The world has long believed that the German Army is in every respect superior to all others. But those who saw its China expeditionary force—composed though it was of picked troops and carefully selected officers—will not agree with this verdict. Arriving too late for the serious fighting—for there were no German troops in the Allied Army which relieved the Legations—it could only be criticised from its behaviour in garrison and on a few columns which did not meet with very serious opposition. All nationalities had looked forward eagerly to the opportunity of closely observing a portion of the army which has set the fashion in things military to Europe during the past thirty years. But I think that most of those who had hoped to learn from it were disappointed.
The German authorities are still faithful to the traditions of close formations and centralisation of command under fire. Unbroken lines in the attack are the rule, and no divergence from the straight, forward direction, in order to take advantage of cover lying towards a flank, is authorised. The increased destructive power given by low trajectory to modern firearms does not seem to be properly understood by them. The creeping forward of widely extended and irregularly advancing lines of skirmishers, seizing every cover available within easy reach, is not favoured; and the dread of the effect of cavalry charges on the flanks of such scattered formations still rules the tactics of the attack. The development of the initiative of the soldier, of his power of acting for himself under fire, is not striven after. In steady, mechanical drill the German private is still pre‐eminent, but in wide extensions he is helpless without someone at his elbow to give him orders. One of the Prussian General Staff—sent out as a Special Service Officer—argued seriously with me that even when advancing over open ground against an entrenched enemy armed with modern rifles, it would be impossible to extend to more than an interval of one pace, “as otherwise the captain could not command his company.”
Those in high places in Germany probably appreciate the lessons of the South African campaign. But the difficulty of frontal assaults in close formations on a well‐defended position, the impossibility of battalion or company commanders directing the attack in the firing line at close ranges, the necessity of training men to act for themselves when near the enemy, have not struck home to the subordinate grades. Viewed in the light of our experiences in the Boer War and on the Indian Frontier, their adherence to systems that we have proved disastrous before modern weapons stamps their tactics as antiquated. “Entrenching,” another staff officer said to me, “is contrary to the spirit of the German Army. Our regulations now force us to employ the spade, but our tradition will always be to trust to the bayonet.” And I thought of another army, which also used to have a decided liking for the same weapon, and which had gone to South Africa in the firm belief that cold steel was the only weapon for use in war!
The German officers were very smart in their bearing and dress. Their khaki uniforms were similar to ours, the coats well made; but the clumsy cut of their riding breeches offends the fastidious eyes of the horsey Britisher, who is generally more particular about the fit of this garment than any other in his wardrobe. The product of despotic militarism in a land where the army is supreme and the civilian is despised, the German officers are full of the pride of caste. In China they were scarcely inclined to regard those of the other allied troops as equals. The iron discipline of their army does not encourage intercourse between the various ranks. The friendly association of English officers with their men in sports is inexplicable to them; and that a private should excel his superior in any pastime is equivalent, in their opinion, to the latter at once forfeiting the respect of his subordinate. When a team of British officers in Tientsin were training for a tug‐of‐war against those of the Pekin garrison in the assault‐at‐arms at the Temple of Heaven, they used to practise with a team of heavy non‐commissioned officers. A German captain said to a British subaltern who was taking part:
“Is it possible that you allow your soldiers to compete against officers even in practice?”
“Certainly,” replied the Englishman.
“But of course you always beat them?”
“Not at all,” was the answer. “On the contrary, they generally beat us.”
“But surely that is a mistake,” said the scandalised Prussian. “They must in that case inevitably lose all respect for you.” And nothing could convince him that it was not so.