Our Cavalry

by Michael Frederic Rimington

Von der Goltz says (Nation in Arms, p. 144): “Every regiment brings into the field a certain character of its own.” That character depends on its officers—often on one officer long since dead and gone. In one regiment the shoeing was remarkably good; it transpired that a former colonel, a martinet dead thirty years before, used to “break” the farrier if a horse lost a shoe in the field.

With his duties and his sports, for the first two or three years in a good regiment, the subaltern has no time to think, and if he is the right man in the right place, enjoys himself thoroughly.

Let us now hark forrard to the full-fledged cavalry officer of three to seven years’ service who is learning to command a squadron, and may find himself doing so often enough. He has now time to look round, and much depends again on the tone of the regiment and the man himself whether he takes to his profession seriously or “soldiers” on to pass the time pleasantly. He may aspire to be a staff officer, or a good regimental officer, or may have no aspirations.

With the staff officer we are not concerned; what we are now considering is, What process will render the regimental cavalry officer of most value to the service? Constant drills and parades will not do so; they belong to the past. To put first spit and polish and show parades is a thing of the past in nearly all minds. But this must not be taken to mean that drill is not necessary. Those who have led in war drilled and undrilled men aver, with reason, that smooth, easy working and confident leading only exist where the men have been carefully drilled. A good deal can be done at a slow, go-as-you-please pace with semi-drilled intelligent men, but they have no chance, especially in cases of emergency, against men of lower intelligence, well trained by the officer who leads them. Drill in the evolutions necessary in the field is consequently essential to a high standard of fighting ability. To drill well largely resolves itself into the power to observe and correct faults in such a way that the impression remains. The experienced drill and the coach of a racing eight know by experience that, owing to the imperfections of man’s nature, they are bound to meet with certain faults which will have an unsteadying and deterrent effect on the squadron’s or boat’s progress. They address themselves to the correction of these characteristic faults, explaining their reasons, often affecting decorative, if forceful epithets, similes, and expressions, just as a preacher or orator does, in order to give point and pungency to his discourse and to make it remembered. Von Schmidt in his Cavalry Instructions usually details at the end of each paragraph bearing on an evolution or practice their characteristic faults, and the cause, effect, and cure of these. Primed with a knowledge of these, and possessed of some small power of explanation, the squadron or troop officer will soon make an astonishing difference in his command’s power of evolution. Without them, he too often gropes in the dark.

What we would suggest, then, is to encourage this officer (i.) constantly to practise the situations in which he and his men may find themselves in war, and (ii.) to train and exercise his command so that it is difficult for circumstances to arise of which they have not had some previous experience;[73] (iii.) to practise giving short verbal orders in the saddle in proper form (vide F.S.R., Part I.) till it becomes a second nature, both in himself to give orders thus, and his command to place those orders in their mind and act upon them in a logical sequence; (iv.) to become by practice a person of resource, and to train his men so that they become “handy men,” e.g. able to get a waggon up and down a steep slope, or improvise rafts, etc., or to place a farm in a state of defence, and to do so quietly and in an orderly manner; (v.) to be himself a capable master of his weapons, and able to instruct intelligently; (vi.) to know the situations in which a battle on a large scale may place him, and to be able to foresee what are the probable opportunities of which he may have to take advantage, and so to train his men that they will act with intelligence in such cases.[74]

Here we must pause whilst we make it plain that the really stupid man, who has no imagination, makes a very bad officer for training purposes, because in peace-time he is quite unable to picture to himself what does happen in an action. The same unfortunate trait makes him a bad leader in war, because he is unable to picture what the enemy will most probably do in certain cases. In the cavalry this type of officer has no place, even in the lower ranks, because the cavalry officer so frequently has to act by himself, and then the fate of an army may be dependent on what he sees, or on the information which he sifts and sends into the chief. As an infantry officer of the same rank he is more under the eyes of a commanding officer.

What, then, are the conclusions at which we arrive?

1. That we draw on a class who have not been used to much brain work.

2. That the young officer should be for choice country bred, fond of sport, a “trier,” and must have some private income.

3. That now he works much harder than he used to do, at first especially; but the work is, or ought to be, congenial work. His pay is the same as when he did little or no work in peace-time. So he is a practical patriot.