not only in France, but over +the rest of Europe as well. This policy had called forth other means +and other powers, by which it became possible to conduct war with a +degree of energy which could not have been thought of otherwise. + +Therefore, the actual changes in the art of war are a consequence of +alterations in policy; and, so far from being an argument for the +possible separation of the two, they are, on the contrary, very strong +evidence of the intimacy of their connexion. + +Therefore, once more: war is an instrument of policy; it must +necessarily bear its character, it must measure with its scale: the +conduct of war, in its great features, is therefore policy itself, +which takes up the sword in place of the pen, but does not on that +account cease to think according to its own laws. + + + +CHAPTER VII. Limited Object—Offensive War + +Even if the complete overthrow of the enemy cannot be the object, there +may still be one which is directly positive, and this positive object +can be nothing else than the conquest of a part of the enemy’s country. + +The use of such a conquest is this, that we weaken the enemy’s +resources generally, therefore, of course, his military power, while we +increase our own; that we therefore carry on the war, to a certain +extent, at his expense; further in this way, that in negotiations for +peace, the possession of the enemy’s provinces may be regarded as net +gain, because we can either keep them or exchange them for other +advantages. + +This view of a conquest of the enemy’s provinces is very natural, and +would be open to no objection if it were not that the defensive +attitude, which must succeed the offensive, may often cause uneasiness. + +In the chapter on the culminating point of victory we have sufficiently +explained the manner in which such an offensive weakens the combatant +force, and that it may be succeeded by a situation causing anxiety as +to the future. + +This weakening of our combatant force by the conquest of part of the +enemy’s territory has its degrees, and these depend chiefly on the +geographical position of this portion of territory. The more it is an +annex of our own country, being contiguous to or embraced by it, the +more it is in the direction of our principal force, by so much the less +will it weaken our combatant force. In the Seven Years’ War, Saxony was +a natural complement of the Prussian theatre of war, and Frederick the +Great’s army, instead of being weakened, was strengthened by the +possession of that province, because it lies nearer to Silesia than to +the Mark, and at the same time covers the latter. + +Even in 1740 and 1741, after Frederick the Great had once conquered +Silesia, it did not weaken his army in the field, because, owing to its +form and situation as well as the contour of its frontier line, it only +presented a narrow point to the Austrians, as long as they were not +masters of Saxony, and besides that, this small point of contact also +lay in the direction of the chief operations of the contending forces. + +If, on the other hand, the conquered territory is a strip running up +between hostile provinces, has an eccentric position and unfavourable +configuration of ground, then the weakening increases so visibly that a +victorious battle becomes not only much easier for the enemy, but it +may even become unnecessary as well. + +The Austrians have always been obliged to evacuate Provence without a +battle when they have made attempts on it from Italy. In the year 1744 +the French were very well pleased even to get out of Bohemia without +having lost a battle. In 1758 Frederick the Great could not hold his +position in Bohemia and Moravia with the same force with which he had +obtained such brilliant successes in Silesia and Saxony in 1757. +Examples of armies not being able to keep possession of conquered +territory solely because their combatant force was so much weakened +thereby, are so common that it does not appear necessary to quote any +more of them. + +Therefore, the question whether we should aim at such an object depends +on whether we can expect to hold possession of the conquest or whether +a temporary occupation (invasion, diversion) would repay the +expenditure of force required: especially, whether we have not to +apprehend such a vigorous counterstroke as will completely destroy the +balance of forces. In the chapter on the culmination point we have +treated of the consideration due to this question in each particular +case. + +There is just one point which we have still to add. + +An offensive of this kind will not always compensate us for what we +lose upon other points. Whilst we are engaged in making a partial +conquest, the enemy may be doing the same at other points, and if our +enterprise does not greatly preponderate in importance then it will not +compel the enemy to give up his. It is, therefore, a question for +serious consideration whether we may not lose more than we gain in a +case of this description. + +Even if we suppose two provinces (one on each side) to be of equal +value, we shall always lose more by the one which the enemy takes from +us than we can gain by the one we take, because a number of our forces +become to a certain extent like _faux frais_, non-effective. But as the +same takes place on the enemy’s side also, one would suppose that in +reality there is no ground to attach more importance to the maintenance +of what is our own than to the conquest. But yet there is. The +maintenance of our own territory is always a matter which more deeply +concerns us, and the suffering inflicted on our own state can not be +outweighed, nor, to a certain extent, neutralised by what we gain in +return, unless the latter promises a high percentage, that is, is much +greater. + +The consequence of all this is that a strategic attack directed against +only a moderate object involves a greater necessity for steps to defend +other points which it does not directly cover than one which is +directed against the centre of the enemy’s force; consequently, in such +an attack the concentration of forces in time and space cannot be +carried out to the same extent. In order that it may take place, at +least as regards time, it becomes necessary for the advance to be made +offensively from every point possible, and at the same moment exactly: +and therefore this attack loses the other advantage of being able to +make shift with a much smaller force by acting on the defensive at +particular points. In this way the effect of aiming at a minor object +is to bring all things more to a level: the whole act of the war cannot +now be concentrated into one principal affair which can be governed +according to leading points of view; it is more dispersed; the friction +becomes greater everywhere, and there is everywhere more room for +chance. + +This is the natural tendency of the thing. The commanders weighed down +by it, finds himself more and more neutralised. The more he is +conscious of his own powers, the greater his resources subjectively, +and his power objectively, so much the more he will seek to liberate +himself from this tendency in order to give to some one point a +preponderating importance, even if that should only be possible by +running greater risks. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. Limited Object—Defence + +The ultimate aim of defensive war can never be an absolute negation, as +we have before observed. Even for the weakest there must be some point +in which the enemy may be made to feel, and which may be threatened. + +Certainly we may say that this object is the exhaustion of the +adversary, for as he has a positive object, every one of his blows +which fails, if it has no other result than the loss of the force +applied, still may be considered a retrograde step _in reality_, whilst +the loss which the defensive suffers is not in vain, because his object +was keeping possession, and that he has effected. This would be +tantamount to saying that the defensive has his positive object in +merely keeping possession. Such reasoning might be good if it was +certain that the assailant after a certain number of fruitless attempts +must be worn out, and desist from further efforts. But just this +necessary consequence is wanting. If we look at the exhaustion of +forces, the defender is under a disadvantage. The assailant becomes +weaker, but only in the sense that it may reach a turning point; if we +set aside that supposition, the weakening goes on certainly more +rapidly on the defensive side than on that of the assailant: for in the +first place, he is the weaker, and, therefore, if the losses on both +sides are equal, he loses more actually than the other; in the next +place, he is deprived generally of a portion of territory and of his +resources. We have, therefore, here no ground on which to build the +expectation that the offensive will cease, and nothing remains but the +idea that if the assailant repeats his blows, while the defensive does +nothing but wait to ward them off, then the defender has no +counterpoise as a set off to the risk he runs of one of these attacks +succeeding sooner or later. + +Although in reality the exhaustion, or rather the weakening of the +stronger, has brought about a peace in many instances that is to be +attributed to the indecision which is so general in war, but cannot be +imagined philosophically as the general and ultimate object of any +defensive war whatever, there is, therefore, no alternative but that +the defence should find its object in the idea of the “_waiting for_,” +which is besides its real character. This idea in itself includes that +of an alteration of circumstances, of an improvement of the situation, +which, therefore, when it cannot be brought about by internal means, +that is, by defensive pure in itself, can only be expected through +assistance coming from without. Now, this improvement from without can +proceed from nothing else than a change in political relations; either +new alliances spring up in favour of the defender, or old ones directed +against him fall to pieces. + +Here, then, is the object for the defender, in case his weakness does +not permit him to think of any important counterstroke. But this is not +the nature of every defensive war, according to the conception which we +have given of its form. According to that conception it is the stronger +form of war, and on account of that strength it can also be applied +when a counterstroke more or less important is designed. + +These two cases must be kept distinct from the very first, as they have +an influence on the defence. + +In the first case, the defender’s object is to keep possession of his +own country intact as long as possible, because in that way he gains +most time; and gaining time is the only way to attain his object. The +positive object which he can in most cases attain, and which will give +him an opportunity of carrying out his object in the negotiations for +peace, he cannot yet include in his plan for the war. In this state of +strategic passiveness, the advantages which the defender can gain at +certain