Chapter 13

GROUP NATURE

In the same way that knowledge of individual nature becomes the key to building strength within the group, an understanding of crowd nature is essential to the preservation of the unique power within the group, particularly under conditions of extreme pressure.

Whereas the central object of a training discipline is to raise a safeguard against any military body reverting to crowd form under trial by fire, history shows that paralysis both of leadership and of the ranks, obliviousness to orders, forgetfulness of means of communication, disintegration and even panic are the not uncommon reactions of military forces when first entering into battle.

From Bunker Hill and Brandywine down to Pearl Harbor and the fight at Kasserine Pass, the American battle record shows that our own troops are by no means immune to these ill effects, and that our peace time training needs, therefore, always to be reappraised with a critical eye to the main issue.

Any of these unsteadying reactions can be prevented, or at least minimized, by training which anticipates the inevitable disorders of battle--including those who are of material sort as well as the disorders of the mind--and acclimates men to the realities of the field in war. All may be averted if leadership is braced to the shock and prepared to exercise strong control. Indeed, it is a truth worthy of the closest regard that the greater number of the disarrangements which take place during combat are due to leadership feeling a tightening of the throat, and a sticking of the palate, and failing to do that which the intellect says should be done.

To take any action, when even to think of action is itself difficult, is the essential step toward recovery and the surmounting of all difficulty. It is not because of a babel of mixed voices and commands that military bodies not infrequently relapse into helplessness and stagnation in the face of the enemy. From that cause there may occur an occasional minor dislocation. Their total effect is trivial compared to the failures which come of leadership, at varying levels, failing promptly to exercise authority when nothing else can resolve the situation. Among the commonest of experiences in war is to witness troops doing nothing, or worse, doing the wrong thing, without one commanding voice being raised to give them direction. In such circumstance, any man who has the nerve and presence to step forward and give them an intelligent order in a manner indicating that he expects to be obeyed, will be accepted as a leader and will be given their support.

For this reason, under the conditions of modern battle, the coherence of any military body comes not only of men being articulate all down the line but of building up the dynamic power in each individual. It is a thoroughly sound exercise in any unit to give every man a chance to take charge, and give orders in drill, or other limited exercises, once he had learned what the orders mean. By the same token, it is good practice for the junior leader to displace a file in a training exercise, and become commanded for a time, to sharpen his own perspective.

Progress comes of making the most of our strengths rather than looking for ways to repair weaknesses. This is true in things both large and small. The platoon leader who permits himself to be bedeviled by the file who won't or can't keep step cannot do justice to the ambitions of the 10 strongest men beneath him, upon whom the life of the formation would depend, come an emergency. To nourish and encourage the top rather than to concentrate effort and exhaust nerves in trying to correct the few least likely prospects is the healthy way of growth within military organization.

Not all men are fitted by nature for the precisions of life in a barracks. They may accept its discipline while not being able to adjust to its rhythm. The normal temptation to despair of them needs to be resisted if only for the reason experience has proved they sometimes make the best men in combat. There are many types which fit into this category--the foreigner but recently arrived in America, the miner who has spent most of his years underground, the boy from the sticks who has known only the plough and furrow, the woodsman, the reservation Indian, and the men of all races who have had hard taskmasters or other misfortune in their civilian sphere, and expect to be hurt again. It is not unusual for this kind of material to show badly in training because of an ingrained fear of other men. At the same time, they can face mortal danger. _To harass the man who is trying, but can't quite do it, therefore cuts double against the strength of organization. It may ruin the man; it may also give his comrades the feeling that he isn't getting a decent break._

The military crowd requires, above all, maturity of judgment in its leaders. It cannot be patronized safely. Nor can it be treated in the classroom manner, as if wisdom were being dispensed to schoolboys. When it has been remiss, it expects to catch unshirted hell for its failings, and though it may smart under a just bawling out, it will feel let down if the commander quibbles. But any officer puts himself on a skid, and impairs the strength of his unit, if he takes to task all hands because of the wilful failings of a minority. Strength comes to men when they feel that they are grown up and as a body are in control and under control, since it amounts to the same thing; it is only when men unite toward a common purpose that control becomes possible. In this respect, the servant is in fact the master of the situation, fully realizes it, and is not unprepared to accept proportionate responsibility.

