CHAPTER VIToC
CONCERNING OFFICERS AND MEN
In considering the constituent elements of an army, the first avenue of thought must lead to the primary essential—discipline. The realization of this most important military virtue is one of the most difficult for the young soldier to apprehend and appreciate, and yet it must underly the whole system of the army. By discipline, I do not merely mean smartness, which is involved in quick and correct response to the word of command; that, of course, is part of it; but I refer more particularly to that grip of self which enables a man to force himself into subjection to authority, which may be entirely inimical to his own will. One of the most striking illustrations of this remarkable mental condition came under my notice on October 27, 1914. I had ridden up to the front to see some of the men in my Brigade. The Grenadier and Scots Guards had for days been holding the line with dogged pluck, and now had withdrawn from the trenches for a brief respite from their most arduous duties. Falling back a mile or so, they were rejoicing in the prospect of a hot meal. Very speedily the trench fires were dug, and the dixies[2] were filled with a savoury stew; the while the men were lying about enjoying their well-earned rest. In the midst of their brief laze an urgent order came down from General Capper, commanding the men to return to the trenches immediately, as the enemy were approaching in strong force. At once the brave lads kicked out the fires and stood to attention, and moved off to a task from which many of them never returned. An eyewitness assured me that the Brigadier[3] gave the order in a voice which was broken with emotion, for he knew full well the desperate nature of the task he was setting his men. In this grand response to a most unpalatable order, the very highest discipline is noticeable; it embodies such an act of devotion to duty as reveals that mastery over self which lies at the very root of success in warfare. Such a discipline cannot fail to evoke admiration wherever it is witnessed. It is noticeable among officers and men alike, and tends to weld both in that splendid spirit of comradeship which is so peculiarly a feature of our army at the present time.
In considering the relationship of those in command and those commanded, I must deal with them separately.
(1) Officers: Many years ago—I think it was during the Crimean war—Punch gave a very admirable setting of the British officer in two phases. In one picture was a ball-room in which the whiskered exquisites of that period were seen in the mazes of a dance, and underneath was written: 'Our officers can dance.' The next picture revealed the same men charging up to the guns at the head of their men, and underneath the words: 'But by jingo they can fight too.' There is no doubt that the English officer is good at enjoying himself, and no small blame to him, but when it comes to the stern days of war, he is as keen and gallant as ever. It must have struck the most casual observer that the proportion of officer casualties during this war is entirely disproportionate to the numbers engaged. Again and again this striking fact has met with the severe stricture of those competent to judge; but it is useless to attempt to alter the glorious traditions of the English army in this respect: our officers will lead; and although it may be at a terrible cost, the results are seen in the splendid backing up of the men. In the early days of the war, on more than one occasion, I met with such a remark from working men as 'Let the rich do their bit.' I hold that they have done it, and done it magnificently. No one can read the list of casualties without being struck with the enormous number of what I may call the cultured classes which have fallen in the operations we are engaged in. Indeed, there is hardly a titled family in England but is mourning its dead. Our young officers are entering action with a wild abandonment which it is impossible to realize unless witnessed. Writing home to his people, a subaltern recently declared that he was at the top of the fulness of life. Small wonder that our men will go anywhere and do anything behind such magnificent leading as our officers are giving them.But this splendid attribute of the British officer is not only seen amid the excitement of conflict. At the end of a weary march when all alike are fagged out and ready to throw themselves upon the earth and rest, the first consideration on the part of the officers is the men; their food, their billets; and when these important questions are dealt with, then, and not till then, with wearied frames, these gallant gentlemen begin to think of themselves. This evokes a feeling which I may not inaptly style, hero worship, on the part of the men. Frequently, in describing the glorious death of some favourite officer, a man has said to me, 'I loved him like a brother'; and this condition of regard is mutual, for it is no uncommon thing (on the occasion of the departure of the 'leave' train) to see an officer, frequently of senior rank, on spotting in the crowd a non-commissioned officer, or private, from his regiment, go up to him and with a hearty grip of the hand, say, 'Well, my lad, hope you have had a good time!' Such a state of things would, of course, be impossible in the German army, but we Englishmen have proved that the most solid foundation of a true relationship between officers and men is respect and love, and right happy are the results attained.
(2) Our men: It is not possible to speak too highly of the splendid manhood embodied in our ranks to-day. Their language is certainly reprehensible, but after all we must realize that their vocabulary is not an extensive one, and the employment of adjectives which, to a refined ear, sounds deplorable, is only used by them to describe an intensity which no other words they possess would be capable of rendering. I am, of course, not referring to blasphemy or obscenity, which is immediately checked by every right-minded man in authority.