points consist in merely repelling partial attacks; the +preponderance gained at those points he tries to make of service to him +at others, for he is generally hard pressed at all points. If he has +not the opportunity of doing this, then there often only accrues to him +the small advantage that the enemy will leave him at rest for a time. + +If the defender is not altogether too weak, small offensive operations +directed less towards permanent possession than a temporary advantage +to cover losses, which may be sustained afterwards, invasions, +diversions, or enterprises against a single fortress, may have a place +in this defensive system without altering its object or essence. + +But in the second case, in which a positive object is already grafted +upon the defensive, the greater the counterstroke that is warranted by +circumstances the more the defensive imports into itself of positive +character. In other words, the more the defence has been adopted +voluntarily, in order to make the first blow surer, the bolder may be +the snares which the defender lays for his opponent. The boldest, and +if it succeeds, the most effectual, is the retreat into the interior of +the country; and this means is then at the same time that which differs +most widely from the other system. + +Let us only think of the difference between the position in which +Frederick the Great was placed in the Seven Years’ War, and that of +Russia in 1812. + +When the war began, Frederick, through his advanced state of +preparation for war, had a kind of superiority, this gave him the +advantage of being able to make himself master of Saxony, which was +besides such a natural complement of his theatre of war, that the +possession of it did not diminish, but increased, his combatant force. + +At the opening of the campaign of 1757, the King endeavoured to proceed +with his strategic attack, which seemed not impossible as long as the +Russians and French had not yet reached the theatre of war in Silesia, +the Mark and Saxony. But the attack miscarried, and Frederick was +thrown back on the defensive for the rest of the campaign, was obliged +to evacuate Bohemia and to rescue his own theatre from the enemy, in +which he only succeeded by turning himself with one and the same army, +first upon the French, and then upon the Austrians. This advantage he +owed entirely to the defensive. + +In the year 1758 when his enemies had drawn round him in a closer +circle, and his forces were dwindling down to a very disproportionate +relation, he determined on an offensive on a small scale in Moravia: +his plan was to take Olmütz before his enemies were prepared; not in +the expectation of keeping possession of, or of making it a base for +further advance, but to use it as a sort of advanced work, a +_counter-approach_ against the Austrians, who would be obliged to +devote the rest of the present campaign, and perhaps even a second, to +recover possession of it. This attack also miscarried. Frederick then +gave up all idea of a real offensive, as he saw that it only increased +the disproportion of his army. A compact position in the heart of his +own country in Saxony and Silesia, the use of short lines, that he +might be able rapidly to increase his forces at any point which might +be menaced, a battle when unavoidable, small incursions when +opportunity offered, and along with this a patient state of waiting-for +(expectation), a saving of his means for better times became now his +general plan. By degrees the execution of it became more and more +passive. As he saw that even a victory cost him too much, therefore he +tried to manage at still less expense; everything depended on gaining +time, and on keeping what he had got; he therefore became more +tenacious of yielding any ground, and did not hesitate to adopt a +perfect cordon system. The positions of Prince Henry in Saxony, as well +as those of the King in the Silesian mountains, may be so termed. In +his letters to the Marquis d’Argens, he manifests the impatience with +which he looks forward to winter quarters, and the satisfaction he felt +at being able to take them up again without having suffered any serious +loss. + +Whoever blames Frederick for this, and looks upon it as a sign that his +spirit had sunk, would, we think, pass judgment without much +reflection. + +If the entrenched camp at Bunzelwitz, the positions taken up by Prince +Henry in Saxony, and by the King in the Silesian mountains, do not +appear to us now as measures on which a General should place his +dependence in a last extremity because a Buonaparte would soon have +thrust his sword through such tactical cobwebs, we must not forget that +times have changed, that war has become a totally different thing, is +quickened with new energies, and that therefore positions might have +been excellent at that time, although they are not so now, and that in +addition to all, the character of the enemy deserves attention. Against +the army of the German States, against Daun and Butturlin, it might +have been the height of wisdom to employ means which Frederick would +have despised if used against himself. + +The result justified this view: in the state of patient expectation, +Frederick attained his object, and got round difficulties in a +collision with which his forces would have been dashed to pieces. + +The relation in point of numbers between the Russian and French armies +opposed to each other at the opening of the campaign in 1812 was still +more unfavourable to the former than that between Frederick and his +enemies in the Seven Years’ War. But the Russians looked forward to +being joined by large reinforcements in the course of the campaign. All +Europe was in secret hostility to Buonaparte, his power had been +screwed up to the highest point, a devouring war occupied him in Spain, +and the vast extent of Russia allowed of pushing the exhaustion of the +enemy’s military means to the utmost extremity by a retreat over a +hundred miles of country. Under circumstances on this grand scale, a +tremendous counterstroke was not only to be expected if the French +enterprise failed (and how could it succeed if the Russian Emperor +would not make peace, or his subjects did not rise in insurrection?) +but this counterstroke might also end in the complete destruction of +the enemy. The most profound sagacity could, therefore, not have +devised a better plan of campaign than that which the Russians followed +on the spur of the moment. + +That this was not the opinion at the time, and that such a view would +then have been looked upon as preposterous, is no reason for our now +denying it to be the right one. If we are to learn from history, we +must look upon things which have actually happened as also possible in +the future, and that the series of great events which succeeded the +march upon Moscow is not a succession of mere accidents every one will +grant who can claim to give an opinion on such subjects. If it had been +possible for the Russians, with great efforts, to defend their +frontier, it is certainly probable that in such case also the French +power would have sunk, and that they would have at last suffered a +reverse of fortune; but the reaction then would certainly not have been +so violent and decisive. By sufferings and sacrifices (which certainly +in any other country would have been greater, and in most would have +been impossible) Russia purchased this enormous success. + +Thus a great positive success can never be obtained except through +positive measures, planned not with a view to a mere state of +“waiting-for,” but with a view to a _decision_, in short, even on the +defensive, there is no great gain to be won except by a great stake. + + + +CHAPTER IX. Plan of War when the Destruction of the Enemy is the Object + +Having characterised in detail the different aims to which war may be +directed, we shall go through the organisation of war as a whole for +each of the three separate gradations corresponding to these aims. + +In conformity with all that has been said on the subject up to the +present, two fundamental principles reign throughout the whole plan of +the war, and serve as a guide for everything else. + +The first is: to reduce the weight of the enemy’s power into as few +centres of gravity as possible, into one if it can be done; again, to +confine the attack against these centres of force to as few principal +undertakings as possible, to one if possible; lastly, to keep all +secondary undertakings as subordinate as possible. In a word, the first +principle is, _to act concentrated as much as possible_. + +The second principle runs thus _to act as swiftly as possible;_ +therefore, to allow of no delay or detour without sufficient reason. + +The reducing the enemy’s power to one central point depends + +1. On the nature of its political connection. If it consists of armies +of one Power, there is generally no difficulty; if of allied armies, of +which one is acting simply as an ally without any interest of its own, +then the difficulty is not much greater; if of a coalition for a common +object, then it depends on the cordiality of the alliance; we have +already treated of this subject. + +2. On the situation of the theatre of war upon which the different +hostile armies make their appearance. + +If the enemy’s forces are collected in one army upon one theatre of +war, they constitute in reality a unity, and we need not inquire +further; if they are upon one theatre of war, but in separate armies, +which belong to different Powers, there is no longer absolute unity; +there is, however, a sufficient interdependence of parts for a decisive +blow upon one part to throw down the other in the concussion. If the +armies are posted in theatres of war adjoining each other, and not +separated by any great natural obstacles, then there is in such case +also a decided influence of the one upon the other; but if the theatres +of war are wide apart, if there is neutral territory, great mountains, +etc., intervening between them, then the influence is very doubtful and +improbable as well; if they are on quite opposite sides of the State +against which the war is made, so that operations directed against them +must diverge on eccentric lines, then almost every trace of connection +is at an end. + +If Prussia was attacked by France and Russia at the same time, it would +be as respects the conduct of the war much the same as if there were +two separate wars; at the same time the unity would appear in the +negotiations. + +Saxony and Austria, on the contrary, as military powers in the Seven +Years’ War, were to be regarded as one; what the one suffered the other +felt also, partly because the theatres of war lay in the same direction +for Frederick the Great, partly because Saxony had no political +independence. + +Numerous as were the enemies of Buonaparte in Germany in 1813, still +they all stood very much in one direction in respect to him, and the +theatres of war for their armies were in close connection, and +reciprocally influenced each other very powerfully. If by a +concentration of all his forces he had been