It is a sign of a good level of discipline in a command when orders are given and faithfully carried out. But it is a sign of a vastly superior condition when men are prepared to demand those orders which they know the situation requires, if it is to be helped. No competent subordinate sits around waiting for someone else to give impulse to movement if his senses tell him that things are going to pot. He either suggests a course of action to his superior, or asks authority to execute it on his own, or in the more desperate circumstances of the battlefield, gives orders on his own initiative. To counsel any lesser theory of individual responsibility than this would leave every chain of command at the complete mercy of its weakest link, and throughout the general establishment, would choke the fount of inspiration which comes of the upward thrust of energy and of ideas.

This latter characteristic in the masses of men composing any organization is the final statement of moral responsibility for success. Within military forces, an element of command is owned by every man who is doing his duty with intelligence and imagination. That puts him on the side of the angels, and the pressure which he exerts is felt not only by his subordinates but by those topside who are doing less. Many a lazy skipper has snapped out of it and at last begun to level with his organization because he felt the hot breath of a few earnest subordinates on his neck. Many a battle unit has held to ground which it had been ready to forsake because of the example of an aid man who stayed at his work and refused to forsake the wounded. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower was thinking on these things when he said during World War II: "There is among the mass of individuals who carry rifles in war a great amount of ingenuity and efficiency. If men can talk naturally to their officers, the product of their resourcefulness becomes available to all." But the art of open communication requires both receiving and sending, and the besetting problem is to get officers to talk naturally to men.

In the seventeenth century Marshal Maurice de Saxe rediscovered cadenced marching which, along with the hard-surfaced roads of France, had remained buried since the time of the Romans. He reinstituted precision marching and drill within military bodies, and by that action changed European armies from straggling mobs into disciplined troops. The effects of that reform have been felt right down to the present. Baron von Steuben, the great reorganizer of the forces in George Washington's Army, simply built upon the principles which de Saxe had set forth one century earlier. These two great architects of military organization founded their separate systems upon one controlling idea--that _if men can be trained to think about moving together, they can then be led to move toward thinking together_. De Saxe wanted keen men, not automatons; in that, he was singular among the captains of his day. He started the numbering of regiments so that they would have a continuing history and thereby benefit from _esprit de corps_. He was the first to see the great importance of battle colors and to standardize their use. Of his own military opinions he wrote: "Experts should not be offended by the assurance with which I deliver my opinions. They should correct them; that is the fruit I expect from my work."

Now to take a look at von Steuben. He was the drillmaster of the American Revolution, but he was also its greatest student of the human mind and heart. He wrote the drill regulations of the Army, and as he wrote, committed them to memory. Of his labors he said: "I dictated my dispositions in the night; in the day I had them performed." But he learned the nature of the human material for which he thought these exercises were suited by visiting the huts of the half-clad soldiers of Valley Forge, personally inspecting their neglected weapons and hearing from their own lips of their sufferings. His main technic in installing his system was to depend upon the appeal of a powerful example; to allay all doubt of exactly what was wanted, he formed a model company and drilled it himself. He was a natural man; troops warmed to him because of an unabashed use of broken English and his violently explosive use, under stress, of "gottam!" which was his only quasi-English oath. In countenance he was strikingly like Gen. George S. Patton and there were other points of resemblance. A private soldier at Valley Forge was impressed with "the trappings of his pistols, the enormous holsters of his pistols, his large size, his strikingly martial aspect." But while he liked to dine with great men at his table, he chose to complete his list with officers of inferior rank. Once at Valley Forge he permitted his aides to give a dinner for junior officers on condition that none should be admitted that had on a whole pair of breeches. This was making the most of adversity. While wearing two stars and serving as Inspector General of the Army, he would still devote his whole day to the drilling of a squad of 10 or 12 men to get his system going. To a former Prussian associate he wrote this of Americans: "You say to your soldier, 'Do this!' and he doeth it; but I am obliged to say, 'This is the reason that you ought to do that,' and then he does it."

This was the key to the phenomenal success of his system. Within 6 weeks after he began work at Valley Forge, the Continental Army was on a new footing of self-confidence. His personal diligence in inquiring into the conduct of all officers toward their men, and his zeal in checking the accoutrement and carriage of every soldier established within the Army its first standard of inspection. Officers began to divide their scant rations with their men so that they would look better. But though he drilled the men of Valley Forge in marching and maneuver, Steuben paid no attention to the manual of arms, and let that wait until after he had gone into battle with these same forces. He explained why in these words: "Every colonel had introduced a system of his own and those who had taken the greatest pains were naturally the most attached to their work. Had I destroyed their productions, they would have detested me. I therefore preferred to pay no special attention to this subject until I had won their confidence." To take hold at the essential point and postpone action on the relatively unimportant, to respect a worthy pride and natural dignity in other men, and finally, to demonstrate that there is a better way in order to win men's loyalty and to use loyalty as the portal to more constructive collective thought--all of these morals shine in this one object lesson. The most revealing light upon the character of Steuben comes of the episode in which he had one Lieutenant Gibbons arrested for an offense, which he later learned another had committed. He then went before the Regiment. It was raining hard, but he bared his head and asked Gibbons to come forward. "Sir," he said, "the fault which was committed might, in the presence of an enemy, have been fatal. Your Colonel tells me you are blameless. I ask your pardon. Return to your command."

