All military language should be of the utmost brevity and clarity. Death and disaster are the direct results of ambiguity. Throughout all history mistaken directions and information have been the ruin of whole campaigns. Careless wording, like careless shooting, is not only ineffective but often suicidal.
The object of these few lessons is to give practice in putting the language of military communication into form. It is hoped that by means of certain technical and rhetorical principles the student may gain proficiency in expressing his thoughts as he intends them and as military efficiency demands them.
Our Field Service Regulations state that “clear and decisive orders are the logical result of definite and sure decisions.” But this statement does not imply that if a person arrives at a definite and sure decision, he gains clear and decisive phraseology without effort on his part. General Wagner, a pioneer among American military authorities, divides into completely separate operations the act of deciding upon a definite plan of action and that of drafting or framing orders which will carry that decision into effect. One is purely military and has to do with dispositions of forces; the other is mainly rhetorical and has to do with manipulations of language. Many a military man has decided certainly in his own mind what he is going to do in order to carry out his mission, only to be faced immediately with a harder task. He must set that definite idea in the mind of some one else. “How,” he sighs, “shall I put this so as to let my Captains, Smith and Jones, know exactly what I want?” He seats himself on a warm rock under the blazing sun and chews his pencil. What he at first writes down, he finds, is full of loop-holes and is not expressive of what he means. He tries again, crosses out words here and there, adds others, and changes his sentences until the whole is undecipherable. In disgust he tears up the paper and tries again. After fifteen minutes of such effort he holds in his hand a few paragraphs of which he is not proud, but which will have to do. There has been no want, perhaps, of clear tactical reasoning on his part, but rather a distinct lack of ability to drive common English home. His case, we find, is not exceptional. One has only to listen to the discussions of military beginners (or of some, alas, who are not military beginners) to hear this statement confirmed. How often after having given careful or even brilliant estimates of a situation will a man burst out with, “I know what I mean right here, but don’t quite know how to say it!” All the way along there has been a decided blank space between decision in the mind and embodiment in language.
Whether slang, profanity, or colloquialisms have cut into our ordinary speech to such an extent as to keep us at a loss for the apt word, or whether we have grown careless or slovenly in our habits of expression, is a matter with which we are not concerned here. We do know that we are continually hampered by our inability to state absolutely our meaning. This lack of skill in composition which besets us, we must overcome in our profession, for the sake of the lives dependent upon our words. Napoleon sitting at his desk scribbling off orders and messages as fast as his nimble fingers can travel, his secretaries standing about him grasping each finished piece from under his pen and sending it off immediately by courier without revision or correction, is a dazzling picture for the military leader to contemplate. In his writing, a commander capable of carrying out single-handed all the phases and minor items of the mightiest of campaigns could, no doubt, be precise and accurate habitually. He was a genius. Yet Napoleon had had long years of practice in putting his will into words; for, we are told, he began to compose orders and to think tactically and strategically at a time of life when most of us have not even chosen our careers. If, then, we can try our hand at transcribing our ideas in as formative a period as possible in our military careers, we, too, may attain a proficiency that will become a second nature with us. At least, we may put behind us a great part of this uninteresting but indispensable work of learning to control our language, before we confront the more serious task of straightening out tactical and strategical difficulties in the presence of the enemy.
Incidentally, while we are on our way in our progress in expression, we may pick up much valuable military information. In our practice with tactical language we must make use of certain facts which have been found by experience appropriate to certain happenings connected with officers’ and soldiers’ duties. We shall be in constant touch with the workings of patrols, advance guards, outposts, and forces in battle. Like so many reporters we shall be present at maneuvers putting our notes into graphic and specific form.
Now, however, we are going to rivet our attention to the main issue—the mastery of clear and brief military communication. It has been mentioned that such ready skill often prevents loss of battles and human life. It prevents another loss which we have not taken up separately—the loss of time. The officer who sat chewing his pencil on the warm rock threw away from ten to twelve minutes which might have been used profitably upon the accomplishment of his mission—an amount of time which might have given the very advantage needed to gain a complete victory over the enemy. If he had had a skilful working knowledge of his own Mother Tongue, the delay would not have occurred. His effectiveness was lost for want of power of expression. To illustrate further, consider for a moment an army post going about its routine duties of drill, guard, and police. Into the Adjutant’s office walks an individual who announces himself to be Major Smart of the Inspector General’s Department. On being introduced to the Colonel, he identifies himself, and gives immediate orders that the Colonel shall have his regiment on the parade ground ready for field service in fifteen minutes. When the troops are formed, the Inspector rides up to the Colonel, hands him a typewritten tactical problem, and asks for a solution of it as soon as possible. The Inspector then takes out his watch and observes. If the Colonel consumes more than a reasonable number of minutes in writing his orders, or if he shows a hesitancy in so doing, or if he must seek aid from his Adjutant, it is surprising to note how soon after Major Smart’s departure from the post, the Colonel receives a letter from Washington apprising him of his shortcomings, and recommending, for his own good, a speedy remedy. Because of the inroads upon efficiency, the War Department, like any good business firm, cannot brook vacillation or unwarranted loss of time.
We must, then, adopt some method or procedure by which we will effectually beat down the causes of this loss of time, battles, and life. After analysing past proficiencies and deficiencies in military communication, we spy out from all the roads to the goal open to us, two which appear to be shorter than the rest. If we guide ourselves along these we shall come upon our object in the quickest way. Since the first leads into the second, they are given here in order. We should strive: (1) To learn to find quickly expressions which will cover information and decisions that are trying to struggle into language; and (2) To plant that information and decision into the recipient’s understanding exactly as it was rooted in our minds.
The first process is that of defining thoughts exactly and briefly.
The second process is that of making those thoughts so unmistakable that the most stupid cannot misunderstand and the most captious cannot misinterpret.
After we have done the first, we should look over our work and be certain that we have done the second.