able to overpower the main +army, such a defeat would have had a decisive effect on all the parts. +If he had beaten the Bohemain grand army, and marched upon Vienna by +Prague, Blücher, however willing, could not have remained in Saxony, +because he would have been called upon to co-operate in Bohemia, and +the Crown Prince of Sweden as well would have been unwilling to remain +in the Mark. + +On the other hand, Austria, if carrying on war against the French on +the Rhine and Italy at the same time, will always find it difficult to +give a decision upon one of those theatres by means of a successful +stroke on the other. Partly because Switzerland, with its mountains, +forms too strong a barrier between the two theatres, and partly because +the direction of the roads on each side is divergent. France, again, +can much sooner decide in the one by a successful result in the other, +because the direction of its forces in both converges upon Vienna, the +centre of the power of the whole Austrian empire; we may add further, +that a decisive blow in Italy will have more effect on the Rhine +theatre than a success on the Rhine would have in Italy, because the +blow from Italy strikes nearer to the centre, and that from the Rhine +more upon the flank, of the Austrian dominions. + +It proceeds from what we have said that the conception of separated or +connected hostile power extends through all degrees of relationship, +and that therefore, in each case, the first thing is to discover the +influence which events in one theatre may have upon the other, +according to which we may then afterwards settle how far the different +forces of the enemy may be reduced into one centre of force. + +There is only one exception to the principle of directing all our +strength against the centre of gravity of the enemy’s power, that is, +if ancillary expeditions promise _extraordinary advantages_, and still, +in this case, it is a condition assumed, that we have such a decisive +superiority as enables us to undertake such enterprises without +incurring too great risk at the point which forms our great object. + +When General Bulow marched into Holland in 1814, it was to be foreseen +that the thirty thousand men composing his corps would not only +neutralise the same number of Frenchmen, but would, besides, give the +English and the Dutch an opportunity of entering the field with forces +which otherwise would never have been brought into activity. + +Thus, therefore, the first consideration in the combination of a plan +for a war, is to determine the centres of gravity of the enemy’s power, +and, if possible, to reduce them to one. The second is to unite the +forces which are to be employed against the centre of force into one +great action. + +Here now the following grounds for dividing our forces may present +themselves: + +1. The original position of the military forces, therefore also the +situation of the States engaged in the offensive. + +If the concentration of the forces would occasion detours and loss of +time, and the danger of advancing by separate lines is not too great, +then the same may be justifiable on those grounds; for to effect an +unnecessary concentration of forces, with great loss of time, by which +the freshness and rapidity of the first blow is diminished, would be +contrary to the second leading principle we have laid down. In all +cases in which there is a hope of surprising the enemy in some measure, +this deserves particular attention. + +But the case becomes still more important if the attack is undertaken +by allied States which are not situated on a line directed towards the +State attacked not one behind the other but situated side by side. If +Prussia and Austria undertook a war against France, it would be a very +erroneous measure, a squandering of time and force if the armies of the +two powers were obliged to set out from the same point, as the natural +line for an army operating from Prussia against the heart of France is +from the Lower Rhine, and that of the Austrians is from the Upper +Rhine. Concentration, therefore, in this case, could only be effected +by a sacrifice; consequently in any particular instance, the question +to be decided would be, Is the necessity for concentration so great +that this sacrifice must be made? + +2. The attack by separate lines may offer greater results. + +As we are now speaking of advancing by separate lines against one +centre of force, we are, therefore, supposing an advance by _converging +lines_. A separate advance on parallel or eccentric lines belongs to +the rubric of _accessory undertakings_, of which we have already +spoken. + +Now, every convergent attack in strategy, as well as in tactics, holds +out the prospect of great results; for if it succeeds, the consequence +is not simply a defeat, but more or less the cutting off of the enemy. +The concentric attack is, therefore, always that which may lead to the +greatest results; but on account of the separation of the parts of the +force, and the enlargement of the theatre of war, it involves also the +most risk; it is the same here as with attack and defence, the weaker +form holds out the greater results in prospect. + +The question, therefore, is, whether the assailant feels strong enough +to try for this great result. + +When Frederick the Great advanced upon Bohemia, in the year 1757, he +set out from Saxony and Silesia with his forces divided. The two +principal reasons for his doing so were, first, that his forces were so +cantoned in the winter that a concentration of them at one point would +have divested the attack of all the advantages of a surprise; and next, +that by this concentric advance, each of the two Austrian theatres of +war was threatened in the flanks and the rear. The danger to which +Frederick the Great exposed himself on that occasion was that one of +his two armies might have been completely defeated by superior forces; +should the Austrians _not see this_, then they would have to give +battle with their centre only, or run the risk of being thrown off +their line of communication, either on one side or the other, and +meeting with a catastrophe; this was the great result which the king +hoped for by this advance. The Austrians preferred the battle in the +centre, but Prague, where they took up their position, was in a +situation too much under the influence of the convergent attack, which, +as they remained perfectly passive in their position, had time to +develop its efficacy to the utmost. The consequence of this was that +when they lost the battle, it was a complete catastrophe; as is +manifest from the fact that two-thirds of the army with the +commander-in-chief were obliged to shut themselves up in Prague. + +This brilliant success at the opening of the campaign was attained by +the bold stroke with a concentric attack. If Frederick considered the +precision of his own movements, the energy of his generals, the moral +superiority of his troops, on the one side, and the sluggishness of the +Austrians on the other, as sufficient to ensure the success of his +plan, who can blame him? But as we cannot leave these moral advantages +out of consideration, neither can we ascribe the success solely to the +mere geometrical form of the attack. Let us only think of the not less +brilliant campaign of Buonaparte’s, in the year 1796, when the +Austrians were so severely punished for their concentric march into +Italy. The means which the French general had at command on that +occasion, the Austrian general had also at his disposal in 1757 (with +the exception of the moral), indeed, he had rather more, for he was +not, like Buonaparte, weaker than his adversary. Therefore, when it is +to be apprehended that the advance on separate converging lines may +afford the enemy the means of counteracting the inequality of numerical +forces by using interior lines, such a form of attack is not advisable; +and if on account of the situation of the belligerents, it must be +resorted to, it can only be regarded as a necessary evil. + +If, from this point of view, we cast our eyes on the plan which was +adopted for the invasion of France in 1814, it is impossible to give it +approval. The Russian, Austrian, and Prussian armies were concentrated +at a point near Frankfort on the Maine, on the most natural and most +direct line to the centre of the force of the French monarchy. These +armies were then separated, that one might penetrate into France from +Mayence, the other from Switzerland. As the enemy’s force was so +reduced that a defence of the frontier was out of the question, the +whole advantage to be expected from this concentric advance, if it +succeeded, was that while Lorraine and Alsace were conquered by one +army, Franche-Comte would be taken by the other. Was this trifling +advantage worth the trouble of marching into Switzerland? We know very +well that there were other (but just as insufficient) grounds which +caused this march; but we confine ourselves here to the point which we +are considering. + +On the other side, Buonaparte was a man who thoroughly understood the +defensive to oppose to a concentric attack, as he had already shown in +his masterly campaign of 1796; and although the Allies were very +considerably superior in numbers, yet the preponderance due to his +superiority as a general was on all occasions acknowledged. He joined +his army too late near Chalons, and looked down rather too much, +generally, on his opponents, still he was very near hitting the two +armies separately; and what was the state he found them in at Brienne? +Blücher had only 27,000 of his 65,000 men with him, and the great army, +out of 200,000, had only 100,000 present. It was impossible to make a +better game for the adversary. And from the moment that active work +began, no greater want was felt than that of re-union. + +After all these reflections, we think that although the concentric +attack is in itself a means of obtaining greater results, still it +should generally only proceed from a previous separation of the parts +composing the whole force, and that there are few cases in which we +should do right in giving up the shortest and most direct line of +operation for the sake of adopting that form. + +3. The breadth of a theatre of war can be a motive for attacking on +separate lines. + +If an army on the offensive in its advance from any point, penetrates +with success to some distance into the interior of the enemy’s country, +then, certainly, the space which it commands is not restricted exactly +to the line of road by which it marches, it will command a margin on +each side; still that will depend very much, if we may use the figure, +on the solidity and cohesion of the opposing State. If the State only +hangs loosely together, if its people are an effeminate race +unaccustomed to war, then, without our taking much trouble, a +considerable extent of country will open behind our victorious army; +but if we have to deal with a brave and loyal population, the space +behind our army will form a triangle, more or less acute. + +In order to obviate this evil, the attacking force