During the whole of my experience in Flanders, I did not come across one case of drunkenness; my experience may be peculiar, but I do not think so. To begin with, there is, of course, the very strong deterrent of rigid punishment for such an offence. Again, there are not the facilities for the purchase of strong drink, such as unhappily characterizes the condition of affairs in Great Britain; but away and beyond these preventives lies the fact that every man is imbued with the idea that he must keep himself fit and 'play the game,' and the result is that at the Front to-day we have a sober army. I cannot too strongly warn the men who are at home, preparing for the Front, to watch themselves closely in this respect, and for the following reasons:—
(a) A man who drinks renders himself physically unfit for the tremendous strain involved by a campaign. A short time ago I was travelling in France, from General Head-quarters to Bailleul, and riding past a certain Brigade which had landed two days prior, I was struck with the very considerable portion of men who had fallen out on the march. This was partly due to the very painful process of marching over cobbled stones to which they were new, but I knew full well that it was also attributable to the fact of the soft condition which some of the foolish fellows were in, through the unwise use of stimulants in the near past.
(b) Sobriety is an absolute essential, for again and again the security of a Platoon, a Company, a Battalion, a Brigade, or even of Division, may depend upon the alertness of a sentinel.
We observe, therefore, the urgent importance of a man placed in so responsible a position being in the fullest possession of his powers of mind and body; therefore, I say with emphasis, and I say it to every man going out, keep clear of the drink.
One cannot fail to be struck with the supineness of certain Generals who, possessing the power of placing public houses out of bounds, excepting for one hour morning and evening, yet allow the men under their command to soak in bar parlours for hours at a time. There are magnificent exceptions to this, and all honour to those Divisional Commanders who have taken the trouble to ascertain the conditions of social life under which their men exist when off duty, and who make adequate provision for the ordinary means of recreation and enjoyment.
But to pass to the men of whom we are all so justly proud. Their cheerfulness is truly remarkable, and indeed it requires somewhat of the spirit of a Mark Tapley to 'stick it' in such weather as characterized the campaign of last winter.
Their hopefulness, too, is a glorious possession, and a grand incentive to any man. Nil desperandum is the watch-word which flashes down the ranks of our men, even in the tightest corners.
Their courage! who can describe it? for it stands at the very apex of human glory. Again and again the enemy has paid admiring tribute to the splendid dash and invincible determination evinced by our men. I am confident that if it were only a question of man against man, the war would speedily be ended.
I have had many opportunities of watching the fortitude of our brave lads. I should be sorry indeed to attempt to describe what one has witnessed in field dressing stations; suffice it to say that in moments of greatest agony I have seen men bite their lips almost to the flow of blood, rather than emit a groan. Such are the men to whom England has committed her honour, her prestige, even her destiny; and the commission has not been made in vain.
In dealing with 'our men' it would be a serious omission not to pay a tribute to the remarkable collection of Imperial manhood which is now gathered together under our flag. I need not refer to the Canadians or Australians, for they are of our own flesh and blood, but the Indian soldier deserves a word of high appreciation. Side by side with his white brother in arms he has fought magnificently. True, his methods of warfare are different, but in their own particular manner they are just as effective. One of their officers described to me the very great relish with which the Ghurkas approach a German trench. Slinking over the ground with the stealthiness of tigers, kukri between their teeth, they lie silently under the thrown up earth, then flipping a piece of dirt into the air, wait for the German's head to be suspiciously raised; a flash of the keen knife, and the German ceases to exist! No wonder that such men are regarded with terror by the Huns. One day, when a batch of prisoners were brought in, an Indian approached one of them with a broad grin; displaying his teeth, which shone like pearls, he proceeded to show his good feeling towards the German by stroking the man, as a token of amity; but the poor fellow before him imagined that he was seeking a soft place in which to insert his deadly knife, and fairly howled with terror.
From a military point of view one of the strangest aspects of this campaign has been the little use made of cavalry during the first battle of Ypres, and indeed right up to the present the horses of our cavalry have, for the most part, not been required. It was strange to see the Household Cavalry working in the trenches side by side with infantry of the Line, but doing their work as effectively, and uncomplainingly, as any other section of the army.
As the winter draws on apace, the heart of England will once more open in a response to the necessary comforts which her brave sons call for at her hands, and for which they will not call in vain. Let me give a few hints: Tobacco and cigarettes are, of course, always in demand, and under the peculiar circumstances of this nerve-racking campaign, are more or less of a necessity. Socks, too, are needed, for whether the weather is hot or cold, socks will wear out. The men dearly love sweets, such as toffee, chocolate, peppermints. Cardigan jackets—not too heavy—are largely called for; a packet containing writing paper, envelopes and an indelible pencil are very acceptable; woollen sleeping helmets, and, of course, mittens will not be refused; boracic acid powder for sore feet; anything to do with a shaving outfit (especially safety razors) are gladly welcomed. From country districts a local paper means a great deal to a man, for it keeps him in touch with home affairs. But above all, keep up a regular correspondence with your men; it is difficult for the home folk to realize how much a letter means. A striking object lesson is afforded on the arriving of a mail, by the hurried withdrawal of the fortunate receivers of letters from the mail bag, like the lions at the Zoo which, on receiving their food, withdraw to enjoy it in solitude. In a word, our men are worth all you can do for them; do not spare yourselves in alleviating the inevitable discomforts, privations and trails which are involved in such work as they have set themselves to accomplish.
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