‘Thank you,’ he answered, amidst laughter. ‘To carry this particular argument to its final conclusion, let me say I do not know the gentleman who said, “You’ve got us, sir,” but, from his appearance, I imagine he is an intellectual, bored stiff with military formalities, and regards me as a Heaven-sent Harry Lauder to cheer him up.’ (Loud laughter.)
‘Your laughter, gentlemen, I accept, not as a mere compliment, but as evidence of a mental sympathy. In brief, we now understand each other. And that is the basis of good work and military efficiency. Therefore, when you get command of your platoons, this will be your first duty. Know your men.
‘When I say you must know your men, I do not mean that you should disregard any of the regulations laid down for the personal conduct of an officer. Stupid familiarity breeds contempt. If you start addressing the sergeant as “old chap,” the corporal as “Bill,” and a man as “Tommy,” your prestige will fall to zero, and your men will regard you as a priceless buffoon! On the other hand, there is absolutely no need to be a snob, a martinet, or an autocrat. A martinet is a man of limited intellect, afraid of his own inferior knowledge. An autocrat is usually a bully like the Kaiser. My tip is, to act the part of a quiet and courteous British gentleman, with just a suggestion of reserve to frighten off a cad who desires to exploit your very good nature. But your greatest asset is knowledge. Ability engenders respect. Tact retains respect. And psychology enables you to exploit that respect in the very best interests of His Majesty’s Service.
‘Let us still keep to the platoon. The first man you will meet will be the platoon sergeant. Supposing you have mastered this science of the mind, and your knowledge enables you to see that the sergeant is, by temperament, what the Scots call “dour;” he may also be quick-tempered, inclined to resent criticism—in short, “touchy.” Now you are up against something. You must remember that temperament is either hereditary or the result of environment. Again, you may discover that this man is otherwise an excellent soldier. Your acquaintance with psychology will immediately suggest to you that your sergeant will have to be handled with kid gloves, even to the extent of openly conceding a point now and again to his little whims. That is common-sense. No sergeant is perfect, and no officer is perfect; and it would be the height of folly and presumption for any new subaltern to give an otherwise excellent N.C.O. a dog’s life. Be patient, well-meaning, and courteous, and in a month’s time the sergeant will, metaphorically, lick your boots.
‘There are other N.C.O.’s in the platoon. In our present-day armies, as you know, these non-coms. are frequently men of social standing, and—more important—men of character. Degrees are as common as peas in the ranks to-day. All are open-eyed and certainly democratic. Such men are sensitive. But they are not Bolsheviks. They are intensely critical, but equally patriotic. They have only one standard of measurement—BRAINS. This is an embarrassing situation to an officer who is simply “a son of his father”—nothing more. But it is not at all a bad atmosphere for a gentleman of culture, vigour, and enthusiasm. Certainly there is a demand for the higher qualities of leadership. To a keen soldier this is a most glorious incentive. You will not succeed unless your will, your personality, and your merits are predominant. You have got to be top-dog. But you must never obtrude your rank as the badge of that right. To go on parade with the feeling that there is a guardroom behind you to enforce your whims and ill-balanced opinions is madness. The guardroom is really meant for the criminal and the hopeless fool. Knowing your job and knowing your men will really result in less crime, less discontent, and the creation of a happy and efficient unit. This aim is perfectly easy to a student of psychology, provided he has the will which springs from health and broad-based culture.
‘Another important point. When your company commander desires to make new N.C.O.’s, he will, if he knows his job, consult you as to the best men in your platoon. Here you must be careful. The unthinking and brainless sub. is frequently attracted by shallow and insincere qualities. A man who soft-soaps his fads and carries “tales” may strike him as “a ripping chap—just the man for the stripe.” On the other hand, a good officer’s servant, a successful regimental policeman, or an obliging company clerk may figure high in his estimation, to the detriment of other men possessed of CHARACTER, EDUCATION, and DETERMINATION. To pass these men by is to commit a great offence against efficiency. Indeed, if ten thousand stupid subalterns selected ten thousand stupid individuals as platoon sergeants, and these N.C.O.’s were all together in a great push, what would happen? Disaster!
‘I am not here to frighten you; but I am here to kill that damnably dangerous theory that platoon drill, and nothing more, is all a soldier requires to know. We have had enough of this fetich. We are fighting the Germans. They are no fools. Unless you realise the serious responsibility of your high office, you are utterly useless for the Service.
‘Again, you will have to father, guide, train, and lead the men—the glorious MEN. I hope you will not regard this as “a beastly bore,” but as a privilege. The men who died at Mons, who leapt forward from the Marne, who barred the gates at Ypres, and stemmed disaster at Cambrai are no servile, cringing crew. They are Cavaliers and—GENTLEMEN. Remember that! Open out your heart, but keep your head. You will find in your platoons dukes’ sons and cooks’ sons, aspiring generals—and some ruddy fools. Occasionally you may strike a desperado—a man who does not give a tinker’s curse for officers, cells, or a firing-squad. When you run across this type you must go easy. A wrong word, and the man may spring from the ranks and strike you down. And it is here that psychology comes to your aid. Study the man from all angles, and you will discover some little thing which touches his real soul. It may be a little act of kindness. For example, I once had a man who had knifed a policeman in civil life. He was a desperado. The N.C.O.’s were afraid of him. They could do nothing with him except chuck him in the guardroom. This made him worse, and I was really afraid of his committing murder. One day when out walking I met him alone on the road. I did not expect him to salute me. But he did. So I said, “Well, Smith, are you having a walk?”
‘“Yes, sir, away from the—— misery. I’m fed up and nearly off my chump. I’ll desert.”
‘“Have a cigarette,” I answered.