requires to regulate +its advance on a certain width of front. If the enemy’s force is +concentrated at a particular point, this breadth of front can only be +preserved so long as we are not in contact with the enemy, and must be +contracted as we approach his position: that is easy to understand. + +But if the enemy himself has taken up a position with a certain extent +of front, then there is nothing absurd in a corresponding extension on +our part. We speak here of one theatre of war, or of several, if they +are quite close to each other. Obviously this is, therefore, the case +when, according to our view, the chief operation is, at the same time, +to be decisive on subordinate points + +But now can we _always_ run the chance of this? And may we expose +ourselves to the danger which must arise if the influence of the chief +operation is not sufficient to decide at the minor points? Does not the +want of a certain breadth for a theatre of war deserve special +consideration? + +Here as well as everywhere else it is impossible to exhaust the number +of combinations which _may take_ place; but we maintain that, with few +exceptions, the decision on the capital point will carry with it the +decision on all minor points. Therefore, the action should be regulated +in conformity with this principle, in all cases in which the contrary +is not evident. + +When Buonaparte invaded Russia, he had good reason to believe that by +conquering the main body of the Russian army he would compel their +forces on the Upper Dwina to succumb. He left at first only the corps +of Oudinot to oppose them, but Wittgenstein assumed the offensive, and +Buonaparte was then obliged to send also the sixth corps to that +quarter. + +On the other hand, at the beginning of the campaign, he directed a part +of his forces against Bagration; but that general was carried along by +the influence of the backward movement in the centre, and Buonaparte +was enabled then to recall that part of his forces. If Wittgenstein had +not had to cover the second capital, he would also have followed the +retreat of the great army under Barclay. + +In the years 1805 and 1809, Buonaparte’s victories at Ulm and Ratisbon +decided matters in Italy and also in the Tyrol, although the first was +rather a distant theatre, and an independent one in itself. In the year +1806, his victories at Jena and Auerstadt were decisive in respect to +everything that might have been attempted against him in Westphalia and +Hesse, or on the Frankfort road. + +Amongst the number of circumstances which may have an influence on the +resistance at secondary points, there are two which are the most +prominent. + +The first is: that in a country of vast extent, and also relatively of +great power, like Russia, we can put off the decisive blow at the chief +point for some time, and are not obliged to do all in a hurry. + +The second is: when a minor point (like Silesia in the year 1806), +through a great number of fortresses, possesses an extraordinary degree +of independent strength. And yet Buonaparte treated that point with +great contempt, inasmuch as, when he had to leave such a point +completely in his rear on the march to Warsaw, he only detached 20,000 +men under his brother Jerome to that quarter. + +If it happens that the blow at the capital point, in all probability, +will not shake such a secondary point, or has not done so, and if the +enemy has still forces at that point, then to these, as a necessary +evil, an adequate force must be opposed, because no one can absolutely +lay open his line of communication from the very commencement. + +But prudence may go a step further; it may require that the advance +upon the chief point shall keep pace with that on the secondary points, +and consequently the principal undertaking must be delayed whenever the +secondary points will not succumb. + +This principle does not directly contradict ours as to uniting all +action as far as possible in one great undertaking, but the spirit from +which it springs is diametrically opposed to the spirit in which ours +is conceived. By following such a principle there would be such a +measured pace in the movements, such a paralysation of the impulsive +force, such room for the freak of chance, and such a loss of time, as +would be practically perfectly inconsistent with an offensive directed +to the complete overthrow of the enemy. + +The difficulty becomes still greater if the forces stationed at these +minor points can retire on divergent lines. What would then become of +the unity of our attack? + +We must, therefore, declare ourselves completely opposed in principle +to the dependence of the chief attack on minor attacks, and we maintain +that an attack directed to the destruction of the enemy which has not +the boldness to shoot, like the point of an arrow, direct at the heart +of the enemy’s power, can never hit the mark. + +4. Lastly, there is still a fourth ground for a separate advance in the +facility which it may afford for subsistence. + +It is certainly much pleasanter to march with a small army through an +opulent country, than with a large army through a poor one; but by +suitable measures, and with an army accustomed to privations, the +latter is not impossible, and, therefore, the first should never have +such an influence on our plans as to lead us into a great danger. + +We have now done justice to the grounds for a separation of forces +which divides the chief operation into several, and if the separation +takes place on any of these grounds, with a distinct conception of the +object, and after due consideration of the advantages and +disadvantages, we shall not venture to find fault. + +But if, as usually happens, a plan is drawn out by a learned general +staff, merely according to routine; if different theatres of war, like +the squares on a chess board, must each have its piece first placed on +it before the moves begin, if these moves approach the aim in +complicated lines and relations by dint of an imaginary profundity in +the art of combination, if the armies are to separate to-day in order +to apply all their skill in reuniting at the greatest risk in fourteen +days then we have a perfect horror of this abandonment of the direct +simple common-sense road to rush intentionally into absolute confusion. +This folly happens more easily the less the general-in-chief directs +the war, and conducts it in the sense which we have pointed out in the +first chapter as an act of his individuality invested with +extraordinary powers; the more, therefore, the whole plan is +manufactured by an inexperienced staff, and from the ideas of a dozen +smatterers. + +We have still now to consider the third part of our first principle; +that is, to keep the subordinate parts as much as possible in +subordination. + +Whilst we endeavour to refer the whole of the operations of a war to +one single aim, and try to attain this as far as possible by _one great +effort_, we deprive the other points of contact of the States at war +with each other of a part of their independence; they become +subordinate actions. If we could concentrate everything absolutely into +one action, then those points of contact would be completely +neutralised; but this is seldom possible, and, therefore, what we have +to do is to keep them so far within bounds, that they shall not cause +the abstraction of too many forces from the main action. + +Next, we maintain that the plan of the war itself should have this +tendency, even if it is not possible to reduce the whole of the enemy’s +resistance to one point; consequently, in case we are placed in the +position already mentioned, of carrying on two almost quite separate +wars at the same time, the one must always be looked upon as the +_principal affair_ to which our forces and activity are to be chiefly +devoted. + +In this view, it is advisable only to proceed _offensively_ against +that one principal point, and to preserve the defensive upon all the +others. The attack there being only justifiable when invited by very +exceptional circumstances. + +Further we are to carry on this defensive, which takes place at minor +points, with as few troops as possible, and to seek to avail ourselves +of every advantage which the defensive form can give. + +This view applies with still more force to all theatres of war on which +armies come forward belonging to different powers really, but still +such as will be struck when the general centre of force is struck. + +But against _the enemy_ at whom the great blow is aimed, there must be, +according to this, no defensive on minor theatres of war. The chief +attack itself, and the secondary attacks, which for other reasons are +combined with it, make up this blow, and make every defensive, on +points not directly covered by it, superfluous. All depends on this +principal attack; by it every loss will be compensated. If the forces +are sufficient to make it reasonable to seek for that great decision, +then the _possibility of failure_ can be no ground for guarding oneself +against injury at other points in any event; for just by _such a +course_ this failure will become more probable, and it therefore +constitutes here a contradiction in our action. + +This same predominance of the principal action over the minor, must be +the principle observed in each of the separate branches of the attack. +But as there are generally ulterior motives which determine what forces +shall advance from one theatre of war, and what from another against +the common centre of the enemy’s power, we only mean here that there +must be an _effort to make the chief action over-ruling_, for +everything will become simpler and less subject to the influence of +chance events the nearer this state of preponderance can be attained. + +The second principle concerns the rapid use of the forces. + +Every unnecessary expenditure of time, every unnecessary detour, is a +waste of power, and therefore contrary to the principles of strategy. + +It is most important to bear always in mind that almost the only +advantage which the offensive possesses, is the effect of surprise at +the opening of the scene. Suddenness and irresistible impetuosity are +its strongest pinions; and when the object is the complete overthrow of +the enemy, it can rarely dispense with them. + +By this, therefore, theory demands the shortest way to the object, and +completely excludes from consideration endless discussions about right +and left here and there. + +If we call to mind what was said in the chapter on the subject of the +strategic attack respecting the pit of the stomach in a state, and +further, what appears in the fourth chapter of this book, on the +influence of time, we believe no further argument is required to prove +that the influence which we claim for that principle really belongs to +it. + +Buonaparte never acted otherwise. The shortest high road from army to +army, from one capital to another, was always the way he loved best. + +And in what will now consist the principal action to which we have +referred everything, and for which we have demanded a swift and +straightforward