Use of a wire recorder or a platter, so that one can get a playback after talking, is an aid to self-criticism. But it is not enough. A man will often miss his own worst faults, because they came of ignorance in the first place; too, voice reproduction proves nothing about the effectiveness of one's presence, expression and gesture. It is common-sense professional procedure to ask the views of one or two of the more experienced members of the audience as to how the show went over, and what were its weak points.
There is one hidden danger in becoming too good at this business. Too frequently, polished speakers fall in love with the sound of their own voices, and want to be heard to the exclusion of everyone else. In the military establishment, where the ideal object is to get 100 percent participation from all personnel, this is a more serious vice than snoring in a pup tent.
When an officer feels any temptation to monopolize the discussion, it is time to pray for a bad case of bronchitis.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
YOUR RELATIONSHIPS WITH YOUR MEN
Inasmuch as most of this book has been directed toward covering the various approaches to this subject, there is need to discuss here only a relatively few points which could not conveniently be treated elsewhere.
This is the touchstone of success.
To any officer starting on a life career, it is impossible to overstate its importance. For the moment, we can forget the words duty and responsibility. The question is: "How do I get ahead?" And for a junior there is one main road open—he will strive to achieve such a communion of spirit with his subordinates that he will know the personality and character of every one of his men, will understand what moves and what stops them, and will be sympathetic to their every impulse.
This is the main course. The great principles of war have evolved from centuries of observation on how men react in the mass. It could not be otherwise than that any officer's growth in knowledge of when and how these principles apply to varying situations, strategical and tactical, come primarily of the acuteness of his powers of observation of individual men, and of men working together in groups, and responding to their leadership, under widely different conditions of stress, strain and emotion.
The roots of this kind of wisdom are not to be acquired from book study; books are a help only as they provide an index to what should be sought. The sage who defined strategy as "the art of the possible" (the art of politics has been defined in the same words) wrote better than he knew. The cornerstone of the science of war is knowledge of the economy of men's powers, of their physical possibilities and limitations, of their response to fatigue, hope, fear, success and discouragement, and of the weight of the moral factor in everything they do. Man is a beast of burden; he will fail utterly in the crisis of battle if there is no respect for his aching back. He is also one of a great brotherhood whose mighty fellowship can make the worst misery tolerable, and can provide him with undreamed strength and courage. These are among the things that need to be studied and understood; they are the main score. It is only when an officer can stand and say that he is first of all a student of human material that all of the technical and material aspects of war begin to conform toward each other and to blend into an orderly pattern. And the laboratory is right outside the office door. Either an officer grows up with, and into, this kind of knowledge through reflecting on everything that he can learn of men wherever he fits himself into a new environment, or because of having neglected to look at trees, he will also miss the forest.