Reflections
(1) In connection with these difficulties I would like to put forward a suggestion as to criticism of a general's action in war, which though not exactly Clausewitz's, is a corollary from Clausewitz. It is this. In reading a war with the clearness and after-knowledge of history nearly all defeats are easily seen to be due to the non-observance of one or other of the few leading principles of strategy referred to in the previous chapter. But we must assume that the defeated general was familiar with that principle, and that his will was to carry it out. What, then, were the difficulties, the friction, which, on any particular day or days, overcame his will and made him sacrifice the principle? This is where most critics fail us. Here seems the matter to search for. And could a stronger resolution have enabled him to overcome those difficulties, that friction? And if so, how and by what means? But we must first discover the difficulties and uncertainties of the particular day when his will gave way. Take the Manchurian campaign as an instance. If we could only have a military history of the campaign of 1870 or that of Manchuria, written in the form of a series of "appreciations of the situation," so that we know nothing but what the general knew at the time as we read, and if the true state of affairs could be withheld from us till the end, this, I think, would be very instructive and helpful. It would be a more difficult way of writing a military history, but I think that the extra trouble would be repaid by the extra value. So at least it appears.
(2) If we reflect upon the enormous difficulties, so strikingly brought out by Clausewitz, which our generals have to contend with and overcome in actual war, it should surely teach us to curb our criticism. It should surely also make us resolve in future to try to aid them as far as is in our power at home, and not thoughtlessly to increase their already stupendous burdens. In the past we at home have much to accuse ourselves of, much to regret. In the past often have we added to the difficulties of our generals, often have we greatly weakened their chances, and increased those of their opponents, often have we, unintentionally, through ignorance cast a weight into the scale against our country.
(3) The ignorance of the public regarding the conduct of war constitutes for us a very serious national danger. If this ignorance were less pronounced, if our statesmen understood the vast importance of information to the enemy, and the equal importance to our generals that this information the enemy should NOT obtain, then the public craving for information regarding every detail of what occurs in the field, and the demand for the wide publication thereof, would certainly be repressed. Nothing occurs in any of our campaigns which is not immediately made known; reports of actions with the fullest details as to the troops engaged, and the casualties that have befallen them, appear in the columns of the Press within a few hours of their occurrence. Any efforts, therefore, of our generals in the field to maintain secrecy as to strength, intentions, and movements are deliberately, though probably unintentionally, counteracted by their own countrymen. This is due to pure ignorance of war, no doubt, but the effect of this ignorance is as bad as if it were due to evil intention. In fairness, however, we must admit that, in the past, the immense value of reticence has not been fully appreciated by some of our soldiers themselves, and it were well if, in the future, more attention were directed to the importance of secrecy.
The results of such almost criminal stupidity may not be apparent when we are fighting with a savage foe, but if we ever have, as we undoubtedly some day shall have, the misfortune to find ourselves engaged with a civilized Power, we may be certain that not only will the operations be indefinitely prolonged, and their cost enormously increased, but their successful issue will be for us highly problematical.
In this connection it must be remembered that every Great Power has secret agents in every country, including Great Britain, and that it will be easy for such a secret agent to telegraph in cypher or in some agreed code to an agent in a neutral State all war information published here, who will telegraph it on at once to the hostile general, who will thus get, within a very short time of its publication in London, perhaps just exactly the information he requires to clear up the strategical or tactical situation for him, and enable him to defeat the combinations of our generals. As a case in point, take Macmahon's march on Sedan to relieve Metz in 1870, where secrecy was absolutely necessary for success, but which became known to the Germans by the English newspapers.—Result, Sedan.
That this cannot be allowed is plain. It is believed that the patriotism of our Press will welcome any necessary measure to this end if it is made compulsory upon ALL.[61]
[CHAPTER XI]
TACTICS
Some will probably feel inclined to ask what Clausewitz, who wrote more than eighty years ago, can possibly have to say about tactics which can be valuable in the twentieth century.
It was said by Napoleon that tactics change every ten years, according, of course, to the progress of technicalities, etc. Weapons indeed change, but there is one thing that never changes, and that is human nature. The most important thing in tactics, the man behind the gun, never alters; in his heart and feelings, his strength and weakness, he is always much the same.
Therefore, Clausewitz's tactical deductions, founded on the immense and varied data supplied by the desperate and long-continued fighting of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, permeated as they are by his all-pervading psychological or moral view, can never lose their value to us.
It is true, no doubt, that our rifles of to-day can be used with effect at a distance ten times as great as the old smooth bores of Clausewitz's day, our shrapnel five times as far as his cannon, and that cover and ground play a far more important part now than then, and so on. All these things, of course, considerably modify the tactics of Clausewitz. Not so much, however, as some text-books would lead us to suppose, which always seem to assume clear ground and clear weather. For, after all, how many combats are fought on ground where there is a very restricted field of fire (vide Herbert's "Defence of Plevna," etc.), or at night? How many battles are fought during rain, or snow, or mist, or fog, which destroys all long range? Compare the tremendous fighting with "bullets, bayonets, swords, hand-grenades, and even fists," of Nogi's attempt to cut the Russian line of retreat at Mukden, with the hand-to-hand fighting of Eylau, Friedland, Borodino, or with the desperate efforts of the French in 1812 to open their line of retreat through Maro-Jaroslawitz, where all day the masses of troops fought hand-to-hand in the streets, "the town was taken and retaken seven times, and the rival nations fought with the bayonet in the midst of the burning houses" (Alison).
When it comes to push of pike, as in all great decisions between equally resolute adversaries it is bound to do, the difference between the fighting of Clausewitz's day and ours is but small. The most recent instances of all, the hand-to-hand fighting in Manchuria, take us back to the Napoleonic struggles.
Therefore, despite the eighty years that have intervened, the writings of Clausewitz are still valuable from a tactical point of view, always considering of course the difference in weapons, because of the human heart in battle.
His ideas on tactics have largely filtered through his German pupils into our textbooks, minus the psychological or moral note, so that it is not necessary to go at length into the subject, or give a number of extracts. It would be wearisome. I will, however, give a few passages at haphazard as illustrations.