execution? + +In the fourth chapter we have explained as far as it is possible in a +general way what the total overthrow of the enemy means, and it is +unnecessary to repeat it. Whatever that may depend on at last in +particular cases, still the first step is always the same in all cases, +namely: _The destruction of the enemy’s combatant force_, that is, _a +great victory over the same and its dispersion_. The sooner, which +means the nearer our own frontiers, this victory is sought for, _the +easier_ it is; the later, that is, the further in the heart of the +enemy’s country it is gained, the more _decisive_ it is. Here, as well +as everywhere, the facility of success and its magnitude balance each +other. + +If we are not so superior to the enemy that the victory is beyond +doubt, then we should, when possible, seek him out, that is his +principal force. We say _when possible_, for if this endeavour to find +him led to great detours, false directions, and a loss of time, it +might very likely turn out a mistake. If the enemy’s principal force is +not on our road, and our interests otherwise prevent our going in quest +of him, we may be sure we shall meet with him hereafter, for he will +not fail to place himself in our way. We shall then, as we have just +said, fight under less advantageous circumstances an evil to which we +must submit. However, if we gain the battle, it will be so much the +more decisive. + +From this it follows that, in the case now assumed, it would be an +error to pass by the enemy’s principal force designedly, if it places +itself in our way, at least if we expect thereby to facilitate a +victory. + +On the other hand, it follows from what precedes, that if we have a +decided superiority over the enemy’s principal force, we may designedly +pass it by in order at a future time to deliver a more decisive battle. + +We have been speaking of a complete victory, therefore of a thorough +defeat of the enemy, and not of a mere battle gained. But such a +victory requires an enveloping attack, or a battle with an oblique +front, for these two forms always give the result a decisive character. +It is therefore an essential part of a plan of a war to make +arrangements for this movement, both as regards the mass of forces +required and the direction to be given them, of which more will be said +in the chapter on the plan of campaign. + +It is certainly not impossible, that even Battles fought with parallel +fronts may lead to complete defeats, and cases in point are not wanting +in military history; but such an event is uncommon, and will be still +more so the more armies become on a par as regards discipline and +handiness in the field. We no longer take twenty-one battalions in a +village, as they did at Blenheim. + +Once the great victory is gained, the next question is not about rest, +not about taking breath, not about considering, not about reorganising, +etc., etc., but only of pursuit of fresh blows wherever necessary, of +the capture of the enemy’s capital, of the attack of the armies of his +allies, or of whatever else appears to be a rallying point for the +enemy. + +If the tide of victory carries us near the enemy’s fortresses, the +laying siege to them or not will depend on our means. If we have a +great superiority of force, it would be a loss of time not to take them +as soon as possible; but if we are not certain of the further events +before us, we must keep the fortresses in check with as few troops as +possible, which precludes any regular formal sieges. The moment that +the siege of a fortress compels us to suspend our strategic advance, +that advance, _as a rule_, has reached its culminating point. We +demand, therefore, that the main body should press forward rapidly in +pursuit without any rest; we have already condemned the idea of +allowing the advance towards the principal point being made dependent +on success at secondary points; the consequence of this is, that in all +ordinary cases, our chief army only keeps behind it a narrow strip of +territory which it can call its own, and which therefore constitutes +its theatre of war. How this weakens the momentum at the head, and the +dangers for the offensive arising therefrom, we have shown already. +Will not this difficulty, will not this intrinsic counterpoise come to +a point which impedes further advance? Certainly that may occur; but +just as we have already insisted that it would be a mistake to try to +avoid this contracted theatre of war at the commencement, and for the +sake of that object to rob the advance of its elasticity, so we also +now maintain, that as long as the commander has not yet overthrown his +opponent, as long as he considers himself strong enough to effect that +object, so long must he also pursue it. He does so perhaps at an +increased risk, but also with the prospect of a greater success. If he +reaches a point which he cannot venture to go beyond, where, in order +to protect his rear, he must extend himself right and left well, then, +this is most probably his culminating point. The power of flight is +spent, and if the enemy is not subdued, most probably he will not be +now. + +All that the assailant now does to intensify his attack by conquest of +fortresses, defiles, provinces, is no doubt still a slow advance, but +it is only of a relative kind, it is no longer absolute. The enemy is +no longer in flight, he is perhaps preparing a renewed resistance, and +it is therefore already possible that, although the assailant still +advances intensively, the position of the defence is every day +improving. In short, we come back to this, that, as a rule, there is no +second spring after a halt has once been necessary. + +Theory, therefore, only requires that, as long as there is an intention +of destroying the enemy, there must be no cessation in the advance of +the attack; if the commander gives up this object because it is +attended with too great a risk, he does right to stop and extend his +force. Theory only objects to this when he does it with a view to more +readily defeating the enemy. + +We are not so foolish as to maintain that no instance can be found of +States having been _gradually_ reduced to the utmost extremity. In the +first place, the principle we now maintain is no absolute truth, to +which an exception is impossible, but one founded only on the ordinary +and probable result; next, we must make a distinction between cases in +which the downfall of a State has been effected by a slow gradual +process, and those in which the event was the result of a first +campaign. We are here only treating of the latter case, for it is only +in such that there is that tension of forces which either overcomes the +centre of gravity of the weight, or is in danger of being overcome by +it. If in the first year we gain a moderate advantage, to which in the +following we add another, and thus gradually advance towards our +object, there is nowhere very imminent danger, but it is distributed +over many points. Each pause between one result and another gives the +enemy fresh chances: the effects of the first results have very little +influence on those which follow, often none, often a negative only, +because the enemy recovers himself, or is perhaps excited to increased +resistance, or obtains foreign aid; whereas, when all is done in one +march, the success of yesterday brings on with itself that of to-day, +one brand lights itself from another. If there are cases in which +States have been overcome by successive blows in which, consequently, +_Time_, generally the patron of the defensive, has proved adverse how +infinitely more numerous are the instances in which the designs of the +aggressor have by that means utterly failed. Let us only think of the +result of the Seven Years’ War, in which the Austrians sought to attain +their object so comfortably, cautiously, and prudently, that they +completely missed it. + +In this view, therefore, we cannot at all join in the opinion that the +care which belongs to the preparation of a theatre of war, and the +impulse which urges us onwards, are on a level in importance, and that +the former must, to a certain extent, be a counterpoise to the latter; +but we look upon any evil which springs out of the forward movement, as +an unavoidable evil which only deserves attention when there is no +longer hope for us a-head by the forward movement. + +Buonaparte’s case in 1812, very far from shaking our opinion, has +rather confirmed us in it. + +His campaign did not miscarry because he advanced too swiftly, or too +far, as is commonly believed, but because the only means of success +failed. The Russian Empire is no country which can be regularly +conquered, that is to say, which can be held in possession, at least +not by the forces of the present States of Europe, nor by the 500,000 +men with which Buonaparte invaded the country. Such a country can only +be subdued by its own weakness, and by the effects of internal +dissension. In order to strike these vulnerable points in its political +existence, the country must be agitated to its very centre. It was only +by reaching Moscow with the force of his blow that Buonaparte could +hope to shake the courage of the Government, the loyalty and +steadfastness of the people. In Moscow he expected to find peace, and +this was the only rational object which he could set before himself in +undertaking such a war. + +He therefore led his main body against that of the Russians, which fell +back before him, trudged past the camp at Drissa, and did not stop +until it reached Smolensk. He carried Bagration along in his movement, +beat the principal Russia army, and took Moscow. + +He acted on this occasion as he had always done: it was only in that +way that he made himself the arbiter of Europe, and only in that way +was it possible for him to do so. + +He, therefore, who admires Buonaparte in all his earlier campaigns as +the greatest of generals, ought not to censure him in this instance. + +It is quite allowable to judge an event according to the result, as +that is the best criticism upon it (see fifth chapter, 2nd book), but +this judgment derived merely from the result, must not then be passed +off as evidence of superior understanding. To seek out the causes of +the failure of a campaign, is not going the length of making a +criticism upon it; it is only if we show that these causes should +neither have been overlooked nor disregarded that we make a criticism +and place ourselves above the General. + +Now we maintain that any one who pronounces the campaign of 1812 an +absurdity merely on account of the tremendous reaction in it, and who, +if it had been successful, would look upon it as a most splendid +combination, shows an utter incapacity of judgment. + +If Buonaparte had remained in Lithuania, as most of his critics think +he should, in order first to get possession of the fortresses, of +which, moreover, except Riga, situated quite at one side, there is +hardly one, because Bobruisk is a small insignificant place of arms, he +would have involved himself for the winter in a miserable defensive +system: