Our Cavalry

by Michael Frederic Rimington

The art of maintaining himself and his command in the outpost line is a question of vigilance, imagination, and forethought on the part of the commander, and cunning on the part of his men. Let us place ourselves in the position of an officer commanding a hundred to two hundred men, and detached some ten miles out to the flank and front of a force.

The commander must take it for granted that he may be attacked at any moment, and so he must run through in his mind what he intends to do. It is his business to look ahead and foresee dangers and misfortunes—and by his preparations to rob them of their bad effect.[56] If he has left his bivouac a couple of hours before dawn and moved, carefully feeling his way, in the direction of the enemy, and has perhaps driven in one of their outposts, he need not feel it incumbent on him to hold the ground gained à outrance. He has seen into their outpost line, gained certain information, and come to certain conclusions; therefore when the enemy attack him, as they certainly will do, he should have made all preparations to fall back to the bit of good ground previously selected, where he can see and where his movements cannot be seen. Here he can make a good show, and ten to one they will let him stay there. But instead of staying there with 100 men all day, which would fatigue his men and horses without result, he places some Cossack posts and a small picket or two and retires all the rest of his men, without the enemy’s knowledge, to his bivouac, and is at breakfast by 9 or 10 A.M., his horses watered and fed. At 4 P.M. he canters out to his posts, spends the remaining daylight in observation of the enemy’s movements, relief of posts, etc., and withdraws his Cossack posts and picket at dark, leaving the picket fires well stoked up; one or two men only are left to feed these fires at intervals through the night. His real line of night outposts is placed on the possible lines of advance to his bivouac. But if his bivouac can be observed, or is likely to be reported upon to the enemy, he may change it after dark. His men should have been practised so constantly in alarm posts at night that they know exactly where to go, and what to do in case of a night alarm, and how to do so in absolute silence. Only the C.O. may make a few uncomplimentary remarks about the enemy in a stentorian voice, and invite them to “come on,” which goes far to cool the ardour of a night attack and hearten up his own men.

Next morning up again at two hours before dawn by the sound of a long-drawn-out whistle, upsaddle and off again, and get into your outpost line before dawn or, if preferred, take up a fresh line.

During the day there is plenty to do, but it is well to have an hour or so during which the men get a sleep; though with most men, after a time, it becomes a habit to sleep whenever they have nothing to do or think about, and, if they go to sleep directly it is dark, and do not sit up and talk, they get enough sleep, and are alert before dawn. All talking should be stopped a quarter of an hour after dark in every part of the lines.

The men soon learn the routine, and know how to take care of themselves, sleeping, bathing, washing, and feeding when they get a chance, and forming into small messes of four or five, who co-operate in all their food, messing, and fuel arrangements. In a very short time everything begins to go smoothly. The kits are packed, horses saddled, waggons inspanned, and coffee drunk in twenty minutes to half an hour (considerably less if there is an alarm) from the time the men are roused, whether in the dark or not. It is only when they have attained a fair degree of celerity that their C.O. can feel any confidence in them in the outpost line.

The officers, except the quarter-master and adjutant, must attend every stable hour, see the horses finished before the men leave stables, and one officer per squadron must also go to water. One glance is enough to tell an experienced eye if all is right with a horse or not. They cannot speak, but they are very full of expression if anything is wrong. The good troop and squadron leader is for ever solicitous about his horses, and woe betide the unlucky stable-guard whom he catches resting his back against a bale of hay when there is a horse loose. Once it is understood that each man stands or falls in the squadron leader’s estimation, and is noted for punishment or a light reprimand when brought up before him, according to the care of his horse, everything will go well. Nothing less will make some of them always keep up to the mark.

Nor must you forget the magpie instinct in some men, which leads them to collect all sorts of rubbish and carry it on their horses. So, on some favourable occasion on the march, halt near a deep river or pond, hold a kit and saddlery inspection, and hurl far into the water all unauthorized articles. Let the leader set the example himself of walking and leading his horse a great deal, especially down hills, when the loaded saddle slips forward on to the shoulder-blades. This is the merest routine, but a hundred things will occupy the C.O.’s mind. First, forage and water in plenty for his horses. Second, food and firing for his men. It is essential to keep the men well fed, dry,[57] if possible, and that they should always have their coffee and tea, and in trying times their glass of rum twice a week or so. Soap and tobacco are the other main essentials. If you can give them half their ration in flour and half in biscuit, it will preserve their health. There are at least twenty reasons why, if you requisition anything, you should never permit the slightest waste or prodigality. De Brack says truly: “In peace wastefulness is a wrong; in war it is a crime.” Always see a receipt is given in due form.

Detached, or in the outpost line, you are more likely to get shelter in rainy weather for your horses and men than in a big camp. Take advantage of this, but recollect that it entails extra vigilance as a rule in your outposts, and that to get out of a farm and into a fighting formation requires forethought, prearrangement, and test practice, and usually entails the improvement of existing exits, and the blocking of all approaches, etc.

One of the rules, in all contact with the enemy, is always to do the opposite to what you appear to him to be about to do, e.g. never go straight to the point for which you are really making. Never come straight back to your support. Mystify him as much as you can. Never do the same thing two days running. Always come back from a patrol by a different way from that by which you went out. When alone go across country rather than on the tracks. Patrols should go across open country in the dark and be in observation and concealed before dawn. Cunning rather than audacity is required, and should be rewarded when it has good results.

Scouts have a hard time, and it is most important to have relays of them and not to let them go out too many nights running. They must also learn to put up with or remain impervious to that foolish and abominable remark of Tommy Knowall, the young and inexperienced staff or intelligence officer: “WE knew all that before.” If chased in by superior numbers, double as a buck or fox does directly you are out of sight.