To comment on these things, however, is to emphasize once again the supreme importance of the judgment of the officer in dealing with all of his military associates in such way that he will support that native pride, without which a man cannot remain whole, and at the same time direct it toward the betterment of the organization. To lecture troops about the importance of morale and discipline serves no earthly purpose, if the words are at odds with the general conditions which have been imposed on the command. They impose their values only as reflection of the leader's entire thought concerning his men. At the same time, there is this to be remembered, that even when things are going wrong at every other level, men will remain loyal and dutiful if they see in the one junior officer who is nearest them the embodiment of the ideals which they believe should apply throughout the service. That is the main object lesson in that remarkable novel written around a World War II Navy auxiliary, "Mister Roberts." But it holds just as true in our ground and air forces as for those afloat.
Morale comes of the mind and of the spirit. The question is how it is to be developed. Admiral Ben Moreell has stated a formula in understanding terms by his explanation of what made the Seabees notable for competence and devotion to duty during World War II. This is what he said: "We used artisans to do the work for which they had been trained in civil life. They were well led by officers who 'spoke their language.' We made them feel that they were playing an important part in the great adventure. And thus they achieved a high standard of morale." The elements underscored by Admiral Moreell deserve special note.
- Satisfaction in a work program.
- Mutual confidence between leaders and ranks.
- Conviction that all together were striving for something more important than themselves.
True, that was wartime, and the challenge was apparent to all concerned. But the principles hold good under any and all conditions, and can be applied to any organization by the officer who approaches his task with enthusiasm and imagination. The mission of keeping the world at peace, through a moral strengthening of the security structure of the United States, is a more difficult objective than that which confronted fighting forces after Pearl Harbor. In his book, "World War: Its Cause and Cure," Lionel Curtis stated our problem in its broadest and most challenging terms: "Civilization began with a war between freedom and despotism: we are now fighting its latest campaign, and our task is to make it the last."
Under training conditions or in combat, the mental ills and the resulting moral and physical deterioration which sometimes beset military forces cannot be cured simply by the intensification of disciplinary methods. It is true that the signs of a recovery will sometimes attend the installation of a more rigid, or less rigid, discipline. This onset is in fact usually due to the collateral influence of an increased confidence in the command, whereby men are made to feel that their own fortunes are on the mend. Then discipline and morale are together revitalized almost as if by the throwing of an electric switch.
In Army history, there is no better example of the working of this principle than the work of Brig. Gen. Paul B. Malone of St. Aignan-sur-Cher, France, in 1919. He took over a command where slackness and indiscipline were general. The men were suffering terrible privation and too many of their officers were indifferent to their needs. Many of the men had been battle casualties. Some had been discharged from hospitals before their wounds were healed. The mess was abominable. The camp was short of firewood and other supply. In freezing weather, men were sleeping on the ground with only a pair of blankets apiece. The death toll from influenza, pneumonia, and the aggravation of battle wounds rose daily. Despair and resentment over these conditions began to express itself in semiviolent form. Every fresh breach of discipline was countered with harassing punishments until an air of wretched stagnation hung over the whole camp. General Pershing visited the base. The men refused to form for him. When he tried to address them at a mass meeting, they wouldn't hear him out. Instead of taking any action against the men, he sent for General Malone.
The new commander arrived without any instructions except to determine what was wrong and correct it. With soldierly instinct, he recognized that the indiscipline of the camp was an effect and not a cause. But even as he gave orders for relieving the physical distress of the men, he demanded that they return to orderly habits.
He walked around the areas. Already, on his order, duck-boards were being laid through the mud, and the whole physical setup was in process of reorganization. The men, grown listless from weeks of mistreatment, paid no heed. "Get on your feet! I'm your general. I respect you but I want your respect," were his words. They restored the situation. The first impact of this one man on that camp was never forgotten by anyone who saw it. It is a point to remember: A firm hold at the beginning pays tenfold the dividend of a timid approach, followed by a show of firmness later on. Within 48 hours the physical condition of the camp was showing improvement and 60,000 men were again doing their duty and bearing themselves in a military manner. The lessons from this one incident stand out like beams from a searchlight battery.
One man is able to accomplish a miracle by an act of will accompanied by good works.
The morale of the force flows from the self-discipline of the commander, and in turn, the discipline of the force is reestablished by the upsurge of its moral power.