then the same people would have been the first to exclaim, This +is not the old Buonaparte! How is it, he has not got even as far as a +first great battle? he who used to put the final seal to his conquests +on the last ramparts of the enemy’s states, by victories such as +Austerlitz and Friedland. Has his heart failed him that he has not +taken the enemy’s capital, the defenceless Moscow, ready to open its +gates, and thus left a nucleus round which new elements of resistance +may gather themselves? He had the singular luck to take this far-off +and enormous colossus by surprise, as easily as one would surprise a +neighbouring town, or as Frederick the Great entered the little state +of Silesia, lying at his door, and he makes no use of his good fortune, +halts in the middle of his victorious career, as if some evil spirit +laid at his heels! This is the way in which he would have been judged +of after the result, for this is the fashion of critics’ judgments in +general. + +In opposition to this, we say, the campaign of 1812 did not succeed +because the government remained firm, the people loyal and steadfast, +because it therefore could not succeed. Buonaparte may have made a +mistake in undertaking such an expedition; at all events, the result +has shown that he deceived himself in his calculations, but we maintain +that, supposing it necessary to seek the attainment of this object, it +could not have been done in any other way upon the whole. + +Instead of burthening himself with an interminable costly defensive war +in the east, such as he had on his hands in the west, Buonaparte +attempted the only means to gain his object: by one bold stroke to +extort a peace from his astonished adversary. The destruction of his +army was the danger to which he exposed himself in the venture; it was +the stake in the game, the price of great expectations. If this +destruction of his army was more complete than it need have been +through his own fault, this fault was not in his having penetrated too +far into the heart of the country, for that was his object, and +unavoidable; but in the late period at which the campaign opened, the +sacrifice of life occasioned by his tactics, the want of due care for +the supply of his army, and for his line of retreat, and lastly, in his +having too long delayed his march from Moscow. + +That the Russians were able to reach the Beresina before him, intending +regularly to cut off his retreat, is no strong argument against us. For +in the first place, the failure of that attempt just shows how +difficult it is really to cut off an army, as the army which was +intercepted in this case under the most unfavourable circumstances that +can be conceived, still managed at last to cut its way through; and +although this act upon the whole contributed certainly to increase its +catastrophe, still it was not essentially the cause of it. Secondly, it +was only the very peculiar nature of the country which afforded the +means to carry things as far as the Russians did; for if it had not +been for the marshes of the Beresina, with its wooded impassable +borders lying across the great road, the cutting off would have been +still less possible. Thirdly, there is generally no means of guarding +against such an eventuality except by making the forward movement with +the front of the army of such a width as we have already disapproved; +for if we proceed on the plan of pushing on in advance with the centre +and covering the wings by armies detached right and left, then if +either of these detached armies meets with a check, we must fall back +with the centre, and then very little can be gained by the attack. + +Moreover, it cannot be said that Buonaparte neglected his wings. A +superior force remained fronting Wittgenstein, a proportionate +siege-corps stood before Riga which at the same time was not needed +there, and in the south Schwarzenberg had 50,000 men with which he was +superior to Tormasoff and almost equal to Tschitschagow: in addition, +there were 30,000 men under Victor, covering the rear of the centre. +Even in the month of November, therefore, at the decisive moment when +the Russian armies had been reinforced, and the French were very much +reduced, the superiority of the Russians in rear of the Moscow army was +not so very extraordinary. Wittgenstein, Tschitschagow, and Sacken, +made up together a force of 100,000. Schwartzenberg, Regmer, Victor, +Oudinot, and St. Cyr, had still 80,000 effective. The most cautious +general in advancing would hardly devote a greater proportion of his +force to the protection of his flanks. + +If out of the 600,000 men who crossed the Niemen in 1812, Buonaparte +had brought back 250,000 instead of the 50,000 who repassed it under +Schwartzenberg, Regmer, and Macdonald, which was possible, by avoiding +the mistakes with which he has been reproached, the campaign would +still have been an unfortunate one, but theory would have had nothing +to object to it, for the loss of half an army in such a case is not at +all unusual, and only appears so to us in this instance on account of +the enormous scale of the whole enterprize. + +So much for the principal operation, its necessary tendency, and the +unavoidable risks. As regards the subordinate operations, there must +be, above all things, a common aim for all; but this aim must be so +situated as not to paralyse the action of any of the individual parts. +If we invade France from the upper and middle Rhine and Holland, with +the intention of uniting at Paris, neither of the armies employed to +risk anything on the advance, but to keep itself intact until the +concentration is effected, that is what we call a ruinous plan. There +must be necessarily a constant comparison of the state of this +threefold movement causing delay, indecision, and timidity in the +forward movement of each of the armies. It is better to assign to each +part its mission, and only to place the point of union wherever these +several activities become unity of themselves. + +Therefore, when a military force advances to the attack on separate +theatres of war, to each army should be assigned an object against +which the force of its shock is to be directed. Here _the point_ is +that _these shocks_ should be given from all sides simultaneously, but +not that proportional advantages should result from all of them. + +If the task assigned to one army is found too difficult because the +enemy has made a disposition of his force different to that which was +expected, if it sustains a defeat, this neither should, nor must have, +any influence on the action of the others, or we should turn the +probability of the general success against ourselves at the very +outset. It is only the unsuccessful issue of the majority of +enterprises or of the principal one, which can and must have an +influence upon the others: for then it comes under the head of a plan +which has miscarried. + +This same rule applies to those armies and portions of them which have +originally acted on the defensive, and, owing to the successes gained, +have assumed the offensive, unless we prefer to attach such spare +forces to the principal offensive, a point which will chiefly depend on +the geographical situation of the theatre of war. + +But under these circumstances, what becomes of the geometrical form and +unity of the whole attack, what of the flanks and rear of corps when +those corps next to them are beaten. + +That is precisely what we wish chiefly to combat. This glueing down of +a great offensive plan of attack on a geometrical square, is losing +one’s way in the regions of fallacy. + +In the fifteenth chapter of the Third Book we have shown that the +geometrical element has less influence in strategy than in tactics; and +we shall only here repeat the deduction there obtained, that in the +attack especially, the actual results at the various points throughout +deserve more attention than the geometrical figure, which may gradually +be formed through the diversity of results. + +But in any case, it is quite certain, that looking to the vast spaces +with which strategy has to deal, the views and resolutions which the +geometrical situation of the parts may create, should be left to the +general-in-chief; that, therefore, no subordinate general has a right +to ask what his neighbour is doing or leaving undone, but each is to be +directed peremptorily to follow out his object. If any serious +incongruity really arises from this, a remedy can always be applied in +time by the supreme authority. Thus, then, may be obviated the chief +evil of this separate mode of action, which is, that in the place of +realities, a cloud of apprehensions and suppositions mix themselves up +in the progress of an operation, that every accident affects not only +the part it comes immediately in contact with, but also the whole, by +the communication of impressions, and that a wide field of action is +opened for the personal failings and personal animosities of +subordinate commanders. + +We think that these views will only appear paradoxical to those who +have not studied military history long enough or with sufficient +attention, who do not distinguish the important from the unimportant, +nor make proper allowance for the influence of human weaknesses in +general. + +If even in tactics there is a difficulty, which all experienced +soldiers admit there is, in succeeding in an attack in separate columns +where it depends on the perfect connection of the several columns, how +much more difficult, or rather how impossible, must this be in +strategy, where the separation is so much wider. Therefore, if a +constant connection of all parts was a necessary condition of success, +a strategic plan of attack of that nature must be at once given up. But +on the one hand, it is not left to our option to discard it completely, +because circumstances, which we cannot control, may determine in favour +of it; on the other hand, even in tactics, this constant close +conjunction of all parts at every moment of the execution, is not at +all necessary, and it is still less so in strategy. Therefore in +strategy we should pay the less attention to this point, and insist the +more upon a distinct piece of work being assigned to each part. + +We have still to add one important observation: it relates to the +proper allotment of parts. + +In the year 1793 and 1794 the principal Austrian army was in the +Netherlands, that of the Prussians, on the upper Rhine. The Austrians +marched from Vienna to Condé and Valenciennes, crossing the line of +march of the Prussians from Berlin to Landau. The Austrians had +certainly to defend their Belgian provinces in that quarter, and any +conquests made in French Flanders would have been acquisitions +conveniently situated for them, but that interest was not strong +enough. After the death of Prince Kaunitz, the Minister Thugut carried +a measure for giving up the Netherlands entirely, for the better +concentration of the Austrian forces. In fact, Austria is about twice +as far from Flanders as from Alsace; and at a time when military +resources were very limited, and