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.

By the numbers, it isn't a difficult a.s.signment. The schools have found by experiment that the average officer can learn the names of 50 men in between 7 and 10 days. If he is in daily contact with men, he should know 125 of them by name and by sight within 1 month. Except under war conditions, he is not likely to work with larger numbers than that.

This is the only way to make an intelligent start. So long as a man is just a number, or a face, to his officer, there can be no deep trust between them. Any man loves to hear the sound of his own name, and when his superior doesn't know it, he feels like a cypher.

As with any other introduction, an officer meeting an enlisted man for the first time is not privileged to be inquisitive about his private affairs. In fact, nosiness and prying are unbecoming at any time, and in no one more than in a military officer. On the other hand, any man is flattered if he is asked about his work or his family, and the average enlisted man will feel complimented if an officer engages him in small talk of any kind. Greater frankness, covering a wide variety of subjects, develops out of longer acquaintance. It should develop as naturally and as easily as in civilian walks of life; rank is no barrier to it unless the officer is overimpressed with himself and bent on keeping the upper hand; the ranks are wiser about these things than most young officers; they do not act forward or presumptuous simply because they see an officer talking and acting like a human being. But they aren't Quiz Kids. Informal conversation between officer and man is a two-way street. The ball has to be batted back and forth across the net or there isn't any game. An officer has to extend himself, his thoughts, his experiences and his affairs into the conversation, or after his first trial or two, there will be nothing coming back.

It is unfortunately the case that many young officers a.s.sume that getting acquainted with their men is a kind of interrogation process, like handling an immigrant knocking for admission to the United States. They want to know everything, but they stand on what they think is their right to tell a man nothing. That kind of att.i.tude just doesn't wash. In fact, the chief value of such conversations is that it permits the junior to see his superior as a man rather than as a boss.

An officer should never speak ironically or sarcastically to an enlisted man, since the latter doesn't have a fair chance to answer back. The use of profanity and epithets comes under the same heading.

The best argument for a man keeping his temper is that n.o.body else wants it; and when he voluntarily throws it away, he loses a main prop to his own position.

Meeting one of his own enlisted men in a public place, the officer who does not greet him personally and warmly, in addition to observing the formal courtesies between men in service, has sacrificed a main chance to win the man's abiding esteem. If the man is with his family, a little extra graciousness will go a long way, and even if it didn't, it would be the right thing.

In any informal dealing with a number of one's own men, it is good judgment to pay a little additional attention to the youngest or greenest member of the group, instead of permitting him to be shaded by older and more experienced men. They will not resent it, and his confidence will be helped.

It should go without saying that an officer does not drink with his men, though if he is a guest of honor at an organizational party where punch or liquor is being served, it would be a boorish act for him to decline a gla.s.s, simply because of this proscription. Sometimes in a public c.o.c.ktail bar an officer will have the puzzling experience of being approached by a strange but lonely enlisted man who, being a little high, may have got it into his head that it is very important to buy an officer a drink. What one does about that depends upon all of the surrounding circ.u.mstances. It is better to go through with it than create a scene which will give everyone a low opinion of the service. Irrespective of rules, there are always situations which are resolved only by good judgment. And, of course, the problem can be avoided by staying away from c.o.c.ktail bars.

Visiting men in hospital is a duty which no officer should neglect.

Not only does it please the man and his family; it is one of the few wide open portals to a close friendship with him. It is strange but true that the man never forgets the officer who was thoughtful enough to call on him when he was down. And the effect of it goes far beyond the man himself. Other men in the unit are told about it. Other patients in the ward see it and note with satisfaction that the corps takes its responsibilities to heart. If the man is in such shape that he can't write a letter, it is a worthy act to serve him in this detail. By the same token when a man goes on sick call, the officer's responsibility does not end at the point where the doctor takes over.

His interest is to see that the man is made well, and if he has reason to think that the treatment he is receiving falls short of the best possible, it is within his charge to raise the question. The old saw about giving the man CC pills and iodine and marking him duty is now considerably outdated. But it is not a.s.sumed that every member of the medical staff serving the forces will at all times do his duty with the intelligence and reverence of a saint.

A birthday is a big day in any man's life. So is his wedding. So is the birth of a child. By making check of the roster and records, and by keeping an ear to the ground for news of what is happening in the unit, an officer can follow these events. Calling the man in and giving him a handclasp and word of congratulation, or writing a note to the home, takes very little time and is worth every moment of it.

Likewise, if he has won some distinction, such as earning a promotion, a letter of appreciation to his parents or his wife will compound the value of telling the man himself that you are proud of what he has done.

