Notice those long, bent, black lines, bending like fish hooks. The arrow heads indicate the direction of a flanking attack; from ‘F’, through the woods, up the ravine, to fall upon the exposed end of the enemy’s front at ‘K’. Such would be our most feasible method of flanking; the foe might, however, have anticipated us, either by providing a bloody hospitality somewhere in that ravine, or by a flank movement of his own, as the bent black line shows, around the woods, to fall upon our right flank at ‘F’. Such an operation, if successful for them, would be utterly disastrous to us.
Surprised by a sudden and unexpected attack upon the weakest point and unable to change front in time, men lose heart, forget discipline, huddle in masses, confused and disorganized, or fly like sheep, in either case food for firearms, gluttonous of such occasions. It requires sometimes but a very small force upon a flank to produce great results; the appearance upon the field, even at a distance, of Joseph E. Johnston’s corps at the first Bull Run was sufficient to demoralize the whole Union army, and at the battle of Arcola, Bonaparte completely flanked the Austrians with a few flourishes of his trumpets.
So we have for a third maxim of war the necessity of PROTECTED FLANKS. If we know or think that a Johnston lurks on either hand, we ought to be sure of our Pattersons; if we apprehend an unfriendly visit from a Blucher, we should see to it that our Grouchy is trustworthy.
Let us now broaden our view of operations, that we may see how the principles established for a limited number of men on the march, in the field, or behind fortifications, may apply upon a larger scale. To this end a brief study of the map (9) will show four contiguous countries—‘A’, very populous, powerful and wealthy, having a navy capable of control of the high seas, and a large and efficient army; ‘C’ represents a country even more populous, but not aggressive, ‘D’ an insignificant power, while ‘B’ is a country considerable in extent, but largely mountainous, and sparsely inhabited by a rude but warlike people.
A cause of war comes up between ‘A’ and ‘B’. In ancient times the ruder nation would have been the aggressor, tempted by the wealth and invited by the enervated populace of the larger civilization. Now the conditions are likely to be reversed. However, war begins; the forces of ‘A’ move hastily towards the frontier, while his fleet blockades ‘B’s’ solitary seaport at the point ‘E’. The maxim of CAUTION now naturally expands; instead of information culled by a few daring riders from a narrow circuit, it should be made to embrace the widest area of country and the utmost latitude of information—the condition of the enemy as to armament, resources, position of forces, possible disaffection among the people—everything. In war no item comes amiss. The wealthier country will here have a manifest advantage; it can afford to hire spies, and can even (as England did during the Revolution) purchase the treason of some disaffected chief. Caution for the lesser country will—if good generalship prevails—take the shape of occupying and strengthening the natural strategic positions. These are nothing but flanks of a bastion on a large scale. Upon the map round black dots represent strategic positions along the frontier. They are points susceptible of thorough fortification which control the several passes in the mountain range between the two nations; also heads of valleys, where several meet, and from which attacks could be made at will in a number of directions. This entire frontier, which may be hundreds of miles broad, is mountainous, capable of being fortified at countless points, and having natural ‘defensive relations’ needing only the art of warcraft to render them almost impregnable. Modern murderous arms lend their services more readily to defense than to offense. It is even possible that the country ‘B’, warned in due season of the purposes of her powerful rival, may have plotted out each rod of ground among those mountain passes, and that artillery service, once a matter of gunnery, has now become a matter of mathematics.
We now come to the fourth maxim of war; it is that of efficient SUPPLY. An army, as the saying is, moves on its belly. An invading force must ordinarily provide for all its needs from some safe place in the rear, called a ‘base of operations’; it must also provide that the line of transit of its provisions and ammunition to the front shall not be liable to interference. Assuming that at ‘F’ is a strongly fortified city, the railway line or the adjacent rivers would furnish ‘A’ with a practical base; his line of advance would be in the direction ‘FG’, called the ‘line of operations’; ‘G’, a fortified pass, the proximate, and ‘J’, the capital of ‘B’, the ultimate objective point of the campaign. But it will be noted with what facility a determined enemy could fall upon ‘A’s’ communications from the point ‘H’, which would also be the case were the advance made from ‘K’ towards ‘L’.
Of course, in the end, the larger resources will prevail; but it may be that ‘A’, baffled and exasperated by a stubborn resistance, and finding that ‘B’ is being supplied through the neutral and insignificant country ‘D’, may finally conclude, “in the interests of a higher civilization,” to violate their territory, seize the port ‘M’, and thus, by a far-reaching and bold flank movement, gain entrance into ‘B’s’ country. Such devices are not unknown in the history of war. Such a course would be a distinct violation of the ‘law of nations’; but there would be apologies and ample indemnity to ‘D’, with which, doubtless, she would be satisfied.
In imagining such a campaign no account has been taken of the attitude of the country ‘C’, or of that of any foreign nation. In war these things must be reckoned with. Neutral nations are always liable, however disposed to maintain neutrality, to be touched at some sensitive point by one or the other of the contending parties.