everything had to be paid for in ready +money, that was no trifling consideration. Still, the Minister Thugut +had plainly something else in view; his object was, through the urgency +of the danger to compel Holland, England, and Prussia, the powers +interested in the defence of the Netherlands and Lower Rhine, to make +greater efforts. He certainly deceived himself in his calculations, +because nothing could be done with the Prussian cabinet at that time, +but this occurrence always shows the influence of political interests +on the course of a war. + +Prussia had neither anything to conquer nor to defend in Alsace. In the +year 1792 it had undertaken the march through Lorraine into Champagne +in a sort of chivalrous spirit. But as that enterprise ended in +nothing, through the unfavourable course of circumstances, it continued +the war with a feeling of very little interest. If the Prussian troops +had been in the Netherlands, they would have been in direct +communication with Holland, which they might look upon almost as their +own country, having conquered it in the year 1787; they would then have +covered the Lower Rhine, and consequently that part of the Prussian +monarchy which lay next to the theatre of war. Prussia on account of +subsidies would also have had a closer alliance with England, which, +under these circumstances, would not so easily have degenerated into +the crooked policy of which the Prussian cabinet was guilty at that +time. + +A much better result, therefore, might have been expected if the +Austrians had appeared with their principal force on the Upper Rhine, +the Prussians with their whole force in the Netherlands, and the +Austrians had left there only a corps of proportionate strength. + +If, instead of the enterprising Blücher, General Barclay had been +placed at the head of the Silesian army in 1814, and Blücher and +Schwartzenberg had been kept with the grand army, the campaign would +perhaps have turned out a complete failure. + +If the enterprising Laudon, instead of having his theatre of war at the +strongest point of the Prussian dominions, namely, in Silesia, had been +in the position of the German States’ army, perhaps the whole Seven +Years’ War would have had quite a different turn. In order to examine +this subject more narrowly, we must look at the cases according to +their chief distinctions. + +The first is, if we carry on war in conjunction with other powers, who +not only take part as our allies, but also have an independent interest +as well. + +The second is, if the army of the ally has come to our assistance. + +The third is, when it is only a question with regard to the personal +characteristics of the General. + +In the two first cases, the point may be raised, whether it is better +to mix up the troops of the different powers completely, so that each +separate army is composed of corps of different powers, as was done in +the wars 1813 and 1814, or to keep them separate as much as possible, +so that the army of each power may continue distinct and act +independently. + +Plainly, the first is the most salutary plan; but it supposes a degree +of friendly feeling and community of interests which is seldom found. +When there is this close good fellowship between the troops, it is much +more difficult for the cabinets to separate their interests; and as +regards the prejudicial influence of the egotistical views of +commanders, it can only show itself under these circumstances amongst +the subordinate Generals, therefore, only in the province of tactics, +and even there not so freely or with such impunity as when there is a +complete separation. In the latter case, it affects the strategy, and +therefore, makes decided marks. But, as already observed, for the first +case there must be a rare spirit of conciliation on the part of the +Governments. In the year 1813, the exigencies of the time impelled all +Governments in that direction; and yet we cannot sufficiently praise +this in the Emperor of Russia, that although he entered the field with +the strongest army, and the change of fortune was chiefly brought about +by him, yet he set aside all pride about appearing at the head of a +separate and an independent Russian army, and placed his troops under +the Prussian and Austrian Commanders. + +If such a fusion of armies cannot be effected, a complete separation of +them is certainly better than a half-and-half state of things; the +worst of all is when two independent Commanders of armies of different +powers find themselves on the same theatre of war, as frequently +happened in the Seven Years’ War with the armies of Russia, Austria, +and the German States. When there is a complete separation of forces, +the burdens which must be borne are also better divided, and each +suffers only from what is his own, consequently is more impelled to +activity by the force of circumstances; but if they find themselves in +close connection, or quite on the same theatre of war, this is not the +case, and besides that the ill will of one paralyses also the powers of +the other as well. + +In the first of the three supposed cases, there will be no difficulty +in the complete separation, as the natural interest of each State +generally indicates to it a separate mode of employing its force; this +may not be so in the second case, and then, as a rule, there is nothing +to be done but to place oneself completely under the auxiliary army, if +its strength is in any way proportionate to that measure, as the +Austrians did in the latter part of the campaign of 1815, and the +Prussians in the campaign of 1807. + +With regard to the personal qualifications of the General, everything +in this passes into what is particular and individual; but we must not +omit to make one general remark, which is, that we should not, as is +generally done, place at the head of subordinate armies the most +prudent and cautious Commanders, but the _most enterprising;_ for we +repeat that in strategic operations conducted separately, there is +nothing more important than that every part should develop its powers +to the full, in that way faults committed at one part may be +compensated for by successes at others. This complete activity at all +points, however, is only to be expected when the Commanders are +spirited, enterprising men, who are urged forwards by natural +impulsiveness by their own hearts, because a mere objective, coolly +reasoned out, conviction of the necessity of action seldom suffices. + +Lastly, we have to remark that, if circumstances in other respects +permit, the troops and their commanders, as regards their destination, +should be employed in accordance with their qualities and the nature of +the country that is regular armies; good troops; numerous cavalry; old, +prudent, intelligent generals in an open country; Militia; national +levies; young enterprising commanders in wooded country, mountains and +defiles; auxiliary armies in rich provinces where they can make +themselves comfortable. + +What we have now said upon a plan of a war in general, and in this +chapter upon those in particular which are directed to the destruction +of the enemy, is intended to give special prominence to the object of +the same, and next to indicate principles which may serve as guides in +the preparation of ways and means. Our desire has been in this way to +give a clear perception of what is to be, and should be, done in such a +war. We have tried to emphasise the necessary and general, and to leave +a margin for the play of the particular and accidental; but to exclude +all that is _arbitrary, unfounded, trifling, fantastical; or +sophistical_. If we have succeeded in this object, we look upon our +problem as solved. + +Now, if any one wonders at finding nothing here about turning rivers, +about commanding mountains from their highest points, about avoiding +strong positions, and finding the keys of a country, he has not +understood us, neither does he as yet understand war in its general +relations according to our views. + +In preceding books we have characterised these subjects in general, and +we there arrived at the conclusion, they are much more insignificant in +their nature than we should think from their high repute. Therefore, so +much the less can or ought they to play a great part, that is, so far +as to influence the whole plan of a war, when it is a war which has for +its object the destruction of the enemy. + +At the end of the book we shall devote a chapter specially to the +consideration of the chief command; the present chapter we shall close +with an example. + +If Austria, Prussia, the German Con-federation, the Netherlands and +England, determine on a war with France, but Russia remains neutral a +case which has frequently happened during the last one hundred and +fifty years they are able to carry on an offensive war, having for its +object the overthrow of the enemy. For powerful and great as France is, +it is still possible for it to see more than half its territory overrun +by the enemy, its capital occupied, and itself reduced in its means to +a state of complete inefficiency, without there being any power, except +Russia, which can give it effectual support. Spain is too distant and +too disadvantageously situated; the Italian States are at present too +brittle and powerless. + +The countries we have named have, exclusive of their possessions out of +Europe, above 75,000,000 inhabitants,(*) whilst France has only +30,000,000; and the army which they could call out for a war against +France really meant in earnest, would be as follows, without +exaggeration:— + + Austria .............250,000 Prussia .............200,000 The + rest of Germany. 