Mistakes will occur. Tempers will go off half-cocked even among men of good habit. Action will be taken on impulse rather than full information, despite every warning as to its danger. But no officer who has ever done serious injustice to a subordinate can do less than Steuben did, if he wants to keep respect. Admiral Halsey wrote about how he had once relieved one of his Captains in battle, found months later that he had misjudged him, and then tried by every means within his power to make redress.

The main connecting link between the perfecting of group action in training and the end product of unity and economy of operations in battle has never been better than imperfectly expressed even by such masters as de Saxe and von Steuben, who felt it by profound instinct. The time-honored explanation is that when men accustom themselves to obeying orders, the time ultimately arrives when they will obey by habit, and that the habit will carry over into any set of circumstances requiring response to orders. This has the quality of relative truth; it is true so far as it goes, but it undersells the major values.

The heterogeneous crowd is swayed by the voices of instinct. Properly trained, any military unit, being a homogeneous body, should be swayed by the voice of training. Out of uniformity of environment comes uniformity of character and spirit. From moving and acting together men grow to depend upon, and to support, each other, and to subordinate their individual wills to the will of the leader. And if that were all that training profited them, they would rarely win a battle or a skirmish under modern conditions!

Today the supreme value of any training at arms which fixes habit is that, under conditions of absolute pressure, it enables men to take the primary steps essential to basic security without too great taxing of their mental faculties and moral powers; this leaves their senses relatively free to cope with the unexpected. The unforeseen contingency invariably happens in battle, and its incidence supplies the supreme test of the efficacy of any training method. Surprise has no regard for the importance of rank; in combat any unit's fortune may pivot on the judgment and initiative of the file who has last joined it. Therefore the moral object in training is stated without any qualification in words once used by a wise Frenchman, Dr. Maurice Campeaux: "_It should be the subordination of the individual's will to the leader's, and not its surrender or destruction._" All training at all levels has a dual object--to develop us all as leaders of men and followers of leaders. Its technics are most perfect when they serve evenly these parallel purposes. In consequence, when any officer thinks only on: "What is policy?" rather than: "What should policy be for the good of the service?" he has trained his sights too low.

Even in modern warfare, however, there are exceptional circumstances in which success is altogether dependent upon the will and judgment of the leader, and undeviating response to his orders. The commander of a buttoned-up tank is the master of its fortunes, and what happens for better or worse is according to the strength of his personal control. Within a submerged submarine during action, the situation is still more remarkable. Only one man, the commander of the ship, can see what is occurring, and he only with one eye; the resolving of every situation depends on his judgment as to what should be done. Yet those who have the surest knowledge of this service have said that the main problem in submarine warfare is to find a sufficient body of officers who will rise superior to the intricacies of their complicated machines, and will make their own opportunities and take advantage of them. That is hardly unique. The same quality is the hallmark of greatness in any individual serving with a combat arm. The military crowd will double its effort for a leader when success rides on his coattails; but he needs first to capture their loyalty by keeping his contracts with them, sweetening the ties of organization, and convincing them that he is a man to be followed. His luck (which despite all platitudes to the contrary is an element in success) begins when his men start to believe that he was born under a lucky star. But they are not apt to be so persuaded unless he can make his outfit shine in comparison with all others. The best argument for establishing a low VD score and a high disciplinary and deportment record within any unit is that it convinces higher authority that the unit is well run and is trying, and is therefore entitled to any extra consideration that may be requested. All who have been closely identified with the inner working of any higher headquarters in the American establishment know that it works this way. On the other hand, the fundamental idea is almost as old as the hills. Turning back to Cicero, we will find these words: "Neither the physician nor the general can ever, however praiseworthy he may be in the theory of his art, perform anything highly worthwhile without experience in the rules laid down for the observation of all small duties." The Old Roman added that between men nothing is so binding as a similarity of good dispositions.

