One searches the whole of his volume in vain for light upon the profoundly difficult questions which arise from this intermixture of steel-tactics and fire-tactics in one Arm. Though in spirit the whole book is a recognition of the fact that the firearm is absolute arbiter of modern combats, directly he regards the steel in isolation he becomes completely absorbed in “mass” formations, and in every species of drill and manœuvre which is antagonistic to, and abhorrent to, fire-tactics. In this steel mood there is no confusion in his mind about the meaning of “shock.” There is no compromise toward “extensions.” For Cavalry charging against Cavalry (pp. 221, 222), “it is a vital article of faith that only the closest knee-to-knee riding—jamming the files together by pressure from the flanks—will guarantee victory or their personal safety.” Against “Infantry” (and why not against dismounted Cavalry?) the utmost he concedes is that the “files must be loosened, and every horse go in his normal stride,” but perfect cohesion and symmetry must be maintained. In other words, the essence of true shock—heavy impact—is retained without any qualification. The General, from his own point of view, is perfectly right. Unlike Mr. Goldman, he would have ridiculed the idea that there was shock at Klip Drift with the troopers many yards apart.
And now contrast the directions of our own “Cavalry Training,” whose compilers, more sophisticated than the innocent Bernhardi, cannot proceed too far in defining shock and the purposes of shock for fear of falling into transparent solecisms. Section 103 (p. 125) is entitled “Instruction in the Attack against Cavalry.” (Note the tacit assumption that Cavalry are always on horseback and always on plains, for on any other interpretation the section is meaningless.) The charge, it is laid down, must have “rapidity and vehemence ... firm cohesion, highest speed, and determination to win, ...” but “cohesion” is only further defined as “riding close.” If this is a symptom of compromise, it is fatal compromise from the point of view of shock; for I noticed that in criticizing inter-Cavalry charges at the Cavalry manœuvres of 1909, the Military Correspondent of the Times repeatedly censured the lack of cohesion and “boot-to-boot” riding as likely to cause failure against “the best foreign horsemen.”[[77]] What a satire on our imitative policy! But in Section 104 (p. 129), “Instruction in the Attack against Infantry and Guns,” a reason appears for some anticipatory tinge of compromise. “The troop will usually attack in an extended formation.” And here, too, according to Colonel Repington, the Cavalry in 1909 were not up to the mark, this time from excess of cohesion.[[78]] Again we see the fatal results of compromise.
All this would be anathema to Bernhardi, who by a singular irony is the model of our Cavalry School. He knew what shock was, and however flagrant the inconsistencies he was drawn into, clung honestly to that true conception. Our authorities know perfectly well that these extended formations are utterly incompatible with shock, and ought to know from South African experience that they are only strictly compatible with a fire-object and a fire-spirit. Then, indeed, they are formidable.
Had I space I could multiply examples of inconsistency in Bernhardi’s book. How, after war experience of our own, the arme blanche school in this country had the courage to enlist under his banner was a mystery to me on first reading his book, until I came to that blessed formula on page 90, which I had better repeat once more.
“Moreover, in the power of holding the balance correctly between fire-power and shock, and in the training for the former never to allow the troops to lose confidence in the latter, lies the real essence of the Cavalry spirit.”
This is his solitary attempt at verbal reconciliation. It is, of course, only verbal. The counsel of perfection is never fortified by practical instruction. There is scarcely an attempt to show that it is humanly possible to create the ideal hybrid, or to show, even if it be created, how to combine harmoniously the two sets of incompatible functions in one scheme of tactics. On the contrary, the deeper he gets into the topic of training the more patent becomes the impossibility of performing this miracle.
The Austrians are more logical. Count Wrangel says:
"The ideal would perhaps be for them [i.e., Cavalry] to do each equally willingly—i.e., to be equally efficient with the carbine as with the arme blanche; in this we include, besides sword and lance, horsemanship. The attainment of this ideal is, in our opinion, practically impossible. Not only on account of the short service, which scarcely is sufficient to make a man at one and the same time a clever rider, swordsman, and shooter, but also because the sword and the carbine are such different masters that the Cavalryman simply cannot serve both with the same love.
“It requires quite a different temperament to ride to the attack with drawn sword at the gallop than it does to wait for hours placidly aiming in a fire position.” (Observe that Wrangel has never heard of rifle charges, and thinks that both sides in South Africa sat out the war “placidly aiming.”)
"As long as we lay principal stress on good dashing horsemanship and the clever handling of the arme blanche, and relegate training with the rifle to the second place, so long shall we foster the offensive spirit of our Cavalry" (“Cavalry in the Russo-Japanese War,” p. 55).