There is nothing panty-waist about this doctrine. It was not pronounced to gratify the clergy or to reassure parents that their sons would be in good hands, even though these things, too, are important.
The doctrine came of the experience of the Nation in war, and of what the services learned by measuring their own men. But it happened, also, that the facts were consistent with a common sense reckoning of the case.
Let's figure it out. To be temperate in all things, to be continent, and to refrain from loose living of any sort, are acts of the will. They require self-denial, and a foregoing of that which may be more attractive, in favor of the thing which should be done. Granted that there are a few individuals who are so thin-blooded that they never feel tempted to digress morally, men in the majority are not like that. What they renounce in the name of self-discipline, at the cost of a considerable inner stress, they endeavour to compensate by their gains in personal character. Making that grade isn't easy; but no one who is anyone has yet said that it isn't worthwhile. In the armed services there is an old saying that an officer without character is more useless than a ship with no bottom.
In the summing up, the strength of will which enables a man to lead a clean life is no different than the strength of purpose which fits him to follow a hard line of duty. There are exceptions to every rule. Many a lovable rounder has proved himself to be a first-class fighting man. But even though he had an unconquerable weakness for drink and women, his resolution had to become steeled along some other line or he would have been no good when the pay-off came.
Putting aside for the moment the question of the vices, and regarding only the gain to moral power which comes of bodily exercise and physical conditioning, it should be self-evident that the process which builds the muscle must also train and alert the mind. How could it be otherwise? Every physical act must have as its origin a mental impulse, conscious or unconscious. Thus in training a man to master his muscles we also help him to master his brain. He comes out of physical training not only better conditioned to move but better prepared to think about how and why he is moving, which is true mobility.
In military organizations, "setting-up" and other formation exercises are usually a drag and a bore. Men grumble about them, and even after they are toughened to them, so that they feel no physical distress, they rarely relish them. The typical American male would much rather sit on his pants along the sidelines and watch someone else engage in contact sports. It's almost the national habit. Despite our athletic prowess, about 56 percent of American males grow to manhood without having ever participated in a group game.
But no matter how great the inertia against it, there must be unremitting perseverance in the physical conditioning of military forces. For finally, it is killing men with kindness to relax at this point. If life is to be conserved, if men are to be given a fair chance to play their parts effectively, the physical standards during training cannot be less than will give them a maximum fitness for the extraordinary stresses of campaigning in war.
When troops lack the coordinated response which comes of long, varied and rigorous exercises, their combat losses will be excessive, they will lack cohesion in their action against the enemy, and they will uselessly expend much of their initial velocity. In the United States service, we are tending to forget, because of the effect of motorization, that the higher value of the discipline of the road march in other days wasn't that it hardened the muscles, but that, short of combat, it was the best method of separating the men from the boys. This is true today, despite all of the new conditions imposed by technological changes. A hard road march is the most satisfactory training test of the moral strength of the individual man.
At the same time, to senselessly overload men for road marching hurts them two ways. It weakens their faith in the sense of the command, thereby impairing morale, and it breaks down their muscle and tendon. Enough is known about the average American male to provide a basic logistical figure. He stands about 5 feet 8 inches, and weighs about 153 pounds. The optimum load for a man is about one-third of body weight, the same as for a mule. That means that for a training march, approximately 50 pounds over-all, including uniform, blankets and everything, is the most that a man should be required to carry. If he gets so that he can handle that load easily, over let us say a 10-mile road march, then the thing to do, further to build up his power, is not to increase the weight that he carries, but to lengthen the march. Military men have known that this is the underlying principle for better than half a century. But the principle has not always been observed.
There is another not infrequent cause of breakdown—the leader who makes the mistake of thinking that every man's limit is the same as his own. Some come into the officer corps fresh from the stadia and cinderpaths of the colleges, in the pink of condition. They take charge of a group of men, some not yet seasoned, and others somewhat older and more wind-broke than themselves. They shag them all over the lot at reveille or take them on a cross-country chase like a smart rabbit trying to outrun hounds. The poor devils ultimately get back, some with their corks completely pulled, a few feeling too nauseated to eat their breakfast, and others walking in, feeling whipped because they couldn't keep up with the group.