The Art of War

by baron de Antoine Henri Jomini

Retreats are certainly the most difficult operations in war. This remark is so true that the celebrated Prince de Ligne said, in his usual piquant style, that he could not conceive how an army ever succeeded in retreating. When we think of the physical and moral condition of an army in full retreat after a lost battle, of the difficulty of preserving order, and of the disasters to which disorder may lead, it is not hard to understand why the most experienced generals have hesitated to attempt such an operation.

What method of retreat shall be recommended? Shall the fight be continued at all hazards until nightfall and the retreat executed under cover of the darkness? or is it better not to wait for this last chance, but to abandon the field of battle while it can be done and a strong opposition still made to the pursuing army? Should a forced march be made in the night, in order to get as much start of the enemy as possible? or is it better to halt after a half-march and make a show of fighting again? Each of these methods, although entirely proper in certain cases, might in others prove ruinous to the whole army. If the theory of war leaves any points unprovided for, that of retreats is certainly one of them.

If you determine to fight vigorously until night, you may expose yourself to a complete defeat before that time arrives; and if a forced retreat must begin when the shades of night are shrouding every thing in darkness and obscurity, how can you prevent the disintegration of your army, which does not know what to do, and cannot see to do any thing properly? If, on the other hand, the field of battle is abandoned in broad daylight and before all possible efforts have been made to hold it, you may give up the contest at the very moment when the enemy is about to do the same thing; and this fact coming to the knowledge of the troops, you may lose their confidence,—as they are always inclined to blame a prudent general who retreats before the necessity for so doing may be evident to themselves. Moreover, who can say that a retreat commenced in the daylight in presence of an enterprising enemy may not become a rout?

When the retreat is actually begun, it is no less difficult to decide whether a forced march shall be made to get as much the start of the enemy as possible,—since this hurried movement might sometimes cause the destruction of the army, and might, in other circumstances, be its salvation. All that can be positively asserted on this subject is that, in general, with an army of considerable magnitude, it is best to retreat slowly, by short marches, with a well-arranged rear-guard of sufficient strength to hold the heads of the enemy's columns in check for several hours.

Retreats are of different kinds, depending upon the cause from which they result. A general may retire of his own accord before fighting, in order to draw his adversary to a position which he prefers to his present one. This is rather a prudent maneuver than a retreat. It was thus that Napoleon retired in 1805 from Wischau toward Brunn to draw the allies to a point which suited him as a battle-field. It was thus that Wellington retired from Quatre-Bras to Waterloo. This is what I proposed to do before the attack at Dresden, when the arrival of Napoleon was known. I represented the necessity of moving toward Dippoldiswalde to choose a favorable battle-field. It was supposed to be a retreat that I was proposing; and a mistaken idea of honor prevented a retrograde movement without fighting, which would have been the means of avoiding the catastrophe of the next day, (August 26, 1813.)

A general may retire in order to hasten to the defense of a point threatened by the enemy, either upon the flanks or upon the line of retreat. When an army is marching at a distance from its depots, in an exhausted country, it may be obliged to retire in order to get nearer its supplies. Finally, an army retires involuntarily after a lost battle, or after an unsuccessful enterprise.

These are not the only causes having an influence in retreats. Their character will vary with that of the country, with the distances to be passed over and the obstacles to be surmounted. They are specially dangerous in an enemy's country; and when the points at which the retreats begin are distant from the friendly country and the base of operations, they become painful and difficult.

From the time of the famous retreat of the Ten Thousand, so justly celebrated, until the terrible catastrophe which befell the French army in 1812, history does not make mention of many remarkable retreats. That of Antony, driven out of Media, was more painful than glorious. That of the Emperor Julian, harassed by the same Parthians, was a disaster. In more recent days, the retreat of Charles VIII. to Naples, when he passed by a corps of the Italian army at Fornovo, was an admirable one. The retreat of M. de Bellisle from Prague does not deserve the praises it has received. Those executed by the King of Prussia after raising the siege of Olmutz and after the surprise at Hochkirch were very well arranged; but they were for short distances. That of Moreau in 1796, which was magnified in importance by party spirit, was creditable, but not at all extraordinary. The retreat of Lecourbe from Engadin to Altorf, and that of Macdonald by Pontremoli after the defeat of the Trebbia, as also that of Suwaroff from the Muttenthal to Chur, were glorious feats of arms, but partial in character and of short duration. The retreat of the Russian army from the Niemen to Moscow—a space of two hundred and forty leagues,—in presence of such an enemy as Napoleon and such cavalry as the active and daring Murat commanded, was certainly admirable. It was undoubtedly attended by many favorable circumstances, but was highly deserving of praise, not only for the talent displayed by the generals who directed its first stages, but also for the admirable fortitude and soldierly bearing of the troops who performed it. Although the retreat from Moscow was a bloody catastrophe for Napoleon, it was also glorious for him and the troops who were at Krasnoi and the Beresina,—because the skeleton of the army was saved, when not a single man should have returned. In this ever-memorable event both parties covered themselves with glory.

The magnitude of the distances and the nature of the country to be traversed, the resources it offers, the obstacles to be encountered, the attacks to be apprehended, either in rear or in flank, superiority or inferiority in cavalry, the spirit of the troops, are circumstances which have a great effect in deciding the fate of retreats, leaving out of consideration the skillful arrangements which the generals may make for their execution.

A general falling back toward his native land along his line of magazines and supplies may keep his troops together and in good order, and may effect a retreat with more safety than one compelled to subsist his army in cantonments, finding it necessary to occupy an extended position. It would be absurd to pretend that a French army retiring from Moscow to the Niemen without supplies of provisions, in want of cavalry and draft horses, could effect the movement in the same good order and with the same steadiness as a Russian army, well provided with every thing necessary, marching in its own country, and covered by an immense number of light cavalry.