Within the military crowd, and granting to each the same quality of human material, the problem of achieving organic unity in the face of the enemy is one thing on a ship, and quite another among land-fighting forces. Loyalty to the ship itself provides an extra and incisive bond among naval forces. Given steadiness in the command, men will fight the ship to the limit, if only for the reason that if they fail to do so, there is no place to go but down. The physical setting of duty is defined by material objects close at hand. The individual has only to fit himself into an already predetermined frame. He knows when he is derelict, and he knows further that his dereliction can hardly escape the eye of his comrades. The words: "Now Hear This!" have the particular significance that they bespeak the collected nature of naval forces, and the essential unifying force of complete communications.

If the situation were as concrete, and the integrating influences as pervading among field forces as in the Navy, land warfare would be relieved of a great part of its frictions. Except among troops defending a major fortress with all-around protection, there is no such possibility. Field movement is always diffusing. As fire builds up against the line, its members have less and less a sense of each other, and a feeling that as individuals they are getting support. Each man is at the mercy of the contact with some other file, and when the contact breaks, he sees only blackness in the enveloping situation. Men then have to turn physically back toward each other to regain the feeling of strength which comes of organization. That, in brief, is the mathematical and psychological reason why salients into an enemy line invariably take the form of a wedge; it comes of the movements of unnerved and aimless men huddling toward each other like sheep awaiting the voice of the shepherd. The natural instincts intervene ever in the absence of strong leadership. Said the French General de Maud'huy: "However perfectly trained a company may be it always tends to become once again the crowd when suddenly shocked."

But the priceless advantage which may be instilled in the military crowd by a proper training is that it also possesses the means of recovery. That possibility--the resolution of order out of chaos--reposes within every file who has gained within the service a confidence that he has some measure of influence among his fellows. The welfare of the unit machinery depends upon having the greatest possible number of human shock absorbers--men who in the worst hour are capable of stepping forward and saying: "This calls for something extra and that means me." The restoration of control upon the battlefield, and the process of checking fright and paralysis and turning men back to essential tactical duties, does not come simply of constituted authority again finding its voice and articulating its strength to the extremities of the unit boundary. Control is a man-to-man force under fire. No matter how lowly his rank, any man who controls himself contributes to the control of others. A private can steady a general as surely as a cat can look at a king. There is no better ramrod for the back of a senior, who is beginning to buckle, than the sight of a junior who has kept his nerve. Land battles, as to the fighting part, are won by the intrepidity of men in grade from private to captains mainly. Fear is contagious but courage is not less so. The courage of any one man reflects in some degree the courage of all those who are within his vision. To the man who is in terror and bordering on panic, no influence can be more steadying than that of seeing some other man near him who is retaining self-control and doing his duty.

The paralysis which comes of fear can be lifted only through the resumption of action which will again give individuals the feeling of organization. This does not mean ordering a bayonet charge, or the firing of a volley at such-and-such o'clock. It may mean only patting one man on the back, "talking it up" to a couple of others, sending someone out to find a flank, or turning one's self to dig-in, while passing the word to others to do likewise. This is action in the realest sense of the term. _Out of reinvigorating men toward the taking of many small actions develops the possibility of large and decisive action._ The unit must first find itself before doing an effective job of finding the enemy. Out of those acts which are incidental to the establishing of order, a leader reaffirms his own power of decision.

Such things are elementary, and of the very nature of the fire fight. While there is much more to be said about the play of moral forces in the trial and success of the group under combat conditions, most of it is to be learned from other sources, and it is the duty of every officer to study all that he can of this subject, and apply it to what he does in his daily rounds.

_There is no rule pertaining to the moral unifying of military forces under the pressures of the battlefield which is not equally good in the training which conditions troops for this eventuality._ For the group to feel a great spiritual solidarity, and for its members to be bound together by mutual confidence and the satisfactions of a rewarding comradeship, is the foundation of great enterprise. But it is not more than that. Unaccompanied by a strengthening of the military virtues and a rise in the martial spirit, a friendly unity will not of itself point men directly toward the main object in training, nor enable them to dispose themselves efficiently toward each other on entering battle.

It does not make the military man less an agent of peace and more a militarist that he relishes his membership within a fighting establishment and thinks those thoughts which would best put his arms to efficient use. The military establishment neither declares nor makes war; these are acts by the nation. But it is the duty of the military establishment primarily to succor the nation from any great jeopardy.