Nothing is more pleasing or ingratiating to any junior than to be asked by his superior for his opinion on any matter--provided that it is given a respectful hearing. Any man gets a little f.a.gged from being _told_ all the time. When he is consulted and asked for a judgment, it builds him up.

There is absolutely no point in visiting kitchens or quarters and asking of the atmosphere if everything is all right. Men seldom complain, and they are loath to stick their necks out when there are other enlisted men within hearing. It is the task of the officer to _see_ that all is right, and to take whatever trouble is necessary to make certain. If he is doubtful about the mess, then a mere pecky sampling of it will do no good. Either he will live with it for a few meals, or he won't find the "bugs" in it.

An officer should not ask a man: "Would you like to do such-and-such a task?" when he has already made up his mind to a.s.sign him to a certain line of duty. Orders, hesitatingly given, are doubtfully received. But the right way to do it is to instill the idea of collaboration. There is something irresistably appealing about such an approach as: "I need your help. Here's what we have to do."

An officer is not expected to appear all-wise to those who serve under him. Bluffing one's way through a question when ignorant of the answer is foolhardy business. "I'm sorry, but I don't know," is just as appropriate from an officer's lips as from any other. And it helps more than a little to be able to add, "But I'll find out."

Rank should be used to serve one's subordinates. It should never be flaunted or used to get the upper hand of a subordinate in any situation save where he had already discredited himself in an unusually ugly or unseemly manner.

When suggestions from any subordinate are adopted, the credit should be pa.s.sed on to him publicly.

When a subordinate has made a mistake, but not from any lack of good will, it is common sense to take the rap for him rather than make him suffer doubly for his error.

An officer should not issue orders which he cannot enforce.

He should be as good as his word, at all times and in any circ.u.mstance.

He should promise nothing which he cannot make stick.

An officer should not work, looking over his men's shoulder, checking on every detail of what they are doing, and calling them to account at every furlong post. This maidenly att.i.tude corrodes confidence and destroys initiative.

On the other hand, contact is necessary at all times. Particularly when men are doing long-term work, or are operating in detachment at a remote point, they will become discouraged and will lose their sense of direction unless their superior looks in on them periodically, asks whether he can be of any help, and, so doing, gets them to open up and discuss the problem.

The Navy says, "It isn't courtesy to change the set of the sail within 30 minutes after relief of the watch." Applied to a command job, this means that it is a mistake for an officer, on taking a new post, to order sweeping changes affecting other men, in the belief that this will give him a reputation for action and firmness. The studying of the situation is the overture to the steadying of it. The story is told of Gen. Curtis E. LeMay of the Air Force. Taking over the 21st Bomber Command in the Marianas, he faced the worried staff officers of his predecessor and said quietly, "You're all staying put. I a.s.sume you know your jobs or you wouldn't be here."

The ident.i.ty of the officer with the gentleman should persist in his relations with men of all degree. In the routine of daily direction and disposition, and even in moments of exhortation, he had best bring courtesy to firmness. The finest officers that one has known are not occasional gentlemen, but in every circ.u.mstance: in commissioned company and, more importantly, in contact with those who have no recourse against arrogance.

The traditional wisdom of addressing Judy O'Grady with the same politeness as one would the Colonel's Lady applies equally in all situations in life where one is at arbitrary advantage in dealing with another. To press this unnecessarily is to sacrifice something of one's quality in the eyes of the onlooker. Besides, there is always the better way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

YOUR MEN'S MORAL AND PHYSICAL WELFARE

To put it in a nutsh.e.l.l, the moral of this chapter is that when men are moral, the moral power which binds them together and fits them for high action is given its main chance for success.

There should therefore be no confusion about how the word is being used. We are speaking both of training in morals for every day living, and of moral training which will harden the will of a fighting body.

One moment's reflection will show why they need not be considered separately, and why we can leave it to Webster to do the hairsplitting.

It is the doctrine of the armed establishment of the United States that when American men lead a personal life which is based on high moral standards, and when their aim is equally high as to physical fitness and toughness, under training conditions they will mature those qualities which are most likely to produce inspired leading and stout following within the forces.

There is nothing panty-waist about this doctrine. It was not p.r.o.nounced to gratify the clergy or to rea.s.sure 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-cla.s.s 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 partic.i.p.ated 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 s.h.a.g 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.

When an officer does this kind of thing thoughtlessly, he shows himself to be an incompetent observer of men. When he does it to show off, he deserves to be given 10 days in the electric chair.

_It is the steadiness and the continuity of exercise, not the working of men to the point of exhaustion and collapse, which keeps them upgrading until they are conditioned to the strain of whatever comes._ To do it the other way around simply makes them hospital patients before their time, and fills them with resentment against the service.