Then camp. The putting down of the lines, grooming, blanketing up for the night, feeding—one casts a glance over toward where the infantry have come in and got to their own meals, for this is the time when a cavalryman may have doubts as to whether it would not have been better, after all, to have joined the infantry. Unworthy thoughts, these—is there anything in the world like a cavalryman, for real soldierly merit?
This business of believing one's own branch of the service to be infinitely superior to any other is carried into the different branches of the same arm, as well as existing between the three arms as a whole. The cavalryman knows that service in the cavalry is infinitely to be preferred to service in infantry or artillery, but further, if he is a Dragoon, he knows that neither Cuirassier nor Chasseur nor Hussar is nearly as good as himself, and the Cuirassier, the Chasseur, and the Hussar have equally strong beliefs about the unquestionable superiority of their own branches of the cavalry. Each branch, in the opinion of its members, can produce the best riders, the best shots, the best all-round soldiers, and the best officers. It is a harmless belief, maintained quite impersonally.
Evening stables finished, the night guards are warned for their duty, the men settle down to the chief meal of the day, and later they sleep, the sound, healthy sleep induced by a long day in the open air. They waken or are wakened early in the morning, and again they saddle up and go on, for often the manœuvre area is many miles from the barracks, and days may be devoted to straightforward marching before the mimic warfare begins.
One comes back to the guns, the long, murderous tubes that trail, each behind six horses, just above the dust of the roads. The drivers are there and the battery officers, but the seats on the guns are empty, for the most part, for the gunners have marched out from camp very early in the morning. The drivers are at a disadvantage, compared with the men of cavalry or infantry—and even compared with their own gunners; for if a cavalryman has to keep his place in the ranks when mounted, then the gunner is absolutely a fixture in the battery. There can be no dropping back to talk to a comrade, whatever the pretext may be, for no man could take back with him the horse he is riding and the one he is leading, when both are in the gun team. The driver rides sombrely alone; the lead driver keeps his interval from the gun ahead, the centre driver looks to it that his lead horse does its share of work on the hills, and the wheel driver takes special care of the direction of his team when an infrequent corner has to be turned, for on him depends the track the wheels will make, and where they will run with relation to the middle of the road. Were there only a lead driver, the sweep taken on corners would not be wide enough, and it takes some time to get such a ponderous engine as a 75-millimetre gun out of a ditch.
The regiment of artillery comes out from barracks in one long column, perhaps—unless one battery or a greater proportion of the whole has further to travel than the batteries which take the straightest road. For, if there are two or more parallel roads leading from the point of departure to the destination, if it is possible for any considerable part of the journey to divide up an artillery regiment into separate batteries, this is done. The civilian has no conception of the length of line on the road which an artillery regiment of ten batteries would take up, nor can one who has not experienced the dust of a military march understand what sort of cloud the last battery of ten would have to march in. The column goes out as a whole, but as soon as possible first one battery and then another turns off from the main route. If there are only two alternate routes, then each alternate battery turns off, leaving sufficient interval between the rest for the dust of one to settle before the next shall come along. If there are more than two roads, all are used, for the more a long column can be broken up into separate units for a day's march, the sooner will the units of the column reach their destination.
The fact that the larger a body of men is, the slower it moves, is one well known to military authorities, though civilians and even many military men would be prepared to dispute it. It will be seen to be incontrovertible, though, if one realises that the pace of any body of men which keeps together as one whole is the pace of the slowest unit, and, moreover, that when a long column is in progress, not all its units can keep exactly the same pace as the head of the column. Consequently there occur a series of checks in the body of the column; here and there crowding forward occurs, and then the units of the column concerned in the crowding have to halve in order to rectify this—or at least have to check their pace for the time. The check may travel from the centre of the column right down to its rear, and then there are gaps which have to be corrected, for when a check occurs it is always prolonged just a little too long a time—and then the head of the column has to check in order for the rear to catch up. And, the longer the column, the more of these irritating little checks there will be, with a net consequence that the column will take relatively longer to pass a given point or to arrive at a given spot.
Because of these checks, as well as to give more air and comfort to the men, in all arms of the service intervals are maintained on the march, and a column is divided up into as many separate units as possible. Infantry maintain intervals between companies, cavalry maintain intervals between squadrons, and artillery maintain intervals between batteries, while the two mounted arms split up their columns if parallel roads are available, for the intervals do not quite compensate for the checks described, and, the smaller the units of the force can be made by means of separate roads, the shorter will be the march between two points.
MANŒUVRES