150,000 Netherlands ..........75,000 England + ..............50,000 ————— Total: ......725,000 + +(*) This chapter was probably written in 1828, since which time the +numerical relations have considerably changed. A. d. H. + + +Should this force be placed on a warfooting it would, in all +probability, very much exceed that which France could oppose; for under +Buonaparte the country never had an army of the like strength. Now, if +we take into account the deductions required as garrisons for +fortresses and depôts, to watch the coasts, etc., there can be no doubt +the allies would have a great superiority in the principal theatre of +war, and upon that the object or plan of overthrowing the enemy is +chiefly founded. + +The centre of gravity of the French power lies in its military force +and in Paris. To defeat the former in one or more battles, to take +Paris and drive the wreck of the French across the Loire, must be the +object of the allies. The pit of the stomach of the French monarchy is +between Paris and Brussels, on that side the frontier is only thirty +miles from the capital. Part of the allies; the English, Netherlanders, +Prussian, and North German States have their natural point of assembly +in that direction, as these States lie partly in the immediate +vicinity, partly in a direct line behind it. Austria and South Germany +can only carry on their war conveniently from the upper Rhine. Their +natural direction is upon Troyes and Paris, or it may be Orleans. Both +shocks, therefore, that from the Netherlands and the other from the +upper Rhine, are quite direct and natural, short and powerful; and both +fall upon the centre of gravity of the enemy’s power. Between these two +points, therefore, the whole invading army should be divided. + +But there are two considerations which interfere with the simplicity of +this plan. + +The Austrians would not lay bare their Italian dominions, they would +wish to retain the mastery over events there, in any case, and +therefore would not incur the risk of making an attack on the heart of +France, by which they would leave Italy only indirectly covered. +Looking to the political state of the country, this collateral +consideration is not to be treated with contempt; but it would be a +decided mistake if the old and oft-tried plan of an attack from Italy, +directed against the South of France, was bound up with it, and if on +that account the force in Italy was increased to a size not required +for mere security against contingencies in the first campaign. Only the +number needed for that security should remain in Italy, only that +number should be withdrawn from the great undertaking, if we would not +be unfaithful to that first maxim, _Unity of plan, concentration of +force_. To think of conquering France by the Rhone, would be like +trying to lift a musket by the point of its bayonet; but also as an +auxiliary enterprise, an attack on the South of France is to be +condemned, for it only raises new forces against us. Whenever an attack +is made on distant provinces, interests and activities are roused, +which would otherwise have lain dormant. It would only be in case that +the forces left for the security of Italy were in excess of the number +required, and, therefore, to avoid leaving them unemployed, that there +would be any justification for an attack on the South of France from +that quarter. + +We therefore repeat that the force left in Italy must be kept down as +low as circumstances will permit; and it will be quite large enough if +it will suffice to prevent the Austrians from losing the whole country +in one campaign. Let us suppose that number to be 50,000 men for the +purpose of our illustration. + +Another consideration deserving attention, is the relation of France in +respect to its sea-coast. As England has the upper hand at sea, it +follows that France must, on that account, be very susceptible with +regard to the whole of her Atlantic coast; and, consequently, must +protect it with garrisons of greater or less strength. Now, however +weak this coast-defence may be, still the French frontiers are tripled +by it; and large drafts, on that account, cannot fail to be withdrawn +from the French army on the theatre of war. Twenty or thirty thousand +troops disposable to effect a landing, with which the English threaten +France, would probably absorb twice or three times the number of French +troops; and, further, we must think not only of troops, but also of +money, artillery, etc., etc., required for ships and coast batteries. +Let us suppose that the English devote 25,000 to this object. + +Our plan of war would then consist simply in this: + + 1. That in the Netherlands:— 200,000 Prussians, 75,000 + Netherlanders, 25,000 English, 50,000 North German Confederation, + ————— Total: 350,000 be assembled, + +of whom about 50,000 should be set aside to garrison frontier +fortresses, and the remaining 300,000 should advance against Paris, and +engage the French Army in a decisive battle. + +2. That 200,000 Austrians and 100,000 South German troops should +assemble on the Upper Rhine to advance at the same time as the army of +the Netherlands, their direction being towards the Upper Seine, and +from thence towards the Loire, with a view, likewise, to a great +battle. These two attacks would, perhaps, unite in one on the Loire. + +By this the chief point is determined. What we have to add is chiefly +intended to root out false conceptions, and is as follows:— + +1. To seek for the great battle, as prescribed, and deliver it with +such a relation, in point of numerical strength and under such +circumstances, as promise a decisive victory, is the course for the +chief commanders to follow; to this object everything must be +sacrificed; and as few men as possible should be employed in sieges, +blockades, garrisons, etc. If, like Schwartzenberg in 1814, as soon as +they enter the enemy’s provinces they spread out in eccentric rays all +is lost. That this did not take place in 1814 the Allies may thank the +powerless state of France alone. The attack should be like a wedge well +driven home, not like a soap bubble, which distends itself till it +bursts. + +2. Switzerland must be left to its own forces. If it remains neutral it +forms a good _point d’appui_ on the Upper Rhine; if it is attacked by +France, let her stand up for herself, which in more than one respect +she is very well able to do. Nothing is more absurd than to attribute +to Switzerland a predominant geographical influence upon events in war +because it is the highest land in Europe. Such an influence only exists +under certain very restricted conditions, which are not to be found +here. When the French are attacked in the heart of their country they +can undertake no offensive from Switzerland, either against Italy or +Swabia, and, least of all, can the elevated situation of the country +come into consideration as a decisive circumstance. The advantage of a +country which is dominating in a strategic sense, is, in the first +place, chiefly important in the defensive, and any importance which it +has in the offensive may manifest itself in a single encounter. Whoever +does not know this has not thought over the thing and arrived at a +clear perception of it, and in case that at any future council of +potentates and generals, some learned officer of the general staff +should be found, who, with an anxious brow, displays such wisdom, we +now declare it beforehand to be mere folly, and wish that in the same +council some true Blade, some child of sound common-sense may be +present who will stop his mouth. + +3. The space between two attacks we think of very little consequence. +When 600,000 assemble thirty or forty miles from Paris to march against +the heart of France, would any one think of covering the middle Rhine +as well as Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, and Munich? There would be no sense +in such a thing. Are we to cover the communications? That would not be +unimportant; but then we might soon be led into giving this covering +the importance of an attack, and then, instead of advancing on two +lines, as the situation of the States positively requires, we should be +led to advance upon three, which is not required. These three would +then, perhaps, become five, or perhaps seven, and in that way the old +rigmarole would once more become the order of the day. + +Our two attacks have each their object; the forces employed on them are +probably very superior to the enemy in numbers. If each pursues his +march with vigour, they cannot fail to react advantageously upon each +other. If one of the two attacks is unfortunate because the enemy has +not divided his force equally, we may fairly expect that the result of +the other will of itself repair this disaster, and this is the true +interdependence between the two. An interdependence extending to (so as +to be affected by) the events of each day is impossible on account of +the distance; neither is it necessary, and therefore the immediate, or, +rather the direct connection, is of no such great value. + +Besides, the enemy attacked in the very centre of his dominions will +have no forces worth speaking of to employ in interrupting this +connection; all that is to be apprehended is that this interruption may +be attempted by a co-operation of the inhabitants with the partisans, +so that this object does not actually cost the enemy any troops. To +prevent that, it is sufficient to send a corps of 10,000 or 15,000 men, +particularly strong in cavalry, in the direction from Trèves to Rheims. +It will be able to drive every partisan before it, and keep in line +with the grand army. This corps should neither invest nor watch +fortresses, but march between them, depend on no fixed basis, but give +way before superior forces in any direction, no great misfortune could +happen to it, and if such did happen, it would again be no serious +misfortune for the whole. Under these circumstances, such a corps might +probably serve as an intermediate link between the two attacks. + +4. The two subordinate undertakings, that is, the Austrian army in +Italy, and the English army for landing on the coast, might follow +their object as appeared best. If they do not remain idle, their +mission is fulfilled as regards the chief point, and on no account +should either of the two great attacks be made dependent in any way on +these minor ones. + +We are quite convinced that in this way France may be overthrown and +chastised whenever it thinks fit to put on that insolent air with which +it has oppressed Europe for a hundred and fifty years. It is only on +the other side of Paris, on the Loire, that those conditions can be +obtained from it which are necessary for the peace of Europe. In this +way alone the natural relation between 30 millions of men and 75 +millions will quickly make itself known, but not if the country from +Dunkirk to Genoa is to be surrounded in the way it has been for 150 +years by a girdle of armies, whilst fifty different small objects are +aimed at, not one of which is powerful enough to overcome the inertia, +friction, and extraneous influences which spring up and reproduce +themselves everywhere, but more especially in allied armies. + +How little the provisional organisation of the German federal armies is +adapted to such a disposition, will strike the reader. By that +organisation the federative part of Germany forms the nucleus of the +German power, and Prussia and Austria thus weakened, lose their natural +influence. But a federative state is a very brittle nucleus in war. +There is in it no unity, no energy, no rational choice of a commander, +no authority, no responsibility. + +Austria and Prussia are the two natural centres of force of the German +empire; they form the pivot (or fulcrum), the forte of the sword; they +are monarchical states, used to war; they have well-defined interests, +independence of power; they are predominant over the others. The +organisation should follow these natural lineaments, and not a false +notion about unity, which is an impossibility in such a case; and he +who neglects the possible in quest of the impossible is a fool. + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On War, by Carl von Clausewitz + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON WAR *** + +***** This file should be named 1946-0.txt or 1946-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/4/1946/ + +Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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